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#imagines are bullshit
bulimic-mutt · 2 years
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""""imagine"""""
You wake up in the morning and wish you didn't. The heartbeat practically killing you is so fast, so slow at the same time. If you move, you will die.
(Back when you were okay, you used to have the windows open in August, maybe even sleep in underwear. Back when you were--)
Frozen. Goosebumps line skin hidden under layers and layers of fabric. You shift now, gently, until you're sitting up on the side of the bed. Too miserable to shiver now, only to wait for the pain to strike a little less violently. Your reflection across the room catches your eye. It stares at you now. You don't recognize it.
There is shame to be felt as you strip down on the scale and step on, then immediately off again. This number will dictate your day and if it's one you don't like, then lord fucking save you.
On. Off. Nudge it with your foot across the floor (because if you bend down you will take an hour to get back up without feeling nauseous) to see if the number is different on the other side of your room. Why is it up now? You shift it back, and stand one more time defeatedly before dressing back up.
Your family eyes you. The air is tense, it is thick. They know what is wrong with you. They are scared to admit it. You take your morning coffee and skulk back like a creature of misery, leaving an opportunity to be okay behind you. As always.
(Will you ever change, you sickly creature of habit? Or has the comfort of being distressed perpetually sunk in too deep?)
Sink back into bed, your energy is spent. And you aren't even pretty yet. And you will never be.
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hadesoftheladies · 10 days
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women's sports is one of the loudest and most successful anti-patriarchy campaigns in human history. what women's sports did and does is prove, over and over again, the excellence, the raw power and strength of the human woman. it completely disrupts ideas on gender.
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you have big, powerful women in rugby. fast, endurable women runners. impeccably strong gymnasts. women with strong, large bodies that take up space. that are HEALTHY. they are not RESTRICTED or ladylike. they are free of the stillness/deadness that femininity demands. no corsets. no (aesthetic) thinness. no hourglass bodies for gawking. women's sports screams to society "we are fully human, not objects, not small men. we are not domestic dolls. we are hunters and foragers. fighters."
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why do you think men are so vitriolic about it? why don't they want women in football? why don't they want it televized? why do they keep harassing female basketball players? why do they insist on dressing women in sexualized uniforms? why do they now make it taboo to exculde men from women's sports?
i firmly believe it's because women's sports tears patriarchal gender ideology apart so effortlessly. it completely spits in the face of patriarchal political propaganda and shows how null it is. it forces all of us to view women as full, as the beginning of human excellence, as central to human history. not as decorative sexual objects, no matter how men want us to be.
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that's why there's so much aggression and derision when it comes to women's sports from men. because women's sports destroys the idea of femininity and depicts women as non-derivative. women must be monsters and cannot afford to play into the childlikeness that femininity demands. the arena of sports forces us to focus on women's physical performance rather than appearance. their strength rather than how attractive they are. their skill and strategy. their humanity. it is a form of entertainment where all female roles are agentive and active rather than passive.
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women's sports events are also hotbeds for female and lgb solidarity like you have no idea!
y'all need to start watching women's sports. not only because it is exciting, but it deprograms the patriarchal bullshit out of you so fast. you realize how much is possible. how much we can all achieve right now.
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jq37 · 3 months
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OK Brennan, if you aren't gonna let me have Aelwyn posted up in the manor at all times, having her use her dramatic villain skills to protect Adaine before going off to teach middle schoolers is the next best thing I could have hoped for. What a mental image--Ms. "I Came Here To Fuck" teaching cantrips to eleven-year-olds. Wild.
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bronzetomatoes · 5 months
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People will say with their full chest "no one has ever thought [discourse topic] about the dsmp" and you check their account and they made their blog in 2023. How the hell would you know
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Draw your character like this
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origami-trust · 7 days
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Elias: *winding down after about an hour* and then after all that considerable effort, perhaps of years, and careful, subtle machinations and manipulation that even the Web would envy, I can begin to set into play the actions that will complete the ritual for the Eye. I'm thinking of calling it something that demands awed respect and trembling fear, like the Watcher's Crown. Lena: We have Mr. Bonzo. He's like a bloodthirsty mascot we can unleash on people. I was thinking of putting his themesong on youtube because it summons him, and making it go viral. Elias: There's no accounting for taste, I suppose. Lena: There is. Forms 31.2.L through 31.2.LAAAC Elias: ....Oh. What, ah, Entity does Mr. Bonzo serve? Lena: Me. Elias: ....Ah.
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ohmygodletmesignup · 5 months
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“You were scared of that-?” Diana asked Flash, gesturing to Danny, who’d gotten stuck in a door after accidently going tangible.
“Terrified.” Bruce said, ignoring the look from Barry.
“I was not!” Flash exclaimed, defensive, but they all knew it was a lie.
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avocadoraisin · 9 days
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happy 4/20
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fuckyeahisawthat · 1 month
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Paul/Chani battle couple falling in love while fighting side by side in a guerrilla war for national liberation felt like a gift to me personally for many reasons but mostly because comrades-to-lovers is SUCH a specific vibe and putting Paul Atreides into that dynamic is so so so so funny
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salsakiyoomi · 1 month
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suna used to be in a band.
it was a small thing back in highschool, the music club had four people and he was the fourth — he played the guitar, he played it really well, in fact, he was the best.
it was a little gig on the side next to his volleyball, he was passionate about it and his mom pushed him into joining the music club for it to maybe grown on him like volleyball did.
in the band, he was the main guitarist and there was a bassist and a drummer and then there was you.
you, the vocalist with the angel voice.
he had never heard someone with such a beautiful voice as yours before.
all of the competitions that he had entered with the band, the primary reason for the winning was you and your voice.
other than the fact that your voice was angel-like and had his ears begging for more — you were charismatic, and he was immediately attracted to you.
although the two of you never interacted much, just a daily minimum, you two talked enough to be labeled as friends.
and although he wouldn't like to admit, he may or may have not developed a teeny tiny crush on you by you two's third year.
he even asked you out for prom, although it was totally platonic.
anyway, years passed and eventually the two of you lost contact although you never really forgot him because he became a top-tier volleyball player and you saw his face everywhere you went and he never really forgot you either because your voice played like a remedy on repeat every night.
none of that really explains why he's seeing you by the bar counter chatting with the bartender right now though.
he's at a bar with his friends, chatting and drinking while the night is still young, and he swears that its you, standing right there and sipping on a martini.
he's debating whether or not to come up and talk to you because if it isn't you, well then this whole thing is going to be very embarrassing for him.
fortunately, his longing side wins and he stands up from the table and walks over to where you are.
he taps at your shoulder and you turn around to look at him and yep — it's definitely you.
“hey.” he says and his voice comes out a little wobbly a little more than he'd like to admit so he gulps and continues, “y/n l/n, right?”
there is a slight smile at your cherry red lipstick lips and you nod.
he smiles and his heart is doing cartwheels because yes, oh thank god it's you, “uh, i don't know if you remember me but, we used to be in band together in highschool, i’m —” you cut him off, “suna rintaro, yeah i remember you.” you say, smiling at him, you take a sip out of your drink then continue, “it's good to see you, suna, i haven't talked to anyone from highschool for a while.”
god, his heart is about to leap out of his chest — because not only does your voice sound as angelic as it was and always will be, but you remember him and god do you look so beautiful right now, standing there with that red dress on and your hair and make up done he could just kiss you —
he clears his throat and tries for a chuckle to not seem awkward, “that's great… would uhm, like to catch up sometime? you know maybe hang out, i could give you my number.”
there is most definitely a blush on his cheeks right now.
you look at him for a moment then giggle, “sure, i'd love to catch up with you.”
“great.” he says.
you smile teasingly at him, “great.”
yeah, that's definitely a score.
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hannibard · 1 month
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I think Will Graham's problem is that he's constantly surrounded by only 4 groups of people: therapists, serial killers, cops and dogs. No wonder he ended up like That.
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spacedace · 10 months
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Here be the first little bit of the new DP x DC AU I warned about earlier where Tim, due to his constant repeated attempts at cloning Bart & Kon, accidentally summons slightly eldritch Elle who is very interested in what he’s up to.
As always feel free to run with this as a prompt if yall find anything here interesting :D
*
Tim didn’t mean to summon her.
He’d been in the lab, staring at the data on the latest failed attempts at cloning Kon and Bart and feeling like he was cracking in two. Eyes burning, chest tight, world spinning out into shifting impossible shadows around him as his mind and body struggled to push him forward into another day without sleep. The hush of water in the tanks, his unsteady steps on the cement floor, the chill seeping into his bones.
He stumbled and swayed through the maze of the lab, numbers dripping like blood down the screen as he tried to stare at the figures. He needed to try again, needed to bring them back, in whatever capacity he could. This time would work. This time he’d get it right.
When he saw her, feet clumsy as he rounded a corner, he thought she was just another hallucination.
How could she be anything else?
Skin like a polished mirror, hair like the white-hot flash of lightning, eyes as green as the depths of the Lazarus Pits. She floated before a tank, spectral and strange with a long wisping tail that drifted off into nothingness in place of legs, body shifting and changing before his eyes in ways that bodies should not be able to. Outside of the eyes the face was…not there. An impression of the shapes that you’d expect to see in a human face, like the Question’s. Sometimes though the features defined, sharpened. Mirror bright skin crackling as faces took shape in the glass.
In the low light of the lab, he almost imaged one of those faces was Kon’s. Dimples and freckles and high cheek bones and the slant of a silhouette that haunted Tim’s dreams at night. A flicker of her lightining hair and it was gone. Smoothed back into soft blankness once more.
He watched from the of the aisle as she lifted too-long mirror shard fingers and rest them gently on the glass as she seemed to peer in at the lifeless body inside.
Attempt 76.
One of his tries with Bart. The organs hadn’t grown right during the age-up process. Tim had cried for that one as he had for all the others. As he had for Bart and Kon when they had died. As he still did as the fact that it was more maddened grief than hope that kept him pushing forward anyway.
He closed his eyes to the hallucination at the end of the aisle. Breathed deep and steady. It might be gone when he opened his eyes again. It might not be. It might be something - someone - else when he dares look next. He’d been through this time and time again over the days and weeks he’d been throwing himself at this agonizing wall. The only difference this time was the intricate strangeness, the total lack of recognition he had for the figure, baring the moment he almost saw Kon in its face.
Coffee. Maybe some harder stimulants, if he had any left. New data to review, new attempts to be made. He didn’t have time for the effects of sleep deprivation.
Tim opened his eyes.
He jerked back as he came face to face with himself, warped and strange and green in the reflective face of the being where it now hovered so close that if it breathed he would feel it upon his face.
She tilted her head at him, curious. Hands rose to cup his face, rest on his shoulders, wrap around his arms, cradle his hands. More hands than he’d seen before. More hands than he was able to truly comprehend, stomach souring as his eyes stung and strained in the attempt to look at the impossible warping of her body. Despite the glint of shattered glass that made up her fractured palms and splintered silver fingers, her hands were soft and warm where they curled around him. Almost human in the way they held him in place, the hold pleasantly firm.
He’d never had a doting elder aunt to pinch his cheeks and demand to get a look at him, but he imagined this might be what that felt like. The way the being shifted her head from side to side, his reflection warping in the curved reflection of the planes of her featureless face, added to the strange idea. His hallucinations didn’t normally touch him, though. And never so…kindly.
Tim felt his blood go cold as he realized it might not be a figment of his fracturing mind floating before him.
Swallowing nervously, he tried to shift backwards, to slip out of the many grasping hands before the softness turned sharp and began to cut into him. He felt something cool against the back of his legs, hair standing on end as static electricity built up on his skin where he brushed the trailing tail he hadn’t noticed her curl around him. The entity leaned in close, the depthless green of her glowing eyes consuming Tim’s entire field of vision, and he was flooded by the sudden, horrible awareness of being Known.
The world fell away from him, his stomach lurching with the sick-sweet feel of free fall that used to exhilarate him when he’d first become Robin and had flown from rooftops dangling by his grapple and his belief in the magic being Robin instilled in him. The lab, the equipment, the piles of data and desperate scribbles, the failed clones, Tim himself. All swept away in the flood of green and the roar of lightning and the cool press of glass.
He came to would could have been minutes or centuries later. Gasping and sick on the cold cement floor, shivering as he dry heaved. His mouth full of salt and copper and the burning crackle of ozone at the back of his throat.
For a moment, disoriented and dizzy, he thought it had all been a hallucination after all. Or some fractious dream visited upon him by his torn and tattered mind after he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion on the lab floor. That the entity truly had been just in his mind, a consequence of his refusal to rest until his work was done.
Then he felt the glass-cool fingers running through his hair, the warm hand rubbing at his back, heard the low murmurs of reassurance in a voice that was almost, almost human.
He spasmed as he tried to jerk away, hissing with the sharp sting of pins and needles dancing over every nerve. His limbs were heavy and clumsy, and he was crashing back to the cold floor under his own weight before he could even try and drag himself away. His breathing came in short, aching gasps as he tried to twist away, only managing to roll to his back to see the entity where it sat calmly looking down at him.
She had a face now. A solid, steady one that fit her in a way that made him think it must be her real one, though what that meant exactly he didn’t know. The glowing eyes had dimmed and shifted, more human looking with black pupils and white sclera. Button nose marked with silver-tarnish freckles that spread over her cheeks too. A mouth, with lips curled into an apologetic smile. Her hair, still shifting as if caught in a wind that wasn’t there, was still the bright white it’d been before, but the lighting of the locks had settled into faint crackles between the curls. Whatever she was, whatever she’d done to him, he could look at her without feeling like his mind might just crack in two.
“Wha-“ His voice cracked, painful and hoarse like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. Swallowing around the burn in his throat, he choked out a hissed, “What are you?”
Her head tilted in that curious slant again, more human features giving her a bright, youthful look as she peered down at him questioningly. “You summoned me, Little Gaffer, shouldn’t you know?”
*
Gaffer is a term used for a glass crafter, as well as light technicians for stage/movie productions. I’m using it as the term for the person who creates a Clone, with the clone themselves being a Mirrorborn, and the person they are cloned from being called the clone’s Reflected. Gaffer is probably a bit of a stretch for this, technically I think someone who makes mirrors would be called a Glazier (Glaziers are glassmakers) but I wasn’t vibing that as much. Besides I like the vibe of glass + light = mirror in a way.
Anyway, opening volley of a new AU where Tim ends up becoming like a warlock to Elle to get his loved ones back, while Elle is just having the time of her sorta eldritch little life watching this absolute mess of a human wreck shit and cause so much chaos even without the powers she starts giving him.
(Elle in this is both the God Queen of Clones/Mirrorborn as well as the Ancient of the Speedforce (which I’ve decided is called the Ever Onward in the Infinite Realms, because I literally can’t be stopped from trying to make normal DC things sound mystical because spooky Infinite Realms aesthetics haha)
Have a tiny bit more written for this, but don’t know how much I’ll end up writing for it with all the other projects I have currently lol, so if anyone is interested feel free to run with it as you so desire haha
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lotrmusical · 2 years
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a. e. housman, from 'hell gate'
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flowerygrdn · 1 year
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MESS IT UP || r. cameron
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gif, not mine*
pairing: rafe cameron x reader
warnings: season 3 spoilers!! angst, rafe is still fucking crazy, and very sad.
summary: y/n and the pouges need to get to south america, but when rafe brings ward to the plane, he needs to talk to her one last time before she leaves.
a/n: wanted to write something sad, but i will be writing some smut next 😏 also this is hella short, sorry.
---
As my friends are bickering about Kiara and Jj, the engine of a motorcycle begins to grow closer. I see it first, two people are on it and then suddenly, it stops in front of us. Everyone turns their heads and the riders take their helmets off. Rafe's eyes meet mine for a split second before Ward falls off the bike. He rushes to his side and starts yelling at us to help him.
"Don't just stand there, help!" He yells, then Sarah rushes to his side and helps get Ward up. They run up the steps to the plane and I stay still in my spot.
"No, hell no. I am not getting on a plane with them." Pope states. I agree, I don't want to be on a plane with Rafe. Especially not after everything he's done. I thought he loved me, but he cared more about what his horrible father thought of him than me. Pope and John B go back and for the before Sarah steps off. She goes on a rant about how it's her father's plane and if we want to find another way we can.
Soon, Rafe steps off and Pope glares at him.
"Pope, not here," I warn him. As Rafe gets to the bottom of the steps Pope's hand comes to his shoulder.
"We're not done." Rafe shoots him a glare and walks away. Cleo makes sure Pope gets on the plane. Rafe looks at Sarah and there's a weird silence for a few seconds.
"Please take care of him." She brushes past him. I stay in my spot, I know he's going to try to talk to me, but I don't want him to. John B goes to walk past him, but he stops him.
"You do anything to him, anything, I swear to god I'll find you." They glare at each other for a few seconds before John B walks away.
"Y/N!" He yells over his shoulder. I slowly start walking but I feel a large hand grab my wrist before I could touch the steps.
"Y/N..." Rafe steps closer so his nose brushes over my temple.
"What," I say, I don't look at him, because if I do, my walls will break down again.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I messed it all up and I regret every moment of it. If I could do it all over, I would have done it differently. I love you, only ever you." He presses his forehead to the side of mine and I can feel tears start to fall down his face. I finally turn to face him and every piece of my heart breaks at the sight of his face.
"Rafe..." My hands cup his face and he breaks down even more.
"I need you to know that I'm sorry. I need you to know I love you. I need you to know everything, y/n." I press my forehead to his.
"I know, Rafe. I know, and I know you can be better than this. Promise me that you're going to try. Try to get better. When I get back, I'll find you and I'll help you." Our noses brush against one another and tears start to pool in my eyes as well.
"I promise, y/n." I nod then lean up to press a kiss on his lips. He pulls me closer to deepen it. My heart shatters even more. I love him so much, I've never stopped.
"Goodbye, Rafe." I turn away because if I don't, I'll stay. I need to help Jonh B right now. I hear Rafe's broken sobs behind me and the tears in my eyes finally fall as the plane door shuts. He's gone, I'm gone. Even if I do make it back, I know I can never go back to him, because he'll never change. Not even for me.
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I think Danny Phantom fandom is absolutely sleeping on the sheer dumb bulshittery Danny, Sam and Tucker generate on the regular and it’s a fucking shame. Like, the three of them have exactly one (1) single braincell between them, and the only one to use it at least semi-regularly is Jazz. You literally can’t leave them for five minutes without them stumbling into some new bullshit every single time. Granted, a lot of times bullshit finds them first instead of the other way around, but by god will they make the situation worse. They run into the situations with the same reckless abandon the cockchafers fly into any solid obstacle in their way, and you’d think that at least one of them will be the voice of reason, and you’d be dead wrong.
Danny? He thought pranking a murder happy millionaire with a vindictive streak the size of Grand Canyon was a great idea. And then, like a moron, he decided to use equally murder happy government agency with a huge prejudice against ghosts and a vendetta against him, personally. Absolutely nothing that could go wrong with that, obviously!
(spoiler alert, things did go very wrong very fast)
Tucker? A valid choice at the first glance, except he is always down to commit crimes for either his friends or just for funsies. Remember that time he ran an obviously illegal babysitting scam business? Or that time when he brainwashed and then dimensionally displaced the whole school into Ancient Egypt setting? Another notable instances of Tucker being a menace, in no particular order: organised o pro-meat protest in a few hours, tried to shoot a ghost with his phone as a projectile (and succeeded), sold Sam out to a ghost out of sheer pettiness, gave Skulker an alarm-induced ptsd, almost killed Danny that one time (don’t worry, Danny was fine) and in general committed to being bullshit-enabling gremlin.
Now Sam would seem the most grounded and reasonable out of three of them, but it is what SHE wants you to believe. She is just as, if not more, unhinged as the boys, she just hides it better. Remember that time she trashed the castle and antagonised a few dozen of armed guards, while having no back up, no weapons, no allies and while being in some shithole in the Ghost Zone? And then basically told a tyrannical asshole with op dragon powers “fuck you and your entire kingdom” in the face? And then rode another dragon who put said asshole through a wall? Good times.
They all seem like perfectly reasonable people at the first glance, and then Tucker and Danny would dare each other to lick that weird glowing green rock, and Sam would roll her eyes and groan about how stupid boys are, and then Tucker would dare her to lick that glowing rock too, and Danny will say, “Come on, Tuck, it’s okay if she’s too afraid to do it-”, and yes, Sam and her mother have many disagreements on a lot of things, but both her mother AND Granny did not raise a fucking bitch, move over, Tucker, or so help her the spirit of Pandora-
They all end up absolutely miserable in ecto-containment units sick as hell with ecto-flu and on all questions answer that no, they don’t know how this happened, maybe it was ghost attack last week, they did get blasted by that green goo, after all, but really, they have absolutely no idea, honest. Jazz suspects something, but she also has no proof and therefore can’t prove anything. In the end, it was one of the worst weeks in their life and they all ended up swearing to not do it ever again.
(they do end up doing it again two months later)
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mortysmith · 9 months
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favorite colors
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