logged on and went through my following list :’) seeing all the updated 5 years ago things is so bittersweet i miss my friends but i hope they are all doing so well outside of this hellsite

hello 👀 is anyone still around 👀 also why is tungle so... uglie now :(

good morning, angela is bi, thank u goodnight happy pride month i am logging out again

why do i have fully written replies and responses and inbox memes in my drafts (of which i have eighty?) and why does my brain not allow me to post them because some of them hark back to 2019 or before and i don't know if folks are still around, i guess, or because they're not formatted to my liking? x_x

i haven't logged on since late 2020! but bl/zzcon is happening today and the first thing i saw from ow2 was an extremely light-skinned mccree model :^) and i needed to complain about it so anyways

i do hope everyone is staying safe and doing well! ily <3

i love thinking about how moira and angela aren’t actually that different; how angela has done a doctoral study in biomedical ethics and yet if you really think about it, she has performed unsanctioned human experimentation on herself, how she plays with transforming mortality just as much as moira does.  how they’re both playing god, but the reason angela sometimes gets on her undeserved high horse is because of how she and moira are two sides of the same coin  ––  moira is the decadence of decay and death, angela is the incandescence of sanctification and life.  sometimes angela gets so caught up in going against death that she doesn’t realize how she’s perverting the natural order of things, etc.

No more apologies for a bleeding heart when the opposite is no heart at all. Danger of losing our humanity must be met with more humanity.

The Source of Self-Regard: The War on Error by Toni Morrison (via decreation)

                         * . ✧ THE CRUEL PRINCE ✧ . *

                                                 - STARTERS -

❝ If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse. ❞ ❝ Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. ❞ ❝ What could I become if I stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything? ❞ ❝ Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear. ❞ ❝ I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I? ❞ ❝ Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes. ❞ ❝ If you hurt me, I wouldn’t cry. I would hurt you back. ❞ ❝ I am going to keep on defying you. ❞ ❝ I promise you this is the least of what I can do. ❞ ❝ Let’s have a toast. To the incompetence of our enemies. ❞ ❝ I want to be part of the unfolding of the tale. ❞ ❝ Father, I am what you made me. ❞ ❝ Have I told you how hideous you look tonight? ❞ ❝ I will not stand in front of your happiness. I will not even stand in front of misery that you choose for yourself. ❞ ❝ I suppose I could love anyone. ❞ ❝ He’s flint, you’re tinder. ❞ ❝ There’s always something left to lose. ❞ ❝ How has the night been going for you? ❞ ❝ I am tired of caring. ❞ ❝ This is what you wanted, isn’t it? What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours. ❞ ❝ We don’t need to be good. But let’s try to be fair. ❞ ❝ Desire is an odd thing. As soon as it’s sated, it transmutes. ❞ ❝ I am weak. I am fragile. I am mortal. ❞ ❝ Yes, they frighten me, but I have always been scared, since the day I got here. ❞ ❝ This is absurd. This is awful. ❞ ❝ Only idiots aren’t scared of things that are scary. ❞ ❝ There’s safety in being awful. ❞ ❝ Show your power by appearing powerless. ❞ ❝ I like for things to happen, for stories to unfold. And if I can’t find a good enough story, I make one. ❞ ❝ I get why he chose her. I just wish she had chosen me. ❞ ❝ And yet, I don’t regret it now. ❞ ❝ What if the way I am is the way I am? What if, when everything else is different, I’m not? ❞ ❝ Go ahead. Insult me. ❞ ❝ So you’re going to say something nice? I don’t think so. ❞ ❝ It’s funny how you get under his skin. ❞ ❝ No one else bothers him quite the way that you do. ❞ ❝ The odd thing about ambition is this: You can acquire it like a fever, but it is not so easy to shed. ❞ ❝ Harden your heart. ❞ ❝ I am coming unraveled. I am coming undone. ❞ ❝ We may not die from age, but we grow weary with it. ❞ ❝ Love is a noble cause. ❞ ❝ No one expects us to have any honor. Everyone knows we lie. ❞ ❝ I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal. In my heart, I yearn to best them. ❞ ❝ I have no marketable skills other than swinging around a sword and making up riddles, neither of which probably pay all that well. ❞ ❝ Maybe I am making all the wrong choices.   ❞ ❝ You think I don’t deserve him. ❞ ❝ I think you’re perfect for each other. ❞ ❝ My real skill lies in pissing people off. ❞ ❝ I am no murderer. ❞ ❝ You are nothing. You barely exist at all. ❞ ❝ He’s wrong about me. ❞ ❝ I do not understand why he likes me, but it is exciting to be liked. ❞ ❝ You really do want me. ❞ ❝ A lady of mystery! My very favorite kind. ❞ ❝ I hate him more than all the others. ❞

ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ﹐ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴏғ sᴘɪᴅᴇʀs.  ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ғᴇʟᴛ ɴᴏ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ﹐ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇᴀᴛ﹐ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ.  ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪʟʟ﹐ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ. ғᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇᴅᴇɴ.

*    𝐢.     ⑊     𝐊𝐎̈𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑    › 

the  throne  had  been  made  for  a  king.     and no shortage of whispers would flit about the receiving chambers at the sharp sound of heels on marble,      presaging the arrival of the lady sovereign and subsequently,     the commencement of court.     it has become routine,     to regale the hushed tittering of aged nobles with a tart amusement;     white noise diminishing over time yet nevertheless  present.     she wonders if she looks diminutive now,     swallowed by the throne and  then some,     seeming too much like a  girl  masquerading as regnant.     but there is no denying the  cascade  of power in the wake of her footfalls,     the winter bloom that burrows into the stronghold of the palace     —      and  deeper  still,     into the very heart of àrnadalr.     this is why she  feels  the disturbance long before a breathless squire bursts through the heavy chamber doors,     heralding the arrival of a     “witch,”     he says,     “for she cannot be anything otherwise.”     elsa  knows,     because something sings in her blood,     discordant and rhapsodic like a kindred stranger beckoning with a flute.     still she remains  seated,     legs crossed and lips pursed and the quintessence of  tranquility,     however contrived.

when the woman glides in     —     flanked by guards and looking for all the  world  like everything midas touched and left to rot     —     she forces calm through the tempest in her very  crux.     the northern wind cloaks its scion,     never one so easily cowed.     she sports a smile that is glacial and benign in equal measure,     wispy as the tendrils of hair whisked gently by the breeze.     the doors are shut;     so are the windows.      ❛❛      welcome,     milady,     to our humble kingdom.     i hope your journey was not too troublesome.      ❜❜      crystal eyes steeled,     soul - apertures shuttered,     she regards the woman with a stare that betrays none of the brewing disquiet in her chest.      ❛❛      to what do i owe the  pleasure  of your visit?      ❜❜

*   𝖆  𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓’𝖘  𝖎𝖓𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙  𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗  𝖎𝖘  𝖆  𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖈𝖊  𝖙𝖔  𝖇𝖊  𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖐𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖉  𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 .       the  witch  had  met  many  men  who  would  seek  her     ...     unique  assistance  for  their  own  purposes     /     many  of  them  fools  with  braggadocio  where  brains  ought  to  be,     ambition  in  spades  but  rarely  the  finesse  to  wield  it  well .       a  truth  no  woman  needed  reminder  of :     there  would  always  be  men  who  saw  a  woman,     no  matter  how  powerful,     and  believe  her  weaker  than  them .

(   𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐆𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐒  𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐊  𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓  𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐀𝐋𝐋 ?   )

monarchs  laid  in  state  with  the  scorched  ley  lines  of  their  ossified  kingdoms  thrice - cursed   &   turned  against  their  very  blood  by  the  divine,     kings  who  thought  to  play  the  long  game  believing  they  knew  what  power  was,     that  they  knew  how  to  play  when  they  were  barely  pawns  on  the  board     ––     anhélike  wanted  to  know  whether  this  would  be  another .       whoever  the  king  had  been  who  had  paid  the  soul - price  for  his  land  is  long  gone  to  the  gnarled  hands  of  time   &   the  cemetery  of  her  memory .       the  burden     (  ha !  )     of  their  debt  to  her  had  been  passed  down  the  bloodline,     and  though  she  did  not  come  calling  often,     the  witch  did  come  to  collect .       she’d  upheld  her  end  of  the  bargain:     generations  of  growth,     and  now  she  wanted  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  thing  he’d  braved  her  neck  of  the  woods  for .

she  dreams  of  scorched  earth     /     the  sour - sharp  bite  of  autumnal  decay  hungry  at  a  summer’s  end .       she  comes  looking  for  a  weak - chinned  king,     and  finds  a  queen  with  teeth  cut  from  diamonds .       ice - touched,     winter - wreathed,     made  from  the  dust  of  the  earth .       

this  one  is  yet  newly  enthroned  by  anhélike’s  standards .       the  crown  has  yet  to  wear  grooves  in  her  pretty  head,     but  the  witch  will  bet  that  her  neck  aches  with  the  heaviness  of  it,     that  her  jaw  clenches  with  all  the  secrets   &   responsibilities .       not  to  mention  the  power .       the  queen  is  the  image  of  placidity,     thick  ice  hiding  a  rushing  current,     an  over - full  cup  steeped  in  sovereignty .       

sharp  amber  eyes  studied  the  intricate  facets  of  the  snowflakes  about  the  room  like  stars  fallen  from  the  spangled  tapestry  of  the  sky .       she  did  not  need  to  reach  out  with  her  own  aura  to  feel  the  thrum  of  the  queen’s  connection  with  the  land .       àrnadalr  was  proud  of  its  monarch,     made  no  secret  of  who  its  heart  belonged  to .       the  whisper  of  unnatural  wind  was  a  caress  upon  her  skin     ––     a  warning  and  a  claim  from  the  land  itself  that  it  was  she  who  did  not  belong,     that  she  stepped  on  ground  that  would  not  bend  to  her  will .       and  though  her  garments  did  little  to  obscure  her  alabaster  figure,     no  gooseflesh  erupted  upon  her  skin .       coldfire  at  her  fingers:     she,     immortal,     immutable  as  marble .       

she  stepped  closer  to  the  throne,     unafraid .       ❝     oh ,     surely  there  is  little  reason  to  stand  for  such  formality,     my  liege .     ❞          the  sweet - edged  dagger  of  her  tongue,     deference  lined  with  the  lightest  tinges  of  mockery .       they  were  separated  by  several  feet  yet,     but  as  glacial  approaches  went,     so  too  came  the  inevitability  of  the  witch .          ❝     i  have  simply  come  to  see  what  fruits  have  been  borne  of  a  granted  boon .       there  is  no  crime  in  that,     is  there ?     ❞          carmine  mouth  twisted  daintily  in  a  moue,     lashes  dipping .       the  fae  did  nothing  without  drama:     skirts  pooled  around  bare  thighs  as  anhélike  dropped  to  her  knees  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,     the  very  image  of  penitence .          ❝     of  course,     if  i  have  overstepped,     you  are  free  to  enact  the  𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞  𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 .     ❞

ever  since  the  switch  to  not  being  able  to  send  asks  in  dash - only  mode,   i’ve  been  having  a  very  hard  time  actually  sending  asks  at  all.   if  this  is  an  issue  for  you  and  you  want  to  send  something  to  me  but  tungle  is  being  an  ass,   feel  free  to  send  it  in  messages !  

this is a social experiment reblog this if u were rping on tumblr before 2016

been  watching  a  friend  play  the  wolf  among  us,   and  i  miss  bloody  mary  aha.   might  revamp  her  on  my  multi?   :eyes:

tbd :   but how do people write smut im crying lmfao ive written 1.3k of lead up for a fic and now the actual Sex part is supposed to happen and im lost adkfdfljfasdf;

aesthetics for the entities, part i.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

(  i.  the buried.  )   weighted blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

(  ii.  the corruption.  )   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

(  iii.  the dark.  )   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  the touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

(  iv.  the desolation.  )   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

(  v.  the flesh.  )   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.   liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.   a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

(  vi.  the end.  )   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plea of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

(  vii.  the eye.  )   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.   truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyeurism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

TAGGED BY:     i  stole  this  from  @verglase  :3

TAGGING:       whoever  would  like  to  do  this  !

Can angie cook??? What's her best dish and what is one dish she can never quite get the hang of?

𝑐𝑎𝑛  𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑎  𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑘 ?       you’d  think  that  someone  who  does  experiments  with  delicate  mixtures   &   technology  that  she  does  would  be  better  at  cooking,   but  to  be  honest,   angela  can’t  really  cook.     i  think  at  one  point  i  had  a  draft  that  was  angela  accidentally  burning  toast  because  she  was  preoccupied  with  reading  something,   which  is  definitely  how  most  of  her  attempts  at  ‘cooking’  go.     angela  doesn’t  cook  often  at  all,   if  ever   –––   though  she  can  be  persuaded  to  help  with  prep   &   whatnot  if  someone  else  is  in  the  kitchen.

𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡’𝑠  ℎ𝑒𝑟  𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡  𝑑𝑖𝑠ℎ ?       this  is  absolutely  not  a  dish,   but  the  best  thing  angela  can  make  are  drinks.     there  is  enough similarity  between  chemistry  and  drink - making  that  angela  can  mix  them  up  well.     however,   she’s  not  the  type  to  have  a  bar  in  her  own  quarters  beyond  the  occasional  bottle  of  swiss  liqueur  to  drown  her  sorrows  in  on  bad  nights.     even  then,   buying  swiss  liqueur  requires  her  to  look  for  it  and / or  go  out  to  buy  it,   though  with  the  magic  of  online  purchasing,   the  occasional  case  of  alcohol  will  be  shipped  to  her.     angela  has  a  remarkable  alcohol  tolerance,   and  will  happily  bartend  at  overwatch  social  events.

𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡’𝑠  𝑜𝑛𝑒  𝑑𝑖𝑠ℎ  𝑠ℎ𝑒  𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡  𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒  𝑔𝑒𝑡  𝑡ℎ𝑒  ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔  𝑜𝑓 ?       most  dishes.     if  she’s  cooking  with  someone,   the  results  turn  out  good,   as  she  isn’t  the  only  one  paying  attention  to  the  cooking  process;   but  left  alone,   angela  will  usually  only  have  half  an  eye  on  the  stove,   probably  reading  a  document  or  a  book  that  proceeds  to  capture  her  attention  until  something  smells  like  it’s  burning.