he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
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Okay i have yet to see a post about this that isnt filled with ppl being Annoying as Fuck on it, but,
theyve found wreckage of the submersible, it imploded (thank god, thats better than a drawn out suffocation over the course of several days, implosion means it was pretty much instantaneous) and the us navy have revealed they heard a weird sound on sunday from about where communication with the sub was lost, that was probably the sound of the implosion, [implied that they didnt say anything cos they didnt want to jump to conclusions without evidence of a wreckage, if there was a chance they were still alive.] no idea what the banging sounds were.
I do hope rescue efforts are extended to the migrants off the coast of greece, and am angry and horrified at their mistreatment, and that the media clearly cares less for their fates than that of the billionaires on the sub.
also, while i have you here,
The difference between a submersible and a submarine is not that one is safer. The titan was a submersible that was unsafe, but that is not because it was a submersible.
A submarine (or sub) is a watercraft capable of independent operation underwater.
A submersible is a watercraft designed to operate underwater, usually supported by a nearby surface vessel, platform, shore team or sometimes a larger submarine.
submarines generally dont go as deep as our deepest submersibles, but some can be down there for months at a time bc it is like. a self sufficient Ship. not all submersibles can go crazy deep, but to my knowledge, the only crewed vessels that can go that deep, are submersibles. (Alvin, deepsea challenger, limiting factor, trieste, fendouzhe or "striver").
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OC DUALITY
was tagged by @morvaris to take this uquiz for my ocs >:) thank you nico this was super fun!!
tagging: @numbaoneflaya @time-is-a-lake @aartyom @nuclearstorms @girlbosselrond @druidgroves @malefiicarum @swordcoasts @aldcaldos @sufferthorn @steelport @calenhads @lavinet and anyone else who’d like to join in !!
you and the hat man
oh boy you're fighting demons aren't you? it's like you're in a constant staring competition with something that's always in the peripheral. what the fuck. (at least, that's how people who don't know you would react). at this point you've probably gotten pretty familiar with the hat man. he's a reliable kind of guy. keeps to himself, sure, but you can trust him to be there. maybe a haunting isn't too bad if it's never left your side. you can only imagine what it will be like when he's not there any more.
god-hungry scientist and their abominable child
you stitched something together inside of yourself and gave it life with light from the sky and now it won't die and you can't kill it because part of you loves it and you're not quite right in the head or the person you used to be but at the end of the day it's simply a beast of sadness. you crave the mercy you didn't get from your creators and so i'm telling you please forgive yourself. please hold the monster by the hand.
moon curse of the werewolf
you have found yourself hungered or sickened or ambitious to the point of emotional carnage. you are fine, until you're not, and then you could rip someone in your way apart with your bared teeth by complete accident, and later claw at yourself in fits of pain trying to apologize. do you look at the moon that blessed you in her name, at her marred beauty and baneful eyes, and wish she could just crush that loving-hateful heart of yours before it crushes itself? every bite you take out of flesh is a response to the threads of silver bullets in you that haven't healed. the duality is that the human inside is howling too, gnashing, and without the wolf pelt, everyone can ignore it and turn away. at some point, you got tired of the moon being your only witness. now the wolf is there to make sure others know that you are hurt, and deserving of humanity, of attention to wounds. because that wolf loves you; all of you; and knows when you are hurt better than yourself.
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“be honest...Would you kill your own father?” -Broly
send me "be honest..." with a question your muse has been dying to ask mine and they'll answer truthfully.
Not once had he been asked about his father until that point.
The snap of his head was already an egregious display of his answer, expression caught in a moment of surprise with how his eye widened enough to be noticeable over his shoulder. His mouth remained a thin line, the loose coagulation of whatever thoughts he had been running through in what chores and tasks that needed to be done on that day fell into a disquieted silence as his body stalled to a grinding halt amid its journey to the water basin carved by his own might several weeks prior.
What had brought about such a senseless question by some whelp lucky enough to encounter him while the midday sun was blazing hot was a question in its own right.
' He's already dead. ' Was what he wanted to say but instead, another set of words replaced what his brain thought, sliding through the dried canals of that beating organ. Memories of the past were all it was comprised of, trudging through the veins that were long since abandoned as the harsh reality of surviving through hardship after harship coalesced into a single droplet. Paragus was the only man he knew for the majority of his life up until his death. He was only man who raised him and dared to love him in the ways only a father would love a son still so small and clinging close. Stories spoke of how their mighty race once once, filling naive eyes with hope to one day be reunited with a pocket of Saiyans that might yet still exist somewhere with him as the next reigning king. Rebuilding their civilization, destroying their enemies, it was what any Saiyan child could want but those times of frivolous dreams fell to ruin as the years came by and the magnitude of Broly's own power easily devoured like a ravenous ecplise over his father.
His father taught him how to survive, watched him with a keen eye and was mindful to not neglect the intellect that Broly held behind the piercing visage of his eyes. Tactics of combat, diplomacy of political frivolities were skills given and honed through his father's grand plans of seating his son on that lofty throne that lay in the realm of a dream. Threading words coaxed by their constant nomadic lifestyle of venturing from one planet to another became a necessary facet of survival to evade the radar of the same reigning empire that destroyed their race. To be smarter than one's pursuers, remain low to the ground like a stalking predator and attack when the moment was right. Nearly everything that Broly knew could be traced directly to his father...
He fought when he was of age, learned everything he could be taught when it came to destroying his enemies. The blood he spat and spilled, the amount of times his bones fractured and broke, the burning hatred felt for those who looked to claim both of their lives for what they are. Anger was the only way to survive, the only way a Saiyan is to be to attain greater power. It couldn't be counted on both hands the amount of times the Legendary Saiyan felt he might've died while growing up in facing off against stronger opponents for one reason or another. He needed to adapt quickly and with greater power, pushed forth by his father as they went from living as exiles to taking over villages, towns, cities.. and entire planets.
Everything he did had been to make the man who raised him proud.
" ... I don't know. " He spoke softly under his breath, easy to miss as much as the small glimpse of what might've been a small shred of regret.
And yet he killed his own father in cold blood during an outraging rampage.
It was deserved.
It was the product of years of control and ordering him around, forcing him to obey every damned command.
' I'm sorry son, but you'll die with his planet as well. '
' " Where do YOU think you're Going... Dad? " '
' " Broly..! I was.. preparing the ship for us to leave together. "
' " In a ship made for One? " '
Convoluted emotions were a disgrace to his Saiyan blood. The love of a mere child knowing nothing more than what his father did to ensure survival. He was the only Saiyan left for what felt to be years upon years. He loved him. And it only made the betrayal all the worse that the fleeting moment of tenderness that collected in that dewdrop resting over those dried canals evaporated with the contrived, twisted half-truths that could never be a clear cut answer. Both sides were true in that he hadn't wanted to kill him in a small, desparing corner but the hatred and vileness spoke a larger voice as its half of the truth spoke a simple fact on the matter as though he were only commenting on the weather.
" I already killed him. "
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