#and i can read cursive

[tai-janai]

Reunite

Path 8: Trust

(Chapter Select)

Voice of the Hero:

Y'know I- Agh.

You shudder, and your head spins a bit.

"What? What is it?"

Voice of the Hero:

They're... communicating. Through me. It's... disorienting.

"The others? The ones we freed?"

Voice of the Hero:

A... couple of them. The, uh, funny one with the dust. And the mean one after that, with the chains. I'm... relaying a conversation between them.

"What are they saying?"

The Voice searches, connecting to them.

Voice of the Hero:

They're just trying to... Yeah. We're trying to reach each other. They are, I mean.

"We're not done yet, though."

Voice of the Hero:

I mean, I know that. The cynical one wants a plan, though. It's... It's hard to reach, but I'll ask the first one, too. He was hoping for a plan early on.

"Try not to get lost up there."

Voice of the Hero:

Don't worry. I'm here with you. It isn't like before where I couldn't focus. It was just a little unsettled when two of me had to connect their thoughts.

"What were you going to say before you got cut off?"

Your wings flap from something subconscious.

Voice of the Hero:

Oh, uh, nothing. This place is, uh, pretty nice, isn't it?

It is very nice. Shiny marble walls, floor, windows. Maybe a little too shiny. A grand chandelier lighting up the room sends bright glimmers of light bouncing off of everything, practically attacking your vision.

Voice of the Hero:

None of them were ever this nice, even the marble one last time was all dusty and cracking.

A table in the corner holds the echo of the blade once again. Though it is pristine metal, it is somehow less reflective than every other thing in the room. You grab it, and once again feel the weightlessness.

Voice of the Hero:

Another cabin, another captive.

You aren't jostled. You smile confidently as you open the pretty, glistening door.

The way to the basement is hot. The floor seems to give under your feet, made of some non-newtonian fluid only barely thick enough to stay solid for a moment. It makes you hurry as not to sink. It is well-lit, but the walls are shiny, smooth, and pitch black.

Thankfully, the floor of the basement is solid. You stumble onto it, and look back to see the clawed footprints you left in the stairs.

Voice of the Hero:

God, what are those made of?

You're back!

Your head whips around to find the source of the voice.

At the end of the bright, warm room there sits a... thing. What would be the lower part of it is liquid the shade of periwinkle, drooping in a thick puddle. Its head is completely engulfed in a mane of small, pink flowers. You can only see a smiling, carved mouth. A dark chain around their neck is quite the contrast against the bright colors. What shocks you the most is its arms, which are extended, and holding something out to you. The something is moving.

Have you brought another with you? The more the merrier! Please, let me see them!

Voice of the Hero:

Actually- Uh- Aah!

Something rips at the skin of your soul, clawing and dragging something off of you. Your skin stings like it is being pulled at. You wince, then stumble.

The Hero:

Ugh... Again...

Everything itches. You and the, now separated, other you rub your faces and arms.

There, much better!

The Hero:

You didn't have to do that... I was perfectly fine in there.

Oh, but now I can clearly hear your beautiful voice!

The Other freezes for a second, thrown off, then resumes scratching at its feathers, a bit flustered.

The Hero:

You think it's nice...?

He glances around, then his gaze catches yours. You shrug and nod in agreement. He looks pretty pleased.

On edge, but not sensing immediate danger, you step towards the Being.

The pulsing thing it continuously extends to you is wet and bloody. It sits atop an unfolded, magenta flower.

The Hero:

What... is that?

"Its heart."

It's for you!

You wince. The other you recoils, bringing its hands out in front of it.

"Do you know who I am?"

The Being's bright smile folds for a moment, remembering the lonely eternity.

You are what put me here. But I offer forgiveness!

There is a whisper of desperation in its melodious voice. Its smile widens beyond what it had been.

The Hero:

He didn't put you down here, though.

The Being seems to stumble over itself, failing to hold its form. The puddle of whatever it is loses solidness.

I believe you.

Though it sinks, its beating heart is still extended to you.

Take this from me, please, dear hero.

You are confused. Why is it exposing its weakest parts to you? The Other steps back, also put off by its compliments.

"Why are you so sure I'll help you?"

I believe in forgiveness. I will give my heart to anyone who will give me theirs.

For the first time, you are the one untrusting, and the Being is trying to convince you.

"That isn't safe. What if I take your heart and don't return it?"

It melts faster.

Why would you do that? I... I rather you didn't.

"Why do you want to trust me? Why are you so willing to be hurt?"

If I have your heart, and you have mine, you won't leave, will you?

The liquid part of it has spread enough to reach the talons on your feet. It is burning hot, and you recoil. Wax, you realize. It's made of wax.

"You're melting."

Yes, my apologies, incredibly embarrassing of me. Please look past my flaws, focus on the love I have in my heart.

"This isn't good for you. Please keep your heart."

Its arms are now fully extended, as it has lowered further to the ground but continues to offer its source of life.

It is a display of my trust. My forgiveness.

A flower falls from the array on its head. Through the hole, you see the pale underneath.

It is where an eye would be, but it is the corner of a hollow socket. Roots crawl into the darkness. Fear rises in you.

"This isn't good for you. You're going to die."

You are the only thing I know. If you won't have my heart, I see no point in life at all.

The weight of the situation grips you. You kneel to it, and place your hands on the beating heart in an instant. The hot wax burns your knees and gets stuck on your feathers.

"This isn't good! Take it back, you don't have to do this!"

Two of your hands, and one of its own, are holding the bloody muscle. It raises a soft, waxy hand to your face. Another few flowers fall. An off-white core peeks through, more roots coming into view.

I am so proud you've chosen the path of redemption, hero.

"I didn't put you here. I want to get you out."

The bright smile falls once again.

I said I believe you, dear. Even if I remember differently. I don't need to leave if you're here.

The Hero:

This is... just like the others...

The Other comments in horror behind you. You push the creature's heart towards it, desperate for its survival.

"I'm sorry you've become like this. You are hurt. Please don't fall apart."

You hang your head. Your skin burns as the Being melts. Flowers drift down into the wax, crinkling and getting absorbed.

You aren't what put me here?

"If you want to trust anything, trust that."

Instead, the Being sounds even more dejected.

Why won't you accept my heart then? Why won't you give me yours? We have no reason to hate each other, no reason to be apart.

You look at it. The roots that cover the waxy skull look like cracks. They are embedded in the eye sockets gruesomely. Every flower is beautiful up close. Panic strains your voice.

"You... don't have to fall apart... to be trusted... and loved..."

The creature slowly brings its heart closer to itself. Its smile has shrunken. The wax cools, solidifying. It barely has a torso.

This is all I know. It was... so quiet without you.

"I'm sorry."

Another flower skirts down, you catch it before it joins the half-solid wax. It is soft, but it shrivels quickly.

"I'm sorry nobody was here for you."

It laughs, and comments sarcastically.

You are here, yet you deny me.

"I'll be here for what you are. Not for what you're willing to give up for me."

Only a hero, not a captor, could hold such valiant pacifism in his heart.

It drops its head, and curls in on itself, grinning.

Nay, you must be an angel.

You hear the fluttering of feathers, and you feel a sense of worry for the creature. They close in on it, pinching at you as you unstick from the wax on the floor. Chains scrape and clang, hitting the lustrous tile flooring.

You hold your resolve as the new form comes into view, kneeling with you. This one's feathers have been preened, ready for presenting and showing displays of attraction. Its scales look weak, like it has never been attacked, and never would care to defend.

Eyes blink, unseeing at first. Then the pupils find you, and it grins widely.

The Smitten:

Ah... There you are. My, you are beautiful.

You can only breathe a sigh of relief. It is safe now.

The Hero:

Y-you couldn't see us before?

The Smitten:

Well... no, I had no eyes. Everything was dark, I could only hear and feel my beating heart. Until you came, of course.

The Hero:

I dunno. No eyes never stopped any of the other guys.

It blinks, then the new one's face contorts with excited realization.

The Smitten:

There are others? More people to see?

The Hero:

Well, we're working on the "seeing" part, but there were things trapped too, and I can help you talk to them.

The new one lights up. He rises to his feet and takes you by the hand to your own.

The Smitten:

We must go and meet these others! My heart is my own but I am welcome to new faces taking up room within it!

It flutters about you, practically drifting. Whimsy pours from its exuberant voice. It is safe, and that warms your heart.

The Other speaks with a chuckle in his voice.

The Hero:

Yeah, yeah, you'll make plenty of friends. We're nearing a dozen at this point, yeah?

The Smitten:

Surely they all are just as eager as myself to finally be free and find others to share the joys of life and love!

The Hero:

Yeah, somethin' like that.

His tone is unsteady. He is thinking about the next step. You look at him uneasily.

The Smitten:

Come now! Angel, Other, I wish to see the sky once again!

Without a glimpse of the tension, the new one practically floats up the stairs.

"I'd like to... see the sky."

The pleased look on the other you's face falls, immediately sympathetic to you.

The Hero:

Hey... we're getting close, alright?

You nod. It is quiet now.

The Hero:

Should we... Should we tell him what I've gotta do?

"Don't. He'll try to stop you."

The Other mumbles and retrieves the echo.

The Hero:

He'll hate me later, though...

It walks up to you. You stare at the blade. You don't want to go. This place is nice, the Being here cares about you.

You tear your eyes from the gleaming echo and find the other you looking back at you, concerned.

The Hero:

Are you okay?

"Just get it done."

You can't help the panic that makes you flinch when the blade is raised.

Your body moves a bit, which only makes the slaying hurt more. The echo is buried in your pounding heart. You look down at it. You can... really tell it's there.

It feels like nothing when you hold it. Why is it so real as soon as it's in your chest?

The Other, noticing you're dying slower than usual, reaches for you.

The Hero:

Did... it... work?

You take a step back, recoiling from his hand.

Everything goes dark.

[nariarts]

Spent a ridiculous amount of time last night obsessively editing my hand written zines in Photoshop to take away any tiny blemishes so they were definitely readable.

Whatever. Understand or don't.

[umblrspectrum]

i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character

[originalartblog]

@bsdfanweek's skk Valentine's week day 2: Camellias and Floral Troubles

Dazai's love life is so hard. This is in reference to my recent skk post!

[screamingfrenchfries]

bless google scholar because i just KNOW if i searched "psychological abuse in relationships" on normal google id be put on some sort of watchlist when i'm just trying to do research for an essay on some silly little cartoon guys

[enstars-syndrome]

guess who listened to a certain mitski song for 1 hour 21 minutes again

[buff-muffin]

I like the idea that Sabo’s dream to become a writer started as him writing a journal. Because you know, when he becomes a great pirate he’s gonna write a memoir which means you talk about your childhood. He’s just being prepared! Totally not writing about his freaks of nature brothers. Ace on the other hand finds Sabo writing a diary hilarious and has found it fun to tease him by stealing the book and reading it out loud to the crowd of Luffy and himself.

Sabo’s response? Write everything in cursive so his brothers can’t read it. It may have been the most useless fucking skill his parents have ever drilled into him but now he can’t be more greatful. Ace and Luffy genuinely think he’s writing in a different language and have tried to convince Sabo to teach them too so it can be their secret brother code.

[aropride]

assuming the cursive is written in a pretty standard handwriting, and not super messy . struggling with it but still being able to read it counts too!!

[corvidaeconundrum]

Third times the charm on posting this, Tumblr is fighting me so hard rn

Transcript:

Coomer: Gordon, I think you’re wonderful.✨

Gordon: Dr. Coomer, I’ve watched you steal three femurs from living men, I dont think I can ethically accept that compliment

[shitty-proendo-blackout-posts]

fuck off.

(but in the really fancy cursive font)

[uncanny-tranny]

You know, something that's been healing in ways I never really anticipated was buying secondhand books.

I have a physiology textbook that has the name Ernest written in beautiful cursive on the inside cover. Throughout the book, passages are highlighted, and I wonder: What is the difference between a passage underlined in red pen and one highlighted in yellow? Did he have a system, or did he use whatever was around him at the time? What kind of courses did he take? I wonder what he did after his degree... what if he became a renowned physiologist? Or, what if he abandoned everything to run away to chase dreams he knew were unwise?

It's something small you don't really think about, but there really is something holy about not being the first. This book isn't just the sum of knowledge anymore, it's become a love letter, with a completely separate story attached. That's something I will keep with me forever. We have always been here. We will pass down a tiny bit of ourselves no matter how long it has been. We will yet live.

[lastmurianwarrior]

Penguins are well dressed for any occasion.

So the 25th of April was World Penguin day!!! 🐧

MUhaha, what better time to post these than now, or uhm, yesterday.

[mirpkechi]

anngoro bffs propaganda

i love them so much. even if my camera is ass apparently and my handwriting. and the art itself but fuck it we ball

might do a digital ver as well? just to make it cleaner :} i did clean a bit of text up + the colours on the mini thing in the corner

[self indulgent but also made because i love @kangelnet the ann to my goro <3 /p]

[etoilesbienne]

just some details i thought were interesting...

[sometimesanequine]

[sopheadraws]

Why would a 17-year-old boy know cursive in the 24th century; THEY WRITE EVERYTHING DIGITALLY??

Cursive seems like something Kirk and Spock (history nerds) would teach themselves for fun, but I don't know why Jake Sisko (not a history nerd) would pertain this knowledge??