#Very long thread lol

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[gjsxj0]

mindless rambling in tags don't mind me

[wraith-caller]

fffffffffff (almost)all the items you pick up in the minor erdtree church just outside leyndell relate to devin. there is a golden centipede, a golden order seal(this is the seal he uses to cast incantations, as opposed to darian who uses the clawmark seal), and the outer order gesture received after listening to the echoes of marika, which pairs with the inner order gesture given by devin. WHAT DOES IT MEAN. then, if we wanna get really conspiracy brained, the last item is a missionary's cookbook, which says: "A record of crafting techniques left by a man who, unable to become a Finger Maiden, instead became a missionary, and went forth to spread holy teachings." If we remember from this zullie vid on unused NPCs , there was actually a female preset for one of the D twins. it has been suggested(though not commonly) that the writer of the missionary's cookbook was, in fact, Devin, hoping to be able to stay with his twin. if he *had* initially been planned to be a woman instead(given he most likely represents the silver and more 'feminine' half of the armor), she also would've likely not been permitted to be a Maiden, as the twins are Tarnished.

[positivelyghastly]

Tiny reliquary update: I got toothpicks and now I can get the main body of this thing put together! I wish I had my callipers though, they’re in my toolbox back at my mum’s place and they would make taking these tiny measurements so much easier but at least I have my steel rules :’)

[pomdor]

Kyudo Vio with long hair (bc the hat looked kinda stupid)

[ganondoodle]

man i should write my thoughts in a text dokument i update over time before i make a long post here, i know a few people like my ideas for the totk rewrite but idk if they also like the version with all current additions bc most interactions were with the first post and its so long i dont wanna reblog it again

this could all evolve into a way bigger project but im trying to not think about it more bc i got already so much to do and i have still alot of doubts if its good enough to work on it more q-q

[despairforme]

[rcguish]

a collection of snippets from some of the discord happenings ( silver and grusha threads <3 ) : first date ; day one, into the morning.

pretty cute is something he’d only heard blue say to him, years ago. that was different, this is different. instinctively, free hand rises to touch the thickest part of the scar displaced off of nose bridge, and he feels somewhat prepared to speak in rebuttal. but silver sees the pure sincerity in the depths of grusha’s eyes, like he spoke from his heart rather than in deception, and it felt real. like he couldn’t dare to argue, like it was anything other than fact to them. blue’s words ring once again in his mind. maybe even thinking of kissing them?

companion moves back, and he almost makes a noise akin to a whine — almost — before their gazes meet and heart skips its beat again. without a thought, eyes flit from eyes to lips, and back up again. there’s a beat of hesitation, movement before a pause that has silver holding his breath — would he? and when a hand clad in a mitten rests on the side of his face, silver hums again in a low, deeper note that really did sound like the slightest whine. maybe touch was quickly filling in some distant and forgotten about part of him, maybe some part of him he had to kill to survive. with grusha’s eyes closed and them unable to notice at that moment, silver lets his gaze fall to their scarf and hidden away lips once more.

he sees grusha work himself through something that he can’t see. notes the inhale / exhale, a conscious effort in releasing the tension that gripped their frame ; and just that alone brings a soft smile back to the ends of silver’s lips. i’m proud of you. self soothing was never an easy feat, it was a hundred year long war that took place in the span of minutes. maybe hours, maybe days. they did it in seconds, no matter how forced. it was a start. [ ... ... ] “i —“ no, that wasn’t right. the arms that had released grusha, now holding to the crease of their arm that was cradling his face, clench and unclench. from laying gentle, to fists above cloth, to a quiet uncertainty in movement. “…no, you.” the words that fall almost lamely from his mouth are enough for a quieted huff of air evolve into a soft laugh.

though chill had set in to his extremities, and conscious thought had started self-allocation towards subtly steadying his breathing, silver doesn't spend more than a second on the idea as it came to him. gently releases his grasp and reaches to the top of his jacket collar. pulls down the zipper, sliding off external warmth before folding it into a neat blanket and laying it on top of the scarf on grusha's leg. thankfully, successful planning ahead with knowing they'd be outside longer, had led to him layering two long sleeved shirts underneath. or else he'd be left with just the normal one.

his motion stills as silver’s caught up in his amusement, though — a slight raise of his eyebrows and a firmer sort of smile settling on lips. “gold’s dubbed my joints as ‘rice krispies’, if that makes you feel any better. i can only imagine what your groan sounded like ; mine was a prelude to him getting thrown into the nearby river.”

"though, i'd say being on a high-altitude and ridiculously cold mountain is hardly anything in comparison to being frozen over." slides layer off and holds it out to start folding -- frozen over? he really just said that? silver slows to a very quick stop, mid-fold, before he turns his face slowly to meet with theirs. the amusement fades to the glint of a grimace, hesitant to see / hear what they'd possibly react like to that simple fact that had been so casually thrown out. ( was he that exhausted? ) and just like that, suddenly it was hard to even try to recall semblance of normalcy in a social conversation -- but damn, did silver want so badly to keep holding on to that lightheartedness they shared all night since their first comfort. even if it did scramble his inner script somewhat. "i, uh -- yeah." awkwardly shuffles himself over to the couch in front of the larvesta, right in a fit of avoidance of one of his worst topics. "glaseado watcher's orders prove to be just right once again -- these little guys are also amazing."

grusha brakes in front of him and silver’s eyes snap open in a sudden defense in his awareness to another presence. they hadn’t snuck up on him, but it felt like it — and did his heart pound against his ribcage like it was desperate to escape, desperate to run away from his childhood and the memories that haunted him. ( escape what? escape where? ) no, no, not like this — there’s a coldness to the corner of his eye, that only after bringing a gloved hand to swipe at it does it pull away and he’d realize there was wetness on the tip of his finger now. not like this. not like this. how could he break so quickly? how could the simple resurfacing of that render him so wrecked to the point of almost / practically welling up? silver had lived those days over and over again since they happened, had it plague his mind like a weighted reminder to watch his fucking back, always. [ ... ... ] there’s a distant and subconscious part of silver that brings his hand to his belt, retrieving familiar pokeball of weavile so that he could materialize beside him and crawl right into silver’s lap — as he barely registered both presences. a stretch of quiet, save for the sounds of pokemon finishing their meals. he forces himself to breathe, those exercises he had once found and come to put into ( albeit, poor ) practice as soon as blue fur and red feathers grounded him back, slowly, into this home. a safe place, away from the torment of the past. he tries for a subtle wipe of the corners of his eyes when the burning dissipates, even if no tears had managed to spill over — but he knows damn well such a reaction wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. and so he rests his head back, exhausted, against the headrest of the couch when heartbeat starts to slow. weavile rumbled like a purr in his lap, a welcome vibration against his legs that bring platinum gaze back to multicolored. “…it’s… a long story.” quiets once more, letting hands absently run fingers over weavile’s fur. “i think it’d be better to tell you — another time.”

silver looks at grusha like he was the one thing tethering him to that earth in that moment -- and he was. "i was supposed to die, there… i should've died. so many times i was captive, i should've died, but i didn't -- and now that i'm here, living into adulthood…" his voice cracks, thick with sadness and fatigue. he was tired. "i feel like i'm living on borrowed time. i should've…" opens up his fist and takes firm hold of their hand properly. he doesn't have the strength to finish that sentence, and head turns / gaze drops to lose itself in weavile's fur. manages to breathe out a shaky whisper, "i'm sorry." [ ... ... ] and like he had read silver’s mind, he’s being pulled into the tender warmness of contact. a side hug. it felt reminiscent of the time silver had leaned over and done similar for grusha during his moment of vulnerability, and the faintest shadow of a smile plays at the ends of his lips. and those words only solidify something in his heart. home… a sanctuary away from what he’s survived. home could be a person. and maybe home was becoming grusha.

grusha equates him to light and silver feels like he couldn't breathe, somewhere in between wanting to speak to keep up rapport and wanting to turn around and finally kiss him. he tries to steady himself and his fluttering heart, instead, and prompts maybe that final push he needed. "i want to do this more. this -- dating you. i…" has to break a light chuckle at that, something stronger than just a huff of air. "i wanna keep dating you. i don't wanna let go, not if i can help it."

a slow yawn ends in the forming of a thought, " 'guess you could call me your boyfriend, then." and this time, not a single thought sets off any alarms or self-criticizing rabbit holes. this time, all that fills his mind is relief. the walls were coming down, and the weights on his shoulders felt noticeably lighter. like he had shed another barrier that kept him from fully interacting with the world. a small smile settles this time, and doesn't fade ; relaxation despite the butterfree running amok in his ribcage and the familiar ache settling in his head. [ ... ... ] though his timbre is deeper and edged with sleepiness, with words perhaps the slightest bit harder to fully enunciate, it's a thought he doesn't dare keep in anymore. "really... would like t' kiss you right now."

"i've never kissed anyone before, either." it's an unspoken thing but he wants to assure them, and himself, anyway. "so if we bump teeth, i'm sorry." but it's at that where silver breaks, ducking his head with a giddy / nervous laugh. ( it was too much to look grusha in the eye at that moment, with the intent of action right there! ) huffs out air in a lighter chuckle, bringing legs forward so that he sat properly against them, facing them rather than side by side. moment of time passes where he catches his favorite eyes in the world and holds that gaze, and silver's so sure the fondness and adoration lights his normally-dark eyes brighter than even the adrenaline of battle. ( windows to the soul, they truly were. ) "i'm stalling, huh?" he holds gaze, still, even when fingers begin ministrations of removing his gloves once again ; and when leather is set to the side, shaky hands slowly rise and hover just around grusha's cheeks. " i'm -- i'm nervous, too," voice cracks into a whisper but never once does silver's smile falter as he finally rests his hands so gently on their skin. and the intimacy from the moment alone, from holding his face with no barries in between, has trainer breathing out and closing the gap between their lips.

he leans forward and steals another chaste kiss from grusha’s cheek, right before moving to stand — ( hates how cold his fingers and cheeks feel without them touching him) and stretch with arms over his head. his head pounds for a second, but sleepiness dulls the pain without expression. but — the cacophony of joints cracking and popping from the time he’d been sitting and they all set into place is something he outright laughs over. “what was that about twenty four going on to forty?”

he moves around the chair to grasp the handles, beginning to push grusha forward and it's at that moment where it really, really solidifies for him just how much this gesture meant. for them to trust him, or maybe it wasn't about trust -- grusha had been warring inside of himself for a long time, that much silver had recognized from personal experience. there was something in their head that trainer couldn't quite understand fully, a meaning to their previous words that he was sure he'd spend more time ruminating on ; silver told himself, in due time, he would understand his puzzle. he just had to keep trying. [ ... ... ] grusha then points, and silver snaps his attention away to follow the direction to the vulpix sleeping so peacefully together. that's where he breaks and audibly gasps, a shaky and semi-muted thing as to not disturb them ( and the headache threatening to sour his excitement ).

he almost, almost begins to sit and lay down when he realizes that his pokeballs were still attached to his very-real and still-worn jeans. there's a moment where he contemplates several things at once : toss the jeans entirely and deal with the apologies he'll have to doll out to his pokemon as a result, or simply place them all on top of the thrown ( silver wanted to laugh at that ) clothes on the wheelchair and deal with the discomfort of ... sleeping in jeans.

grusha makes a noise also, shifting around that almost had silver daring to try opening his eyes again to take them all in, but then he stops. probably settling back down, or just getting comfortable again ; silver turns off of his back and to the side facing them, sleepily and blindly reaching out / feeling around for their arm or shoulder or anything. meets with something his brain barely registers as a distinct part of their body, but it's warm, so it's them -- and lets his brain focus on the sensation of rubbing small circles into the shoulder (?) of his ...

the pain's still very much present, but it's eased significantly now, with half-lidded eyes ; he's grateful for this moment to be as untouched as possible. grusha's face this close, sleep-addled and lightly imprinted from the pillow case set his heart beating quicker, and quicker, like he'd just gotten up and started running about. perhaps even more than he usually did. their voice, practically cracking with the first use, coaxes a quiet coo from silver as the smile takes its place on his lips. it lessens some after seconds of basking, but doesn't fade as his hand snakes around their shoulder and into their hair. "mornin', you..."

few hours... silver's eyebrows furrow somewhat, a quick calculation in his head had put their average amount of hours somewhere between seven and six... he's sure he's slept the entire time, too, if the heaviness in his bones is anything to go by. there's a way that grusha moves, where he starts suspecting something more ; but he doesn't dare bring the question up, not yet. his hand releases their hair in their turn, instead now resting over their cheek and thumb resuming a back and forth motion under eyes. "...'m sorry. did i move too much?"

there are beats of time, however long they may be doesn’t matter in the slightest to silver — where grusha is quiet. but their hand rests over his and all he focuses on is the feeling of their skin on his, all around something so used to only feeling glove lining. [ ... ... ] he almost, almost asks a question — amazingly enough, his mouth thinks better of it, and decides to stay quiet on the matter. “if you’re sure… but the pill-cutter won’t be needed, i think i’ll gladly take that dose.” he coughs at that, though, amusement lacing itself into his voice yet expression remained neutral in a practiced sort of way. “well, you see, they probably wouldn’t if i took them every time. i have the wondrous method of toughing it out, as they say.” there’s a humorous lilt to his voice, but it’s dry and almost erring on the side of self depreciating. “i’d just go to bed or keep trying to go about my day. but, i don’t really… feel like ‘just dealing with it’ right now, so — medicine sounds good.”

right hand clenches into a momentary fist in a contained physical reaction to thoughts so damn desperate to jump into a self-fulfilling rabbit hole. grusha's puff is enough to snap silver out of it, though, skin on skin contact a consistent reminder of what was right in front of him. what was real versus what his mind wanted him to believe. his hand loosens itself to relax, and a nerve catches fire under that released tension ; there's a slight wince that lands in a twitch of the eyebrow / wince in the crease of his eye. "i don't particularly feel like moving right now, myself, so... fine by me." if he lay here with grusha, nothing hurt ; it's the movement that got him. silver was not going to complain at the extra time to bask in the contact of his home. [ ... ... ] but that -- that's enough for eyes to fully open past a lazy / concerned half-lid, take in every aspect of their face while they bare their chest wide open for him. there are logistics here that silver puts thinking about on the back burner, atleast in this present moment. he glances down for a second at most to where their leg lay propped, though it's fleeting and he's magnetized back up to him. "i'm guessing..." speaks carefully, "that isn't really a recommended thing to do?" grusha's choice / correction of words is noted. the further concept of why? is pondered over while questions borne out of desire to help take the forefront of silver's mind. why could be a lot of reasons, though he's inclined to suspect some issues with self-perception, perhaps how silver might perceive him, it could be... a lot of things. it could be none of them at all.

there is hesitation, uncertainty in all of grusha’s movements and lack thereof that has silver’s eyebrows furrowing slightly downwards in anticipation. he’s grateful for their hand betraying everything they dared not say, a glimpse into their likely racing mind, and when jerky movements take over those fingers he leans forward to press a kiss against the heel of his palm. i've got you. so silver patiently waits and listens, following every gesture and movement, putting things together in his mind and letting pieces fall into place on their own. [ ... ... ] they had both shown each other, in what feels like so little time, almost the rawest parts of themselves ; and to that, silver knew deeply how important, special, this moment's become. how special he felt to be allowed to see grusha like this, to hear him, feel him. that overwhelming sense of gratitude and other emotions has silver scooting his body infinitesimally closer (despite that bone-deep ache of protest), hand reaching up to slide fingers through somewhat messed hair (adorably so) and come to rest against cheek once more. “…thank you. for — telling me about this. i know it’s not easy.” how special it felt to know him. he pauses for a moment, ruminating on all that grusha had divulged him. planning out what to say, slight anxiety and pressure on making sure he says the right thing. it’d be his worst luck to slip up just once, say / insinuate something, break all that trust that had been built —

here, silver tries to train his cognitions to override that negative feedback-loop -- that with enough time, he'd have a fully finished 'flow chart' for grusha, as well -- just in the way alone how silver watches him so keenly, and all that he does, so fondly. he'd meant it when he said he was here to stay, no matter how long. no matter if duty had called him elsewhere, no matter if the day came where pasts might reel ugly heads -- silver was sure that he'd find his way back to grusha, every single time. and so time would pass, just like in this very present moment : in every sour note, every little inch of bitterness, every eye roll, and every sigh. their foreheads meet, and though he's quiet in letting grusha speak free without judgment or pressure of time, silver finally kisses their fingers, featherlight and almost inaudible in the quiet. kindness... that was another thing he hadn't expected someone to recognize, let alone say he possessed. "we have all the time in the world." said not just in response to grusha, but a second meaning as a comfort to himself. a veiled double meaning that, verbalizing aloud, has his own frame melting just that littlest bit more.

when grusha disappears around the threshold, silver allows himself to roll onto his back and finally give in to a full body stretch. it's a slow thing, unravels first at his legs as joints creak and begin their sounds in all its glory, before arms reach up past his head and it's a euphoric feeling. euphoric, yet marred by the physical protest he feels start to seep in after that initial exhale / groan of contented pleasure. it's manageable enough that this would've been a 'tough it out' day, rather than a bedridden one. silver's grateful for that semblance of dignity to remain in tact, atleast for now -- while he's sure such a description or day would be met with good company, there's still that part so hellbent on keeping his pain a secret. dulled away and kept under wraps, only for him and his pokemon to witness and bear. [ ... ... ] "coffee." his response is immediate. "although, i'm not opposed to a good cup of…" trails off as the movement by his feet captures attention within the instant it happens -- but there is not a single threat in sight. except, of course, the threat to his heart. silver can't even dare hold or mitigate the reaction that follows ; jaw going slack and eyes blown wide with surprise, wonder, something almost childlike stirring in the pits of his chest. he looks back to grusha, then to the vulpix ; back to grusha, and the vulpix once more and this time the grin that splits his face, stays. he coos softly at the small fox, a somewhat giddy laugh exhaled in a shaky breath. and when he speaks, it's soft for fear of startling small creature, for fear of letting his excitement become too much. "hiii… i -- i don't have any treats right now, but…" slowly holds out his right hand, fingers gently curved as a presentation of scent. "well, i promise i can bring them and double next time, as compensation."

sterling eyes full of fascination, lips parsed somewhat to form an o of a silent sound he muted almost subconsciously when the fox sniffed and gave a tentative lick. silver had always possessed a love in his heart for the vulpix line, thinks maybe that it could've even been a possibility that he would've had a ninetales on his team had the cards not played out like they did all those years ago. if he ever took the time to go about finding something that had given him joy, hope, rather than allowing himself to forget about it / squash it down when the mission was the first thing on his mind. for years. when he'd punish his own self by disallowing any sort of reward to himself, meeting and befriending a vulpix included. it's when grusha lightly scolds and brushes his finger against orange fur that has silver finally taking his gaze away from the kit and to his person. he distantly registers the bite at that, a delayed sort of reaction before the amusement fills in with softness, adoration once again seeping through in his gaze. "it's alright -- it's nothing compared to the bite of a totodile or croconaw." though feraligatr didn't dare as he evolved into his final form, silver knew more than once that it's crossed his pokemon's mind in the early days. and… grusha in this moment reminded him of gold, even if just a little. this was the best part of the house that dexholder had grown up in, the baby pokemon that wandered and roamed freely to intermingle with older ones. the best part that had long ago twisted up silver's heart with envy. he thinks maybe he could ask, even if just for the notion of an assist, but that very same thought's swallowed down and dismissed when he remembers that he'd have to ask gold of all people. nah. [ ... ... ] "they're a rarity in johto, even if they are native." silver speaks almost absently, and those the grin on his face lessens somewhat it never fully disappears or drops from his face. "i don't remember details, but i do remember always admiring vulpix and ninetales when i was a kid. maybe it was an old children's book that stuck with me." maybe it had been something used against him. forced to bury.

grusha speaks, they laugh, silver snorts at that -- a poor attempt at trying to maintain his normally dry banter in return despite the pure lightness / happiness (!!!) he feels practically emanating from his chest. genuinely tries to recall the memories with a reflective look on his face, stroking warm orange fur all the while. “mmm, maybe. maybe something like how if you come across one, maybe your greatest desire comes true — like in the form of a ‘lonely, disabled dude on a mountain.’ one that has really pretty hair and is an amazing person to get to know.” he can’t help the development of snorts into warm laughter at that, amorous feelings leaving him feeling rather playful. flirtatious?

grusha had been changing him, in just the relatively small span of time they’ve both been in each others’ lives. silver had never once imagined a life where romance could exist, his cynicism / fatalism had deemed it unrealistic. and yet, here he sat faced with pieces of his childhood being brought back, handed to him with roses and joy that should’ve been associated with childhood in the first place, waking up in soft morning light to face… to face his companion. partner. home. compass, lighthouse to bring him back in the middle of a storm. and if grusha catches his eyes at the moment – right at the moment that silver had unfocused / reoriented to coo at the vulpix so happily eating up all of the attention by his hands, and back up to them again… they might notice the way how pupils in stark contrast to surrounding silvery-white, seem to dilate the slightest bit. “my advantage, huh… alright, i confess. what if i told you, my evil grand master plan is to keep saying the sappiest things like that so that i could keep seeing how it makes you react? snapshot it all into my mind to paint later.” to adore later. lugia below and ho-oh above, who was he becoming? “to relish in the string quartet i always hear when you blush like that.” ( silver kind of liked it. thought maybe the person he was becoming might actually be someone worth existing. ) [ ... ... ] would you be interested in adopting them, when they’re old enough? his entire body full on stops at that. eyes flit back and forth listlessly, reading, searching again all over grusha’s face. “…really?” he feels numb for heartbeats of time, however long passes – long enough that the two kits voice their displeasure at the lack of attention and he’s quickly (albeit, still absently) resuming the gentle pets. silver thinks of all the years spent learning that how he had raised his pokemon was inadequate, and unsustainable – all the years spent overcoming all of it, and changing for the betterment of each and every single team member. he swallows and there’s a sharp pain from the dryness in his throat. he swallows again and it still stings. “i… i haven’t raised a new pokemon in… years.” in an instant, with just a single blink, silver sees that mask across every centimeter and in the fullest depth imaginable across his eyelids. in the way that such a beloved pokemon / thing had been kept, hung above his head like he was an animal being forced to run, forced to act meaninglessly forever. all of his desires, dreams, wants, being squashed and beaten into the ground until silver had nothing left. nothing to cling to in the recesses of his own mind, and those lessons were taken all with him. from then on, when he constantly failed / deliberately chose not to find things to be happy in. and with the feeling of ice spanning across his skin again – all at once the pain lancing through his hand, his wrist, right into the knuckle of his ring finger and gripping all the way around into his palm is enough for him to hiss. for eyes to shut away for a moment as he lifts off from vulpix and clutches his hand, fingers pressing directly into the junction between carpus / metacarpus when those nuisances of nerves feel like they’ve been lit on fire. and just as quickly as it comes, it goes. slowly he opens his eyes once more, and they hone in on home and the way how he leaned against the bed. and silver releases a shaky breath. [ ... ... ] so instead, silver nods. and despite the overwhelming disbelief melting into a tentative joy, he finds himself leaning in close to their face. finds that same hand to find their cheek again, lured in by the pull they had over him. "you're… too kind to me. but i -- " inhales, breathes out, "i won't let you down."

grusha takes his hand and kisses it, and silver feels overwhelmed with it. he’d been somewhat more acquainted to touching pokemon without the barrier of leather, and thus feeling the soft fur hadn’t been too much of a shock to his system – but the skin to skin… the way how their lips felt against that ache, it had become nothing short of intoxicating. silver found he actively wanted this, all of them, so much more. but — what if grusha had found out about silver and how he used to treat his team? what if, in the face of all the ugly sins of his past, they decided he wasn’t as suitable as they thought he was? silver feels the weight of his own heart on the verge of breaking at that thought, something like a familiar old ugly grief rearing its head. right in the shape of solid carved ice and menacing black holes for eyes and a smile. no. he was better than that. the connections that he’s forged and nurtured with his team made them a proper team, rather than extensions of his own being – and silver would never, ever revert back to the way he was. a strange, unusual confidence fills his chest from the back of his neck, down, to shooting through his heart and filling him with warmth to all of his extremities.

“we have all the time in the world,” he repeats. and when he says it that time, certainty like steel weaves itself into his bones. it’s that time that the doubts hanging over his shoulder constantly, finally don’t dare to ruin this. grusha’s fingers release his, finding themselves fixing up silver’s unruly sleep-mussed hair and he feels warmth itself finding ears / nape of the neck first. almost feels himself duck in shyness, an impulse to hide away the less presentable parts of himself (especially his hair, especially when he’d learned that for so long he’d been a wreck of a kid). but silver doesn’t give in. instead he looks at grusha in that moment, his grounding force / reassurance, and sees his favorite eyes and all their adoration and, for the first time it’s enough for silver to just simply sweep away his woes. and when vulpix squirms herself free from his lap, silver doesn’t bother to hide the laugh in earnest that flows off of his lips. and earnest turns to sheepish / flattered, an insecurity shining in the light and met with praise instead. “i’m glad one of us finds it cool. maybe i could learn to like it from your eyes.” [ ... ... ] and almost on cue, that unusual slip of hair practically announces itself and all silver could hear was a deep, bassy melody. he’s filled with a deeper sense of calm in response, his grin softening as he leans up and kisses their forehead / twines fingers with that darker lock.

[kowaindar0u]

//

soooo I'm finally moving this Saturday!! yeehaw! however until then I am just like...in waiting mode!! i don't know that I'll do any less replies (it seems like any time I say I'll be less active that doesn't really happen LOL) but still I feel like my attention span will be everywhere jfjdjd

still I'm glad to move lol some things will be less-than-favorable like the Internet situation but

a) my sister has dogs (and two cats)

b) no more constant deadnaming/misgendering!

c) a normal fucking bathtub!!! the bathtub at my grandma's is like one with jets and has a seat built into it so it's like...kinda claustrophobic i hate it. But what's worse... tonight like an hour ago I showered and I leaned down to scrub my leg y'know but . I banged my forehead SMACK on that stupid seat and now I'm just pissed about it HAHA

also while showering I have this shampoo that smells like mint (reminds me of the mint & chocolate girl scout cookies lol) and it made me think of like. couples being like "oh what's your favorite fruit/dessert/flower/etc" and then using soap/perfume that smells like it.

and then I had to laugh because sengo asked Saseki what food he liked (not for that purpose, but the thought of him indeed asking the question for that reason poorly/too broadly is hilarious)

And Saseki said BEEF

and then imagined sengo being like "...how do I work with that"

(idk if that made any sense)

[dandyshucks]

OKAAYYYY LETS GOOOO

[eoinmcgonigal]

So I saw a post about tumblr wanting to try this 'communities' thing, and I just gotta vent/say my piece. (the tl;dr is 'fuck that shit')

1. I really hate the current trend of fracturing and fragmenting things down into little pieces so they can be categorised into boxes. That's not natural. (Also, discord pushing threads, which I already detest for 1) making me feel like I'm gonna hurl from the violently dissonant, ugly layout, 2) the severely narrow topic problem, and 3) how neurodiverse-hostile they are.)

Like, naturally conversations meander. If you're only allowed to discuss one topic, it's gonna be stifling. You WILL run out of things to say. Making another little box isn't going to fix it, it'll just add to the clutter

2. Quite importantly, honestly, just stop fucking changing shit. It's unnecessary

3. It's not going to be neurodiverse-friendly. As if fandom hasn't changed enough to become increasingly unfriendly to people who are just here to enjoy their hyperfixation and/or special interest. I don't need another thing to learn to navigate. I don't need another place with different rules to carefully traverse. Yes, I'm fandom old and salty. I'm AuDHD and a spoonie with about half a spoon to spend on a good day. I do not have the energy to do all this switching about and jumping from thing to thing. It's exhausting. I want everything where I can find it, and where I can be passionate without having to perform tasks like it's some customer service job, or job interview

4. FOMO shit is toxic. This whole 'be a part of the thing!' necessity if you want to 'engage' or see the conversations and 'content'. Why? I guess it's a social media model that drives engagement, but the stress of it is going to fuck people up. What if you don't have the time, energy, health, spoons, social skills, etc? I have no idea how much interacting will be expected with other people in the 'community' but I can see it becoming a twitter-like circlejerk, and if you're not one of the 'in' crowd doing your required interaction/reblogging/commenting then you might as well not exist to that fandom/group

5. From the description, it looks like these things will be ripe for drama, toxicity, clique shit, becoming echo chambers, etc. because 'semi public' means you gotta opt in/join in some way and whatever's said isn't visible to any old user

Like, who is going to create and mod these things? Who decides what the rules are? What if your fave is 'problematic', or your kink is 'gross' (if nsfw is allowed at all), your take doesn't fit with fanon, or you are just a bit weird and people shun or turn on you for that?

I hope I'm wrong and either these things never happen or they're not as bad as I fear, but fuck sakes I have the above worries because it's shit I've seen happen time and time again, and I don't want to see given a place here

Also, genuinely, what the fuck is tumblr going to be like if you can't/don't want interact with these community things?

Quickly, 6. it creates an 'us' (in crowd) vs. 'them' (not part of our gang)

And then 7. who is going to be dominant in these 'communities'?

Yes, I'm upset right now, because tumblr was just fine (well, fine enough) until this point. I mean:

We have the ability to make sideblogs! (My Star Wars sideblog from... well a decade ago oops... is still out there, I don't touch it any more but I left it up for people to go through). Tumblr even made it so we can reply with sideblogs, which was a very neat update.

Tags!! I don't think it's as usual these days for people to go through tags to find new content, but that's how I do it, how I've always done it, and how I always intend to do it. I'm not following everyone who makes an SAS:RH post. I love you guys, but no. My dash would cause me to have a panic attack. It's already too much for me most days.

EFFORT!!!! I can be here every day full-time doing Stuff if I want! Or I can zone out for weeks if I want/need, materialise and contribute a silly meme, then drift off into the sunset again. If I 'miss' anything, I can go back through the tags, or scroll someone's blog. But honestly, who notices/cares on here if someone lurks or goes afk for a bit. It's super low pressure, because I'm doing what I can/want when I can/want

I want to opt in/out on my own time and terms. The thought of having to be part of a 'community' so I can see/not miss Content TM is freaking me out. I don't want there to be an 'appropriate' time window to interact with things like there is on other social media sites.

So, idk how the shit will look, but I don't agree with making things harder for people to access/find. I won't be posting stuff 'semi-privately'.

And you know what's super upsetting? The thought that I won't be able to see conversations and creations for things I love, because they're hidden away behind some complex new social thing I can't navigate. (Which is already an off-putting, ostracising problem on discord.) That's not how fandom communities should be.

The thought of there being less stuff 'out there' because it's in some 'community' somewhere... really not the direction I'd ever hope this site wold go in

I'm fuckin exhausted. Just lemme do my fandom whateverness without having to perform to some arbritary social interaction standard/requirements that I neither understand nor can do

[cakebatteronabrickwall]

i wrongly assumed most would agree that Roman's whole thing is that he doesn't have genuine political believes which made it easy for him to play the part Logan needed for good boy points but apparently no? Obviously it's complicated but uh-oh!

[akkivee]

word on the streets is that hypstage might have been in the red for a while now, like they never really recovered from cancelling shows from corona, and while popular, it just wasn’t profitable so upon a company acquisition in early june, the higher ups pulled the plug on the stage 😖😖😖

[piningpercussionist]

Aside from the delicate touch of a redhead and borderline infidelity, did you get Ramona anything for her birthday?

".... Shit."

Kim stares blankly at her phone for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Did she know that? Did she know it was Ramona's birthday? She tried to recall but kept drawing up blanks. Had she not told them her birthday?

Maybe the panic was making her forget.

Kim bites her lip as she pockets her phone, leaving the ask unanswered; she'd give them some vague non-answer and verbal attack another time. Apparently, she has a birthday girl to tend to.

The guilt feels light enough to ignore now anyhow, as she shuts off the water fully and moves towards the door; she tries not to doubt that Ramona will make her forget about it entirely.

But as her hand reaches for the knob, she hears approaching footsteps, and goes still...

[lcngdays]

@genrcsavvy was followed

It had been two months. Two months since Simon was turned. And not once had he fed. It genuinely felt like he was going insane. He couldn't go to his classes, and he was starting to fail all of them. But each time he tried to go, all he could focus on was the heartbeats of everyone around him. The smell of so much blood.

No, no, he couldn't go to classes. He barely left his dorm, and he hadn't called home in weeks.

The only time he dared go out was at night, when there were less people around. But even then, he was barely in control of himself. Like tonight.

Tonight, he'd been following someone for a long time. He wasn't being particularly subtle about it either, he wasn't making a point to stay hidden. He was just following this person without thinking at all.

Simon's mind felt cloudy and confused. Overwhelmed with the thirst for blood. He was beyond desperate at this point. When they're finally somewhere with no one else around, Simon strikes.

He darts forward, pushing Parker against a wall and leaning his full body weight against him, staring at him with a strange, clouded expression. For a moment, he does nothing but stare, fighting inwardly with himself. He doesn't want to do this!

And yet.

In the end, he can't starve forever. His lips part, revealing two sharp fangs, and he leans over, sinking them into the side of Parker's neck.

[boyfeminism]

theres a dnd blog on tumblr that like rewrites a lot of the shitty as-written dnd stuff (mostly racism) for fun right. but they reply to soooo many posts that are like "hey maybe since so much of dnd is written poorly the point shouldnt always be to fix it / rewrite it but rather perhaps maybe play a different game?" or posts that are like "if the rules of dnd arent fitting what you want to do Constantly maybe you should find a system that lets you do those things" and theyre always like. "um well actually the fun is in the tearing dnd apart to build it back up exactly how i want it" and i dont even necessarily disagree with them but its really fucking annoying bc you know what yeah they SHOULD maybe try a different game there are really fun ttrpgs that Aren't dnd have you considered that. dnd 5e isnt the beginning and end of ttrpgs. grow as a person. anyways long story short i unfollowed them.