Discover Top Posts Tagged with #tw bood

I am not my father. This sword does not know you.

THE DOUBLE (2024) | Ep 40

#the double #dailyasiandramas #asiandramasource #cdramasource #cdramaedit #cdrama #dramasource #wang xingyue #k: the double #the quality is not giving #the bloody look is so good on him #byeee #tw bood

So I've finally entered my FNAF phase at the grand old age of 32 LMAO, so here is a Spring Trap Drawing :)

#fnaf #fnaf fanart #springtrap #springtrap fanart #tw bood

Fuck transphobes

DAY 9: PICK WHO DIES (ALT used)

Fandom: Star Wars

Rating: T

Warnings: Implied charactes death, emotional conflict, intense anguish, blood and injury.

Relationship: You can read it as Obikin (Anakin/Obi-Wan) if you want

Choose who lives”, the Father had said.

“Choose who dies”, Anakin had heard.

At one side, Obi-Wan, his Master. The closest thing he had had to a father, but that now felt more like a brother. Obi-Wan had been too young when he became his Master, so they had learnt together. How to be a master and how to be a padawan, but also how to be a Jedi.

He wouldn’t know how to live without him.

Their bond was so strong Anakin could feel his prescence planets away.

So strong that Anaking thought a part of him would die if he did.

At the other side, there was Ahsoka.

They had only been together for a couple of years, but she was his sister.

He had watched her grow up, he had seen how she had become a wonderful jedi, and she promised to become an even better one. She was brave, kind hearted, smart, capable of so many things… But more important than all of that: she was his padawan.

He had swore to protect her. Nothing bad could happen to her, the mere thought of that was killing him.

“I can't choose. I won’t choose” He thought, full of anger.

The anger had started growing since the Son had casted that illusion, making him believe he was his mother, but now it was unbearable.

He saw how Obi-Wan was trying to tell him something, but there was some sort of shield that stopped his voice from reaching him. It did matter, he didn't need to actually hear him to know what he was saying.

“Save her. Let me die”

That only made it more difficult to think about ever letting his stupid, altruistic, kind and wise master die.

“I won't choose”

Why would he? He didn’t have to give up. He had known, since they arrived, that this was not a planet, this place was the Force. And he would use that to save both of them.

But just when he was about to lift both the Son and the Daughter and make them free his friends, his family, something changed. He felt it.

“They know what I will do before I even do it” he realized. He felt that truth, it stopped his heart,, just before the Son dug his claws into Ahsoka’s arms.

She screamed, unable to move.

- ¡¡ASHOKA!!

- Choose- the Father remembered him.

Anakin turned to him, rage boiling inside him. A rage so powerful that he had only felt like that when his mother had died.

“I’m not failing anyone again” he promised to himself.

- LET THEM GO- he roared. Without thinking, he called the Force. The Father would pay for what he had done.

But he didn’t have time. Pain reached him first, coming from his bond with his master. He almost fell to his knees, but managed to stay on his feet. He looked at Obi-Wan and didn’t need to hear him to know he was also being hurt. He saw his teeth clenched, trying to suppress a cry of pain.

-Choose.

Obi-Wan and Anakin’s eyes met. Anakin’s were full of terror and doubts. Obi-Wan’s eyes were wet, but he looked determined.

“You know what to do”

-¡No!- he refused.

How could he let him die, how could he kill his Master? Obi-Wan couldn’t expect that from him. But the alternative…

“¡I won’t choose!”

A scream of pain and terror came from the other side, and he saw Ashoka being lifted above the floor, with the Son’s claws still on his arms.

-¡Stop! ¡STOP!- he demanded

-Choose- the Father said, unbothered.

“Save her” he heard through the bond.

Ashoka was still screaming, fighting against her captor.

Obi-Wan was doing the same.

That was only causing them more pain. Blood ran down their arms to the floor, and he felt helpless for the first time. He hated seeing them in pain, but how could he…

-Choose

But how could he!? How could he decide between his master and his padawan? How could he kill one of the people he loved the most in this world?

He looked at Obi-Wan and what he saw broke his heart in a million pieces. Obi- Wan had stopped fighting against the Daughter. And his eyes… His eyes showed him there had never been any conflict, there was no doubt in what it needed to be done.

- I can’t…

“I love you Anakin”

-Choose. Say the name.

He had raised him, taught him everything he knew, made him the man he was now. He had been there when he felt alone and afraid. And now, he couldn’t save him.

“I have failed you”

- Say the name.

“I love you”

-Ashoka- he whispered

And it was over.

link to my ao3 work:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

tags: @febuwhump

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗

Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?

The Witch (2015) dir. Robert Eggers

#the witch #filmedit #horroredit #cowboycoven2 #userrin #usersawah #usereste #userhann #userhallie #usermorgan #tuserheidi #userrobin #usernatty #tuserjen #userkraina #klinejack #tw bood #*#*31doh

Whos ready for CHAPTER 2?!

Beause i'm not. It's going to be chaotic and wonderful. Got any idea who she's gone and irritated this much to end up in this position?

Hint: She's tough enough to stand up to Peach.

#tw bood #Prof.peach #ooc #doodle #PLE #Pokemon Legends Electus #WIP #theres something real feral about her here #and i had to share it

despite my dislike for my own teeth, I absolutely LOVE drawing them/rendering them

#tw bood #because I can't draw schezo without it #schezo wegey #drawing with fiery #puyo puyo #madou monogatari #ANATOMY IS JANKY DW ABT IT OKKKK I just wanted to render teeth #didn't feel like putting effort into the rest

dear younger me,

i think about you all the time. you're me,

i'm you, we're each other,

i don't know you, i love you,

i'm proud of you for trying, i'm grateful

that you helped me get this far.

i think about when you tried on that word for the

first time;

wore it like a shirt covering your body, not too big,

not too small, just perfect.

how that same word was used against you,

against me,

and against your brothers and sisters

and siblings and friends like-

like it was a curse, and not the blessing

you didn't understand, back then.

i think about how you struggled and cried

and wept out your pain

and wished you were born right,

and wished you weren't this. i remember how you

wept and wept and wept and wept:

why am i like this? why am i wrong?

you thought about people who were killed

because of their love, their body,

their pride,

you thought about how

you're not allowed to marry in

one hundred and sixty

eight

out of one hundred and ninety

five

countries,

you thought about how people

ask you to choose and choose

when you're not pink or blue,

you're purple;

when you're not just one or the other,

but neither.

and you thought:

is this my future? is this what i am doomed

to be?

but you see,

younger me,

you were wrong. you were hurt

and you were scared and you thought you were

alone,

and you were wrong.

there are people out there

who saw your flag

and smiled,

there are people who held your

hands on the darkest nights,

there are writers and artists and singers and actors who told your story again

and again

and again,

because it was their story too.

we wept, and we wept, and we wept, trying to break free

of the chains of society

and a thousand hearts came to us,

coloured in the same hue as ours,

wiped away our tears, told us,

'you are not alone. you are not

broken, and you are not wrong.'

these are the shackles that

society has placed on us, the slurs and the

deaths and the laws,

and this is the key;

our community,

the flags we all keep,

the bonds we've formed together,

our hands linked, our words, whispering:

'you are whole. you are human.'

our story may be dark and painful,

younger me,

but it's a story of success,

of wars fought and won,

the story of halsey and emily dickinson,

lady gaga and freddie mercury, oscar wilde

and virginia woolf, elton john and walt whitman,

marsha p johnson and laxmi narayan tripathi,

and manvendra singh gohil and alan turing and sally ride and sylvia rivera and a

thousand other people,

real and made up, different

in so many ways,

but all

who are like us.

younger me, you know how

we've always hated chains and customs

and we've always loved rebelling?

society tells people like us to hate ourselves,

to be ashamed, to hang our head and love

someone we can't and be someone we

aren't-

i'll tell you this, society:

our fists gleam red with the blood of our enemies,

we stand strong on the foundation our family built before us,

the family that fought for our future,

the family that helped us understand that we are beautiful and whole and

human;

the family that gave us a home.

and we will keep fighting and shouting and screaming

and bleeding and you order us to hate ourselves,

but,

we've always loved rebellions.

and i think the greatest rebellion

against society:

well, it's loving ourselves. because

are extraordinary

love,

jai

dear younger me | 22.3.22

#poems #my poetry #my poems #writeblr #writing #my writing #poetblr #poetry #tw homophobia #tw bood #let me know if there are any other tags i should add!!!#jai writes #i feel like this would sound better performed but eh what can i do #collection: me

dear younger me,

i think about you all the time. you're me,

i'm you, we're each other,

i don't know you, i love you,

i'm proud of you for trying, i'm grateful

that you helped me get this far.

i think about when you tried on that word for the

first time;

wore it like a shirt covering your body, not too big,

not too small, just perfect.

how that same word was used against you,

against me,

and against your brothers and sisters

and siblings and friends like-

like it was a curse, and not the blessing

you didn't understand, back then.

i think about how you struggled and cried

and wept out your pain

and wished you were born right,

and wished you weren't this. i remember how you

wept and wept and wept and wept:

why am i like this? why am i wrong?

you thought about people who were killed

because of their love, their body,

their pride,

you thought about how

you're not allowed to marry in

one hundred and sixty

eight

out of one hundred and ninety

five

countries,

you thought about how people

ask you to choose and choose

when you're not pink or blue,

you're purple;

when you're not just one or the other,

but neither.

and you thought:

is this my future? is this what i am doomed

to be?

but you see,

younger me,

you were wrong. you were hurt

and you were scared and you thought you were

alone,

and you were wrong.

there are people out there

who saw your flag

and smiled,

there are people who held your

hands on the darkest nights,

there are writers and artists and singers and actors who told your story again

and again

and again,

because it was their story too.

we wept, and we wept, and we wept, trying to break free

of the chains of society

and a thousand hearts came to us,

coloured in the same hue as ours,

wiped away our tears, told us,

'you are not alone. you are not

broken, and you are not wrong.'

these are the shackles that

society has placed on us, the slurs and the

deaths and the laws,

and this is the key;

our community,

the flags we all keep,

the bonds we've formed together,

our hands linked, our words, whispering:

'you are whole. you are human.'

our story may be dark and painful,

younger me,

but it's a story of success,

of wars fought and won,

the story of halsey and emily dickinson,

lady gaga and freddie mercury, oscar wilde

and virginia woolf, elton john and walt whitman,

marsha p johnson and laxmi narayan tripathi,

and manvendra singh gohil and alan turing and sally ride and sylvia rivera and a

thousand other people,

real and made up, different

in so many ways,

but all

who are like us.

younger me, you know how

we've always hated chains and customs

and we've always loved rebelling?

society tells people like us to hate ourselves,

to be ashamed, to hang our head and love

someone we can't and be someone we

aren't-

i'll tell you this, society:

our fists gleam red with the blood of our enemies,

we stand strong on the foundation our family built before us,

the family that fought for our future,

the family that helped us understand that we are beautiful and whole and

human;

the family that gave us a home.

and we will keep fighting and shouting and screaming

and bleeding and you order us to hate ourselves,

but,

we've always loved rebellions.

and i think the greatest rebellion

against society:

well, it's loving ourselves. because

are extraordinary

love,

jai

dear younger me | 22.3.22

#tw bood

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#tw bood