#you have to accept me because im here. if it was needed for my survival to shave my legs i'd die if i didn t

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[barnbridges]

not to be having an OPINION on main but the leg hair feels so fucking neurotypical and stupid. having any sort of expectations or politics around body hair is fucking stupid.

[fading-event-608]

A fig tree for pixel dailies.

"Figs are planted in most Palestinian cities. However, it is most common in two districts, Nablus — especially in the village of Tell — and Ramallah — namely in Silwad, which became known as Im-Qutteen (mother of dried figs). Other villages also have names relating to the fig, such as Teeneh (fig). There are also flat areas called masateeh referring to the places where figs are dried to produce qutteen.

The fig has long been linked to Palestinian cultural heritage because it is nutritious and filling, and thus a staple of the Palestinian diet. It was known in Palestine as far back as the Canaanites. Palestinians have their own terms for the fig: while it is forming, the fruit is taqsh, then faj and then ‘ajr. Other used terms are nafal and thbeel.

Old traditional sayings reflect the importance of figs in Palestine. For example: ‘I tasted the first fruit, I hope my life has a long route’; ‘Eat the figs from the early season and the grapes from the late season’;* and ‘If we have qutteen (dried figs), we are safe from hunger.'"

-from The Palestinian Museum which took that info from 'A Garden Among the Hills: The Floral Heritage of Palestine'

Trees, would it be olive trees (which I also have a drawing of) or fig ones are important in Palestine. Just like in other countries, they provide shade, fresh air and produce. But in Palestine, they are also a symbol of resistance - as long as family's tree is growing, they are growing too; as long as the tree is alive, they are alive too.

When Israeli occupiers takes Palestinian's homes that they've built over multiple generations, they take their trees that they groomed too. When IOF drops bombs on civilians, they take trees with them. They uproot the trees, they burn them - because those trees remind them of people they've killed and whose land they have taken.

It seems like the world is slowly growing numb to cries for help; it seems like people are closing their eyes and covering their ears to not see the Palestinian blood on their screens, to not hear them scream. And Israel sees that and continues it's aggression on Lebanon. After all, if they can get away with a year (76 years) of genocide, why not start another one?

Please take any action you can. Protest, boycott, keep your eyes on Palestine and please, please, please donate to Palestinian fundraisers. I have spotlighted one fundraiser, for Falastin's family evacuation funds from Gaza that she organized in late June - it is still very far away from it's goal.

There are 24 family members that depend on that fundraiser. They need not only evacuation funds but also money to buy basic necessities like food and medicine that are very expensive in Gaza right now. Recently Falastin started hearing them talk about waiting for their fate because the funds this campaign gets daily are not enough to ease their suffering and cover evacuation.

Please, do not let it happen. Please, donate and check conversion rates before you do as:

10$ = 103 SEK

25$ = 257 SEK

50$ = 515 SEK

100$ = 1,030 SEK

I've talked about this fundraiser before numerous times, a lot of info can be found on this post [here] or [here].

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

I do semi-regular art updates (last one [here]) and accept commissions for proof of donations, please dm me for info as my art blog was terminated recenty.

[violettwrites]

the fall — daryl dixon

a/n: hi guys !! sorry i have been so mia recently, life has just been crazy and work is insane coming into the christmas season. my laptop is currently away for repairs so i wrote this on my phone — please bear with me if there’s any mistakes. im hoping to have that back soon !

if you enjoy this, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! your support always means the world to me

summary: daryl loses you during the start of the apocalypse, and then he finds you again.

( this can be read as just daryl dixon from season 1 OR apart of my trailer park!daryl series ! they both work together so it's completely up to you! )

word count: 2,110

warnings: swearing

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

➵ rules

“(y/n)?!” daryl’s voice crackled over the phone as you stood in the emergency room, one hand pressed against your ear while the other held the phone to your other ear, trying to make sense of the words daryl was saying over the chaos of the building. the emergency department you worked in was teetering on the edge of an explosion— patients were pouring in, people were screaming, and you could hear ominous groans and growls coming from behind curtains.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!”

daryl’s voice sounded frantic through the static. you could picture him, sitting in the passenger seat of merle’s truck, hand gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles were probably white. you knew he was panicking, probably punching merle’s shoulder to drive faster, to get to you.

“daryl, i—” you started, but gunshots cut through your words. the loud crack of bullets echoed through the hallways. your heart raced as you whipped your head toward the sound, seeing military soldiers in riot gear filing into the hospital, trying to contain what they could.

“shit!” daryl’s voice shouted on the other end, hearing the gunfire through the phone. “what was that?! are you okay?!”

“i don’t know,” you spoke softly, but your voice remained panicked, ducking around a corner as you tried to figure out a way out of the hospital without getting caught in the crossfire. “the military’s here, dar. it’s bad, real bad.”

you could hear merle cursing in the background through the phone, his voice sharp with confusion and fear. he was probably just as pissed as daryl, not wanting to wait around.

“we’re comin’ for ya,” daryl said, his voice firm despite the panic you knew was coursing through him. “jus’ stay where you are.”

“no—” you shook your head, though it was pointless because he couldn’t see you. but you knew that staying in one place would only get you, or them, killed. “it’s not safe here. you need to go, daryl. get outta the city.”

daryl didn’t like how firm your voice was now, like you had accepted your fate. but he also knew you were strong, and you could hold yourself. it was everyone else he wasn’t comfortable with. “i’m not leavin’ without ya!” his words were clipped, but you could hear the desperation seeping through. “jus’ tell me where to find ya.”

“you swallowed hard, ducking down a hallway as more gunshots rang out behind you. “i’ll find you. just go!”

“not an option,” daryl growled, clearly getting more frustrated. “we’re comin’ to get ya.”

“daryl, i swear to god, just go!” you shouted, your voice shaking. you knew you had to make him leave. the city was falling apart, and if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

and then, the line went dead.

you stared at the phone for a second, frozen, before shoving it into your pocket. you couldn’t waste time standing there. you needed to survive. you needed to find a way back to him.

the months that followed were a blur. everything crumbled so fast— society, infrastructure, order. the infection spread quicker than anyone had anticipated, and soon, the world was unrecognisable. you’d managed to survive by keeping to the outskirts of the cities, staying on the move, scavenging what you could. it had been a battle to stay alive, but you never stopped thinking about getting back to daryl.

each day, you held onto the hope that he was still out there. that he, and merle, had made it. you had to believe he was still alive. it was the only thing that kept you going.

one day, after weeks of wandering, you had heard rumors from a group of survivors about a camp up near the quarry. a group had settled there, and something in your gut told you to go. you shoved what little you had into your bag and made your way towards the quarry, hoping against hope that daryl would be there.

daryl sat on the outskirts of the atlanta camp, absentmindedly sharpening his knife as he stared out into the treeline. his mind wasn’t on the task though. it hadn’t been for weeks. ever since the outbreak started, ever since he lost contact with you, he hadn’t been able to focus on much of anything.

merle was his usual self— bossy, loud, and always looking for trouble. but daryl? he was quieter these days, more withdrawn. every hunt he went on, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you, his eyes scanning every inch of the woods, hoping for a glimpse of you.

but every time, he came back empty handed.

he’d given up hope of hearing from you over the phone weeks ago, but he couldn’t give up the idea of finding you. you were out there somewhere— he just knew it.

“hey! you gonna sit there all damn day, or you gonna help me with this firewood?” merle’s voice cut through his thoughts, causing him to grit his teeth and ignore his older brother. he was tired of merle’s shit.

daryl stood up, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder without a word. he made his way towards the tree line, scanning the area out of habit. the camp wasn’t the safest; no walls, walkers always lurking, and the occasional survivor that would wander too close for comfort, but they had done a good job keeping it secure. for now.

just as he was about to head back, movement caught his eye. daryl squinted, grip tightening on the strap of his crossbow as a figure stumbled out of the woods. for a moment, he thought it was just another survior— a poor soul lost and scared like the rest of them. but then his heart skipped a beat.

it was you.

“(y/n)?” the words ripped out of him before he could stop it, and in an instant, he was running toward you, his legs carrying him faster than he thought was possible. you looked different— thinner, worn down, like you had walked through hell. but it didn’t matter. you were alive.

your eyes met his, and the world around you seemed to fall away. after weeks, months— you weren’t sure. but you had finally found him.

“daryl,” you breathed out, your voice weak but full of relief.

he didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, holding you tight. you could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your ear, the warmth of his body grounding you in a way nothing else had since the world fell apart.

“i thought i lost ya,” daryl muttered, his voice rough and his breath warm against your neck.

you held him tighter, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt under his crossbow like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. “i’m here,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “i’m here.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other and letting the weight of the time split up crash down around you. all the fear, the uncertainty, the loss— it all seemed to fade in that moment.

when you finally pulled back, daryl kept his hands on your shoulders, like he needed to keep touching you to make sure you were real. his eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail.

“merle?” you asked softly, knowing daryl’s older brother never strayed far from his side.

“he’s back at camp,” his voice steadying. “still a pain in the ass.”

you let out a weak laugh, the sound foreign after so long without joy. “figures.”

“come on,” he said, his hand lingering on your arm as he started to lead you back toward the camp. “you need to get some rest.”

the camp was quiet as the two of you entered, the crackle of the campfire being the only sound besides the soft rustle of leaves. merle spotted you first, his eyes narrowing before recognition flashed across his face.

“well, i’ll be damned,” merle said, leaning back with a grin. “look who finally showed up.”

you met merle’s eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “good to see you too, merle.”

daryl guided you to a spot by the fire, his hand never leaving yours as if he couldn’t bear to let go. you settled beside him, exhaustion finally catching up to you. but for the first time in months, you felt safe. you were with daryl. that was all that mattered.

as the fire crackled in front of you, it’s orange glow casting flickering shadows on your face, you leaned back against a log and let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. the tension in your shoulders loosened ever so slightly, but the weight of everything you’d been through was still pressed on your chest. your eyes flickered to daryl beside you— his presence was grounding, familiar, something solid in a world that felt like quicksand.

he hadn’t let go of your hand, his rough fingers wrapped around yours as if he was afraid that if he did let go, you’d disappear again. you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way this had all worn on him too. daryl wasn’t one to talk about feelings or admit when things hurt him, but you knew him better than that. the silence between you wasn’t awkward; it was full of unspoken understanding. you had both lost too much to let go of each other now.

merle started to wander off toward his tent, mumbling something about needing sleep. “you two lovebirds catch up,” he teased, but it was half-hearted. he wasn’t cruel like he used to be— at least not to you.

as soon as his brother disappeared into his tent, daryl finally spoke, his voice low, like he was afraid to break the moment. “how’d ya make it?” he didn’t ask out of disbelief, he knew you were tough, but it was out of curiosity, needing to fill in the blanks of your absence.

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, staring into the fire. the memories of being on your own flooded back; sleepless nights, close calls with walkers, finding shelter in abandoned houses, and the hunger that gnawed at your stomach daily. “i just kept moving,” you shrugged, your words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the crackle of the fire. “after that day at the hospital, i knew i couldn’t stay. i had no idea where i was going though, but i knew i had to keep going.”

daryl nodded, his eyes fixed on you, listening intently. he wasn’t the type to press you fore more details, but you could see the questions in his gaze. you gave him a small smile, trying to ease his worry. “i thought about you every day,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “it was the only thing that kept me going sometimes. knowing you were out there, somewhere.”

you watched as his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he processed your words. “i looked for ya,” he muttered, his voice rougher than before. “everywhere we went, i looked. really thought i lost ya.” the raw emotion in his voice made your heart twist. you reached out and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“you didn’t lose me. i’m right here.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. daryl’s hand found yours again, his grip firm, but this time it wasn’t just out of fear. it was something more— something unspoken but heavy between you.

“you gonna stick around now?” he asked, his voice quiter than before, almost hesitant. “stay with the group?”

you hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead yet. the idea of settling down in this camp, was both comforting and terrifying. you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you have to move, but you knew one thing for sure— you weren’t about to leave daryl again. “if you’ll have me,” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

daryl gave you a quick, almost unnoticeable nod, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “ain’t goin’ anywhere without ya now,” he said gruffly, the tenderness in his words barely masked by his usual demeanour.

the firelight danced in his eyes, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. his presence was steady and warm beside you, and for the first time since the world had gone to shit, you allowed yourself to feel safe.

[thinkinonsense]

Francesca

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: angst, mentions of death, sad logan, a bit of fluff

wc: 800+

a/n: not sure if this will be the last part of the mini-series or not. i think i'll only add more if im inspired. i have a new mini-series idea for old man!logan so be on the lookout for that in a week or so.

hozier mini-series masterlist

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

Logan had lost a lot in his life. He watched people he cared about die right before his eyes; the ultimate curse of living such a long life. Everyone he loved had to go at some point, and for the most part, he accepted that until you entered his life.

He did everything he could to ensure your safety, and for the most part, it worked. The only place where you weren't protected was in his nightmares.

Ever since you two met, the nightmares appear less and less but they also never fully disappear either. Logan still wakes up in cold sweats and haunting images of your bloody body dead in his arms.

"Hey! Hey! I'm alright, honey." You whispered in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "I'm here. I'm right here."

The only thing that helps him calm down is when you place one of his hands over your heart; skin to skin, feeling your heartbeat pulse and knowing that you are indeed alive and lying next to him.

Logan's heavy breathing eases after a few moments. He carefully wraps you into his arms, placing you on his chest. You knew in times like these that Logan needed to feel you.

"No one's going to hurt me." You assure him.

"We don't know for sure..." He sighs. "and I can't risk that."

"I know for sure. You know how I am so certain that no one will hurt me?" You don't allow time for Logan to answer. Your fingers lace themselves with his, bringing this hand up to his and softly placing kisses over the slits in between his knuckles. "Because I feel safest with you and these claws are part of the reason why."

Logan wasn't one to blush or feel all mushy deep inside himself but those little kisses amazed him. He admired your kindness and patience towards him. It took him forever to understand how you did it.

"Sorry for waking you up, princess." He says, trailing his fingertips up and down your back. "Didn't mean to scare ya'."

"Do you honestly think I scare that easily?" Your light giggle almost makes Logan smile.

"Guess not." He shrugs, admiring how a sliver of moonlight catches on your face. "But in any other normal relationship you wouldn't have to deal with this bullshit-"

"Hey!" You whisper, springing up to fully face him now, soft hands holding each side of his face. "This isn't bullshit."

"It is, sweetheart." Logan sighs. "I'm selfish."

"How are you selfish?"

"Because you deserve to live a long life with someone who won't damn you."

"I don't care if you damn me!" Your voice raised, not in anger but in passion. "I love you. I love all of you. When they cut me open someday that's all they will find; my love for you pouring from inside of me."

Logan pulls you impossibly closer, afraid of you slipping away. His heart pounded with love; beating solely for your existence.

"Heaven couldn't house a love like ours."

There's a heaviness in your heart as you look into Logan's hazel eyes. even after all these years, it broke your heart that Logan always felt like you were made of sand. sure, you weren't a mutant like him but you wouldn't go down without a fight. he's always afraid that someone from his past will come for revenge and you'll be the one to pay for it.

"I don't want you to be so worried, lo.." you whisper, thumb soothing the salt and pepper beard that's bloomed over the last few days. "when my time comes, I don't want you to feel responsible for it."

Death was always a sensitive topic for both of you. your death, more specifically because someday it will come no matter if either of you is ready or not. Logan doesn't think he can live without you; you tell him that he's survived before you and will survive after you. he doesn't believe you.

"I've waited all my life for you. every agonizing, torturous moment brought me to you." his voice starts to strain. "now, you are all I have left to live for... so, when you're gone, babydoll, I won't be far behind you."

Tears roll down your cheek. overwhelmed with love and fear because you can't stop Logan from taking his own life if you die. he lays you back down on his chest carefully.

Logan had seen everything the world had to offer him; most of it was utter shit until he was graced with your presence. all he wanted to do with the rest of his life was shield you from all of the horrid darkness he had seen. you were too pure and he intended to keep you far away from it all, for as long as the two of you walked this earth.

[lethalhades]

The sins of one were the sins of all

(Honestly I wrote this because my girl just needs a fucking hug and IM TIRED😭🙏🏾)

Themes: jinx x fem reader, hurt and comfort, we braiding her hair twin.

Didn’t proof read this or nothing I just cooked.

Navigating the dim, twisting pathways of the underground wasn’t how you planned to spend your day, but finding Jinx was all that mattered now. As you searched, a place suddenly came to mind. a spot she’d likely retreat to, a familiar hideaway.

Without hesitation, you picked up the pace, heading straight for the Last Drop and slipping in through the back door.

Your footsteps reverberated off the walls as you climbed the narrow staircase toward Silco’s office. In the past, just approaching this door would have made your skin crawl, the weight of his presence heavy and unsettling. But now… that feeling was gone, vanished with him the night he was killed.

All that remained was an empty silence behind the door, where his shadow used to linger.

Your fingertips lightly grazed the door before you pushed it open, the creak echoing in the empty room, confirming what you already suspected…Silco’s office was vacant.

You’d hoped to find Jinx here, but a part of you knew it was a long shot. Still, as you stepped inside, your eyes fell on the desk, where a map lay scattered with Jinx’s chaotic scribbles, a sign she’d been here recently.

Almost on instinct, you reached for the map, lifting it carefully with both hands, including the hexcore-tainted one. You usually kept it hidden beneath your cloak, the sight of it stirring a mix of frustration and shame. Someday, you knew, you’d have to accept it. but for now, it stayed mostly in shadow, a reminder of what you’d become.

“This is the first time I’ve seen your hand in years.” The voice jolted you, and before you knew it, you’d hurled a dagger in her direction, missing the blue-haired woman by barely an inch.

Catching your breath, you glared. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you, and now you decide to show up?” Annoyance laced your words. She slid smoothly off the beam, landing on the desk. That’s when you noticed her long hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders and onto the desk—no braids, just a cascade of untamed blue.

She caught you staring and raised an eyebrow. “I was trying to braid it back, but… Silco always did that for me.” Her raspy voice betrayed no hint of vulnerability; it was like a wall she always kept up around you.

You hesitated, almost tempted to ask why she kept her walls up in the first place, but you knew better than to press her boundaries.

Jinx stared at the ground, her eyes shadowed and distant, tracking your movements as you stepped behind the desk and eased into the old, creaking chair. When your fingers brushed her hair, she flinched, jerking back just slightly. You couldn’t help but wonder if, beneath that tough exterior, she was still afraid.

You’d known each other since she went by “Powder,” before the undercity had forced both of you to grow hard and cold.

You’d come to Zaun after being cast out of Piltover, your family’s sins leaving you no choice. You weren’t like them, but in Piltover, the sins of one were the sins of all. Survival in the undercity was brutal, especially for a kid, and you still remembered how close you’d come to losing your life again and again.

But then, like a spark in the dark, she had come barreling into your life. small but fierce, her blue hair a shock of color in the dim streets. Powder, a kid with more guts than anyone you’d ever known. And on that night, she’d been your savior. A little bomb in her hand, tossed without hesitation, scattering the men who meant to hurt you.

That tiny blast had done more than drive them off. it had bound you and Powder together, two lost souls in the chaos of Zaun.

Back then, she was just another lost kid who had found purpose under Silco’s wing. The pain in her eyes had been unmistakable, a pain you recognized all too well. It was the same haunted look your mother had worn the day she brought ruin upon your family.

If you were being honest with yourself, you’d only decided to toughen up that day because you couldn’t stand the idea of being outdone by someone younger, someone with less to lose. She was three years your junior, but her boldness had sparked something in you, forcing you to swallow your fear and find strength you didn’t know you had. Unlike her, though, you’d never bent the knee to some ruthless leader. You carved your own path, becoming a gun for hire, bound to nothing and no one.

Over the years, you’d killed without hesitation, Piltover elites and undercity rogues alike. Survival demanded sacrifice, and you were willing to make it.

Every now and then, your paths would cross, and you’d catch glimpses of the girl who once called herself “Powder,” now transformed into Silco’s weapon. Meanwhile, you had grown too, honing your skills and eventually joining the Firelights, giving your life a new sense of direction.

Now, with the undercity on the brink, chaos breaking loose at every turn, you looked up from your thoughts to find jinx’s back facing you, her head slightly turned seeing her violet eyes sharp and curious. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice carrying an edge of suspicion.

“Braiding your hair, if you’d just sit still,” you replied, fingers deftly weaving through her loose blue strands. Her hair, soft but tangled, For a moment, she held still. watching you work with an expression you couldn’t quite read, letting you bring order to just one small piece of her wildness. You were lucky you still had some skill in this, after all the times you’d braided the younger kids’ hair back in the Firelights’ hideout. Your hands knew how to be gentle, even if the rest of you had learned to be anything but.

As you worked, Jinx’s voice broke the silence. “Every day, he had me making something for him. Or doing that stupid eye thing of his, even though he could’ve done it himself,” she muttered, bitterness edging her words as she thought about all the things she’d done for Silco.

You could see the weight of his lies on her, the way they’d sunk deep. She’d believed him completely—why wouldn’t she?

“My mother expected perfection from me,” you said softly, finding a rare thread of common ground. “One slip, one failure, and I was nothing but a disappointment to her.” For a moment, it felt like you and Jinx were standing on the same edge, each of you marked by different scars but both shaped by people who’d held you to impossible standards.

Both of you had been praised for your minds, raised to rise above, only to lose it all. And when you needed someone most, they had all turned away.

“You were just some Piltover rat. You don’t know a damn thing about what it takes to survive down here.”

You met her gaze, the old anger simmering beneath your words. “I know more than you think,” you replied, voice steady and unyielding. “I lost everything before I even got the chance to hold it,” you added, memories of that day, of watching your family fall apart, still as raw as ever.

Jinx scoffed, crossing her arms. “Why are you telling me this? You think I care?”

“No,” you said, fingers deftly weaving the last of her braids. “But I thought you’d understand.” You secured her signature pigtails, then took a step back, crossing your arms as you faced her. “You followed him because you had nowhere else to turn, no one else to show you the way. But he’s gone now, Jinx. And yet, you’re still clinging to his ghost, acting like he’s still here.”

She bristled, eyes flashing. “I’m not mourning him! That’s the last thing I’d ever do for him.”

“Then prove it,” you challenged, voice calm but firm. “Find something real to fight for. Not for a man who only wanted control and used your loyalty to his advantage.”

Jinx took a step forward, her violet eyes sharp and angry as she glared up at you, defiance sparking between you like a fuse ready to ignite. You held her gaze, searching for the truth hidden beneath her rage. In those eyes, you saw things she would never say aloud.

confusion, anger, the scars of betrayal.

It reminded you of that night at the Last Drop, the night you’d tried to pull her away from Silco’s grip and convince her to join the Firelights. She’d laughed it off, but you’d seen the hesitation, the crack in her armor. That night, things nearly went south between you. one wrong word, and a bullet could’ve ended it all. Now, standing here again, that same tension lingered in the air, fragile and sharp, like the calm before a storm.

“Why do you keep acting like you know me?” Jinx’s voice was sharp, bitter, violet blue eyes wild with frustration as she shoved you. “Like you have any clue what I’ve been through!” She pushed you again, harder this time, her finger jabbing into your chest. “You don’t know anything!”

Her anger flared, and she kept pushing, shoving you back again and again until you finally reached out and caught her wrist.

She tried to pull away, struggling against your hold, but you pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her, holding her tightly. Her fists came down hard on your back, each punch sharp with anger and pain. It hurt, but you didn’t let go, not even as her punches weakened, not even as her shoulders slumped against you.

The room grew quiet, save for the small, choked sobs that broke free as she stopped fighting and finally gave in. Her fingers gripped the back of your cloak, holding on like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her cries were raw, almost hollow, filled with a pain you knew she rarely allowed herself to show.

You just held her, steady and silent, giving her the space to release what she’d been holding back. You didn’t hate her, not for her choices, not for her mistakes. Somehow, despite everything, all you’d ever wanted was to help her find her way back from the darkness.

As her breathing slowed, she didn’t say a word, but her quiet acceptance in your arms told you everything. In that fragile silence, you knew that, at least for this moment.

you were exactly where you needed to be.

[beescake]

PLEASE PLEASE MEGADUMP THE ARASOL!!! PLEAAASEE MR BEESCAKE I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU

HFHGHD GLADLY aaa i’ve been adding notes to it here and there for months but just hesitant to post it bcs im 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂

also this is just my own takeaway of the events, it doesn’t necessarily comply to the Ultimate Truth of Canon-Alignment or represent the actual facts of what hussie intended! v sentimental smh but hopefully its still interesting to read

i love when characters inform each other by proximity, it's one of my fave things to see in media :') it feels even more significant when two characters deliberately choose to stick together, so that when one operates, you can tell the other is similarly aligned in associative solidarity.

sollux is a keystone of this trope — whoever he aligns with is a wordless statement, a nod of approval. this stood out to me bcs the main four humans were alr friends by default, but once you reach hivebent you realize the trolls can actively choose who they want to hang out with.

and as we all know, after assessing every troll's biases/loyalties, sollux is the only one who maintains his selective preference for innately Good 👍 people.

aradia is such a beautiful character honestly, she evokes such incredible feelings in me. she might not have been consistently written with care but the best parts of her character are truly stunning. i think it's easy to remember sollux as the self-sacrificing one bc he's so open about it (and his friends frequently react to his Moments) but when you compare him to aradia, it's always struck me

how much more. raw it is

to be so alone as an agent of time, having to orchestrate immeasurably harrowing events nobody understands or gives a fuck about

with your role painted in the story as one who must tend to the needs of the narrative, responsible to match every next note

because when you're given the capabilities, it becomes your duty to carry it out.

it becomes expected of you to keep experimenting and arranging the machinations to work for everyone, dusting off hundreds of necessary failures to keep going

and having to be so unwavering in your drive knowing miserably that there's no one who can help you but yourself.

or alternatively: to make things fun! so other people won't think twice about letting you go off on your own.

sure she's had some very good buds, notably thanks to Team Charge v Team Scourge antics.

and yet, at the end of the day, the one friend that kept choosing her time and time again was the friend with the highest standards.

i can see why people like to define arasol as moirails/matesprits but surprisingly i find the nondescript, unlabeled aspect of their relationship more straightforward to understand.

there's no shortage of people who would accommodate sollux. most of the surviving trolls are his oldest friends bcs he’d chosen them well. his transparency with his feelings had built him strong friendships that won’t falter or break, regardless of how much of a dick he can be. they’ve already seen and accepted him at his worst, and they still like him for who he is.

contrast that with aradia, who'd been so approachable, friendly and reliable in her exchanges it was super fun to talk to her. but the moment she became depressed, all her connections broke down.

her friends became hesitant to interact with her (until she became god tier, “happy” and amicable again) because her gloom and resignation didn’t serve them. she dealt with it alone.

there’s def something of note here abt the disparity between the way male & female characters are written+perceived in homestuck (esp parallel arasol with davejade) but i won’t go into that lmaoo

with this in mind i like to think of sollux as a gift to her, a loyal companion given to complement and commend her resolve. she's capable of doing so much alone but hussie took the time to build her and sollux's relationship as one of a unit; a set.

the ambiguity of their status does complicate things, but i do believe it makes sense with their characters. aradia's relationship with romance is a rocky one, the dubious stringalong equius had with her is a pointed reminder that her feelings of attraction are ultimately controlled by the author writing her.

unlike the other trolls who can openly address and own up to their crushes, aradia had romantic emotions forced upon her (especially when hussie implies 'she kissed equius back on her own volition'). and it seems like her character is so intrinsically neutral abt attraction that even when forced by the almighty powers above, she's unable to retain it wholly.

however, looking back to pre-game when she could actually "choose" her own feelings, she did have a crush on sollux.

their soft spots for each other were so obvious to the point where other people could see it.

taunting aside, when vriska comments on their unit as bf/gf it actually informs the audience that arasol's relationship is romantic in nature despite not aligning with the quadrant system.

even while dead, aradia could still describe her care for sollux, expressing that she would like to see him happy. if they had more time to explore their relationship on alternia, it's possible they could've settled in a quadrant once they grew older.

but going back to the lack of labels, their dynamic was affected once more when aradia became god tier.

to me, her ascension was both the perfect culmination and possible closure of her character. it's the light at the end of her journey toiling through countless of timelines where she had to actively assess and participate. that's why it's cool to see her being silly and having fun giving guidance, passively exploring and watching other people do their parts.

and yet the joy of her freedom makes it hard to explore further introspection. if we take her by her word, she'd already come to terms with the hurt she's been through and forgiven those involved.

i can't help feeling attuned to how impersonal and detached it can be, to devote and meld your identity so completely with your designated position as Maid of Time until you've become hard for your old friends (and even some readers!) to personally connect to.

idk post-canon but i assume there’s some degree of similarity to be bridged here with aradia's god tier and how the hs2 humans' Ultimate forms was described as a consolidation of all their possibilities. since aradia's classpect is inherently of service to Time, going god-tier may have elevated her beyond personhood with the "game construct" possessing her entirely. sollux doesn't realize the extent of it bcs he's still mortal, but a part of him may have subconsciously understood this.

i think there is a core aspect to aradia that was lost to the dehumanizing glory of god tier — a core aspect that may have contained an element of why sollux enjoyed talking to her in the first place.

to him, aradia hadn't just been a nice girl, she was a cool girl. despite not having much in common, he's still willing to chill next to her so she's not alone while she does what needs to get done.

back on alternia, they held a mutual and equal-level regard for each other that could've definitely settled into something permanent. but now, he's placed himself in a position where he can be kept around or left behind at will. the parameters of the relationship are largely in aradia's court, so any label she suggests to identify their relationship with he's likely to accept.

but that's why it's so difficult to label it. because god tier aradia may not necessarily Want quadrants or relationship labels. rather than the initial romantic attachment, their commitment to each other had evolved into one fundamentally of companionship.

no label? ok fine. no matter what, he still thinks she's a good soul worth latching on to. the best, actually. aradia > everyone else.

even if it gets stilted at times. there's an unexpected struggle to connect when sollux's go-to default for talking points is his feelings about things, and aradia may not want to talk about emotions all the time.

not to mention god tier aradia became an observer, especially of chaos. but sollux's avoidance of involvement comes partially from his innate pressure to get involved if something goes wrong. and he can't always tell when something goes wrong, because aradia doesn't mind if things go wrong anymore.

it's a non-negotiable preference that causes them to take the occasional time apart, a new boundary that wouldn't have existed before the game and aradia's god tier.

but just like how his friends tolerated his moods, sollux accepts aradia as she is. with no quadrants, their connection doesn't break down because there's no implicit romantic expectations to be disappointed by or resentful over.

sometimes when i see hs content that deliberately distances sollux from aradia, i assume this is the dissonance people might have felt. people might find it "easier" to be cynical about them bcs of this strange tension.

but idc lmao. grab that shit by the neck

lack of easy resolutions and cleanly tied ribbons is pretty standard of homestuck and imo it doesn't make arasol's dynamic any less incredible. with the right affection and consideration, there's still so much potential to develop the nuance of their relationship outside of the popular quadrant-based depictions.

hs has a lot of really great character compatibilities but the way aradia and sollux are in their own special orbit is why i can write this much about them in the first place. it's that frail innocence between first loves that makes it so sweet to me, two kids who grew up too fast playing guesswork without being clear where they're going.

ultimately i do think you're meant to feel a little tragedy for just how much they care for each other, even if they can't quite establish it in simple terms.

maybe they keep taking breaks to progress their own paths. maybe they remain as anchor partners while seeing other people. but even if you decide to separate them, they're still (awkwardly) texting each other updates all the while. and when they reunite it feels like coming home.

and well. more than anything, i like to believe that they do want to be exclusive.

they're just afraid. after all, they're still learning how to love, beyond the projections of the foursquare quadrant system they had inadvertently distanced themselves from since young.

they might not have everything figured out, but they'll get there eventually if you just hold them together and write them there.

optional post-canon segment:

one of the limitations of main hs is that (monogamous) relationships are often written as the go-to solution to wrap up character growth; it's an easy "patch" to imagine characters getting their happy ending because they have a partner, and those who don't end up with someone don't get that closure (most notably jade).

hs2 reaffirms this by suggesting that aradia's character cannot progress without letting sollux go, because happily settling in a relationship automatically locks your potential.

that pathetic panel of sollux staring emptily into the sky is still my fave hs2 spoiler ngl i find the impact of their parting so emotionally provoking precisely bcs they were written in original hs to be each other's forever, coming back together again and again

but now, they're subject to the decisions of the post-canon authors who might choose to deviate from that.

it's not new for them to part, but now there's an underlying worry that her dropping him off this time might be the last time. while i think the prospect of shattering their stability to make them grow separately sounds fun on paper, no amount of me desperately hoping for a good execution is gonna guarantee it

idk. i guess prediction-wise im expecting sollux in classic dramatic-hs2 fashion to tell dave to back off aradia LMAO. otherwise it's just gon be sollux and karkat pathetically watching aradia and dave from a distance swimming in their unresolved feelings for narratively-powerful time players smh obvs it sounds corny as hell but who knows its still plausible

srsly tho i hope they take the opportunity to develop arasol's relationship in a fresh direction that doesn't hurt me too badly...... and i hope they force sollux out of his comfort zone. i like watching him struggle :-)

[icarusredwings]

Rewatched Deadpool 1. Took notes.

WARNING: Discussion of mental illness topics, ending yourself, trauma, violence, etc.

Civil debate/ conversation welcomed. Sorry its super long. I think a lot.

Notes:

You know what? We see Wade coloring a lot. What's our status on just giving him cartoons snacks and coloring books? He needs it.

I think we all forget how actually impressive this man is. I just watched this cancer having fucker do like 50 flips.

Whatta man is so Logan Howlett coded.

"Bad deadpool" "good deadpool!"

Deadpool has been helping kids for a while. He terrified a little creep while he himself was a huge creep.

Missed up his words and Vanessa smiled at him. With that "aw hes cute" kinda thing.

When talking about their childhood (whether he's lying or not, hes not about the uncle) and he outdos her so much that she giggles.

The first date he takes her ducking skiiballing instead of yk prostitute stuff

Hes so romantic oh my god.

Theyre giggling and joking like all the time. Personally thanksgiving is my favorite scene before he proposes with a fucking ring pop.

I shouldn't laugh but the way he said "wtf" when passing out

Vanessa instantly jumping to "what can we do? There has to be something" makes me instantly respect her as a chronically ill person myself. Partners who medically defend each other make me so happy because a lot of people divorce their partners when they get "too sick" let alone dont show up to specialist appointments.

Him accepting death so quickly is a sign of mental illness, and you can see him be confused on why shes so upset. Shes crying and hes sitting here like "why do you care if I die or not?" He physically feels so unloved that he just doesn't get it.

"I dont know. Might further the plot. " Oh, so you know about wades little mental tv show he puts on in his head as a coping mechanism?

Also... Weasel.. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS A WEASEL!? Shit sorry wrong movie.

Its not until now that hes crying because he realizes if he does then no more vanessa. We already know hes very co dependent and many people only care about themselves BECAUSE of other people. Which is also considered a sign of wanting to ☠️ self.

The whole "superheros are all lame ass teachers pets" thing is so funny if you think about how much beef he has with the xmen when in reality I have a feeling Wade would love charles in a "Ugh im in trouble with Daddy wheel chair again." COUGH "old bald heavens gate looking mother fucker" COUGH

"Thats not nice" No. But wade is genuienly not nice either.

"This is embarrassing. Please stop, " Colosus said what we all were thinking.

Bro literally cut/broke off his own hand and didn't whine a single time. If you ever. EVER hear this man express pain it is 99.9% his own choice to let you know that it hurts.

During his changing process, Francis says "the only thing that doesn't survive is a sense of humor" wade says "we'll see about that" and smirks.

What also makes sense to me is that he did NOT break easily. They did test after test after test and this man still wasn't breaking. His spirit is incredibly strong and as much as we enjoy joking about how stupid he is, Wade is extremely resourceful.

Its like he has created an alter ego of humor and kindess in order to keep up with the fact he DOES understand how fucked up this world is and whats happening/happened around him but refuses to acknowledge it until he has too. Ussually for survival.

Ive seen theories that he has DID or a type of Scizophreania and the voices in the comics are obviously in his head. I have mixed feelings about it because even his thoughts have thoughts of their own in some cases. Talking to no one is often a sign of abadonment, esspecially in children who are school age and get lonely when taken from their families to attend school. Its almost as if wade never lost his and hes subconsiously talking to himself to keep himself calm/ from panicking in high stress situations.

"But then how does he know hes in a movie" thats the thing. He doesn't. Hes pretending to cope. Main charaters cant die and until he dies he has this mental show/movie going on to keep himself from realizing all of this is true. That this is reality.

Cunningham mentions breakfast for his kids and suddenly, wade wakes up. Hes not joking anymore. This is a "oh shit... I wanna make breaktsst for my kids too... with my wife vanessa" moment.

"So whats wrong with him?"

Diiiiiddd we all forget about scout master kevin? Uncle? Dad? That fact that the oxygen was physically taken from his brain and was given Co2 poisoning over and over? For multiple days? This is the same man who blew himself up just to escape because they told him he wasnt going to see vanessa again.

And then he fought a guy naked, survived the entire building burning down, and now is so insecure about his looks that he thinks he made the baby cry in the street.

Theres people staring at him, flinching away, called names, people see him and cross the street. (So when he tells Logan that he knows his pain when it comes to public settings, hes not lying)

Blind Al is literally the reason deadpools suit is what it is. Why the idiot thought white was gonna be a good idea- See above. Unlike Al, who could smell the blood/ bleach.

I really love al. She's like the adult Toph.

"I hear everything in this duplex." OH, you poor thing.

"The guy that turned me into this freak-"

Al: *bitch im blind face*

As far as she's aware, he looks normal. Which is beautiful when you think about it, but it's funny when you think about the fact that he's so insecure about his face that he purposly found a blind room mate that couldn't judge him.

And they cuddle while he gets dating advice from grammie 🥹❤️

I really like how the entirety of Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children (HellHouse in the comics) stood up for Weasel. They're murderers. But they're family.

What they did to vanessa was straight fucked. Her fiance up and leaves without notice, youre just trying to work and live your life, you get kidnapped.

Negasonic is so cool. I love them.

Dopinder (The cab guy) is so cool too. I love him too. Kill that guy in your trunk. "Mr. Pool" reminds me of Tom holland spiderman.

"It is not boy band >:(" Suurreee it isn't.

"Wheres your duffle bag?" You mean his dollar general store tree hello kitty book bag filled with guns?

"Cue the music" *no one even gives a fuck at this point when he talks to the imaginary cams*

Negasonic mid battle: Hold on- "Hey Yukio, yeah I just gotta fuck shit up real quick, ttyl?"

"Sure thing! <3 You go baby!"

I dont know anything about negasonic but she reminds me of Gambit with her energy powers.

Like I said. Hes smart when its a serious situation because he immediately threw his katana into the glass so vanessa could breathe, only to immediately turn sappy and childish again when he sees her stab francis with it. Heart hands, is hallucinating because theres a knife in his brain (literally), sex joke. Etc.

Colossus shut the fuck up. Let this man kill him. He's hurt Soooooo many people. A bullet costs less then a dollar. His amount of therapy alone is going to be like *checks calculations* 80 billion.

"Not the nethers" Wade can and often does show proof of hurting but hed rather cut off his hand then let vanessa punch him in the balls. "Ow- owie 5000"

Hello Hugh Jackman.

After not seeing each other for so longer they instantly go back to the fibbing. "I live in the house with 12"

"You live in a house??" Funny guys get the girls. I should know. My wife says im super funny (yes im in therapy)

Pinky promises really matter to him.

Hes such a silly billy he brought out the phone with their song on it. God what a romantic idiot.

[haveihitanerve]

Steph was not running away. She wasn't. She just… needed some fresh air. Three blocks away. And she wasn't going back. Fresh air. “Sorry I ran away.” Steph whispered as Batman landed next to her. “Its alright.” Bruce said back, taking a careful seat next to her and letting his legs dangle. Because it was Bruce. It wasn't Batman, it wasn't Brucie Wayne. It was just Bruce. Even though she had run away. “I think there might be something wrong with me.” Steph whispered. “What makes you say that?” Bruce asked quietly. “I don't know.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Maybe its the fact that im finally finally safe now, and i have security and a family and a decent dad and im just… tense. All the time. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Bruce dropped a careful arm around her shoulders. “You've been living your whole life in survival mode. Its.. its okay to not think life will be okay. That its too perfect. That it'll all be over in a flash, the second you let your guard down and get too comfortable.” Steph smiled weakly at him. “Speaking from experience?” Bruce grimaced. “Yes. And, speaking from experience, I’ve also learned its better to accept life as it is, right now. Embrace it wholly. Sure, it might be over tomorrow, but at least you have today.” Steph snorted. “Wow. Did you see a cat poster on your way over here?” Bruce offered her a smile at that, but she could tell he was still serious. “I know its not easy, but I’m here for you Steph. So are the others. We’ll get you to embrace us one day.” Steph laughed weakly. “Yeah. Maybe.” They sat there like that for a while, until little pins and needles were running down both Steph’s legs.

“I beat up a wall once.” Bruce said suddenly, breaking the silence. “When I was eight.” Steph started at the sudden start in conversation. “Okay..” she said slowly, chancing a side long glance at him. “Why? Did you win?” Bruce chuckled, holding up his right hand. “Because i though it would make me feel better.” He shook his head. “It didn't. I didn't.” he corrected, showing her his wrist beneath the glove where a faint white scar ran across it. “I broke my wrist. Snapped it right in half.” Steph gasped. “When you were eight?” she exclaimed faintly. Bruce nodded.  “D- did it make you feel better?” Steph asked tentatively. Bruce shook his head, another chuckle rumbling through his body. “Gods no. It hurt like a bitch.” Steph snorted. He looked over at her. “You know what did make me feel better though?” She looked at him expectantly. “What?” Bruce smiled. “Alfred shattering the wall.” Steph gaped at him. “Nu-uh.” “yuh-huh.” bruce nodded. “Alfred?” Steph said skeptically. “We’re talking about the same Alfred?” Bruce snorted again. “When we found me curled up next to the wall,” he explained. “He assumed i had been beaten up. When i revealed to him, although a bit begrudgingly, that i had lost the fight against the wall, he had stood up and left.” “he left?” Steph exclaimed. “When you were hurt and revealed you had been fighting a wall????” bruce nodded. “Yep. I felt that way too. But then he returned holding a sledgehammer and-” he mimed swinging something. “Shattered it.” Steph let out a giggle, leaning into his side in laughter. “Wow.” she laughed. “How have i never heard this story before?” she asked, wheezing. Bruce shrugged, eyes twinkling as he watched her. “Im sure Babs is saving it for the right moment.” Steph giggled again. “Stephanie.” Bruce said softly. Steph composed herself slightly, hiccuping, and looked up at him. Bruces sapphire blue eyes gazed into hers. “I would shatter a wall for you.” he whispered. Steph swallowed. “I know Bruce. I know you would. I’m sorry I ran away.” Bruce looked around before shrugging. “Its not too far. I once caught Dick halfway on his way to Bludhaven.” Steph looked at him intrigued. “Why was he going there?” Bruce chuckled. “Wanted to run away and join the circus.” “ah.” Steph placed a gentle hand on his leg. “I guess I couldn't keep him from the city after all huh?” Bruce asked quietly. “Nope.” Steph said back. “But, you did give him something.” Bruce glanced at her. “Yeah? Whats that?” Steph smiled. “You gave him roots. A home. Dick has his apartment in Bludhaven now. He has his own team. A home. But you gave him a home he can come back to. Fall back on.” Bruce smiled. “Thank you. And,” His hand covered hers where it rested on his leg, long pale fingers curling around hers. Steph kept her eyes trained on their hands, on the protective body shielding her from the cold. “If you allow it, I would love to provide the same for you.” Steph’s lip began to tremble, and she gave a jerky nod, a tear hitting her leg. Bruce reached over and brushed them away. “I love you Steph.” Steph let out a small hiccupy laugh, leaning into his touch. “I love you too…Dad.”

[ultimate-marysue]

Magnus Protocol ARG

Im not sure if someone else has already done this (most likely) but I've been re-readin the magnus institute excell with all the kids names. Since the tests where psychological in nature I thought maybe I could figure out if the "Connor" Dyer profile worked for Alice. But I think I've found out something about Sam. This might be the most tin foil hat theory I've had in a while but it makes sense! I've connected the dots!!!!!

There's a couple of things I need to stablish first:

The names seem to be ranked from lowest to highest score on the empathy test.

Sam scored the highest, Gerry the second highest (Dyer is closer to the middle of the list).

The tests seem to relate to cognitive development, especially related to morality and empathy.

The Asch test measures your "conformity" aka, how susceptible you are to peer pressure. Basically, they ask you a question, everyone before you gives the wrong answer, and the test is whether you would give the correct answer or go with what the others said.

The Milgram test measures your obedience when in conflict with your morality. The (very) abridged version is: they tell you tu punish someone by shocking them with increasing voltages and if you refuse they ask you to continue. The experiment goes on until reaching 450 volts or if the participant completely refuses even when ordered to continue.

We know the Institute was trying to find Subjects, Agents and Catalysts (there's an amazing post about this from @alice-apparently )

Okay so I made a little excell with the relevant info:

Both Gerry and Dyer show low conformity and obedience levels. Which, knowing Gerry (and maybe Alice??) makes complete sense. We can assume that they both chose to give the correct answer even if everyone else answered differently, and they also refused to administer the punishment even when directly ordered.

Sam on the other hand, mr "would rather die than complain about being forcefed cake" did in fact go with what most people said instead of the correct answer. He also finished the Milgram experiment, going against his moral compass to obey the instructions.

I think they were trying to find viable subjects to groom into avatars for the eye. Hear me out. The kids with the lowest empathy score show high scores in the Milgram test (makes sense, they don't care as much about hurting people) but from 80% empathy forward no one scores high. No one except Sam, the one with the highest empathy score.

Why not just pick the one's with the least empathy? the least empathetic kids were also the youngest and the ones with lowest cognitive developement (I do not go in deph about the other test but you can see the scores for yourself here). This kids aren't useful yet, because maybe they'll become more empathetic (And as such, more resistent to the Milgram test) as they grow up/develop.

Not Sam. He has perfect scores in every single development test, he has the highest empathy and yet he's the most likely to be influenced to harm other people.

In episode 10 Sam confirms his obsession with finding out why they didn't chose him despite having the highest scores. Gerry was the second highest and he didn't get picked either. My theory is that Sam was indeed chosen, and the fact that he shows no survival instincts when it comes to figuring this mystery out is prove.

His test results show someone whiling to file useless papeworks with extremely personal information because "well, you're supposed to even if no one reads it". Also Teddy leaving for a job that somehow didn't actually exist smells like somebody trying to free a spot in the very Eye-coded OIAR. A spot that Sam is more than happy to accept.

I don't know if this is an incredibly long con to condition Sam into the perfect vessel for the eye or if the Magnus Institute had to change plans after burning down. If it's the latter I can see them being very happy when their specialest little boy signed up for the OIAR and fell right into their laps again. Either way, Sam's fucked.

[socksandbuttons]

i love ur bloodmoon thoughts sm and i agree with all of them ‼️‼️

they squandered his character sm and theres barely been any development since he got brought back to life… especially on the KC side. id love to see how youd rewrite it tbh- or if you want feel free to just use this ask as a bloodmoon thoughts dump

ALRIGHT SO We can run along with bm2 But also them going 'no their NOT the original thus we dont need to think about their charascter' as they seemingly established a bit with that but also not? Like that kinda furthers BM's whole arc of being treated like a murder machine (he was LITERALLY rebuilt for that, nothing more than tool!), and yet instead of USING THAT (which like.... we kinda got a bit of that with Eclipse, no i wont get into that.) they go 'HMNNN no, we dont wanna develop this further hes just villain' LIKE. SURE. ALRIGHT. BUT... YOU LITERALLY HAD SO MANY SET UPS WITH LIKE... His weird attachment to monty that one TIME yknow the 'hes my dad!' even tho hes not and its very debatable with Eclipse and KC depending how you wanna go about it (In terms of WHO made bloodmoon its Eclipse whos derived from KC and Moon and SUN.) Where was I YEAH HIS THEME OF NO ONE IS FAMILY BUT BLOODMOON. Only THEY understand that theyre not a tool or worthless! (Yknow just completely missing a way to use their codependence to help further their own coping of SEVERAL THINGS.) Yet he still STILL seeked out and called KC father, he still somewhat has thoughts on family. He's going after EARTH who's just vibin' trying to be accepting, even jealous of LUNAR for 1) being brought back and two) survived Eclipse and lives happily (sorta) and while begrudgingly i must say forgot bloodmoon. (WHICH LIKE. THATS THEIR OWN FAULT FOR NOT DRAGGING LUNAR INTO THAT PLOT EVEN THO HE HAD ALL THIS BLOODMOON INFO DURING THAT WHOLE THING. not used it ONCE. they purposely left lunar out of that and thats annoying. chaos sibligns 4 lyfe) Anyway you COULD so still use that in regards to Sun trying to reach out to them ('I wouldve loved another brother' will forever be brought up. also literally in the same convo sun does admit hed kill em again but WE'RE FOCUSING ON THE FAMILY PART GUYS) I'd have to scrap some like... lets see here.... UmMM i CAN use the attacking lunar thing still. Cause whole jealous thing they didnt understnad their own thoughtS (THEY THOUGHT MONTY WAS THEIR PARENT WHICH LIKE??? a stretch honestly. cmon we know this. theyre definitely making their own excuses) iDK ABOUT attacking earth, cause by that point everyone is kinda dead set on murdering them its actually pretty bad by that point unless KC comes back jesus style and goes 'NO. I'll handle this' proceeds to drag bloodmoon off into the desert for family bonding time (and rehabilitation.) Which he wont but we also gotta remember Bloodmoon is deliberately being used a scapegoat (despite yknow... he did DO all that by his volition still like he WOULD NOT have gone after kc like that if not for ruin going 'hey u wanna see ur dad who totoally didnt care for ur ass' or 'you should totally go kill a bunch of people. and then threaten lunar and earth BUT WAIT no killing ill shock u!' im losing focus but THEY WERE... sort of going somewhere with Bloodmoon not wanting to be a tool. AND having solar interfere (I still hate that whole 'he reminds me of my moon thus he must die'. Retcons... everywhere. Remember when he wanted to save his moon?? yeah? cool cause ill never forget that actually.) KC dying actually WOULDNT have been so bad (aside the... suddenly being an ass about it. But he was direct to bloodmoon about 'BRUH UR BEING USED.' and them never actually... bringing that up too much) angering BM enough to kill KC is actually pretty solid way to use the whole 'Bm not satisfied with Killing' as a very direct way KC's words last on BM especially BM's whole unstable emotions of NOT understanding the feelings theyre going through because of that other than anger (denial, grief, confusion and conflict of how Hurt that mustve been they wanted more family) oh this is getting long and im losing focus.

[s0apmactav1sh]

Its been a hot minute friends. I am currently going through a shitty ass time but here have me waffling about my fic im trying to write.

(This isnt an update, i just need to qrite something before i disappear for a bit over shit thats happening)

Crawler, the nickname given to you by the 141 after they got used to you casually crawling around the ceiling so it just came naturally to them to start teasing you with the nickname whenever the found you having a fit and giving out about the recruits while sitting upside down on the roof.

"Ya alright there crawler?" With how usually it was to find you in the prediment you were in right now it was no secret you didnt like the recruits you dealt with on the daily "No! How do they even survive on missions. My gods-" Cue Gaz listening for an entire hour as you ramble on about every mistake made by each individule recruit, names given and all. Once you stop your out of breathe and glaring at gaz because of the stupid grin hes been giving you. "What are you smiling at?" "You."

Spiderman kisses. No matter what no matter where. Could be in a random hallway, an office the debriefing room or any of there rooms at this point with how much time you spend with them. Soaps always the one looking for them no matter if you agrue that your nothing like a spider and he is being silly. But still you give in to the puppy eyes the werewolf man gives you. Your quite the sucker for them.

"No way am I hanging upside down because you want a kiss!" The way soaps ears droop and his tail lessens in wagging has you feeling guilty but what truly sticks it to you is the puppy dog eyes he now has to try convince you. Lips so prettily pouted and everything and who are you to deny that face. Even if you huff and groan as you geting yourself situated and crouched on the ceiling. So he can kiss you like in the spiderman movies. And as soon as its over Soaps rushing off to gaz to bloat over what you did.

Ghost somehow being the one to discover the ear bursting screech you let out when anyones hand even remotely brushes off your tail. He didnt even mean to purposely do it and the wraith was so thankful he was already dead bc the screech you had let out when his fingers lightly touched off the tip was enough to have him wincing and covering his ears to protect them.

It was a pure accident. He didnt even realise he had come in contact with your tail until you let out a horrifyingly loud screech that had him covering his ears. "Jesus. What on gods green earth was that. Are you some sort of banshee aswell." Before he can even get an answer out of you, your gone having bolted for the door as soon as that sound left your lips. What an awkward interaction that leaves you both walking on eggshells around each other.

Price deciding with all the time youve been around and the fact that his boys seem to trust you he adds you to his horde. But in a way that you dont realise that you apart of it. It starts off with him patting your back after missions amd saying goodjob, even if you were just look out. Then it moves on to him giving you random things, youve been eyeing up a new pair of gloves? Hes bought them and left them outside your door the next morning before you woke up. Its not until he leaves one of his scales on top of your desk that your realise what was happen but still you kinda oblivious so you just pocket the scale and run your fingers over it for good luck before every mission.

Ever since the others had become more comfortable and accepting with you on the team Price had bene thinking of making you a part of his horde. You'd be just like his boys, the centerpiece the thing he cared about the most. So whenever he saw your dule eyes light up at the sight of new gloves or a weapon he knew the way of winning you over was sneakily gifting you little presents. Without your gruad up so much it was easier to tell that you were a bit oblivious. Certain signs and things not processing in your mind. So when he leaves the scale down hes not sure if youll even see it but sure enough he manages to walk past your room, stopping when he see you slip the scale into the pocket of your gear before walking away with a goofy smile on his face. You may not know that your now his, but hey you will soon enough when the rest of the boys give you something of significance to them.

-

Silly rambles. Ok ima go take my meds and cry myself to sleep I might bring back king!price at like 4 am tonight.

[mrsnancywheeler]

I’m back with more thoughts (I’ve been harassing you with the jealous Finnick and first time being intimate asks IM SO SORRY)

Imagine the pain Finnick feels when he has to walk to the reaping, seeing his sweet girl-no not his sweet girl anymore…seeing her at any point hurts him. It hurts his soul. His heart feels like a fresh bruise being pressed on when he sees her. But then, then her name is called, and instead of a bruise his heart is ripped from his body, chewed up and spit out by the capital. He gave her up so she’d be safe, he hasn’t felt her touch in two years so she wouldn’t be touched by the capitol. And yet, here she is. Walking up to the podium, on her way to a death game.

The heartbreak that he feels in the moment is probably unimaginable. The realization that giving her up, breaking her heart, breaking his heart; which she owns, was all for nothing.

Anyway I hope I’m not annoying you with these little thoughts haha! I’ll stop if so😅

Bye!

i love being bombarded with these sm please send me all your thoughts, pookie 💕

again I will probably get into this in the river more but like my poor boy

I swear this man he tells you not to be around, but he needs to see you. he'll make rounds around the market to try and catch a glimpse just to get jealous when you're happily talking with Conway or anyone else (I'm resisting the urge to say thing's I'm saying for the river and it's so hard) he told you not to come to his parties, but they're not fun anymore. now he's just sad when he's drunk, there's no giggly you around. and there's no comfort to his sadness without you. he wants to beg you to come back, to be with him, but he can't. no other girls his age hold a candle to what he felt with you and he feels like he's betraying you by just entertaining them.

and oh my god, of course you notice the way he spends all day, circling around the marketplace. you hate it because of how much I makes you love him, for keeping an eye on you even if he won't have you. how are you supposed to accept your life when he's giving you hope everytime he passes by? and he's such a masochist by continuing to even though it makes him miss you more every time

and I'm not saying that reader was reaped intentionally by snow to teach finnick a lesson, but that is what I'm saying.

and she's going to be sent to her death and then right beside her is the person who was supposed to take his place in your life, conway, and finnick hates that if this was going to happen that he gave you up to a life with conway when he could've been openly loving you all along

and maybe after all this time you've stopped loving him back, loathed what he did to you, but he doesn't care because he's going to spend as long as he can making it up for you and making sure you come home to him. finnick knows you so well that he sees that look on your face when conway is called, just for a brief moment and he knows his sweet girl is also a smart girl, he knows you have a plan to survive even if it breaks you in the end. and he knows it's selfish, but maybe it's worth it if he gets to be yours again and be the one to help put you back together.

no I literally love these sm and talking about them, it makes me think about what I'm gonna write later too, helps me brainstorm

[jev-urisk]

A Musing Monday 🎐

Today i'm musing about connections and how they are often synonymous with our opportunities, our ability to survive, and our thoughts- therefor changing who we are and who will become. Also coin metaphors 🪙

Last Tuesday out of the blue one of my partners was laid off, he started a new job two days later because he knows people who work at a cabinet mill. 🙏

My family made the most healing ratatouille that we ate off of all weekend because someone I know from work had too many eggplants. 🍆📈

We got our house thanks to the efforts of a friend with a real-estate license. I got the contact info for my current therapist from a girlfriend. I have a song stuck in my head from a child I work with and I pick up catchphrases from people on tv and I know how to do pushups for the 1st time in my life bc an online friend taught me how. 🔥💪

Its fun and frightening to think about- that we are obelisks of pennies created from every person that gave us their two cents 🪙🪙

If every trait, thought, inclination, or idea of yours was a coin- which of your coins are old, passed down through the generations until they were shuffled into your hands? Which are invaluable? Like my dads tendency to accept things (like my gayness and transness and polyness) as long as no one is getting hurt, which I know he got from my grandfather ❤️. Which coins are a burden you dont know how to get rid of? Like my mother's propensity to say "It could be worse, think of__ (children in Africa, Houseless folk, etc)" which has become my tendency to minimize my own experiences and neglect to give myself breaks 🫠. Which coins did you find on the sidewalk and which sit with you in your car? Which are made of metals you're allergic to? Which are tarnished and scratched but still good? Which coins of yours are most valuable to you? 🎐

There are so many times in my life where I felt like I couldn't get a leg up, and the only way I got through was stacking pennies, adding up my connections and the ghosts of connections past to try to escape the pit..

With that in mind I want to take a moment to shout out the change (🥁) that others have gifted me with recently, cuz boy buddy have I needed to stack pennies lately, but have been so blessed to have so many new coins.

Thanks @sableglass, the fire you put into the world ignited action into me. I spent a year lamenting the loss of a job until your 'fuck it we ball' attitude inspired me to get resolved about that 🤽‍♂️. I got a job offer today. You helped me get here.

Thanks @the-golden-comet , you were one of the first writblr blogs I came across. You shaped my idea of tumblr to be something positive and uplifting during a very hard time for me 🫂. Your stories are so free and wild (🐳💦) and wonderful that they changed my outlook on being a writer and that what im 'allowed' to put in a story is anything but a limiting factor. You taught me that the course of a day can be changed with a simple frog gif and that you dont necessarily need to know someone to know how much they care. 🐸💕

Thanks to @tragedycoded for DMLS and @words-after-midnight for Libaw. Yall write the mentalscape of various conditions so well that im taking better care of myself 🧠🌿. I'm more proud of the work I've put into myself. And i'm becoming proud of the person I could have become but didn't.

Thank you to @lychhiker-writes for being my first homie on tumblr and for letting me vent my various frustrations into your dms 😏😅, and for being a brave and honest alpha reader for 7C.

Thank you @wyked-ao3 and @cowboybrunch and @gioiaalbanoart for being such great cheerleaders for my writing 😭💕 seeing yall connect and feel your feelings in my comments gives me so much hope and happiness and I honesty dont thank yall enough. I finally finished ch8 (no, really, check the doc 👀) and your encouragement helped me really embrace Seeker, who I used to think was too boring, and get that chapter finished 🏁.

There are so many others and I'm sorry for not naming them all 🙏 but if I have read your work, thank you. If I follow you or you follow me, thank you. If we have ever bonked together in a discord chat like two wayward beyblades 💞- *Thank You*

Today, I feel like I'm finally out of the pit, and it's thanks to the random 2 cents and spare change yall have gifted me. Your influence is priceless. 🥰💰

(Still no taglist for Monday posts yet, hmu if you'd like to be on it!)

[t-thedigitaldiary]

Sincerely yours,

(part 1)

author’s note: heey,everyone.Basically this the first fiction i’ve ever written and I’m pretty new to this platform so I’m not entirely familiar with how to make my posts pretty but I truly hope you like it :).Also,for the hashtags,this work of fiction is not at all related to Ellie Williams (although the aesthetic is inspired by her in a.u fictions) nor the tlou world.I just really wanna be a part of the tlou fandom in here,since i will be posting related artworks later on and bc im new,i thought this was a nice way to start :).Last but not least,this piece is extremely personal to me and truly reflects my feelings.Anyways,hope you enjoy!

Warnings!: poor mental health condition (mention of depression multiple times & trauma,not in great detail though),violence (basically someone being hit with a water bottle lol)

Sunday afternoon. Ugh, you hated Sunday afternoons. Not because, like most people, you hated the upcoming Mondays, but because it was dull. Extremely dull, empty. You are not sure if the reason behind this emptiness is depression, but you have accepted it either way. Now that you think about it, you hated almost every afternoon. For the same exact reason. Even though you used to love the darkness of the night, something about the sun setting has now become extremely unsettling to you. ‘’Vitamin D my ass! ‘’, you thought. It wasn’t always like this, though. Something about the last six months has turned you into a living dead, a zombie if you may! No, actually, ‘’something’’ is a very unfair description of the cause. More like ‘’a very specific experience’’ has turned you. You had lost all your livelihood, all your appetite about almost everything and, suddenly, Sunday afternoons were not just dull, they were depressing. Just like every other afternoon of the week, just like every other time of the day. Every day. For the last six months. Wow. You thought about change a thousand times before. You prayed and you prayed that things were going to get better. You desperately asked the universe for a sign. A sign that you were going to survive this and live a happy life. No sign, no change ever came. Except for this peculiar Sunday afternoon. (Not so dull now, is it?)

You were laying on your back on top of your unmade bed. Blank white tee, black shorts, the same ones you’ve been wearing for over a week now (depression really gets the best of you, huh?). You were sitting with open legs and open arms. Your right, sock covered foot was bent and was softly brushing over your bare left knee. You had your hands thrown on top of your head. Someone that had just entered the room would’ve thought that this is the position of someone highly frustrated. Little would they know. In your mentally uncomfortable but physically soothing position you found yourself begging again. ‘’Please, universe, just one sign is all I’m asking for!” . You truly were desperate. You hated the life you were living, a life created in fucked up ways. All you needed was a sign. A sign of change, a sign that things were going to get better.

*knock knock*

The loud knocks on your bedroom door brought you back to Earth. What the fuck?! You were home alone for the entire weekend and you specifically remember locking the front door (you even double checked!!!). Now, you were not just surprised, you were also terrified. Whoever was knocking on your door definitely was not here for a good reason..

*knock knock knock*

You had no more time to think about it, you had to act. You went full-on survival mode. Even though you didn’t like the life you were living, you still wanted to live. You believed in that change. You collected every drop of bravery you had in you, grabbed your water bottle, the biggest object near and prepared for whatever it was behind that door. The knocks became louder and louder. You were sure now that within a bunch of seconds you were about to fight for your life. You shut your eyes close and took one last big breath. One last big breath befor-

The last loud noise heard was not from the knocking. It was the sound that your bottle and someone’s head made after they collided together. Oh, and the one of the body hitting the floor.

​

[hiemaldesirae]

Thorn here, continuing the Vox's killer joins the Hazbin hotel AU, but since it's pretty much wrapped up it's more to do with Vox's injury.

I think had it been a regular knife Vox would be fine. Velvette could swap the heads out and Val could give Vox a boost by shredding one of his many many souls and giving Vox that soul's energy as a boost. But an angelic knife... that causes soul damage.

And yes, Vox's soul obviously moves out of his head easily as he swaps it out/and he must not have very much of his soul in it to begin with, but it's still an extremely dangerous wound. Obviously everyone can see the nick from the blade and the bleeding soul--a vibrant color only seen during/after extermination leaking from Vox's head, and everyone just turns to Vaggie--expecting her to know how to fix this. And she's like: "I don't know! Maybe--all I know is Lucifer survived his battle with Michael because Lilith loved him and bound her soul with his. That's what the word around Heaven was. So....someone who loves Vox--and is willing to restrict themselves to one partner only--needs to bind themselves to him."

And of course Alastor says he'll do it.

thorn. gently takes you by the shoulders and stares deeply into your eyes. Why would you do this to me.

fucking. soulbond shit again always gets me istg... the idea of loving someone somuch youre willing to bind yourselves to them to give them a second chance at life... urgh. imgonna be sick they make me SICK

what do you think voxs reaction to it would be when (if) he wakes up... im placing my bets on immediate panic/fear and maybe acceptance of death (<- he thinks als there to finish the job his assailant failed)