Ouch - Blog Posts
If I were Paris personally I would have tried to eat the apple myself because there's no way I'm ever making myself decide between those three Goddesses. Recipe for disaster
Finally someone who feels and understands my daily pain!
you don’t know real pain until you ship two characters who have never talked to each other
My newest original meme
It's okay, I didn't need my heart.
Zeref is the only one who knows Natsu’s birthday…
Do you think that every year he throws a little party? Only it’s not really a party, it’s just Zeref sitting alone in the dark, thinking about when they were a family, and then he just whispers “Happy Birthday, Natsu…” really sadly.
Inception 30 Day Challenge 2024
day 03 : post canon headcanons @inception30daychallenge
cobb overdoses on somnacin two years into retirement. the kids grow up hating their dad, missing their mom and never learning what dreamshare is.
ariadne tries to contact the team. no one picks it up. she joins faculty, a mediocre lecturer, lacking her promising spark. she passes away after a eighty five years of utterly boring, peaceful life.
yusuf accidentally gets shot by cobol three months after inception when he gets mixed up in a chase across his shop. he doesn’t get a funeral.
robert drops everything on a whim and goes backpacking across the globe. last anyone heard of him was from tokyo. he was barely thirty nine.
saito goes crazy. he spends the final years of his late sixties in an asylum wishing he could enjoy the immense wealth he paid a fortune and his life for.
arthur and eames... well arthur and eames continue to live in the hearts of millions, rekindling hope, promise of love and reconciliation. Forever.
Sirius and Remus, in the poetry of Richard Siken;
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
There are so many things I’m not allowed to tell you. I touch myself, I dream. Wearing your clothes or standing in the shower for over an hour, pretending that this skin is your skin, these hands your hands…
I swallow your heart and it crawls right out my mouth. You swallow my heart and flee.
There are many names in history but none of them are ours.
All I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
And maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.
Tell me we’re dead and I’ll love you even more.
I want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.
I’m sorry I came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.
Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying.
I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire. I said kiss me here and here and here and you did.
In these dreams it’s always you: the boy in the sweatshirt the boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me from jumping off the bridge.
You are a fever I am learning to live with.
I don’t really blame you for being dead but you can’t have your sweater back.
Makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.
You, the moon. You, the road. You, the little flowers by the side of the road.
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.
Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. (My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me.)
i call this one "tummy hurts" (based on true events)
just having the the stark realization that the failed act of rebellion was 24 years before katniss volunteered. that begs the question of whether or not there were more attempts. did johanna suffer the same fate as haymitch? did the capitol lie and say she was hidden the entirety of her games because she was given a similar (failed) assignment from beetee? did they have to erase countless hours of footage? edit things to make it seem like she was never where she actually was, simply hidden away from the chaos? how many mockingjay figures did they cycle through before landing on katniss? how many did they cycle through before the revolution actually began?
The season hasn’t ended yet but watching Yuji’s Jujutsu family grow gives me life.💕
Sweet Jesus ouch 😳
Watch this Instagram reels on deer antlers
Bad scooter accident 🤕🛵 watch my Facebook reels
This Is How They Die
Marlene dies fighting.
It’s in her blood, after all, all the curses and bolts of light, people collapsing all around her. She’s always been a fighter, ever since she was young, always started wars when there was too much peace, always finished fights before they ended.
She knows she’s doomed even before they come through the door, knows that there are too many of them, too many of them, blocking the doors, the windows, pressing forward until she’s trapped in the kitchen with the wall to her back. She can hear them, the footsteps, the exited murmurs as they realize that we’ve caught McKinnon, we’ve caught the Ghost, and she knows she’s about to die.
She’s always promised herself that she would go out with no regrets, that she would live life like the world was ending, and no, no it didn’t feel long enough and her time was running out. She was on the last seconds of it now; the door creaking open, the footsteps on the floor, the wild tolling of her heart, counting the seconds down until her death.
And she does have a regret, just one, one mistake in her 20 years of life. One thing she wishes she could change, one thing she wishes she could alter.
Dorcas, she thinks, and then she blows the house apart.
~
Benjy dies laughing.
All the cracked stones settling around him, bloodied bits of broken people lying around him. He’s always been good with his hands - traps and magic combined together and he knows it isn’t enough.
He’s always thought about dying, in that morbid, curious way. What it would feel like; slowly sinking into darkness, bright lights at the end of a tunnel. Angel wings and darkened talons, clawing and gnawing and biting and he’s not ready to die.
He doesn’t want to die.
All the dyed hair, shades of flashing green and blue and pink. All the piercings in his ears, all the denim jackets and leather boots and shorts that were far too high up his ass. All the nights he spent in the clubs, hundreds of strangers, the taste of vodka in his mouth and it all rushes past in an instant.
And he won’t run anymore, run from his past, his parents, run from the Death Eaters that were now advancing up the alleyway. He doesn’t even bother to lift his wand, just looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, a beatific smirk pasted onto his face.
He’s still laughing when the Death Eaters drop dead, the hidden tripwire slicing across their necks, the curses looking like fireworks, and Benjy is still laughing when the jets hit his body.
~
Mary dies quietly.
She was the angel in a field of death, lives passing through her fingers like water. Countless wounds bandaged, bones set, shrapnel dug out of bleeding skin with bleeding fingers, pyres burning like boats on a river.
She never wanted to fight, in a war far older then her. She’s never lived in a world without it.
But she’s seen too many dead bodies now, too many rigid hands, too many haunted eyes. She’s sat with people - people who knew they were dying and people who thought that they weren’t, people who struggled to live and people who were already dead.
And if she has the chance, the breath of a possibility to save someone then she would. Because how many of those people would change, would grow, would heal the already damaged world? She’s never known a world without war, but she hopes she someday will.
So she doesn’t see the jets, flying above her head like lances. She doesn’t see the one that careens towards her turned back. She doesn’t hear the shouting, the shouting, the yelling.
All she sees are Emmeline’s eyes, widening in shock, her hand still grabbing onto the bandage at her wrist before Mary topples over.
~
Fabian and Gideon die together.
They’re always together, after all. 11 years old, learning all their spells. 12 years old, copying off each other’s homework - Gideon did Potions and Fabian did charms. 13 years old, learning how to fly.
They’ve always known each other so well - could cast spells twice as strong using the other’s wands, could fly in sync, eyes closed, could finish each other’s sentences even when they weren’t in the same room.
When Fabian fell off his broom in 4th year, snapping his wrist and breaking his bones, Gideon felt the cracking. When Gideon was in the hospital wing, vomiting his guts out after getting splashed with a potion, Fabian was right by his side. When Fabian started cutting, lines and gashes and scars, Gideon held onto his shoulders, begged him to stop because he couldn’t live in a world without his brother. When Gideon passed out, lying on the ground drunk out of his mind Fabian clutched his arm, please wake up, don’t leave me.
Gideon was there when Fabian kissed Kingsley, and Fabian was there when Gideon whispered that maybe he didn’t need anyone, that maybe he didn’t like anyone like that.
So they clutch each other’s hands, fight back-to-back like they always did, but in the end there are too many of them.
The last thing that they both think as they sag to the ground is that at least I don’t have to live in a world without him.
~
Dorcas dies sobbing.
Time. That’s all she wanted, all she needed and it was the one thing she couldn’t have.
She’s always been careful, meticulous, always counted the seconds and the minutes and the hours. Days upon days, weeks upon weeks, always treated her future like it was the present. Always logical, always calm, always planning 3 steps ahead because she was so afraid she’d trip and fall.
And suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. All the studying, all the planning, everything that had secured her future and she didn’t need it anymore because she’d never reach it, would she? She’d never grow up, dye her hair pink like she always wanted to, buy a house like she always wanted to, marry Marlene like she always wanted to. Wishes, hundreds of them, swirling around her like ghosts.
And she can see it, fading away, like sand slipping through her hands, blowing away in the wind. She can see it, her life, gone in an instant.
And she’s not brave, not like Marlene. She’s terrified, of death and the unknown, of leaving this Earth and all she can do is pray that she’ll find another world, something bigger, something better.
Dorcas kneels on the ground, head bowed, tears streaming from her eyes, and she doesn’t try to run when the blast starts.
I crave intimacy but I get confused and uncomfortable when I’m shown even the slightest bit of attention or affection.
"And yet she saved me. I can't think of no better honor."
Malevoversary 2024 | Thrusday Prompt | Addison
Haha isn’t it so funny that Ruth kept touching her lower body and ended up getting ripped in half at that area and Richie would put his arms around his chest where his lungs are and he technically drowned to death, which has to do with the absence of air in the lungs
Ughhhh this has so many flaws but here you go! This song ruined my life 😀
And here are the still versions :(((
Hal, honey, do you wanna talk?
souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt
he likes it cold
