PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
macklin celebrini has autism
Claire Keane
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
tumblr dot com
No title available
🪼
todays bird
we're not kids anymore.
Jules of Nature
No title available
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Not today Justin
cherry valley forever
pixel skylines
ojovivo
izzy's playlists!
No title available
occasionally subtle
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Iceland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
@saidthecaterpillar
《 welcome to saidthecaterpillar, an indie/oc wonderland rp blog 》 《 deamt by Haunt, 33, he/they cst 》 《 21+ only, mature themes 》 《 would you like to continue dreaming? 》 《 active blog roll- @wanderinghaunted 》 《 inactive blog roll can be found here 》
Aeschylus, The Oresteia / Anne Carson, H of H Playbook / Hadestown, Road to Hell (Reprise) / John Darnielle, Wolf in White Van / Richard Siken, The Worm King’s Lullaby
Jake Gyllenhaal as Detective Loki in Prisoners
Sick Starter Sentences...
“You’re so pale…”
“You’re sick, admit it!”
“I think you should sit down.”
“Bathroom, now.”
“You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“You’ve got a fever!”
“Why are your hands so sweaty?”
“Are you shivering?”
“Hey, I got you…”
“We have to sweat the fever out of you.”
“You have to eat something.”
“I made you some chicken soup.”
“You’re gonna crash.”
“Cover your mouth when you cough!”
“Have you slept at all lately?”
“Hey, Rudolph.”
“Did you just cough– blood?”
“I think we should take you to see a doctor.”
“Can you at least vomit with the door closed?”
“Here, take your medicine.”
“Is there anything I can get from you.”
“Let me take care of you.”
“You can barely stand!”
“Go home and get some rest.”
“How long have you been sick?”
( @saidthecaterpillar )
[she falls silent as the doors open, switching her brain from fight to observe as she takes in the space around her. It’s more modern than she had anticipated, brightly light and liminal, like a casino extending over and over again. And this opinion only strengthens its resolve as he opens her door-a gaudy gauche room that would make even her husband cringe at the sight of it. The couch is comfortable, she decides, even as the fabric stings the back of her legs as he shoves her onto it.]
[every move he makes now she scrutinizes, her gaze sharp and focused as he removes something from his pocket and sets it aside. Anthea thinks it must be important, why else would he care to pull it out of his pocket? She blinks back the headache and buzz the reverbs through her, shock is definitely wearing off, and all her bruises start pulsating at once. She thinks about trying to grab that orb, see what it does, but she’s met with him, face to face for the first time.]
[ he is much younger than she expected, even through all the blood. Every now and then he blinks, not rhythmic like to be expected but something else, and it’s not helping the blood that drips from the wound she gave him on his forehead. She catalogs all parts of him with her unblinking gaze, committing him to memory like she’s afraid he’ll disappear from her if she looks away. Why? Why is she suddenly afraid he’ll disappear? It’s strange, the way she feels now, like he’s comforting to her, really there to help with his soft tones and warming features. It’s a game, surely, she hasn’t had to play mind games like this in a while and it’s hard to tear her eyes away from him-even harder to hide the pain that’s building up in her arms. It won’t be long until that shoulder tears beyond basic repair. She shivers.]
‘Let me guess…’
[she sing songs, leaning towards him as she speaks, straining on her cuffs]
‘-you’re actually not that bad of a guy, and all the rest of your castle is way worse than you. You didn’t mean to hurt me like this, it’s not who you are. You aren’t culpable, not you, I must believe that, huh? Reassure me to trust you? even though you came into my home and kidnapped me. But you wouldn’t if you didn’t have to, right? Bullshit-‘
[she keeps her eyes on his, unwavering in their cold stare. He doesn’t have to look far back in them to see fear, though, even if she is doing everything to hide that. The swelling on her eye makes him blurry, she can’t tell where he’s looking.]
‘The thing is, I think you’re kind of the worst she’s got? You’re probably the top dog in her cabal, everyone takes orders from you because your orders come from her. You can’t threaten me with the rest of them because they are all lesser to you, scared of you. She wouldn’t have sent anyone less than her best red right hand for me.’
[She holds that gaze extra-long and then, just when it feels like she’s going to be stubborn, defiant, Anthea relinquishes, turning her face away and down, showing him her fucked up shoulder. His to fix. Why is she letting him touch her again? Trusting him to fix it? The question jumps towards the top of her mind.]
( @notyouraveragesecretary )
[ she's done this sort of thing before. had to play mind games, survive situations that would drive most people crazy. the thought hits cold, twisting sharp in his chest- not pity, but... what? he can't afford to analyze it now. he shoves it down with the rest of the strange feelings he's been ignoring for the past few hours- forces himself to compartmentalize. he matches her gaze, cold, steady, except for his habitual blink. he's not playing any games with her. ]
" --- you're right. i am the worst she's got. i was prepared to do whatever it took to subdue you. like you said, i'm her red right hand. i'm not going to lie to you, Anthea, you shouldn't trust me. or anyone in this castle. but that doesn't mean you need to be afraid of me. i'm not here to hurt you for fun. i had to get you, and i got you. that part of the job is done. i'm not going to hurt you anymore."
[ she probably won't believe him, but he means it. he keeps his voice low, knowing the electric eyes on them won't pick it up. just her. what he said is contradictory, maybe, but somehow, something has changed in the short time between him stealing her away from her castle and now, with the two of them alone and face to face. he doesn't want her to be afraid of him. he doesn't want her hurt. that scares him. makes him wonder, and not for the first time, if the Carpenter's device isn't blocking all of her magick. this could be some sort of spell, this pull, this softening toward her. but there's an unignorable whisper in the back of his mind that this is something else. not a spell. not on purpose. ]
[ just when he thinks she's about to bite back she surprises him. she relinquishes. offers her shoulder up without any fight at all. is it a play? maybe. she's still got teeth. he decides to take his chances, unclipping the keys to her cuffs from his belt. ]
" --- don't try anything, please. just let me help you." [ it'll hurt. but he figures she already knows that. once the cuffs are off, he takes her arm, feeling the awkward hang of it, positioning it just so. there will be no dramatic pop, not if he does it correctly. the joint gives a quiet, solid thunk, bone settling back into socket. he cuffs her hands in front of her this time- a risk, but to put her arms behind her would make the swelling worse, delay healing. he's not trying to torture her. ]
" --- Walrus, you copy?" [ he keeps his eyes on her, his hand over hers in her lap as he waits for his second-in-command to reply. he tells him to bring ice packs, and a couple healing potions. ]
" --- and tell the Carpenter to bring a sling. her shoulder was out."
" --- so? fuck her, this ain't no hospital." [ he closes his eyes for just a moment, jaw flexing in annoyance at the mere tone of Rafael's voice in his earpiece. ]
" --- just do as you're told. and hurry the fuck up." [ he takes his hand from hers to wipe blood from his face with his sleeve. he stands, puts some distance between them. his hands settle on his hips, glancing at her sidelong. ]
" --- once the Carpenter is done with you, i'll take the cuffs off and you can rest." [ he doesn't bring up the fact she'll be collared and chained to the wall. he's trying his best to keep the situation as calm as possible. ]
( @violeteyedkiller )
" --- you smell like a scream. it's very... high-pitched." [ and no, he doesn't mean ice-cream, though it could have been misheard as such. this guy, he smells like wordless noise. the old Cheshire doesn't quite know what to make of it. ]
" --- and your shadow is a lie... takes one to know one. but i like your eyes." [ they're such an intriguing shade- violet. if they're contact lenses, they're very realistic. ]
" --- can you help me? i'm looking for something- a place. a bar. Lender. do you know it?"
( starter call! )
I AM SIMPLY HERE FOR WHAT IS M I N E.
[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver. ( for Hattz! Mylo sometimes gets glowy-eyed and furniture/objects levitate )
( @xnecromantia )
[ it's hard to say what woke him- he hardly remembers falling asleep to begin with. he's still got the inventory book in his hands. must not have been asleep very long. maybe he was dreaming? maybe it was the boys. Dormy and Cade are downstairs, he can hear the video game gunfire drifting up over the muffled beat of the music they're listening to. only Mylo is upstairs with him, and he went to bed hours ago. he must've been dreaming. ]
[ but wait, no- there again- what is that, footsteps? slow, unsteady- but certainly footsteps. he shuts the inventory catalog with a soft snap, sets it down on his bed as he sits up. for a moment he just sits there, listening. who would be creeping around like that? a groan as he lurches off the bed- it warrants investigating, even if it is just one of the guys. they were all pretty wasted when he left them. he doesn't need anyone falling down the stairs and breaking their necks. he pauses just before reaching for the doorhandle, goes back to his bed to grab the pistol from under his pillow- just in case it ends up being someone who isn't supposed to be there. stranger things have happened. ]
[ it's still dark. he hadn't thought to look at a clock, and he's left his phone on his bed. must be late- or early, depending on how you look at it. ]
" --- Dorms? s'tha' you? quit fuckin' aroun', i'm tryin'a work." [ no answer. the other end of the hall is shrouded in black- there's no window to let in what little moonlight there might be. besides that, it's raining- wouldn't be much moonlight anyhow. a distant crack of thunder startles him a bit- is that what woke him? had he imagined the footsteps? that's when he notices the vase- floating. and the clock that was next to it. he blinks. he might've been high when he went to his room, but he wasn't that high. he inches closer, pokes at the vase with the gun in his hand. it floats gently towards the wall. what in the Queen's stale tarts is going on? ]
" --- Mylo?" [ he steps carefully down the hall, toward the room the Wytch is sleeping in- he can hear movement inside. he raps quietly on the door with a knuckle before gently pushing it open- he keeps the gun in hand, just in case. ]
" --- Mylo, y'good?" [ again, no answer. he nudges the door further open with his foot, pistol aimed should it be an intruder- but there's only Mylo. he's out of bed, standing eerily in the middle of the room. ]
" --- Mylo, wha'..." [ all the knick-knacks in the room are floating. the side tables, the pillows- even the bed is hovering. he lowers the gun, bewildered. ]
" --- wha' are y'doin'? why's everythin'-" [ oh, shit. now that he's closer he can see that Mylo's eyes are glowing- that can't be good. doubled with the fact that Mylo isn't responding to him. hardly even seems to notice he's in the room. he tucks the gun into his belt, raises his hands to where Mylo can see them- ]
" --- oi, can y' 'ear me? Mylo, it's alrigh'- it's Hattz. you're safe, okay?"
[ he's sleepwalking. he must be. shit, what's he supposed to do? he can't remember which is worse, to wake a sleepwalker or let them just wander- lightning flashes outside, lighting the Wytch and all the floating objects in the room for one ghastly, too-bright moment. then the thunder follows. Hatter's frozen in place, just staring- ]
" --- Mylo, c'mon. wake up. jus' wake up, amicus, please." [ his voice is a whisper, anxiety mounting- he doesn't know what to do. ]
“My future, a shimmering threat. How fast I knifed open a realm and it angled into me.”
— Hanae Jonas, “Ritual for a Door,” published in Dreginald (via bostonpoetryslam)
@saidthecaterpillar continued from x
[He gives her no glances, even as she stares holes into the side of his face. Hoping to read what they might say. He does not see that she is on verge of tears, but that is for the best she thinks. It’s hard to not make the words sound like a plea, begging. The desperation colors her tone a dark blue, achingly inked, bleeding out into the shadows that dance around them. ]
‘I cannot fix…us. I cannot fix our kind. We have tried and tried and tried, but nothing. And I have ruined you by giving you this hope, but I came here broken, and I fear-‘
[Her breath catches its own shake, and she stabilizes it before anything more gives her away. ]
‘Will you resent me, if I cannot give us that hope? Your hope for a new world with our kind? I fear that you…will come to reject me now. I don’t-‘
[It’s here her voice finally cracks, and the vulnerability spills forth. She knows he will hear her like this, the timer on their conversation having set and clicked on. ]
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m broken and I don’t think there is anything in any realm that can fix me. I’m sorry I could not save you. Save us.’
( @notyouraveragesecretary )
" --- resent you? because you can't give me babies?" [ he says it as though it were the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard- but he doesn't mean to mock her. her voice cracks, resounds through him. he looks at her now, crimson eyes soft, softer than his voice had been. ]
" --- maybe we're not supposed to be saved. what lasts forever?" [ his voice is gentler now. it isn't- never was- her job to keep their kind from going extinct, he thinks. David figured out a way to manufacture Cheshire clones, didn't he? odd mixes of his and Elijah's DNA, possibly hers now too, for all he knows. and there's Ondine, her own daughter, a half-breed herself. maybe that's as close to saved as their kind are supposed to be. ]
" --- you're not responsible for what happens to us- to our kind. there's a reason you're here. but that's not it." [ there's a reason she was smuggled out as a baby herself, a reason she was chased back- but to save an entire species? that's not in the cards. not as far as he's concerned. he reaches for her, pulls her down into the grass, into the flowers, into the darkness of dusk settling around them. ]
" --- you haven't ruined me, Anthea. not in the way you mean. you haven't ruined anything." [ and hope isn't a concept he tends to dwell on. things are never black and white- especially not in Wonderland. he wishes he could pluck her despair from her, bottle it up like the Wonders that Hatter sells- only this, he would bury. ]
" --- just breathe with me." [ here, with his arms around her, he can almost pretend they're the only two creatures in the world. last of their kind or not, at least they have each other. ]
