#i'm so sorry my dear Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[chez-cinnamon]

So I was talking to some friends on Discord and we were discussing how some movies had cartoon characters with this white guy driving car scene.

I'm just stuck thinking about Fionn and the Welcome Home cast crammed into a car having this same exact moment and it's cracking me up xD

It definitely starts out that way LMAO

[kira-anomaly]

Debating whether or not to make a whole blog for this random AU of mine that genuinely came out of the blue...

Once again, doodles will be below

I don't think I ever mentioned I was a Sleepyday shipper

Oops, we've gone into the angst zone

No, he did not cross over to reality but he does experience and see the canon state of things in his nightmares, so here's a gist of that

[fidgetspringer-art]

Hi, I need more cowboy x punk stuff after the suggestive boots, I also kinda wanna see them slowly infect each other's style since they look like similar sizes

I'm never gonna pass up the chance to draw Noah wearing Martin's clothes ;)

[giolovesyousm]

Day 13 of Deadboyween Weeks:

Pre-Canon

What is it with you? Why you feel so specially familiar? It's like our souls have been knowing each other very long before we did. This sense of warmth, is it the lantern you're holding or my spirit recognising you?

We could achieve great things together, we did already, maybe we should retrace our steps. I can tell you've been here longer than I have, what kind of awful place made you this kind? Why are you assisting a lost child no one could care about.

I've always wondered what it meant to be known deeply, your gaze makes me feel suddenly understood, we're similar I can sense it, we're not living in the same life are we, are we even living a life? Perhaps we found each other in the past one. It must have been satisfactory if, after all, we found each other again, cutting through time and space.

[bitternace]

if youre still taking the top 100 song rqs - how about 34 and something kairi related? ❤️ (dont worry about it if you're already swamped with rqs!)

but i regret just one thing: i never got to change your mind

[ID: a digital drawing of kairi from kingdom hearts. the background is a sketchy rendition of the tunnel in Traverse Town's secret waterway. the shadows are a little chunky, and the circular waterway frames her from the shoulder up.

she is in her kingdom hearts outfit, shown from the thigh up. with her back to the audience, kairi holds her right arm behind her back, shoulders tense. her right hand is curled into a fist. /End ID.]

[qcoded]

i fear I won't ever have as much success as when I was insane about belos and the collector. a good amount of my current mutuals (whether they're from here, tiktok or twitter) and followers came from the fact I was that batshit crazy about the two 💀

[dayscapism]

I will never watch another final season of ANY TV show ever again. Especially not from Netflix. Yes, I just finished watching Umbrella Academy season 4.

Season 3 was horrible in many ways, too, but it was still salvageable. Season 4 is the worst thing I have ever seen put to TV. (With the sole exceptions of Claus and Claire Bear precious uncle/niece relationship. And Viktor confident, trying his best to save everyone, including Ben. Nothing else! Nothing else is worth SHIT this season..)

I'm literally crying. Nothing, not even season season 7 of The 100 has made me this angry and sad.

This season buried everything, plot, world, the canon, the characters, the relationships. Everything! It ruined everything. And none of it made sense either! The number of plotholes!!! A first draft has fewer plotholes. And what a horrible message! You're telling neurodivergent, traumatized diverse kids/people shouldn't exist???

If I ever see any of the writers in real life... the gods help them... I want to make them dissapear from existence by a magical instalove octopus, then jump in time and burn the scripts of this season so it never happened 💔

First the 100, then Lucifer now Umbrella Academy. Please, no more. STOP RUINING OUR AMAZING SHOWS!

[magnifiico]

@howthesleeplesswander || are we ready to die? i think we're ready to die 8'D

He had no concept of time down here. Only that enough time had passed for his mind to clear, reality to assert itself, and King Magnifico to find—

Well, a dungeon cell was no more befitting a king than the mirror just as abhorrently containing him. So, what was he? After all he had done for Rosas, the sacrifices he’d made, the protection he’d offered them for years beyond count, they would treat their king like some common criminal? His queen would dare to turn her back on…

His queen. Amaya. Amaya.

Magnifico had run his muddled mind through the events of that day on a near tireless loop: picking at bits and pieces of his memory, recollecting flashes here, a foggy and distorted mess there. And despite all that he had gathered—a puzzle he’d had plenty of time to build—he’d yet to trace back to what had offended her so. What had antagonized her, driven her to stand against him as if he were the villain betraying the very kingdom he had built?

I built this. We built this.

And he’d promised from the beginning he’d do anything and everything it took to protect it. No questions asked. No holds barred. Magnifico used that book because he had to. The people hadn’t given him a choice; if he had let them—

No. No, no no. We said we’d never let that happen again.

But nevertheless, here he was. Dethroned. Defamed. He’d almost convinced himself his queen planned on letting him rot eternally, but when he heard the creak of a door on that fateful day—could’ve been morning, afternoon… or perhaps his darling had decided to pay an evening visit when all had quieted down—Magnifico hadn’t needed to see her to know. Her footsteps were a recognizable rhythm, soft and elegant, down the steps. Somehow, the echo seemed to penetrate his magical prison just as well, and in some way, each beat trembled down to his core.

When she stood outside the bars, however, peered in at that loathsome little mirror on the wall, he was ready to face her. That is, he’d convinced the faint flutter in his chest that he was.

“You’ve placed a magical mirror in which I am already very securely contained—trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to determine that’s the case—within a literal prison cell,” he observed blandly, head cocking while a bitter smile tugged on his lips. “Is that not just a touch excessive, my dear?”

[zhongrin]

signed back up on an IM app (bc the nice man uses that app more often, and i thought well why not) and a random guy whom i met through a dating app 3 years ago immediately sent a message..... i'm..... gods....

[mel-loly]

-Hey, dear Mike! <3

@manpleblog

[clemencetaught]

I wasn't sure if y'wanted them sent in today or tomorrow, BUT TO NOT MESS UP-- (you mentioned answering ic in the tags so yeeting these directly at Patrick >:3 sorry if they're too many omg)

Patrick (any verse)

What does it feel like when others depend on you, in one way or another?

Are you more prone to assuming someone needs you (in a service kind of way, for aid, for support-) or more likely to think they don't?

If psychics were 120% reliable and you could connect to those long gone… would you?

In which contexts are you more 'do as I say not as I do' and in which will you listen to your own advice?

Do you ever catch yourself growing… a little bitter, maybe, at people describing their comparatively 'mundane' problems? Is it envy?

Do you believe children should be shaped for the likeliest future or the future should be shaped for the children to come?

When is self-sacrifice acceptable?

When is hurting those you love acceptable?

in which the 54th victor of the hunger games gives an impromptu interview ( nosy questions for the birthday enby w/ @mythvoiced )

The tea cup is set on the saucer. Discreetly, Patrick slides his other hand into his pocket, where the synthetic patch on his palm wraps around his pocket knife– a habit of sorts, since he won his games. His pocket watch sits on the table, next to the saucier and on his lap, Sun has wrapped herself into a ball, her paws disappearing into the mass of orange fur. On the balcony outside his apartment in the Capitol, this is the only place Patrick knows he will be granted a modicum of privacy in the viper’s nest. 

The shadow of the balcony covers the upper half of his body. Sun keeps dozing on his lap, in the sun. 

Most times, when the questions are directed at him, they’re expecting an affirmative. Doesn’t matter if it’s coming from a District person or a Capitolite– they go to him for answers, first and foremost. And in the case of the latter, these questions are not questions so much as veiled demands. 

Ones that he must always accommodate, regardless of the nature of the demand. 

But these questions, this voice, is…well they seem genuinely curious. And the questions they’ve lobbed his way, they don’t seem to be expecting one correct answer.

Sun shifts on his lap. His leg vibrates from her purring. Patrick sighs, leaning back on his chair. “That…quite a lot of thoughts you have going on there, hm?” The knife stays in his pocket as he gently scratches the top of Sun’s head. “I’ll answer your second question first: people will always look out for themselves first. If they don’t think you’re useful, that you can contribute something good to their lives, then you’re dead to them, if they don’t kill you first. Make yourself indispensable to them and they won’t hurt you.” At least that’s what he tells himself– it’s easier to simply assume anyone who approaches him that they want something he can give them. “The younger victors will need someone to guide them anyway.” 

And even the ones who vehemently deny needing someone, anyone. Patience is always key in those instances– from Taiyang whom it took almost six years and his tribute’s sanity to finally approach Patrick to María, who still slaps away any hands offered, friend or foe. Ironically, he had to approach her first.  

“…I suppose I don’t think too much about that. If someone was asking for your help, you would be more caught up in what they’re asking, more than how you were feeling no?” A Trojan horse, he’s lobbed in their direction although he’s quick to revise: “...It scares me sometimes.” He confides, fingers pausing in their administrations on Sun’s head. Actually it scares him, a lot. “They’re…they’re relying on me to guide them to the best outcome and I want the same thing for them. I promise you, I really, truly do.” Whether it’s Hyuk, Devora, a tribute he’s been assigned to mentor, or any of the victors. And sometimes even the furball in his lap and yet– “But I…I can’t always guarantee that. But they still trust me, especially the younger ones.” The tributes from District Three– his tributes, the ones who take his hand, look up at him with wide eyes, clinging to every word, every gesture he makes as it will guarantee their survival. “Sometimes I think it would be better if they exercised more caution with me.”   

A smile, bittersweet, if not actually just bitter, graces his lips. He shakes his head though, chuckling at the next question. “...Forgive me, that’s quite a question you have there. ‘Psychics’... I don’t believe that’s information that just anyone, district or Capitol, can get ahold of–  although I have heard of some old religions still practiced in the districts so I suppose the knowledge and belief in such mediums is possible to get ahold of.” He stares down at his tea, the steam still rising. Even if it is a hypothetical question on a medium known to be more shoddy than reputable, he can’t help but pause. If they could contact those ‘long gone’; would that mean, if he asked them to, would he be able to speak to her one last time–

He shakes his head, eye catching his pocket watch, metal beaten and faded, the clock face wearing a crack down the right side. Still, it shimmers in the sunlight. “Even if I could, I…I highly doubt she would want to talk to me of all people.” If they hadn’t met, if they hadn’t fallen in love, she probably would still be alive. Tellessa’s family too. 

After all, he was the first person outside of Tellessa who knew about her forbidden books. “Wherever they are, it’s probably better than here.” Or at least he hopes it is for her. A place where life doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is…easier. A place for souls to rest at long last. If such a place even exists in the first place. He picks up his saucer once more, still careful not to jostle Sun on his legs. She’s taken to loafing now– he knows her eyes are closed even if her head dips every few seconds. But make no mistake, that does not mean she is unaware. Trusting of the one asking the questions. If it was just him, she would be stretched out, a white underbelly waiting for his hand to scratch kindly at the ceiling.

Perhaps the saying is true after all: like owner, like pet. Although Patrick would argue she’s more like Hyuk if anything.

“It depends on the circumstances,” he says as neutrally as possible. A vague answer for a hypothetical question, because that is truly it. “I suppose if one’s life was on the line, it would be better if they followed my lead, no?” 

Not that that’s stopped, those with rebellious tendencies from committing treason anyways. ( And unfortunately, he can name more than one. ) It is ironic in that manner– for someone who knows the system, knows how to work within the rules all, has spent years perfecting his craft in survival arts, it would make more sense to invest on those with similar goals. And yet here he is, worrying about the ones who are decided not interested in survival and therefore would spurn his advice at any given moments. “Not that…that following my advice has ever helped them make it through.” 

(His tributes. All thirty nine of them. No two games are ever the same, the gamemakers would never allow that. If the circus known as the Hungers Games must be reborn over and over again if it wishes to continue.)

He takes a sip of his tea, washing down the momentary displeasure. Or at least he thinks it will be only a moment long. “I suppose what a Capitol citizen would consider a ‘mundane issue’, as you put it, would differ from those of someone from the districts. The former does seem more inclined towards complaining if only to build comradery amongst one another. I’m just glad that they have such means to…channel their frustrations.” 

( It’s in times like those, where he wishes his temper could curdle, the way Devora’s does in the face of the Capitol Elite. How he wishes he could simply let her use the knife to silence those idle complaints. )

Patrick takes another sip of his tea. It burns in his throat. It’s bitter too– he must have let the leaves seep for too long. But the asperity doesn’t just settle on his tongue. “Are we talking about an ideal world or the one we live in now? Depending on who you ask this question to, you’re guaranteed to get quite…different answers.” A smile, as frigid as the shaved ice the Capitol serves as a delicacy during the games, crosses his lips. “Our great nation was built to provide safety and prosperity for the children. To serve them. Although whether the truth is actually the other way around will again, depend on who you ask. As a mentor to my tributes, I suppose…we can’t deny the reality in front of us, no?”

Sun yawns. He puts his tea down and idly, he scratches the underside of her chin and he feels her purring against his finger. “Are you sure you should be asking me that question? I would think there are more…suitable candidates for this question.” People like Hyuk, he means. People like María– the kinds who would gladly make sacrifices, give pieces of themselves for a cause. ��Self-sacrifice won’t get you where you need to be– there’s a reason martyrs are only known after their death– they’re even given a chance to be known. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool. They’re only deluding themselves into believing they can make everything better. A…colleague of mine said it best: ‘a martyr works, a survivor works better’. If you want to truly help the ones around you, self-sacrifice will only get you so far.”

Or so Patrick claims. He can hear it though– the sound of Hyuk shouting at him to stop lying. The truth is, self-sacrifice, if it is for a tangible reason, is…well maybe it is not worthwhile, but it can be certainly respected, especially if this tangible reason is a human life. The Capitol will always wonder what spurred Patrick to hold his district partner’s hand even if it burned a hole through his skin, will always wonder why Taiyang insisted on protecting Link in the arena, will always wonder why, why, why would Devora so willingly serve as President Snow’s puppet even if it further severs her ties to the districts despite everything the games took from her.

They would never understand compassion in a dog-eat-dog world– self sacrifice.

“...However, I suppose, if there was truly a good reason to do so…well, I have yet to see it.”

( Like the promise of a better world. If there is even one that exists. )

His hand stops. Sun turns her head towards him, copper eyes watching him. “When do we not hurt the ones we love?” Perhaps the better question for him is: when is he not hurting the ones he loves? He saw it in her eyes and Hyuk’s too. And yet they forgave him, somehow, every time. If not for that, well…would there even be a reason to keep going? “That’s part of caring for someone, no? You are preparing for them to hurt you without retaliation.” He shakes his head, snorting. “I think the answer should be obvious, if it guarantees their well-being in the long run, I think that is a gamble to be considered. That being said–” 

Sun jumps off his lap and stretches, paws facing this curious passerby. Patrick crosses his legs, hands resting on his lap. A veneer, similar to the one he dons in the Capitol flashes through, even if he is not currently in his usual suit. “You wouldn’t want to be close with someone like me. I’ve been known to have…a reputation of sorts. One of burning and you could…no, you would most definitely get hurt, one way or another and we wouldn’t want that happening, no? Just a thought for you to consider.”

He watches Sun make her way to the sliding glass door in the shade. Her tails whips side to side as she looks up at the handle. Then she looks at him and meows. 

Patrick glances at his pocket watch. “It’s feeding time for Sun.” Well, sort of– it’s more like it’s half an hour before her feeding time, but he knows gets antsy the closer meal time gets around. But this person doesn’t have to know that. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking care of business now. If you need anything more, you know where to find me.”

Or better yet, he’ll know where to find them.

[clumsy-words-again]

here's a random assumption :)

I'm guessing that you have probably been to at least three other countries before?

HELLOOOOO!!!!

I haven't! But I might (99.9% not, though) get to go to Thailand this August for a dance competition!

[xluxsolarisx]

clawing at the edge of my enclosure at you..,, auuaAA auuaaghrvf asuugh aahbgsffdhnrd. you know how it is

raps at the glass of your enclosure despite warning signs saying not to because i want to see what will happen. because i am fundamentally curious. anyway yeah i do know how it is

[indecisive-dizzy]

Ramble about Eddie to your heart’s content, bestie :D

I’m honestly very interested in your ideas :3

Again, don’t be scared to just ramble in my ask box, I love hearing peoples ideas

AJDKKAGAJAKAK- THANK YOU <3 <3

I'm wailing rn /pos

My AU! Disabled Eddie!! Ok so he wasn't born with his disability, it came about later.

My Current story is that he had stroke in late middle/early high school! I have done research and Yes it is possible for teens and younger to have strokes. From what I recall it can be significantly worse for them compared to adult strokes

Eddie was left with permanent complications and is disabled bc of it. He has coordination, balance, and general mobility complications among a list of other post stroke effects. I just found the word I was looking for a few days ago to describe his mobility issues, it's Ataxia!

Eddie has to deal with bouts of muscle weakness on his right side which can effect his vision. He also gets vertigo a Lot and at this point dizziness is expected every time he stands.

He uses forearm crutches when he needs extra help walking bc he does have good days where he may not need them! But for longer distances he brings them bc he's better safe than sorry. He also has cane but he doesn't use it As much.

He also has a wheelchair that he Hates. He hates having to use it. But his Really horrible days leave him unable to stand, much less walk. He wishes he could just hide it somewhere and never think about it but alas. it's important.

He dislikes the wheelchair so much bc it makes him feel useless. He is Not! I want to clarify that wheelchair users are perfectly Capable and Independent! Eddie just has an issue with overachieving and working himself too hard. He wants to be helpful and do So Much but there are some things he can't do while in his wheelchair. He was stuck in a chair for months after his stroke and it was devastating back then. He has No good memories with a wheelchair so he continues to dislike using it.

Ok putting a read more bc I am not shutting up for a While

Relationships with the neighbors! Generally the same. Barnaby doesn't chase him bc that would be mean (? I can't think of a better way to describe it)

Sally is still Sally but she's specific on her mailman hate (lmao) to make sure Eddie and everyone else knows she's not faulting him for his disability.

Hmm yeah everything else is pretty much the same. I guess everyone is also more open about offering Eddie help from time to time if he looks like he needs an extra hand. They're not persistent or anything, but if they see him struggling to carry a package or two they're more inclined to help.

I still don't know how Howdy gets his shit. Honestly If Eddie is having a crutch or chair day,, Howdy just won't get his stock unless he gets it himself. I can't think of a way for Eddie to deliver all those heavy ass boxes.

He does ask people to pick up their packages occasionally too. He tries to deliver them all himself but it's not always possible. He offers a trolley they can use.

I want to talk about angst. So this is very specific, I'll try to keep it short. growing up, Eddie lived in a four bedroom house. two downstairs master bedrooms and two upstairs normal bedrooms. Before his stroke he was upstairs, his older brother in the other room, and his older sister in the bedroom downstairs.

Afterwards he had to move downstairs. His sister Hated this. She loved her room and her private bathroom and she was very prissy about it.

This snowballed into her just,, taking all her frustrations out on Eddie. He took Her Bedroom. He's getting all the attention. Her little brother was ruining everything.

Eddie was devastated by this. He went as far as to attempt to convince his parents to let them switch rooms again. He couldn't physically walk up the stairs most days but he just wanted his big sister to not hate him anymore.

Their relationship never fully recovered. As an adult Eddie will still find ways to blame himself and feel guilty. But he just can't bring himself to talk to her.

They used to be so close. She let Eddie experiment with her makeup, they talked about fashion and boys and she helped him so so much when he was questioning his sexuality.

and then it just, fell apart. But not quietly like a loose thread but rather a house that wasn't built quite right and the screws came loose one by one.

Eddie's memory gets really fuzzy when thinking that far back. but some of those memories are burned into his mind and he wishes he could forget them like he does everything else.

[ottosuwuen]

Otto clads himself in green clothes because he believes it's a calming, relaxing color. His attire is meant to diminish the risk of provoking those he deals with.

Marone's dress has a light green shade to it too.

So, I present to you the following thought: Marone's favorite color is green.

Her outlook is completely different from Otto's, though. She sees green as an energizing, motivating color, a symbol of prosperity as well. She wears it because she feels like it reflects her spirit.

Plus, isn't it cute how Marone's hair is red, which also happens to be Otto's favorite color?

Anyway, I just think that'd be a nice detail to add to the fun contrast that already exists between these two.

[thornilee013]

I hope your week is going well🤍🤍🤍 could I please have some baby Jean?

prev | Baby Jean | WW 20.12.2023

Predictably, as soon as Jean asked, his sisters both piped up expectantly. Just as predictable was his grandparents' attempt to bring reason to the conversation by pointing them to the aquarium map. But his sisters refused to even attempt to listen to reason, arguing with each other in complete dismissal of which exhibit was closer or what their plan could be.

Jean sighed and wandered off to the closest exhibit, immediately awe-struck by the colors and movements of the fish on the other side of the glass.

MASTERPOST