flos-viridis

[flos-viridis]

in which stiles finds derek chained up in the argent’s basement. and then derek sees stiles, and his face switches from pained exhaustion to absolute outrage, and he says, “do you somehow not see where you are right now? you don’t wanna be involved in this, stiles! so turn around, right now, and run.”

and just leave him there to be tortured some more? yeah, that’s not happening. 

“so, fun fact,” stiles says, waving a little silver key, “but handcuff keys are actually pretty universal. or they are in the US, anyway. so, if you happen to make a couple copies…”

and then derek’s grimacing, rubbing his wrists, and his shoulders.

“follow me for more lifehacks,” stiles says to no one, and derek looks at him. “uh, inside joke.”

“with yourself?” derek says, and stiles says, “hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. i’m sure you of all people could use more whimsy in your life.”

“i think i’m good,” derek says, and then stiles says, “we should probably run now.”

“and leave you here alone?” derek says. “i don’t think so.”

“well what then?” stiles says. “you gonna bite your way out?” 

“maybe next time,” derek says, and wraps an arm around him, and then—stiles’ shoes are barely skimming the ground, and they’re both moving at hyperspeed.

“note to self,” stiles says. “wait to eat until after a derek rescue.” 

he’s somehow managed not to vomit until no longer in motion. still, it’s a very close call. 

“you’ll get used to it,” derek says, and stiles says, “no i will not. we’re never doing that again, oh my god.”

“we’ll see,” derek says, shrugging, and stiles says, “next time? i’m gonna vomit all over you.” 

but he goes quiet when he checks on derek’s torture wounds again. 

and then derek touches stiles’ throat, and all the nausea wipes away. 

��whoa,” stiles says. “how, wait…”

“we can take pain,” derek says. “it’s easy.”

“well, that’s… handy to know,” stiles says. then, “hey! it’s literally handy.”

even derek’s worst wounds are vanishing, now. like none of it happened at all.

“so crazy,” stiles says, tracing where the wound was. his shirt’s still just as bloody. “what’d she even want, huh?”

“the alpha?” derek says. “at least, that was the excuse for it.” 

“yeah, i wonder why some alpha is going around killing werewolf hunters,” stiles says. “if this is what they do to like, the innocent ones.” 

and derek shivers. “i’m not innocent.”

“yeah, that’s what all the bad guys say,” stiles says. his voice keeps coming out so soft without him even meaning it to. “the real threats, you know, they have to warn everyone who starts to fall for their charm. ‘cause like, they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves otherwise.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me, stiles,” derek says. “and trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“try me,” stiles says, and derek shivers again.

he looks terrified. 

“it doesn’t have to be now,” stiles says, and derek shakes his head.

“no, you should know—what could happen.”

he swallows, and breathes in, and breathes out hard.

he doesn’t say anything else.

“i killed my mom,” stiles says. “i’m the reason.”

“what?” derek says. “no you’re not.”

“my dad told me,” stiles says. “it was like, the week after, and i knew… i knew there was something on his mind, the whole week, whenever he looked at me, you know? like i knew, i knew the answer already. so i… i just asked him, that night, and he told me.”

“that’s not,” derek says, and then, “how drunk was he?”

and stiles stares at him. “how did you…”

but it doesn’t matter, anyway. 

that just makes it truer, if anything. lowered inhibitions, right? so everything just spills out. 

“did he even remember saying it?” derek says. “in the morning.”

stiles shrugs. “does it really matter? if that’s what he really thinks…”

“it’s not,” derek says, and stiles says, “yeah, well you don’t know that. so i’m not so innocent either.”

“it’s not the same,” derek says, and stiles scoffs. “it’s not even close, stiles.” 

“the fire, huh?” stiles says, and derek looks up at him sharply. “and your domme of the day. who was also your substitute teacher for like five minutes in the tenth grade, right when her dad was the principal. what are the odds?”

“how do you…” derek says, and stiles says, “i may have… copied my dad’s file on the fire? and the motive becomes a lot less of a mystery once you know about werewolves. and then, hey, i wonder what the like, biggest hunter family in town were up to at the time! but yeah, who knows what went down, right? maybe kate just really loved english back then.”

“it’s not that simple,” derek says. “i’m the one who—pursued her. in the beginning.”

“oh, well in that case you’re incredibly dangerous,” stiles says. “i don’t know what i was thinking. a kid with a crush? yeah, you clearly caused that fire single-handedly.”

“no,” derek says, and then, “i don’t know.”

it feels real. maybe.

it feels shitty not paying for it. and just… waking up, and playing normal, like it doesn’t even matter. like it doesn’t even matter that it happened at all. 

like she wasn’t even real, but she was your mom. 

and derek doesn’t say anything. for a long time, nobody says anything. 

they just stay close, and breathe the same air for a while. 

[flos-viridis]

Hi, it's me again :)

Another thing I wanted to ask you: I've heard many in this fandom say that Tsu was already a bit screwed up (mentally ill in some way) before meeting the entity, and that when he returned with It, things got worse. I see that many think this because of his slightly abnormal behavior and the fact that he actually doesn't behave like a 4-year-old.

Compared to a 4-year-old, Tsu actually has something different, especially in terms of not being afraid of the entity or anything else (he would go into the garden and literally catch snakes with his hands), things that would make a 4-year-old cry instantly.

What do you think?

Tsukasa is a boy I consider very intelligent. Intelligent children tend to be curious and less afraid of dangerous situations.

We should also remember that despite everything, he was still four years old. What do parents typically do at this age? Protect children from putting things in their mouths, from sticking their fingers in electrical outlets, and be careful with sharp edges because they can hurt the baby.

Babies aren't afraid of anything because they have no concept of danger. If you put a snake in a baby's lap, they'll grab it and try to put it in their mouth.

That's how babies work, right? A four-year-old has a little more awareness of some dangerous things, but not everything. If six- and seven-year-olds can kill themselves by sticking their fingers in electrical outlets, what can a four-year-old say?

Children are easily tricked by adults in exchange for candy, and so it goes.

I usually say that until the age of seven, parents exist to prevent children from accidentally killing themselves. Try leaving a child alone for a few minutes, and they'll find a thousand ways to receive a visit from death, even falling out of bed or the sofa, hitting their head on something, or choking on something they put in their mouth.

Tsukasa is intelligent, yes, but he's still a child like any other. He catches insects and animals, and enjoys it; he doesn't seem to mind the dangers.

Of course, children have personalities. Some are fearful, those who tend to be wary of people and cry so they don't hug them when their parents ask (like that old aunt who never came to visit earlier). There are other children who are so calm that you can pick them up and they'll smile at you.

More fearful children will fear these dangers, depending on their age.

Amane is the fearful type; he won't want to play with insects or small animals that could be dangerous. Tsukasa is an explorer and curious, trying to understand what it is and how it works, and being a baby, he doesn't fear danger.

Regarding the entity, he's not afraid because he has no idea that it's not "normal." He believes it's a god. They told him that a god grants wishes. We're not usually afraid of God, are we?

On the contrary, we call out to him, we pray to him.

Tsukasa thinks it's a god, proving his intelligence. He knew it couldn't be human, but because it hadn't harmed him and had granted wishes, that's what he concluded.

The entity didn't mistreat him, as far as we could tell.

While he was talking to Amane, even he was surprised to find a "god" under the house.

It's their innocence; they're two babies who know almost nothing about the world, much less supernatural dangers.

It's like I said about candy: if an adult offers a child candy, if the parents don't teach them to be careful, they'll accept it.

The entity offered Tsukasa wishes, gave him what he wanted, and he accepted.

There's nothing strange about comparing him to other ordinary children. The difference is that, because Tsukasa is more intelligent in some ways, some people believe he knows everything.

His parents didn't teach him that listening to Gods is wrong; perhaps they told him otherwise, because perhaps for them, a God is love, the fulfillment of dreams guaranteed.

After Tsukasa bonded with the entity, he lived in the house for years, learning what the entity taught, and because he was a child, he believed it was okay, that this was how it had to be. There was no one there with him besides the entity to show him what was right and wrong, and he was a baby.

He attracted people and then received toys; it was a reward, wasn't it? What would make him think this was wrong?

After he returned to Amane, his behavior was shaped by the experiences he had with the entity while he was alone with it in the house.

Children are mirrors of their surroundings. Only when they get older do they begin to understand how things should truly work.

We must always remember this: Tsukasa was 4 years old. If we ask people what they did when they were that age, most won't even remember or will have lapses in memory.

This boy was only in the world for 4 years. We can't blame him for getting involved with the entity; he didn't know it was wrong or dangerous.

And even if he did talk about it with his parents, I doubt they would believe a 4-year-old who claims there's a God under their house. Would you?

Children older than nine or ten are kidnapped. How can we expect a four-year-old boy not to go through the same thing?

He couldn't even read properly at that time, and well, we must already confirm that the entity often takes over his body and acts in its name.

Just as adult Amane didn't remember anything after the entity possessed him, we can say that Tsukasa's aggressive or strange behavior may have come from the entity controlling him.

Adult Amane killed everyone, didn't he? But he has no idea.

Tsukasa may be aware of the things the entity does, but since he grew up with this thing, he's used to it, but that doesn't mean he likes it.

Does this look like someone enjoying watching people wishing and dying in the process?

The Tsukasa from the other reality completely lost control over himself, just further proof that he's not the monster people think he is.

Amane was possessed and killed EVERYONE in front of us. He made Nene stab Aoi. Why doesn't anyone talk about his sanity?

Meanwhile, Tsukasa has been possessed by the entity since he was a baby, and no one thought he was as innocent as Amane?

The difference is that we saw Hanako's story from the beginning, not Tsukasa's.

But they're both in the same boat.

Neither of them has any disorder; they're cursed by the entity.

Thanks for the ask!!!!!!!!

[flos-viridis]

hang on I’m trying to see something

don’t tell me the name of your pet, just tell me in the tags the name you call them that’s got nothing to do with their actual name

[flos-viridis]

Call me whatever names you wish, but I think this is a much better (and healthier) attitude than “anyone under 18 should never be allowed to see any sexual imagery ever”

(For reference: this was at the Tom of Finland exhibition, containing actual, queer, kinky af pornography. There were definitely some young people there, perhaps in their late teens. There was even a parent with their baby who was probably too young to understand anything at all. And guess what, all those people are probably going to be fine.)

[ID: a sign saying “Please note: there is no age limit, but the exhibition is not recommended for children due to the explicit sexual imagery it contains. Parental or guardian discretion is advised.”]

[flos-viridis]

if you’re ever in the position to choose between giving up and accepting defeat, and actually trying to fight the ancient unkillable god that is about to peel apart reality like a string cheese, remember this: scientifically speaking, you might as well give it a shot!

1.there were trees at the beginning of the world! there were trees so long ago that they predate bacteria that causes wood to decay. when a tree fell, it would lie there in stasis and there wasn’t any way of breaking down wood xylem on a molecular level in that way.

2. it seems obvious to say, but wood eating bacteria are literally incapable of comprehending what they’re breaking down. It’s just not information conciously available to a microorganism. they don’t know what they’re deconstructing, where it came from, bacteria have no way to even fathom the existence of a tree as a concept.

3. Regardless of the facts above, the world we live in today is a world where wood inevitably decomposes

it is worth fighting the unkillable god no matter how pointless it seems. it is worth taking the risk even though youre trying to accomplish something impossible. the reality in which you live was also once reality in which trees didn’t rot. You live in a reality that allows for existence before the possibility of destruction. you live in a reality where uncomprehending microbes break down matter that is so far beyond the scope of their comprehension that it feels comical to specify something so obvious. you live in a reality that occasionally allows unshakeable physical truths to be altered with no warning.

It is worth fighting the unkillable god because trees are so old they predate the source of their destruction, and it still did not spare them. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because bacteria rots unthinkingly, because there is room in our cosmos for destruction without comprehension on the part of the destroyer. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because now and then reality retracts the promise of immortality without fanfare, and when that happens there is no mercy for the ancient. the unmaking is not softer for the desecrators ignorance. for all things, existence is endless until the exact point where it ends.

so you might as well try to kill the unkillable god. it doesn’t seem likely, but at the beginning of the world, trees didn’t rot. so you never know! you never know

[flos-viridis]

I am a horse in the Chinese zodiac... I think this is a way better description of me, than all those magazines and websites wrote

The opposite of a naked molerat is the well-dressed pimplehorse: extremely antisocial and dies immediately.

[flos-viridis]

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[flos-viridis]

STOP SCROLLING!

Oka, I plan on following everyone on tumblr

literally everyone

Please reblog so I can make this happen

[flos-viridis]

I’ve been thinking a lot about this small moment in the Zootopia 2 trailer.

Nick: “You know, this is not your worst idea.” Judy: “Wow, that was almost a compliment.” Nick: “Your worst idea is what you did with your ears.” Judy: (see Gif above)

At first, I brushed it off as playful banter. Nick’s a smug fox, Judy’s a tough bunny. Ha ha, all in good fun. But then I went there: What if the roles were reversed?

Imagine Judy making the snide comment, and Nick responding by physically hitting her. We all know that wouldn’t fly. People would be furious. The movie would get called out.

So… why is it fine the other way around?

For as long as I can remember, media has perpetuated the idea that “it’s okay for girls to hit boys, but not the other way around, because boys are stronger.” And you know what? That still hurts. My pain is no less real than a woman’s pain. If it’s wrong for one gender to use physical retaliation over words, it’s wrong for anyone.

The deeper problem here is that this trope quietly tells us:

A man’s pain isn’t as meaningful.

Violence against men can be “funny” if the woman is the one doing it.

If a man speaks up about it, he’s “overreacting” or needs to “man up.”

And I finally found just the right words for it. It's dehumanizing. It’s a microaggression. Reminding me yet again that my feelings don’t matter because I’m a man. Even as a boy I thought something was wrong the moment this double standard was introduced to me, but I ended up internalizing the dismissive attitude towards me whenever I complained about it.

And honestly, what a disservice to Judy’s character too! She’s supposed to be the hero who proves everyone wrong with her brains, guts, and perseverance. If Nick teases her, she could shut him down with a clever clapback. Instead, they went with a punch.

I know this might sound like a small gripe about a kids’ movie. But microaggressions are often small things that seem harmless—until you realize they’re part of a pattern. And when studios like Disney, with massive cultural influence, keep reinforcing the “girl hits boy” joke, they’re helping that double standard stick around. It's just the final straw for me.

I’m not asking for Nick to hit her back. I’m not even asking for Disney to delete the scene—though that would be nice. I’m just asking for writers to avoid this in the future. If it’s not okay for a man to hit a woman over words, it shouldn’t be okay for a woman to hit a man either. So can we please stop perpetrating this? 

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[flos-viridis]

Technology transparent PNGs

free 2 use

[flos-viridis]

white ppl will steal every aesthetic from black culture and then call it something so stupid like bo derek braids instead of box braids or hasbin hotel core instead of black southern dandism. yall will bend over backwards to call my culture barbaric/scary just to drool over the aesthetic the moment no actual black people are involved (21 pilots vs actual reggae). And if ur white/nonblack reading this just reblog. I dont need any comments talking about how not racist you are + speaking up over actual black people.

[flos-viridis]

[STRIKES MY WIZARD STAFF ON THE GROUND AND IMMEDEATELY DUCKS BEHIND A ROCK]

[flos-viridis]

oh you're in a horror film/book and your phone died/has no bars? how boring. I think phones in horror SHOULD work. they should ding only to have the protagonist check and find nothing. they should get calls from somebody you don't know but is still somehow in your contacts. google maps should lead you to one place, no matter what address you type in.

phones are such a big part of our daily lives, removing them from horror removes the horror from our experience. what if the horror felt like it could happen to you, right here, right now? what if it felt like it was already happening?

[flos-viridis]

people are clowning on this guy on reddit but uhhh let's pause for a minute and ask...so what happens if someone has a skin condition? what if part of their face has been burned? what if they're missing their eyes? and so what if they just have a fuckton of tattoos? recognition algorithms are aligned with the most ""average"" / ""normal"" features which means any deviation gets denied access to shit we didnt need age verification for 1 year ago. i dont care if it's a choice versus not, dont care if it's accessing porn or wikipedia, this needs to stop

[flos-viridis]

EDIT: This meme is not about aroace people who are sex/date favorable. It's about the people who are constantly using "aroace can still date/have sex" to erase the representation of aroaces that don't feel that way. I don't believe romance/sex repulsed aroaces are better or "superior" to those who are.

[flos-viridis]

Okay so hear me out, fic of stiles defending Derek from the argents?? Like the gas station scene where they crack the Camaros windshield stile just spawns from nowhere like "that was fucked up dude"

I heard you out ☺️💚 hope you enjoy!

••••••

Derek Hale’s knuckles were white on the gas pump, the smell of gasoline mixing with the cool night air. The Camaro rumbled low and even behind him, idling like a beast content to wait. He kept his eyes on the pump, every nerve in his body strung tight. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He knew that feeling. Hunters.

He didn’t flinch when a silver SUV crept into the gas station across from him, headlights off. Two figures stepped out, their silhouettes sharp against the flickering overhead lights. One of them stood straighter than the other, composed in a way that made Derek’s instincts hiss. Chris Argent.

Derek didn’t move. He capped the tank, kept his back straight, his breathing even.

Then came the sound - thunk, crack - the clean, sick crunch of something hard and unforgiving colliding with glass. His head snapped toward the sound in time to see Argent lower a small metal baton, retractable, the kind used by people who wanted to be efficient and brutal.

A spiderweb of broken glass bloomed across the Camaro’s windshield.

Derek’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “You just made a big mistake.”

Chris didn’t look impressed. “We don’t like your kind in our town.”

“Didn’t ask if you did,” Derek growled, stepping toward the car, but Chris didn’t budge. Neither did the younger hunter with him, watching with a hand near his belt, ready for something.

“Hey!”

The voice didn’t come from any direction they were expecting.

All three heads turned as Stiles Stilinski, high schooler, loudmouth, frequent flyer on Derek’s nerves, and actual human, strode out from behind the convenience store with a Slurpee in one hand and righteous fury in his eyes.

Chris looked surprised.

So did Derek.

“That was fucked up, dude!” Stiles said, gesturing wide with his cup and splashing a bit of blue raspberry on the pavement. “The guy’s getting gas. GAS. You don’t go all ‘Crouching Tiger Hidden Asshole’ on someone’s windshield when they’re just existing. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Kid,” Chris said slowly, measured, like trying to figure out how much of a threat the teenager could possibly be. “You know what he is?”

Stiles didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. He’s a guy who owns the Camaro that you just vandalized. Seriously, man, what’s next? You gonna go key his doors? Maybe slash his tires? Should we all just sit down and start a petty crime scrapbook together?”

The young hunter took a step forward, but Chris raised a hand.

“You shouldn’t get involved in things you don’t understand,” Chris said, voice low and serious.

“Well, you shouldn’t go around breaking people’s windshields like a psycho,” Stiles snapped back. “You’re a grown man! What is this, Hunter High School? Do you get badges for harassment?”

Derek blinked. What the hell is happening right now?

Chris’s mouth was a firm line. He holstered the baton without another word, but his eyes never left Derek.

“You’re being watched,” he said, quiet like a warning, before nodding to his companion and stepping back into the SUV.

“Yeah well, so are you dickhead!” Stiles yelled out.

The tires crunched against the gravel as they drove off, leaving silence, and a broken windshield, in their wake.

Stiles looked down at his Slurpee, then sighed and walked over to Derek’s car, glancing at the damage.

“Man, this was such a cool car,” he muttered. “How pissed are you right now? You look… you know, murdery.”

“I am murdery,” Derek muttered, voice taut. He stared at Stiles like he’d grown another head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Stiles shrugged. “That you don’t deserve to get jumped by middle aged weapon wielding lunatics while pumping gas. I mean, yeah, you’re kind of a grump and definitely growly, but I’m not just gonna stand there and let them pull that crap. I got you, man.”

Derek stared at him.

“Also, you know,” Stiles added with a sheepish grin, “your car is freaking gorgeous and I’ve always wanted to see it up close, so technically I risked my life for both of you.”

“You’re insane,” Derek muttered, but there was the faintest edge of something else in his voice - surprise, maybe. Gratitude, buried deep.

Stiles beamed like he won a prize.

Derek rolled his eyes and reached into the car to grab his phone. “Come on. I’ve gotta call someone about the windshield.”

“You mean your werewolf insurance guy?” Stiles grinned, and when Derek glared at him, he added, “Okay, okay, shutting up.”

But he stayed. Right there beside Derek. No flinching, no fear.

Just unwavering, inconvenient, completely human loyalty.

Derek didn’t say thank you.

But he didn’t tell Stiles to leave, either.

And somehow, that said more.