#Get high on life

[poorlytunedukulele]

Day 10 - Dream

You are here.  After so long, you are finally here.  You have followed the song of this star from light-centuries away- a song of potential.  A song sung not in certainty, but in expectation.  Of want.  You are as a moth drawn to the burning flame of hope.  There is meaning here.

There is meaning everywhere, if you look for it.  Countless eons you have passed in company, by rocky planets and wave-churned fundaments, in the thick soup of gas giants, on fragile web-filaments strung between asteroids.  You have known a hundred trillion faces.  You have seen so much that nothing could be unusual to you anymore.

It can still be new.  Even this plain star, this system so rote- even this is still new.  The differences may be infinitesimal on a universal scale, but they are still differences, and their effects echo long and far.  The voices on the wind are those of strangers.

-

Her arms are on fire.  They itch.  The Shard before her ripples with iridescent sparks.  There is too much Light- she can see the bones of her hands through the flesh.  It crashes over her again like a wave, like a landslide-

-

Ground shifts.  Seas boil up into existence.  A thousand small tragedies occur- a rock, once sat in the light of the sun, buried.  New plants, just testing the soil with their roots, drowned in a flood.  Things are changed, irrevocably, taken from their set destinies by your gardening.  Your touch breaks, damages, alters, but as things heal, they heal better.  After the flood, stronger plants grow.  Fish swim.  The planet goes from sun-burned rock and icy dust to a garden.  It blooms.

-

Her heart pounds heavy in her chest.  There is air in her lungs, but it’s too much.  Goosebumps tear over her skin like fire on an oil slick.  Her senses are fully haywire- she smells the lights of her HUD like mango and lime, and the heaviness of the water around her is a ringing in her ears.

Abort, abort, Spark thinks.  It’s the only coherent thought in Azra’s head.  She pushes off from the Shard-

-

You cast the shards away.  You have broken yourself to do this.  Broken yourself in a million ways.  In this breaking, there is despair; that you, as you are now, are not strong enough.  You could never be strong enough.  You are subtlety, quiet voices in large crowds, a child’s wonder, forgiveness.  Your foe is sharp knives and finality and death and death and death.  It would cut you to the marrow.  Drink your soul.  Twist you until you are something you are not.

But in this breaking, there is hope.  Hope that you can heal.  That you can be better.  That this sacrifice will mean something.  That your bet will pay off.  It is an impossible hope, that you could ever beat this foe.  You hope anyway.

The breaking is a promise.  It is a terraforming of yourself.  Every piece you shed is a whisper, still yours in intent and power, but now separate, forever changed.  The splinters crash into mountains and splash down into seas, causing earthquakes and sending up gouts of superheated steam.  They drift on breezes.  They think, with the ponderous slowness of glaciers, in the quick leaps of electrons across the void.  A million sparks of yourself pull themselves together, a million notes of respect and wonder and hope and yearning.  They are the Ghosts of all of your plans, phantoms of the future.

-

She’s underwater.  That’s all she can process at first.  She’s underwater and there is an arm around her chest, tugging at her.  Pulling her up?  Dragging her down?  She has no sense of direction until her head breaks the surface.  Azra gasps desperately, on instinct, but she’s fine.  She’s wearing a helmet, and her rebreather is constantly cycling cool, fresh air against her face.  She can’t drown.

She gasps anyway.  All of her nerves feel lit and over-sensitive.  She tries to kick her legs but the muscles just spasm randomly.  Her body doesn’t feel real.

“Hang on, I gotcha,” Shiro grunts from behind her.  That’s Shiro’s arm, then, pulling her.  He shifts his grip and begins towing her back to the cliff with powerful strokes.  Azra lets herself go limp, trying to just keep her wits, remember where she is.

The cliff, the Shard.  Answers.  They were looking for answers.  About how she’d regained her Light during the Red War.  Why her.  What this piece of the Traveler, having sat on the ocean floor for centuries, had to say.  She wanted to try to commune with it again.  Lucky she’d brought Shiro along- she’d have drifted in the ocean for a while waiting for her muscles to learn to obey her again.

At the rock face, she grips the wall with all of her might and lets her helmet rest against the stone.  The sense of itchy wrongness is fading, but she has no strength.

“Here,” Shiro says.  He’s right next to her, still, and without another word he rearranges the pair of them- Azra clinging piggyback, Shiro hanging on the sheer wall.  He takes a few deep breaths and then smoothly, confidently, starts hauling them both up the rock.

It’s not a show of strength, exactly- Shiro is an Exo, so his frame is perfectly capable of supporting both of their weights.  Even with her gear, Azra’s only adding maybe a hundred kilograms.  But even if it’s not an unusual amount of strength, it is an impressive display of balance and coordination.  Rock climbing is tricky enough without extra weight disrupting your balance.  And Shiro’s finger-joints aren’t flexible enough to conform to holds like Azra’s are, his hands too rigid to cram into cracks effectively.

Azra will have to take time to admire the skill later.  It’s taking all her effort just to remember how to breathe and hold on at the same time. 

Shiro heaves them over the edge and lets Azra down on solid ground.  “Spark?” he asks, already turning to dive back in for the Ghost.

“He’s alright,” Azra answers.  Spark had stayed out of realspace, so he hadn’t been incapacitated like Azra had been.  Shiro steps away from the drop, back towards the boulder where they’d left a pile of their things.  A second later and he’s back with Azra’s boots- which he sets within arm’s reach- and her cloak, which he wraps around her shoulders.

Azra clings to the fabric.  It’s grounding.  Reassuringly familiar.  Shiro, too, is familiar.  He sits down next to her and she leans on him automatically.

“Take your helmet off first,” Shiro orders.  Azra fumbles for her latches.  Spark whisks it away as soon as she gets it off her head.  Almost immediately she misses the cool breeze of her respirator- the air is warm and humid and full of the smell of ocean brine.  The sun’s bright, too, making her squint.  But at least now she can rest her head on Shiro’s stable shoulder.

They sit in quiet for a couple of minutes.  Azra’s nerves slowly calm from that raw dazzling fire to a more stable buzz.  She could have just chugged an energy drink.

“Any useful nuggets?” Shiro asks.

But Azra shakes her head mutely.  It’s far too jumbled, too alien, to make any sense of.

Shiro sighs.  “Let’s not do that again.  I don’t like having to haul your catatonic ass out of the ocean more than I have to.”

Azra nods into his shoulder.  She knows he’s burning with curiosity.  She’s grateful he’s not pushing the issue.  She doesn’t know if she could sort out the dreams into words right now.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Azra murmurs.

“Always,” Shiro replies.

AO3 Linky!

[pencilscratchins]

atla renaissance pt 3 calls to me like a siren

[theladystrikesagain]

how does a show released in 2024 fail harder in showcasing fully rounded female characters with flaws and strengths and rich personalities than a cartoon from the 2000s. why has television & film legitimately regressed across the years when it comes to showing women as human beings lmao

[izze-art]

med school may be difficult but at least katara has a philosophy ta to rant about the healthcare system to (bonus part is that he’s madly in love with her)

[karda]

gotta spell it out for him

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[edwinisms]

george rexstrew deserves awards for many things but i have to say. edwin’s bloodcurdling scream as niko gets killed deserves a whole award unto itself. like. that scream did not feel at all like a tv show scream. to a somewhat jarring degree. and i can’t express how much I respect that

[luminiamore]

the lifestyle of a pretty rich hottie 🌷

(aka me)

“oh, it’s whatever i want?”

she’s a model, she’s spoiled, and she loves pink!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

space sweepers but they're delivery people and are at no point on screen through the entire movie

[local-maenad]

Absolutely love the idea that Gorgug is the most popular kid in his artificer classes. They’re his biggest fans and he is theirs. He makes the best and silliest inventions and everyone loves to help him out with it. They come up with new ways to help him rage and cast spells. He gets into SO many hijinks with them.

[agirlwithglam]

Do you ever feel sick and don't feel like doing anything when the day before you told yourself you were going to do a glow up, live always the best ecc..?

yes definitely! unless i'm actually sick and incapable of doing anything, i will at least try. you didn't ask for advice, but here we go anyways. when i feel like that, heres a few things i do:

how to do things when you don't feel like doing them: (from personal experience)

believe that you can do anything. dont roll your eyes at me! dont skip this part either. this is the main point that gets me going every single time. i truly believe that i can do anything, that i am capable of literally anything that i want to achieve. if i want it, i will have it. that is the first mindset you must have when it comes to this.

start small/ make it fun. yes, ofc i said this. if you can't do a full 1 hour workout, do some pushups/squats/lunges and go for a bike ride or a walk with a friend. what i do when im going bike riding with a friend is we go to a mall and buy drinks there! so make it fun! adding friends to whatever you need to do certainly makes it fun. another thing you can do is if you need to read, you can create a cosy spot in your room with scented candles and a little snack and everything and sit and read there. just the idea of it gets me excited!

treat yourself like a project/ robot. now THIS is something that has certainly gotten my some discipline. we as humans have emotions and feelings and moods. sometimes we don't wanna do stuff, and we actually cave into that. if you promised yourself that you would change your life, switch off your emotions and moods. treat yourself like a robot or an "apprentice" that you're training to become the best.

reward yourself! so you can either reward the action (like reading or studying) or the outcome (like finishing a book or getting a high mark on a test). decide what works the best for you. example: you don't wanna study? you can either a) reward yourself for studying with some free time with friends or watching your fav show or b) you can reward your self by the score you get on the test (ex if you got higher than 80%= a certain thing on your wish list, above 90%= a better thing on your wish list, 100%= the thing you've wanted for ages) you don't wanna read? you can either.. a) reward yourself for reading for x amount of minutes or b) you can reward yourself for finishing a book in a certain amount of time.

alter egosss. i know, i mention this quite often, but trust me this actually gives such a burst of emotion! embody someone else/ a different version of you that can best handle the situation. im gonna make a whole post on alter egos soon cus i mention it in a lot of my posts.

EDIT:

Please remember that if ur actually sick or genuinely feeling really low, remember to rest!! Remember to take time to relax and slow down. Take care of yourself honey <3

thats it for now! i hope this helped <3

btw heres a big master-post to how to get things done when you dont want to (not by me)

[inamindfarfaraway]

I would find Blondie Lockes very annoying in real life, but I love her in fiction. She's a genuinely good journalist in terms of both skill and ethical integrity, who only occasionally forgets to check the facts because she's fifteen and holds herself accountable when she does. She has incredibly high standards for everything and believes herself to be the ultimate authority on quality. She has magical lockpicking powers because her fairytale is about Goldilocks breaking into a house. She somehow completely ignores the story's moral that Goldilocks was wrong to break into the house, feels entitled to go wherever and help herself to whatever she's able to and cannot comprehend why people dislike this. She's been terrorizing an anthropomorphic bear family with her cheerful disrespect for privacy and is convinced that they love her. She has a non-anthropomorphic pet baby bear. Her motivation is dependence on external approval rooted in deeply internalized classism. She's desperate to be useful and important to those with higher social status and feels the need to lie that her family is technically royalty to fit in with her royal friends, even though they treat commoners like equals all the time. She positions herself as a conduit of true greatness; closer to it than the masses, but never the hero, always reporting on other people and evaluating what they've done. Because what she's done isn't enough to be worthwhile. What she is isn't enough. But this performative lifestyle makes her anxious about being judged as a fraud and an interloper, and ashamed of selfishly transgressing against social norms. Her microphone head looks like an adorable little bear head. That's one hex of a character alright.

[collophora]

"Let's fix this drawing" *redraw the whole thing*

[sicc-nasti]

On this episode of: It’s always Sunny in Tuefort

The Mercs Make Scout A Dating Profile

Its going as one might expect

[xiewho]

could i get a fabian pretty pls… possessed would be cool but anything with him is fine

based on that one fake bad kids twt thread that i Cannot find for the life of me

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Shout out to all artists who had to work without any strong direction or instruction.

I wish you a merry “the client likes it anyways”