#now I'm suspicious

[existingingrey]

백공죽 Expanded Version.

[lady-raziel]

had never heard of James Somerton before but now very suspicious that his stranger things and nostalgia video essay directly compares it to ready player one when one of the few published works of mine on the internet from college was an analysis of stranger things and nostalgia that compares it to ready player one 🤔

[xiaq]

I need you to understand that I went to a tiny conservative christian school K-12. My graduating class was 20 people. I thought I was the only queer one the whole time.

FOUR of the five girls I had crushes on through middle and high school are now out. FOUR of them. Bisexuals really are disasters.

[teaitis]

🔨✨

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I have a love/hate relationship with having nothing to do. One one hand, for once my to-do list is relatively simple or empty, and I get to be free to do my own stuff. On the other hand, why do i have nothing to do? I never have 'nothing to do'- I need to find something to do right NOW, or I will combust from sheer paranoia of having forgotten a Big Thing To Do and actually it turns out I I am very busy even though I literally have nothing to do.

[thefourfan]

Chat I think N and Uzi in one of their past livez are currently living in my shower rn o.o

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[javelinbk]

The Beatles interviewed by Stuart Hutchison for 'Move Over, Dad' in Plymouth, 13th November 1963 - part 1 (part 2, part 3, part 4) (x)

[lilithofpenandbook]

HARRY JAMES POTTER HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW IF HE MADE THAT RULE UP 😭😭😭

[babisawyer]

Ben coming back to the cabin to see yet another cannibalistic ritual

[antiadvil]

Too much discourse about whether the turtleneck man was flirting, not enough about why Dan needed new professional photos taken

[front-facing-pokemon]

[mollysunder]

When asked if Jinx views Vander as someone that betrayed Silco, Christian Linke replied, "I don't think that Jinx necessarily blamed Vander for what happened, though she does think (now) that Vander chose wrong".

Which is VERY interesting because for years Jinx's been hearing Silco's side of the story, and Silco's probably told it in a way to relate their experiences together. By the end, Jinx doesn't chastise the attempted murder but she recognized Vander had a choice between appeasing Piltover or keeping Silco around, and that's where she disagrees.

So for Jinx, violence is understandable, but abandonment is intolerable and that... mostly makes sense. Not just because Jinx herself lashes out violently under stress, but because on a smaller scale, she accepts the same dynamic.

The last time Jinx saw Vi until Act 2, Vi hit her and verbally confirmed Jinx's worst insecurities after Jinx REALLY messed up. Even after all that time, Jinx is ready and willing to have Vi back in her life even though Jinx is still afraid of being hurt (physically and emotionally) by Vi YEARS after the fact.

We literally see this play out in Silco and Vander's reunion. Silco's the one that brings Vander to him, that wants Vander back in his life despite the murder attempt and resulting disfigurement. Both Jinx and Silco are both communicating to their closest person, "Hate me, hurt me, but don't abandon me".

[lilybecca1]

Lmao after the epilogue came out suddenly everyone be having beef with Deku 😂😂 y'all, he's NOT winning the global popularity poll

[glitteringcrab]

They built a wall around infinity

What is the Central Finite Curve wall made of???

Is it some random sci-fi stuff like "sub-ether barrier"?

Well, if the theory that the colour yellow is associated with brain stuff is true, I'd like to point out the following:

1. The ultra beam Eyepatch Morty shot through the Citadel to bring down the Curve was yellow:

It became stronger after Eyepatch Morty infused it with blender-ed Ricks and Mortys:

Why did that work??

How could that have possibly pierced through some sort of dimensional wall? Is it really just a matter of something as "benign" as calibration or killing them to be thorough?

2. And who else, apart from Eyepatch Morty, had been collecting the bloodied remains of Mortys in vats?

Why, the Citadel Ricks.

That's... odd.

Did they collect physically "defective" or misbehaving clones before disposing them all off in one go?

Was it a slaughterhouse, with excess rickless Mortys being sent to death?

Was it a sort of punishment to terrorize Mortys into obedience?

Was it a sort of execution for criminal Mortys?

Was the number of Mortys dying in the Citadel from horrible living conditions simply that high, that they needed to be collected and disposed off in a special way?

Could be any of the above really... But even at the first time I watched this episode I thought that was odd.

(...and why have portals that apparently do nothing but spew blood... Where did that blood come from?)

(Is it Rick blood...?)

3. Rick says this concerning their brainwaves:

He's making it sound like it's just a matter of detection. Visibility. Camouflage. Nothing actually substantial, just a matter of stealth.

...says Morty, referring to his "camouflage" properties.

...replies Rick, which seems kinda redundant, doesn't it?

He agrees with Morty that "Morty is more than a human shield", but the only actual "more" thing in Rick's subsequent description of Morty is the phrase "perfect impenetrable".

Is he just rubbing in Morty's face how effective he is as camouflage?

...Or is he talking about something else?

Something... truly impenetrable...?

What. IS. The. "Wall around infinity". Made. Of??????

(...is it like... crystallized brainwaves of Mortys who died painfully...?)

(I mean, if you can crystallize time, and infuse a freaking liquid with code that allows it to pierce through dimensions, why not also be able to liquify and project brainwaves?)