theres only one me

noct-your-business  asked:

what about brooke and rich? do they believe in the paranormal too or not?

Brooke: I was practically raised by ghosts guys

slavic languages gothic

You see a sentence written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.

You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.

There is a sentence in Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.

You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.

P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.

The Croatian sentence does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.

That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence.
Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.

Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.

You see a word in a dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in your sleep. You wake up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.

This word means the same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language. The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.

H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.

One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.

You write my name is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right letters.

N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?

There are nine different prefixes you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape of one of its middle consonants. You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth. You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.

You now read a text in Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes, the meaning searing your mind.

There’s a shot of vodka in front of you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.

damien is amazing and i needed to draw him with some dogs goodnight

(also MC dad probably gave him that shirt. and took this photo who knows)

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The Infernal Devices Appreciation Week
↳ Day 5: Favorite Quote(s) 

 “They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite.”   

  • me: there are over 400 species of sharks
  • discovery channel: i can't believe there's only one shark
  • me: makos, blues, white tips, black tips, lemon, sawtooth, nurse sharks, cookie cutter, basking, whale,
  • discovery channel: There Is One Shark And His Name Is Jaws

not sure if these are edited or not, but apparently this creepy-ass Bendy is in the hallway Boris hides in before walking out during the cutscene at the end of Chapter 2. Can any hackers confirm this? :P

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Until someone shows me how to get around this Itunes encryption nonsense, ya’ll are gonna have to deal with these poopy quality gifs. How could they do this to me? And on the 7th night of Hanukkah no less…

For being someone who’s always sleeping or talking about sleeping or wishing he were asleep Aizawa sure likes being up late at night, doesn’t he

who would have thought I’d have found yet another reason for finding this man relatable

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Blake smiling at/because of Yang

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Bethyl Appreciation Week 2017:

↳ ‘Day 4: Favourite Underrated Moment’

okay so !! in you gotta die sometime, whizzer is replacing this nebulous concept of death – something that a man his age hasn’t had to worry about, nevertheless a man of his disposition – with Death, a fellow man, a lover, something that makes sense and that comforts him. whizzer, by all accounts, was never supposed to die in his twenties/thirties; he was a healthy, athletic young man who took care of his body, and so why would he ever have to worry about the sudden disappearance of his health? 

and now, all within a matter of months, he has this IV in his arm and his mind is foggy and his ribs are sharp against his loose hospital gown. his friend, a member of this makeshift family they’ve finally created has to tell him that he’s dying, has to tell his lover that he’s on the edge of that very same bridge.

Keep reading

Lancelot Fluff Fanfic Rec List

I decided to make a list featuring a few of my fluffy favourites for Lotor x Lance. All fics are rated Teen or General unless marked otherwise. I tagged everyone’s tumblrs that I could find.

Single Chapter:

Spa Date with a Prince by @deecherrywolf
Lance is captured and held captive by the nefarious Prince Lotor.
Prince Lotor can’t help but notice how amazing his prisoner’s skin looks.

It’s So Hard to Be Beautiful by @stopmeplease
Lance and Lotor meet at a spa and find they have some things in common.

Of braiding hair and apology cards by @lotorn
(Explicit) Lance’s long fingers thread through the soft locks gently, his nails scratching on the scalp. Lotor purrs. (okay so, not exactly fluff, but it is for this ship tbh lol)

Small Series:

Little Blue by @shiirxtakashii
“Wait, are you flustered? Are you blushing?” Lance asked, leaning over to try and get a closer look at the other.
“Flustered? Blushing? What are those?” Lotor asked, his head turning back, the flush still there slightly.

T'is the Season by Quillaninc
(Christmas Fic) 'Why-“ Lotor drawled, sceptical ”-would you have a gift for me?“

nobody even says wooing anymore by silverliningsgirl
Lance gets hit on and Shiro goes into Dad mode that’s it that’s the story.

Multichapter:

Moonflower by @noir-wing (yup, this one’s mine)
(WIP) “Don’t swear at me in Galra,” Lance glared.
The prince smirked, “Oh, it wasn’t an insult. If you were to translate it into your tongue… I suppose the word would be: darling.”

The Promised are Bound, Mr Gonzalez by Levis_turtles
Lance makes a promise to Lotor, not realising that the promises made between Galra (or, in this case, Galra and Human) are as inescapable as they are binding.

The Flirtation Situation by Levis_turtles
(WIP) Lance is in a battle against the Galra when he is approached by the commander of the galra empire, Prince Lotor.

Altean! Lance AU Drabble by @raphidae
Lotor and Allura are engaged in the name of an alliance, but neither want to wed one another. So what happens when Lotor meets her younger brother?
(I’m putting this in multichapter because it’s a really long drabble series so it’s basically a fic)

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@got7hyungnet get to know you project
            mark in flannel throughout the years for @ulttuan