#brainrot continues

[lesbeanism]

y/n: "stop looking at me with those eyes"

P, while staring at you with those magestic gorgeous beautiful gentle blue eyes, with sincere confusion in his voice: "what eyes?"

[yrzykyr]

[olliescribbles]

fixating on nothing probably but I wanna dump it<3

⚠️⚠️SPOILERS FOR EPISODE #5 OF TOTAL MONSTER KILL!!!!!⚠️⚠️

Moon beast lore/notes:

In this episode we learned more about Lucia’s sister who was part mute/beast and it was revealed she was the big bad of the series ( shocker to no one ) and since the beasts are controlled by the moon she wants to be able to control it.. I think you can see where I’m going with this..

BUT!! she’s going to use the other beasts, combine everyone together and become the moon beast. And Bebo said something interesting during that reveal

he said “is this the moon beast origin story”

and grizzly replied saying yes.

so i was like the other campaigns must know of this “world” since its like the moon beast origin getting me to think, since all of the worlds are connected through the moon beast

they must be in somewhat of the same universe or something and I’m just trying to connect all of the campaigns together..

the thing I’m lost about it that, it’s cannon that Peter made up the moon beast during his fight with Exandroth (I think???) And Chip had to be involved with that history somehow since he summoned it and cause the other characters had no idea who the moon beast was..

Weither it be from hearing a myth or like a legend from Finn or Arlin— idk but I feel like he knew it before the others for a reason.

that's why the others don't know, because the Moon Beast is a land/sky beast, not a sea beast so gillion wouldn't know and Jay wouldn't know because she had military school to deal with, they didn't have time for myths and fantasy!!

last thing:

I think if the worlds are connected all I know is Prime defenders is last since they have powers and canonically they live on a planet that’s not earth. I was thinking after riptide??? like to escape from The Navy or something????

Idfk

this was just for fun so :3

[amarmeme]

Next chapter Illario/Rook is up and there's romance and jealousy in the air.

For once posting before midnight. 😅

[radykalny-feminizm]

Did JK Rowling practice radical feminism when she wrote about a race of slaves who loved being slaves and then made fun of the only character who tried to free them for an entire book, and then ended the series with the main character thinking about his slave making him a sandwich 🤔

You need to work on your literacy level 🤔

If you had basic, common knowledge about literature, you would know that author ≠ narrator.

Furthermore, the narrator of Harry Potter never judges the characters. It's only the characters themselves that are judging each other. The narrator is not involved in the story, therefore the claim that the author "made fun" of a character is factually incorrect.

That being said, people who made fun of Hermione are mostly male characters, which shows their insensitivity and lack of empathy. The fact that the female character cares about those who are oppressed and male characters don't care at all is kinda a radfem take, yes.

[dranka]

I am totally normal about CS Pacat. I HIGHLY recommend this video if you're a fan of CaPri and maybe you're a writer yourself.

[ms0milk]

shapeless anxiety has crept up on you since birth but mr nanami knows its something much more sinister than that, always has been. something he won't lose you to. cw a panic attack in warm stables. surprise relief and a cowboy's hunting knife 1k

farmhand nanami tag <3

It happens, it happens, and you haven’t died yet. Trivial comforts that have long since lost their potency run your heart’s hamster wheel. That’s all your heart is at this point, a skittering thing with a life expectancy of three. Cannibalistic tendencies.

You knock the back of your head on the gate to a rhythm that at least keeps you from crying– limp on the floor of the south stables, back against the door to an empty stall at the end of a row of unsettled horses. They hate that you do this here. You hate that it happens and your riding hat slips over your forehead when you tremble a little too hard.

Nanami’s herding new calves today, playing babysitter in their spring pen. The old boss is away at auction so you’re promised privacy this afternoon to gather yourself and dry your eyes and keep your legs from shaking when you finally stand up again. This is worse than usual and spurred by nothing. Sudden and public, it’s been panic attacks and hiding places since you were school age– since before you got this job tending an old woman’s show animals. A two-woman job on paper and a one-woman show in practice, it’s paradise with housing. And the blessed coincidence of a new blond handyman.

Thank god, you shudder as dark thoughts dance their spirals, thank god for another set of hands. Your boots are too tight even after kicking them off, socks and jacket, skin pulled across your ribs, claustrophobic. It’s been ages since the last time this happened but you still can’t brush boars like this, or watch calves taste grass for the first time. When you think too hard about the heartbeat in your ears it makes you shake, the thought you can’t control its volume or pull the broken pieces out.

Still, the hens will be locked up to roost and the cows will get their babies back. Dogs will be watered and cats will be scratched because Nanami isn’t pitiful. He isn’t dying, surely dying, in a broken straw bale and you thank god again.

Your horses are hungry. The headache is back and you haven’t taken a breath in seventeen seconds. Stop counting. Talulah the white mare, older than you, stretches a sinewy neck over the top of her gate to nip but you’ve sunk out of her reach. Irritation or curiosity? What did you even come to the stables for?

“Miss?”

The sun sets in the window behind the saddle hooks and dread begins to drown you. It’s the cumulative weight of every attack since the first, just like always, and always almost too heavy to hold. Like something waiting just out of sight to sink its teeth into your throat. Ghost stories old volunteers used to tell around summer campfires become realities as you rip your hat off your head and hairs with it in an attempt to breathe better, or move better or just be able to fucking see. Hair against your face, straw through the weft of your jeans– legends say they found her body where it laid in the fields, mummified from fear.

“Miss Y/n!”

It’s less his voice and more the knife that startles your face out of your hands. Nanami falls in front of you otherwise silent, kneeling, looming, fist wrapped tight around a knife he’s driven through the wooden stall beside your head.

Immediately, the wheel slows its turning, replaced by nothing, spinning residually under the gaze of a worried cowboy with his hat around his neck. Nanami’s broad chest threatens the seams of his jacket as he measures his breath. His hair has been licked into awkward shiny spikes by happy tongues and he’s still got bribing sorghum in his breast pocket, and you realize too late to stop it, that you’re going to cry.

He drops his hand from the blade but doesn’t move away, scanning and tracing the clammy parts of you. Your cheeks and neck, chest and hands. His eyes dart over empty spaces and return again, “Are you okay?”

“You..” you what? Nanami stares through you like he’s stone until your thought is finished and you still haven’t regained enough sense to right yourself. Your back is flush with wood; hair, jacket and undershirt all riding up behind you where they snagged on the stall door when you sank. Tears spill over your lashes, “you startled me.”

Talulah reaches forward again to get someone’s attention; she’s hungry. Her neighbors stomp in their stalls or snort in your direction, but their frustration is too pretty a symphony to answer yet. You’re alive, the world didn’t stop and doesn’t need you to keep turning it.

Nanami exhales like he’s the survivor and leans forward to gather your things. He brushes straw from the brim of your hat, “I’m sorry.”

“That was scary,” you coo, smiling, melting. Pins and needles of the brain, feeling coming back now. You close your eyes to help the tears fall and lift your hands back to your face.

“I’m sorry, Miss.”

You shake your head and breathe three more times before speaking.“How’d you know?”

Nanami’s shy with his English, but you understand more than he means when he speaks to you. He lowers his gaze to your socks and lifts your boots by their pull straps to sit them beside you– stops short of overstepping– of slipping them on you. “Bad feeling,” he murmurs and fishes a clean handkerchief from his sorghum pocket. A full body shiver and you try to sit up, try to take what the golden hand holds out for you but your fingers meet his warmth trembling and cling to it. His hand is strong and leathered, it’s gentle with you always and he’s never seen you like this. The embarrassment will come later. For now the horses have given up complaining and you curl forward on your knees in a sob when the gentle cowboy lets you hold his hand. He’s quiet. He rests your hat in his lap and leans no closer or farther away as relief runs its course through your veins. He can explain the knife later. Cats, cows, and show ponies can wait five more minutes.

farmhand nanami tag <3

[brainrotcharacters]

Sometimes babygirl is a Merc with a mouth