#toxic association

[jennyarmina]

While in university, I was obscenely into Hannibal and I'll never forget the time that I had repairmen in my apartment and had to vacate for a bit. When I returned I kept receiving weird looks. Couldn't figure out for the life of me what it was until I remembered that I had huge, incredibly gay Hannigram fanart posted on the wall like proudly displayed fine china and I forgot to take it down. Full on cannibal balls. I hope those blue collar men enjoyed seeing their bloody lovemaking, really sets the tone for asbestos removal.

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

When someone on Tiktok says Thansu/Thanos x Min Su is a dark/comship:

(I love them but I don't think they're that toxic to be considered as either..they're just toxic friends ok..)

((Also as long as ppl acknowledge that they are at least kinda toxic I don't see any problem shipping them as long as you don't romanticize their toxicity))

[gay-slinkys-blog]

Me and Doctor Sawyer

[gifti3]

sometimes i kinda forget about the yandere aspect of ray and then ill remember he killed blaze cause he flirted too hard at the mc

[starry-bi-sky]

childhood friends au danny is submissive the same way a dog wearing a muzzle is submissive, send tweet.

[kooki914]

What are asgore and spades favorite colors

[mother--war]

think of me when you're out, when you're out there/

i'll beg you nice from my knees

[bbeeew-boodles]

what if,,,,, children,,,,, what then

[avedoodles]

do u guys see the vision

[mymyforthesky]

Using music to cope with my dad's death is all fun and games till I remember I got the song from the world's worst situationship

[beevean]

A more fleshed out idea of how I would have ended the Lenector story in the most balanced way I can think of.

Lenore is Hector's prisoner, as per canon. He still treats her as nothing happened, like a good friend, but Lenore is sulking and angry and not even bothering to keep up the façade like Hector used to do in her position. It's unfair, after she treated him as her only confidant, and she couldn't care less, that's what the traitor gets. Hector thinks he should be happy, to have reversed the roles on her... but he isn't. Unlike Lenore, power over another person doesn't satisfy him. He can't help but see her as a depressed animal in a cage... much like he used to be.

He wanted to protect her, he really did, but only now he's seeing how much hurt he caused her. Much like she said she meant to do with the ring, although to this day he doesn't know if it was a lie or the truth. There is no joy in inflicting her the same fate she inflicted upon him, even if it comes from a place of well-meaning and not selfishness. He has seen what that kind of "eye for an eye" mentality brings to the world, and he wants none of it.

So, he finally takes a decision for himself, and repays the one debt he has with her. He helps her flee from the castle. He is, for the first time, showing empathy to a person and not an animal.

(I don't even think Isaac needs to be kept in the dark. Lenore on her own is harmless, nothing like Carmilla who became a danger to the world. Hector and Lenore are dangerous tools in the wrong hands, but they lack the ambition that makes them solid threats, as they are mostly concerned with feeling safe. If Isaac truly wants to do good to everyone, he has no reason to keep Lenore as a prisoner, not even to force her to work for him. Same for Hector, since the two might have "forgiven" each other, but they have no relationship whatsoever. Perhaps him heeding Hector's request could show more how compassionate he has truly grown.)

Lenore is confused as to why, and Hector more or less explains that he couldn't bear watching her drinking herself into a stupor. Lenore snaps, and yells at him that he has no right to feeling sorry for her after what he has done, after going behind her back, after ruining her life... and is promptly shot down by Hector flashing his mutilated hand. Every ounce of ire Lenore directs at Hector is actually directed at herself, and they both know it. She is deeply regretting everything she did for the sake of people that didn't even respect her, she is just too proud to apologize. And her pride, her insecurity, her need to be the one in control, was what prevented her from truly being the good person she wanted to be. The very reason Hector wasn't happy with her despite her best efforts, and destroyed her life.

She really thought something so paltry as a slave ring would tame the human spirit. She really thought humans, like vampires, would care more about safety than freedom. For a diplomat who set herself to bridge humankind and vampirekind, she let her basic instincts get the better of her.

"Why didn't you just kill me back then?" she yells, attacks, it feels so good to blame Hector rather than herself. "At least I wouldn't have known how little I matter to you!"

(He had considered it, as his stump was bleeding all over the floor, his freedom painfully regained. That now Hector was free to hurt those who had hurt him. But what would be the point? He is so tired of needless death.)

(More selfishly, he still needed Lenore as an anchor to not feel alone or lost. Isaac may have forgiven him, but that doesn't make them friends.)

"I'm no longer that child," Hector responds. "I'm no longer the boy who believes to have the right to punish others. Besides, shouldn't you know the desire to spare someone's life no matter what?"

They had never breached that subject again, not after Lenore dismissed it in a fit of denial. It still weighs on her. He can no longer care.

"All this time," Hector says at last, "I expected an apology, but I think I don't need it anymore. As much as I don't need you anymore. I'm grateful for your efforts to protect me from your sisters' ire, so now I'll use them to live for myself. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

He holds no grudges anymore, and he has genuinely come to appreciate the real Lenore behind her masks and the way she took care of him during the previous six weeks, when the world would have chewed him and spit him out; but at the same time, he can't bear staying with her. She makes him too sad. It reminds him of how low he allowed himself to be brought for the sake of some scraps of love. She reminds him too much of a version of him he doesn't want to be. There are too many conflicting feelings in him. He can't help but think that, in another life, the two could have been genuine friends, if not more... but not this one. Too much baggage, too much shared misery. He is done with it. No more will he seek safety and love in other people, as if he wasn't strong enough. He deserves better.

Lenore doesn't know what to think anymore. She wants to die so badly, she is almost tempted to not hide herself from the sun: she can't concieve her existence as nothing more than a black hole, unworthy of living. She is nothing more than a disgusting monster doomed to spread misery to the world, she thinks, and she should die like one. She has nothing left, no allies, no home, and the one person she fell in love with is pulling away from her, and she can't bear being abandoned, and she completely understands why he's doing so. At the same time, however... Hector too has nothing left, and yet he wants to live. After everything he went through, after himself desiring death at Isaac's hand, he wants to experience real life, not survival like he has done since he was born. Lenore pretended to praise his strength when she was manipulating him, but now she has come to genuinely admire that trait. Can she, a vampire used to nothing but comfort, be as strong as a human being?

She wants to ask Hector if he thinks she's a good person. A glance at his mutilated hand answers her more than any word could. Lenore, all this time, had no idea what being "good" meant, she was only good at putting up a façade of gentleness, and she thought it was enough. All this time, she behaved like a vampire pretending to be human... so now, she will learn from the best human she has ever met. The best person. The only one who saw her as a person as well, behind her masks, behind her usefulness.

Even if Hector is now walking towards the dawn, with nothing but his resolution. For the first time, he will live for him, for himself.

They will never meet again, but in a twisted way, they gave each other what they needed to grow.

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Person A: His affection was like acid. It consumes and is never satisfied no matter how much of you he has. Person B: Well, that’s where we’re different, I’d allow him to take all of me if he needed it to feel secure.

[laidback-thrills]

A love between a fallen angel and a man who'll make it all better.

Or so he hopes. He might go insane or die trying.

Lucifer belongs to @macaroon-sapling

Find happiness in surgery.

[melonkka]

Guys, ACKNOWLEDGE THAT ASCENDED ASTARION’S ABUSIVE AND BECOMES CAZADOR 666.0!! 🤬😤😡

then, and only then, I’ll let you like him. Maybe

[burning2know]

i hate the idea that solas idolizes mythal.

"she was the best of them" doesn't remotely come close to "she was morally righteous and pure"

and i hate the idea that mythal was a mother figure to solas. mentorship is one thing. mythal as motherhood, especially in this relationship, is entirely swallowing the evanuris koolaid.

and i hate even more the idea that they were lovers. These two sickos? not in a million years, bucko!!! Not even close! They already have too much together. There's no way in all the fade they can be present with each other in that way.

What really happened, the best words I have are these. Friend. Companion. Confidante. One of these Solas himself uses.

[rohirric-hunter]

Angstober Day 02: Countdown

I did not write this on the second. I wrote it this morning.

~*~*~*~

The final day dawns, and you are up early.

Well, you believe it is dawn. The sun does not penetrate the cloud cover above, which you imagine is thickest to the east, where it originates. But the earliest risers in the Camp of the Host have begun to stir, and you with them.

Breakfast is surprisingly cheery.

You all know what lies before you, and what lies behind. And you all know that today is likely the last day you will ever see. There is no reason, you suppose, for the cooks to be stingy. The rations are still road rations, but the helpings are larger than you had expected, and more dressed up. You find what remains of the Grey Company gathered around a cookfire with a few Rangers of Ithilien. Most of the party is known to you, and you laugh along with the others as Radanir and Thurindol exchange barbed words with no heat behind them about the use of Elfspear as a seasoning. The plant they are arguing about bears little resemblance to the Elfspear you are familiar with, which grows in spiky bunches close to the ground up and down the Great East Road from the Brandywine to the Hoarwell. You daren't venture a guess as to whether or not they are related. You suspect Orthonn knows, but he watches the argument with a smirk, and does not offer his opinion on the matter.

Radanir and Thurindol both likely know too, you reflect, but the argument is comfortable. It feels safe.

Your back and shoulders still ache from — you do not allow your mind to drift to such dark thoughts, not yet. There are better things to reflect on. Instead you set your empty plate aside and stretch the sore muscles. Lothrandir sits beside you, startling you. You had not heard him approach. But he does not speak, only smiles sadly, and takes your arms, gently repositioning them into what you can feel at once is a more effective stretch. You nod your thanks, and he accepts it with a gentle squeeze of your hand, before turning his attention back to the entertainment in the center of the little breakfast circle.

Breakfast cannot last forever. The minutes are counting down until you must all go your separate ways, to attend to your last duties before the end.

But for now, you laugh, as Thurindol finally wrests the Elfspear from Radanir's hands and throws it into the pot, drowning out Radanir's cries of protest with a triumphant exclamation: "It's good for you!"

"And tastes of mud from the swamps of Angmar," Radanir retorts.

You pull your cloak about yourself and lean your head against Lothrandir's shoulder as they argue, tuning out the details and relaxing in the moment. Part of you wishes Hathellang was here — but no. He is — not safe, but safer. He will have a chance, the chance you tossed aside when you agreed to come here, to follow Strider the Ranger to certain doom in the hopes of buying time. He can run and hide and live.

Breakfast will be over soon — but until then, you are content.