#and then we know how the rest turned out

[thatfragilecapricorn30]

thoughts while rewatching triangle:

mulder is straight bonkers for just sailing the bermuda triangle looking for a ghost ship.

scully's queen anne counterpart is dancing with an older man, no surprise there lol.

scully running around the fbi unhinged, trying to save mulder's ass, is my favorite thing ever. the people in the hallways and elevators all look like they've seen this many times before.

never thought scully had sexual tension with skinner or spender, but i kinda felt it in this ep! (weird to say)

the continuous takes are just so cool.

"because you're the only one who can save this ship" - yeah she is!

mulder and scully running through the hallways holding hands, my beloved.

scully waited a long time before hitting mulder during that kiss. don't blame her though!

skinner just throwing the flowers on the side table lmao.

"but you believed me" -- love the parallel to folie a deux. i feel like i could write an essay on this - scully is the skeptic, but she believes in mulder in any timeline.

and of course, hearing mulder say "i love you" to scully still makes me so happy.

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[hinamie]

so just know, I'm healing / even though it don't feel like it

insp

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023

[capydoodle]

have compassion for yourself and for others. it seems hopeless but any small amount of good you can do is just that much more love in the world

[sergle]

I really truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate you bitches so much, because on the tiktok of literally COCK AND BALL jokes w brittany broski, there were a few notes/messages like this:

And I KNOW you don't think anyone's going to check. You had someone go into your askbox and say "hiii brittany broski is shitty about palestine she's really ignorant :/" and you went oh omg I didn't know!! thanks for telling me! So I checked! This is in reference to her talking in her podcast, because people were asking why she hadn't done any big press statements about Palestine, you didn't retweet this or that, you must not care, don't you care, what's your stance, etc etc please say more OKAY COOL. So what's going on there? What did Brittany say on her podcast? Is she a Bad Person? Can I have some transcript, please? ____ "Hey guys, before we get into this week's episode, I want to talk to you about the ongoing and prolonged suffering and loss of life in Gaza, in Israel, and the oppression of Palestinian people widespread. I don't ever want it to be a question that I would ever not be against the oppression of any group of people, that I would ever stand on the side of the oppressor." "There was a lot of fear of misusing my platform." ... "I will admit that I was nervous to talk about it, because I don't want to say the wrong thing. And this is too fucking serious of an issue to misspeak, or to spread misinformation, or to speak over or for someone." ... "So I want to take a moment on my biggest platform- which is this podcast, to say that I stand with the people of Palestine, I stand for the liberation of Palestinian people." ... "Every day, to log on to social media, and be just inundated with graphic, unimaginable violence, and loss, and grief, it's just--There are no words." ... "And I feel helpless. That's part of it too, when you feel helpless, the last thing you want to do is talk to people about it-- but visibility is a resource in and of itself. And I can offer that." ... "The outpouring of rage and passion online, and anger at what's happening, I would argue needs to be dedicated and focused on our elected officials. We live in a democracy- albeit an inherently flawed one- we live in a democracy where we have elected officials who were elected and put in power to represent us, and if we feel misrepresented, if we feel underrepresented in foreign affairs? These officials have public phone numbers and emails. There are scripts available online to express your disdain and your rage, and unfortunately that's one of the only ways we'll see actionable change."   "If you expected more from me, it's a terrible feeling- but I don't want to center myself, this needs to be all eyes on Palestine right now, where the real activism is happening. I would encourage you to follow journalists that are on the ground, people who are in Gaza, we need to be listening to them. I would also hope that we're at a point in this conversation where I can express my desire to stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine and that NOT meaning or suggesting or condoning anti-Semitism of any kind. There's a rise of anti-Semitism and islamophobia in the United States and it's just-- it's disgusting, and it's scary, so I want that to be said too. I just wanted to share that I am experiencing part of this collective sense of helplessness and hopelessness-- but it DOESN'T HAVE to be hopeless. I'm going to include a phone number in the description of this episode where, if you don't know the name of your senators or your Congressman, it's never too late to learn, and you can reach out to them." _______ Hm. What a bitch!! Yeah, just so ignorant and uncaring. Obviously she's not keeping up with anything. Should've retweeted more shit ig!

[givehimthemedicine]

the funny thing about The Sauna Test is that Billy would have acted exactly like that if he wasn't possessed

[mishy-mashy]

Shinomori is cute. Here's a post.

He is so baby-faced. He hasn't changed at all since he was 22, to when he died of "old age" at 40

(Old age? With a face like that? 40 years old?? Gimme that kind of youth and hotness Shinomori-)

He has tiny eyebrows. Like a puppy's (rottweiler's, for example). So cute and tiny and fuffy

He naturally frowns. Look at him and his mouth and his lil nose

He has a thing about keeping his arms near his chest. He sits with his arms crossed, introduces himself with his hands over his torso, and even walks with his arms crossed toward Midoriya

He has such clear skin for someone who lived the rest of his life in a forest??? Why do Hikage and Yoichi have such nice skin despite living in terrible environments? (forest and vault + abandoned streets respectively)

Is easily scared

They knew their Quirks could be used, but Shinomori got scared of it when it happened. Even though he gave Midoriya his support and access to his Quirk beforehand. Depending on the translation; "it startled me", "you scared me", "it surprised me"

I'm not going to hold running from AFO against him because he knew he was running for his life. Who wouldn't run for their life when it's in danger? Shinomori was being chased by the strongest person in the country (and likely the world)

His sense of self-preservation is probably heightened by the nature of his Quirk to keep him out of danger too. Which makes him all the more sensitive and jumpy to danger and anything that startles him, especially when he has no warning

He's actually extremely tall, but is so socially inept and jumpy it's adorable. He's taller than Bruce.

Bruce is as tall as a vault door that the 2m AFO used.

(Meanwhile Kudo is down there-)

He has such a bad sense of humor that it's cute (his puns off Danger Sense)

It's also adorable how Shinomori just doesn't understand social conventions sometimes. He lived in a forest, so it made sense, but also— Midoriya shows up in the void to the vestige platform for the first time. He has no mouth, no clothes—and Shinomori's first idea is to stand in front of him menacingly and go: "I shall explain. I am Shinomori Hikage." SIRRRR

This.

His Ability is basically like glorified anxiety. What if something is coming to hurt him? If something can hurt him? What if that tree falls while he's under it? And the ideas come so hard they hurt (although yes, it does detect ill intent and that's what sets it off)

He talks weirdly. Formal? Old-fashioned? Listening to him speak Japanese compared to others, it just sounds a bit different. (Translated subs don't show it very well, it's the voice itself methinks)

"This too, is destiny." *about Midoriya having OFA*

Kinda wise or sage-y. He did spend his life in solitude in the forests so he definitely spent a lot of time with his own thoughts. Maybe he found the meaning of life in a centipede or something one day

For someone so cute, he is also such. A fine. Specimen???

Look at those back muscles, dang.

LOOK AT HIS CALVES AND ARMS DANG.

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[aberooski]

Close your eyes, and open your heart.

Believe in yourself, that's how it starts.

The brain rot won.

I was rewatching my beloved 4Kids Winx dub a couple weeks ago, and my brain said "Alexis's uniform would translate to a winx transformation very easily actually 👀" and uh.... here we are 🤭

I imagine her as a frost fairy, since she runs an ice deck in the manga and while she's in the society of light in season 2 and she and Atticus both have a snow/ice association betwixt the various GX media. Hence my trying to give her Enchantix a subtle ice/snowflake kinda vibe. While also across the transformations taking inspiration from Flora, Bloom, and Stella

(Click for higher quality obviously lol)

1 | 2 | 3

[being-of-rain]

You know that my first thought after The Legend of Ruby Sunday was 'time for another True History of Faction Paradox relisten.'

[cranberrymoons]

.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ough i wanna draw so bad but my arms are virtually Unusable... too much lifting and hauling... in other news i felt True and Intense Pining today for the soft, delightful, tiny pig beanie baby in a diner gift shop. she was a wonderful pink with a lovely purple nose...

[queenofbaws]

i will not stand here and say the quarry's writing is perfect by any means, but man. that moment. in the beginning. when chris absolutely loses his shit and you see every last one of the hacketteers freeze..............shocked, wide-eyed, so taken aback they don't move even to look at each other.............

and then, realizing what just happened, chris scrambles frantically to grab hold of the situation again. he tries to grin at ryan ("tries" being the keyword), he tosses him the keys like nothing's wrong. he tries to go back to being mr. h - he does, he tries so hard - and finally when ryan talks to him, there's what waver in his voice. that absolute lack of understanding in his eyes. ryan's not just surprised, he's not just shocked......for a second there, he is scared, and chris sees that, realizes it, and peels out of there before anyone can say anything else. just.....

JUST............

i think that moment is 100% the moment i realized UH OH I THINK I LOVE CHRIS HACKETT because that's when we see the counselors have been around this guy for two whole months (some of them even longer, possibly), and not once. not once!!!!!!!!!!! had they realized who he really was.

ugh. UGH. i LOVE IT.

[deus-ex-mona]

pretty minor thing to think about, but i find it interesting how chapter 7 is the first chapter illustration to show chizuutan as chizuru (instead of chuutan)

like, i get it’s a flashback chapter, but we hardly got to see her as chizuru in the previous few chapters thus far… maybe we’ll get to see more of her as her true self after the hiyori fight/make up? only future chapters may tell, i guess…

[moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom]

I just find it mind-boggling that some people will reblog things like “Anakin didn’t care about Rex and his men, he wouldn’t listen to Fives just because he was friends with Palpatine” and then in the next post be gushing over Rexwalker/Rexanidala like???? so you agree. Anakin does care about Rex?