#what am i without you ? yourself

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 111

Y’all know H2O? Where some people get cursed to turn into merfolk whenever they get water on them? That, but replace water with ectoplasm and merfolk with naga. 

No, Bruce has no idea how they managed to get cursed or how he ended up with an armful of baby snake-person creature thing. At least this one isn’t black-hair and blue-eyes so his kids can’t complain at him. And it’s not his fault they all fell into this, this was supposed to be a vacation while Lucious, Alfred, and Gordon kept an eye on things back in Gotham. 

On the bright side, his children want to snuggle up for once, which he supposes is nice. And Damian seems pleased about it judging by his rambles about snakes. So there’s that. 

[sapphicslaylist]

Most of the fandom: UwU Thorn so soft and demure kissy kissy wife Queen I cannot hurt her she’s too nice. I must “heal” her of her wounds and cuts. She “doesn’t deserve” to be all scratched up.

My disabled, mentally ill ass: Anyways here’s an writhing cynical feral fiend of a woman with severely unaddressed mental issues and overdependency with medication to Control The Instincts™️ and maybe just maybe be worthy of something more than an endless cycle of mutual blood and death. And btw she is physically disabled because I refuse to believe those cuts just “vanished” thereafter and it’s genuinely ableist to think it would.

(Please… Please research your abuse victims and understand why the scar removal is an issue. The rest is just preference.)

[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

[apollos-boyfriend]

the real reason ctubbo is cjordan’s kid is because he has his father’s horrible fucking self confidence and self sacrificial tendencies. two bitches incapable of recognizing their value and personhood outside of the one (or few) person they’ve devoted themselves to protecting

[ravenw1ngs]

Currently thinking about Tubbo's message exchange with Phil on the last day of Purgatory, right before they confirmed it'd be a 1v1, where they discussed briefly what they would do if they were forced to fight.

Specifically thinking about "We always have a choice" and how perfectly that sums up the complicated equation of qTubbo's character. Because there is always another option, to him, another way to tackle whatever problem they're facing, even if it sounds crazy to everyone else.

It doesn't always pan out. Sometimes, he doesn't even get the chance. But he can't help but try, anyway, because what if? What if there's a better choice?

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that ��

[stardustanddaffodils]

hey while we're all back in the dsmp feels. i absolutely think we need to talk about the fact that after tommy said "the discs were worth more than you ever were" tubbo took off all of his armor and put away his shield

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

if people were fundamentally good, we would not need Christ

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Thoughts about the Minecraft movie trailer?

Imagine if it had all been filmed inside of minecraft, SMP style. It would be so funny to see the most intense scene and on screen its just 🧍‍♀️🧍🏽‍♂️

The trailer is...... something. Not something good, but it definitely exists. What a timeline we live in.

Does anyone know what the like to dislike ratio looks like right now?

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

Nazis are a threat to everyone. We know this, we understand this. HOWEVER. Goyim, non-Jewish people, I'm asking you to think before you speak on Elon's actions.

Yes, the people trying to insist it was just a "Roman salute" and meant nothing are infuriating, but I have seen responses to it that do nothing more than encourage neo-Nazis and their sympathizers. I've seen "comebacks" where people say "Go do a "Roman salute" in a crowd", "go do it in front of a Jewish person". I just saw a video of someone saying, "Better yet, find yourself a synagogue, and go do the "Roman salute", and see how that goes... bet you won't."

You are putting Jewish people in danger. You, leftist who thinks you're being so smart and witty with your comeback, are encouraging neo-nazis to threaten Jewish people. "Better yet"? Go find a synagogue? Go find a synagogue, go there to do the Nazi salute, and that's the better option you're suggesting to them? What you're doing is telling a Nazi that they need to actively harm Jewish people to prove their beliefs to you, and I can tell you that encouragement is embraced by them.

Jewish people are already going to be one of the main targets of any Nazi or white supremacist group, but half of you are actively offering us up for your "gotcha" moment. Y'all don't think before you speak, and you need to examine why you would ever think to give specific ideas on how to harm Jewish people to neo-Nazis who have just been emboldened to a level we haven't seen in decades.

[fortune-maiden]

Something something cat box

Something something quantum superposition

Something something only by Lu Guang observing the past change when Cheng Xiaoshi dives into it can the present change

[somecunttookmyurl]

all the while society conflates "being an adult" with "having a proper job" and "having money to make arbitrary Adult Purchases" disabled people who can't work - or can only work part time or can only do entry level baby jobs - will never be 'allowed' to be adults

you can say "being an adult is looking after yourself you don't have to have a job!!!" all you want but most people who say that will still assume anybody who doesn't either can't or won't 'look after themselves' actually. and every 'marker' of 'adulthood' that's observable and thus actually counts or whatever loops back around to... having a job and 'contributing' something

[ssaalexblake]

dw is a mid kid's sci-fi tv show and it's quality level has been mostly entirely consistent (mid, basically, with the occasional very good episode to balance out with crimes against humanity it sometimes produces) the whole reboot, and anybody acting like the Only thing going into peoples opinions of the characters are writing preferences are either Deeply naive or are trying to hide something they know people will not take kindly to.

[thr4shit]

Yippie small self care steps!!

As for you all, please be sure to regularly use chapstick and apply lotion when and if you can!

Winter is rough on the skin, and these products can help keep it closer to tip-top shape!

[a-s-levynn]

(source)

[soullessjack]

boycott fatigue is actually the stupidest fucking thing ever because how in the ever loving fuck are you experiencing “fatigue” from not going to Starbucks. how is not watching rushed cgi on disney+ and not eating a breaded slime nugget at McDonald’s “fatiguing” you. genuinely how fucking dare this even exist as a concept. entire bloodlines, children, newborns are dying slow and bloody and all of these companies are giving Israel the money to do that. they’re using YOUR fucking money to do this. and look, practically every war has been funded out of our pockets by a means we can’t fight around. almost all of the food and drink we have in the states is owned by some large corporation that makes it fucking impossible to not give them money because they are the sole providers. I understand there are some things we can’t boycott because of our own needs. but this isn’t basic needs that we are being asked to boycott. it’s fucking Disney+ and McDonald’s and Starbucks and a whole slew of luxuries that you’re not only capable of living without, but would actually be better off entirely without.

there’s been a lot of talk about how privileged we are to only be witnessing this human rights atrocity through phones or news and being able to get away from it with a button click and that’s entirely real, but the fact that somebody out here just felt soooo inconvenienced by not going to a drive thru for overpriced garbage that they literally coined the phrase “boycott fatigue,” is probably the biggest load of privileged dog shit I’ve seen in the past few days. do you want to know who’s actually experiencing fatigue right now? the millions of displaced families in Gaza without homes anymore. without any clean water to drink because it’s either been poisoned by the Israelis or contaminated with their peoples’ blood. the children without enough food to get by, or without any food at all. the injured and sick and disabled Palestinians who don’t have access to any medical aid for themselves because their hospitals and fuel trucks are being bombed. these people who have absolutely nothing but each other, and not even that in the worst circumstances, who can only keep walking for days on end, hungry and thirsty and in pain and unable to do anything about it. that is real fucking fatigue.

I understand we’re all seeing war crimes and death and atrocities that nobody should ever have to see and yes it’s difficult to process, but the people of Palestine are experiencing these atrocities in real time, every day, every hour. every ten fucking minutes a child dies. They aren’t even asking for help anymore. They’re only asking to be witnessed and remembered and for us to stop going to places that actively fund their deaths and you’re saying you just can’t because you’re exhausted by not going to that place? I know we’re all born and raised in a consumerist hellscape but you seriously need to get a fucking reality check if offering the bare minimum support to a dying people is ‘fatiguing’ to you. Jesus fucking Christ.