#and this is what I came up with

[windslar]

current project: streamline my editing process

[wolfy1298]

Probably my favorite homework assignment so far

.....even though I probably did way more than I was suppose to...

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

my little sister is the only one who truly understands me

[cat-mentality]

It's funny really, how much the children have taken from their adoptive parents.

How looking at them is something akin to looking in a mirror.

Chayenne who is eerily similar to Philza with the same blue hair and blue eyes, the same nose, but whose smile is all Missa's. Who loves deeply, like them both, who likes cooking and avoids larger crowds, who has no time for people's bullshit, who likes stories, farming potatoes and training with his weapons.

Ramon whose tiny smile is a carbon copy of Fit's, something precious to be cherished like the gift it is. Who is clever and resourceful and focused on what really matters, hardworking to a fault.

Leonarda with Vegetta's purple eyes and Foolish's cheekbones and nose. Leo who is creative and protective, who will defend her loved ones with everything she has, who wants pretty things and nice buildings in her name, who enjoys the good things in life.

Dapper who is his father's copy, who proudly display the demonic traits many hide in shame, the midnight skin, the white eyes, the little horns. Dapper who is clever, who likes to play with the obscure, who collects animals, who is fiercely protective of her loved ones.

Tallulah who may as well be Wilbur's copy as well, the same curly brown hair, the same big dark eyes, whose smile is just the tiniest bit crooked, exactly like Phil's. Tallulah who loves music so very deeply, who is passionate and puts her heart into her projects.

It's tragic really, how much the children have taken from their adoptive parents.

How looking at them is something akin to looking in a mirror.

Chayenne who is the oldest. The little warrior, his father’s son in bravery and courage and protectiveness, Chayenne who has taken the role of the protector without having to be told.

Chayenne, who is his fathers’ son. Who hides his insecurity and his fear because he cannot allow himself to appear weak or scared because all the siblings are looking at him for comfort, for guidance. Chayenne who takes every single thing gone wrong as a signal of his failure, of his weakness, who fear every single day that his siblings, that his parents, are going to look at him and see the scared little boy who cannot save his siblings, who failed them so many times and just keeps on failing.

And that they will realize he is not worth their time or their love.

Chayenne who is his father’s son and cannot put those insecurities into words, who cannot talk about them because they are his burden to care, because his parents and siblings have more important things to care about, because he is the oldest and he is not suppose to give them reasons to worry, he is supposed to be strong and reliable.

He has never been taught to be honest about his fears, he has watched as his father takes on the responsibility of taking care of another child by himself without a word of protest, he has watched as he father held his emotions close to his chest and he has learned to do the same. 

Chayenne like his father Missa, who believes he is not worth of their love unless he proves it with his actions, who is scared of failure as much as he is scare of trying, who struggles with what he truly wants to do, with the childish urges to just have fun, to just ask for a hug or to cry in the embrace of a loved one, and the believe of what he thinks he must do, stay strong and brave and keep his siblings safe so that they do not share his pain, so that they know they are loved and appreciated and that they are safe with him.

Leonarda who shares her pa Foolish's loneliness.

Leonarda who has so very few people she feels like she can trust, so very few people she believes would even care to look at her twice, and who has lost, on multiple occasions, those people, who has felt alone and scared too many times to count.

She hides her feelings deep inside even when it hurts, can't bear to expose them to the world because she knows how easily the world will step on them, how easily they will laugh at her or even ignore her pain because they are so very used to not thinking about her at all. Leo who clings to her loved ones with protective fierceness, even with jealousy, because she has so very few of them.

Just a child, a child like the others, yet most of the time people don't seem to take her seriously, just like they don't take her pa seriously, Leonarda who just like her pa Vegetta feels like she must step up as the protector, that she has to take charge into protecting the one person who has always seem and understood her, who will put him above everyone else because she knows that they will never be anyone's else priorities.

Lonely little girl with her lonely silly father, waiting for a ghost, surviving on memories.

Dapper who is the victim of sins that don't belong to her. Dapper, forever burdened by actions they didn't take, a child punished by the sins of the father. A child, who will gladly take the burden of pain if that means his sister and father will remain safe and unharmed.

Dapper who trusts very few people, Dapper who like her father keeps her plans to herself, who wants to fix things with his own hands, who doesn't want others to be sucked into their plans, who doesn't want anyone to ever be hurt for their sake, Dapper who loves so very deeply but who like the man who raises him do not know how to trust, how to let others help.

A child, so familiar with death. A child, so understanding that everything comes to an end, so utterly aware that her time is counted and all the implications of it. A child, like her father, so connected with death, a child who does not fear death, but rather the consequences of his passing will have on the ones he loves the most. A child, who never puts himself as a priority in his plans, a child who always thinks about the bigger picture, who hides her pain and his fears because they are not as important as getting the results.

Ramon who is so serious, so comically serious, a child who tries to behave so much older than his years. Ramon who doesn't like to be sentimental, who doesn't like to talk about mushy things, who doesn't even call Fit "dad" even if he has loved him since the beginning.

A child forced to grow up so quickly. A child with adult's fears. A child who wants to make plans for his father in case one day he wouldn't be here to take care of Fit anymore, who wants him to have other people.

Ramon who will show his love in little gestures, in short phrases he will pretend he never said after, who like Fit tackles emotions like dangerous mobs, who don't know how to tame the storm that breeds inside his chest, who doesn't know how to express the vulnerability that lays inside him, who would rather kill that part of himself. Ramon who loves, heavens, how much does he love, and he will show it in his actions, he will show it by putting himself in front of his sisters when there is danger close, he will show it by watching their favorite movies without complaining, he will show it by helping his father, he will show it in silent companionship, he will show it in tiny little smiles.

Ramon who loves so much, so deeply, Ramon who doesn't believe he has done anything to earn the same love back, Ramon who thinks he has to give and give and give to deserve the love that he has never realized is freely given. Ramon who is too much like Fit to recognize his own importance, his own worth, Ramon who, like Fit, doesn't think he could be loved simply by who he is.

Tallulah who understands her papi now.

That recognizes she was just a silly little girl when they met for the first time, who dreamed of the impossible. Stupid for ever thinking that her love alone would be enough, that she could love enough for both herself and Wilbur.

She couldn't, of course she couldn't. Wilbur didn't belong to the Island, like herself he was too big for this place, unable to lay down his roots, a leaf in the wind just passing by with no intention of ever building a home, or staying in the same place for too long.

It's not his fault, she tries to tell herself when rage builds a nest inside her heart, it's not his fault his calling is elsewhere, it's not his fault he cannot stand to be locked up, that he has the freedom everyone else dies and kills for. He tried, he warned her, but Tallulah had been alone and afraid, a silly little girl who believed in fairy tales, who believed she could be loved as fiercely as she longed to love another.

(That is something they share as well, not that Tallulah knows it- They love deeply, herself and Wilbur, they cling to love with desperation, trying to fill an unending void that lives inside their hearts, an emptiness that comes from never feeling like you are someone's priority, that comes from never fitting anywhere.)

Her love alone could not hold them together exactly how no one's love can hold her together now.

Tallulah who is her father's daughter, who is shaped not by his presence but rather by the empty spot he left in her heart, one that cannot be filled by anyone else, no matter how much they may love her.

Children, forced to grow up too fast, too quickly. Children who learned so much from their parents.

[tkdrawz]

A mindless doodle of a feline canine little CatDog. ☀️🌙

[convexicalcrow]

There was something to be said about the way Cub was staring at the ground. Not in a bad way, or in a curious way. Sort of like... Almost staring at his feet, but also gazing at nothing in particular. He was in a strange mood, if he was honest. Too much going on as usual.

The city was quiet, which was unusual for the time of day, but the rain was probably keeping a lot of people inside. Except Cub, of course. The pavement was wet and glistening, the rain falling softly around him. He walked slowly, lost in thought.

He'd forever claim he had too many thoughts, but it was a lie. There was only ever one thought: Scar. And not in any kind of bad way either. Cub was just forever thinking about Scar. How his day was going, what he was up to, whether he'd arrive back in time for dinner, whether he'd booked another amazing date for them, the usual. Scar just occupied his thoughts. He was a man obsessed, and he was more than happy to admit it.

He smiled as he saw the park approaching. It was bright lush green today, in spite of the damp, and perhaps he fancied a walk through there today when the park would be far less busy. He crossed the street, umbrella at hand, and headed in through the gates.

It was a different place here. It was like the walls of the park insulated him from the world outside. Cub didn't mind. He felt it's what he needed. There were a couple of very committed dog walkers that he passed, but he mostly had the park to himself.

It was strange to see it empty, as if some apocalypse had happened while he was at work this morning, and now everyone had gone except for him. He stopped under trees, paused near park benches, wandered through the paths with a peaceful heart. All it needed was Scar, and his day would be perfect.

If only, though. Scar worked across town. There was no way he'd get here in time before Cub had to head back to the office. Still, Cub liked to dream. Maybe he'd bring him here on the weekend. The weather was supposed to be warming up by then. Maybe they'd take a picnic and a rug, and a thermos of coffee, and enjoy their time together. It had been a while since they'd just spend a morning together.

Cub stopped by the lake, watching all the ducks swimming by. He followed a small path over to the gazebo in the middle, where he could sit in the dry. He shook his umbrella out and sat down. He slipped out a small notebook and pen, and opened it to a new page.

Words circled through his head. That did tend to happen in a place like this. All the poetry in the world seemed to find him here. He sketched, wrote out words, tried out different phrases. The birds sung their encouragement. Every now and then, he tapped out a beat with his foot.

He took out his phone, called Scar. "Hey, Scar, can you hum a little tune for me? Something to get me inspired?"

"Oh, sure, I can do that. What kind of- oh I know where you are. Here, try this," Scar said as he began to hum.

Cub smiled. Scar always knew what he needed. The tune was bright, but cosy, reminding Cub of their ski trip last year. Not the skiing itself, but of the lodge they stayed at that was forever the warmest place they'd ever found. Big rooms, big roaring fire, and big mugs of hot cocoa. Maybe next year they'd go back again.

Cub made more sketches. Drafted more lines. Somehow, he felt it getting closer. He could see it forming in his mind. A distant roar of thunder rumbled across the sky.

"I sang a song, the thunderer roared, and all went back to hide. I sang a song below the sky, and it becan to cry." Cub paused, quietly reading the words again. "Hmm. I like the rhythm, but not the words."

He put his pen and notebook away and grabbed his umbrella. He needed to look at the flowers. That would help him find his muse.

The beds were large and well-planted with many different kinds of flowers. Not all reminded him of Scar, but some did. Really, he was looking for the right flower, and the right scent, that would give his thoughts form.

There was a beautiful rhododendron, and a big bright spray of chrysanthemums. Cub liked these. He liked how they looked in the rain, too. Maybe he took a couple of photos to share with Scar when he got home. He always loved seeing pictures of the flowers.

"I see thee in thy brightness, I see thee in thy sorrow, my friends, my flowers, shining bright, against a dark grey sky," Cub said, half-singing the words that came to mind as he saw them.

He wandered over to the roses. Traditional, of course. But his eyes were drawn to some sunflowers, whose yellow faces shone more brightly than anything else. Cub went over to them and softly brushed the petals. That was Scar right there. His sunshine. His sunflower.

"One day you'll see, that the light you shine, that you shine just for me, burns brighter and hotter than a thousand stars, giving life to all you touch. Laugh, cry, turn your face to the sun, for all that you are is beautiful," Cub murmured.

[timetravellingshinigami]

I feel like that post "______would never treat me like this". Doesn't really apply to them.

[crypticarchivesart]

slay little king, slay

[starrysnowdrop]

For my part I know nothing with any certainty,

But the sight of the stars makes me dream. ✨

~ Vincent Van Gogh

[thrspidcr]

Inbox IC Things!

@halfdent ASKED: “ I was naive .” (HARVEY)

The Spider was like a bad cold: he just kept coming back. At least this time, he remembered the words of his Aunt and had brought a gift for his 'host'. She would have been appalled if he went to see a friend empty handed.

He'd come with two different boxes of dollar store desserts ( that was all he could afford right now). At least he'd paid attention to which kinds of flavors both Mr. Dent and Mr. Face had liked.

"I don't think you were naive." He replied, " if anything, it sounds like you were pragmatic."

The spider thought on this a moment more, taking the other's words in with serious consideration.

"Well... it sounds like it boiled down to one thing really: this sort of thing shouldn't be allowed." He laughed and the sound was nothing more than a gust of air passing through his teeth. His mask expanded against the breath, "And this argument is shit. Take away the camouflage and the coverup and the victim blaming and what you really have is a nut job saying  “'I do not consent to this and i am not comfortable with my own personal agency'. Gee, that's everywhere with folks." He shifted his weight on his feet and continued.

" Listen, any normal guy off the street has the critical and, i should hope, the comprehensive thinking skills to look at everything around them and take it all in---normally. " he was talking with his hands, " See, he says “'huh, this is something that i do not consent to. This makes me uncomfortable. this doesn’t seem like my kind of thing'. and just keeps on walking!

" But what happened with you, Mr. Dent? From what you've said you ran into the real scary people. My, uh, my friend's dad, Mr. Osborn, oh but that's back home you wouldn't know who he is-- Well, he used to say that a person who is not comfortable  or confident with their own personal agency goes through this in-depth thought process in response to what they are taking in, or trying to think about. It's like... How did he put it...? Ah!" The Spider snapped is fingers as he gathered his thoughts.

"He stops and says ' I do not consent to any of this. I do not like what's happening. It's scary. it's different. I do not feel that I am in a safe enough space to withhold my consent. i feel unsafe. i need to be protected. i can’t make it about my feelings, because i am not allowed to. Why am I not allowed to?' and then this sense of displacement happens and that's where the scary stuff starts. Now, it's not about him. No, now this guy, he says others need to be protected. and it comes back to the thick and thin of it. This should not be allowed."

Beneath his mask, Peter frowned. He felt proud that he could talk this way with Mr. Dent, and at the same time felt homesick and out of place in this world. He wanted to go home to his Aunt May and hear her ask if he wanted canned Cambell's soup. He was tired. He wanted to be done.

Being done simply wasn't an option.

" And that's how good people get hurt. That's-that's how you got hurt. It shouldn't have happened. " he concluded. " it shouldn't have happened at all, Mr. Dent."

[uhhhyaenbyjade]

Assuming that very super duper recent modern history is the same in the Assassin's Creed Universe as it is in ours, we can figure out fun things that Kassandra probably did in the last decade or so before she passed the Staff to Layla. For example:

AC: Odyssey was released in 2018, and the modern parts of the game take place then as well. Therefore, Kassandra died in 2018

Horizon Zero Dawn was released in 2017.

Kassandra being the badass woman warrior that she is, would likely be very intrigued by the game, and might have even played it

What other modern and weird things could Kassandra have done???

[tussive]

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[idoodlestuffsometimes]

I need to share how the IT guy at work greeted my department on CrowdStrike Blue Screen Friday. Never have I seen a man so shocked by the sight of perfectly functional computers

(They were off during the update)

[randomruff]

Purgatory

============================================

Warnings: Mention of Death, and Panic. If I missed any more warnings, tell me if it does and what kind, and I'll put them on here.

============================================

It was cold. That was the first thing I noticed. 

Bone chillingly cold and terrifyingly dark, I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything. It felt... Isolated... I felt alone as unpleasant, yet dull tingly pain spread throughout my body. 

 I felt weightless. Like I was floating in water that I could not properly feel. ‘How did I get here?’ I wondered Idly, my mind muddled yet at the back of it, it tinged with recognition and knowing.  

‘Death’ it whispered, a large white train coming straight at me, fear paralyzing my mind as I fell onto the rails and screams of terror ringing throughout my ears right before intense pain engulfed me flashed through my mind. ‘Ah, that’s how.’  

I thought cooly, somehow feeling indifferent to the matter even though I knew I shouldn’t be. Instead, another thought popped up. ‘Where am I?’ 

Strangely, despite the unpleasantness, this dark and cold place seemed familiar to me. As if I had been here a thousand times before. Which didn’t make sense as I knew I hadn’t, the muted voices of family and the small home I lived in saw to that. 

‘I wonder if Grandmama and the others will be alright.’ I worriedly thought, thinking back to my ill grandmother and my teenage siblings who have yet to graduate school. Wondering if they would be all right alone without me to care for them. 

Then, came the final question. ‘Who am I?’  

Confusion flitted through my mind when the thought passed, unable to comprehend the question. I knew who I was, knew my appearance, likes and dislikes, name-  

Wait... What was it? My name... ‘It started with... with... something!’ 

For the first time, panic finally mounted as I realized I couldn’t remember. And suddenly warmth and light started to peak through the cold darkness. Feather-like touches grab me to pull me towards the light, ‘No, no, no! Let me remember!’  

I desperately yelled, unsure as to why this was important, but it was. ‘My name- It's- it's! What is it?!’  Desperation clawed me, getting closer and closer to the light, I fought to stall. ‘My Name! What is it?!’ 

Despair started to dig into my heart as I grew ever closer to the light and ever farther from remembering. ‘No! No! No, no. No...’ My back touched the light and the feathering touches turned sterner and my heart shattered. ‘No.... my name... my name is-” 

And then by some miracle granted by a higher being, I remembered- 

 “(Y/n)-.... It’s (Y/n)!” And then I was pulled out of the darkness. 

=============================================

Does this have any significant plot? No.

Is this a bit Random. Yes.

Is it messy? Most likely, it's only a mild refinement of the first draft.

But do I care that I wrote something so out of the blue with no context or connection to my previous fics? No, no I don't.

[lemon-wedges]

Im gonna be honest, i watched The Menu last night and all that been on my mind since then is getting a cheeseburger