#( ic asks. )

[rabbitbled]

@darkconsumed said: ❛ you have something beautiful inside of you. it’s hard for some people to tell, but it’s there. ❜ ( from lottie )

"Oh, could you please just give it a rest with that shit?" She wasn't ever really much of a believer. So many of them had faith in spades back then, with Lottie being the most unrelenting of them all. Even to this day she seemed to hold onto it. Shauna didn't though, and she certainly didn't believe that there was anything good inside of her either. Let alone anything beautiful. Any and all semblance of goodness had been carved right out of her (if there was ever any to begin with).

"There's no connections to be made here, Lottie." Shauna says. She doesn't sound angry anymore, more so tired. "No beauty or spirits. You know what there is?" Hands gesture around them, as an exasperated sigh leaves her lips. "Just a few very broken people. Everything else died out there."

[spiraltightens]

@facepeeled said: ❝ i'm just a crazy bitch. ❞

"I don't know if you've noticed--but I'm not exactly normal either," Aza says. Neither of them were, it was an obvious fact. She knows it's why they've managed to bond, even if they were still very different. Aza was always so stuck in her head, entangled in her thoughts, it felt endless. She could tell Cricket had plenty of her own issues too, things she didn't talk about. So much was said in the unspoken, a fact that rang true for both of them. "Sometimes...I feel crazy too," she says.

She smiles slightly, "but at least we can be crazy together, right?"

[ozonelasher]

Questions/Comments to be sent anonymously!

“No.”

That was an easy answer as much as it was the truth, wasn’t it? A response just as loaded as the question.

There’s the assumption that she’s ever had a home in the first place, which wouldn’t be true—there’s been nothing that’s ever felt like one, anyway. Recollections of life in her childhood home were haunted by the shadows of fear. The dormitories at the academy and the beginning of her military career made her feel alien. And her domicile on Planet Freeza No. 79…? Kaki couldn’t bear to think about it still, what that man did to her. Even after all this time, he terrorized her. 

Could she ever recover from him? In the event she found a home, would she even recognize it, feel welcome and safe? If she didn't, would that be her own fault, or his?

The real kick in the teeth of her life, though, was the fact that, after escaping that living nightmare, there was still no peace. Does she have a home now? Veritably no. She may have had a place to lay her head down when it came time to sleep, but the scenery always changed. There was nowhere to settle; to live; to be free. 

There was nowhere for her to belong…

And where was her place in a world that's never wanted her at all? 

That was always her first thought when someone expressed this well-meaning sentiment to her; bitterness she did her damnedest to swallow down, coming back up like bile. It’s a sickness she still can’t shake, no matter how hard she tries.

It was easy to see the positives most days due to the nature of her current lifestyle. Despite being barred from working with the Rebellion in any official capacity, she still held full faith in the cause and actively offered her services to them. The give-and-take agreement that she swear fealty at the cost of any of her loyalty being given back so as to not sully the Rebellion’s political reputation was good enough for her. 

It’s an appropriate justice for the things she’d done, she agreed most days. The fact she’s allowed to operate in the way she did now was seen as a slap on the wrist by some, which she conceded to, as well.

But after all that time of believing that her rightful place in the world was in the ground… Other days, it all just felt like outright punishment.

Her place at the moment? A purgatory of her own making.

[suturcd]

@bizzarrra said: "healing must come in handy with this line of work," abbacchio muses, eyeing the girl. leaning on the table nearest to her, it's a slow day. bruno and the others are off running a mission that doesn't require any replaying, so here abbacchio is — making small talk, which she isn't really great at. "do you like what you do?"

Fran lets a low, vague hum of acknowledgement sound in response to the initial observation. As for the second half, it's an unexpectedly complicated question, and with a touch of paranoia Fran wonders if that's deliberate--if it's some attempt to measure her morality, or nerve, or loyalty. If so, is Abbacchio doling it out at her own discretion, or was she directed to do so by Mr. Bucciarati himself…?

...No. She'll get lost in the weeds if she zeroes in on that unknown aspect of the inquiry. What matters more is how she answers, not why she's been asked. She needs to consider her answer carefully, though, all the same.

Despite herself, she thinks back to when she was a child; back when administering the clumsiest press of an ice pack to a classmate's bruise or a bandaid to a scrape set her aglow with a quiet sort of pride (doubly so when her handiwork was praised by her mother, who she considered the expert among experts in such matters, as many children do--as she still does, even if she knows that's objectively rather silly). She recalls the drowsy bob of her head against her mother's chest, of blinking bleary eyes over the simplified anatomical charts spread indulgently in front of her in the evenings. She recalls her father passing the two 'studying' and the way he would idly sound out the syllables for bones and organs and appendages in whatever languages were closest to the forefront of his mind at the time from study, and the somewhat-mangled tongue Fran tried to parrot them back in so he would be impressed with her budding expertise in his field, as well.

Heart. Cuore. Shinzou. Herz. Moyo. Corazón. And so on.

Fran can't put that same tender feeling to the work she does now. In fact, there are times when she finds certain people who end up on her operating table so detestable that she spends most of the procedure on something close to autopilot; imagines the hand of God descending from on high, re-parting the sutured flesh down the middle, opening them back up, undoing all her work; some sort of divine retribution in the absence of any justice of the mortal kind. It soothes her, sometimes. Only sometimes, but it's better than nothing.

"…It's like any other job. Some days are more pleasant than others," is what Fran settles on saying, quite diplomatically she thinks. Her index finger draws a line down the open spine of her book, then thumbs and fans at the pages, occasionally snagging an errant, dog-eared page. With a turn of her wrist, she presses the anatomy textbook closed and looks at Abbacchio (or, to a vague spot at the corner of her forehead--close enough to count as basically eye contact, she thinks) with a tilt of her head. "...I'll confess that I don't like the squirmers. And the ones who make a big deal about not being squirmers even less so at times."

And then, partly because it feels like the polite thing to do, and partly in a bid to redirect attention, she asks: "Do you enjoy what you do?"

[godlessgrl]

@facepeeled said: “ spit it out. ”

Quinn was currently sitting at the table shoving cereal in her mouth, trying desperately to avoid Cricket's questions. Considering Quinn was hardly one to stay out late—and the fact that she was still in her clothes from the party last night, she was sure it wouldn't be that hard to surmise what happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, mouthful of cereal. But then, after a beat, "so, I slept with the hot girl from my biology class." She clears her throat, "it was fun. She said I'm a quick learner—um, I don't know why I shared that part. Sorry."

[bitterlimoncello]

@lunarscaled said: PICKS HER UP

A colourful string of expletives hisses forth from her mouth as she feels Lyric's hands hook firm under her arms to haul her out of her seat and into the air. Lyric is lucky Limoncello has heard their approach and recognized it (or perhaps it's Limoncello who's lucky that Lyric didn't bother to cover the sound of their footsteps and seems to not actually want to murder her, because in a battle of strength with Lyric at her back with the advantage, she's not so confident in her odds), otherwise she would be going for the eyes with immediate and ruthless abandon. As it is, Limoncello's thighs tense, legs bent to plant the heels of her feet firm into Lyric's knees to regain some personal balance. She shoots her friend weird pseudo-roommate a scrunched look from over her shoulder that turns abruptly scandalized as she registers the particular gleam to those orange eyes. Realization--or perhaps just suspicion--dawns.

"Son of a bitch--you did not just pick me up because I was sitting on 'your' side of the couch."

[popstcr]

@respairs said: “ I don't recognize myself. ”

It had been quiet for a while now, chatter and laughter having died down into an easy silence. Lainey was scrolling on her phone, browsing nonsense, when Teddy breaks the silence. I don't recognize myself. The words cause Lainey to look up at her, brows furrowing. It wasn't like they'd never had deep conversations, after all, it was hard not to pour things out to someone when you knew they'd get it. But this felt like such a vulnerable admittance, and Lainey almost feels surprised it's her she was choosing to speak it aloud to.

"I think it's hard to sometimes--when everyone else is looking at you too." Lainey knew that feeling, trying to find yourself, your real self, underneath what was fabricated. Polished. And maybe it wasn't the same for Teddy, she didn't seem to hold back as much as Lainey did sometimes. But there were still expectations, people would always want something specific from you if your name was one of the ones up in lights. As long as there were eyes on you, you were a commodity.

"Sometimes I don't even remember what the last 'me' was. I wouldn't know what to recognize," she admits, shrugging. "But ultimately you're still yourself, I guess. You're not just gone."

[noodles-and-tea]

You've given us Clark and Grayson, but would you consider Jay and Wonderwoman???

:,D

[dogmotels]

pet owners am I right

[needlcpit]

something that sticks out about your portrayal of amanda is just how well you articulate her emotions and her angst, you really understand the character and really flesh her out as a three dimensional, and complicated villain. absolutely LOVE the way you write her!

wahhh thank you!! this makes me so happy to hear!! ily!! 😘

[rabbitbled]

@divinetenebris said: ❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜ from charlie (gdi charlie, melissa said something similar and got a knife, get it together)

She looks up from what she's doing, eyes narrowing at him. "I don't really give a shit about what anyone here thinks. Not anymore." She was long past the point of caring, at least that's what she told herself. What she really wanted was recognition. She had done so much, lost so much. And what did it get her? Nothing. No one even cared. They treated each loss as a necessary sacrifice. Put the knife in her hand, made her doing unbearable things. What she did was necessary, but none of it mattered in the end.

And so she's angry, pushing everyone away. Because they can say they care all they want, but who among them really did? People were more afraid of the ticking time bomb she had become. "I'm not really sure why you're even bothering." Her gaze is hard and cold. "It's not like it makes a difference. I think I'm probably worse than everyone says."

[spiraltightens]

@thvnkpink said: "If a demon tried to possess me I'd just be like: ok take it from here, good luck man." ( peter, who actually IS possessed by a demon 💀 )

Aza just kind of stares at him for a moment, almost dumbfounded, but then the gears in her brain start turning. "Okay, but like, quick question--" she starts, genuinely curious and a little bit contemplative. "Would the demon have total control over your body and consciousness? Like would you be aware that you're possessed or would it be similar to...I don't know, like being in a coma?" She isn't sure she'd mind a bit of a break herself.

[hinamie]

surprise it's yuri!!!in 2024

[suturcd]

@bizzarrra said: "how did you get your stand?" trish asks, a glint of curiosity in her green eyes as she regards fran. "sorry if that's too personal – i'm just curious, since mine kind of showed up during a battle not that long ago."

It's a simple enough question, spoken with what seems to be a straightforward curiosity, which strangely enough makes it somewhat difficult for Fran to formulate the proper answer. She's cultivated a necessary habit of weighing her words carefully when responding to any sort of questioning, one born from her years within the grinding wheel of Passione, where information is power, and to give too much of it too freely is to seal your own fate at the hands of those who would misuse it against you. She does not quite know what to make of Trish Una within the framework of this mindset yet; a girl who seems to be simultaneously divorced and messily entwined with the circumstances of the gang (or, at the very least, Mr. Bucciarati's team in particular).

With this in mind, Fran wonders if there's some unspoken significance to her coming to Fran with this question--did Mr. Bucciarati direct her to do so because they're both girls of a certain age, or is there something more, some unspoken expectation of her to assist Trish in some way? If so, Fran feels ill equipped for the task, but is compelled to try.

"...I was young," she begins, the pad of a gloved thumb swiping idly over the back of her other hand. "It manifested seemingly of its own volition during a moment of grave personal danger." Her assessing gaze flickers away from Trish. Head tilting in thought, she adds: "...To obtain it as we have isn't as common, but it's not unheard of, either. The vast majority of members, from what I gather, obtained their Stand in a more deliberate process."

Polpo's lighter test. The arrow. Fran does not know what Trish is or is not meant to know, however, so she speaks around it for now.

"...It must have been difficult." There is an unexpected, subtle weight to the otherwise-neutral inflection of her words here, a halting half-second more between the words. Their similarities--however different their personal circumstances are--are not lost on her. A girl, unmoored from the life she once knew, struggling to adapt to her new circumstances, her newfound abilities, her new normal. Fran knows it's no easy thing--wonders if Trish feels rubbed-raw as Fran had when she'd lost her own--...when she'd lost. But perhaps she's just making assumptions, filling in the blanks with her own experiences. Regardless, when her gaze returns briefly to Trish's own she feels it soften just a touch. Fran doesn't exactly know what to do with that either, so she lets her eyes roam to a vague spot over the girl's shoulder instead. Lays out her next words in her head with care. Quietly clears her throat. "...You were fortunate to gain one while under Mr. Bucciarati's supervision, at least. He's... a clever and capable person. In my limited experience."

[godlessgrl]

@bloodrodeo said: "how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else? before it’s some kind of murder?"

Quinn had endured her fair share of metamorphosis. She'd gone from a gentle kid, to an angry teenager, to whatever it is she was now. And part of her does think that maybe something within her had died in the midst of all of it. Something poisoned she eventually had to cut off to prevent infection. She didn't kill it, but her circumstances had, she was changed and then had to learn to live with it.

"I mean, change isn't always bad?" She says with a light shrug. "And I don't know, no one is ever the same person forever anyway. If changing and becoming someone else is murder...then I'd liken it to self defense or something. Maybe sometimes you just have to."

[daily-dragon-drawing]

Chocolate and vanilla dragons that are best friends

#61 & #62 - 可可 (kěkě / cocoa) & 香草 (xiāngcǎo / vanilla) - Ironically, this position keeps them both very warm 🍫🍨🍦dail