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#do you know about lee
kristalijah · 7 months
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HE'S CHECKING OUT GARY!!!! I REPEAT, HE'S CHECKING OUT GARY!!!!
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bearsandbeansart · 4 months
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Girl's night! RIP Chan's house
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drawnfamiliarfaces · 4 months
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In one of the episodes, Jun mentioned that she wanted to pierce her ears twice. in your version she has already done this?
oh dude you either have memory of a steel trap or someone had a good rewatch recently! But, wow, tbh I do not remember this and in HoM AU designs I only delibarately added earrings/piercings to Kim and Jake to sort of break their design more from their og looks (especially Kim lol, I barely changed her anything xD) but also for practical in-verse reasons. I didnt even think about Jun or anyone else... but you know? I like it, so now she does!
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AND now she got 7 of them!!! Some are just simple hoops or studs, but others are magical gem stones for emergencies (small spells and protections), and she can just swap them out when needed.
After you mentioned it, I wonder why out of all characters Jun is like almost the only one without piercings of any sorts? I mean even Lila got a fang earring and she has been human-shaped for like less than a year?? Which led me to a headcanon:
What if Jun's invulnerability is so strong she couldn't even get piercings in a normal human way? So, going with her Mom or her friends to get her ears pierced in a mall was out of the question. She and Jasmine had to enchant a needle/make a spell (or maybe just visit a monster beauty salon), just for her to do it and after they just show up to her parents like: "Oh look Barbara, Michael, I took Jun to pierce her ears, doesn't she look wonderful?'
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And later Jun just took the needle/spell to covertly make more piercings with her friends, which Ophelia was more than happy to do. The other three she got a bit later over the years. ;D
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har-har-harvey · 9 days
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hey btw y’all, just wanna let y’all know that the most heart melting, almost made me cry, in-the-running-for-favorite moment of the season has 100% been the immediate “i give her the help action” to lydia barkrock with absolutely zero hesitation from kristen
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sixth-light · 8 months
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ok ok slightly feral post as promised.
first, some context setting: I think it's really interesting to analyse texts in terms of both what the author was trying to do (and whether they succeeded) and what they ended up doing (intentionally or not) and I think their cultural/historical context is vital if you want to do this. I'm not interested in whether Robert Jordan or the Wheel of Time are, like, morally correct in their politics or whatever. I'm interested in what the art is trying to do.
and the thing about Jordan, see, is that he projected this image during his lifetime of a Genial Older Man (see: beard and pipe) but he...wasn't actually that old! He was 42 when EoTW was published. He died at 58. He was a Baby Boomer publishing books at a time when Baby Boomers were the hip young generation taking over from stodgy WWII veterans (Gen Z: It Will Happen To You Too).
What this means is that he was a child and adolescent during the Civil Rights movement, in a then-majority Black city in the Jim Crow South*. He would have gone to segregated schools. The tertiary institutions he attended had only started to desegregate a year or two before he attended each of them. I think his war trauma in Vietnam gets a lot of attention because he did talk about it and also because that's a narrative we understand for white men, but I think we...skim over the impact on white men of growing up at this time because? Civil Rights only happened to Black Americans I guess? but it's his context too. Similarly, he was an adolescent and young man at the time the (white) feminist movement was really kicking off in the US. he was in his mid-20s when banks were first legally *required* to allow women to open accounts and have credit cards in their own names. he went on to marry a woman a decade older than him, who had left her husband to raise her son as a single mother while continuing a professional career in the early 70s; these were issues that must have been incredibly relevant for her.
and what we see in his writing is attempts to grapple with gender and race that are self-evidently of mixed success, but I think have to be contextualised in light of this period of immense change he grew up in. Think about the predominance of women as merchants and bankers in WoT, in the context of how recent their rights to even control their own money were in the US. The...everything...he was trying to do with the Seanchan, making them extra-canonically Southern American-coded. The Whitecloaks as the KKK (among other things, of course).
As an example, I think there's also something probably unintentional but fascinating in the way he presents the pre-Breaking Aiel: bluntly, they are a distinct ethnic group in hereditary servitude (always thinking about how that ancestor of Rand's in the Rhuidean sequence had to get permission from Mierin Sedai to switch to someone else's service so he could marry his girlfriend, this is...uh...super cognate to issues enslaved Black people faced). They're associated with agriculture through the Song sequence. And they're pretty much the ideal of what slave-owning Southern American culture WANTED enslaved Black people to be: completely happy to serve. Then, as the post-breaking Aiel, they become feared as a source of violence, which resonates with the way that enslaved people were feared by their slavers.
I don't think for a second that the intention here was to depict the AoL as a Secret Slavery Dystopia, I think we're meant to take the Rhuidean flashback sections pretty much as they read on the page. But I also think putting Jordan in his historical and cultural context does pose the comparison. Similarly, I find it really interesting that he positions Seanchan as riven by constant revolts and uprisings (because it's a fascist slaver regime) but he never ever goes so far as to link enslaved people in Seanchan (damane and da'covale) to those revolts and uprisings, even though that is fundamentally the deep fear *for real and obvious reasons* of all slavery-based societies.
Or then there's the changes to the Two Rivers in the books - like, both then and now I think it's actually pretty radical to present an influx of Muslim-coded refugees of colour as a thing that enriches the Two Rivers both socially and economically. Various characters are wistful that it's changed, but they don't think it's bad. The text here is really clear that welcoming the Domani and Almoth Plain refugees is both morally right and beneficial. And this is in a book being written and published shortly after the first Gulf War.
There's so many more things like this where I just have no real idea what he was trying to do on purpose and what was accidental and what was fun for him in fiction but did not necessarily link at all to his real-world political beliefs. but gosh it's interesting to turn over and poke at.
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tequiilasunriise · 6 months
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I love when the toxic yuri is absolutely DOOMED by the narrative and they’re so in love they’re going through a divorce they are seeing each other in full for the first time they’re each other’s first (and last) love they’re gay and kissing and gay they’re still signing those divorce papers and yeah these is all happening at the same time
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cowchickenbeefpork · 25 days
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do you think anyone knows about the Amy Winehouse Oswald thingy? like sure Edward fucking represses so much and loves to hold things in but he's just absolutely HORRID AT LYING, there's no way no one else knows about it by now
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bug-taffy · 4 months
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When Brennan described them as looking like glass I was like . Yea literally that’s so real
Like this goddess is made of glass like they are fragile and mailable and entirely new like . are you kidding me
They were molded to be in Kristen’s image but they can change and mold themself into anything there’s like infinite possibilities man IS THIS ANYTHING….
Colored under the cut that I’m not super happy with
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if I knew how to shade a purple glass being it would be so over for y’all .
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njamil21 · 1 month
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And she's all out of bullets too...
Figured I'd try my hand at this meme, even if I'm a little late to the party haha! Sakura will always be my number one best gal, she's so precious to me and Lenore has become such a fast favorite with her wit and charm, I love her so much! But god, are their aesthetics so wildly different so the idea of putting them together in this meme had me cackling! It took me a while to figure out who would say what but I'm happy with how it turned out! This was so fun to draw and I hope you get a chuckle out of this too.
Please do not edit or repost without permission. (I edited my commission prices!)
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sunnishine · 4 months
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아니 (Any) felix for my dearest @babycatlix
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nebulousbrainsoup · 5 months
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"Oh Bite Me Minho!"
"Gladly."
the way you keep handing me your wreckers seems counterproductive to fighting my urges to join us, babes. good luck with this one; you get only prompt above the cut 💛
mdni; nsfw under the cut; vampire!lee minho x gn!reader
contains: dom/sub dynamics, sir kink, choking, slight fear kink, dacryphilia
“oh, bite me, minho!”
“gladly.”
he purrs the word into your ear, much closer than he was a moment ago as his hand closes around your throat. your breath catches and he feels your pulse tick up under his fingers as his tongue darts out to taste your skin. you squirm, and the pitiful whimper that leaves you as his grip tightens has him grinning into your neck, his cock twitching already.
he can see the precise moment your petty argument leaves your mind, your eyes glazing over as he noses at your pulse, lips dragging over your throat. it’s his second favorite place to bury his head, the flutter of your heightened pulse tantalizingly forbidden under his attention. when his teeth graze over the yet unbroken skin, you flinch, and he has to shift his grip more firmly to your jaw to keep his fangs from piercing you.
“ah-ah,” he chastises, tongue darting out to soothe an invisible wound, “stay still for me, kitten. we wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?”
you whimper, shaking your head as well as you can. his grip tightens further and you gasp, tears pricking at your eyes as he growls in warning. “n-no, sir, we w-wouldn’t,” you whine, and his grin spreads.
this time, when his teeth drag over your skin, you can feel the scrape of his sharp fangs, catching just enough to sting. no blood wells to the surface, though you sort of wish it would, just to see how much self-control minho really has. for now, the most you can do is let another pitiful sound pass through your lips and lean into his hand, baring your neck in submission.
he chuckled darkly, hand carding up into your hair. with one sharp yank, you were staring up at the ceiling, and the tears brimming spilled over. “m-min, pl—ease, ah!”
he nipped at your skin harshly, grinding against you as he felt your breath come in quicker. “try again.”
“sir,” you whined, going nearly limp against him, “sir, please. take me, make me yours. forever. please.”
he smiled, fond warmth spreading through him. one day, he just might take you up on that offer. tonight, though, he had other plans.
“then get on your knees and prove yourself worthy.”
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© November 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.
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Limp Bizkit featured in Crossbeat & RPM (Rock & Pops) Japanese Magazines (2000)
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easays · 10 months
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maybe we're not there yet, but the Grief and Loss Dynamics in Worlds Beyond Number are so devastating
suvi's commitment to hierarchy and knowledge so clearly shows how a child will internalize grief and trauma as something that can be avoided, if only they can control things and know better
ame's light and sweetness so painfully feels like the kind of grief that you hold onto that tricks you into believing it won't hurt so bad if you just don't look backwards -- for all her commitment to both worlds, to honoring the past and forging the future, ame still walks through the world with more items anyone could conceivably carry so that she never has to leave anything (anyone) behind
and eursulon -- oh, baby, eursulon. eursulon reminds me so clearly of what grief and trauma does to the way someone moves in the world when they know, bone deep, that their own skin and their own fear are the only things they can count on -- that joy is a thing meant to leave and it's not something you can design your life around
I know it's just a podcast -- but I just...have a lot of feelings
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kangaracha · 25 days
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daffodil + chan
a song
the prompt: daffodil (a god bows before a mortal)
read it on ao3
---
"You have no power over me."
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running through his hands like water, and suddenly the earth is not his to control. The skies do not turn with the twist of his head, lightning does not fork in the air when his eyes, dark as night and yet still lit by some unearthly light, fall upon you, his mouth wide as if to gasp for a breath he cannot take-
And yet, still, it shivers down your spine; the magic that draws you here even as you rip it apart, the prize of your conquest to rip the world into two.
"Take it back," he hisses through his teeth, the ground trembling with every syllable that slides down his tongue. You watch his mouth as it forms the words, the flash of teeth behind thin lips reminding you of the way that the swordsman you'd fought through to get here had smiled at you - the last of his seven challenges, the last of his demons, or angels, or citizens of the sprawling, damned city he claimed as his kingdom.
And here you stood, at the pinnacle of the eighth, and stared him in the eye without cringing away because now you knew the truth. Now you knew that what he whispered in the dark was a lie and what you saw with your eyes wasn't always true, and though he may be a god and a king amongst beings that you could never hope to rival, a god can only hold as much power as you give him. A god can only claim dominion over a beast that bowed to his dogma. 
You see now that you are no beast. You are no believer in any lie he utters to the darkness.
"Take it back," he says again, the note of his voice changing. He pleads, his brow furrowing and his shoulders curling in as if waiting for the final blow. "Take it back now, before it's too late."
"I can't," you tell him, and you watch him fall to his knees, and you know that it's wrong and your heart pounds in your chest and it
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like the ground does at the impact of his knees, crumbling into the pieces it was in when you first took his hand, alone on the side of the road with only one thing to call your own. And what was that thing, the little warmth you'd held to your chest in the dark and the cold? What had you traded away for the comfort of the house that crumbled around you now? Why had you destroyed him to get it back, where was it now, why did it not appear within his hands at this, the hour of his reckoning?
"Please," he spits into the cold ground, the dirt and the leaves and the curl of ivy that grows up the walls around you, old and ancient and not yet sprouted from its roots all at the same time. His hands curl in the dirt like he can reach down and pull the earth to him, like he can stop the wane of his power if he just tries to hold on a little bit tighter. "I know what you want, and I don't have it. I can't lose-"
Broken, fragile thing. Small god of limited earth, crouched at your feet like he might worship you instead. You'd thought him all-powerful once, and then you'd thought him severe and his servants and beasts and playthings petty, and then you'd thought him
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because he'd smiled at you in the garden that bloomed from his own hands when you expressed your desire for a flower to tuck in the braid of your dark hair, and his hand had been soft in yours, and when he looked out across his kingdom and the clamouring faces of the people he'd brought to live there, he'd looked at them the same way that he'd looked at you.
Beneath your foot, the ground cracks, fracturing outwards like a spiderweb. It's your heart, you realise morosely, sinking from your chest and into the depths of the earth, disappearing with whatever he'd taken from you; and it was a wretched thing and it had betrayed you a hundred times over, but you still mourn at the loss of it and all the dreams it had carried with it. It blooms in your flowers in the corners of the room, embeds itself into the land and sings along with the song of his power, a thing you can hear but cannot touch, a beast once born that now does not belong to you.
"I'm sorry," he says, his breath like mist in the cold air, and even without your heart, you can't bear to see him so cold.
Your hands reach for him without permission, your body kneeling in the dirt before you can stand your feet firm upon the earth and refuse to move. He flinches away, but your fingers are soft upon his chin and the curve of his jaw, gentle when they brush the soft dip of his neck. "I only wanted to know what it was," you tell him with a voice that cannot hold itself steady. "I thought if you loved me, you would give it back." It's the only voice you have - you are not like him, or like Felix, speaking with many tongues. You don't have any power of your own.
"It's because I love you that I can't give it back." His voice is hoarse, every word a knife that he swallows without ever once flinching. "It's because I love you that I couldn't tell you what it was."
"But didn't I deserve to know?" you question. "Doesn't my life belong to me?"
Finally, his eyes rise, looking up at you with a fire that belies the cold of his skin. "Of course it does," he gasps, and his hand reaches up, dirt-stained fingers dragging at your cheek. "That's why I gave it to you, and I never asked for anything else."
"But you wouldn't give back what you took in the first place."
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The sudden violence of his voice crumbles the walls and fractures the sky, the clouds blooming te dark colours of a bruise. The absence of his hand on your cheek stings in the cold; his face turns away, screwed up in regret and a pain he won't allow you to feel. You lurch forward before he can disappear, drawing him into your arms; stiff shoulders, spine of beaten steel, slow beat of a heart you once held in your hands. 
He'd stood so tall and unmoving in the morning light, when you'd first walked down this path, and now in the dark of the setting sun and the ending of the earth, his weight slumps into your grasp, his resolve melting into the warmth of your body. "I didn't want you to suffer again," he says to the soft cotton of your shirt and the curve of your collarbone, his breath a whisper against your skin. "I couldn't watch that, when you asked me to make sure it would never happen again."
Surprise comes in the pause of your breath and the still of your arms, the jump of a heart you're not sure you still possess. "I asked you to make me forget?" you question the world behind his back, and into your neck, he sighs.
"You couldn't forget," he murmurs. "She was dead before I found you, and when I took her from your arms - you couldn't forget. There was nothing I could do to fix what had been broken. And then you begged me to let you forget, so I remembered her for you." He pauses, his throat hitching like he's swallowing something down. A sob maybe, or the tears he will never let fall. "I can't give her back though. She's not here anymore."
You push him upright, your hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face. Brushing away the hair that falls in his eyes, wiping at the blood that drips from the cut on his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, because the answer is incomprehensible. "Why did you let me go this far?"
"Because I was scared," he admits, and his teeth clench and his spine stiffens against the urge to hide away from you again. "Because I'm a wretched, evil, stupid thing who thinks they can-"
His words die in your throat; vile, wretched things that you store away to spit out later, into the ground where they belong. He is none of that; he is soft, and hesitant, until your fingers find the sharp curve of his hip and the lines of his back, dragging him closer and his lips open like there is nothing in the world to devour but you and
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h-doodles · 7 months
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Your love makes me feel holy — a web weave for @pinkcannibal eat your young chapter 20 (as it deserves!!!!)
i'm being so brave and so normal abt it btw. (<- lying 🥰🥰🥰) i love eat your young so much im literally out here once again like. hehe. i need to have my beloved plant milf dyke professor to come eat me up real
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cannibalizedyke · 6 months
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me when people refer to laura lee as catholic
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