I think we overlooked the fucked up polycule dynamic potential of team bolas x the dog that hunts them
they gave him a house. he paid rent. he hunted them, picked them off one by one, but when they sought to hunt him he ran. the tormented and the tormented. the hunters and the hunter. them huddling around a fire, burning themselves as he lurks in the dark to devour any that stray too far from the light. when they gather their rocks and throw them as one he flees, tail between his legs as he hunts for his own safety
is there not familiarity in that? is there not love in the violence? let me kill you, i will return your greatest treasure. let me kill you, you’ve already destroyed me and mine. there is loneliness to the dark and hate in the bloodshed. what is hate if not the other side of love. what if obsession if not love driven too far. all of them bathed in the blood of the others, baptized by sin after sin after sin. mothers carry their litters in their mouths- when do the teeth at your throat start to feel gentle? bad once said about cellbit, “it was like throwing a ball, and saying fetch.” that went wrong for him. cellbit once said about bad, “you’ve gone soft.” that went wrong for him, too.
do you remember the slime kills? slime was bad’s first blood, his first taste of oncoming violence. bad was slime’s last kill, an end to the desperation that was sparked with the first base raid. do you remember that first day? bad on the water, slime on the shore, calling him in like a siren. ‘look at me, look how killable i am’ says the bait, desperately trying to build a trap even as the prey fears the untied-noose wrapping around its throat. do you remember the tension? do you remember how the sun punished them both?
‘look at me, look how killable i am,’ says the poisoned frog to the wolf. the bird to the dog. do you remember the kindness? the killing and the killing and the killing, and the laughter. the killing the killing the killing, and the earnest offer to help? remember how jaiden fed herself to the dog. remember how the dog listened. ‘where is your stuff? i’ll take you to your body.’ thousands of blocks away. then more blood, no screaming, just laughter.
do you see? do you see? they built him a dog house, and he paid them rent. hunters snd hunters. he killed them to bring back their children and he failed and they brought back his instead. how can he ever repay that? their blood coats him. his blood coats them. all of them animals. all of them desperate. remember the familiarity of teeth and the taste of your own death. when its all said and done what will they miss the most- being the hunters? or being the hunted?
and then they all make out and take turns getting beaten to death by jaiden. shes part of the group murder but not the romance of death. instead she gets to go to the club (the Spawn Rave)
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🏨 gimme those blorbo rooms fdsfdsfsfsd, since it’s Pinterest can I ask for more than one? XD if so ima ask to Karimas and Shaheens OH and also Gideons (low key I know what valens/yazans looks like but its a good excuse for u to get to share) so if u want to Valens and Yazans wild be fun 😌
K BYEEE <3 😘
LOLL im glad you asked and yes i will give you all of them 😌😂😂
Karima: she’s obsessed with collecting room decor and she has a crochet corner, half of her decor is crocheted too honestly 😂 I think she also has a thing for animal print stuff esp curtains and pillow cases, she’d keep small ceramics stuff she made with daemon everywhere
Shaheen: idk why it was funny to imagine his college dorm lol he uses space very efficiently also his desk is very important 🧠
Gideon: his room is so big and so empty but he’s barely home so who cares, the only notable thing about it besides the diabolical toys collection on display is the display cabinet he keeps all his medals, plane models, pictures, uniforms etc in
Yazan: yazan’s room as you know is a Dumpster 😂 it’s impossible to find anything in there and it’s never tidy, also so many posters and records + ofc drum corner
Valen: very pretty but his room is an entire house in itself you need directions to where everything is 💀 Texas king bed with a canopy, mirror above bed/on ceiling, maximalist unique decor and very beautifully coordinated color wise. Also huge portraits of himself obviously lol
[OC headcanons: Picture Edition!]
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i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.
that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.
weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.
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i don't know how to be merely acquaintances when we used to be friends. or i think we used to be. i don't know how to yearn for a simple hello when you've been heaping your affection on me months ago, and i don't know how to talk to you when you won't say anything. when suddenly it's all about me. you know i have nothing to say, you know my brain is void of everything but horribleness and i cannot tell you about my day because i don't even know about my day. i cannot tell you about my day when i know you won't listen, when i know you'll apply your philosophy to my world and don't believe me when i say that everything is terrible. i don't know how to be the person you seem to think i am, or the person you want in your life. i don't know if you want anyone else in your life now that you're in love and sappy, found another recipient for your affections, leaving me empty and wounded and yearning.
you said you missed me. said it many times, while i was gone. now i'm back, have been back, and i wonder how you missed me, why you missed me, when you won't talk to me. i think you mistook missing for worrying. i think you mistook caring for a feeling of obligation. i think you like missing me more than talking to me.
and i think i can't breathe with how much that hurts
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