#i'm also weak

[ajakals]

Every single day I feel so completely disengenuous with my own identity, because in theory I'm supposed to have some consequence for being at the very least Bi and Non-binary in a placr that accepts neither, but still pulling and abusing full privileges over being incredibly white and seemingly cis (and supposedly a man) and straight (even while dating a man, because he's trans)

I feel like I live a lie, and I'm unsure as to whether I'll be able to escape it eventually, or if will just keep lying to everyone I meet

[keepfight1n]

ellie breaking a vase in the museum and joel immediately calling out for tess like ' pls come get ur kid ' , i love them

[spiritsong]

wyll.y.am ravengard, I love you so

everyone loves to put him in gold (rightly so) but my personal style is lots of silver jewelry + heavy eyeliner so that's what I gave him. also roses because he's so damn venusian

[demaparbat-hp]

Toph as a Goalball player 💪💚

[hellenhighwater]

Hellen, how do you know how to do so many things? I know how to do a few things but I look at your stuff and every time I'm like "damn. I wish I could do that"

oh, I just do them.

It's after 1:30 am, so you get the existential answer. The fun thing about personhood is you get to just be whatever. You can't necessarily do whatever--money and laws are things, unfortunately, and you only get so much control over the opportunities available to you. But you can sort of just throw yourself down on the anvil of life and hammer yourself into whatever shape you want. Ideally the process of it drives out some flaws as you go, but sometimes also you take an impurity and make yourself stronger with it.

I am, still, a person who is terrified of failure; of incorrectness; of being wrong. And there is nothing to do with fear except shatter it with blunt force, and so I line myself up against failure again and again and again. I will try. I must; or the fear of failure wins, and I must keep trying after I fail or I have failed utterly. I fear failure, and therefore I take it as a challenge. I must do what I think I cannot. And you know what? More often than not, I can.

I have a weird and wandering skillset because I make myself try things, knowing full well that I will remember for decades every time someone saw me be less than instantly successful, because the only way I know to get better is to batter down the dross of my own fear. That's the deal. I'm not doing anything that nobody has done before. I know it's all possible. I just have to be the sort of person that does it. And it gets easier every time. If the question is can it be done and the answer is yes, then the next question is can I be the one to do it, and the answer is I want to be.

Every time I fail my way over and over to eventual success, trying again the next time is less scary; every time I have a broader base of skills to carry to the next challenge. I'm not unusually talented, just stubborn as hell, and I've lived long enough on I have to do what scares me that honestly, not that much scares me anymore.

If you keep failing long enough, it turns out that you just get really good at problem solving, and figuring out unconventional ways to reach your goals. It's not about a special secret concoction of skills, it's about persistence, and hammering away until you've taken a mess and made it into something you think is worth keeping. It's not easy, but it is simple.

Also I have incredibly strong unmedicated ADHD. But I sort of assume that's glaringly obvious.

[madeofjules]

I'll never agree with the short Peeta/tall Katniss takes because their canonical sizes are both narratively and thematically relevant.

Peeta's medium height and stocky build give him the size and strength to overpower most of his competitors in the arena, yet he rarely uses those traits to hurt people despite being in circumstances that encourage violence. Having the power and motive to be deadly and choosing to be kind instead is what defines Peeta's character.

Katniss's small size generally puts her at a disadvantage in the Games but she's still very deadly. I like that she's earned the skills (bow and arrow, hunting) and survivor mentality that make her a formidable tribute because she's not supposed to be this naturally gifted "chosen one" type figure. She's a regular teenage girl who has some special qualities but still needs a lot of help to win the Games.

Their size difference is also relevant in their relationship. Katniss has had to take care of herself since she was a young girl because of her mother's neglect, and as a result she doesn't trust other people to protect her. She's understandably mistrustful of Peeta's kindness when they become tributes, as one of them has to die for the other to live and he has the ability to kill her with his bare hands if he wants to (which we see later on when he's hijacked). Yet once they become allies, his larger size is no longer a potential threat but a source of comfort and protection; being held by him is the safest Katniss has felt with anyone since her parents held her as a little kid. And after they leave the arena, his strong arms are the only ones she trusts to guard her from her nightmares.

So even though I do think short guy-tall girl couples deserve more rep, it doesn't really make sense for Peeta and Katniss. And tbh viewing the gentle and compassionate boy as short and the tough hunter girl as tall is a little stereotypical lol.

[meirimerens]

curious and curiouser

[0bticeo]

alastor | your cracks are showing.

picture this, if you will.

you, having had enough of his antics, finally snapping, telling him you see through him. his mask, that too-wide smile, is imperfect.

"your cracks are showing, alastor."

you spit his name like a curse and he feels his gut twist with something foreign. there you are, you, defiant, arms crossed over your chest, denying him his precious persona.

who the hell do you think you are?

before you know it, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him, until you meet the hard planes of his chest. he's all lean muscles you find out, writhing against him, trying to break free.

he tilts your head back with one gloved hand. the leather is thin enough for you to feel the warmth of him. if you shiver, lips parting, you'll deny it.

"careful, my dear."

with that, he kisses you, sickeningly sweet. too sweet. too much. your eyes widen at the feeling of his lips against yours, of his teeth nipping against your flesh. you taste blood. fucker bit you -

he growls, the sound rich and deep, sinking into your marrow like he does in your mouth, tasting you. you find yourself clinging to him, fingers tangling in his curls, lightly tugging at his scalp.

he lets you go, tongue darting to lick the remnants of your lifeblood on his lips. he chuckles at the sight of you - kiss-swollen, panting, pupils blown wide in furious desire.

his thumb presses against your lower lip, right where he bit you. you hiss, sweet pain settling low in your gut.

"you'll cut yourself on my edges if you get too close."

somehow, you don't mind.

[clowndensation]

thinking about connor in prague saying "dad's theory was you got two fighting dogs, you send the weak one away, you punish the weak one." in relation to this episode, and the way the siblings view abuse inside their own family.

shiv and kendall and their belief that connor and roman are the weak dogs that got the brunt of logan's worst behavior, because abuse is reserved for the kids who can't behave - the ones who aren't smart and mature enough to make it in the world. abuse evokes pity, because abuse is what happens when you expect too much from people who obviously aren't capable of more.

and then they go forward in life, believing that they're just naturally more intelligent and more capable than connor and roman, as if being raised seeing what happens to you if you aren't a perfect child wasn't the entire point of the "punish the weak dog" mentality that logan instilled in them. the looming threat implied behind any praise they do receive that tacitly tells them "you're not like roman and connor" because everyone knows what happens to roman and connor.

the absolute height of the rich capitalist mindset. "we're succeeding because of our own merit, and other people fail because they don't have what it takes" when in reality they're succeeding because of arbitrary rules made up by someone who knows that infighting makes meaner dogs.

[naffeclipse]

naff plz, I'm weak and and I hunger 👀

Turns out I am too. This was supposed to only be 500 words. Now we're here smh

Minnow

Reader x Shark!Eclipse

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You have a problem on your hands.

Sitting on the edge of a sea-salt slick rock in your dark wetsuit, the ocean breeze sweeping your hair into tangles, you stare. A whale carcass sits heavy and rotting. The edges of the waves roll up on the flat, tan sand of your seaside home and tug at the giant, dead beast, but one fin is only loosened slightly before the water returns without its passenger. The scent of a festering body hangs in the air and coats the back of your throat.

A sharp fin cuts through the wave farther from shore. You glance at it, but whatever fish swims near dives below, out of sight.

You turn back to the very big problem. It will ruin the beach for the tourists. You’re a council member only in name—more of a glorified intern, despite your best efforts to not only fetch coffee. Whenever there’s a job that doesn’t involve sitting inside around a table, away from the heat and humidity of a summery, oceanic day, it’s pushed into your lap to fix.

You have no idea how to remove a 40-ton whale from the sands.

Your right leg slips off of the rock and your foot splashes into the sea. Before you can fix your stance, tug your knees up to balance on the rock while the tide splashes at the base of your little watery perch, a clawed hand seizes your ankle.

A sharp gasp rips from you. Ripped downwards, you brace yourself, screwing your eyes shut as the ocean water rushes up your body, but something plants itself on either side of you. Pinned to the rock, you shiver at the fresh touch of the sea lapping at your ribs. Your feet barely find the purchase of sand. A shadow falls over your eyelids, and a soft hum spins through the breeze.

“Hello,” a voice growls deep, rumbling through the air and brushing against it. “Might I ask why you’re frowning so much?”

You slowly pry open one eye, then the other before your jaw loosens in wonder and fear. 

A creature looms above you. His head is wide and flat, colored a dark gray. Strange cartilaginous fins frame his head in a crown of sharp, red, and black spikes. The moment you gawk, he flashes a dangerous row of curved teeth with serrated edges. The very breath catches in your throat while his arms, sleek and barred with burnt red stripes, hold you against the sleek rock. 

Your eyes fall down his body. His lithe frame melts from a very human torso into the body of a predatory fishtail—a shark. His underside is pale gray while his back is dark, bearing a wicked dorsal fin with the same barred patterns down his sides in burnt red. Just below the surface, you catch a swishing of a caudal fin. Long and pointed, it cuts through the ocean as if it were mere seafoam.

“What—who are you?” you sputter. Your hands hold defensively to your chest while you return to his unearthly but memorizing face. His eyes burn low in a sharp orange light. 

“I am Eclipse.” He lifts one hand from the rock. A dark talon tips his long, thin finger before he hooks your chin, tilting your head up. The sharp edge teases your skin with how easily it can slice you. You swallow apprehension. His eyes fall to your throat, his teeth flashing in the sunlight. “And I asked you a question.”

Your pulse picks up in your ears, beating double time against the tide. What did he ask you? The echo of his words returns. You slowly form an ‘O’ with your lips.

“I’m not, um, frowning?” Certainly not now, if the terror you hide behind says anything. You curl your fingers into tight balls. “Were you watching me?”

The strange man-fish chuckles a low sound—as if you’re very silly. “I was. You’re quite a lovely sight, perched on this rock like a seabird. But you seemed troubled. You still do.”

He slowly forces your head to tilt this way and that, moving you under the sunlight while he examines you with his piercing gaze. You let him, utterly, horribly confused about how this all came to be. Does he intend to devour you like a tiger shark? Or is it a very strange ‘hello’?

A hum of satisfaction arises, but he is no less intrigued by what he’s captured in his hand. You try to turn away but he holds firm and clicks his tongue.

“There is still something vexing you” he concludes, “Tell me, so I might make it right.”

You almost level a look at him, as if the very interesting occurrence of a fish-man grabbing you and pulling you into the water isn’t vexing enough, but mind your manners. His claws press along your mouthbone. Your heart beats heavy in your chest, against the splashing waters, but your eyes flick towards the beach. Eclipse follows your gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Dead whale,” you say, hoping he doesn’t decide to cut your face with his claws, “I need it off the beach, but, um, I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh,” he laughs, and you stop to soak in the echo of his shoulder, melodic and growling. “Is that all? A simple solution, minnow, but I do ask for a small token in return for my help.”

You stiffen. A skip in your chest sends a coldness into your legs and fingertips. You look down, staring at the thin corded strength of his chest, the lissom power of his tail, and how easily he could drag you out to sea should you not give an answer he wants to hear.

How could a herculean task be so easy in his eyes? You almost don’t believe him.

“Minnow,” he rumbles softly and forces your head up higher to capture your gaze. You shiver in the brine. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. I will help you, and you will give me what I desire.”

Desire can be very, very dangerous.

“I’m not giving you people’s souls or whatever,” you say firmly, even if your eyes grow wet with terror. 

Eclipse swipes a thumb along your cheek, wetting it with sea salt and foam. His grin stretches wide until you see into his massive jaws.

“What use would I have of souls?” His tongue swipes over his row of serrated teeth. “No, I want something much more tangible.”

He squeezes your mouth softly until your lips are pushed into a pout, and realization jolts straight into your stomach. A dreaded blood rush fills your cheeks. You burn. Eclipse tilts his head, his eyes widening, flashing with the hunger of a shark in the depths.

“What do you want?” you whisper, your eyelids trembling as you nearly squeeze them shut again.

He leans in closer. You smell the sharp tang of iron and salt upon his breath.

“Seven kisses.”

Your eyes fly open, relieved and mortified. Unfurling your fingers, you try to shake your head but your jaw remains caught in the vice of his grips.

“Seven?” You sputter before spewing, “That’s—that’s a lot!”

“It’s a perfectly natural amount for the task I will undertake for you.” He draws the pad of his finger down the line of your jaw. A shiver overtakes your shoulders as you close your eyes for a heartbeat.

“And if I say no?” you ask quietly, watching him in the way you fear a minnow might watch a shark. 

He leans back. The corners of his mouth pull down.

“Then we shall both be disappointed, and I will leave.”

Your mind whirls at the thought—an easy ‘no’, but you don’t know if you trust him. Why would he do such a task? Why kisses of all things? Will he turn you into a fish after the seventh one? Will he devour you when you get too close? 

“How do I know you’re not going to eat me or down me or something?” you ask, pushing past the rattle in your throat.

Eclipse chuckles but there’s much less mirth in the echo, and your gut twists within you.

“If I wanted to take a bite out of you, I would have forgone the introductions.” His smile spreads wide. 

A cold, unflinching intuition within you agrees.

“Got it,” you murmur. “Just, uh, no biting, okay?”

He looms over you. His claws take you by the shoulders and hold you tighter to the rock. Your lungs freeze. Your rapid pulse fills your head in the same way you hear ocean waves when you hold a seashell up to your ear. 

“Minnow, do you accept my price?” Eclipse’s thumbs rub circles into your wetsuit.

He did not agree to your no-biting rule. Still, you swallow roughly and try to find some sensibility in agreeing to give a fish man kisses. The dead whale will be gone if Eclipse is true to his word. And it’s only a kiss—seven of them.

You press your lips together and close your eyes.

“I do,” you say. You open them again. “How do you want to do this? All at once or—”

A sharp flick of a tail pushes Eclipse against you. A bleeding blush takes over your face, pinned between him and the rock as he gathers your face in his hands. He holds your gaze, orange eyes blazing like a sunset. Your chest heaves. Water laps up against you as his pinky finger brushes against your throat. 

“Slowly,” he answers, voice lowering into a husky growl, “One by one.”

Your insides bubble at the sight of his teeth. A tumble of your heart knocks into your ribs. He lowers himself closer until you close your eyes. The ocean tugs at both of you but he keeps you firmly in place. His lips touch yours. A taste of something sharp and brackish spills into your mouth and you make a soft sound in the back of your throat. He purrs. The vibration touches you before he gently pushes and pulls against your lips like the tide. He gives and he takes, swallowing your affection. A hungry touch of his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth. You find your hands falling to his shoulders and holding on as if upon a lifesaver, lost out at sea.

Then he unhooks his jaws and frees you. A taste of sea salt remains on your tongue. You gasp softly, realizing how much fresh air you crave after his kiss. Your head falls back against the rock as your lungs heave. He still holds above you, tall and towering, but content.

Eclipse's eyes are half-lidded, gentle in his gaze as his claw gently brushes your bottom lip. His tongue swipes back over his own teeth as if savoring the taste of your flesh.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he rasps. “The whale carcass will be gone come morning light.”

“Okay,” you give, still lost in the salty haze the impression of his mouth left on you, “What about the other kisses?”

“Soon, minnow,” he gives with a sharp grin. “I will call upon you soon.”

He takes you by the hips. You gasp, your hands flying to his arms as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water and sets you back upon the rock. You sit, dripping in your stupor, eyes wide at how easily his palms fit over your waist. He rests his talons on the slick edge. His orange eyes upturn as he smiles one last time.

“Goodbye,” he growls gently. His teeth flash as he slips down, and you catch the full length of his impressive tail and sharp, pointed fins. A sharp flip of his body turns him in an instant, the water bending to his whim, and he slowly swims. The tip of his dorsal carries over the waves until at last, he disappears into the depth.

And you are left sitting with a pink heat in your face and a ghostly tang behind your teeth. His kiss leaves you spellbound.

You have an entirely new problem on your hands.

[einaudis]

"I didn't know it was a gift. I wore it like a curse. I was selfish. I... I tried to make nights awful for you (...) I wanted you to suffer, because I was... I was suffering"

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE S02E08 - “AND THAT’S THE END OF IT. THERE’S NOTHING ELSE”

[werecreature-addicted]

a woman told me "Pretty thing like you shouldn't have to do hard work," when I tried and failed to get a heavy box I was trying to donate out of my car and hmmmmm if I don't get fucked in the next two seconds I'm going to explode.

[loveisbreathinghere]

i stand by the statement that anyone who believes brienne and tormund were meant to be, has a fundamental misunderstanding of brienne's character and doesn't actually like her.

[tenthousandguns]

STOP complaining that it's Stampede's fault that Vash gets mischaracterized as a wibbly bottom. know your history. vintage trigun yaoi from the 00s proves that people have mischaracterized that man as a wibbly bottom since Forever.

[rinbylin]

圣人有情而无累

dihua + 情 | 莲花楼 mysterious lotus casebook

[mionkings]

Making Heads Turn 🫨

Jason had become a father to a little baby boy, taking him in when he found the poor thing on the streets, in a cardboard box, wrapped in a space themed blanket.

While the obstacles a new parent goes through is tough. He knows it's worth it to have Danny, his baby, his son in his life. He doesn't regret adopting him.

Danny is now at the stage of his little life that he babbles and giggles, Jason always had fun having a conversation with his baby. Although Jason's sure that his hair is getting whiter with the chaos Danny brings now ever since Danny's baby brain realized that he can CRAWL to PLACES >:D

However this new development... is a little strange.

Whenever Jason puts Danny down in his crib to make dinner or any other important errand. Danny will begin to babble to the air, as if his little tyke is trying to talk to someone, making grabbing hands and scooching over to grab someone's attention.

It sent a slight shiver down his spine...

Ever since he made his introduction to Gotham as Red Hood, for the first time to those gang leaders with the bang of the AK-47. Taking over the Gotham underworld by storm with anger and precision.

He always felt a chill down his spine... When he was alone, yet... the Pit Madness flared everytime, making him feel enraged and paranoid. As if he was just waiting for a fight... for a confrontation...

Being alone in his apartment, having nightmares, more like repressed memories of what he had done... Lots of things, but for some reason—his mind... keeps going back to the moment he threw that duffel bag at the table infront of the gang leaders that night... the night he went after the lieutenants, taking their heads.

He doesn't know why.

But ever since the precious cargo that was his baby Danny, arrived in his life. That all went away as he took care, fed, and loved his baby boy.

Jason never had an episode with Danny; he couldn't bare the thought of hurting the child.

Jason was even having less episodes when he was with the Bats!

The chills; however, Jason still feels them occasionally... but they would always disappear the moment Danny would demand attention or to nap.

And instead he would feel something else hang over his baby everytime Danny slept peacefully...

———

Second ever DPxDC prompt that I've ALSO been getting brainrot over ❤️ I'm having fun 😄

Basically this prompt idea is Jason adopting a baby Danny, while seemingly unaware that he's being haunted/watched by the people's he's killed to become a crime lord. More specifically, being haunted by the heads/headless ghosts of the lieutenants Jason killed as Red Hood.

While Jason can't seem to see them, he can feel 'chills' from them. Danny, however, CAN see them mostly because I based this on that thing where babies/toddlers can see spirits in those typical YouTube videos that list ToP 5 ScArY gHOstZ VidEOz!1!1

Whatever happened though, this causes the ghosts to instead focus more on Danny than on Jason.

How much will Jason freak the fuck out when he finds out? Who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Although Danny is absolutely having fun here ^^

Anyways, I might add extra stuff soon to this!