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#And some of them are kind of weird
deepseamuse · 1 year
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Some songs I feel fit (some of) my OCs
Hana:
Kishikaisei (Wagakki Band)
Okinotayu (Wagakki Band)
Takeo:
Ultra Necrozma (MOTI lyrics)
Zero Two (MOTI lyrics)
Mathilda:
Vs. Zinnia (MOTI lyrics)
Justitia (Original by Daisuke-P, cover by Lizz Robinett) Original Japanese Version
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starbylers · 6 days
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Everyday I pray those brothers know what they’re doing…..
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anonymous-dentist · 3 months
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Or: In a world where everybody has a superpower, Roier doesn't seem to have one
For day five of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week- Superheroes/Blood
-
Cellbit's dreams are always dark. They start with him in his childhood bedroom, and then they move him down to the kitchen his parents died in, and then they end with him under the bridge. The sounds are muffled, but he can still understand what's being said, and it's always: "It's your fault."
Because it is.
He's had the same dreams since the night his parents died.
Every.
Goddamn.
Night.
But, well. He deserves it. The darkness surrounding the edges of his dream blurs out the unimportant details, like the face of the little girl who was sitting at the kitchen table when Cellbit's parents died, or the view outside of his bedroom window.
But the darkness hides something else- and this is a recent development, and he really doesn't understand it. Because, just out of view, is a figure in all black with eyes that glow white and claws that tear through Cellbit's dreams like they're paper.
He doesn't know who, or what, this thing is, but he does know a few things about it:
The creature destroys Cellbit's nightmares, sending his subconscious tumbling into a much happier dream- one that he can never remember when he wakes up
The creature tries to talk to him every time, but the fangs in its mouth are so large that it just can't
The creature seems to grow taller and stronger with every nightmare it destroys.
The creature is scared of Cellbit's husband
Now, yeah, sure, the creature can't talk, but Cellbit doesn't need to hear someone speak to know what they're afraid of. That's his superpower: fear. He can look at someone and hear what they're scared of, and he can make them scared, and it's horrible and he's a monster and he deserves to-
Cellbit gasps his way into full consciousness. He stares at the ceiling, chest heaving, brain loud and annoying and and and and-
"Gatinho?" Roier murmurs, curled up by Cellbit's side with his head pillowed on Cellbit's chest. He wraps an arm around Cellbit's middle and squirms closer, somehow, he's so clingy.
"Está bem," Cellbit breaths. "Just... just thinking."
"Well, don't," Roier grumbles. "Your brain is loud. Sleep, pendejo."
As if on command, Cellbit's eyelids droop. Roier always has this effect on him; he's just so comforting. He's a living, breathing weighted blanket, and Cellbit loves him so fucking much.
Soon enough, he's asleep again, and he's face-to-face with the creature again.
The creature tries to speak, but no noise comes out.
It flexes its claws as Dream Cellbit starts the walk downstairs to the kitchen.
The dream is shredded, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-
-
Roier and Cellbit have been married for almost one whole entire wonderful year. He's known Roier for one and a half years, and he's been out of prison for two years.
Roier knows about the creature in Cellbit's dreams, even if Cellbit hasn't told him what his dreams actually are. Roier's been trying to come up with a name for it for months now, but Cellbit doesn't really know what to think of that considering the creature is literally invading his brain every night.
"It's kind of sweet, though, right?" Roier asks.
Cellbit wrinkles his nose and jabs his chopsticks down into his rice.
Dinner tonight is Chinese takeout because Roier's tired from work and Cellbit is tired from existing. It's good, but kind of bland. Since they changed ownership and ended up under the Federation of Heroes' official branding, the food has gone downhill. Yet another thing that Cucurucho has ruined, ugh.
"I mean, maybe?" Cellbit replies. "It's kind of freaky."
"I don't know, it kind of sounds cute."
Cellbit gives Roier a flat look; Roier just grins and steals some chicken from his plate.
"It's destroying my dreams," Cellbit says. "That doesn't sound 'cute' to me."
"Yeah, but doesn't it give you different dreams?" Roier asks. "I think it's trying to help."
"Yeah, or it's trying to kill me."
Roier's shoulders tighten. "Do you think so?"
It's always hard to pick up Roier's fears, but Cellbit can often just guess them even without using his powers. Like, he knows that Roier is just scared enough of bears to refuse to go camping anywhere without a cabin for him to stay him. He and Cellbit are both terrified of losing each other, and they're even more scared of losing their kids.
God, Cellbit is so stupid. He doesn't need to be worrying Roier with this, he already freaks out enough when Cellbit ends up caught in the middle of one of the Federation's hero fights due to his abysmally terrible luck.
His face falls. He places his chopsticks down and reaches across the table and takes Roier's hand in his.
"It'll be fine," he tells Roier. "If it tries to kill me, I'll just... wake up."
"If it tries to kill you, I'll kick its ass," Roier swears.
He squeezes Cellbit's hand once and offers a lackluster smile.
Cellbit's heart twists in his chest. Oh, Roier...
-
The night's dream starts as usual:
Cellbit opens his eyes to find himself in his childhood bedroom in his childhood body. There aren't any bloodstains on his clothes yet, though that'll change soon enough.
He tries looking out the window, but that isn't what he did that night, so anything beyond the window is covered by the darkness.
There's a growl, and then the creature forms in the shadows near Cellbit's bed. (There are always two beds in his room, but why?)
"What do you want?" Cellbit tries to ask, but that isn't what he did that night.
Instead, and in a squeaky childish voice, he groans and shouts, "This sucks! I can't figure it out!"
He's at his desk. In front of him are multiplication tables he's supposed to be doing for homework, and they're easy enough that Adult Cellbit could do them now, but that isn't what happened that night. So the problems look like random lines and squiggles, and Cellbit's chest hurts, and he can't breathe, and-
"I can't do this!" he shouts, jumping off of his chair and pulling his homework with him. "Mãe!"
He reaches his door, has his hand on the handle, and then... there's the creature by his side shredding the door into pieces with its claws.
Cellbit blinks, and he's an adult again, and he's in a different dream, and he turns to the side and he's face-to-face with-
-
Roier is one of the few people Cellbit has ever heard of that doesn't have a superpower. He seems happy enough without one, but... but Cellbit thinks that he's lying. He isn't angry that Roier is lying, though. No, he understands, because he himself lied about not having powers until they'd been dating for six months.
In the back of his mind, Cellbit has a few ideas of what Roier's secret superpower could be. The only one he says out loud is, "I know what your power is. You're super handsome!"
But, in order, it goes:
Extreme endurance (evidence: goes for long runs every morning and ends up back in bed sweating and tired by the time Cellbit wakes up)
Can always cook the perfect meal (evidence: he's just really good at cooking)
Comfort aura (evidence: Cellbit always feels happy and cozy and safe when Roier is around)
Super strength (evidence: he's really strong)
But, well. None of those quite work, mostly because the majority of them are just early excuses for thinking Roier was attractive back before they started dating.
Tonight as Cellbit brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed, he thinks up a new idea:
Vocal projection (evidence: he's loud as fuck when he's singing in the shower)
Because, yes, Roier is, indeed, in the shower, and he's singing very loudly. But, really, Cellbit wouldn't have him any other way. He's perfect.
"Hey, guapito," Cellbit says after rinsing his mouth out. "I need your help with something?"
Roier cuts his song off with an irritated groan. "Now? I was almost to the chorus!"
"Desculpe. But you're better at naming things than I am, and I need help coming up with something to call the creature in my dream diary."
"You have a dream diary?"
"I'm starting it tonight. I'm going to figure this thing out."
"That's cute!"
Cellbit can see Roier's silhouette shaking with silent laughter through the shower curtain. Wordlessly, he opens the curtain so he can take the shower head down and spray Roier with it.
"It's serious," Cellbit says, ignoring Roier's screeching protests. "I think it's messing with my head."
"Put that down- vete a la verga, fuck!"
Roier bats at Cellbit's hands until Cellbit lowers the shower head.
And then Roier yanks the shower head away from him and sprays him with it.
"Pendejo!" Cellbit shouts. (Not the best swear word, but it's all he could come up with on such short notice.)
He skitters away from the shower and looks, horrified, down at his soaking wet pajamas.
"Whoops," Roier plainly says. "Guess you'll just have to sleep naked tonight."
He grins, and Cellbit hates him. He wants to kiss him soooo badly!
So he does, and it's nice.
A few minutes later as they crawl into bed, Roier says, "Hey. I have a name for your monster."
Cellbit looks at him. "Yeah?"
"Call it Venom. It's, like, dissolving your dreams, right? Like poison?"
Brain poison, hmm.
Cellbit grabs his brand new dream journal off of his bedside table and opens it. Right on the first page is a long, detailed description of his dream. Right below it is a description of the creature as well as a really messy drawing.
'Venom', he writes.
...What a specific descriptoin. "Dissolving your dreams", not quite how Cellbit has been describing it.
He glances at Roier out of the corner of his eye.
Hm.
-
The first part of the dream goes normally.
And then Cellbit is downstairs at the kitchen table with his parents. There's also a girl there, but Cellbit hadn't looked at her face that night, so she doesn't have one now.
"I can't do it," Cellbit whines. He balls his hands into fists and fights the urge to smash his own face into the table.
"You can," his father insists. "You're a smart kid! Why don't we take a break."
He gets up from the table and goes to cut some watermelon.
Cellbit knows what's about to happen next. But he can't close his eyes, because his eyes were open that night.
"Let's try one more time, okay?" his mother asks.
He sniffles and nods.
He looks down at the problems. He can't understand him, he's so stupid. He's so stupid! Why can't he be like [her]?! She's good at math. She's even finished her homework.
His vision starts to blur. He can't see. He can't- he can't breathe oh fuck he can't breathe why can't he breathe what why can't he
A scream.
He looks up and watches his father finish plunging his watermelon-cutting knife into his own stomach.
"Pai!?" the girl screeches.
"I can't do it," Cellbit's mother whispers. "I'm a failure. I can't do it."
She wrestles Cellbit's pencil from his hand and raises it to her eye and-
Cellbit gasps as a clawed hand rips the table into pieces in front of him.
As the dream shifts and as his body turns back into his own, he's pulled by the creature- by Venom- into a loose hug. Its claws dig into his back, but they don't hurt.
He looks up, and he finds himself face-to-face with-
-
Roier was the first person that Cellbit let himself get attached to after he was released from prison.
He'd met Roier by pure chance, and it was love at first sight. He was just so... and he's still so...
"Does this dress make my ass look big?" Roier asks, posing in front of Cellbit in a way that most people would probably call sexy.
...perfect.
They'd met at their mutual friend, Maxo's, club. Roier wasn't on the pole that night, he was instead working the bar, and he and Cellbit hit it off immediately.
The next time Cellbit had been gone, Roier wasn't there, but his 'cousin' was. Melissa, according to Roier, owns half of the club.
And then, seven months later while rummaging through Roier's closet looking for a hoodie to steal, Cellbit had seen one of Melissa's dresses, and, well. Cellbit isn't stupid, okay? But he hadn't said anything because he didn't want to break Roier's trust, and he lives by that idea even now almost two years after their marriage.
If Roier wants to tell him something, he will. It isn't Cellbit's place to push.
Cellbit checks out Roier's ass appreciatively.
"Everything you wear makes your butt look big," he replies.
Roier nods and smiles, more than content with that answer, and he goes to the other side of his dressing room to start putting his makeup on.
Cellbit tries to make it to every one of "Melissa's" shows. He's a good husband, he wants to support Roier in everything he does.
...And he can't sleep anymore unless he has Roier by his side. Does that make him clingy?
He yawns, anyway, and he leans back and slumps in his chair. He might move to the dressing room's sofa, he's exhausted. (He might not be able to sleep without Roier, but he can rest his eyes, at least.)
"Is it okay if I stay back here?" he asks. "I need to lay down."
Roier glances at him through his mirror, concern lining his face. "Are you okay?"
Cellbit waves his concerns aside. "I'm just a little tired. I don't think I'm going to fall asleep, but I don't want to accidentally pass out during your show. That would be bad for business."
Roier's eyebrows furrow, just slightly. "Are you sure?"
"I mean, if it's okay-"
"No!" Roier cuts him off so quickly that he even seems to surprise himself. "I mean. It's okay, but you might not be comfortable. I can try and find you a pillow?"
His voice is shaking, just slightly. Hm.
"Nah, I'm good," Cellbit replies. He shrugs his jacket off and balls it up in his arms. "I've slept in worse places before."
"If- if you're sure, then go ahead."
Something feels... off. Maybe it's just because Cellbit is tired, but something is just. Weird.
But Roier eventually leaves the dressing room, though not without giving Cellbit a big fat messy lipstick-covered kiss on the lips.
Cellbit moves to the sofa, and he pillows his head on his jacket, and he closes his eyes, and he... he falls asleep. Just barely, because his dream is a faded memory around him, but. But.
But Venom isn't there.
-
The third stage of the dream is the coldest. It gnaws at Cellbit's brain, because it was the middle of January when his parents died. He was alone and under the bridge and covered in blood and absolutely freezing.
The dream doesn't ever go on past the bridge. He always just sits there shivering until he wakes up unless Venom shows up.
So he sits, and he shivers, and he waits to wake up. His body is crying, and the tears are freezing to his cheeks. He can't breathe. He can't stop thinking of... of... fuck, who is that girl? The one who chased Cellbit out of the house. The one with no face but the same voice as him.
A police car speeds over the bridge above him. It's going to his house, he knows this. The morning after the bridge, he snuck back towards his house, and the police car was still there. So was the girl. So were his parents bodies, wrapped in sheets and being carried to a Federation-white van.
He's a mistake. [She] was always better than him. [She] never hurt anybody. It isn't fair!
He sobs and buries his face in his knees. He won't sleep tonight, Cellbit remembers staying up all night because he couldn't close his eyes without seeing his parents die in front of him, and he still can't close his eyes without seeing it.
"I'm a monster," he whimpers, the first time he'd ever spoken those words, but not the last. (Later, he would try to embrace them and become the monster the media labeled him as, but it didn't help.)
There's a snarl above him, and then there's Venom standing above him with its fangs bared.
"I-" Cellbit chokes, forced to repeat what he'd said all those years ago. "I need to turn myself in. I have to!"
He stands. Venom moves to block him, grabbing onto his shoulders and holding him in place.
"There have to be healer heroes," Cellbit reasons. "They can fix them."
(They can't, and they won't.)
If possible, Venom looks distraught. The darkness wavers around it, and that's when Cellbit realizes that this is the closest they've really gotten to each other. This close, he can almost make out a face hidden behind Venom's teeth, buried deep within its mouth. But it's too dark, but if he looks hard enough...
Venom steps back, and he tears the bridge apart, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-
-
Roier is cooking dinner tonight, and it smells wonderful. Of course it does, Roier's the one cooking it. Everything he cooks is wonderful, because he's wonderful.
Cellbit sits at the table watching. The kids are all in the other room doing homework, and it's almost peaceful.
Roier slips with the spatula and drops it into the pan. He swears and scoops it out and swears again as the oil inside burns him.
Again, almost peaceful.
Cellbit swiftly stands from his chair and goes to help Roier.
"Here, let me-"
Roier lightly smacks his hand. "Não, não. Go away."
"Mmm, what if I wanna stay with you?"
He slips an arm around Roier's waist and snuggles up against his back. He rests his chin on Roier's shoulder and watches a beautiful smile spread across Roier's face.
"I guess it's fine," Roier sighs, playing up the theatrics. "I guess."
And then it's peaceful once more. Cellbit watches Roier cook, and he pays special attention to Roier's biceps. (Sue him, his husband is hot.)
But then, in the other room, Richarlyson starts shouting:
"This is stupid!"
"Calm down," Bobby drawls. "It's just multiplication, let me see-"
"No, I can do it!"
Cellbit tenses. Roier doesn't seem to notice, and that's fine. It's nothing for either of them to worry about.
"You've literally been working on that for hours," Bobby argues. "Let me see."
"Não!"
Quietly, Pepito pipes up with, "I wanna see!"
"No!" Richarlyson yells. "I can- I can do it!"
"Let me see," Pepito pleads.
(Cellbit can't see.)
"Fuck you, give me the homework," Bobby snaps.
"Fuck you, it's mine!" Richarlyson exclaims.
(Cellbit can't breathe.)
"You literally can't even do it," Bobby mocks. "Give it."
(Cellbit can't-)
The world dissolves around him, and all he can see is his father's body sprawled across the floor and his mother across from him still muttering about how useless she is as he still muttered about how useless he is and he's both 26 years old and eight and he can't breathe and and and and and-
"Cellbit!" he hears. Two warm, gentle hands settle on his cheeks, and he blinks, and he's in his own kitchen. With his husband. Crying.
"It's fine," Roier whispers. He presses his forehead against Cellbit's, eyes slipping shut. "It isn't going to happen again. You're fine. They're fine. It's fine."
Cellbit blinks. The kitchen sounds miles and miles away, but he still heard that, and he knows for certain that he not once has told anybody about the night he killed his parents.
He swallows, fresh tears stinging at his eyes. "What isn't going to happen again?"
Roier tenses, but he doesn't move. His eyes squeeze even further shut, but he doesn't move. His mouth narrows into a pencil-thin line, but he doesn't move.
Cellbit can barely feel his hands, but he still moves his arms to hold Roier around the middle. The kids are still fighting in the background, but... but he can't handle them right now.
In a minute.
"Do we have to talk about it?" Roier hesitantly asks.
Cellbit's answer is immediate: "No. Just... sorry. I'm sorry."
Roier's brow furrows. "'Sorry'? Sorry for what, eh?"
"You shouldn't have to see all... all that. I don't even want to talk about it, but-"
"No, shut up. I'm sorry for sneaking into your dreams every night. It kinda just happens, I don't control it, but... it happened, and you were so sad, and I wanted to help."
Cellbit smiles faintly. His own eyes slip shut, and he can almost not see the bodies this time.
"You do help," he responds. "You help more than you could ever imagine, even outside of the dreams."
He tips his head up to kiss Roier, soft and brief and gentle.
Against Cellbit's lips, Roier mutters, "I can stop."
Cellbit shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Now that I know it's you, I can stop freaking out about a buff scary monster guy haunting me."
Roier huffs out a quiet laugh. "I can try and be less scary, but I don't control that, either."
"It's still you. Just... God, does this make me a monsterfucker?"
Roier's laugh is much louder this time. He bites Cellbit's bottom lip before pulling back.
Cellbit's eyes open, and he looks into Roier's, and he can see the love in them, and he can feel the love in his own.
God-damn, how did he get this lucky?
"Who are you calling a monster?" Roier demands. He pinches Cellbit's side and turns back to the stove. "Fuck you, sleep alone tonight. I don't even care."
Cellbit smiles and invades his husband's space once more. He hooks his chin over Roier's shoulder, and he sighs against Roier's cheek.
"Te amo," he says. He presses a chaste kiss to the side of Roier's jaw.
Roier's ears turn red, but his face betrays no emotion.
"Your breath smells," he says, a smile teasing at his own lips. "Go brush your teeth before we eat."
Cellbit rolls his eyes, but he leaves to go do as he's told if only to try and finish panicking on his own and try and calm down before dinner.
He passes through the living room, and he sees Bobby at the table helping Richarlyson with his homework.
Some things do change, after all.
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opera-ghost · 6 months
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phantom of the opera + twitter
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flowercrowngods · 3 months
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why must i think of prisoners Ranger!Steve and Bard!Eddie so constantly and why must they be so tender and why hhhh
Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess. 
Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. 
There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory. 
He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is. 
A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery. 
Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when— 
“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.” 
Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore. 
“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”
Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain. 
It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.
Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak. 
Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then. 
That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…
“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now. 
Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now. 
“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.” 
A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much? 
“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.
“Lies?” 
“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much. 
Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to to is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful. 
His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off. 
“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter. 
“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.
“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.” 
Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.” 
“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile. 
“Not with my friends, no.” 
This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft. 
“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now just how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.” 
Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre. 
“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.” 
Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders. 
“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.
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saint-ambrosef · 4 months
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saying "it is not necessary to have sweets every day" should not be seen as controversial, but i have had people go for my throat for that take. its literally unthinkable apparently not to have a sweet treat on the daily (or multiple times per day).
i'm not saying "sugar bad" or anything, it's good to enjoy a little dessert every now and then. but i think a lot of Americans are so used to having a diet high in sugary foods, and it's so normalized and what so many people grew up with, that me saying "your kids don't need to have dessert every day" is accused of toxic diet culture mindset and depriving children of joy.
and the thing is, our sweets are really sweet. you don't notice it when you grew up with it, it just seems normal. but if you travel elsewhere or go on a low-sugar diet, suddenly our ice cream and cookies and donuts seem un-appetizingly overly sweet.
anyways i'm not saying don't give your kids dessert, but i think a lot of Americans underestimate how addicted they are to sweets. if the mere suggestion to limit the intake to once or twice a week gives you a knee-jerk reaction of fear/horror/disgust, "i could never! i earned this!", there is a problem.
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blueskittlesart · 20 days
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what do you think about zora design? about past and current designs? how would you change it? actually!!! what are the zora (and other races) like in your sword of fate au???
got distracted by the second question. look at my little guys:
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these are some of the current (working) designs!! from left to right it's sheikah, zora, hylian, goron, and gerudo! these aren't necessarily the average builds/designs for each race but they're the most important character from each race lol. sword of fate takes place really early-on in the timeline, so the culture and separation of races is still kind of loose especially among the humanoid races. the current generation of zora is basically the first generation to call themselves zora and attempt to establish a government or hold any authority alongside the other races of hyrule, and because they're kind of a young race i imagine they're less fishy and more invertebrate-like in this stage, hence my jellyfish princess! (her dad is a giant squid lol.) the sheikah are descendants of the original surface humans, whereas the hylians and gerudo are two seperate sects that both originally came from skyloft. the hylians built a few villages which each have their own distinct vibe while the gerudo took a more nomadic approach and roam the desert in small independently governed groups. The gorons are the most well-established race at this point, having been on the surface a lot longer than basically everyone else, and so they have a much stronger culture and shared identity than a lot of the other races that are still kind of getting their footing.
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nedeii · 6 months
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wip X2
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myrkulitescourge · 29 days
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imo karlach’s soul coin usage seems like it should have been a little more significant than it was.
she only ever really stops to consider the magnitude of burning through a person’s soul for power during an origin playthrough—otherwise she rationalizes to the player that they’re doomed anyway, and if using them gives her an edge in combat, why not use them for good instead of leaving them to be used by evil? the dialogue with lann tarv in act 2, where he tells the story of each soul he's handing over to her, tries to humanize each soul coin, and still she doesn’t really budge and disapproves pretty heavily if she's told no in regards to using them.
it just seems like something that could have caused some kind of conflict between her and wyll, given he sold his soul to a devil in dire circumstances and takes issue with the player for sleeping with mizora, because she 1) is mizora, and 2) similarly expends tormented souls during her romance scene, even if for a different purpose. but it just... never really comes up?
i love karlach. but that seems like it should have gone Somewhere, from a writing standpoint? karlach values wyll as a person but is willing to use currency forged from souls like his for the sake of a temporary power up. she knows the soul is consumed when she uses them. that whole exchange with lann tarv is there to emphasize that every soul coin she destroys was a person once. but it all kind of loses narrative purpose if this combination of factors doesn't mean anything? karlach doesn't change at all in her willingness to use soul coins, no matter what the player says or how much she cares for wyll.
idk. missed opportunity that wyll doesn't have any dialogue about this, of all things.
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radiocity · 8 months
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The L Word | S2E01
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driftingballoons · 2 months
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Some creatures are more difficult to perceive than others
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muzzleroars · 8 months
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Fallen Gabriel hugging the ferryman to congrat him on FINALLY ascending, only to immediately get burnt by the holy cloth
(see this!)
he tells them it doesn't matter, he's cold all the time anyways
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spywhitney · 1 month
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How I sleep knowing I'll never trust anyone that hates Sydney but worships Richie:
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#the bear#the bear fx#sydney adamu#carmen berzatto#richie jerimovich#jk kind of#well on days I don't see or think about Sydney haters#under every damn comment section in this fandom is someone saying Sydney didn't take accountability#like I know we all have our biases but yall are really shameless about it#Sydney scored A LOT of Ws for The Beef AND The Bear#but one time she makes a mistake and justifiably walks away from a toxic work environment she's the devil#Richie worked at The Beef for years and Sydney did more for it in what less than four months than he did#on top of being a prick to Sydney in particular because she was changing things he wanted to keep the same#to the detriment of the restaurant but also everyone#and overall being unpleasant to Carmy#Nat and anyone that didn't find him funny or interesting or like his bs#pre-Forks Richie reminds me of those types of people that only listen to people that like them#and I love that because it's realistic to some ppl#I do like Richie#it just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth knowing there are people that hate Sydney#ignore her accomplishments only to raise up Richie#in the same breath when the actual show is showing you what's up#like you'd think there were different versions of the show with how these two are perceived#I get this weird need to defend Sydney when people shit on her because I wonder how often said people treat the Sydneys of the world#but that aside#In Fishes Richie mentions something about wasting potential at the beef#In Ceres it's implied he called the popo on the dealers after Sydney deescalated a situation Richie previously dealt with#in an unorthodox manner#he recognised he needed to change but still was an arsehole to the one person who was facilitating that change effectively Sydney#this show is great but people denying what they're seeing on their own screens is crazy
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lucalicatteart · 3 months
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A few silly little small sculptures that I made with some of the leftover clay from the main one I did recently
#sculpture#birds#neopets#sparkly little aishas my beloved.....#Though I actually kind of liked them with a matte finish more?? I wanted to try out making them sparkly and shiny..but#I think they might have looked better before adding all the shine. BUT I kind of like both. Maybe I should make two more that aren't shiny#just to have variation lol... an entire army of tiny aishas.....#The little house is so bad lol I hada headache at that point and kind of just wanted to get everything over with#(I bake the clay all at once so I had to get the smaller ones done to go with the main one)#and was like.. zero effort into making things line up or measuring at all. one window on one side is like twice as big as on the other lol#but I think from afar ifnot examined too closely it's still kind of cute. The birds were also just random like 'what can I shape out of thi#s small blob of clay I have leftover' etc. I did actually put irridescent eyeshaow on the pigeon but it just doesnt show up in photos ToT#The other bird is not anything in specific... some sort of random fantasy creature bird with slight purple on it's wings or something#The strawberry is exclusively just a quickly done accessory for the birds.. I wanted them to have a little meal to share#even though I dont know if birds eat strawberries#the last picture in the set is them all sitting on a shelf (the most well lit place I could find) but looks weird#since it has all of my avocado pit eyes in the background......... ominous backdrop for such peaceful little creachures..#you kind of cant tell what they are from that angle though i guess lol
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Some fantasy traveler inventory details (like what they would carry in their bags), based on two of the recent costumes I did.. love finding random little scraps and items and putting them together lol
#it's obvious who's is who's since they match their outfits HOWEVER.. consider if they were switched lol#evil villain looking man carrying around pressed flowers in a cutesy lacy pouch#fantasy costume#what's in my bag#actualyl that would have been funny to make a video. I should make a video#I'm sure someone else has already done this#but like.. lifestyle vlogger type content however I'm dressed in fully costume as some weird elf or something#pulling things out of my bag and showing them to the camera and talking about how they're useful for whatever#but it's all fantasy scenarios and talking like it's very common#'and of course. i know it's a bit cliche#EVERY traveler has one of these. but you know. theyre just useful! thats why everyone has one!' *pulls out a completely unrecognizable item#thats like some weird fantasy world prop and doesn't even explain it because In-world it's normal and wouldnt need to be talked about*#'room tour' video and it's just like 'yeah I sleep on this mat under a bunch of trees uh.. over here by these rocks. at least right now. I#kind of wander around a bit. so'#Like a clothing haul but it's a potions shop haul or something and they ramble about some obscure drama in the potions community and how the#y hard to barter and steal and entire flock of sheep or something just to get one of them. etc. etc.#I could do ones for different characters too like. multiple people from different walks of life showing what they carry around with them.#just like this but more interview sort of vlog format instead of photos#This is where not having much money and not having my own house with land becomes an issue though#I think it would take you out of the illusion if the background was always the same. I can make small sets because there's one blank wall in#a room that it's easy to move all the stuff away from in front of and clear a spot and like hang up fabrics or whatever but still.. hmms#So one of those 'fun idea but dubious about handling the execution' things. also One Of Those Things where without looking it up you're 100%#sure it's already been done and you don't want to look weird since it's vaguely niche. Like if 100 people have done something it's fine but#if only like 3 other people have then you look weird maybe ghhjbj.. or only one other person gods forbid. looks even weirder potentially#Or do people not care about ''copying'' anymore?? idk. I'm not updated with the internet's changing culture. I just have a fear of accidenta#lly doing something like that and then people getting mad even though it's really just that I competely had no idea it had been done because#again.. I live under a rock and am unaware of everything lol. ANYWAY. also would require my face being on video which I don't like. Though I#would be in costume so that helps. I think to be fully comfortable I'd need light modifications to make my face look different. which isn't#hard but is more effort when it has to be translatable in multiple angles. ANYWAY. ghjbhj... Now I think it would be funny actually. maybe#one day. I haven't made any videos (aside from on the gameplay/sims channel) in a long long time actually. hmm'st
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milfygerard · 3 months
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but fr outside of my contracted madness i absolutely refuse to give joe alwyn gold rush like how is that song at all related to their relationship the lyrics clearly spell out a relationship that either never existed or only existed in implication and fantasies and maybe-maybe nots and its so bitter and yet desperately soft in the bridge where it almost projects a sense of envy, of wanting to be them as much as you want them. It continues an interesting oft ignored lyrical trend of taylor wanting just as much to be her lover as to have them, envying their easy charisma (you were flush with the currency of cool/i was always turning out my pockets) or quiet dignity (your integrity makes me seem small) dating back to her earliest songs (the kind of flawless i wish i could be). Theres a projected self hatred and yearning to be better that twists itself into both romantic and sexual lust for her partners thats so fascinating and speaks to how all of her songs regardless of who theyre about are also an act of self reflection on who she is and who she wishes to be.
#barry.txt#taylor swift#putting this in the tags as a form of self protection but make no mistake this is a gay thing to do especially in gold rush#which through simple context clues is Obviously About A Woman or maybe even women in general#whivh is a totally seperate post on how taylor constructs and uses gender identity in her music#her girlhood and femininity are earnest but also so carefully constructed and so high effort and kind of desperate#shes a deeply self concious and obsessive person who never looks comfortable in anything ever unless shes#onstage or like. by herself in loose jeans and a tshirt#i think thats one of the things that subconsciously irritate ppl when it comes to her shes constantly and clearly putting in effort#to appear As The Celebrity Taylor Swift and struggles not to self censor or overperform in interviews (when she gives them)#especially present in pre 1989 interviews where the interviewers really didnt have to respect her or worry abt how they frame her#if they didnt want to. Like the fearless era rolling stone interview where she almost has a meltdown over her mom buying eggnog instead of#milk. That whole interview is strange looking back not just bc of the weird misogyny but also because of what it does share#taylor is....weird. She has a strange and desperate vibe and always reacts slightly too much and uses slang poorly#shes media trained and has learned how to socialize but you can feel her discomfort whenever she doesnt have a guitar in her hand#idk these tags have once again gotten so unweildy. i just find it interesting that she finally feels some level of comfortable#in sharing that construction w us in songs like mirrorball and mastermind and imo gold rush#and scene#should i write this up and put it in the swiftieism zine#i should write something and put it in the swiftieism zine
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