#[ I colored these images by hand like the crazy person I am

[anemicjellyfish]

Tags from my awesome mutual:

Okay, you're not wrong at all. In fact, this is the only thing that was blowing a hole in my speculation about the whole "chest feathers" thing. I almost didn't include the picture of Stella's friends because they both show feathers and I didn't want to dive into them initially because my thoughts were too much effort to tap onto my phone screen.

But! I have another theory about the one on the left of the group, along with an excuse for the one on the right. (This is just headcanon at this point tbh. And I should really be going to bed but I'm gonna keep going because I have no common sense. I hope you don't mind me using a reblog to go a bit more in-depth on my silly ideas.) (Also, I just wanna say that I don't mean any of this in an argumentative way. It's just that I finally found an excuse to sit down and go crazy with talking about characters, birds, and outfits. I could be entirely wrong about everything idk)

Unfortunately, we don't have their names, titles, or much indication of what type of birds they're intended to resemble. My guess for Mr Guy here is that he's a snowy owl. The eyes are a very similar shade of yellow to snowy owl's natural color eyes. And his head/hair feathers being solid white with a speckled breast match up to a snowy owl as well. These are literally the only birds that I personally know of to have primarily white coloration with a speckled breast/rest of body (I'm not a bird expert, and I'm happy to be proven wrong on this point- I actually wouldn't mind learning about more bird species).

But there's something about his chest feathers that makes me think there's a clothing layer there. I think it could possibly be some kind of cravat (Google says a modern term in an Ascot, but idk, I just like period pieces and know it as a cravat).

Because the pattern so closely resembles the one on Stolas' mantle that he wears for his more official "uniform."

But the feathers on Mr Guy On The Left are clearly visible? And I'm not saying they 100% are not visible feathers exposed to us. If I'm proven wrong in the future, that's cool.

I am gonna say, hear me out on this. because he wouldn't be the first character to have visible hair popping up from underneath clothing.

It's speculated (although I'm not sure if it's confirmed) that the black parts of Loona's legs are actually socks. Her fur sticks through in some places, but we see in Seeing Stars that she is wearing some kind of pants/leggings that don't have tufts of fur sticking out. And ripped parts of the pants/leggings reveal the same color underneath as the rest of her fur. Although, it's hard to say for sure. I'm so far behind on things because it's hard to keep up with all the sources of info when they're spread out across platforms.

Mr Guy On The Left also has some feather-like protrusions on his elbow, despite clearly wearing a jacket.

It's getting really late and I'm exhausted, so I'm leaving Guy On The Left Reasoning at that and hoping it makes sense. (When I wake up in the morning and see my stupid posts... yikes.)

As for Lady On the Right?

I think it's just a revealing dress. Her arms are exposed since the dress appears to be a halter-top situation. (I could be mistaken on the halter-top, but this was the only image of her that I have on hand and I don't wanna go looking for more because I'm sleepy.)

Her outfit is revealing, showing a lot of "skin" (feathers) around her chest, and is tightly fitted at the waist. For her, I think it's just a fashion choice.

My conclusion? I don't have one, actually. Until we know a little more about the rest of these bird characters, it's hard to say for sure if Stolas has sensory issues regarding his feathers, especially the ones on his chest.

Stolas and Sensory Issues

So a lot of us see traits of autism in Stolas. I've been thinking about how his wardrobe might be an indicator of it.

Of course, this is screenshot of his latest outfit that I'm using! 😍

The latest addition to his wardrobe has a similarity to previous items: an opening for the feathers on his chest.

While I've loved the jokes about his shirt needing a "boob window," I'm thinking that this is confirming a sensory issue for Stolas in regards to his feathers.

The beloved and/or dreaded royal romper has a similar feature.

Even in LooLoo Land, Stolas' LooLoo shirt has his chest feathers poking out.

Something that some (but certainly not all) autistic individuals struggle with is Sensory Processing Disorder. Since I'm not an expert in this, I'll keep to a minimum discussing the actual aspects of it and reference WebMD.

Sensory processing disorder is a condition in which the brain has trouble receiving and responding to information that comes in through the senses.

Sensory processing disorder may affect one sense, like hearing, touch, or taste. Or it may affect multiple senses.

I'm thinking that clothing pressing down on his feathers may be a triggering sensory input. Similar to the way a shirt tag may be rough to the point where it is a constant irritation. Or a sweater made with infuriatingly scratchy synthetic fabric.

We've already seen Stolas' apprehension toward scrambled eggs in Sinsmas. I've been told by a few people that eggs are a common texture that they dislike.

I don't think it's too far of a leap for Stolas, who is frequently clad in a bathrobe, to have sensory dislikes of both food and restrictive clothing.

But something else in Sinsmas really hammered this home. Stella!

We finally see Stella in anything other than her typical, full-length dress that covers most of her body.

And she has similar, although not as lengthy, chest feathers!

Stella hasn't displayed the same autistic traits that Stolas has. She clearly has no trouble engaging in social situations and doesn't seem to perform any stimming behaviors. The restriction of clothing on her feathers may not trigger any sensory issues if she doesn't have the same sensitivities that Stolas has in regards to her feathers.

We can't see Andrealphus' feathers just yet, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by restrictive clothing at all.

Despite a fluffy bathrobe of his own during the "Spa Day," Andrealphus wears what appears to be a tight, long-sleeved shirt while lounging indoors in his earlier scene in Sinsmas.

(Yes, I'm still using this screenshot, it's too good to put away forever.)

I personally am unsure if the show will ever address if Stolas is intended to be autistic. On one hand, it would be nice for it to be confirmed & canon. But I also think Helluva Boss does an excellent job at the concept of "show, don't tell." They've given us more than enough evidence to come to the conclusion ourselves.

[foliarlight]

* VERSE. & |   HONKAI: STAR RAIL.

✧ Fullbody reference for his appearance in this verse. ✧ Alhaitham is of the Erudition Path and uses the Imaginary Element. His primary weapon is a sword that resembles a scimitar, though he also uses refraction and mirrors in his kit. These are technological constructs created through digital means. His combat style heavily resembles the trope of a spellsword in this verse, though he does not use real magic and the skills merely resemble such. He is a quick and efficient fighter, his attacks typically doing widespread damage to swiftly end an encounter. ✧ He is classified as an android and may appear similar to Sheila upon first glance. However, his AI processes are far superior and so advanced that they can barely be distinguished from humans. He was a prototype formerly created by the Aeon of Rebirth ( Deshret's equivalent ) through ancient technology. On most occasions, he only introduces himself as a S.A.P.A ( " self-sustaining autonomous processing android " ) to avoid unnecessary questions and prying minds. Any further inquiries are met with silence, claiming that this data is prohibited without clearance. The name that was given to him by his former creator was Project-[V0L4NS.] Although he does not share this information, a part of him continues to identify with the name in spite of his chosen designation, " Alhaitham. " ✧ Deshret was an Aeon of Rebirth and Wisdom. Many Amber Eras ago he passed away in his incessant pursuit of knowledge and eventually paid the price. Before his ultimate demise, he managed to imbue his project with a fragment of his essence. Like many other Aeons who have passed away, what still remained of him was assimilated into the Erudition Nous and became apart of the greater path, his name gradually being forgotten.

✧ Literally no one knows where he is from and he refuses to elaborate, typically citing that it is confidential information that will not be shared. ✧ He is a member of the Intelligentsia Guild. Although he definitely has the potential to join the Genius Society and was offered to number among their ranks in the past, he has no interest in being put on some pedestal and has been far more content in this more lowkey position. Unfortunately, this invitation has not gone unnoticed and as a result, people still tend to approach him for all sorts of matters, making him a well known member of the guild. He is considered to be highly knowledgeable and analytical. ✧ He keeps to himself and is hard to find unless he wishes to be found. Most members of the Intelligentsia Guild know not to bother him once he has left the relevant premises and he ensures not to be roped into doing extra hours unless it is necessary. Good luck finding him once he left.

✧ Highly elaborated module for linguistics and ancient script. He utilizes this skill to decipher obscure knowledge that others may be incapable of reading. As such, he has accumulated a vast breadth of knowledge and has access to information that others may not. He is not dissimilar to an archivist, though some may also consider him a knowledge broker. This hails back to the ideals of the Intelligentsia Guild of circulating knowledge like currency, albeit Alhaitham rarely shares what he knows unless it is a fair trade — and even then, he only offers a miniscule percentage of it. ✧ Similar to his main verse, his " headphones " double as an auditory processing device, though they cannot be taken off and are an inherent part of his being. Eavesdropping is exceptionally easy and they are also able to record surrounding sounds, such as ongoing conversations. ✧ His eyes are cybernetic and capable of scanning their environment to draw information from it. This also includes thermal vision, enhancing to view greater detail, being capable of discerning the components of what he is looking at, etc. These eyes resemble his original ones in design, however upon closer inspection they have noticeably mechanical parts. ✧ He shares his residence with Kaveh ( @ksharhrewar ), a famous engineer who primarily works at Herta's Space Station. Although their relationship has its ups and downs, they ultimately benefit from each other's presence and Kaveh is the only one he trusts for maintenance.

Design & art credit © Genshin Poker

[rowie264]

Jinx x jinxer!reader. First meeting

You don’t really know how you ended up like this.

Truth to be told... you never really believed in your “leader”, if Jinx could even be called that. You didn't even fully dye your hair blue like the others. Just a small strand. In your eyes, Jinx did nothing but blow up the Council and redirect the Grey to Piltover. But even then… it was enough for you to make you join “Jinxers”.

You knew her actions will cause problems to Zaun. But you were so fucking done. You were too tired of being a rug under pilties boots. And maybe that was what Zaun needed to finally reach point of no return and fight back. And you wanted things to change.

So one day your hopeless gray life turned blue.

And now you were here, using your artistic abilities to portray Jinx as a kind of savior and leader of the revolution, as you were asked to do. Only instead of flag and shit you drew her with bombs and explosions. It was more like the image of Jinx you had.

“My eyes and nose are not like that.” Someone’s raspy voice reaches your ears.

You turn to face the intruder and see a girl sitting on the beam above few meters away. Somehow you just knew it was Jinx. You felt it in your gut, even though it was the first time you had encountered her.

You couldn't see her face completely hidden by the shadows, but you could see the color of her eyes. Pink, like shimmer.

“It’s the closest description I’ve got.” You say, too calm for a person who’ve met a Loose Cannon. And before you can stop yourself you add: “Maybe you could pose me so I could do it right?”

After that, there was silence between the two of you. Jinx didn't seem to expect such a reaction from you. You were surprised by your carelessness as well. She was dangerous and insane after all.

“Why not?” she says after a couple of seconds, probably agreeing out of boredom, and jumps off, landing smoothly like a cat.

As she comes over, you finally see her face. It does differ a little from what you were drawing. You also notice how short she is. She wasn't as intimidating as some people described. Although, perhaps, it was such thoughts that led many to their deaths.

You start correcting your painting, glancing at her from time to time, trying to convey her features as accurately as possible. You could lose yourself in art, even standing next to the most wanted criminal. Maybe you were crazy too?

“I'm not a hero you make me out to be, ya know?” Jinx suddenly comments after some time, looking at portrait of herself. Judging by the way she was tapping her feet, it took a lot of effort for her to stand still.

“I am aware.” You respond distantly too focused on your task, barely paying attention to anything around you. You almost finished.

“Then why?” She asks tilting her head and observing you like a hawk.

You take a step back, glancing at the wall to check everything one last time. “Why not?” you repeat her own words from earlier.

Jinx huffs, hiding that she's confused by your answer again. You're not like the other Jinxers she's met before. You treated her almost indifferently, like an ordinary stranger. Not like symbol of Zaun, not like Loose Cannon, but just… Jinx.

“So whatcha gonna do for me for posing to ya?” she casually changes the subject.

“You didn't mention that I have to pay you.” You frown at her, inwardly cursing yourself for being so carefree for not asking earlier.

“Don’t sweat it, toots, I don’t need money.” She waves her hand dismissively and you are not sure if paying with something else is any better.

“Then what?”

“Hmm… let's see…” Jinx walks around you, wondering what to ask you. “You drew me… so it would be fair if I drew on you back, don't you think?”

“Draw me, you mean?”

“I didn’t stutter, toots.” She scoffs pulling crayon out of her pocket.

“Don’t move.” Jinx orders and grabs your wrist. Without asking your permission, she starts drawing something right on your arm.

You didn’t protest – out of your safety and curiosity. Her grip was firm but surprisingly gentle. You couldn't help but look at her tattoos until your gaze landed on her face. This close, you could see her freckles. The word “cute" flashed through your mind as you stared at her in fascination.

“Here!” She suddenly announces with a beaming smile, pulling you out of your little bubble. You look down at your arm and see little pink clouds painted from wrist to elbow.

“Don't wash it off until I meet you again.” Jinx says and walks away, disappearing into the shadows without explaining anything, leaving you wondering when you'll be able to meet her once more. But to some extent… you want it to happen.

And until then, you would try to keep the clouds on your body.

[atiyasnake]

Yall, I gotta ask, exactly just how normal is it for you for stories to be on your mind 24/7?

Like for me, it what I think about always. I'm thinking about this fic, that fic, and a possible new fic. I'm thinking about a prompt or rough outline I created a doc for almost 2 years ago or 2 weeks ago.

I'm thinking about what the next chapter is about or how I want the plot to progress. Or that one moment I've been gnawing on like a dog with a bone.

I drive to work and while making sure it's safe to switch lanes, I think about how X character will deal with the next situation I'll put them in.

In-between work phone calls and tasks, I'm itching to open my doc and write a few lines. Reread my outline, maybe rewrite a draft. Even though I only have access to them on my phone and I can't type on that, cause it honest to God has caused me pain in my hands and -like I said- I'm at work.

Even right now, I'm at work. It's an hour until we close and I'm the only one working the front desk hoping no one calls cause I've having a good time daydreaming about how I want one of my stories to go.

In my jumbled up mess inside my head, I'm twisting and turning around all the components of a story. What POV will it be, how the dialogue will go, and what is the next thing I need to write? I'm switching bullet points and little snippets of notes I've written on a sticky note or typed on my phone.

I'm trying to piece it all together into something I can and want to write. It's all I think about.

It's not just fanfiction either. I have my own original stuff. Stories I'd love to write, would love to read.

I think about rewriting short stories I've written in writing club in my notebook or typed up on my computer. I imagine scenarios to put characters I haven't even created in.

I don't know their names or the color of their eyes, but I know they'll fight with a smile and blood staining their teeth. I'll know that their friend will run their fingers through their hair. I'll know that they don't like it when people yell and are bad at cooking.

When I go to sleep, I would basically tell myself a story. It used to just be scenarios with some unknown character, but now it is filled with my brainstorming, wondering how things could go in my stories.

Especially my fics, since those are stories I know people actually read. It's crazy to think about.

There's a person, more than one, who read something I wrote. Who decided they liked it and would like to continue reading. It's absolutely mind boggling to even think of one, nevermind a dozen, a hundred, a thousand people have read something I wrote.

I think about them.

I wonder what they think of the words I strung together. What image comes into their head when they read them? I wonder what my words have made them feel.

I honestly can't describe just how much stories mean to me. I think about them all the time. From the moment I wake up till the moment I go to bed.

They're all I ever think about.

I don't know how someone can talk to me about stories without feeling as if their chest was about to burst. As if they're scrambling to find the proper words and could only yell and shake their hands with how it makes them feel.

How can you not want to scream, laugh, and cry when you think about stories and all that they are, all that they could be?

How can I just go on about my day knowing I have access to thousands of stories, am sharing a few of my own, but also will never know thousands of other ones that have yet to be created?

I honestly think I live for stories. Whether it was to read them, write them, or just think about them. I think they might be one of the reasons I'm still alive today.

Which funnily enough, is a story of its own.

[quailxcrossing]

hi im coming in here to bother you with random questions :3

who is your favorite character to draw in tuesday? who is the easiest to draw? hardest?

HELLO BELOVED oh my goodness this is such a fun question, i've got about an hour before my meeting so let me see how much i can type >:3cc Tuesday art questions!! how exciting!!!

for FAVORITE, currently, it's based upon characters I'm focused upon in Tuesday! right now I'm pretty lost in the Tuesfries characters, so that's characters like Esperanza, Ruse, Maiceo, Giana, etc! I really love drawing Esperanza, her color palette is just heaven to me and I adore her immensely :3 She also has a lot of forms which keeps me running circles about her Lore and gives me lots of interesting shapes to draw!

I love drawing faun Ruse too for similar reasons, its all character love- Ruse's story is one of my favorite little nuggets I've made, i'd like to thank Midveil for enabling some of my favorite tropes so I could go really crazy with her. Her backstory is one I would REALLY love to make into a sketchbook comic. I feel like it would take very well to that! And I know it can be really confusing to explain :'D I'm under the assumption no one knows what's going with Ruse because I feel like it's a lot to infodump and there's a lot of forms to keep track of. a long-form comic might make it easier to explain! She's one of my favorite characters I have, overall, so of course she's one of my favorites to draw in Tuesday! Even if she doesn't live there anymore.....

for HARDEST......okay. a lot of them. Tuesday has some of my favorite design notes - but also some of the hardest for me to draw! Like horns, for example- i LOVE horns. Which is why so many characters have them!! but keeping track of horns can be hard for me! but i'm practicing!! i'm learning!!!!

but that means the hardest character popped into my mind super fast.....it's Paola 😔 the agony. i love her so fucking much.....honestly, her dads are really hard for me to draw too. Simon and Van are some of my favorite OCs, and some of my favorite designs, but SO MANY sketches of them have been started, and then set down.

but cmon. they're so beautiful!! i really love these guys!! I'M the one who needs to get better. I don't know what it is with these guys....

for EASIEST! most fauns tbh, besides some of their horns! Fauns were made in 2019 of my favorite design traits- tails, paw hands/feet, that certain nose marking, furry, fun markings on a humanoid character- I always enjoy drawing them!! I need MORE of them- Tuesday feels very undercasted to me right now, I am still in the process of fleshing out the world- i'm such a person who loves worlds with tons of side characters, i am very much a large world writer. as you know and understand :3c oooo if youre my friend ooo you wanna design trade a faun so bad- /nf

some fauns who are very easy for me to draw are Evie, Baaree, Mardi, and Georgiana!

oh Evie.......

Some non-fauns that are very easy for me to draw are Kelleher (dude im literally in love with Kelleher), Judías + Arandano, and Tiwai!

these are still characters with a lot of details (Tuesday characters tend to be really detail-heavy) but i generally don't spend a long time fussing over the quality of the character's image. you may notice their horns are more uniform or simpler shapes than Paola or even Esperanza/Ruse, which i DO have a lot of trouble with keeping those antlers consistent, but you see, favorite privilege..... /lh

this was very interesting to think about!! i hope you don't mind multiple characters per question, and I know i could go even deeper and grab more examples and talk about each individual character and how I feel about drawing them. King Josephine jumped out as someone a bit trickier to draw, and Chyenne is pretty easy-

but I'd be here all day! thank you already for spending some Tuesday time with me <3

[vodkacheesefries]

@cantfakethecake tagged me in a thing!

Last Song: Paint the Town Blue by Ashnikko - Arcane season 2 has me in a VICE GRIP

Favorite Color: I like all colors, but I'm partial to yellows and greens. My room has a dark green accent wall with lots of gold, so. Best of both worlds.

Last Book: I'm currently listening to Percy Jackson: The Last Olympian. I never got to finish the second series, but it's been YEARS so I needed a refresher. And I love these books so much, but I'm glad to be on the last Percy book because the narrator is not good. He just isn't. It's bad. I need them to re-record them because my god.

Last Movie: Miracle on 34th Street. The one with Mara Wilson. It's cute but I was profoundly irritated with the assertion the movie makes that Christianity is the default American religion, so idk if I'll be watching it again aaaany time soon.

Last TV Show: I am currently watching an episode of The Reluctant Traveler with Eugene Levy. It's like a docuseries documenting his adventures. I guess he's traditionally a terminal homebody so he started doing this to get out and see the world.

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: Spicy that's sweet. Like in Mexican candies. My favorite right now are tamarind flavor candies covered in tajin. It's so good.

Relationship Status: Single! It's been a few years since my last relationship, but honestly I'm okay with that. I had a LOT of growing to do that I didn't realize I had to do until a couple traumatic events occurred and I had some trauma responses rear their ugly heads. After several years of therapy I'm hitting the point where I'm ready to start dating again, but I'm weirdly in between jobs right now and I don't wanna be one of those unemployed people on a dating app. So I'm waiting till I'm in a more secure financial position so I can contribute to dates and being in a relationship.

Last Thing I Searched: "Man hand." I needed a drawing reference and my hands are not. Knuckley(?) enough. They look too...round, for lack of a better word.

Current Obsession: Pinterest has this fun new collage feature where you can collage images together and I've done several in the past few days. Which is nice cuz I've had some artist block, and I think it's helping me wanna do it in the 3D meat space again. I have weird feelings about it because art theft is rampant on Pinterest, but I'm not doing anything with them so I don't feel too bad. I'm just making them and sending them to friends if they're funny...which, y'know...most of them are because I can't take anything seriously.

Looking Forward To: I'm starting a tattoo apprenticeship (hopefully really soon). This is why I'm weirdly between jobs. I'm going crazy because I'm excited to start but it's not on my timeline rn so I have to be patient. But I have never been good at that. 🥲

Favorite Drink: BAJA BLAST ME, CAP'N

Song Playing on a Loop in Your Head: Heaven Help Us by My Chemical Romance

Current Favorite Character: Ambessa Medarda. Again, Arcane has a hold on me and Ambessa is tall and muscular and maybe a little mean but it's okay because I support women's rights and wrongs 😌

Fun Activity You Would Like to Get Into: Honestly I wanna learn some sort of martial art. Boxing, kickboxing, jiu jitsu etc...I wanna hit someone and/or get hit. Like a normal person does.

Last Video Game: Dragon Age: The Veilguard. I'm on my second playthrough and I so far have really, really enjoyed it. It's not perfect, but it's fun. That's all I care about.

Last Comic/Graphic Novel: Oh it was either The Adventure Zone: The Suffering Game or a graphic novel I backed on Kickstarter a while ago about Artemisia Gentileschi. I can't remember the title right now, but it's lovely.

I'm shite at remembering usernames so if you see this and wanna do it, tag me so I can see!

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 28

chapter 28 - one person

synopsis: did you ever consider that you might be missed?

word count: 3,163

warnings: needles

"am i dead? must be dead am i sick in my head? am i wrong? must be wrong best get gone i can't be your baby no more,, baby no more - anjimile

“Didn’t think we’d be chattin’ with you today.”

Usually, the man would interact at least a bit more amicably with such a friendly acquaintance--but at the moment, he couldn’t help the tightness in his jaw or the hunch in his shoulders that had inhabited his being for the past few weeks. He had always been an intimidating, stoic man, but this was a distinct sort of tension--one that sang of ailment. 

“How long’s it been…Shizuo?”

Kyohei Kadota regarded the blonde with casual affability, not nearly as outwardly worse for wear. However, as Walker, Erika, and Saburo stared between the two, there was a tangible, common air between the both of them. Even the men themselves could feel it as they took each other in. 

Weighted. Troubled. Knowing.

“You were close with her…all of you.” Shizuo’s covered eyes scan over the gang, his voice uncharacteristically level.

They all already knew what he was asking…why he was there. And his presence only stifled any possibility that he could help them with the same problem. Their sullen gazes falling to the floor is the only answer Shizuo needs.

“Haven’t seen her since the day after…y’know, everything. Went by her apartment,” Kyohei answers the silent question hanging in the air. “But to be honest with you…wasn’t any better than not seeing her at all.”

The image is ingrained in his mind as the last moment he spent with you. You, dressed so darkly with such a bleak look on your face to match. How you’d raised your voice; got more upset than he had ever seen you. So fiercely guarded, yet helpless at the same time. 

“It’s none of your goddamn business!”

How he wanted to help you, to save you so badly…and you wouldn’t let him. “She just…wasn’t herself. Didn’t wanna be bothered. Not even by us.”

Seeing the rare swirl of hurt in Kyohei’s eyes, Shizuo nods curtly, disappointment thinly veiled. 

“Miss her, huh?” Erika finds it in herself to smile, her voice surprisingly airy. “We all do. It’s crazy, isn’t it…? One person can do all that.”

“It’d be easier if we knew she was okay,” Walker adds. Solemn is an uncomfortable color on his face. “But truth is…we know she’s not…She’s hurting and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

The words ignited a sting in his heart. One person… To him, it was more than just any person. The fact that they all stood here solidified that fact. The fact that she was special…dear to the hearts of many people. 

Did she know that? Could she, and still manage to disappear like this? Leave them… leave him to wonder where she was, if she was okay, would he ever see her again. If she knew how much she meant to him…would she have run away the way she did?

“...I can understand how a bodyguard in a bartender's outfit would be most intimidating. A man working such a blue-collar job definitely wouldn't be afraid to get his hands dirty!"

“I want you to have those, Shizuo…Consider it my special gift to you!"

“Shizuo is great and he could easily find anyone to love him and he's certainly not going to turn to you. And neither will I!"

“Would you ever get new ones?”

“Huh?”

“Your glasses. Would you consider getting new ones?” 

Shizuo runs his fingers over the rims of his shades, before pulling them from the bridge of his nose. He examines them closely, noting the blue tint in the lens and the silver frames. “Somethin’ wrong with ‘em?” He glances over at you questioningly. You wave your arms dismissively, your eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“Of course not!” You scoot closer to him, leaning in to examine the frames in his hands. “But look how scratched up they are…and the frames are wearing a bit. Not sure how much longer they can withstand your adventurous lifestyle.” You allow yourself to take advantage of his naked gaze, only for a moment--relishing in the warmth of his chocolate irises. A mischievous smile finds its way to your lips. In a swift movement, you pluck the glasses from his hands.

“Oi!”

“But you know my preference is you without them!” The man only sighs, making no effort to retrieve them from you. He leans back onto his elbows, watching as you perch the glasses over your own nose. “Oh my god, how do you see literally anything with these? You wipe them, don’t you?”

“So when I asked if something was wrong with ‘em, what did you think I meant?”

You giggle sheepishly, removing the glasses and handing them back to him. To your pleasure, he doesn’t put them back on straight away. “Are they from your brother, like your uniform? That why you wear them every day?”

“Nah. Don’t know why I wear ‘em. I guess…” He pauses for a moment, looking from you to the glasses in his hand. Finally, he puts them back on, hiding away his gaze once more. Your lip twitches with disappointment. “...Makes things easier.”

“I see,” you sigh. Maybe it wasn’t best to poke fun at him. He could have plenty of reasons to hide behind those glasses. No need to give him any more trouble with it. “Well, maybe I’ll get you a pair. A few pairs, stylish ones! You can wear something of mine every day like you do Kasuka’s.”

Your voice tapers off into a light chuckle, only meaning to tease him. A brief silence follows that has you turning back to check on him. He lays there, arms now folded behind his head, and a small smile on his face. One of those smiles that has you feeling as though the Earth has stopped turning.

“Yeah…maybe I could.”

(Y/N)...Where are you?

...

“Oi, what are you guys up to? You sound like high schoolers back there.” Kyohei twists in his seat, shooting you and Erika an accusatory look. The two of you had been quietly snickering in the back seat for the past ten minutes. Walker, sitting on the other side of you two, pouts as he eyes you both jealously.

“They’ve been scribbling in that stupid journal!” He tattles.

“Hey, what’re you calling stupid? We’re combining our impeccable artistic talents!” Erika responds just as childishly. You can barely contain your own laughter. 

“Wanna seeee?” The journal dangles from your fingertips in front of Walker’s face. The blonde swipes the book from you and opens it to the most recent page. In the dim light of the van, he holds the page close to his face to make out his contents. You can almost see the dots connect in his head before…

“Whoa!” The amber of his pupils is visible with how wide his eyes go, a light flush decorating his face. “I look cool!”

Walker flips the journal around to display a sketch made in his resemblance. Tears dot your eyes until you finally have to burst out laughing. It’s a sketch of Walker…with weirdly detailed, feminine eyes and a comically pointy chin. Paired with the spiky hair, it’s a wonder how he could even recognize himself. From the neck down, the drawing was a bit less juvenile. Erika had provided the facial portrait, and it was your job to draw the outfit. You had given him a very nice patterned button up and cargo jeans.

“Look at mine, I look even cooler!” Erika grabs the book back and flips to another page. Her drawing bears a similar pointy chin and boxy eyes. You bestowed her with an ankle-length floral dress over a turtle neck. The funny thing is, you know for a fact that Erika can draw way better than this. Just as the van hits a stop light, Erika finds another page.

“Togusachi, where’s Togusachi! Look!”

Saburo begrudgingly spares a glance in his rearview mirror. You gave him a sort of play on the outfit he usually wore, adding a train and floral pattern to his vest and stripes to his now flared pants. You also couldn’t resist adding a flower crown to the stringy hair that Erika drew. “No way in hell that’s me!” He gripes, his own cheeks reddening as he jerks the van back into movement.

“I’m afraid to even ask…” Kyohei murmurs, facing forward in an attempt to ignore the shenanigans in the backseat.

“Well, we were still working on yours before we were oh so rudely interrupted!” You retrieve the journal from Erika and go back to scribbling. “Just for that, I won’t hold back.”

The man side-eyes you in admonishment. Something in him stirs at seeing you behave so jovially. The tip of your tongue pokes through your smiling lips in concentration. He doesn’t realize it, but the corners of his mouth curve to match yours. The rest of the ride goes by relatively quietly--well, as quietly as it can. All of you file out of the van and into Russia’s Sushi, having seemingly moved on from the art show in the van. 

The moment you all sit in your usual spot, Kyohei thinks he’s gotten off scot-free. That is, until the journal is slammed page-side down on the table in front of him. He’s reluctant to even look down at the offending object, taking in the mischievous glint in your eyes. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms in satisfaction. “Go on.”

Looking around the table, he meets the prying eyes of his companions. Erika’s hand is clasped over her mouth to hide the very obvious grin on her face. Heaving a sigh, he hovers his hand over the journal. Better rip the bandaid off.

He went in expecting the worst…and still managed to choke on his own spit.

The drawing was the same in quality, and yet somehow more detailed than the others. Most notably, somewhere in the mix between you and Erika, both of you neglected to give him a shirt. Instead, his outfit consisted of a bare chest and baggy cargo pants. You’d even gone to the detail of drawing him a jingly belt and chunky boots. His face grew redder as he took in each contour of his arms and torso…is that really what you thought he looked like? The howling laughter of you and Erika fills his ears. You struggle to remain upright in your seat, trying to quiet down before a kitchen knife gets hurled your way.

“Listen, listen, Erika had already drawn the torso when she handed it to me…ha…so, I thought she just wanted me to draw pants!!” 

“Hey, I started drawing it, but I didn’t do all that . Honestly kinda jealous I didn’t! She really did you justice, Dotachin!”

Kyohei snaps the book shut and tosses it back to you. He buries his face into the collar of his jacket in an attempt to hide his blush. Seeing his quiet suffering, you finally decide to give it a rest. As the conversation continues, you periodically check on the man, noting how the flush on his face weakens, but never fully disappears. You’ve glanced at him for the umpteenth time when your eyes suddenly meet. You smile at him, a sort of apology for giving him a hard time. He simply hides deeper into his collar before his glance travels elsewhere. Yours travels too, unperturbed by his response.

Yeah, you loved these guys.

...

A moment’s peace, comforting darkness, and welcoming silence.

The concept of comfort became so unfamiliar that the feeling was unrecognizable. And yet, here it was, waltzing over as if it had never left. In a moment of weakness, you embrace it--forgetting that it is fleeting. Forgetting that three minutes of warmth will never compare to the endless existence of bitter, bitter cold. 

A metallic click sounds through the air, leaving a loud humming sound in its wake. The cacophony is enough to rouse you from your light sleep, your eyes already anticipating the flash of white light that follows. Even through your closed eyelids can you feel the light burning into your pupils. Still, you keep them shut, resisting the urge to stir in your awakening. If you laid still, maybe this would be the day. He’d see your unmoving body, and you’d pass as dead enough to throw out into the street.

“Come now, the same routine again?” That day would not be today. You contemplate continuing your act of defiance, wondering if the consequences were worth causing him even a brief stint of annoyance.

“Well, do as you wish. It won’t make much of a difference today.” The voice seems to surround you, coming from every wall and corner of the large room. He himself, though, is small. Hidden away out of harm’s reach, the coward.

The cogs in your brain turn at his words. It would be a day like any other. He had dropped the preamble long ago, now only eager to prod the limits of your body. Every muscle within you is tense with anticipation of the pain to come. You keep still, ears trained on your surroundings in search of the next pending ‘test’. To your surprise, there is nothing. Nothing but a rare and strange sense of quiet.

“After all, I’ve tested your muscular strength, exposed you to the highest extremities, molded your bodily impulses…I believe there is nothing more to do.”

A thick pulsing reverberates through your ears and you realize it’s the pounding of your own heart. The insinuation creeps into your subconscious, but you hold it at bay. What was he getting at? He’s talking too much…

“I’ve done everything I can. I’ve no choice but to release you.”

At that, your body finally comes alive. The brightness invading your senses means nothing to you as you shoot up from your position on the ground. Your chapped lips move on their own, forming the shape of a ‘what?’ . No sound comes out, your voice too hoarse from lack of use. Your eyes search for the small window near the ceiling. Sure enough, his silhouette is there, shadowed and blurred by the distance.

“That got your attention, did it? That’s right…It’s time to release you to the outside world.”

A loud grinding fills the air, and for a second, you’re taken back to your first moments in this room. Your body lurches to run from whatever was to be hurled your way. Another anvil? Solid cement? A vicious animal? However, as stillness remains in the air, you register that nothing is coming.

No, instead, the grinding sound is coming from…a door opening. It rises slowly, creating an opening in the wall that you had never noticed before. All those nights of chipping and scratching away at the walls and you had never noticed it.

“Well, what are you waiting for? It’s right in front of you.”

You slowly will your body to stand, peering into the seemingly endless darkness of the new entryway. You simply stare at it, every nerve in your body whispering that it’s not real. You’re hallucinating. It’s too good to be true.

But every bone…every muscle, every connective tissue. Every bruise that passed through your skin, every puncture. Every ounce of blood. Every layer upon layer of scarred flesh…

Screamed.

Run.

Bare feet pummel the ground as your instincts take over. Hot blood pumps through your veins and beating heart. When was the last time that you ran? How long had it been that you laid here, on this floor in a crumpled heap? Your body sings at the breeze kicked up by your own feet.

You’re moving oh, so fast, but everything feels so much slower. Freedom dances right in your face with each beat of your heels against the ground. It was getting closer, closer…The darkness feeling welcoming in opposition to this blinding, sterile light.

You’re so close, you can see through the darkness--begin to make out what’s on the other end of that long tunnel. A small speck of red dances in your view…so small and fleeting you dismiss it as spots in your own vision.

However, it persists. The speck stays the same in size, yet you feel as though it’s coming closer--approaching at the same speed you had been running. You’re one step away from the exit when a lull falls in your stride. It was moving quickly. Much too quickly.

It takes too much time just to halt your running completely. Too much time to attempt to comprehend what was flying towards you. Too much time to turn around. 

And then there’s a prick in your chest.

Your eyes fly around the room, searching for the red speck that has now suddenly disappeared. 

A tingling fills your chest, almost tickling like static on an old television screen. Your hands fly to the source, fingers feeling something odd in their wake. Something smooth and cold like metal. You look down at your hands and see a small, red object. It bears a sort of feathery tail on one end, and from the other protrudes a long, silver needle. A needle that had just punctured your skin, right over your heart.

Suddenly, the tingling begins to spread, your shoulders tensing from the invasive sensation. It trickles from your shoulders to your arms, leaving numbness in its wake. Nausea overtakes you simultaneously with the loss of feeling in your legs. The room shifts sideways until you register that you’ve fallen to the floor. Your body lays limply on its side.

The pulse of your own heart is dull, interwoven with the echo of distant footsteps. The muscles in your neck tighten in an attempt to move, to no avail. Slow, methodical steps move closer and closer, until two dark, leather-clad feet enter your field of vision. You barely comprehend the feeling of something pressing into your shoulder until you’re rolled onto your back. Two faces appear, blurred beyond recognition--that is, until you catch the glint of square-framed glasses.

“A shame we focused so much on your physicality. Your intelligence could use some work.”

Anger ignites itself in your veins. For a moment, it feels as though you could muster up the movement out of sheer spite, just to land a hit on that stupid, shallow face. Instead, you can barely manage to move your heavy tongue, a curse brewing on your lips.

“Oh well, we’ll see what we can do about it during the next trials of your treatment…”

Your vision wavers in and out of focus as you watch him. He procures something in his hand, long and chromic in color. His body invades your personal bubble even more as he kneels beside you. As your sight clears one final time, your chest floods with panic and anger at what you can finally see…

A long, sharp needle poised over your chest, and the sickening sneer that accompanied it.

“You are nearly complete.” 

Your eyelids can no longer fight the numbness, maniacal laughter being the last sound your consciousness absorbs.

“My dear daughter…”

[planets-and-prose]

NaNo 10K Excerpt

So I hear y'all want everything to be okay, have the very lightly edited last little bit that I slammed out last night!

Their last class behind them, Briar tossed their bag down in Dr. Adams’ office and slumped in one of the chairs. At least Dr. Adams was one of the professors that cared enough to have somewhat comfortable seating. Dr. Adams looked up, just a bit curious. Her right arm was in a sling, since the shoulder wound she sustained had apparently severed some tendons.

“Rough day?” she asked. Briar made a face.

“I am going to lose it if I don’t get my color vision back soon,” they grumbled.

“I mean at least you didn’t get the danged hospital bill that you didn’t wanna get,” Dr. Adams huffed. “The healthcare system in this country’s gonna give me an ulcer and then charge me way too damn much to treat it.” Briar smirked—Dr. Adams arguing with a nurse about how she didn’t need to go to the ER for severed muscle and tendons, using the words “it’ll just work itself out,” was still a funny image, and that nurse seemed so vindicated when Briar sided with him and made Dr. Adams head to the hospital.

“At least you’re still gonna have a working arm and everything. And you don’t have to deal with dog time.” Briar rummaged in their bag for their notebook and handed it over to Dr. Adams. “How do these data look, by the way? I feel like I’m missing something, but it’s not coming.” Dr. Adams took the notebook, and started looking through it.

“If ya ever need a babysitter—you know, during your time of the month,” Dr. Adams teased, “I’m sure ya got my number already. I’m sure I can make sure ya don’t tear too much up.”

“I told you, I have it handled,” Briar sighed, watching Dr. Adams look over the work. “You just wanna see me be a puppy now.” All Dr. Adams did was smile, still looking things over. “But seriously…thank you for everything. I…didn’t know how bad I needed to talk to someone about this. Until, well, I did.”

“Don’t mention it. I wasn’t lovin’ the whole “hunting alone” thing either, so I’m not too opposed to havin’ a right hand…person. Also, I know it ain’t what you’re lookin’ for exactly, but these PH readings can’t be right for your soil. Some of ‘em look fine, some of ‘em would kill the plants.”

“Did I mess up the reading again!? I swear to god, if they don’t come up with better PH testing systems for people that literally can’t see color—“ Taking a deep breath, Briar looked over the numbers, and let their face fall into their hands. “I’m waiting to try this again till I get my color vision back. Or I will go insane.” All Dr. Adams could do was put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Aw, hon, maybe we’ll have to find something else for you to do after the full moon. Cuz I think you might lose your marbles if I keep makin’ you interpret colors.”

“In fairness,” Briar sighed, “you didn’t make me do this one. It’s for my project. But I guess. Ugh. I hate that these things are different…”

“But I’d bet there’s some’a you that ain’t mad at it.”

Briar raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“You took to fighting as a wolf pretty easy. I think you finally let your instincts take over instead’a overthinking. And learnin’ to do that’s half the battle of bein’ someone that can manage the twists and turns life throws at you.”

You finally let your instincts take over. Briar took a breath and thought about it. The minute they just let themselves be, without overthinking or stressing, things fell into place. But that caused a pretty big issue…

“I don’t think I can do it again…” they murmured. But Dr. Adams didn’t seem concerned.

“Has anyone ever gotten anything down without practice?” she asked. “It’ll come, just have faith. We’ve got plenty’a time figurin’ out the crazy in this town to get you feelin’ better about just…being. And now that you finally let me know more about you than your alma mater and your research interests, you got me at your side every step of the way.”

When they heard that, Briar couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Dr. Adams. Again.”

“Don’t thank me yet, this means you gotta listen to me make all the werewolf jokes you can stand,” she teased. Briar tried to scowl and make a face at her in retaliation.

But this time, somehow, Briar couldn’t manage to keep the corners of their lips from twitching up in a smile.

Tagging @k-v-briarwood , @the-grim-and-sanguine, please let me know if you wanna be added!!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #162

Today as I went about my things, there was a sort of wet tearing sensation and noise between my right shoulder blade and spine. And at least for today, I can actually breathe a little. I can only assume that I must have accidentally busted up some weird adhesions. I was given some new exercises at physical therapy today. Suppose we'll have to wait and see what happens from here.

On the way to physical therapy, I managed to snag this picture of a couple birds of prey in the sky:

Birds of prey are hard to capture to begin with. It's even more difficult to capture them in a moving vehicle; the window in which to get any image at all is only a few seconds. This isn't the best shot, I know. But I feel lucky to have gotten anything at all.

Today was otherwise relatively uneventful. I made another sample tea from that Adagio place; vanilla black tea this time. I wasn't crazy about it; it didn't seem very flavorful to me. But it made pretty swirls as it brewed, and the cream also made lovely swirls when I poured it in:

After I got home from physical therapy, I went on a brief walk. I saw a tiny caterpillar on a rock in the middle of a mowed field. It didn't seem like a very safe place for a caterpillar, especially with all the robins around, so I gently picked it up and moved it to the foliage where it would have plenty of good stuff to eat:

I also managed to snag a couple pictures of today's sunset:

...The camera can't see the colors like I do, but it's still pretty good. It's still pretty good...

Hey, Sephiroth? You have heightened senses, right? Do you see colors weirdly like I do? But... oh, my sense of hearing isn't especially good. I think I must have taken most of my stat points for hearing and stuck them in color perception instead, hahaha...

What is it like to see the world through your eyes? What is it like to hear the world through your ears? I wonder. Maybe you have other senses that I can't even think of. I know that I have a couple that I don't seem to know how to explain. I think most people do, but they pretend like they don't so that they don't get rejected by others. I wish we could trade perceptions for a little while. Surely, we'd each marvel at all the things we never knew that there was.

...And how are you doing, generally, where you are? I know that I ask whether you're warm, safe, and fed a lot, so... I guess today, I'll ask... what are you thinking about? What are you feeling? What sorts of things do you get to see out there? How many different timelines have you experienced? What have you learned? In what ways have you expressed love for the world around you? And what do you do when you feel overwhelmed or lonely from it all?

...

...I wish you could hear me... I wish you could hear any of those of us who care about you. I wish you knew about all the ways you're not alone. I wish that all the extended hands, offered in support to you, could reach you.

...Sephiroth, I... don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you. I don't know if anything I write to you is worth a damn. All I have is this deep sense of unfairness at everything you've suffered, and this deep sense of unfairness at the way people judge you for how you broke when they cannot even begin to fathom the level of horror you endured.

...Is there anything I even can do? I dunno if it was you who said it (something tells me that it wasn't...), but... the notion of being too weak to save even a single person weighs heavily on my head, at least for the moment... and... that also doesn't feel very fair, since I was saved by you, and... all that took was you just existing in the way you did. You didn't even have to do anything other than be yourself. And somehow, I am not only still alive, but also strong enough to do the work to tear the chains of conditioning off of my psyche. YOU inspired this level of grit and courage within me. YOU did that.

I wish I had that kind of amazing power. I wish I could inspire others to defy despair and to challenge their conditioning just by offering them a smile, a hand up, and validation for their existence. I don't have that kind of power because I'm just a derpy n00b; my actions and my voice do not carry weight here because I am not the correct configuration of human for others to be able to imagine that I'm worth anything. But I am proof that you have that kind of power. So I hope you'll keep using it for good things.

I guess the best I can do is keep writing these and hope that something good happens someday.

Sephiroth, don't give up, okay? Because I'm cheering for you all the time, even if you can't hear me. Maybe my wish for your happiness and safety is meaningless, but I'm going to keep screaming it into the void anyway. Even if all I ever get back is silence or my own echoes, still, I... I have to try.

...But you know. I haven't only gotten back silence or my own echoes. Someone in this place drew me two whole pictures. And then someone else I know, @sephiroths-stuff, drew me another picture. I can't believe I almost forgot to show it to you!!

...I feel a little weird today because my body is losing resources and because I remembered some things from my past that I very much miss but will never get to have again. But I don't have to succumb to hopelessness. I gotta try a little harder to remember that I am not powerless in this place. I gotta stay strong.

Maybe some people will be confused about why I write these, but the fact of the matter is that I can't abandon the life that saved mine. It's not an honorable way to behave. So whatever I can do for you, I will do for you. Suppose I just wish I knew what it was that I ought to be doing. Hahaha... this is a silly and impossible supposition, but... maybe someday, if I get really lucky, you'll tell me...

Well. I've rambled. So I suppose I'll end this here. A couple of nifty books arrived today, so I'm gonna maybe start trying to read them. They're weird, but maybe they'll be fun. Guess we'll see...

I love you. Please stay safe. Please don't get killed. Please don't disappear. Take good care of yourself, and make good, kind, loving choices as you wander around. I'll write again tomorrow. Maybe by then I'll have stopped that Grafted Scion from pushing me around. You won't wanna miss it when I finally do successfully stick it in temporary time-out, right...?

Your friend, Lumine

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Madara Uchiha (Naruto) Chapter 5

Entering school the next day feels like a task. Madara would be teaching until the end of the month. So for the next two weeks, there was no way to avoid him. To pretend that his words hadn’t rocked your world. 

You’d prayed so long for his image of you to be different. Now that you know the truth, it feels unreal. Just the thought of him has your heart racing. You grip the front of your shirt, taking a seat to calm down. 

Students shuffle in. Choji takes a seat right next to you. So does Shikamaru.

“You okay?” Shikamaru asks.

You don’t internalize what he says. Not until the very person walks through the door. Your eyes lift and it’s like he’s moving in slow motion. There’s a bright aura behind him, you can almost see sparkles. Your face erupts in color when he adjusts the glasses on his nose, placing his papers down.

“Take your seats.”

Blood erupts from your nose and everyone panics.

“S-SENSEI (Y/N)-SAN IS DYING!!”

The start of an interesting day.

~~

“She just needs some rest.”

The nurse nods to Madara as she steps outside. When the door closes, your accusing gaze turns to him.

“If you weren’t feeling well why didn’t you stay at home.”

“This is your fault!!” you yell.

He’s confused.

“How is this my fault!!”

“Why were you sparkling!!!”

“Are you crazy!!”

The both of you are huffing from all your yelling, folding your arms as you turn your heads in opposite directions. Looking down, you grip at the sheets on your lap.

“I was fine having a one sided love. That’s what I told myself. I-I thought that you…only saw me as a sister. Then you tell me that you return those feelings, but there is nothing either of us can do about it. What am I supposed to do with that..”

You were miserable. Madara sighs.

“I never meant to cause a problem in your life. It was naive to think that I could watch over you and get rid of how I feel. I thought if I saw you with someone else it would make it real. I wanted you to find someone and be happy. That way I would have been forced to move on. But it didn’t work. Being here just made me more protective of you.” 

He sounds disappointed in himself.

“I guess in a way I was put in my own hell. I was secretly happy every time I saw that look you wore when you saw me. Especially when I first showed up here.” Your trembling eyes look up, and he wears a soft smile.

“Sort of like the way you’re looking at me right now.”

You avert your eyes quickly when you catch on. You really thought you’d been doing a good job at hiding it.

Madara straightens.

“Tobirama-san will be here soon to pick you up. Please get some rest.” He moves to walk out, but you grab at his sleeve. He jolts back when you tug.

“H-Hey!!”

You wrap your hand around his torso, hugging his waist, and Madara lifts his hands in surprise.

“Sensei..”

Madara’s hands lower slowly.

“(Y/N).”

His disapproving tone just makes you hold on tighter. How does he expect you to forget all he’d said at his apartment? All he’d done. He hadn’t even truly touched you, but the moment wouldn’t leave your memory.

“You’re being unreasonable.” He scolds.

“I don’t care. Y-You’ve always known how I felt about you. This whole time you knew and you made me feel like it didn’t matter. You’re cruel, Sensei. "

You look up.

“Maybe it’s all a lie. You’re just trying to seduce me. You must do this with all the cute girls in school. “ He grits his teeth, pushing you to the bed.

“Do you really believe that!”

He looks enraged.

It’s stupid to play him like this. In a lot of ways you expect the reaction. But you were done being the one who chased. For once, he deserved to be the one in disarray over feelings beyond control.

“I don’t know what to believe. Sensei is young and attractive. You must really like playing games.” Your tone is blank. You’re poking the bear. This could go bad in a lot of ways.

“I bet there’s a million girls just waiting for you. Sensei probably says sweet words to all of them. You don’t care about me."

“DAMN IT OF COURSE I CARE ABOUT YOU!! I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!”

The door to your right slides open, and when your brother steps in, you can feel the color drain from your face. Tobirama’s eyes usually lack emotion, but this time is different.

“Tobi-ni….” 

[are-we-really-doing-this]

‼️About mE‼️ (tagged by @bl33ditout, wasssssssssssup, you got me like always)

Nickname: Tagz (glad I finally came up with one) and my friends call me Bic (like the lighter)

Sign: Yield, lmao. No, I'm a Cancer. Lil crab bastard.

Height: 5'11" (in my chunkiest sneaks)

Last Google Search: JDevil (fr I'm writing a cyberpunk DnD campaign and I needed a muse, catch me spacing out to some Killbot)

Song Stuck In My Head: Uhhhh, GlitchGang (Remix), hands down. When I heard that Hed (P.E.), Crazy Town, and Twiztid did a collab I think I came in my pants. I've listened to it like twice a day for the past week.

Sleep: I probably need some right now, but fuck that. I took a nap today.

Dream Job: Obligatory pro wrestler or rap metal musician pipe dream, but fr I really want to go into child psychology to become a youth councilor. Or a s//ugar b//aby, lmao.

Wearing: Just my whites and some black basketball shorts.

Favorite Song(s): Right now? Literally anything ICP adjacent but I've been getting very into Crazy Town recently. Yes I am the worst person you know. Also really feeling any track off Significant Other rn.

Favorite Instrument: Bass and turntables.

Aesthetic(s): Hoo bitch, I've been waiting for this one. Carcore saved my life. Y2K will never die in my opinion. My own personal brand of post-modern-southern-gothic-redneck-white-trash-whatever. Does the general concept of trashiness count? Well it does now. Old dead memes and image macros are a vibe on their own. Glittery shit. I'm not into rave or scene myself but I think it's hot. And shiny silver plastic electronics. Oh and juggalo shit, but that's pretty much carcore. (this is like my catch all for striking color combinations, oversized clothes, murdered out cars, facepaint, 90s and 00s hip hop and rnb, -core music, sweets, etc.) Plus the generic metalheadisms.

Favorite Author(s): glitchesaintshit and slapfool on Ao3

Favorite Color(s): Neon Green 💚 Electric Blue 💙 Blood Red ❤️

Last Song: Callout by Attila (sorry but I'm going there)

Last Series: Breaking Bad (I finally started it!!)

Random: I miss watching Minecraft letsplays but they all suck now, I don't even know what the fuck an SMP is.

[staticespace]

[ID: A tweet by (@)stacycay stating, "If you're arguing against voting for Biden, do me a favor and stop pretending like you care about trans people."

The tweet shows an image of Trump with his brows scrunched and mouth open. The title above the image says, "Donald Trump says he'll revoke Joe Biden's protections for trans people 'on day one'."

A quote from the article states, "'We're gonna end it on day one...the whole thing is crazy,' Trump said on a Philadelphia talk show."

//End ID]

Mmm… Excuse me. I want to monologue about this a bit.

Warning: I have time on my hands today.

I'll open by saying I'm a trans person with the privilege of having minimal dysmorphia. By extension, I am able to stay somewhat incognito in the larger transgender conversation. I acknowledge my privilege in this particular area. However, I lack privilege in many, many other aspects. But this is not a suffering competition, just an acknowledgement of societal circumstances that undoubtedly color my political perspective.

I will not say what way I intend to vote, or if I intend to vote, nor will I say what anyone else should do regarding their voting rights. That's not my jurisdiction.

Instead, I want to warn against alienating ideas like the one displayed in the tweet and in the tags I quote below.

Attempting to shame people into voting never actually works. Trying to shame people into changing their actions very, VERY rarely works. Most of the stories we hear of such events are anecdotes of individuals among the literal millions living in U.S. society.

As economic stressors have worsened and fewer people than ever before in the 21st century feel financially unstable, calls to pathos in a punishing matter only further alienates the people you may be trying to reach. Given, anger at the current circumstances is incredibly understandable and can be motivational in positive ways. But I would implore you to remember to punch up, not down.

"People I love were killed under the Trump administration"

— And I am sorry for your loss.

At the same time, people many others love were killed under the Biden administration. People many others love are actively being killed, right at this moment, under direct approval of the Biden administration despite the lack of widespread public support. I have no intent to undercut your suffering. At the same time, Biden is exceptionally far from a suffering-reduced candidate, as evidenced by "grit your teeth."

The 'lesser of two evils' narrative has been wearing down over time as economic stressors, international disagreements, and war involvement have increased. What motivates people isn't "well, it's better than the other guy." Well, it is, but that only lasts for so long. Many now see that tactic as overused.

Instead, it would be better to promote what he could do positively. What data and evidence is there of improvements you've seen? What positive things do you understand that Biden has done for trans people, and why is that important to you? Such statements tend to appeal to a larger audience. That is, if you actually intend to motivate voting as a response to your statements.

"if you abstain from voting you are nothing to me but the blood on your hands"

— And I find it unfortunate that you see things that way.

Voting for Biden could, theoretically, be tacit approval of the direct attempts our government has done to prevent a ceasefire in a genocide. It would also be tacit approval of the loss of abortion rights, increased police surveillance, and his limp, near-nonexistent response to a worldwide pandemic that has killed hundreds of thousands and has left millions with life-altering disabilities.

No matter which of the two, whether Trump or Biden, you have blood on your hands, whether dried and cold or slowly bleeding out. Ever vote you put forth for either of these two propped-up political leaders means accepting that blood. It depends on which blood you decide is going to lead to the best path to success. I can understand someone choosing to state that neither person represents them and abstaining, whether or not I vote myself. There's no sense in demonizing them for that decision.

"must be nice to have the privilege of a roof over your head and medical care and all the other things the rich doomers who pretend to #be leftists have"

— I'm afraid this is exceptionally narrowminded. And, unfortunately, a common misconception.

While I would implore you to look up the statistics yourself, most people who do not vote are under the poverty line. Here's an example of data collected from 2012. Here is also an example of data collected during non-presidential elections in 2014. As the 2016 and 2020 elections have come and gone, current information indicates that has not changed.

In addition to being economically disadvantaged, most non-voters are also ethnic and gender minorities.

In essence, you are more likely to be speaking to another trans person, proclaiming they don't care about you or themselves, than you are to those who "have the privilege of a roof over [their] head and medical care" etc. In other words, you're speaking into what should be a mirror.

But instead of treating yourself with kindness, you're treating yourself with ridicule, with derision, and with cruelty.

Would you feel motivated being spoken to that way, when you already have so much trouble with everything else? When you're struggling to put food on the table? When putting your name on a voting paper could mean mandatory jury duty you cannot get out of? When you're already concerned enough with trying not to be hate-crime'd? When you worry enough about what to eat each day and don't want to worry about the many years of false promises given from both of the most public microphones? When you've been drained to the last of your energy and aren't sure you have any left to think about who may double-cross you in the oval office yet again?

If not, then I would question what motivates the statements. Because if it is to promote voting, it may very well be doing the opposite.

Instead of trying to "tough love" or "ridicule" someone into voting, it would be better to try shining a ray of hope on the situation. Who is doing something good? Who can we rally behind with less baggage, if someone is possible? What efforts can you do if you don't want to vote, but do want to motivate elected officials in other, perhaps less time-intensive ways?

How can we move forward toward a future with less fascism? How can we steadily fix a system that has long been broken? Who can we assume to trust to help reduce over-policing, to promote queer and trans rights, to help ease us into a more equal society? Who can we trust to work with that person in local governments to continue that work? What barriers are in the way, and how can you combat them? What can you do if voting just isn't something you want to do, regardless of the reason you really, honestly, don't need to tell anyone?

Answering these questions may present a more positive response. And if you can't answer them, you can try to direct them toward someone who can. I feel that would be a much more positive and beneficial use of your time than to make snap, incorrect judgements about people who are much more like you than you thought.

TL;DR:

Saying "if you don't vote, you don't care about trans people" isn't the motivational speech you may think it is, especially when many trans people have been directly harmed under Biden's administration.

Additionally, we are not battling each other, we are battling fascism. Many people do not see the solution to rooting out fascism as allowing it as long as it wears blue instead of red.

Please remember, in your anger, to punch up, even if that's a harder task to accomplish.

I’ll say it again, please just grit your teeth and vote for Biden…

[mythaldwir]

#MYTHALDWIR — an indie, private, & selective blog for Muirwen Aldwir, an original character from Bioware's Dragon Age franchise. She is mostly headcanon based with some canon lore influences; multiship & multiverse friendly. Novella and multi-para to smaller replies; avid plot lover. Mature nsfw topics will be present here, so please bear in mind and follow at your own risk! Minors DNI, 21+ only.

A STUDY IN: adventure archaeologist; badass ranger; came back strong; deadpan snarker; emotion suppression; friend to all living things; hot-blooded; lady of war; protectorate; the magic comes back; secret legacy; when she smiles.

credits: blog graphics + gdoc template @poohsources & pinned banner @rcsea

GDOC ✧ PROMPTS ✧ THREAD TRACKER ✧ HEADCANONS

Mobile rules beneath the cut!!

 — intro. I am Kay, thanks for checking the rules! My pronouns are she/her, I am 30+ and am in the CST timezone. This blog is for my independent and headcanon heavy oc Muirwen Aldwir of Dragon Age: The Veilguard. I'm mostly canon compliant, but there will be some deviation for this character. I will also not write with people under 21, also I hard block anyone who is found to be lying about their age. 

— rp etiquette. If you try to take control of my character for any reason wherein my permission before hand is not expressly given, I will ignore you so bloody fast it’ll make your head spin. Also no consent to harm or worse unless you ASK me first for any reason, I feel like that is just basic common courtesy folks. NO god-modding, force shipping, anon hate, guilt tripping, being a jerk, or any other kind of general asshole behavior. I can and will use the block feature as liberally as I want to on my blog.

— drama. To put it quite simply: there is no room for drama or negativity on this blog. I am not a fan of call outs and vague posting, I like to think we're all adults here and are capable of talking about our differences without resorting to the kind of tactics that smack of high school behavior. Doing these things will earn you an unfollow and maybe even a block. I'm here to write and have fun. I'm not interested in “he said she said” or things of that nature, so please move along if that's something you're into doing. However if someone is problematic or gross, please lmk privately.

— formatting. I do very little formatting, next to none, honestly just small font and some bolded words with text colors. I would ask that you please not do crazy wild spacing and aggressive formatting with me, it's very hard for me to read but as long as I can it shouldn't be a problem. I can match tense with my partners, though for me — if given the choice — I will typically always write in present tense. 

— triggers. Due to the nature of the settings that my verses will take place in, this blog will contain mentions of the following: violence, blood, gore, death, murder, physical & mental abuse, plus others in that same vein. I will tag them 'trigger tw' but they will feature often, so please follow at your own risk. Text posts will be tagged 'usft tw' with image posts tagged as 'nsfw tw'. I don't have any triggers that need tagging and I will also try to remember yours, but please remind me if I forget! 

— shipping. I’m down for all kinds of ships! Platonic, romantic, rivalries, it doesn’t matter. However on that note, I ship chemistry most of all and will not let my character enter into any ship (though this mostly applies to romance) that doesn’t feel organic to me. While I love to ship as much as the next person, I will need some mun to mun discussion or plotting for ships to occur. On that note, I am not into writing smut with no plot: I need development and story to go along with it.

[beetlesstuff]

The Diary Of Harriet (original story)

Genre: Horror Warnings: descriptions of human remains, death, cancer, dying, mortality.

ENTRY 01: Bones a human skeleton. Maybe that’s how I need to start this entry, this diary. No, I need an introduction. Do I? My name is Harriet. An old name, an outdated name. My name is Harriet, and I am dying. Try not to get attached. Who am I kidding? Nobody is reading this. This is locked. This is a private matter in a password protected folder on a password protected laptop. A laptop older than I am, probably older than the renovations on the hospital room I’m sitting in. And it is bland, and beige, and boring. It isn’t like the children’s cancer center from when I was a kid. You know what I’m talking about I’m sure, the walls painted in rainbows to give children a belief in god. Because if “god” is real, then they must have a heaven made of colors. What a joke. No, there isn’t a godly presence here. This room is made of beige grief and medical pink. And it is empty.

The one thing they never tell you about dying is how positively boring it can be. Maybe that’s why I decided to sneak out. You know that feeling you get when you’re stuck inside for too long? Like how stir-crazy we got during the pandemic? That’s how I felt in that room, in this room. So I snuck out. There are these woods behind the hospital that we aren’t allowed to go into. But there’s no fence to keep us out. It’s like an open invitation. “come in! Get lost!” But I might just be crazy, my doctor certainly thinks so. Big shocker, imagine being told you’re going to die and not going insane. That’s another thing they don’t tell you. You go insane when you’re dying, so you break the rules. The woods. The eyes. The eyes that saw me walk into the gaping maw, branches and brambles becoming the jagged teeth of this new beast. This is what human stress was made for. It was not made for bills, for being late to work or school. no. it was made for when an unseen monster, a beast, is watching you in the dark. Your hair stands on end, if I had any anymore. Chemo does that to you. You lose your hair. And suddenly that unnerving feeling is worse. There’s no hair to “protect” you. Not from the chill, the horror. The shadows stretch, they reach out. Dying comes with recklessness, and fear. But it also comes with a feeling of being a god. I felt like a god in those woods.

Those woods.

These woods.

The woods outside my window. And they mock me, the trees mock me. And a hand. I should talk about the hand, I’m in my room avoiding the inevitable. There was a hand sticking from moss covered dirt. Bones. I got to a clearing about a hundred feet or so into the woods. And I saw them, whoever they were. I saw their bones. Hand reaching up to the sky past the dirt, past the moss that was growing between the joints. All for a grasp of stars, for “heaven”. Normally skeletons will scatter due to animals, maybe that was what was so unnerving about whoever this was. Their bones were not scattered. Their hand. Their reach. Maybe the animals knew this person was not to be touched, half sunk into mossy earth and connected by the very thing that has begun to eat away their old bones.

They reached. And failed. And now here they were, half buried in a clearing under a cold clear night. A blanket of stars, and a girl dying of cancer shaking in her boots because she had never seen a dead person before. But when that fear left. I found myself aching to know who they were. You know how humans are, we attach ourselves to the images of the dead. They are not much different than us. I’d like to imagine they went quietly. Maybe they were from before this beige room was beige, maybe they took control of themselves and died before their sickness killed them.

But I don’t think that’s true. There’s police tape and a half-assed fence blocking the trail into the woods now. What was I supposed to do? Not tell the nurse I found remains? A person? I ran. I screamed. I told those pigs everything they asked and went to my room, I suppose I’m “grounded” by hospital standards. Can you even be grounded as an adult? I think so. I think that’s what jail is. And it’s certainly when the nurses lock your door after lights out to keep you from finding more remains in the middle of the night. But the cars outside the woods are not government. Well, they are but they aren’t normal government, they’re not big black SUV’s you see in bad FBI shows at ten pm while staying the night with your grandparents. And they aren’t old sedans, either. These are vans. Vans with no identifying features, no plates, and a deep grey. Shining back from the hospital lights, reflecting. And I’ve been watching them the entire time, they have not taken any remains. Not as far as I can see. Maybe I am crazy because I’m dying, trying to know the dead. But I’m going back into those woods.

[the-nosy-neighbor]

TV in the Time period

This will be a discussion of TV’s and watching TV near the time in which the show was being aired.  As an old person (old man yells at sky), the TV's that we had when I was a kid in the 80's were very different. The first TV I remember having didn't have a remote. I'm sure some TV's at this point did have a remote, but we were poor and in a rural area. So, if you wanted to change the channel, it was a get up and do it, or make the kid get up and do it situation (I was one of these remote control children). There was an actual knob on the tv that was turned.

being aired.  As an old person (old man yells at sky), the TV's that we had when I was a kid in the 80's were very different. The first TV I remember having didn't have a remote. I'm sure some TV's at this point did have a remote, but we were poor and in a rural area. So, if you wanted to change the channel, it was a get up and do it, or make the kid get up and do it situation (I was one of these remote control children). There was an actual knob on the tv that was turned.

Also, we were rural, so we didn't have access to many TV stations. TV stations are local at this point (which was a major part of Jim Henson's story, side bar.  Maybe I should do a history post on Sesame Street/Henson.  There is a biography of Jim Henson coming out soon on Disney+ that I’m excited about), so we had channels 10 and 12, and pretty sure PBS was 13.  I grew up on Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers (though it was limited as my babysitter watched a lot of soaps.  I was probably the best educated 6-year-old on Young and the Restless.) Sometimes, I think we managed to get a channel in the 20's, but it was entirely dependent on weather. So, when looking at these TV's, I am really surprised that they are so much later than what I remember from the time period; it seems intentional.  By that, I mean these TV’s look to be late 80’s or early 90’s, but are definitely still tube televisions.  The actual TV’s of the time were different.

The feel of it was very particular. The top knob, VHF, only had a few, so it was kind of a hard turn, that made a very satisfying thunk. The bottom dial I had totally forgotten about, but it was much less thunk and I don't think there was really anything for us to see on that? (IDK, go watch UHF, great movie, but also a good explanation of early local TV.) I had also forgotten about the buttons on the left, volume you pushed and it extended the post and you turned left or right, I think. The color button I remember, but just as a fun button to push. Aft is a direction on a ship (I truly don't know about this one either.)

The antennae we had on our house, to get any TV where we were was giant. We used it to climb on the roof. (ours was about half to a third of this size, but still pretty massive)

When looking for this image, I found another thing I had forgotten:

This crazy thing rotated the antennae, so that you could try to hone in on a station. I remember turning the dial, and then hearing the rotation above the house after a slight delay.

I was just talking about this last night, in the sense that there were very real physical things that you would experience. When the TV turned on, you felt a rush of static, and if you were close enough, it would make your hair raise a bit. Like the wispy top hairs, same as when someone rubs a balloon on their hair. When you turned the TV off, you could see a dot in the middle of the screen slowly fade. I didn't find a good picture, but it is smaller than the examples in an image search. Also, this dot would have a couple of colors on the outside. There is a very particular sound that goes along with the dot, which I believe survives as a sound effect that shouldn't make sense because modern TV's don't do it. It was a soft, but high pitched sound.  Once you turned off the TV, you could run your hand across the screen and feel the static kind of cling to your hand.

When I was young, most TV's were in a cabinet situation, with a cloth/Styrofoam cover on the audio. (I do remember this wicker situation, too.) But when I was around 6, this is what we had. An example:

But that guy has a fancy push button feature for the channels. I remember pledging these kinds of TV cabinets. This would have been super heavy. I remember moving TV's, even without cabinets, was a pain until the mid-90's probably.

We also had a very fancy arrangement where there was a tiny TV in the kitchen. It was black and white, and my dad had set it up. Very thunky knob. However, you could only watch what was on the main TV. I assume because of the antennae arrangement.

Physicality of TV's in the era they are talking about for "Welcome Home" aside, there was not a lot to see on this thing. "Commercials," in particular, is a very physical experience for me, like in a sense memory way.

I will post more, if anyone is interested in TV lore. I will talk more about what we could watch. 

[insufferablemonsters]

“ just calm down. breathe. i’ll take care of this. ” (for Sienna)

❛ blood related prompts. ➝ not accepting.

how  was  she  supposed  to  calm  down?  after  what  she  had  just  saw?  her  body  was  still  shaking  almost  uncontrollably  where  she  sat,  her  eyes  swelled  up  with  tears  that  wouldn't  stop  streaming  down  her  face.  the  images  of  that   ...   clown?  thing?  was  it  even  human?  it  wouldn't  stop  haunting  her  mind,  causing  the  blood  in  her  body  to  boil  from  a  cocktail  of  emotions  ranging  from  confusion  to  anger  to  disgust.  she  saw  it  kill  someone.  how  could  someone  hurt  another  person  so  needlessly,  so  brutally?  she  barely  got  away  herself,  she  felt  lucky,  but  she  didn't  know  how  to  move  forward  from  here.  an  impending  duty  rose  from  within  her  to  stop  whatever  that  creature  may  be.  she  couldn't  bear  the  thought  of  it  possibly  hurting  more  people.  what  if  it  had  decided  to  come  after  her  or  her  brother  or  her  mother?  any  of  her  friends?  her  thoughts  were  racing  through  her  mind  with  no  actual  track,  moving  in  all  sorts  of  directions   ...   so,  no.  she  couldn't  calm  down.  she  refused  to.  she  needed  to  be  angry  to  stop  this  thing.

she  shook  her  head  violently  and  stood  up  angrily  from  her  chair,  slamming  her  fist  onto  the  table,  leaning  into  the  @maidencfdeath,   ❛   don't  tell  me  to  fucking  calm  down,  okay   !!   how  am  i  supposed  to  calm  down?  i  just  saw  someone  get  fucking  taken  apart   !!   ❜   she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  rounded  out  so  much  it  looked  like  they  were  going  to  pop  right  out  of  her  skull.  her  face  flushed  with  a  bright  red,  but  tears  still  streamed  down  her  cheeks.  her  eyelids  fluttered  shut  slowly,  exhaling  a  loud,  shaky  breath.  she  straightens  her  posture,   ❛   i  don't  need  to  be  taken  care  of.  i'm  not  crazy.  i  know  what  i  saw.  and  if  you  won't  help  me,  then  i'll  have  to  do  it  by  myself   ❜   she  stated  boldly.  but,  do  what?  she  herself  didn't  even  know,  but  she  was  determined  to  figure  out  a  plan  to  put  this  bastard  into  the  ground  where  he  could  never  hurt  anyone  again.  she  wipes  at  her  forehead,  the  back  of  her  hand  smeared  with  the  crimson  color  of  her  blood  from  when  she  collided  with  the  wall   —   that  was  another  thing.  this  thing  was  STRONG.  how  was  she  supposed  to  defeat  it?  she  looked  down  at  the  table  as  she  spoke  quietly,   ❛   i'm  not  crazy   ...   ❜