My Home In Hell

Emri. 24F. She/her. American. 18+ blog, put your age in your bio or I’m taking your fucking kneecaps.

[tchaikovsgay]

my step mom was asking me more questions about the nonbinary thing and after talking to me for a bit, she said "oh, so youre a rosé! not a chardonnay transitioning to a merlot, just your own unique type" which was such a middle aged white woman way to frame it, but i cannot lie gang. it did make me want to cry

[swoopyswish]

i love when random tumblr users find my blog and go through it liking and reblogging everything in a frenzy, it feels like i’ve been cultivating a nice backyard with a lovely birdbath and feeder and i’ve glanced out the window to see a bird going absolutely wild with it

[terrifiedtwinning]

I love getting a hundred notes from one person, like, hello friend thank you for appreciating my collection, enjoy your stay

[homunculus-argument]

The ancient Romans didn't really care that much about distinguishing legends from historical records, a cool story is a cool story regardless of how much truth there is to it. Anyway, this one guy, named Gaius Mucius Cordus, later given the cognomen Scaevola - "left-handed", because ancient Romans weren't all that familiar with steel, and "balls of steel" was not an available option. Anyway the story goes that as a young soldier, he sneaked into an enemy' camp to assassinate their king. The attempt failed and he was captured. Looking death in the eye, he figured that the best course of action would be to survive by sheer audacity.

So he looked the king he just failed to assassinate in the eyes, told him that yeah I came here to kill you, and you can kill me now but you better get just as lucky every single time, because there's like 300 guys beside me who volunteered for this mission. And then he stuck his entire right arm into a pyre that was within reach, standing perfectly still in place while letting his hand burn, solidly keeping eye contact with the Etruscan king the entire time, just as a way of going "this is what I am capable of doing. This is what I can and will do to myself just to flex on you. The fuck do you think you could do that would harm me."

And the king was sufficiently freaked out by this and decided to just go alright, fair enough, you win this one, by all means please do fuck off, seriously just get the fuck out of my camp. So Mucius was freed and allowed to return to Rome, alive and unharmed if one does not count the collateral damage of one sword arm. And the Etruscan king came to the conclusion that whatever the fuck the Romans have going on, he wants nothing to do with that, and sent ambassadors to rome to negotiate peace.

Anyway, that's also vaguely how I feel every time I see a tumblr user whose screen name is something like "autistic-faggot". I'm gay myself and have nothing but respect for people on the spectrum, but if all I know about this person is that this isn't just what they're braced to be called, but what the have specifically chosen to name themselves, and how they prefer to be addressed, you can't tell them shit that would even make them blink.

[thenatsdorf]

Ekekek battle. (via ekekekkekkek)

[sashaforthewin]

The internet is a magical place because imagine how close we all came to never having witnessed this.

[llamagoddessofficial]

We all love Baggs. We all simp for Baggs. One might even say... he has us all in enthralled~?

Thank you @megalommi for this delightful commission of Baggs meeting his Soulmate~

---

He knew as soon as his magic touched your Soul.

... He’d often pondered the nature of Soulmates. It was only natural- he was a man of science, after all, someone who found themselves interacting with Souls as frequently as he did would ask similar questions. Something as statistically rare yet culturally universal and ingrained as Soulmates had fascinated him whenever he was unoccupied enough for it to cross his mind. 

One of the many questions he’d asked himself, was how do soulmates know each other for certain? How can two incredibly complex beings, with different lives and experiences, do little more than touch hands and immediately gain a sense of higher connection? Was there some kind of hormonal or chemical release, some kind of magical frequency resonation, or something else yet unbeknownst to science? He had done his own research, obviously, and had asked those lucky enough to find their intended. Some described it as like waking up. Others, like seeing colour for the first time, or hearing a loved one’s voice calling their name across a crowded room of strangers. Many drew parallels between literary works, but most simply replied that they ‘just knew’.

...

Baggs was hyper-aware of the physical symptoms, as he stared with wide sockets at the human knelt before him. It was like lightning was streaking through his magic system, buzzing in his bones and flaring his eyelights. His Soul was thudding against his ribs like a heartbeat. He couldn’t feel his hands, or tongue, there had been a fleeting sensation of warmth across his whole body akin to standing by a fire- he suspected that was the ‘good feeling’ he was supposed to have, that everyone talked so much about. He suspected that feeling was supposed to carry him away.

... It hadn’t. It had certainly washed away the brief smugness he’d felt, at so easily drawing another poor, lost human under his hypnotic thrall once again. He’d been proud of himself, his magic subjugating you instantly despite your obvious discomfort in his presence. 

He had been allowed that split second of first-sight love. But now, all he felt was cold dread. 

... this is my soulmate. He became more and more certain, the longer he looked into your glazed eyes, his own magic shimmering in them softly. His confidence was melting. my soulmate is a human. of course it’s a human. the universe is playing a cruel trick on me.

No wonder ensnaring you had been so easy. No wonder your Soul had all but fallen into his magic. His mind was racing; your Soul recognised him, just like he’d recognised you. Despite your physical discomfort, instinctively, you trusted the monster destined to be your partner. Wasn't there something tragic about that?

did you feel it too? did you feel the pull? His teeth parted, a breath escaping him. You stared back, blank and hapless. would you know, the way a monster would know? would you know him? would you... would you want...?

...

Baggs closed his sockets, and his mouth. 

no- that was enough of that. He hated being unable to control his thoughts and feelings, and he despised being slave to them; right now he was both. The distaste brought him reeling back to earth. Now was not the time to be floundering, standing out in the open like an amateur, with his metaphorical heart bleeding at the mere sight of a Soulmate. He felt flickers of anger, at being shaken so deeply... you’re a scientist, fool. control yourself. this is just another hurdle to surmount- another problem to solve.

He was anything if not a master of himself. Baggs drew his thoughts inward... he took a breath. He stilled his mind.

...

When his sockets opened, his Soul no longer pounded his ribs. His smile was back, he let his shoulders ease. His confidence returned.

much better.

“There we go.” He purred, putting his hands behind his back. “Good girl. My apologies for that little... wobble. Forget what I said- there’s been a change of plan. Why don’t you come with me? We have so much to discuss.”

There was something he found rather amusing about asking questions to a human under his control. As if they had any say in the matter. You made a sound in the back of your throat, it barely resembled one of affirmation- but he appreciated how cute the effort was. He let himself truly grin again.

... Intent on retaining his control over himself, he refused to think too deeply about how comfortable your Soul felt surrounded by his magic. Like it was always meant to be his.

"On your feet, human. I have an idea."

///---///

You woke up dazed, looking up at a white ceiling. You... definitely weren’t in your own bed. 

Stuffy head, heavy limbs, you felt tired. Unusually so. You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the tiredness- usually, waking up in a new place would shortly be followed by the necessary memories to make sense of your current location. Were you on holiday? At a friend’s place? Stopping off somewhere, did you fall asleep on the couch? But you couldn’t remember how you got here. No matter how long you waited, staring at the ceiling, no memories came.

You sat up, slowly, and worked on gathering yourself out of your tiredness as you looked around the room. It resembled a lab room, with spotless white tile floors, a chair pulled up by your bed, and some kind of complex-looking machine set against the wall. Your bed was actually pretty nice- a big mattress, white pillows that were large and fluffed, a heavy blanket that sported a sweet pink colour decorated with blue pinstripes. You were in a comfortable, light cotton gown... the room had a blue potted plant on a shelf, and was a pleasant temperature.

...

You were still confused. Still no memories. Where were you?

Magenta  

you’re in hospital.

... You didn’t ‘flinch’, but you did twinge, eyes slightly narrowing. You put a hand to your head. Yes, of course, you were in hospital... of course. You knew that. 

But... why did you know? It was like someone had just... planted that information inside your memory. Like a pretty seed, happy in its home, but surrounded by disturbed earth.

you’re safe here. you like it here.

...

You pulled back the covers, despite how warm the bed was, stepping out. Your feet were bare. Huh, the floor was warm too- underfloor heating?

You didn’t stop to look at the room for long. You’d already noticed that the complicated machine in the corner was covered in a thin film of dust; no one had used it in a long time. Instead, you moved over to the door. It opened automatically, almost making you jump, sliding sideways out of your way instantly and disappearing into the wall. 

Underfloor heating? Automatic doors? This is one hell of a hospital.

... You poked your head out of your room, curiously. The hallway was small, with similar featureless automatic doors on either end, empty and quiet. It looked just like your room, but a little brighter, cute medical posters on the walls and more delicate blue potted plants sat neatly on shelf edges. It all seemed... brand new. 

You felt like you were waking up more, now. The tiredness was lifting like a spell, and your head was finally starting to ask relevant questions. Where is this hospital? How did I get here? Why is it so high-tech? Where is everyone? 

You crossed the hallway, moving over to one of the far doors. The floor was spotless, smooth underfoot. The door didn’t open when you approached. You weren’t even entirely sure what you were doing, you just felt like you needed to find someone and get an explanation as to where you even were.

you’re in hospital.

Yes, I know that. You told yourself, like you were lecturing a child, disregarding the sudden thought again. You made your way across the hall to try the other door.

... Before you could get there, it opened on its own.

... There was a skeleton standing in the doorway. He had a smooth skull, perfect teeth, and deep dark eyesockets, little pinpricks of light floating in them like irises. One white, one purple. He had soft features, you didn’t expect that on a skeleton, but there was a.... roundness to him, that you liked. He was dressed in a neat white lab coat, decorated with classy magenta trim, smart black rubber gloves covering his hands. He looked like a particularly fashionable mad scientist.

He seemed surprised, for a second, face half shadowed by the doorway. But only a second. The room behind him did not look like the rest of the hospital wing- it was darker, greener. But you didn’t have time to look for long... his face melted into a smile, and he stepped through, the door closing behind him.

...

You had a bad feeling, all of a sudden. A strong bad feeling that smothered your initial pleasant thoughts about this cute, round skeleton. You stumbled back a step. Your mind was telling you, loudly, you did not want to be alone in a room with this man.

... Though he wasn’t intimidating in stature or shape, something about him deeply unnerved you. Perhaps it was the tiny specks of light in otherwise dark, dark sockets, like little remnants of a real person lost in a void. Perhaps it was the long shadows under said sockets, the signs of someone who had pushed his mind (and body) to its limits. Perhaps it was his unmoving white grin, creepily plastered to his face, or the too-relaxed way that he held himself.

His purple eyelight glimmered like a gemstone. Suddenly, your feet were rooted to the spot.

“... Oh... hello, my dear.” He said, voice silky, approaching you calmly. He spoke in a saccharine, almost patronising tone, all but pouting his lips and babytalking you. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. But you know... It’s important you stay in bed.”

Your hair stood on end as he drew nearer. My dear? “Who are you?”

He cocked his head, slightly, at your question. But he kept smiling, stepping into your personal space bubble.

“Doctor Baggs.” He said, easily, a hand settling on the small of your back. You still couldn’t move. “Come, now... back to your room.”

... He tapped his gloved finger against your back. Clearly, in a steady rhythm, you could hear the rubber against the fabric of your gown- he tapped three times. 

One. Two. Three.

... 

... The nervousness about his presence melted, like frost in the sun. The sharp edges of worry in your thoughts dulled- you made a little humming sound, tired again, heaviness returning to your eyelids. 

“Good human.”

You didn’t resist, or even protest, when he started walking you.

“... I know I’m in hospital. But where am I?” You asked, dumbly, looking at him. “Am I dead?”

A soft chuckle. He suddenly looked so friendly, so soft and harmless. He was even a little bit handsome. What had you been afraid of?

“No, my dear. This is a special hospital, in the Underground.” His eyelight was pretty, you were focused on it rather than your room’s door opening. “You know what the underground is, don’t you?”

“... Oh.” Yes, you knew that, your gaze wandered off. The Underground, where the Monsters lived. More information that was just in your head, like it had been there the whole time. “Yeah.”

“You had a nasty fall.” His hand stayed on the small of your back as he moved you toward your bed. He was all but cooing. “You’re being treated, aren’t you?”

“... For a concussion.” The words came out of your mouth before you’d even thought them. You sat down on the bed obediently, it was very comfy.

“That’s why it’s hard to think.” He put a hand on your knee, his voice took on a silky quality. “You find it very hard to think, right now, don’t you? You find it hard to make sense of the world around you. But that’s alright, because you know it is caused by your concussion. Concussions make it hard to think. You trust your doctor.”

You looked at him again. “... Are you my doctor?”

“Yes.” He purred. “So it’s important you listen to me, darling. Only me.”

You were laying back. When did you do that? That same white ceiling above you. You felt dizzy... sleepy... head stuffed with cotton. It was important you listened to him... hopefully you weren’t so tired you forgot his instructions.

“It’s alright, my dear.” Baggs said. “I'm already inside your head.”

Your eyes closed. But you could still see magenta.

it’s okay. no need to leave.

you’re just in hospital.

///---///

...

... This wasn’t fair.

Baggs glared at your reclined form, as your eyelids fluttered, like you were personally responsible for this injustice. 

well... in a way, you were.

At the very least, he comforted himself with the knowledge that this was very interesting. The way you responded to his magic was strange, unique, and fascinating to observe. Your Soul seemed to know his touch, welcoming him like an old friend- and though that made you dreadfully easy to hypnotise, it also made you incredibly aware of when he was interfering with your head, in a way he’d never seen in any subject before. You found his implanted memories like a bloodhound picking up a scent, his triggers like lone clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky. He couldn’t deny a certain level of abject fascination.

... But the fact you were interesting didn’t make up for the rest of it.

His perfect teeth gritted. He had dedicated his life to freeing monsterkind from their prison, to achieve his brother’s happiness. Why did the universe insist on throwing a wrench in his machine now, when it was already far too complex to stop? He had sacrificed so much for others, even the very core of his being. Had he not done enough to deserve a break?

He’d been so sure before. He still understood his overwhelming responsibility... the future of an entire race, resting on his shoulders. And the part of him that had driven him to make the ultimate sacrifice told him he couldn’t just stop now- that part of him knew he was too deep to turn back. It was the part of him that wanted to continue his mission, to save his people; it was tragic that he couldn’t have his Soulmate, yes. But it wouldn’t be the first part of himself he had given up. His whirring, scientific mind wanted him to find a way to sever this inconvenient bond... if anything, scientifically, this was a fantastic research opportunity, he had the chance to examine a real Soul bond in ways that no one ever had before. And since it was his bond, he could do what he wanted with it. He didn’t have to fear moronic questions like ‘why?’ or ‘is this ethical?’. 

what kind of stress could a bond resist? was there a reliable way of cutting off the connection? 

He felt his eyelights sharpen, hand balling into a fist. Yes- he could cut the bond. Rid you both of this troublesome link. Then, he’d have no qualms about doing what he needed to do, for the good of his kind.

He had a greater purpose than... playing house with a human.

...

but you want that, don’t you? you want to live in peace.

His breath quivered. It was getting more and more difficult to still his mind.

you’ve always wanted that.

... Part of him wanted to be rid of you. But oh... much, much more of him wanted to have you. He wanted you, he wanted this. You were his one in a billion, he knew logically that this feeling was just the pull of his Soul, but his Soul constituted his being, didn’t it? He wanted to care for you forever. He wanted you to meet General, and then he could look after you both. Even now, keeping you in a pretty little cut off wing of the lab, he felt a deep instinctual pleasure from ensuring you were warm and safe somewhere nice. 

Once he cut your connection, there was no going back. 

He swallowed. What... what if... he just let himself have this? 

... What if, just this once, he allowed himself to put his own happiness above that of others?

... 

...His chest hurt. He lifted up his hand, and drew your Soul out of your chest with precision that only a scientist could have. You didn’t even shift. The glowing object appeared with the gentlest of shivers, hovering suspended above you... his glove was off before he could think, he was aching to feel its glow against his bones. 

He cupped it, carefully. Like one would cup an injured bird.

... Would it really hurt anyone, to give himself this small selfishness?

...

You Soul hummed, content. Souls were never this happy to see him. Any of the ‘warm’ Souls (particularly red) would fizz and shake ineffectually, even when under his complete control, a match still trying to produce a flame even when held in a bucket of water. The cooler colours, like cyan and green, tended to immediately shrink back from him in terror. Though all Souls would do that, in the end.

...

... Your Soul... it was all but purring. Settling easily into his hands, a kitten curling up. It felt warm, and happy, it liked being close to him. He found himself sinking onto his elbows... staring at the little glowing heart in his claws, his face in a contemplative frown, eye bags seeming deeper and heavier despite your Soul’s light casting on his face.

nobody would know, either way. if i cut the connection, or kept you for my own... nobody would know.

...

He allowed your Soul to return to your chest, after that small indulgence. His expression was still.

...

A hand on his.

He startled- when he looked down at you, your eyes were open, expression dazed but still soft. Not a hint of magenta. For a moment, he was caught off guard, pulled out of his reverie and not knowing what to do; he hadn’t told you to wake up. He hadn’t told you to do any of this.

“... You should... sleep.” You mumbled. Your eyes were so gentle. Your hand came up... a finger brushed across his cheekbone, then traced the darkness under his sockets. He was completely frozen. “... You look tired. I could...”

...

He suspected you were going to offer to help. Though there wasn’t much you could do, in your state. Your fingers continued to brush his face, warm and slow, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

His breathing hitched. you wanted to care for him. even now, when he had you under his thumb, you wanted to help him.

...

... He put his ungloved hand over yours. If only you knew he was beyond help.

“... I’ll sleep later, darling.” He said, warmly. “After you.”

“Mm... ok.” You hummed. You seemed mollified by that. Your eyelids fluttered shut... without his influence, you happily went to sleep. 

...

He placed your hand back down by your side. Once he was certain you were completely unconscious, he ran his hands across his skull, letting his head droop.

It was the first time in a long time that he truly didn’t know what to do.

[friendly-evil-deactivated202506]

[lover-of-skellies]

Cross: I hate how they market Alexa as "a member of the family." That's so blatantly insidious and terrifying

Cross: If I wanted an untrustworthy, cold, and emotionless machine in my life, I'd just talk to my father

[flowerscentedartist]

Dust: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Nightmare: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Dust: I—

Dust: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

[inimoose]

May or may not color idk

[dastardlydandelion]

[hippeasantwitch]

Good evening

[mirandakat]

Thomasin, from The Witch

[extreme-rattling]

[points at the character I haven't shut up about for nearly eight years] DID YOU KNOW I LOVE THAT GUY?? I LOVE THAT GUY. I LOVE HIM. I LOVE HIM. [incoherent screeching]

[fruitpilled-peachcel]

where's that photo of that shepherd dog being comforted by one of the sheep he guards after saving them from a wolf attack

[fruitpilled-peachcel]

love and gratefulness and kindness on planet earth

[jodielandons]

Remember The Blind Side starring Sandra Bullock? The movie showed how a kid who had an extremely rough upbringing got help from the family of a school friend, found success in football and ultimately ended up being adopted by the family. Turns out he was never adopted.

Michael Oher says that he was tricked by the Tuohy family into signing documents that made them his conservators. Since he was already 18 at the time the family told him, “that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took [his] age into account.”

Oher also says that papers were signed so that his story and likeness were given away for free to use in The Blind Side. He also never got a single royalty check for the hugely successful, Oscar nominated film in the 14 years since its release.

'Blind Side' subject Oher alleges adoption was lie

In a 14-page court petition, the former NFL star alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy never adopted him, instead tricking him into signing

[patrochilles-or-bust]

It just continues to baffle me that they essentially purchased a young Black man's life to make football money off of, like buying a racing horse, except a person. Like, I don't know how else to say it. And then made everyone think it was something wonderful they did to "save" an "impoverished, Black boy", and he's been saying it for years to no avail that they took advantage of him!

[iridessence]

It makes perfect sense when you learn how white people have used the black body to their advantage for centuries. This story and film hasn’t sat right with me almost since it came out so I’m not surprised, but I am deeply saddened for Oher's experience of being taken advantage of.

[kawaiimunism]

The article gets into this, but the movie's also super fucking gross in how it portrays Oher and his life.

For one thing, it chose to portray him as a slow kid who got into the private high school he graduated from because the Tuohys showed the football coach how, uh, big and athletic he was. In reality, he was a smart kid who impressed the principal of the school by demonstrating academic focus despite his chaotic home life. This change is so straightforwardly racist that I don't even feel the need to elaborate on it.

The movie also decided to make the Tuohys the ones who introduce Oher to football, even though in reality he already knew how to play and was already excelling in the high school's team before ever meeting the Tuohys. This change is honestly fucking bizarre. It's like the Tuohys felt like their white savior fantasy wouldn't be complete unless it was literally complete, totalizing, with themselves directly responsible for every aspect of Oher's success.

Anyway, Oher's taking the Tuohys to court; here's hoping he can finally get what's his. He also has a book out.

[amatalefay]

“Hi, I’m auditioning for Macbeth and I’ll be singing “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King’.”

[amatalefay]

oh my god what happened here

this is an 8-year-old post why is it getting notes again

YOU

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

eheheheheheeheheheheheh

[dayquil-driver]

so embarrassing when i forget im checking someone's blog and i start scrolling through and liking and reblogging shit as if it's just my dash. it feels like wandering into someone else's apartment and not noticing and making myself lunch

[dayquil-driver]

reblog if i can wander into your apartment (blog) and make myself lunch (like and reblog as if it's my dash)