#the only things I’ve ever framed for myself are this (which like barely)

[theaologies]

I just shoved this in a cheap frame back in the day and need to replace it but I’m still so into the matting I did for it

[ponderingmoonlight]

So this is just a silly little thought I had

imagine Sanemi trying to confess to you (keyword: TRYING) but he can’t look at you without loosing his thread and stumbling over his words, so one day he confronts you and just shows you his back, staring st a wall, while confessing. And then getting mad at himself snd storming off.

Oh, how much you love the feeling of those last rays of sunshine on your skin. If it wasn’t for the demons luring around at night, this time of the day would definitely be your favorite.

You sign to yourself, allow your mind to rest for a second. Today was particularly rough, left you without any breaks while taking care of those countless wounded corps members.

Your eyes dart around the lonely area aimlessly while making your way back to the estate when you find someone standing by the wall, facing away from you. It takes only a second to recognize the familiar spiky white hair and the broad, muscular frame.

“Sanemi?” you call out, slowing your pace.

He doesn’t turn around. Instead, he seems to tense up, his shoulders tightening as if he’s trying to steel himself for something. You frown, stepping closer. Maybe he was hurt as well?

“Is everything okay?”

Sanemi grunts in response, still not turning to face you. You tilt your head, more confused now than concerned. He usually isn’t the type to act weird, especially around you. The two of you have a simple but warm relationship in which Sanemi Shinazugawa never fails to make you smile when you feel his eyes on you.  

But this - this is new.

“Sanemi, what’s going on?” you ask softly, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression while he keeps his back firmly towards you.

“Dammit…” he mutters barely audible under his breath.

You can see his fists clenching at his sides, the tension in his muscles visible even from behind.

Now you really start to worry. Sanemi wasn’t the type to mince words. No, he’s blunt, sometimes to a fault. But now, it’s like he’s fighting himself just to speak.

“Listen,” he starts, his voice rougher than usual.

“I’ve been trying… to say something… for a while now.”

He pauses, audibly inhaling sharply.

“But every time I look at you, I lose my damn mind.”

Your heart skips a beat. What is he trying to say? You step closer, your curiosity attracted. But just before you’re able to touch him, he stretches out his hand.

“Don’t… don’t come any closer,” he orders, leaving you coming to a stand immediately.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, his tone now frustrated and even angry.

“I’ve never… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Sanemi, you can tell me anything,” you assure him.

He scoffs nervously. Sanemi Shinazugwa, nervous?

“You say that now, but…”, he trails off, clenching his fists tighter,

“just… listen.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. The silence stretches between both of you, and you can literally feel the heat radiating off him from how tense he is. Then, finally, he speaks up again, his voice gruff and hesitant.

“I… I care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’m not good with words. Every time I try to say it, I just… I can’t…”

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest at his indirect confession, but before you can even respond, he growls in frustration, his head dropping as he curses under his breath.

“This is so stupid, I can’t even look at you without making a fool of myself”, he mutters frustrated.

Sanemi turns his head slightly, just enough for you to see the side of his face, his expression a mixture of anger and embarrassment. But as quickly as he looked your way, he turns back to the wall.

“I wanted to tell you… I needed to tell you… that I’m in love with you. But I’m just… I’m just not good at this”, he finally blurts out.

For a moment, you are stunned into silence. You always knew there was something deeper between the two of you but hearing him say it out loud is overwhelming. Before you can find the right words to respond, Sanemi lets out a frustrated shout, slamming his fist against the wall.

“Damn it! “Forget I said anything!”, he curses all over again.

“Sanemi, wait—” you call after him.

But the wind hashira is already gone.

There you stand with your heart pounding, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears. Sanemi Shinazugawa really loves you? Despite the roughness of his confession, you can’t help but grin like an idiot.

“I love you as well, Sanemi”, you mumble to yourself.

[sepublic]

But yeah, this episode… I’ve heard each one is about a different character more or less but I find myself oscillating on which one this is about? But in the end I think I lean more towards Ragatha just for the framing of that ending and how she can do everything right and still fail and the growing resentment that comes when she does exactly what people ask her to do and is still ignored for that misogynistic fuckwit.

Because in the end I suppose Jax being ‘sympathetic’ to Pomni while the actual nature of his story is left unexplained is because it’s ultimately a plot device to rile up Ragatha’s feelings and give us insight into how she tries her best only to be contrasted with Jax doing the bare minimum and being more rewarded for it than she ever has. I wonder if there is a thing to be said about misogyny and how this woman tries her best and is still glossed over some dickish guy just because he’s emotionally damaged as if she doesn’t have a much more explicit trauma mentioned.

Ragatha deserves to go apeshit and I can see her abstracting. Pomniiiii how could you forget Ragatha after what you learned the prior episodes!!! Deadass I suspect this series is kinda building up to Pomni and Ragatha’s dynamic as such a huge thing and how it’s one of the first things we see. It’s already underlying a lot of stories in subtle ways like with Pomni looking back at Ragatha in the last episode as she learns to let Gummigoo go and try to remember her friend more.

But Gooseworx wasn’t kidding Ragatha does get the rotten luck. If she abstracts because of the contradictory message of everyone telling her to do X only to subtly castigate Ragatha for doing X, while Jax does Y as he’s told and then he’s rewarded. If the characters realize that for all of Ragatha’s faults that were actually pretty minor, the monster she becomes is the monster they made. Then this whole story is representative of how society fails women who do exactly what they’re told. /hj Goose said they wanted this story to convey loneliness and tbh I think that ending with Ragatha, really Rag’s character as a whole, possibly most captures that theme.

And it’s interesting; I thought from Jax mentioning Ragatha losing her effect on Pomni at the beginning meant this would be a Ragatha episode. But then Jax got centered more and I considered otherwise? But now I realize it really was to highlight Ragatha’s sense of alienation at this narrative and in-universe shift of focus from her. And I love that trope; The story on its surface is about Character X but in the end it’s really about Character Y.

[i-dared-myself]

Heads

Hyunjin x reader

Requested ‘sequal’ of this.

In which your hopeless romantic blunders come to an end

18+

After another terrible date, you stumble into your apartment. You barely manage to kick your shoes off before you sink to the floor and cry.

Is there really no one decent out there? Why do your dates feel the need to point out your flaws? Why are they all such assholes?

You dump your purse next to the door, along with your jacket. It’s future-you’s problem, and future-you is going to call now-you a bitch.

You remove your makeup, and return to your living room. Turning on a stupid romantic film is what you need right now, so you do it.

You gather your pyjamas and bring them to your living room, peeking at the television. The love interest has the protagonist in his arms, and this is what you need in your life.

But alas, you only attract morons, apparently.

“I could offer you a deal.”

You whip around, shrieking in alarm. The man grimaces, covering his ears with his hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. Your eyes flick to the kitchen, where your knives are (obviously) located.

“Hyunjin.” He offers you a small bow, lips tugging up at the corners. His dark red hair falls around his face before he tucks it back, eyes glinting. “Love god, at your service.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Really? Prove it.”

He seems taken aback, and frowns slightly. “Prove it? How?”

“I dunno.” You shrug and take a miniature step to the kitchen. “You’re the love god.”

Hyunjin rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering your words for a moment. “I don’t need this contract.”

“Contract? Are the you devil or a love god?” You snort and shake your head. As you feign amusement, you continue to shuffle backwards.

Hyunjin entwines his fingers behind his back, cocking his head. “I’ve been called both. And I don’t think I need to prove myself to you. You’re the one who’s lonely and unloved.”

You wince. “Harsh. Okay fine, what do you have for me?”

He chuckles, gliding forwards until his chest is a hair’s width away from yours. If you take a deep breath they would brush together.

“I can give you undying affection and passion unlike anything in those… tasteless movies.” Hyunjin flashes the television a look of disdain before returning his attention to you. He lifts a hand to lean it on the wall next to your head, leaning even closer. “What do you say?”

You swallow thickly. What he’s suggesting is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“And what do I have to do in exchange?” You gaze up, right into his eyes. They’re half-lidded and his eyelashes frame his gorgeous eyes.

“Nothing.” Hyunjin smiles wryly. His other hand is brought up to gently caress your cheek. “Just a small, teeny-tiny, little thing.”

“What is it?” 

His lips part to speak, and you barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. But you do. And they cut through the haze in your head.

“You have to play a bit of a game with me,” he simply says. “Doesn’t that seem like fun? Then you can have your happily ever after.”

“What kind of game?” you ask him warily as he spins around and drapes himself across your couch. The knife is forgotten and the only thing at the forefront of your focus is what he could give you.

“We flip a coin. If it’s tails, you get your true love. If it’s heads, you die.” Hyunjin looks smug and pleased with himself. He holds a hand up, and a coin gleams between two elegant fingers.

“I… die?” you repeat. Suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. 

“Well, there’s a chance you’ll survive.” His expression shifts and he looks away. He’s still toying with the coin. “Anyone I kiss dies. It’s ironic, considering who I am. The only one that can survive, is-“

“Death,” you finish. “Love-hate relationship with them? I get it.”

Hyunjin blinks. “What? No. Don’t interrupt me, either.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, not wanting to risk his wrath. Does he only kill people by kissing them? Or does he also stab them? Either way, you don’t want it.

“The only one who can survive is my true love.” Hyunjin curls his fingers to get you to approach, patting the couch next to him. “Ready?”

You hesitantly sit, watching as he flips the coin. It lands on the table and you both peer down at it.

“Heads,” Hyunjin croons, slowly raising his gaze to yours. He scoots closer to you as your heart sinks.

“Get it over with.” You sigh and cast a hateful look at the coin.

Hyunjin’s hand comes to the back of your head, cradling it gently. He pulls you closer to him, his grip firm and his lips soft as they lower to yours.

You kiss him back, because why not? You have nothing to lose at this point.

His head moves and his lips part. You accept his tongue slipping into your mouth as he guides you down until your back hits the couch cushions.

Then he’s hovering above you, eyes wide. You’re waiting for the inevitable end. The last thing you’ll see is his stupidly pretty face, and you can’t be mad about it.

“You’re not dead,” he observes.

“You’re smarter than you look,” you tease, mind reeling with what this means.

If you’re not dead, and he’s surprised at this fact…

“I’ve looked for you for so long,” Hyunjin whispers and buries his face against your neck. His teeth graze the skin there. “Can I fuck you, please?”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“Please?” he begs. “I’ll make it so no other man can pleasure you. None of those shitty men will make you happy like I can.”

You hum. Maybe this a little hasty, but you’re just glad you’re not dead.

“Words, pretty girl.” Hyunjin lifts you into his arms.

“Yes, you can fuck me,” you tell him. Then you’re being dumped on a bed of smooth sheets. “What the-“

“This is my room.” He gestures around to your surroundings. There are paintings hanging on the walls and big windows that overlook… clouds? 

“Okay then,” is all you can say. 

Hyunjin grins and snaps his fingers, and then suddenly your clothes are gone. His have been removed as well, and he crawls across the bed to stare down at you.

“No other men are like me,” he promises silkily. A finger is plunged into you, quickly followed by another. You fist the sheets at the stretch, feeling him scissor them out.

“Please.” You grind down on his hand. “Please, Hyunjin!”

He coos and runs his hands through your hair. “Oh, you’re not cumming until I say.”

“Why?” You gasp as his fingers in your hair tighten and wrench your head up. “Hyunjin!”

“Face down, ass up, pretty girl.” Hyunjin manipulates you into the position he wants. He sighs heavily and tosses his head back. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You moan as he enters you, squeezing around him. You claw at the sheets as he rolls his hips experimentally. “Just-“

He shushes you as he thrusts. Strands of his hair stick to his face. “Gonna marry you and everything.”

You squirm back against him. “Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Hyunjin reaches down to circle your clit. “I’ll fill you up anytime you want. You’ll be like this every day, just for me.”

“Just for you,” you agree. You can feel yourself flutter around him as he continues muttering. You’re getting closer and closer.

Hyunjin forces your back into an arch, at just the angle he wants. This way, his thrusts hit the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and you’re babbling out pleas to cum. 

“I wanna see that face as you cum.” He presses harder to your clit, grinding hard against you. “I bet it’s just as pretty as the rest of you.”

Your mouth falls open as you fall over the edge. He works you through it, thrusts stuttering until he spills deep inside you.

Hyunjin pulls out, smiling at you gently. His hair frames his face as sweat shines on his body. “I’ll clean you up, then get you some water.”

You blink dazedly. “Sure. And cuddles.”

He stretches out, waving a hand to form robes on the both of you. “Anything you want, pretty girl.”

Tagslist:

@velvetmoonlght

[cusackswhitehair]

From reading your Hoarder Alex headcannon post, I am all for some fat Hoarder Alex representation. It also makes me inquire if you have any other body headcannons on him?

//Desc: I sure do!! Ever since I’ve first laid my eyes upon this scallywag I just knew he’s not the fittest of the bunch. He’s just so utterly pear-shaped, it’s amazing in a way. Obviously, I don’t condone drawing the poor guy looking so obese he could rock a show on TLC, but I do enjoy his bountiful plumpness, if I do say so myself. He’s chunky, and it’s just too sweet. And to answer your question, I’ve been overanalyzing this rapscallion for days on end, here are some more biology headcanons about Alex’s frame! Thank you for requesting!! \\

✶⋆.˚ 📁 Hoarder Alex Body Headcanons 🥞 ✶⋆.˚

————————————————————————————

His tail is terribly fragile and delicate, only a light coat of fur protecting the thing. He has to be very careful not to jam it into anywhere too hard or wag it too hard as it can smack against anything, ultimately splitting the tail open. This man has definetely got happy tail syndrome. One time, in a more heated argument, Shoryo accidentally stomped one of her wooden hooves onto Alex’s tail. The Uncanny Streets has yet to hear a more girly scream than the one he gave out that day. After the incident, Alex walked with his tail tucked far behind for weeks.

Not to be dramatic, but I’m glad he chose the jumper and bare legs combo instead of the other way around, Alex, for the lack of a better word, has man tits. If having man tits would be an illnes, Alex would be patient zero. Is he in any way insecure about them? Hell no! In fact, he is often seen enjoying his well-deserved siesta (after doing absolutely nothing) on top of his hoarded up trash bags, blasting music over the radio with his jumper zipped down, as if he’s enjoying the sun, tanning. “Get your shirt on, man, nobody wants to see that!” “I’LL DO WHAT I WANT ON MY OWN PROPERTY, EH STRONZO!?”

Thanks to how droopy his face is, his snout fits in a lot of unconditional spaces, which is quite useful for junk diving which he does daily. His snout fits into bottles and even bongs although the latter isn’t really recommended.

His feet although acute, have small foot pads and claws, the toe beans a pinkish tinted color, matching his uneven flush when he’s angry. Although, he carries himself with much confidence, most of the time his waltzing resembles one of a soldier on guard, hence the little “tack tack tack” noises he makes on the ground. Quite intimidating, but not very effective for when he’s tries to tiptoe.

Nothing like laying down after food coma hitting! Alex loves nothing more than curling up with his tail used as a sleep mask, even such a tough guy like him has a feel of drowsiness after a hearty meal. If you pick him up and softly shake him, he’d definetely look like those kittens with their bellies full of soup. Just let the good fellow nap.

His major insecurity prove to be his eyes, that black censor bar he managed to rummage up from somewhere is really saving his image. What kind of tough maranza walks around with big fat, twinkling eyes that would put a lovelorn maiden into shame. The cersor bar makes it much harder to see, but all of his other senses are quite advanced, no need to be afraid. If you manage to catch a glance at those magnificent browns, he must really trust you. His pupils also dialate when he finds something satiable (so not too often thankfully), but elements really are working against his toughness.

————————————————————————————

i loved doing this one smmm, i want to bite a piece off of him FAT FAT MAN PTOO FAT

[yourfavvvintj]

pathetic sapphic poetry :)

your skin is porcelain covered in white paint

i can’t tell how deep the cracks go

and if i’m the only one who sees them but you.

your hair is pretty, so pretty that when the wind touches it

it falls like the waves of a golden sea.

it’s flawed in a way that only further intrigues me.

your eyes are like melting ice, like the promise of spring

it’s my favourite season for a reason.

a slither of hope in times darker than a lake

when i look into your eyes it’s almost as if it’s frozen over

you have to look closely to spot the hair thin cracks

in the mask that for so long has been your disguise.

is it true what they say, that the eyes are windows to the soul?

you’re pale, Amara June, but still so painfully full of life

the most i’ve felt in a while is the heat in my face when i lay eyes on your eyes

they’re framed by pinkish red at all times, as if you have been crying

or as if someone with painted lips has kissed your eyes

tell me, did they kiss them dry?

no tears ever streak your face, but Amara June, i rarely ever see you smile

i just want to know if there’s someone in your life who can colour within the lines

because heaven knows, Amara June, that i look like a clown and a fool when i try

but if i could i would trace every line in your face until your smile reaches your eyes

i’d bring colour to your lips and face, and you would bring me back to life

you carry your mask with such grace, Amara June

only if you knew what i’d give to know what the weight of it is like for you

no matter if it’s light or heavy, i could carry it forever for you

and if i dropped it, which i never would, i would surrender and leave you

Amara June, have you ever dropped it? are those patched-up cracks i see?

there are veins of gold like artificial light cast upon your face, and they gleam

i bet your tears lit up the sky like aurora borealis the day you were deeply hurt

because you were, I know you were, only the hurt carry their beauty like a curse

you’re a broken soul if i ever saw one, Amara June

the ugly truth i’m finally facing is that i barely know you

all i know is that golden jewellery shouldn’t suit you but it does,

and that your leg tends to bounce in class when you think no one’s watching,

and that food just might be an enemy of yours,

and that no mirror could ever capture the beauty that is you, Amara June,

and that P.E sometimes pulls a rehearsed laugh out of you,

and that school is both a curse and a blessing in your life,

and that black sweaters suit you, but i wish i knew who you’re mourning,

and that i’m someone your eyes tend to land on in crowded corridors,

and that you like tomato soup, tell me, is that a code word? for who?

at this point i don’t even know if i’m overanalysing or decoding you,

and that you own a cat, i forgot its name, all i cared for in that moment was you,

and that you don’t show your face on the internet, tell me, why is that?

and that you listen to rap,

and i know your closest friends, Amara June, at least i think i do

but do they really know you?

all i can know for sure is that you enchanted me, Amara June

from the moment i first noticed to you till the moment i forbid myself to think of you.

this poem is my goodbye to a girl i never truly knew

and I hope to one day be able to let go of the dream version i created based on you

but a start might just be to forget you.

so that’s what i’m going to do.

this is goodbye, Amara June.

believe me when i say that one day i’ll erase you from all of my notebooks,

or perhaps i’ll read it all and smile and not feel a thing.

and one day my spotify will no longer be full of crumbs of you.

one day i’ll even leave space in the margins of my notes in school for something else, anything else but you.

the sea in golden hour will be more than a cheap version of you.

your wardrobe will be renewed, and I won’t even notice

your old one will be rinsed from my memory, Amara June.

you’ll no longer stick to me like cotton candy or the smell of a familiar perfume

my life will go directions i never knew in the era of you.

farewell, amara june.

OMG OMG THIS IS SO GOOD!!! "black sweaters suit you, but i wish i knew who you're mourning"

DECEASED. DEAD AGGGHH JAIMEE <333

YOU GOTTA POST MORE POETRY

[philhoffman]

Loving Phil comes as easily to me as breathing. Easier, sometimes. From the first moment we met through the screen. Much like Paul Thomas Anderson, I saw PSH make a single gesture—a little smirk, barely able to restrain his soft smile, intelligent and warm—and fell in love with him. Or, more accurately, I saw him and was overcome by the feeling he was special, that he would be an important person in my life. And now here we are.

I’ve found myself saying the same thing a lot lately—“There are no words,” or something to that effect. The enormity of Phil’s loss, his absence over the last 10 years, is mind-boggling. It’s crushing. There are many great works of art and music and literature and film about grief and loss, warnings about what pain this intense could feel like, but even the masters can only capture a fleeting moment of it. It truly exists beyond words. 

Equally impossible to capture in words is the good, the beautiful, the glimmers of hope and love. It's often beyond mere glimmers—seeing the world through Phil's eyes is a sledgehammer of life. For a few years I've kept a notebook just for my thoughts to him. I was thumbing through it last night and read an entry in which I said the enormity of the happiness I felt since he entered my life was unlike anything I'd experienced before. It's far beyond a crush on an actor, lol. It's—words are failing me—absolutely everything. His films, his soul, his eyes, his community, all the words, the way he's shaped how I see my life, my relationships, my future, my world. I can't overstate it, really. He's stitched into the fabric now, the blood in my veins, his heart beating in my chest, arm around my shoulder. The most important artist and person I've ever known.

So there won’t ever be enough words to fully capture what every frame, every laugh, every freckle, every moment means—but there are a couple words that say enough for now, tonight, 10 years after Phil’s death. Like—I love you. Like—I miss you and I’m sorry and 46 is so, so young. Like—every night and every day, somewhere in the world, someone is watching one of your film’s and laughing or crying or raging or smiling along with you. You said you hoped the art would outlive you, outlive all of us, and it does, it will, and you’re always part of it and with us and remembered.

Like—now having the privilege to know your wonderful family and community, it’s easy to see how you turned out to be such a kind, thoughtful man and generous, passionate artist. Their refrain is true—great actor, even better friend.

Like—countless individuals are in recovery and alive because of you, whether they’re 10 years or 100 days or 1 hour sober. The support you offered friends and strangers during your life, the impact of your death from a drug overdose—I can’t begin to guess how many people you helped, how many even I've spoken to who credit you with helping to save their lives.

What I'm writing now is one of the hardest things I've ever tried to say in my life, I can't stop tearing up. I hope I get it right. This is the 10th anniversary of Phil's death—his life is now a decade away from us in the past, a milestone I've been dreading, a reality that shocks and breaks my heart.

Grief is timeless and endless. There are moments when it hurts just as badly as that first day. But with time, hopefully, that most intense pain bubbles up less often. It comes up on anniversaries, special occasions, when the sunlight and the breeze hit you just right, when little signs and reminders show up—but not every day. I think that's healthy. When I was relatively new to this loss, the pain fresh but I was deep, deep within it, I used to think, "How did anyone who loved him survive? Why aren't we all screaming all the time?" I understand now. Today I fell to the floor and cried and screamed about it—yesterday, too—but I don't every day, not anymore.

The grief is ever-present but it changes. The change hurts. It can feel like a betrayal, like guilt, like abandonment. That's the season of grief I'm in, weird complicated emotions I'm struggling with. I've felt it in my gut ahead of this anniversary and kept it bottled up so tightly, ashamed. "Letting go" are the words that kept coming to mind, but I fucking hate that phrase. I'm not letting go of anything. But tonight I heard from two of the people closest to Phil, who both shared the same feeling that this year is different. That maybe Phil is telling us that it's okay to move forward—not move on, move forward—and find new ways to love and honor and remember him. Let go of the ways that aren't serving us or him anymore. There will always be new ones. He is buried so deep in our hearts, in who we are, that we could never be separated—we will always find him.

In a way, a weight is lifted off my chest. In another way, I've been crying so hard I'm going to be sore tomorrow. Nothing is going to change in my day-to-day, I think. I can't even imagine what would. But this is a new step of our journey, I can feel it in my chest. Of my journey, at least. I'm terrified and hopeful and so, so, so deeply in love and in gratitude with this incredible, larger-than-life, beautiful force of a human who changed the world—the whole world, and my world. Blessed doesn't begin to cover how I feel knowing my life is tied to his, that I'll be learning from him for the rest of my days. I'm still beyond devastated his were cut short so soon.

I love you, Phil. The man, the spirit. Nothing else matters more than that. I love you.

(Oh, and I'll always buy the donuts. For you, for us. Always. I promise.)

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

your skin is porcelain covered in white paint

i can’t tell how deep the cracks go

and if i’m the only one who sees them but you.

your hair is pretty, so pretty that when the wind touches it

it falls like the waves of a golden sea.

it’s flawed in a way that only further intrigues me.

your eyes are like melting ice, like the promise of spring

it’s my favourite season for a reason.

a slither of hope in times darker than a lake

when i look into your eyes it’s almost as if it’s frozen over

you have to look closely to spot the hair thin cracks

in the mask that for so long has been your disguise.

is it true what they say, that the eyes are windows to the soul?

you’re pale, Amara June, but still so painfully full of life

the most i’ve felt in a while is the heat in my face when i lay eyes on your eyes

they’re framed by pinkish red at all times, as if you have been crying

or as if someone with painted lips has kissed your eyes

tell me, did they kiss them dry?

no tears ever streak your face, but Amara June, i rarely ever see you smile

i just want to know if there’s someone in your life who can colour within the lines

because heaven knows, Amara June, that i look like a clown and a fool when i try

but if i could i would trace every line in your face until your smile reaches your eyes

i’d bring colour to your lips and face, and you would bring me back to life

you carry your mask with such grace, Amara June

only if you knew what i’d give to know what the weight of it is like for you

no matter if it’s light or heavy, i could carry it forever for you

and if i dropped it, which i never would, i would surrender and leave you

Amara June, have you ever dropped it? are those patched-up cracks i see?

there are veins of gold like artificial light cast upon your face, and they gleam

i bet your tears lit up the sky like aurora borealis the day you were deeply hurt

because you were, I know you were, only the hurt carry their beauty like a curse

you’re a broken soul if i ever saw one, Amara June

the ugly truth i’m finally facing is that i barely know you

all i know is that golden jewellery shouldn’t suit you but it does,

and that your leg tends to bounce in class when you think no one’s watching,

and that food just might be an enemy of yours,

and that no mirror could ever capture the beauty that is you, Amara June,

and that P.E sometimes pulls a rehearsed laugh out of you,

and that school is both a curse and a blessing in your life,

and that black sweaters suit you, but i wish i knew who you’re mourning,

and that i’m someone your eyes tend to land on in crowded corridors,

and that you like tomato soup, tell me, is that a code word? for who?

at this point i don’t even know if i’m overanalysing or decoding you,

and that you own a cat, i forgot its name, all i cared for in that moment was you,

and that you don’t show your face on the internet, tell me, why is that?

and that you listen to rap,

and i know your closest friends, Amara June, at least i think i do

but do they really know you?

all i can know for sure is that you enchanted me, Amara June

from the moment i first noticed to you till the moment i forbid myself to think of you.

this poem is my goodbye to a girl i never truly knew

and I hope to one day be able to let go of the dream version i created based on you

but a start might just be to forget you.

so that’s what i’m going to do.

this is goodbye, Amara June.

believe me when i say that one day i’ll erase you from all of my notebooks,

or perhaps i’ll read it all and smile and not feel a thing.

and one day my spotify will no longer be full of crumbs of you.

one day i’ll even leave space in the margins of my notes in school for something else, anything else but you.

the sea in golden hour will be more than a cheap version of you.

your wardrobe will be renewed, and I won’t even notice

your old one will be rinsed from my memory, Amara June.

you’ll no longer stick to me like cotton candy or the smell of a familiar perfume

my life will go directions i never knew in the era of you.

farewell, amara june.

[purplesurveys]

1959

Were you alone today? Not at all. I was with my teammates and was with them the last 4 days – we went to Japan together as our incentive for reaching our 2024 targets. The only 'me time' I got was when I was able to make time to go to a museum last night but otherwise we were pretty much tied together at the wrists the whole trip.

Who was the last person you saw today? Last so far was my sister when I played with Max a few minutes ago. She'll probably also be the last one for today as I'll sleep after this.

What do you need to let go of? My job, haha. I'm getting increasingly annoyed with people and can't keep faking it anymore as it's also not fair to them. I've come to terms with the fact that I've outgrown everyone save for a very select few and it's just not healthy for both sides.

What movie are you looking forward to? I caught the trailer for Elio when I was at the cinema to watch Mufasa, and I honestly found it intriguing! I'd love to watch it since it happens to be about outer space which I find fascinating.

Have you played the lottery? Not the lottery but I've done gambling in other ways lol like bingo.

What recently happened that made you proud of yourself? Spent most of the Japan trip with my teammates even though I initially vowed to myself that I was going to separate myself and enjoy the trip on my own.

In other words, I'm proud that I sucked it up and put on a happy face for the sake of everyone. I know this probably isn't the cheery answer you're looking for, but it is what it is.

Who did you see the most today? My teammates.

How much is gasoline per gallon? No clue. I just decide the amount I pay, haha.

What was your horoscope today? Was it accurate? I don't believe in that.

What are you most afraid of? Getting into a dangerous, helpless situation like being robbed at knifepoint, facing an inevitable plane crash, getting cornered by drunk men... extremes like that, basically.

What’s the biggest thing you have going on? Uh probably my career crisis if anything.

What did you accomplish today? Didn't lose my passport!

Did you act your age today? I could've been more grown-up, lmao. I'm still scared of airports so I had moments where I had the younger girls lead the way today, but that's better than betting on myself and missing the flight LOL

How busy was your day today? It was our last day in Japan today so it was relatively chiller compared to the last 3 days where we had jampacked itineraries. So it was a quieter day but it definitely felt long, as it always is when you have a day at the airport.

Drew, Dev, and I had breakfast at 9; after an hour we walked to the city center where we did our last round of shopping, got back to the hotel by 12 to meet everyone else and to make our way to the airport...and 1 to 8 PM was basically airport/airplane time.

What is your address? Why would you ask that?

What do you wish there was less of in the world? WORK

What is stopping you? Myself.

What were your chores today? Pack and unpack, pretty much.

What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud? Idk probably something Drew said earlier.

Who did you eat dinner with? Just myself, unless you count my rowmates on the plane.

How did you make a difference in the world today? I held the door open for several complete strangers.

What is one thing you take with you everywhere? Phone.

The last gift I’ve given was __. I bought so much pasalubong for my family and I don't feel like listing it down cos it's A LOT a lot, lol.

Ever wake up early on Saturdays to go Garage Sale shopping? No.

When was the last time you got a nose bleed? My nose has never bled.

Do you have any picture frames without a picture in them? Nope.

Do you keep magazines by your toilet? We don't.

What did you last take a picture of with your camera? My view at the plane when the people started standing up and getting their stupid bags when we had barely parked. I hate Filipinos lmaaaaoooo

The last time you got dressed up, where did you go? That was this morning - we just went to the nearby shopping district.

Are you proud of who you are? Yes.

If you were a waiter/waitress, would you make good tips? I would if I were with easygoing customers as I can be super friendly and extroverted whenever I need to.

I don't exert the same amount of energy for entitled people, though, so I'll probably be on their shitlist if they act up cause I don't think I'd be doing anything to resolve whatever issue they have.

Forget about toppings. What type of CRUST do you like on pizzas? Stuffed. Pizza Hut makes a mean cheese-stuffed crust and it's the only crust I look for.

Have you ever stolen a road sign or traffic barrier? No, I have literally no use for one.

Captain Crunch vs. Count Chocula: Who makes the better cereal? Never tried either.

Would you prefer an ice cream sundae or an ice cream cone? Cone.

Is chapstick a necessity for you? Sure.

Do you like to have ice in your drinks? Yes.

What did you eat for breakfast? Hokkaido mozzarella and sage sandwich at Bills. Basically...glorified and overpriced grilled cheese. Hahaha. It was yummy, though!

What song are you most likely to sing in the shower? A BTS or BTS-adjacent song. I only hum softly, though.

Can you cross your eyes? Sure. I never do it unless asked, though, since it's very uncomfy.

When was the last time you went to the dentist? Around two weeks ago.

If a color represented your mood right now what color would it be and why? Probably something like a soft, pastel shade between green and blue. I feel quite calm and for some reason my mental goal to not be disturbed about the thought of going back to work tomorrow is working.

[evanslittlecorner]

Alright folks, it’s that time again, I’m back on my Obey Me bullshit

This time though I’ve been thinking about Obey Me’s cannon story, and more specifically, how much I think it could be improved on. Now listen! I’m not saying Obey Me’s story is god awful or anything, I’m just saying that there are some issues, big and small, that I have noticed, repeatedly

And unfortunately for everyone, one thing that drives me more than anything else in this world, is spite. If I see something and think “Even I could do that better” my god I will do that fucking thing. Whether or not it’s actually better than the original is up to your own preferences obviously, but I like making art for myself and my brain

However, seeing as when I started writing a true “Obey Me Re-written” project I got as far as when you leave RAD after just being kidnapped and then lost steam, I knew I had to approach this differently. My current theory as to why that happened is because the way I write outlines is so bare bones it’s like if you story boarded a ten minute animation by fully illustrating one key frame for each minute. In other words, fucking badly

So here’s my new idea. I will be writing out main story beats for this re-written project as if I were making head cannon posts. This will get the ideas out into the world and help me plan shit out for if I ever decide to take a crack at properly writing the bitch. The story will still be written in second person, like everything I do, and each post should be about a chapter’s worth of story stuff

But yeah, for all the normal people that’s the end of this post. I hope you have a lovely day and that you’ll maybe wanna read the re-written posts as they come out? No pressure tho. However, for you sick fucks who actually care about the gripes I have with Obey Me’s story and what I intend to change then you can click that little Keep Reading thingy right below this text. But I warn you. It’s a doozy

Alright, first off let's address the obvious. Obey me is a free mobile game whose original language is Japanese. That might not sound like much but that one sentence explains three minor problems I have with Obey Me’s story, The pacing, The word choice, And the sanitization

The pacing is obvious, you unlock small bits of the story by playing the game and beating mini games. For the app to work the way it does the story has to be able to divide into these little chunks. But since I’m not confined by app structure my story will not have those odd chunks, allowing it to, hopefully, flow a little better

The word choice is a very nit picky thing that gets to me personally. Since the game has gone through a small game of telephone before us english only nerds can read the damn thing some things are just going to be lost or misused after translation. Since english is my first and only language I don’t have to deal with any of that in my version

And the sanitization! Again, Obey Me is a free mobile game, which means it needs to be advertiser friendly, which means The Avatar Of Lust is demoted to Avatar of Flirting and Vanity. My demons will cuss, fuck, and GASP…hold hands with y/n. Lol, seriously though, plot wise it’ll take a bit to get to fucking just because once you say fucking’s allowed you’re not getting out of bed for at least a week due to your demons swarming you, but I might write some stuff on the side that’s a little later in the time line for fun

Another small gripe I have is The Train Mystery. If you know, you know. That one will probably take some time but by Dia’s sweet ass I will make that a proper mystery

Also, not really a gripe but a change. Luke will not be in my story. He’s a cute kid, don’t get me wrong, but I’m a lusty bitch who wants a harem/poly story so no kids allowed. He’s off baking the whole time, he’s busy

A bigger issue I have with the story is that, no one has strong opinions on each other? Like, maybe for a lesson they do, but it’s never really brought up after that. And sometimes established opinions are tossed out the window to make the plot of the week happen. None of that, my boys have feelings about each other damn it! And if you’re wondering if any of those feelings will be slightly romantic or sexual. I’ll never tell :3 (Yes, the answer is yes)

Another big change I’m making is that the y/n will not be related to Lilith. They’re just a human with lataint magical abilities that only wake up in a big way once they start making pacts with demons. It’s not that them being kinda related squicks me out or anything, what did I just say above this paragraph? No, it’s just how fucking weird they handle it? Like, Obey Me can not decide if it wants the y/n to be exactly like Lilith and the brothers see them as her but like reincarnated or something, or if it wants to forget about Lilith entirely to side step the whole “You’re just like my dead sister, let’s make out about it” thing. Cowards

The final thing I will be changing (that I remember anyhow) is the lifeless y/n. Don’t get me wrong, the Obey Me y/n does have a few personality traits that stand out (Mainly being kind, chaotic, and a little dumb in some spots) but my y/n’s are characters in their own rights and this one will be no different (They have some anger problems :3)

But yeah, if you took the time to read all this, thank you! I can’t promise how quickly I’ll make re-written posts but I’m excited about the idea. Since I’ll be laying out all the story and character beats out so openly anyway feel free to ask even spoiler-esq questions if you’d like, I don’t expect any but the invitation is always there. I hope you have a wonderful day/night, bye bye :D

[the-darkdragonfly]

WIP Word Tag Game

tagged by: @hollyethecurious (Thank you, lovie!)

rules: find your given words in your WIPs and post a snippet containing the words, then tag others with their own sets of words :)

my words: Water (LMAO), hand(s), and glance

Hello darling! Thank you for the tag. These are three of my favorite words!

Water

Tempest, Chapter 9

They sat facing each other a long while, parchment between them, until Emma shivered from the chill of the dying fire, the water from the bath, long cold, cast glittering shadows on the ceiling as the flicker of the candles she had lit hours before burned low in their tapers. Killian had stood, chest bare with his wrist still free of the brace which he’d worn for centuries, and carefully pulled the sheet tighter around her shoulders- I’ll be right back, love- leaving the door standing ajar as he called down the stairs for more firewood, his hair a wreck from the hand that had been running through the strands all evening since she’d told him the once veiled truth of who she really was.

A Trick of the Light, Chapter 11

“Do you think my dad knows we’re gone, and that he needs to feed the chickens and Saoirse?” 

“Aye, but I fear he might not survive the experience.”

“He fought a dragon.” Emma quipped, raising her nose slightly in the air, as if navigating her beast of a horse was the same as simply conquering a dragon. 

“But he’s never faced an irritable, Emma-less Saoirse,” Killian yawned, stretching carefully to not dislodge the slumbering child on his chest, Liam’s cheek resting on the carefully folded shirt Emma had given him before heading quietly to the bath, the milk-scented cloth lulling their son into the same quiet sleep that had worked for their daughter only a few years earlier. 

She hummed, a miffed sort of sound, and continued to press the water from her hair while it hung like liquid gold in the candlelight.

“I cannot wait for tomorrow night; I won't take my pillow for granted ever again.” 

Killian chuckled- I’ve slept on worse, but I have also slept on better- eyes closing briefly  before glancing down at the sleeping baby- I should put him to bed.

“You said that half an hour ago.” 

“I know I did.” 

He made no effort to move, Liam’s small hands curled through the hair on his chest, a painful familiar feeling he had relished for the first time again when Liam had rested against his heart in the quiet of the night as a newborn, Emma mercifully asleep beside them in the moonlight.

Blacksmith WIP

OMG I DON'T HAVE 'WATER' IN THIS WHOLE WIP????

WHO EVEN AM I????

*starts writing furiously*

Hand(s)

Tempest, Chapter 9

“Because I lied to you” 

“You didn’t lie to me, love.” 

“I didn’t tell you the truth, that’s the same thing really, isn’t it?” 

“Aye, well, what was it you were supposed to say, Emma? Revealing yourself would have been foolish and you know that; out of the clutches of one pirate into another.” 

“I do not and have never considered myself to be ‘in your clutches’, Killian,” she huffed, gracing him with a stern look before continuing.” But you are right, I was afraid.” 

He nodded, hand covering the scars on his wrist, a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed before. 

“I was afraid of you at first, worried about what would become of me if you knew,” she continued and his heart clenched painfully, “but,” she reached out slowly, resting tentative fingers on top of his own, waiting for his gaze to meet hers. “Then I was afraid you would send me away. Send me back.” 

A Trick of the Light, Chapter 11

“No one knows where Arthur is.” 

“Correct.” 

“No one knows what happened to Merlin.” 

“Correct.” 

“No one has seen or heard from Lancelot in ‘they can’t remember how long’.” 

“Correct again, love.” 

A small hand appeared beside Killian’s elbow and he leaned down to nip gentle at the wiggling fingers, the hand disappeared at the same time as Hope’s manic giggling broke the comfortable quiet from beneath the wooden frame before her small hand reappeared, trying again. Killian smiled and pressed a slice of apple into her waiting palm- what do we say, lovie?- and her voice floated up to them amid the crunching of her treat- t’anks, daddy. 

Emma grinned wickedly at him for a moment and he narrowed his eyes at her- no, Swan, don’t- before she flicked her hair, correcting him as she usually did- Jones- and tucking the inevitable daddy comment away for future yielding. 

Blacksmith WIP

But the tale was just that, a dreary bedtime story told to children on cold evenings in hope of imparting an appreciation for their family. It was a tale beloved by orphaned girls, thinking they might be the lost princess, and perhaps their fate could be changed in some way. 

But while curses indeed existed, there was no witch powerful enough in any realm who could cast a curse so dark and powerful as to remove the memories from an entire kingdom.

It was just that; a fairytale. 

Alice would not be convinced, however, and for the past fortnight she had been coming home from the small street of shops north of the docks- did you remember bread today, Starfish?- spinning tales of a woman who was the lost princess, with golden hair and sea glass eyes- you are quite the poet, Lovie- and how he needed to rescue her. 

She’d watch him with large hopeful eyes, and he’d kiss her forehead and tell her that while it was a lovely thought, a blacksmith had no business running around rescuing princesses. And she would be quiet for a while, fingernails scratching lightly on the hand planed surface of their table- you rescued me, Papa- she had whispered and tore his heart from his chest with the conviction in her voice. 

Glance {I had to use 'glanced'}

Tempest, Chapter 9

“Did he hurt you?” 

She shook her head, hand rising to cover the now unmarked skin the careless blackheart had likely bruised as he pushed her towards the monster curled in the depths of her castle. 

“He said I had magic. That the creature with the claws and the gold skin was his father and only my magic could save him. Free him.” 

The nausea grew and expanded as if it were talons clutching at his heart. 

“What was his name, love?” Hot fury curled into the pit of Killian’s stomach. 

She glanced up, confused for a moment- the young man, what did his father call him?- watching the need for vengeance sweep across his dark features.  

“Baelfire.” 

A Trick of the Light, Chapter 11

“How will they get home?” 

“There are beans,” he let her go for a moment to dig through the pocket on his great coat, holding a translucent bean between his fingers, “not many, mind, but enough to get Fiona and Alec home again.”  

Emma nodded, eyes locked on the small object between his fingers, remembering another time when he held such an item out in front of her, the bars of the cell beneath the ghost of a castle cold against her palms as she begged him not to go. Not leave them; leave her. She’d opened her mouth, fingers reaching towards the bean as he let it fall into his palm, but he’d turned from her then, tears in her eyes. But the memory disappeared as quickly as it had come, the bean he tipped into her palm warm from his body and she glanced up to him as he stilled beside her before continuing to speak, his face solemn and careful. 

He’d promised he would try.  

“And,” Killian took a breath, “Henry.” 

Blacksmith WIP

He closed the door to keep the room as warm as possible, it would be winter soon and his supply of firewood would need to be replenished. He’d been terrified beyond measure that they would freeze to death that first winter at the cottage, the fireplace in his room always stoked to keep away the chill, Alice’s small bassinet pulled as close as he dared to the hearth in order to keep her as warm as possible.

He’d slept with her on his chest for the first few weeks away from their prison, until a shopkeeper had gasped dramatically and told him of the dangers of co-sleeping. And while he didn’t think he would roll over and hurt his child, it terrified him enough to place her in her own bed from then on. 

Killian placed the lantern on the small table near the fireplace, crouching to place another handful of split logs onto the flames, before rising to glance out the window at the rain running like rivers down the glass. He’d chosen this cottage for several reasons, but the view of the sea, which capped waves crashing against the rocky shore in the distance, is what had made it feel like home. 

♥️♥️♥️♥️

That was fun! Now I need to get to work!

Tagging @sailtoafarawayland, @veryverynotgoodwrites (since I haven't spoken to you ladies in FOREVER!), and @donteattheappleshook (hehehe) with Night, Breath(e) and Watch

[baambastic]

Who wants a giant list of various sentences and phrases I’ve collected or otherwise thought of? That could also be used as prompts.

You’re getting it regardless.

“…but I take your meaning.”

“Dashed/shattered against the rocks.”

“His gaze softened.”

“<Name> didn’t know what to say.”

“You will leave by sunset, or you will not see the morning.”

“Leave before the setting sun, or you will not see it rise again.”

“Are you calling me a coward?” “No, I am calling you defeated, <name>.”

“And they will do so again, and again, and again. And there shall be no end, for they will never run out of that which they deem evil.”

“Your god’s love is not unconditional. He does not love us, and he does not. Love. You.”

“You could sooner divert a river from its path than deny us ours.”

“His blade sang, each strike(/flash of steel) a resonant note (in the song of combat).”

“I’m not much for ____.”

“A look of faint ____ (apprehension, shock, surprise, etc.) (flitted across his face).”

“Swallowed up by…”

“You’re hip-deep in it now, and the only way out is forward.”

“Draw up plans to…”

“With a bit of luck…”

“A sensible choice.”

“, to be sure.”

“Mirth in his voice.”

“…as the crow flies.”

“…as the wolf runs.”

“Present company excluded, of course.”

“If you don’t have your own story, you become part of someone else’s.”

“My gift, given freely.”

“Anything worth doing is hard.”

“Nervous/angry people make mistakes.”

“Buzz(ing) of fluorescent lights.”

“I’ve devised a plan.”

“As he made his way to…”

“, what with…”

“We’re cut from the same cloth. You[third person]… were stitched together from a white flag.”

“Daylight’s a’wasting.”

“That’s a good reason, except it’s not.”

“You taught me to bury the dead!” (condemnation)

“We can avoid talking about this another time.”

“It was fun… until it wasn’t.”

“…been erased, yet the shadow remains.”

“He lingered by the door. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, continuing to drum his fingers against the door’s wooden frame.”

“Instead, I let myself believe that you actually cared.”

“…under the deluge (of water/rain/etc.).”

“It buckled under his/the (ferocious) onslaught.”

“His breath caught.”

“He put a hand to his head, blinking the spots out of his eyes.”

“When have I ever __?” He remarked. “Don’t answer that.”

“…wrinkled his nose.”

“…got too grisly.”

“…in and of itself.”

“It was child’s play.”

“…(I’ll be back) before you know it.”

“She and my mom ran in some of the same circles.”

“…spent the night poring over ____.”

“I would know.”

“…but beggars couldn’t be choosers.”

“…barely fazed her.”

“…hissed in pain.”

“…went back to lazily kicking his feet in the air.”

“…with ___ in tow.”

“…slathered it with honey.”

“…riddled with bullet holes.”

“…nearly wrenched out of its socket.”

“His stomach was tying itself in knots.”

“His stomach churned.”

“His muscles/arm(s)/leg(s) screamed in protest.”

“He said, biting out each word like it had personally offended him.”

“His head pounded with every belabored step.”

“He chose not to/refused to/didn’t dignify that with a response.”

“I’ve kinda fell out of it, honestly.”

“He balked at the price.”

“It sort of fell by the wayside.”

“He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.”

“Strangers lived where his childhood ghost once walked.”

“…lifted/raised his chin defiantly.”

“The one saving grace is that…”

“That’s not how ____ work.” “Could be.” “…”

“A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” -“I think so?”

“…But I’m feeling generous today.”

“…to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.”

“…laughing too hard to dodge properly.”

“…he blurted out.”

“As the afternoon drew on towards evening…”

“…’cause you haven’t unclenched since age ___.”

“…drawing a glowing path atop the waves.”

“Today had been nice.”

“It was pretty great.”

“…is still a languid puddle of a man.”

“…sprawled out on his back.”

“…flipped him off with a cheery smile.”

“One good thing about the ocean is that it is made of water, which is wet.”

“She flowed to her feet.”

“He blinked at her.”

“This is such an insult. I’m insulted.”

“…for a minute, he forgot…”

“…but…that didn’t seem so bad.”

“…balanced precariously on his chair.”

“He moved like water, effortless and bold.”

“Wait a damn minute.”

“Your brain works in weird ways.”

“In his defense…”

“His cheeks darkened.”

“Whoop-de-freaking/fucking/dang/damn-doo.”

“…way too cute for its own good.”

“Well, now,…”

“‘I’ve got this.’” -New Chapter / Line Break- “He definitely did not have this.”

“…wrought-iron fence.”

“…as fragile as spun glass.”

“Score one for _____!”

“They’re playing fast and loose with…”

“…grinning like an idiot.”

“He raised a single, devastating eyebrow.”

As an opening line: “_____ was smaller than he remembered.”

“Oh my god, you did.”

“…agreed/nodded fervently.”

“…from the light of the muzzle flashes.”

“…said under his breath.”

“…stage-whispered.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’m ready to go, but I’m not ready to, you know, be gone.”

“…pinched the bridge of his nose.”

“…squawked in protest.”

“…in half as many ____.”

“…slumped in his chair.”

“Naturally.”

“There are matters I must attend to.”

“It seemed prudent to stay in their good graces.”

“The color drained from his face.”

“He ducked his head.”

“…incandescent rage.”

“…ruddy cheeks.”

“Without knowing what he was doing, ____ agreed/listened/tugged.”

“Oh, for—you think…”

“…the tide lapping at his feet.”

“All at once, he felt his anger melt away.”

“His anger melted away all at once.”

“All the anger—that rage, that fire—rushed out of him. In its place, all that remained was a hollow pit.”

“…but I’d bet the farm that…”

“He watched in silent terror.

-She swung / pulled the trigger / pressed the button.

-And terror turned to horror.”

“…with a cheshire grin.”

“I understand. Really, I do. But…”

“Like a drop of oil on the surface of a lake.”

“Hello, old friend.”

“There you are, old friend.”

“There you are.”

“In all likelihood…”

“I burned the wool that covered my eyes.”

“A story may become truth, but it never begins as truth.”

“A great many changes come about from belief in a lie.”

“To become better, one must first believe the lie that one can be better.”

“We all lie to ourselves, you more than most.”

“You are not the kind to walk into a minefield with naught but prayers on your lips. But left deaf and blind, what else can you do?”

“All I want(ed) is/was to…”

“A teller of tall tales laid low.”

“Seize him/her/them!”

“Curse you infernal wretches!”

“Must I do everything myself?”

“Unhand me!”

“‘You know nothing of pain.’ He smiled. ‘But you will.’”

“What is it?

-Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You sanctimonious asshole!”

“Not enough to feel like it matters, but enough that how I feel doesn’t.”

“You’ve got ice in your veins. I like that.”

“There’s a certain freedom in knowing when something’s out of your hands.”

“I would not welcome death. But I do not know if I would have the strength to fight it.”

“A world and a word of difference stand only a letter’s breadth apart.”

“I’d rather keep to my own misbegotten patch of city.”

“If that be/is the price I must pay, then I have coin to spare.”

“Give ____ my regards.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I doubt that.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“…he said ruefully.”

“You’re much too young to be telling people things you think they need to hear.”

“You’re trying to _____.

-Is it working?”

“I need some fresh air.”

“…he spat ____’s name like a curse.”

“I refuse to believe otherwise.”

“I don’t make the rules, I simply set the stage.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“When I find out, I’ll let you know.”

“You leapt at the chance…”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Their blood is on your/my hands.”

“This guy walks in off the street and thinks he can…?”

“I have problems, same as anyone else.”

“You’re right about that, at least.”

“…and vice versa.”

“He wordlessly moved out of the way.”

“Stand. Aside.”

“…he said carefully.”

“And what of/about you?”

“Where will you go?”

“He turned to her with pleading eyes.”

“…sent a jet of flame roaring past…”

“He gasped for air.”

“For what it’s worth…”

“You seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“…put his fist through the door.”

“…pumped his fist in the air.”

“Be the bigger person.”

“…as befits someone of your station/status.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, __.”

“Seize him/her/them!”

“Unhand me!”

“Godspeed.”

“A word of advice…”

“…if you catch my meaning.”

“Luckily for you…”

“You’re going to catch cold if you stay out here.”

“I’m/You’re/He’s every bit the ___ you are.”

“He tried his damnedest to…”

“I cannot tolerate loose ends.”

“If push comes to shove…”

“Life waits for no man.”

“Ugh… What happened?”

“Let’s see you wriggle (your way) out of this/that (one).”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t be naïve.”

“…so let’s not and say we did.”

“Where ____ failed, ____ may yet prevail.”

“…or close to it.”

“Please accept this token of my appreciation.”

“Out of the mouth of babes.”

“The crowd was stunned into silence.”

“He loved her in a way that no one should ever call ‘love’.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“He flew like an arrow shot from a bow.”

“Tell that to (my)…”

“Be that as it may…”

“You’re better off not knowing.”

“You’re in no position to make demands.”

“You sound just like him.”

“Do I/you/we have a choice?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“I have accepted what will come. But there is no peace in that, nor will there be.”

“I’d rather make a mistake with you than play it safe with anyone else.”

“He feigned surprise.”

“At last we agree on something.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Much has changed in your absence / while you were away.”

“[cutting off other character’s rambling self-blame] Stop.”

“Please, you have to believe me!”

“…that familiar thrum of energy beneath his skin.”

“You have space in your heart for everyone in the world… and none left for yourself.”

“It’s so easy to suffer alone.”

“The distinction, fine as it may be, carries quite a bit of weight.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“You cling so tight to that old version of me, I’ll leave you behind.”

“Mercy makes you good, but it does not make you right.”

“The words fall through my fingers like sand through an hourglass.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

[krystaldeath]

2024

Man. What to even say? 2024 put me through such a rollercoaster. I’ll try to just talk about the good things though!

I got into Cult of The Lamb around the end of January and the beginning of February and it has been fantastic. I did more art in a year than I have done in a while! And while there still wasn’t a lot I am happy about how I don’t feel quite as stunted in my art anymore.

In fact, I even WROTE more than I have done in years! Even uploaded two things to ao3! They’re both on the short side but I still feel so glad I got back to something I’ve literally told people I want to do for a living since I was in middle school lol (though the writing I did was for a fandom and not any of my original ideas lol. Maybe 2025 will have more of that)

I also started watching way more streams this year, mainly bamsara’s though I did watch other cotl fans make art and play games!

I joined three discord servers! Barely talk in two of them but I do still check out the going on’s and such. I feel like I’m in high school again with how much I’m checking discord lmao

Of course, I also want to take a little moment for at least one of the “bad” parts of the year, which was the passing of my cat, Maximillion (though we always just called him Max). This will get a bit heavy so I won’t blame anyone who skips it. I had already been having a pretty rough time before then, so me and my friends went on a beach trip to have a break. But near nighttime my mom texted me, letting me know he was doing bad. He had been for a couple days before, but early at the beach my friend’s mom told him that my mom told her he was getting better, so having her say otherwise only a few hours later really dampened the mood. I pushed it to the back of my mind as much as I could all the way home but once I was inside my mom was there, sitting on our lounge chair, with him laying on his side on the floor. The very next day, he was euthanized. I cried openly, not caring about how I hadn’t cried so much in front of my parents in years, I wasn’t going to hold back my pain of losing him. It’s still hard, 6 months later, when I have my little thoughts of “Oh Max must be around here somewhere” or “I better put this away so Max doesn’t get into it”. Even walking through my room’s doorway gets rough when I look down and see the claw marks he made on the frame to try and get me to come out and feed him (when he had already been fed an hour before lol). All these little things and more make me realize how a part of my life is just. Gone now. He was about 17. I grew up through most of my childhood and all of my teens with him. Taking care of him was part of my daily routine, which in turn kinda helped me take care of myself. The first few months were bad after he passed. I was sleeping in so much, I was barely eating. And I’m still trying to get out of that habit. He was a brother to me. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him.

GODS. Sorry that got. Longer than I intended. Like I said, there were both good and bad things, it’s just hard to gloss over a beloved pet’s passing.

This year I also gained a lot of new mutuals. Like, a LOT. I also started getting more people on my notifs screen because they were actually liking and reblogging stuff from me! Lego Monkie Kid also brought more of that for me but not as much as Cotl did (though I was on Twitter more for my lmk era so maybe that’s why lol). I hope y’all will still enjoy what I make in the year to come!

Thank you, and here’s to a new year!

[quietwingsinthesky]

hey did you know there's an AC game with twins you play as. anyways what's your opinion on desmond/ezio.

(i have only barely played assassins creed-)

HELL YEAH TWINS GAME

desmond is literally the most boring man in video games i have ever encountered and every time the game is about ezio, i try to pretend the modern day segments aren’t real and can’t hurt me and i don’t have to think about desmond ever again.

and i’ll admit i was sort of Eh on ezio at first. and he’s not like. a life-changing character by any means. of the two ac games i’ve played, i still prefer bayek as the protagonist in Origins even as underwritten as he was, a lot of which is down to the voice acting, i’ll admit. though both have great voice performances, to be clear. ezio isn’t a complicated guy, and i’ll happily allow myself to be charmed when he’s meant to be charming, so on, so forth.

i just rambled about this in the tags a moment ago but the real draw of ezio’s story to me, and the only salvaging bit of the modern day segments, is that it’s already written. there’s nothing we can do to change what happened. his family could not be saved, his vengeance can only bring some small justices to the world, and one day, he’ll be as much a myth as the assassin’s that came before him. in that way, the framing actually creates what could be a powerful connection between history and storytelling. nothing can be changed; it’s already happened. but knowing it is important, knowing ezio as a man rather than a myth is important.

hell if i know that any of this is intentional. probably just my stupid obsession with storytelling and how it saves and strangles at the same time. but there’s something about starting in the middle of the original 3 games to me that cements it. because i know the war ezio’s fighting continues to the modern day, but also into ac3 with a different man having to try and take up the same call to trying to fix the world through death. but i don’t know altair, the protag of ac1, except through the codexes that he wrote, through the armor he left. he’s a myth to me, he’s history of the history i’m playing. ezio will be long dead by the time ac3 takes place, history of history. the assassins and the templars fighting is less a conspiracy than it is layers of sediment trapping each hero and villain and victim until only the loose bones are left to dig up and try to piece together.

and that makes the animus almost blasphemous in how easily it recreates these lives. especially in how they can be edited to fit a narrative in the wrong hands. we expect journals and history books to have bias, not memory itself, especially as the game presents it. but at the same time, it’s the only way that these myths can be made men again.

it’s a tragedy. i’m just not sure if it understands yet that it’s a tragedy. not so much in the hopeless sense, but in the classical shakespearean one, you know? comedies end in marriage, tragedies end in death, and no one survives their own life. not even ezio will. we just witness how many people he took down with him and how many more he protected along the way.

does that make any sense? i also like ezio because he has a weird gay thing with leonardo da vinci

[kawaixkissex]

I’m about to be married.

To a stranger. In a few minutes.

What a strange turn of events.

“please seek the blessings of your elders.” the priest says, concluding the wedding ceremony. I’m married now. Namjoon and I walk towards our parents. My mother is smiling at me, but it is devilish and cruel. My father had left my mother for she had troubled him quite a lot during their marriage, that they had divorced when I was seventeen, and i hadn’t seen him since.

“you’re such a beautiful bride.” my mother says, as i bend down to touch her feet, although I don’t touch her, just barely brush my fingers on her legs. Namjoon, my husband seeks her blessings before we move towards where his parents are standing.

“you’re so beautiful, Ruhaani.” his mother says, caressing my back, and giving me a genuine smile. Looking at her, I realise just how much time has passed, since I felt someone’s good intentions for me.

“thank you, Mrs Kim.” I murmur softly. She immediately dismisses me with a flick of a hand, “please call me, mom, ruhaani. You’re my daughter, now.” something about the way she called me daughter made me happy inside, even though I didn’t know what fate awaited me in their house.

I was an unwelcome child, my mother didn’t want me, she treated me like a slave, and I was fed up with sacrificing myself for her at all times, it got unbearable, so i decided, i’d do one last thing as she says, and then leave her, forever, if possible.

Namjoon and I were arranged to be married, but there was no prior meetings to get to know each other, my marriage news was announced to me like a headline of a newspaper on a monday morning, my mother didn’t bother to accept my opinion on the matter, and just shooed me away, before I could say something. Well, it wasn’t like I’d protest anyway, so like a good girl, that I’ve always had to become, I agreed to this marriage, with a promise to myself that — if things got worse, i’ll commit suicide, because dying was way much better than all the horrible things that could happen to someone like me, if my husband turned out to be an asshole.

I didn’t know anything about him, except his name, of course, which was the only thing my mother had told me hours before the wedding. The preparations were done so quickly, I didn’t have the time to cherish anything, getting married, celebrating with my friends had been my dream, ever since I was a teenager, and understood what marriage was, but my mother had successfully shattered those dreams, crushed all hopes for a happy wedding.

My attention is brought back to my vidai, where my family stands, well…nobody except my mother, and my friends — saanjh, and yashodhara.

Mrs Kim guides me slowly to their car, where everyone stands, waiting for me to say goodbye to my family. I can’t say that i’m happy but i’m grateful that I’m leaving the clutches of my selfish mother, i’d always known who she was, but never been able to do something, gives me a sense of little peace, even though I don’t know if it will be short lived or not.

She hugs me coldly, then whispers, “behave Ruhaani from now on, you’re a married woman, make sure you please your husband in every way, don’t give me a reason to be disappointed in you.” she says it so coldy, I forget to keep my poker face on, but then I remember namjoon’s parents and his family are watching, so I give my mother a smile, and move towards my two friends.

Heer tears up, and hugs me tightly. “I’ll miss you, hani,” I wrap my arms around her small frame, reminiscing in her warm, and comforting scent, breathing in her presence, because these two were the only things that happened in my life, which saved me. “I’ll miss you too, heera.” “me too!” saanjh exclaims, before wrapping herself around us both. We cry for I don’t know how long, until Mrs Kim very gently peels me away from my friends. “it’s time to leave, Ruhaani.”I nod and follow her to our car.

Namjoon is standing at the car, holding the door open for me, It makes me confused, because this man literally knows nothing about me, why is acting like a gentleman? Maybe to impress my mother, when I glance at her for one last time, she has a half smile, and half confused look on her face that I can’t interpret.

a side note to you Yuri: i don’t have any idea if this is good or not, but to me, it looks okay to be published, but i didn’t continue not because I wanted to tease you, but because I didn’t want to force myself when the words won’t come, because my writing … how to put it, when it’s forced, you can just see it, and it’s fucking embarrassing. So, give me your feedback and if i’m stuck on something i’ll ask you for help/ advice, how’s that sound?

[allylikethecat]

Hi hi. So I take the term equestrian quite loosely for myself because I live in a town and am not rich I’ve never had the chance to actually have my own horse. But I’ve been riding horses since I was like 4. My cousin owns a stables that is a couple of hours away from me so that was my introduction to riding.

I don’t compete due to the lack of my own horse but I practice English style riding with show and cross country jumping styles. I’ve also dabbled a little in western riding.

Even though none of them are actually mine bc I rode and helped out at one stables for such a long time it definitely felt like some of them were. Especially there’s this one mare Daisy who is a proper little asshole. She will bite and kick and buck and barely even moves for the lesson kids. But I hopped up on her when I was a kid and we just connected. She was like a different horse altogether.

Anyway I am very much so rambling and I had one other thing to say to you which is and the medicine vinyl. Ik you said it reminds you of the colour of US pill bottles and I find that so interesting bc originally it was made to be the colour of h.

Anyway yeah btw also I am LOVING the daily prompts! Hope ur having a nice day :)

-♥️

Hey! Doesn't matter if you own a horse, or how often you ride! If you've taken lessons you're an equestrian in my book! That's so cool that your cousin owns a stable!

But damn you are much braver than me! I do NOT have the nerve to ever go cross country schooling omg I love watching it but the jumps are so solid? I also prefer English style riding (show jumpers unite!) but Pop is a jack of all trades (re: I get an idea and he is forced to go along with it lol) and we've done a little bit of everything - jumping is what we both like best though. He's a little peanut of a QH that I never had any intentions of buying but is the absolute love of my life, and as a QH I'm so lucky he is so versatile and is game to do a little bit of everything, English and Western, as long as he doesn't have to go through any kind of water including puddles 😂

It's always so special when you meet a horse that you just ~vibe~ with and it's like oh you're my guy/gal. Daisy sounds like such a mare lol was she chestnut as well by chance? I know that they say once you become a mares person they will literally do anything for you.

I also used to have a chestnut Oldenburg mare that I did more upper level show jumping with but that ended in absolute flames and I sold her about a year ago (I'm not sure if I hated her more, or she hated me more by the end lol) 💀 I hope I can one day get another upper level horse especially with Pop getting older but currently I am still terrified to get on any horse that isn't him 😂 Also I am so sorry for rambling on about this I get so excited talking about horses 😬

Oooo you're so right! I'm not a vinyl person (I literally only bought the neon orange Medicine vinyl because i have a weird attachment to the song now after the A&E fic and wanted to frame the sleeve and hang it with all my other 1975 stuff) and completely forgot that was a thing... I feel like that makes it even more poetic that it's the color of medicine/pill bottles in the US now? Even though it probably wasn't on purpose? I have decided that I am going to read into the symbolism and pretend it was on purpose even though I fully made it up (Hey DH - you can steal my idea though and pretend it was on purpose if you want though!)

Thank you so much for following along with the daily prompts! It's been such a fun little exercise and I've really enjoyed working on them! I didn't expect anyone to even read them, and was only posting to hold myself accountable so to find out that other people are enjoying them as well is so special and cool!

Thank you so much for reading, your support and sending in these asks! I apologize for writing little rambling novels in response, just like horses man! They're the BEST!

❤️Ally