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This is.....niche. Do period-appropriate chickens even still exist? Idk anything about chickens. I like the fancy ones.

#this also bugs the shit out of me #it's always red sexlink hens or rhodies 🙄 #and they're always stressed and panting

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(source)

#gen kill

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Chastity kink guy who is also a prison abolitionist: the only cages people belong in are—

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"Where is Silna?" "She lost Tuunbaq. Alone is the way for her now."

-> 4/∞ CHARACTER DYNAMICS in The Terror: Silna and Tuunbaq

#the sailcloth repair on her fursuit still make me go oof #<- prev big same but why'd you have to call it that 😭 #the terror

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#it's easier if he's on his knees to begin with but do what you must

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best of the onion

#workplace lingerie my beloved #also tho this was me accidentally getting my whole tits out at the bowling alley the other day #thankfully my cousin was on hand to yoink my shirt back down while i was trapped in the bowels of sweatshirt #it was a beatles sweater too does that mean anything? #🤔

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I'M SORRY YOU SAW HER LIVE IN JULIUS CAESAR AND THEN TALKED TO HER AFTER??????? 😭😭😭😭😭 how did it feel to make eye contact with god

harriet walter

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After more than a year I’ve finished the letters of my cross-stitch. It was mostly stitched on the subway during my commute. It’s been my constant companion for months. I don’t want to let it go, but also I’m not sure how to continue yet.

I was powered by spite about how often astr*l*gy comes up in my circles, and I’m not sure a different project would entertain me as much. Though I do love the feeling of cross-stitching.

#oh my god heroes walk (and take transit) among us 🙏

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listen..................... come down to my cellar. i have a deliciously aged telepathy fic for you right here in this cozy little alcove

Hello please talk to me about the telepathy fic, you know I am thirsty leetle flower

oh ms mortua you are a little creechur indeed. i have been promising this fic now for... *checks notes* TWO FULL YEARS OH MY GOD. 🤦‍♀️

truly shameful. 

anyway, the central premise is that, for reasons both irrelevant and unknown, nate and mike spontaneously develop a telepathic bond while deployed. because i’m just a big sucker for that kind of shit. do i have any idea how to end this fic? no! do i like it a lot and wish i did? boy howdy!

here’s a bit.

- - - - 

“We have to report this,” said Nate, the next night. 

Mike regarded him across the top of the radio. He was so tired that the pale slice of Nate’s face seemed to swim surreally in and out of the darkness. He'd been on the verge of an almost meditative state of exhaustion before Nate climbed into the cab. It was jarring to have it broken, even by the welcome sight of his LT whole and mostly alert. It was the kind of wrung-out relief that made him agreeable on general, philosophical principle. He looked at Nate’s earnest, concerned brows, the shadowed downward turn of his mouth, and thought about the height of all the hills he might consider dying on. “Okay,” he said. 

Nate blinked. He clearly hadn’t been expecting acquiescence. “Okay?” he repeated. 

Mike nodded. He resettled the M1 on his lap, shifting to wake up the pins and needles in his ass. He’d been on watch for an hour already, with another hour to go. Nate didn’t look especially lively, but he’d probably gotten at least a twenty minute nap. “If you think that’s what we need to do, we’ll do it.”

Nate was silent for a second. “I don’t want to,” he finally said. “But I think we should.”

“Okay,” said Mike again. “Who are you going to tell?” It wasn’t nice of him. He kept his tone casual. “Schwetje, or Godfather?”

Another moment’s silence. “Jesus Christ,” Nate said softly, miserably. He raised a hand to rub his face. 

Mike watched him. “I want to know what you’re going to say.”

Nate dropped his hand, making a helpless, expansive gesture. “I don’t know, Mike. I don’t fucking know.”

Mike grunted. “Might want to figure that out before you bring it up.” He turned his head to spit out the door. Lights swarmed far away across the desert, but he knew it was just a village on the horizon. His heart still kicked up a notch at the sight. He took a breath, opening his mouth to follow up his words, but then that unearthly frisson of sensation tickled him across the brain and the increasingly familiar not-sound of Nate’s mind said something like fear and concern and guilt and I just don’t want to fuck things up. 

Mike turned back toward him. Nate was looking somewhere between him and out the windshield, the dark-smeared lines of his face crumpled. “Hey,” Mike said softly, regretting his asshole behaviour suddenly. He reached a hand toward Nate, and Nate took it without looking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers gave Mike’s a desperate squeeze. 

“I’m sorry,” Nate said.

“What for?”

Nate shook his head. “This isn't my decision to make. Or not just mine. We’re both in it.”

Mike considered that. He didn't look at their hands joined on top of the radio, but he rubbed his thumb across the bone of Nate's wrist. "Yeah," he said at last. "But I'll follow your lead. You know that."

Nate glanced at him gratefully. "I just don't know what to do, here." His voice was tight with frustration. "I don't…" He swallowed the next syllable. Mike waited, watching him. Eventually, a thought came through, almost tentative in its quietness, a sentiment so primal it was nearly wordless. 

I don't trust them. 

Mike absorbed that, considering it from all angles. He rolled it around like the wad of dip under his lip. "Yeah," he said at last. "Can't blame you." 

Nate's expression brightened with relief. "No?" 

Mike shook his head. "You kidding me, Nate? The USMC can't find its own asshole with both hands and a roto-rooter. You think I want them getting any bright ideas about doing brain surgery on us, or whatever the fuck?" 

Nate, somehow, seemed to pale even further. 

Mike continued, because it had to be said. "What's the first thing they think when they see something new and interesting? How do we destroy it, or how do we weaponize it. And I don't know about you, but I'm not crazy about the inside of my skull being on either of those lists." 

"No," said Nate again, vehemently. "But…" He made a gesture with the hand Mike wasn't holding. It said, without the need for spooky mindpowers, This is big, and we have a job to do. We have an obligation. 

Mike nodded. "But," he agreed. 

"It's getting worse," Nate went on. 

Mike didn't fail to notice the moment of hesitation before 'worse.' "Easier, you mean." 

"Yes."

Mike exhaled through his nose. Outside, he heard a muted mumble of conversation happening at some other humvee. A watch change, or someone stumbling over someone else on their way to take a shit. Otherwise, the desert night was quiet. No gunfire, no choppers, no bellowing COs. He tried to make his mind just as quiet, just as empty and raw, so that he could find the shape of the strange thing between them, wherever it was lurking. Because it was true, what Nate said. It was getting easier. All day, there'd been something stirring in the back of his mind - a mild itch, like the subaudible rumble of a distant thunderstorm. He realized, examining it closer now, what it was. "Do you feel me?" he said. And then, quickly, "In your head. Even when we're not doing the mumbo jumbo talking."

Nate hesitated. He made a considering sound. "I think so. Like you’re... at the corner of my eye, or just behind me." 

"Yeah," said Mike. He wasn't sure if the confirmation made him feel relieved or more concerned. "I've had that all day."

Nate's fingers twitched in his. "Freaky," he said, in a kind of dead tone that made Mike instinctively chuckle. He saw Nate's mouth tip up at the corner in response.

#the hideous irony of me actually FINALLY deciding to finish this fic two months ago #opening the doc doing some edits rereading the whole thing and all #and then. well. the 90s made a comeback #skull emojis times one billion #gen kill #lmfao hold on. i know you have a memory of pure titanium specifically calibrated for my various wretchednesses #but did you queue this a year ago #bc now THAT would be a callout and a half

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just saw a post that was being snobby about movie tastes and op was right tbh but also they said. "if you like war movies like oppenheimer go watch come and see" and girl lol. no. do not do that.

#i mean yes do that. but not for that reason 💀 #maybe it was intended as a fuck you to people who liked oppenheimer lmao #in the way that you send what looks like an obvious rickroll to someone you hate but actually it's a graphic beheading video #in the way that one* might do that #i wouldn't do that obviously

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i was curious so i looked up what story alana was reading to abigail and it's about a inmate who escapes a prison and ends up killing an entire family. she was reading that to a teenage girl who just narrowly escaped being killed by her serial killer father. anyway i never want to hear about how normal and well adjusted alana is ever again

#YES!!!!!! FUCKING FREAK RIGHTS FOR ALANA #her incredible chivalry towards will is the stuff of legend #and it's for HIS sake always. not hers. #hannibal

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#me handshake meme mac

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#what is this little noise!!!!!!!!

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love this sentence because it makes it sound like he’s lying about his height. Lestat is six feet tall (source: Lestat)

#he almost certainly is #lying i mean #tvc

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#absolute dirtbag longboi menace

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the downside to harassing a cat constantly is that you run out of ways to bother them. so sure she's "well socialized" but how am i supposed to get revenge when she is being SO so annoying?

#now multiply this by 9 and you'll start to see the sort of pressure im under

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ive forgotten the origin of "she blank on my blank til i blank" and i dont even begin to know how to look it up

#(“scrooges”)