#let’s just cry about it for a bit

[no-context-nonsense]

Pretend it’s Saturday…

It’s hockey season bitches which means it’s time to reread Sweater Weather and cry.

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[magpie-trinkets]

continuing that "maya tries to contact claire" post, i present you the post-Spirit of Justice follow-up

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 321

You know Content Warning? Lethal Company but youtube videoing? 

Danny does that- just well, with the Zone. It’s not like it can be mapped out, what with people moving their Lairs and more lairs and islands constantly manifesting. And well, there’s so many things out here, and it’s not like he can be an astronaut.

So, he decided to make exploration logs for the Zone instead, alongside his friends and a doppelganger or two holding equipment. It’s great, and people can donate whenever he live streams so he’s getting income too. 

He just erm, maybe should have double checked it was uploaded to just his dimension…

[italwayshadtobeyou]

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[qqueenofhades]

I’m thinking it’s more likely this was a legit attempt, but in comparison to the last attempt I think the evidence for it being staged is way stronger. It was on Trump’s own property aka a way more easily controlled environment, the guy was much further away than Crooks was and he never actually got any shots off so no one even got hurt, he survived long enough to be taken into police custody, and this is all happening less than a week after a very bad debate performance and an endorsement from a woman so influential we have the data to name an Effect after her. Like again I think it’s more likely a legit attempt but either way it’s still a nothing burger.

I mean, didn't Trump and Vance just tell us to "get over" gun violence and that it was a "fact of life" in between their busy schedule of inciting racist mobs on Springfield, Ohio?

Did something change between now and then when the MAGAs are suddenly so concerned with preventing white Republicans from having access to guns?

Weird.

[spacedlexi]

maybe if i just put these screenshots together youll understand why i think their relationship just Works so well as it pertains to the characters and themes of S4 in general

neither of them know what theyre doing, but theyre figuring it out Together. the old ways are dead. and together theyll build a new future thats worth fighting for

[bogkeep]

testosterone OBTAINED

[variousqueerthings]

my pretentious trait is that i get richard ii and coriolanus, RIP to the haters but they're literally the two best plays in their respective categories because the leads are That Good in my opinion

[cheeriochat]

DMC HEADCANNON TIMEEE 2

Have fun!

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

• Dante is Aromantic, and going off of that

• Dante and Lady dated for a brief period when they were 20~ish for a month but they soon broke up, Dante realised he was Aromantic and Lady realised she was a lesbian. It was really awkward and they don't talk about it.

• (also Demisexual Vergil fight me)

• Nero's the type of guy to crush a can of cola in his hand when he's angry

• He would never actively admit it, but Vergil instantly bonded to Nero, even if Nero himself didn't bond with Vergil. It's probably to do with some weird demon biology thing, as Vergil tries to show He cares in odd ways like offering to clean Nero's weapons (making sure the demon spawn can protect itself) or staring at him from across the room (monitoring the demon spawn to assure its survival). It freaks Nero out as he doesnt know what's going on.

• Nico plays pranks on Nero and Kyrie that border on being illegal

• Trish and Vergil kind of have an unspoken bond/connection (?). Like demon to demon communication especially after the V and Trish talk

• Vergil moved into Devil May Cry without asking Dante after dmc5 and claimed a couch and a portion of the office as his. Dante won't admit that he doesn't mind.

• Also about vergil, When Patty came to Devil May Cry after the events of dmc5, she yelled at Dante for an hour for missing her birthday among other things. Vergil thought it was hilarious but he stayed quiet the whole time as usual.

• Nero roughhouses with the kids at the orphanage, and he always tries to stay gentle, but those kids man... they're out for blood. One time Nero ended up with a huge gash over his eyebrow that surprisingly left a scar.

+ plus scent choices!!!

• Lady likes Versace perfume or light floral scents. Don't know how to explain this one

• Trish likes deeper, more musky scents. For example Kyoto in Bloom by glasshouse fragrances (my signature scent lol). She also smells of this hair oil my mum uses. Very nice ^^

• Vergil likes cool, crisp scents, but not very masculine ones. More androgynous or feminine. Otherwise he smells like old books, like the old sci-fi books my dad gave me

• Nero likes cheap cologne, anything to cover up the blood smell that seems to hang around as to not scare the kids

• Kyrie likes either light, sweet scents or deep, stormy scents. She tends to lean to more deep scents.

• Dante smells like pizza grease and Lynx Africa All the time (go argue with a wall) but if he had to choose he would probably smell like roses or something with sandalwood. Heavy scents.

[possamble]

I'm not allowed to be on social media for more than two seconds today but I just wanted to say that Laios will absolutely have his own reaction to all this as someone who would die for Falin but has also imprinted on Marcille as his Emotional Support Comphet White Girl Not-Girlfriend along the way

[seagull-scribbles]

If I don’t survive the night,

If I make it to the morning-

[pocket-prosecutor]

it's not always that bad maybe. sometimes it's fun, even

[hatsunevitu]

okay so since the Cupid Ye was aired i’ve been constantly thinking about cartman’s mental condition. we know he’s probably taking medication now, so i hc him having antisocial personality disorder and bipolar disorder. and i’ve been imagining him having his depression episode for the first time after he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. he’s not used to it, he has no idea what’s going on and why he suddenly feels so tired and numb all the time, so he just stays at home skipping school and avoiding social contacts. he’s scared and the “it’s all because of your illness, poopsikins!” from his mother doesn’t help at all.

and sooo i wrote a short moment about this?? i’m sorry for any mistakes because it was originally written in my native language, not in english :(

***

Ever since early childhood it was clear and obvious to everyone that Eric Cartman had problems. Not even like that, Kyle corrected himself in his thoughts. Eric Cartman had Problems. Sociopathy, sadism, aggression – all that a person could notice in Cartman after only half an hour of communication.

And Kyle wasn't too surprised when bipolar disorder was added to all of the above in a sloppy psychiatrist’s handwriting.

By the time Cartman was finally diagnosed he had already gone through several phases of mania. Kyle even did a little research on the disorder. "To know what to prepare for the next time I meet this psycho," he told Stan. "And to know how to help him if necessary," he added silently to himself.

By the age of fifteen, Stan's company was already used to Cartman's regular explosive mood swings, which were accompanied by crazy ideas, aggressive behavior, and, if absolutely unlucky, deaths of a couple or more people.

It was typical: after a short break, Cartman would burst into Kyle's room (often through the window), start showering him with business plans, startup ideas, and opportunities to have extreme fun. Kyle was silent, trying his best to ignore him and frowning irritably when Cartman smiled ecstatically and rushed to Kyle, tugging at his sleeve and almost shouting that everything would be better this time and that it’s a one hundred percent successful scheme.

For some time Broflovski genuinely believed that everyone in their friends group was going through such tortures, but after a short questioning, he found out that they had not seen Eric's mania with their own eyes. Kyle understood — and they won’t, when Cartman just chuckled at the outraged "What the fuck, Fatass?" and replied, "I guess you're just special, Kahl. They wouldn't understand." His eyes flashed especially maliciously, and Kyle looked away hastily so as not to give Cartman the opportunity to start another fight.

Well, all in all, no one's world collapsed when Cartman was diagnosed with a new mental illness. Over the past months of insane hallucinations and obsessive intrusive thoughts, he managed to make everyone sick of him. He refused to go to the therapy sessions for a long time, shouting, running away and trying to get into a fight, and Liane was too afraid to find out another unpleasant truth about her son, preferring to go with the flow and shut him up with the fulfillment of every single of his whims. Kyle doubts that anyone would have done anything to help Cartman if he hadn't intervened. Why – it was unclear to Broflovski himself, but Cartman's first depressive phase hit them both unexpectedly too hard.

Disappearing from everyone’s sight for two weeks, Cartman ignored calls and messages (although Kyle had a serious doubt that anyone other than Butters and Broflovski himself texted him) and skipped school despite Mr. Harrison's threats of expulsion.

Liane avoided answering questions, pursing her lips in frustration and talking her way out with a trivial "He's sick." Kyle didn't believe a damn second, knowing that if Cartman was sick, Kyle would have known about it the very first. Something was wrong. For some reason, the desire to find out what exactly was much stronger than it should have been when it came to Eric Cartman.

***

Perhaps Kyle really shouldn't have worried so much — not to the point of climbing into Eric's window at night. But the Cartmans hadn't opened the front door all day, and by that time Kyle's nerves were so stretched that they threatened to break if he didn't get answers to his questions in the next few minutes. Disturbing thoughts and images of possible turn of events appeared in his head. Perhaps Cartman was dead? Or, on the contrary, has killed someone and had been dissolving dismembered body of his victim for two weeks? One option was no better than the other, but nothing was even close to what he saw in Eric's bedroom.

Haggard, seven kilograms thinner, with an unhealthy skin color and bags under his eyes, he looked painfully wrong, not Cartman-like. He didn’t look exactly ill — more like lifelessly tired. But that wasn't even what hit Kyle so hard.

He did not suspect how much had been hidden in Cartman's eyes before ��� lively fire, hatred, anger, enthusiasm, passion – all this was gone, dissolved, buried under this empty, dead, unblinking gaze. For a second Kyle even thought (hoped?) that he was really dead, but the heaving chest under the blanket and almost inaudible sound of breathing exposed life in Cartman. He was lying on his back, his head slowly turned towards the window. Kyle sought recognition on his face, but did not see a single shade of any emotions.

He froze in the window, making eye contact with Eric, feeling like he saw something he shouldn't have. He tried to revive the old familiar hatred that usually boiled in him as soon as their eyes met, but Cartman’s emptiness totally killed all the anger. Kyle climbed through the window – Cartman didn't react in any way, lazily closing his eyes – and walked up to the bed, touching his shoulder timidly.

“Hey, Cartman?” he said, shuddering at the way his voice echoed throughout the bedroom. Cartman didn’t open his eyes but smiled hardly visibly.

“Hey, jew”. His voice was empty and emotionless and Kyle pursed his lips with a bit of a pain.

“You need to see a doctor, Cartman”, he said firmly as Eric finally opened one eye disinterestedly. “I’ll help you. I promise”.

And he did.

[softquietsteadylove]

Hii love, how are you? I have a little request if thats ok.

Gilgamesh has the most horrific nightmare ever, Thena dying in his arms, there is blood and she is in pain and when she closes her eyes one last time Gil finally wakes up, only to find Thena missing from their bed, he searchs for her like a mad man, only to find her in the kitchen drinking water, he picks her up and refuses to let her go for the rest of the day.

Gilgamesh shoots up out of bed. He's gasping for breath, sweat on his brow. He presses his palm to his chest and flexes his fingers. He looks over at Thena's side of the bed, frantic for her presence.

She isn't there.

It's still warm, though. He can see where the weight of her body wrinkles the bed sheets and he can smell the scent of her fondness for the garden. His hand slides over to it, feeling the latent warmth of her presence.

He throws back the covers, desperate to see her with his own eyes. He can still feel the weight of her body in his arms--the dead weight. What it was like to look at her face, still and motionless and cold. He can vividly recall the feeling of carrying his wife to her funeral pyre and watching her body be consumed by flame.

"Thena?!"

He runs out of their bedroom, ripping the door off its hinges--weak things in comparison to his unchecked strength. He looks around their home frantically. His heart is searching for her, the Cosmic Energy in his veins screaming for her.

She's here--he can feel her presence! It exists, she's close, and even if she weren't, her existence would tether his and pull, like ends of the same string.

"Thena!" he calls out again, moving into the kitchen. He can see everything the way they left it last night. Their chairs are pushed in lazily, his apron is thrown over the edge of the sink after she told him to hang it up where it belongs yet again. He turns, ready to break this door open too.

Then she walks in. She's unaware of the nightmare that nearly sent him into hysterics. She walks in, barefoot as always, her long white dress dancing around her legs. The sun streams in behind her, lighting her bright blonde hair like an angel's halo.

"What are you yelling about?" she asks as if he's been shouting at the tv again. "I could hear you all the way from the water tower. I just looked over the garden, although th-!"

She stumbles, although any creature from this planet would have been plowed through the far wall from sheer force. But she corrects her footing, letting him latch onto her and hold her for all the eternal life in him.

He whimpers, burying his face against her shoulder. He inhales the scent of her breath, absorbs the warmth of her through her cotton dress, hears the beat of her heart as his own syncs to it.

"Gilgamesh?" she asks without asking. She runs her fingers through his hair, but he remains cloistered around her. Her face turns to kiss his temple, "what ever could be so wrong?"

She has no idea. He nuzzles the side of her neck, "don't move."

She sighs for the sake of sighing, but she does as he asks. Her fingers run through the hair on top of his head lightly and soothingly. Her other hand rubs his back. He, the Strongest Eternal, truly dwarfs her lithe frame in size. But she lets him lean on her like a tree losing its strength.

Eventually his nervous system puts out its own fire. The fear in his mind settles enough for him to open his eyes. He stays close, pressing his nose against her skin as he drags it up her neck and her jaw until he holds her cheeks to look at her--really look at her.

Thena blinks at him, her marvelously green eyes gone wide and adorable. They close as he leans in for a kiss. When they part, her lips are pulled into a smile. "Will you tell me now?"

"No," he denies, and kisses her again. He gives many more kisses, receiving her return with each. He does that until he feels strong enough to take even half a step away from her. He sighs, letting his shoulders drop, tilting his head as he gazes upon his beautiful wife.

"Gil," she prompts him more gently. Her eyelashes flutter, and her concern for him travels through her palm as she slides it up his chest and then to his cheek as well. They have been married several hundred years, and she will get an answer out of him sooner than later.

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around her and moving her to the sink, where she pours water for them. "Just a bad dream."

"Hm." It's obviously more than just a bad dream. But she leaves it at that, because their days now are full of small battles, not large ones. She raises the glass to his lips for him, as if they were wearied after the Trojan War again.

He remains wrapped around her. He can't let her go. The fear that lived in his mind during that dream hasn't left yet. It's still there, watching him despite the light of day.

Thena takes a sip for herself. "Sit?"

He makes a small sound of agreement. She moves towards the table but he prevents her from separating from him again. "Couch."

He can imagine her rolling her eyes, although it's only for the humour of it. She moves past the kitchen table and towards their more comfortable space. She seats herself and lets him seat himself around her, cradling her against him preciously. "The door?"

He grunts; he'll fix it later.

Once reclined on their couch, he breathes a little easier. This is more familiar and gentle. This is where they've spent sunny afternoons together. Sometimes they read together, sometimes he reads and she sleeps on him the way a cat would. She never liked those creatures.

He would run his fingers through her hair and sometimes she would idly rub his back. They would spend evenings here reminiscing about their thousands upon thousands of years together. Sometimes they would go out to their hammock and watch the stars.

Thena settles herself in his arms. She turns over, letting her head tuck itself under his chin, her hand over his heart with his arms wrapped around her. "Better?"

He nods. They speak the other's language--a way of understanding that only they two have. Usually it's she who has few words to offer but even now, with him being reticent, she understands it.

They sit like this for a long time. He watches the shadows rise and stretch and fall in the other direction. When it's in the windows and on them he moves his hands, only to shield her from the direct touch of its rays.

That privilege is for him and him alone. By the second time he does this she turns over again. He's not entirely certain if she's truly gone to sleep or not. But holding her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the way she feels comfortable with him; he feels eased.

Thena senses this. She sneaks one of her arms around his back and against the couch. The other she toys with the opening at the neck of his shirt. Her pale, pearly nail taps against his skin. "Now?"

The Warrior Eternal is not a patient woman.

Although, she has expended more patience than he has seen from her in quite a long time. For beings with all the time in the world, she is not the best at watching it go by. At least not with the menial. When they were first raising chickens, he could swear she would observe the eggs every quarter hour.

"Bad dream," he repeats from earlier. He already knows she knows this, and he already knows she knows how bad it is to have him this paranoid. He squeezes her shoulder. "Terrible, really."

"Hm," she encourages him, moving her hand from his shirt to his neck, cupping his jaw from below. She strokes it, pulling the words from him with her gentle touch.

"You..." he pauses. He doesn't want to lie to her, even if it's by omitting the truth. "I killed you."

"Impossible."

It's not, and they're well aware of it. But Thena speaks of it lightly, and he likes to think it's because she knows that he would take the utmost care of her, even in a nightmare.

"Felt possible," he argues, pursing his lips as he tries to get the image of her still and unblinking face out of his head. His face gets moved, tilted down to look at her lying on him. It's upside down, but this image of her is much better. He smiles.

Thena smiles too, leaning up to kiss him, letting their lips stretch no matter how far to do so. Hers are always so plump and luscious, like berries. He wants to grow berries here for her, but the ground is simply too dry.

She runs her fingers through his hair again, letting her palm press against his forehead. "It's gone now."

It's such a simple statement, but she's right. As soon as a dream happens, it's already a thing of the past. And maybe he will remember it for a long time to come. Maybe pieces of it will always be with him. But it's not in front of him now, she is.

Thena laughs as he stands suddenly, spinning them around with her hands around his neck. "What has gotten into you?"

He just gazes at her, lucky enough to have his own version of a star to brighten and dazzle and illuminate his every moment on this green and blue spec of cosmos. "Do you remember coming home like this?"

He's carried her like this plenty of times. But she knows what he means; he means the first time he carried her inside like this, as his wife. She nods, stroking his cheek again.

"Y'know, I hear humans can get married again sometimes," he grins, refusing to let the dream colour any more of the beautiful present with his beautiful wife. "They call it renewing your vows."

"We didn't make vows."

Ah, his wife, ever the romantic. He chuckles, touching the tip of his nose to hers. "We can make some this time."

"Construct some poetry for the benefit of a strange human to witness?" she scoffs at the utter absurdity.

"You would write me poetry?" he asks and receives another bubbly laugh.

"I would consider it," she appeals as he spins them one more time and sits with her again. She remains in his hold, on his lap, curled against him. "But for your eyes only. A mortal mind could never wrap its mind around what we have been through together."

That is true. Their love isn't for a mortal to comprehend. He is immortal, and sometimes he's left in awe of it. He stares at his wife, wondering if he should learn to weave so he can make a glorious tapestry devoted to every second - every minute, every hour - he's had with her.

He has all the time in the world.