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lale-txt · 2 years

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♡ taking care of them when they have a fever ➳ w/ Kid, Mihawk & Rayleigh

a/n: i… i fought Tumblr text editor so long and hard for this and it‘s still a mess oh my god. anyway enjoy those silly little headcanons, i love putting those lads into ✨situations✨

Kid

simply the worst patient you can ever imagine <3

when falling sick, he goes through the five stages of grief several times a day

denial: „i am not sick, what the fuck are you talking about“, he asks with a runny nose and face almost as bright red as his hair, beads of sweat running down his temples, barely able to stand up straight

Killer and you just exchange a look and brace yourself for what‘s coming next

anger: ever saw a tulip explode? now you will

don‘t mind the claw marks on the ground when Killer drags Kid by one leg to bed while the captain combusts and grunts out curses you‘ve never heard before

lots of shouting and yelling and middle fingers being raised with the last bit of energy he has left before you watch Killer pull out some wrestling moves to get the tulip into bed. it‘s like watching two grizzlies fight

feel free to join but be prepared to get bitten in the ass

bargaining: so Kid is in bed, blanket pulled up to his nose, breathing heavily

it‘s when it all sinks in. the realization that maybe he should have covered up those honkers when visiting that winter island. Kid was a South Blue child after all, not used to the cold

don‘t disturb him during that phase, just enjoy the silence while he ponders on every life choice he made that led him here

depression: that‘s when he will call you and the other crew members into his cabin one by one despite you telling him he‘ll just spread his germs that way, but Kid doesn‘t care. he feels like he‘s dying from that common cold and he needs to tell everyone his last words

don‘t flinch when he clutches his metal fist around your hand and rattles something about how he doesn‘t mind when you fall in love again after he dies, but preferably with Killer because then he‘ll know from heaven (or hell) that you‘re in good hands (followed by an hour long monologue on why Killer is the greatest man ever existing)

acceptance: so Kid realized he might not die today but his throat is still sore and all the yelling probably didn‘t make it any better

bring him some tea, tuck him in and kiss his forehead, he‘ll pass out in a minute and the whole thing will repeat a few more times on his way to recovery

Kid is gonna act like none of this has happened once he is back to his old self but he‘ll still make sure to pull you into a hug and mumble a Thank You against your skin, followed by making up for all the kisses he couldn‘t give you during that time

Mihawk

have you ever tried giving your pet any kind of medicine? it was bad, wasn‘t it? then good luck with this man because he is worse

it‘s hard to imagine that someone as perfect as Mihawk could fall sick with a fever, but here you are, standing with a glass of water and painkillers in your hands next to him while he‘s passed out on the couch

„get those away from me“, he mumbles like a dying peasant who is confronted with his own mortality in the face of a common cold

even with his strength being robbed he is still much stronger than you, using this fact to his advantage (by rolling over flat on his stomach, face down, so you can‘t hold the glass of water against his lips)

give him five minutes for some frustrated groaning until he admits his defeat and finally reaches for the things in your hands

brace yourself for a silent staring duel when he asks for a glass of red wine to wash down the painkillers

he‘s lucky that you‘re in love so madly and deeply with him and have all the patience in the world to bear with him, knowing well he would pamper you too if you ever fell sick (you remembered how he pulled out a whole first aid kit as if he was ready to perform emergency surgery when you cut your finger slightly once while cooking together)

Mihawk would hate the fact that you see him in such a weak state but deep down he is still happy to have you by his side during his darkest hours

he‘ll have a few fever dreams and will be startled, probably panting something about his crops and how he gotta look after them

just gently push him back down by his shoulders and calm him down by telling him that you watered the garden and that the tomatoes are looking plump and ripe and ready for harvesting once he‘s back to full health

he‘ll ask you to read him from his favorite romance novels before he drifts back to sleep

Mihawk will cook you the fanciest dinner to show you his gratitude for nursing him back to health, including the most expensive bottle of red wine and kitchen dances together

Rayleigh

„you‘re burning up, Ray.“

you look at him worried, hands on his cheek and forehead to feel his temperature

Rayleigh just sighs, pushes his glasses up his hair, pinches the bridge of his nose and accepts his defeat

the Dark King knows that there‘s a limit on how much you can push a sick body and that the only cure is rest

after all, he had watched Roger struggle during his illness when no one else was watching; it made him realize that every action has its toll and us humans are fragile little things

he will do his best to not make you worry, after everything he‘s been through at his age a simple cold won‘t take him out

sure, he will try to send you home so he doesn‘t pass on the fever to you, but you insist on staying by his side — after all it was „in sickness and in health“ what you vowed to

a fact that earns you a lot of forehead kisses and the inevitable fate that you‘ll be down with a fever as well a few days later (where Rayleigh will take care of you as well, of course)

he is an easy patient on his best behaviour, drinking up the tea you brewed for him and staying in bed with the newspaper and some card games (since he can‘t go gambling)

Rayleigh will hum and lean deep into your touch when you run him a bath and wash his hair, your fingers massaging every bit of tension out of him

knowing you can‘t resist his charm he‘ll ask you to join him in the bath tub. just do it. the old man is needy and a little cold won‘t stop him from using his hands to return a little favor…

Rayleigh is a restless man, never one for settling down completely or staying in one place for too long, but those days in bed together are surprisingly nice and help him to recover quickly, thanks to your committed care

countless kisses on your skin show you his gratitude and blur the line between heat and fever…

#eustass kid x reader #mihawk x reader #rayleigh x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #eustass kid #dracule mihawk #silvers rayleigh #dracule mihawk x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece reader insert

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tiddygame · 7 months

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You give me goose bumps

(repost because Tumblr was being Funky on my end-- sorry!)

Ao3

Summary: Ghost sat there, trying to figure out how in the hell he had gotten himself into this situation: Lying on the floor of the safe house with a massive werewolf using him as a teddy bear. Honestly, the sequence of events wasn’t too complicated.

Tw: violence, nightmares, and a smidgen panic

It was a few days before a full moon and Ghost and Soap were on a simple, low-stakes mission. All they needed to do was find some flash drive in a building that had been abandoned. Ghost really didn’t even need to watch soap from his vantage point.

The mission was intentionally simple. Having a task force composed almost entirely of monsters did have its downsides. Every full moon, one of those disadvantages reared its ugly head.

In general, when it came to the werewolf side of things, Soap had a pretty good grasp on staying in control and not involuntarily shifting or going berserk. The amount of control he had over both forms was honestly impressive.

Full moons were a different story. In the days leading up to them, instincts always got a bit harder to defy and shifting at will would sometimes go out the window entirely. It’s why they were here, at an abandoned building. A low-energy mission to not trigger a shift, but something that needed to be done and a good outlet for pent-up energy at the very least.

Ghost watched from his perch outside as Soap methodically searched the building, occasionally catching glimpses of him through windows. Soap didn’t need his help, he was just watching the exits, making sure no one went in or out. That didn’t stop Soap from complaining to him the entire time.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“Is that your official assessment, sergeant?”

“Oh piss off, you’re outside in the middle of the day. I’m in this creepy shithole looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Focus, Mactavish.”

“I am! You might be different, but I can talk while doing something.”

Ghost didn’t grace that with a response.

“Any clue why they vacated?”

“Negative,” he tried not to think about how if it had been anyone else, he would’ve chewed them out for unprofessionalism three comments ago.

“They left in a hurry, some poor sod didn’t even finish his coffee,” it was said in a joking tone but Ghost could hear the genuine unease behind it.

“Just find the flash drive and get out. Sooner you’re done, the sooner we can leave,” he replied not unkindly, he might enjoy teasing the man but that didn’t mean he didn’t trust his instincts. If Soap felt like something was wrong, he’d take his word on it.

Ghost repositioned slightly, watching the floor Soap was on, looking in the windows through the scope. He was barely able to see his sergeant, just in view of the window. He saw when Soap stopped in the middle of the room, and turned in a circle, definitely looking for something but not a flash drive.

“Soap, sitrep. What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong,” he’d never seen his sergeant so spooked. He wanted to be angry, wanted to use his lieutenant voice to tell Soap to get a move on, but he couldn’t ignore the dread that was overwhelming him as well.

“Ghost, I don’t think we’re alone here,” well fucking Christ, did he have to say it as creepily as possible?

“Johnny—?” he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, whether to tell him to continue or to cut and run, but it didn’t matter. It took him a few moments to realize that the windows were slowly being covered by a black fog. He could see the wisps of smoke curling towards Johnny.

Soap noticed it too, “For fuck’s sake, I hate dealing with wraiths.”

Soap wasn’t too concerned, but Ghost was. He quickly abandoned his perch and booked it for the building. There wasn’t much a sniper could do against a cloud of smoke.

“I’m on my way, don’t die,” he hoped it went through but the way the radio was crackling didn’t fill him with hope.

“Aff—m—ve,” he was barely able to hear what he said, the radio now spewing a high-pitched ringing as if his tinnitus wasn’t already bad enough. He had to agree with Soap’s earlier comment, he hated dealing with wraiths.

If he didn’t already know the right floor, the unmistakable growl of a pissed wolf and loud crashes would have been a dead giveaway. He climbed through the stairwell as fast as he could. He burst through the door to the fourth floor, the open office space giving him a clear view of the confrontation.

His sergeant, obviously having shifted, in the corner, growling with his teeth bared. In front of him, a wraith stalking him, trying to find a weak point. It looked at him, deciding that between the two, Ghost would be the easier victim.

Ghost felt deep within him when the thing turned Its full attention to him. Wraiths were born of pure misery, torture, and dread, and they were intent on making everyone else suffer an even worse fate than they did. (For several, several years Ghost was convinced he was doomed to become one too, until a certain Scotsman entered his life, at least.) This one was strong, as It stared at him, he could feel all his happy memories turn necrotic.

The two of them stalked towards the other, Ghost’s boots stomping heavily on the ground and the wraith imitating him despite Its floating. It lunged, only becoming tangible when Its hands wrapped around his throat, trying to cut off his airway. As utter dread washed over him, he stabbed at the thing but it turned back to smoke before it could connect. They had entered a fatal tango, though It seemed to have forgotten that there was another involved.

With the wraith distracted, Soap pounced. The tricky thing with fighting wraiths was their ability to become intangible at will. Standard protocol for dealing with one involved lengthy planning and strategizing, wearing them out before—

Oh, good god, It was already dead.

Soap ripped the thing apart in the same way a dog would its favorite chew toy. He had the thing’s neck between his teeth and was shaking It back and forth, the wraith trying to claw at his snout. It was clinging to life until the final tendons gave way and Its body dropped with a heavy thud. Ghost couldn’t find it within himself to feel bad for the thing.

While Its body was now detached from Its neck, Soap still wasn’t done. He put one paw on the thing's head and kept going, not stopping until the wraith had been separated into three parts.

Soap grabbed the throat and happily trotted to Ghost, wanting him to put his hand out.

Uncomprehendingly, he did. Soap dropped it in his hand and barked, his tail excitedly wagging away.

He realized as it was nudged towards him that it was a gift. Soap had gifted him the throat of the creature that tried to kill him. He really couldn’t tell if that meant he was lost in his instincts or if it was Soap being Soap.

“Thanks,” he was touched either way.

The werewolf barked and spun in a circle, having too much energy for such a large thing in such a small space.

“Let’s find that flash drive and get out of here,” Ghost had to fight to keep the baby talk tone he normally used when talking to dogs out of his voice. Werewolves weren’t domesticated dogs and it was beyond rude to treat them as such, regardless of which form they were in or how far in their instincts they were. Still, Ghost couldn’t help but compare the way Soap was jumping around to that of a puppy that didn’t know its size. He was far from an expert in them but he knew Soap was rather large for a werewolf; it was a miracle he fit through the hallways.

They went on to clear the building, eventually finding what they were after a few floors above where the wraith had attacked. Ghost still didn’t know what to do with the esophagus he had been given, so he just… held on to it. What was werewolf etiquette for being gifted a body part?

He remembered the whole thing with cats bringing their owners dead animals because they thought that their owners couldn’t hunt and internally groaned. Please, please, please do not tell him he is expected to eat this?

He hadn’t wanted to set it down because if Soap was in control and had knowingly given it to him, that would just be a dick move. And really, the same applied for if he was lost in his instincts, it would still be mean to simply toss it aside. Maybe he was just overthinking this.

Can you overthink being given the throat of your enemy? It seems like it might be one of those things that you can only under-think.

His pondering was interrupted by Soap stopping and sniffing the air. He let out a rumbling growl, sniffed once more, and then began herding Ghost to the exit. He wanted to ask what was wrong but it wasn’t like the wolf would’ve been able to answer. Regardless, just like his instincts earlier, Ghost knew to trust Soap’s senses.

As they made their way to the ground floor, he could hear engines in the distance.

“Ah, shit…” Why now did they have to return to reclaim their stupid building?

He looked around the perimeter and saw an abandoned truck near the fence. Ghost got Soap’s attention and gestured to the vehicle, both running for it.

When the door didn’t open, he didn’t hesitate to smash in the window. As he hotwired the car, Soap started pacing back and forth, clearly unhappy at the fact that he wasn’t able to help in some way. When the werewolf heard the engine start, he perked up and ran towards the driver’s door, spinning in circles.

Ghost stepped to the side, wanting to let him in before he got behind the wheel. There was shouting coming from in front of them, some poor guard trying to get their attention who likely didn’t realize he was staring at the people who just stole incredibly valuable information right out from underneath their noses.

The guy, somehow not noticing the werewolf, approached, talking about how Ghost shouldn’t have access to the truck. He had the advantage, already holding his gun. They needed a distraction.

Some men stormed out of the exit of the building they had just fled through, gesturing wildly with their hands, shouting, “Something already killed the wraith!”

When eyes turned to the truck, Ghost had already gotten in and put it in drive.

If the guard hadn’t realized earlier, then it probably dawned on him as he had to jump out of the way to avoid getting run over. Some others tried to stop him, but there was a reason Ghost never got a driver’s license. He had spotted a locked chain link fence gate that looked just right for their grand escape and floored it. He laughed at their panic when they realized he wasn’t slowing down but tried not to be disappointed by the lack of sudden speed bumps. Soap had his fun earlier, why can’t Ghost have his?

They cleared the gate with ease and were speeding down old, back country roads in no time. Soap had moved to the backseat (the front being nowhere near big enough for him) and pawed at the window. Ghost, still riding the high of almost running people over, chuckled and let down the window, looking in the rearview mirror as Soap stuck his head out.

Knowing him, he was probably still mostly there and was enjoying having an excuse to be even stupider than usual. Ghost tried not to watch him, but he was happy to see his sergeant so happy. Besides, he’d seen enough shifts gone wrong to know that they were lucky he was still in such high spirits after a fear-induced shift.

He felt something by his foot and glanced down at the floorboard, seeing the throat still sitting there from where he had dropped it to hotwire the car. Huh. Seriously, what in the ever-loving fuck are you supposed to do in this situation?!

When he could safely say that no one was chasing them, he pulled over and got out, Soap following, running around to get out energy that was still pent up. He radioed Price, updating him on the situation. Luckily, there was a safe house nearby. Unluckily, it was a shithole.

It looked like the military saw a house going into foreclosure, bought it, then left it to rot. Even from the outside, he could see that the roof looked one more storm away from collapse and the windows had been boarded up with plywood. The only thing keeping the walls up was the structural support from how much vegetation covered the outside. How homely.

The front door wasn’t even big enough for Soap to fit, they had to go around and find a sliding back door that opened wider (he didn’t chuckle at the fact that the front door was too small for the behemoth of a werewolf, definitely not.) It didn’t take long to clear the house, the only hostile he found was some mold growing in the corner that could probably start another strand of the bubonic plague.

Ghost went back to the main room and picked through their MREs, preparing them while Soap sniffed every nook and cranny of the house. The novelty of such a large thing in such a small area had yet to wear off, and he still silently laughed at Soap having to squeeze through the doors. The wolf continually let out annoyed huffs and Ghost knew that if he still had human vocal chords, he would be prattling on and on about how stupid the door frames were.

Once Soap had checked the house himself, he made his way back and shoved his snout in Ghost’s way, both to see what he was doing and to be a nuisance. Ghost laughed and shoved his face away, knowing Soap was about to start a campaign to make sure the lieutenant wouldn’t be able to prepare their dinner in peace.

His left hand being designated as the ‘shove Soap away’ hand, he was able to continue setting up the heating element one-handed. At some point, Ghost stopped pulling his hand away and left it on his forehead, pushing as needed. And, because Ghost’s main talent is ruining things, it evolved into his left hand scratching Soap’s ears, apparently having forgotten the most basic rule when interacting with werewolves.

“If you wouldn’t do it to a human, don’t do it to them. You wouldn’t walk up to a stranger and start petting their head, would you?”

Ghost stopped and pulled his hand away, muttering an embarrassed apology that wouldn’t come close to making up for treating his sergeant like some random street dog. Throughout the petting, Soap’s head had dropped low, likely having feared retaliation if he protested the ministrations and just deciding to grin and bear it.

Soap growled, shoving his head towards his chest.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that. It was just…,” just what? Instinct to dehumanize the person who just saved your life?

“Just… nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

This time Soap whined and dropped his head in Ghost’s lap, staring up at him sadly.

“I know,” this time even quieter, “I’m sorry.”

By some saving grace, the MREs were ready. He set Soap’s next to him before subtly inching away, not wanting to force the poor man to eat next to him.

Soap huffed and nudged his food closer to Ghost before plopping down practically on top of the man and digging in. Ghost was frozen for a second, staring at his sergeant, before he too relaxed and began eating. It didn’t take long for them to finish up, both inhaling their food as fast as they could. Soap doing so from the increased appetite brought on by shifting, and Ghost hoping that he wouldn’t have to taste whatever the military considered edible.

Within no time Soap was stretching and yawning while Ghost situated himself at the window.

“I’ll take watch while you sleep,” he didn’t even bother trying to lie and pretend that he would wake Soap up to take shifts. No human vocal cords meant no arguing. He got comfortable, moving the curtains to just the right angle for him to see out while keeping the view from outside obscured.

Something was tugging his sleeve. Maybe the werewolf was further in his instincts than he thought.

When he looked, as expected, he saw Soap trying to gently pull him away. Ghost chuckled again, Soap always had to be careful watching his strength when shifted. He pulled his hand back and went to ruffle Soap’s ears before aborting the motion short. He’s not making that mistake again.

“Go to sleep, I know you’re tired from shifting. I’m the one that can still operate a gun.”

Soap growled. Ghost rolled his eyes and turned back to the window, “Go to sleep, sergeant.”

Soap backed away and, for a foolish second, Ghost thought that was it, that he had won.

He tried to lean back against the window frame but his shoulder wasn’t even able to make contact with the wall before something was latching onto his wrist, pulling him towards the corner that their bedrolls had been tossed to.

“Mactavish, that is enough,” he put as much authority in his voice as he could while being yanked around by a very stubborn werewolf. Ghost tried to pull his arm away but, unlike before, Soap’s grip tightened. It wasn’t enough to hurt, at least, so long as he went with Soap it wasn’t.

Soap growled. Just like the grip, before it had been playful, but not now. Ghost went with him, mostly out of shock. It was the first time the wolf’s ire had been directed towards him.

As he was shoved towards the makeshift bed, he gave in, “Alright, alright, I fucking get it.”

He laid down but didn’t remove any of his gear, as soon as Soap was asleep, he would be taking point at the window.

To his great frustration, Soap already seemed to know his plan and was biting at his tac vest. If Soap was far in his instincts, how would he know why Ghost kept his gear on? Was Soap, of sound body and mind, actually throwing a tantrum over who took watch?

“For Fuck’s sake, sergeant. Pull yourself together,” even as he said it he gave in to the repeated nips and growls and removed most of his gear, save for a gun holster and a few knives.

Soap seemed pleased and pushed his head into Ghost's chest to make him lie down again. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, knowing he wasn’t exhausted enough for sleep’s mercy to grace him. It was bad enough on base, but on missions, his inability to sleep was somehow worse.

His misery was interrupted by something walking in front of him.

“What the hell was the point of making me lie down if you’re not going to watch either?”

Soap didn’t answer, just turned in circles getting ready to lie down. Until he saw Ghost moving to get up. Then he switched gears and dropped himself on top of him so he couldn’t get up and paid no mind to his gasping.

“Johnny, you-,” he shoved at the wolf and let out a wheezy breath, “you heavy bastard, move.”

Soap did no such thing and stared down at him from a sharp angle, noses less than two inches apart. As Ghost got used to the weight, he was able to breathe fully, finding most of Soap’s weight was dispersed enough that he wouldn’t be dying of crush syndrome anytime soon.

He also knew he wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon.

Ghost sighed to the best of his ability and reached for his radio.

Soap, as expected, growled.

“I’m just grabbing my radio to tell Price we aren’t dead. Is that alright with you?” the sarcasm in his tone was heavy but Soap just huffed and dropped his head back on (and completely covering) Ghost’s chest.

Price is a traitor and he revokes any positive comment he has ever made in regards to the captain. When Ghost informed him of his predicament and the fact that Soap had trapped his superior officer, the cruel bastard just laughed.

Price told him that Soap would hear someone before Ghost could see them with a scope and that he should enjoy the break and sleep. When he complained more, Price had the audacity to wrinkle paper and tell him the signal was dropping. Bastard.

He dropped his radio on the floor and readjusted himself. Chances were, he’d still be able to shrug off Soap once he fell asleep, it would just be a bit more difficult. Johnny was leaning into him and somehow managed to snuggle closer.

/\/\/\/\/\

Simon awoke with phantom images of blood on the carpet and the echoing of screams ringing in his ears.

He was still lying there, trapped underneath his sergeant who he seemed to have woken up with his sudden panic. Thankfully, the wolf moved and let him sit up, still trying to parse through his memories (real, fabricated, and embellished) and unable to get his breathing under control.

Something was tugging his sleeve.

He couldn’t see much beyond his blood-stained hands but recognized the sensation of fur under his fingers as he grieved once again. How many fucking times would he have to go through this? He pushed himself so his back was to the wall and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

And yet they're still dead, aren’t they?

There was a weight in his lap. It was something heavy. He felt it and felt the same fur from before. He clenched his eyes tighter and tried desperately to breathe. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.

He lifted his hand, feeling like he had to rip out his hair, but Johnny noticed and rooted around, getting his nose under Ghost’s hand. Ghost moved his hand away but Soap just shoved his head back under it. Simon began very hesitantly scratching his ears. In for 6, hold for 9, out for 10.

He allowed himself to relax, if only slightly, and even brought his other hand up to scratch his other ear. Simon buried his head in the fur in front of him. In for 8, hold for 11, out for 12.

Simon cried. He hated doing it, especially in front of others, but he could hear Johnny admonishing him, telling him that crying was healthy, that it was just as necessary as laughter. He always hated the weakness and vulnerability it brought, hated the idea of people knowing he was upset, but Johnny was always the exception, wasn’t he?

After an embarrassing amount of time, he leaned back and wiped his eyes. He saw Johnny’s head resting in his lap, stupidly blue eyes watching him with care. The rest of the room eventually made its way in, light trickling in through cracks in the roof and an early morning chill settling around them. Later, it would likely be so hot that the ice of hypothermia felt desirable, but as for now, Simon shivered.

Johnny wormed closer and curled around him. Unlike last night when it was meant to make sure he would stay down, this time it was to make sure as much of him was covered as possible. Simon felt bad for forcing Johnny into the role of service dog and weighted blanket, but Johnny’s not-quite-snores were rather helpful in assuring him that the wolf enjoyed their current position as much as he did.

Simon continued scratching his ears and muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

Johnny huffed happily and nuzzled closer.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #soap x ghost #werewolf au #werewolf!soap #my writing

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sunnicee · 1 month

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hello tumblr! back at it again with the gravity falls theorism decoding nerd geek combo!

cw!! potential spoilers?

• ─────────────────────────── •

”you are now twenty-one grams lighter.”

”this contract is legal and binding. we reserve the right to use your likeliness, face, voice, and small town pluck in whatever nefarious manner is deemed necessary. your soulmate will not recognize you and will walk right past you on a cold autumn day, never making eye contact.. not even processing that you have eyes at all. no amount of interaction will move them to a place where they can remember. in lifelines you have closed spent together each time choosing whatever [???] closest like otters holding hands in a tumultuous river. you were birds. you were trees with roots entangled drinking in the sunlight together. wherever we go next, whatever you choose, I will always be right there with you.

that's done.

buddy congratulations, you have chosen bill instead!

mcdonalds reserves the right to put a giant yellow 'M' on your torso and send you walking around a crowded times square while you scream: ”THE FRIES, THEY DEGRADE IN NATURE. IT'S AN IMMORTAL FOOD!!”

”[there/they] will be landfills long past our deaths. good god, the things I've seen. ..who am I? im bills previous lawyer. He put my soul into a quill pen so I can write his legal documents until the sun snuffs out like a candle in this sick universe. I used to be so hot; I was so fine .. now, im fine print. speaking of which, ... ”

”bill reserves the right to put your soul into a:: inanimate object, a strange creature, a concept, a sentence, a [???] but rustic mason jar with wildflowers in it.”

”if at any point you wish to have visitation rights with your soul... you will be swiftly denied unless you had a cool day planned for the both of you, then bill might want to come along. by signing this document, you forfeit any right to eating soul food.”

”it will turn to ash on your mouth. a fitting punishment for a fool who squandered the only truth gift life owes you.”

bill reserves the right to dress your soul however he seems necessary, especially if your soul was a nerd before acquisition. your soul may become fractured and placed into different objects, this has no purpose and will not resurrect you if you die. signee has forfeited all rights to any [???] including but not limited to:: heaven, hell, purgatory, bug corner, [???] state, the dream house[?], [???], reincarnation processing center, axolotl tank, ant consequences, hole signee can can no longer board the train, and is advised to discard all bell bottoms. signee can no longer have a puppy as a best friend (they can sense what is gone.) cats are [???] [???] may experience occasional [???] possessions [???] [???] the [???] [???] the [???] [???] son on [???] [???] the [???] ant other [???].”

• ─────────────────────────── •

and yeah! that's it. condolences to my neck, brain, light bill, and eyes. I unfortunately fully committed to translating what I was able to decipher. I definitely did infact try my best, so if there are any mistakes or errors, please lmk!

#gravity falls #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #fan theory #going insane #the book of bill #bill cipher #decoding #translation #too much free time #i'm literally just a girl #im so smart

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whoiwanttoday · 2 months

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When I was younger I used to have to actually call in to work but the advent of voicemail in the office made my life a lot easier. I would wait until about 4 or 5 AM, call when I knew there would be no one to answer, put on my weakest voice and try to sound sick to make sure that no one could question that I was too unwell to come in to work. About 90% of the time I called in it was because of my depression, which early on was undiagnosed, then diagnosed and poorly managed, but I would fluctuate between being unable to sleep for days or being unable to do anything other than sleep. Either way, it gave me great anxiety that I would be caught because in those days you couldn't actually call in for depression, it wasn't a real illness, not like a cold, so I had to be vague while sounding like maybe I had a cold. Once we could start emailing in, a thing that existed but no one thought to do until we were able to easily access work email from home, it became that much easier. I still had the fear that they would think maybe I was out partying all night and just getting home and faking it but I didn't have very many other options so the emails still came in at 5 AM. It was one of life's many stupid ironies that I was in bed wanting to die and convinced no one thought of me but if they did they thought I was a pathetic loser but also they might think I was a lying party animal loser who was out living things up and skipping work because my life was too awesome.

Anyway, that's a long way of mentioning I am playing hooky today but my life is so much more privileged than it once was because I have been struggling with a pretty rough depressive episode for two weeks now and at the start of this week decided I couldn't do it anymore but if i gave myself a shred of hope maybe I could. So I am technically on vacation today, a thing younger me didn't get, actual leave for vacation, or really the ability to ask for, time off a few days in advance. My head being a mess still fucking sucks, it's not cheery to start singing in the shower and realize you've changed all the lyrics to be about wanting to die, though it is technically sort of funny, like the least marketable Weird Al anyone can imagine, but it's amazing how much easier it is if you have things like money and actual benefits. All of this is a long way of saying I have 10:30 AM tickets to see Longlegs, a thing I was supposed to see last week on Thursday but when the time came I canceled my tickets and took a credit because I was curled up in bed and could not make myself get out of it no matter how hard I tried. So I am posting Maika Monroe because she has long been dear to my horror addled heart due to the fact that she starred in what is one of my all time favorite horror movies, It Follows. She was also in the Guest which is frankly, pretty top notch as well but not on the all time greats list. I realize I am putting the cart before the horse a little bit here, given I haven't seen Longlegs yet but I both have faith and also the horse can absolutely go fuck himself. I am sick of worrying about the horse, who has, I might point out, done fuck and all for me. I haven't even used glue since like 3rd grade so the horse can just fucking rot for all I care. Anyway, when I first posted Maika Monroe she was still mainly coming up in tags on tumblr as a Surfer, which is kind of wild because I don't think that's how anyone thinks of her now. Either way, I enjoy her work, I think today will be good, today I want to fuck Maika Monroe.

#Maika Monroe #blonde #Actress #whoiwanttofucktoday

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ginnyrules27 · 3 months

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Okay so here's the deal--I know Tumblr likely isn't a microcosm of the Democratic party because I remember people freaking out in 2020 over Joe Biden being the nominee and guess what? He won despite people freaking out.

HOWEVER

That was 2020, where Democrats somehow managed to turn Georgia blue and surprised the GOP. We can not assume we will be able to repeat such a feat unless we get out and campaign for Biden.

Donate, volunteer for phone banks, put up a yard sign/car decal (if it's safe), hell even making these posts to try to reach more people can help. Biden's team has reached out to TikTokers for assistance in getting people out to vote and before we call him 'cringe' for that, I'd like to remind you guys that the reason Obama won the 2008 primary over HRC was in part to his utilization of social media. TikTok is the newest form of social media.

If you are an American, I beg you to please vote and please vote BLUE down the ballot. Because I read a bit of Project 2025 and it is not hyperbole to say that if Trump wins and the GOP gains the House and Senate, the United States is looking at an authoritative regime we have never seen before.

Vote for your fellow citizens who are currently relying on Medicare and/or Medicaid for assistance.

Vote for your fellow citizens who rely on Social Security benefits to survive (or you know, vote because you'd one day like to see those benefits you're paying into).

Vote for your fellow citizens who might get swept up into camps if they can't prove they're a citizen if asked (and before anyone accuses me of being hyperbolic, internment camps are listed in Project 2025)

Vote for your fellow citizens who would be impacted by a national abortion ban.

Vote for your fellow citizens who's hard-fought rights would be thrown into the garbage disposal.

VOTE BECAUSE OF THE FACT THAT WE CURRENTLY HAVE A SCOTUS MAKING THINGS UP AS THEY GO. THERE IS NO MENTION OF PRESIDENTIAL IMMUNITY IN THE CONSTITUTION YET SCOTUS GAVE THE PRESIDENT IMMUNITY WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, SCOTUS THREW OUT ROE BECAUSE ABORTION IS NOT MENTIONED IN THE CONSTITUTION!

Look I get that Biden gives some people the ick and I understand that we won't agree on everything but can we agree on the importance of SCOTUS?

If you truly need a reason to hold your nose and vote Biden, the Supreme court, and the possibility of three seats opening with Alito, Thomas, and Roberts being in their 70s should be that reason.

If you are afraid of Biden dying in office, we have a plan for that. it's called the Office of the Vice President. And yes, Kamala's a woman and a former DA and whatever else you want to say about her but she also exists. Trump has not named a VP and he is 3 years younger than Biden. And that should scare you because the next in line should Trump die in office would be the SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE. Which might not mean much if we somehow take the House but Trump gets re-elected but we all know that won't happen.

I have lived in this country for 30 long years. I witnessed how people accidentally voting for Pat Buchannan along with purposefully voting for Nader and a SCOTUS stepping in when they should have recused themselves gave us Bush over Gore in 2000. I saw how people voting for Stein gave us Trump over HRC. I need you to believe me when I say this: if you vote for the Green Party or any independent progressive party instead of voting for Biden in November, you are effectively voting for Trump because that is how our system is designed. And I can almost guarantee that if Trump steps foot back into the Oval Office, there will not be a 2028 election to try to fix the mess he is going to create.

#us politics #american polictics #vote blue #vote biden #vote democrat #please just hold your nose and vote Biden in November if you want a chance at moving forward and having the chance to change #Remember how we were all terrified of Sarah Palin running the country if McCain died in office?#Can we please just imagine Trump as the male version of Palin?#Whatever you need to do to vote blue in November

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xxavengingangelxx · 6 months

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A Brighter Side of Grey 1/?

This is for my lovie @bellgraves. :) This is a continuation of my fic As the Rush Comes.

Summary: A female mercenary got a lot closer to killing Graves than anyone else had. So Graves put her in her place. After leaving her for dead, he was almost certain she was gone. So what happens when he catches her making another attempt on his life?

Warnings: Violence, drugging, kidnapping, all the things that come with writing about dueling mercenaries. If I need to add anything, let me know. Eventual smut, possibly enemies to lovers, I haven't decided :)

I have no idea where this fic could end up so let's all of us take a ride and see where it takes us! I didn't get a chance to proofread so please excuse any mistakes.

The first thing you remember…no the first thing you feel is pain.

Horrible pain.

Not being able to breathe like you should be able to. Instinctively you reach up to what’s blocking your airway.

Tubes.

Tubes that were making you gag.

Your right arm appeared useless so you used your left arm to try and pull the tubes out of your throat.

Someone tried to stop you from doing it but you shoved them away and finally yanked the tube out of your throat.

And you gagged, dry heaved over your hospital bed.

And when you did, you felt fire across your ribs.

More people came into your room and were shoved down, strapped down like a mental patient…

You gasped awake.

Another night, another nightmare.

All thanks to Phillip Graves.

You sat up in bed and grabbed your phone, seeing it was 2 in the morning. These nightmares had been going on every night sometimes multiple times a night since you’d regained consciousness.

You were almost ambidextrous before but now your right arm was at 75-80% mobility thanks to the spiral fracture Graves had inflicted when he broke your arm.

So you used your left arm to toss the covers off. Life had been pure hell since Graves had almost killed you. You might have been medically fragile when you got discharged from the hospital but that didn’t stop your boss from beating the shit out of you for the failed mission.

A year, your boss had said, you have a year to stop faking this injury shit, find Graves, and kill him. Bring me his dog tags with his blood on ‘em.

You were almost certain that beatdown had take away mobility from your right arm too. You ran your fingers along the scars where the hospital had to cut your arm open and add screws and metal plates.

You had gotten an apartment with a garage because you were told it was going to take you months to recover. You dressed in shorts and a tank top before heading to the garage as you normally slept naked.

You got into your garage and looked upon the masterpiece you had been putting together in the last year. The entire wall of the garage was Phillip Graves. You’d been obsessed with tracking him down so for the last year that was all you had done, track Graves as much as you could.

You’d used string and thumbtacks to track his movements with as much detail as you could but you were still missing some pieces. Luckily paying a highly ranked military officer overlooking PMC contracts was finally able to pin Graves down to your home country.

As far as you knew, he was back in the States which would make killing him easier. You wouldn’t have to worry about a third-world enemy capturing you or a fake passport so you could focus all on Graves.

The map on your garage wall was taller than you, making you need to get a stepladder.

Graves was supposedly taking an R&R with his company in Houston, TX which was perfect because no matter where Graves went in Houston, there were sure to either be empty buildings or some other way your could hide high up and snipe Graves.

Sniping would be the lowest risk but the lowest reward. You wouldn’t get to see him die.

The highest risk highest reward would be to allow yourself to be captured, pray Graves didn’t kill you outright, and lay low, get information, gain his trust, then kill him before leaving with dead Graves’s dog tags and interior information about Shadow company.

I don’t care how you fucking do it, you recall your boss telling you after you reeled and almost whimpered from the pain the beatdown he’d given you for failing your mission. Get it done. Be his fuckin’ whore for a year and then kill him. Snipe him. Get it done or go ahead and pick out your headstone.

You’d be able to prove yourself and provide information on Shadow Company. Your boss wouldn’t see you as a failure anymore and you’d get to live.

Weeks of trying to make a decision was interrupted by a text from you boss, simply saying, Two months left.

You’d tracked Graves down to Houston but it was proving difficult to find him in a vulnerable position enough to take him out with a sniper rifle. He was too heavily guarded to simply approach him and attempt the hit.

That night you fell asleep and finally slept for more than 5 hours straight because you finally had a plan. You’d make a pathetic attempt to hurt Graves and you were certain his boys would jump all over you…but they wouldn’t kill you…not until Graves gave the order.

And if Graves did give them the order at least you’d die quick rather than slowly and painfully at your boss’s hand.

***

Today was Graves’s last day in Houston or so you’d been told from intel. So you needed to move quick.

It hadn’t been too hard to find the fancy hotel where Graves and his Shadows had been staying. So to make sure you wore a cloth mask similar to the one you wore when COVID had been rampant. You’d died and cut your hair. The only part of you left unchanged by a large margin was your height.

You walked into the lobby and eyed some of his men, each carrying heavy military backpacks or duffels as they loaded their Tahoes and Suburbans in the back parking lot of the hotel.

You were walking down a hallway as you tried to find a way up to the roof when you saw him.

Graves himself. The Shadow himself. Shadow-01. A legendary mercenary and the CEO of his own private military.

Before you new what was happening your breath caught in your throat. Were you panicking? Afraid? He was leaving his own hotel room, military backpack securely on his shoulders. You thought he was alone when you saw what you’d describe as a dumb bimbo whore walking out of his hotel room after him.

And then fear turned into…jealousy? Why the hell did you care who Graves slept with?

But it was definitely jealousy burning in your chest.

So when she walked away while Graves was getting the last of his belongings from his hotel room, she brushed your side and that was all you needed to shove a knife right into her ribs.

She started to cry out but you delivered a sharp karate shop to her throat to where she couldn’t speak. Next you delivered a blow to her solar plexus, so she’d be quiet for at least the next minute while she gasped for air. You used your gloved hands to shove the knife in her hand, making it seem like she had either done it herself or done it accidentally.

You turned the corner when Graves closed his hotel room door, keycard in his hand.

“You trip, darlin’?” He drawled as he walked closer to his female friend. When he tried to help her up, he noticed she was bleeding heavily from her side. And that she was gasping for air.

“Holy shit,” Graves actually sounded surprised. “What…what happened?”

And you smiled for the first time in a year because you were proud of yourself that you’d managed to startle Graves.

After finding a stairway that led to the roof, you busted the lock on that door and made your way to the top of the building.

It was cold, windy up on the roof and you were glad you’d worn layers. Layers were mandatory anyway because you needed to change the clothes you’d entered that hotel in. But first…

An attempt on Graves’s life. Not a real attempt but you certainly had to make it look real.

It didn’t take long for you to build the short-range sniper rifle you’d brought with you.

You had to wait longer than your would have liked as the police and an ambulance showed up. Then the coroner. Whoops, you thought. You hadn’t meant to kill her.

Good riddance, bitch. He’s mine. And you had no idea where that thought came from.

Graves finally exited the hotel towards the back parking lot.

Through the scope you saw he looked…shaken, unsure of what had just happened.

And that made you smile a second time.

You had counted the number of men Graves had with him as they loaded up in the parking lot.

Three were missing.

You frowned into the scope, trying to see if they were already in the vehicles.

Nope. No one was in the vehicles yet.

So where were they?

Maybe in the hotel?

You were about to take another look through the scope when it suddenly darkened around you. You thought it was nothing. It was a cloudy day so maybe the sun had slipped behind the clouds.

But you were suddenly dragged backwards, away from your rifle and across the rough material of the roof.

You reached for a knife down your shirt and sliced into that motherfucker’s hand hard enough that he hissed and released you.

Shadows. They probably swept every location for threats before their boss made himself visible outside.

You knew another thing that might shock this Shadow enough to where you had more time to react was to remove your mask. You were certain Graves had warned his men about you.

And you were right.

Once you lowered the mask, you saw the Shadows's eyes widen. “You’re dead,” he gasped.

You were about to tell him, Tell your boss to finish the job next time when you heard a footstep behind you. You turned and had no time to react as a Shadow used his rifle to strike you across the left side of your head.

And then…

A sharp, stinging pain followed by falling deeper and deeper into a black hole.

***

You woke up when the vehicle you were in hit a sharp bump in the dirt road. You tried to take a breath but it was difficult. Your mouth was duct-taped shut and your hands being bound behind you didn’t help.

You felt someone tear the long sleeve of your right arm followed by a muffled, “It’s her,” you guessed they were identifying you based on the scars Graves knew he left on your body.

Then you heard Graves’s familiar drawl say, “Drug ‘her. She can’t know where she’s going,”

You tried to move but your body felt heavy and wasn’t responding to your brain’s commands. The sensation reminded you of how you felt coming out of another surgery to repair your arm. Whatever they were using to drug you was strong. And no matter how hard you fought it, you lost consciousness faster than you would have liked.

***

You woke up on a cement floor. The duct tape had been removed from your face but your hands were still bound behind you. It was causing significant pain in your right arm.

“What’d I say would happen to you if I got ahold of you?”

And when you opened your eyes you saw him standing in front of you, larger than life, in the same uniform and vest he’d had on the night he almost killed you.

Phillip Graves.

And that was when your breath caught in your throat again and your heart started skipping beats.

#phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #cod mw2 #graves x reader #astherushcomes

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dreambigdreamz · 27 days

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Inside the brain of a writer

(me talking to myself)

the mental process of writing a smut fic

the usual warnings ofc proceed with caution.

wheee i’ve been reading some ahem hotd stuff ahem and i think i can pull off my very own as well 🌚🌚🌚

yass eomer and lothiriel’s wedding nighttt

actually no i’d die writing

for many reasons

julie write a sample for me please

should i just ai generate this

oh loth why on earth would you say that

quick, make her drown another flagon of wine to avoid the embarrassment

BAHAHAHA i’m 6k word count and not yet halfway guysss

NO BROTHER YOU CAN’T READ THIS

because lothiriel is undressing eomer 🫢

*hysterical giggles as the world dissipates internally*

what on earth am i saying to a 11-year-old

shit he’s taking up the discussion

he says eomer should be allowed to undress himself to show ‘manly’ independence

shut the f up kid you don’t know anything about the romance of unbuttoning and revealing the man’s body

“stahp ahaha i can’t imagine it i’d DIE”

*dies for three months before guilty sense kicks back your arse to continue working on the wip*

drag myself through the shit like it’s no big deal

eomer without armour 💗💗💗

eomer without shirt 👀🥹🫢🌚🤡

should i or should i not put a full description of his…

nope

KEEP IT POETIC NOT GRAPHIC

will there be a blowjob

but i won’t know how to describe how it tastes so no

functioning on the last single braincell

once read a headcanon saying eomer will give you no less than 3 o’s and i stand by that

is ‘reverberate’ smth to do with vibrations or vertebrates

his voice being deep and gruff his voice being deep and gruff his voice being deep and gruff HIS VOICE—

what does ‘convulse’ mean

could i maybe find a use for it to be included in the writing, even though i don’t know what it means?

i mean, i’ve seen it written but never bothered searching up

gets up in the middle of the night to search up thesaurus

“TREPIDATION” IS SUCH A NICE WORD inCLudE iT iN By aLL meAns

….if only i gave half the effort for my academics…..

if he gives her oral, remember to get him to wipe off his mouth before he kisses her again because

you don’t know what it tastes like

+ somewhat disgusting and shameful (ahh little purist me)

“did you finish your smut fic lol”

“haha nearly! was up till one am last night writing it” (i normally sleep at 8 pm)

“he’s penetrating her now ehehe”

*deletes last message*

keep your purist virgin opinions out of this and Let Them Have Fun!!!!

how long does it take a candle to burn out

“would you like to read what i have gotten so far 👉👈”

no lothiriel would never think the act “sickening” KEEP YOURSELF OUT OF THIS

YES YES YES KEEP THE CLASSICAL ROMANCE ALIVE YOU ARE SUCH A POETIC WRITER DID ANYBODY TELL YOU HAHA 😇

but also the tension, don’t undo the tension all at once

DONT LET THEM FALL IN LOVE OVER ONE NIGHT WHAT SOAKING IDIOT ARE YOU

it takes time, it has to take time

so no

make it an awkward messy ordeal

you are a most horrifying author, you deserve to go to hell three times over WHAT WAS THAT FOR

i know

how do i describe what his hands are doing

like one is doing smth while the other is another—

or keep it simple?

how big and strong he is x300 sentences

he’s gotta have big brown eyes / be able to satisfy / he’s gotta be big and strong / enough to turn me onnnnnn (the angelic choir version please)

his eyes turning into dark orbs 👀 a glint of dangerous light ahahahahahahahahah

*descends into madness*

god save my soul

no no Snow you got it wrong bby

there are no whores and sluts here

be horny without guilty

you might actually make some money out of writing this one day

big ambitions >>>

in the meantime enjoy yourself

but seriously dude

wouldn’t he crush her bones if he collapsed on top of her

REWRITE EVERYTHING

first go and scroll through tumblr again

and spiral down into the sinful one-shots and take inspo from the masters

BUT THE AGONYYYYY (cuz u barely crawl out alive after these little visits onto that side of tumblr)

or shld i just post it and pretend nothing’s the matter and let it be and delete this entire post on making a fuss out of as tiny a thing as writing smut

fuck it i’ll go solve some mathematics

p.s. make eomer considerate at all times

p.p.s. you need to seriously decide between making lothiriel either an innocent angel or a coldhearted bitch MAKE UP YOUR MIND

because i feel for the poor guy if she keeps acting hot n cold like this

woe is me, the writer

i declare nobody suffers it as i do

but what if there was a toad in the bed as a prank from amrothos

#writerslife #writer stuff #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #writeblr #im going insane #eomer x lothiriel #eomer eadig #lord of the rings #fanfiction #my god #smut #dreambigdreamz

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pinkertinn · 3 months

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My first tumblr post, and it's for Cleon Song Week! am I tumbling correctly?

Day 1: Love

Song: BIRDS OF A FEATHER - Billie Eilish

She was everything to him. The cool side of the pillow in the middle of the night, a soothing touch against his weary soul. Every glance from her was a sunrise, painting his world with golden hues of hope and the promise of new beginnings. She was his dream and his reality, the anchor that kept him grounded and the wings that allowed his spirit to soar. In her embrace, he found his home, a place where every moment was cherished, and every breath was a promise of forever—however long forever was for them.

When she asked him which songs reminded him of her, which tunes should set the stage for the day they would pledge their love, he found it an impossible task. How could he pick just a few melodies to encapsulate the symphony of what she meant to him? Each note would have to capture her fiery boldness, the way she challenged him when he was wrong or being a fool. It would need to reflect her nurturing spirit, her motherly instinct that reached out to those in need. Her competitive edge, the way she always kept him on his toes, would need a rhythm all its own. And then there was the warmth of her touch, a simple caress that healed his deepest wounds, and the magic in her eyes, a mystery he could read like an open book despite her efforts to hide it. Whose voice could possibly narrate the beautiful chaos and whirlwind that defined their romance?

“How about this song? Uhm, Billie Eilish?” She turned up the sound on her laptop, concentrating on the screen. “Think it’s called Birds of a Feather?” Her nose scrunched, and she slightly tilted her head as her eyes shifted to gauge his reaction.

He listened to the upbeat jingle, nodding his head in time with the beat.

“Rot away, dead, buried?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “A little morbid, no?” he scoffed at the singer's angelic voice singing about such dark things.

“Well, you know they say till death do us part… rings even more true for us, I suppose.” Her voice sounded barren, hollow of the sparkle it had when they first started sifting through songs.

And I don't know what I'm crying for I don't think I could love you more. Might not be long, but baby, I Don't wanna say goodbye

“When you think of us, and you listen to this, does it give you anything?” She swallowed down what sounded like heavy emotion, and he realized he wasn’t listening to the song in the same way she was. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know…

Feather…

I’ll love you till the day that I die…

Feathers…

That’s right. Suddenly, it was 1998, and a 19-year-old Claire stood exhausted and disheveled before him, wearing that delicate turquoise opal feather necklace. Despite the rain and the violent struggles they faced, the necklace remained unscathed, sparkling as if brand new. The silver pendant hung just above the dip in her blood-stained cleavage. She later told him that if she had to look Sherry and him in the face, she’d never have been able to leave. So, she left him with a note at the hotel, and the necklace slipped to the floor when he opened it.

I don’t want to say goodbye, and I know we should stick together. But, I’ll be back for this. It’s more your color anyway. -Claire

She was right; the blue of the necklace matched most of his outfits. Blue was his color. When she came back for it, he couldn't bear to part with it. He had it with him when they reunited at that small dive bar, where she cried, begging for his forgiveness. The necklace was pressed against his breaking heart in his suit breast pocket as he refused to hand over the flash drive to her. And when their world began to crumble in Alcatraz, that tiny feather Claire had given him was buried deep in his jean pocket.

If you go I’m going too…

His eyes burned, threatening to spill tears, as he remembered hearing her agony in that prison cell while he helplessly banged the back of his head against the bars. He had been so angry with her that day, wondering why she was even there. But in an instant, his anger turned to fear. The thought of them both perishing there, separated by a prison cell after all they had survived, was unimaginable. Yet, he felt a slight twinge of guilt in his chest, knowing that a part of him found comfort in the idea of being with her forever, even if it meant in death.

Till the light in my eyes, till the day that I die..

"Claire, I—hold on." He pushed his chair away from the table and excused himself. When he returned, he held the delicate turquoise opal feather necklace she had left him 26 years ago. Gently, he placed it around her neck. "Birds of a feather, right?" He locked the clasp and released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Seeing the necklace back around her neck healed something inside him that he hadn’t realized was aching.

"My something blue," amusement lighting up her features as she delicately swept her fingers across the blue stone. "I love you, Leon."

"I love you too, Claire, till the day I die." He squeezed her shoulders and leaned down to place a light kiss in the crook of her neck before sitting back down next to her.

"So, what else do you have on this playlist?" he asked, nudging her and glancing at her laptop.

#cleonsongweek #cleon #claire redfield #leon kennedy #billie eilish #birds of a feather

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just-avocado · 7 months

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So I stayed up until like four last night writing down the lyrics for the Circe Saga because it’s incredible and Spotify didn’t have lyrics yet but since tumblr doesn’t want me to post pics rn for some reason I’ll just try again later and instead talk about the songs!!! :D

Puppeteer- The intro instrumental lives in my head to rent and so does Eurylochus’s rap part, I need to know what he was going to tell Odysseus he sounded so vulnerable- I swear this guy is climbing up my favorite characters list, I do find it interesting how he wanted to leave the crew behind with Circe when later in Mutiny he confronted Odysseus for “trading the lives of his crew” in order to get home so hopefully that means he had a change and heart and wasn’t just being a hypocrite, I also love how the Circe Saga as a whole but especially Puppeteer and There Are Other Ways really highlight how terrible Odysseus feels about everything he’s done, everyone he’s failed or killed since leaving home, I need to know how he goes from hating himself to embracing all he’s done

Uhh favorite lines!

“Look at all we’ve lost and all we’ve learned, Every single cost is so much more than what we’ve earned” SING IT Eurylochus

Wouldn’t You Like- HEHEHEH I absolutely adore the synthwave-y aspects of the song I’m a huge lover of synthwave vibes as of recent, I would genuinely vibe to the instrumental all day long, Mr. Jalapeño release the instrumental versions pLplzplz 🙏, I’m sure we all know by know that Troy is the real Hermes there’s no other way he can bring THAT much charisma to the role, I’ve seen charisma before but never like that oh my god, I also love his unhinged laugh so much idk how he does it but I want to learn, also when I was writing the lyrics I had to stop for a sec and be like “is this song just Hermes giving his great grandson drugs ooor-“ because that’s 100% something he would do

Favorite lines…

Just the entire “Here in the root of this flower, There lies such a power, To take her on” segment of the song it’s just 👌

Also the part where he’s going OOOhoOhohAhahdph while the ensemble sings his verses his voice is so BEAUTIFUL and POWERFUL oh my GOD

“Don’t thank me friend! You very well may die” I chuckled so loud lmao

And his little “Good luck 😉” he’s so silly he knows shit is going to go down

Done For- okay was the lyric for this song always “I just ate a flower, one that claims your power” cuz I could have sworn it was drains your power but I might just be crazy, also chimera supremacy I love that Jorge was able to find a way to implement it, Jorge and Talya’s voices sound so great together I need more 😭, I also love that this song starts to hint at more depth behind Circe’s actions idk who out here thinks she’s a meh one-note/one-off villain but she’s not!! I’ll make a 50 page PowerPoint on this don’t test me!!

Fav lines…

“You’ve lost.” Okay Odysseus 🤡

“My nymphs are like my daughters, I protect them at all costs, The last time we let strangers live, We faced a heavy loss.” This!! This is what I’m saying she feels like she has no choice other than to hurt people so that the people she loves will stay safe, she’s literally Odysseus further down the line! it’s so fascinating to see a character like this facing off against the main protagonist bc at this point in the story we don’t know what kind of person he will become yet and yet Jorge shows us with Circe Ahdldhnsbdk

There Are Other Ways- Okay I’ll be honest, this song was the last one on my radar not bc I didn’t like it but because I was just looking forward to others so much more and it was also the one I intentionally heard less clips of because I wanted at least one song that I didn’t already know half of the lyrics to 💀 ANYWAY THIS ONE IS THE BEST SONG IN THE CIRCE SAGA CHANGE MY MIND (I’m so sorry Troy I love your voice but this song is simply better) Dude the lyrics go soso hard in this one, I’m such a sucker for one character having like a big emotional moment while another is like singing/backing them up in the background and there’s so much of that here, and the call backs? Both to earlier songs in the saga AND Just A Man, my favorite song Just A Man? Every call back to that song is just so RAW I LOVE IT, I don’t know a ton about Greek mythology outside of Epic so I dont know if Circe and Posideon have this past beef or something but I do find it interesting that it’s only after he is mentioned that Circe decides to help Odysseus but I also think it’s larger due to how he reminds her of herself with how he misses Penelope, UM THE BEAT DROP after the underworld is mentioned for the first time??? CHILLS SHIVERS EVERYTHING dude I love how the entire atmosphere changes so much because yes this could be Odysseus’ only change to make it home safely but it’s also so much more dangerous than the shitty situation they’re already in so there’s not even time for relief or a breath of air like he’s IN it now there’s no going back

Best lyrics omfg…

“There are other roads to the soul~” Talya, Tayla. This is why some of us can’t sing, the universe needs balance and you are the only explanation for that

“Want to save your men from the fire? Show me that you’re willing to burn” 😐 AAAAAH

“But there’s no puppet here” get it puppeteer? Puppet here? I thought it was clever lol

“Back at home, my wife awaits for me, She’s my everything, My Penelope” The yearning in his voice made me feel things

“So I beg you Circe, Grant us mercy, And let us puppets leeeeave~” We have literally never seen Odysseus use this sort of tactic before to get his way but I genuinely think he’s being genuine here, no play, he only wants to see his wife and son again, he’s so close to giving up hope, he’s losing his spirit, he’s searching for any sliver of help even from a women who wants him dead

“I know of a brilliant prophet… Problem is that prophets dead.” Again the cord or piano key I think it was was so AH SO GOOD AH I am foaming at the mouth for when we start getting teasers for the Underworld Saga

“Maybe showing one act of kindness, Leads to kinder souls down the road” someone make an au where Polities and Circe become besties she needs a friend like him but don’t we all, but seriously THIS is what I’m saying!! She is future Odysseus! Only difference being is that she’s so tired of hurting people at this point she decides to take a chance and give help rather than pain in the hopes that it will somehow contribute to a kinder world

“Maybe one day the world, Will need a puppeteer no more” this is her plea for help, she yearns for the day where she won’t need to be a monster in order to protect her nymphs, for Odysseus his plea was for him and his men to leave, they both showed such vulnerability in this song in different ways its ART ITS ART *gun shot*

“I have been in love once before” She even had her own Penelope guys, this is the true reason why she decided to help Odysseus methinks

Okay uhhh I think that’s it ^_^ Circe Saga rules, it might be my fav saga I’ll decide soon

#epic the musical #epic the circe saga #epic the troy saga #epic odysseus #epic polites #epic circe #epic eurylochus #disclaimer for BANGER SONGS #okay I should probably close my eyes or something I’m running in a solid two hours #Circe saga is more important than sleep lmao

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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Tumblr seems to be sliding in a downward spiral, and it feels like the start of the end of a fandoming era for me. I've been through it before; platforms are born then die, and life fandom finds a way. I'm just not looking forward to floundering for a bit, and dreading what the next hub will look like.

AO3 isn't really a place geared or meant for the same thing, and that's fine. My only fandom-related activity took place on AO3 only for a few years between my leaving LJ and joining Tumblr, and I lived ;-) But during that time, I was my own little island in fandom. Reading, leaving a few comments, not being super active. It's only when I found a community again that I was back to being really active in fandom once more.

And it's not that I actually use Tumblr to post about myself, but I do use it to read and reblog cool things - art, gifsets, science stuff, discovering new fandoms, and the like. I'm not sure where else I could find my people, with sameish purposes. The other sites I've tried didn't fill that niche in a way that suited me, in part because of how they look and work, in part because of who and what is(n't) there.

I have DW & PF accounts just to be safe, but I'm not very fond of group chats Discord-style - and without Tumblr, IDK how I'd even hear of new communities where I might pop in once in a while, loins girdled and everything. The micro-blogging platforms are not what I'm looking for either. Sure, I can follow a few DW comms and blogs; I already occasionally do and I will be more consistent about it if I must.

But one of my greatest fear is that the next platform will be phone-based, app-only, or some such BS - and that is something I just won't be able to deal with. Phones are tiny, it's uncomfortable to write anything, I don't like touch screen and much, much prefer a proper keyboard and a mouse (copy-pasting on a screen? (x_x) << it me), art/pics are too small to properly appreciate, a phone isn't comfy to hold for a long time for me, and the app system means you have no control over anything as a user… and that anything there must be Apple Approved, dick-free, blood-free, and tasteless. And I say this as someone who's pretty much uninterested in sex IRL or in my entertainment ;-) I still support and want the tits, the gore, the everything, and as long as I have the tools to curate - oh, wait. Curate things myself? That's not something that's popular these days, is it? It's not going to generate money, if I'm happy ;-)

So… I guess I'll play some more on Neocities, and see if anyone wants to have webrings again? (it would be fun and nostalgic, but not really viable on a large scale; people who haven't known those would just laugh and point and go on the InstaTok of the time).

So here is my little cane-waving rant of the day! I know things evolve and change and that in ten years I'll be rolling my eyes at my moping. It's only that I feel tired of moving from one shitty platform to another, of fearing I won't adapt (or more accurately won't want to adapt given the annoyance/benefit ratio) to whichever new place things will move in a few years. It's saying goodbye to a former home, moving, and hoping you'll make another home elsewhere kind of sniffles today!

We already know the next platform. It has been Discord for a few years now.

If you want the one after Discord, I think you're looking at waiting things out for quite a few years (or until Discord makes a major misstep as a company).

True, real time chat is not for everyone, but small discords with well-chosen channels can operate more asynchronously. Just like a lot of people who hated the look of Tumblr early on eventually capitulated, a lot of chat haters have jumped ship to Discord already.

Realistically, 90% of fandom always goes where the action is, no matter how much they claim the features make that space impossible, and 10% disappears.

We might get the 10% back on the next platform or they might leave fandom for good. There were LJ-haters who resurfaced post LJ era.

But as for where you'll find out where people are... probably AO3 author's notes.

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omgiamwish · 1 year

Text

Karai stared up at the looming, snow-covered mountain and the dark clouds hovering over it. “Even if spies see us and think to ambush us on the narrow path, the weather may prove to be the deadliest enemy. What do you think of this path now, April?”

Hearing this, Leo patted Raph’s arm, getting the attention of all his brothers. It sounded like April and Karai had been discussing their potential path for some time.

April glanced between Karai and Caradhras uneasily. “I never did like it. But there are no other passes over the mountains until the Gap of Rohan. And since your news of Saki… I don’t trust it. There’s too great a risk of capture.”

“There is also Moria, as Shelldon has suggested.”

April shuddered. “I’d rather try my chances with Saki.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Leo spoke up. The wizard and woman turned to face him. “Does that mean that we’re gonna walk straight into-” he gestures at the mountain “-that whole situation?”

April gave him a smile that clearly aimed for comforting but ended up at strained. “Though it may not seem like it, I believe it to be the safest path.”

Leo frowned, unsure how to voice his doubt.

“How many days will it take to cross into warmer territory?” Donnie asked.

“Three at the very least,” answered Karai. “The weather will likely slow us.”

The Hobbits looked at each other, more unsure than ever.

“You’re right to worry about freezing to death,” added Casey, very much not comforting anybody. “Before we go up, we should each gather up as many sticks as we can carry.”

“Well… Raph can carry a lot…”

“Nope!” Donnie interjected. “Nuh-uh. I’m stopping this here. We are not going over that mountain.”

“Donatello, our journey-”

“Will not be over that mountain,” Donnie insisted. “Listen, we’re not dragging our heels just because ‘ooh, scary mountain, we might die’! You know we’re turtles, right?”

The entire fellowship stared at them blankly. ‘And?’ they seemed to be thinking.

“We’re Hobbits, so it works a little differently for us. As long as we’re awake, we handle the cold just like you guys- we shiver, and clothes keep us warm just fine. But once we fall asleep, and it’s cold enough… we just shut down. That’s why we’ve been piling on each other so close to the fire and taking shifts staying up even if it’s someone else’s turn; it’s already cold enough that we need to be careful. Up there?” Donnie points at the mountain. “A fire and a warm body to wrap around isn’t going to cut it. If we fall asleep, we’ll lose heat too fast. You won’t be able to wake us up, and then we’ll freeze faster than you can get us back down the mountain. If you can even move us. Our best chance of surviving the journey would be staying awake the whole time. But three or more days while we’re constantly exhausting ourselves? We can’t. This isn’t ‘we might die’, it’s ‘we will die’. Choose a different path.”

The rest of their company looked unsettled. Leo could only feel relieved that they appeared to believe Donnie.

“So I guess we’re going through the Gap of Rohan, then,” Casey said flatly.

“No,” Karai answered. “I would not dare lead the Ring so close to Isengard. The path we must take now is through Moria.”

(24/?)

(Here's part 23 since tumblr was being wonky and you might have missed it)

#rottmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #lotr #lotrfusionau #donatello #raphael #michelangelo #leonardo #april o'neil #rottmnt karai #fan art #artists on tumblr

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random-autie-fangirl · 9 months

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Hey, Do you have any Chara headcanons?

So technically I already have a reblogged post of Chara headcanons. Right here, within the tags. (99+) Chara neutralist squad on Tumblr

However, I most certainly have not run out of things to talk about and so...

I now present Chara Dreemurr headcanons 2: Electric Boogaloo

1. Yes, so as I said before, they have been spotted reading the dictionary cover to cover multiple times and reads english grammar books for fun. It is like they have to use one word literally nobody understands at least once a day or they will figuratively die. And of course, they would be the one to say figuratively every single time they use a metaphor or hyperbole or turn of phrase and they would get genuinely annoyed with anyone who says literally when they don't literally mean literally. Chara is the kind of kid who if someone says "can I", they will say "I don't know, can you?" like an english teacher because it's supposed to be "may I" for allowances. And, Azzy, it's supposed to be "Chara and I" not "me and Chara" ...no-one cares.

2. Something vocabulary related is that Chara absolutely, categorically refuses to swear! Apparently, contradictory to popular belief given that they're an "edgy" character, they think they are far too intelligent, high-class and mature for such gauche and vulgar words (did I mention they're a loser yet?), you see, and they would definitely consider using words that mean almost nothing to be a grave insult to their extensive vocabulary.

This doesn't mean they don't have certain stock phrases they use as exclamations or insults, though, of course. "asshole" or "bitch" becomes "you complete and utter ingrate", "what the fuck/hell?" becomes "What on this good earth/What in the Angel's name?" and "fuck you" becomes "may the angel smite you dead" or "may you burn in hell forevermore" (except that since Chara Dreemurr has proved themselves able to dish out much, much worse insults than "may the angel..." (stuff like "you look horrible, why are you even alive" for example) this might just be more annoyance than genuine hatred.)

So basically, while a normal person might say "Ow! Fuck!" when they stub their toe on something, Chara "Sesquipedalian loquaciousness" Dreemurr starts up an anime villain speech at nothing in particular while Asriel giggles and possibly records in the background. (Because of Asriel's apparent love for anime, he'd probably find his sibling's way of speaking to be the coolest thing ever as well as thinking it makes Chara some sort of uber-genius (note: it does not))

3. Okay so, since they tend to fixate on being impeccable in every way, even for the smallest of things, they can get embarrassed very easily and...very dramatically. Not finding the best word for every situation (particularly if they end up saying something wrong), not getting a perfect score on the test, anyone (who isn't the Dreemurrs) seeing them when their appearance is anything less than completely spotless.

They shall freeze and go completely blood red, they shall squeal and run off to their room. They will lie face down, not making a sound, and stay there for...hours. They will not respond, they will not be consoled. They have recently learnt they're not literally the best at everything ever and no, nothing will ever be okay again.

...They'll be back to normal within a day, though, boastful and eager to impress as ever. I think at some point they do learn that maybe not being perfect isn't the end of the world...eventually. Anyway, heard someone saying that hell exists for Flowey and it is minor inconveniences and that is true but hell also exists for Chara and it is minor embarrassments.

(Yes, I am aware this is very exaggerated, it's just more fun that way)

They have an equally dramatic, though positive, reaction to praise and compliments. Giddily skipping around and smiling ear to ear for hours, they tend to preen and straighten up, and it turns out they were lying and can cry, (a lot) just not out of sadness or fear. Though, they do get somewhat good at downplaying how much they care in front of acquaintances or strangers (even if they are nice and polite about it). Technically, only the Dreemurrs are allowed to know that Chara feels emotions.

(Also they have the same reaction to realising they are in fact the prophesied angel in the murder run, despite not being a praiseworthy accomplishment in any way, they're just happy to be, well...special. They always knew the prophecy was about them! Of course they were the angel, they're the best person in the world after all, finally they have the title they always deserved! Oh dear...)

#Undertale #Chara Dreemurr #hey look! I did a thing #some quick fire hcs i'll probably elaborate on later #they named themself after the star #they don't like video games #they're terrible at puzzles #they don't actually like fighting all that much #they have a sketchbook #their locket is white and upside down #they really like nature and the majority of animals #they said their birthday was 99999 #I might add more to certain headcanons in a bit #i answered a thing #nice people

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jaelijn · 11 months

Text

Thoughts on The Thing in the OFMD finale under the cut because I need to articulate this somewhere and I haven't seen anything similar expressed, though at this point I'm not going into the tags anymore. Spoilers obviously.

And because Tumblr no longer lets you effectively keep things out of the tags/search even though I would rather no one but my followers saw this: If you hated the finale, move on. This post is not for you.

I feel like people are forgetting that this isn't primarily an escapist realistically historically pirate show, it's a queer narrative.

And Izzy's queer storyline isn't and has never been "discover sexuality, achieve key to self and life happily ever after" (that's Ed's and Stede's), it's "it's never too late". It's never too late to experience queer joy. Even if you're 95 and one foot in the grave, you can still discover the queer community. Even if you spent your whole life hiding it so far, you can still have it now. Even if you die of AIDS tomorrow you can still go to pride today. Even if some bastard might gun you down tomorrow for no fucking reason other than hating queer folks, you can still have this: queer joy and queer community. It is never too late for queer joy.

And the response to one of our own dying isn't to crawl into a hole and be afraid. It's to be even more aggressivley and life-affirmingly queer. It's new starts and weddings and parties. It's a fuck you to every time one of our own dies brutally. When we lose people of our own, the best thing we can do is to celebrate life. Queer life and queer joy and the queer community. This is what queer pride IS.

Does it suck when someone dies? Yes! Yes! It sucks majorly. But it's a part and a reality of queer lifes. Sometimes one of us dies way before their time. Most of the time it's unfair. Sometimes one of us only finds us when it's already late. Sometimes we can't have a full and happy queer life. It sucks. It's tragic. But it's a part of the story that needs to be told, because the worst thing we can do is pretend tragedy doesn't exist in queerness, to erase the tragedy from memory and thought and with it the people we owe most to remember because they are no longer with us. And while we need queer joy, we also need tragedy: If only to remind us to be even louder, even prouder, even queerer! And a show where there is queer characters who continue that queer joy is a place to tell this story - this is not a show where one queer death erases all queerness from the narrative, this is a show where EVERYTHING is queer.

And narratively: I knew Izzy was dead from the moment of the Pinocchio joke. The villain wasn't going to let him get away; it was happening. (Incidentally, it is foreshadowed exactly like Lucius's 'death' was: a life-threatening loss of limb early in the series.). But while Lucius's 'death' was sharp and brutal and unwarranted and unmourned AND caused by one of our own, Izzy's death doesn't come before Izzy can complete his arc, it comes at its culmination and it comes by a villain. It's not supposed to be something to be celebrated, of course not - it's death! It's tragic! But Izzy dies after having let go of his own toxicity, after having experienced the most happiness of his life and while being confident that the people he loves are safe. He can let them go on without him. The fact that it is heartwrenching is the point, but it's in no shape or form a death that is Bad Writing (tm).

And it's cathartic. That's what death is supposed to be. That the crew are able to move on isn't that they don't care - it's that Izzy left them with the legacy of celebrating their community ESPECIALLY WHEN they might die the next day.

I see a lot of people saying that the other characters don't seem to care. I don't understand what show those people have watched. I can only assume they have their heads so far up their arses in the generalised "MCD is Evil" that they can't accept that sometimes a character death is narrative catharsis and that that rage completely blinds them to subtle emotion (and also not subtle emotions: This is Ed "hide in his cabin to have a cry" Teach openly sobbing on the deck of the ship for the love of everything!). They obviously haven't watched anyone's face in the scenes of Izzy dying - nor during the funeral either:

Anyway - yes, the death hurts. It's supposed to hurt. But it makes narrative sense, it concludes Izzy's arc logically and powerfully and his legacy is, to me, a very very important queer story.

I, too, hope to never have a queer friend die, but if it happens, I hope that I'll have the strength to honour their death and their life by LIVING more proudly, more queerly in their memory, not by denying that they have died. Or by denying that I, too, might die at any time.

#jaelijn talks #i can't avoid this showing up in the tags #and i want to tag for spoiler reasons alone #but if you hate the finale just move along nothing to see here #if you start shit you will be blocked #tl;dr:#why the thing in the finale that everyone seems to hate #matters so much so much so much to me as queer person #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death

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