#i don't care what band it is

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[uncanny-tranny]

Trans dude whose favourite NFL team are the Packers

[a-s-levynn]

Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the street A Series of Small Offerings - IV/3 - day35

[gregrulzok]

Look, I get it, Punk has a very vast culture of music and fashion and really anyone who identifies as Punk would be smart to delve into those things and at least research them, if not adopt them to a certain degree (Punk fashion especially as it's mostly based on reducing consumption and upcycling, which any self-respecting Punk should try to do)

But at the end of the day if there were two rooms full of self-identifying Punks, who'd you rather spend time with?

The ones dressed in Khakis and Button-Ups that listen to indie or pop or whatever, but would gladly break a chair over a Nazi's skull and rip Bezos' nails out one by one

Or the ones dressed in Spikes and Leather that listen to the Clash and Sex Pistols, but think trans people are pedophiles in disguise and homeless people don't deserve human rights

By using "Music Based Subculture" as the End-All-Be-All of what Punk is, you're literally holding the door wide open for a bunch of mouth-breathing capitalist republican conservative Nazi assholes who just happen to like loud music to invade our space. I don't give a flying fuck what someone wears or what they listen to cause at the end of the day it literally doesn't affect me even a tiny little bit. Their ideology and worldview, on the other hand, does.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Alpha & Ifrit angst wooooo. Also PLEASE tell me if my use of the past and especially the "had been ...-ed" form is correct or not, it's late, I'm having a huge brain lag and i'm losing my english.

Alpha only had Ifrit for three weeks and if anything happened to the younger fire ghoul, he would kill everyone in the room and then himself.

Alpha's barely exagerating. It's crazy how quickly his new student adorable little fuck mentee hope ? burden managed to burrow himself under Alpha's skin.

Thing is, Ifrit is impossible to dislike. His smile is too bright to hate, digging dimples into his cheeks whenever it graces the fire ghoul's face. Ifrit is a ray of a sunshine, a crackling bonefire illuminating happy faces. His enthusiasm and interest in everything is so terribly endearing, the way he wears his heart on his sleeve a testament to just how good the younger fire ghoul is.

The exact opposite of Alpha.

Ifrit has none of Alpha's acidic, rancid anger festering under his skin, none of the spark of agression dancing in Alpha's tone at the slightest inconvenience, none of the bitterness tainting Alpha's vision of the world.

Sometimes, it hurts to look at Ifrit. To see what Alpha could have been, might have been at some point, before life fucked him over time and time again. A comforting warmth instead of an unbearable heat. A sparkling-eyed, mischievious creature, instead of a closed-off, destructive monster.

The thought of seeing Ifrit lose that spark keeps Alpha up at night.

He cannot let this happen. He cannot let history repeat itself, let another fire ghoul get taken appart until all is left is a rotten core.

Alpha will always remember his first lesson with Ifrit. The younger ghoul was eager, tail wagging in excitement, bouncing on the ball of his feet. Alpha felt like a knife had been plunged into his heart ; and as always, his response to such an intense, unexpected emotion was anger. He snapped at Ifrit, telling him to settle the fuck down.

And Ifrit, sweet, darling Ifrit, smiled, tail wrapping around his leg. Stilled, like he had been asked to. Alpha immediately felt bad. But what could he do ? His venom had been spilled already, there was no taking it back. Still, his face twisted as guilt burnt in his throat.

"It's okay," Ifrit suddenly humed, looking so terribly earnest, "Your anger, your furstration. I understand. And I can take it."

Alpha nearly choked on remorse upon hearing that. Ifrit was much more observant than he had thought. And he apparently was a huge self-sacrificing idiot. Alpha wanted to shake him, to grab him by the shoulder and tell him to run, far, far away from him, from this wicked world that mercilessly breaks all that's good.

Instead, Alpha tightened his hand into a fist, and growled, low and threatening.

"You can't. Neither should you, or will you."

You don't deserve this had been left unsaid.

Ever since that day, Ifrit seems to have taken it upon himself to bring out all the sides of himself Alpha thought were gone.

The first time he called Ifrit "kit", in an appreciative manner after the younger fire ghoul had managed a tricky riff in very little time, Alpha knew there would be no going back.

Ifrit wormed his way into Alpha's not-so-stony heart and he is here to stay.

And if Alpha has to shoulder all the shit life brings to keep Ifrit unmarred by it, then so be it.

As Alpha watches his promising student wrestle with Aether, he isn't surprised to feel Omega press up against him, one arm wrapping around the fire ghoul's waist. Omega's thoughts nudge Alpha's, echo in the fire ghoul's brain.

I know. Me too.

[applecherryandpears]

Somehow hearing it is entering into a whole new stratosphere

Edit : Just dropping it there that Noel's cat is apparently called BOOTS

[pardonmydelays]

i think my biggest problem is that i've always been this kind of friend who's like "i may not understand your favourite thing in the world but i'm here to listen, support it with all my heart and be excited about it with you", so i kinda expect my friends to do the same thing for me. if it matters to you, it's important.

[13eyond13]

I love the way that, in addition to his origin story with his over-sized sword and the scar on his nose, the flashbacks to Guts's childhood show how much of his insane work ethic and reckless self-endangering abandonment in battle were all kinda ingrained into him by his craving for attention and approval from shitty father figure, Gambino.

Random nice mercenary guy: "Don't overexert yourself, kid. Just do what's needed. 'Cause if you die, you lose everything."

Gambino: "It's your first battle. Work hard!"

Guts: [throws himself into battle so hard he nearly dies multiple times, fixating on pleasing Gambino the entire time]

Gambino: "C'mon, hurry up! Work! Work!"

Guts: [gives Gambino his entire earnings, Gambino tosses him back a single coin]

Guts: [more motivated by this one mild bit of encouragement than anything he's ever experienced before in his life]

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[masterfuldoodler]

If half alive has 1000 fans I am one of them. If half alive has 1 fan, I am that fan

[eddievedders]

tonight... it's a HUNTER'S MOON.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

you know if we do accept the last epilogue-esque sequence as a sort of dream/wish of ted's and therefore not necessarily canon, very funny if we then simply go "yeah, trent's book is called 'the lasso way' actually. he didn't change that. nope."

[haubaut]

they were getting hungry and restless so I gave them a pool floaty for lunch and enrichment

[skellydun]

Skelly, I have to ask this because, to me, it's interesting! Why don't you have more social media?

oh! that's easy! i don't care about what other people are doing! hope this helps<3

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Special angst. Featuring touch-starved Special, homemade quintessence fuckery and lore, basically Special can't touch anyone or they die, Omega and Delta try to help.

CW : Angst, like pretty heavy angst I think, Hurt/comfort, talk of death

Ghouls are social creatures. Not all to the same extend, not all in the same way, but the fact remains : ghouls thrive in eachother's company, in the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is waiting for them, ready to welcome them.

And, ghouls are physically affectionate, as a result of this need to be close and feel surrounded by loved ones. Of course, it's a generic rule, and it doesn't applie the same way to each individuals, but, most of the time, ghouls live off of casual touch, hand holding, hugs, cuddles, clasps on the shoulders, arms slung around waists, tails intertwining.

It's Satan's best joke, really, that Special can't even have that.

That he's so fucked up that not only no one bears to be in his presence, but he could also kill the poor ghoul who'd pity him enough to try and give him a hug.

Because Special's elements are all pulling him in different direction, trying to evade the too tight confine of his body, weak fire sorrowfuly begging to be smothered out, destructive quintessence furiously grasping at every bits of vital energy it can find, literaly sucking the life out of anyone stupid enough to have any kind of skin-to-skin contact with Special.

At least it's vaguely less awfull now that he managed to contain the devastating effect of his quintessence to his body - the screams of agony of the people who tried to approach him after his summoning, Omega's pained grunts as he backed away, the soft blanket he had held out for Special falling at his feet, the sheer terror on the ancient ghoul's face as he watched the humans unfortunate enough to be in Special's quintessence's range dropping like fly, oh, Special remembers it all so well.

Six Siblings died that way, simply because they were standing too close to him. Omega was, too, and is only alive because of his highly resistant nature, allowing him to stumble back in time.

It took weeks of sitting across from Omega, safe distance between them, training relentlessly to try and tame his quintessence, before Special could evolve around people without draining them. But it worked.

Provided he stays dressed head to toe, not a silver of skin showing, of course.

Special could, theoretically, be on the recieving end of ghoul's typical affection, the soft nudges, pats and caresses rythming their lives, long as no one makes contact with his skin, long as all those displays take place through a layer of clothing.

But then again, Special can't blame them for being wary, and prefering to stay away altogether. They're right, after all. You never know what might happen, if Special won't suddenly lose control and kill everyone in a three meters radius just by existing.

Special hasn't see anyone in days. Omega said he'd come by, but he hasn't yet. Special vaguely remembers something about Delta the...water ghoul, right ? Well, one of them anyway. There's a lot of those around, Special keeps forgetting who's who, doesn't see them enough to properly remember. He sticks to the dark corners, only goes out in the dead of the night, only watches the other ghouls from afar, except maybe for Omega.

But Omega's not here, hasn't been here for too long, busy taking care of Delta, whatever that means. Special wonders if he'll come back. Special wonders why he needs Omega to come to his room, why he can't bring himself to get up and go find the quint by himself. It's not like it's forbidden or anything. He just can't do it, the thought of opening his bedroom door in the middle of the day strictly unfathomable.

No, Special, at least during the day, needs someone to open it, someone to drag him outside if he really is needed, like for interviews, because apparently he's the only fucker who agreed to do them when neither Papa nor Omega are free.

A third choice, that would probably be even further down the list of candidates if it wasn't for his uncanny ability to entertain humans, with jokes and crudes, snarky remarks masking the cracks of his shattered soul.

So Special waits, sitting motionless in the middle of his bed. He hasn't seen anyone in days. He hasn't been touched since forever. No, that's not true. Omega cupped the back of his head the last time he was here, protected by the mask and balaclava Special always has to wears, and pressed a kiss to the metal covering his forehead.

It had nearly unraveld him.

Special doesn't know why Omega still bothers with him, what sick sense of responsability pushes the quint to visit Special as often as he can bear, why he insist on being so patient, so gentle, smiling with sadness in his eyes.

Special doesn't want pity. But he could never tell Omega not to come back.

His hair is getting too long. It's itchy in the back of his neck, keeps getting stuck in folds of fabric. Special shifts uncomfortably, thinking about stealing a pair of scissors and chopping it off himself. It's always a delicate task, cutting his hair : he's not good at it himself, but whenever Omega's doing it, he has to be extra cautious, avoiding any contact with Special's scalp, not even able to properly run his fingers through it. Special's hair is never perfect, always a bit messy, as a result, but now it's even worse.

He really needs Omega to come back.

It hits Special like a freight train.

He needs Omega to come back. He needs to hear his voice, to see the lines and creases on his face, the tired slope of his broad shoulders, the softness of his eyes. Special needs his tentative, fleeting touches, needs to talk to him, needs to be carefully held, even if it's all tainted with Omega's guilt, obligation and pity.

He needs to know Omega hasn't moved on, hasn't chalked him up as a lost cause, that Special hasn't lost the only comfort life ever granted him.

A knock startles him out of his thoughts, his whole being shaking with relief at the familiar pattern.

"Spesh ? Can I come in ?"

Special nearly sobs. His voice scratches in his throat.

"Yes."

Omega slips in the room. He's maskless, and Special drinks him in like a ghoul starved. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept in days, but. He's smiling. Omega is smiling, wide an bright, eyes gleaming. It makes Special's own lips pull in an unfamiliar direction, up up up, until concealed under the mask, his mouth weakly mimics Omega's.

"I have good news for you, Spesh. Really good news. Would you let me bring someone else in here ?"

Special visibly flinches, though still half frozen, cossed-legged on the bed. Omega's face softens in that way Special yearns for.

"It's okay, it'll be fine. I promise. Do you trust me ?"

Special doesn't need to think about the answer, nodding with more conviction than he ever displayed before. It gets a soft chuff out of Omega.

"Attaboy."

The quint moves with a grace Special envies, reaching for the door and opening it like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, to him, it is.

The ghoul that steps in looks just as tired as Omega, if not more, but is also sporting a smile, hair an absolute mess, looking like it got chopped with absolutely no regard for the aesthetical result, as uneven as it is unruly.

"Spesh, this is Delta, remember ? Delta, this is Special."

Special blinks, unmoving as a statue, as he often is. Sometimes, he thinks that if he keeps perfectly still, the universe will forget that he is supposed to be, and simply let him stop existing.

Delta. Yes Special remembers. He doesn't smell like most water ghouls, though, it's quite disarming.

"Hello, Special," Delta breathes, barely above a whisper, "it's nice to officially meet you."

Unsure of what to do with that soft tone, with how genuine Delta apparently is, Special looks toward Omega, silently begging for guidance. The quint goes to sit next to him, one hand brushing his back ever so slightly. Special has to bite his tongue to contain a relieved whimper.

"He's here because we discovered something, and I have a theory," Omega explains.

Delta is standing straight, hands folded behind his back, withstanding Special's wary scrunity with an easy smile. Something about him is...off, Special notes. It's not necessarily bad, but it intrigues him.

Delta looks like a water ghoul. Blueish tint to his grey skin, gills, needle sharp fangs, webbed fingers, a few fish-like scales visible on his forearms. And yet...

Special doesn't realize he's leaning forward until Delta tilts his head in amusement. He leans back immediately, clasping his gloved hands tighter on his lap.

"I think," Omega goes on, "that he might be able to touch you without consequences."

It's instinctive, the way Special stiffens, shaking his head desperately at Omega, clearing his throat to find his voice again.

"No, no, no, Megs, it'll end up badly-"

"Listen- listen to me, Spesh, listen," Omega interrupts his panicked babbling, craddling his masked face between two big hands, "i'm not pulling this out of my ass, okay ? Delta here, well, we needed a new quintessence ghoul, at least for a little while, until we could summon a new one, and...Delta volunteer for an...elemental transition of some kind."

Special blinks, shaking in Omega's grip. Well, that explains the funny feeling, the strange scent.

"But...Delta's still water," Special rasps. Omega hums, nodding.

"Yes, but not exclusively. He's not...quintessence either. It's more like...he became a vessel quintessence can pass through. He can channel it from the outside, dig it from the source rather than something within him like us quintessence ghoul do, quite literaly pull it from thin air, let it flow through him, and release it."

Special frowns, trying to wrap his mind around all this.

"But...raw quintessence, the one that is everywhere, is impossible to access to unless you are a quint, because your quintessence connects you to it, opens you a door. Right ?"

It's more words than he's spoken in weeks outside of interviews, but excitement suddenly buzzes in his body, brain finally feeded something to think about, to analyse, to study. Special is a cerebral creature, no matter what people might thing, and such an incredible discovery makes him feel almost alive.

Omega laughs, a breathless, amazed little thing.

"I know. But, apparently, we managed to crack that door open for Delta. He doesn't have much control over the quintessence he releases, but it's enough for the Clergy, for now."

Special glances toward Delta from the corner of his eyes.

"That's...you wrote it down, right ? Records of this could be incredibly useful-"

The smile he gets makes Special's heart miss a beat. Omega looks so fond, so full of love, it's almost painful.

"I did. I'll hand you my notes. But, back to you. What your quintessence does, is devouring energy out of living things-"

Special hangs his head down, shame creeping up his spine, wrapping around his throat.

"Hey, none of that, Spesh," Omega soothes, pulling his head up by the metal point of the mask's chin, "let me finish. What if someone was full of an energy they can fully dispose of ? If someone could let your quintessence take without it harming them, that means they could touch you. Delta could touch you."

Special blinks.

"But...you can't touch me."

"Because your quintessence takes the one at my core - drains me dry of a source of power so entangled in my being that losing it would mean losing me. But Delta's quintessence doesn't come from him."

Slowly, Delta comes closer, kneeling by the bed, offering his bare hand to Special, smiling, and Special- can't understand why. Why anyone would willingly take such risks - first the attempted elemental transition, now this.

Omega brushes Special's shoulder.

"Please, try it. I know...how hard isolation is for you. Please, sparkle, try. If anything goes wrong i'll pull Delta away before any real damages can be done, I promise."

The coppery taste of blood hits Special's tongue, and it's the only reason he's aware he's biting his lip. Then Delta talks.

"I volunteered, Special. I know this is going to work. I trust Omega's theory, and. I think I can trust you, too."

This time Special does sob.

"If I hurt you..."

"You won't. Give me your hand, Special, it'll be okay."

And Special is terrified. Terrified that it won't work, that he'll hurt Delta, who seems the nicest ghoul you could ever wish for. Terrified that it'll work, that the one time he manages to touch someone without killing them will kill him, that all it would take would be a brush of skin against his own to destroy him.

Despite all that, Special slowly, oh so slowly takes one glove off, revealing too-pale skin and twitchy fingers. Delta' smile widens, then the air shifts a bit, starts blurring around him. One of his eyes turns purple, his skin shimering slightly.

"It's a bit like holding my breath," the water (?) ghoul explains, "i can't keep it for too long, maybe a couple of minutes, after, i have to release it. Open the valves, kind of. But, if I just keep them open, just let quintessence flow in and out freely, like this-"

Another shift in the air. The shimer on Delta's skin dims, his features relaxing.

"Then I can keep it that way as long as i like, effortlessly for the most part. That's how we can touch. I'm ready when you are."

He's going to do this. Special is going to do this. His hand is shaky when he wraps it loosely around Delta's - ready to pull away at any moment - but the second their skin makes contact, he gasps and can't help tightening it.

Delta doesn't flinch. His skin glints a bit more, but that's it. Special's quintessence is hungrily drinking in the one flowing though Delta, but he doesn't need it. He can let Special take it.

Salt. Salt on his tongue, now. Special is crying. Holding onto Delta's hand for dear life, shoulders shaking, Special is crying, the water ghoul shushing him softly, thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

Omega helps unclasping the mask, watching with tears of his own as Special takes it off, throws it somewhere, who cares, where the balaclava and second glove quickly follow.

Delta opens his arm, still not letting go. Special sobs so hard he's sure it's going to turn him inside out, slidding off the bed and into Delta's firm, tender embrace, burrying his face in the water ghoul's neck, finally able to touch, to feel, truly feel.

He can't see it, but Omega's crying in earnest now, Delta fighting tears as well.

Special isn't okay. Special might never be okay, Delta might be the only person he'll ever get to touch, it might stop working at some point, there might be a catch, but oh, Special doesn't care.

He'd trade his infernal eterinity for this moment in time, folded in arms that hold him like something precious.

[i-only-want-endless-happiness]

I'm about to say something quite controversial so if you love harry styles don't keep reading

but zayn singing a bit of the 1d songs and louis liking the posts has been a more genuine and heartfelt gesture than anything styles ever said and done when it comes to the band and yes i'm including the brit speech and the "accidental" instagram post