Monterey Bay Aquarium
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hello vonnie
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Doug Jones
Interview Vampire Daily
RMH
Xuebing Du
The Stonewall Inn
noise dept.
Andulka
Product Placement
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TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Keni
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EXPECTATIONS
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Mike Driver
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@sehrpens-blog
noo don't be presumed dead for most of the game then come back with a vengeance and burn to death in the incinerator your so sexy aha
noo don’t kidnap my sister and i and force us to take part in your twisted party game to bring your little sister back from morphogenetic limbo and then fall into obscurity as soon as the writer has no narrative use for you your so sexy aha
truthsgone
snake die challenge ?
u first?
aoi delete challenge ?
“This is a tomb for the both of us.”
It had happened so fast. He knew this timeline was doomed the moment Junpei stubbornly chose door three; he knew never to let his guard down – especially around Ace of all people – and yet…
They had just been talking when the cold steel of a knife pierced him, so suddenly he’d hardly felt it. When the split second of shock drained from his body, he felt only pain. It spread from the knife like lightning; the blood that had begun to blossom stained what was once a pure white shirt. Just his luck, huh? He’d fallen unconscious almost immediately, awake only long enough to hear a shriek echo – Clover? It must have been. Either it was due to the sight of another being stabbed, or perhaps she herself had been skewered. Regardless, in that timeless moment, he hadn’t a single doubt he would die.
Then he woke up.
It was nigh impossible to stand through the hot pain coursing through him, but he somehow managed it. One hand was used to push himself from the ground, the other tightly clutching the harsh wound. He got lucky, if you could call it that – considering he still drew breath. Perhaps the quick (though late) step backwards as he’d felt the blade meet his flesh saved him from being hit anywhere too serious. With a great effort, Aoi managed to drag himself up the stairs, hardly even glancing at the body before him – he knew she was dead. Her bracelet was sitting on the floor, amidst a pool of scarlet. That was more than enough proof. And he had one other thing to worry about; there was still the matter of those still breathing. (a part of him now wished that they had installed that giant screen that listed those who had fallen, an idea his sister shot down due to the fact that hunger games already did that.)
Ace was probably making his escape at this point – futile as it was. That reflection was little comfort to him now, however; while mayhap he would end in a fiery fate, that bastard still managed to knife him, and kill another. And it was doubtless he would ‘ deal with ’ anyone else along the way, should the opportunity arise. Which, he mused, would probably happen, with our kinda luck. At any rate… there was one other person, one safe from death’s grasp. For now. He had to move quick – and in his condition, that was no easy task.
Minutes seemed to drag into eternity, his ragged breathing now echoing in the empty halls. Snake had surely awoken from his slumber at this point… there was no time to waste. It’s funny. He knew there was no point; Clover was dead, Aoi himself would soon join her, there was no reason to release Snake from his confines. He’d only suffer more. Still… his movements were almost automatic, as though he was drawn towards that final room through some outward force. Like he had to save Snake – perhaps it was an impossible desire that if he could only do this much it would somehow cleanse some of the blood upon his hands. Heh. Who knows… maybe this is even more cruel than leaving him be. He was left with these morbid thoughts as he awaited the elevator, and descended to reach his destination. Finally.
As he neared the coffin set atop the altar, he could begin to hear the thump thump thump emanating from it – Good. He’s still alive. Once-deft fingers slowly found the appropriate numbers, and the lock disengaged. He used what little strength he’d left to push the lid off, and deathly pale hands emerged to aid.
Then Snake sat up. Disheveled may be too soft a word to describe his appearance, though Aoi couldn’t look much better at this point. Words of thanks barely registered to him, as the adrenaline keeping him standing thus far wore off, and he leaned against the now-open coffin. He was plagued with coughing, his limbs felt far too heavy to move, and he was wearing his blood like a perfume. He wasn’t feeling great.
❛ ugh… sorry, snake. this is… the best i could do. ❜
He caught some of his response, though his waning hearing was not to be relied upon. Ah… Santa, I take it? Where are the others? … Something terrible happened. A tired smile reached Aoi’s mouth. Just for a moment – just as he reflected on the events, and as he thought about the position he was in… he probably deserved this, huh? After all this, setting up this game, indirectly killing so many people in so many different timelines… he’s cursed watch it fail. He’s cursed to die. It was almost funny, the irony of it all.
A moment passed, and he realized he’d still not said anything.
❛ hah. yeah. about… that. i don’t have… the time to explain it all, but… ❜
– a pause. He was fading fast, too fast. If only… there was much he wished to tell him, so much he wanted to explain and apologize for. Too much for him now, being so close to the reaper’s grasp. He sighed.
❛ i don’t know… about the others, but clover… ace got us both. he probably came through here already… ❜
Clover is…
❛ … yeah. i’m… sorry. sorry for everything. ❜
They sat in silence for a time, a weight nearly visible laid upon the both of them. A suffocating, immense weight that was brought with this truth. It was Aoi’s fault – his and Akane’s. He knew this; he knew he could have prevented this, could have stopped the whole game and with it all the death that it would come to sow. But even in this awful situation, in which he sat dying in front of a former friend, he was still glad. That he was given the chance to see him again, even like this… it alleviated some of the bitter regret.
Snake broke the silence. This will be a tomb for the both of us.
❛ heh… you’re one cryptic bastard, y’know that? but… you aren’t wrong. ❜
He shook his head, eyes closing. The darkness had begun to envelope his sight, and he felt so tired… A moment’s rest surely would not hurt. It might be he would not wake from, though he’d lost too much blood to find any energy to care. Intense emotion left him as did the pain, leaving naught but cold emptiness in its wake. His time was up.
❛ guess this is it. i wish… i could tell you more, that we could have… ❜
that we could’ve met again in a different time, a different place… the words wither on his lips. There wasn’t time, he wouldn’t be able to meet him again. Mayhap, in another life. But the grand was descending on his soul’s stage – the show was over. A performance of which none would live to remember, nor would they the cast. He was fine with being forgotten. Yes… at the end of everything, he was simply happy he wasn’t alone in his final moments.
His last breath left his lips, and with it a whisper, barely audible.
❛ goodbye… light. ❜
why do you make it so hard for me to love you ,
❝ WELL, PEOPLE ARE known to grow apprehensive the presence of great intellect. ❞
heeeeeeeey u single y/n ????
going through door 5 is always like
truthsgone·:
❛ shat the fuuck up you hypocritical piece of ass. ❜
❝ HOW ON EARTH did you manage to say any of that aloud? ❞
❝ 'DAILY MEMES’ ARE a touch anachronistic, now, aren’t they? ------ One would assume it would behoove us to relinquish such primitive clades of humour, would it not...? ❞
❝ No one knows what you believe. ❞
❝ IN A GAME of cards, it is disadvantageous should your opponent know your hand; in chess, you benefit from employing unforeseeable stratagems. ❞ Something of a self-satisfied smile sits on his face, then; he offers an upturned palm. ❝ This is a similar predicament, isn't it? Say our fellow detainees were all privy to the plans and thoughts of one another: that would be the ideal situation; however, it is seemingly impossible, and vying for it would operate on a rather naive and trusting echelon. Take the Ninth Man, for instance, ❞ his visage had a slightly more austere hue to it when the name was dropped; smugness falters for a moment, but only so.
❝ He benefited from our ignorance, and preyed upon our unsuspecting nature: how can we be certain no one else will seize the opportunity to utilise a similar tactic? The answer is: we cannot. Divulging what I believe would be inherently restraining. I suspect you maintain a similar principle. ❞
hey aoi whats a "meme"
see, this is a difficult question. a meme is more of a noun or adjective than a verb. it’s something that speaks to you on a very deep and emotional level; something you personally identify with and/or care for. you may use it to describe, say, your sister, for example. or perhaps the poetry or music you write.
as your friend, light, i myself might call you a meme.
I like being alone and I am alone, but I don’t want to feel alone.
occlumans (via wnq-writers)
‵ ♠. ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛ: ⁰³ ❞
His words rang with a certain softness to them, tinged with a melancholic nostalgia. Though the past was never very bright, surely ‘twas better than kitchen knives reminding him of the death of friends.
However they did not have the intended effect ( comforting, perhaps, in wake of all the blood spilled ); they only wrought a guilt so great his breathing halted. Grief was water surrounding him and filling his lungs, and he was drowning. A thousand words were left unsaid, many the same ( it should have been me my fault my fault my fault i’m sorry so sorry … ) It was his fault! He let both Clover and Akane die and all the rest too … and the man who held the blade to their skin had escaped. He had nearly died himself, shirt dyed red from blood. But ‘twas he who lived and not Light’s sister, or his own for that matter. Mayhaps … his statement was more of a forgiving sentiment.
Thus a response is lost to him, in the abyss of sorrow & shame. Moments pass of attempts to compose himself, all failed.
❛ Light … … ah goddammit– ❜
Tears brimmed his eyes, and each were filled with a thousand regrets.
❛ –you don’t have’ta say that, man. I know I did this. All of this … it’s on my hands. ❜
@foreordains
❝ OF COURSE YOU did; I was not suggesting otherwise. ❞ Perhaps a harsher sentiment than he realises, although his tone falls short of ire; it falls short of passion, too, for the most part. Benumbed by something icy, something niveous, he lets not the fires of feeling touch his timbre; instead, he frowns, and his arms come over his chest as though he were barring its contents, safeguarding the inside. ❝ Clover wouldn't want me to place blame, much less hold anything against you, even though you are, inevitably, accountable; just as I am. ❞ I don't want to blame you, either.
He isn't certain how he appears to the outside populace, his face had been lost even to himself long ago, but he feels tired; in fact, he's exhausted, like the bags beneath his eyes were suddenly weighted, and the lethargy ensnaring him now was more a sheath than it was a spectre.
The world had always been dark, but now it was simply colourless; he realises Aoi knows of this sensation, too. ❝ I think I understand. ❞ Whichever part of him had been human had thereafter been reaped by the self-same blade that had quelled the others; he rejects the inclination to comfort or console, or whatever it is that friends are meant to do.
❝ I should kill you. ❞ There is a pungent pause between sentiments. ❝ My sister trusted you, and now she's dead: that's the short of it, yes? But you weren't the head; killing you would only be gratuitous, and we've both witnessed enough senseless violence. No, I am going to kill him. I am going to make him pay for what he's done. ❞
Here are some little crops from my page for the zero escape zine!
@foreordains
❝ SANTA, I TAKE it? ❞ A dulled note sits in the midst of his timbre, and perhaps the exhaustion has begun to permeate atop his pallid skin; it's a mien pulled taught, both by query and by disquiet, although as a hand rifles through tousled hair, the suspense and unease seem to dissipate.
Contrary to routine, it isn't the voice which gives way to his suspicion: there was, of course, something distinct about all of them, something which even one without sight could perceive though such a sentiment was likely imbued by the sensory nature begotten by espers; Santa bore with him a certain presence, once which prefaced any and all verbal confirmation of who, exactly, stood before him.
❝ You have impeccable timing; I was but a few moments away from giving up on the hope that someone would release me from this wretched, ah, coffin, if my deduction is anywhere near accurate. ❞ A 'confining black space' was hardly something to go on, however, and he isn't certain why a casket would be at all necessary on a ship such as this, but it seemed the only logical conjecture at the time; and given the circumstance, even an ordinary box, whose sole contents were an unconscious person, could semantically be understood as a 'coffin': either way, his conclusion was a correct one.
❝ Where are the others? Clover, or Ace? ❞ Hesitation mars the iteration; a frown creases otherwise benumbed features. ❝ You're alone, aren't you? ❞
at least we’ve still got light.
