#this one is serious and not

[ccieatchildren]

Scars

Shower steam filtered in through the open bathroom door, warming the bedroom and permeating the smell of soap in the air. They had been reapplying ointment, what little he had given them, to their still healing wounds and rebandaging them. Whumpee turned from their spot on the edge of the bed to watch as he walked in. There was a certain swagger to the way he carried himself that they despised. However, while Whumpee hadn’t been here for long, they had already learned not to engage with him if they didn’t have to– it wasn’t worth the risk– so Whumpee just stared.

A towel was slung low around his waist and his hair was still damp, leaving droplets of water in his wake. His half naked body was on full display, and Whumpee couldn’t stop from curiously analyzing each part of him. They typically didn’t get to see much of him due to clothing or dark lighting getting in the way, but now they could see the various scars littering his frame. 

There were two slash marks on his lower right abdomen that formed an uneven cross, a line of indented flesh that seemed to encircle his whole left bicep, a bullet wound sat right above on his shoulder, and on his right collarbone were four deep cuts, almost like claw marks. Whumpee hadn’t expected someone like him to have so many cicatrices, he was a simple researcher, and while they did get hurt sometimes, they typically were small cuts from broken glass or chemical burns. They had their own to confirm. Furthermore, normal villains usually had many more lesions and blemishes across their figures from many fights and powers going haywire. Though, he wasn’t like many normal archetypes anyway. 

Their train of thought was cut off by a deep chuckle. “Like what you see?” 

Whumpee blushed, glaring at him, and turning back to what they were initially doing. He continued to snigger at their embarrassment while they furiously tried to refocus on patching themself up. The thought of the line being cliché and overused made them feel a bit better, and they continued to bash him in their head to calm themself down as they worked. 

The rustling of a towel could be heard as he dried off his hair, sounding like a wet dog shaking itself dry. Then, they could hear him shuffling in the background, presumably fetching clothes from the closet. Whumpee tried to keep their gaze solely on what they were doing, but could no longer concentrate on their task. Having been caught staring, and him misinterpreting their attention, irritated them, but now they were even more curious. Forcing themself not to look, only made them want to look more. Whumpee cursed themself for having the self restraint of a five year old…

Slightly pivoting their head to peek at him again as he picked out his attire, they barely managed to stop themself from gasping at the sight. His back was still turned to them, and scrawled there was one of the most unsettling wounds they had ever seen. Along his upper back, spanning from the left shoulder to the right the word “BASTARD” was carved in large letters. The raised skin along his shoulder blades conveyed that the cut had healed long ago, but whoever had done it, made sure to slash deep enough so the mark would stay there forever. They had seen many things, from their own burnt skin melting off, to arms completely torn off, but the deliberately and aggressively engraved swear on his body disturbed them in a way they had never felt before.

Whumpee had never met anyone, villain or otherwise, who intentionally and methodically cut someone in a way that would leave them alive but always wearing a reminder of their experience. Especially in a way that exuded so much wrath and resentment. At least not until Whumper. They looked down at themself and the injuries that adorned their body. Was he using the same techniques on them that someone else had used on him? The thought made them shiver. Vigorously returning to their task, Whumpee swore to themself that they would not allow Whumper to scar them like he had been himself. 

— — — — —

“Just ask.”

Whumpee flinched. They had just finished one of their sessions and Whumper decided to patch them up afterwards this time. They would much rather do it themself, as his hands would always roam to places they didn’t need to, but Whumper would use better medicine whenever he played medic, and knew how to bind the wounds tighter than they ever could with their, now constantly, trembling fingers. They also weren’t allowed to say no to him.

“W-What?”

“I can practically hear the questions bouncing around in your head.” He suddenly pulled the bandage harshly, pulling a gasp out from them. “Not to mention the hole you’re burning into my back with your staring.” The hand on their middle considerably tightened, “it’s starting to piss me off, so ask.”

Whumpee contemplated his demand, unsure if he meant it or if it was just another one of his tricks, baiting them to make a mistake just so he could beat them again. But they could feel him getting agitated behind them, therefore they had to say something. However, Whumpee didn’t think asking him what was really on their mind would go over very well. They had to think of something quick, but, unfortunately, when it came to talking they didn’t work very well under pressure. So…

“How do you get your hair so sleek?” Whumpee wanted to smash themself over the head with a glass. This was the best their brain could come up with? Might as well say goodbye to a calm evening.

Whumper was still behind them, and they were already saying their prayers, until he barked out a laugh. “What?” The amusement pervaded his tone. “You have been ruminating for the past three days on how I do my hair?”

“… Yes.”

He continued to cackle behind them as Whumpee quietly panicked, hoping that was enough to quell him.

“Aww, that’s cute, darlin’. Didn’t know you still had the quips in you.” He took a moment to pretend to wipe a tear from his eye. “But I don’t think that’s what you’ve been thinkin’ about.” Arms locked around their waist, pulling them flush against him. A dark voice whispered in their ear, “Now, I’ve indulged your little game,” his arms constricted, pushing into their stomach, agitating their injuries, “letting you figure out the best way to approach this,” Whumpee looked away. “If I’m honest, it was quite nice to see you contemplate whether to ask me or not,” his voice grew smug, “it means you’re learning, becoming more obedient, which will only make things easier for the both of us in the future.” Whumper squeezed even further once again, and they groaned from the pain. “For that, I’m giving you an out. Be good and I’ll reward you. So,” he growled, “ask the damn question.”

Whumpee gulped. “Fine. Ju- Just let go,” they pushed at his arms, “it hurts.”

Whumper clutched them tighter. Whumpee could feel some of their wounds reopen under the pressure. “I’ll let go when you stop wasting my time.” 

“Okay, okay,” they wheezed. “I just wanted to know about the large scar on your back,” the ache was getting worse. “The one that says bas–.”

He abruptly let them go, allowing air to filter back into their system and dampening the pain to a dull throb. “I know the one.”

Whumpee froze, trying to suppress their oncoming coughing fit. They didn’t want to set him off when he was obviously very displeased. He curtly got up and headed for the door, leaving them with the final words,

“Do not bring it up again.”

Extra:

Fuck that motherfucking mothafucka. 

Whumpee wanted to punch something, they just did what he asked and now he’s mad at them, like it’s their fault.

Fuckin’ hate that fuckin’ kidnappin’ piece of shit. They continued to curse to themself as they finished the job Whumper brusquely left to them. Closing up the now open cuts, applying ointment, and finally bandaging them for the– hopefully– last time that day. Whumpee sighed to themself. Who were they kidding, he would ruin them again at night. But at least they had a new piece of information to exploit.

It may take a while, but they will escape from here and see everyone again.

[darlingofdots]

my parents are on holiday in their mobile home

they're expected back this upcoming weekend

I just spent ten days in my childhood home to keep an eye on things

I have hidden 100 small yellow ducks all over the house

I am very excited for my parents to be back

[dirtflunk]

th unsettling knights r kissing in the dungeon, m'lord.

[cowboybeebonk]

And then she did. Happy pride.

(Alternate versions under cut)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:

15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.

None of the hijackers were from Iraq.

None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.

None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.

[chimaeraonwards]

John Cusack, the voice actor for Dimitri in Anatasia (1997), shared his statement on Palestine 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸

P.S. He has been a Palestinian supporter for years

[yallstar]

pulling sqq into the pool seemed like good revenge at the time. (regrets were had.)

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Game Vanessa reveals her secret,,

[o0kawaii0o]

Ayo 😳

[pichirobi]

you're gonna tell me they traveled through a dungeon together and never explored each other's bodies??

[trans-androgyne]

“Women and non-binary people” stop. Do you mean people with marginalized genders? Do you mean gender-oppressed people? Then say that. Stop refusing to recognize the very much gendered oppression of other trans people. There’s not some chasm of difference between how our oppressors treat a very masc non-binary person and a more binary trans man. I’m also non-binary and very much oppressed for my gender but because I’m transmasculine I could never feel comfortable in a space that marketed itself like that. Tell me what the real harm is of letting gender-oppressed mascs into spaces discussing gender oppression is. Because the consequence of not doing so is denying them space for their experiences just because of their gender identity. Do better.

[possamble]

Needlessly close reading and long commentary on chapter 57 and how the audience actually has an extremely limited view on what Marcille has been like over the course of her life.

I am once again thinking about how pre-dungeon Marcille is so quiet and stoic that she seems like a completely different person. How jarring chapter 57 is for the audience. Like you have Marcille, who has been just the most blindingly expressive person with resting baby face

And then the chapter drops a title page of Marcille hearing from Falin for the first time in four years and it's like.

Who is that. Genuinely. Would you even realize that's Marcille without the context clues?

And then the chapter just keeps coming in with the sucker punches.

We have SEEN Marcille meet strangers. It was never with this understated of a smile.

literally who the hell is this. the few times the audience gets to see some Signature Marcille Faces that they're used to is when she finally gets to see Falin again

when she's testing out her new spells

(and when Laios and Falin are fantasizing about her being their damsel in distress, funnily enough)

And then finally. Finally you get to a fully recognizable Marcille when she fucking DIES and comes back to life to geek out about necromancy.

We know she loves magic. We know she loves Falin. So it's not so surprising that she wouldn't be able to keep a mask up when thinking or talking about the things she loves. But why the mask in the first place? Where does it come from? It's tempting to think that, maybe, Falin's departure just hurt her so much that it turned her into a quiet person.

But that's only half true. If you go back, the first instance you see of this incredibly mild personality is actually introduced much earlier, in chapter 17.

What if she was always like that. What if her default after her father died was to hold people at arm's length, to never really emote past being polite and friendly. What if Falin was the first person who was able to bring her out of her shell, and when she left, Marcille just went back to how she was.

And when comparing her detached demeanour with someone else...

It's not exact, but wouldn't you say there's a resemblance? Wouldn't you think she might be trying her best to imitate what she saw of her own mother working as an accomplished mage?

It would certainly explain why she's hiding behind her portrait in her nightmare, at least.

We aren't told that Marcille has been distancing herself from everyone around her using a mature and dignified personality she modelled off her mother. But we sure as hell are shown it, I think.

[galaxyspeaking]

feeling silly goofy about One Piece again

[084392]

"i wish luffy didnt fall asleep listening to peoples backstories-" ok well i hope he falls asleep listening to his own backstory

[same-pic-of-rickroll-everyday]

Greetings trans MEN

*epic rock music plays*

Seeing as I am a cis MAN born as a MAN I figure I am a MAN expert.

So here is mu guide on becoming a MAN.

Step 1; Decide you are a MAN.

That’s it.

Thank you for coming to my talk.