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idissectgermanwords · 2 months

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heruntergekommen (adjective); run down

her (adverb); here

unter (präposition); under

kommen (strong verb); come

#adjective #three parts #daily dissecting #(or at least hopefully daily)#(something i was planning on doing for weeks now)

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moonsun2010 · 2 years

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I got home at five o’clock, and found that Godalming and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the transcript of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his wonderful wife had made and arranged. Harker had not yet returned from his visit to the carriers’ men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me. Mrs. Harker gave us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time since I have lived in it, this old house seemed like home.

This is such a mundane bit compared to the larger plot of y’know, everything, but gosh if I don't love all these small moments of like. The characters reveling in domesticity? Having felt the isolation of living in a dorm away from family, returning from a long tiring day to nothing but a small dark room, Seward's happiness at feeling the warmth of a full house is so painfully relatable.

#dracula #dracula daily #they are SUCH a found family #why am i tearing up #humans are social creatures after al!! the fear of being alone is so horrible!!!#in some way this is why i still find dracula such an interesting chara. each to their own itnerpretations but #i do love analysing him as a sympathetic creature. not necessarily excusing him mind but like dissecting how his actions are a twisted #way of trying to get some semblence of human warmth. yet in the end there is no real love in his heart #it will remain cold #idk paralleling the anatagonist to the protagonist(s) always makes me go crazy

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hirokiyuu · 16 days

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thinking abt trey.......... thinking specifically abt his labwear story where he like. doesnt care what he feeds riddle as long as its good. it doesn't need to be made with love it has to satisfy riddle's demands. and then the way he misrespresents the pastry as being like........ something he put a bunch of work into getting and yet he isnt even wrong he's just completely pretending its smth else (ie he woke up and went out of his way to get it, which he didnt, and instead he gave jade the strawberries that are in some ways even MORE difficult for him to have gotten and then made jade be the one to get his hands on the tart for trey's sake) and like

just the way trey is as a person is so. fascinating to me. im trying to figure out how to phrase it. blueberry shot kind of guy where he's like. he enables riddle partially bc he cares and feels guilty but also partially bc its just the easiest thing. guy who can get dragged into things w/o a second thought bc putting up a fight is more trouble than its worth. will have an entire conversation w/cater abt cater's wishes and never breaches the surface and the moment they're apart will think with Genuine Deep feeling abt how he wishes he could know cater's real wishes but will never express as such to the guy himself!!!!!!!!!!! what hte hell is wrong with him the more i think abt him the more insane i start to go

#i was fully trey neutral for so logn and then i talked abt rook/trey to alm for like fifteen min and now i cannot stop thinking of him #if i reread every event w/trey in it to try to grasp this mans cahracter you have to understand #i dissect men daily. its not my fault #twst stuff

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linguisticparadox · 2 years

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For anyone who's curious, here's a photo showing the location of the external jugular vein, which is where the teeth marks on Lucy's neck are said to be located:

#posting this on its own bc I discovered the first anatomical dissection pic shows up in the notes #even if someone's reblogging the comment with this photo #and didn't want anybody getting yucked out every time they looked at their notes #dracula #dracula daily #original

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flowers-of-io · 2 years

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Epistolary novel narrated by Rhulk that's just him rambling about his art projects to the Witness

#'my dear witness. today i dissected a worm. then savathun came in and kicked me in the face'#rhulk daily #shitposting tag #rhulk

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idissectgermanwords · 1 month

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Kate (noun, feminine); small wooden house, cottage (originally hole or cave)

related to Katen (noun, masculine) meaning the same thing, both originiating from Kote (noun, feminine)

#this one was originally lower german. which also means it's mostly used in north germany #sometimes i do non-compound words. if i think they're interesting enough #noun #daily dissecting

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marty--party · 10 months

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i really should rant more on here .... not just fandom stuff but also whatever shit comes to head that i want other people to see. let the keys of my keyboard be a spigot from which both nonsense and wisdom flow freely ....

#martyn talks #i will flood y'alls dashboard with character dissection and daily observations #no i'm not procrastinating an assignment wdym...

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bunny-yan · 6 months

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can you write more about the yandere king pls

TW:non-con touching, imbalanced power dynamics, implied violence, mentions nudity, minors DNI

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“Yes, your highness.”

He couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the edges of his lips.

An order given, command received, and your response?

“Yes, your highness.”

Sweet, sweet words that dripped like honey in his ears.

It didn’t matter that he’d heard those words from the day the goddess decided to bless his life givers with their only son. His birthright. Servants, nobles, and foreign royalty alike uttered the same words, but when they came from your lips they sounded like poetry. Obedience from lips that were his, head bowed, your subservience an oath. Your words, your vow.

The order wasn’t important.

He could tell you to crawl around on the floor, on your hands and knees and you would stay there until he was bored. He’d told you to remove that pesky clothing and although your hands were hesitant, your demeanor reluctant, you obeyed.

“Yes, your highness.” would come your quiet reply. Movements methodical, clothes slowly fell into a heap around your feet until there was nothing left to remove.

He never did understand why you bothered to hide your nakedness. It was hard to believe that you were still shy knowing he’d already seen everything. Already experienced the taste of your skin, ingrained your smell into his memory. Maybe you didn’t like the way his eyes stared as if he was gazing into your very soul. Maybe you felt vulnerable, exposed and cold. Maybe you simply liked having him order you around, liked whispering the same words that had him crossing his legs and resting his head in his head. From his seat he observed you, lounging as if arrogance was his second skin.

You wished he would get it over with. It was a usual undeserved punishment. You no longer bothered to guess what mistake landed you in this position, but that didn’t stop you from wondering if it was because you had taken too long to retrieve the pen from his study, lingering away from his presence longer than you should have, or if it was because you’d brushed across that nobleman the two of you passed when the two of you went on your daily walk. There were no obvious signs of his anger or irritation, so he could be doing this simply for his own amusement. It didn’t matter because the result would always be the same. This agonizing slow torture, meant to degrade you, to put you in your place, to show you just how little control you had in your own life. Sometimes it felt more painful than the bruises he would leave.

The silence only made it more unbearable.

You felt his eyes sweeping over your body, taking his time as they dissected you.

Could he see the way you would tense, trying to remain as still as possible so his eyes wouldn’t be tempted to stare longer? Did he notice the goosebumps that spread like a plague lasting as long as you resisted the urge to shudder from the chill that gripped your spine?

Your back was locked straight, hands resisting the urge to clench into fists as they rested flat on your thighs, feet together. You didn’t hunch over, though it was hard to avoid when you were neglected the basic protection you could offer yourself. You stood straight, not giving him a chance to elicit that disgusting response.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The words were empty, coming from a doll rather than a person.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Reminding you time and time again of the words you couldn’t say. The orders you weren’t allowed to disobey. You never knew how much embarrassment, how much fear, how much resentment could build from three simple words.

Your gaze snapped to his feet when he uncrossed his legs, body tensing before you could think of what he’d do. Of what he’d subject you to this time, but you felt an undeniable disgust at the fear he invoked in you and at the sight of one leg lifting over the other as he settled back into that comfortable position and continued to watch you without a word. You were thankful that your head was bowed, because you were unsure you would be able to properly maintain a plain expression.

“Turn around.” he called, speaking as an intrigued spectator.

The display obeyed.

You couldn’t make it too quick or else he would make you do it over again. Goddess forbid you insinuate you want to get it over with. You would be standing in the same spot until your knees were ready to give out and even then, he would only be oh, so helpful to assist. If that meant you had to stand directly in front of him with your hands braced against the arms of his chair, feeling every breath he took, you would remain there until he was finished.

You took small, shuffling steps, feelings of awkwardness and foolishness remaining as a tiny spark despite the many incidents you underwent to grow use to this treatment. You didn’t stumble as your feet tangled in the clothes beneath your feet, grateful to save yourself the embarrassment as you completed the rotation he asked for. You didn’t have a chance to settle before he was giving you another order. A gross hope that he was ready to end this filled you as quiet steps led you directly in front of him.

You couldn’t avoid his eyes when you were so close. It’d always bothered you how collected he remained despite his callous treatment.

Holding up a hand, he expended no effort as he said, “My glove.”

You nodded, continuing to avoid the gaze drilling holes into your eyes. One hand landed on his wrist, his gaze broiling with something you tried to ignore as your other hand plucked at the cloth on each finger before slipping the accessory off of his hand.

There was no acknowledgement other than the bare hand that rested itself on your hip. You gripped the glove in your hand, tensing before you could force yourself to remain relaxed. He didn’t notice or he didn’t care as his thumb kneaded into your hip.

“You’ve lost weight.” he commented, grateful that he didn’t look to you for a reply. It was difficult enough to mindlessly follow orders, having to think of a way to soften an explanation for your tormentor was hell.

What would you say? Because of course it wasn’t his fault. He only wanted what was best for you, especially if that meant you would need to be disciplined. If you were locked in a room without food or water for a couple of days for shying away from his touch, it was your own fault. If your punishment continued because you didn’t beg and plead for forgiveness, content to endure instead of giving him the willing affection he so desperately craved, it was your own fault. What he asked for was not difficult to achieve. It was painfully simple.

Do what he said, when he said it without any indication of rebellion and you would be fine. But those pesky little habits of avoiding his eyes and leaning away, that annoying flinching that you still had yet to shake only made him give more difficult orders. His demands growing with his frustration.

His hand slid up the side of your body until it rested at the top of your ribs, sliding across your body and tracing patterns in the dips and curves he found.

He couldn’t deny that a part of him that enjoyed the side of you that tried to resist him.

It was a waste of time, but the lack of understanding you had created an unpredictability in your behavior that was enticing.

How you would gamble and how he would punish you. It was a cycle he couldn’t get tired of.

“Are you cold?” he asked, a small smile dancing across his lips.

It was a question with no right answer.

“Yes, your highness.” His smile only grew.

Drawing his hand away, he spread his arms, beckoning you to come closer.

Again, you hesitated, aggravating his displeasure. He held back the urge to snatch you closer, needing to control himself if you were going to fully face your punishment.

He was patient, noting the way you took your time, avoiding his touch until the very last moment until you were unsettled in his lap.

Arm wrapping around your waist he gave you no time to prepare as a hand slid between your legs. You let out a gasp, your body instinctively jerking away, but he held you tighter, ordering you to be still. You turned your head, pushing your face past his shoulder so he wouldn’t see your flushed face.

You tried to think about something else, anything else so you could get your mind off of his demanding fingers, and strangely enough an old memory surfaced, one you’d long since forgotten in your time of servicing your prince, now king.

You’d rarely enter the King’s study. Not only were you responsible for his son, the prince who resided in the Eastern domain, you being the lowly servant that you were had no business being anywhere near the King’s palace. But today was different. You had documents that your father needed for his duties and as the King’s butler, the first place you went to look was where the King would naturally be.

You were anxious at the thought that you had to appear if only a moment before the King, only growing more so at the lack of guards in front of the King’s door. With no one to announce your presence, you debated whether you should knock and after hearing muffled voices and noticing a crack in the door, curiosity and the lack of watchful eyes led you to peek in.

A sense of pride overwhelmed you at the sight of your father serving the King. You’d always wanted to be like him when you were younger. But it froze, heavy in your gut when you watched your father bend to pour tea into his majesty’s cup. You thought nothing of the hand that came up, the same hand that brushed across your father’s cheek.

You questioned what you’d seen. Maybe it was a mistake, but it was soft, gentle even and regardless of the excuses you came up with in your mind it didn’t sit right with you. You stared at your father’s undisturbed face, stolid as the King spoke words too soft for you to hear,but your father’s response melted the anxiety you felt into undeniable dread.

“Yes, my King.”

You couldn’t remember if you’d given him the documents you needed. You don’t remember anything apart from leaving, nothing the prince doing or saying that day able to shake you out of your stupor.

Despite the resentment you felt for your king, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the goddesses blessing in disguise.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #ask #gn reader #king!yandere #yandere king x servant reader

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aweina · 6 months

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୨୧. honest eyes — mortal kombat one. kameos : raiden. johnny cage + kenshi takahashi & liu kang

when you stare at their hands for too long.

raiden was confused at first. he was not dreaming, right? he knew his small crush on you could make him overthink certain interactions, but the more he quietly observed you, he realized that your mindless staring was in fact, reality. coming into terms with this realization was hard for raiden, dissecting every possible outcome as to why your unreadable gaze seemed so glued to him. ignoring this dilemma sounds more unnerving, offering him temporary peace, and so he did. but only then the limelight that you unintentionally showered over him the past few days left him flustered and somewhat clumsy. it only began to worsen when he caught your intense gaze on his quivering hands, the warm tea swishing around the small ceramic cup. silence fell between the two of you, with raiden watching your eyes drag over the fine details of his hands — rough from working in the fields yet gentle with anything he touched. “what’s so particular about my hands that you seem to like so much?” it took a bit of courage to ask, but he was pleased to see you gaze away nervously, sputter something incoherent, just like he would with you. maybe his crush wasn’t actually one-sided all along.

johnny never seemed to notice your blatant staring, or so you thought. under the foggy lenses and his humorous exterior, his was incredibly sharp when it came to observing his surroundings — particularly you drooling over the sight of his hands. after making such a huge discovery, he has been absolutely insufferable and loud. the flirty little comments you’ve received became much bolder, he was more expressive with his hands — pointing things directly by your face and “casually” articulating them around every time he talked. he would even exaggeratedly stretch out his limbs as his ring gleaming under a nonexistent light — the wolf whistle was the cherry on top. despite all his teasing gestures, you still gazed hungrily over the callouses and subtle veins that swelled over his skin. with his strong fingers dancing along your knee, you try to keep his movement still, tracing over his hands carefully once he complied. “take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he snickers at his own joke, but this was his idea after all. next time, he’ll make sure to get a few angles saved in his camera roll.

kenshi has always been particularly tense when it came to unwanted attention. that’s why he instantly felt your lingering gaze — like he had a sixth sense. but confusion dawned upon him. what were you staring at? he learned to be cautious about his appearance, hiding his troubling past under long sleeve shirts and keeping a calm demeanor to not scare off others. yet you constantly assured him that his former affiliation with the yakuza didn’t bother you. it’s when he’s eating idly in the dinning hall of the academy, kenshi felt your unwavering eyes on him again. this time he followed the tilt of your head, noticing a blush on your blank features, and finally stopping at his rough tattooed hands. he’s heard of this before, a hand fetish? kenshi smirks knowingly, placing his utensils on the table as he raises a hand over your hard gaze. “if you wanted to look, you should’ve just asked.” he teases with a smile, lowering his hand to let let your fingertips ghost over his inked skin — something that he would never let anyone else do.

liu kang did not need his divine intuition to notice your unwavering eyes — it was quite obvious and rather amusing. when he crafted this new timeline, he never suspected that you would ever see him in a certain light. although he usually wears hand wraps on a daily basis, there are rare occasions when he would rather continue his routine without a tight fit pressing fine lines onto his skin. with your curious presence sifting through the halls of the fire temple, liu kang feels it’s only natural to shred off the one thing that taunts your prying gaze. your subtle reactions to his rare exposure never failed to make him smile. now, you sit alongside the fire god in a daze — mesmerized by the veins and small cuts that decorated his hands. liu kang gently held your smaller hand, applying a soothing balm over your healing cut. his glowing eyes flicker to your lingering stare, openly gawking at his hands and periodically, dragging along his inked muscles. that’s when he suddenly broke out laughing, breaking you out of a trance. “your gaze never seems to falter, huh?” he keeps a firm grip on your hand when you try to flee away, basking in your flustered eyes.

#.୨୧ ina writes #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #raiden x reader #johnny cage x reader #kenshi x reader #liu kang x reader

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taylor-on-your-dash · 2 months

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SHAKE IT OFF TURNS 10 TODAY!

Voice memo here;

[Lover Journal] LA. This week I've been in the studio with Max and Johan every day and it has been the most creatively successful and fulfilling time. The first day, Johan just made a really up tempo drum beat because we decided we needed something up and light. We worked at it for a few hours before i just started singing "shake it off, shake it off, shake it off" And then the best way i know how to describe it is that the chorus just fell out of the sky. It ended up being this song about doing your own thing even though haters are gonna hate, and you just have to dance to your own beat. We all went home and I wrote the first and second verses and brought them in the next day. We wrote this chanty cheer leader bridge that I absolutely LOVE. We spent all day doing vocals and the next day recording the background vocals. I think it'll end up being the first single and Max said it's his favorite song he's ever been a part of.

[Max Martin during the lawsuit] “Shellback started out with a drumbeat. Shellback, Taylor, and I then collaboratively developed the melody and other lines of ‘Shake It Off’ to Shellback’s drumbeat. I did not write or provide any input into any lyrics in ‘Shake It Off,’ which were written entirely by Taylor.”

“I've had every part of my life dissected – my choices, my actions, my words, my body, my style, my music. When you live your life under that kind of scrutiny, you can either let it break you, or you can get really good at dodging punches. And when one lands, you know how to deal with it. And I guess the way that I deal with it is to shake it off.”

“The message in the song is a problem I think we all deal with and an issue we deal with on a daily basis. We don’t live just in a celebrity takedown culture, we live in a takedown culture. People will find anything about you and twist it to where it’s weird or wrong or annoying or strange or bad. You have to not only live your life in spite of people who don’t understand you, you have to have more fun than they do.”

[From my writing of 1989 Timeline]

#taylor swift #1989 #1989 taylor's version #shake it off #shake it off taylor’s version

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