#atleast i hope so

[stafdash]

sorry i didnt reply to your comment. your way to cool and any time i talk to some one cool i end up saying something really cringe

[strawberryfungi]

Idk I just feel like there’s a lot of gay librarians that are also autistic?

[hissterical-nyaan]

One great thing about having a shitty father who is also a shitty husband is that I know EXACTLY what I don't want in a partner. The moment this shit starts I can run away ASAP

[aryadaiki]

A very happy new year everyone 🎊🥳! I hope the new year will be better than this year!

[aakaneeee]

Love is presented in many ways throughout Alien Stage: For Mizi and Sua, it's codependent, romantic to a worrying extent. For Ivan and Till, it's one sided, unrequited, and painful.

And for Hyuna and Luka, it's a curse.

Not only a curse, but one that haunts them. Jacob once told Hyuna to "Forgive yourself", which, to her, was misplaced. She could have forgiven herself. It was Luka who she couldn't forgive. But, in the end, she couldn't fulfill the legacy. She couldn't forgive herself for loving Luka. She couldn't forgive Luka for killing who she loved. And so, what did she do? She passed on the legacy.

The words "Forgive yourself" didn't help her. They built who she was, but in the worst possible way. She couldn't take his words, because she didn't consider herself the culprit, but the one she resented.

She told this curse, "Forgive yourself" again. She told them to Luka, sentence that almost sounded mocking on her lips. She couldn't have died before because she had to keep moving forward, but now, the pressure wasn't on her shoulders anymore.

She loves Luka, of course she does. But she cannot possibly forgive him. She knows he doesn't realize the suffering he inflicts. It's ironic, he's so unbearably smart, solving puzzles in a matter of seconds, but he doesn't know how to take in the real world, and the feelings of the ones around him, the most important 'puzzle' of them all. So, she gives him the biggest dilemma of his life. It's harsh, cruel, messed up in every sense. It's the puzzle she knew he could never solve, because she herself, who knew humanity, couldn't. Hyuna knew Luka loved her more than himself. And Hyuna cared for Hyunwoo more than for herself. Luka killed Hyunwoo, and so, Hyuna repaid him with the same coin, an eye for an eye. With an act that is the ultimate sacrifice, and the ultimate revenge.

As I have said, Hyuna knew the love he had for her, beyond the limits of his own body. She must've known how much her act would destroy his world: a fate worse than death. Her kind tone, telling him to take as much time as he needs to solve the newfound question she has proposed in such an ugly way, appears almost taunting.

And the way she holds him in her arms, purposefully close, and looks into his eyes, makes it just so much more painful. And yet, when she speaks her soul, passes everything she was carrying on her shoulders, over to him, her face is hidden away, buried in his shoulder. She's free. She finally had her revenge. She can forgive him, and then herself, even though the price was destroying him, without building him up again. Leaving him like pieces of a puzzle that never got solved. She's been cruelly betrayed, and she, even more cruelly, fed him his own medicine.

Hyuna is haunted by both Hyunwoo and Luka, similar to how Mizi is haunted by Sua. Hyunwoo brings the horror aspect: the bloodied blouse and head, while Luka has the smile that Sua has in the imaginations. The two people she loved most: the one who couldn't forgive her because she didn't get to apologize, and the one she didn't forgive. It's all so incredibly complex: she hates and loves, she resents and adores. Hyuna can't pick anymore. We're shown that she's such an active person, sociable, loving, having a whole group of humans just like her, and yet, we're told that she thinks all of them are selfish, even if they seem altruistic. She doesn't trust them, it seems it's a facade. In this, Luka and Hyuna are similar, but divided by the fact he wants to conceal his emotions, and she wants to make them more visible.

This page, specifically, made me click MiziSua and HyuLuka together. They look scarily alike. The same lovey-dovey expression, versus the distressed one of the lover, even the slight glow that Luka has is similar. I think this is meant to show that they still depend on each other, despite the fact that Hyuna seems to resent him so much.

Hyuna says Luka doesn't know the meaning of love. That the only thing he's ever shown, the only thing he genuinely knows, is suffering, and that his abilities basically stop at inflicting the same. (At least, emotional ones.) This is a parallel to Ivan, in my opinion, who didn't know love either, but he liked the idea of it. Instead, Luka loved with everything he had, even though he had no idea what it truly was. His love is obsessive, and somehow, so impossibly innocent at the same time. Because in a way, he's still a child. When he sees Hyuna, he becomes immature again, his facade of control dissipating into thin air. He mocked Mizi for her inability, but he's even worse.

According to his ear monitor, his heart was beating out of his chest. He could hear his own erratic heartbeat. It's painful, how happy he was, how excited, to be in her arms again. And yet, despite the love, the embrace was just as much of revenge.

Ever since Wiege, we've seen Luka smile so much. Just for him to never truly smile again.

I am a fan of the gentleness that Hyuna treats young Luka with. She seems awfully attached to the image of that innocence she knew. But it's not like Mizi's idea of Sua, the perfect one. It's an image she can't bear seeing again. "I couldn't stand seeing myself on those posters, because I knew exactly the face the you'd have. Yes, I bet you were smiling ear to ear." We've only seen him like this for the first time, but to her, it was so familiar, even years apart, she still knew.

Another thing I have noticed is that Hyunwoo's grave is right infront of a tree, almost separated from the others, just the way Luka was sitting before Hyuna found him. Now, this time, Hyunwoo lost Hyuna, and he's forever forced to be lonely in the garden he'll never grow out of.

Hyuna wanted to give Luka a rubik's cube he wouldn't be able to solve, something difficult. A rubik's cube can represent human nature, who Luka seems to have mastered completely. But Hyuna finally manages to postpone him: the puzzle is herself.

And in the end, after Hyuna's body goes limp, he finally manages to take her in his arms. He promised that there, she'd be safe, but he didn't manage to keep her that way. And suddenly, the words "My Savior" from Ruler of my Heart are awfully true.

[linalost]

„you‘re my weakness you know that?“

[anewp0tat0]

i lied i had like atleast one more weston thought to expell from my brain, before i miss this boat entirely. we're heading to green lands woooo

[mixtercandy]

Shout out to the REAL fnaf mvp SPARKY THE DOG !!

[disorganizedguts]

winter

[topnotchquark]

Carl Andre dead at 88, comfortable, rich, celebrated in the art world. Whereas Ana Mendieta never got to have her full life and express all that she wanted to explore through her art. Truly the petty injustice of life is cruel in such disappointing ways.

[sideswipesjetpack]

The creatures

[greenmcgee]

@andrxmedaz HEYY SHJD HIHIII I DREW YOUR GRAPEESS

[sulfies]

IF I Lead (PT2)

Part 1 here

At least The stars looked the same… one common thing the apocalypse and the medieval times had together was the lack of light pollution.

One of the rare things he could let himself enjoy guilt-free.

He had gone into the town in the morning and walked around discreetly.

It was a lot… all the noise and people assaulted his senses but he needed to get the Vanice and to get there he needed to make money. Not only so he could arrive there but also survive once he did. 

If he guessed the timeline right, he had a couple of years till the apple arrived in Italy, which gave him a long time to plan and get his bearings. It was both a blessing and a curse. The thought of having to wait all that time made his skin itch.

He would find a temporary job in Monteriggioni for the time being, till he got his pocket money and no longer.

He could join the mercenaries,

he really didn't like the idea of being a sword for hire but they were paid relatively well and he could fight and with many of them in town he could be forgotten in the numbers unlike becoming a tradesman and people remembering his face. The less bonds he made with the village folk, the better.

They also hired almost anyone and always needed numbers, he could pass off as a seasoned fighter and most likely they would take him in.

He turned to his side, a small shiver crept up to his body. The guard tower didn't really break the winds of the chill night air and he only had his hoodie as a blanket. He had survived worse so he would make do.

Shutting his eyes Desmond tried to make himself fall asleep. He had a lot to do tomorrow, who knew he would be job-hunting again in his lifetime.

—-----------

As dawn broke over the valley Desmond scaled his tower down, he was leaving his backpack behind in the tower since it seemed like no one was going in it for their rounds. 

Walking around the town he was willing himself to stay calm, he had his two-day freak-out but now it was time to focus.

He made his way up the village and to the side street where he remembered the barracks to be.

He came across the two-story building covered in lumbar with some workers outside, it seemed like Ezio had already begun repairs on it.

Desmond took a deep breath before shaking his hands out. God, when did he become so scared of basic conversations…

Licking his lips he walked closer to the building giving some nods to the workers he passed. 

A young man, standing right outside the door leaning on the frame to the side, noticed him.

In a dismissive attitude, the man spoke to him, 

“What's your business here grandpa?” 

Desmond scoffed but put on a small fake grin. He needed to charm them for a way in.

“Missus said I had to get off my ass so was coming to see if you folk got any need for additional men, or is there now an age limit to holding a weapon?”

The man shook his head, turned to his friend with a shit-eating grin “Oh a forward one isn't he?” He turned back to Desmond “We don't just accept any old fart off the street you know?”

“I should hope not, or it would be bad news for the village's safety. Anything I need to prove I can show it to a man that needs the proof, just tell me who and where.”

The young man looked him up and down a bit then sent his friend a look. Leaning away from the frame he turned to the door.

“I'll ask inside but don't get your hopes up if all you can do is to hold a sword.”

Desmond hummed as the man went in.

His friend was eyeing him now.

 “Lost your old job and the miss booted you?”

Desmond chuckled “Could say so, some had promised a job to me but it fell through and now my lovely warden demands coins.” He looked sheepishly to the side. 

The friend smiled knowingly “You guys moved here then?”

Desmond shook his head “Nah, just me. She doesn't like leaving her mother's side, except to come to fetch my purse of course. Left her back in Venice as I get a footing here”

Men his age were usually married in this time period, a fake backstory would come in handy for him too when it was time to go to Venice and if his ‘wife’ was never here… no one could talk about how they had never seen her. It wasn't too uncommon for men to leave their wives back to find work anyway.

They exchanged more small talk till the door opened and the young man returned, head signalling him to come in.

“He said he will take a look at you.”

Desmond walked in after him taking in the scene. He never got to see the inside of his place in the Animus. Construction was mostly on the outside but there were a few people also inside doing some work, mostly replacing some beams and floors.

Some mercenaries were practicing light moves on dummies to the side but most of them were around the tables to the left chatting and… ofcourse drinking.

He got led through another door at the other end of the hall that opened up to a smaller room with a handful of people inside. They were of higher rank than the people in the main room, he assumed. Their clothes were a bit nicer, faces more hardened.

“Iulio tells me you wish to join us?” One of the men steps up to him, short hair with a small scar across his cheek, his gaze judging his form. 

“Marsilio”

The man holds his hand out and Desmond shakes it. “Dominico” It was close enough to his name that he could get himself to respond to it if called out.

“Isn't it a bit late for a career change?”

Desmond chuckles “I’m not new to fighting, worked as a guard on the outskirts of Florance in my youth. Know how to hold a sword and use it too.”

Marsillio taps on his lip, mirroring where Desmond’s scar would be. “A gift from that time then?” Desmond nods “Good, seeing battle puts you above some of the new recruits… but I can't just accept anyone that walks through the door can I?”

Desmond wanted to sigh, maybe he should just steal some money from the Villa.

“You know basic forms?” “Si, and more”

A small hum of approval. 

The man looked him over with more intent, clearly trying to see if his body was built for the job, and a part of Desmond would take offence if he was denied. He was fit for his age, not a bodybuilder but he had been using the same muscles the same way since his 20s.

“Alright, God knows we can always use more men but you can join as a temporary recruit, no pay till you prove you won't throw your back out when you are swinging a sword.”

Desmond held back a scowl, he knew they were basically hazing him at this point but he had to bear it and play this game. “Good with me, but you better not wait for me to die from age to pay me my due.”

Marsillio let out a laugh and placed a slap on his back “Hah! It depends if you can pull your weight”

Desmond gritted his teeth, he could feel a headache coming in.

“I want you here first thing in the morning by the first bell, you will join the training with the recruits, your previous experience doesn't mean shit to me till you show it”

He nodded “Understandable, Thank you, Sir”

“Bah just call me my name, we are the same age likely” 

“All right Marsillio, I'll be here by dawn”

—------------

The training was… barely worth Desmond's time to be honest. He had gotten there before the bell and the group of ten made their way up to the ring below the villa. They ran some laps in the clearing nearby and were now swinging their swords at nothing. It was busy work mostly. Probably meant to bore the unwilled ones so they quit early.

Monteriggioni had not seen combat in a while and it shoved on everyone's skill. Mercenaries weren't meant to be masters of battle but they could have some more discipline. Mario really paid them all these years for nothing.

Desmond sighed and twirled his blade. It wasn't Marsillio seeing over them today but he recognized the man from the day before, he had the same uniform and was in the back room too so he must have some reputation and a rank as well. But not much since he was stuck having to teach the new members.

“Take a short rest people, then pair up, I want to see some hand-to-hand in the ring after!”

Now that was more fun. Desmond rested the sword on his shoulder as he wiped his brow. He didn't know anybody so he didn't bother to find a pair, whoever was the last pick would be with him and he didn't want nor have a need to make small talk.

“Dominico.” Desmond tore his eyes away to look at his senior. The man walked over to him throwing a waterskin, which he gladly accepted with a raised brow.

“You were not lying about the fact that you know your basics.”

He took a sip of water, refreshing himself. “I have no need to lie about that but I understand the skepticism” since he had lied about everything else.

“Mmhm. Paulo tells me your wife is back in Venice?” Ah, that must be Iulio’s friend.

“Si, ser…”

“Names Vincesco” Desmond repeats the name back. 

“What did you need?” “Ah nothing, came to introduce myself, most of the young ones are too bothersome to make talk with, too prideful for how little they know.”

Desmond hummed in agreement. “They have yet to see real combat, it is expected.”

“That is true, we are in peaceful times”

Both watched the bickering novices. Some lying on the grass, some showing each other around rather than resting.

It was somewhat nice to see them carefree. The small amount of youth back in his compound rarely had time to have fun, they had to do their tasks to survive not live…

“I'll tell you what, show me your skills in the ring today and I'll see if I can put in a word with Marsillio and the rest to get you out of this drag”

Desmond turned to Vincesco with a slight surprise, that would help a lot actually. “I was that impressive at swinging my sword left to right?”

The man chuckles “Nah, hard to make the mundane look good. But I can see from your footwork you know your stuff, we need more battle-ready men and I need fewer kids to babysit.”

“I appriciate that Vincesco…”

“Dont thank me yet, If one of them wipes you into the ground I won't have anything to tell at all” 

Desmond shook his head. He would like to see them try.

[imaginethisisagoodname]

Chip Haney after killing a bunch of people for his job

“How do you sleep at night”

“Next to my wife”

[nyc-pizza-rat]

okay thinking about her

the tree bark at his back scratches him as he shifts. there are bruises on his skin that sting. he feels the slide of blood at his temple, unsettling and unfamiliar, even after all these years. castiel looks down at his hands, a little calloused, now, and wrinkling, and tries to center himself. there is dirt on his palms, under his fingernails. a small cut on his index finger that is loud and sharp. he curls his fists and tries to reach within himself. the well of his grace has been running low for a while, now, and castiel hasn't been sure of...well, anything.

it's harder to find his dimming grace within, here in purgatory. harder still to coax it to the surface. sweat beads at his brow but castiel keeps his fingers clenched, mumbles to himself in enochian — words to songs of praise and comfort and strength that mean so little now, and yet come to him easy.

there is a thin stream of silver light, and castiel heaves a breath, sinks further into the hollow of the tree. he unclenches his fist, and there are red half-moons carved into his palm. the cut is gone, but there is a scar, still, and castiel cannot stop looking at it. it looks like a thin tear in fabric, like the cracks in between the worlds that let them through. it looks like the beginning of the end.

he rubs his thumb over the scar, feels the slight raise of his skin. his thoughts begin to spin, and all he can focus on is the heat building at the back of his neck, the rushing of blood in his ears. suddenly, then, a ripple within. a breeze by his ear that pull at his core. that compels him to quiet, to listen.

someone, somewhere, is invoking him in prayer.

his grace surges now, easy as it hasn't been in a while, and while it doesn't heal him still, castiel feels more angel than he has in a long time.

Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late.

castiel sighs, something inside him relaxing. he hadn't even noticed the way his muscles had been pulled taut. hadn't noticed the tendrils of fear creeping into his heart. dean's alive. dean's alive.

I should've stopped you.

castiel swallows. digs his fingers into his thighs. his grace spins out, trying to find the source of the prayer. It's harder than it is on earth, and harder than it should be for an angel of his caliber, but castiel keeps trying.

You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.

castiel wishes dean would stop saying these things. he bites his cheek, listening, following dean's voice. he's always following dean's voice, even when he doesn't want to.

I – Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that it's – i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how –

dean breaks, and castiel pauses, stares at the blinking doorway that will lead them back onto earth. back into a battle that they are bound to lose. he thinks about jack, lost forever. about chuck, who cannot be beaten. about the pointlessness of what they are doing, the desperation with which he has been clinging to hope.

— how bad I want to, I just can't stop it.

he wishes he could see dean. there is something solid pressing against the back of his throat, like he has swallowed a rock, like it is blocking the air. his eyes sting. he wishes dean would just — just talk to him.

And — And I — I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.

castiel shakes his head. his wings are more bone than anything else, skeletons he lugs around because he cannot bear to sever them from his trueform. now they twitch, twined with his grace as they are. castiel lets them curl inwards, pretends he can feel them whole, their warmth, the comfort of it.

I'm sorry it took me so long – I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm – I'm so sorry.

castiel forgives him, despite everything. thinks he'd forgiven him long before this, before dean ever thought to ask. he wonders if dean knows that castiel doesn't know how to loathe him, even if he wanted to.

longing surges out to him, the pull of the prayer strengthened by cords of need, of want.

dean thinks he's dead, and he's desperate for him to not be. castiel knows what dean can be like, when he loses those he considers kin, when he's even faced with the prospect of losing them.

Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me.

longing can feel a lot like love.

angels were never meant to decipher the nuances of human emotion, and despite all the time he's spent on earth, even castiel is not all that good at it. so when prayer is made with longing, it can feel a lot like love.

and maybe it is. castiel doesn't know.

it's almost unsettling, the way warmth bleeds into his trueform, as dean finishes praying, as he makes his way closer. castiel tries to reign in his weak grace, pulsing away under his skin. tries to not let himself get carried away.

he looks up at the grey sky, the sunless world he is trapped in. he thinks about the empty. he thinks about his son.

maybe it isn't. human love is so complicated, after all.

somewhere to his right, footsteps. castiel breathes, wills his lungs to loosen, his heart to slow. he pulls the leviathan blossom out of his coat pocket. all that fighting and the fidgeting has smushed it a little. he rubs a thumb over one of its strange petals, and puts it back in his coat.

dean is getting closer. castiel can hear him breathing now. can hear the way his heart races.

he gathers himself and pushes out of the hollow of the tree. straightens a little.

"dean," he calls. he sounds tired, even to his own ears. human. god. "you made it."

[sulemio-week-official]

And that's a wrap! Thank you for participating in sulemioweek24🍅! This blog will continue reblogging any work with the tag!! Big shout out to everyone who participated and interacted throughout the week spreading sulemio love!! May all blessings find their way to you, I'm wishing it 🍅 Until next time✨