#and poetic like

[thejudeduarte]

❄️❄️Sad Suren quotes❄️❄️

"Please let me stay. I'll be good. I am sorry, sorry, sorry for whatever I did, but you can't let them take me. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. I love you, please, Mommy." - The Stolen Heir, page 7

"I make a fist of the hand that is not touching Oak, sinking my ragged nails into the pad of my thumb to keep my expression neutral. The pain works, clearing my head. Do not scream, I tell myself. Do not bite anyone. Do not cry." - The Stolen Heir, page 110

"I do not want you here. Those are the words I ought to have said, but couldn't, because they would be a lie." - The Stolen Heir, page 154

"Everything died in the Ice Citadel, but hope died first." - The Stolen Heir, page 212

"I know every corner that a child could hide in, every place she could be dragged from." - The Stolen Heir, page 245

"I think of the Thistlewitch's words. Nix Naught Nothing. That's what you are. That's what I would be. I would be consigning everything I've been, all that I've learned and done to meaninglessness. I would be accepting that I don't matter." - The Stolen Heir, page 309

"As I move, I have a strange dissonance of memory. I am walking through these halls as a child. I am walking through my unparents' house at night, moving like a ghost. That's what I've been for years. An unsister. An undaughter. An unperson. A girl with a hole for a life. How appropriate to have my tongue cut out, when silence has been my refuge and my cage." - The Stolen Heir, page 322

'"You should have been like us," says Lady Nore, her posture rigid. The words come easily, as though she has been thinking on them for a long time. "and instead, you are like them. To look at you is to see something so flawed it ought to be put out of its misery. Better to be dead, child, than to live as you do. Better to drown you like some runt of a litter." I taste tears in the back of my throat. Not because I want her to love me, but because her words echo the worst thoughts of my heart.' - The Stolen Heir, page 329

"When I was here as a child, I was afraid all the time. I will not give in to that fear now." - The Stolen Heir, page 332

[noodles-and-tea]

Stupid thing that made me laugh

[newttxt]

post-canon lulaw adventure!! (it could have been bepo’s but he was in the bathroom when luffy showed up)

[vriskarlmarx]

the thing about latinoamérica is that it's the most beautiful wonderful place on earth. there's a spinal cord of mountains running through, and at their feet you have everything from deserts to forests to jungles to glaciers. the lungs of the world are here, and so are the eyes into the sky. there are animals like axolotls and vicuñas and llamas and condors and jaguars. and the people are the most clever, the most resilient people in the world. you have cultures that are thousands of years old that have been resisting colonization for hundreds of years and in several cases successfully fighting back and even gaining territory. you have people who have lost their loved ones decades and decades ago who are still fighting for justice. you have a rich history of solidarity and struggle and you can sit with people in a circle passing a mate around and they will tell you of all the times they put everything on the line for a better world. there is an entire island that inspired revolutions around the world and that has been resisting a blockade for 60 years. there are communities building autonomous, revolutionary structures right now. and really it's not a surprise that there's so much grit and strength here because it would be inconceivable to be born and to live in this beautiful place without fighting for it.

[hinamie]

some quick jjk eye paintings

[keferon]

Drift’s “Dead end” design is my Roman Empire…

Like. His Crystal City look is great. His mtmte look is also great. And the Lost Light one too. But when I look at this specific design eh idk there’s something very special about it. It’s the way he was created by Cybertron if I’m not wrong. I love this colour scheme. It’s so calm and simple.

[nex-has-gender-envy]

Symbrock's "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt

I tried🤷

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[inkskinned]

i love when words fit right. seize was always supposed to be that word, and so was jester. tuesday isn't quite right but thursday should be thursday, that's a good word for it. daisy has the perfect shape to it, almost like you're laughing when you say it; and tulip is correct most of the time. while keynote is fun to say, it's super wrong - i think they have to change the label for that one. but fox is spot-on.

most words are just, like, good enough, even if what they are describing is lovely. the night sky is a fine term for it but it isn't perfect the way november is the correct term for that month.

it's not just in english because in spanish the phrase eso si que es is correct, it should be that. sometimes other languages are also better than the english words, like how blue is sloped too far downwards but azul is perfect and hangs in the air like glitter. while butterfly is sweet, i think probably papillion is more correct, although for some butterflies féileacán is much better. year is fine but bliain is better. sometimes multiple languages got it right though, like how jueves and Πέμπτη are also the right names for thursday. maybe we as a species are just really good at naming thursdays.

and if we were really bored and had a moment and a picnic to split we could all sit down for a moment and sort out all the words that exist and find all the perfect words in every language. i would show you that while i like the word tree (it makes you smile to say it), i think arbor is correct. you could teach me from your language what words fit the right way, and that would be very exciting (exciting is not correct, it's just fine).

i think probably this is what was happening at the tower of babel, before the languages all got shifted across the world and smudged by the hand of god. by the way, hand isn't quite right, but i do like that the word god is only 3 letters, and that it is shaped like it is reflecting into itself, and that it kind of makes your mouth move into an echoing chapel when you cluck it. but the word god could also fit really well with a coathanger, and i can't explain that. i think donut has (weirdly) the same shape as a toothbrush, but we really got bagel right and i am really grateful for that.

grateful is close, but not like thunder. hopefully one day i am going to figure out how to shape the way i love my friends into a little ceramic (ceramic is very good, almost perfect) pot and when they hold it they can feel the weight of my care for them. they can put a plant in there. maybe a daisy.

[inbabylontheywept]

Soviet Birds.

The secret facility that I work in has holes in the ceiling. We don't know how to get them fixed.

We tried asking the government to fix it, once. We told them that the holes in the older parts of the facility had gotten large enough to fit birds through, and that birds were getting through, and that, perhaps, a Soviet Spy could fit through as well.

After all, it is well known that Soviet Spies and pigeons are approximately the same diameter.

Our hope was that that this vague and nonsensical threat would put a little fire under Uncle Sam's feet. If the fed couldn't be bothered to give a shit about the giant gaping holes in the roof of our facility, perhaps they could be persuaded to give a shit about... Soviet Spies.

This attempt at manipulation 100% blew up in our faces.

See, the government does not need to be persuaded to give a shit about Soviet Spies. It still wakes up most nights, drenched in cold sweat, terrified and confident that a Soviet Spy is hiding in their nightstand. If it sees a rock on the ground, it flips it over, pistol drawn, ready to shoot the Soviet Spy it fully expects to slither out from underneath. Which is to say: The government is crazy. So when we dropped those two words - inflitration risk - in the repair request, they came in guns-a-blazin'.

Does that mean that they fixed the roof? Of course not. Don't be stupid. No, instead of performing basic maintenance, they installed a state of the art alarm system throughout the facility - lasers, sonar, the works - and told us to always be on the guard. Because of the roof holes.

Then they left.

So now we had an extremely good alarm system... and birds. Which have combined in incredibly obvious and predictable ways to produce an unending fountain of problems.

For Example: About once a month, someone gets called in by the local airforce dispatch because AAAAAAAAAAA a Spy is in the Rad Lab! We're all gonna die! Except every time, it's a bird. And I get why we have to check, but every time, the dispatcher is panicked and the person going out has to be like listen, listen: It's a bird. It's always a bird. It's been a bird every month for the last fifteen years. It will be a bird next month. All this stress? Bad for your heart.

Second Example: Sometimes, birds get in while we're actually working. And when it's in the morning, you know, it's a nuisance, and it stops testing (we are not going to risk irradiating a bird) but it's not an all-hands-on-deck situation because it doesn't take ten hours to get a bird out. But surprisingly often, the bird gets in riiiiight at closing time, and in that situation, everyone goes feral because nobody can leave until the alarm is set, and we cannot set the alarm while the bird is there, because the bird would immediately trigger it and then we'd have to stay another 4 hours to confirm that it was not a Soviet Bird.

So in order to go home, everyone's top priority is Get That Bird. And we have a system for it.

Step 1: The test stands tend to be located in rooms with 30+ foot ceilings. We can't catch birds in places like that - so we have to lure the bird into the relatively low ceilinged (8 feet only) upper offices.

We do this by turning all the lights off in the test rooms, then putting floodlights by the exits. I don't know why this works - some kind of evolutionary brain fragment shared by both Bugs and Birds - but work it does. The birds almost always follow after the lights. From there, it’s just two guys moving the floodlight and a third guy to turn off the lights.

Step 2: Everyone else has been waiting for this step. There is this long stairway up from the basement level into the offices, and in the final stage, the floodlights are brought to the base of the stairwell to bring the bird up. At the top of the steps there will be a group of tennish people, waiting for the signal. The light guys will set up the final transfer, everyone will tense, and then, swish...a bird will flit up the stairs and into the offices.

It's like watching werewolves on a full moon. Before the bird cometh, we are engineers. Nerds. Pale and skinny things, trembling under the fluorescent lights. After the bird, we are beasts. Feral, gnawing things, glowing under the orange sunrise of the 70's halogen floodlights.

And like all beasts, we cannot help but give chase.

Step 3: The were-engineers begin the hunt. The goal at the start is not really to catch the bird - just exhaust it. So the pack simply does not relent. Because the stakes are going home on time, the group is basically given free reign to go anywhere in the building. If someone's door is open, and the bird goes inside, they're going to have to deal with ten sweaty panting maniacs leaping around their office. They don't get to say that they're busy, or remark on how all this movement is a terrible distraction. They are allowed to sit in silence during the chaos, and perhaps thank the war party for chasing the bird while they sat comfortably on their ass. This has been explained several times, and it will continue to be explained until cooperation is achieved.

Anyway.

The chase can go on for quite some time. Sometimes, the bird will get tired and find a crevice to hide in, where it can then be reached through standard cornered-bird catching techniques.

Other times, it will slow down enough that someone can actually yoink it out of the air. But this will go on until someone catches the bird and triggers Step 4.

Step 4: The Finale. This is the get-the-bird-out-of-the-building stage, and it requires someone to adopt a specific role: To Become the Sacrificial Vessel of Bird Removal.

This job is both coveted and feared. It's coveted, because holding a wild bird in one's hands is a precious thing. To feel how small, and fragile, and scared it is, only to free it from the building? That is what it's like to be a benevolent God. But the cost! Oh, the cost. The entire time the Vessel is in motion, the bird will be biting the hell out of their fingers. And I cannot emphasize enough just how painful bird bites are. Their entire face is a set of needle posed pliers, and they know tricks the even the cartels haven't figured out yet. So there's always a little hubbub about who shall be The Vessel while onlookers, stranded outside The Office of Bird Capture, can only look on. Quiet arguments and pleas are heard, little fragments of fear and pride and glory trickling out of room like the silver dust left behind in a bag of well shook quarters. The sound of concensus is silence, and the argument will go on until that's all that's left. And then, from the darkness of the final office, the chosen sacrifice will step forward: Hands gently cupped, tears streaming down their face, fingers trembling from the pain of the ongoing bird chomps.

And this scene is what organizes people. Not leadership, not truly. No one can think and coordinate a crowd while their fingers are being attacked with a combination nutcracker/ear piercer. But the crowd sees the suffering of their annointed, and it is driven to do everything poossible to make the process flow. People instinctively flair out, finding the fastest path outside. Doors are held open. Paths are cleared. Someone, somehow, always knows the way forward and can describe it to the sufferer. Left, left, forward. Corner closet. Yep, there's a hall in there. Forward. Two-hundred more feet man, you're doing great. Just hold it together a little longer. You're killing it.

Then the final door swings open, and the bird flees out into what remains of daylight. And yet, even here, the deed is not yet done. I cannot explain it in words, but the crowd that helped is never content until they can see and speak on the Bird Vessel's wounds. They all have to pull the fingers back and see what was given. Estimate the price: One day to get better - No, three - No, a week! Are you blind? Do you see that blood blister? -Yeah, that's not going away anytime soon - Damn, can you believe how feisty those things are? Like wolves without teeth.

(They cannot help but touch as they go. It has always been this way. Even Thomas was not content until he felt the wounds in Christ's hands.)

Only when the last of the helpers has seen, and commented, and commended, will the engineers scatter. It is their return from the underworld that announces to the sun living surface dwellers that they too can go home. (@somerunner tolja it needed to be a post.)

[kenobers]

what would a bat do | jason todd blurb

or jason finds you crying and decides to shoot first and ask questions later. gn!reader a/n: could be read as romantic or platonic

Jason is a lot like Bruce. He does not see this as a positive.

To be fair, "You're acting like Bruce" is the verbal equivalent of hitting below the belt for him and his siblings. Being compared to your parent is a devastating below in any sibling argument, but with their...respectively unique relationships with Bruce, it's downright lethal. Especially for Jason, who still hasn't found complete security with their father.

So, Jason only compares himself to Bruce with blinders on. He does it every time he snaps at someone just to get them off his case. He cringes every time he decides to go off the grid and shut everyone out instead of confronting his feelings. "You're acting like Bruce" echoes in his head as he draws a mental Venn diagram and desperately fills the opposing sides.

The worst is when he catches his reflection glowering back at him; if he had a nickel for every time he mistook it for Bruce sneaking up on him…

He only sees his father in himself when he's angry. When he's so blinded by the nauseating need for vengeance that the line between Hood and Bat start to blur. When all he can see is the mission. When he realizes just how much he’s chosen to isolate himself.

One of the reasons he hides as much of his face as possible is because then no one can tell him he looks just like a bat when he bares his teeth. He wears his emotions on his sleeve instead of leaving it to anyone's guess. He makes absolutely sure that there's no mistaking him for Batman.

All of this to mixed results, of course.

Because despite all of his valid issues with Bruce, deep down Jason knows that Bruce Wayne is still a good man.

And although he doesn’t quite realize it, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to admit that Bruce Wayne raised Jason Todd to be a good man.

Bruce is why Jason always holds the door open for the person behind him. Every time Jason buys a coffee, he pays for the next handful of customers, something he consistently watched Bruce do. Whenever a child talks to him, Jason always crouches to their eye level…that’s Bruce too.

That’s not to give Mr. Wayne too much credit. Jason Todd has had a good heart from the moment he was born. He never needed anyone to tell him to leave the world a better place than he found it. Just because he has an anomalous method of doing so doesn’t make that any less true.

But there are certain things, instincts, that Bruce cemented in his mind. Like knowing when to ask questions first and when to ask them later.

Like when he finds you crying just now.

He’d sent you a text earlier in the day. Something completely unrelated to your well being, something incredibly unimportant actually. Still, your lack of response made him anxious, so he went to check on you. Just to make sure you weren't, like, dead or something.

There's a split second of awkward silence as you both stare at one another. But you hardly have time to wipe your tears and blubber out, "Oh, hey, what's up," before Jason's engulfing you in a bear hug.

That's when you know you don't need to hold it together. That's when you know it's safe to completely fall apart.

Jason doesn't need to ask questions just yet. You don't need him asking questions. You both know he'll get answers, whether from you or his own investigation. For now he'll stay quiet, sans a few whispered comforts. He could try being a man of many words. He’s more than capable of waxing poetics. It’s just that he knows he can come across as mean and abrasive, even when he’s trying to be kind and soft.

Another way he’s like Bruce.

Nevertheless, he’s got two big strong arms that can speak for him. They’ve got you. They’ll protect you from whatever’s got you feeling like this.

One large hand anchors you to him. It holds you steady as your body shakes with sobs. The other cradles your head, every so often moving to pat your back whenever you hiccup.

You can hide your face in his chest. Ride along with the subtle rise and fall of it. Let the gentle sound of his heart beat drown out the sound of your stressors. He doesn’t care about the damp spot you’re leaving on his shirt. He just cares about you.

Jason is a rock, an absolute pillar of a human being. He can stand there for as long as you need. He can support your weight and hold you up if you’re too exhausted to do it yourself.

When you decide that you want to talk about it, then he tries to be all ears. He sits you on the couch and wraps an arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. Occasionally, his thumb drifts up to wipe your stray tears away.

He listens as best he can. He definitely would've dealt with your issue differently if he were you. In a different era, he would've let you know exactly what he would do - more likely, he would've just gone and done it for you. But he can recognize that this is probably a healthier way to deal with whatever upset you. And you know what, he can respect that too.

After you've vented until there's nothing left to say, Jason stays with you. It's that nagging voice that tells him that he has to make sure you're really okay, that you're not about to do something stupid as soon as he takes his eyes off you. After all, that's what he would do.

So he puts something on the tv. A show, a movie, a YouTube compilation, video essay - something he knows you like. He doesn't look away from you the entire time. He sits at the ready to catch any stray tears or soothe any sudden bursts of rage.

Until you fall asleep on his shoulder. He sits like that for another few minutes before he finally transfers you to your bed, tucking you in with so much care. The only sound he makes is a sharp gasp when he catches his reflection in your window.

Then he sits some more, still watching you closely. He watches until he's certain you're sound asleep, ignorant to the things that hurt you.

Then he slips out the window without a peep, off to get your justice.

That's exactly what Bruce would do.

[iliothermia]

[phoenxwright]

Taking a much needed rest with a new friend

[vaguely-concerned]

the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh

[go-star-sailor]

transfem wirt truthers wya

[spliceyblues]

Painting the roses red, and many a tear we shed.