#like….. this poor fucking guy omg
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lunarcigar · 11 months ago
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Imagine waking up from a coma to see your ex girlfriend and your cop friend and they instantly have beef with you
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luna-the-cretar · 3 months ago
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Everyone else: *having a very serious conversation about the Elder Brain and how to deal with it*
Barnabos and Skrimm: *straight up having a fucking lovers quarrel*
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hauntingblue · 10 months ago
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One thing oden and ace teach us is that bad bitches go early so you can understand how worried I am for nami....
#oden asking if they still love him after beating a whole village of criminals up as the sun rises behind him...#oden sama..... 20 (maybe???) father of like 5 and boyfriend to many#KIKUS SISTER(BROTHER I DONT REALLY KNOW) IS THE ONE ON THE WHITEBEARD PIRATES???? KIKU IS THE LITTLE ONE!!!#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 962#another oden panty shot....#another oden panty shot as he begs for shirohige to take him to the sea with him.... which could mean anything...#marco teasing shirohige about liking oden.... this cant be true...#how is izu jumping that much omg... we ard not taking oden but this random samurai will do#toki can fight??? oden like that akdhakshdkshsks he looks like the harkonnen guy akdjajaja#he has sanji's radar.... amazing#episode 963#shirohige is gonna break down when he finds out oden left him for a woman.... so sad....#also the size difference.... poor woman.....#shirohige came back for him omg.....#THE BLONDE GUY WITH THE LASHES AND THE WOMAN WITH BLUE HAIR ARE FRANKYS PARENTS RIGHT???#already having babies in year 2..... momo was born in shirohiges boat... legend#orochi chosen as a substitute for oden omg.....#FUCKING TEECH!!! DIEE!!!! I CURSE THE DAY SHIROHIGE LET YOU ON HIS SHIP#episode 964#OROCHI DIEEEE CHALLENGE!!!! but this scene with the witch is a banger... such a shame he is a pathetic villain i mean he could be scary and#with his power he is..... facades and all....#sukiyaki coughing sounds like that GOO GOO GOO GOO cupcakke sound..... maybe its just me...#THEY KILLED SUKIYAKI ALREADY???? OMG ODEN!!!#why is he-man on shurohiges crew akdjsks... also so funny there is just a royal family in there...#roger talking about how his time is coming and he wants to fight shirohige again.... GO BE WITH YOUR BABY MAMA DEAD(heehee)BEAT!!!#another pantyshot akdjskks the animators are on my side.... i love how everyone wants oden now... roger and shirohige passing him around#roger skipping to go fight him akdjsksj he is the moment....#episode 965
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skrunksthatwunk · 1 month ago
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just finished the original devilman manga. wuh!!
#genuinely one of the most batshit narrative structures i can think of#major major spoilers ahead im serious#monster of the week for like 2.9 volumes and then HARD pivot to literal actual armageddon#tbf my exposure is limited to a couple of crybaby watchthrough and the funny ova. yk the one#but only the first one 💀 idk why i didnt watch the second#the characterization differences between this and crybaby are really stark and thats been one of the things absently poking my brain#like really really stark#anyway what a time. im sure its depiction of humanity's self destruction is no longer relevant :)#and the ending always gets me but that final panel is SO FUCKING GOOD#raagghhhh#RAAAAAAAAA#i love the monster designs tbh. he got gnarly witg it in a really distinctive way#admittedly my experience w 70s (and prior) manga is super limited but at the very least the art feels unique to ME#and while my impression of the devilman manga was largely informed by yhat one post about everybody's expressions being wildly off#from their emotions but that's literally just a problem with ryo which means that shit's a character choice. which i love#how could i hate him just look. swagless#the scanlation i was reading did Not do the satan in love with akira reveal justice btw#it's like you ruined everything by fallin in love w akira and satan's like cam you blame me? im a hemaphrodite GIRL YOU CAN'T SAY THAT AND#ALSO WHAT???? WHAT???????#intersex people are famously prone to falling in love with akira fudo alias devilman. i guess??#i keep trying to figure out the logic but it's all bad. oh also ryo's logic in the beginning is kind of circular and dumb#it happened a couple more times but the guy was just raving. just saying shit. that he kind of made real ehich is extremely funny btw#omg manifesting!!!#ALSO I DID NOT KNOW THERE WAS SO MUCH DEVILMAN CONTENT????#i looked at the wiki trying to figure out the series order and like#in 1972 go started devilman and also in 1972 there was an anime adaptation and TWO SEPARATE MANGA ADAPTATIONS of the anime#the people were fucking insatiably lusting after devilman#dvilman lady and violence jack are extremely funny names to me btw#like 16 entries in looking at violence jack: evil town was just too much to me jfhsjsksh. violence georg#ANYWAY. good shit. poor akira as always. poor satan. they reinvented doomed yaoi or whatevr. poor boyos. etc
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mwagneto · 1 year ago
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the only thing i hate more than ppl who lie is ppl who lie in a way that forces you to go along with it like ohhhmy fucking god do whatever the fuck you want if it's only yourself you're embarrassing but why would you bring ME into this. lord
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camels-pen · 1 year ago
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vague DP x Noragami crossover time~
Hiyori is terrified of Danny; something about him rubs her so so wrong. She tries her best to be nice, but she is the equivalent of a shivering chihuahua puppy in his midst. Danny feels kinda bad about that, but he can't really turn it off without turning human so he tries to stay as calm as possible around her.
Yukine, on the other hand, loves him. He thinks Danny's so cool and keeps bugging him about stuff from America and trying to show off how much he knows about the culture (a very impressive amount actually), and goes nuts seeing all the things Danny can do with his ghost powers. Danny feels the same about Yukine, gushing about his Shinki abilities and urging him into telling stories about his adventures and Japanese culture. These two become good friends.
Yato is kind of indifferent, and then the tiniest bit jealous once Yukine starts looking up to Danny. After getting to know him a little more, Danny has a hard time believing someone like Yato is a real "god".
It doesn't take long for Yukine to start looking up to Danny, just seeing how easily Danny can take care of Ayakashi (named "Phantoms" in the anime, heh) impressed Yukine enough to ask for advice. Thus, Yato's "oh hey potentially a customer!" doesn't last more than a day or two.
Danny does accidentally hang out with Hiyori in human form, and she does not recognize him in the slightest. She also isn't afraid of him at all in human form.
Important note: Danny, to this trio, only know him as "Phantom"
Side idea: I,,, am gonna be honest, I dunno how the naming system would work realistically, but somehow with some word, Yato gets cut off from saying the whole word of something and Danny gets a funny feeling in his chest! By the time he feels two hands holding him tightly, he realizes that he is A) not in ghost form, B) not in human form, and C) he was-
"A Thermos?" Yato asked. "Bit of a random item, but- HOLD ON YOU'RE A SHINKI?!"
Danny did not, in fact, know he was a Shinki.
The idea is: Yato, being a "god of calamity" (if this isnt actually true, F to me), and Danny, being... whatever the hell amalgamation of ecto-energy and ghost shit and human being that he is- they both sort of? overlap? If that makes sense. And so, even though Yato did not intend to call a Shinki, nor did he know Danny was a Shinki (and that he had apparently bestowed a name at some point and completely forgotten about except- that's impossible what the fuck) he had none the less a new Shinki in his possession. One that turned into a thermos.
Idk how this would go plotwise, but Yato would immediately turn around and go "hey, Yukine, isn't this great? We can use Danny to keep food warm in the winter-!" and then he gets wrestled to the ground by Hiyori of all people, who was previously keeping a good distance between her and Danny and also panicking a little bit because it seemed like his smell completely disappeared what-
And Danny is just "what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck" and "did my parents sell me to the calamity god at some point???"
The answer he gets is no, but he's never totally sure and is always suspicious about it.
Some more notes:
-> He freaks out Hiyori because he smells like an Ayakashi
-> Yukine is a little bit drawn to him due to their similar (enough) circumstances.
-> Yato doesn't give much of a shit beyond the usual, at first, because he's used to the presence of death and Ayakashi near him. And Danny's existence isn't much of a surprise to him after hanging out with a sort-of Ayakashi (Hiyori) for so long.
-> After transforming into a Shinki for Yato, Danny can, in fact, blight him! When he changes back to his non-thermos self though, he does not blight Yato.
-> Danny offers to teach Yukine math one (1) time when Hiyori is unavailable and it ends with both of them getting repeat lessons. Danny thinks its a rip-off that he's not in school and yet he's still doing homework.
#dp crossover#DPxNoragami#danny phantom#noragami#nemotime#might add to this later when i'm further along in my rewatch of the anime and remember more stuff#tho i definitely remember that Rabo guy and it would be quite fun to consider him fucking shit up for Yato AND Danny#i wanna make Danny and Hiyori decent friends when he's in human form but i find it so funny making her just hiss at him out of fear#and then going 'omg im sooo sorry. i dont know what came over me- *HISS*' but like. she is completely 100% geniune#poor girl. it is very amusing to me however#possible reasons for Danny not in school - vacation. graduated. errand for Clockwork. etc. idk yet)#will probably make it so that Hiyori eventually gets used to having him around and then she's the one to make the connection#about his human form. but for now. crying screaming hissing on the floor etc#YOOO#HOW FUCKED UP WOULD IT BE IF CLOCKWORK WAS ONE OF THE BIG TIME 'gods' AND HE JUST MADE DANNY HIS SHINKI#WITHOUT TELLING HIM????#ohhhh#this fucks me up oh man#CW seeing no problem with it & Danny not getting the problem until its pointed out to him#that he can't remember a single time before this when he was used / turned into a thermos#because when you make a spirit a Shinki and give them a name#they transform. so Danny should be able to remember transforming *at least* once before now. and yet.#i mean its not that hard to figure out right? Master ('god') of all time. Likely to be very volatile Shinki. Just rewind and you're good :)#and maybe CW does rewind. when Danny starts blighting him kinda hard. and Danny doesn't notice much out of place#he just thinks he got knocked out during a fight and asked what he missed#later. Hiyori and Yukine will try to jog his memory and Yato will be doing ... something sus probably in the background to try to help#oh man i also gotta figure out Danny and Yato's whole deal with the accidental Shinki + blighting mess between them#anywho bed time for meee
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rintoorou · 5 months ago
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pls ok sobs err let's see here... i am so not good at recommending songs HELP some of the reality club i listen to: 1. Alexandra 2. Am I bothering You? 3. Anything You want
they have lots of amazing songs so if you're interested to take a deep dive i think you'll find better songs than the mainstream one i reccomended 😭😭
i just listened to all of these and IM IN LOVE ☹️ let me just say some things omg
alexandra — this is my fav out of the three like it’s so ‘i’ll walk you home and linger by the doorway lovestruck bc we just spent the whole night talking’ vibes 😭 i bet sunarin will listen to this a lot lot (maybe try and learn it on the guitar for u..but he keeps that to himself first lawl) HOWEVER…this made me think of iwa and kuroo like JUST IMAGINE THE POTENTIAL for a love at first sight to friends to lovers and they’re just the biggest Dorks about it O___O
am i bothering you? — this song is so cute oml like if this song were in an aloha hawaii edit/montage it’d go back and forth between college and present time ,, this is gonna suit suna’s pov more i feel :3
anything you want — i can’t stress . how much this song IS college era sunayn like i wish i heard this song b4 so i could add it to the series playlist (i’m gonna add it later LMAO) but UGH just you wait omg it’ll make sense when we get to that part AAAAAA i imagine this song being more from yn’s pov but bottomline is: im so elated abt how this song captures college sunayn im in tears
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floral-hex · 7 months ago
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Two hours. I got two hours of sleep. I’m so frustrated with myself.
Went to the ER. Everyone was very nice. They gave me an IV bag of fluids (I was dehydrated! Sad cactus!) and a little ativan (teeny dose), which was nice at the time! Just a little amount, but the (mostly) quiet room, fluids, and meds managed to relax me a lot. Could have fallen asleep if the bed was actually comfortable. Then they packed me up, gave me another little Ativan to take home for tonight, and said they’d contact my primary. Cool cool. Got some much needed food on the way home, then took the pill and got comfy. Again, smallest dosage they make, so no feeling too good. Managed to muscle past my anxiety to fall asleep, and… 2 hours. Woke up. Tried to go back to sleep. Too frustrated and anxious and I feel like crap. What should I do? Just eat a whole gummy and hope that knocks me out? For me, that feels like playing roulette. Could work, yeah. Could make me sleepy and pliable. Could also backfire and make me feel sick and extra anxious for another 5 or 6 hours. What do I do? Roll back up to the ER? “Hewwo, I woke up and I need more benzos 👉👈🥺” haha funny, but I’ve seriously been thinking about it 😑
God, I’m miserable. Been sitting outside on the porch for a bit. Not quite an hour. Needed to get out of the apartment, but tbh, nearly 4am outside isn’t doing much for me. I just feel alone. It wouldn’t help with sleeping, per se, but just someone, I dunno, hugging or holding me for a few minutes would honestly save me a little. What a mess. Oh yeah, and apparently my kidneys are going 👎👎👎 down. Bad meat. Not great test results. Not what I’m focusing on tonight. I’m a mess. Anyway, this was my update. Sorry for all the walls of text. Suppose this is mainly for me to look back on in the future, but can’t pretend it’s not at least a little validating to put this all out into the world and knowing that maybe one or two people read this and I didn’t suffer completely without recognition. Yeah…
#this is a lot of text#not really a casual read#ok ok… I can’t sit outside forever#gonna go back inside and I dunno make a hot chocolatey drink. grab some snacks#TRY to feel good even though I don’t#YES will probably get a little high#hoping that the combo of sugar. salt. and thc will give me the sleepy tools to just pass out for awhile#just a few more hours! please!#omg I was so pissed when I woke up and thought I’d slept for awhile but realized I hadn’t#’ what do you mean the last text I sent was only two hours ago? ‘#seriously. I thought I fell asleep around 11 pm but it was closer to 1am.#stupid sexy ativan. messing with my sense of time#it really wasn’t that big of a dose! I was basically a little buzzed for an hour or so each time#but the doctor was nice and straightforward with me. I just dunno tho. I’m a big guy with a history of anxiety. .5mg is weaksauce#god I’m getting anxious just sitting here thinking about trying to sleep again#it’s feeding on itself. I’m trying to rationalize this but it’s just this feedback loop.#is this my life now? I’m outside. I feel so alone. I feel like I could die any moment. in a sword of Damocles way. it’s there and waiting.#ok sitting outside isn’t helping#after 4am and yes I see cars driving by. I hear the occasional siren. but I still feel alone in the world#please tell me life goes on? please tell me we’re not really at the end here.#I always feel like I’m staring at our final days. that we’re all barely here. fucking ghost planet. waiting to die.#there’s war and hate and everything is expensive and I can’t.. I’m not a part of this world. I’m too poor and sickly and so it all seems…#like we’re on our last leg. like the final days of a fire sale. this body feels fit for the grave. this world is the grave.#I’m scared#ok like I said sitting out here isn’t helping. Ian. please stop.#yes. yes. ok. snacks and drinks and distracting tv. let’s try this again.#sorry this is a lot#I spent the last 20 minutes writing these tags and getting progressively more anxious 😬#you can ignore this#text
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angeltism · 10 months ago
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you know if crush anons are actually interested they will just come back when they feel like it and you dont have to make all of your posts about romance.
I was about to go to bed but I can take a sec .
Yes ?? I'm very aware of this ??? But I enjoy talking about romance , even outside of trying to fish for compliments (which I'll admit I do, but nawt all the time) . Fantasizing about having a relationship brings me comfort and that's something I can't help , and is literally harmless .
I am very aware I can't like,, force others to wanna date me via posting about how baaaadly I want a partner or whatever . And that isn't what I'm trying to do . It'll happen when it happens , but for now I just find it calming in a way to post about what could be in the future . So . Yeahh idk thanks for telling me stuff I already know anon ?? What kind of reply were you expecting here
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taz-writes · 2 years ago
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object memories
A fic I wrote as part of my D&D druid’s backstory that I’m in the mood to share. Do you ever write something for the sole purpose of splashing around in your own prose like a dog in a kiddie pool?
TLDR: POV character Hush and her father were held prisoner by a cult for 10 years in solitary confinement, before being ritually sacrificed. Unbeknownst to the cult, Hush wasn’t quite dead and woke up later in the mass grave mortally wounded but alive. As a druid, Hush can shapeshift into animals if she’s seen and studied them before. This fic is about how she 'discovered’ her first four wildshapes in the aftermath of her ordeal, while learning to survive alone in the wilderness and fend off the hunger that threatened to consume her.
~4,600 words; CWs: gore, animal death, take ‘em seriously I’m not kidding around. I feel like there’s also something going on here with the hunger stuff, but I truly don’t know what the fuck to even call that CW. If somebody knows, let me know lol.
The rat was the first. 
She doesn’t know exactly when she reached the tipping point, but she grew intimately acquainted with the ways of the rats over the years. She spent an eternity in that dungeon, curled in the corner among her clinking chains, feeling them scurry over her in her sleep. Grew acquainted with how they move, how they think, grew used to fighting them away from what little she had to eat, bartering with them for the space, for help to stay clean, teaching them to bring her things. She watched them for generations, while they nested in the dirty little pallet that she slept on,  until they were closer friends than she’d ever had among humans. 
She knew them, inside and out, long before she knew how to change into anything. When she awoke in the aftermath and the wildshapes came, the rat was like a second skin. She slipped into the shape like a shield, slick with blood, and slithered out with the last of her breath. 
The world outside was big. 
She couldn’t heal. The first word she spoke when she took her given shape again was a rattling, empty gasp that sent sticky gore oozing through the feeble scabs over the gash in her neck. It didn’t matter how desperately she grasped for the language, how well she knew the incantation, how crisp and adamant the gestures were that should have saved her. There was no magic without sound. And her angelic heritage did little to help when whatever the source of her limited innate healing, it simply didn’t respond. 
She spent the first week or so in the glade on the edge of the forest where she collapsed after running out of time as the rat. The summer heat broiled her skin, even through the shield of the canopy, leaving her parched and aching and crisp like a dead leaf. In the haze of exhaustion, she began to treat her wounds. 
The sacrificial shift they’d dressed her in shredded easily. She wound long strips of it carefully around her waist and chest, stomach churning at the horrid sight of the injuries, and tied the rest as tightly as she could across her ragged neck before the pressure made her choke. Every motion left her dizzy and sick. She might have laid there on and off for hours or days or a month, languishing in the softest patch of moss she managed to find and dragging herself back and forth from the clear little stream that burbled a few yards away. As many moments as she could, she hid behind the rat again. The rat wasn’t bleeding. The rat was safe. The rat could forage, devouring whatever it could find, just enough to sustain her. 
She learned the rabbits next. 
Timid creatures, cautious and quick, they watched her with their wide beaded-bright eyes and darted to safety at the sound of her rattling breaths. While she waited to recover her strength between wildshapes, she watched them back, tracking the little families back and forth among the wild grasses. They were solitary, but not alone—never truly alone. 
There was a nest not far from her resting place. She stumbled across the babies on her way to the stream. Their tiny forms huddled together in a depression in the grass and she looked one in the eyes and its little ears trembled, it tucked itself deeper in the shadows, bracing, and a sudden knife twisted in the center left of her stomach. 
It took too long to realize it wasn’t the wound this time. 
Her sunburnt skin ached desperately, throbbing to the rhythm of a heart that wasn’t hers. She fumbled past to the edge of the water and dipped her face below the surface, where the chill could bring her to her senses, but the soft curves of the current brushed their way along her cheeks like the perfect ghosts of her father’s hands. 
Her lungs burned before she came back up for air. 
The next time she changed, the new shape was a rescue. She was a stranger but she smelled like the glade, and the other rabbits allowed her there. In the shadowed night they huddled together, warmed by each other’s skin, and her tiny rabbit’s heart began to calm as it hadn’t before in a very long time. 
She couldn’t remain forever. She was keenly aware, the longer she lingered, that she was far too close to the cult. Any member could stumble across her here, out on a forage or traveling to the compound, and she wouldn’t get another chance at freedom. She couldn’t risk it. When her stomach sealed enough that the insides of her abdomen didn’t spill to the outside after any major movement, she staggered to her feet like a newborn fawn and began the journey. 
She stuck to the woods. Waterdeep was a death trap, anyone could be cult-aligned, anyone could see her and they thought she was dead but she couldn’t know who might know her face. The roads were too much of a risk, populated as they were. Stealth was her only option. The angels guided her when she slept, teaching her how to find north and south in the stars, how to know clean water from stagnant, how to name the leaves and berries around her and tell which ones were safe. She treated her aches with willow bark and bandaged herself with buffers of soft clean leaves. She passed the days in the shelter of her animal forms or huddled in the shade, thinking of anything but the black spots that swarmed intermittent in her vision and the weakness in her limbs. She stayed alive. It was a near thing. 
When the berry season faded, and the leaves began to turn, the hunger snarled in her like a wild beast. 
She stumbled to the nearest town under cover of night, shielding her body with her arms, following the smell of something delicious she couldn’t name that made her gut twist with starving, nauseous desperation. It was too open, the streets too broad, but every building’s door loomed and narrowed and filled her mouth with the suffocating taste of molding earth until her heart pattered the way it did in the rabbit’s body and the outlines of the structures blurred and blackened before her eyes. A too-cold breeze swirled through the streets and she shuddered from head to toe. 
There was a man ahead in dark robes that swirled and her heart moved like rabbit’s feet fleeing in her ribcage. She forced herself to the alley, forced herself back, and bolted into the safety of the sacred darkness. 
It was like that at the next few towns, too. There were kind people, here and there. One gave her a soft dark shirt and soft dark pants when she met him in the night, thrust them at her and skittered off when she tried through rattling gasps to ask if he wanted payment; a few innkeepers let her stay the night and gave her meals in the morning that softened the hunger’s brutal edge. But it couldn’t last, because the figures in the alleyways always came back, and names that she remembered from another life haunted her until she fled back to the safety of the trees. 
The days grew colder. 
The woods were safer further south, deep and dark, filled with birdsong and the golden colors of the waning year, the colors bright as life. She’d taken a sharp rock and cut a stick to hold her weight, easing the pressure on the days when walking was too much. Her breathing was growing easier, and her neck didn’t bleed anymore. But the words that would call magic to her side still couldn’t find their way from her mind out through her lips. 
She was losing strength. The angels taught her traps and snares, but her feeble hands couldn’t tie the knots tight enough, and the few beasts she trapped slipped free when she tried to claim them. The herd of deer that once bolted at the sight of her now didn’t even flinch, the great many-pointed stag that led their numbers watching her passively while his mate and children drank at the riverside and foraged from the dying grasses. There was little to forage and less to live by, and some days the wavering mists of exhaustion hardly left her vision. 
Sometimes, on the nights the angels didn’t come, she dreamed of the stag instead. Of his glinting eyes in the brush, watching her, unafraid. She murmured prayers in the morning to whatever forces listened. 
She met the wolves in the pits of a moonless night, by way of gleaming golden eyes and an uncanny silence sweeping over her resting place, and she knew they’d come for her. She resolved herself to at least go down on her feet. 
When the first wolf lunged, she lashed out with her staff, squeezing her eyes shut against the wave of fatigue that swept through her body from head to toe and sent the blood rushing out of her head, and felt herself make contact. The beast yelped, and she blinked spots from her vision just in time to fend off a second, sending it sprawling across the scrubby ground. Her hands shook.
“Please,” she tried to rasp, though nothing but a helpless wheeze came out. The wolves paced. She shifted back, making space, feeling acid adrenaline spread slow like venom down her arms and into her fingertips, biting back the way every motion tore at the scabby flesh of her still-healing abdomen. 
The wolves kept pacing. In the dark, they moved like dancers, every footstep intentionally measured. Silent, despite their size, dwarfing her with heavy bodies—direwolves, not just wolves, but their largest and most vicious cousins. 
Her stomach growled with a ferocity that nearly sent her to her knees. 
The third wolf lunged. She grasped for the little magic she knew, one of the rare spells that remained without her voice, and scared it back with a shard of ice that burst into bitter steam across the pack. Its yelp was piercing and sharp and left her dizzy. Through the haze as she recovered, she watched the wolf pack flee. 
She dreamed of the stag that night. She dreamed of blood and the careful steps of hunting beasts, tender in the foliage. She dreamed that she staggered to uncertain feet and the stag was there, his muzzle nudging against her arm, strong and stable, as she found her way upright. She wrapped her arms around him. He was warm and smelled of musk and the gentle decay of the forest floor in fall. He didn’t flee. His fur was soft like the velveteen skin of something whose name she’d forgotten, a precious something she’d loved in another life, beyond her memory, behind the veil of the endless dark. She awoke grasping for it, the name on her lips but not close enough to catch it, even if she’d had the voice to speak. 
She dreamed fitfully, in bursts, interrupted by the empty claws of a hollow stomach scratching at the inside of her vessel like nails on slate.
The next day, something whimpered in the bushes when she went to change her bandages at the stream. She braced herself against her staff, and nudged aside the leafy branches, and found the wolf. It was panting,  golden eyes glazed grey with pain, curled up defensively with hackles raised. It growled at her approach, but the sound was weak, and tapered to a whimper. 
Near its feet, the ground was muddied with black-red blood. She traced the line from its paws to the place in its side where the fur was shaved down to muscle and a thin line of bone. The ghost of a spell and an icy projectile flashed across her memory.
Her hands were shaking again. 
She went to the water. This stream ran clear and cold, down from somewhere in the mountains, carrying the mineral taste of glaciers high above. Flakes of mud and blood trailed free from her hands when she dipped them in the current, and she watched them swirl away through the eddies and whorls. 
It was all mechanical, in the end. She pried a piece of moss from the bank, hefted it, ran it through the water and watched the dirt run off the roots towards the valley. Washed it clean, squeezed it under the surface and watched it fill with water. Stood and turned back to the forest. 
The beast didn’t calm, but it didn’t bite when she pressed the pad of moss as gently as she could against the gash. It snapped, and she looked it in the eye, waiting. Its jaws were wide, teeth yellowed and worn from use. It could tear her to ribbons even now, if it had the nerve. She wouldn’t last long. 
She washed the wound, and padded it with clean dry lichen, and flinched when she touched the beast’s side and a warmth filled her fingers that hadn’t answered her since she first returned to consciousness in the grave. She caught it like a soap bubble, soft as a memory. It settled in her chest and the breath that filled her lungs was deeper than she’d had in years. 
She’d forgotten how it felt, when the warding darkness at her center answered. When the healing power in her blood responded to her call. 
She forgot it again when the hunger returned in a wave of dizzying force, chasing all other thoughts from her mind. The wolf, rising from its rest in the hollow, tilted its head with a calculating glint and watched her. Gold eyes met gold. 
It turned to follow the water, limping ever so slightly, and padded off. 
She followed. 
The pack was waiting in a stony cavern where the stream met a sparkling river. She felt their wary gazes long before she saw them, hidden as they were among the warm grey stone. But they recognized their lost member and pounced on him, tumbling together in a massive joyful bundle over the sandy patch of riverside, and before long it was like they hadn’t even seen her. She found a bright place on a rock by the shore, and waited for the sun to warm her bones more than the hunger chilled them. 
Across the river, the bushes rustled. She knew what she’d see there. 
The stag disappeared into the brush, and her vision blackened. 
She awoke to the hot wet stickiness of a tongue on her face, and flinched, recoiling from the threat. In front of her sat the injured direwolf. 
“Hi,” she whispered, bracing herself. “Hi there.” The words stuck in her wound and scraped. 
The wolf cocked its head, stood, and licked her face again. It… did not try to bite her head off. This was not a situation she had anticipated. She particularly did not expect to be licked a third time. The wolf’s breath almost made her faint again. 
Behind the wounded animal, the packmates slunk forward, watching her. Waiting. 
The hunger in their eyes was a mirror of her own, and the shapechange came in its aching wake. 
She followed them, that night, in a wolfish skin that matched their own. It wasn’t long before she had to pause, the time limits of her wildshapes forcing her back to rest while the pack moved on, but the howl carried on. They didn’t like to leave their own behind. She learned their faces—the mother the first to lunge, the father the second, the grown pups that followed them with their own faces and minds and hearts. They walked the trails of the forest, and she learned their gait, their stalking dance, their silent patience. 
She slept between great warm bodies, and dreamed of blood and meat and the beasts that once wore the bite-marked bones on the floor of the den. 
In the days, she jostled with the pups as one of them while she could. When she couldn’t, she rested on the rock by the river, while the echoes gnawing in her stomach dueled the white-hot claws of her bone-deep scars. She scrounged late-season eggs from a duck’s nest and swallowed them raw, on her hands and knees in the riverbank mud, eggshells scraping her gums and spilled yolk staining the ground, and coughed up half what she found when her scarred neck screamed with pain from bending low. It staved off the ache for an hour. She scraped up the spilled remains in her hands and wept. 
On the fifth night, she followed the pack to a valley full of marsh-weed, where they found a limping boar. The pack struck in a whirl of fur and fangs, iron-stink staining the water. They fought her back from the bounty until the leaders took their share, but the scraps she claimed sated something, hot and vicious in the pit of her gut. 
It was enough for a day. 
She dreamed of it after, the blood that dripped from her fangs, the viscera on her tongue, the hot iron taste of it, the texture of muscle rending against her jaw. The heat on her lips and gums, bone crushing and crunching and cracking in her grasp, the relief like a soft warm pelt at the end of a long day’s journey as the soft squishing prey slid down her gullet like a prayer… 
She dreamed of it night after night after night, waking with saliva in her mouth, thinking of it between the angels’ words, the ghost of that sensation dancing through her mouth in all her forms. She sat by the river and echoed it, conjuring up the giving resistance of flesh under her teeth, biting her tongue till it bled to remember the taste. She dreamed of nothing but. She dreamed even in her waking hours, as the first autumn frost laced over the land and the pack sat full and happy from the hunt. 
She dreamed of it until the dream consumed her, empty of everything but teeth. 
She left the den on an ice-bitter evening under ponderous slate skies when the dull weight of the thought hung heavy like an overripe fruit, when she wondered what the wolves would feel like beneath her fangs, if their heavy furs would rip and tear the way that scrap of boar did or if they’d linger in the teeth and scratch and bristle. She slunk up the hill to the north on the pack’s favored trail, filling her muzzle with the scent of heavy musk and petrichor. 
The stag was waiting. 
His antlers glinted in the cold dead moonlight, graceful as a halo, round as the crescent moon. He turned his head. She met his eyes and lunged. 
She tore out the flesh of his neck like pages from a holy book, paper beneath her fangs as his blood ran like wine at a ritual. His stomach opened just as easily, staining the fallen leaves in garish scarlet, and his legs kicked feebly as she tore through the viscera that spilled free, relishing in the iron stench. Mouthful after mouthful, she ate her fill. She tore through muscle and tendon until she finally sank her teeth into his bright-hot heart and swallowed it in shreds. It might have still been beating, or the pulse between her jaws might have been her own, racing and vicious. She felt every piece reach her stomach, filling the void, hot in her chest like a hearthfire, bright as a star, sweet and tangy in the wolf’s senses and prickling in her own. 
She hunted the liver down among the mess and swallowed it next, and the kidneys, and parts she knew no name for that glistened red and pink and sickish yellow in the light. She savored the feeling, the soft wet warm of it, the taste of the life that would fuel her own. She pried out the lowest of his ribs and it crackled in her jaws and she chewed out the marrow until there was nothing left of worth. 
She didn’t know when he stopped moving, only that eventually, he did. It took too long. 
When the wolf’s stomach filled, she lost the shape and scrabbled at the stag with her own weak human-shaped hands, her fingers shaking, nails digging into the slickened meat for purchase and prying up scraps to devour. She shook and shuddered and buried her own face into the stag’s shattered chest, drinking the lifeblood until it dried sticky on the edges of her skin, until she was full, until her aching stomach silenced and stopped and grew bloated with bleeding flesh. 
She raised her head and her gaze caught upon his eyes. They were wide, and glassy, and milky with the haze of death. 
She turned away from the kill and threw up nothing but bile, choking on the taste of steel. 
“Thank you,” she murmured, too hoarse for anyone to hear, shuffling to the side and cradling his head in her lap, the warm blood filling her soft dark pants and seeping through to her skin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you.” 
She leaned over him, wrapped her arms around his neck, curling her fingers into his short soft fur. Velveteen. Buried her face in his, her eyes hot and stinging, she swore she felt the ghosts of hands in her hair as the blood dried sticky on her face and melted down her cheeks. She clutched him tight enough to strain the scabs down her chest and belly, threatening to once again reopen the wounds. And she stayed there, waiting, until nothing came. Her stomach was quiet. 
As she rose to her feet, she carefully bent and lifted as much of the stag as her body could manage. He was lighter than seemed fair, even to her haggard limbs. 
Her hands didn’t shake. 
There were hunters in these woods. The angels had told her, murmurs in the night, between the endless thoughts of hunger. They could help her. She stumbled through the brush, dragging the stag behind her, listening for someone larger than herself. 
In the hours before the dawn, she found a young man in the valley, carrying a crossbow and a knife. He stiffened at her approach, and stood there wide-eyed, watching. 
The words she spoke to explain herself died in rasping whistles in her throat, but still he watched, rapt, his eyes darting between the stag and her own face. 
“You… you killed that?” the man asked, gesturing. 
She nodded. Her neck twinged. She felt the man’s gaze skirt over her scarred neck, her hands slick with blood, the wrinkled scabby mess of her stomach where it was visible between the hem of her shirt and her makeshift belt. 
“Do you… need to… take it somewhere?” She shook her head. The man swallowed. “That’s a lot of meat for one person. Erm…” He looked around, and she tilted her head. “…Do you know how to treat it? If you’re planning to eat that yourself, you probably want to salt-preserve it, it’ll spoil quickly otherwise. I could… help?” 
She shook her head quickly, forcefully, then nodded, please, and the man flinched.  But he was true to his word. 
He led her to a clearing, his hands fluttering and his soft eyes nervous as she followed like a wraith, and showed her how to lay the stag down and open the rest of its body with a clean sharp knife. How to strip the meat from the bones, careful and keen, and process it into chunks and then lay it in pieces in salt to let it dry. She watched the process with singleminded focus, noting down every last motion, memorizing each flick of the knife. 
He let her borrow his blade, so she could clean the carcass and keep that velveteen skin. With a few weeks’ drying and treatment, it would make a good blanket to last the winter through. She stripped the stag to the bones, and kept those as trophies. That night, the angels taught her to sharpen them into knives. 
When the man had left, knife and bow in hand, retreating into the shadows, she realized that he never once quite looked her in the eyes. 
She kept the skull. Late at night she stared into its face, searching for the glint of the stag’s all-knowing gaze in the depths of his bones, knowing there was nothing on the other side. She stared at him until somewhere deep inside, a part of her became him. Until his eyes became her own. 
She took the form of a deer in the morning, wearing the weight of his antlers like a crown. The herd moved by her in the bushes and watched her like a ghost. 
She went south. The winter was upon her, and it was time again to travel. The herd had enough to haunt them.
#dnd fic#this is... more gruesome than i usually go in for but it was fun to write#the way this feels like cannibalism when it definitely isn't#but at the same time in some metaphorical sense it kind of is#it's more... killing somebody and then stealing their skin#hush is a creepy forest witch who talks to angels and makes people nervous#and i love that for her#the hunter she met in the woods is just some sad little himbo trying to feed his family and thanking the gods he wasn't murdered by the fey#100% that man thought hush was either a faerie or a demon and feared for his LIFE#i told the DM that someday i would love her to just randomly bump into that guy again#because now that she's healed enough to /talk/ again she wants to thank him and will be all excited to see him#'omg it's my best friend!!!' meanwhile this poor guy is shitting himself 'oh fuck oh no i DID accidentally sell my soul to the fey'#hush is one of those characters i categorize as 'obliviously terrifying'#she is just a gal trying to survive and trying to regain her sense of self after being violently dehumanized for over a decade#she encounters other people and is overwhelmed but tries to be 'normal'#she just... fails to realize that between the aasimar angel traits and the inability to talk and the telepathy she uses to compensate...#she is very scary to other people#but then you talk to her and she is in tears of joy bc she had a fresh baguette this morning and it was really good#and it's like... ah. she's just poorly socialized
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caruliaa · 2 years ago
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[video descriotion: an edit for lyle lyle crcodile set to the song "carried away" from the movie but sped up, featuring lyle being upset. there are many effects added, such as heart breaking animation over top, a blue grain affect and dust and glare effects. towards the end a drawing in the anime style of a boy sobbing starts to appear over the edit. /End description]
i guess i let myself get carried away 💔💔💔💔
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siren--squid · 1 year ago
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PLAYED ALL OF SOULSCAPE LAST NIGHT...... RAMBLING SPOILERS IN THE TAGS...... :D
#spoilers in tags#BRO THE FUCKING MEMORY SCENES TOOK ME OUT#Chase deserves SO MUCH BETTER than that woman. Im so glad they've separated. i feel so bad for the kids holy crap#i hope they get a happy ending with their father.#Jackie my sweet boy. the dysphoria battle made me cry. those bullies are shit and beating them was SO GOOD. hero boy deserves confidence#MARVIN THAT SASSY CATBOY OH MY GOD...... his memory was such a fun segment to play but ABSOLUTELY painful otherwise#I LOVE HIS FRIEND THO OMG??#hate those three money obsessed guys tho. would fight them again#honestly i have no words for Henriks memory. that was absolutely heartbreaking. i cried the entire time#the baby crying. the visual of his grief. how shattered and vulnerable he behaves the entire time.#the distorted bloody hospital was such a good representation of that mental state. the graves were so sad#joline showing up was the most heartbreaking and somber thing ever. doc needs a big hug#that was distressingly amazing.#Also cried over Bings memories. that was beautifully done and terribly sad#i understand deleting that memory. and the dialogue at the cabin door absolutely broke me#i knew that forest grave was important. the connections were so obvious.#ROBBIE MEMORY WAS ADORABLE THO. love that empty room scene#true anti also made me cry a little. poor kid just wanted a life. he deserves that so much#the ending did feel a little rushed though. like.. not satisfying in a way? there wasn't enough done it feels like.#the endings always feel rushed tho i guess?? just more with this one. im excited to see if anything ever has a satisfying conclusion#LOVED playing as cat Marvin. vent maze was good#i liked getting a whole map of the place as well?? but sometimes it feels like easter eggs over power plot#they're so fun and so good but also bro im here for story and the amount of things is overwhelming lmao /j#amazing plot and game overall#absolutely stunning
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ofmd-alsaurus · 1 year ago
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hauntingblue · 10 months ago
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I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs
#momo must be so emotionally confused omg poor child. this guy says he is my father and treats me like his son and also this samurai who has#been acting like my father just died. and now i turned 28 and a dragon and i need to save this island or my shougnate will die. jesus#FUCKING ROB RUCCI!!! I SURE HOPE NOT ONE STRAY ATTACK REACHES THE ROOM FULL OF CP0 AGENTS!!!#now the government is going to invade wano AND TAKE ROBIN!!!!! ROB LUCCI DIEEEE!!!!! AND YOU WILL FAIL AGAIN!!!#now how tf did the heart pirates get there... who can fly on there or did they just tag along on momos tail#the dinosaur head snake???? hello?? qjdhakshsk and it worked.... sanji... 'thats what a brachiosaurus is!' well i do not think so....#wtf sanji.... so much of that wiggly dance he does with the heart eyes has brought him here...#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1053#poor killer man.... why doesnt he cut off the arm kid doesnt have... that should do it right???#jesus.... goodbye kid and law.... hawkins just hitting his head to a wall.... CUT OFF HIS ARM!!! oh no..... another self sacrificing mate..#YEAAHHH THE ARM!!!!! is he gonna take it and give it to kid akdjsksj OH HE TOOK THE STRAW DOLL!!! killer your brain is so huge..#the death card looking JUST like killer.... that was such a slay... they had this one thought out for a while.....#THE MUSIC!!! GOODBYE HAWKINS!!! KILLER OUTSERVED!!!! whats with the cutting of arms this arc.... kid now its your turn to slay (big mom)#episode 1054#sanji having an existential crisis and queen just: WELCOME TO THIS MOMSTER WORLD#having issues with his body transforming doesnt help with the transfem allegations#APOO IS STILL ALIVE???? CUT OFF HIS HEAD!!!!#i was gonna say KINEMON!!! BUT I KNOW ITS THAT FUCKING KANJURO!!!!!! nami drawing the moon on his asscheek akdjsksj#KIKU AND KINEMON ARE ALIVE??? I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS THIS IS A TRAP!!! DON'T GIVE ME HOPE!!!#NOOOOOO THE CP0 IS IN ACTION TOO NOOOOOOOOO#they are breathing.... omg.... kiku..... ORICHI DIEEEE!!!!! i knew this couldn't end like this for her... i have been completely bamboozled#kinemon appearing like the first time... just legs.... amazing#how does big mom ikoku inside the castle are we insane... yamato can you like bite off kanjuros head off or smth... finish him off PLEASE#why do they have steel beams in kaido's castle. everything else is wood and stone. who designed this.#bepo being in law's mid episode animation akdjaksns.... thats really his beffo (bff) bepo#big mom being crushed by some beams doesn't sound right... kid should turn into magneto and start bloodbending... or repel her into the sea#episode 1055#episode 1056
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bibleofficial · 2 years ago
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SCREAM ok so swag .. found my besties on this tour theyre also w their parents & theyre 3 vietnamese siblings between 19-24 & im obsessed w them but i’m also an alcoholic so i keep getting drunk & shouldnt even b around ppl bc im going to be seeing them everyday for the next like 2 weeks
#stream#this is so fucking funny ALSKALSKLASKALSKALKS#like at dinner i was like ok SO HERES THE TEA ON WEED & THE ECONOMY#‘ first of y’all do u know what delta 8 is’ ‘ur too young to know what spice was’ none of them have smoked weed despite living in california#their entire lives#ALSKALSKLAKSLAKSLA i felt mildly racist asking ‘are u a u.s. citizen’ BUT LIEK ALSKALSKALKSLA THEIR PARENTS ARE IMMIGRANTS HOW WOULD I KNOW#like my girly Ngoc wasn’t a citizen but she had a PERFECT american accent like 😭😭😭 SOMETIMES PPL JUST ARENT#idk but also it seems like they’ve money so it’s funny whenever i’m like ‘bc we’re poor’ bc like they went/go to private universities &#shit & can pay out of pocket totally#fine like ALSKALSKLAKSLAKALA WISH I COULD RELATE GIRLY !!!! ALL I THINK ABT IS MONEY & YHAT IM BROKE#like my dream of being a dr was shattered years ago ALSKALKSLAKALAKSLAKSLA y’all got med school money ? BC I SURE DONT ALSKALSKALKSKASLAKSLA#ugh forever wish i could’ve gone but whatever it sfine i’m going to stick w US POORS#BUT ALSO LITERALLY ITS SO FUCKIN FUNNY this guy omg he did a dual degree too & he just graduated like i did ECON THEN POLY SCI & he did the#EXACT OPPOSITE - POLI SCI THEN ECON#SCREMA so fucking funny bc like yes … stan … we get to GOSSIP omg he’s a J.S. Mill stan but lowkey i’m a smith stan but like i’m also a#smith literalist i SHOULD SAY#i made that up by that i mean explicitly that i agree w his views of sales and choice rather than ‘should be’ but ‘what IS’#im FAR too drunk#omg i did something i’d never do: finished someone’s drink after they’d drank from it#like me ? put lips on someone’s cup thag i haven’t had sex w ? girl …#ALSKALSKLAKSLAKSLA LIKE I NEEDED THE REST OF THE WINE INONLY HAD LIKE 3 GLASSES#that sounds so bad oh my god#ALAKLSKALKALKSLAKSLSKLKALAL#me avoiding as hard as possible to admitting to myself that i struggle w alcoholism#me realizing that i’d just be an alcoholic if breathalyzers weren’t a thing or id not have to drive
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the-chaos-crew · 5 months ago
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SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK
You know what? Fuck you. I am a "men's rights activist."
I'm for trans men having gender-affirming marks on identification and paperwork and still being able to access OBGYN and pregnancy care, and contraceptives.
I'm for all men's restrooms including baby changing stations, because fathers exist and need to change their babies.
I'm for black men having a voice and being seen and heard, and not assumed to be predators for being both black and men.
I'm for fathers gaining custody of their children in the face of a court system which favors the mother, stating that a child should "never be without their mother," granting custody to even the abusive mothers while taking it away from their fathers.
I'm for boys receiving both 'boy' sex education and 'girl' sex education, so they know how periods and pregnancy actually work.
I'm for boys and men giving and receiving emotional checkups, hugs, and everything soft because boys and men both deserve softness. Boys and men deserve to express their emotions healthily. To know how to express emotions healthily.
Men deserve access to care, patience, love and kindness.
#Im a trans dude but I have been around a lot more men than women#mostly because I get along with guys more than the women around me trying to force femininity on me at every turn#and MY GOD my male family members and friends are DEPRIVED#my poor dad had to fight tooth and nail with a court system cause despite EVERYTHING POINTING TO MY MOTHER#BEING WAAY TOO MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY UNSTABLE#the court was still “the mother gets custody of her children because she is the mother”#if I recall. my mom's medical team gave multiple collective papers to my mom's lawyer saying basically “this woman is fucked up.”#and my friends have NEVER been given grace or kindness or anything. had a friend who basically had a target on his head at school#just cause he was a man and had that autistic “oddness” to him#he was called a rapist even though HE was the one SA'd. literally watched hit happen and in the same day the girl said “omg he touched#my boob!!“ girl I saw you try and pull down my friend's pants while he was telling you No#and all the black guys I have known who were treated terribly because of their manlyness. had a childhood friend who didnt perform#masculinity “right” and from what he vaguely hinted at. he was abused by his parents and was bullied when I wasnt around#even as a kid I saw how men were never given any kindness of any kind. only hatred and only malice#I UNDERSTAND WHERE ITS COMING FROM!!! but for men who have given you no reason to treat them like that. its just cruel.#I love my dad. I love my friends. I love all the men of color I have known and I want a better world for women AND men
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