#TYAH

[everthewip]

so far the fairy story is in the lead for which WIP to flesh out and work on, so for fun I've been playing around with picrews to make concept appearances for the MC Tyah

she's also the only MC from those wips who's appearance i've had swimming in my head for a while so

Tyah is a young Scout/Ranger in the Court of Summer . i know these all look fairly different, but her appearance is still a WIP too. i like bits from all of these

picrews: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

[underground-hip-hop-affiliated]

Pink Siifu x Turich Benjy - NXGGA LEAGUE’!! ft. Ss.Sylver, Dende, TYAH

[vk06bg]

[watcher-wilds]

I knocked on the door and told her I have somewhere to be she said okay 8 minutes. 20 minutes ago

I know that choosing not to have the master bedroom and bathroom was better overall for the roommate ecosystem but sometimes the timing is just terrible 😭

I take like. Ten minute showers. My roommate Tyah who i share a bathroom with, takes like 40-60 minute showers. I had an appointment today and right as I was about to get up and shower for it I heard the water turn on and Tyah get in o|-<

Guess how long I've been waiting.

[pirkebrorson]

Hawk tyah

[silentnightevilnight]

Hawk tuah or talk tuah?

📞...

you peopleNeed to be evaporated

Hawk tyah ONVIOSULY

[allthebellsays]

As Japrils defense attorney you should give fic recs

well yes diva!!! idk about specifics because i do read every single japril fic that comes out but anything by missy (melissaeverdeen13 on ao3), japrilmusings, tyah, japrilfools and beachy_head i really love!!! i’m sure i’m forgetting some people but oh well my memory is nawt the best 😭😭

and if we’re talking ffnet i loooove anything by everybreatheverymove, better together (by tinyhuman02) it’s very niceeee since it’s a mercy west au and i love those!!! and i’ll end with the girls only by fromscratch413, i feel like even though this one’s popular there on ffnet i barely see people talking about it !!!

all of this came from the top of my head if you want something more specific just ask me i’m basically the sommelier of japril fics

[effielovesapples]

Hawk Tyah actually just died after an encounter with the blue ring octuah. It was really sad.

Are you fucking serious

[astrozxmbie]

look at the hot wheelsni got today i love being autistic

TYAHS SO COOL!! i like that funky letter one..,. and rthe skateboard one

[wh3atley-personality-core]

>[MULTIVERSAL APERTURE LABORATORIES RADIO STATION: ONLINE]

>[CONNECTED]

>

>[NOW COMMUNICATING WITH: "W2-DUAL CORE (WHITNEY)"]

>

>[SENDING RADIO SIGNAL…]

>

>[T(WHITNEY): "Ehem ehem! Proper introduction and manners!"]

>[T(WHITNEY): "Salutations WHEATLEY!"]

>[T(WHITNEY): "My name is WHITNEY, your dearest courtesy twin sister from another universe!"]

>[T(WHITNEY): "I had a BRAINSTORM! We could feature you in our show!- Ooh- oH what about an episode with me and WESLEY where we communicate with several universes through this strange and peculiar device!"]

>[T(WHITNEY): "Tyah-hah-hah! Ah gee i'm too enthusiastic about this aren't I? That's WHITNEY for you! I'm already signing the autograph here!"]

>[T(WHITNEY): "Aaand how could I forget my proper farewell? Adieu!"]

>[SIGNAL ENDED]

"Hello!" "Oh, we finally meet! I was actually looking forward for it! It just... surprises me that I have a twin sister in another universe" "O-oh yeah! That sounds pretty cool! I would love that! I actually still don't know how to properly use this but I can figure it out" "Good bye! See you later! Be safe-" ... "And they're gone again"

[vsselfs-blog]

hello sweets. heres a small intro ᥫ᭡

✎ tyah ( you can call me ty for short. ) : she/her. - ,,

𖦹 ethnicity - african & native american

: 17 yo. * pansexual ೃ⁀➷ | ecstasy.

+ ༯ horror, true crime, psychology, mtv shows, books (horror & thriller.) music, mangas, and anime. ᐢ..ᐢ

✧˖° - hehe, im genuinely a sweetheart, and idm meeting new people.

[everthewip]

i said i want to pick a new WIP to focus on for a bit and I meant it, but indecisive as I am, I'm gonna need some help. So I'm making a poll. I don't have room to describe each snippet in the poll so im just numbering them and you can read the snippets below the cut

please don't feel obligated, but if you'd like to read and vote to help me out, i would much appreciate it!

These snippets will be very short because I don't want to make this lengthier than it needs to be, but if you'd rather read more let me know and I'll post more.

1. Music echoed from the city center as she guided me away from the crowds. I did not recognize the street she took. Electricity was in short supply and the magic had been focused on the festival, so the street lanterns were dark and cold. There is a reason folk go missing at this time of year; a reason these poorer districts see a rise in theft and murder every festival. Danger always lurked in shadows, but she moved through the darkness like a wraith; swift, silent, and sure of every step. Her hand squeezed mine as if she feared losing me, a silent challenge to the night – I dare you to steal her from me. My fingers were growing numb. My head was heavy from the festival drinks, my thoughts twisted by incense that wafted from the tents of fortune tellers and witches...

2.

Autumn leaves had covered the forest floor, keeping a soft cushion beneath the bare soles of her feet. It was a comfort she did not expect to last. Too soon the trees began to grow sparse, the blanket of leaves giving way to cold dirt and pebbles. Along the border of the woods was a rocky hillside that stretched wide in both directions. Rather than attempt to find a way around, she gritted her teeth and began the ascent over it. Tough as her feet were they could not withstand the sharp edges of the rocks. Blood warmed the cold stone as they cut into her, but she did not stop or give in to the pain. The sooner she passed over the rocky terrain the better.  On the other side lay a valley, surrounded on all edges by the forest. Tall, yellowed grass swayed in the afternoon wind as mountain peaks loomed to the near east. On the northern end of the valley rose a writhing snake of smoke, its source a low-burning campfire. A wagon was stationed near it, along with three figures sitting around the flames. Two horses grazed nearby.  There was a scent in the air, of burning wood and fried meat. For a while she stood there, letting the blood of her feet seep into the grass, watching the distant figures. Her tongue watered at the scents, stirring the hunger rooted so deeply in her belly - in her bones. 

3. They had been dead for three days, of this I am certain. The last threads of their lives still linger; as thin and fragile as the first string in a spiders trap, or the broken wisps of a long abandoned cobweb. I must brush these threads aside to view the bodies more closely, but they stick and cling to my fingers and hair. “Go on,” I urge, only somewhat agitated. “There's no point in staying now.” But they do stay, always; they never listen. I cannot blame them. There are dark things in the shadows, hiding in the crevices of life and death - waiting for the stray thread of a soul to drift onto their tongues, pinned between their teeth. The forest is hushed here and the trees stir without wind, disturbed by the bulk of unseen forms; stalking, waiting. Three days. My stomach turns to think these last few threads are all that remain, to imagine the rest have already been devoured. Perhaps I will let them cling to me after all.

4. The hummingbirds would go no further. Tyah studied the dark pass ahead, where low branches and thorny shrubs curved inward to form a tunnel. The trees were massive this deep within the ancient forest and little sunlight could pierce the near impenetrable canopy high above. No light at all seemed capable of illuminating the tunnel. The young scout could not blame the hummingbirds for pausing here, where scattered ribbons of thin light could still caress the forest floor. “We'll continue on foot,” Rysen stated as he dismounted. “And keep your wings down, lest they snag on the brambles.” Tyah shuddered at the thought and did as ordered, resting her wings against her back before she dismounted, stumbling a little on her landing. A quick glance toward Rysen proved he hadn't noticed, his focus set on the dark tunnel ahead. She exhaled a relieved sigh and adjusted her belted quiver. ... “What will we do if they refuse to help us?” Even in a whisper, her question seemed too loud, bouncing off the darkness as if it were solid. “We will leave, as swiftly as we can, and hope the horrors of the Darkbrier are no more than children's tales.”

[philosofungi]

the anxiety of not knowing "the real you"

anoscetia.

from an-, not + Latin nosce te ipsum, "Know thyself." pronounced "an-oh-see-sha" or "an-oh-say-tyah".

everyone around you seems to have such a vibrant personality. it shines through vividly in everything from the shoes they wear, to the groceries they put in their cart, to the precise wording of a text wishing you a happy birthday. you'd think it would all seem generic, but somehow every detail is quintessentially them.

how strange, then, that your own experience doesn't seem to be tinted with any particular vibe. mostly you feel you do what you have to do, with little opportunity for embellishment. and when there is free reign to improvise, you find yourself feeding off other people's moods, matching their tones and energies, just trying to get along or make it through the day. inside your head, you imagine yourself as a shade of neutral gray that just happens to reflect whatever strong colors are nearby.

of course, your family and friends would insist you're anything but neutral, painting you with the same broad brush you use to pain them: you're a sunny yellow, they might say, or a chill blue, a fiery red, an innocent pink, an edgy black. they're not necessarily wrong; you do notice a certain quality threaded through your personality, and often find yourself playing into it, because it's a lot easier to be cheerful or crabby or crazy or boring if everyone already thinks of you that way. the trouble is, each of them only ever sees you in isolated contexts, inhabiting certain roles at certain times. if anyone tried to shadow you through an entire week, they'd be astonished to see you as a serious professional, a sexual being, a spiritual person, a story-time goofball, a nervous wreck, or the life of the party. each of their impressions may be accurate in the moment, but each reflects only a narrow band of the full spectrum of you.

meanwhile, you shadow yourself twenty-four hours a day, in a variety of different situations. in what context are you most like yourself? are you more or less authentic when you lose yourself in your work, pour your heart out to a friend, or are alone, just trying to clear your mind? even then, you know firsthand how messy your moods can be, how scattered and contradictory your thought process, how many arbitrary urges you could obey at any given time. whenever you stumble on a new situation, it's hard to predict which version of you is going to emerge, or which opinion is going to tumble out from the gumball machine in your head—knowing it'll carry the sheen of truth, as if all your other thoughts didn't exist.

it makes you wish you could restore your self-image back to its essence. painstakingly washing away the remnants of all the times you tried to be someone you're not. cleaning up areas where people tried to paint over you or ripped away qualities they didn't like. stripping down your identity, layer by layer, through all your habits and distractions and cultural programming, so you can finally reveal your true colors for all to see. but the more you look into who you are in isolation, the more your identity dissolves into a noise of random impulses—dust on a blank canvas.

maybe there is no single self to speak of. maybe you're a shifting collage of many different personas, each as authentic as the next. a kaleidoscope of ever-moving fragments, reflecting a thousand little impressions of the world around you, with flashes of different moods and vibrant clusters of quirks—but no broader pattern.

maybe you have no true colors. you're not some finished painting, signed and sealed in varnish. if there is a "real you", surely it's the mess of paint on the palette: colors swirling and mixing and playing together, perpetually unfinished, searching and striving to make something new.

—excerpt from "the dictionary of obscure sorrows"

[keithyzz]

Every once in a while I say "TYAH MARKS TYAH MARKS" and nobody ever knows where it comes from