// yo! I’m gonna be archiving this blog and moving to a multimuse here!
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@abnormalisinmygenes
// yo! I’m gonna be archiving this blog and moving to a multimuse here!
Hey, come on, it wasn’t technically my fault.
I am not what HAPPENED to me, I am what I CHOOSE to become.
indie william grant (son of henry pym and greer nelson) [ask] [rules]
// respond with your memes tag and i’ll send you some things!
// like if you’re interested in a pre-established relationship!
// like this and i’ll find one of your opens to respond to!
// like for a starter!
// like if you’d like to toss around plot ideas!
// like and i’ll send you some memes
// like and i’ll find one of your opens to respond to
The Last Unicorn (1982) starters.
❛ I dislike the feel of these woods. ❜
❛ Unicorns? I thought they only existed in fairytales. ❜
❛ This is a forest like any other. Isn’t it ? ❜
❛ Let’s turn around. Hunt somewhere else. ❜
❛ This is no world for you. ❜
❛ Good luck to you, for you are the last. ❜
❛ What do men know ? ❜
❛ We are as old as the sky, old as the moon. ❜
❛ We can be hunted, we can be trapped, we can even be killed but we do not vanish ! ❜
❛ Have you traveled very far ? ❜
❛ Be a little respectful, do you know who I am ? ❜
❛ Your name is a golden bell, hung in my heart. ❜
❛ I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name. ❜
❛ In all your wanderings, have you seen others like me ? ❜
❛ Have you seen the others? Where have they gone? Tell me which way I must go to find them. ❜
❛ No, no, listen ! Don’t listen to me, listen ! ❜
❛ You can find the others if you are brave. ❜
❛ What if they’re waiting for me ? In need of my help ? ❜
❛ Well hello there little one ! ❜
❛ And just who might you belong to ? a pretty little thing like you ? ❜
❛ In my heart I carry such a heavy load. ❜
❛ And here I thought I’d seen the last of them ! ❜
❛ I know you. If I were blind I would know what you are. ❜
❛ You wouldn’t have heard of me. ❜
❛ It’s not much of a job for a real magician, but I’ve had worse. ❜
❛ You’re mine. If you kill me, you’re still mine. ❜
❛ Your death sits in that cage and she hears you. ❜
❛ She’ll kill me one day or another, but she will remember forever that I caught her, that I held her prisoner. So there’s my immortality. ❜
❛ You were out on the road hunting for your own death ! ❜
❛ He’ll not have you ! You belong to me. ❜
❛ We are two sides of the same magic. ❜
❛ You are safer here. You should thank me for protecting you. ❜
❛ There has never been a spell on me before. ❜
❛ It’s a very rare person who is taken for what he truly is. ❜
❛ Will you help me ? ❜
❛ You’re my last chance. ❜
❛ Can you truly set me free ? ❜
❛ I asked him a riddle and it always takes that lout all night to solve riddles. ❜
❛ the spell was wrong but there was true magic in it ! try again. ❜
❛ My dear you deserve the services of a great wizard but I’m afraid you’ll have to be glad of the aide of a second rate pickpocket. ❜
❛ Okay, (name), I give up. Why is a raven like a writing desk ? ❜
❛ She’ll kill you if you set her free ! ❜
❛ Don’t look back, and don’t run. ❜
❛ You must never run from anything immortal, it attracts their attention. ❜
❛ She chose her death long ago. It was the fate she wanted. ❜
❛ You have no regrets as I do ? ❜
❛ I’ve never seen anyone like you. Not while I was awake, anyway. ❜
❛ I’m going where they are, to learn whatever they know. ❜
❛ Take me with you ! for luck, for laughs, for the unknown. ❜
❛ You could never have granted my true wish. ❜
❛ I cannot turn you into something you are not. ❜
❛ Hide yourself ! We’ll find each other later. ❜
❛ Mind your heads now, it’s raining ninnies ! ❜
❛ Put me down you fool ! ❜
❛ I don’t like the look of him. ❜
❛ That’s only (name)’s way, but she has a good heart. ❜
❛ This is not happening. ❜
❛ We’ll both be gentlemen of leisure in a months time. ❜
❛ Oh, I love you. ❜
❛ She shall never have you ! ❜
❛ We will perish together. ❜
❛ Did you see me ? Were you watching ? ❜
❛ Did you see what I made ? ❜
❛ It’s gone now, but I had it ! ❜
❛ Where have you been ? Where have you been ! ? ❜
❛ Where were you when I was new ? ❜
❛ How dare you come to me now when I am this ! ❜
❛ It’s alright, I forgive you. ❜
❛ You can’t come with us ! we’re on a quest ! ❜
❛ Well, you’re going the wrong way. ❜
❛ You have all the power you need if you dare to look for it. ❜
❛ What have you done ! ? ❜
❛ The power will come to me whenever I need it, and one day! One day it will come to me when I call ! ❜
❛ You are an idiot ! ❜
❛ Don’t ! Don’t you hurt yourself ! ❜
❛ I can feel this body dying all around me ! ❜
❛ You are losing my interest, and that is very dangerous. ❜
❛ I will keep nothing near me that does not make me happy. ❜
❛ How would you know ? ❜
❛ Well, just look at you ! ❜
❛ Come on, I’ll write you a reference. ❜
❛ You have let your doom in by the front door ! ❜
❛ What are you looking at ? ❜
❛ What is the matter with your eyes ? ❜
❛ You may come and go as you please. ❜
❛ My secrets guard themselves, may yours do the same. ❜
❛ Please, let me help you. What can I do for you ? ❜
❛ And then she looked at me and I was sorry I had killed the thing. ❜
❛ For her sake I’ve become a hero but my great deeds mean nothing to her ! ❜
❛ I wish to be whatever she has most need of. ❜
❛ You are cruel to him. ❜
❛ He only wishes you to think of him. ❜
❛ Who am I ? Why am I here ? ❜
❛ I knew a moment ago, but I have forgotten. ❜
❛ I was innocent and wise and full of pain. ❜
❛ Now that I’m a woman, everything has changed. ❜
❛ Why won’t you help me ? Why must you always speak in riddles ? ❜
❛ I would tell you what you want to know if I could. ❜
❛ I am always dreaming, even when I am awake. It is never finished. ❜
❛ I would court you with more grace if I knew how. ❜
❛ Drown out my dreams. Keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it. ❜
❛ Words are always getting in my way. ❜
❛ That’s all I have to tell you. That’s all I’ve got to say. ❜
❛ I’m not a man of poetry. Music isn’t one with me. ❜
❛ As if I didn’t have enough troubles. ❜
❛ Well of course you’re of noble birth, anyone could see that. ❜
❛ Love is slowing you down, my lady. ❜
❛ It was pleasant enough at first, but it died quickly. ❜
❛ There is nothing of yours that I desire. ❜
❛ There is no movement of yours that has not betrayed you. ❜
❛ I like to watch them. They fill me with joy. ❜
❛ The first time I felt it, I thought I was going to die. ❜
❛ Do you dare still pretend to be human ? ❜
❛ It makes no difference. The end will be the same. I can wait. ❜
❛ Shut up you pretentious kneecap ! ❜
❛ How would you like a punch in the eye ? ❜
❛ It’s so nice to have someone to play with. ❜
❛ Try me tomorrow. Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow. ❜
❛ Give it to me if you don’t want it but don’t throw it away ! ❜
❛ Give me the wine ! ❜
❛ You would have gone without me ? ❜
❛ No name you could give her would surprise or frighten me. ❜
❛ I love whom I love. ❜
❛ I will go no further. ❜
❛ Everything dies. I want to die when you die. ❜
❛ Yes, that is my wish. ❜
❛ I am a hero, and heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. ❜
❛ A quest may not simply be abandoned. ❜
❛ A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story. ❜
❛ What if there isn’t a happy ending at all ? ❜
❛ There are no happy endings, because nothing ends. ❜
❛ Do something ! You have the power ! I will kill you if you don’t do something ! ❜
❛ That’s what heroes are for. ❜
❛ I’ve never had any friends before. ❜
❛ Men don’t always know when they’re happy. ❜
❛ I’m sorry. I have done you evil and I cannot undo it. ❜
❛ No sorrow will live in me as long as that joy. ❜
I didn’t do it.
// like if you’re interested in a pre-established relationship!
(( like for a starter! ))
How much of it depends on the choices that we make?
William Grant (son of Greer Nelson and Hank Pym). Canon divergent Agender mun uses hue/huer pronouns!
WRITER AESTHETICS.
bold what applies to your muse, italicize what relates.
JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets. flowers in the rain. sunlight slipping through clouds. lazy summer afternoons. the heavy scent of musk. flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books. fireflies on a cool summer night. being wrapped in fresh bed sheets. the ache of wanting what you can never have. dripping sunlight like gold. loving someone so exquisite. soft lips and soft whispers. fingers through hair. names of lovers carved in trees. broken glass. the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.
F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. mahogany wood. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars. the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog. empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room. pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness. cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol. a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered. a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day. the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment. your favourite sweater. parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing. the contrast of blood against snow. a purple split lip oozing blood. black eyes fading to blue to pale skin. the butterflies of falling in love for the first time. the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries. the romanticisation of self-destruction.
FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future. decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there. the way not even light can escape a black hole. the rich smell of old books. delicate veins in the wrist. ghosts filling lungs. shattered bones. raindrops on the tongue. rusting metal. nostalgia that aches. the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.
H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave. pouring rain and mud. a child’s fear of the dark. thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never ending ocean. the silence of three a.m. danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house. the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain. unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night. ouija boards and urban legends.
JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain. travels without a destination. those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory. screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive. coffee shops late at night. car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark. naps spent in the sun. novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins. the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders. ignoring flaws and loving life. wind through hair. depression as fog in the brain. impossible ideals. a quiet sunrise. walks alone. when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe. dazzling people. open lands stretching out into infinity. falling in love with being alive.
EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog. hollow bones. a preserved heart held in hands. twinkling stars above an old graveyard. the way everything turns to dust. silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom. self-inflicted flames. perfection depicted as a rotting corpse. death as bricks in the heart. lips barely brushing against each other. glassy glazed eyes. biting into a lemon. heart-shaped bruises. rotting flowers on a grave. dried blood and spilled liquor. the hush of dusk when it begins raining. the intimacy of a secret.
tagged by. no one tagging. whoever wants to do it!
muse’s graffiti in daredevil #598