#Sting down
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
formerstingray · 6 days ago
Text
how do each of the Achaeans respond to windbag Nestor’s long barely relevant anecdotes and why is odysseus’ response to do that thing ur mate does in school when ur not supposed to find something funny but hits diomedes with a barely suppressed smile which makes it impossible to hold in laughter
19 notes · View notes
ozzyeelz · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
A Minecraft phantom design based on stingrays and giant isopods :3
2K notes · View notes
acnologias-ass · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[Papalogia AU] Merry Christmas! 🎄 Have you sent a letter to Satan this year?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Someone getting coal this year I'm afraid
946 notes · View notes
arealtrashact · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
I will turn your face to alabaster
When you find your servant is your master . . .
You'll be wrapped around my finger
494 notes · View notes
ramblingguy54 · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
174 notes · View notes
kk-cats · 6 months ago
Text
Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.
It's a running joke, really.
And it helps. It really does. Because Alfred is a constant, and the thought of losing him is a terrifying thing, isn't it?
Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.
It's a running joke, really.
When Bruce's hairs start going grey. When his bones ache just a little more than they normally do. Alfred's still there. And so they laugh over it, just a little. They joke that he's going to outlive them.
Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.
Isn't that a good thing, this little joke?
He's got contingencies, after all. Preparations. So the family can take care of themselves when he's gone. Notes and books. Reminders. He worries, after all. What they'll do when he's gone.
Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.
Isn't that a good thing?
Generations after generations of Waynes. And he'll be there. To watch over the children. To be a steady constant.
Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.
But Bruce Wayne is not.
What does it mean to outgrow your young charge? To watch him go into danger. To watch him don a suit and fight.
No parent should watch their child die of old age.
But you do anyway.
Alfred Pennyworth is immortal.
But none of his children are.
163 notes · View notes
radio-writes · 10 months ago
Note
Congrats on the 300 followers Vien! for the event:
"They were there, you weren't" + "What keeps you up at night?"
Tumblr media
Embracing Faded Pages of Tainted Saints
300 Followers Event
Warnings: Mentions of past physical injuries
Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way
MDNI
Tumblr media
You stood awkwardly at the doorstep of the new hotel, unsure exactly of what to do next.
You knew there was a chance he'd be the one to open the door and greet you, but truth be told you were hoping otherwise. You thought you had worked through all your emotions about him years ago; but standing in front of him now, you realized that was far from the case.
You felt a surge of pressure almost squeezing at your heart, but you tried your best to ignore it as you offered Alastor a small smile.
"Hey, Al. Long time no see." You tried for casual, despite the way things ended the last time you were together.
"How are you—" Al finally spoke, his grin tight as his eyes narrowed at you.
A bright, bubbly woman shoved her way to the door, effectively cutting off whatever Alastor was going to say.
She grabbed you by your hands, and you did your best to shift your focus to her. You listened, responded, and tried very hard to ignore Alastor's burning gaze on you.
You were very swiftly taken into the hotel lobby, brushing right past the tall man. You were introduced to the staff and guests alike, and you painted your best smile as the blonde host swept you here and there. You merely tried to swallow past the lump at your throat as you greeted everyone.
You heard this place offered a chance at redemption, as well as some sort of protection from all the horrors Hell had to offer. You thought it was worth it, that the solace you could find in here would greatly outweigh having to be near Alastor again.
But his mere presence, just knowing that he was in the same room as you again, was already eating at you—suffocating you.
It was like you could feel the sharp stabbing pain across your gut again. The blood—the life—leaking out of you. The desperation crushing your heart. 
"I'll take it from here, Charlie, dear." You heard his voice before you felt a heavy hand at the small of your back. "This lovely demon seems to be a little bit overwhelmed. They can do with some rest, don't you think?"
The bright blonde agreed easily, allowing Alastor to quickly guide you along the halls of the hotel and away from all the excited chatter.
"You're alive." Alastor stated, his eyes set ahead of himself as he walked beside you. His hand had retracted from your body, now resting behind his back.
No thanks to you.
"Nope, still dead." You tried to joke, a soft, fleeting attempt at a laugh following it. But you stopped immediately when you realized that, despite his wide smile, Alastor didn't seem to be in the mood for jokes.
"You were bleeding heavily." He said instead.
You tried to keep your responses vague. "Yes, I...I remember."
You've thought about it many times over since your near-second-death experience. How Alastor had always been a dear friend of yours, through life on earth and Hell. How you both knew you were helpless at that time. How it was perfectly normal for him to choose to save himself instead.
You've forgiven him, at least that's what you told yourself. You still saw him as a friend, even after he abandoned you—and that's why you would never let him find out about your betrayal.
You could never hurt him like that.
You thought that this was all so crystal clear to you. That you've long healed this wound, but evidently that wasn't the case.
Just seeing him now. So well poised, so put together, cozying it up with the Princess of Hell. His smile was as you remembered it, and not a hair was misplaced on his head.
He had continued on like nothing happened, like he didn't once leave you to die.
And there was that awful, bitter, anger slowly filling your chest. That nauseating feeling of betrayal that twisted your gut. No matter how hard you tried to stick to reason, to remember all you've resolved in the past years, you just couldn't help but hate how he was able to move on so easily.
The rest of your time heading to your room was silent. Just a constant soft static noise following your steps. You spent that time fighting your base instincts to just jump him, throttle his neck, scream at him.
How could you? How could you just leave me to die like that?
Alastor finally halted by a door, his clawed hand turned the knob and ushered you in. 
You looked up at him, smiling once more as you tried to hold onto your more logical side. "I don't know how I feel about you having keys to my room." You try to joke again.
Oh did you miss the times when the two of you wasted hours in hysterics; just exchanging the dumbest jokes you could think of.
But that felt like almost two lifetimes ago.
"This is my room." Alastor clarified.
"Well that explains the swamp." You say bluntly. You walked slowly in, not exactly knowing what you were doing here now.
"I thought we could sit down for some coffee—" Alastor said, closing the door behind him. His hands reached for a coffee pot, but paused before he could reach the handle. "No no, this definitely calls for something much stronger."
He sat down on one of the seats by the fireplace, easily summoning two small glasses and a bottle of rye on the table. 
You watched him tentatively, heart tightening at the familiar sight.
There was once a time when nights like this was something you looked forward to—but it didn't seem that way anymore.
Your eyes couldn't help but narrow at how well off he looked. It's like nothing had changed for him at all.
You attempted to be civil, still, and made your way to sit across him. It's was stupid to hold a grudge against him for something like that. What he did made sense, and you shouldn't be mad about it.
Your eyes scanned the knickknacks scattered about his shelves and walls, eyes catching on a wide set of antlers mounted high above.
"That yours or a friend's?" You once again tried to lighten the mood. Whether it was for your sake or Alastor's, you weren't sure.
"We both know I've never been one for small talk, dear." Alastor said, pouring alcohol in your glass before his. He easily downs the drink he poured himself before filling it up again. "How are you alive?" His head tilted.
The moment the words left his mouth it felt like someone emptied a bucket of ice water over you.
The question simply came out of nowhere. Sure you had expected him to ask sooner rather than later, but to jump right to it?
Your half-assed smile dropped just a fraction of a bit.
Looking up at your old friend, the ever charming, ever present smile, you realized that perhaps you were being stupid—and not for the reason you originally thought.
You've been friends with this man since either of you could walk, friends through his stupid murder fixation, friends through his takeover of Hell.
But he left you for dead.
He finally found out that you survived and the first thing out of his mouth was an interrogation?
Where was your fucking apology?
So maybe, just maybe, you've been stupid this entire time. That you didn't need to be making excuses for him. That you didn't need to forgive him. That maybe your anger, your want to hurt him back, was more than valid.
You picked up your own glass and downed its contents in one go, relishing in the familiar bitter taste.
"There's no bed." You noted instead of answering your old friend, your grip was tight around the glass you held. "Where do you sleep?"
"I don't." Alastor answered simply. He moved only to fill up your glass again, but his eyes never strayed from you.
You weren't sure how much truth there was behind his words. Sinners still slept, and no matter how highly Alastor thought of himself, he still functioned the same way the rest of you do.
"What keeps you up at night, then?" You couldn't help but ask.
Perhaps it was an attempt to piss him off. Make small talk, delay from giving him answers.
But as much as you hated to admit it, it was likely because there was an answer you wanted to hear. One caused by that part of you that still hoped for your old friend to show you even just a hint of a conscience.
Perhaps if he gave you that, it would be enough for you to hold onto civility. It would be enough for your to at least honor what past friendship you had with him.
"Nothing in particular, really." Alastor glanced away from you, downing his drink once more.  "There's just no rest for the wicked, isn't that what they say?"
You followed his lead, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.
It almost felt like old times when you'd compete with him in old dingy bars.
"Ah, I figured you wouldn't be hung up on it." You held your empty glass in your hands, a finger unconsciously caressing its cool surface.
"My bad, dear." Alastor gave you a faux look of guilt, but the mockery that dripped from his tone easily gave it away. "Did you want me to mourn you for a couple decades?"
You rolled your eyes. "Considering everything we've been through, I'd have expected at least a few years." 
You noticed Alastor fill his glass up again, he knocked it back just as quickly as the previous ones.
You both looked like you were drinking your problems away, but it seemed like this was more of a habit. One formed through a lifetime of repetitions.
"I can start now if you'd like." Alastor smiled at you.
Your brows raised. "I am very clearly not dead."
"You might be soon." The static in his voice was heavier, and for a split second you could have sworn his pupils changed to dials.
Your fingers stilled against the glass you held, feeling your skin prickle at the silence that followed.
The wood in the fireplace crackled, and the eerie light coming from the green flames added just a tinge more terror to your situation.
Or it would have if the only emotion you felt wasn't an all consuming rage.
The clear threat hung in the air for a second before Alastor spoke again. "So tell me," 
How long have you been alive?
Why didn't you tell me?
 "How are you alive?" He said.
You had no idea why on earth he was angry. What gave him the right?
"We both know the answer to that already, don't we?" Your own smile tightened, teeth clenched hard to keep yourself from growling at him.
You tried to stomp out your anger, but every time you tried to reason that he used to be a friend, you couldn't help but be brought back to that time.
Lying in a pool of warm blood—your own blood. Seeing the exorcists flying down to you, racing to see who could kill you first. Turning your head, using the very last of your strength to reach out to your friend. Watching him stand from your side and melting away into shadows without you.
"Well yes, a deal, of course. But with whom? Not many demons down in this festering tar pit have that much power. You were practically gone, dear."
Ah, so it was a pride thing, you thought. He was bothered that there was someone who could do what he couldn't. 
You couldn't hold back from scoffing. "And did that ever bother you? That I was practically gone?"
He paused. The sound of static grew messier for a few seconds before Alastor gave up on his glass entirely. He opted to just grab the bottle by its neck and drank from it.
"You seem like you were hoping it did." He teased as he set the bottle down back on the table. "Shouldn't a good friend be happy I wasn't suffering?"
Your heart clenched, eyes narrowed. The both of you have danced around it this entire time, but it just seemed like there was no longer any way to stop the words as they finally slipped from your mouth.
"Shouldn't a good friend try everything to save the other?"
The accusation, the betrayal, the bitterness, finally dripped like venom from your question.
A heavy tension covered both of you once more. The elephant in the room finally addressed properly, but it seemed neither of you knew what to do with it now.
A beat of silence.
"Then, it looks like we're both such terrible friends." Alastor said, as he sunk back into his chair. You hadn't noticed the tension in his body this entire time, you weren't sure if Alastor himself noticed it either.
But as he rested his head behind him, you noticed something you failed to before now.
He looked...exhausted. His smile was in place, his hair neat, his suit wrinkle free. He looked as perfect as ever; but he looked tired.
You were sure you didn't look any more chipper currently.
You tore your eyes away from the demon that sat across you. "It's been a long night."
"It's been twenty minutes." There was finally a hint of genuine amusement in his tone, but it felt strained.
Like it slipped before he could stop it, a habit formed through decades of banter.
"Twenty too many around you." You simply shut it down.
Still, not one apology. Did he even regret it?
You felt so confused, so conflicted, so angry, and you knew you just had to leave before you did something you would regret later on—whatever that may be.
He looked like he wanted to say something as you got up, but he chose to bring the bottle of alcohol to his lips instead.
It was only when your hand landed on the door handle did he speak. "I would do it again." 
It felt like a light went out inside you somewhere.
You didn't turn around.
"I would leave you to die—over and over." Alastor's floaty voice continued. "You were a good friend, but not great enough for me to risk my own skin."
You've known your friend to be quite the liar. He knew what to say and when to say it, and he lived to crawl under people's skin and piss them off.
But at that moment, you knew it was one of the rare few instances where Alastor was honest.
"It seemed like you wanted to know." His normally mocking voice seemed softer. Like it really was just a fact and nothing more.
"The V's were there when you weren't." You found yourself saying. You turned your head to the side just a tiny bit, but still didn't turn to look at him.
The lights flickered and your hand closed around the handle of the door.
"I made a deal with the V's. Everything about you and more, in exchange for my life." You continued, almost unable to stop the words from coming out, really.
"Your defeat seven years ago was my doing."
You really were terrible friends.
"It seemed like you wanted to know, old pal."
You left his room just as the lights fully went out.
Tumblr media
174 notes · View notes
jerys · 5 months ago
Text
thinking abt merlin through the ages contending with the fact that arthur is still so present in the land. in mythology in legend in fairytales told to children in books and films and countless other forms of memory. throughout the world he is remembered still, and yes it isn't really him they're remembering, it's the legend of him, the myth, the heroic fool's gold shimmer of his legacy. but he's still here.
109 notes · View notes
captainjonnitkessler · 7 months ago
Text
Guess who's about to find out if they are allergic to wasps as well as bees!!
75 notes · View notes
doecrossing · 9 months ago
Text
Geniunely I don't get the whole song and dance ppl do abt wasps being sooo mean and aggressive. A paper wasp landed on my book while I was reading outside the other day and we just chilled for a bit until she flew away. Maybe they sting you bc you're ugly or something idk.
104 notes · View notes
manderleyfire · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Myself. I killed the old me so I could come with you.” She plucked the splinter free. “There. Well, I hope old you doesn’t haunt new you. We’ve already got enough ghosts us.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"Haunt Me" from There Is No Death, There Are No Dead by Gemma Files // "Killing the Love" from The Divorce Papers by Anne Sexton // "The Valley Song (Zoo Lullaby)" from The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Lucy Gray Baird Suzanne Collins // "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Brontë // "Herakles" by Euripides (Anne Carson's translation) // "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" by Suzanne Collins // "A Game of Thrones" by George R. R. Martin // "Crime and Punishment" by Fyodor Dostoevsky.
203 notes · View notes
galaxythreads · 7 days ago
Text
lmaooo. and this week on "why do i post to ao3" i just got a related work notif where the author's note is a detailed dissertation about what i did wrong and how in their fic they're writing a "more realistic version" of my idea "without x characters being heartless monsters"
26 notes · View notes
thatbirdrestaurant · 14 days ago
Text
Sting: How’re you today?
Rogue: I hate small talk.
Sting: I’m in love with you.
34 notes · View notes
bonefall · 1 year ago
Note
I’m rereading Po3 and despite its flaws I really enjoyed the introduction to the three. Jaykit isn’t mentioned to be blind in the first few chapters and instead they chose to show how much MORE capable he is compared to his littermates; until at the end of chapter 3, he brings up his blindness on his own. It makes forcing him to be a medicine cat SO much more frustrating because it really feels like they’re setting him up to be a warrior and choose his own fate (note i haven’t finished the reread this is just my first impression)
I like how you seem to take that path in BB regardless! It makes his arc so much more enjoyable
His arc in canon is super frustrating because he's such an independent character who clearly wants to make his own decisions in life, but then he just gets shoved into the medcat den. I LIKE that he ultimately goes there and that he enjoys it; but it was still really fucked up that they stripped away his autonomy in the process.
Re: they are not real, they are writing choices. Taking away the choices a disabled character can make over their own life, forcing them into a celibate nun role, and then going "awwwww dont worry see? he likes it! This was the best thing for him :)" was fucked up.
And imo it didn't have to be that way! You wouldn't have to go the FULL route I did with big changes, he could just be more involved in the descision to stop being a warrior apprentice and it would be fine. Minor change that would make a world of difference.
I do also have to interject to say though... blindness should really not be an extremely severe impairment for a ThunderClan cat.
I'm dead serious.
Whiskers are built-in sensors that tell you the exact position of everything within several inches of your head, ears swerve to pick up sound, and the jacobson's organ provides a sense of smell so keen that I have an entire Clanmew expansion draft because I needed to make WORDS describing the power of this sense that humans do not have. I cannot stress enough how delicate their other senses are, felines do not rely on their sight like primates do
ThunderClan lives in a mixed-oak woodland, where sight is already often obscured by foliage, objects are close together (for whiskers to feel), and nearly every movement makes noise against the leaf litter. RiverClan and (moor-running) WindClan cats would have a harder time with this disability than Thunder or Shadow.
Cat sight SUCKS to begin with. It sucks BADDD. They don't have color vision, they're significantly nearsighted, and they can't track up-and-down movements well. WC doesn't write realistic cats (more like small fuzzy people really) and I also work with more humanesque eyesight, but the only thing Jay should really lose is an ability to rapidly track a small animal swerving fast. Blind cats are often still excellent hunters in spite of that!
So it's an extra big waste that they railroaded him into a position he didn't choose, saying he couldn't be a warrior. This is the perfect disability to write, if you want to explore how ableism can impact the characters in this society who ARE legitimately still capable of nearly full independence, but still need to find accommodations for what they can't do.
In the same arc they're doing the dumb Cinder Reincarnation Plotline, no less!! Where SHE is also feeling like she has no choice over her "destiny," and gets a conflict over a potentially disabling injury
"Oh nooo if cinderpaw breaks her leg she wont be a warrior!"
"What the f-- Im Jaypaw and im reporting live from the scene where a Category 1 Idiot Moment is taking place. Woman breaks leg, suddenly everyone believes she is a horse, more at 11."
One of these days I should really make "herb guides" just covering how various sensory disabilities impact the lives of Clan cats and some tips for writing them as warriors, especially between Clans. Stuff you wouldn't usually consider, like how much noise deaf cats tend to make, how RiverClan would get a ton of sinus infections and lose their sense of smell, being blind in Sky vs Thunder, etc.
#I once saw someone say offhandedly 'well what if someone snuck up on jay from behind and attacked him. No whiskers there'#NEWSFLASH! YOU ALSO DONT HAVE EYES IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD#He doesn't have short whiskers either they're normally sized#Something like 4 - 5 inches on a cat like him. About double the size of the head foward and sideways#Once you're talking about close combat like the cats usually do there's no way that you can stay back far enough to avoid them#I want to rewrite owl and jay's fight or make a rematch where jay realizes owl is being a coward#Hanging just out of his range and jabbing at him#But once he realizes it's just a coward's strategy it clicks that the counter is to be aggressive#And not let his opponent out of his 'range'#Also give him a neat little scene where they're grappling next to Black's dam project where it's super muddy#And Jay is like 'YOU WANT TO PLAY DIRTY? LETS GET FILTHY' and dunks Owl's face down into the mud#Because Jay can fight without his sight but Owl doesn't know how to continue while there's stinging gunk in his eyes and nose#I like thinking about what I'm going to do for BB!Jay's matches because his fighting style is really fun to write#1. Be aggressive and proactive 2. Don't let them out of range 3. SCARE THEM#From the Mud Match he learns that the best way to end a fight quickly is to absolutely terrify them#Because they're usually not expecting the fight to be difficult nor are they expecting to feel like theyre in danger#So if you surprise them it breaks their willpower real fast#And as he gains a reputation for brutality he faces less opponents until he's practically known as the Cleric Without Mercy#Bone babble
160 notes · View notes
dms-a-jem · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Police - Music Videos/Promos
Part 1: 1978-1980
126 notes · View notes
theycallmelittleangel · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
inktober days 14 & 15 (im finally getting myself updated yay)
35 notes · View notes