#12/8/2024

[pnsge]

i love my friends and my friends love me 🥰

[apothepoet]

Infection

I can feel it. It's right there, on my skin, splitting me open to weave itself in between my blood vessels. I can feel it. I can't get rid of it. It stands strong when I try to claw it off. All the comes off are chunks of red- I can't get rid of it. I know what it wants. It's told me, in careful words, that it will pry me out of my shell, fill in the hollowness left behind. i know what it wants. I won't tell it no. It has no reason to listen to me; there are threats that lay upon its mouldy tongue. Results conclusive, the thought experiment pointless. I won't tell it no. I can only give up. Give in, surrender. Succumb to the infinite pain as I get scooped out of my- its skin. I can only give up It will only blink. A wide smile spreading across its new face, satisfied in its accomplishment. It is born anew, but it will only blink.

[omnya-a-shoman]

حدثتها أن:

تسير في طريق تعافيها وحدها دون التدخل في طرق الآخرين.. أن تؤمن أن التعافي هو رحلة طويلة نهايتها موتها.. تسعى دائمًا أن تكون أفضل نسخة من نفسها.. أن تكون جيدًة بما يكفي، لن تكون كاملةً مهمها حاولت، لكن يمكنها أن تصل حد الجيد بما يكفي، وتحقيق ذلك رائع وعظيم ، تقبلي هذا النقص فيكِ وتابعي تعافيك.. ربما هذه هي أعظم خدمة يمكنكِ تقديمها للآخرين.. أن تُسلِّمي تمامًا أن حدود استطاعتك في الحياة هي نفسك، ليس لك سلطة ع مخلوق آخر مهما كان دورك في حياته، ارخي يداك، كوني أكثر منطقية، ركزي في تعافيك وحدود استطاعتك.. ربما ترين الأمر سهلًا الآن لكنه طريق شاق للغاية نتائجه تستحق..

تعاملي مع الأمر كأنك لا تملكين خيارًا آخر..

[6kate1bishop6]

So sorry but

You’ve never been to a gas station?

neither me nor my parents drive so i have a very limited experience with cars, like ive been in cars but just like taxis or my friends parents taking me to like play areas or day trips etc when i was like 11 and we never really stopped at gas stations??? idk ive probably been to one but genuinely i cannot remember it

also US gas stations arent really equivalent to uk service stations to me at least like this is in my very uneducated opinion but like i think they have slightly different functions? like service stations are just fill up on petrol or whatever it is and then theres like a tescos or morrisons attached and they dont sell all the same stuff as gas stations like hot food at least i THINK so

actually nevermind im lying i just remembered i went to one like two years ago it was an electric charging station though and it only had a costa

anyway all this to say i know nothing about cars

[6kate1bishop6]

thank you for the tag !!!!!!!!

charmed if im being entirely honest

depends how much were stretching the definition of disney movie does the princess diaries count?

#8D5495 its my ao3 site skin

if this means eating out then pizza express if this means like a physical location then my uni room bc it was really comfortable

not my problem by ciara smyth, threads that bind + hearts that cut by kika hatzopoulou

i listen to a lot of music and am notoriously bad at categorising genres so uhh were going for loose definitions for this one: dnb/electronic: chase & status, becky hill, nia archives, fred again.., the streets hip-hop: little simz, kendrick lamar, mf doom, berwyn jazz: ezra collective pop: chappell roan, rihanna, nelly furtado, rachel chinouriri r&b: greentea peng, raye, fka twigs, jorja smith rock: my chemical romance, porridge radio, fontaines d.c. metal: babymetal indie(pop/rock/assorted genre idk indie is made up): florence + the machine, hozier, the last dinner party

exposing myself as someone that listened to musicals in 2019 but uhh hadestown or the lightning theif musical

never been to a gas station

cat

dragon less so because its my favourite and more because ive spent too much time learning welsh on duolingo and i think draig is now the only fantasy animal that exists in my head anymore

pansy

we dont have bath and body shop(?) so uhh satsuma perfume from body shop?

icl i hate candles

knitting i learnt it first and so of course cannot crochet as a result

tags: @kittenwivfangs @iron-sides @santes-dwynwen

Favorite TV series?

Favorite Disney movie?

Favorite color? But it has to be hyper specific.

Favorite place to eat?

Favorite book?

Favorite singer from each genre?

Favorite musical if you have one?

Favorite bottled drink from a gas station?

Favorite animal?

Favorite fantasy animal?

Favorite flower?

Favorite bath and body perfume scent?

Favorite Yankee candle?

Crochet or knitting?

@automaticsoulharmony @galaxys-universe @zzzubie @bluetiger3000 @sagaofa-dying-star @small-giggle @clawedinmyprofessions @dexleonard @jess-quillkiller @0-the-muffin-man-0 @marylily-my-beloved @my-castles-crumbling @julyrivers @notallstarsarebright

And anyone else who sees this

Ps I didn’t tag you @sellingbonesforsapphirestones because I’ve already asked you guys all the questions lol, feel free to answer again however

[night-lie]

𝔻𝔼𝔸𝕋ℍ ℕ𝕆𝕋𝔼-tober Day 28: Chess

[messenger-of-babel]

Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: Chris is plagued by memories, nightmares, and the dream of you. (Chris Redfield x reader)

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: UNIT OF A MAN CHRIS REDFIELD. I love how he looks in Re8 (re7 Chris broke my heart and cut the brakes on my car fr). Veryyy minor language, I swore like once. It's funny I came here to be a resi blog and look at how the turn tables. Anyways, Chris stans rise up y'all are so nice~ xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alone in the car, Chris was left with his thoughts a little longer than he would have liked.

Thumbing the lighter, he brings the flickering flame to his mouth, lighting the stick that hung from the press of his lips. With a deep inhale and slow close of his eyes, he lets the nicotine work its way around his system, blissfully whisking the worries from his mind. His muscles loosen under the layers of tactical and cold weather gear, finger relaxing on the gun trigger and letting the weapon rest in his lap. These were the moments that Chris Redfield let the memories catch up with him.

 His team was setting up in their operation in Miranda’s village, voices occasionally cutting in through his radio, but they didn’t need him right now. He could have a moment to himself among the chaos of it all, and deep down he knew his team gave him the space deliberately. For a moment, he stopped running for just a second and let his mistakes settle in.

Most of the time he thought of Piers.

He thought of the young man who came to him all those years ago and dragged him out of the pit he had dug himself into. The stern face of the young soldier who tore away the coffin lid of alcohol and blacking out in alleyways, pulling him back into the light. Who made him a captain again, who never gave up on him. The very same friend who pushed himself past the limits of being human to save Chris. To save the world.

When he was younger and more guilt ridden, he had played out the 'what if' scenarios like clockwork. What Piers would be doing now if he was alive, if Chris had been able to hand the mantle over to him like he intended. It had morphed into what Piers might have done if Chris had died instead, taken his place in the escape pod and been granted the chance to see the sun again. It was endless nights of lost sleep; the dreams being replaced with nightmares every time he thought of one of those situations. His sanity and his mind hung on by a thread in those moments, doing everything he could to not relapse into the place he was before Piers. He slipped more often than he'd like, but the seared face of Piers haunted the back of his eyelids like a ghost, and eventually, he always put the bottle back down.

The second person he thought of was Jill.

She was still alive, but not the same person she had been back in S.T.A.R.S. He couldn’t blame her though; he was hardly the same either. He was more rugged, more gruff, weather beaten and fucking tired. Despite the times she caught his gaze and bluntly told him to stop worrying, he never really could. She was like his lifeline back to the Chris of the past, where he cracked smiles more often than not and spent time making jokes at the captains expense. That kind of Chris who was young and full of cheek, brimming with the audacity of youth.

and with youth came naivety and innocence.

Joining the S.T.A.R.S team as ex-military he thought he had seen everything, which had given him the boisterous ego infamous among the RPD. The fact that he missed that naivety drew a copper taste to his mouth, forcing himself to swallow and take another drag of the cigarette. Back when Wesker was Captain Wesker, and Chris's loyalty was intact and oblivious to the sting of betrayal. When he still had Barry and Dewey and Dooley and Brad. Things were simpler, despite how often he liked to brag about what went on in his job. Yet at the end of the day, he was still passionate about serving and protecting the people he loved. He thought he was making a difference.

Jill never said outright that she was mad at him, she was his partner after all. Guilt had clawed way for a burning rage when he thought he had lost her, settling in his chest like a poison. Then she had come back, with a fire in her eyes that spoke to kill him. They had worked their differences out over the years, overcoming the scars of that ordeal together. The mansion, the canyon, the incident in Africa, all of those they had talked past with more than a bottle of whisky between them, and for like a small moment it was like it had never happened. They moved forward, together. stronger. He was more grateful for her company and support than he showed, and he knew that Jill would be uncomfortable if he brought it up.

Currently his mind was stuck on Ethan.

Ethan Winters, who he had lied to about the situation involving his family. He knew that Ethan deserved to know, deserved to know about Mia, his daughter Rose. Maybe his heart had gotten more and more calloused over the years, building slowly till he felt very little at all. It was so easy to make the calls, to think of the bigger picture all the time. For the greater good of the world, unable to see the pain he caused when he took away the only world that Ethan cared about.

And now Ethan was fighting tooth and nail to get it back.

Chris respected how the man had marched bravely into the face of death for the sake of his family, to get back his daughter. Even though Chris had warned him not to and Ethan caused an insurmountable amount of inconvenience in his wake; Chris respected him. He knew that Ethan would unlikely forgive him when he found everything out, would curse him for hurting who he had thought were his loved ones. Chris knew he had failed him already, so the sting of that thought had dulled each hour he spent in this cursed village. The village that Ethan Winters was currently burning down in the name of love.

Chris wanted to shake the man down, to tell him to stop fighting and to let him and his team handle it. That his emotions were getting the better of him, and he wasn't going to get anywhere with just willpower and a handgun. He wanted nothing more than to tell him he was being an idiot, and that Chris himself would never make such stupid decisions. Yet he couldn't make the words form in his mind, knowing he himself had been just like him once, willing to throw himself in the way of everything for one person.

You.

Chris had made many mistakes in his life, but you never were one. If anything, you were the one thing that was going right for him when everything seemed wrong. When he had come knocking on your door late at night, worn out from work, you always welcomed him in with a warm smile. No one knew about you two, and that's the way both of you preferred to keep it. You were a regular cop working with the RPD, letting you both trade glances with each other in the hallways and a few too many stolen kisses in the evidence room. He had a faint feeling that Jill suspected something, but if she knew she never said.

He loved how warm you were, how kind-hearted. Late nights lying in your bed talking about life, the past and the future. Leaning over his chest with sparkling eyes one night, you had told him why you had become an officer. Something with a wage big enough to pay for your two younger sister's tuition, so they wouldn't have to face the level of poverty you had. Something that could help others get off the streets, keep the kids safe and away from the drugs and addictions that plagued Raccoon's backstreets. With a soft smile on your lips, you told him of how you wanted to buy your mother a bigger house one day, with enough money sent home each week that she would never have to wonder if she could afford heat in winter again.

His breath was stolen at the genuine way you told him of your childhood, your upbringing and struggles. The way your eyes still glimmered with life after everything, that you were still able to see the good in things. The way that you used it to make yourself stronger. Although he had been in S.T.A.R.S, in that moment he wanted nothing but to have a fraction of the sheer strength you had.

Then had come the Arklay mission, which he left for so suddenly there was little room for more than a brief peck on the cheek and a reassurance that he would be back. That hadn't been enough to smooth the worry lines from your forehead, but you let him go anyways, fingers uncurling from the material of his uniform. He wished he had looked back just a little longer, held you just a little closer, not knowing that would be the last time he ever saw you.

Of course, everything in Arklay happened, the memory of that making him sigh and tap his fingers restlessly on the windowsill. Another drag of the cigarette brought his shoulders down from bunching near his ears. exhaling the plume slowly, he closed his eyes and let himself indulge in the thought of you. It was nearly your anniversary, a week off in fact. It was the only time he allowed himself to think of you, the only time he could let himself remember the curve of your smile and the glow of your eyes. If you had been allowed to be together, you would be celebrating your 24th anniversary this year. He wondered how many of those you might have been married for, if you would have had children or any on the way. Where you would have moved to, the house you would have wanted, the life you could have built.

But it hadn't worked like that.

He had left to chase Wesker, hoping he could end it quickly and come home to your arms, body tracing its way home like a beacon. He saw traits of himself in the way Ethan fought, fighting for his daughter and wife the same way Chris had fought for you. Instead, all he got was the news of Raccoon being destroyed, and taking his heart with it. His eyes had been locked onto the grainy TV of the European hotel room, shock making tears sting the back of his eyes. He had raced back, Wesker be damned. He could always chase him down again, but you? He didn't think he could survive another night restless like that again.

He had run home like the fear of God was under his feet, eventually finding Jill. It had been an accidental reunion, and he had been more than glad to see her alive. Someone was alive, which meant that there was hope. But when she regarded him with sad eyes and a slight hitch in her tone, he faltered. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt more fear than he did in that moment, vision blurring at the corners as she pulled something from her jacket pocket to give to him.

Maybe Valentine had pieced it together after all.

For all the horrors, monsters and battlefields Chris Redfield had seen, nothing had hurt him more than seeing your badge lying in the middle of her palm. He had demanded answers, not even caring if the tears burnt themselves to the forefront, but Jill refused. her lips were sealed tight, looking down and away from him.

"For your own good." She had said firmly, jaw set tight. "You don't…you don't want to know. They wouldn't have wanted you to know." She said softly, before quietly muttering her apologies. That had sealed the deal for him, heart beating out of time in his chest. All he could do was close his fingers around the cold piece of metal he scooped from her palm, blood stained and sharp.

Chris was no fool. he knew what had happened in Raccoon prior to it being bombed. The terror on the streets, the outbreak that spread like fire. he knew of cops and S.T.A.R.S members alike that turned, but he had always had a hope that you had gotten out. You were smart, so much smarter than him. But as Jill handed him your badge, he knew that no matter how hard he tried to fight it, you were gone.

Not knowing what happened to you exactly ate at him for years, plaguing his nights and soaking his sheets with sweat. It was the same dream, hand extending out towards him, pain written on your face. "Help me." you'd plead to him, over and over. He'd try his best, but he wouldn't be able to stop the way that your skin fell from your bones, melting off your muscles and running blood down your fingertips. He tried to hold you each time, trying to keep you together as you thrashed and screamed. His touch only seemed to make you decay further, skin rippling and warping under his fingertips. With a final ""Help me," you'd lunge for his neck without fail, jerking him upright with wide eyes and a rabbiting heart. He wasn't sure what was worse, wondering if you had turned and gone though the pain of becoming infected, or experienced the horror of watching a bomb come down on you instead of a rescue chopper.

It was too hard to imagine, so over the years he built his own story. It had started originally that you died doing something heroic, saving a family or some poor civilian. That was in your nature, always kind-hearted. It slowly morphed into you fighting for your life, bravely tracking down horde after horde to defend what survivors you could find before taking your last stand, being the hero he knew you to be. However, in his old age those stories lost their shine, and the comfort they brought turned into a grimace. Nothing could take away that you lost your life too young. So now he thought of a different one, a special one he only indulged in for this time of the year.

One where you were waiting at home for him as usual, radiant and beautiful as ever. He'd be able to come back home from this mission, taking his weary body up to your embrace and letting himself rest there as you welcomed him back. Hip popped as you leant against the front porch, wearing the same uniform he had left you in all those years ago. He could gaze into your bright eyes again, cover the smirk on your lips with his own when he kissed you, hand on your waist to remind himself that you were real. He'd take you out to some local restaurant you had both made your favourite, something he imagined you found together when you moved out of the city. In a quieter place like the countryside, just what you wanted. He'd take great pride ordering the meal you liked, something that he knew by heart. It was a dream where he got to see you all dressed up, smiling at him from across the flickering candlelight, reaching over to envelop his hand with yours. Then he would cast his eyes down and see the ring on your finger, filling his heart with warmth.

That was something that his nightmares couldn't even touch. The thought of you becoming a zombie, one of the infected and rotting away in his arms was banished the nights he let him indulge in the fantasy. A world where his leaving hadn't damned you, where his touch still meant promises for the future, not a death sentence.

For a full moment it would all feel warm and vivid and real, as if you had come down from your heavenly seat just to bless him for another moment. In that small corner of his heart, the rot couldn't touch you. You beamed up at him as radiant as the day he left you, a smile forever etched into his mind.

When he opened his eyes next you were gone, and he was back to sitting in the car preparing his assault on Miranda. There was a weak voice in the back of his head telling him that you were still waiting back home and all he had to do was finish this mission. He kept it alive, even through the crackle of the radio as his team patched in; already in position. He crushed out his cigarette, reloading his gun by muscle memory. As he exited the car he cast one look up at the bleak sky before patting the smooth, RPD police badge tucked into the lining of his vest, right over his heart.

"happy anniversary babe." he murmured softly, and he knew somewhere, someplace, you were smiling on the other end.

[serickswrites]

Kneel

Warnings: capture, restraints, humiliation, future torture implied, cruel, sadistic whumper, physical violence, blood, broken bones, bloody nose, blood from the mouth

"Kneel," Whumper sneered at Whumpee. They had draped themself across Whumpee's throne.

The two knights dragged Whumpee forward. Whumpee's arms were bound behind their back, tightly, shoulders pulled painfully tight. Whumpee held their head high as they were dragged forward. Their crown was still high atop their head. They were still ruler of these lands.

Whumper and their band of minions had struck the castle in the dead of knight, taking everyone by surprise. There hadn't been time to launch a counter attack. There had only been time to get out as much of their court as they could. Whumpee, of course, had chosen to remain behind to buy as much time for the escaping court as they could.

Still, there were those that remained with them. And those few had been forced to gather in the throne room and watch as Whumper humiliated Whumpee.

Whumpee would not give Whumper the satisfaction of begging. It didn't matter if begging would save them. Their siblings had gotten out. The dynasty's line would live even if they died. They would not bow before Whumper. They would not break. They would not give in to the invaders.

"Whumper said kneel," one of Whumper's knights said as they kicked the back of Whumpee's knees.

Whumpee did not cry out as their knees hit the hard marble, though pain sang up their joints. They would not cry out. They would not beg. They looked off, ignoring the knights and Whumper. They would not engage.

Whumper jumped up and stalked towards Whumpee. "I'm going to enjoy flaying you alive, Whumpee. I'm going to enjoy dragging you through the streets so your subjects can see how far you can fall. And I'm going to enjoy leaving your body on display and letting the carrion pick your bones clean."

Whumpee did not say anything. They did not look at Whumper. They would not look at Whumper. They would not give in.

Without warning, Whumper kicked Whumpee in the face. Hard. Whumpee felt their nose crack and bleed. They listed sideways, the only thing keeping them up was the death grip on their shoulders by the two knights. Whumper kicked them again, this time catching Whumpee's mouth. Whumpee sputtered around the blood filling their mouth.

"You are going to be the most fun I have had in a long time, Whumpee. I am going to enjoy breaking you body, mind, and soul. And then I will have your crown."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[brian-in-finance]

Video 📹 from Instagram

Remember… every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. — Semisonic, Closing Time, 1998

[mikeywayarchive]

deathcabforcutie: We will be joining @mychemicalromance at @metlifestadium on Saturday, August 9th next year. Tickets go on sale this Friday at 10am local time (link in bio). See you there!

[Nov 12, 2024]

[nouklea]

My humble contribution to @wylerkinktober 2024.

Main prompt : Day 16 : Sex pollen

Other prompts used :

Day 1 : Scratching

Day 6 : Getting caught

Day 7 : Being Loud

Day 8 : Hate Sex

Day 10 : Hair pulling

Day 12 : On the floor

Day 16 : Virginity

Day 16 : Marking

Day 18 : Smells

Day 25 : Blood

[ashrakatt-23]

صدق وعده

ونصر عبده

وأعز جنده

وهزم الأحزاب وحده..

[apothepoet]

Meaning

I'd almost forgotten what it sounds like. That word, that single word. It used to mean so much to me. I used to hold it close to my heart, close to my soul. It was me. It was all I knew.

Why did it matter? Why did I care so much? It's just a word, a simple word. It meant nothing. It still means nothing. I'd lost it for a reason, afterall. It was for the best.

I think I hated it, for a while. I stored all my loathing in the very idea of it, all that it represented. Everything that happened. Too much had changed for me to love it, for me to be it. So hate it was all I could do.

But I'm free now, or so I tell myself. And I turn around, and there it is, laying on the tips of everyone's tongues when they see me. I remember what it sounds like, now. It's my name.

[hi-im-a-fandomgirl]

Fanime 2024 part 2

[miss0atae]

My Relationship Chart for LoveSick 2024 (after EP 12)

I didn't change a lot of things this time. I only changed the link between Yuri and Noh. I couldn't find the right way of explaining what was going on between Per and Win (I'm also trying not to jinx their relationship).

You can find previous versions here and here and also here.

[imekitty]

Today I worked on:

Disillusioned: 236 words

Last sentence written:

But the knot in his gut remained tight.