#Also me to myself: Never! I will forever be inconsistent!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skrunksthatwunk · 1 year ago

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you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

#before i maybe get yelled at:#1) no i do not think ppl are evil for having men dnis no i do not think these are all equal transgressions even #though there is an overlap that should be examined that i think is based in a degree of lesbian separatism + exclusionism #2) yes there are lesbian blogs and people that are cool about genderfucky people. i'm not talking about them #3) this is a stylized vent post about trying to find lesbian content on tumblr that isn't like this. all these dnis/rules are ones i have #encountered. no i do not literally tell these people to change their dnis to suit me. the conversations are symbolic and ideological in #nature. if i find a blog with men dni i generally go somewhere else. it's about emotions. it's about my feelings on that it's not literally #about dming someone demanding they change things. it's not about demanding that You change things or else you're a bad person.#4) it is about the conflicts and hypocrisy and inconsistency of strict and exclusive sexuality labels persisting in gender-diverse spaces #and how it affects me as a lesbian who is a man who is a woman who is fucking whatever else. and yes it is about transphobia too.#5) it's about how lesbians feel the need to exclude men and how i think efforts to do so fail and hurt ppl and are often misguided #tht i think also comes up in like. bi lesbian/mspec lesbian/gaybian discourse. i'm not any of those myself but it seems like there's overla #6) if this post seems whiny and sad and insecure that's because it probably is. i have a right to be all of those things.#7) no i do not think all lesbians are man-hating assholes. i am a lesbian. i love lesbians. i love dykes and most of them are fantastic ppl #i just think the general bullshit of the world leads to this defensive thing that ends up hurting others in our community y'know?#8) i get that my perspective/experience is a bit unusual and many lovely ppl haven't considered it. that's part of why i'm sharing this #nyarla dni #<- sorry man it's too vulnerable. gonna keep this one to the internet-only folks #adding this wayy later but a crucial part of the experience i Almost talked about it this but never explicitly did was that like #the measures ppl take to 'defend against men' are often deeply transmisogynistic as well. obviously #and when i see that it hurts me too. not that it hits me the same way when strangers assume im a trans woman and hate me for it #but it doesn't feel good to see transphobia at all. i focused on how that relates to other kinds of transphobia #namely transandrophobia here but like. it's all connected. lesbain separatism + exclusionism relies on both and they aren't always #distinct experiences. ime. anyway trans ppl i love all of you forever #i just thought me writing “*turns to the camera* and trans women exp this too.' wouldve been too much even for this post #i figured the audience would like. know that. and so far it hasn't been an issue. i have not been yelled at thanks guys 🫶

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solarenchanting · 27 days ago

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𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ⸻ 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥

pairing: getō suguru x fem!reader

summary: denial ⸻ the unwillingness to accept something unpleasant is true.

tw/cw: descriptions of a dead body on an autopsy table.

note: third-year!suguru. suguru and reader were in an established relationship. haibara yū’s is already dead as in canon (BUT don't ask me about the tl in this). extremely vague mentions of the star plasma vessel mission. small satosugu moment. ooc!suguru (?).

a/n: firstly, it's officially three months since i posted my first getō suguru fic ( it'll pass ) and debuted as a fic writer (a milestone, i fear). but i do dedicate this mini fic series to myself 😅. secondly, i apologise for any inconsistencies, spelling or grammatical errors in this fic. as well as any misrepresentations of the characters involved (please do not perceive me 🥲 this is just my interpretation and exploration outside of the canon material). thirdly, i know the last few parts doesn't focus on the feeling of denial. and lastly, as always, much love from me to you <3

(fun fact: it's 01:54 am and i wrote this while listening to “speak softly, love” by david davidson)

edit: re-read this, and i realised that i used the word “pale” — please know that it has nothing to do with the readerʼs skin colour, just for a description for the current state the readerʼs body is in (also, i'm paranoid and don't want any misunderstandings 🥲)

the coldness pierced through suguru’s skin, seeping through the narrow pathways of his veins—freezing his blood. the fine, black hairs of his body rose to life, standing upright and sturdy. trails of never-ending goosebumps formed over and over. icy chills travelled down his spine, but his body remained rigid.

the soles of his feet were stuck onto the marble floor. he lost all mobility. a simple, thoughtless action couldn’t be comprehended in his mind. he couldn’t place one foot forward, couldn’t take a step back. yet, his legs trembled, nipped at by the cold air. almost as if they were begging, itching, to make a move—to walk.

his arms lay by his sides with his hands trembling. his fingers quivered and flexed, disturbing the dust particles that danced and circled in the air. it was reflexive—his senses heightened to recoil at any sensation grazing his skin.

his lips were parted, chapped and dry, yet nothing came out of him. words were caught in his throat, lodged and cemented. whatever he wanted to say, wished he could say, had transformed itself into the lump that was too stubborn to be swallowed down—a cruel manifestation of a betrayal of his body.

for his mind… his mind had not caught up to him—to it—just yet.

this was nothing but a fictitious, distorted scene. a tableau of a nightmare, one that he couldn’t wake up from for some reason. a sick and twisted fantasy that his subconscious decided to manipulate him—holding him by the control brace with no intention of letting go. the strings attached to his limbs were still, forcing him to stand there.

his eyes, once a bright violet filled with life, had become dull and dim ever since that grim mission—ever since witnessing the hideous evils of his world.

now, however, they were dark—staring at the sight before him.

you.

eyes closed, lashes brushing your cheeks like whispers of a memory. your lips were pursed, unmoving—silent forever. and the skin of your face, rigid and pale, and mottled with purplish-red blotches where gravity had taken its toll, forever replacing the warmth.

your body lay still on the cold and unfeeling stainless steel on the autopsy table, bathed under the harsh fluorescent lighting. your arms rested limply by your side, as if frozen in mid-reach. and your chest, once rising and falling, was unnervingly still.

the chill of the morgue hung heavy in the air, sharp and suffocating.

suguru’s mind screamed, distorted voices ricocheting through the silence of his paralysis, trying to slice through the fragile walls of denial—but he wasn’t listening. he refused to. it was all poisonous lies, trying drag him deeper into the black hole that had already swallowed him down.

flashes of memories erupted behind his tired eyes—vivid and haunting—each one a desperate attempt to rewrite the truth, to convince him that this wasn’t real. there was no way that you, of all people, you—

no—it can’t be.

it shouldn’t be. it couldn’t be. it wasn’t supposed to be—

but how?

how did he—how did you end up like this?

you—you were just with him earlier this morning. standing in front of his dorm door, staring at him with those beautiful eyes—the ones he could lose himself in forever while you’d ramble on about anything and everything. the ones he hated to see narrow in anger at him, or worse, brim with unshed tears—eyes that shouldn’t be closed.

and—and you were smiling. yes, you were smiling at him! you standing right there—in front of him—at his dorm room. why again? oh, that’s right! you wanted to check up on him before you left for your mission. the higher-ups sent you out.

that’s it. that’s what happened.

and he kissed you. god, he kissed you. he cupped your cheeks—the home of countless soft pecks his lips had peppered with. a sanctuary for tender caresses with the back of his finger while he admired you. he could still feel the warmth of your flesh, the gentle press of his thumbs against them.

your lips were soft—always curved into a smile. a smile that melted his heart, one that made it swell with pride when he knew he was the reason behind it. lips that clenched his heart whenever they fell and twisted into a frown. lips that made him ache whenever the lower one wobbled, with sharp, ragged hiccups escaping them like broken pleas.

but now—now, he’d rather have you here, standing in front of him. even if the sight hurt him, even if you were sobbing and hiccuping. he’d take your narrowed eyes filled with anger—hell, resentment even.

but not—not whatever this was.

you didn’t belong here—not in this cold, sterile place that reeked of antiseptic and death.

he felt the same helplessness he’d felt before—the sound of their clapping echoing in the back of his mind. a painful memory that refused to fade—the same weight pressing on his chest, his ribs caving in and crushing the air from his lungs.

only this time, it worse.

this time, it was you.

you had become another body he’d have to run past in this endless marathon—where countless sorcerers, friends and allies, lay scattered and bloodied along the track behind him. their deaths—your death—in vain. meanwhile, he was running out of breath, chasing a finishing line that kept moving, desperately trying to fulfill the duty of a jujutsu sorcerer.

and for whom?

a rustling noise cut through his thoughts. in that moment, he remembered, he wasn’t alone. his sullen eyes trailed up, fixing on the figure standing in the morgue with him.

satoru.

he was standing on the opposite side of the autopsy table. his fingers delicately curling along the edge of the thin, white blanket. with gentle movements, he pulled it over your body—covering you completely, save for your feet sticking out at the bottom—before returning his hands to his side.

fate was fickle, placing them in this position.

for they had been here before—seen each other like this already.

satoru’s expression was unreadable, devoid of any emotion. his gaze remained fixed on the blanket, as if he was staring at your face through it.

when he lift his head, suguru’s breath hitched, coming in a short, shallow gasp as he saw those dull and gloomy blue eyes staring back at him once more.

satoru didn’t say anything this time, because he didn’t need to.

despite himself, in the back of his mind, suguru knew.

he knew he was late.

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diorsluv · 10 months ago

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infrunami (lh⁴³)

❝ in which you’ve always been in love with your childhood best friend, but he would always be the right person at the wrong time ❞

wc: 5.8k

warnings: god there’s so much angst, reader is kinda inconsistent, mentions of blood/injury, mutual pining, idiots in love, running away from “rejection”, reader is touchy with jack and besties with quinn, no use of y/n, if i missed any lmk!!

notes ) when i tell you this took me WEEKS and WEEKS just to compile a simple 5k fic.. i think it’s kinda obvious where i stopped and started back up but i tried to blend it in as best i could!! this will be a two parter simply because i was draining myself trying to drag it on, so stay tuned (might take a while)! AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST thank you to my wonderful, amazing, supportive wife @dior-roses for beta reading this (i was terrified)

As a kid, you always moved wherever the Hughes moved—it was something about the bond between your fathers that couldn’t keep your families apart for more than a week. Regardless of how many times you moved, you never felt alone. You and Luke were in the same grade, and Quinn and Jack were always looking out for you two, so isolation was never a concern for you.

Although you were inseparable with Luke, Quinn had always been your best friend. The four-year age difference between the two of you was almost invisible, and throughout your youth, you would always find yourself in his room, staring at the ceiling as you talked about everything.

You would tell him about your silly school girl crushes, and he would ramble to you about hockey and all the petty drama that happened around him. In fact, he was the reason you learned hockey in the first place. Your father could never keep your attention on the sport for over five minutes, but the way Quinn talked about it so lovingly was what motivated you to step on the ice.

Your love for hockey spurred your relationship with not only Quinn, but also Luke and Jack, to grow closer than ever. Every day in school, you and Luke would gush about the games you had watched the night prior, and every day after school, all four of you would head off to practice for your respective club teams. If you weren’t already inseparable from the way your families were bound together by an invisible rope, then you were forever connected through hockey.

You quit after a few years to pursue more academic routes, but the sport never left your spirit. There were many occasions where the boys would refuse to play if you weren’t there, simply because your presence was the only thing to motivate them to get on the ice, especially if they were having a bad week.

Somehow, though, along the way, you caught feelings. Feelings that were far too heavy to have just surfaced from the depths of your heart. No, what you felt for Luke seemed to have always been creeping just between the line of what was certain and what was unknown. There was no other explanation as to why you couldn’t handle being in the same room as him without being on the verge of exploding. There was no other reason as to why you could spend months on end with either of his brothers but couldn’t last one minute sitting beside him.

As soon as you came to that revelation, you were done for. It was over. You would rather die than acknowledge the feelings you caught for the boy that had been by your side since you were born. Because of that, you spent all your time with your best friend and his younger brother, and both your families sensed the shift as soon as it happened.

Especially Luke.

Oh, the poor boy, his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized you were avoiding him. You held your breath every time he stepped into the same room as you, let alone when he tried to stand remotely close to you. You diverted your attention away from him as much as you could, and the boy you once knew as your other half now seemed to be universes away.

It was your doing, but in a way, it was his. How dare he make you fall for him? It wasn’t fair. Not to you, and definitely not to him. It wasn’t fair how he could make you fold in seconds with the way he looked at you from the other side of the room but simultaneously have a girl wrapped around his arm trying to take all his attention away from you. He was the only boy on your mind, but he always managed to push you to the darkest parts of his brain, putting you on hold when the more important girls were right in front of him.

If only you knew.

Quinn bounded down the stairs of your lake house, which was conveniently right next to the Hughes’, with an old framed photo in his hand. “Hah! I was right!” His exclamations took your attention away from the pasta you were cooking as you now turned to his self-righteous figure. “You would never let go of that stupid plushie.”

The two of you were arguing over what (and who) you were and were not inseparable with just prior to his search for the picture, and he claimed there were multiple photos of you hugging your favorite Elmo plushie. There was a mutual agreement that Luke was one of the things—or rather, people—you couldn’t fathom to be away from, but neither you nor Quinn had to verbally confirm it. There was no need.

And, to be completely honest, Quinn had barely spoken about his youngest brother throughout the time you’d been spending at the lake houses. A few years back, you had reluctantly told him how you felt about Luke, and ever since then, he’d made it his mission to make you feel the most comfortable you could possibly be whilst sharing a connected lake house with the boy you’ve loved since you were children. The eldest saw the way you tensed up when you recognized his brother’s footsteps creaking down the stairs when it came time to eat breakfast, and he sure as hell saw the way your eyes blew wide whenever you accidentally made contact with him.

It scared you how much Quinn seemed to notice about you, especially since he and his brothers were all busy with their demanding careers that left little to no time to be tending to some childhood friend who was stuck with a crush on the most recently debuted boy. Yes, he was still your best friend (that much hadn’t changed since your childhood), but all you could do was FaceTime each other, and even then, it was difficult to find time. It was the same with Jack; sometimes, they would be too tired for practice; other times, they would be exhausted from a home game and possibly frustrated had they lost; and most of the time, they weren’t even home, so the time difference, albeit miniscule, was still difficult to navigate considering you were a busy person too.

That meant that you met up as much as you could and you stuck by each other’s side until you were forced apart by the demands of being a professional hockey player. All that time together when you were younger meant you struggled to be without each other as you got older—maybe your parents should’ve realized that, but then again, it was probably their intention.

“Okay, I did let go of it. Multiple times, actually,” you refuted with a small frown, the expression on your face practically meaningless as your best friend laughed. It only egged him on further, evoking a complaint from your lips. “Quinn! It’s not funny!”

“I mean, it kinda is.” He struggled to stifle his laughter as he rounded the kitchen island to stand beside you. Your hand mindlessly dragged the wooden spoon through the soft noodles floating around in the boiling hot water, and he wondered how your skin wasn’t burning. Gently removing your hand from the utensil and replacing it with his own, the eldest Hughes boy continued his teasing once he looked at your still-upset face. “You’re such a kid sometimes, you know that?”

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head in annoyance. Quinn always said that to you. Always. He never failed to address you as ‘kid,’ and no matter what you did, he always managed to bring it back to how you ‘were such a kid.’ You huffed, “You’re so fucking annoying, Quinny. I’m gonna go piss off Jack. Keep cooking, and if you burn the house down, you’re paying for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I’m a millionaire.” His laughter filled your ears once again, and your only response was the finger you lifted at him over your shoulder.

After walking out of the kitchen of your own lake house, you took a few strides over to the sliding doors that led to the connected portion of your two homes. Your father and Jim had built it together, way back when all four of you were far too young to understand what normal lake houses were supposed to look like. It was essentially a screened-in sunroom overlooking the absolute beauty of a lake out front. They managed to hook up a large, flat-screen television on the wall, throwing a couple bean bag chairs and a rug into the room. The rest of the furnishing was left completely up to you and the Hughes brothers, so the furniture would change up every few visits.

Oftentimes, you would find Luke there, just sitting against the one wall that had a bit of a bump-out. He liked the way it felt against his back, like it actually supported him compared to the fluffy chairs that laid in the middle of the room. Whether he be on his phone, playing video games, or reading a book that was required for summer class, he would always be in the sunroom. The floor directly before the bump-out was much more worn compared to the rest of the room, the discolored wood showing just how often the youngest Hughes would find himself in the confines of the area.

There were many times when Luke would flee to the sunroom in his times of need, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. If anyone were to try to enter the room and speak to him, he wouldn’t respond. He would only ever talk to you. You were the one and only person to talk him out of his thoughts, the only one who could convince him to leave the room. Those nights were comprised of him refusing to leave your bed and whining if you got up in the middle of the night.

You missed it.

But you weren’t kids anymore. And, again, it was your fault you weren’t close anymore. You deliberately distanced yourself from him.

After pulling yourself away from your own thoughts, you tugged the Hughes’ sliding door open, the smell of freshly grilled shrimp welcoming you into the cozy house.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ellen’s soothing voice called out to you, smiling at you from her place at the kitchen sink. “How’s the pasta going?” The sound of the running water could barely be heard over the hockey game playing on the television, your father entertaining Jim and his youngest son with light chirps towards the losing team.

You could feel Luke’s eyes set on you. Shrugging, you replied, “I told Quinny to take over and not burn the house down.”

This was a regular occurrence whenever you came back to the lake for the break. You, your mother and Ellen would split up the food duties so that there was a lot of food but didn’t take too much time to cook everything. Quinn and Jack would help out a bit, but they would only ever take on the physical tasks. Luke used to help out when you were children, but ever since the distance you wedged between the two of you, he stopped helping out as much.

You looked around for Jack, trying your hardest to avoid Luke’s gaze in your search for his older brother. Ellen had now returned to her cooking, and the fathers were too invested in their conversation for you to intervene. Your eyes were darting everywhere but at your ex-best friend, and as soon as you made eye contact, you couldn’t look away.

It was too difficult.

It was so stupid.

It wasn’t fair.

His hazel eyes were too pretty. The way he looked at you made it hard to deny him the satisfaction of giving him attention. He looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon, but you couldn’t see that. You were blinded by your abundance of self-deprecating thoughts to notice.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice being drowned out due to the other activities occurring throughout the house. You mouthed the same word back, fighting the urge to walk over to him and apologize for avoiding him, apologize for distancing yourself from the one person you know you could never live without. If you allowed yourself to break, you would never forgive yourself. He doesn’t like you back, you told yourself. You can’t embarrass yourself.

So, instead of going with your heart, you went with your brain and made your way upstairs. If Jack wasn’t downstairs, then he had to have been upstairs doing God knows what.

“Jack?” You called out, running your hand along the railing of the staircase once you neared the top.

“In here!” His muffled voice came through the door to his bedroom, and you’ve seen him in enough compromising positions to the point where you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to be cautious. Once you opened the door, you were met with four gazes planted straight on you. You suddenly felt exposed despite your thick pajamas and only felt some sort of reassurance when you found Jack’s eyes. “Look who finally came up here!”

All four boys sat on Jack’s bed with controllers in their hands, the game on the TV now paused as their attention focused solely on you. You knew Trevor, Alex, and Cole, but you hadn’t seen them in so long that it felt awkward. “Oh, uh, hey. Quinn’s probably gonna burn my house down and I didn’t wanna be down there with Lukey, so,” you trailed off, pursing your lips.

“You’re still on that?” Alex questioned with furrowed eyebrows, placing the controller in his lap. You cocked your head to the side, not quite understanding what the boy was talking about. He continued, “I thought you got over him, like, months ago.”

Right. You had forgotten all about your accidental drunk confession the last time Jack’s friends were over. Last summer, your revelation was fresh on your mind, and you and Luke were still as inseparable as ever. His friends had also visited the lake house at the same time everyone else was staying over, so it made for a ton of chaos and little to no privacy.

Luke and his friends had left the house to go out, and for the first time, you stayed behind. Trevor and Cole were sitting at the fire pit outside, beers in their hands as they discussed the upcoming camps they were to attend. You were on your fifth drink, and although Jack was keeping an eye on you, he hadn’t noticed how you had accidentally walked into the bathroom while Alex was in the process of throwing up.

In the midst of your tipsy daze and the fact that it just so happened to be Luke’s bathroom, you called out for him. “Luke? Is that you? You know I’m always telling you not to drink that much, stupid.” You used your foot to shut the door behind you as you placed your drink onto the counter.

Alex, confused but sobering up, looked up at you with puffy eyes. Only then did he notice how you were much more than tipsy.

Your gaze was blurry and your words were beginning to slur, “If I didn’t like you so much, maybe I would be more mad at you. I don’t know why I like you, anyway. You’re always being so stupid, ‘cause you can’t see that all those girls are only ever using you for your brother or your body. They’re so mean. And I’m your best friend, not them! You always ditch me when you find another girl, and then they say shit about me behind my back. I don’t like them. What do you even see in them? God, what do I even see in you?

“My stomach hurts. I think I’m thinking about this too much. Or maybe I’m thinking about you too much. I hate you so much, Lukey, but I can’t ever hate you. You’re too pretty. This is so unfair and my head is pounding. Oh, God, I’m gonna throw up. Move over.” After your little monologue, which was definitely not directed towards the person on the receiving end, you were quick to fall to the ground beside the toilet and dip your head past the ceramic seat.

Alex brought his right hand up to flush the toilet so you didn’t accidentally stuff your face in a load of his vomit, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on your back. “‘m not Luke, but you’re safe with me.” He continued his motions throughout the five-minute duration of your illness, bringing his hand up to massage your head once you were sure you were done.

Your head was pounding and your ears began to ring, but you were visibly more sober compared to how you were a few minutes ago. Barely able to lift your head, you thanked your friend with a weak smile.

He only returned your expression and brought you up to your feet, leading you out of the restroom and towards Jack’s room. It obviously wasn’t the best option to bring you to Luke’s room, albeit being the default room after a long night, so his older brother’s bedroom would have to do.

Alex laid you down onto the mattress and tucked you in, lightly patting your cheek as you thanked him once more. He only chuckled and squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Anytime.”

And then you were left alone in the confines of Jack’s room.

You chuckled awkwardly at the memory, shaking your head in response. “Nope. Still on it.” Your hands brought themselves up to your thighs, rubbing your palms against your thick pants in an attempt to wipe away the tension in the room.

Trevor and Cole were aware of your feelings as well; you were sure everyone in the house knew. They only shot you sympathetic smiles, their priorities set on finishing the NHL 23 game plastered all over the screen.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“We believe in you.”

Their words, no offense, meant nothing to you. They were great people to hang around, but they weren’t the best guys to turn to when you were in a time of need, especially since you weren’t very close to them. They had their own issues that didn’t concern you, and your issues were ever so far from their minds.

After a few beats of silence, the mood of the room began to slowly eat away at you. If you were to open your mouth and bite down, you might as well have taken a chunk out of the thick tension lingering in the room. It was even more awkward knowing that Luke was much closer to them compared to you, and you knew they would let things slip eventually.

Not that he didn’t already know, though.

The four boys exchanged glances with one another, shrugging in unison before resuming their gameplay. You took it as your cue to stay, seeing as they didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and you were much more comfortable in Jack’s room than you were downstairs.

Allowing yourself to flop onto the boy’s soft mattress, you fished your phone out from the pocket of your pajama pants, finding solace in the way the friends laughed with each other. You remained like that for about twenty minutes before Jack beckoned you over to the edge of his bed, where he was sitting, to ask you for your opinion on something.

After dishing him your thoughts—which barely seemed to help him—you stayed snug at the foot of the bed, extending your legs out so that they lay atop his. It was one of your more typical positions when spending time with Jack whilst he was playing video games. Whether it be with his friends or with his brothers, you always found yourself comfortably overlapping your limbs with him, and today was no exception.

You both shuffled around a bit until you found a comfortable position. You sat with your legs resting on his thighs and your head laying on his shoulder; he sat with his forearms resting on your left leg. The others paid no mind to your odd positioning, their minds too preoccupied with the competitiveness flooding through the screen.

So you stayed like that for a while. For a long while, actually. You only lifted your head when the sound of light knocking echoed against Jack’s door once more, and soon after, you found his youngest brother cracking the door open and peeking through.

His eyes had yet to land on your figure. “Hey, Mom’s looking for—”

Before he could utter your name, he looked you dead in the eye.

“Oh.” He went silent for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. Him, of all people, should be the least surprised to see you cuddled up with Jack. “You.”

There was a certain poison in his tone that struck you right where it hurt the most. It was the way he spat through gritted teeth and looked at you with so much indifference. (It was really a façade, but you were too entranced under his gaze to realize that he could never bring himself to hate you.) The whole room seemed to shift uncomfortably with the way the tension flowed between you and Luke.

No matter how hard you tried to mask your pain and your desperation for him to notice you, you would never be able to hide how you really felt. Not with him.

“You can tell her I’ll be right down,” you murmured, slowly moving your legs from Jack’s lap, but before you could even finish your sentence, Luke disappeared as quickly as he came. When you looked back in the door frame, all you were met with was a blank wall and the faint image of where the boy stood before.

You could feel Jack lightly pat your thigh, trying his hardest to support you with the little attention he was diverting toward you. With a small sigh, you pushed yourself off the mattress and wiped your palms against the fabric of your pants, reluctantly leaving the room. Alex wished you good luck, but his fleeting words flew straight through one ear and out the other.

Downstairs, the fathers were still loud as ever, and the sizzling in the kitchen now turned into the delicious aroma of freshly cooked lunch. Quinn’s voice echoed up the staircase, and you could hear how he attempted to entertain his mom as she waited for you to come back down.

As soon as your feet hit the bottom floor, you could already sense Quinn’s eyes on you. He looked like he was being held hostage, and you could argue that he was begging you for help. He wasn’t the only Hughes boy with his gaze locked on you, but he was the only one you would give attention to.

“Oh, look! Just who you were looking for, Mom,” the eldest boy managed to divert the attention away from him and towards you. You scowled at him just before Ellen turned around, plastering on a smile as you walked towards them.

You gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “I was just up in Jack’s room. Luke said you were looking for me?”

“Oh, that’s right! Could you grab that fancy set of plates from the cabinet in your house, sweetie? It’s too high to reach for any of us parents, and you know Lukey and Quinn don’t help out with anything anymore,” Ellen spoke, evoking an argument from her oldest son. It only took one glare from her to shut him up, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his complacence.

You nodded your head with a grin, still fighting more giggles as you swerved past Quinn. He lunged at you, bringing his hands up to your waist as if he was going to tickle you, but you managed to jump just out of his reach before continuing on your journey to grab the plates Ellen wanted.

Once you made it back into your house, you dragged a chair up to the counter and climbed onto the cushioned seat, opening the cabinet and setting your gaze on the fake fine china. You only grabbed a few at a time, not wanting to break anything in fear of your mother getting mad at you. Eventually, you had gotten down to the last few plates, and once you had them in your hands, you closed the cabinet and stepped down from the chair.

Perhaps you should’ve been more aware of how high you were, because somehow, the bottom plate smashed against the countertop and shattered in your hands, causing you to let out a small scream. The porcelain had broken into small pieces, cutting into your palms, but you managed to place the reset of the plates down before beginning to worry about the amount of cuts you had on your hands.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, looking at the floor to see how many shards were scattered around the floor. Your only form of protection on the soles of your feet were the fluffy socks you were wearing, and the distance between the pieces was far enough to where you could step past them.

As soon as you deemed it safe to walk normally, you swiveled on your heel to analyze the messy situation you found yourself in. You definitely should have been more careful, and now you had to clean up all the small plate shards with cuts in your hands. Fuck, your hands were still bleeding, and it hadn’t even occurred to you that it was now dripping down your arms.

All you could do was stand in place, shock still coursing in your veins. The sink on the island was in the middle of the plate murder, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally stepping on something sharp. Before you could even begin to make your way to the half-bath near the kitchen, you heard footsteps bounding through the sunroom. The glass door slid open far too aggressively—so much so that you thought it would shatter, too—and you assumed it was Quinn coming to check on you.

The plate breaking was loud enough to be heard from the other house, especially with the connected room, but you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal for him. You were usually trustworthy enough to not accidentally hurt yourself, but this was a prime example of how you really weren’t.

You didn’t want any questions to be asked, and because it was Quinn, you knew you would get made fun of before being helped. “Don’t worry—”

“Holy shit, are you okay?” The voice that spoke up was not Quinn.

Immediately snapping your head around to look at the boy standing there, frozen, your frown contorted into a grimace. “Luke—shit—hey,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say to him. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine, I was just being stupid and—”

“What the fuck happened? You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t wash your hands and wrap them up.” His heavy footsteps inched closer and closer until he was standing right in front of you, taking your forearms into his calloused hands and inspecting how bad your injuries were. “C’mon, we gotta wash this off.”

Luke led you to the bathroom as if it was his own house, running the tap and allowing the water to get most of the red liquid off your hands before taking a clean towel and gently tapping the rest off.

He was unbearably gentle with you. You felt ashamed to think of how fast your heart was beating at such a simple gesture; as if him caring about you meant anything except the fact that growing up together meant you both cared for each other when someone was hurt. Sighing to hide your true feelings, you slowly took your hands away from his touch, “Luke, I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to do this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean? Of course I’m going to clean you up if you hurt yourself.” He immediately took your hands back into his and resumed his actions, quickly grabbing ointment from the cabinet above the toilet. Squeezing out a dollop of the cream, he soothingly rubbed it against your wounds with a focused frown adorning his features.

You took the chance to admire him candidly. He was so worried about you, and it was so cute. He wouldn’t even let you take care of yourself because he wanted to do it for you, and he was so serious about it. You had always thought his focused face was adorable, even when you were kids, but as you grew up, it only got cuter and cuter. Fuck, you were so gone for him.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring until he looked up at you and immediately looked back down at your hands. He cleared his throat awkwardly and questioned, “Does it hurt?”

“Hm?” You snapped yourself out of your trance, your face heating up with the unexpected eye contact. “Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t hurt.” The pain you were feeling came more from your heart than it did from your body. It hurt to be in such close proximity to the boy you longed so deeply for. The awkward silence floating between the two of you pained you even more.

Luke nodded and rummaged through the drawers until he found gauze, taking great care to wrap it around your hands without causing you too much discomfort. When he finished, all he did was usher you out of the bathroom with a hand on your lower back, turning off the lights without so much as a word.

Only when you entered the kitchen did a small mumble leave the boy’s lips. “Try to be more careful next time, okay? Can’t have you going around injuring yourself and shit, or you’re gonna make me—us worry too much.” He cleared his throat after his slip-up, hoping you didn’t hear what he said. You did. “Oh, and Jack told me to let you know the guys are throwing a party tonight. He said to invite you so you could buy cups and shit, but you’re kinda . . . banged up right now.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go grab stuff from the store later—”

“No!” Luke exclaimed, his eyes blowing wide once he realized how loud he protested your suggestion. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I’ll go get the stuff. You shouldn’t drive with your hands all cut up like that. They don't care who buys what.”

You blinked at him. He was acting so weird; it was almost like he cared about you. But it didn’t matter. The others were throwing a party, which meant there were going to be tons of girls all over him, and it wouldn’t be right for you to get mad if you were the one who caused the rift between you two.

With a shrug, you silently agreed to his proposal and turned to grab the remaining set of plates still sitting on the counter. You couldn’t even take two steps before Luke was already sliding ahead of you and taking the ceramic platters into his arms. “Luke, you really don’t have to do all of this. I’m fine, look,” you showed him your hands, front and back, to try and convince him to let you do something.

“No, you’re hurt. And I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I made you injure yourself more.”

Best friend.

Two very opposing emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, the term ‘best friend’ still sent a pang through your chest, knowing you would never be more to him than just a best friend. But on the other hand, it relieved you to know that he still considered you close enough to be his best friend.

God, you were such a mess. You were running away from him in fear of rejection, but then you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. What the hell was wrong with you?

Eventually, the two of you made it back into his house, the boy announcing your arrival and placing the plates down onto the dining table. He immediately found his spot back on the couch in between the fathers like before, and you instantly got hounded by both the mothers’ questions being launched at you all at once.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you grimaced. You attempted to pull your hands away from her inspecting gaze, but she brought them right back to her face. “Mom, it doesn’t even hurt anymore! Lukey already put medicine on it and wrapped them up, anyway!” You were growing impatient, and your complaints slowly turned into whines.

Thankfully, as soon as she heard Luke’s nickname leave your mouth, she dropped your hands back to your sides and grinned widely at you.

“Well, then! I’m sure you’re just fine, aren’t you?”

You sighed begrudgingly. “Yes, Mom.” You were just happy she stopped nagging you.

What you didn’t know was that she and Ellen were in pain watching their two children stay so far away from each other for such a long time. The parents always thought you two would have confessed by the time you graduated high school, but you were in college and Luke was having an amazing rookie season. It clearly didn’t work out the way they thought it would have.

You also didn’t know that Luke’s heart practically exploded out of his chest when he heard you use his nickname so nonchalantly. He always overheard you addressing him as Lukey to his brothers, but you never did it when you knew he was listening. It was almost as if saying it made your mouth run dry.

And it did.

It finally came time to eat lunch, and your stomach was threatening to growl before you all sat down at the table. Trevor, Alex, and Cole decided to eat at a restaurant instead, encouraging Jack to eat with your families rather than hanging out with them. So he stayed.

There was a specific order in which you sat. There were five members of the Hughes family and three members of your family, meaning there were eight seats total; the rectangular table fit the usual number of people perfectly. The fathers would sit on either end of the table, and the mothers would sit to their right. You and Jack sat next to your mothers, while Luke sat beside you and Quinn beside Jack.

It was a routine. It never changed. Ever.

Not when Jack kissed you on New Years. He still had to sit opposite to you at the table. Not when you and Luke had the biggest verbal fight in your life, leaving you both with scars on your knees. And especially not when you finally recognized the feelings you had for your best friend.

And as you sat in your spot, with Luke’s thigh pressed against yours, you realized that maybe loving him wasn’t all that bad.

— diorsluv 2024

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #luke hughes fanfiction #lh43

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rocketbirdie · 17 days ago

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Have you ever drawn Sephiroth? Also my favorite post of urs is Cloud and Zack chained together and getting caught by a poll XD ALSO ALSO how do u find an art style?? I've been asking this question to a lot of ppl but never get anything that helps me- my "art style" is always inconsistent and I'm trying to do something that expression how I feel as a person while drawing a character (but maybe it's because as a person I'm all over the place and I can't pinpoint how to express myself) I can give a little ref for a few of my drawing to show how inconsistent they are😓 though some things stay the same a lot of other things change (people say I'm hard on myself but I feel like it needs to look a certain way for me to like it ig also also also the 2nd drawing was a fixed version of the og because it was well elongated.. can you tell im no good at anatomy-?)

ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE RANT!! 😓

HI NO WORRIES FOR THE RANT!! Regretfully I have not drawn a whole lot of Sephiroth... perhaps that shall change someday? 🤔

Hmm I think I know what most people's advice would be, like "oh don't worry about art style just do whatever you like!" and yes, that's kinda true, but it's not really helpful. So here's my thoughts on the matter:

I find that the best approach to finding a style that fits you is to start by identifying your own tastes in art. Instead of worrying about consistency, focus on finding brushes/tools that feel good to use, colors and lines that appeal to you, and then play around with those. You'll find it a lot easier to make art that you like if you let yourself have fun with it, as opposed to subjecting it to pass/fail criteria.

For example, it's probably not surprising to hear that I love vibrant, colorful geometric art. I struggled for so long trying to use fancy brushes and weighted paintstrokes to make more realistic portraits, and it frustrated me because even if other people said it looked great, nothing I made looked right to me. Turns out it was my toolkit hiding my own art style from me. The moment I switched to solid colors and the goofy default pen setting, BOOM. Suddenly I was on a roll.

As for anatomy, you're already doing great!! My trick for anatomy (and for anything at all, really) is to break it down into simple 3d shapes. Fun fact, almost everything with the human body is just varying cylinders. Your neck? Cylinder. Hand? 5 cylinders attached to a cylinder that's been slightly squished. Torso? That's cylinder, babe! Arms? Legs? You guessed it, cylinders.

Challenge yourself HARD, EARLY. Don't wait until you think you're "good enough" to do a big intimidating project, or else you'll be waiting forever. Draw those difficult angles, perspectives, and compositions NOW, not later! It'll make the things that you're already good at feel ridiculously easy, and make those things come naturally to you, enabling you to focus your efforts into the stuff you do want to get better at.

#OK DONE RAMBLING! thank you for the ask and i wish you the best of luck on your art adventure!!#asks #<3!!!!

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thephooka · 9 months ago

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youtube

Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!

Some other notes:

The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.

I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.

The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.

Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.

On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.

Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.

*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:

This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.

2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.

I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.

This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.

Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!

#webcomics #comics #webcomicday #webcomic day #web comix #indie comics #wn comic #white noise #behind the scenes #art process #comic making #sorry about the vertical video Tumblr would not just let me upload the video file into the post #Youtube

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zombie-bait · 1 year ago

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The Death of a Vampire

Lestat as a protagonist just works so incredibly well and a very significant aspect of that is him being Anne Rice's self-insert. Lived experience can be critical when it comes to writing a good story and many memorable novels will feature elements of that. Anne is built different, though. Lestat (book 2 onwards) is basically Anne's journal for dealing with her grievances and trauma, which, on its own, is a very questionable method of writing. More often than not, it causes him to be characterized inconsistently between books because Anne's own opinions have changed. But it also makes him so real.

You follow his struggles with religion, you see him yearn for forgiveness from a god that has seemingly abandoned him a long time ago and you feel it. The passage I will never get over is in the early chapters of The Vampire Lestat, when Lestat has a breakdown over his mother's (and frankly his own) mortality. He struggles and he cries and he can't get out of bed because there's nothing he can do. Eventually he starts to live again, forces himself to.

But.

"I wandered into the church and on my knees I leaned against the wall and I looked at the ancient statues and I felt the same gratitude looking at the finely carved fingers and the noses and the ears and the expressions on their faces and the deep folds in their garments, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. At least we had these beautiful things, I said. Such goodness. But nothing natural seemed beautiful to me now! The very sight of a great tree standing alone in a field could make me tremble and cry out. Fill the orchard with music. And let me tell you a little secret. It never did pass, really."

I think about those last two sentences a lot. I think about them even more since Anne Rice passed away.

Every page of Interview is spent talking about death and yet (imo) it's only in TVL that you really feel it. Louis in book 1 welcomes death quite readily because, besides his toxic boyfriend and their traumatized daughter, he doesn't have much to live for. He's basically given up by the time Lestat appears. The greatest torture, to Louis, is the knowledge that he can live forever on the suffering of others.

But Lestat is the complete opposite. He wants to listen to music, to explore Paris, to perform on any stage that will take him, to embrace the man he loves and to send his ailing mother letters of his accomplishments. Death matters most to those who are desperate to live and god is he desperate. He's haunted by his mother's sickness, by the wolves on the mountain that threaten to end his life before he's even lived it, the witches place that reeks of meaningless suffering. And in a way, the dark gift provides opportunity to escape that. But it is still death. It takes away Nicki in a very literal way and takes away his mother in a more personal one. Magnus, like death, chose Lestat arbitrarily. He sees the cellar of blonde corpses and knows that he was only one of dozens to meet an untimely death with no explanation.

Lestat also really wants you to know that he is, truly, a good person. He must be. He swears to only hunt criminals and then goes back on that two pages later. He reshapes stories to present himself as the noble protagonist and the audience has no choice but to believe him. He wants, desperately, to be loved for all that he is, man and monster. He wants to be the hero.

He's this awful, fascinating, very human man so clearly born out of the internal struggle to find meaning and love in a cruel, unpredictable world we all tend to share. He's made up of incredibly basic and powerful human desires hidden behind a mask of bravado and I can't recalling seeing another protagonist like him.

(Quick mention: This isn't some kind of "wow Anne Rice is an incredible author who can do no wrong" piece. She's written a lot of fucked up and bad shit that cannot be easily brushed over. But I don't think I'll ever get over reading TVL for the first time. To read someone bare their soul in such a way creates a truly unique experience. A lot of characters in a lot of pieces of media face death, but it's rare to see a character face mortality in such a personal way.)

(Also odds are I've written similar posts to this before but shhhhh these sad gay vampires are all I have)

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hashmap · 2 days ago

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Are you open to discussing your experiences with DID

Yeah. I'm partial to private conversations about it though. I try not to talk about it much publicly unless I have to or think someone else would benefit in a way that makes it worth forcing my ailments show ankle.

With all that said, I've been "aware" since around 2012, and did my own research following 2016 after my social/emotional ability began to plummet. My guardian was and is extremely anti shrink due to their own issues so a lot of the symptoms and episodes that were obvious or harmful both to myself and others were left in my lap to navigate. The first "split" happened some time around being 8 or 10 yrs old and I specifically had extreme psychotic episodes that stemmed weeks to months. It did and does cause a lot of tension with my family (who I'm presently no contact with for unrelated reasons) described it as though one day it was like I "died". and someone else took my place. Exact words. Some of them initially approached it with phases in mind and would beef it up frequently with me about lying (but not being aware of it/never being believed), how I "didn't have to be someone im not" due to strong sudden changes in appearance, food preferences, general inconsistencies. "Out of character" acts of disobedience or outbursts I'd never had before. Lots of name changing, and reclusivity. I could not maintain friendships by the time I was graudating, and I freshly left my groomer who I had been engaged to. A headmate continued talking to him online without my knowledge afterwards for about a week. There's a lot of moments like that, where I think about all the time that's inherently robbed and misused without me knowing until I stumble into it or am shown directly.

It's hard watching people mourn "you" like that, and rehashing the conversation on more than a few occasions for over a decade. This was all still prediagnosis, or before I really knew what was going on with confidence.

I got really lucky and got picked up by a psych who was still in school, getting her degree, and being supervised by someone regarded as one of the best specialists for DID out there. I expected OSDD but was solidly diagnosed with DID + schizophrenic features with assessments and multiple opinions to ensure we were going about it properly. After you accept the actual management aspect of the disorder, you can also acknowledge merging or getting as close as you can to doing so as your goal. Some people stay split forever and splitting again isn't uncommon even if you mend prior. Managing it to minimize damage is a great deal.

Also, even grazing web circles or using social media to learn/selfdx with DID/OSDD is quite possibly the worst thing you can do for yourself unless setting yourself back is the aim. Not only does it cause the obvious, but it also caused me personally to second guess myself out of seeking the words of a professional for way longer than I should have. Being taught to communicate with each other was one of the biggest positive turning points in the disorder for me. I've found the most success in minding my business, keeping myself picky about engaging with other people bearing and/or claiming to, and keep my DID brain food coming from reputable books and professional contact any time it's free.

#Asks #I'm in my car at work which should say enough so let me know if anything needs to be rephrased.

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babacontainsmultitudes · 1 year ago

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Ngl getting worried that "Sparrow doesn't like Normal" thing has been said so much on the show that the actual cast forgot that isn't true ......

Hi anon! Okay first of all, this was a very cathartic ask to receive, to the point that it kind of cracked me up when I first read it, so thank you, you were so real for this. I can empathize with this sentiment (though I had no plans on voicing it) and I've felt similarly for… A while honestly.

You sent this back in December (heh. classic baba.), and while I didn't forget, honestly I intended to answer this in a manner that's a bit more. Organized but… I sort of lost sight of where I wanted to go with things, to be honest with you, and I didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! Still, a couple notes and tangentially-related thoughts…

(Oh, maybe before we get into it- I assume based on the nature of this ask that you probably read this post of mine, but perhaps I'll leave it here as additional context for anyone who happens to find themselves reading this).

Okay, in Will's case to be totally real I've never confidently felt that he realizes that it's not true? If my memory serves, the first time the idea comes up at all is in episode 17:

Which irked me a bit at the time, in part because to me it feels pretty blatantly discordant with Sparrow's characterization- in general but also since he literally says this during the dance scene:

but even more so because it feels very inconsistent with Normal's degree of shock during this same scene. All the same, for a while I could still look past it, on the basis that y'know it's a very teenage thing to make mountains out of molehills and leap to increasingly cynical conclusions the way Normal tends to do, and so perhaps it was all intentional, and as both Sparrow and Normal went through a bit of growth and development, things would slowly turn out alright. :0 A bit willfully naïve, I suppose! But what can you do.

In Anthony's case… I've actually been pretty happy with what he's given us of Sparrow for the past little while, honestly. Sigh but still now and then Anthony will say things offhandedly like this (transcribing myself from episode 47 since the transcript isn't out yet):

Anthony: (…) The only thing keeping you together is the absolute ignorance you have of the fact that maybe the only person who ever showed you any real affection in the last couple years of your life is dead, and the fact that you don't know is all that keeps you going. But the only thing that keeps me going is [ADVERTIZEMENT].

And while that joke lead-in was very funny, it's also just. Objectively not true? Like even aside from all the instances of Sparrow being very affectionate with Norm (including in the dance scene), the other teens? Lark? Rebecca???? All of them have shown Normal affection in one way or another throughout the course of the show. Like, I get that he probably mostly did it for the joke but. Eh, still rubs me the wrong way I suppose.

As for the rest of the cast… It's hard to say, and I guess less important at the end of the day. The other teens' responses to Norm in the last episode make sense for the most part given their POVs imo, so while frustrating to a degree, I can't really fault them for it. Still… Hm, in Scary's case I briefly discussed what I would sort have wanted/liked to come from her own interactions with Sparrow after episode 37 here, and tbh I suppose everything outlined there is still more or less what my ideal scenario would have looked like!

So honestly I suppose that's it anon! I could talk more but I would most definitely begin to stray off topic if I did lol. Thank you kindly for the ask! 💜

#and I guess let's keep our fingers crossed that the finale is... alright 🤞#dndads #sparrow oak #sparrow oak garcia #dungeons and daddies #normal oak #normal oak swallows garcia #asks #baba babbles #if I actually used that damn talking tag consistently it might actually prove useful smh

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strobichie · 2 years ago

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just sae, forever.

♡⸝⸝ summary: poor you decided to replay ddlc, but instead you were stuck in an unideal situation. this is part two of just sae!

little note: i didn't expect my last post to get 30+ likes XD, i was never good at writing per se, regardless i'm delighted to see people enjoy my small short fic even if it wasn't that eye-catching. also, oftentimes i write for gn and fem readers and honestly.. i don't know which to use for this one. i guess it's up to you then reader ^_^ (small hints of inconsistent type of reader, reader's style and etc depends on her or their mood.)

your perspective:

huh, it's been a few days after that unfortunate event.

was i just pranked? geez, hopefully it was. the shit that 'sae' pulled back there felt real as hell. even his dialogues sounded real.

i heard a knock on my apartment door and froze in place..

i haven't gone out in days, i think i already became a neet.

my legs dangled from my bed as i stood up, rushing to the front door, i opened it, expecting to get ai hoshino's fate.. but instead... ---

"it feels nice to see you in real life." that.. was sae's voice. or more realistically AND honestly, takahiro sakurai's voice.

i perked my head up, oh... he was, tall. obviously. what am i saying?

he pulled me into a sudden hug, he wore the same clothes when he appeared in the manga and anime.

i was speechless, this... couldn't be real. i was just being pranked, was i?

"why are you so quiet? why don't you speak up, love?" he looked at me lovingly, gosh, my single ass felt blood running to my cheeks.

"no way, you're real? here?! in flesh and blood??" i said, absolutely flabbergasted. he looked exactly like sae, but i was still in denial.

"why would you think that my words were just empty nonsense? i was being true to my words... and you." he shyly admitted. why was he so out of character?

"and, i may not seem like the cold person i was in the anime and manga, but i.. since i'm with you, after all those times in the literature club, i actually found happiness with you." he continued to speak.

"...yeah, let's, like, settle this inside." i brought him in my apartment, it wasn't too small, rather it was quite big. my job paid me really well and i was able to afford quite a luxurious and spacious apartment. those years in school really did pay off, haha.

sae sat on my comfortable white couch as he looked around, surprised. i dug into my pantry desperately searching for.. something.

i was really warming up to sae now, i mean, judging from my tiktok reposts i reposted videos and edits of him way more often than rin, sorry... rinrin...

my eyes caught sight of my life long worth of candy stash, it could last for like, decades. or more...

i happily hummed as i took a big basket full of candy, walking to the living room and placing it on the glass coffee table.

"what are you staring for sae? come on, i didn't bring this big basket of candy here for nothing." i shot him a smug smile, urging him to take one candy bar.

"it's nothing, i just never expected you to be this welcoming and kind.. i'm... grateful. thank you." he took a candy bar and peeled the wrapper open, taking a bite into the soft chocolate caramel.

he was secretly enjoying the candy bar, so i took one for myself and swallowed the candy bar whole after peeling the tight ass wrapper.

"riiight, since you're a famous footballer back in the bluelockverse, i guess you need to get used to getting pampered and taken care of by me since you have no job now, whatsoever. but to be frank, i don't care. it's nice to have someone around me after god knows how long!" i said out of the blue, eyes star-struck. i didn't know why, i felt happier when people were around me. but when i was with sae.. i felt.. like i was on cloud nine.

"...sae, i don't know why. but i like you, a lot." two lonely bitches staring at each other, that was us.

"i like you too, {name}... i like you, a lot more than you'd ever like me." gosh, this stings. what was i thinking? am i hallucinating or just crazy? i eyed sae sadly, a evident frown plastered on my face.

"i'll love you till the end of time, {name}." he smiled, shit, i felt butterflies in my stomach. is this true love? ironic since he was a fictional character that broke the barrier between fiction and reality.

maybe.. life with sae.. wouldn't be so bad.

we can do many things together, like drawing and painting. playing video games, and going out together. like a real couple would do.

i found myself slightly blushing a soft pink colour, i actually felt happy, with sae.

"...i love you, sae." i smiled at him lovingly, and he shot me a loving smile back.

i finally felt true happiness!

author's note: might do a silly lil fic of reader and sae living life together as a happy couple, gosh, i'm a sucker for lovey dovey pairs wkdjskwksfr

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nayialovecat · 5 months ago

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The Ink Demonth 2024 - Day 29. Queer

All right. Let's start from the beginning. It means that all Ink People in the Workshop have no physical gender. They are completely devoid of genitalia. The next step is that before their death, each of them was someone - a man or a woman (those times they didn't openly talk about other affiliations - WWII). But, although they don't have a physical gender, they have their own (or artificially created) memories that make them consider themselves specific people with specific names, gender or orientation (not necessarily consistent with what was before death). There is also even big group these who don't need gender or orientation, yeah.

What I want to say is that SATIM Sammy considers himself a straight male, but no one guarantees that he wasn't actually a woman, a gay, etc. 'cause as a result of the effects of the ink poisoning, his personality and memories have been so disturbed, destroyed and replaced - that he is practically not who he was before his death. So Sammy and all the other Ink People can definitely say they are all queer.

Now let's focus on Princess Sammy, which has become my non-canon canon - forever in my heart. It started as an April Fool's Day joke, which resulted in a fanfic that was never published and never completed, and was inconsistent with the SATIM canon (but still loved by me). Then there was my first Ink Demonth and this entry where Sammy sings Anna's part and Bendy sings Elsa's part. Half a year later, I published this cool comics in response to a question from one of my fans - so these two in the current costumes of both princesses (or rather, princess and queen). Earlier, however, it was my birthday and I made myself such a birthday gift, and a few days later I coloured it. And finally last year's Ink Demonth, which gave us this oh-so-underrated crossover with Ivandoe.

So Princess Sammy will always be in my heart. I love her/him. She/He also got a new dress this time and I decided to move away from green - I think it's the best dress I've ever given Sammy. He/she seems to appreciate it too.Sammy: I'm beautiful… I mean handsome. Yeah, I'm handsome, right?

As for production interesting facts - I used strange markers here that I tested recently - very carefully, because I was afraid they would show through to the second page, but they didn't. I find the effect quite satisfactory.

#The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #SATIM #Sammy and the Ink Machine #Sammy #Princess Sammy #Sammy is so beautiful princess <3

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chiyeko-kurea · 7 months ago

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one of my favorite poems + my analysis

i wanted to share it with you guys:)

(VERY poorly translated, sadly never as good as the original)

« Je vis, je meurs » Louise Labé, Sonnets, 1555

« I live, I die: I drown and I burn,

I endure at once extreme heat and cold;

Life is at once too soft and too hard,

I feel boredom mingled with joys.

At the same time, I laugh and I cry,

And I endure many torments of pleasures,

My fortune fades away, and lasts forever,

At the same time, I wither and I Bloom.

Thus I suffer love’s inconstancies

And when I believe I will suffer more,

Without knowing, I find myself at peace.

Then, when I feel my joy is certain,

And I am on top of what I could wish right now,

Love casts me back into my former grief. »

So there’s a few things i would translate differently.

1) I would write « I drown and burn » without the other « I » because in the original poem, the idea conveyed is really that the feeling of drowning constantly is parallel to the one of burning, happening in the same time in the author’s mind while being completely opposite.

The idea of drowning constantly (that I personally really relate to) = therefore maybe also feeling like suffocating/ choking constantly, not being able to breathe and a constant weigh inside the chest.

+ sinking further and further until one day reaching rock bottom -> the idea of giving up on ourselves?

Or you could also interpret the word ‘drowning’ as fighting to stay above water, to gasp for air, being between sanity and trying to stay there because if you give up you will drown into insanity and darkness that is trying to pull you in. With that interpretation you also get the idea of tiredness and eventually having to give up if you know you’re doomed to drown anyway, but you can’t stop trying to survive.

But i think in this case ‘drown’ is more that achingly slow, constant, oppressive feeling of slowly sinking opposed to the complete chaos of burning fire and being actively consumed alive/ having a fire inside ur mind.

2) Second verse is also poorly translated. It would be more like ‘i burn while enduring chilblain’ which is completely different from the original verse but closer in terms of meaning, to me. Same idea of opposite feelings, i think everyone interprets differently.

3) 3rd verse IS JUST SHIT!! WHAT IS THAT TRANSLATION?? It’s so lameeeee! Ugh. The idea that i felt in the OP (original poem) was like ‘Life is to me too listless/ limp/ (=basically ‘soft’ but in a pejorative way. Life is boring, tasteless, nothing worth much, nothing that excites her mind.) Also she says ‘TO ME’. To her. Her life, not life in general. Basically, how life is to her, « towards » her. But at the same time, life is too hard to her (not « for » her!) to the point it’s like torture.

4) The next verse is kind of a résumé of her whole fucking life. That i would translate as ‘i have great ennuis intertwined with joys’. « Ennuis » could be, indeed, translated as ‘boredom’, (the way i understood it) but also as ‘problems’/‘worries’. Basically either a long, dull, boring, worthless road with sometimes great joys/ or if you got for the different meaning of ‘ennuis’: lots of terrible problems and disasters in your life but sometimes also great joys, both mingled.

5) « love’s inconsistencies » -> Love is written in the OP with a capital letter. I don’t really think it’s necessarily romantic love, but love in general: what you experience, live, feel, discover, which is basically essential to life. Imagine a life where you don’t love any type of music, book, movie, food, weather, people, feeling, taste, smell… But primarily, I think she means that Love (as an entity rather than a simple feeling) kinda throws her around; and she is a ‘victim’ of it, she suffers from it and its intensity, unpredictability, force. She is condemned, as a human, to be a subject/ slave of love. She is not, and never will be, in control of that -and therefore her life.

6) The two last verses are so poorly translated it should be a crime. The idea behind them is really interesting!

« And I am on top of what I could wish right now » -> when she has everything she could wish for, she has obtained and achieved everything she ever dreamed off, longed for, ached for, when she has reached what is the ultimate completion of her desires that would grant her happiness; and finally everything that bothered her and kept her from tasting a freedom and peace of the soul is gone; when there’s nothing more she could possibly need or even wish for; she doesn’t. Feel. Happy. Anymore. She loses it. She feels the same as she used to before. It’s a never-ending cycle. She thinks she finally has it all, but it all crumbles, again and again and she can never keep it. She can taste it for a bit, but then it vanishes and she is right back in her ‘primary misery’.

She feels joy, she feels happy, she thinks it’s gonna last forever: it never does. For me, it really convey the idea of relapse. You get clean, you feel great, life is good, but then, how could you even think it was gonna last anyway? You relapse, fall right back in your misery.

I haven’t analyzed (corrected) the 2nd quatrain and the first tercet because this post is already very long (so i just corrected the most important ones)

and i don’t wanna bore you😭 but if you like poetry we could discuss it together if you want🫶

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citrus-cactus · 1 year ago

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Citrus' Art Summary 2023!

The year is almost over, so here's my art summary for 2023! I got this template from here. This is my third year in a row being able to populate every month with a finished(/digital) piece (and really, I did a LOT more than what's shown here!), so that feels like something to celebrate!

Technically some of these choices don’t match up with their post dates; I counted some months as “when I was primarily working on them” and some as “when I actually published them,” but the sentiment remains. Like I said, it was a busy year! :)

Some more rambling + links to all featured artwork beneath the cut:

I remember last year I was quite worried about/was actually teetering on the edge of artistic burnout. There were definitely some months during this year that I felt a bit overwhelmed (particularly during the summer, when I was working on a 5-illustration series in a style that was DEFINITELY outside my norm, PLUS a bunch of other stuff), but I also appreciated the stylistic variety, and doing a lot of sketchbook drawings/marginalia that were(/are) just for me, so they never had to be "finished” or even "good." Even though almost everything pictured here is Digimon(/anime) art, I did experiment with a more "realistic" style for the Dracula Daily series (Aug/Sept), as well as trying to relearn the "Disney" style I started drawing in waaaaaaay back in high school, only now with a LOT more understanding of facial structure and anatomy. Largely, this style shake-up has been incredibly freeing (these are still sketchbook-only studies at this point, but I'm planning on some digital illustrations in the Disney style in 2024). I'm sure they still look pretty anime-influenced, and I'm not sure I'll ever truly be able to escape that, but honestly I don't mind; the anime aesthetic IS a part of my preference/style!

Let's see, the prevailing fandoms for what's shown here are Digimon Survive and Adventure 02. I really want to draw more Survive art next year!! Really happy with the collabo between @vidramon and myself (July), and honestly most (if not all) of these pieces. I worked hard, I branched out, I took on some really ambitious projects, and finished a ton of things (looking at you, March! That Knight drawing was a WIP for an entire year, but I finished it instead of abandoning it, which is what usually happens when things sit around that long!). Ultimately, I believe I told (and helped tell!) some great stories through my creative projects and art this year, which is my true goal forever and always.

Honestly I'm happiest with April's drawing. That one was a ton of fun to do, but I would have to work really hard to replicate that coloring style because I don't remember my brushes/settings, ahaha. Sadly this is how it usually goes with coloring for me; I make it up as I go almost every single time, which is why series are so difficult for me. I am nothing if not inconsistent -_-;

I would be remiss to mention that a huge part of my productivity this year was due to setting and tracking monthly goals for myself. I gotta thank everyone on the @campdigimonth server for their help in keeping me organized and motivated throughout the year! I plan on continuing my creative check-in posts in 2024.

Next year, I want to a) make more Survive art (particularly with Survive Week coming up), b) draw some more flippin' gargoyles (CRIIIINGE, but no, cringe is dead, I'mma do what I want!), and c) keep working on my personal project! And I am, once again, thinking about bookbinding. That's a "maybe" for next year as well!

Descriptions and links to the full artwork pictured for each month:

January: Survive Week, Day 5

February: Survive Gang Aromantic Week

March: Knight Unryuuji and Friend

April: “Rose-Tinted” fic illustration

May: Happy Birthday Vi!

June: Happy Birthday Haru Shinkai!

July: Happy 1st Anniversary Survive! (aka BEST SOCK FRIENDS)

August: Dracula, September 13

September: Dracula, September 20

October: Adv 02 Countdown Event, Day 7

November: “Boo!” on the Cob

December: Digimon Secret Santa 2023

#the cactus speaks #art summary #art summary 2023 #my art

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boundlss · 8 months ago

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here's my full comprehensive post about how i feel about writing my canon muses, combining 3 of my favorite things (talking, lists, making people read shit only i care about). yaaaay.

shirogane kei - he is both one of my easiest and favorite muses to write. i'll never ever complain about people asking me to write him more, nor will i ever leave or abandon him no matter how few people are left to enjoy him. i love shiroe so much.

minagawa kanami - she actually is a lot harder for me to write even though i love her. her voice tends to be inconsistent, i think, and i struggle to write high energy characters in general, but i still love getting to explore her dynamics.

nyanta - SLEEPER PICK!!!! i looooove nyanta. he's awesome. writing him is fun because of his unique voice and dialogue quirks and i love characters like him in general. like, older gentlemen archetypes hehe. it helps that he's a cat man. i love cat men. and catboys. but cat men are a good flavor. middle aged men who are cats or catlike ... nyanta san ....

abe no hirari - my little meow meow ... he is not the most consistent muse but he gets to stay here because i love him. the second muse i've ever picked up who proposes marriage to people he's just met ... anyway, i love him and i love plots with him. hirariiiii ...

lee seung-gil - i actually love writing him. i like when muses aren't very energetic and tend not to talk as much hahahah ... he doesn't get asked for but i wish he did !! i love him. he's easy to write.

roland fortis - VERY energetic so i can't write for him alll the time but he has a very unique speech pattern that makes his dialogue interesting. i can't bring myself to get overwhelmed---he's roland. he'll stay on my blog forever hahaha. he was one of my first muses on tumblr after i left bnha that WASN'T a bsd muse, and anyway it was the first time i picked up a muse from something recommended to me by a friend ... anyway, writing him is very special to me so i will continue to.

jim hawkins - i have not written him much at all but i would liiiike to. i've always related very deeply to him---i stumbled across treasure planet for the first time just after my dad left me and i was about jim's age so it sort of stuck with me. he seems like he'd have a somewhat challenging voice but i love him so i'll write through it hahaha.

sokka - to be honest writing him actively scares me. i like him, but he has a difficult voice for me to pin down sometimes, and i'm not really a person who writes major characters in popular media so the idea of having attention for my sokka muse is something that makes me nervous ... liking him is not always enough to lessen that fear hahaha.

jet - my actual favorite atla character though i'm also very scared to write him. i just struggle with larger fandoms in general but his voice comes more easily to me and he's more within the realm of the type of character i normally write and enjoy.

ty lee - i love writing ty lee as long as i have the energy for it. she's easy to get down and i like having muses with energetic voices! i am also scared to reach out with her but again, larger fandom, more worries. haha.

stolas - it might surprise even my friends to know that really love stolas ... haha, well, the hellaverse fandom intimidates me and i see fantastic stolas portrayals out there so i tend to ummm never reach out with him. ever! but i LOVE writing stolas! i love thinking about stolas! he's by far my favorite part of helluva boss and his voice comes very easily to me!

striker - a close second to stolas ... i've been trying to take baby steps with my hellaverse muses and that's writing striker more, apparently, not that i've done any of that quite yet ... well, i love cowboys and antagonists and he has a great voice to write. i am just very scared!

stella - well ... she's only here because i wanted to rewrite her and i haven't gotten the opportunity to go that in-depth yet ... it's hard to say.

vox - haha. well, he's actually my favorite character in hazbin and i think about him a lot, but i am even more scared of writing him than of stolas if you can believe it! he's only here because a friend of mine was emphatic about my adding him being a good thing, but that friend already has a different main vox so mine doesn't really have a place with the group i'm a part of or really with the groups i'm not a part of, so it's extra scary to even try saying anything about him hahaha. i think he'd be really easy for me to write as one of my homebrew dnd deities i do a lot of musing about is very much like him, but ... well. haha. the fear and such.

mukuhara kazui - i love writing him. it's fun, it's easy, he's a cat man if you read deeply enough into the cat metaphors, he's lived his life as a servant to the expectations of people who don't deserve his time ... that is to say, he's perfect for me.

kaito - i LOVE LOVE LOVE kaito, and i wish more people did too! i love kaito! he is my favorite vocaloid ever i love him so MUCH! i love writing him, i love talking about him. ahhhhh. kaito san.

yuezheng longya - you know i also really love longya, probably as much as kaito ... the chinese vocaloids will always have my heart but longya's design always captivated me hahaha. his voice is middling and sometimes hard to pin down but nevertheless ...

gumi - sleeper pick! i love gumi. i'd love to flesh her out more, she's so nice to think about. please write with my gumi hahahahaha.

five pebbles - ever since i got into rain world he's been my very favorite!! he's a little difficult for me to write but i don't mind because i love him and his themes a lot. um, i think everyone should interact with him, ever.

aalto, encore, rover, jianxin, chixia - i'm excited to write them all but the game just came out. i think i'll enjoy it but it hasn't been a week hahaha.

the long quiet - a fun and challenging muse. it's hard to write something that isn't really anything, but is also everything. i like the ordeal and i love the long quiet conceptually. slay the princess is awesome.

the princess - same hat! ^

vernon roche - um ... a polarizing muse. i like writing him but i hesitate to engage with a lot of people who write witcher muses using roche because his character is widely misinterpreted as being more sinister than he actually is. not that he's a good person, but ... anyway, i do love writing him a lot. i just don't like when people i don't know jump in with him and expect me to play into fandom views.

cahir aep ceallach - my favorite son boy, he is both easy and fun to write, i love you cahir!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 no further notes.

dandelion - sleeper pick! i love writing dandelion and find him the most fun out of ALL my witcher muses ahahaha. he's the greatest of all time. i love you dandelion.

milva - she's new to me, so i'm anxious to write her but alslo excited. it will probably be challenging as i don't write a lot of characters like her but she brings me a lot of enjoyment so i'm ready to handle it ahahaha.

isengrim faoiltiarna - i love him, but he's a little difficult to write and i always worry i'm doing it wrong, which is insane because he has like 3 canon appearances. he scares me but i love him. i will endeavor to be less scared of him.

tom sawyer, huck finn - actually they're the only muses of mine to have received no votes on my interest checker so i know people don't care for them, but i love mark twain a lot and have voraciously consumed everything about his books, so they're probably staying no matter what. i find them both middling to write but they're staying.

aradia megido - sleeper pick. i love her and i love thinking about her. she wasn't one of my favorites until my most recent reread and then i fell in love very suddenly haha. middling to write but i love her. worth.

latula pyrope - very easy to write but naturally tends to draw less attention ... in any case i love her.

feferi peixes - the hardest to write and lowest activity of my homestuck muses! she's one of my favorite characters but it's so difficult for me to find her voice sometimes!!! argh!! and i am afraid of getting her wrong because of this.

jade harley - about as difficult to write as feferi. i find jade very complicated and worry i'm leaning too far in one direction whenever i try to write her, but i'm doing my best and i love her so i'll continue to try hard.

dirk strider - i'll be honest ... i hate writing dirk. he is very complex in both dialogue and character and i struggle to feel like i'm doing him justice. i enjoy dirk a lot, don't get me wrong, but every respoonse i write with him is a self-doubting struggle. if it weren't for the people i know want to write with him he probably would have been removed because of this, but i will keep trying for your sake!

vriska serket - i'm scared to write her but i want to so so so so badly hahahaha.

shang qinghua - my favorite hack author---easy to write, easy to get, no complications. i wish there was more interest in him! i love him!

shen qingqiu - it's been pointed out to me that i'm a lot like him in most facets of my personality so i hate him. that said, he's frustratingly easy and fun to write and think about, so he'll be staying hahaha.

luo binghe - it's not helping the sqq allegations but i actually love binghe, i love writing the type of character who is so singularly obsessed with something ... anyway, easy to write, easy to think about.

all of my CATS muses - well ... i expected no one to write with them, but i wish people would. it's my favorite musical and there's a lot i could say about these cats!

#ocs not in this post coz lets be honest no one who doesnt know them was writing w them anyway letsgoooooooo #mutuals read my posts or you are fake and i'm leaving #out of character

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