Cw Death Mention - Tumblr Posts
Please help them, they are so far from their goal, it breaks my heart knowing time is running out and how their family might be in more danger because of it. Anything helps.
My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.
When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.
When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.
Marks and Rec: Misc #2378
("Except that the internet is real, of course.") (Dialogue from tumblr.)
I don’t think there’s much in the way of disagreement in the fandom regarding why Will probably wasn’t able to make the definitive choice to be with Hannibal in s2, but I was rewatching the back half of s2 recently, and this bit in the ortolan scene struck me particularly hard as an indicator of his uncertainty regarding where he stands with Hannibal.
Hannibal has been all-in for quite a while. But Will has no way of knowing that, of knowing he’s special. From his point of view, he’s probably just another one of Hannibal’s many pet murderer projects, like Margot Verger or Randall Tier… or Abigail, whom Will believes he’s killed, despite having had an obvious personal affection for her.
He’s very clearly stating his conception of what he is to Hannibal in this scene: a delicacy, perhaps, and to be valued (savored) as one, but still something that will inevitably be consumed by their interaction.
And Hannibal, because he is the biggest dumbass in the entire show, doesn’t even try to reassure him.
eret tweeted!
“Been ill with the flu these past few day, so unfortunately not gonna be able to meet @/Ph1LzA before he... y'know...”
Man, I really hate shippy fics/posts that are exploring jealousy with Geralt at the moment, because they’re all way off the mark. Geralt is not a man that gets violent or angrily jealous. He’s not a possessive man. He isn’t above demonstrating some displeasure with people after his love, but he considers his SO’s interest in someone else ‘their right’, and the moment there’s significant competition? He bows out, because that just confirms he isn’t good enough for them.
We have a canon example of this, where Istredd is pursuing Yennefer and he goes on a diatribe about how little Geralt can offer Yennefer, and not only does Geralt not argue against this (his argument to remain with Yenenfer is simply ‘Yennefer wants him’), when he finds out they have an equal chance to be with Yennefer, he immediately forfeits because he doesn’t perceive it as an equal chance; he just sees it as validating Istredd’s insistence that he is too inhuman to offer Yennefer anything.
And:
He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t try to get back at Yen. He behaves despondently, tells Yennefer he won’t get in her way, internalises and repeats the things Istredd said about him, and the incident is so damaging that he attempts suicide later in the story.
People who portray Geralt as this alpha male whose response to jealousy is to get angry and fight for who he’s with are completely off the mark. He’s a man who has been abused so badly throughout his life that he’s quick to accept that he isn’t worth being with, and he’s such a depressed, self-loathing wreck that he would rather court death than deal with losing one of the few people who treat him like a human being (this isn’t even the only time he decides death would be better than dealing with loss). I realise him being depressed and self-loathing will make Geralt less palatable for a lot of people, but that’s who he is.
Protagonist, standing up to his mother for the first time in his life:
His boyfriend whose mother died during childbirth, the moment mc is done arguing with his mom:
What was your first kill like?
“Messy, but your first time tends to be regardless of what it is you’re doing.” Roman said, and would have smirked had he still possessed the ability to do so. His first kill? Now that was almost a lifetime ago. He wasn’t even eighteen at the time but killing somebody with your bare hands was very different from merely being the culprit such as how he’d been responsible for setting the fire that had burned his parents alive in their family home. ”I was a young punk back then, picking up the pieces of my life and rebuilding after shit went down when Janus Cosmetics was bought off by Wayne Industries. I lost everything that night and had nothing left so starting over was tough. I made a few friends out on the streets but made lots of enemies too, and some realized I was going to be a problem in the future...” He reclined in his seat, taking on a pensive look as his fingers brushed over his forehead. ”One guy in particular, never learned his name but he was the main drug dealer in the area at the time. No connections to any big players, just didn’t like me and my boys muscling in on his trade so he shot one of them in the head as a warning. Horsehead and I started targeting his men after that, making it difficult to distribute Drops while cutting off funds at the same time. Pissed him off so much when I found out who his main suppliers were and forced them to start selling to me instead.” Angry enough to come after him, a fact which Roman had gleefully anticipated. ”Anyways, he tried to get the drop on me one night. I knew it was him because he always wore this orange motorcycle helmet plus never went anywhere without his precious bulletproof jacket. Didn’t help him much when I shattered his visor with a steel pipe and stabbed through the gap it left. Messed him up real good doing that...” The very memory was nostalgic, euphoric even as he recalled the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins as hot blood sprayed across the alley walls with every frenzied swing he’d made. Burning his idiot parents alive had been satisfying but even that couldn’t begin to compare to the thrill of cutting somebody down so personally, removing an obstacle in his path just so he could rise to the next level. ”Word on the street afterwards was that he didn’t have much of a face left by the time I was done with him. Kind of wish I’d taken it a little easier and drawn it out, but what can I say? First times are always messy.”
stardew valley headcannons (part one!)
im going to start occasionally posting batches of my stardew valley headcannons because god i love stardew valley and i must share!
cw: mentions of homophobic family, alcohol, and alcoholism
sebastian is wasian! his dad (robin's ex) is asian.
demetrius is autistic
maru gets a lot of silk presses, which is why her hair is straight. her hair is a bit damaged as a result.
if the farmer does not marry haley or alex, they choose to get together to be each other's beards (companions)
in relation to the last one, haley and emily's parents are homophobic & alex is afraid to come out to his grandparents due to them being "old-fashioned", which is why they choose to become each other's beards
Pam started drinking more heavily after her husband died
Mermaid Tears
Nightmare had long since gotten used to the water harshly crashing into him, as well as the oceans boiling as he swam through them. He was used to claws and teeth and other such sharp things penetrating through his flesh and bones. The weight of his trident was familiar, just as much as throwing it. The leviathan's world was little more than storming clouds and spewing volcanoes. He cared not about the disasters he and his twin caused. Why would he? All that mattered was the fighting. The ceaseless war that wouldn't stop until one side claimed victory... Or died.
The kraken couldn't be sure what had happened. His skull was in such pain, ichor painting the water so thickly that trying to see past it was impossible. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. Nightmare made an attempt to collect his thoughts, but everything was muddled and fuzzy and in so, so much pain. Somehow, he heard the voice of his twin through all the pain.
"𝐸𝓂𝒷𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹?" Not as much as he was hurting. "𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉?" And didn't that sound nice. What if they could just go back to being brothers, even just for a day. Nightmare stopped trying to listen to his brother and instead tried to removed the ichor in his sockets to no avail. Dream had said something else, Nightmare hadn't heard it properly. Should he respond?
"ɖ-ɖʀɛǟʍ? Iȶ hurts," He drew out the s longer than he should have. Did that matter?
"𝒩𝐼𝒢𝐻𝒯𝑀𝒜𝑅𝐸!" Oh, something was really wrong. Dream sounded terrified. Warm hands cupped Nightmare's face, his injury only feeling worse from the heat. "𝒮𝒽𝒽, 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝓈𝒽𝒽𝒽,"
"ɦurts," Nightmare managed to say through the pain, tears mixing with the cyan ichor. "ɦʊrts so bad"
"𝐼𝓉'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎," Dream was hugging his so close. They hadn't been like this since... For a very long time... But the heat was making everything even fuzzier. His tears felt like lava.
"Dreaʍ?"
"𝒴𝑒𝒶𝒽?"
"I'm gonna քass out ռօա," And he did, leaving his frightened twin to try and stop the bleeding. Dream tried not to look at the ichor mixing with the water as he tied makeshift bandages over the wound.
-----
Blood. It was all Horror could smell. He couldn't see much anymore, however, even if he wanted to. But even with his now damaged eyelight, he could see the carnage. Blood and seafoam floated around, the scent taunting him for living. Bodies of the dead and dying were barely visible with his new injury. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. And now he was the only one alive. If he actually recovered from this. His head pounded. Some of the blood was from him, he had little doubt in that. But what could he do? He was stuck here with only those turning to sea foam. He could focus on the sights and scents, but what good would that do? He couldn't exactly escape it all either, the sea foam sticking to him whenever it got close.
So he cried. He cried for those who were alive only moments before, he cried for the pups who were barely starting to live, he cried for those who tried so valiantly to defend the shiver, he cried for the memories he had of them all, lost when his skull was crushed, he cried for those who he loved and cared for, never to be seen again. He cried so much he could have filled the ocean from his tears alone. For that was all he could do.
-----
In some colorful reef sat a quiet whitetip shark mer. Pilot fish flittered around him, the only family he had left. A few were exploring the reef, the rest were just swimming around Dust, like a fishy barrier between him and the rest of the ocean. It was nice. Dust got a moment of calm and quiet. And Papyrus was always watching him. A pilot fish swam up and bonked their heads together. Oh. Dust really missed having his brother around for real. These fish, they acted just like him but- Dust didn't know he had started crying until all the fish had huddled around him, trying to give comfort. Something so familiar, Dust yearned for his brother to be the one pressing soft kisses to his forehead, telling him that everything was going to be alright. But he was gone. And all Dust had left was a school of ghost fish who were painfully similar yet just that much different than his brother.
-----
Killer would never admit it, but sometimes, he got really lonely. He never had a shiver, but who needed one anyway? Sure, some company would be nice, but why go out of his way to look for someone? Made no sense to him. Took up too much time and effort. Besides, he could go anywhere he wanted! He had no one place to tie him down! One day, he could be in warm waters, searching for the freshest of tuna to catch, the next he could find a cooler, shallow beach to lounge around in with no one to bother him. It was a good life he was living. A life of adventure and thrills! Why would he need someone else to slow this all down? He didn't. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share it all with, but Killer liked his life right now. He didn't need to change it because of some silly emotions. He could drift to his soul's content.
Happy trills sounded from somewhere near by. Killer went over to investigate. A few mers were darting around each other in the brighter water making the shallows of the area. A goldfish mer was curling around a larger great white mer and giving him affectionate kisses while a whitetip settled on the sand nearby, petting a small fish. Killer watched with, not quite envy, at the display. He wouldn't lie and say he didn't want to have that sort of love with someone, but he wasn't jealous of them.
The bull shark quickly made his way back to the cavern he was staying in. And there, all alone with no one, not some sweet goldfish or other shark, he cried. Not that he would ever admit it.
-----
"Hello?" Cross peaked his head out of the container. There wasn't anything. Well, fish and a small squid, but no other mers. Or any giant beasts with writhing tentacles capable of ripping the container's door open and snapping off his shock collar. "Anyone there?" No reply. Was this a test? Did Gaster set this all up? Cross carefully swam out of the container. What was the goal? Did he even have one or- Or was he really free? He swam further. No, how would he have even escaped? Sure, the container could have just fallen into the ocean, but Gaster was not a careless man. He wouldn't have let something as simple as a storm knock Cross overboard. Not when he had been working on him for years. Still...
Cross darted away from the container as fast as he could. He was free. Even if this was all just some test rigged by Gaster, he wasn't in some small aquarium anymore. This was open ocean. It had to be- It- it... Cross glanced at the container, getting smaller as he swam away. This was real, right? Cross settled on the sand covering the bottom of the ocean. It was soft on his fins, unlike the rocks that had been in the bottom of one of his old tanks. Seaweed floated, a massive cover for fish and other sea creatures. Bubbles floated from the occasional lobster or crab returning from the surface. Some were just dropped back in, how, Cross didn't know. Maybe landwalkers, maybe it rained crustaceans out here. In wasn't scientifically impossible. Was it? Frog rain was a thing. Gaster had talked about it once. And frogs weren't much bigger than some crabs.
The newly freed mer had laid in the sand for hours, watching the fish swim past, snapping up the occasional critter that strayed too close to the shark. It was... Nice. The open water, all the animals swimming around, the waves, the light, the water. And Cross would hopefully get to live in this forever. The very same seas that he was robbed of in his puphood, they were all his to explore now. Much too late, yes. But he was still here now. Tears pricked at his sockets, and for the first time, Cross allowed himself to cry. there was no doctor who would mock him for it out here. He could cry, he could swim, he could hunt. And no one could stop him anymore.
CW: DEATH MENTION, BODY HORROR (kinda)
.
.
.
.
I just love M3 Porky being as nightmarish as possible :)
Day 18 - Hackneyed
Warnings for past mentions of drugging, violence, and death.
Mentioned EW spoilers. A little blurb about Kaida growing up and her mother.
An event changes many many things.
They never bring it up again.