for auld lang syne, folks<3
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Misplaced Lens Cap
Cosmic Funnies

if i look back, i am lost

@theartofmadeline
i don't do bad sauce passes
RMH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

ellievsbear
Claire Keane
$LAYYYTER

⁂

★
🪼

pixel skylines
YOU ARE THE REASON
almost home
Sweet Seals For You, Always
h
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@norgodly
for auld lang syne, folks<3

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hey guys<3 probably a long time coming but i probably…wont be returning here. i’ve been thinking a lot about my life and my future recently and i just don’t think tumblr is serving me the way it used to. i will forever cherish the friendships ive made here but i think publicly writing just doesn’t fit into my life anymore
hey guys<3 probably a long time coming but i probably…wont be returning here. i’ve been thinking a lot about my life and my future recently and i just don’t think tumblr is serving me the way it used to. i will forever cherish the friendships ive made here but i think publicly writing just doesn’t fit into my life anymore
still recovering, revamp coming by the new year 🩷
tom scavo orson hodge when i get my hands on you

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ALICE IN BORDERLAND 今際の国のアリス (2020 - 2025) dir. Sato Shinsuke
will be adding arisu btw 🤓
elizabeth swan pirate king
if i write mickey barnes..?
the words prod under the skin, precision like thread slotted through the needle's eye, stitching up just to split back open again. mending and maiming with the same strokes. like a wound that never heals right, pink and puckered around the edge, always tender to the touch. there is an almost an elegance to myung-gi's craft, never leaning on brute force to send the message home, but rather the sleight of hand a magician pulling a truth from the pack and asking wickedly: is this your card? and all the while knowing before you do. and nam-gyu was naive enough to think he'd sourced a like-mind in myung-gi, a degree of unity in the sharp glint of his eyes mirrored back to him, the one that hurts and wants to hurt in return. he realises now that perhaps that recognition has always been something manufactured, and he'd attributed myung-gi a shape more rounded than reality. and really, myung-gi was nothing but sharp edges, the soft bow of his lips a front to the teeth, soft eyes balled to an innocence that doesn't exist. nam-gyu had always been looking into the jaws of the beast. the delusion dissipates before him, the way a shadow melts away when a subject moves into the light. a mirage of proximity and projection, of want under duress over something real. the dim glow of interest that myung-gi cast flickers and dies before him, but who could blame nam-gyu for mistaking it for something warm to place his cold hands? and of course, he suffocates it, as he always did with micro-dosed affection, hoarding and claiming and squeezing until his fingers fall numb like he has any right to touch something holy.
you let me. it's not an accusation, but an autopsy. a sentence flayed open on the table, dissected by someone who is truly paying attention. it's seeing, knowing words tracing back to every little encounter thought slipped under the radar but had been filed and catalogued to rehash at the appropriate time, when the moment really called for something cutting. what he says bruises a shape inside of nam-gyu's chest, pressing in like a thumb into some soft, rotting fruit, ripe for the ruin. and that's just it, isn't it? myung-gi knew that, saw the danger of him for what it really was desperation, unfooled by dagger-sharp camouflage for it was just show. you let me the implication is clear, not so much angry but certain of its own nature. less confessional than nam-gyu might've predicted, more confrontational. the suggestion is made that nam-gyu is complicit in his own unravelling, that it is two sets of hands that worked together through shared destruction. that he'd handed him the knife and had the audacity to flinch at its wielding. ‘i let you.’ nam-gyu scoffs, insincere, as if he'd been in on the joke the entire time, head bobbing in agreement as his gaze falls to the ground in the hope that it might swallow him whole. the admission makes him nauseous, the taste of bile crawls up his throat from somewhere deeper than his stomach. the floor doesn't open, but he doesn't move either he knows what is waiting for him on the plains of myung-gi's face. not fury, but cruelty exacted through calm, the kind that follows detonation and knowing you have won: like an aggressor standing on the smouldering remains of a city, unmoved by the violent wreckage delivered by his calloused hand because thoughts of fault remain absent. ‘sometimes i think i'd rather you gut me and just get it the fuck over with.’ it would be less painful, at least.
it hadn’t meant to sound quite so cruel. it had slipped from your tongue like confession disguised as accusation–too measured to be spontaneous, too honest to be kind. the words still hum inside your skull long after they’ve left your mouth, like a bell struck in a cathedral built from your ribs. you can feel the reverberation in the hollows of yourself, in the places that never healed properly. what did you mean by it but a knife? maybe it was truth, maybe it was deflection (or maybe both) because in your world; truth and deception were never enemies, but twin hands shaping the same clay. now nam-gyu stares as if seeing, for the first time, the creature inside the man. as if the syllables themselves clawed back something that should have stayed buried. and maybe they did. you let me. it’s not quite blame, not quite mercy. it’s a recognition that every cruelty requires two witnesses: one to enact, and one to allow. you wonder, distantly, if nam-gyu’s desperation had ever been about you at all, or if you had simply been a surface convenient enough to project onto. (the thought should comfort you–to be a vessel rather than a villain–but it doesn’t.) it feels smaller, somehow, to be merely the mirror of someone else’s ache. you imagine the two of you from above: two figures circling the same absence, mistaking proximity for meaning. it could have been different, some time ago, if either of you had chosen tenderness instead of precision/if you allowed softness to exist without dissecting it to death.
in the corner of the room, the shadows stretch like congregation pews. you could feel the echo of your own pulse in your throat, the slow and steady rhythm of something alive beneath the mask. it almost makes you question if @124player could hear it too–the quiet, damning heartbeat that speaks of hunger, of control, of the faintest edge of self-loathing. what will remain of either of you when its done? this game–who can look longer without blinking, who can make the other confess first–you’re winning. and you’ve always gotten drunk on that feeling. a low hum; the sound of a fluorescent light near dying; trembling like a heart caught between beats. clinging to the last of its brightness, refusing to yield–a certain dignity in that stubbornness. it resembles the way you admired nam-gyu, even when you despise him. especially then. you hear the echo of that last line and something shifts, slow and terrible, in your chest. the words are too intimate to be theatrical; they come from the marrow and it triggers the question of if nam-gyu knows how much of himself he gives away when he speaks like that–not the violence, but the permission inside it. there’s a kind of devotion in surrendering to someone’s cruelty, as if destruction was the only way to feel chosen. a breath follows, a sharp exhale through teeth as you suddenly twist away from him, palm rising to rub at your temple before you step back, a spark igniting in your coal-like gaze. “so, you’d let me?” it’s said too quickly, and whatever remorse had crossed your mind only moments ago was quickly extinguished and was replaced by raised eyebrows, a twitch in the corner of your lips that threatened to pull itself skyward. there is a certain smugness to it, like you had been proven right without even trying. “i thought you wanted to play with me.”

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the ache blooms sharp across her ribs, every time gwen breathes in too deeply. her hoodie rucked up clumsily around her chest, skin's bare in the steady wash of low lamplight that warms each corner of apartment. the walls are narrow and thin, hold like shelter -- are dressed up into something theirs. irises and daisies stuffed in glass sits on sill of the window. the fridge is scattered with homemade magnets made of clay, post-its scratched and between lines of poetry in black and white tiles. half baked thoughts and slanted stanzas left for each other in between classes. candles glow in glass that coat the air rich with oranges and vanilla. somewhere soft to land. iron coats her tongue when teeth clamp hard into her cheek, but maeve's hands are steady. the cat winds between her legs, big brown eyes blink upwards, an amicable mirror of her friend.
@norgodly asked, [ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds.
her chest unwinds an airy laugh. “ we could just chop it off. ” humor creases, voice catching against the pull of gauze. “ the whole thing. my torso, ribs. and you could tape where my lungs could be. ” quiet presses, heavy in the poky kitchen. gwen exhales unevenly. “ i hate giving you more practice. you're an angel, you know that ? ” she knows she would fish out her bones if maeve ever needed new ones. “ i thought you were out tonight. ”
the lamplight paints gwen gold, every bruise a small constellation, every breath a fragile hymn. the apartment hums softly around them–refrigerator buzzing like a tired insect, the lazy purr of the car curling figure-eights between your legs, the faint sound of someone’s laughter bleeding in from the street below. moordale never had this kind of stillness; it feels earned here. a wry, quiet smile that’s all teeth and tenderness, the gauze fluttering through fingers as if a white flag, a truce against the world’s cruelty. “legs too?” almost threatening if it were not laced with that casual tone. it predates the wince, and you feel it too–a sympathetic pang somewhere deep in your own chest, like your muscles have learned to echo the pain.
the light shifts, brought on by too-bright headlights catching in the glass, illuminating the edge of @maskfell 's smile, barely caught as you drew your attention away from the wound for only a fleeting moment before hands busy themselves once more, an easy distraction from the pain brought on from your teeth indented in bottom lip, ready to chew through flesh in the weight of everything not said. “if i’m an angel, then god’s got a dark sense of humour,” yet something like affection glimmers beneath the words–tired, defiant, real. another tug of bandage, overly cautious this time to avoid the dreaded flinch. “probably why he cancelled my plans.”
ANTHONY BOYLE as BRENDAN HUGHES in SAY NOTHING (2024)
fuck me eyes maeve wiley core
Oh!
autumns kinda maeve season

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blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.
𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
" that's a lot of blood. "
" it isn't mine. "
" what did you do ? "
[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "
" come on. have a taste. "
" holy shit, are you okay ? "
" it looks worse than it feels. "
" you should see the other guy. "
" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "
" lean on me. "
" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "
" . . . gross. "
[ standing over a body ] " oops. "
" is that a fucking body ? "
" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "
" what the hell happened ? "
" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "
" at least it wasn't me this time. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "
" i'm not scared of you. "
" you don't scare me. "
" shut up and let me help you. "
" i got your shirt all bloody. "
" let's get you cleaned up. "
" that looks like it hurts. "
" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "
" we are so fucked. "
" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "
" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "
" the fucker deserved it. "
" red looks good on you. "
" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "
" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "
" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "
" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "
" this isn't what it looks like. "
" it was an accident. "
" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "
" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "
" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "
" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "
" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "
" you're bleeding. "
" what the fuck happened to you ? "
" you're getting blood on the carpet. "
" sit down before you fall down. "
" that looks like a you problem. "
𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet
sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver
receiver finds sender covered in blood
sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding
sender helps receiver clean up after a kill
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb
sender licks receiver's blood off a knife
sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb
sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver
receiver finds sender stood over a body
sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood
sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean
sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood
sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed
sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)
receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze
sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone
sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand
sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face
sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them
sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver
sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall
sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled
receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off
sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver
sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse
sender takes an injury meant for receiver
sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood
sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone
sender punches receiver in the mouth
receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust
sender helps receiver bury a body
sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3
sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3
sender leans on receiver for support
sender kills someone to protect receiver
receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it
sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver
receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself
sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip
sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning
blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.
𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
" that's a lot of blood. "
" it isn't mine. "
" what did you do ? "
[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "
" come on. have a taste. "
" holy shit, are you okay ? "
" it looks worse than it feels. "
" you should see the other guy. "
" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "
" lean on me. "
" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "
" . . . gross. "
[ standing over a body ] " oops. "
" is that a fucking body ? "
" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "
" what the hell happened ? "
" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "
" at least it wasn't me this time. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "
" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "
" i'm not scared of you. "
" you don't scare me. "
" shut up and let me help you. "
" i got your shirt all bloody. "
" let's get you cleaned up. "
" that looks like it hurts. "
" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "
" we are so fucked. "
" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "
" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "
" the fucker deserved it. "
" red looks good on you. "
" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "
" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "
" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "
" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "
" this isn't what it looks like. "
" it was an accident. "
" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "
" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "
" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "
" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "
" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "
" you're bleeding. "
" what the fuck happened to you ? "
" you're getting blood on the carpet. "
" sit down before you fall down. "
" that looks like a you problem. "
𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :
sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet
sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver
receiver finds sender covered in blood
sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding
sender helps receiver clean up after a kill
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth
sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb
sender licks receiver's blood off a knife
sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb
sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver
receiver finds sender stood over a body
sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]
sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood
sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean
sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood
sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed
sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)
receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze
sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone
sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand
sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face
sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them
sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver
sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall
sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled
receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off
sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver
sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse
sender takes an injury meant for receiver
sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood
sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone
sender punches receiver in the mouth
receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust
sender helps receiver bury a body
sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3
sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3
sender leans on receiver for support
sender kills someone to protect receiver
receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it
sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver
receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself
sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip
sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning