Tumgik
#imagine having the same haircut your whole life
hakucho-art · 6 months
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The Kaneki family <3
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sanzaibian · 26 days
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Oh. You’re here once again.
What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?
To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.
I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !
See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !
I’m not supposed to become someone like this :
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I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !
Or like that :
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Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !
Or that guy :
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His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !
Or even this guy !
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… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !
Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !
However, today, it all changes.
Today, you will understand my plight.
Today, I’ll transform you for a change.
Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.
So, let us begin.
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BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?
… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”
You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.
Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !
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There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !
Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.
Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.
Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.
Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.
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BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.
Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?
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Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !
… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !
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Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.
So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).
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Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !
However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.
Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)
By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !
Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !
This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !
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Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !
I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.
BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !
Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.
All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !
… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…
NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.
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Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.
Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…
… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?
What are you holding out for me ?
...
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I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.
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By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !
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yourpsicodelicbitch · 5 months
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juno signs and their specific love language🦋🪷 pt2
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Lovely Complex
juno shows us what’s the style that functions better with you -relationships, meaningful committed partnership-, the characteristics of our ideal partner and more.
birth chart + tropical + whole sign system
Taurus
FIRST OF ALL, you don’t play around-yes you do but-, you want someone loyal to their values, someone that will listen to your stubbornness -stubborn thoughts/mind-. you want a GENTLEMAN on whoever you like -ik gentleman is originally referred to men but my intention it’s there-, you want someone that’s drooling for you and shows how attentive they’re without shame. HEAR ME OUT, someone with MONEY or in other words, that can prioritize you economically and takes their time on giving you gifts -flowers, makeup, chocolates, cheesy stuff-. someone that has the ability of transmitting peace in all your bullshit. someone who seems, at first sight, like a junkie? who appears intimidating but then you get to talk to them a few times and realize they’re genuinely a sweetheart. taurus juno will spend like nothing money on you, specially on food, they’ll share it 😭 -idk if it’s just my experience-. this is not beating the taurus allegations. most of the time individuals with juno in taurus have this calm and too much energy that needs to be recharged with their special one.
Libra
they have to be esthetically appealing or have this venusian sense of things, fashion, hygiene, even k how to choose the right t-shirt for an outfit -jk-. they need someone who brings them balance, the balance they seek in all the aspects of their life, including their ideal partner. they LOVE seeing their partner walking and say “hi” to everyone and being reciprocated: social butterfly. practically, being conscious of how to treat people, emotionally intelligent that’ll benefit them in the social aspect. They seek someone who has charisma, who has a sense of justice and consideration, like how almost every prince of disney is presented: the idealized version. idk why I imagine ryan evans from high school musical smirking when libra juno it’s mentioned 😭. you need someone who helps you to feel part of something, not to feel excluded, you want to be in peace. YOU FUCKING LOVE CLICHE STUFF, even if you won’t admit it. someone who let you be a drama queen and will keep it cool with it. your specific love language is to help them in their outfits, in their hygiene, even haircut. idk there’s something so idealized in how libra juno loves, they admire their partner so much.
Leo
personally, sometimes I get pretty confused when they describe what a libra wants and what a leo wants in their ideal partner, the thing here is that leo needs someone who would see them as who they’re; on the other hand, libra is not needy of that treatment, they want someone who would fit perfectly on that space they need to balance their life. leo juno needs and they’re attracted to someone who’s the center of attention without even trying, talented asf, someone who will treat you like you’re their world, who will value and recognize the things you do for others and how you care about people, who would do the same for you. they’ll make you feel as special as you fcking are. leo juno needs expression, affirmation to feel in harmony. THE ATTENTION their ideal partner will give is crucial. they don’t want someone that’s comfortable to be around, they want someone who could practically be their enemy, who match their energy, who’s as competitive and as talented as them. leo juno specific love language is showing you towards others as your partner/special person. this Juno knows their value.
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♡ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings
♡ English is not my first language
♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer
Thank youu. baibaii🫣🫶🏼💋
Do not copy. Please give me credits.
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dabislittlemouse · 10 months
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okay but.. I'm feeling fluffy.. I wanna see some father dabi like his daughter is such a daddy's girl and they get into so much shenanigans that you have to deal with!! my nephew cut her bangs because she was bored and when she saw it in the mirror, she was so terrified at how it looked and I just wanna see how dabi would react if his daughter did the same thing 😭😭😭😭
Daddy!Dabi Headcanons
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Summary: Dabi as a dad, how he’d behave with his kids, either a son or a daugher
A/N: DADDY DABI IS WHAT GETS MY HEART SO FULL. I’m sure he’d be such a good dad. I wouldn’t want anyone to be my baby’s daddy other than him. Sorry anon my beloved but your ask inspired me to write a lot, kids are so cute and silly sometimes.
MASTERLIST
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₊˚ʚ The thought of being a dad never crossed Dabi’s mind in a million years, but when it did, it terrified him. Not because of the responsibility of having a baby, Dabi is not a pussy, he’d never run away from his responsibilities and leave you alone with your baby. He was scared of the fact that he would not be a good dad, that he would be like….him. Dabi would rather get burned in Sekoto twice as much than hurt his baby in anyway possible.
₊˚ʚ His insecurities would get the best of him, coming off as sarcasm or bad jokes most of the time, such as like “imagine what their reaction will be once they find out their daddy is the boogeyman” or stuff like that. You had to smack him at the back of his head, and have a nice long conversation as to why he will be a good dad and his baby will love him.
₊˚ʚ And in fact, he is a good dad. The best one out there ever. You and the baby are the light of his life. He becomes more cautious and is always looking after you two, providing anything you need, helping you out as much as he can. It is all natural, it’s not like he is forcing himself to be a good dad or something.
₊˚ʚ You can’t help the smile on your face as you see him play with his baby, inhaling their scent and humming a small melody to make them sleep. Look at him, a wanted criminal, being such a softie, it makes your heart so full. His scarred hands, the ones that have destroyed and burned down whole cities, are now gently caressing the baby’s cheek, he is so careful with his movements as if the baby is going to break. Looking at Dabi you realize wouldn’t want any other man to be your baby’s daddy. Nobody other than him.
₊˚ʚ As the baby grows up, speaks the first words, starts crawling, does the first steps, Dabi is witnessing it all, and he can’t believe such small creature is able to make his chest explode from emotions. He’d be having tears in his eyes if his tear ducts weren’t burnt.
₊˚ʚ Dabi would be the type of dad to spoil his kid rotten, even when it was too much. Toys got broken or lost? Don’t worry, daddy will steal get new ones. Mommy didn’t allow chocolates? Don’t worry, daddy will bring so many chocolates and ice-cream instead. Too many dresses? Don’t worry, daddy will get more princess dresses for his precious daughter.
₊˚ʚ At some point you have to tell Dabi to not spoil the kid too much cause it is not good. He never listens though.
₊˚ʚ Dabi is always there to help the kids hide the evidence after having done something bad. (Duh, a wanted criminal, he’s an expert at this) Broken glasses, vases, colored walls, messy rooms, ruining mommy’s lipsticks, the kids come to his daddy, saying that they have done a mistake. Daddy always forgives them and is ready to help them fix everything before mommy comes home.
₊˚ʚ Dabi would be the type of dad to laugh his ass off when he sees his kid with a terrible self-done haircut, or their face painted horribly with whatever colored pens they were using. “Ya little brats never chill huh” he chuckles while cleaning their face with wet wipes.
₊˚ʚ Dabi would wheeze when his kid shows him a drawing that they have done. He doesn’t mean to laugh but the drawing is just… so fucking funny! His kid gets mad and starts stomping their feet around the room, running to mommy and saying how daddy is making fun of them. Dabi will come and apologize over and over, saying that he indeed loved the drawing to the point it made him laugh from happiness.
₊˚ʚ If Dabi was a boy dad, things would be different. Hilarious even. Dabi considers his lovely son as a little friend as well.
₊˚ʚ“You cute little shit look exactly like your mother. Too embarrassed to get anything from daddy huh?” he smirks, pinching his son’s nose slightly. All the baby manages to do is babble incoherent words at his daddy, as Dabi manages to squish his soft cheeks afterwards. “I really hope you don’t get my quirk, would be a real shame if ya did”
₊˚ʚ And as for Dabi’s shit luck, his son indeed inherits his flames. He is flabbergasted as one day his 4-year old son walks in, blue flame glowing on his fist. “Daddy I am like you!” his son yells, happy and excited. A weird feeling places on Dabi’s chest, it is not fear or sadness, it’s more like pride and excitement that his son, his own kid, got his quirk. And he was happy about it too. Dabi swears he will do his best to train his son properly on how to handle that quirk, something which Endeavor never did.
₊˚ʚ Dabi does everything to keep you and your kid out of harm’s way. Balancing his villainous life and the “normal” life with his beloved family is not easy, but he will do it because his little family is the only source of happiness, and he loves you two deeply. He would kill for you. He makes sure to keep his family a secret otherwise if his enemies found that Dabi from the League of Villains has a kid, he’d never forgive himself. He keeps it a secret from Tomura and the others as well for some time.
₊˚ʚ Despite from not having a normal life, Dabi does his best to be present as much as he can on his kid’s life as they grow up. Always praising his beloved kid for their achievements, no matter how small they are. He loves to see them smile as they got daddy’s praise and admiration. He makes sure to provide them everything he never had as a kid back then. Spoiling them rotten isn’t enough, they need to feel his love, Dabi always makes sure to show that to them, that daddy is always here to kiss their wounds when they run and hurt their knees, that daddy is always here to applaud them after having done a messy shitty drawing, daddy is always here to kiss their foreheads if they’ve seen a nightmare.
₊˚ʚ Dabi is literally the best dad ever. He doesn’t have to be perfect, there is no definition of a perfect dad. As long as his children are loved, safe and taken care of.
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Tags: @mostlyheinous @ko-konutty @the-milk-anon @shadowsandshapes @mossy-opal @daniidil @dabislittlebeaniebaby @syrenkitsune @keiskake @arinexeisnotworking @holydayaria @awalkingshame @malewifetouya @drownedbytears @stuckbetweena-and-z @doumadono @high-bats @dabihawksluva @cherryflavoredkissess @vjohnson696 @sukunas-bitxh @wolfylovespoison @dabis0bitch @ifeelsofilthy
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➤ doe ..
this was js sm i had in my notes, figured id try and post it 🤷‍♀️
pairing: simon 'ghost' riley + medic!reader
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the feeling of having an animal's life in your hands was one you couldn't shake.
hunting made you uneasy. ending the beautiful pattern and cycle of another creature's life was something that would grow to eat away at your soul.
you were an impeccable opposite to most of the other people here.
now, that doesn't mean that the other's found pleasure in the act of killing- ending a life and simply moving on with your own.
many had simply grown numb to the feeling. but you knew that there were still a few that felt the same aching pain you did when you would imagine how easily a knife could cut through the delicate string that was life.
you'd seen it firsthand, too.
each of the lines on your palm had been soaked in the blood of another as you desperately grasped at every option to save this delicate string from snapping and shattering.
you knew a bullet to the heart was all it took for this to happen. but if it didn't, you wouldn't have a job.
you would heal rather than hurt. it filled the little gap in your body with something that felt like it could help the growing guilt you felt for every life you couldn't save. every family you indirectly broke.
in return, you grew to treasure the things you had now and not search for anything more than that. you were nurturing and warm, but yet so cold. no one could sneak in and make a place in your heart or your home or your bed. no one.
and just like that, you became a mystery.
you weren't scary or anything. not some looming mass of impending death and ill intent like other mysteries were. you were still kind and warm and everything a medic needed to be, but no one knew anything but that.
then you were hauled from your old post and thrown into the cesspool they called Task Force 141. your skill was highly recommended and appreciated by the captain--- Price, was it?
Garrick was the first of the group you let yourself attach to. he was easy to let yourself down with. with all his jokes and warm outer shell, he was a delightful man. easy to fall in love with too, if you wanted that. but you didn't.
each joke cracked your shell just a bit more.
Soap was next. despite the horribly ugly haircut and honestly repulsing stature, he was a good man and an even better friend.
then Price. he smelled of wood and cinnamon and it made your lips twitch up every time the smell filled your senses. his warm eyes and even warmer words to offer.
this group became your family. each and every one of them. each smile and each word that finally graced your lips was because of them.
it was like something had been opened and that little sliver of light slipped through and your team held it.
all except Ghost.
his eyes would never meet yours. never fully, at least. they would just burn behind that mask of his, simmering in their deadly and dark way. you had seen what he could do and had to deal with the aftermath of it.
but you had never dealt with him. he wouldn't let you heal him. he avoided you like you were the plague itself. but, why?
you had no fucking idea.
Soap would say it was because of how opposite the two of you were.
"the pair of you are like the sun and the fuckin' undertaker, i'm tellin' you." he would tell you. you merely shrugged in the way that you always did. (💀)
but he never stood beside you like the other's would. always in front of you, right there where he could see you.
he didn't think you fit in. not one bit.
like a deer in a pen of wolves. all eyes hoping to swallow you whole, all hands itching to touch what they can't. all of the sex-starved men dying to touch the newest doe in the woods.
you and your big pretty eyes...
you and your small demeanor and even smaller hands.
you and your pretty cheeks that would adorn the shadows of your eyelashes when the sun hit you right.
you.
and you were just a medic. many of the men would throw themselves in harms way or make up fake illnesses to see you. to feel you touch them as you would examine them.
it irked him. truly, it did.
because you were so goddamn fucking oblivious to it all. the way you willingly helped them and had no knowledge of the vile things they said about you in the halls and the barracks. (yikes.)
and you...
you left him be. you didn't press him, you didn't say anything to him without him talking to you first. you excepted the fact that he wanted nothing do with you.
...
it was getting warm again.
summer was creeping up around the corner, brushing her sweet fingers over the hills and across the forest rooftops, gifting the world with new lives. just like every spring did.
you creeped out from your room, your socks doing little to keep your skin from tingling against the cold flooring as you trudged into the main area. the team always packed in here on their days off.
after poking around with the coffee maker for a while, still unsuccessful at getting the coffee you needed, Price spoke up from his spot leaning against the counter.
"hey, ya' know that's broke, right?" he asked, his voice drawing a low groan of annoyance to slip from your lips.
"fucking really?"
"... yeah. Soap put water where the filter was meant to be." from their left, Soap let out a sharp gasp. "hey!" he tried, glaring back at Price. the older man tilted his head at the scott and shrugged.
"yeah. it was honestly pathetic to watch." that was a new voice.
you turned your head, feeling small in your sweater. you felt your own skin grow tight and this uncomfortable heat spread across your body. fuck.
your lieutenant walked in, mug in hand. he wasn't wearing his gear. no one was. they had a day off. a day of peace and normalcy, even if it was for a heartbeat.
your pulse thundered in your ears, the blood rushing through your body all at once as his cold eyes landed on you again. your eyes met his dead brown ones and you swear to whatever god is up there that his jaw twitched under his mask.
"oh fuck off, LT." was Soap's response. but his voice barely registered in your mind.
he didn't wear the skull mask this morning. only the balaclava. meaning; his upper half of his face was visible. but, of course, he wore that dreaded black hoodie and his sweatpants.
at least it wasn't his gear...
but he looked... human. and it hit something inside of you. "morning." your voice was small as it rasped out from your lips. his only response was a small nod, then he moved over to sit down across from Gaz.
"coffee?" Garrick asked, nodding towards the mug in Ghost's hand. the bigger man shook his head in response, his leg bouncing ever so slightly. "tea."
"of course." Soap scoffed from the other room. "you bloody brit's and your tea." you swallowed back a smile as all three of the other men groaned in annoyance.
"surprised you're not wearing a kilt, Johnny." Ghost sneered back, raising his eyebrows. Garrick snickered, taking a bite of his bagel. you let a soft laugh pass through your lips, the sound bubbling up like sweet honey as it filled the still air.
eyes.
there were those eyes again- burning into your skull and burrowing in your chest to heat your whole body.
you had laughed- at his joke. why did that make his pulse jump? it was a foreign and forgotten feeling under his cold skin.
then the eyes were gone. back on his tea and anything else but you. the fragile thing that you wear... hardly any muscle on your little body. only a pretty face and big, round eyes that anyone would say yes to if you pleaded with them.
it was as if you had no idea what you were.
and maybe you didn't.
but he sure did.
"leave him be, LT." Price said, waving a hand. "yeah, casper." you muttered, finding the strength to meet Ghost's eyes with your own. it was as if the world started to crumble under you, your body aching and burning and humming with your pulse.
"leave him be."
Ghost paused, his cheek twitching slightly.
"who the fuck is Casper?"
your brows furrowed slightly, head tilting like a deer's would when they heard something deep in the woods. "wha- who's casper?" you asked, a hand on your hip.
"Casper. the ghost? it's a movie, man."
"yeah.. not ringin' a bell, love."
even he noticed his slip. love. your skin went cold, then burst into flame all at once. your face felt hot and you felt the heat pound between your legs.
love.
love.
love.
love.
lov-
"you there, doc?" Soap's voice chirped in with its usual mocking tone. you swallowed thickly, trying to rid your mind of every thought the darkest corner of your brain churned up.
you straightened your lips into a tight line, hoping no one noticed the thoughts swimming through your brain.
Ghost shifted his hips up, his eyes half-lidded and dark as he pulled the mug to his lips as he pulled back his mask to drink.
his lips. oh my fucking god-
for a white guy, they weren't bad. there was a jagged scar that ran down one of them... the top one. a soft cupid's bow, the bottom was a bit bigger than the top.
imagine them running over your skin, leaving love marks to bloom across your skin like sweet memories... imagine them over your own, or over your jaw or your neck... or down your sternum---
you were staring, weren't you?
oh, yeah. yeah you were.
"doc?" Price's voice. "you catchin' somethin'?" he had asked. but you barely heard him as you tried to calm your breathing and tear your eyes away from the poor lieutenant.
"yeah i um... i jus' don't feel too hot. can i.. uh.. i'll just be-" you looked back at your room. "back. back there."
oh what the fuck was that, man?
perfect save, really. you fucking nailed that one.
a flurry of yeah's and okay's hummed out from their lips, a few worried glances passing your own.
when you were hidden behind your door again, the heat grew and grew and simmered and stayed there. it lingered and festered just as the memory of his lips and his eyes did.
and that was only the first 'incident.'
...
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rotzaprachim · 3 months
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I’m deeply disturbed and horrified by the bds decision on standing together as you can see - no I don’t think they’re a flawless organization, no one is, but I think they’re doing excellent work and I had the privilege of meeting alon lee-green and sally Abed in person years ago. We talked in a small group about some issues they were working to bring people to the table on. One thing I think that’s critical to talk about with standing together but just with radical politics in general is that I think there’s an increasingly large issue with internet leftists who have not had experience with community grassroots work reading the practical praxis and strategies of community grassroots work - no matter how radical - as centrism or aquiescence. But that’s just not how it works. If you want to change peoples’ minds on an issue they have strong feelings about, you can’t label your cause WITH THAT ISSUE. In standing together’s case, the three big issues we talked about were rent hikes, violence against women, and police brutality, all of which they were at that time working to try to being people from different SECTORS of Arab and Jewish society to the table on. The reality is that a lot of the people those damn awful things happening too???? Conservative. Many of the Ethiopian Jewish families whose sons might have issues with the police who they wanted to get to talk to Palestinian families? Voted for Likud. Many of the people experiencing rent hike issues? Ultra orthodox. Many of the women experiencing abuse and even femicide came down a range of conservative relifious backgrounds. It didn’t matter what politics the standing together organizers held- and they are mostly very left wing- what mattered was how they could actively work to meet people where they were at, right now, to get change happening.
Because that’s how community grassroots stuff happens - you recognize that terrible shit happens on scale to people whose politics you might not agree with, and you work to help them anyway. I mention this all because I think the bds decision on standing together was beyond idiotic, but I think the discourse around it actually illuminates a lot of failure to understand grassroots politics in a way that’s really concerning for future serious progressive activism. Because online and IRL I see a lot of throwing around of terms like “mutual aid” and “community activism” and then IRL I’ve noticed leftists who are only interested in community with tiny groups of other leftists who say the same “enlightened” things and have the right anticolonial water bottle stickers or shaved haircuts. The wider community is sheeple and a town hall meeting is only worth going to for one specific issue- agriculture???? Omg that’s useless! And I live in a REALLY politically progressive area, quite a left wing area, it just /looks/ different than us American leftists can understand, but it doesn’t pass the sniff test for blah blah blah. Because I think this attitude is widespread and demotivating, and ultimately it’s a terrible route to imagining change, because all it does is encourage leftist tribalism and make people feel they’ve “found Allies” and “enacted change” without changing anything practical, even at the grassroots level. Because your revolution should come from the love of the people, but the first thing is, you have to love people, as a whole, and that starts with real people, in your life, who might have problems. Because if it isn’t for them who is it for?
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adhd-merlin · 3 months
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merlin S1 rewatch: episode 9
let’s move on to ep 1x09 because I need to get on. with my life. I already re-watched this ep months ago and I can’t be arsed to do it again so I’m going to use screencaps and perhaps the transcript to refresh my memory.
kilgharrah warning merlin that excalibur MUST NOT be wielded by anyone but arthur, and merlin handing the sword to uther literally the next morning is so funny to me. it's kind of the same thing that happens with the cup of life, when iseldir tells merlin “hey this is important so don’t lose it okay?” and five minutes later we see the cup rolling down a hill. I love consistent characterisation. please don’t give this boy anything important for safekeeping he has enough on his plate already!!
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I think Arthur’s coronet looks a bit dumb but still it’s nothing compared to the horrendous Burger King crown he'll wear as king. why did uther get such a prettier crown. why couldn't arthur just wear his father's crown. so many questions
why did they name the undead knight tristan, was he supposed to be the tristan? I think he was. I think their take on tristan and isolde in S4 was so disappointing btw. anyway moving on
Merlin: Gaius have you seen that knight’s crest before? Gaius: No, I don’t think so. I didn’t see it clearly. Actually I’m not even sure I saw a knight. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or a collective hallucination
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Sir Owain: I don’t need luck Arthur: oh fuck he’s going to die
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Arthur’s face after Uther holds him back and someone else picks up the undead knight’s gauntlet. so much self-sacrificing acts of bravery and NONE of them done by him. wrong and upsetting
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S1 Arthur I'm not sure how to tell you this so I'll just say it. your haircut looks dangerously close to a mullet
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Merlin: maybe arson can fix this
Nimueh telling Uther she was his friend!!! fuck season 6 I want a Merlin prequel
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he’s a precious baby. he’s shmol. only tiny
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gwen doing her whole “you know I'd grant you anything merlin… I mean, not anything! haha” meanwhile merlin is too worried about keeping arthur alive to notice. GIRL HE'S BUSY
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WHY. who stands like this
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he holds this stupid pose the entire time morgana is talking to him. imagine begging someone not to commit suicide while they brood and look out of the window like a sullen byronic hero. I would have pushed him out of the window. drama ass bitch
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this is the second nighttime encounter between uther and gaius in this episode. uther saying goodbye to gaius before going to fight in arthur’s place. toxic yaoi. is this anything
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YOU KNOW NOTHING YOU STUPID CHILD. I love that Kilgharrah is a hater and a bitch. to be fair to him he spent 20 years in solitary confinement so he's earned it
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gaius drugging arthur then gently helping him into his bed is hilarious. he’s so good at lying and drugging people. big fan of gaius using his evil talents for the greater good, or just to have a laugh sometimes which is equally valid
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what a fine blade you have there… it would be a shame if something were to happen to it
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he’s wearing silver bracelets!! plural!!
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[Enter Arthur, visibly furious]
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Gaius [gathering his things]: I've just remembered I've left something on the stove. I must go right now immediately
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Arthur [while Gaius scurries away]: YOU HAD GAIUS DRUG ME??
arthur and uther little father and son moment was cute ngl
there are a few more scenes until the end but I don't have much to say about them except that I love gaius and merlin's relationship
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Gaius: [stares loudly] Merlin: [pretends not to notice]
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painsandconfusion · 6 months
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Back To Your Roots
With You - Part Fourteen
(tw: chemical burns, noncon haircut, yandere, domestic abuse, kidnapping) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]
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Robin’s hair was red.
At least, it was right now. Ida assumed, anyway. She changed it a lot. Never quiet. Never simple. Never the same for more than a week at least in style, or a month in color. And she’d only had Red for two weeks now.
It was only a couple weeks ago that Robin finally convinced Ida to dye their hair. 
“A little something special - to showcase who you are and how you want the world to see you. Not just how you were born,” she’d explained to them.
Ida had been wanting to for a long time. They’d stared at the midnight blue dyes on endless hours of scrolling in bed, and brushed off when Robin asked if they wanted to dye it. 
“Nah,” they’d hummed, tucking their phone onto the nightstand. “It would stain my hair.”
“So?” Robin just curled up closer. “Then you can bleach it or dye it again. It’s your hair. You can do whatever you want with it.”
“..it’s too much upkeep. I’ll stick with what I have.” They’d pressed a kiss to Robin’s hand, and that was the end of that conversation.
On the other hand, Oren always loved their hair. Loved it long and straight and white as fallen snow. “That’s what makes you special,” he’d said. “It’s something unique about you - so few people look like you, why would you ever want to change that?” He’d kissed their lips, and that was the end of that conversation. 
His words must have still haunted them, even years after they’d left his house, running off into the night and leaving him with a knife in his gut within crawling distance of his cellphone.
It had taken almost five whole years until Robin eased Ida into the idea of making their hair their own again. Not a trophy or a reminder of how they were so different from everyone else. Just…theirs. Nothing special. Theirs. 
The hairdresser was so gentle and sweet. She’d massaged shampoo into their hair and chattered endlessly with Robin as she worked. She’d tried to pull Ida into conversation, but Ida shrugged off most of it, more than content to listen to Robin chatter about their cat and her books and the newest cardigan she’d found at the thrift store. Neon green, this time. A ‘perfect match’ for her navy skirt and royal purple scarf.
Ida so often wished they could be like her. Wished they would dare to wear bright, crazy colors and outfits made up of seven different styles. Bold enough to change their color weekly and chatter with hairdressers. 
But..Ida was changing. They’d put a little color into their life now. 
They’d let someone else touch their hair now. 
They were outside and talking to other humans, and even getting a small strip over their left ear shaved away so they could pull the midnight blue and silver streaked mass off to one side. 
It was so recent that it barely felt like a memory. It felt as it were still happening. That Oren’s fingers in their hair were the hairdresser’s. That his humming chatter was local gossip. That the aches that puckered across their flesh was just their imagination. 
Oren’s voice made quick work of that breach to reality. 
“You know, I’m not sure why you did this. I just really don’t understand,” he muttered, fingers tracing over their part where silvery white had started to grow underneath the midnight blue, pushing it up and out of the way. 
“It’s not you at all. Were you trying to look like someone else??” 
Ida stared at the kitchen wall, numb and hollow and silent. 
His hands slid down their jaw and gripped it gently, tilting their head back until their eyes met his. “..that wasn’t a rhetorical question, dove.”
Ida’s stomach twisted as their eyes searched his. Trying to gauge how much danger was behind those words. 
“..I wasn’t trying to look like anyone else.”
Oren frowned, thumbs brushing down their cheeks. Resting at the top, then sliding down again. Again and again and again. Petting them like a cat.
“Then why did you do it?”
Ida’s face pinched slightly. Of course he wasn’t going to go long without mentioning their hair. Why did they think they’d be able to get away with that? As if he just wouldn’t notice that their hair was blue now. 
“..I…I don’t know.”
Oren sighed, leaning down over the back of the chair to press a lingering kiss to their forehead. “Precious thing,” he murmured. Nuzzling a little. “You don’t know anything when I’m not around, do you?”
Ida’s stomach was starting to churn now. Eyes squeezing gratefully shut. They’d take his lips over his eyes. Gladly.
Fingers curled in, almost bruising at the underside of their jaw as Oren’s breath warmed against their forehead. Ida strained, back aching at the angle as they squirmed away from bruising fingertips.
They hadn’t answered. Right-
“..no-”
Evidently that was good enough. His fingers unwrapped slightly, smoothing up and through their hair again. “We’re going to fix this.” With one more kiss to their forehead, he pulled back, taking their hand to guide them to standing.
Ida chewed on their lip, but followed as he wanted. Anywhere he wanted. 
Evidently that was out of the room. The floorboards seemed to creak a little louder than usually as they crossed the foyer and moved up the steps. Into the bathroom.
..that wasn’t figurative, was it. He was going to get rid of the blue. Get rid of what tiny piece of Robin they had here. 
Ida’s eyes burned as he dragged a chair to the sink, turning it around. He guided them to it. 
Ida didn’t fight it. 
How could they? 
There wasn’t any stopping this, so why bother. 
They just sat, hands curled around each other in their lap. Stomach in knots.
Oren turned on the tap, fingers pressed to their forehead to tilt their head back over the sink. Ida was good. They followed the push and slumped down in the seat so their head rested on the edge of they porcelain, hair ready to shift into the stream. 
Oren pressed a quick kiss to their lips as he tugged their hair out into the bowl and started thoroughly wetting it. “This will be good. You’ll start feeling so much more like yourself again. Maybe you’ll start singing, hm?” He took a moment to dip and nuzzle their nose with his. 
So, he wanted them singing more.
Ida took a note of that, letting their eyes close against the water and the proximity and the light in their eyes. “..maybe,” they breathed. Staying quiet. 
They tried to think back to that little barber shop. 
Tried to feel Robin’s hand holding theirs. 
They let the world slip away, and let themself believe, if only for this moment, that the hands in their hair were that hairdressers - Ida couldn’t stop kicking themself for forgetting her name-
They imagined the radio playing crackling, distant music - a song they’d heard a million times but never remembered the words to. Country. Warm and upbeat and nostalgic. 
Robin’s voice. Janet Finch plots debated, and local gossip. Not Oren’s soft humming. Not his hands. Not the smell of bleach too strong for this to be the hairdresser’s. 
Tin foil. That was familiar. 
Oren tore it with his teeth, wrapping lumps of hair up in the stuff before tilting them up in the chair. A washcloth dabbed at the drips that moved down their neck.
This was it. There wasn’t any stopping it now. Even if they ran and screamed and rinsed it away, the bleach had plenty of time already to damage the midnight blue that Robin had to painstakingly supported / pestered them into getting. 
Ida could see her face in the darkness when their eyes were closed. Her little hands poking and prodding and fretting with how the fresh lockes laid. 
Gentle. 
Simple and kinda, yet bubbling with excitement and compliment.
But that was then. And this was now.
Ida’s face pinched, eyes finally opening again to look up at Oren. As the world pressed back to the scent of pine and bleach and citrus, Ida’s scalp started to tinge. Started to scratch and burn as if hair was being ripped out at the root. 
Their hands lifted, distress on their face as they reached for the foil - only to be caught in Oren’s.
“Don’t touch it, it needs to sit.”
Ida felt a whine press from their throat, hands pulling against Oren’s. “..O-..Oren, it…it burns-”
He shushed them, leaning in to press a kiss to their nose. “It won’t take long. I don’t want you half green now just because it’s uncomfortable.”
Tears brimmed at Ida’s eyes as they started pulling against him in ernest. “N-no it- it’s -ssomethign’s wrong this isn’t right-”
Oren’s jaw set. Fingers tightened around their wrists until bones shifted under his grip. A pressure that promised blooming bruises by tomorrow. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me. It’s already going to be ruined with how much I’ve done with it now. It’s not like you can save it.”
The tears slid hot down their face as they shriveled under his grip. “Ore, please-I-Im nnot lying - it- it hurts Oren please-”
Oren’s lips just pinched into a thin line. “It’s only going to take a few more minutes. Just relax.”
Ida’s head shook, pulling against him again. “O-ren please-”
Oren groaned, letting go of one of their hands to reach up to the foil. “Just chill, it’s n-” He stopped, frowning. Touching the foil. Again. “..why’s it so hot-?”
Ida just dissolved into sobs, free hand now clutching at his shirt. Some unknown ghost was ripping their hair off by scalpy bits, shoving flame at the tears to cauterize it. It flickered and tingled and screamed at them in a cacophony of sensation and warnings. “Ore- pl-lease-”
Oren finally let go of their other hand, shoving the foil off. 
It splat into the sink easily. What should have freed them left nothing dangling down to touch their neck - even at this angle. 
“..fuck,” he muttered, faucet turning on again. “Head back again, love - I’m gonna rinse this out.”
That command, they had no problem following. They shoved themself toward the water, begging it to put out the fire - even if Oren’s fingers on their scalp burned, the water soothed it and helped shove away the worst of the pain. 
“..didn’t even take out half the fuckin’ color,” he grumbled, scrubbing at their scalp until Ida was crying fresh again. 
They caught a glimpse of the foil as it dropped into the trash can, long strands of blue and white flickering through the air before falling out of view. 
..how much was gone???
Their hands pressed over their face, shielding their eyes and stifling their sobs into muffled shadows of what they could be. 
They held still. 
They were good.
They didn’t move besides shifting as per his instruction as he shoved out the last of the chemical, dried their hair, and fretted with it, trying to coax what was left to frame their face. 
Ida couldn’t look at him - they certainly couldn’t look in the mirror. 
There was a long silence as he stared at them. 
“..I’m just gonna shave it. You didn’t need it, anyway. It’ll grow back fresh and white and perfect.”
..what were they supposed to say to that. 
Nothing.
They were supposed to say nothing. 
They just trembled a nod, face still tucked safely into their hands. A kiss pressed to their knuckles, and he started moving. 
They held still. Listening to him opening the drawer. To the chord unwinding. To the plug clicking into place. To the soft electric hum. 
They whimpered, but didn’t move as the teeth of the razor scraped across furious scalp, rippling burning pain down their spine. They pulled their legs up, arms wrapping around them. 
They held still. 
They were quiet.
They were good.
They didn’t move or breathe more than necessary as piece after piece fell down around them and to the ground. 
They’d probably be the one to clean them up later. 
It barely took a minute. Then it was gone. 
Everything was gone.
“Go on, dove. You can look now.” A hand slid over their hair, roaming over the half inch strands and ghosting over burns they didn’t have to see to know they were there. 
Ida looked. They looked if only to appease him.
A stranger stared back at them through the glass. Eyes red and white from crying. Hair hacked down to a patchy remnant of what remained. The white strands were so thin, they barely seemed there at all. 
Oren’s shirt. 
Oren’s home. 
Oren’s dove.
They turned, pressing their face into him. Escaping their own reflection. 
Oren cooed soft laments as he scooped them up, keeping their face tucked into him as he carried them out of the bathroom. “It’s all done now. It’s all done and you did so good for me, dove.”
They clung to him even after he set them down on the bed, muffled sobs curling into his shirt even further than their fingers - their entire self buried in him. Wishing he could make the rest of the world go away. At least for a moment. 
Oren was good. He obeyed them as they did him. He moved easily and smoothly, pulling them both onto the bed and moving blankets up and over Ida so they wouldn’t have to let go of him or even look up. He cradled them close, rocking back and forth a little as he pressed kisses to the edges of the burns. “It’s all done. All done now.”
This time, Ida couldn’t bring themself to pretend it was Robin’s arms holding them.
He’d never be her.
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[Previous | Masterpost | Next]
(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @kesskirata @wormwriting @batfacedliar-yetagain @paranoiaxagent @siren-of-agony @lwkshrav @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions  @pinkieglitterheart  @whumpasaurus101  @shameless-dumbass @darlingwhump @whumpy-catfish)
As always, just lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!
If anyone knows where heathen-whump wibbly-wobbly-whump hold-back-on-the-comfort and mable-donut went please tell :(
.
This is the color Ida has(d), by the way-
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It's shorter and thinner, but that exact same color and fade.
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randomfoggytiger · 10 months
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Scully's Speech in HTGSC Proves Mulder Is Her Ouroboros
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**Note**: Will come back to edit later.
I pulled out a portion of my next In-Depth analysis because it was an amazing little connection:
This next speech of Scully’s is so incredibly important it’s getting an in-depth analysis of its own, tying together the threads of Scully in relation to Mulder: his stagnation and her frustration with it, as well as her deep understanding of what he really says and what makes him tick. As yet, she tries to bridge that gap in vain.
“I mean, the whole-- Mulder” she calls when he gets too far ahead, signaling Mulder to wait up “--the whole idea of a benevolent entity fits perfectly with what I’m saying: that, I mean, um, that a spirit would materialize or return for no other purpose than to show itself is silly and ridiculous.” (Just as aliens are ridiculous?)  “I mean, what it really shows is how silly and ridiculous we have become believing such things.” (“Mulder, you’re crazy.”) 
Mulder flashes his light at Scully briefly as if to say "well, you’re here, too" before going back to his thorough search of the upstairs hallway. She may be sermonizing a little, but she’s there; and the more she talks her nerves away, the more Scully relaxes into her monologue. She’s found a way to say something important, and she’s using this opportunity as best she can.  
And it’s here where Scully, again, touches on her continual talking points of S6 (“settle down… something approaching a normal life”, “life on this planet”, etc.), harkening back to her itchy feelings in Never Again when she contrasted her zest for growth and forward movement to Mulder’s stagnation and single-minded ways (that circular snake eating his tail to death and decay, post by @suitablyaggrieved here): “I mean, that-that we can ignore all natural laws about the corporeal body, that-that we witness these spirits clad in their own shabby outfits with the… same old haircuts and hairstyles, never aging, never...never in search of more comfortable surroundings. It actually ends up saying more about the living than about the dead.” 
Scully is a creature of comfort; but she and Mulder approach it very differently. She surrounds herself with manicured nails, quality heels, silk pajamas, and spa bath experiences. Mulder buries himself in dust and death, avoiding what Scully celebrates about life by “walking into his sister’s room” every day of his life. 
Scully has been softening her tone during this speech; but when Mulder merely makes a “Mhm” noise to notate he’s somewhat listening, she doubles down in earnest: “I mean, Mulder, it doesn’t take an advanced degree in psychology to understand the, the unconscious yearnings that imaginings satisfy.”  
Crucially (and I can’t understate this enough), Scully lays out what she believes Mulder is trying to tell her here (just as she understood his baseball lesson in The Unnatural) as they both pause in the haunted hallway (it’s always in hallways, isn’t it?): “Y’know, the, the longing for immortality, the hope that there is something beyond this mortal coil-- that, that we might never be long without our loved ones-- I mean these are powerful” she pauses to further soften her voice “powerful desires.”
Mulder pauses his wanderings, showing his attention with stillness rather than any overt reaction.
“I mean,” she says, “they’re the very essence of what makes us human."  
It’s also interesting that Scully is proving how at peace she is (mostly) with the tragedies in her life: her father, sister, and daughter are dead, because she believes in the gift of immortality through life after death (it’s not until Tithonus shows her what a curse that can be, too.) Unfortunately, while she may have laid her ghosts to rest, Mulder has not; and they are still tearing at his mind (as demonstrated before in Demons.)
Mulder nods along, taking in what Scully is saying but not understanding it. Just as he doesn’t get her “what about your family” in Home, her “endless line” in Never Again, her “normal life” in Dreamland I, and her “life on this planet” in The Unnatural. 
Mulder is Scully’s ouroboros, constantly pursuing one path and consuming himself (and her) in his quest. “There are other fathers,” she told Ed Jerse; but what she meant-- or didn’t realize she meant-- was that there will always be her Ahab: relentless in his career while living, only realizing what he’s sacrificed-- love, family, the little things-- once he's dead. “You know, you are Ahab,” Scully said to Mulder in Quagmire; and she was right. (Shoutout to @waiting-for-the-day for her assessment that Scully is self-aware of her own narrative.) He's still on that rock, in the basement, in his childhood memories; and his pursuit of "the truth" leads him perpetually away from it.
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whosadu · 1 month
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a note i wrote for the guy i love (he has a gf now, but nvm)
when i first met you, i never thought this is how we'd end up. never. you were this absolute perfect human being and i was a random girl crushing over you, never imagining in my whole life that this is the guy i'd love. love is a heavy word for me. i don’t throw it around easily. you’re there for me for everything, whether shit happens with my mom, other people, or maybe just me being dramatic, you’re always there. even when you’re in a bad mood or pissed at me (which you rarely are but nvm). i didn't fall in love with you because i had no one else. it was a choice. i don't want you to just be a fling of mine. i want you by my fucking side. poets would take a step back if i had to explain my feelings towards you. you get me. im a mess of a person. with my mood swings, my abandonment issues, my attachment issues and my fear of being alone. i hate it when my whole body aches and screams in pain because of my fear of abandonment. it starts so slowly and consumes me so damn fast. it's like a prison, where the silence becomes my cellmate, and the shadows of solitude gracefully dance around me. in these moments, i feel like a young child left alone, even though youth surrounds me. you don't make me feel like that it's honestly something alien. you make me feel at peace. you're the only guy i've ever been comfortable with. ever. and we know eachother. there's no one else in this whole wide world who knows me better than you do. and there's no one else who'd make you feel more loved, other than me. so this is me, swallowing my pride, writing to you. i don't want you to just be a fling, just a mere fwb situationship or just more than friends, less that lovers shit. i want you to be wholly mine. the same way i'll be wholly yours. here am i, trying to talk to other guys, trying to find a glimpse of you in them. but i've realised, maybe you're the one i'm meant to be with. you know every side of me. the one that rants about her family, the one that yaps constantly about the dumbest things ever, the one that is stressed about her academics, the one that is just so pissed that she doesn't even wanna talk. you know it all. and i know how you rant about your day, yapping about your gym incidents, your shoots, your friends, how you don't get stressed about your academics even though you probably should be, and how you've been wronged in your past by many people. i can handle your ghosting phases, and i can handle your bad haircut phases, or your tuesday fast tired self. i can handle your lame ass humour and your fashion advice that never fails. i want your bad angle selfies and your tired nights. i know you love receiving gifts even though you say you dont. i know about your birthmark on your ear. i know about the story behind the missing stone of your favourite ring.i know it all. what's more left to say. we're already bestfriends. but i don't wanna be that. i wanna be more. i know you probably love me as a friend but we'll make it work. our bond is deeper than that. maybe this thing is temporary. but i don’t mind being temporary as long as it means i’m temporary with you. i want to make up for the all the love you never thought you deserved, all the love that was stolen from you. i want to be the one that makes you laugh. the one that will always have your back in this fucked up world. the one who'll forgive you no matter what. i know your favourite songs and you can tell me about your dreams and we can live, in peace. be the source of all love and comfort. i just hope you realise, i'm the one for you.
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the-suitable-poet · 5 months
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!(A letter to my future self)
As 2023 nears its end, with just a month remaining, and just two days away from my birthday, this moment, the opener of the last month, brings with it a hangover from the year, a realisation that I am no longer the same person I once was.
This year, in particular, has been a been quite a ride for me. From changing my address to changing the whole trajectory of my life, it has experienced it all. Receiving my Spotify wrap-up for the year, I'm reminded of the magic of music – how it can evoke the deepest of emotions, reliving the highest highs and the lowest lows. These songs have become a soundtrack to a year of transformation, from a self-destructive lifestyle to one disciplined by necessity.
It's astonishing how much one can experience in a year. This year has made me realise the breadth of time – how in just twelve months, life can flip upside down, leaving you a stranger to the person you were at the year's start.
Is every year like this? Probably not!! Does it happen often? Nope!! So, what makes it special? The tapestry of memories, decisions, reactions, and everything in between.
I'm not here to tally my achievements or losses. In fact, writing this down is a first for me. But for once, let's not keep score, let's not try to get one better, try not to reach somewhere. Instead, let's embrace the moment and recognise ourselves. Find that inner calm that others can sense. Be unconventional – be a monk with a stylish haircut, be a priest in shorts and a T-shirt or a father in jeans and a hoodie. If it's hard to imagine, then be the one to break the mold. Be the outlaw, the outcast, the nerd who knows nothing of Star Wars or the MCU.
In life, we should allow ourselves the simple joys – laugh a little, cry a little, sleep a little, walk a little. When you find yourself at a crossroads, dare to take the road less traveled. Maybe you will find something interesting, some long lost memory, a forgotten friends, someone you were madly in love once, something you didn't even knew you had.
Be curious to explore beyond your comfort zone. Set sail on new adventures, for each journey is a quest to find the missing piece of your life's puzzle.
Life's meaning isn't something to be found but experienced. Embrace the chaos of possibilities, much like a chessboard at the start of a game. With every move, new worlds of possibility unfold. Chess, like life, is an intricate dance of choices and consequences, endless in its variations.
Never underestimate the importance of the seemingly small. You might have missed those particular opportunities that led you to become an Olympic shooter, or a traveller, or a vineyard owner, or a rock star, or a planet-saving physicist, or an IIT graduate, or the million other things, but you are still in some way all of those people.
As you age, you'll realise that much of what once seemed important fades into insignificance. Emptiness isn't a void; it's a canvas for existence. Use it to shape your life's meaning.
We are all just wandering through the tundra of our existence, assigning value to worthlessness, when all that we love and hate, all we believe in and fight for and kill for and die for is as meaningless as images projected onto a screen.
These thoughts might seem disjointed, but perhaps that's the essence of life – a puzzle we're all trying to solve. Our lives are a tapestry of reactions, decisions, and their consequences.
Life is a kaleidoscope – it's anything and everything you want it to be. A topsy-turvy ride, a roller-coaster ride, a ride full of useless decisions and nonsense reactions, a life full of regrets and mistakes, and it still can be a life worth living for.
And if you think you can ask me questions and get some sense out of all the things I have written so far, well, I will think about it tomorrow, for tomorrow is just another day.
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igotanidea · 1 year
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Kupala night : Morpheus x slav!reader
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This one is for all my slavic!European fellas here. I take the liberty of tagging @somest1.
masterlist
Kupala night
I was born In 976 in a small slovian village. For the first 16 years of my life I believed to be just an ordinary girl, even if I was reluctant to the thought of getting married, raising kids and spending my whole life in this godforsaken hole. Everyone around me was living like that and were constantly trying to convince me that this was sort of a duty and I should get back down on earth instead of keeping my head in the clouds, dreaming.
Speaking of dreaming….
Nights were my time to escape reality. To get away from the mundane world, boring day-to-day affairs, the same circle over and over. Dreams brought me relief, feeling like I was in control, my imagination running wild. I guess my too-active-at-night brain captured the attention of the Dream Lord himself.  One night, he just appeared inside my dream, out of nowhere, for no particular reason and with no particular purpose. Dressed in all black, with messy hair and glistening eyes, wearing a log coat made from a fabric that I have never seen before. I was startled at first, but quickly regained my focus. There was something … intense yet also calming in his presence. Something was telling me it was no intention of his to hurt me or scare me. Since we were in my dream I took it upon me to host this meeting.
“Hello stranger. What brings you here?”
“Greeting, dreamer. I am Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare realm. Ruler of the Dreaming.”
“Sounds… powerful.”
“It is. And I am the one who control your sleeping hours.”
“I see” I nodded, my hair falling into my eyes. I hated those traditions, that a girl has to wear long hair up until she is married. This old custom known as “the first haircut” made no sense at all. “Thank you for that then, My Lord. Those hours are the only one that gives me a bit of peace.”
“How so?” his voice was dark and soft with a tone of curiosity which encouraged me to continue.
“I don’t think like I belong here. In this place” I turned my head around “I feel like I’m suffocating. I want more from life. I don’t think I’m like the other girls in the village.”
“You are not.” He spoke calmly taking a step forward showing himself in whole and only now I’ve noticed his whole figure. He sure was not an ordinary human with all his physique. Dream Lord, in some unimaginable way was both strong and muscular but also soft and delicate. Kind of man in whose arms any other woman would probably fall into within a heartbeat and the handsome one I felt like running away from as far as possible. Not because he was a stranger or because it was a shame for a maiden to be around a man without chaperone. Because I was awfully aware of my own flaws and this perfection in front of me made me self-conscious.
“And you came here to tell me that, My Lord?” I eyed him with curiosity
“No.” this simple answer hanged in the silence between us and I was wise enough not to push any words from him “I came because I was bored.”
“Just like me?”
“Yes” he hesitated “what you said about people being small, living on a day-to-day basis it true. Since the begging of my existence I never came across a human who would dare to question the reality the way you do. You are different.
“So different, most believe me to be a witch. Or a demon.”
“You are neither of them. I would know. But tell me, dreamer , what is it that makes you so?”
“Maybe I’m bored too. It’s not within my powers to stand against the customs. Some of them I truly enjoy but….”
“You seek freedom.”
“That I do.”
“Then let the dreams be your way to that. I will grant you this favor.”
“And what shall you require In return my Lord”
“Keep your dreaming. They may entertain me for the time being”
***
And so this agreement with Dream Lord (which I’ve later learned was named Morpheus) went on. Every night I was dreaming and he was watching from the distance. Until one June night where all the village were preparing for a celebration called “Kupala night” when no one was supposed to sleep. It was a festive that all the unmarried girls and bachelors were eagerly awaiting. The woods for fires was gatheres from the forest, the maidens were weaving coronets wondering what flowers and plants to use for them. One of the events for the night was called “unhanding the wraths”, some sort of prediction whether the girl will be married and to whom. Three possible outcome of that trial was either the girl becoming an old maid (if the coronet got stuck in the scirpus), the girl waiting for her beloved for a long time (if it kept on flowing on water) or getting married to the boy who were the first to retrieve the wrath. Of course, the first and second fate was worse than death and every maiden feared it, hence the discussion about the plants that will ensure success. For the sake of it I tried my best to involve myself in those preparations, but my mind was elsewhere. I truly enjoyed Kupala as a night of fun, music and fires, but it was also a missed meeting with Dream. Guess you can’t have everything in life.
When the night fell, the darkness came and the first fire was lit the celebration has begun. The oldest housekeepers threw some herbs into the bonfires – sagebrush, clary and some other as a symbol of fertily and abundance for the upcoming year. Then the village priest started chanting prayers towards our gods and everyone joined. Once we were done with the official parts, some of the elders came forward telling stories about the legendary fern flowers, which, once found, was a symbol of luck and allegedly – immortality. The boys were allowed to wonder the forest on this particular night In search for it. Honestly, the boys were encouraged to do a lot tonight, like jumping through the fires. Not one and not two of them ended up with burned pants but it was only an occasion for laugh and jokes. Everyone was united and that was why I loved Kupala, soon enough getting involved with all the magic around and forgetting about Dream.
A while later it was time for girls to flow their wreaths. We stood on the one edge of the river while the boys went to the other. With shaking hands my friends put theirs coronets on the water, fingers crossed, hugging each other, slowly walking towards the boys part to check the outcome. Surprisingly, only one coronet was left uncaught. Mine. It was just flowing on the water heading towards the unknown. As if I wasn’t already the talk of the people. This was only a sign that fate was not on my sign and my beloved were not to show soon. Truly, I did not care about it that much. While the girls were heading back to the settlement accompanied by their lucky soon-to-be husbands I had a different purpose in my mind.
Instead of following the crowd I turned into the dark forest path. If the legends were true and the fern flower could really bring luck and happiness then perhaps it would get me out of this confined place and help me travel and explore the worlds. Oh, how I wish for that. I was walking the path, silent pleading in my head, muttering the words and surely looking crazy at the moment. Since I was not paying any attention to where I was stamping my feet I tripped and fell down.
“Ouch.” I gasped as my nose and forehead starting to swell. “Stupid girl! Focus on what’s real” I told myself getting up and wishing it was as easy to do as to say. I gathered myself in best  intent to go back but before I made that plan into action I noticed…..
“No. no. This can’t be” . right in front of me, hidden underneath the tree trunk was … the fern flower. The mystical, magical symbol of everything everyone ever wanted. I immediately forgot about the whole world rushing towards the plant and falling on my knees next to it afraid to rip if off or even touch it. Instead I was just admiring it’s glowing, shiny petals, the delicate stem and leaves.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Gods! Dream! You have scared me.”
“Apologies.” He muttered looking down “but why are you awake?”
“We have a celebration, you know. A festive? As a being of years-old shouldn’t  you know about it?”
“Humans customs change. It is not my will or intend to know all of them”
“Shall I explain it to you then my lord?” I asked innocently, smiling at him still happy about my discovery
“You may. And… “ he stopped abruptly looking down where the flower was growing.
“What? What is it?” I followed his gaze
“This flower. Did you found it?”
“Yes. Just a minute ago. Dream? You got this serious face of yours, should I be worried?”
“No. But my sister would not be happy about this.” He smirked
“Your sister?” I frowned in confusion
***
 To cut the story short let me just sat that the legend of the fern flower’s immortal powers were in fact true. And despite Dream’s belief his sister (who was literal Death) did not mind. In her own words, she had to “succumb to ancient rules which were binding even for her”. And when she met me she was more than glad that I found it. She immediately started treating me like a sister and promised to keep in touch. Yes, that was not ominous at all. But speaking seriously, she was a delight. Not in the slightest what you may think of imagine death as, so different from her gloomy brother who had no idea about humans. Since I explained to him all the customs of my people, much to Death’s delight he started to treat me like his personal encyclopedia on human life. I was the one to explain to him things I never imagine would require explaining. Funny how it was he was so oblivious.
Since I became immortal I had to feel the village to avoid being burned on the stake as witch. Ever since I was travelling a lot, moving between places and countries, not really staying anywhere for long. Dream and Death were surprisingly helpful with that taking me in as a part of family. I suppose they were in need of someone who were as lonely as they were. Even if Dream would never admit that. But, since I was a woman it was obviously easier to form a connection with Death (you know girl to girl). Due to my incentive, in 1389 as the three of us visited some old tavern the sibling made a bet. They choose one particular man, named Hob, which Death blessed with immortality. The point was to see whether at some point he would seek death or would his passion for life stayed.
“I don’t see the point In that” Death opposed “we already have you, and you do not want to die, am I right?”
“I am not really a good benchmark, Death. I had no choice in that matter and just had to … adapt. But of course I am not complaining”
“she is right sister. We do not need another immortal human.”
“Oh, be quiet, Dream and just try to listen for once! You know what my friend, I will do it. I will grant him this gift. Do you take the bet, brother?”
“What bet?”
“That this man there will not wish to die, even after hundreds of years.”
“I accept. Therefore I shall meet him every hundred years and see where that goes.”
***
Hob and I soon became friends. I mean, how many immortals human with shared experience walk the earth. That was the thing that definitely brought us together. I really enjoyed living in the XXI century, but after so many years and so many changes I slowly started to miss my old customs, like Kupala, which people in the modern times forgot.
“Is everything alright with you, dear” Hob asked me on one June day. He was just about to attend his meeting with dream.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit stuck in the past. Did I ever tell you that back in X century my people were celebrating Kupala Night. If we were living in other times it would take place tonight”
“Yeah, you mentioned that before. I know about the …. Coronets, right?
“Yes” I sighed “guess my prediction back in time were right. I would never get a beloved”
“Really?” hob shook his head in disbelief “I think you should open your eyes, friend”
“Hob Gadling!” I crossed my yes “What are you implying? I though we were just friends!”
“I’m not talking about myself” he almost rolled his eyes “go figure it out, I’m already late.”
“Hob! Don’t you dare walking away from me like that!” I yelled but he just waved his hand in goodbye and with signature smile left the house. That cheeky bastard!
***
I opened my eyes and found myself in complete darkness instantly knowing that this was a dream. That or I was going crazy. Why else would my bed be on the edge of the forest? A familiar forest. Almost like the one I knew and walked back in X century. There was a light flickering between the trees and I instantly followed it, hearing the voices chanting some old prayers in ancient language I knew well enough.
“Perun, god of lightning, Weles, god of the underworld, save us from the demons, grant us safety and fertility. Bring us abundance and crops.’ The old man behind the fire spoke. I stood there with my feet rooted to the spot, tears threatening to fall down. It was like in the past. How I missed that!
“My child, do not lurk in the shadows, come forward, join our celebration” the man turned toward me and I was able to see his face.
“Iwo….” I whispered remembering the priest from the past. The only one to treat me like a normal person, never shaming or pointing fingers.
“My child, it’s wonderful to see you here.”
“But … but how….”
“It’s a dream, isn’t it” he smiled making me sit on the log next to fire “you missed Kupala and there we are. Do you wish to unhand the wreath or jump through the fire? Surely you don’t have to search for the fern anymore.”
I smiled faintly.
“It’s not the same. Besides, I do not have a coronet prepared”.
“Oh, but you do” he flicked the fingers and handed me ….
“Is it the same” I reached my hands towards the gift he was showing.
“The very same”. My old coronet from before 1000 years.
“How…?”
“Just go, my child…. It’s your second chance and who knows what the future may bring you.”
Hesitantly I get up and moved toward the river where the coronet was supposed to be unhanded.
“This is crazy” I muttered “but my whole life has already been so why not”. I let it go and slowly followed as it flowed. The memories from the past, the girls’ laughter, the boys’ teasing, the elders’ stories, the prophecies… I closed my eyes, trying my best to keep that in me, the ghost of past surrounding my every step. I didn’t really hope that the result I got back in the days would be any different. After all, I was alone with my thoughts in this forest. Not a soul around.
“my dreamer” surprisingly, dark, tall, lean figure emerged from the other side. It was almost like the day we first met
“Hello stranger. What brings you here?” I revoked the first word I spoke to him.
“I came to visit your dream. And perhaps, do something more “ he raised left hand in which he was holding …  my coronet
“How…”
“I believe this is prophecy?”  
‘Yes, but….”
“Does it not make you content?” he searched my eyes with curious expression on his face. His eyes were also hiding a bit of… fear of what I may say.
“Oh, Morpheus ….” I took a few steps towards him and hugged him not caring about the coronet getting crashed in the process. For a second I hid my face in his chest while he closed his hands around me “Is this a joke?” I pulled back frowning afraid he was messing around.
“Never, my love. I should have told you about my … feelings … sooner.”
“Then why now? What pushed you?” I looked him straight into eyes now noticing the relief and pure, undeniable love he was hiding inside.
“Well. Hob might have mentioned something about taking action and ….”
“And you listened?” I laughed “How out of character of you!” his grip on my waist tightened “easy, Dream. I’m glad you did. Hob can be a menace sometimes, but he is still a good friend. To me.” I added quickly “I know you do not need friends”
“But I do need you.” He leaned forward so our noses were touching
“So… are you gonna act on this need or …”
He didn’t let me finish as his soft lips connected with mine and we just stood like that, in a dream, In the middle of forest kissing. I guess the fern flower really did bring me luck.
@pinksirensong
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Carnal Ch. V | Don't You Ever Tame Your Demon
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Carnal (adjective): relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites
Simon was born with what his father called 'The Curse'. A wanton craving for taboo meat. Since meeting the similarly cursed Johnny, the two had formed a bond. They didn't just fight together, they ate together, slept together, and shared everything.
When a favor to Price reveals another cursed person, Simon worries she could destroy everything.
A horror AU inspired by Bones and All and Raw among other works. TW: Blood, gore, cannibalism, smut, violence,
Masterpost | AO3
Title Credit: Arsonist's Lullaby - Hozier
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She didn’t make a habit of thinking about her mother. It wasn’t like they were anything more than acquaintances if that. It felt strange to even call her a mother. She died minutes after Nina lived. She had twenty-eight years before that. Twenty-eight years reduced to the five minutes it took for her to hemorrhage. 
It was best not to think about her too much. It only made Nina sad. She could only imagine a much different life if she’d only had a mother. A mother to explain to her why blood spilled from between her legs and why she wanted to tear into flesh. She imagined her mother had the same affliction and it could only exist in one of them at the same time. Her father never talked about her but he also never remarried. She never asked why. Was he content in having her as his only child or did he believe his seed was tainted and it was best not to try again? 
“Nina! Come up here!” Price’s voice tore her gaze from the photo on the wall. The only photo of her mother in the whole house. She looked like Nina. Blonde hair and brown eyes. She looked just as sad. Maybe there was a time when she also sat on this old couch with damp hair and blood still thick in her throat. 
She stood up and headed upstairs. He’d obviously seen Arthur’s body. The stairs creaked under her as she walked to her sentencing. The hallway felt longer as she crept along. Two men left the room as she walked in. Cedar and rosemary. It made her nauseous. She didn’t like the way the masked one looked at her like she was in his house and not the other way around. The other one, with the dumb haircut, seemed avoidant all together. She could feel his gaze drift to her as she shut the door behind them.
Shame came flooding back as she saw Price. His head in his hands, sitting on the edge of her bed. 
“Tell me what happened Nina.” He turned to her. He’d aged too much for his age. Barely forty but greying in his hair and under his eyes. War had taken its toll but so had she. 
“We had an argument, he grabbed me and was screaming. I told him to leave and he chased me up here.”
“No. What happened to him? Where’s his face, Nina?”
She felt the need to wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. She’d never lied to him, not directly. She tried to look at the floor and was met with Arthur’s feet. His shoes were still on. God, she hated he never took his fucking shoes off. 
“Nina, answer me.” His hard stare dug into her chest to pull on her ribs. 
“You weren’t supposed to see this.” She never should have called. There was a lake nearby. It was deep enough. She’d fill his pockets with rockets and let him sink. Tell the lie that he was suicidal, she’d broken up with him and he’d offed himself out of spite. Fewer questions. 
“I thought your father was crazy.” He murmured. She flicked her eyes back to him. 
“What?”
“He left me a letter when he died. Said you were sick. ” He patted the space beside him. She sat down next to him. “Used words like ravenous and cannibalistic. ”
That word made her cringe. 
“He said that you would hurt someone one day.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to tell me if you’ve done this before.”
“Never.”
“Don’t lie.” The first time he’d ever given her an order.
“I’m not. I swear. This is the first time.” 
“Okay. I’m going to fix this but it can never happen again, understand?” His hand was on the back of her neck, forcing her to make eye contact. “Never again. Nothing between us has changed. I still love you, Nina. I can’t make this disappear twice.”
“I know,” her voice cracked under the weight of his palm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to kill him. I just didn’t want him to touch me anymore.”
He pulled her into his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. 
“It’s okay, lamb. I got you. It’ll be okay.” She was a child again, being carried away from the horrors she helped create. “I’ll have one of the lads stay with you while we get rid of him. Is the guest room made up? Go rest, I’ll clean up.”
He patted her back as she stood back up. She was careful not to step in the mess on the floor. 
“I’m sorry,” She said again. 
“If you didn’t do it, I would have.” 
She had to pass the two men again on her way out. They’d probably heard everything. 
“You’re bleeding,” the masked one said as she walked away. She turned to stare at him. The bite mark on her arm had stung but she robe had covered the wound and no blood was showing on her hand. Cedar and rosemary. He wouldn’t even look at her, his back against the wall staring straight ahead. 
Mohawk was glaring at his friend. She felt a rush of territorialness. She wanted them out of her house. They were bigger but so was Arthur. 
“Ghost, Soap, get in here.” 
Mask straightened and went into her room with Mohawk close at his heels. He turned one last time and gave an apologetic look. 
She was alone again. 
The guest room was made, albeit dusty on every surface. She opened up a window to let the air in. It was cool but all she could smell was cedar and rosemary. No one had ever smelled like that before. It wasn’t a scent that made her mouth water, instead her skin prickled. 
She laid on the bed, her feet dragging across the floor. She could hear them carry Arthur down the stairs. Improvised pallbearers taking a tarp covered body to its final resting place. The sound of a boot opening, a thud, the boot slamming shut. Two cars starting. She watched the lights dance on the ceiling as they drove away.
Her phone vibrated.
“Get some rest. I’ll be back in the morning.” From Price.
She needed a smoke. The hallway was dark but from the top of the stairs she could see the dining room light was still one. Which lad was left behind?
Mohawk sat in her seat at the dining table. He was staring out the windows toward the front of the house. 
“I’m gonna go smoke.” She announced. He turned to her, barely registering her presence. A quick nod before turning back to the window.
Price hadn’t reclaimed the remaining cigar in the living room. He knew she’d use it. 
She always liked the garden. Her grandmother had spent most of her marriage planning it out. Pink Rose bushes, stone path ways in the perfect gray, trees and bushes trimmed to the right shape and size. She hadn’t take the care it deserved in the past couple years. Little green plants grew between the stones and the shrubs looked like actual shrubs instead of rectangles. 
She sat on the carved stone wall and re lit the cigar. She needed to buy cigarettes again. Cigars were such a fucking hassel. 
“I don’t know how you and Price are able to smoke those things.” He said, closing french doors behind him. 
“Its not my usual but he,” she looked up to her bedroom window, “didn’t like cigarettes in the house. I just steal Price’s when I can.”
“You’re in luck.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He laid them flat in his plam as he offered it to her. 
“He’ll be pissed that I wasted it but fuck it.” She stubbed the cigar out on the stone. She took two out and set them between her lips before lighting them. 
“Thanks,” he chuckled, taking one from her.
“What?” 
“I was gonna offer the light, is all.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Obviously.” His smile fell. “I’m sorry. You probably still upset.”
“Not really. I am but not in a ‘my boyfriend died’ way.”
“Price said he’s prick.”
“He was.”
They stood there smoking. Menthol and rosemary mixing in the night air. It was nice to have company for once. Where she didn’t feel the need to pretend or be on her best behavior. He’d already seen what she did and here he was, smoking next to her.
“You still bleeding?” He asked as they made their way back inside. 
“I don’t think so.”
“Can I look?”
He rolled up the sleeve of her robe to examine the bite on her arm. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow as he ran his finger over her teeth marks. It wasn’t deep and the bleeding had stopped but her skin was crusted in dried and jellied blood. He sat her on the edge of the bathtub and knelt between her legs as he took a wet cloth to her arm.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?” She’d forgotten to ask for his name. 
“Did it taste good?”
Rosemary. The way her skin prickled under his touch. She felt like she could meld into him. There flesh would stick together until they were one. Because they were one, one in the same. He didn’t smell like food.
“Yes.” It did. She knew it shouldn’t have but it did. It tasted so fucking good. It didn’t matter that she through up most of it. That she sobbed as she ate. She wanted to consume and be consumed. Devour until her jaw broke and crumbled. 
He held her arm delicately, locking eyes with her. She gave him a nod.
He licked her wound, gathering up any remaining blood on his tongue. She felt his teeth scrape against her flesh. She blinked and he had stood up, digging through the medicine cabinet.
“I always thought I was alone,” she said. “Didn’t think there was anyone like me.”
“You’re not alone. Not anymore.” He finished wrapping the bandage around her arm. 
‘What about mask?’ she thought. 
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Pray for Price's heart rate. He needs it.
Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree
Comment or DM me if you want to be added
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dogtoling · 1 year
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How do you think inkfish 'hair' grows? I can't imagine it working anything like hair follicles, but considering there's different hairstyle lengths it must grow over time as mammalian hair does. Same with Cuttlefish's beard- do the individual tentacles just sprout from the skin, then merge together over time? (The extra short inkling cut weirds me out, since its just a solid 'mat' of tentacle material...)
Inkfish hair does grow over time, but not infinitely like human hair. Inkfish "hair" are basically limbs after all, and they have a preset maximum length that varies based on species and genetics, mostly. On average, Squids have pretty short head tentacles (minus the hunting tentacles, which are more prehensile) and Octopuses typically have much longer ones. The easiest way to monitor tentacle length if you want them to be shorter is to cut them short, which is how most Octolings get their shorter tentacle styles. The tentacles will always grow tips back before they slowly begin regrowing in length, which is how you get hairstyles with very short tentacles. (And for the SUPER short tentacle styles, you need to be shaving the nubs off too...)
As for the positioning of the tentacles on the head I would like to have an answer for you but there's just none. I am dumbfounded. Logically it would be obvious that tentacles have a root and are connected to the brain and evenly split across the head for optimal, well, existence, given that they are Meat and they Do Things. But no, seemingly magically inkfish tentacles can be in any random arrangement on the top of their head, or not even on the top, judging by Cuttlefish who has a BALD HEAD and a BEARD instead.
It is unclear whether there is insane genetic variety on what exact part of your head your tentacles will grow and you just have to hope that they grow in the arrangement you want for the hairstyle you want and some styles are out of your reach forever. It seems more likely that the position of the tentacles can be changed, given that inkfish literally DO THAT every time they switch form, but that's also much more unrealistic than them just having natural variety. It's like if a werewolf turned back into a human and now its arms are on the back of the body for funsies instead of being on the sides. This has been ruining my life since Splatoon 2 came out and I hope we get like, answers on inkfish haircuts some time soon because they keep getting more and more insane and making less sense.
On the topic of beards I literally hate that inkfish get beards. There is ZERO reason to have extra tentacles sprouting from the front of the face to obscure the beak. In the wild these wouldn't have been cut most likely. Hell, in the modern day, CAN YOU shave? Because again, THAT'S MEAT. If you're growing a whole tentacle out of your face not only is that muscle (does it anchor into your beak musculature?) but if it's multiple, your face is now full of tentacle mass that should be on your head. Even humans when we shave don't actually REMOVE the facial hair, we just cut it extremely short so it's less visible. How does an inkfish shave? It would always leave a meat slab behind with a white cut surface and grow back as nubs. It wouldn't just peel off like an orange peel when you take a razor to it, tentacles are muscle.
This all on top of it usually literally being EXTRA TENTACLES because you can have a beard while you already have the correct amount of head tentacles. Like okay maybe inkfish just evolved to sprout some additional extra tentacles on their face over time to look pretty, since the head tentacles are decorative as is. But why in the middle of the face. Why there where it obscures everything and is probably impossible to remove fully because as TENTACLES, which are (for the billionth time) MEAT, they are fully attached to the rest of your flesh and wouldn't just peel or pluck off. Congrats on your flesh beard you're stuck with it forever and it has no evolutionary purpose and whether you get one and what it looks like is completely random.
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desnoot · 2 years
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Hy everyone, I'm going to be reviewing the third Umbrella Academy season chapter by chapter couse I couldn't fit every thought in a single post!
I'm going to comment some important bits and then list the details I liked most in chronological order, hope you enjoy and feel free to rant in the comments/taggs with me <3
Episode 1: Meet the Family
Theories and analysis:
I think Ben is a bit sensitive about the scar because he got it during the Jennifer Incident and even though it didn't kill him this time around it probably was what led to his eventual demotion to number 2
I don't know if it's confirmed but I want to believe Christopher communicates through telepathy with the others
I'm going to bring this up again but why do they all suddenly think Five knows what might be different in the timeline? The whole show is about him not knowing this kind of stuff and trying to find out.
One of the things that bother me this season is that some of the conflict seems a bit fabricated. For example, I get that we need conflict right away but the Sparrows dismiss the Brellies so fast and have a very bullie like kind of humor? And the Brellies get so defensive of their childhood home, which they didn't even seem to like during the previous seasons, even before the Sparrows become hostile
Another example of this is nobody realizing that Claire doesn't exist before it's revealed. Allison hasn't lived the same life in this timeline, obviously Claire is not going to exist
I love how it's a consistent theme that Klaus kind of just comes across plot relevant shit without trying (Part 1. Hotel Obsidian)
Watching Viktor and Allison during the first half of the season hurts me so much because they could have finally had the good relationship they wanted since season one
I know we don't get to know much about how the Sparrows work in this timeline but I think the closest we get to knowing are Marcus' interactions and him referring to civilians as "sheep" when he talks to Viktor
Ok. As much as I love the Stanley plotline and Diego trying to figure out how to be a dad, how does anyone entertain this???? Does. Does it look like Lila is 12 years older now??? TO ANYONE????
I'll come back to this later too but after all the promos and such I expected all the Sparrows to have more screentime during this season kind of the way Lila did the previous one so it's a bit of a shame we didn't get to know them that much.
Details + Stuff I liked:
I didn't expect Ben's family in particular to want to keep him so it's a bit reassuring that they did
WTF is RegiNaLd WeAriNg
Jayme and Alphonso beating up racists
Marcus discreetly motioning Ben out of the way so he can be in the center
"Cute hat, Sundance" is my new favorite sentence ever
I love the dynamic between Sloane and Luther since minute one (1)
Diego immediately putting the knife back when he sees Grace
We do not deserve the footloose scene but man, do we love it:
"Oh shit, we're really good at this!!"
Alphonso's very excited face while dancing
Christopher becoming a disco ball
Ben and Klaus dancing together will ✨never✨ fail to bring me joy
GRACE DOING THE ROBOT
Klaus immediately going "wow look at you not being dead, shitty haircut btw, oh look at that scar in your face, anyway how about a hug???" at Sparrow Ben
Klaus' very dramatic fall after the punch
Reginald noping out of the fight and going for some biscuits
Klaus interrupting Luther and Marcus' fistfight to pass through without being hit
Christopher using telepathy explicitly to insult Diego's hair
Five very calmly going through existential problems while discussing with Ben
Alphonso, Jayme and Sloan chilling with some popcorn while Fei fights cause "she's making a point"
"See? We're hugging! This is progress!"
Finally knowing what Five imagines Delores like and them lovingly talking in Italian to each other
If he didn't before Five definitely has a concussion after falling down the stairs. Repeatedly
The Sparrows casually discussing dinner while beating someone up
The umbrellas knowing the secret passages of the house
Reginald struggling to open the biscuit box
Klaus going for the biscuit
Five noping out the second he sees Viktor starting to glow
"Here you go, it's your ass"
Luther also being concussed
"Dickhead"
The sandwiches in numeric order
The Brellies looking like a decadent boyband
People actually looking at them because they strangely resemble the Kennedy 6
Klaus encouraging Luther, even if it's to insult the Sparrows correctly
Everyone slowly turning to Klaus because they need a weirdass place to stay and Of CoUrSe he knows a place
Them all going though the same door but Five going through the door even though he points out there's another one
In this house we stan Chet
Luther and Diego both playing with the doggie like the himbos they are
Ok we love Luther being like "put the knife awaY" when Diego shows the knife but can we talk about the fact that FIVE HAS TEETH IN HIS POCKET???
None of them asking Allison to rumor them some rooms
That's cute, Diego thinks Reginald loves them
The Sparrows training scene, for reasons
Sparrow Ben having the audacity to say they can use the Brellies' lack of loyalty towards one another when he himself doesn't have an ounce of it
Luther loving the summer camp experience
FIVE FINALLY SLEEPING
Would also need my headphones if a baby was crying on the bus
Marcus being a poser
Marcus assuming Viktor is number 1 and being like "well somebody screwed that up" after finding out he is number 7
Viktor being both hot and scary af during that scene
Klaus having the audacity to criticize table manners after peeing through an open window hours/minutes before
Diego, sweetie: Five being older than you doesn't make him a boomer, you were born the same day
Klaus being a confirmed pro clone-fucker cause oF CoURse hE iS
Lila just dropping Stanley with Diego like "here you go, a child"
"Hello Stanley"
I know Grace being religious is a reference to the comics but omg I was not prepared
Damn Marcus. That was fast
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dropthedemiurge · 1 year
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The Eclipse: Things You Might Not Have Noticed
I just love to rewatch this series and I tend to lurk in the background to see if I can notice something new. In other ways, this post can be called 'Kudos to Production Team' as well xD
1. Ayan was not the one who saw his uncle jumping off the cliff
This is something revealed once you watch the whole series, however I told my friends that was definitely the case since the first scene, and 100% established this after they showed us the difference between Ayan remembering talking to his uncle and having nightmares.
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This is a nightmare, a fantasy. The jarring editing adds a bit of mystery but it also lets us know right from the beginning that it's all a glitch and is unreal. You never see Ayan reacting to his uncle Dika ending his life in the same frame, this is all just a compilation of one and another situation.
Considering his personality, I also doubt if it happened in real life, he'd just stand there and shout, not even rushing forward or collapsing or anything, which might tell us that he was never able to actually reach out to his uncle.
And compare Aye's look with this frame:
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When Dika was alive, Aye had a different haircut and a typical hoodie. Meanwhile, in the nightmares Ayan always has his hair up, eclipse hoodie and... he also has a necklace(!). Which he only obtained once his uncle killed himself and they gave the family his belongings.
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What solidified my suspicion is when Ayan was actively thinking about talking with his uncle, Dika had different clothes – but Aye was in his current beach attire, meaning the outfit definitely defines the timeline.
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In conclusion, Aye just used to come often to the edge of the cliff to grief, helplessly wonder what's happened to his dear uncle and endlessly imagine how he would've reacted if he ever witnessed Dika's last moments of life.
2. Akk's room is full of wonders xD (Yok, is that you?)
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Even though I know it's 99% work of the production crew and generic room decoration, I can't help but check out all the things in Akk's room xD (like what do you need this spork-weird-spoon-collection picture on the wall for, Mr.Prefect President?))
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First of all, look at this drawing mannequin and two pencils! While it could simply be for Suppalo's art assignments, I'd like to think it's a nice little detail for the fandom's headcanon that Akk could grow up into artistic Yok in university =)
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He's got math and physics reminders on his wall, which is expected because he studies in STEM major class, but there are other... interesting things in his room. Like, DROP THE PLAYLIST FOR THE BOTTLE? What does it listen to right now? I'm curious xD Such a funny spot to hang your earphones (is that a money bank? If so, could be a nice little hint for Akk's tight relationship with money)
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By the way, I really loved the prefect gang all hanging out in one room, and at first, I wondered if they all lived together (since Kan is even playing guitar and Wat is all up in Akk's bed in a cozy manner). But nope, it seems like it's solely Akk's room.
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Everybody just loves to hang out in his place (most likely, because best Suppalo boy has the biggest and nicest one?). Akk does keep guitar in his room though, even though only Kan plays it :3 Anyway, I love that it's a tradition for Akk and his friends (and then lover) to casually exist in the same room in evenings all the time.
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