#a song fic I guess

[heynhay]

mercy, are you still with me?

[from where the apple falls by europa_report]

[fadedkat]

a little human bill doodle sheet this evening based off the wonderful fanfic A Human Condition by @sapphosscribe!! this is really one of my favorite fics at the moment and I wanted to show my love for it by doing some art :DD

now on my way to read the most recent update 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

aaaaand close ups!

[s0fter-sin]

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

[nostalgicish]

happy (belated) birthday to @heavilycaffeinatedsblog !

[anna-scribbles]

what a shame, i can see it all now that we’re through

- firearm by lizzy mcalpine

(chapter 5 of call it even is making me feel bonkers insane. thank u @sha-nwa)

[requinum]

misa misa + last verse of please please please (sabrina carpenter) inspired by this post

[good--merits-accumulated]

If we for a moment forgo canon events and disagreements then I do wholeheartedly hope and believe that Todd and Neil get married during the '70s. It's a sunny afternoon on the perfect day in mid-spring and the light is at its thickest and most golden and Charlie got registered as an officiant just for this day and not everybody's present - Meeks can't make it from Switzerland on short notice, but they get a photo of him and prop it up on the coffee table at the perfect angle to see. Neil keeps wondering if he's going to get the pre-wedding jitters and does end up pacing around the living room early in the morning, but it's less cold feet and more impatience. (Turns out it's kind of hard to get cold feet when your almost-husband is sitting drowsily on the couch to keep you company and he keeps almost nodding off and you keep remembering all the ways in which you love him.) Ginny barges in at noon with hairspray and a sewing kit and insists on making bouquets with shitty grocery store flowers for both of them and Todd's suit ends up with a hastily added elbow patch and Neil's tie doesn't match his pocket square, because one's from Cameron and the other's from Knox. (Something borrowed, something blue...) It's perfect. In the end they go out on the balcony and Charlie's wearing this really tacky priest outfit, just really shitty fabric so that he's probably sweating bullets, and the collar's come untucked, and at the last moment Chris shrieks, "You forgot your bouquets!" and throws one with such good aim it hits Todd in the face. But they get through the vows and both of them only cry a little, because Cameron cries enough for all of them combined, and then that's it - over - and married. And as Charlie beams and says they can kiss there's a well-timed shower of rice from the balcony above, and congratulations, from some upstairs neighbours and well-wishers. Pitts catches the kiss on his expensive video camera and he also catches the cheering, which is so loud that, four blocks away, a lone man packing up his street food van pauses in closing boxes and thinks that there must be a party going on. He's right. And at the end of the night when the last loved one leaves and shuts the door gently behind them to not disturb the newlyweds lying together on the couch, silent with happiness, it's still perfect. At that moment it doesn't matter that there is no piece of paper, or no registry office, or that if Todd has an accident Neil might not be able to visit him in the hospital room. There will be tears for those things, but they come later. For now they're married. The beautiful thing never changes.

[hikaruchen]

Repent now, repent now! Remember this body is not your home; No pleasure in the sea, No wound is as sharp as the will of God.

— REPENT NOW CONFESS NOW, Lingua Ignota

INPRNT

-

Here I am being the bearer of good news to tell you Chapter 28 of A King’s Burden by the amazing amazing @thedarknone has updated! GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVEN’T! Huge thanks for giving me the opportunity to work on this commission, such a pleasant experience and I can’t wait to work with you again :DD

Process

[the-final-high-noon-rings]

my beautiful girlfriend the starship aurora!! she has teeth and flesh and veins btw!! for mechanisms women's week day 4 time/space. this is because she is a woman and i like her a Normal amount

@mechanismswomensweek

[ID: A digital artwork of the starship Aurora from the Mechanisms in a style reminiscent of a construction paper craft, with paper texture and shadows to show the various "layers" of the piece. The Aurora is going upwards diagonally from the bottom right to the top left. Her grey-pink solar sail, which looks like a parachute, is extended to the top left of the image, and there is a muted smoke/fire trail coming from the bottom of the ship leading into the bottom right. The Aurora is a purple-red ship with three darker fins visible along her bottom, and light purple windows on her main body. The O'Neil ring circles her, with six separate light pink spheres representing the rooms located there. The background is dark purple and spotted with stars. End ID]

[total-drama-brainrot]

uhaam. like a dog by ferry. rk noah. Am i insane

I saw this ask, blacked out, and woke up to this on my screen.

So I think we're both a little insane. (The song, for context.)

[ghost-bxrd]

The Owl’s Song ends 🦉🥀

Beneath the ash you’ll find my blood

Buried in the corner of this room

It’s the end of all we love

Swarming inside of your tomb

— We Never Asked for This, Crywolf

[smoothshine]

𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘷𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶

[error-elf-206]

Hey so I've been really into making character playlists recently so here:

P.s. I have a personal vendeta against Taylor swift so she's in none of them and I work on them overtime so they might change whenever to suit better. Lengths vary.

Also this is one I made a while ago for the fic Gold Heart that I got Obsessed Obsessed with and kinda started the whole playlist thing.

[therealdistortion]

I keep seeing people talk about how Viktor will always be remembered as the villain in Piltover’s history; but it’s more than that.

Viktor will always be remembered as the villain in Jayce’s history.

The people who write the stories are always the people who won, the people who survived. They are the only people who get their voice heard.

Jayce was already Piltover’s ‘golden boy’. A decorated inventor and scientist. Viktor wasn’t even credited for the creation of the hexgates. It was only after he became the machine herald that he was known. And now, Jayce is the hero in the story. Viktor is just the villain he triumphed over. To people on the outside it would seem like a very cut and dry story; the nuance lost to time as it often is. To them Jayce didn’t reason with Viktor, he defeated him.

Jayce will be remembered as the one who saved Piltover, Viktor would always be who he had to stop to do so.

Jayce is the brilliant inventor. Viktor is his ‘assistant’ at best, a third party who came into play later at worst.

Jayce’s mom wrote him a memorial card. The only person left to grieve Viktor—truly grieve him—died by his side.

Jayce did understand in the end; but he was the only one.

People are often remembered only for their greatest failures; not their greatest achievements. When you don’t even have your name on your accomplishments that multiplies tenfold.

Viktor wanted to matter. He wanted to be known—to put his footprint on the world and not have it be washed away in death. And he did make his mark on history. He made his way into the books and stories. But he is stuck in a typecast and people just keep giving him the wrong script.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

HI HELLO I LOVE YOUR STUFF

i was wondering, for a person who has obviously thought abt them extremely in depth and drawn wonderful conclusions, how would you describe haikaveh in 3 songs?

Hiya!!!! AHHH thank you so much!! :''') I'm glad you enjoy my brainrot omg <3 ohhhh that's such an interesting question?? i've been thinking about this ask for the past few days so i'm sorry this has taken some time to get to! 3 songs is EVIL!!! i feel every song i listen to i try to relate it to Them, but i can give you my most listened to! plus an extra one (IM CHEATING!!!!)

mitski - the star (the idea of love changing with time, them acting like 'fools' when they first met because of this nonreplicable connection, them falling apart but that light still burning? them travelling very far, further apart, and then back together, always connected by what they share?? and IM CHEATING IDC!! the frost by mitski is also incredibly relevant here??? there's an incredible art of it that makes me lose my mind. mitski is haikaveh coded fr)

2. bad omens - just pretend (very evidently alhaitham's pov, the miscommunication and the misunderstandings between them wearing away at him on the inside, the idea of not being ready at first, being too different, but having the knowledge that they'll come together once more when these differences are accepted, the willingness to wait (for YEARS!!), and the slight insecurity that comes from this, it's just such a lovely song, an experience to listen to, and it really makes me think about the emotional aspect of alhaitham when he and and kaveh were apart)

3. the stiff dylans - ultraviolet (i didn't just want to offer angst, and since this is meant to describe haikaveh i wanted to at least give one upbeat option! this song is so v fun, i see this from both perspectives, just them being perpetually intrigued by the other, constantly drawn into each other's orbit, being a necessary light to each other, just yeah <3)

+1 the devil wears prada - the thread (this is my personal ult haikaveh song <333 when i first got into haikaveh, this song was on repeat, for those who like heavier music i really recommend it! i was so invested that i broke the lyrics down to relate it to haikaveh (which i did here), this song really has a chokehold on me so it's the song i'm cheating with hehe)

[morelikesin]

It was a confection glazed in thick, sweet frosting - pearly white and tasting of a very rich vanilla - and presumably baked to achieve the golden crust of the bread harboring it; said bread was soft, and its flavor slightly yeasty but easily disregarded with sugar in its place. If you, metaphorically, squinted, it was almost like a cinnamon roll without the cinnamon aspect.

...dipping it into some of its complementary sauce before shoving the bite into his mouth. It was salty and savory and held a zing of citrus from its accompaniment - the taste not too unlike a largemouth bass, but the flesh of a bluefin tuna.

The roasted potatoes were crispy outside and fluffy inside, and even in their familiar plainness was it a comfort. So far away from home, for most of them, and yet it seemed many things were the same.

Allegedly, this Ancestor's Rest, as it was called, was useful as a sleep aid - within the ingredients were medicinal properties in helping one fall and stay asleep, and even wake up feeling better refreshed. That remained to be seen, but they, after everything they could consider, were open to the possibility. 

The pillowy baked good had a spongy chew; the bread tasting akin to a wheat brioche with less sweetness. The comberry jam sandwiched within was sweet and tart simultaneously, taste helped by the snowberries and the consistency by the marshmerrow paste, with the titular comberries almost identical to the flavor profile of a combination of a tart, bitter lingonberry and sweet, citrus-like red currants.

…chunked onion and halved prunes, whole celery and garlic bulbs - peels remaining for flavor until it was time to add the meat - chopped carrots and mushrooms, thyme and parsley and bay leaves, salt and peppercorns.

The overnight stewing, or jugging, as called historically by the people of Tamriel, proved itself in utmost succulence with every bite. The Bruma rabbit meat was tender and juicy, lean muscle and browned skin soaked in the rabbit blood and vegetable stock it'd been submerged in.

-

My take on some Tamriel foods, featuring Sweet Rolls, Seared Slaughterfish and roasted potatoes from Skyrim, Ancestor's Rest from Morrowind, and Jugged Rabbit from Cyrodiil 🍩🥩🍞🥘