#(and took me 3 hours and 50+ layers)

[theradicalace]

i want them to be bowling rivals so badly

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

[godofdumpsterfalling]

Headcanon Dump - Hermes & Apollo ft. Dionysus (Riordanverse)

Because I have a mountain of these and if I don’t organize them they will be completely incoherent. Under a cut for length.

- Apollo basically raised Hermes, for all the value of “raised” when concerning gods.

- Maia did not want to be a mother, and had no idea how to. She tried, and did care about Hermes, but was secretly relieved when Hermes took to following Apollo everywhere. Zeus was really perfecting his parenting style of the day, which was caring about his kids from a distance (he had other priorities, they were not really near the top) and occasionally popping in to give some Fatherly Advice or have bonding moment (omg taking his kids fishing…deadbeat dad core for REAL) before fucking off again like “parental control duties DONE I am SUCH a good dad. See you again in like 50 years, sport!” It was particularly bad when Hermes was born.

- Hermes followed Apollo around for a solid couple hundred years, acting as his shadow pretty much. It drove Athena and Artemis CRAZY. Apollo’s extroverted ass was completely baffled by people being off put by his baby brother basically being attached to his back. He’s not gonna bother you he’s just gonna hang out?? What’s the problem??

- Hermes stayed in a younger form for a looong time because he knew Apollo would never say no to him if he looked cute enough. Until he got hit with the depression beam, he kept whipping that form out whenever he got in trouble. He’s baby, your honor, you can’t be mad at a BABY

- Hermes held Dionysus for 2 seconds before he decided he was willing to die for this little guy. The couple hours after he was born were spent by Hermes holding him up to random family members and going “LOOK AT HIM HES SO SMALL” and the family members going “Hermes please do your job”

- When Dionysus joined Olympus, Hermes eagerly took him under his wing in a similar manner to Apollo taking on Hermes. Not as much weird parental responsibility though. But he was still following Apollo everywhere so Apollo got TWO mischievous shadows. Much to Artmemis’ dismay. Why are there TWO OF THEM

- All they ever had to do was duck behind Apollo and he’d defend them against whoever they’d pissed off now even when they were 100% in the wrong. Especially when they were 100% in the wrong, honestly.

- Zeus and Hermes’ relationship has a lot of layers (a post for another time) but the bare bones basics is that early on Zeus just thought he was a Clown (that’s my funny boy <3) and nowadays he’s Zeus’ under appreciated, overworked personal assistant. Although he’s kind of been Zeus’ lapdog since the beginning. Father Please Notice Me I am not as shiny as Apollo but I can roll over so nice pls pls pls

- Hermes has not had a nap in the past century somebody please help him. Give your local delivery man a nice tip because he has like 20 other domains and would rather be doing Literally Anything Else. And also a hug maybe, the most contact he ever gets is when he brushes hands with whoever he’s giving a package. Somebody get this man a paid vacation he has been holding Olympus together with duct tape

- Hermes has the worst case of Middle Child Syndrome Known To Man

- Hermes and Artemis like each other! Shockingly. For reasons unrelated to Apollo, even. They just like to hang out. Hermes is one of the two Olympians she’s happy to be around <3

- Apollo has tried, with varying success, to get Hermes and Athena to be friends. The results have been… mixed.

- Athena, Apollo and Hermes will occasionally have absolutely legendary verbal smackdowns. So brutal that it would actually evaporate a mortal on the spot. Indescribable, really. Anyone who overhears them will never mentally recover,

[tiny-caffeinated-panda]

Edwin WIP (3-4 hours of work) started on October 15 vs Charles WIP (2-3 hours of work) started on October 2 The finished Charles piece from before probably took around 40-50 hours. Lost and afraid in the world of digital art, I stumbled around in the dark. Thankfully, more experienced people could advise me about resolution, tools, and layers. Fucking layers, man. And hey, at least I learned enough to start Edwin off in a way that doesn't make him look like a Sims character. Progress!

[multifan2022]

Golden lies 8

PART 1 PART 7

MyMasterlist

Maybe.. Just count on these hurting for a while

After spilling your guts out, you got up refusing to look at Hardin's now cooling body. You needed to move, not only because you're screaming gave away your position. But you needed Hardin's body out of the arena, it was going to kill you if you saw it again. You were thankful that the two of you had set your bags just behind you. You wouldn't be able to loot his body. 

You practically ran back into the woods, tears nonstop streaming down your face as the sun finished setting. You ran until your legs gave out, hitting your knees you just stared blankly at the ground. Huffing air in and out as you screamed for your mind to shut off. You looked around, finding another one of those tree root holes. 

You forced yourself into it, pushing yourself into your sleeping bag. Your bag was down in the extra space at the bottom, so someone would literally have to kill you to get your supplies. The machete Hardin had was firmly in your hand, ready to strike out if you needed. As you laid there, trying desperately to just sleep, the sky lit up. 

Green, purple and blue swirls filled the sky as the Panem anthem played. It was softer than normal as Hardin's face replaced the Capitol seal. It was only up for a moment, before the music faded and the colors swirled around each other softly. Almost like a tribute to the lost tribute. 

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was your promise to Hardin. In the morning, you would eat the last of your rations. Fill your two canteens and start hunting other tributes. You just hoped someone got to the kids from four before you did. Because you didn't know if you would be able to kill them after this. 

~~~~~~~

Walking.. That was all you had done as the sun moved through the sky. The temperature rose, layers came off, your sports bra, pants and boots all you kept on. A sickle in one hand and the machete in the other. At this point you didn't even know where you were going, you were just walking. 

After hours you noticed something up ahead, butterflies. Huge butterflies, almost 10 inches in size, swarming around something on the ground. The closer you got, the further away you wished you were. 

Down under what had to be 50 or 60 butterflies was a half eaten body. The insects feasting on dead flesh and muscle as you recognized the dark hair of the district 2 female. Goosebumps filled your skin as you watched them walk and flutter around her. Upon further inspection you noticed berries in her hand, ones that you assumed were poisonous. 

You didn't know if it was symbolic or not, the butterflies, but chose to ignore it. Turning away to walk some more, looking and listening for a live tribute. An undetermined amount of time, you heard some whimpers of pain. When brown curly hair peaked up a little from the grass on the ground, you wished you had stayed with the butterflies. 

Beck, the tribute from 4, was laying on the ground, his shirt covered in blood. Slices covering his chest as his hand stayed firmly around what looked like a trident. Your knees got weak as you approached him. You didn't know if he would try to kill you as you walked closer, but figured he probably wouldn't do much damage. 

“Hey..” You said softly watching his body flinch, he tried to raise the heavy metal weapon but his hand just fell back to the ground. He relaxed slightly when he noticed it was you, but he was in so much pain. Tears were streaming down his face as your knees met the grass next  to him. 

“Its ok.. Shh.” You tried to comfort him, carding a hand through his hair watching as his eyes closed. When they opened a minute later, they were significantly darker. “They have… River..” he gasped a breath painfully trying to finish. “I failed.. They took us… Then 8,6 and 7 took me…” Blood was now seeping out of his mouth as he pushed through, enjoying the small amount of calmness your hand brought. 

“1 and 3 have River... You have to save her if you can… Please..” Beck used every drop of the strength he had left to raise his hand, dropping the trident into your lap. Then he pointed to his bag, “Sponsor gift.. For later.. Please..” You grabbed his bag digging through to look for what he was talking about. When the small gray canister was found you held it out, and he sighed while nodding. 

“Finn said it's for when the lightning starts.. Rub it on your skin..”

His eyes closed, sighing again because he felt like he had done what he could. He couldn't fight 7 people twice his size. He couldn't heal the slashes across his chest. But he could give you what he had in hopes you got to River in time. “The boy from 8.. He thought it would be fun if I died slowly.. He said pain brings people joy..” 

Your lip pulled back in a sneer, disgusted that someone would do this to a kid. You knew that unfortunately for someone to win everyone else had to die, but to purposely put someone through pain like this.. You blamed yourself, you shouldn't have given them the bags. You shouldn't have told River to run, then maybe they would have died quickly at the bloodbath. “Im so sorry.. This is all my fault.” Your voice was shaky, you were so tired of this. You felt like if you got out, you would just be an empty shell. 

Beck shook his head, “Just stay with me.. Then find River.. Then win.. Please.” Beck gasped, starting to choke slightly on his own blood as his vision got darker. “Can you sing.. My mom always sings me to sleep.” You nodded, crossing your legs and laying his head in your lap. As your fingers brushed his curly hair back from his forehead. 

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said don't leave me here alone

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

Your heart was breaking into more pieces than it already had been as you watched Beck's chest move up and down in ragged painful breaths. You were thanking whoever was out there that Hardin hadn't died like this. You wished you had the strength to mercy kill Beck, but you just didn't think you could do it. 

Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You'll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I'll be safe and sound

You used the hand that wasn't carding through his hair, to brush the dirt off his face. His cheeks and forehead were becoming more relaxed. The creases between his eyebrows and the frown lines disappeared as his heart slowed, then stopped. The cannon firing as you finished the last line of that verse. “I'm sorry..” Was all you whispered as you leaned down and kissed his sweaty forehead. 

You didn't know why you connected so deeply with these two kids. Maybe it was because you had always been against the games and they were so young. Maybe it was because you saw Hardin in River, and yourself in Beck. Two friends who would do what they needed to protect each other. But Beck's objective was to save River, just as yours had been to save Hardin. 

Both of you had failed. Then you had failed Beck, and now you felt you would also fail River. Laying his head down, you knelt elbow resting on your knee holding your head up. Looking down at his small torn up body, something broke deeply. That part of you that had been separate, was now all you. 

The part that had been protecting you from feeling the pain of killing others now all you felt. A scary numb came over your entire body as you stood and spoke down to Beck. “I will find them.. I will find them if I have to burn down this entire arena.. It's the careers turn. They will kill me or I will light their pyre. I promise.” 

The trident lay at your feet unused and while you wanted to pick it up, you had no experience with one. You knew that going into this fight with something like that could mean your death. So you picked it up, and wrapped Beck's fingers around it, ensuring that it would be taken out with him. 

You turned a blank dead look on your face as you walked just far enough away. Waiting until the Capitol ship appeared and lowered the crane to lift his body. You watched as it lifted the small boy up, before the doors closed and it disappeared again. “Let the Gods have mercy on him.. Gods have mercy on me.. Because I will kill them.. They will all burn..” 

The tribute center had never been so quiet for so long. 

Nobody wanted to say anything, afraid that it would set others off. Haymitch had been dedicatedly watching from your screen. Chaff, Seeder and a few others gathered with him from time to time. 

Finnick didn't think Mags had stopped crying since she watched you kill your friend. It only got worse when they watched the alliance split, one of their tributes going with the careers and one with the outliers. Their tiny screams for each other would haunt Finnick forever. He had even shred a few tears watching you lull Beck into a painfilled death. 

He was thankful that you had done what you could by sitting and singing to him. He felt like a failure every time that one of his tributes died, but this year they had been so young. It hurt worse than he thought it would. He had only been a mentor a few years himself, he didn't know how he would keep doing this like Mags had. 

“God have mercy on him.. God have mercy on me.. Because I will kill them.. They will all burn..” 

Before your words could even sink in there was a knock at the door. A peacekeeper walked in looking towards the group of people hovering at the district 9 monitor. “Abernathy.. There's a man here to see you.. Mr. Crane.. He would like to discuss the finale” Nobody had ever seen the drunk move so quickly as he ran out the door. 

Unknowing of what he was bringing into the young girls life. 

@avis15 @liballer @avoxrising @notplutos @asapkyndall @wolfstarfate

[consplaysuperior]

Hi I am such a huge fan of your Soundwave cosplay, absolutely legendary and I dream of the day it’s for sale.

Till then I have a most ambitious dream that you might save me a lot of time on. I am a welder and have amassed a stockpile material to make a metal cosplay suit. Do you have templates or drawings or anything really of the Soundwave cosplay?

The biggest trouble I’ve been having is with figuring out his plating and if you had any sort of sketches or planning I could use I’d be eternally grateful. I totally understand if it’s classified/non-disclosable/etc.

You folks are legends among Transformers cosplayers and rightfully so. Most amazing work!!

Thank you! I'm glad you like our work! I don't see us selling our suits any time soon, but we're always glad to help anyone making their own! We have no secrets here

Soundwave's plating is really complicated. One of the pieces that wraps around his side took us almost 3 hours to pattern! There's one thing like that in every cosplay, it seems... I'm not sure where our actual templates are right now, and they would take time to photograph since they're quite large, but we do have a process album that shows a lot of his pieces close up, and how the layers go together. We also used the Art of Prime book, which is sadly out of print and really expensive now. However! One of the artists who worked on it has pages on deviantart, so here is Soundwave's.

A metal cosplay of Soundwave is going to be very heavy, but you probably know that. Ours is mostly foam with a bit of metal for strength and moving joints, and it weighs probably 40 or 50 pounds.

If I do manage to dig out any of our sketches or templates, I'll reblog with pictures, but in the meantime, feel free to ask any questions that come up. I can't wait to see what you make!

~Mod Starscream

[snoopdoggs]

Would you ever consider explaining your process on how you make gifs so quickly? Not a full blown tutorial but mainly sharing the programs you use?

sure!! i'll try to break it down but tbh im not good at explaining the method used to make gifs so i recommend checking out some tutorials for something more in-depth.

i use two programs to make gifs: adobe premiere rush & adobe photoshop cc

putting this under the cut because i included some pictures to help explain

step one: clipping (premiere rush)

so here i usually import my video into premiere rush and clip out the scenes i would like to gif. to keep it somewhat consistent, i like to make my clip sizes 2-3 seconds if possible, and this usually takes me anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes depending on how big the video im trimming is and how much screentime the person im giffing has

step two: importing (photoshop cc)

so i use videos to layers to make my gifs, which i would recommend if you have storage space to spare on your computer because it can eat up a lot of your space during the process. but essentially, i import my trimmed video into photoshop and add the sharpening i'll use, then split each gif that'll be made into it's own layer. i repeat this with the rest of the video and save each file as it's own part. the longer your trimmed video is, the longer it'll take to do this step, but this specific example took me 15 minutes to do.

step three: coloring (photoshop cc)

this is probably the fastest part of it, but it's basically going back to each part you made and coloring the gifs. you'll use the marker to trim it down for each gif and save it for web. if the video you're trying to gif is easy to color, it will go pretty fast, and it took me about 10 minutes to make 50 gifs.

note: the entire process of making these specific gifs took me a little over half an hour (10 minutes to clip, 15 minutes to import, 10 minutes to gif = 50 gifs), but obviously the time varies depending on each project and it's difficulty. i will say my method probably goes faster because it's a lot of repeated actions all at once so once you get the hang of it you can go pretty quickly. i also tend to clip stuff in advance to gif later just because it's my least favorite part and probably will require the most focus.

[australiablog]

14/7

Woke up at 5:30 today because I needed to pee. I slept pretty ok despite it being so cold. The extra layers really helped, I do have my portable hand warmer but I forgot to charge it, of course I did. The other days we left our sleeping bags in the swags but since today is the last day we need to take them out and roll the swags really tight. G said to do that after breakfast so they can clean up while we do that. I was up early so I did my sleeping bag before I had breakkie. If you roll up the swag with two people you can get it so much tighter as if you do it by yourself, so after breakfast everyone teamed up to roll up the swags. We stopped at a viewpoint on the way to Adelaide. It’s 450 km or so today. The view was very interesting, the topography here is so weird, very hilly with lots of trees.

After a good hour we stopped for coffee and G could get fuel. Another hour after that we stopped at Quorn, it was a town they build specifically for the train line that runs through it. It used to run 50 times a day and now only once a day, it was like stepping back in time. It reminded me of a old western somehow. I took loads of pictures for Edd, because I know he’s gonna love all of them. We spent about 45 min wandering around the little town. I am happy for the breaks in between because good lord it’s a lot of driving. At around 12:30 we dropped off the trailer at a parking lot before taking the tiny road up to alligator gorge. I was a little bit carsick before we took this drive and by the time we were halfway I was severely carsick. They had to open the windows because I was honestly scared I was gonna be sick. I was very relieved when we reached the parking. The hike into the gorge was about 3 km, in the beginning I really thought I had exaggerated hurting my foot yesterday. Didn’t think this anymore halfway through, I’m just happy it’s in a wrap so I have some support for walking. The gorge was really pretty, it was a loop walk that went all the way in the gorge to the bottom and then via rock stairs back up again. Of course it’s rock stairs, what else would it be. This whole trip seems nothing but a stairmaster workout!! The sights were worth it though. When we got to the top of the rock stairs I was surprised we were back at the bus, I thought we had to do the first part of the hike where we walked downhill. So I was pleasantly surprised that we did not have to. I swapped seats with Nick on the way back to the trailer so I could sit at the front and take a recalm just to be on the safe side. With going back I was thankfully completely fine. We had lunch at the parking lot before continuing our last stretch to Adelaide. I think I need to find a pharmacy later tonight because I got a stupid cold and all day today I’ve been coughing, it’s not a deep one. More of an irritated throat cough because I have a very sore throat. It is pissing me off though. To break the monotony we did a little pop quiz with all of us. I did not do well, I remember a lot of things but not all the aboriginal names the quiz asked for. I mean I’m honestly not surprised. I’m starting to have all kinds of little aches so I’m not mad tonight is the last night of the tour. I am really tired and it’s getting to me, I can’t even express in words how happy I am to have a bed tonight. When we stopped an hour from Adelaide I was so done with the bus. I just wanted it to be over. I bought cough drops and the Australian version of sinutab because the longer the day is taking, the worse I feel. Basically all of us are getting off at the YHA Adelaide, only nick, verena and Francesca with her mum are somewhere else. We all walked to the hostel together and the guy behind the desk was so confused we were a big group but not together. When it was my turn he said I only had two nights and I was honestly too tired to question it too much. I originally said I wasn’t going to dinner with the others but if I don’t I probably won’t eat, so I dumped my stuff in the room. It was a 4 dorm room with only one girl in there.

[thehydromancer]

Lordship at Last; A Scrub's Tale

After 268 hours (I know) and 173 levels (I KNOW), I finally cleared my first Elden Ring run. I... love it. It took me a long time to realize exactly why, but when it hit me it made perfect sense. The whole game is the Water Temple. I don't think I need to explain that to anyone. A simple statement, but the more you think about it, the implications are layered and sublime. I vaguely recall an ancient game mag interview with some dev or another who, when asked what his dream project would be, described a grittier Zelda with more subtle storytelling and more interesting uses in combat for traditional equipment such as the hookshot. I remember loving the concept, and later Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom. Elden Ring though feels like the logical conclusion to exploring the freedom and flexibility of modern fantasy adventure games, the masterpiece bookend to the world of possibilities that the OG NES Zelda began to reveal to us.

And what a journey its been. My first Souls-like game, starting out as a bandit named Torrent (IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN THE GAME {I THOUGHT} ADDRESSED MY CHARACTER BY NAME IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES!!!), not understanding how shields worked, and grossly under leveling vigor (hell finished with only 40 before hearing after the fact that 60 is typically the goal). Dying to the lake side ruins bats again. And again. And again. Standing in the Church of Elleh thinking I was safe, studying the Limgrave Tree Sentinel with my shiny new telescope, only for it to drop the walls on me. Not understanding how elemental damages work till the last 3rd of the game. Breezing through some bosses only to be kneecapped physically and spiritually again and again by a pair of mangy mutts, cocaine bear, biblically accurate angel bubbles, or simply a zombie holding a torch causally away from their body. Spending the first half of the game dying in numbers that would make Rosus himself say 'hey slow down there partner, thanks for putting my kids through Raya Lucaria with all those runes you lost, but I really need a break.' Forgetting I'd picked up the crystal tear for cleansing during the Mohg fight, instead trying everything up to and including Law of Regression to clear the triple ring status effect during the fight.

Ever so slowly, painfully, learning the ins and outs of the game. Slowly morphing from a dex curved sword user with throwing knives and a bow to a mage knight desperately cheesing his way through the last 60 hours of the game. SO. MUCH. BACKTRACKING. I must have revisited Stormveil over the course of 100 hours, finding something new every time. Exploring every nook and cranny in the world, scrapping runes together as hard as I could in the early game, only to be shocked at how easy leveling became in the second half of the game. Hosting tryouts for every Spirit Ashes like I was assembling the outer-gods-damned Avengers to fight Thanos wielding the Elden Gauntlet. ACCIDENTALLY STUMBLING UPON DRAGON ELDEN LORD, WHOOPS SORRY SIR(S?) DIDN'T MEAN TO DISTURB YOUR ETERNAL TIMELESS SLUMBER! In the end, somehow, managing to defeat all demigods and I'd guess 95% of the bosses in the game. I know I missed a few, and there was 3 or 4 I purposefully decided to ignore for my own sanity (if Blaidd had been half red wolf he'd of been the next Elden Lord I swear).

Bosses that gave me the greatest trouble at the time;

Margit (pretty sure we killed each other at the same time, so I never got his runes)

Godrick (I'd like to think it'd be a different story now that I've developed some skill and muscle memory but boy was this a grind)

Dragon Tree Sentinel guarding Lyndell (probably over 50 deaths, just the worst, only read about the additional summons later!)

The Elden Beast (how do pure melee builds beat this guy!? I had trouble keeping up with it using various ranged spells, the opportunities to stab it felt few and far inbetween)

Bosses that I was shocked at how easy they were based on memes/carbot/the community;

Radahn (only demigod I beat my first time, still an awesome battle)

Placidusax (one of the most enjoyable fights in hindsight, really felt like I was hitting my stride with the ebb and flow of battle finally)

Malenia, Blade of Miquella (in fairness was probably grossly over leveled by this point, downed in 3 or 4 attempts)

Radagon (the cheese was real but I was also serving it)

Special shout out to the meteorite staff and rock sling spell, the true MVPs of my run and the breakers of bosses, especially dragons. The carian knight sword and grandeur skill had an incredible run until I was able to nab the Sword of Night and Flame, and eventually the Dark Moon Greatsword itself, fulfilling my transformation into Fierce Deity Tarnished. Loretta's War Sickle was surprisingly fun as well for non boss fights.

As I look ahead to the DLC and meander/experiment through a NG+ or 3 while I wait, I can't help but wonder, probably a true dark horse theory... are we, the Tarnished, in some way, shape, or form... Miquella? Why would Malenia, instead of seeking him out to rescue her beloved brother, wait for him in the one place she knows he isn't... convinced he'd return... when it was I, Tarnished, all along who returned? Silly I know. But Torrent (I hate that I have to specify this, the horse) also reacted to Torrent (the Tarnished) in a way that felt more meaningful the second time around after having experienced most of the story. Why would Melina choose us (assuming we were her only attempt) over all others? Did she even truly know?

Alright that was a lot. I wish I'd kept a running journal of my play through, there was just so much wonder and discovery. I look forward to picking up Bloodborne and Lies of P to continue feeding my new addiction!

[sunshine-tattoo]

i think a pretty big pet peeve of mine is people who don't dress for the weather/ climate and then complain when they are uncomfortable.

like the obvious one is early 20s white girls going clubbing and then freezing their asses off going home because there ain't a jacket among them.

but there are quite a few that are honestly worse.

example: a few summers ago I worked at a kids outdoor camp. for many days it was over 30C (90F) with over 80% humidity.

in other words HOT.

we also had very limited shade and were usually in the full sun for most of the day.

so i made it very clear to all the parents and caregivers that every child was required 4 things:

1. Sunscreen

2. Sunglasses

3. Water

4. Weather appropriate clothing like shorts and t-shirts

for the most part I didn't have any trouble.

kids came with what they needed and I made sure they took plenty of water breaks and applied sunscreen every hour.

but there were two instances where things got bad.

Instance One

a mom refused to have her child wear sunscreen. I don't know if it was a fear of chemicals thing or her just believing that because their family was slightly olive complexed but whatever.

either way this kid went three days in intense UV with no sunscreen.

can you guess what happened?

he got so badly burned that he had to miss the rest of camp.

I was furious.

this kid had to stay home and be miserable all because his mama didn't listen to me about sun safety.

darker skin tones might protect you a little compared to paler ones but at the height of summer it don't matter what shade you are.

You. Will. Get. Burned.

my family is mixed and my auntie always said:

"Black don't crack but it does fry."

so me (white as fuck) and my cousins (50 shades of brown) wore the same amount of sunscreen every summer.

Instance Two

the camp being in Toronto we had a lot of first generation kiddos from a wide variety of cultural backgrounds.

which was awesome. we all learned so much from one another.

except for one family.

they were from Saudi Arabia and had only been in Canada for a few months.

they sent their little girl to camp in full traditional clothing.

- long dress

- legs and arms covered

- head scarf

which in air conditioned spaces or ontario's frozen winters is fine.

but NOT in the middle of summer with no place to cool down.

I tried to talk to the parents about it, telling them that their girl was gonna be hella overheated all day and that was a health risk.

the dad just scoffed and said "our country is much hotter than this and everyone dresses this way she will be fine."

yes its hotter but its also a DRY heat.

I may live in Canada now, but I grew up in the swamps of the south eastern USA.

if there's one thing I know, it's that you can't treat humid heat and dry heat like they are the same thing.

in dry heat, flowy layers like traditional Saudi clothes are perfect. they keep the sun off and encourage breeziness.

humidity don't work that way.

layers will only suck up moisture like a sponge and lead to burns and rashes.

the key is limited clothes (like shorts and t-shirts) and then coating yourself in sunscreen and chugging water to keep up with the sweating.

I tried to explain this to the parents, but they didn't listen.

And you know what happened?

this poor girl passed out from heat exhaustion and we had to call a fucking ambulance.

then. because the EMTs told the parents directly that this girl needed different clothes. the parents took her out of camp entirely!

they would have rather wasted a few grand and not let their kid go to camp all because they refused to dress for the weather.

like I understand dress and tradition and faith are important but not to the point of risking personal safety.

bottom line of these stories: I need people to be less dumb when it comes to how they dress and what they do in extreme weather.

either dress for the day. or have a plan to keep yourself safe like going inside regularly to cool off/ warm up.

temperature-caused aliments are no fucking joke and they can easily be avoided if you actually use your brain.

[softsky-daily]

11/28/2023

The sky was so light today, and faded into this soft pink near sunset time.

Positive thing: I got some homework done with my friend and I managed to get caught up with my Japanese flashcards I had been putting off.

That was over 500 cards by the way, so not a quick feat. And Anki makes you do it over if you get it wrong, so I think all of them took me an hour and a half of just straight flashcards.

I think the 逃げ恥 haze is finally coming loose from me, but I definitely still got really distracted throughout the day whenever it'd come to mind. Especially at work. I had trouble with my last task since it was more involved than usual and all my brain wanted to do was replay 逃げ恥 scenes over and over. I ended up not finishing it, so I'll have to do it tomorrow.

Besides that, it was very cold today. I've only really lived in warm climates and I'm sensitive to the cold so anything below 60 degrees gets me shivering. Today was in the low 50s - 40s and I was all bundled up in 3 layers of clothing plus my scarf. I always love the opportunity to wear it though - it's from my mom and very warm and thick makes a good blanket in a pinch.

Tomorrow is the Secret Santa gift exchange some of my classmates and I are doing. I hope my recipient likes the gift I got for them. We wrote out our likes/dislikes in a group chat so we could all get a sense of what to get for whoever our person was. Mine mentioned liking plushies and handwritten cards which made looking for a gift pretty straightforward. I wonder what my Secret Santa got me. Last year when we did this my Secret Santa was extremely kind and got me Pokémon Violet and also some paopu fruit earrings. Well, the Pokemon Violet was because she heard I wished I could afford it and she bought it for me, so not quite part of the event but still a very pleasant surprise of course. I don't think that level of gift-giving will happen again, but I'm sure whatever it is I'll like.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 8 February 1836

6 40

11 40

no kiss ready in 50 minutes soft dampish but finish morning and F36° at 7 ½ - then with Robert Mann + 4 (Wood come again) at the levelling down between Wheat field and coal pit field - came in and made breakfast at 8 40 - breakfast at 9 - read a few pp. before breakfast of Milne Edwards Elements de zoologie - William Keighley came about 9 ¼ - waited - went out with him at 9 ¾ (waited 1/4 hour on account of a shower) kept him till one cutting down dead wood, and pruning along the new roadside (in Trough of Bolland wood) and then clearing out (cutting out stakes and layers, and making ready for standing or moving) the holly hedge alongside and at the bottom of what used to be the little lane below the house between Pearson Ing and Hall croft - then the men having dined took them all and Frank and the cart for a largeish 2 grained oak overhanging the new approach road - got it up well and well planted at the top of the coal-pit field (under the 3 great elms) by 4 ¼ - it had rained more or less almost all the time that everybody was wet, but went down to the Godley boundary wall meaning to get down and plant 4 thorns (got up in the morning) but the rain drove us off about 4 ¾ - I left the men and went into the walk, and sauntered about - looked at the little yew tree John Booth had planted near the cascade bridge (opposite the house - east side of the bridge) while I left Robert Mann and co. for a little while this afternoon - came in wet and very dirty at 5 ½ - dressed - A- had written to Miss Rawson and sent her letter this evening - dinner at 6 ½ - coffee - A- did her French - owned she wanted a rummage - I proposed Paris - to set off next month - be 6 weeks away - 10 days going, 10 days returning and 3 weeks in P- thought £120 would pay the journey each way - and about £80 pay our expense in P- A- and I ½ hour with my father and Marian and A- a few minutes with my aunt - much better this evening - came upstairs at 8 ½ - wrote the above of today till 9 ¼ - high wind this evening and now towards night - boisterous and wet and F47° at 10 5 having been ¼ hour or 20 minutes with my aunt - to me she did not seem better tonight than last night - Note this afternoon (while I was out) from Mr. George Bates with a ‘model of one quarter of the water wheel being one seventeenth part ....... 1 inch scale’ - very neatly done model - Mr. George Bates will get the job - rainy night

[purpldove134]

7 months ago...

(I'm in the middle of writing this and want to say that the exact details of the order of events might be a bit wrong, but not in a way that matters so it doesn't really matter)

... I finally replaced my bed. My old one was one of those couch-bed hybrids and the springs were broken or something because it had a depression where I would sleep.

Then, I put half the money and dad the other half (I think I bought the mattress and him the frame, it was around 50/50 either way I think, he paid a little more maybe? I don't remember exactly) to buy myself a new bed.

We went to the store Sunday (maybe Saturday?) and took the bed home, and placed it in the living room, planning to build it next weekend.

I didn't tell anyone but I had my 2nd set of mock exams the following week (they were useless, trust me) so I had those Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, Monday and Tuesday I had regular school. So Wednesday I finished the exam, went home and watched YouTube the rest of the day or whatever, then Thursday I finished the exam, went home and DAD'S CAR IS THERE. It kinda sucked because I was a few hours earlier than I was supposed to be home, since the exam is only 3 hours, but luckily since it was the end of the year I could just say I had useless classes the rest of the day so we asked if we could go home.

So I go though the gate, my old bed was already burning and he was taking out the last pieces of it. We talked a bit and then I changed, ate, and helped him move my desk and closet, and put tape and cover the floors so we could paint the walls. It was nice! We painted the first layer and then he said that he'll paint the 2nd when I'm at school the next day. He ended up painting it that night alone and then did a 3rd layer the next day.

Friday, I finished exam, but I had to pick up the robe afterwards, so I stayed more than the 3 hours, which was fine because he thought I had regular school! It wasn't completely fine tho, because yesterday was so much fun! I almost felt bad not going home quicker and left him on his own but I couldn't leave. After an hour or something the robes finally came, and I went home. I showed him my robe, but he was already drunk, I think he drank a little the previous day too but he was probably more drunk in that moment than he was any time during the previous day. He took a picture to show mom and then I changed, ate and got to work on the bed!

So, one thing about dad is that he works really slow, he takes his sweet time with EVERYTHING, and it can get kinda annoying sometimes, but it's fine because I was spending time with him. So we gather the pieces and take them to my room to build the frame, it took a while, and if I wasn't there he would have done it wrong but we finished putting the 4 main planks together in... like 3 hours! WORLD RECORD TIME! It really didn't help he would go every 20 minutes to have another drink, getting drunker each time. It also didn't help that he would talk about me having sex on the bed CONSTANTLY, not in a Freudian way if that makes sense, but it was still weird because this is your child you're talking about.

Then, sister gets home from college, he keeps talking about sex with her there, even asks her if she thinks it'll happen or some shit??? When we're alone I tell her it's been happening all day and she tells me that he's drunk and to just ignore him. Fine, I was doing that anyway.

Ok, The day is over, I forget how much we managed to do but we didn't finish it yet. I don't remember if I slept on it that night, but I don't think so.

Saturday, I get up, eat, and continue building the bed! And dad, since he drank so much yesterday, started drinking again! So he wouldn't get hangover I guess. He keeps talking about sex, constantly, while I uncomfortably try to get him to not do anything stupid and ruin the frame. Half a day later, IT'S DONE! finally! Would have taken less if I just built it on my own but whatever, it's a bonding experience! But the day isn't over, so we go outside and he decides to burn the bed pieces that remained (we used stronger wood for the thing the mattress stays on because my sister's broke after a year or something). So we do that, and he decided to burn everything! Well all the trash I mean, so we went in his shed and threw everything out that he didn't need anymore. So there's a nice fire going on in the background.

Next, he sees there's some paint left and it would dry if we didn't use it so we painted the chicken coup door and the door to his shed, well half the door because we ran out of paint, well a quarter of the door since it was a double door.

This might have happened before we painted I don't remember but he randomly said "It doesn't matter if mom doesn't come back, because we can just call Wife Swap and they'll give us a new one, right?" (For context, mom is working outside of the country, and Wife Swap is a tv show where two families switch wives/moms and they have to learn to live together). That came out of NOWHERE, it hadn't even been a possibility for me that mom wouldn't come home. In the moment I thought he meant if she got hurt? or something but considering the divorce... he probably knew something or other, I just give a little "yeah". Fine, he's drunk whatever, he made a dumb joke, except he says it again, and again and AGAIN. I don't even remember how many times he said it, he just kept repeating it. One time I tried to play along and said something like "you need to give them back a wife too" and he just looked at me without saying anything. Didn't laugh at my joke ): .

Ok so, we paint the door, and it's getting dark, like dark enough where you can't see in front of you. Dad is probably drunk enough that he's not gonna remember anything past this point, and I sit outside with him so he doesn't throw himself in the fire or whatever dumb stuff goes though his head while drunk. And something dumb does go though his head... (for context again, around this time my dog gave birth and we were keeping the puppies in this doghouse so they'd be nice and cozy) he said "What if I throw the whole doghouse in the fire" (implying that the dogs are still inside) I don't say anything for a few seconds and he follows up with "No, God would strike me down if I did" REALLY? THAT'S THE THING THAT'S KEEPING YOU FROM DOING IT? Like if he wasn't ""religious"" would he do it? I get it was an intrusive thought, I get those too, but afterwards I just go "wow that'd be fucked up to do", because it is fucked up, and it's fine because it's intrusive and you won't act on it!

Of course, he keeps repeating it, followed by "God would strike me down", is it even intrusive at that point? Sister was studying in her room the entire time but she had some soup cooking so she came outside to check on it, and he also told her the joke. She responded "You're drunk, dad". He didn't take this well, he just sat down on a chair and was like "I'm never drinking again" I sat next to him and he went on "To be told by your own daughter to never drink again" she didn't say that but whatever, "she got upset at me cause she really thought I'm throwing the dogs in the fire" she didn't.

I don't really remember anything past this point, I think he asked me about porn or something? I just left after that. The next day we went to church and he bought a can of beer after we left.

I know this isn't the most interesting or traumatic thing to happen when someone's dad is drunk but this really changed my opinion of him, he hasn't gotten that drunk since but he has picked up smoking. IDEK, I didn't do anything today so might as well write this,

[bike42]

PAWs Old World Wisconsin Ride

Sunday, June 2, 2024

We slept in, took some time for stretching and organizing stuff, then went down to the rather disappointing breakfast at the Baymont hotel! We saw very few riders, so didn’t know if most had left or were in their rooms, or maybe the smart ones went out to breakfast (we will tomorrow!).

It was overcast when we starting riding, but dry. We started out in layers, but no tights today. We had to make a few adjustments stops for creaky bike, noisy breaks, bug in the helmet, etc …. So it took awhile to find our groove.

We rode some of the roads that we’d hiked on for the IAT, and that was fun. We passed an artisanal well where we’d actually taken a break to wait out a short rainstorm. I recalled showing the gang a new yoga stretch I’d just learned, and noted spots where I’d taken photos! We turned up Kettle Moraine road, and to the left, the IAT disappeared into the woods as the Whitewater Segment.

The rest stop was just 12 miles in. We weren’t hungry, but I grabbed some snacks for later and we struck up a conversation with two guys from Ohio - Hal and Kendall, the first PAWs ride for each of them. They had nice bikes, and Kendall griped that the group they ride with in Ohio was all about stats and keeping their average above 18 miles per hour. We set out at the same time, and somehow I knew we’d be riding harder to hang with them (we did). Gorgeous ride along the shores of Whitewater Lake with decent roads and fun up and down. We’d fall a bit behind on the climb, but scream by them on the downhill.

We arrived in Palmyra about 24 miles into the day. Google maps helped me find a coffee shop just off Main St, and Hal and Kendall joined us there but had Chocolate Shoppe Ice Cream rather than coffee. They took off for the 50 mile loop, we decided the 40 mile loop would be enough, so we turned and headed back towards Whitewater. We rode slower, partly because the roads were bumpy and not great. We’d peeled off our outer layers and it was great to be soaking up the sun today, trying not to focus on how awful the forecast looks for the next 3 days!

We showered, relaxed, napped and read before going out for the evening happy hour. After that, we walked downtown again (1.5 miles) heading for a neat looking Taco shop we’d seen yesterday. Being Sunday, it was closed, so we headed across the street to an Italian restaurant, which was really good! We passed on dessert, heading back towards our hotel and Culver’s. We strolled back at a more leisurely pace, taking in the historic homes and college housing along our way. Culver’s had Turtle Sundae as their “Flavor of the Day” - yum! We’ll work it off tomorrow!

We enjoyed our stay in Whitewater … sort of like a “Stay Cation” for us!

40.6 miles, 996 ft elevation gain

2 hours, 45 minutes of riding time (4 hours elapsed time)

[starseneyes]

My First MRI: The Uncertainty of Fear

At 3:30AM Wednesday, something woke me. Something I couldn't pinpoint. But as I looked to my phone, I realized it was an hour before I had to wake, anyway.

No, I'm not ordinarily up at 4:30 in the morning, but Wednesday was different. It was the day I went in for my very first MRI.

My doctor ordered the STAT MRI on my brain after I told her about a very strange medical incident on Monday that left me reeling and considering the Emergency Room.

This story has a happy-ish ending. But, it is a ride.

I tried to think about what I wanted to wear the night before. I wanted to be comfy and cozy if I was going to hear horrible news. As we've established before, I'm very good at thinking up the worst case scenario.

In some cases in life, it's been a gift. For example, when I had to fire someone years ago, I told my VP and the VP of HR that I was prepared for them to yell. "Nobody yells," the VP of HR said.

He screamed. He threw things. He burst out of my office yelling at everyone who would listen. Everyone else was in shock, but I was able to keep myself composed and collected until Security informed us he was out of the building. Then, I let myself feel the impact of it all.

There are some benefits to my weird mind. I can get through the worst of moments without falling to pieces. But, inevitably, I later crumble.

As I've been reflecting back on yesterday and the whirlwind of its insanity, I realized that I haven't yet taken the time to process it. There hasn't been time. But as I think back to the simplicity of planning my outfit the night before, I realize how my preparations for the worst sometimes help.

I settled on one of my favorite thrift store finds—an oversized, cozy, green sweater that envelops me completely. I wore a fitted tank top and fitted long-sleeve shirt beneath it to build up layers to combat the chill I expected outside. I felt like it was my armor. Soft, soft armor.

I dressed in the dark, slid over to the other side of the bed where my six-year-old slumbered. She came in during the night, frightened awake by a nightmare. I kissed her forehead gently, hoping she wouldn't be worried when she woke to find me gone.

Driving in the dark is nothing new for me. My first job out of University was working nights at a local news station. I turned on music and jammed the whole 50 minute drive to the facility.

I arrived a half hour early, checked in, and waited. I didn't sit. I stood, swaying side-to-side. See, I Chronic Pilonidal Disease, and I knew I'd been sitting for hours more than usual. To counteract it, I stand when I can.

So, when they called my name, I didn't have to stand up. I simply walked over and into a new experience.

The hospital gown was standard. The rules familiar after my Middle's MRI on his brain last year. It took almost two minutes to get the earplugs to mostly stay in my weird-shaped ears.

They loaded me up on the table, and in I went. There was no music to comfort me, but I find rhythm in everything, and I let my mind wander half the time. Half the time I stared at this tiny imperfection in the interior of the chamber that looked like two oversized eyes and a mouth on a tiny cartoon body.

It was as loud as everyone says it is, but for me, the most uncomfortable bit was my legs. They were elevated while my head was locked in the box with a small window to see out.

My vision is normally still spot on, but being that close to the chamber ceiling, I found if I closed my eyes and opened too swiftly, everything went temporarily blurry. For someone with good eyesight, this was very disorienting.

After a few moments, I realized I was crying. Only out of my left eye, which is usually a sign of exhaustion, for me. I'd only slept four hours, but that wasn't what pulled salt water from my eyes. I was exhausted in my soul.

I have battled medical issues since my 20's, and it's been one thing after another. I keep hoping that my life will find its center, again, after my jaw surgery. Facing the possibility that my entire life would be upended depending on the results of the MRI—it was a lot.

They injected contrast halfway through, and it was a bad stick. I've had enough sticks that I know the difference, but I tried not to let that shake me. I felt the contrast work through my system and tasted it in the back of my throat.

The sent me back inside the chamber, and I attempted to ignore the stinging of bruising on my hand from the bad stick. I tried to stay still, because I knew my kids were counting on me.

See, I knew that if I timed it out right, I'd have just enough time to drive the 50 minutes home to pick up the kids and take them to school 45 minutes away before then driving from there another 50 minutes away to my orthodontist appointment before driving the hour home, at last.

No. Time. To. Process. None.

We finished the MRI and I changed back into my civilian clothes. I tried to make conversation with the Tech, who told me I should call my doctor (who he immediately assumed was male, and I corrected him) by afternoon if I hadn't heard anything sooner.

That was not comforting. At all.

I glanced at the clock and drove home a bit too fast. It's by the grace of God I wasn't pulled over (not kidding... it was too close), but I made it home in time to keep moving. Keep going. No stopping. No processing. No time.

Then to the orthodontist for the adjustment—one of the last before June's jaw surgery. I finished there, got back on the road, and tried to listen to music to calm down. The radio didn't cooperate, so I turned it off and tried to stay calm.

I don't know how I got through it all, frankly, and by the time I arrived home at Noon, I was completely burned out. But I didn't have time to stop. I had to jump into my workday, get through a lot of projects, and pretend like I wasn't shaking inside. That I hadn't been through something tough. That I wasn't terrified.

By chance, I saw the email come in, "Rachel, there's an update in your MyChart".

The results were all clear.

I breathed a sigh of relief, though I know that means more questions remain. But we did knock out some of the biggies with that MRI. Not brain cancer (which killed my grandmother) or a stroke (which killed my grandfather).

Rachel has a normal brain (medically, at least).

But even the good news couldn't be processed. I had to keep moving through my day, including making dinner for the children and helping my Littlest get through her homework while Matthew helped the twins with bathtime and homework.

By the time it was bedtime, my Eldest finally opened up about his rough day, which led to messaging with the teacher, looking into alternative schools for next year, and trying to help a 9-year-old child calm down after his bullies found a way to make life harder for him.

It was 10:30PM before I got him to drift off comfortably to sleep, finally calm. Matthew, my husband, had already fallen asleep, poor thing. He is not a night person.

I missed my window to chat with Matthew while we tried to comfort our child. A tough tradeoff, but that little kid needed me.

So, I carried my sweet kid to his bed and crawled into mine, hoping exhaustion would overwhelm my anxiety and take me to dreamland.

Today has been just as manic. No stopping. No time. Getting through a million projects and watching the clock for a looming 4PM meeting.

But, I needed to stop for a few moments to write this out. To process it. To understand.

Yesterday, I was poised for the answer that it was brain cancer. I was ready for it to be an aneurysm. I was ready for something vascular to be wrong. I was ready to hear I'd had a mini-stroke.

I didn't hear any of those things. And that is marvelous.

But I haven't had time to let myself accept that good news. I haven't had time to celebrate the fact that I'm alive and hopefully will be a long while, yet.

What can we all take from this?

First off, get checked.

If you think you're sick, if you think you've had an episode, if you think you're struggling in a way you shouldn't—call your doctor, go to the ER, don't put it off.

Yes, I got a very expensive "no" this week. But, I'd rather have that information and have had the opportunity for a "yes" that could potentially save my life with early intervention.

Also (and this is me talking to me), slow the fuck down.

My life is full in a million beautiful ways. But the necessity of my constant motion means I rarely get to be still, and often I don't know how. So, right now I'm carving out a little time to write this up and slow the fuck down so I can process what happened.

No, we don't know what caused Monday's episode. But we eliminated several possibilities and now we can move forward with other options knowing the biggies aren't on the table. That's huge.

So, Rachel, breathe in. Breathe out.

And you. Yes, you! Remember that it's okay to feel things. It's okay to give yourself space and time to process what you've survived. It's important to give yourself that opportunity.

I'm learning as I go, so I want to share with you, now, so you avoid my mistakes.

Prioritize your health—physical and mental. Your life will be better for it.

*phew* Yeah, now I feel a little better. Thanks for letting me breathe it out.

And, don't forget to give yourself the space to process, too. If you're like me, you're moving too fast to have time to slow down. Sometimes, you have to make time. And I know you will find a way to give yourself the time you need.

You've got this.

[nothing0fnothing]

I remember picking up my younger brother in my scrawny little arms and protecting his head as I ripped him away from the dinner table. Shards of glass had just fallen around us and I couldn't be sure there was none in his plate. He was sobbing for his Dino nuggies back and I'd barely gotten us to the living room when my mom demanded I go to her. I placed his tiny feet onto the floor and told him to go to our room, put a film on and I'll be right up. He was unsure, but he gingerly made his way back. My mother was spitting fire by the time I found her. She picked up a schoolbag to hit me with, and out of it clattered 5 coloured pencils. "Pick it up" she screamed at me. She had just took the bag to my face and sent my glasses flying. I had barely a second to catch my breath before she struck me again. She was hitting me so hard and fast I barely had a moment to blink the black spots out of my vision before they returned. I was feeling around blindly for coloured pencils I couldn't see. Every so often I could catch a glimpse of my hand or a drop of blood on the textured tile. Eventually I had collected all the fallen pencils and she stormed off to find her husband. Probably to finish the argument they had that escalated to all this. I remember trying to steady my shaking breaths. Immediately to my left was the bathroom. I went inside and dared myself to look into the mirror. I was a mess. My skin had gone so pale I looked like I had been tinted blue. My eyes were somehow both sunken and puffy. I was bleeding. There was specs of splattered blood across my forehead and nose, but it had rolled down my face too. From the point of contact between my brows, down my nose and into my eyes, where it became diluted with my tears and rolled down my cheeks. I barely looked at myself for a second before I got to washing my face clean in horror. Gingerly wetting my fingers and swiping the red away, so afraid to spell a drop of water onto my mom's bathroom floor and be in for it all over again. After a minute or two of washing and breathing and calming, I looked far better. My skin had turned from ghostly blue to a sallow yellowish colour, and the red in my eyes subsided for a glassy, pinprick pupil look. Without the blood in the way, I could see the wound didn't look so bad. I could see the skin, peeled away in paper thin layers at the contact of the canvas bag. Red raw right in the centre and barely tinted pink the rest of the way, no bigger than a 50 pence piece. I had just come to terms with the sight of myself when my swollen eyes darkened as my mother called my name. Not giving me even a second to reply before she was banging on the bathroom door. I can't remember what she wanted. I just remember lying to her when she asked if I was bleeding as if answering the affirmative that she knew to be true was going to further offend her. I wasn't taking risks. I can't even remember if my brother made it upstairs safely, or if he was intercepted by our mother's husband and equally punished. I remember being brought out to the garden, walking past a still warm plate of dinosaur nuggets on the kitchen island and noticing a shard of glass the size of a thumbnail in it and I remember sitting on my bed 3 years after this happened crying into a towel for over an hour because I remembered it so vividly while I was in the shower.