#[ I colored these images by hand like the crazy person I am

[foliarlight]

* VERSE. & |   HONKAI: STAR RAIL.

✧ Fullbody reference for his appearance in this verse. ✧ Alhaitham is of the Erudition Path and uses the Imaginary Element. His primary weapon is a sword that resembles a scimitar, though he also uses refraction and mirrors in his kit. These are technological constructs created through digital means. His combat style heavily resembles the trope of a spellsword in this verse, though he does not use real magic and the skills merely resemble such. He is a quick and efficient fighter, his attacks typically doing widespread damage to swiftly end an encounter. ✧ He is classified as an android and may appear similar to Sheila upon first glance. However, his AI processes are far superior and so advanced that they can barely be distinguished from humans. He was a prototype formerly created by the Aeon of Rebirth ( Deshret's equivalent ) through ancient technology. On most occasions, he only introduces himself as a S.A.P.A ( " self-sustaining autonomous processing android " ) to avoid unnecessary questions and prying minds. Any further inquiries are met with silence, claiming that this data is prohibited without clearance. The name that was given to him by his former creator was Project-[V0L4NS.] Although he does not share this information, a part of him continues to identify with the name in spite of his chosen designation, " Alhaitham. " ✧ Deshret was an Aeon of Rebirth and Wisdom. Many Amber Eras ago he passed away in his incessant pursuit of knowledge and eventually paid the price. Before his ultimate demise, he managed to imbue his project with a fragment of his essence. Like many other Aeons who have passed away, what still remained of him was assimilated into the Erudition Nous and became apart of the greater path, his name gradually being forgotten.

✧ Literally no one knows where he is from and he refuses to elaborate, typically citing that it is confidential information that will not be shared. ✧ He is a member of the Intelligentsia Guild. Although he definitely has the potential to join the Genius Society and was offered to number among their ranks in the past, he has no interest in being put on some pedestal and has been far more content in this more lowkey position. Unfortunately, this invitation has not gone unnoticed and as a result, people still tend to approach him for all sorts of matters, making him a well known member of the guild. He is considered to be highly knowledgeable and analytical. ✧ He keeps to himself and is hard to find unless he wishes to be found. Most members of the Intelligentsia Guild know not to bother him once he has left the relevant premises and he ensures not to be roped into doing extra hours unless it is necessary. Good luck finding him once he left.

✧ Highly elaborated module for linguistics and ancient script. He utilizes this skill to decipher obscure knowledge that others may be incapable of reading. As such, he has accumulated a vast breadth of knowledge and has access to information that others may not. He is not dissimilar to an archivist, though some may also consider him a knowledge broker. This hails back to the ideals of the Intelligentsia Guild of circulating knowledge like currency, albeit Alhaitham rarely shares what he knows unless it is a fair trade — and even then, he only offers a miniscule percentage of it. ✧ Similar to his main verse, his " headphones " double as an auditory processing device, though they cannot be taken off and are an inherent part of his being. Eavesdropping is exceptionally easy and they are also able to record surrounding sounds, such as ongoing conversations. ✧ His eyes are cybernetic and capable of scanning their environment to draw information from it. This also includes thermal vision, enhancing to view greater detail, being capable of discerning the components of what he is looking at, etc. These eyes resemble his original ones in design, however upon closer inspection they have noticeably mechanical parts. ✧ He shares his residence with Kaveh ( @ksharhrewar ), a famous engineer who primarily works at Herta's Space Station. Although their relationship has its ups and downs, they ultimately benefit from each other's presence and Kaveh is the only one he trusts for maintenance.

Design & art credit © Genshin Poker

[patrywoso]

19. Ana-Maria Crnogorčević

+18 smut

Warnings: BDSM. Anal Sex. Strap-Ons. Rough Sex. D/s. Fisting Consent Play. Rope Bondage

As always thanks to @ljs-woso-vibez fro being the best proofreader and amazing person out there

It had been a very good date, all things considered. You laid a kiss on Ana’s cheek, which was enough to get her to blush. “You deserve a very special present after this,” you whispered into her ear, letting your tongue flicker out to tease Ana’s earlobe.

“Oh really? Uh, well, that’s good. Because I kind of, might have something planned.” Ana confessed, hoping it wouldn’t spoil the moment. This night had been amazingly romantic and sweet so far, and what she had planned, well, it wasn’t sweet. But if she’d been reading you right so far, and she sincerely hoped she had, this may go over better than she’d wished.

You cocked your head, green eyes twinkling. “You have something planned? Should I be worried?”

“Kinda yeah.” Ana grinned at you. “Remember when we were in the boat the other day….”

You sucked in a breath and it was your turn to blush. Your hand tightened on Ana’s arm. “You said you were going to tie me up for all the teasing.”

“Yup.”

“So am I to assume your little surprise has something to do with ropes?”

“Oh yeah.” Ana shot you her best cocky grin, and leaned in to nuzzle against your perfumed neck, lifting the tendrils of hair there to see the tiny little goosebumps forming at her touch. “You really have it coming, and you know that.”

A shiver passed through you, and you bit your lip when you looked back at Ana, eyes widening. “You know, you did get to…” you dropped your voice as you both strolled past a group of joyously screaming children. “…fuck me with a metal dildo, so I’m not sure why you’re complaining.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Ana smirked. “I just so happen to think you might want this as much as I do.”

The blush that started in your chest and flushed to the tops of your breasts and upper shoulders was a lovely confirmation, all in all. You looked at Ana with eyes that suddenly were not teasing, not flashing with aggression or confidence, but open, dark, and full of desire. Ana had actually never seen you look this way at anything before. Like you were afraid, which was totally unusual for you. But that you also wanted the thing you were afraid of, and wanted it so badly, so desperately, that it left you vulnerable like this. Ana was struck almost blind by waves of lust and, if she was honest with herself, a little thrill of fear as well. She’d never done this (except in her mind after the ‘research’ she’d done and in near constant mental images ever since). You hadn’t ever done this, and it was kind of crazy, what she was planning. But seeing the way you liked the idea of it….Well, that just made her mind up. 

“I think,” Ana purred, leaning in to make sure her words raised the delicate curling hairs on the back of your neck. “I think under that femme fatale façade is a whimpering, writhing little plaything just waiting to be shown who’s boss. You agree?”

Plum-colored lips captured Ana’s in a move so quick it caught her breath, and you were tugging her insistently between two popcorn stalls. Into the dark of the night, so you could press against Ana’s lean frame and moan into her mouth. Ana was kissing you back, hard, gripping the back of your neck and aggressively roaming your body with a greedy hand, pinching your nipples through the dress and dipping to rake it up a smooth thigh. Ana buried her face in the perfumed dip of your shoulder, inhaling your scent, which always drove Ana into a state of sheer frenzy. Especially the scent of your arousal, which was definitely starting to make its presence known.

“Ana,” you panted. “Not…not here…we have to…“ you both kissed, again. “-fffuck, we have to get back to the…“ You were trying to say apartment but Ana was not going to let you. 

“You’ve never had a problem with being public before.” Ana taunted, deliberately sliding a hand higher while you held her wrist, ostensibly to stop her but it was more of a token gesture, judging by your heavy breathing and twitching thighs. “Not in the club bathroom in Barcelona, or in the Jeep, or in the plane, or that time at your pool when Irene and Mariona were just about to come back with food, and you told me to scream loud enough that they would hear.” Ana chuckled, low and throaty.

“Yes…but... but I want to do the thing you’ve been planning!” you wailed, almost frustrated enough to stamp your feet, and it only made Ana laugh more. She was enjoying this, the power, the dominance, feeling like she was the one making you frustrated instead of the other way around. 

“Temper, temper,” Ana admonished, digging her nails into that slim column of the neck, just a bit. Just enough to make you wide-eyed again. “Better control yourself, or I���ll have to punish you.”

You whirled and practically dragged Ana out into the main thoroughfare again, moving toward the car with single-minded determination. You slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a hearty roar, and looked at Ana over one shoulder. “Come on.” Ana grinned and vaulted over the car door, sliding into the passenger side. “Let’s go.”

Ana finished up the last of the knots that made the dragonfly sleeve binding. Your arms behind your back and together at the wrists. The rope was made out of a soft, cotton-like material, and dyed fire red, which stood out against the glowing, moon like pale of your skin. Ana had already completed a simple chest harness: just outlining and defining, not constricting. Circling your thighs was a simple garter harness, leaving your most vulnerable parts defined and held open by a ‘v’ of red rope. Situated right above the base of your spine was a double knotted bow, each ‘ribbon’ end trailing against your inner thighs. You were almost silent except for your breathing. You hadn’t said anything since Ana had started on your arms a few minutes ago, while you knelt, facing the bed.

“Are you doing okay?” Ana asked, gently. She hadn’t officially started yet and wanted to give you plenty of time to back out.

“Yes.” Came the immediate half-whispered answer. You seemed like you were going into a trance as more and more knots were completed across your body. Your head hung low, your hair piled up in a messy bun. 

“Okay, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” Ana took a deep breath. “I’m going to touch you, and fuck you, exactly how I want, for as long as I want.” your eyes flared and parted your lips slightly as Ana continued. “You can say ‘stop’, you can say ‘no’, and you can talk back, but I don’t have to listen…unless you say one specific word.”

“Which is?” you wet your lips.

“ ‘Red’. So if I scare you, if it hurts, or you want it to stop….say ‘Red’, and it’s over.” Ana ran the edge of her hand down your face, tenderly, which you nuzzled into, and that sweetness almost broke Ana’s resolve. But no, this was her time to show you that she was capable of being worth your trust and worthy of your absolute surrender. Ana stroked her thumb over your mouth, tracing the line of your beautiful pout until her thumb was smeared in purple-red. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You stretched your arms back, testing the bonds. You were still wearing heels from the date and you flexed them. Your legs weren’t tied, but Ana had reserved a coil of red rope to one side, and she looked at you now, appraising whether she’d need it.

“Do I need to tie your legs or will you behave?” Ana asked.

“That depends,” you purred, wiggling your bottom. “Are you going to make me behave?”

“If I have to make you,” Ana warned. “It’s going to hurt. Now, are you going to behave?”

“Yes,” You responded, your voice higher and breathier than normal. You flexed your legs again, and, as your thighs parted, Ana could see the tell-tale flush and a tiny trickle of wetness. 

“Good girl,” Ana praised, and she was in turn rewarded by the softening of your eyes and mouth. “Now bend over, you still need to be punished for what you did on the boat the other day.”

You swallowed audibly. “But Ana…” you whined, but you hurried to comply with Ana’s demand, presenting yourself as you pressed your face to the carpet. 

A slap landed on your upraised bottom, bringing color to the pale flesh. You raised your head and moaned, and Ana could see a shiny glistening appear between your thighs, more obvious this time.

“You like that.” It wasn’t a question. Ana could feel a growl creep into her voice, and she reveled in her newfound power to make you quiver under her commands. She gave you another slap and another. Handprints appeared in a pink flush across the porcelain of your pale, perfectly heart-shaped ass. The sight was addictively arousing. Ana added a few more, and landed one right in the crest of your thigh, earning a raspy moan. Ana kneaded the prints, massaging and also inflaming the sore, reddened flesh. She let her fingers tease along the edge of your wet, pouting little sex, not giving into your insistent wiggles.

“Yes!” you finally panted, nearly screaming. “Yes, I love it when you spank me, Ana!”

Ana landed a stinging blow against the side of your thigh and you yelped, falling forward. “Call me Mistress.” Ana husked and pulled the black mass of hair back so that you could hear.

“Yes, Mistress.” you were breathing heavily and your mascara had smeared with your tears, but you were clearly aroused, from the darkening of your pupils. Your hands flexed in the bonds, but you made no move to try and struggle free. Ana grunted and picked you up by the shoulders, roughly forcing you onto the bed, legs bent over the side, face in the mattress. Ana slid a pillow under your slim midsection, allowing you space to breathe, and propped your voluptuous hips up with a second pillow.

This gave Ana a fantastic view: your legs were parted, and your swollen, weeping sex pouted from between your legs, almost as red as your ass. Your flushed pink rear cheeks looked so delectable that Ana couldn’t resist taking a small nip, drawing a cry from you. She savored it, smiling into the flesh she’d covered with her handprints, and forced herself to withdraw, searching the bag she’d brought for her other surprise. She fished the strap out of the bag, and pulled its harness over her hips. She fumbled around in the bag until she found the small jar of lubricant, and applied it generously to the girthy length.

You could only imagine what was happening until you felt the firm press against your thigh and you gasped. “Oh, An- I mean, M-mistress, is that what I think it is?”

“Yep.” Ana dragged the fat head through the open, wet folds, eliciting a drawn-out moan. “My strap. And I’m gonna fuck you with it. However I want.”

This brought out a delighted gasp and your hips bucked back at her, trying to fit the toy in before Ana was ready. Ana slapped your ass again, and this did nothing to cool your ardor; only sending you into a cacophony of moaning. Growling, Ana pinned you down with one hand on your hip, and the other aligned the strap with your slippery, twitching little pussy. Ana sank the tip in with one low, rolling thrust of her hips and your body lifted half off the bed as you cried out.

Ana watched appreciatively as the broadest part of the head pushed inside your clinging walls. The other end of the toy moved inside of you, grinding against her own center, and she couldn’t help the groan, and the next few inches slipped inside as she moved her hips instinctively. You were perfect around her, gloriously tight and wet as anything and then she was too focused on pushing forward, getting deeper. Her brain had hollowed itself out to its most primitive core. She grabbed hold of the knotted bow at your lower back with both hands and began a series of short, sharp thrusts.

“Ohhhh!” you yelped. You arched your back to get more of the toy inside you, fingers wiggling desperately in the bonds.

“You like how I fuck you?” Ana taunted, burying herself deeper. The bow’s smooth knotted surface tightened under her hands as the ropes moved with the actions.

“Yessss-!” you keened, your inner muscles gripping around the shaft as it pumped into you. “I ...love how you fuck me Anaaaa!”

Another slap on your upraised cheeks, making you jerk. “Use my proper form of address, slut.”

You let out an unhinged moan at the slur, and your body convulsed, trickling out onto Ana’s thighs and belly. Ana laughed above her bound prize, feeling exuberant. “Oh, you like it when I talk dirty, huh? Who knew you liked being treated like my little fuck toy?”

Another rush of slickness and a high-pitched moan. You seemed to be thoroughly enjoying not only the rough treatment but the degrading words as well; which in turn made Ana’s lust only rise higher. She couldn’t stop herself from pounding into the quivering, whimpering pale flesh below her, gripping reddened ass cheeks as handholds. The strap was practically gliding in and out, and each time it brushed your tenderly swollen front wall, another helpless whine would follow, and this was intoxicating beyond words. Ana was in heaven. There was a sweet, musky scent in her nose and it felt like summer rain, and her emotions were a crazy roil of love, lust, dominance, and utter submission to this feeling. She was overcome and felt driven to take you in any way she could….which reminded her of the original intent for this whole night.

Pulling out was almost impossible, given her frenzied state, but she somehow managed. You let out a desperate whine and tried to wiggle your hips back. “Nooo, don’t stop! I was gonna..“

Ana whacked you with the loose ribbon end of the rope, smacking across your thigh and leaving a small welt. You jerked upwards, crying out, and Ana stabilized you with her firm hand on the knotted bow at your back, keeping you in place. “I know,” she snarled, her other hand searching behind her for the lube. “I don’t care. You can come when I’m ready for you to come and not a fucking minute sooner.”

Opening the jar one-handed was a challenge, but Ana couldn’t make herself let go of the knotted bow, or from driving her strap through your slick folds, making you whimper mindlessly, bucking back to be filled. She didn’t give in, instead, finally managing to get the lid off, she plunged her spare fingers into the lube, coating them in what was likely an excessive amount, but given the size of her strap, she figured it was better safe than sorry. Bringing her fingers up, she grinned as she once again considered the lovely, writhing form in front of her. Your pert, rounded rear was flushed with handprints and streaked in your combined arousal, and it only made the sight more compulsively desirable.

At first, probably due to your sex-addled brain and the copious lubrication, you didn’t react when Ana started circling the tight little rosebud with one finger, but when she pressed a little firmer, and the tip of her finger sank in easily, you lifted your head and shook your hair over your shoulder to look back. “Are you…“

“Oh yes.” Confirmed Ana, eyes glinting. She worked her finger in, slowly, but relentlessly, and felt almost zero resistance. Your eyes fluttered, but your lips popped open with a soft sigh.

“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you teased me?” Ana continued, sliding in and out of the silky grasping hold of your inner muscles. A second finger pushed in, with the same demanding slowness as the first, and you moaned like wildfire, hands fisting against each other in the ropes that bound them. “You offered this, and it’s not like you to back down on a business negotiation.” Ana purred, scissoring her fingers to stretch the unbelievably tight ring.

“I wanted you to do it,” you confessed in an almost girlish whisper, your head falling back down and your voice a throaty rasp of sweet supplication. “I…I’ve never done it before, so just please, Mistress, go slow?”

“I would never hurt you,” Ana promised, stroking her spare hand tenderly over your shivering back while she kept her fingers thrusting gently, but firmly. “I’m gonna go slow and if it hurts or it’s too much, you can tell me without using the safe word.”

With that, Ana added a third finger, and you gasped at the fullness, you arched, pushing back at the strap sliding against your pussy and the fingers inside your ass. Ana almost felt the tip of her strap slip back inside, and it took almost a mountain of self-restraint to not thrust forward brutally into both holes. She moved her spare fingers down to the stiffened bud of your sorely under-stimulated clit, letting out a satisfied groan when the slightest brush of her fingertip sent you into a rising wail. Circling her clit, Ana removed her fingers slowly, enjoying the sucking grasp as she worked them out. She positioned the head of her strap at your back entrance with her other hand and began the same circular rubbing that her fingers mimicked on your clit. You thrilled out a needy moan, pushing back to get more stimulation on both ends, and Ana had to grit her teeth to stop herself from shoving the blunt tip in.

Slowly, with prolonged circles, she began working the head into your tight little anal ring, giving an appreciative hiss at how smoothly the muscles parted for her, thanks to her diligence with the lube. You let out a pained hitch in your breath when the head sank in fully, but Ana stilled to allow you to adjust, ignoring her overwhelming impulse to thrust deeper, and eventually, you gave a soft sigh that was more pleasure than pain.

“You okay?” Ana asked through her teeth, fingers softly flickering around your clit as she helped you get used to the size.

“Better than,” you affirmed, and you suddenly bucked, letting a few more inches slip in, to Ana’s surprised gasp. “Feels good,” you whispered, rolling your hips against Ana’s pelvis. “Feels really good.”

Ana groaned deep in her chest and lost the inner battle to keep from thrusting. She filled your ass with her length, and the taut heat of those silky inner muscles drew the end of the toy more firmly inside Ana, causing her to cry out. “So fucking tight.” She rumbled, barely sounding like herself. “Fuck…”

“Yesss yes yes fuck my ass, fuck my ass, ohhh Anaaaa..!” you screamed, and while normally Ana would’ve felt that she should be reminded of her proper title, at this instant she couldn’t force herself to care. Her climax was pulsing inside her, teetering ever closer to the edge, and she slammed into you, panting like a wild animal. The base of the toy was pounding into her clit, so hard she felt like the orgasm was going to rip her apart, but she didn’t care, could only think of the pleasure and the grunting, pumping thrusts.

When she came, it almost blinded her. The speed of her thrusts blurred, and she jerked into your ass, ramming you with such force that she almost lifted you off the bed. Her eyes closed in sheer bliss and she actually roared, letting your name roll off her lips over and over until she collapsed forward onto you and almost passed out.

Sometime later, when she recovered herself enough to lift off of the panting form below her, she realized you were still clenching desperately around her strap, trying to pull her back in even as she began the withdrawal. A harsh laugh escaped her and she pulled fully out, ignoring the needy whine that followed.

“Oh, we’re not done.” Ana promised, standing on shaky legs and leaving you bent over the bed with a fond slap to your ass. She left you there, whimpering, as she shrugged the harness off and tottered to the bathroom to wash up, cleaning her hands thoroughly. When she returned, wiping her fingers on a towel, you were rubbing against the bed, clearly trying to finish yourself off but unable to get the right friction against the satin sheets.

“Stop that,” Ana told you, mildly, and hauled her prize further onto the bed, pulling your legs up and arranging you, still in your bent, prone position, in the middle of the mattress. Ana reached for the lube again, finding the small jar still full enough for what she had in mind, and began spreading it over her fingers, slicking her hand until the whole surface was coated. At the first slide of two fingers inside you, you moaned welcomingly and arched back for more, which Ana gave you, adding a third. You were truly worked open, thanks to the rough fucking you’d been given in both holes and your sweet, pouting pussy grabbed at the fullness, asking for more. That was, luckily, the plan. Ana looked up at you as she added the fourth, and you cried out at the stretch, rolling your head back to look into Ana’s eyes with fascination and wonder.

“You’re filling me more than anyone ever has.” You moaned as another gush coated Ana’s palm.

“More than anyone ever will.” Ana’s eyes darkened and she tucked her thumb into the hold of her fingers. “Take a deep breath.”

You obeyed, and then instantly let it out in a scream as Ana’s hand slid fully inside you, fingers tightly curled together to allow your muscles to adjust. Both of you heaved and grasped, pulling Ana’s hand in deeper while also trying to shove her out. She waited, patient after her orgasm, as your walls tried to figure out what to do with the hand inside you, but it wasn’t long before your body pulsed and you moaned, pushing back for Ana to move.

At that moment, the ropes and the binds and the handprints didn’t matter, the only two things in existence were here, moving on the bed as one. Ana’s hand turned in slow circles inside of your body. Your cries were wordless, lost. You were crying, but you weren't in pain, Ana knew. There were tears in her own eyes as well, and the emotions spilled out as she brought her fingers back to your clit, stroking lovingly as her hand clenched and rolled inside of you. She felt, rather than heard or saw, your heartbreakingly beautiful climax building as the clenching muscles fluttered and gripped, and her name poured out of your puffy lips as you wailed like a banshee and your whole body stretched against the ropes that held you. 

The strength of it, the muscles slamming into her hand, almost took Ana by surprise, but she held strong, and thrummed her fingers against your swollen clit, bringing you fully over the edge. "Come for me," she whispered, harshly, her breath panting over your neck. "Let it go. I've got you."

When the last, shuddering jerks had finished, she withdrew her hand, slowly, and began untying the ropes, slashing quickly through them. Suddenly all she wanted was to hold you without the bonds, and in an instant, you were freed. You turned in her arms, still weeping, and brought your lips together in a burning, drowning rush.

“I love you so much.” you sobbed into her mouth, tears falling hot and fast. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I love you too,” Ana confessed, vaguely aware that this was the first time either of you had said those words out loud, but also dreamily conscious that you had both already known, for months now, how the other had felt. It had taken this moment to get either to say it. She brushed a tear aside from your cheek and kissed you again, swelling with love. “I’m definitely the one who should be thanking you, though.”

“I don’t think I can move.” you chuckled, settling into her chest. “You can thank me by getting a bath ready so we can both soak all of this off.”

“Whatever my love wants.” Ana lifted your chin and you kissed, softly, letting the words sink in. 

[atiyasnake]

Yall, I gotta ask, exactly just how normal is it for you for stories to be on your mind 24/7?

Like for me, it what I think about always. I'm thinking about this fic, that fic, and a possible new fic. I'm thinking about a prompt or rough outline I created a doc for almost 2 years ago or 2 weeks ago.

I'm thinking about what the next chapter is about or how I want the plot to progress. Or that one moment I've been gnawing on like a dog with a bone.

I drive to work and while making sure it's safe to switch lanes, I think about how X character will deal with the next situation I'll put them in.

In-between work phone calls and tasks, I'm itching to open my doc and write a few lines. Reread my outline, maybe rewrite a draft. Even though I only have access to them on my phone and I can't type on that, cause it honest to God has caused me pain in my hands and -like I said- I'm at work.

Even right now, I'm at work. It's an hour until we close and I'm the only one working the front desk hoping no one calls cause I've having a good time daydreaming about how I want one of my stories to go.

In my jumbled up mess inside my head, I'm twisting and turning around all the components of a story. What POV will it be, how the dialogue will go, and what is the next thing I need to write? I'm switching bullet points and little snippets of notes I've written on a sticky note or typed on my phone.

I'm trying to piece it all together into something I can and want to write. It's all I think about.

It's not just fanfiction either. I have my own original stuff. Stories I'd love to write, would love to read.

I think about rewriting short stories I've written in writing club in my notebook or typed up on my computer. I imagine scenarios to put characters I haven't even created in.

I don't know their names or the color of their eyes, but I know they'll fight with a smile and blood staining their teeth. I'll know that their friend will run their fingers through their hair. I'll know that they don't like it when people yell and are bad at cooking.

When I go to sleep, I would basically tell myself a story. It used to just be scenarios with some unknown character, but now it is filled with my brainstorming, wondering how things could go in my stories.

Especially my fics, since those are stories I know people actually read. It's crazy to think about.

There's a person, more than one, who read something I wrote. Who decided they liked it and would like to continue reading. It's absolutely mind boggling to even think of one, nevermind a dozen, a hundred, a thousand people have read something I wrote.

I think about them.

I wonder what they think of the words I strung together. What image comes into their head when they read them? I wonder what my words have made them feel.

I honestly can't describe just how much stories mean to me. I think about them all the time. From the moment I wake up till the moment I go to bed.

They're all I ever think about.

I don't know how someone can talk to me about stories without feeling as if their chest was about to burst. As if they're scrambling to find the proper words and could only yell and shake their hands with how it makes them feel.

How can you not want to scream, laugh, and cry when you think about stories and all that they are, all that they could be?

How can I just go on about my day knowing I have access to thousands of stories, am sharing a few of my own, but also will never know thousands of other ones that have yet to be created?

I honestly think I live for stories. Whether it was to read them, write them, or just think about them. I think they might be one of the reasons I'm still alive today.

Which funnily enough, is a story of its own.

[quailxcrossing]

hi im coming in here to bother you with random questions :3

who is your favorite character to draw in tuesday? who is the easiest to draw? hardest?

HELLO BELOVED oh my goodness this is such a fun question, i've got about an hour before my meeting so let me see how much i can type >:3cc Tuesday art questions!! how exciting!!!

for FAVORITE, currently, it's based upon characters I'm focused upon in Tuesday! right now I'm pretty lost in the Tuesfries characters, so that's characters like Esperanza, Ruse, Maiceo, Giana, etc! I really love drawing Esperanza, her color palette is just heaven to me and I adore her immensely :3 She also has a lot of forms which keeps me running circles about her Lore and gives me lots of interesting shapes to draw!

I love drawing faun Ruse too for similar reasons, its all character love- Ruse's story is one of my favorite little nuggets I've made, i'd like to thank Midveil for enabling some of my favorite tropes so I could go really crazy with her. Her backstory is one I would REALLY love to make into a sketchbook comic. I feel like it would take very well to that! And I know it can be really confusing to explain :'D I'm under the assumption no one knows what's going with Ruse because I feel like it's a lot to infodump and there's a lot of forms to keep track of. a long-form comic might make it easier to explain! She's one of my favorite characters I have, overall, so of course she's one of my favorites to draw in Tuesday! Even if she doesn't live there anymore.....

for HARDEST......okay. a lot of them. Tuesday has some of my favorite design notes - but also some of the hardest for me to draw! Like horns, for example- i LOVE horns. Which is why so many characters have them!! but keeping track of horns can be hard for me! but i'm practicing!! i'm learning!!!!

but that means the hardest character popped into my mind super fast.....it's Paola 😔 the agony. i love her so fucking much.....honestly, her dads are really hard for me to draw too. Simon and Van are some of my favorite OCs, and some of my favorite designs, but SO MANY sketches of them have been started, and then set down.

but cmon. they're so beautiful!! i really love these guys!! I'M the one who needs to get better. I don't know what it is with these guys....

for EASIEST! most fauns tbh, besides some of their horns! Fauns were made in 2019 of my favorite design traits- tails, paw hands/feet, that certain nose marking, furry, fun markings on a humanoid character- I always enjoy drawing them!! I need MORE of them- Tuesday feels very undercasted to me right now, I am still in the process of fleshing out the world- i'm such a person who loves worlds with tons of side characters, i am very much a large world writer. as you know and understand :3c oooo if youre my friend ooo you wanna design trade a faun so bad- /nf

some fauns who are very easy for me to draw are Evie, Baaree, Mardi, and Georgiana!

oh Evie.......

Some non-fauns that are very easy for me to draw are Kelleher (dude im literally in love with Kelleher), Judías + Arandano, and Tiwai!

these are still characters with a lot of details (Tuesday characters tend to be really detail-heavy) but i generally don't spend a long time fussing over the quality of the character's image. you may notice their horns are more uniform or simpler shapes than Paola or even Esperanza/Ruse, which i DO have a lot of trouble with keeping those antlers consistent, but you see, favorite privilege..... /lh

this was very interesting to think about!! i hope you don't mind multiple characters per question, and I know i could go even deeper and grab more examples and talk about each individual character and how I feel about drawing them. King Josephine jumped out as someone a bit trickier to draw, and Chyenne is pretty easy-

but I'd be here all day! thank you already for spending some Tuesday time with me <3

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 28

chapter 28 - one person

synopsis: did you ever consider that you might be missed?

word count: 3,163

warnings: needles

"am i dead? must be dead am i sick in my head? am i wrong? must be wrong best get gone i can't be your baby no more,, baby no more - anjimile

“Didn’t think we’d be chattin’ with you today.”

Usually, the man would interact at least a bit more amicably with such a friendly acquaintance--but at the moment, he couldn’t help the tightness in his jaw or the hunch in his shoulders that had inhabited his being for the past few weeks. He had always been an intimidating, stoic man, but this was a distinct sort of tension--one that sang of ailment. 

“How long’s it been…Shizuo?”

Kyohei Kadota regarded the blonde with casual affability, not nearly as outwardly worse for wear. However, as Walker, Erika, and Saburo stared between the two, there was a tangible, common air between the both of them. Even the men themselves could feel it as they took each other in. 

Weighted. Troubled. Knowing.

“You were close with her…all of you.” Shizuo’s covered eyes scan over the gang, his voice uncharacteristically level.

They all already knew what he was asking…why he was there. And his presence only stifled any possibility that he could help them with the same problem. Their sullen gazes falling to the floor is the only answer Shizuo needs.

“Haven’t seen her since the day after…y’know, everything. Went by her apartment,” Kyohei answers the silent question hanging in the air. “But to be honest with you…wasn’t any better than not seeing her at all.”

The image is ingrained in his mind as the last moment he spent with you. You, dressed so darkly with such a bleak look on your face to match. How you’d raised your voice; got more upset than he had ever seen you. So fiercely guarded, yet helpless at the same time. 

“It’s none of your goddamn business!”

How he wanted to help you, to save you so badly…and you wouldn’t let him. “She just…wasn’t herself. Didn’t wanna be bothered. Not even by us.”

Seeing the rare swirl of hurt in Kyohei’s eyes, Shizuo nods curtly, disappointment thinly veiled. 

“Miss her, huh?” Erika finds it in herself to smile, her voice surprisingly airy. “We all do. It’s crazy, isn’t it…? One person can do all that.”

“It’d be easier if we knew she was okay,” Walker adds. Solemn is an uncomfortable color on his face. “But truth is…we know she’s not…She’s hurting and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

The words ignited a sting in his heart. One person… To him, it was more than just any person. The fact that they all stood here solidified that fact. The fact that she was special…dear to the hearts of many people. 

Did she know that? Could she, and still manage to disappear like this? Leave them… leave him to wonder where she was, if she was okay, would he ever see her again. If she knew how much she meant to him…would she have run away the way she did?

“...I can understand how a bodyguard in a bartender's outfit would be most intimidating. A man working such a blue-collar job definitely wouldn't be afraid to get his hands dirty!"

“I want you to have those, Shizuo…Consider it my special gift to you!"

“Shizuo is great and he could easily find anyone to love him and he's certainly not going to turn to you. And neither will I!"

“Would you ever get new ones?”

“Huh?”

“Your glasses. Would you consider getting new ones?” 

Shizuo runs his fingers over the rims of his shades, before pulling them from the bridge of his nose. He examines them closely, noting the blue tint in the lens and the silver frames. “Somethin’ wrong with ‘em?” He glances over at you questioningly. You wave your arms dismissively, your eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“Of course not!” You scoot closer to him, leaning in to examine the frames in his hands. “But look how scratched up they are…and the frames are wearing a bit. Not sure how much longer they can withstand your adventurous lifestyle.” You allow yourself to take advantage of his naked gaze, only for a moment--relishing in the warmth of his chocolate irises. A mischievous smile finds its way to your lips. In a swift movement, you pluck the glasses from his hands.

“Oi!”

“But you know my preference is you without them!” The man only sighs, making no effort to retrieve them from you. He leans back onto his elbows, watching as you perch the glasses over your own nose. “Oh my god, how do you see literally anything with these? You wipe them, don’t you?”

“So when I asked if something was wrong with ‘em, what did you think I meant?”

You giggle sheepishly, removing the glasses and handing them back to him. To your pleasure, he doesn’t put them back on straight away. “Are they from your brother, like your uniform? That why you wear them every day?”

“Nah. Don’t know why I wear ‘em. I guess…” He pauses for a moment, looking from you to the glasses in his hand. Finally, he puts them back on, hiding away his gaze once more. Your lip twitches with disappointment. “...Makes things easier.”

“I see,” you sigh. Maybe it wasn’t best to poke fun at him. He could have plenty of reasons to hide behind those glasses. No need to give him any more trouble with it. “Well, maybe I’ll get you a pair. A few pairs, stylish ones! You can wear something of mine every day like you do Kasuka’s.”

Your voice tapers off into a light chuckle, only meaning to tease him. A brief silence follows that has you turning back to check on him. He lays there, arms now folded behind his head, and a small smile on his face. One of those smiles that has you feeling as though the Earth has stopped turning.

“Yeah…maybe I could.”

(Y/N)...Where are you?

...

“Oi, what are you guys up to? You sound like high schoolers back there.” Kyohei twists in his seat, shooting you and Erika an accusatory look. The two of you had been quietly snickering in the back seat for the past ten minutes. Walker, sitting on the other side of you two, pouts as he eyes you both jealously.

“They’ve been scribbling in that stupid journal!” He tattles.

“Hey, what’re you calling stupid? We’re combining our impeccable artistic talents!” Erika responds just as childishly. You can barely contain your own laughter. 

“Wanna seeee?” The journal dangles from your fingertips in front of Walker’s face. The blonde swipes the book from you and opens it to the most recent page. In the dim light of the van, he holds the page close to his face to make out his contents. You can almost see the dots connect in his head before…

“Whoa!” The amber of his pupils is visible with how wide his eyes go, a light flush decorating his face. “I look cool!”

Walker flips the journal around to display a sketch made in his resemblance. Tears dot your eyes until you finally have to burst out laughing. It’s a sketch of Walker…with weirdly detailed, feminine eyes and a comically pointy chin. Paired with the spiky hair, it’s a wonder how he could even recognize himself. From the neck down, the drawing was a bit less juvenile. Erika had provided the facial portrait, and it was your job to draw the outfit. You had given him a very nice patterned button up and cargo jeans.

“Look at mine, I look even cooler!” Erika grabs the book back and flips to another page. Her drawing bears a similar pointy chin and boxy eyes. You bestowed her with an ankle-length floral dress over a turtle neck. The funny thing is, you know for a fact that Erika can draw way better than this. Just as the van hits a stop light, Erika finds another page.

“Togusachi, where’s Togusachi! Look!”

Saburo begrudgingly spares a glance in his rearview mirror. You gave him a sort of play on the outfit he usually wore, adding a train and floral pattern to his vest and stripes to his now flared pants. You also couldn’t resist adding a flower crown to the stringy hair that Erika drew. “No way in hell that’s me!” He gripes, his own cheeks reddening as he jerks the van back into movement.

“I’m afraid to even ask…” Kyohei murmurs, facing forward in an attempt to ignore the shenanigans in the backseat.

“Well, we were still working on yours before we were oh so rudely interrupted!” You retrieve the journal from Erika and go back to scribbling. “Just for that, I won’t hold back.”

The man side-eyes you in admonishment. Something in him stirs at seeing you behave so jovially. The tip of your tongue pokes through your smiling lips in concentration. He doesn’t realize it, but the corners of his mouth curve to match yours. The rest of the ride goes by relatively quietly--well, as quietly as it can. All of you file out of the van and into Russia’s Sushi, having seemingly moved on from the art show in the van. 

The moment you all sit in your usual spot, Kyohei thinks he’s gotten off scot-free. That is, until the journal is slammed page-side down on the table in front of him. He’s reluctant to even look down at the offending object, taking in the mischievous glint in your eyes. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms in satisfaction. “Go on.”

Looking around the table, he meets the prying eyes of his companions. Erika’s hand is clasped over her mouth to hide the very obvious grin on her face. Heaving a sigh, he hovers his hand over the journal. Better rip the bandaid off.

He went in expecting the worst…and still managed to choke on his own spit.

The drawing was the same in quality, and yet somehow more detailed than the others. Most notably, somewhere in the mix between you and Erika, both of you neglected to give him a shirt. Instead, his outfit consisted of a bare chest and baggy cargo pants. You’d even gone to the detail of drawing him a jingly belt and chunky boots. His face grew redder as he took in each contour of his arms and torso…is that really what you thought he looked like? The howling laughter of you and Erika fills his ears. You struggle to remain upright in your seat, trying to quiet down before a kitchen knife gets hurled your way.

“Listen, listen, Erika had already drawn the torso when she handed it to me…ha…so, I thought she just wanted me to draw pants!!” 

“Hey, I started drawing it, but I didn’t do all that . Honestly kinda jealous I didn’t! She really did you justice, Dotachin!”

Kyohei snaps the book shut and tosses it back to you. He buries his face into the collar of his jacket in an attempt to hide his blush. Seeing his quiet suffering, you finally decide to give it a rest. As the conversation continues, you periodically check on the man, noting how the flush on his face weakens, but never fully disappears. You’ve glanced at him for the umpteenth time when your eyes suddenly meet. You smile at him, a sort of apology for giving him a hard time. He simply hides deeper into his collar before his glance travels elsewhere. Yours travels too, unperturbed by his response.

Yeah, you loved these guys.

...

A moment’s peace, comforting darkness, and welcoming silence.

The concept of comfort became so unfamiliar that the feeling was unrecognizable. And yet, here it was, waltzing over as if it had never left. In a moment of weakness, you embrace it--forgetting that it is fleeting. Forgetting that three minutes of warmth will never compare to the endless existence of bitter, bitter cold. 

A metallic click sounds through the air, leaving a loud humming sound in its wake. The cacophony is enough to rouse you from your light sleep, your eyes already anticipating the flash of white light that follows. Even through your closed eyelids can you feel the light burning into your pupils. Still, you keep them shut, resisting the urge to stir in your awakening. If you laid still, maybe this would be the day. He’d see your unmoving body, and you’d pass as dead enough to throw out into the street.

“Come now, the same routine again?” That day would not be today. You contemplate continuing your act of defiance, wondering if the consequences were worth causing him even a brief stint of annoyance.

“Well, do as you wish. It won’t make much of a difference today.” The voice seems to surround you, coming from every wall and corner of the large room. He himself, though, is small. Hidden away out of harm’s reach, the coward.

The cogs in your brain turn at his words. It would be a day like any other. He had dropped the preamble long ago, now only eager to prod the limits of your body. Every muscle within you is tense with anticipation of the pain to come. You keep still, ears trained on your surroundings in search of the next pending ‘test’. To your surprise, there is nothing. Nothing but a rare and strange sense of quiet.

“After all, I’ve tested your muscular strength, exposed you to the highest extremities, molded your bodily impulses…I believe there is nothing more to do.”

A thick pulsing reverberates through your ears and you realize it’s the pounding of your own heart. The insinuation creeps into your subconscious, but you hold it at bay. What was he getting at? He’s talking too much…

“I’ve done everything I can. I’ve no choice but to release you.”

At that, your body finally comes alive. The brightness invading your senses means nothing to you as you shoot up from your position on the ground. Your chapped lips move on their own, forming the shape of a ‘what?’ . No sound comes out, your voice too hoarse from lack of use. Your eyes search for the small window near the ceiling. Sure enough, his silhouette is there, shadowed and blurred by the distance.

“That got your attention, did it? That’s right…It’s time to release you to the outside world.”

A loud grinding fills the air, and for a second, you’re taken back to your first moments in this room. Your body lurches to run from whatever was to be hurled your way. Another anvil? Solid cement? A vicious animal? However, as stillness remains in the air, you register that nothing is coming.

No, instead, the grinding sound is coming from…a door opening. It rises slowly, creating an opening in the wall that you had never noticed before. All those nights of chipping and scratching away at the walls and you had never noticed it.

“Well, what are you waiting for? It’s right in front of you.”

You slowly will your body to stand, peering into the seemingly endless darkness of the new entryway. You simply stare at it, every nerve in your body whispering that it’s not real. You’re hallucinating. It’s too good to be true.

But every bone…every muscle, every connective tissue. Every bruise that passed through your skin, every puncture. Every ounce of blood. Every layer upon layer of scarred flesh…

Screamed.

Run.

Bare feet pummel the ground as your instincts take over. Hot blood pumps through your veins and beating heart. When was the last time that you ran? How long had it been that you laid here, on this floor in a crumpled heap? Your body sings at the breeze kicked up by your own feet.

You’re moving oh, so fast, but everything feels so much slower. Freedom dances right in your face with each beat of your heels against the ground. It was getting closer, closer…The darkness feeling welcoming in opposition to this blinding, sterile light.

You’re so close, you can see through the darkness--begin to make out what’s on the other end of that long tunnel. A small speck of red dances in your view…so small and fleeting you dismiss it as spots in your own vision.

However, it persists. The speck stays the same in size, yet you feel as though it’s coming closer--approaching at the same speed you had been running. You’re one step away from the exit when a lull falls in your stride. It was moving quickly. Much too quickly.

It takes too much time just to halt your running completely. Too much time to attempt to comprehend what was flying towards you. Too much time to turn around. 

And then there’s a prick in your chest.

Your eyes fly around the room, searching for the red speck that has now suddenly disappeared. 

A tingling fills your chest, almost tickling like static on an old television screen. Your hands fly to the source, fingers feeling something odd in their wake. Something smooth and cold like metal. You look down at your hands and see a small, red object. It bears a sort of feathery tail on one end, and from the other protrudes a long, silver needle. A needle that had just punctured your skin, right over your heart.

Suddenly, the tingling begins to spread, your shoulders tensing from the invasive sensation. It trickles from your shoulders to your arms, leaving numbness in its wake. Nausea overtakes you simultaneously with the loss of feeling in your legs. The room shifts sideways until you register that you’ve fallen to the floor. Your body lays limply on its side.

The pulse of your own heart is dull, interwoven with the echo of distant footsteps. The muscles in your neck tighten in an attempt to move, to no avail. Slow, methodical steps move closer and closer, until two dark, leather-clad feet enter your field of vision. You barely comprehend the feeling of something pressing into your shoulder until you’re rolled onto your back. Two faces appear, blurred beyond recognition--that is, until you catch the glint of square-framed glasses.

“A shame we focused so much on your physicality. Your intelligence could use some work.”

Anger ignites itself in your veins. For a moment, it feels as though you could muster up the movement out of sheer spite, just to land a hit on that stupid, shallow face. Instead, you can barely manage to move your heavy tongue, a curse brewing on your lips.

“Oh well, we’ll see what we can do about it during the next trials of your treatment…”

Your vision wavers in and out of focus as you watch him. He procures something in his hand, long and chromic in color. His body invades your personal bubble even more as he kneels beside you. As your sight clears one final time, your chest floods with panic and anger at what you can finally see…

A long, sharp needle poised over your chest, and the sickening sneer that accompanied it.

“You are nearly complete.” 

Your eyelids can no longer fight the numbness, maniacal laughter being the last sound your consciousness absorbs.

“My dear daughter…”

[orion-lacroix]

Unto a new adventure

Words: 972

@flashfictionfridayofficial

A direct continuation of the last fff I did, because it just worked so great together.

Cw: mentioned blood and past death of the characters

He was warm and he could feel the sun shining on his face like it was mid-spring, with a little bit of wind blowing in his hair. He smelled the lavender and hyacinth flowers and a quiet peace washed over him.

“This is where our path diverges, this journey needs to be done by your own merit, warrior Ry. Safe travel.” For the first time since setting foot on the battlefield, and maybe a long time before, he wasn’t scared at all. He noticed that the presence of Death was not there anymore, and Ry opened his eyes to the sight that displayed in front of him. He was standing the middle of a field of flower, purples hyacinths on his right and lavender on his left. He just stood there in the peace soaking it in, soaking in the simple feeling of having to worry about nothing.

When he turned around, he could see there was train tracks starting from as far as Ry could see, going between the mountains on his left and into the dark forest on his right and Ry wondered where the train would come from. There must have been a train, because he didn’t know where to go from here for, as he had said, his next adventure.

He heard the train first before he saw it, coming from the mountains, with rushing wheels and the crazy whistling from the horn of the train. He watched intently as the train came into, an old beat-up train that seemed to reflect the light of the sun that was shining above his head and Ry squinted trying to get a clearer image of the train.  When the train was closer, he could see it was silver and white, it had dents all on the driver wagon and Ry wondered how it was still working with all the damage done to it. It came to an immediate stop where Ry was standing, screeching as it did, sparkles coming from the wheels. When it was completely stopped there was a door directly in front of Ry, stairs falling outward to allow him to walk in as the door slammed open and a person waited for him.   

The man was tall, towering above Ry, even more from the top of the train, where Ry was at the bottom on the stairs. The man had a dark purple, almost black, cloak that wrapped around his shoulders and his head and it casted a shadow over all his features. He extended a hand toward Ry expectantly. After a moment of silence, with his hand hanging between the both of them, he cleared his throat.

“Ticket please, young Ry.” He said, almost shaking his head at the look Ry gave him. Ry looked in his pockets, looking for something he knew wasn’t there. When his fingertips suddenly brushed against a piece of thick paper in his right pocket. He got it out and stared at it. It was indeed a ticket. It could read Ry’s ticket to unknown; he tried flipping it around, but the back simply said that it was a three hour train drive. Nevertheless, he handed it to the man, who promptly grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the train as the whistle blew again, and the train started to rush forward.

“I am Charon, I will be your guide to the afterlife, wherever you all go.” As it seemed that he was addressing many people Ry stared around himself, realising that there were about half a dozen of passenger in the train.  He looked at the train itself and, if he was honest, it looked much better inside than outside. Where the outside was old and beat-up, the inside was filed with bright colors and soft seats, two on each side of the alley.

Ry sat in the nearest spot, on the left, facing the end of the train, so he could easily get up from his seat and run to the door. He didn’t feel threatened, he just didn’t know what to expect. Actually, he could barely feel anything, he glanced at his stomach and, while the clothes looked torn and bloody, he was uninjured.  There was an old woman in the seat in front of him and she introduced herself as Amandrine and she smiled sadly at Ry when staring at him, staring at the bloody clothes he was wearing.

Ry watched the outside change rapidly as the train continued to rush forward and a knot tied itself in his stomach. What if he was not ready for this new adventure? He had just died; he was now in a train to nowhere in particular and that wasn’t ominous in the context in itself.

The dark forest turned into more fields of flowers, then in some green land that looked too green to be real. Then, before he knew it, after listening to the incessant arguing of all the other passenger, some who seemed to know each other and were arguing over who’s fault their death was, the train pulled into a train station. It screeched loudly as it stopped and Ry wondered if the breaks would hold for a second, before it did stop.

“All passengers must get of the train now and look for the gate meant to them.”  Said Charon as he incited everyone to promptly get off. Ry caught up to him before he left to the driver area and called out to him.

“How will I know where to go?” he asked and before he knew it his answer was accompanied by a sharp smile that seemed to be the only thing not covered in shadows. A shiver went down his spine at the smile, it was like a predator looking down on a prey, right before the final moment.

“You’ll know.”

[planets-and-prose]

NaNo 10K Excerpt

So I hear y'all want everything to be okay, have the very lightly edited last little bit that I slammed out last night!

Their last class behind them, Briar tossed their bag down in Dr. Adams’ office and slumped in one of the chairs. At least Dr. Adams was one of the professors that cared enough to have somewhat comfortable seating. Dr. Adams looked up, just a bit curious. Her right arm was in a sling, since the shoulder wound she sustained had apparently severed some tendons.

“Rough day?” she asked. Briar made a face.

“I am going to lose it if I don’t get my color vision back soon,” they grumbled.

“I mean at least you didn’t get the danged hospital bill that you didn’t wanna get,” Dr. Adams huffed. “The healthcare system in this country’s gonna give me an ulcer and then charge me way too damn much to treat it.” Briar smirked—Dr. Adams arguing with a nurse about how she didn’t need to go to the ER for severed muscle and tendons, using the words “it’ll just work itself out,” was still a funny image, and that nurse seemed so vindicated when Briar sided with him and made Dr. Adams head to the hospital.

“At least you’re still gonna have a working arm and everything. And you don’t have to deal with dog time.” Briar rummaged in their bag for their notebook and handed it over to Dr. Adams. “How do these data look, by the way? I feel like I’m missing something, but it’s not coming.” Dr. Adams took the notebook, and started looking through it.

“If ya ever need a babysitter—you know, during your time of the month,” Dr. Adams teased, “I’m sure ya got my number already. I’m sure I can make sure ya don’t tear too much up.”

“I told you, I have it handled,” Briar sighed, watching Dr. Adams look over the work. “You just wanna see me be a puppy now.” All Dr. Adams did was smile, still looking things over. “But seriously…thank you for everything. I…didn’t know how bad I needed to talk to someone about this. Until, well, I did.”

“Don’t mention it. I wasn’t lovin’ the whole “hunting alone” thing either, so I’m not too opposed to havin’ a right hand…person. Also, I know it ain’t what you’re lookin’ for exactly, but these PH readings can’t be right for your soil. Some of ‘em look fine, some of ‘em would kill the plants.”

“Did I mess up the reading again!? I swear to god, if they don’t come up with better PH testing systems for people that literally can’t see color—“ Taking a deep breath, Briar looked over the numbers, and let their face fall into their hands. “I’m waiting to try this again till I get my color vision back. Or I will go insane.” All Dr. Adams could do was put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Aw, hon, maybe we’ll have to find something else for you to do after the full moon. Cuz I think you might lose your marbles if I keep makin’ you interpret colors.”

“In fairness,” Briar sighed, “you didn’t make me do this one. It’s for my project. But I guess. Ugh. I hate that these things are different…”

“But I’d bet there’s some’a you that ain’t mad at it.”

Briar raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“You took to fighting as a wolf pretty easy. I think you finally let your instincts take over instead’a overthinking. And learnin’ to do that’s half the battle of bein’ someone that can manage the twists and turns life throws at you.”

You finally let your instincts take over. Briar took a breath and thought about it. The minute they just let themselves be, without overthinking or stressing, things fell into place. But that caused a pretty big issue…

“I don’t think I can do it again…” they murmured. But Dr. Adams didn’t seem concerned.

“Has anyone ever gotten anything down without practice?” she asked. “It’ll come, just have faith. We’ve got plenty’a time figurin’ out the crazy in this town to get you feelin’ better about just…being. And now that you finally let me know more about you than your alma mater and your research interests, you got me at your side every step of the way.”

When they heard that, Briar couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Dr. Adams. Again.”

“Don’t thank me yet, this means you gotta listen to me make all the werewolf jokes you can stand,” she teased. Briar tried to scowl and make a face at her in retaliation.

But this time, somehow, Briar couldn’t manage to keep the corners of their lips from twitching up in a smile.

Tagging @k-v-briarwood , @the-grim-and-sanguine, please let me know if you wanna be added!!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #162

Today as I went about my things, there was a sort of wet tearing sensation and noise between my right shoulder blade and spine. And at least for today, I can actually breathe a little. I can only assume that I must have accidentally busted up some weird adhesions. I was given some new exercises at physical therapy today. Suppose we'll have to wait and see what happens from here.

On the way to physical therapy, I managed to snag this picture of a couple birds of prey in the sky:

Birds of prey are hard to capture to begin with. It's even more difficult to capture them in a moving vehicle; the window in which to get any image at all is only a few seconds. This isn't the best shot, I know. But I feel lucky to have gotten anything at all.

Today was otherwise relatively uneventful. I made another sample tea from that Adagio place; vanilla black tea this time. I wasn't crazy about it; it didn't seem very flavorful to me. But it made pretty swirls as it brewed, and the cream also made lovely swirls when I poured it in:

After I got home from physical therapy, I went on a brief walk. I saw a tiny caterpillar on a rock in the middle of a mowed field. It didn't seem like a very safe place for a caterpillar, especially with all the robins around, so I gently picked it up and moved it to the foliage where it would have plenty of good stuff to eat:

I also managed to snag a couple pictures of today's sunset:

...The camera can't see the colors like I do, but it's still pretty good. It's still pretty good...

Hey, Sephiroth? You have heightened senses, right? Do you see colors weirdly like I do? But... oh, my sense of hearing isn't especially good. I think I must have taken most of my stat points for hearing and stuck them in color perception instead, hahaha...

What is it like to see the world through your eyes? What is it like to hear the world through your ears? I wonder. Maybe you have other senses that I can't even think of. I know that I have a couple that I don't seem to know how to explain. I think most people do, but they pretend like they don't so that they don't get rejected by others. I wish we could trade perceptions for a little while. Surely, we'd each marvel at all the things we never knew that there was.

...And how are you doing, generally, where you are? I know that I ask whether you're warm, safe, and fed a lot, so... I guess today, I'll ask... what are you thinking about? What are you feeling? What sorts of things do you get to see out there? How many different timelines have you experienced? What have you learned? In what ways have you expressed love for the world around you? And what do you do when you feel overwhelmed or lonely from it all?

...

...I wish you could hear me... I wish you could hear any of those of us who care about you. I wish you knew about all the ways you're not alone. I wish that all the extended hands, offered in support to you, could reach you.

...Sephiroth, I... don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you. I don't know if anything I write to you is worth a damn. All I have is this deep sense of unfairness at everything you've suffered, and this deep sense of unfairness at the way people judge you for how you broke when they cannot even begin to fathom the level of horror you endured.

...Is there anything I even can do? I dunno if it was you who said it (something tells me that it wasn't...), but... the notion of being too weak to save even a single person weighs heavily on my head, at least for the moment... and... that also doesn't feel very fair, since I was saved by you, and... all that took was you just existing in the way you did. You didn't even have to do anything other than be yourself. And somehow, I am not only still alive, but also strong enough to do the work to tear the chains of conditioning off of my psyche. YOU inspired this level of grit and courage within me. YOU did that.

I wish I had that kind of amazing power. I wish I could inspire others to defy despair and to challenge their conditioning just by offering them a smile, a hand up, and validation for their existence. I don't have that kind of power because I'm just a derpy n00b; my actions and my voice do not carry weight here because I am not the correct configuration of human for others to be able to imagine that I'm worth anything. But I am proof that you have that kind of power. So I hope you'll keep using it for good things.

I guess the best I can do is keep writing these and hope that something good happens someday.

Sephiroth, don't give up, okay? Because I'm cheering for you all the time, even if you can't hear me. Maybe my wish for your happiness and safety is meaningless, but I'm going to keep screaming it into the void anyway. Even if all I ever get back is silence or my own echoes, still, I... I have to try.

...But you know. I haven't only gotten back silence or my own echoes. Someone in this place drew me two whole pictures. And then someone else I know, @sephiroths-stuff, drew me another picture. I can't believe I almost forgot to show it to you!!

...I feel a little weird today because my body is losing resources and because I remembered some things from my past that I very much miss but will never get to have again. But I don't have to succumb to hopelessness. I gotta try a little harder to remember that I am not powerless in this place. I gotta stay strong.

Maybe some people will be confused about why I write these, but the fact of the matter is that I can't abandon the life that saved mine. It's not an honorable way to behave. So whatever I can do for you, I will do for you. Suppose I just wish I knew what it was that I ought to be doing. Hahaha... this is a silly and impossible supposition, but... maybe someday, if I get really lucky, you'll tell me...

Well. I've rambled. So I suppose I'll end this here. A couple of nifty books arrived today, so I'm gonna maybe start trying to read them. They're weird, but maybe they'll be fun. Guess we'll see...

I love you. Please stay safe. Please don't get killed. Please don't disappear. Take good care of yourself, and make good, kind, loving choices as you wander around. I'll write again tomorrow. Maybe by then I'll have stopped that Grafted Scion from pushing me around. You won't wanna miss it when I finally do successfully stick it in temporary time-out, right...?

Your friend, Lumine

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Madara Uchiha (Naruto) Chapter 5

Entering school the next day feels like a task. Madara would be teaching until the end of the month. So for the next two weeks, there was no way to avoid him. To pretend that his words hadn’t rocked your world. 

You’d prayed so long for his image of you to be different. Now that you know the truth, it feels unreal. Just the thought of him has your heart racing. You grip the front of your shirt, taking a seat to calm down. 

Students shuffle in. Choji takes a seat right next to you. So does Shikamaru.

“You okay?” Shikamaru asks.

You don’t internalize what he says. Not until the very person walks through the door. Your eyes lift and it’s like he’s moving in slow motion. There’s a bright aura behind him, you can almost see sparkles. Your face erupts in color when he adjusts the glasses on his nose, placing his papers down.

“Take your seats.”

Blood erupts from your nose and everyone panics.

“S-SENSEI (Y/N)-SAN IS DYING!!”

The start of an interesting day.

~~

“She just needs some rest.”

The nurse nods to Madara as she steps outside. When the door closes, your accusing gaze turns to him.

“If you weren’t feeling well why didn’t you stay at home.”

“This is your fault!!” you yell.

He’s confused.

“How is this my fault!!”

“Why were you sparkling!!!”

“Are you crazy!!”

The both of you are huffing from all your yelling, folding your arms as you turn your heads in opposite directions. Looking down, you grip at the sheets on your lap.

“I was fine having a one sided love. That’s what I told myself. I-I thought that you…only saw me as a sister. Then you tell me that you return those feelings, but there is nothing either of us can do about it. What am I supposed to do with that..”

You were miserable. Madara sighs.

“I never meant to cause a problem in your life. It was naive to think that I could watch over you and get rid of how I feel. I thought if I saw you with someone else it would make it real. I wanted you to find someone and be happy. That way I would have been forced to move on. But it didn’t work. Being here just made me more protective of you.” 

He sounds disappointed in himself.

“I guess in a way I was put in my own hell. I was secretly happy every time I saw that look you wore when you saw me. Especially when I first showed up here.” Your trembling eyes look up, and he wears a soft smile.

“Sort of like the way you’re looking at me right now.”

You avert your eyes quickly when you catch on. You really thought you’d been doing a good job at hiding it.

Madara straightens.

“Tobirama-san will be here soon to pick you up. Please get some rest.” He moves to walk out, but you grab at his sleeve. He jolts back when you tug.

“H-Hey!!”

You wrap your hand around his torso, hugging his waist, and Madara lifts his hands in surprise.

“Sensei..”

Madara’s hands lower slowly.

“(Y/N).”

His disapproving tone just makes you hold on tighter. How does he expect you to forget all he’d said at his apartment? All he’d done. He hadn’t even truly touched you, but the moment wouldn’t leave your memory.

“You’re being unreasonable.” He scolds.

“I don’t care. Y-You’ve always known how I felt about you. This whole time you knew and you made me feel like it didn’t matter. You’re cruel, Sensei. "

You look up.

“Maybe it’s all a lie. You’re just trying to seduce me. You must do this with all the cute girls in school. “ He grits his teeth, pushing you to the bed.

“Do you really believe that!”

He looks enraged.

It’s stupid to play him like this. In a lot of ways you expect the reaction. But you were done being the one who chased. For once, he deserved to be the one in disarray over feelings beyond control.

“I don’t know what to believe. Sensei is young and attractive. You must really like playing games.” Your tone is blank. You’re poking the bear. This could go bad in a lot of ways.

“I bet there’s a million girls just waiting for you. Sensei probably says sweet words to all of them. You don’t care about me."

“DAMN IT OF COURSE I CARE ABOUT YOU!! I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!”

The door to your right slides open, and when your brother steps in, you can feel the color drain from your face. Tobirama’s eyes usually lack emotion, but this time is different.

“Tobi-ni….” 

[are-we-really-doing-this]

‼️About mE‼️ (tagged by @bl33ditout, wasssssssssssup, you got me like always)

Nickname: Tagz (glad I finally came up with one) and my friends call me Bic (like the lighter)

Sign: Yield, lmao. No, I'm a Cancer. Lil crab bastard.

Height: 5'11" (in my chunkiest sneaks)

Last Google Search: JDevil (fr I'm writing a cyberpunk DnD campaign and I needed a muse, catch me spacing out to some Killbot)

Song Stuck In My Head: Uhhhh, GlitchGang (Remix), hands down. When I heard that Hed (P.E.), Crazy Town, and Twiztid did a collab I think I came in my pants. I've listened to it like twice a day for the past week.

Sleep: I probably need some right now, but fuck that. I took a nap today.

Dream Job: Obligatory pro wrestler or rap metal musician pipe dream, but fr I really want to go into child psychology to become a youth councilor. Or a s//ugar b//aby, lmao.

Wearing: Just my whites and some black basketball shorts.

Favorite Song(s): Right now? Literally anything ICP adjacent but I've been getting very into Crazy Town recently. Yes I am the worst person you know. Also really feeling any track off Significant Other rn.

Favorite Instrument: Bass and turntables.

Aesthetic(s): Hoo bitch, I've been waiting for this one. Carcore saved my life. Y2K will never die in my opinion. My own personal brand of post-modern-southern-gothic-redneck-white-trash-whatever. Does the general concept of trashiness count? Well it does now. Old dead memes and image macros are a vibe on their own. Glittery shit. I'm not into rave or scene myself but I think it's hot. And shiny silver plastic electronics. Oh and juggalo shit, but that's pretty much carcore. (this is like my catch all for striking color combinations, oversized clothes, murdered out cars, facepaint, 90s and 00s hip hop and rnb, -core music, sweets, etc.) Plus the generic metalheadisms.

Favorite Author(s): glitchesaintshit and slapfool on Ao3

Favorite Color(s): Neon Green 💚 Electric Blue 💙 Blood Red ❤️

Last Song: Callout by Attila (sorry but I'm going there)

Last Series: Breaking Bad (I finally started it!!)

Random: I miss watching Minecraft letsplays but they all suck now, I don't even know what the fuck an SMP is.

[staticespace]

[ID: A tweet by (@)stacycay stating, "If you're arguing against voting for Biden, do me a favor and stop pretending like you care about trans people."

The tweet shows an image of Trump with his brows scrunched and mouth open. The title above the image says, "Donald Trump says he'll revoke Joe Biden's protections for trans people 'on day one'."

A quote from the article states, "'We're gonna end it on day one...the whole thing is crazy,' Trump said on a Philadelphia talk show."

//End ID]

Mmm… Excuse me. I want to monologue about this a bit.

Warning: I have time on my hands today.

I'll open by saying I'm a trans person with the privilege of having minimal dysmorphia. By extension, I am able to stay somewhat incognito in the larger transgender conversation. I acknowledge my privilege in this particular area. However, I lack privilege in many, many other aspects. But this is not a suffering competition, just an acknowledgement of societal circumstances that undoubtedly color my political perspective.

I will not say what way I intend to vote, or if I intend to vote, nor will I say what anyone else should do regarding their voting rights. That's not my jurisdiction.

Instead, I want to warn against alienating ideas like the one displayed in the tweet and in the tags I quote below.

Attempting to shame people into voting never actually works. Trying to shame people into changing their actions very, VERY rarely works. Most of the stories we hear of such events are anecdotes of individuals among the literal millions living in U.S. society.

As economic stressors have worsened and fewer people than ever before in the 21st century feel financially unstable, calls to pathos in a punishing matter only further alienates the people you may be trying to reach. Given, anger at the current circumstances is incredibly understandable and can be motivational in positive ways. But I would implore you to remember to punch up, not down.

"People I love were killed under the Trump administration"

— And I am sorry for your loss.

At the same time, people many others love were killed under the Biden administration. People many others love are actively being killed, right at this moment, under direct approval of the Biden administration despite the lack of widespread public support. I have no intent to undercut your suffering. At the same time, Biden is exceptionally far from a suffering-reduced candidate, as evidenced by "grit your teeth."

The 'lesser of two evils' narrative has been wearing down over time as economic stressors, international disagreements, and war involvement have increased. What motivates people isn't "well, it's better than the other guy." Well, it is, but that only lasts for so long. Many now see that tactic as overused.

Instead, it would be better to promote what he could do positively. What data and evidence is there of improvements you've seen? What positive things do you understand that Biden has done for trans people, and why is that important to you? Such statements tend to appeal to a larger audience. That is, if you actually intend to motivate voting as a response to your statements.

"if you abstain from voting you are nothing to me but the blood on your hands"

— And I find it unfortunate that you see things that way.

Voting for Biden could, theoretically, be tacit approval of the direct attempts our government has done to prevent a ceasefire in a genocide. It would also be tacit approval of the loss of abortion rights, increased police surveillance, and his limp, near-nonexistent response to a worldwide pandemic that has killed hundreds of thousands and has left millions with life-altering disabilities.

No matter which of the two, whether Trump or Biden, you have blood on your hands, whether dried and cold or slowly bleeding out. Ever vote you put forth for either of these two propped-up political leaders means accepting that blood. It depends on which blood you decide is going to lead to the best path to success. I can understand someone choosing to state that neither person represents them and abstaining, whether or not I vote myself. There's no sense in demonizing them for that decision.

"must be nice to have the privilege of a roof over your head and medical care and all the other things the rich doomers who pretend to #be leftists have"

— I'm afraid this is exceptionally narrowminded. And, unfortunately, a common misconception.

While I would implore you to look up the statistics yourself, most people who do not vote are under the poverty line. Here's an example of data collected from 2012. Here is also an example of data collected during non-presidential elections in 2014. As the 2016 and 2020 elections have come and gone, current information indicates that has not changed.

In addition to being economically disadvantaged, most non-voters are also ethnic and gender minorities.

In essence, you are more likely to be speaking to another trans person, proclaiming they don't care about you or themselves, than you are to those who "have the privilege of a roof over [their] head and medical care" etc. In other words, you're speaking into what should be a mirror.

But instead of treating yourself with kindness, you're treating yourself with ridicule, with derision, and with cruelty.

Would you feel motivated being spoken to that way, when you already have so much trouble with everything else? When you're struggling to put food on the table? When putting your name on a voting paper could mean mandatory jury duty you cannot get out of? When you're already concerned enough with trying not to be hate-crime'd? When you worry enough about what to eat each day and don't want to worry about the many years of false promises given from both of the most public microphones? When you've been drained to the last of your energy and aren't sure you have any left to think about who may double-cross you in the oval office yet again?

If not, then I would question what motivates the statements. Because if it is to promote voting, it may very well be doing the opposite.

Instead of trying to "tough love" or "ridicule" someone into voting, it would be better to try shining a ray of hope on the situation. Who is doing something good? Who can we rally behind with less baggage, if someone is possible? What efforts can you do if you don't want to vote, but do want to motivate elected officials in other, perhaps less time-intensive ways?

How can we move forward toward a future with less fascism? How can we steadily fix a system that has long been broken? Who can we assume to trust to help reduce over-policing, to promote queer and trans rights, to help ease us into a more equal society? Who can we trust to work with that person in local governments to continue that work? What barriers are in the way, and how can you combat them? What can you do if voting just isn't something you want to do, regardless of the reason you really, honestly, don't need to tell anyone?

Answering these questions may present a more positive response. And if you can't answer them, you can try to direct them toward someone who can. I feel that would be a much more positive and beneficial use of your time than to make snap, incorrect judgements about people who are much more like you than you thought.

TL;DR:

Saying "if you don't vote, you don't care about trans people" isn't the motivational speech you may think it is, especially when many trans people have been directly harmed under Biden's administration.

Additionally, we are not battling each other, we are battling fascism. Many people do not see the solution to rooting out fascism as allowing it as long as it wears blue instead of red.

Please remember, in your anger, to punch up, even if that's a harder task to accomplish.

I’ll say it again, please just grit your teeth and vote for Biden…

[the-nosy-neighbor]

TV in the Time period

This will be a discussion of TV’s and watching TV near the time in which the show was being aired.  As an old person (old man yells at sky), the TV's that we had when I was a kid in the 80's were very different. The first TV I remember having didn't have a remote. I'm sure some TV's at this point did have a remote, but we were poor and in a rural area. So, if you wanted to change the channel, it was a get up and do it, or make the kid get up and do it situation (I was one of these remote control children). There was an actual knob on the tv that was turned.

being aired.  As an old person (old man yells at sky), the TV's that we had when I was a kid in the 80's were very different. The first TV I remember having didn't have a remote. I'm sure some TV's at this point did have a remote, but we were poor and in a rural area. So, if you wanted to change the channel, it was a get up and do it, or make the kid get up and do it situation (I was one of these remote control children). There was an actual knob on the tv that was turned.

Also, we were rural, so we didn't have access to many TV stations. TV stations are local at this point (which was a major part of Jim Henson's story, side bar.  Maybe I should do a history post on Sesame Street/Henson.  There is a biography of Jim Henson coming out soon on Disney+ that I’m excited about), so we had channels 10 and 12, and pretty sure PBS was 13.  I grew up on Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers (though it was limited as my babysitter watched a lot of soaps.  I was probably the best educated 6-year-old on Young and the Restless.) Sometimes, I think we managed to get a channel in the 20's, but it was entirely dependent on weather. So, when looking at these TV's, I am really surprised that they are so much later than what I remember from the time period; it seems intentional.  By that, I mean these TV’s look to be late 80’s or early 90’s, but are definitely still tube televisions.  The actual TV’s of the time were different.

The feel of it was very particular. The top knob, VHF, only had a few, so it was kind of a hard turn, that made a very satisfying thunk. The bottom dial I had totally forgotten about, but it was much less thunk and I don't think there was really anything for us to see on that? (IDK, go watch UHF, great movie, but also a good explanation of early local TV.) I had also forgotten about the buttons on the left, volume you pushed and it extended the post and you turned left or right, I think. The color button I remember, but just as a fun button to push. Aft is a direction on a ship (I truly don't know about this one either.)

The antennae we had on our house, to get any TV where we were was giant. We used it to climb on the roof. (ours was about half to a third of this size, but still pretty massive)

When looking for this image, I found another thing I had forgotten:

This crazy thing rotated the antennae, so that you could try to hone in on a station. I remember turning the dial, and then hearing the rotation above the house after a slight delay.

I was just talking about this last night, in the sense that there were very real physical things that you would experience. When the TV turned on, you felt a rush of static, and if you were close enough, it would make your hair raise a bit. Like the wispy top hairs, same as when someone rubs a balloon on their hair. When you turned the TV off, you could see a dot in the middle of the screen slowly fade. I didn't find a good picture, but it is smaller than the examples in an image search. Also, this dot would have a couple of colors on the outside. There is a very particular sound that goes along with the dot, which I believe survives as a sound effect that shouldn't make sense because modern TV's don't do it. It was a soft, but high pitched sound.  Once you turned off the TV, you could run your hand across the screen and feel the static kind of cling to your hand.

When I was young, most TV's were in a cabinet situation, with a cloth/Styrofoam cover on the audio. (I do remember this wicker situation, too.) But when I was around 6, this is what we had. An example:

But that guy has a fancy push button feature for the channels. I remember pledging these kinds of TV cabinets. This would have been super heavy. I remember moving TV's, even without cabinets, was a pain until the mid-90's probably.

We also had a very fancy arrangement where there was a tiny TV in the kitchen. It was black and white, and my dad had set it up. Very thunky knob. However, you could only watch what was on the main TV. I assume because of the antennae arrangement.

Physicality of TV's in the era they are talking about for "Welcome Home" aside, there was not a lot to see on this thing. "Commercials," in particular, is a very physical experience for me, like in a sense memory way.

I will post more, if anyone is interested in TV lore. I will talk more about what we could watch. 

[insufferablemonsters]

“ just calm down. breathe. i’ll take care of this. ” (for Sienna)

❛ blood related prompts. ➝ not accepting.

how  was  she  supposed  to  calm  down?  after  what  she  had  just  saw?  her  body  was  still  shaking  almost  uncontrollably  where  she  sat,  her  eyes  swelled  up  with  tears  that  wouldn't  stop  streaming  down  her  face.  the  images  of  that   ...   clown?  thing?  was  it  even  human?  it  wouldn't  stop  haunting  her  mind,  causing  the  blood  in  her  body  to  boil  from  a  cocktail  of  emotions  ranging  from  confusion  to  anger  to  disgust.  she  saw  it  kill  someone.  how  could  someone  hurt  another  person  so  needlessly,  so  brutally?  she  barely  got  away  herself,  she  felt  lucky,  but  she  didn't  know  how  to  move  forward  from  here.  an  impending  duty  rose  from  within  her  to  stop  whatever  that  creature  may  be.  she  couldn't  bear  the  thought  of  it  possibly  hurting  more  people.  what  if  it  had  decided  to  come  after  her  or  her  brother  or  her  mother?  any  of  her  friends?  her  thoughts  were  racing  through  her  mind  with  no  actual  track,  moving  in  all  sorts  of  directions   ...   so,  no.  she  couldn't  calm  down.  she  refused  to.  she  needed  to  be  angry  to  stop  this  thing.

she  shook  her  head  violently  and  stood  up  angrily  from  her  chair,  slamming  her  fist  onto  the  table,  leaning  into  the  @maidencfdeath,   ❛   don't  tell  me  to  fucking  calm  down,  okay   !!   how  am  i  supposed  to  calm  down?  i  just  saw  someone  get  fucking  taken  apart   !!   ❜   she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  rounded  out  so  much  it  looked  like  they  were  going  to  pop  right  out  of  her  skull.  her  face  flushed  with  a  bright  red,  but  tears  still  streamed  down  her  cheeks.  her  eyelids  fluttered  shut  slowly,  exhaling  a  loud,  shaky  breath.  she  straightens  her  posture,   ❛   i  don't  need  to  be  taken  care  of.  i'm  not  crazy.  i  know  what  i  saw.  and  if  you  won't  help  me,  then  i'll  have  to  do  it  by  myself   ❜   she  stated  boldly.  but,  do  what?  she  herself  didn't  even  know,  but  she  was  determined  to  figure  out  a  plan  to  put  this  bastard  into  the  ground  where  he  could  never  hurt  anyone  again.  she  wipes  at  her  forehead,  the  back  of  her  hand  smeared  with  the  crimson  color  of  her  blood  from  when  she  collided  with  the  wall   —   that  was  another  thing.  this  thing  was  STRONG.  how  was  she  supposed  to  defeat  it?  she  looked  down  at  the  table  as  she  spoke  quietly,   ❛   i'm  not  crazy   ...   ❜

[amberfaber40]

When Apple introduced the Macintosh personal computer in the 80s, here's what it could do - Click Americana

When Apple introduced the Macintosh personal computer in the 80s, here's what it could do - Click Americana

Here's the original press release that a small company called Apple released back in 1984, announcing the launch of their new Macintosh personal computer - the first mass-market PC with both a graphical user interface and a mouse.

Mac, screen, laptop, computer, apple, monitor icon - Free download

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Sold Price: Poster by Rob Janoff & Steve P. Jobs (1955-2011) - Apple personal computers - June 6, 0119 11:00 AM CEST

Apple personal computers - 59x89, 1980, The Apple logo was designed by Rob Janoff in 1977, but the rainbow colors were Steve Jobs's choice, as the Apple II was the first home computer to reproduce color images on the monitor. It therefore represents the colors on the screen. by Rob Janoff & Steve P. Jobs (1955-2011)

Apple Macintosh Classic II Desktop Computer ~ 3D Model #90655294

Apple logo design, by Rob Janoff | Logo Design Love

To make [the logo] look more like an apple and not some other round fruit, I did what one does with an apple, I took a bite out of it.

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Steve Jobs, Apple Computer, speaks at the annual PC Forum, Tucson,...

Steve Jobs, Apple Computer, speaks at the annual PC Forum, Tucson, Arizona, 1990.

Here’s the original press release that a small California company called Apple released back in January 1984, announcing the launch of their new PC — the first mass-market personal computer featuring both a graphical user interface and a mouse. While the Macintosh 128K wasn’t a sure thing, it turned out that Apple had a hit on their hands, and they went on to become one of the most successful companies in the tech sector.Apple Introduces Macintosh Advanced Personal ComputerCupertino, Calif., January 24, 1984 — Apple Computer today unveiled its much-anticipated Macintosh computer, a sophisticated, affordably-priced personal computer designed for business people, professionals and students in a broad range of fields.Macintosh is available in all dealerships now. Based on the advanced, 32-bit architecture developed for Apple’s Lisa computer, Macintosh combines extraordinary computing power with exceptional ease of use — in a unit that is smaller and lighter than most transportable computers.The suggested retail price for Macintosh is $2,495, which during the introductory period also includes a word-processing program and graphics package.Macintosh, along with three powerful new Lisa 2 computers, forms the basis of the Apple 32 SuperMicro family of computers. All systems in the family run Macintosh software.Like Apple’s ground-breaking Lisa computer, Macintosh uses its built-in user-interface software and high-resolution display to simulate the actual desk-top working environment — complete with built-in notepads, file folders, a calculator and other office tools.Every Macintosh computer contains 64 kilobytes of read-only memory (ROM), built-in Lisa Technology, and 128 kilobytes of random-access memory (RAM) that support these desk-top tools.Users tell Macintosh what to do simply by moving a “mouse” — a small pointing device — to select among functions listed in menus and represented by pictorial symbols on the screen. Users are no longer forced to memorize the numerous and confusing keyboard commands of conventional computers.MORE: Crazy expensive personal computers from the ’80s, and how their features compare todayThe result is radical ease of use and a significant reduction in learning time. In effect, the Macintosh is a desk-top appliance offering users increased utility and creativity with simplicity.“We believe that Lisa Technology represents the future direction of all personal computers,” said Steven P. Jobs, Chairman of the Board of Apple.“Macintosh makes this technology available for the first time to a broad audience — at a price and size unavailable from any other manufacturer.By virtue of the large amount of software written for them, the Apple II and the IBM PC became the personal-computer industry’s first two standards. We expect Macintosh to become the third industry standard.”A wide range of software applications will be supplied by leading independent software companies. Currently, more than 100 companies are developing software and hardware peripheral devices for Macintosh.DON’T MISS: War Games: The 1983 Matthew Broderick movie that spooked President ReaganThe popular Lotus 1-2-3 integrated business package will be available in a Macintosh version, and Microsoft’s Multiplan financial-planning application is available immediately.Two Macintosh application programs — one for word processing and one for graphics — also are available from Apple immediately and will be offered at no charge to anyone purchasing Macintosh during the first 100 days after introduction.These software packages will be followed by communications software, business productivity tools and programming languages that will allow Macintosh to gain access to data from large mainframe computers.Twenty-four of the nation’s leading universities, such as Harvard, Princeton, Stanford and Yale, have joined forces with Apple to plan and implement personal-computer applications over the next few years.Under terms of the new Apple University Consortium, each member expects to purchase more than $2 million of Apple products (mostly Macintosh computers) over the next three years for use by faculty and students. Members of the consortium may share courseware (educational software) and application developments with one another in accordance with the agreement.ALSO: See some of the first laptop computers: Clunky, slow & expensive tech everyone wantedThe prestigious accounting firm of Peat, Marwick Mitchell and Co. has ordered more than 2,000 Macintosh computers to be delivered in 1984.Based on these commitments, Apple expects demand to exceed supply for several months.Apple is manufacturing the new computers in a recently opened, highly automated factory in Fremont, California, which is capable of producing one system every 27 seconds and therefore meeting what is expected to be a large demand.Macintosh slashes computer learning timeMacintosh is aimed at a broad group of business people, professionals and college students. These people perform tasks that are similar in one important respect: they all involve working at a desk and transforming information and ideas into memos, reports, budgets, plans and analyses.The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates that while there are 25 million of these “knowledge workers” in the United States alone, only 5 percent currently use desktop computers.Apple market research indicates that the majority are unable or unwilling to invest the 20 to 40 hours it takes to master conventional computers and the additional three to 10 hours’ learning time required for each new application program.MORE: A computer in every home? How people in the ’70s thought PCs would be usedMacintosh, by contrast, typically takes only a few hours to learn. Its operation mirrors the activities that are carried on by people at their desks. Papers can be shuffled on screen, documents revised or discarded, charts drawn — all with a few simple commands executed with the mouse.Several documents can be displayed on screen simultaneously, in “windows” that can be moved, expanded or shrunk. All applications, from financial-planning tools to graphics programs, are based on the same set of intuitive operations.This means that numbers, words and pictures can be easily .. cut” from memos, charts or graphs and “pasted” into other documents — even those created in separate application programs produced by different software companies.“Macintosh easily fits on a desk, both in terms of its style of operation and its physical design,” said Jobs. “It takes up about the same amount of desk space as a piece of paper.“With Macintosh, the computer is an aid to spontaneity and originality, not an obstacle. It allows ideas and relationships to be viewed in new ways. Macintosh enhances not just productivity, but also creativity.”Apple’s famous 1984 TV commercial Macintosh sales outlookAccording to industry analyst Jean Yates, of Yates Ventures in Palo Alto, California, worldwide sales of Macintosh could total 350,000 units this year, with 70 percent of sales going to businesses, 20 percent to colleges and universities and 10 percent to home users.Many office users are expected to carry Macintosh computers home for work, and this is expected to fuel home sales as family members and others are exposed to the computer.Aaron Goldberg, of International Data Corp., (IDC), in Santa Clara, California, said, “There’s no doubt Apple has a winner with this product. The market has been waiting for this combination of technology, ease of operation and price.”SEE APPLE NOW: Look at their iPad tablets here!Support from leading software vendorsApple expects 90 percent of all Macintosh software to come from independent software vendors. Among the prominent companies working on Macintosh applications are Microsoft Corp., Lotus Development, and Software Publishing Corp.Apple is supporting these efforts by providing independent software vendors with Macintosh computers and comprehensive open-architecture programming documentation, classes and other development support from Apple representatives.Apple foresees at least 500 software packages available for Macintosh by the end of 1984, including productivity applications, communications packages, educational tools, specialized applications (such as accounting packages) and games.Apple is currently providing two application programs for the Macintosh: MacWrite and MacPaint.MacWrite is a versatile word-processing program that features multiple fonts and font sizes, search-and-replace functions and the ability to cut text and pictures from other programs and paste them into memos or reports.MacPaint is a powerful illustration graphics program. Users can choose from an array of tools, such as brushes, pencils and erasers, and a large selection of textures and shapes to create an endless variety of free-form and structured images.See Steve Jobs present the first Macintosh computer in 1984We love that the computer was introduced to the “Chariots of Fire” theme Programs to be released by Apple in 1984 include — for the first quarter — MacTerminal, which allows Macintosh to emulate DEC VT 100, VT 52, TTY and, with AppleLine, IBM 3277 and 3278 terminals for access to a variety of text) and is protected by a tough plastic case. Apple’s new Lisa 2 series of computers also use the 3 1/2-inch disk drive, enabling the Lisas to run Macintosh programs.Macintosh has two RS 232C/RS 422 serial ports for attaching a printer and peripheral communications devices such as a modem; another port for connecting an optional external disk drive; and an audio system that has a range of more than 12 octaves, is capable of producing polyphonic pitches and can replicate human speech.In addition, Apple is developing the AppleBus point-to-point interconnect system for all Apple computers, which will allow Macintosh computers to communicate with each other, peripheral devices and other Apple computers linked together. The hardware interface for AppleBus is built into every Macintosh and Lisa computer system.MORE: In the ’60s, computer programmers were in high demand to code in languages like COBOL and FORTRANPeripherals and accessoriesA number of Macintosh accessories and devices are available now: The Apple Imagewriter printer for high-quality text and graphics; an accountant-style numeric keypad; the Macintosh carrying case; a disk pack of ten 3 1/2-inch diskettes; and the Apple telephone modem, with data transmission rates of 1,200 or 300 baud.Another peripheral, AppleLine, allows Macintosh to emulate IBM 3277 and 3278 mainframe computers. An external disk drive and a security kit, which locks Macintosh and keyboard to a table or desk will be available in March 1984.Sales & serviceApple estimates that initially 85 percent of Macintosh sales will be made through retail channels, with direct sales making up the remainder. The Macintosh will be sold through Apple’s 3,000 authorized dealers worldwide.To aid in its sales support, Apple has initiated an “Own-a-Mac” program. This program offers incentive discounts to sales personnel to encourage their purchasing a Macintosh computer. In this way sales staff will fully understand product features and application programs.Designed to be marketed internationally, Macintosh uses no English language in or on the machine. Icons depict the functions of the keys, controls, ports and servicing instructions. The Macintosh ROM contains no English code, making it easy for a translator to adapt the software for use in any language.This can be accomplished within a few hours. once the keyboard has been changed, any translator can create a “localized” version of the machine. The translator need not be familiar with programming.Localized versions of the Macintosh will be shipped to the United Kingdom, France, West Germany, Italy and Australia within three months of introduction, and to other countries within a year.Macintosh was designed from the start to be built in the millions to meet the anticipated high demand. To that end, Apple is manufacturing the product in a specially designed $20-million facility in Fremont, California.This highly-automated factory can produce one system every 27 seconds. Under terms of a “zero-defect” agreement, Apple’s component suppliers will test parts according to Apple’s specifications before delivery to the Macintosh factory.Service for Macintosh will be coordinated through Apple’s conventional channels, which include Apple dealers and the more than 300 RCA service centers nationwide. Macintosh was designed for simple servicing: the system is composed of only four modules, each of which can be easily replaced in the event of failure.ALSO SEE: i80s: Retro Apple Computer merch & rainbow-logo clothes from the ’80sPriceThe basic Macintosh package will have a suggested retail price of $2,495 and will include the main unit, keyboard and a mouse. The package also comes with an accessory box that contains the system disk; “A Guided Tour of Macintosh,” a learning disk and cassette tape; a blank disk; a power cord; an owner’s manual; and a programmer’s switch.A host of peripherals and accessories will be available for the Macintosh computer from Apple and will have suggested retail prices as follows:Imagewriter printer $595 ($495 if purchased with Macintosh)Numeric Keypad $129Modem 300 $225Modem 1200 $495Carrying Case $993-1/2-inch disk box (10 disks) $49MacWrite/MacPaint $195 (included free with each Macintosh during the introductory period)External Drive $495MORE: Computers in the 1960s: What they looked like & how they were usedMacintosh makes the financial page – Apple computers (1987)MORE: Crazy expensive personal computers from the ’80s, and how their features compare today

[steins77]

Thanks for the love on this piece! If you want more insight from my mind behind the work of this, keep reading.

It shocked me how much this gained traction. All of the lovely tags brightened every rough day I was having (and they continue to do so, thank you so much). The reason the attention for this blew me away was because I didn't really put some of the usual effort or planning in it as I would my regular sketches. I was having such a dark and depressing day when this was created that I went to my first coping mechanism: drawing. I wasn't even going to post it but I realized that art is about connection. Art is emotional. I am an incredibly emotional person despite never talking about it or showing it to others, less so online. I didn't worry about presentation, if anything the only thing planned was a random color palette I generated online. I scribbled hastily and angrily, pouring every feeling and pouring tears into it and some part of me believes that's why it resonates so heavily with people, even if they're not aware as to why. I think I was feeling paranoid, overwhelmed, drowned in stress, I felt "crazy". 2D has been a comfort character of mine for years, so to help me through this oncoming panic attack I made him the focal point. He's surrounded by personifications of my "inner demons" so I gave them those designs. Snakes, Hands, Eyes, Sharp Spikes, are an ongoing theme in these emotional sketches and pieces for me, whatever they represent fluctuates, but overall they're images of my anxieties. It feels as though a part of my soul has been captured with this drawing, so while in the beginning it shocked me as to why this drawing took off faster than my others, but now it makes sense. This experience and afterwards helped me realize that Art IS Feeling. It's not meant to be "perfect". How can art be perfect? It's subjective, as long as you put in parts of yourself that others can see within themselves. As an artist I feel like a mirror for the darker parts that we keep hidden from the public. I can be a reflection of the world that we trudge through, the hardest day where all we can do is survive. Surviving for me means creating. It means connecting with others, not in person, but through feeling. So, thank you all for giving me this opportunity in sharing my mind, my thoughts and feelings, my soul. Behind every piece is a story, and behind every one of us is an artist with a voice. No matter the quality, concepts, or physical abilities. We all have the power to communicate through creation. My hope is to inspire others to create what they hide from others, to share it with the public or just with themselves, but to extract those things that we shove down everyday. Cheers to a new year and many new chapters full of blessings. I'm taking big leaps with my art this year, working on building a shop (perhaps on Etsy) to sell prints and stickers. Commissions are always open unless I get swamped one day, just DM me! May this year be full of creation. - Stein (He/They)

👁 C C U L T [cr: @steins77 ]

[celestial-sphere-press]

Fanbinding: The Desert Storm (volume 1/??)

Finally settled down enough after the move to start binding again. So here's a post of the first volume of my ongoing massive project to bind The Desert Storm! (and the following series).

The Desert Storm is a 1.1 million word epic by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning that follows an Obi-Wan Kenobi who has accidentally slipped back in time from post Order 66 to before he's even been chosen as a padawan. It is a masterpiece of integrated EU worldbuilding, plot, and foreshadowing that is emotionally grounded in a way that makes you care *so much* about the characters. The Desert Storm is why I am in Star Wars fandom right now. From the author's summary:

Four years after Order 66 and the fall of the Jedi Order, a grieving, struggling Ben Kenobi finds himself inexplicably taken back in time, crashing headlong into the foundations of fate. Grasping hope and vengeance with both hands, Ben rebuilds his identity and seeks to change the course of history: by saving Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Order, the galaxy - and just maybe saving Obi-Wan Kenobi along the way.

Featuring a heavy dose of Mandalorian involvement, overall world-building, cultural exploration, and every star wars trope I have ever wanted to write.

@blue-sunshine-mauve-morning has been making one of the most incredible and coherent writing efforts I've ever seen - over 1.5 million words in 3 years and still ongoing.

I'm not the first crazy person to start working on this series; @memcrafting is the one who started off within our fanbinding circle and did some fantastic work setting the tone with photo image choices I have continued.

The Desert Storm drove me to start hunting down an aurebesh font that has the correct combination sound characters for "th" and the like. I'm using oatmeal duo bookcloth here, which is a choice I regret a little bc of the difficulty in titling. The paper is a marbled lokta that I've applied a wax coating to. My overall goal with the color scheme is to mimic Ben's color palette in this first series - the deep oranges, the tan of his robes, the brown of his armor, the ultraviolet of his new saber (probably not seen here but the thread is a purple).

This will be a long, ongoing project for me, but it is very worth it! First copy has reached the author already, but I've been running into some materials sourcing problems in the new location that I didn't expect. I've also had second thoughts about the size of a few of these volumes and may need to reorganize... Hopefully I can overcome those and charge ahead!

K'oyacyi!