#dash ➠ threads

[muertemismo]

"Just stop fucking talking." And EVENTUALLY, that he did. Disheveled, dirt brown locks riddled the curvature of the face beneath him, BLOOD tracing downward with the flow of imminent GRAVITY as it left trails upon TRAILS from his inflictions. Liquid PAIN that oozed in tandem with the TEARS that he noticed, at first a few drops -- and that's all it ever was. A fatigued declination of AGONY -- until his eyes came to a CLOSE. Gabriel STOPPED. Pleased, almost, in a sick, SINISTER way at the anguish he'd caused. He wasn't dead, but he was close. The burden of DEATH HIMSELF hovering atop the defenseless body, PUTTY in his hands as he could so easily put a final END to the relentless suffering. The wraith STILLED, inquisitive eyes trailing over the almost PEACEFUL visage as it settled his body into a state of SILENCE, almost there, but not enough to tip his soul into the pits of UNKNOWN. The EXECUTIONER exhaled, neck craning to CRACK at the joints as if there was PRESSURE before pushing himself up; palms DUSTING themselves. No, his job wasn't done. Inwardly, he knew he could not complete this -- and that posed questions for himself. Questions that he would REVISIT later, in time, as he processed THIS engagement. Why it caused HIM so much pain, when he thought he'd been OVER this. This scene, and MANY others, had played through his head MORE than he'd like to admit. How it would happen, how RUTHLESS he would and could be -- would he kill them? Perhaps his question was answered, here. He wasn't happy with that. There was no satisfaction, no JUSTICE for himself in walking away from this, but that was exactly what he did. Regardless of how it made him feel, Gabriel LEFT. He'd leave parts of himself at the scene of the crime; disposed shotgun, shells, the BATTERY of his assault on the man. The only thing he took for HIMSELF was the destroyed half of his MASK, his VEIL that protected him from EXACTLY this. The mist of theoretical science swept his form, carrying him into the night with his next destination UNKNOWN, so long as it was FAR from where he was now.

The younger man yelped like a kicked dog as he was suddenly lunged at like a lion did its prey. Peacekeeper was too far flung to even grab for even if he tried but he knew he'd never get the chance as he was straddled and slammed into the ground with all the brute force of a horse kick to the face. He'd grunt in pain, eyes flashing white then black as they rolled in their sockets with each hit he took. His cowboy hat went flying off, messy matted brunette hair flailing with each knock to the face he had to endure.

Over and over again he'd hear the grasp of a fist and the broken gurgle of his own blood and through it all his bleary blinded gaze would stare right back up at the very man beating him to death. Through the pain and cries of agony, never once did he move to stop him. Never did he hit him back even when he had the chance too. He took the hits, took the beating because that was his Commander...and he wouldn't hurt him even if it meant he'd die here under his weight.

The same hands smashing his face in had been the very same that yanked him close as he weakly succumbed to his emotions when an agent he cared for died on the battlefield. The same hands that held his shoulders, told him he'd be safe with him. Each hit would leave him bleeding and broken but he'd still manage to open at least one eye to look up at Gabe...his mentor. His one true friend...

'I won't fail you sir!'

But he did. He had.

"M'sorry...v'failed you....C-Commander." Came the broken Cowboys hitched whisper through broken lips after a furious swing from the demons fist. His body laid prone under him, face a beaten bloody mess. A pool of red wine oozed where the brunettes head laid on a cratered cement ground.

''M's-....sorry Gab...riel..."

Cas whimpered out his name, ignoring when his lone good eye began to water and slowly the tears there spilled over his busted eyelid to tracked down his broken cheek and bruised jaw. The tears would leave the only clean tracks down his dirt and blood covered face, leaving a clear line of salted water. It was all he could musted out, soft and so full of pain. The hurt in his heart far outmatched the pain of his body.

Cole would try to reach out for him with weak faint raise of his flesh hand, to touch his mentor one more time...but with a pained groan, his hand would fall and his head would limply lull to the side, his body going still as he lost consciousness, breath shallow and far too weak as blood continued to ooze from his parted lips.

[hilacopter]

seeing a mutual as part of a thread with like 50k notes:

[twetterbirdy]

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[chuluoyi]

they’re saying XAVIER is a RED flag! baby xavi :((((((((

HAHAHA the way i know exactly which twitter thread this is 🥹🥹 but seriously they’re so right if you think xavier is a red flag then you haven’t been through disastrous 2010-2019 otome game era 🙂‍↕️ during my time as an otome mc, i went through being caged inside a literal animal cage, sold into an auction and bought by the highest bidder (at least twice or thrice??), and married a lord who puts it blatantly that he only marries the mc for power and will gladly have her die after giving birth to his child 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

whereas xavier is just this pouty baby:

[muertemismo]

Gabriel nodded, SLOWLY. No, he was never really good with medical interpretation aside from the generic first aid that he knew. His dirtiest SECRET was a slight FEAR of.. hospitals. Well -- no, hospitals were fine, he could enter them and feel okay. As it would be with his OCCUPATION, he would be in the medical ward OFTEN for his own agents. It was with HIM that made him.. nervous. Thanks to various testing and experimentation ALREADY done on his body. But that wouldn't breach the light of day. "Are you implying that you want to do this now?" His tone was almost EXASPERATED -- shocked if he were grasping the correct inference. "Schedule something with me during the week, I'm not doing this right now."

"Moira-dono." Hinoka answered swiftly and without hesitation, "She deemed it a priority examination."

Moira had been the one to free her from prison, practically saved her life given Japan's 99% conviction rate and taste for the death penalty. Hinoka was only here because of the Irishwoman and even if she questioned the geneticist's ethics she would not voice them aloud.

"I do not believe in direct human experimentation without explicit consent, and it would be too rash a decision to do so early on without any data on the subject. I presume that nanites are circulating within your bloodstream." She gestured with her hand, "So fresh blood draws are necessary for me to observe whether or not the frequencies of the nanites will inhibit or alter your baseline."

"Hence the need for a lack of interruptions, sir."

[silver---linings]

There's a familiar figure, just standing there with his arms crossed and his back turned. He looked like Silver, but he wasn't Silver.

As you approach, his ear flicks as he hears your footsteps, then he turns slightly, and finally takes notice of you.

He seemed a bit surprised he had some guests.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

[grapehyasynth]

I AM DEAD

[aliusfrater]

people referring to sam's change in opinion regarding flagstaff, stanford, ruby, or any other instances that which dean considers betrayal as his 'growing up' or anything adjacent to maturity never gets old wrt identifying them as uncritically adopted patriarchal perspectives of sam's personhood in favour of pondering sam's arcs as portrayed as portrayed to the audience. be critical of dean's perspective and MORE IMPORTANTLY!!! sam's adoption of it. i am genuinely begging you

[wonderdxeamland]

"Love group?" The fuck is a love group?

[iobartach]

━━━━ CHARACTER STUDIES.

Basic Information.

LEGAL NAME : Miguel O'Hara

NICKNAME(S) : Miggy, Mig, Scuttler, S-Man, Cuddlebug, Harbinger Of Thor, Dark Garfield, Spider Freak, Mike, Burrito, Flycatcher, more that i am probably forgetting 😅...

DATE OF BIRTH : 13th October

GENDER : Male

PLACE OF BIRTH : Nueva York, United States of America

CURRENTLY LIVING : Verse / plot dependent! But in the year 2099 / Earth-928, he's got a place, rarely used, adjacent to his laboratory in the Spider Society; also has a penthouse apartment in Babylon Towers, from his Alchemax days

SPOKEN LANGUAGES : English, Spanish.

EDUCATION : Advanced degree in genetics, undergraduate studies in engineering with a focus on historical technology. (he wasn't great at it...)

HAIR COLOR : Brown

EYE COLOR : Red (due to mutation); formally brown

HEIGHT: 6’ 9" (2.03m)

WEIGHT: 397 lbs (180 kg)

Family Information.

SIBLINGS : Gabriel O'Hara (Maternal half-brother), Kron Stone (Paternal half-brother)

PARENTS : Conchata O'Hara (Mother), Tyler Stone (biological father), George O'Hara (Stepfather, deceased)

RELATIVES: Tiberius Stone

CHILDREN : Gabriella O'Hara (fostered/it's complicated.... also heavily verse influenced!)

PETS : …does one-way dimensional travel devices in the shape of a spider-like robot named Anyr count? 😶

Relationship Information.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Heterosexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : In a relationship!

tagged by: @yukikorogashi & @gutrage (thank you both!) tagging: @therapardalis ;) @gazelessmenagerie [ 🥦 or 🐙, if you like!] & anyone else that wishes to grab this! go for it!

[muertemismo]

News traveled fast, and being part of the council made it just THAT much hurried. To hear of a failure from the WIDOW -- it wasn't that it didn't happen, it was SHOCKING when it did. A rare occurrence, one that typically had the same ROUTINE for the days following. It was an exhalation written in many of the operative's code -- to train, to BRUISE, to strengthen and SLICE through mistakes with the gain of success. Gabriel always assumed the same position; the training room became a dear friend in these times. That was its purpose, though in MODERATION. An overworked body was just as good as a dead one. Secrecy and sleuth was simply one of the MANY traits of his embodiment; he had a trained eye to observe and ACT when he knew the time was right. His personal mission required distant MONITORING for him to find an IN -- it came in the form of a meal break, one that he stalked close behind as he awaited the door for its REOPENING. The wraith planted his feet, WAITING -- arms crossed, as if he were a PARENT about to discipline a CHILD. Hinges creaked in his ears, and his reaction time altered precisely with an outstretched arm, the daunting VEIL shaking back and forth as he placed a step in her direction, blocking her space. "I don't want anything. I'm giving you orders to stay in here, no training room."

(barricade) for sender's muse to block the doorway and not let receiver's muse leave until they agree to rest :3

Exhale, strike, inhale repeat. It was a mission had gone sour that had caused all of this. The twisting of a mind that was already fragile regardless of anyone else's believes. She was good at hiding and yet, it didn't help ease the turmoil that was in her head in the slightest. She was a failure and yet she wasn't supposed to fail. She was a weapon with one purpose. To follow the orders Talon had given her. To follow them without the chance or risk of failure. Yet, that's how the mission had ended up. The spider wasn't completely aware of it but her body and mind we're reacting to memories she didn't have. She was a failure, she could do better and she deserved punishment of some sort. Every other time that the spider had failed, there were torturous consequences. Consequences that any one else would find unfathomable. It twisted and turned in ways that were dangerous, for herself and others. She had been locked in the training room for at least a day and a half. The only reasons that she had left were to fill her water bottle and to eat. She wouldn't fail another order. It wasn't within her orders to sleep, simply to eat as she didn't hold the proper capabilities to tell for herself. It was after one of her meal breaks that she had run into the wraith. She was getting ready to leave the confines of her room when he had shown up. Perhaps he was lingering, knowing how the spider ticked more than she did herself. As she tried to exit, his much larger frame had stopped her. She simply stopped. One hand remained on the door and she looked up. Her free hand rested upon her hip and she gave a deep sigh. "What do you want?" Came the question.

[avichor]

updated my rules! under the cut so yall don’t need to search for it

IMPORTANT: i understand some people put deadlines on when they expect interactions, but i operate incredibly slowly if the expectation is on me to initiate. if we are mutuals, i have every intention of interacting with you both ic and ooc, it just takes me longer to write, and that could take up to several months. i try to make up for it with dash interactions ( e.g. liking your posts, commenting, sending memes, etc. ) i will not adhere to any deadlines as it makes me feel pressured, as if my time with my hobby is a job, and makes my reaching out to you feel inauthentic. if you feel it is taking too long, you are more than welcome to initiate interactions with me! i always reply, just slowly. interactions are a two - way street. i never ignore anyone on purpose, if i'm active on dash it's just because it's easier to be " brain - empty " and i'd want to provide a substantial, sensible response for you, especially if we're plotting. i'm also a big believer in building community, curating a space where it's fun to vibe on dash. doesn't necessarily mean we need to write immediately. <3 ty!

[kikaichuno]

"Hypothetically... To what extent would you be ready to go if it meant the reward was to see my eyes?"

[muertemismo]

EGO lurked the darker, IMPACTFUL remnants of the older man's personality; it was what granted the ever-present GRIN that seemed to be plastered upon full lips. Pride NOT over the amount of times he'd knocked the boy down, but rather the consistency in which Cassidy got BACK UP. There was no lull, no REFUSAL to keep going. Granted, the decline perhaps carried itself in the grain of overworked muscles, rather than the indentured DETERMINATION riddled across young features. Gabriel KNEW he had landed a good one -- instincts on BLAST regarding the recruitment of the prior CRIMINAL. It was a feeling that his gut would not allow him to ignore, and he was damn PROUD that he listened to it. "With you? I would never." Behind curled FISTS of his own, deep hazelnut hues surrounded by tired CROWS adjusted to the quick analysis of the incoming ONSLAUGHT that was bound to be thrown his way. The smaller frame across from him shifted, finding BALANCE before a requiem swirled in the calculative gaze that lingered behind a toss of WHITE. It was like DANCING; the soldier's body moved with precision and MEMORY as the thick of his forearm came to BLOCK the punch. "Think of advantages. Size, force, whatever that may be. Not every fist fight is practical or classical, and sometimes you need to be creative in your takedown. The element of surprise, if you will." The advice was given with an eased FLARE, fingers of one hand wiggling to EMPHASIZE the latter half of his wording.

Gabriel's laughter and good humor drives a stake into his knotted brows, pride-bruised annoyance flaring into the same dirty, ramshackle determination you expect out of puttering rust-bucket trucks that choke on their own gasoline. He quips, voice low, 17 and brash, "Your bones oughta act their age, old man."

The hours are blasting by in this purgatorial sparring room and he's sick of eating the polyethylene, sick of the sticky press of it on his back as he's left winded and forced staring at the the buzzing fluorescents hole-punching the grey ceiling tiles. Gabriel lectures after each round, explains what he did and why he did them and why Cole is currently ceiling-watching instead of enjoying being upright on his feet. He soaks in enough, adjusting obediently between the battery, when Gabriel throws in something new and leaves him blind-sided for the hit.

For whatever he's prided himself in for rolling with the punches, Cole's fuse blows shorter in the sweat-drench and salt-soak, amber eyes gleaming near red beneath the harsh set of his brow. He wants to win, and it burns in the heat of his gaze, like a fire that's swallowed up logs and now greedily intends on swallowing up the trees. Two decades worth of life experience between them be damned.

"Don't you start pullin' your punches," He grunts, teeth grit, and experimentally sways his weight between the balls of his feet. His gaze flickers, some snap judgement telegraphed in a hair-trigger movement, before he's turtling down between his fists, launching a brand of white knuckles from the left.

[yeahyosims]

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[lunarrsc]

Internet Archive just wanted to show you guys a video that has meant something to me and my life for a long time. Which I found my own meaning in. I want to be myself and I know the people I won't let down wont be let down by me posting this yeah I used to watch this show I am not really embarassed embarassment is the last thing I have to fear anymore I won't post again in a while if I do it will be big news this blog is finished for now. I've written everything I could. Nobody is expecting me to be what I aim for. Maybe the last post of my life, hopefully not. Will maybe see you all when I'm either where I want to be or no longer around to express who I became. Well in that case I can't really post again