#you’re mistaken

[aweirddreadfulterror]

If master chief decided that being like Pyro from tf2 was better than facing the harsh realities of war 💀💀 this is a totally dumb idea and is just a excuse to draw him looking creepy why also drawing him as a cutie patootie :3

With Blue Cortana, and purple Cortana versions >u<

And some lore >:P he went on to live like your average master chief until the death of his friend and teammate Sam, he lost his mind a little there but he’s fineeeeee :) With Fred being leader of blue team, and John as a heavy hitter, who is fearless due to his brain thinking this is just a massive prank war. And you know John, he loves to win >:3 Cortana speaks for him most of the time bc he mostly rambles on about nonsense, but he still has his sass and his amazing one liners

[kandidandi]

Picks you up, twirls you around and hugs you

Small bird. Crunchable.

hehehehe! am being twirled yippee! did you say crunch

[lil-miss-brainrot]

“will is going to sacrifice himsel-” ARE YOU DUMB

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — synchronicity.

DECEMBER 3, 1985

It’s not often they have to venture out of Hill Valley for parts, but when it comes to fixing the amplifier, they have to get a little more creative.

After a twenty minute drive, Marty finds himself in one of Doc’s favorite haunts, somewhere that looks like a cross between Circuit City and an old warehouse full of junk. He trails behind the scientist, talking with him about transformers, speakers, and potentiometers.

They have to ask the clerk for the right size resistors and terminals, and Marty waits by the counter for her to get them from the back while @doctorbrown continues to browse.

“Here ya go, honey,” she says, handing over the parts, “give these to your pop.”

“Huh?” Marty, startled, searches the clerk’s face. She’s got cat-eye glasses on a beaded chain, a mohawk, looks like she’s his mom’s age, and could take Biff and all his goons in a fight, easy.

“It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of,” she continues, “I think it’s sweet, a kid your age still close to his old man. You got matchin’ shirts and everything.”

Marty looks down at the white patterned shirt Doc bought for him in ‘55 and kept all these years. He looks to Doc strolling around the aisles in one of his incredibly loud Hawai’ian numbers and realizes that they do match, in a weird sort of way.

He guesses they always have, cruising through the centuries and tornadoing through timelines.

His partner in time.

“Great Scott,” he murmurs, before flashing a smile at the clerk. “Hey, thanks a lot.”

“No sweat, kid. Let me know when you’re ready to check out.”

“Yeah, we will.”

[monsterfuckermilligan]

i am not anti sam but i sometimes find myself hating sam because some samgirls are super into bio/gender essentialism whether or not they realize it. sam is a woman and dean is a man and sam is the victim and dean is his abuser like what show are you watching?

[isharaneith]

Whumptober 2023 – No. 9

“Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity1 | “You’re a liar.”2

Like, reblog or comment if you save, please.

1 – I guess it's more like taken identity, but Travelers were the first thing that came to my head when I saw this prompt. I had to do this one for every team member – hence 10 icons instead of usual 9. 2 – They're keeping the stolen identities, which really makes them liars and whumps their asses many times. In a way, even the lyric would fit this one, as their new identities were really not what they've expected.

[oneweirdbookaddict]

Whumptober day nine!

Y’all remember that town from the FS manga that blamed Red for burning it down? What if Four had to go back there? What if they remembered him?

1372 words

Warnings for (fist)fighting and very brief drunkenness that’s not really described and only a character mentioned once.

“You ok, Smithy?” He asks, just getting a small nod.

“Just… don’t like this town much.” Four mutters, sighing.

He forces a smile. “You don’t like any town.”

Four forces a small twitch of the lips. “Touche, Rancher.”

Their conversation is cut short as they walk into the tavern, Four’s lips pressing together as people glance at them. “Leave. Now.” Four hisses, arm grabbing his.

Before he can respond-

“Hey- Isn’t that the kid that burned down the town last year?”

Four freezes, eyes widening.

He looks down at the smith, frowning.

The whole tavern seems to look at the smith, too, heads craning.

“He looks a little different.”

“Got older is all. That’s him.”

“It wasn’t me. You’ve got the wrong person.” Four says, eyes glancing carefully around the pub.

“You’re a liar!” One man roars, face red and drunken. “We saw you with that firerod!”

“I mean no harm, I’ll leave if you wish-”

“Damn right you will, once I’m finished with you…”

Four’s grey eyes glance up at him. “Twi. Leave.”

“Yeah, right, Four, these people-”

“Let me handle it. Leave.” Four says, still oddly calm.

He hesitates. “Come on, Smithy, have some sense, it’ll be one on-”

“Twi. Leave.” Four repeats. “Get the others and go. Get away from here.”

“Four-”

But the smith turns, pulling a blade out of his belt and twirling it carefully in his hand.

“I don’t want to cause any harm. But I will if you make me. Let me leave and no one has to get hurt.” Four says, voice carrying through the tavern.

The original man laughs. “My wife died in that fire, kid. I’d like some revenge.”

“It. Wasn’t. Me.” Four says slowly, eyes flashing blue.

Then a lot of people are yelling- about things they lost, people who died, blaming Four, insisting Four set the fire, calling him nasty names.

The first person to get physical is a man who’d been watching from the corner, standing and slowly inching closer to Four.

Then rushes at him.

Four dodges the first blow, ducking underneath the sloppy punch thrown at his head. Unfortunately, the action spurs the others into motion, too.

Four’s grabbed from behind, a man grabbing his arms and another at his tunic, yanking him back. The smith is too hesitant to use the knife he has. He merely struggles, kicking with his legs and slamming his heel into a man’s knee.

The man swears with a grunt, releasing Four, who quickly goes for the other man but misses.

Takes a punch right to the face, staggering, and he’s grabbed again before he even has a chance to regain his bearings. A punch to the ribs. Another to the face. In the chest, on the arms, wherever people can get a hold of him.

Four finally starts fighting back.

Swings at a man, kicking another, knife flashing in the dim light.

Four places a knee right between a man’s legs, making him wince as the man drops.

Another slash. A man howls in pain.

A kick and man topples, having his legs swept out underneath him.

Four… actually manages really well for a while. Exchanges blows, takes a few hard ones, but dishes far more than he takes.

He’d lost his knife at some point, but he’s doing alright without it. And he hadn’t been using it much to begin with.

It’s not until one woman gets him from behind that he loses his edge- she manages to get behind him, bottle in her hands, smashing it right over his head.

He winces, deciding it’s time to jump in, regardless of Four’s wishes.

The smith staggers, eyes glazing over, dropping to his knees.

And the tavern breaks into cheers.

His blood boils, hands yanking his sword out and shoving people out of the way as he frantically tries to get to the smith.

They absolutely dogpile on the teenager, one man holding Four’s arms once again as another punches, another one kicks, one has gotten the knife Four had dropped-

His mind flashes white.

“Leave him alone!” He growls, twirling his sword. Much to his satisfaction, many of the others stare in surprise at him and quickly back away.

He kicks the man holding Four in the chest, hearing the snap of at least a few of his ribs. He staggers, falling to the ground and staying down.

Grabs one of the ones punching the kid, shoving him roughly into the crowd and knocking several of them down.

Makes his way to Four, no one else even going for them.

“Four.” He says quickly, grey eyes dazedly meeting his. “Let’s get out of here.”

He tries to be gentle, but anger and worry make his voice rough. Four flinches.

His blood boils as he takes Four’s arm, getting the smith to his feet, grabbing his sword and leading him out of the tavern.

The scowl on his face keeps anyone else from bothering them- and possibly all their injuries as well.

Four limps heavily, hands grabbing at his side, slightly hunched over as they walk.

His nose is bleeding- likely broken- blood smeared all over his face and dripping down his face onto his clothes, one eye already swollen shut, purple splotches already blossoming over his face and other visible skin.

Leans heavily on him, breathing labored.

He doesn’t stop moving until Four starts coughing, doubling over and blood bubbling out of his mouth. Spitting weakly, hand shakily wiping his mouth.

Then Four’s knees buckle, yelping in pain when he quickly grabs at the smith.

“Sorry- sorry! Goddess, Four, I’m sorry!” He says quickly, easing Four to the ground.

Four gives these raspy, painful sounding gasps, blood coating his lips.

Lung is most likely punctured, he realizes, chest sinking.

“Ok, Smithy, we gotta move, need me to carry you?” He asks, but Four gives no response.

Likely focusing on not suffocating.

Despite that, Four staggers to his feet.

Grimacing, hands- with very broken knuckles- grabbing weakly at his sleeve to stay upright, letting him lead them through town to the others.

“Time!” He shouts upon finding the other, the leader and Wind both turning immediately.

Then the old man rushes to them, already digging through his bag. “Do I even want to know?”

“No way Four got into a bar fight.” Wind cackles, but it stops quickly as Four wheezes.

Time falters as his gaze darts over Four, realizing just how badly he’s injured.

“Goddess,” Time swears. “What happened?”

“Some drunk people thought he burnt the town down- decided they wanted revenge.” He tries as Time comes up empty handed.

“Wars and Legend went to find potions.” Time sighs, turning to Wind.

“On it.” The sailor says immediately, darting off. He eases Four to the ground, the smith wheezing worse.

“Easy, Smithy, slow in, slow out.” He says gently.

Four’s grey eyes flutter.

“Wind will be back. You’ll be ok.” He says softly, using his sleeve to try to wipe some of the blood off his face.

Time produces a rag and some water, cleaning Four’s face off then holding the rag to his still bleeding nose.

“We need to get something on that eye, it looks awful.” Time mutters, testing the temperature of the water. “This is cold enough…”

He provides another rag that Time dampens, holding it to Four’s eye.

Four’s hand weakly tries to knock it away, and they both pause.

The smith gives a weak cough, wincing.

Then another, blood spotting his lips.

“Cough it up, Four, get it out of your lungs.” He mutters, rubbing Four’s back.

Gets a weak groan, but another few coughs.

Time gently wipes the blood away, holding the rag back to his nose.

“Hurts.” Four grits out, eyes squeezing shut as he leans his head back.

His breathing is… awful. Sharp, painful sounding gasps.

“You have to breathe, Four. Slower. In… out…”

“Can’t.”

“Four- nope, c’mon, kid, eyes open, just breathe with me.”

Four slumps against him, giving a sharp hiss under his breath.

“You’re ok, bud, just breathe.” He says softly, hand brushing carefully through Four’s hair. “We’ll get you a potion, you’ll be alright. Wind will be back soon. Just hang on, bud.”

Four gives no response.

~~~~

[cunninghamchrissie]

chrissy and eddie at a metal concert.

[luvuomi]

“let me guess…your roman empire is pre released kazuha-” WRONG‼️ its marius von hagen

[ormymarius]

confession I have is I can’t stand a lot of other aquaman fans which is why I keep here in my little corner talking about Orm

[socalledfreethinker]

i hope you will be a very good team will be a very good player in the future and we will be very happy to see you in the future as well as the team will be very excited to see you in the next year and we will be happy to see you in the next year and i am very excited to be part of your team and i hope you will be happy to be part of the team and be happy to see you in the future and be happy to see you in the future and always happy to be happy to see you in the future and i hope you are happy to be here with you always happy to see you are always happy to see you always happy to see your team and i hope you have a great day and i hope you have a good day and i love you so much and i hope you have a good day and be safe and healthy day to you are you are you are you have

autumn thank you i love you and i’m glad you’re feeling okay now and you have the time of my dreams and the love you deserve to be able and i love to be loved by you and your beautiful smile is my love you too my dear angel you deserve to have your heart is my love and happiness and happiness and happiness and love and i hope that your days will come to a good day i hope that you’re having the most amazing of your day and i love and hugs to your heart always my heart love you so very so very so very so and much love my love you so sweet heart i hope to see you soon to my heart emoji hugs to your mom i hope that your mom love you

[prncssguya]

so i enjoyed it for the most part and i would definitely recommend. the final episode was a tear fest for me. however i felt they could’ve handled the topic of su*c*de differently. it essentially said “committing that act is a mistake and it makes you a coward. don’t be selfish and think of your loved ones”. like… it just seemed like not the way to go with the overall message

[deckofaces]

Framed Photos

Whumptober Day 9:

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You’re a liar”

Tw: whump, framing, detainment, some interrogation, Polaroids with images of torture, female whumpees, I think that’s some gaslighting if I look at it, wrongful imprisonment, mentions of kidnapped whumpee

Myranda is known as Leader in other fics, uses she/her pronouns

Last part || First part

Myranda’s dark black hair fell down in front of her face as she looked down at the simple wooden table that her arms rested on. Her wrists once again were adorned by shiny metal bracelets, or more known to the people in the agency as power suppression cuffs. 

She’s been detained within her own place of work. 

She’s been interrogated for what must have been hours, all by different people. 

She’s exhausted.

“Miss Warren.” She looked up at the current officer questioning without saying a word. “Despite having been told by your supervisor to stop looking for your teammate, Miss Nadir, you have been caught leaving the agency on numerous occasions at dusk and not returned until the middle of the night. Rather than searching for her, is it possible that you have been holding her captive instead?”

Myranda wanted to scream at the stranger. No one has been believing her. Tears stained her cheeks from her exasperation and the mental torture she’s been going through. And what she saw that morning certainly didn’t help..

“No. I’ve been telling each one of you the exact same thing. I don’t have her! All of you were so quick to conclude that she’s dead! But now that evidence showed up, no, has been placed in my room, the case suddenly opened back up and everyone is pointing fingers at me!” If she had her powers, her eyes would have been glowing from how upset she was. Now she just sat there slightly shaking in her seat from how frustrated and angry she felt. As far as she knew, she was the only one out of her team who was being kept in a holding cell, but she hated that they were left alone without her being able to explain what happened. 

“That does not explain your nightly outings.”

Yes it did. Yes it did. “I’ve been looking for her against orders! Does that explain it? I’m scared for her, I miss her, I-“ Another tear fell down her face. How many times has she cried that day? “I’m her leader and I want her safe return.”

“So you claim you did not take and put those pictures in your room?”

She didn’t she didn’t she didn’t- “It’s not a claim, it’s the truth. I didn’t take or put those there.” Her emotions were a horrible mess, they were in a pile that she couldn’t untangle. Switching between letting her desperation peek through or trying to stay calm didn’t appease any of the officers Myranda’s talked to. No matter what she says or how she acts, it’s never right.

The officer sitting down in front of her paused for a moment before opening a file they had placed closed on the table. Her eyes fell to it.

They opened it.

Her gaze skimmed over a handful of Polaroids. They were the same ones she found in her small room at the agency. She barely had time to sob or panic or have any reaction before a different hero walked by and saw into her tiny room and called other heroes and authorities.

She’s been framed, or it’s a threat, or she’s being mocked. Or it’s a mix of all three. But either way, seeing the contents of the photos left her with guilt and horror swirling around her stomach. 

They contained pictures of her missing teammate, Narcissa. She looked sickly and in a place she didn’t recognize. But even more so she looked to be in pain in every single photo. There were no other identifiable people in the pictures, just her and her in pain. Whether it be with some sort of torture device or nothing at all except her apparent screaming. 

It made her feel so horrible. Her teammates were her responsibility! But Narcissa is still missing, and clearly being tortured. Guilt clawed through Myranda all the way up to her throat as she continued to stare at the photos and the horrific scenes filling each one of them. She saw them earlier that day, but they still hurt just as much as the first time she saw them. She just kept staring until the officer jolted her out of her thoughts. 

“You claim you did not take these pictures, but yet they were found in your assigned room. Our building has high levels of security so it is very unlikely someone put these in your room. Have you been lying to us Miss Warren? There are severe consequences for lying, you should know this.” The officer stared at her with a look of impatience. They could have been done if they would just believe her! 

By that point they should have just said ‘you’re a liar.’ Liar liar liar. But she isn’t a liar! She’s been the only one looking now suddenly she’s being pinned for lying. She’s been accused of it all day- 

“I’m not lying!” She shouted, slamming her hands on the table. She shrunk back a little when the officer started to reach for their pocket. “I’m not lying,” she said quieter this time. “I couldn’t have possibly been the one to kidnap her. It’s the supervillain we fought the day she went missing. My teammates are my alibi, I couldn’t have been there, I was ordered to retreat. I wish I was there, I could have saved her.” All of that ignored the fact that even if the building had high security, she’s sure someone could still have snuck in somehow.

The officer opened their mouth to say something in response but Myranda interrupted them. “Get Florian to persuade me to tell you the truth for all I care, you’ll get the same answer.” She hates to drag them into this, but she’s afraid they won’t let her go at all if they don’t help prove what she’s saying is right. 

They stood up, the metal chair elicited a loud screech on the tile floor as they did and made another as they pushed the chair back into the table. “Maybe we will have to bring your teammate down. If you won’t provide us with the information we need, we will have to.”

“Fine.” Myranda slouched in her chair and let her forehead rest on the table as she heard the door open and click shut, the officer finally leaving her alone.. They’ll bring Florian, they’ll find she’s telling the truth, and then she can get out of the damned holding cell. At least that’s what she hoped. 

Until then though.. the horrible Polaroids kept flashing through her head. She’s been trying so hard to stay strong, but it’s so hard. Everything has been going wrong. So so wrong. It’s been weeks since everything has started and now she wanted more than ever to return back to how things were. But she knew deep down it would never be the same.  ~~~~

Taglist: @justalittlecorrupted, @onlywhump, @kadeee00, @rainy-knights-of-villany, @thelazywitchphotographer (I don’t remember if you wanted to be tagged or not Aura, if not tell me no lmao)

[danothan]

okay waitt this is making me step back and think. bc i Am always saying that i’d hc hal as aromantic if barry hadn’t swooped in and changed everything

man. is That the solution?? is demiromantic the answer to the ‘aromantic -> fully committing to a romantic relationship’ pipeline?? this is very new ground for me, i gotta ponder this

[psychicpanic]

spirit animals are very real. i don’t talk about them bcs they originate from a culture that’s not mine but when the demon is bothering me i remember my spirit animal protector, say hi to them, and like a woosh and the demon is away from me

[parttimecosmichorror]

Grabs you by the shoulders HUMMINGBIRD SALAMANDER BY JEFF VANDERMEER AND Y/N BY ESTHER YI ARE REALLY JUST THE SAME TYPE OF STORY IN DIFFERENT FONTS. THE RECKLESS AND RELENTLESS PURSUIT OF AN IDEAL, OF AN IDEA, OF A FRAGMENT OR A FIGMENT OF A PERSON WHO YOU SO EARNESTLY BELIEVE YOU KNOW. EVEN AS IT DESTROYS YOU. EVEN AS IT TEARS YOUR LIFE APART. AN ALMOST RELIGIOUS ZEAL FOR AN IDOL. THE SUDDEN DISAPPEARANCE OF THAT IDOL LEAVING MANY BROKEN OR OTHERWISE CHANGED IRREVERSIBLY. AN IMAGINATION OF AN IDYLLIC REALITY. UNRELIABILITY OF THOUGHT, OF MEMORY. A WOMAN REALIZING SHE NEVER LOVED THOSE WHO WERE CLOSE TO HER AS SOON AS SHE STARTS TO LOVE A CONCEPT. LOVING THE IDEA OF LOVING AN IDEA. DO YOU UNDERSTAND