#the bleeding star | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In 2020, 27% of US Tumblr users had an annual household income of over $100,000.

dandelion-roots · 4 months

Text

[ID: a digital drawing of chuuya and dazai from bungou stray dogs. in the main image, dazai is sitting on a metal counter in a nurse's office, his arms behind him to support him and knees spread so that chuuya can clean his wounds. he has bandages and scars on his arms and bare torso and is wearing white pants and white shoes. with a bored expression he says, hurry up. chuuya, who's opening a green bottle and is standing in front of the counter, shouts, wait a fucking minute, asshole, i'm not your damn nurse! in a smaller follow-up panel dazai shouts, you shot me! and chuuya is looking away while sweating and shouting back, you were being a shit. end ID]

the price of engaging in homoeroticism via shooting you 'old friend' THREE FUCKING TIMES more than necessary is, um... *checks notes* having to patch him up five minutes later whilst staring at his bare chest and then having to set his leg, thus literally putting him back on his feet to do his dramatic victory reveal??? this can't be right who wrote this

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #double black #skk fanart #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #hehe finally finished this sketch #that whole situation is just like. chuuya buddy ull have to stitch him up urself so he doesnt bleed out to death #men engaging in intricate rituals in other to touch each other??? or smt god knows at this point #also dazai's leg isnt set here yet bcs i wasnt gonna draw that contraption in perspective. not tonight #didnt have it in me #this is already more perspective than i usually engage in. but i must grow eventually so im trying some stuff out #i didnt trans dazai in this one alas. next time folks i do love drawing top surgery scars a la whimsical star shapes #i did get to draw scars tho! i love drawing scars. didnt do it strategically here bcs i didnt feel like it but #it was fun!!#anyway g'night everyone i must go down under the sleepy eepy spell

212 notes · View notes

muirmarie · 4 months

Text

honestly the funniest thing is coming across ppl who are like "bones is so mean to spock 😡😡😡" like spock doesn't go out of his way to be just as big a cunt to mccoy??? it's their LOVE LANGUAGE!!! some of y'all didn't grow up watching tv shows with old broads and old queen-coded men being as cunty as possible to each other OUT OF LOVE. spock spends half his shift on the bridge coming up with mean things to say to his dr the moment mccoy flounce onto the bridge to flirt with jim (affectionate) and spock (derogatory and bloody, there will be no survivors except for them, THEY'RE having a BLAST).

listen when the cards are down they will be thoughtful and worried and touch each other SO gently and fight over who gets to die for each other. all of that is the floor they're standing on. they KNOW that. but GOSH in the meantime they're BOTH having an absolute blast bullying the shit out of each other, bless <3

#c word #since i know a lot of ppl aren't comfortable with it #but i really don't think there's any other word i could substitute because that's THEM lmao #star trek #st:tos #spones #star trek tos #leonard mccoy #spock #mccoy will be having a genuine emotion and spock will go up for a layup and literally dunk the ball ON MCCOY'S HEAD #don't you DARE say he's a poor little meow meow he has TEETH and he will BITE and mccoy's got half-lidded eyes saying BITE MORE PUSSY #and that's LOVE!!!!!#(if you can't guess I've come across one too many spock's a poor little meow meow things recently lmao. he is.......VERY not.)#(EXCEPT when he's hurt and mccoy's trying to help and spock is literally trying to bite his hand off and MCCOY is calling him a poor little #meow meow while PROFUSELY bleeding. that's the ONLY time he's a poor little meow meow)#(if JIM is there then spock will STILL bite mccoy but JIM will be calling him a poor little meow meow and mccoy will be calling him #a sonuvabitch bastard while spock looks up at jim with sad little eyes. jim is wrong in this scenario. mccoy is right. spock is smirking.)

190 notes · View notes

spaciebabie · 8 months

Text

hmm okay but like imagine. springtrap is in every sort of pain you can imagine daily. physical, emotional, spiritual, mental, and he spent 30 years trapped in a broom closet so bro is probably very mentally unstable. so like. imagine how he would feel upon receiving affection for the first time in all those years. i think his brain would explode. all this agony that he walks around with daily, and then one day hes given a hug and the gentle press of another person against him. holding him. makes him feel sturdy even though he's basically falling apart. maybe a quiet remark of fondness particularly stabs him in the chest. i mean, he would come undone. he hasnt felt good like this in years.

he wouldnt be able ta get enough of this good feeling. seeking out physical affection whenever he can, even when its just from brushing past each other or fingertips lingering for a split second. always needing ta be near. finding solace in being an arms length away. the praise he would try ta draw out. "hey look at this thing i did i truly am the best at this sort of thing," the way he would cherish being spoken about in any positive manner. just the way it would feel so good ta have someone give him some much needed attention and praise. and ta feel such positive emotions abt and around them in return. the way that even with all the agony he experiences he is blessed to be afforded a single break from all of it. if only for a moment, to feel it all melt away...

#all of this is ta say that i think um #im bleeding from my eyes #guuuuuuhhhh #uhm and also that i think that he would be obsessed with being around someone who could #make him feel such...for lack of a better word‚#pleasure not only physically but emotionally too!!!!#spacie spoinks #i think that after that long of being tortured day in and day out a simple hug would make him see stars #you know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#sorry im soft rn #hhhh #him.#ive been thinking abt this for days someone help me #he would be such.....a cuddle bunny......#im going 2 die. i think im really gonna die this time.

350 notes · View notes

luxaofhesperides · 6 months

Text

"I see you, and I love you" + hurt/comfort ; requested by @oops-i-dropped-the-galaxy!

Danny can handle being a halfa. He’s had years to get used to it, switching between dead and alive, living boy and ghost, always living in flux. He’s settled into his identity as one of the few halfas in existence, navigating the living world and the Infinite Realms with ease after years of practice.

What he can’t handle is becoming an Ancient.

Apparently, while most Ancients are born into the role, ruling over their domain, some can grow into it. It’s rare, practically unheard of, but not impossible.

Danny is growing into the Ancient of Stars, changed from the inside out by his love of space.

He would be happy if it didn’t hurt so much.

Danny can’t sleep at night anymore. When the stars are out, he can hear them singing, each windchime voice echoing through his ears. Though he can’t see them from beneath Gotham’s cloud cover, he can feel them shining brightly far above him.

He lays in bed with Duke, curled up in his side, trying to muffle his whimpers as his bones creak and hollow, his soul growing too large for his body to handle. He is space contained in a human body. It wants to be free, to stretch from its suffocating confines and fill every dark space with cold light. His skin feels too tight and his teeth ache.

All Danny can do is clench his jaw, wrap his arms around his stomach as tightly as he can, and try to weather through the pain of changing.

The agony of it comes in waves. He doesn’t know how long it takes until it recedes enough for him to feel like he can breathe again, trying to suck air in as his lungs are crushed by his ribcage. Slowly, Danny pushes himself up, taking care not to wake Duke, and stumbles out of bed. His throat is dry and feels as if its been scraped raw by sandpaper, and all he wants is water.

He gets halfway down the hall when the next wave hits.

Danny collapses, gasping for breath, and can only watch through tear-filled eyes as his fingers go dark, the same black as deep space. His body shifts, bones cracking and muscles stretching like taffy, and suddenly he’s big larger than life a galaxy a black hole there is darkness everywhere it is alive it is full of stars the stars are singing the stars are singing the stars are si

“Danny? Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?”

That’s Duke’s voice. He’d recognize it anywhere, even from miles away, even when he’s sure he doesn’t have ears anymore. It takes all his effort to pull himself back to Earth, back into their apartment, blinking up at Duke as the stars in his eyes fade away.

Duke kneels before him, concern clear on his face, gentle hands reaching out to hold Danny steady. The feel of his warmth grounds him, keeps him more securely in his body. The pull of space is still there, tugging at him, trying to pull him out of humanity and into the form of an Ancient, but Danny can resist it so long as Duke keeps him tethered to the ground.

“It hurts,” he croaks, shivering.

“Shh, I know, baby. How can I help? What do you need?”

Danny leans forward, burying his face in Duke’s chest as tears slip out of his eyes. “It hurts,” he says again, voice shaking. “I keep changing and growing and my entire body is being torn apart and—” he gasps, cutting himself off. “I keep disappearing. I don’t want to disappear. I want to stay here but it takes me away and then I’m too big and no one can see me and I’m alone—”

“You’re not alone, Danny,” Duke says, holding him tightly as if his arms will be enough to keep Danny from breaking out of his own body, ridding himself of a mortal vessel, his only remaining tie to this world. “I see you, and I love you. Even if you have to change and go far away to be happy, I’ll find a way to follow you there, okay? I’m with you for as long as you want me.”

“I don’t want to hurt so much,” Danny whimpers, black fingers speckled with stardust clawing at Duke’s arms.

“Just breathe through it, sweetheart, you can do it. Let it pass through you. I got you, okay? Just let the pain pass and you’ll be fine.”

He wants to snap at Duke that it’s not fine, that the pain will be forever, it’ll linger in every one of his joints, that he can’t just stop fighting it because it’ll hurt even worse then. But his jaws are aching, his teeth sharpening, and there’s a black hole in his throat that he refuses to let loose. He lets out another pained whine, shivering, and in his chest a star is formed, burning bright and angry.

“Breathe, Danny, breathe,” Duke soothes, rubbing a hand up and down Danny’s back.

It’s habit to relax into his touch. They’ve spent so many nights working through night terrors and injuries, comforting each other through gentle touches. The pain eases a bit, and Danny sighs, frost on his breath.

“There we go, sweetheart, that’s it. You’re doing just fine.”

Another tear slips down his face, but the ache in his entire body as his growing ghost form tries to escape begins to fade.

He’s spent so many nights in pain, waiting for the sun to rise to muffle the singing of the stars. If he can get any relief, he’ll take it, even if it means losing his human form.

Danny stops fighting. His resistance to this change falls away. There’s a moment where the pain disappears entirely, the world going still, but before he can let out a relieved sigh, the change hits him like an asteroid, sudden and instant and inevitable.

A cry is ripped from his throat, but it doesn’t sound like him. It echoes, deep and inhuman, and suddenly Danny is every dark space surrounding the stars, the arms of every galaxy, suns burning bright and dying, supernova, cold and ice and the slow drifting of planets in orbit. His body grows, expands, no longer a ghost but an Ancient, body curling into itself to stay within the walls of the too small apartment, large hands cupped around Duke to keep him safe.

He can feel the cold of space. Orbits dance in his mind. Meteorites and asteroids drift without pattern across his chest. Danny can see everything with too many eyes, and he can cup planets in his palms, so much larger than possibility. His chest opens and expands and his body can curl around Earth and keep it safe.

He feels settled in this new body, senses stretched in every direction and the universe is so much lovelier than he could have ever experienced it in a halfa’s body.

Danny, Ancient of the Stars, hums and the universe shivers, singing back to him.

The pain is gone completely. He wonders why he resisted so hard; this is what he’s meant to be. He’s never felt so right before.

“Danny?”

Duke’s voice is small, but only because he is small when compared to Danny in his Ancient form.

Duke, he tries to say but his vocal chords have changed. Instead of words, a deep hum erupts from his throat, similar to the purr of a particularly large cat.

“Hey, sweetheart. Feeling better?”

Danny nods, pulling himself back together to feel his body more keenly, no longer stretched across the universe, cradling every star in his reach. Duke reaches a hand up and Danny reaches back, folding himself back into his body. His human eyes return and he realizes the apartment is completely covered in darkness with stars sparkling all around them. It recedes as he fits himself back into his body, the black on his fingers fading away until his hand is indistinguishable from a normal human’s.

He takes hold of Duke’s hand and tries to stand. His legs are weak and unsteady and he falls onto Duke, who catches him with ease and sweeps him up into a princess carry.

“There you are, honey,” Duke says, voice warm and relieved. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I feel a lot better.”

“Good. Do you need anything? Hot chocolate, heating pad, sleep?”

Danny thinks for a moment, then says, “Hot chocolate.”

“You got it. Let me just set you on the couch and I’ll have it out in a minute.”

He carefully sets Danny onto the couch, then tucks the blanket they keep folded over the back around him. Once he’s satisfied Danny is comfortable, Duke heads to the kitchen, flicking on the light as he does.

Danny sinks into the couch cushions, carefully moving all his fingers and toes to make sure they’re fine. He’s a little sore, as if all his bones where put through the ringer, but it doesn’t feel any different from when he has a particularly rough training day.

What’s more important that his physical body is the fact that he can feel his core, settled deep in his chest. It’s no longer the cold of ice, but it burns coldness, a white star embodying his soul, a changed core to reflect his transformation into an Ancient.

A baby Ancient, technically. He still has some growing to do, but the rest should be easier and, hopefully, less painful.

He closes his eyes and begins to drift off when he hears Duke return. It takes some effort to open his eyes, and his smiles softly and sleepily when he sees Duke set down two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table.

“Love you,” he mumbles, freeing a hand from the blanket to try to pull Duke down to join him.

Duke goes to him easily, sitting next to him and pulling Danny in to cuddle against him. It’s been so long since he last felt so comfortable at night, not writhing in pain and biting through his lip to keep quiet, that he can’t help but sink into it. A purr starts up in his chest, and Duke startles.

“Sweetheart, are you purring?”

Danny flushes and tries to hide his face. The purr doesn’t stop. He’s always been able to purr after becoming a halfa, though purr is just an easier way to describe it. It’s less of his vocal chords vibrating and more of his core rumbling in contentment. Usually, it’s unnoticeable, barely able to be felt let alone heard. Apparently, becoming an Ancient and therefore a much stronger ghost means his purrs are also stronger and louder.

“You’re so cute,” Duke says, pressing a kiss against Danny’s forehead. “Drink your hot chocolate, and then we can go back to sleep.”

He makes grabby hands at his mug, and Duke laughs and picks it up for him.

“Love you,” Danny repeats, voice less muffled.

“Love you, too,” Duke says. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m glad you were there to help me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s a good thing you’ll never have to find out. I’ve got you, sweetheart, always.”

Believing him is the easiest thing Danny has ever done. If Duke says he’ll be there for, then he will.

Always, always, always.

. . .

[send me ghostlights prompts!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #you ever think about how painful transformation must be? especially for eldritch danny turning into something human into something not?#yeah :) hurt and comfort!!#duke best boyfriend of the year tbh we all need a man like him in our lives #imagine the next time duke is in danger and danny comes to help and this human guy suddenly GROWS and his body unfolds and a mass of stars #and space comes out demanding in a voice that makes ears bleed that they leave signal alone or face the consequences #anyways after that gotham knows that the signal is loved by some monster/god so they try not to piss him off too much #this is all good and fine until goons and criminals make danny shrines and leave gifts and snacks on it so he'll show them mercy #and duke has to scold danny about not eating suspicious shrine snacks #thanks for the prompt!!

241 notes · View notes

39oa · 2 months

Text

DAL@LAK Postgame: Jason Robertson (03.09.24)

(laughs) But uh, no. It's really neat that they can do that, and see the support of all the people here, and just... trying to do my thing, and be a good role model and enjoy the night.

#jason robertson #dallas stars #stars #*#seeking advice on how 2 overcome the horrors of life T__T thank u stars for not flopping spectacularly this week i needed it...#also “one blemish; just can't let it keep bleeding into the game” was a very robo-esque response

111 notes · View notes

feroluce · 1 month

Text

Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

#sampard #gepo #hsr gepard #hsr sampo #gepard landau #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #blood #my fics #lucid dreamer #there was more to this but it didn't feel right included here so part 2 tomorrow maybe?#I just think Penacony being the land of dreams presents some FASCINATING possibilities like showing up in other people's dreams #the end of masquerade duet killed me just beat me dead #Sampo going through all this trouble just to protect Belobog...#poor Ray got such an earful that night haha #In the Penacony dreamscape someone can change their appearance however they want but I think in this case where one of the dreamers AREN'T-#-on Penacony it would take more concentration to keep that illusion up #and if someone were say. hurt and badly bleeding. it would start to fall apart eventually as they lost their concentration.#but oh my heart #Sampo being away and missing Belobog so badly he shows up in his friends' dreams just to do the same mundane shit they always do...#He probably showed up to everyone #he sat around and kept Natasha company in her clinic. he pestered Seele until he provoked her into asking Bronya on a date.#he played one last song with Pela and Serval. he told them he'd always kept his old bass guitar.#he took Hook out on one last joyride on his scooter and he even let her sit up front and steer like she'd always wanted.#and he stood around to shoot the shit with Gepard #he got to go do things like run domestic errands together with him. as if they could have been something more than what they were at the en #it was nice to get the chance to do all that #it was nice

69 notes · View notes

buildoblivionthenwewilltalk · 10 months

Text

#jonsnowfortnightevent2023 - @asoiafcanonjonsnow

Day 2 - Veils of Destiny

“Promise me, Ned”// “…Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the Prince that was promised…”

Ned sure did promise about that Prince child of ambiguous legitimacy, huh?

#yes that is rhaegars cloak #Ned stark #Eddard stark #jon snow #minsart #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrian scrolls #sword of the morning #r+l=j #jonsnowfortnightevent2023 #something something red star bleeds something something sword of the morning with a big ass star on it 😅#also Ned and bby Jon 🥺🥺🥺🥺

308 notes · View notes

alchemicaladarna · 4 months

Text

I'm like slightly insane about foolhalo. Like, ok, so they're immortals. They met multiple times throughout multiple lifetimes. They're some of the only people who know what it's like to love and lose so many people over and over again. After everything is all said and done, it's them at the end of the world.

How many civilizations did they witness the birth of? How many civilizations died during their lifetime? The world spins so fast nowadays and humanity is always in a rush towards the next big thing. But some things stay the same. Sometimes it's just Bad and Foolish.

They're each other's worst enemies. They're each other's closest confidants and bestest friends. They know what the other is thinking and have this weird mind link from knowing each other for literal centeries. They wouldn't hesitate to kill each other, and many people would think that's it, but sometimes you'll catch quick moments of soft tones and little glances that remind you how much they actually value each other's company.

It's not romance, but it isn't just purely platonic either. Foolhalo is hard to describe because it's neither platonic or romantic but it's also both at the same time.

The awesome aspect about shipping foolhalo is knowing they'll never be canon- not in the traditional sense- but simply vibing with the twisted way they show love for each other is enough for a wild time.

#qsmp #qsmp bad #qsmp foolish #qsmp shipping #foolhalo #they make me go feral #✨get urself a homie that would stab and let u bleed to death while making out with u all bloodied and bruised on a rooftop under the stars✨#landduo #btw another thing i love abt foolhalo is u can interpret them as either platonic or romanitc or both and it wouldnt change their relatinshi #like thats just how they are😭

80 notes · View notes

eegnm · 5 months

Text

“She’s not sure how Andor’s form of violence works. If he feels a rush of joy or the rush of freefall when he finds a victim. She only knows how it feels to fall in the snow and wake up tied to a chair.”

This was in my wips forever. Another scene from Front Towards Enemy by @rifle-yes, this time from The Axiom of Determinacy’s first Chapter because it made me go insane when I first read it (in the best way).

Alt. Version: