#and yet i've never managed to actually use a pattern

[thispersonishuman]

i just realized i can actually knit my newest baby cousin something before i meet her!! thank fuck for the exam break

[mylight-png]

A while ago I was listening to Dara Horn's podcast relating to her book, People Love Dead Jews. Within this podcast she discussed the fact that Holocaust museums tend to center stories that highlight ways in which Jews were just like anyone else, putting secular Jews on a pedestal of sorts.

The podcast went on to make the point that we shouldn't have to be like them to be liked. A Jew in a kippah is just as worthy of being accepted as a Jew in a baseball cap, and to position one, the more assimilated one, as "better" is antisemitic.

This made me think of how movies and shows portray Jews, and I realized a similar pattern of idealizing assimilation is deeply prevalent.

There are two main ways Jews are portrayed in movies/shows that I've noticed that are problematic. (For a narrower scope I'll be discussing American media as I am more familiar with that than most other countries.)

The first kind of Jewish representation is the token Jew. This is the character that the viewer wouldn't even have known is Jewish had the show not casually mentioned them celebrating Hanukkah in passing. This is the character who is entirely the same as any other character. An example of this would be in Ginny and Georgia, where a few side characters are revealed to be Jewish. This reveal occurred only for the purpose of making a Hanukkah episode, and immediately one of the characters says the beginning words to most of our prayers, adding "bitch" at the end. This sort of absolutely blatant disrespect towards the words many of us wouldn't even speak fully in casual conversation is meant to indicate that it's okay to poke fun at our religion. (By the way, it isn't okay. Don't disrespect our religion, thanks.) (And no the actress wasn't Jewish.)

Then there's Ben Gross from Never Have I Ever, a similarly extremely assimilated Jewish character. Instead of making fun of Judaism, however, the show plays into Jewish stereotypes. Ben's dad is a wealthy influential lawyer who works with Hollywood. Come on, there's three in a row there. Ben himself is frequently made fun of for being very short (to an extent not befitting the actor's actual stature), and some of his mannerisms could be described as effeminate. All of these traits play into anti-Jewish stereotypes. The protagonist even says she wishes Ben was killed by Nazis and other than a scolding this isn't made to be the big deal that it is.

These sorts of characters are meant to show how Jews are "just like you!" and pokes cruel fun at the few remaining things that do occasionally set them apart. Yes, secular Jews exist, but the way these shows make fun of their Jewish identities is where the issue arises.

The second problematic representation is meant to make goyim feel good about being goyim. This is specifically done through how Judaism is portrayed in these movies.

A major example of this is the show Unorthodox, in which the plot centers a young girl trying to escape her very observant community. This show directly demonized the Jewish religion, making it appear inherently oppressive and twisted.

While some may argue that the show was merely trying to portray the social issues within the community, there are better ways to achieve this.

The book An Unorthodox Match takes on a similar task with a vastly different tone. The book centers a protagonist joining an equally observant community, but not for a moment does the book, author, or protagonist blame Judaism. The book is very clearly written by a Jew who loves Judaism, and yet it manages to highlight similar social issues to the show without blaming Judaism. In fact, Jewish traditions have a fair share of appreciation in the book!

This sort of media is meant to make the goyishe viewers be grateful they aren't part of those communities, but as a Jewish viewer I felt deeply uncomfortable with the positioning of religious Jews as a negative part of society. This media makes the characters seem like they have nothing at all in common with the goyim around them or the goyim watching the show. It's the polar opposite of the previous example.

The first example is showing Jews as "just like anyone else" until they aren't, while the second example portrays Jews as entirely other. Never have I seen an Orthodox Jewish character side by side with the non-Jewish characters in any other context than the Jewish character envying their non-Jewish peers.

Why is the choice either to be assimilated or othered? Why can we not have an observant Jewish character remind their friends that they can't hang out on Saturday, or maybe they bring their own kosher snacks? Maybe a Jewish character muttering a bracha over their food? Why not make being Jewish an important part of their character without making them self-loathe because of it?

Media almost only ever shows two extremes and neither of those extremes has a positive impact on the perception of Jews.

(There is also a pattern I've noticed with Jews and goyim being cast in Jewish roles and how that corresponds to the character, but that's probably another post for another time.)

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i've been rewatching wwdits in order (i can't let go yet, okay!) and am currently in season three, and it got me thinking about how i think the end of s6 is such a rewarding happy ending for nandor that really resonates with the rest of the series. i know that in the finale, the characters are making the argument that nothing ever changes and the ending's not significant, but i think what we actually see with nandor, especially in his relationship to guillermo, is really the opposite.

disclaimer: i would have loved overt canon nandermo, so i definitely understand the pain of us not getting that. however, this post just focuses on what actually happened in the last few eps rather than what wwdits could have done instead!

some thoughts on why i love this ending for mr. de laurentis so much--

so, from the start of the show, we sort of have the two "couples" in the house with laszlo/nadja and nandor/guillermo. we can see that nandor has an unusual attachment to guillermo as a familiar even from the start, because laszlo and nadja go through familiars like kleenex, whereas nandor and guillermo have their funny little bickering marrieds thing going. however, nandor can't admit how much he cares about guillermo or how much his companionship means, because guillermo is his familiar and that's humiliating!

we also see nandor struggle a lot with a sense of purposelessness (especially after colin breaks his world view in 3.04!) and we see him missing his warlord life constantly even though it's been centuries since that was his reality.

and he usually decides he's going to fix his guillermo crises and his existential crises by going all in on some new love interest!!!!!!

then the guide gives him the talk where she points out his pattern, and even though he ostensibly wasn't listening, maybe it managed to permeate his single brain cell on some level, because his commitment to guillermo at the end of 6.10 isn't about the chase, it's about a long-term commitment. "an unbreakable alliance." (and then they seal it with a hand clasp that really just smacks of ~victory~ to me as a gesture!)

charmaine's advice (telling nandor to tell his crush who he has new feelings for how he feels) doesn't work out with the guide ... but it does work out when he ✨proposes✨ his plan to guillermo and tells guillermo he's the thing that nandor holds in the highest esteem possible: a warrior. (and this after guillermo told nandor that nandor made him never feel good enough. nandor does not like to listen when his patterns are pointed out to him -- see aforementioned scene with the guide -- but he did this time, and tried to make up for it quickly!)

nandor also manages to find a middle ground where he and guillermo can meet: fighting bad guys together. and we see from "nandor's army" that he still has epic warlord skills, just like guillermo has epic slaying skills, and this gives them the space to both be thriving in a shared purpose, after having purpose-related existential crises all season!

guillermo is skeptical that nandor's really going to commit and change, as expressed in the shared talking head in 6.11, and he figures he'll be saddled with all the work, but we find out at the end that nandor has committed so hard that -- in addition to all his drawings and diagrams and his silly costume shopping -- he somehow managed to make that two-person coffin elevator into a secret underground lair a reality?!?!?! (i like to think maybe guillermo will be more into the idea of their partnership in a post-"omg the coffin elevator actually exists" world.)

"you can call me nandor." that is all. <3

nandor's also, ultimately, willing to let guillermo go after a season that was full of pain over letting guillermo go, and he does it calmly and simply and without flinging any guilt-tripping guillermo's way. it is a peak "if you love something, let it go, and it will come back to you" moment. and then, of course, guillermo comes back like immediately. :) and is welcomed into the coffin, and the future adventures that the camera won't be there to catch!

anyway! this is all just a bunch of nonsense rambling, but my point is, i think the recurring loneliness and dissatisfaction that we see nandor grapple with throughout the series is something that is finally over once he commits proudly to a life with guillermo fighting the good fight (whatever shape that might take in the future, since who knows how long the superheroes thing will be the vibe). he needed to overtly acknowledge what guillermo meant to him, to himself and to guillermo and to everyone else, because pushing it down was part of what was keeping him consistently miserable, and once he's done that, he doesn't have to go looking for purpose in a cliche romantic happily ever after (and indeed, he seems totally checked out when the gang talk to him about being in love with the guide toward the start of 6.11). he has it in his unbreakable alliance, wherever that may go! 💘

[thatonebrazilian]

Tolerate it

Summary: Everyone assumed you were fine, but what would they do if you just... broke free?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; undertones of Carol Danvers x Reader; Platonic Clint Barton x Reader; mentions of platonic Wanda Maximoff x Reader.

Word count: Around 6K

TW: Deep angst, assassination attempt, betrayal of trust, suicidal thoughts, dealing with grief, self sacrifices.

A/N: I've been in the mood for angst, apparently. And I actually wasn't planning on writing anything (I shouldn't have, I was short for time as it was), but I was listening to Taytay and the fic just came to me. This will probably hurt a lot. Just hurt, not much comfort. Let there be pain.

You didn't know what you did wrong. You didn't know how you could fix this. You didn't know if it even could be fixed.

All you did, all you could do, was just sit there and watch her. She was reading, her head low, almost as if she was trying to keep a barrier between you two.

You sat in the corner of the room, watching her as she immersed herself in reports. The soft glow of the lamp cast a delicate halo around her, illuminating her beautiful, beautiful features. And yet, on that night, as on many before, the light seemed unable to reach her eyes. 

You knew she was struggling, you were too. Everyone was. The Blip had taken many from their families, and the toll it took on those who stayed made many more lose their loved ones. The remaining Avengers lost Clint to his own darkness, and you lost the love of your life to what you could only describe as self-isolation.

Natasha had always had an unhealthy work-life balance, yet you always managed to counter that… But not anymore.

You had been together for what felt like an eternity, intertwined in a love that once knew no bounds. Now, though, there was a growing chasm separating the two of you. Natasha would only engage in conversations that revolved around missions and saving the world, and none of those came from you.

You used to be an Avenger too, with powers so astronomical that you never learned to control them. Bruce and Tony had to create some sort of inhibitor for you, lest you destroy the world by mistake.

You were probably one of the most powerful beings out there, but having no control whatsoever of your powers would only bring destruction, so you learned to live without them, the bracelet Tony made never leaving your wrist.

Being a somewhat powerless avenger was hard, but it was worth it. You saved people, you helped your friends.

But since the Blip things have changed. 

After watching Wanda, one of your best friends, disappear right in front of your eyes; after seeing Clint's descent into darkness, you didn't feel like fighting anymore. So you decided to stop, you stopped so you could take care of yourself, take care of Natasha.

They were small, the things you did for her, but meaningful nonetheless. You'd wait by the door every day to greet her like a god-damned war hero, to show her some love and comfort after a hard day at work; you'd make her favorite dishes, lay the table with your best cutlery; you even took upon painting as it seemed to ease your mind, and you'd use your best colors for her portraits (and there were many)... And yet, all Natasha gave back were lukewarm smiles; hums, and nods in acknowledgment of your attempts at conversation, and a lackluster "thanks". 

She seemed to simply… Tolerate it.

~

You woke up in the wee hours of the morning, the sun hadn't risen yet, and the moonlight shone through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your gaze fell upon Natasha, who lay beside you sleeping lightly. The rise and fall of her chest matched the rhythm of her breathing, a calming sight that used to bring you comfort.

But then, as you watched her, you noticed a subtle alteration in her breathing patterns, something that would go unnoticed by anyone else. The steady rhythm became irregular, interrupted by moments of slightly shallower breaths and the briefest of pauses. There was a tension in her muscles that hadn't been there a second ago, almost as if a silent battle was being waged beneath her immaculate skin.

Natasha's eyes remained closed, her face serene as if she was lost in the most peaceful of dreams. But you knew the truth. She was pretending to be asleep. It felt like she didn't want to wake up beside you, like she simply tolerated your presence, but now even that tolerance seemed to be waning.

You wanted to reach out, to offer her solace, to take all the pain away, but the invisible barrier between you seemed impossible to break through. The distance that had grown between you now felt like a vast expanse, impossible to bridge. Her closed eyes spoke volumes, a silent plea for space, for time, for avoidance.

Your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, your eyes burned with the sting of unshed tears. You missed Clint, he'd know how to deal with this, he'd help her, but he'd help you, too. He'd hug you and tell you that everything was gonna be ok, he'd make sure it'd turn out that way. You missed Wanda, she'd take you out to eat ice cream, watch silly sitcoms with you, tell you the stupidest jokes just to see you crack a smile, she'd even threaten Natasha if she imagined the other redhead was hurting you in any way, shape or form.

You missed your life, your old life, before the Blip.

You turned away from her, not wanting her to see the tears in your eyes in case she opened hers.

~

As it turns out, the first time Natasha had a semblance of a real conversation with you in… You don't even know how many weeks… Was to ask you to join a team to take down whatever new evil had shown up.

You didn't even think twice about it, you took the job, you'd do anything to get closer to her again.

The team consisted of you, Steve, and Carol, who was visiting Earth. You didn't even know where you were headed or who you were facing, you just wanted to come back with an excuse to actually talk to your fianceé. 

As you prepared to get into the jet, you saw her there, giving off directions before everyone boarded. You wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between respecting Natasha's need for distance and the overwhelming desire to break through the walls she had erected. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder then, too warm to be Nat's, and you immediately felt the comfort she radiated.

Carol wasn't the most sentimental person, she wouldn't tell you that everything would be fine, she wouldn't offer comforting words, but she'd be there, a warm unwavering presence amidst the chaos (even if you rarely saw each other in person). She was the one good thing that the Blip brought you.

"Don't think too much about it," the blonde said, already knowing what was on your mind. "Keep your head in the game, I don't want you getting hurt out there, ok?"

You nodded while managing to keep to yourself the strong urge to hug her, to seek comfort in that friendly and familiar warmth of hers.

She nodded back, turned and boarded the jet, having already reviewed with Natasha her role in the mission.

You looked at your fianceé only to find her eyes already on you. You didn't think too much into it, though, she was probably just reviewing in her head the role you'd have for this mission.

Once again you found yourself wanting to go to her, but the fear of rejection loomed over you, a haunting presence that whispered of the potential pain that awaited if you ventured too close.

You turned away and stepped in the jet.

~

You stumbled into the Avengers' compound, a dull ache radiating from your wounded shoulder, the bloodstained clothes doing nothing to give you comfort.

The mission had taken an unexpected turn, and both you and Steve got shot. Multiple times.

As soon as you stepped through the quinjet's door Natasha was there, the worry in her eyes making you question if you were hallucinating. She walked to you, her eyes never leaving yours, it was almost as if you could feel her again, the old Natasha, your Natasha.

"What the fuck happened? You weren't supposed to get hurt!" she exclaimed in a mix of anger, desperation and concern. She ran her hands through her unkempt hair. It was an uncommon sight, indeed, to see her so disheveled.

You knew she had been worried, the moment Steve reported back you could hear her pacing back and forth through the comms, you just didn't know it would affect her this much. You didn't think she cared anymore.

Almost as if sensing your thoughts, Natasha took a hesitant step closer and reached for your hands. "You got me really worried." She said, her eyes looking deep into yours, her hands soothingly cold to the touch. 

You could see she wanted to say something else, but almost as if she was waging a silent war against herself, she shook her head, released your hands and sighed. "Go to the med bay. I'll meet you there."

You nodded weakly, too tired from blood loss to argue. Too tired in general.

As you made your way to the medical facilities, the pain in your shoulder intensifying with each step, you couldn't help but think of all the times Clint saved your ass from stupid bullet wounds like these, or how Wanda would literally create a shield around you whenever you faced danger.

You missed them, you missed Wanda so much, and you couldn't help but wish it was you and not her. And Clint, god, you hated what he became, you hated the Ronin, you hated that he wasn't there to heal by your side, to heal with Natasha, but you still missed him so much.

As you entered the med bay, you were greeted by a warmth that made you question how she could have gotten there first.

"Bold move, jumping in front of a sea of bullets like that" Carol said, there was no warmth in her voice though. You closed your eyes.

"I couldn't let them shoot that child," you said, sitting on a cot and looking apologetically at her.

Carol gritted her teeth, her eyes scanning your wounded shoulder, the part of you that got the most hits, with a mix of worry and anger written across her face.

"So you just deemed your life less valuable than hers and decided to throw it away?" She clenched her fists.

"That's not it and you know it," you said in a small voice. It was worse, but no, she didn't know it. She didn't need to. You didn't want to burden her too.

Carol's eyes softened, she took a couple steps towards you and touched your uninjured shoulder. "I just worry about you, sweet girl." She said and sighed, "Look, I know you don't have much to live for right now, but you're one of my best friends, I wouldn't be able to deal with it if something ever happened to you. And by the looks of it neither would Natasha, despite all the shit she's been pulling."

It was amazing how Carol, just like Wanda before her, was able to fill you with lightness. With them, as well as with Clint, you felt cherished, cared for. You could never be more thankful for the blonde in front of you. Without Clint and Wanda here to support your near Natasha-less life, Carol was the one thing keeping you sane.

You just wished being sane was enough.

You managed a weak smile, though, and even if felt forced, it still seemed to have convinced Carol that you were ok. "I'll be fine, Carebear. Just a flesh wound. I know I haven't been in the field for a while, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Carol fought off a smirk. "Promise me you won't pull shit like that again, at least".

You saluted her, a mocking smile on your face, despite the ache you felt inside. "Aye, aye, Captain!"

She chuckled and shook her head, "You're the worst".

"But you love it!" Your answering smile was more genuine this time.

Her smile grew bigger, and you wished you could see it in person more often.

"I actually do." She said, shaking her head once more and turning away to leave the med bay.

It didn't take long for a nurse to come to tend to you. There were many bullet wounds around your body, although most were superficial. The worst was indeed your shoulder, having been hit four times.

You bitterly wondered how you could still be alive with all of these bullet holes around your body.

The minutes passed by, and yet there was no sign of Natasha, so after all your wounds have been treated and dressed you decided to go look for the redhead.

It was a bad idea. As you located her, your heart sank. There she was, tending to Steve's wounds, her focus solely on him. Even though there was nothing romantic about the situation, the sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, longing, confusion. Betrayal. You wondered if there was something more between Natasha and Steve, a connection that surpassed friendship. You wondered why she would deem him deserving of having his wounds treated personally by her while you were sent to a nameless nurse.

Your mind raced, struggling with the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed you. Doubts crept in, and you questioned the very nature of your relationship with Natasha. Did she even love you still? Has she ever? Where was that woman who threw blankets over your barbed wire, leaving you just soft enough for all your other friends to approach? Why has she left you behind in her pursuit to build this new world instead of taking you along with her? The uncertainty gnawed at you, intensifying the ache in your shoulder. You made her your temple, your mural, your sky, but now you were left begging for footnotes in the story of her life.

As you stood there, watching her tend to his injuries, a deep sense of loneliness washed over you. The weight of the lack of acknowledgment you've been getting from her grew heavier, casting a shadow over the bond you once shared. The pain in your shoulder felt insignificant compared to the ache in your soul.

At that moment, you realized you couldn't take it anymore. You loved Natasha, you would probably love her till the end of your days, but you knew your love should be celebrated, and yet all she did was tolerate it.

~

You never thought about what she would do if you broke free, leaving the two of you in ruins. But that's what you did, you took the chains that bound you to Natasha and broke them.

You still longed for her, though, the neverending love you held for the woman felt like a dagger piercing your heart, a constant reminder of what you craved for, of what you once had. You wanted to remove it, to see it clatter to the ground as you bled out.

It was weird to gain the weight of her then lose it, but you needed to do it, you had to.

You were doing it for her as much as for yourself. Natasha had lost so, so much, but there was one person who could still come back, so you went to look for him, more in hopes of helping her than fulfilling your own desire of seeing him again.

Even if she didn't love you (which was the impression you got when you told her you'd be gone, looking for Clint, only to get a blank stare in response), you still loved her, you still wanted her to be as happy as she could, and you knew Clint was the person to make that happen, he was her best friend as much as he was yours.

You needed to help her heal somehow.

"She's been a mess since you left," Carol had said once during a video call, the vast expansion of the universe now looming right behind her, "don't ever tell her I said that, though." The grimace on her face told you she wasn't kidding.

"Steve's been trying to help more, even I am; I've been to earth since you left more times than I've been throughout my whole life. I'm afraid that if I stay gone too long, she won't be there when I come back… Since you left she barely takes care of herself. The place's a mess, she hasn't been eating much, and, again, don't ever tell her I said this, but I thought I'd never see her cry, and yet…"

You wondered if it had been all in your head, the way she seemed to avoid you, the way she seemed to take you for granted, the way she seemed to merely tolerate you.

In the midst of a turbulent storm of emotions, a newfound sense of urgency propelled your every step. You needed to find Clint, you needed to find him so you could go back to her, to see if she was really deteriorating that much, to ask her if it was all in your head, if you got it wrong somehow, if she actually loved you.

Time seemed to both crawl and fly, leaving you with moments of self-reflection in the solitude of your journey. Doubts and insecurities waged war within you, tearing at the fabric of your clarity. What if you discovered that Natasha's love had been genuine, but she had struggled to express it? What if she was simply too freshly traumatized to express it, and you had abandoned her at her worst moment?

You needed to go back to her, even if it was just to figure it out. But you wouldn't go back without Clint, you couldn't.

So you searched, and searched, and searched. And as you finally stood before Clint, his weathered face bearing the marks of his own battles, you found yourself engulfed in a deep ache. Two of the people you loved the most were immersed in pain, and you could do nothing to help.

"I can't believe you traveled so far, came all the way here for this," Clint spat, his voice filled with anger, his eyes filled with tears. "To ask me to come back so I can help her. Do you even worry about me? Did you ever stop to think that I lost my family? My wife's gone, Y/N! I lost my kids! Do you really think that I'm not dealing with my own shit right now?"

You shook your head, tears welled up in your eyes too, matching the anguish in your voice. "Fuck you, Clint! I'm not here just for her and you know that! You're my best friend, goddamnit, and you've been gone for years! I know you're hurting, but you gotta know that what you're doing is wrong, and it's not gonna bring Laura and the kids back." You shook your head, remembering the way the kids would all call you auntie Y/N/N. You sighed and shook your head in disappointment. "They would actually be ashamed of what you became."

You knew it was a low blow, but it was the truth, and he needed to hear it 

The moment he seemed to register those words, Clint's eyes became full of this sort of anger that you've never seen your friend display. But again, this wasn't Hawkeye, this was Ronin. 

Clint advanced upon you with rage in his eyes, his hand went to your throat, a dagger suddenly pressing against your ribs.

"Take that back." He said through gritted teeth, and you felt your eyes filling with tears once again.

Of course he wasn't above hurting you like this. He, too, didn't care about your own pain. 

You were tired, you were so fucking tired.

"Do it." You said, your voice devoid of emotions, the hollowness you now felt was all it conveyed. "It's not gonna make any difference if I'm gone, anyway."

You'd be just another death on his account, just a wisp of a memory in Natasha's mind.

Clint's brows furrowed, but his grip was unrelenting. You took your hands to his, the one holding the dagger, and pulled it up, so it wasn't resting above your ribs anymore, but right at your heart.

"Please," you said with a wavering voice, looking him deep in the eyes, trying to appeal no more to your friend, but to Ronin, "do it. Please."

The dagger clattered to the ground, Clint took a step away, looking at his hand as if it had personally offended him. He then looked at you, but you didn't meet his eyes, you were too absorbed looking at the dagger on the ground, feeling the brisk sense of freedom evading you as it finally stopped moving.

You then felt his arms around you, your head suddenly tucked into his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sounding desperate "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he kept repeating, and repeating, and repeating. 

You shook your head, your own desperation making you cling to him "Why didn't you do it? Why couldn't you just kill me?!"

His arms tightened around you as you both fell to your knees.

"I'm sorry," he just repeated, "I'm sorry I took this path, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I wasn't a good friend."

You wished that he being sorry was enough.

~

When you came back, there was a talk about fucking time travel. The Ant-guy was back, and so was Tony, Thor, and even Bruce. Everything seemed to be falling into place, so why did you still feel so…. broken?

But, somehow, as you and Clint stepped foot inside the Avengers compound, the familiar surroundings embraced you like a long-lost home. The tension that has seemed to permeate your very bones during the journey began to ease, replaced by a cautious hope for what awaited you.

You knew things wouldn’t instantly fix themselves up; Natasha wouldn’t just come to you and apologize for all she’s done (no, that wasn’t like her at all); your heart wouldn’t suddenly be mended, even if she did; your mind wouldn't let you forget the pain, the deep ache the past five years inflicted upon you.

And yet, there was hope.

There was the possibility of bringing Wanda back, of having Carol around more often, of doing something good for humanity. Of making Natasha happy again.

The moment the doors opened you saw her. She was talking to the Ant-guy and to Bruce, her brows furrowed as she nodded along.

And then she turned her head and caught sight of you, and of who was by your side. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw Clint standing there, and a glimmer of something flickered within them, something akin to hope, but also akin to sorrow. Without a second thought, she started walking in your direction, coming faster and faster until she was running. 

When Natasha reached Clint, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a long-awaited embrace. Tears pooled in her eyes, slowly streaming down her cheeks as she closed them. 

There was a little lightness in your heart as you saw them hug, some sort of knowing that she'd be ok even if you weren't around anymore. She wouldn't starve herself, she wouldn't push everyone away, she wouldn't shut down. She'd survive, and then she'd move on.

In that moment, as Natasha clung to Clint, her teary eyes slowly opened. There, through the blur of her emotions, she looked right at you. And the gratitude that radiated from her gaze was palpable, as if a thousand unspoken words were contained within that single look. 

Her hold on Clint loosened slightly as her eyes locked onto yours, lingering for a brief, intense moment. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time as the weight of her gaze met yours.  It felt as if the universe held its very breath, waiting for the next chapter to unfold. 

You wished you could say you could feel her love through that gaze, but you didn't know if you could use that word to describe what Natasha felt for you. Maybe she regretted what she did; maybe you became her anchor, even if unbeknownst to you, and she felt like she needed you to function; maybe she felt like she owed you something for bringing Clint back. You didn't know what it was, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the word love would be the wrong one to describe her feelings for you. Gratitude, thankfulness, maybe, but not love.

You smiled a sad smile, and nodded your head in acknowledgment to the gratitude in her eyes. 

Natasha furrowed her brows and pulled away from Clint as she saw you walking away from her, but before she could come after you, Clint caught her hand and walked towards the opposite direction. He wanted a conversation in private.

You just knew he was going to tear her a new one for what she did to you. During your journey back he had apologized more times than you could count, his words still engraved in your mind.

"I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust," he had vowed, his voice filled with determination. "I'll prove to you day after day that I care, that I value our friendship above all else. What happened the other day… it'll never happen again, I promise you that. I was too absorbed in my own pain, so much so that I hurt you, but I would never do that intentionally, Y/N. You're like a sister to me, I'd never willingly hurt you. I love you too much for that."

Maybe his love was real, but you didn't have it in yourself to just forgive and forget.

Maybe one day the gods would deem you worthy of love. True love, not the kind that hurts you.

~

"A soul for a soul" the Redskull said, turning the vast expense of cosmic beauty before you into something bleak, final. "You must sacrifice that which you love."

Your eyes wandered, drinking in the breathtaking scenery, the towering cliffs and cascading waterfalls; it seemed like a paradise carved from dreams. 

But the words hanging in the air casted a somber shadow over the planet's beauty, and as you stood near its vibrant precipice, the weight of what had to be done pressed upon the three of you. 

Destiny had brought you here, demanding a sacrifice.

It was a curse and a blessing all at once.

"If we don't get that stone, billions of people stay dead," Natasha stated, her voice tinged with determination, almost as if she was trying to keep herself strong.

Of course she'd want to be sacrificed, the selfless fool that she was.

Clint's gaze met hers, his eyes filled with a mixture of conflict and resignation. "Then I guess we both know who it's got to be," he replied, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. They didn't spare a single glance your way, it was almost as if they had mutually decided that you were to live.

A subtle sadness washed over Natasha's features as she nodded in agreement. "I guess we do."

You closed your eyes. You had been wanting this for so long, you had craved the peace I'd bring, you had fantasized about it, about closing your eyes and never opening them again.

And yet… you found yourself wanting to cling to life with an unwavering grip.

As Clint and Natasha looked at each other, you found yourself wanting to greet Laura, Lila, Coop and Nate when they came back, you found yourself wanting to have a nice day out with Yelena. You found yourself wanting to embrace Wanda and never let her go.

It hurt to know you wouldn't be able to do any of that.

"I'm starting to think we mean different people here, Natasha." Clint said then, his voice wavering slightly.

For a moment, Natasha's gaze lingered on Clint, her eyes reflecting the depth of her conviction. "For the last five years, I've been trying to do one thing: get to right here," she confessed. "That's all it's been about. Bringing everybody back."

She looked at you then, her eyes brimming with tears "I was so focused on it that I drove away the one person I had promised myself never to hurt.",

You couldn't look her in the eye, you couldn't let her see your decision through your gaze.

Clint's shoulders seemed to sag, you could see the self-blame he felt right through his eyes, even if they were focused on Nat. "And that's why it gotta be me. You spent all this time trying to help what was left of the world. Me… you know what I've done. You know what I've become." He shook his head, his eyes turning to you as well "If you haven't gotten to me, I'd still be killing an untold number of people without a care for who it'd hurt."

"Well," you said, shrugging, trying to lighten the mood a little "I don't judge people on their worst mistakes." There was no point in holding grudges anymore.

"Neither do I." Natasha said, looking at him. Her eyes turned to you then, full of sadness, longing , and regret. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

You walked towards her and pulled her in by the hand, your forehead resting against hers.

"I love you, Nat. You've been forgiven since day one." You said.

Natasha's tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You saw from the corner of your eye Clint taking a step back, as if to go to the cliff. You extended your hand to him as well. He stopped in his tracks and took a couple steps in your direction, taking your hand in his.

He smiled a sad smile, his eyes red. "Tell my family I love them" he said, and tried to pull his hand away, but you gripped it with all the strength you had.

"Tell them yourself," Natasha said, pulling away from you as well.

You sighed, your eyes burning with unshed tears. You didn't want to die anymore. You wanted to live.

But you couldn't let them sacrifice themselves.

You ripped the bracelet Tony made from your wrist. It clattered on the ground. Natasha and Clint's eyes widened, almost as if they hadn't even thought of the possibility of you being the one to jump.

You felt an unbearable heat rising up from inside out, your lungs burned, your chest, your torso, your whole body. 

"Y/N what the hell are you doing?!?" Natasha yelled out, trying to get to the bracelet on the floor, but the burning winds that seemed to suddenly emanate from you wouldn't let her get closer.

"Take care of each other. And of Wanda and Carol. That 's all I ask." You said, your voice no longer solely yours.

You saw a rising shadow on the ground, signaling the presence of wings on your back. Blood red wings engulfed in flames. The Phoenix's wings.

Clint was rooted to the ground, your power vicious enough to paralyze those of weaker minds.

Natasha, though? She was fighting to get to you, the winds clearly burning her skin, yet she didn't give up. You turned away from her, not wanting to see her struggle.

It was a short walk to the edge of the cliff, you didn't want to look back. If you said goodbye it'd make it feel more real. So you just jumped.

And then you felt her hand on your wrist, the searing heat making her skin burn, and yet, she didn't let go.

"No, please. Not you." She cried, and even with tear stained cheeks she was the most beautiful woman you've ever seen "I can't lose you like this. The world can't lose you. You're the only one of us that really deserves to live life to its full potential."

And then, as if her touch made your power purr in her presence, Clint broke free, running to where you were dangling and taking your other wrist in his hands.

This was hurting them, both physically and mentally, you saw the skin on their hands blistering, you saw the redness in their arms, the tears in their eyes not just from the pain.

"Let me go," you said with a sad smile. They had their families, they had their jobs, their missions; their homes. 

You had nothing, all you did was take up too much space or time. They deserved to live, even if you left them in ruins.

"It's not gonna work!" Natasha shouted in desperation, her expression one of pure anguish "I don't love you! It's not gonna work!"

You smiled sadly at her. She really didn't love you, did she? She just tolerated you.

"It 's ok, Natty. It'll work. You may not love me, but Clint does " you said, smiling at her through your own tears. 

"Y/N, please, don't do this," Clint begged too, sobbing as he held onto you with all his strength.

"It's ok," you repeated, and if it was to calm them or yourself , you didn't know, "it's gonna be ok".

You used whatever little control you had over your powers to push them away. As your body tumbled to the ground the last thing you remembered was the way Natasha used to laugh at your jokes, enjoy your food, take you out on dates. The last thing you remembered was how she used to love your presence, and not just tolerate it.

Maybe one day someone would be enough to have their love celebrated by her.

~

When Natasha and Clint woke up not much later in a galaxy colored lake, she clutched the stone that had appeared in her hands, wishing with all her might that it turned out different, that the last words she said to you weren't "I don't love you."

She loved you. Always did. Always would.

~

Wanda sat in front of your gravestone, her hair disheveled, her eyes red shot, her cheeks tear stained. She hugged her knees as she sobbed, longing for the presence of who could no longer be by her side. She had lost her parents, then Pietro, Vision, and now you.

She sobbed more and more, the pitiful sound getting louder.

She felt a hand on her shoulder then, and she looked up to see red shot brown eyes.

Carol sat beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it a little. 

She understood what Wanda was going through, she was grieving you as well, and even though Wanda and Vision were planning on starting a life together, the witch suspected the Captain wouldn't have said no if you'd asked the same thing from her. So she, too, lost her love, even if she never got the courage to confess it.

It was a hot day, the sunlight shone perpendicular through the clearing where your grave has been put, creating a magical scenery all around the place.

And yes, the day was hot, but was it supposed to be this hot? 

Wanda shook her head, her brows starting to sweat.

And then the sunlight vanished, as if something gigantic was blocking its path. She and Carol looked up, but all they could see were the trees blocking the sky from view.

The animalistic cry they heard didn't come from the trees, though.

Neither did the blood red feather falling through the leaves, its tip engulfed in fire.

Wanda and Carol looked at each other, and for the first time in weeks, they smiled.

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo, @red1culous

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Alright my turn

I've had a COD oc brewing for a bit and wanna share her (this is my first time making an oc don't kill me)

Call sign: Ducky

History behind call sign: During her early days in the military, her platoonmates noticed she's a bit skittish (lack of sleep) and decided to scare the shit out of her. She let out a short scream that sounded like a loud duck quack and they never let her live it down.

Job: Sniper

Nationality: American

Age: 30

Personality traits: Blunt, slightly chaotic, loyal, caring, "get shit done" type of girl, strong morals, exceptional intelligence, able to temporarily turn off emotions when needed

Closest with: Phillip Graves

Backstory: She grew up in an extremely abusive household. She learned how to be extremely quiet, extreme pattern recognition, and spots movement extremely fast. As soon as she turned 18, she joined the US military as a marine as a means to get out of her household.

Due to being used to constant screaming and berating from her childhood, she has a smoother time adjusting to the shock of basic training than the others did. She's a quick learner and showed impressive marking in just about anything they threw her way. She wanted to be in infantry, but due to the USA military laws, she was unable to do so.

They set her up to train for becoming a sniper and she stayed there since. She managed to get past training without much issue, until she was transferred to another squad and found out her brother was in the same squad. They grew up close (trauma bonding) and had an extremely strong relationship.

On a mission in 2018 (age 24), her entire squad was taken out by IED while driving to their safe house. She was the only one to survive, but came out with shrapnel lodged between her ribs, a shard stabbing into her meniscus, and a fractured wrist.

After a year and a half of physical therapy and continuous training, she was able to get back into the force. In 2021, she met the leader of the Shadow Company, Phillip Graves. Reviewing her file, he offered her a position among his men. After a bit of thought, she took his offer and was with them for a good bit of time. After his supposed death in Las Almas, where she was absent due to being summoned in the US for familial reasons (funeral), she was placed in a temporary force. She has yet to find out he's actually alive.

[bomberqueen17]

sewing other things

OK so. I have talked about the Loftus Bralette so much on here that one could be forgiven for chuckling gently when i said I should sew other things. But I do actually have several other projects I've been wanting to work on. And i have actually cut some of them out.

Also when I was last at the farm my niece brought me some of her t-shirts and said "I really like this one can we cut it apart and re-sew it bigger so I can still wear it", and I remembered that her BFF's mom, who works at the farm twice a week doing the books and managing store inventory, owns a serger she didn't know how to thread, so I texted her to ask if I could borrow it and indeed she had accidentally unthreaded it and there was a stuck lever and needed me to fix it anyway, and maybe I mentioned that on here but I did actually make my niece a couple of tunics while I was last at the farm. Including hand-sewing a whole bunch of details on the last one while the family was driving on a road trip one weekend.

So I brought all that stuff home with me and was hoping to get to work on it this week. All I've sewn has been the bralettes but I still have today. We'll see what I can get done.

I measured Farmkid and she's ten years old so her shape isn't the same as that of an adult woman, but she's five feet two and like 130 lbs, and some of her measurements put her in a women's size 12. So. She expressed interest in a garment I wear frequently, a Studio Tunic from Sew Liberated. I printed off the pattern in a size 12 and have assembled it, but I'm stuck deciding what fabric to use for her. I should decide that today. She's ten, her favorite color is ostensibly yellow but she mostly wears pinks and purples, she's a grubby kid who wipes her hands on her shirt and always winds up with stains on the belly of her shirt still, and she wants this tunic I think largely so she can cram her tablet into the pocket and go climb trees while listening to audiobooks on speaker. So I want a bright color but not too pale, and I want a tough fabric but not unbreathable, and I'm just. Deciding, still.

Probably what I should do is use some undyed fabric I own, and then bring my supplies and let her tie-dye it. I have a couple other things I could tie-dye, or will by then. That would be a fun bonding activity. I don't know if I'll have time to do it this trip though. So maybe I'll postpone the project and ask her for help once she's on summer break. (Good luck catching her, kids these days have so many summer camps.) As a bonus I bet I could loop her BFF and BFF's Mom in on the tie-dyeing, they're both into that shit.

Hell we could do ice-dyeing, the farm has a 1000-lb ice machine that is very frequently turned on (weekly for the market, biweekly for chicken processing-- there could be ice available at pretty much any time lol).

So anyway. I know she wants me to make a tunic out of a trio of large-print cat shirts she's outgrown, and she wants to wear it for her 5th grade moving up day ceremony, and I looked at it while I was home but I haven't done it yet. I need to get my shit together.

What I might do is print off a size 12 version of the t-shirt pattern I own, it's just that it's designed for busty women because I'm a busty woman, and she's Not, yet (oh, she will be. soon. but not yet.) so I have to kind of. Well, I own a pattern for a swing tunic that's close to what she wants actually. Oh, I should just print that one off. (The joy of the Cashmerette Club subscription patterns is that you get all the sizes, 0-30, and I've now made a couple of them for smaller friends, because like. I mean I own the pattern! PDF patterns are so great because you can reprint them in the smaller size instead of trying to trace it off. I never ever got the hang of tissue paper patterns.)

Yeah here this one, the Wexford Top/Dress, would be easy enough to kind of carve out the bust curve a little and make it fit a kid, because it's not meant to be that fitted. I'll just sort of use that as a general guideline and then make the cut-out-and-patchworked t-shirts fit into that approximate silhouette. The way I made the other tunics for her, I just used a shirt whose neck and shoulders still mostly fit her. But these cat shirts she's thoroughly outgrown, so making a new neck/shoulder area would be best.

Orrrrrr.... I could use one of the zillion old t-shirts of mine that I've saved to cut up. The neck/shoulders of a fully adult-sized garment are no longer too big for her. That's easier.

I also have a bunch of garments I want to make for myself, as I don't seem to buy clothes much anymore (I can't bring myself to pay $40 for a dress off the clearance rack that won't fit me and will mostly be polyester and won't be that interesting and will pill the first time I wash it). The Club's latest pattern is a skort/shorts/skirt dealie, and I need more shorts all the time-- I've largely given up on underpants and just wear boxer-briefs or anti-chafe shorts and I just don't see the point now of wearing a pair of panties and then shorts over the top under my skirt. Like. Just wear the shorts! So being able to choose the materials and print and look of that would be pretty great. And the Cashmerette one is inseam-less, like my favorite anti-chafe shorts are.

So I have cut out a pair of just the shorts in a clearance cotton mesh from Dharmatrading, and I even have the correct elastic for the waistband, so that kind of rules. I will sew those up as soon as I get a chance. I would like to make several skorts as well, probably from synthetic ponte or something, but my ideal would be to get some decent merino/nylon jersey and do a few from that. You never see merino skorts but I would wear the shit out of those.

I also have a lovely underpants pattern from the Club from ages ago, and while I rarely wear underpants of that style anymore, I would like having some cute matchy ones to go with the bralettes. Also, I have a shitton of foldover elastic, and I suspect I could use foldover elastic in some of the bralettes I want to make, so I want to get proficient in its use, and there are directions for applying it in the underpants directions, and it seems like a good way to practice. So I cut a muslin of those from the same cotton mesh as the shorts, and just have to sew the pieces together.

I also want to make myself more pretty dresses, and I have parts of a new Studio Tunic for myself already cut out, but not the rest.

And I recently made myself the button-up shirt from the Club, I know I posted about it on here. And I wanted to immediately make myself several more, and I got out some fabric and prepared it and cut out one pattern piece and then ran out of time. So yesterday I finally cut out the rest of the shirt from this fabric, a print from Mood covered in tiny dinosaurs. So I have that all ready to go in a plastic baggie too, just waiting for me to have time to sit and sew it. (Once I do that, I would really like to make myself a dress version of it from the cool green not-quite-seersucker I got from that remnant bolt at Promenade Fabrics in New Orleans.)

AND. i also have resolved to make my BFF, the one in Rochester who I lived with for a bit in the pandemic, with the little kids-- MM-- I am going to make her a sloper, before I see her next weekend, or maybe while I see her next weekend if i don't get to it in time argh, and I am going to at least try that on her and figure out approximately what shape she is so that I can put together a master pattern for her to make herself dresses from. I took her measurements ages ago, and she's a 14CD bust, a 16 waist, and an 8 hip in Cashmerette's sizing, and so I think just making a sloper with those sizes all graded together will be a huge start. And then we can mildly tweak the fit for her frame, and-- the thing is, she's always buying custom dresses on Etsy because what she wants is very specific and not usually available in stores, and then the dresses come and don't fit her so she has to get them tailored, and then they were just made of cheap quilting cotton from Joann's so they wear out after she washes them a few times, and she's had to add on pockets anyway because they didn't have them.

So I just feel like if I could get her a paper master pattern that fit her... heck i could even just make her dresses if *I* had the pattern. It would be easier and more efficient. I could do the basic construction and then turn over the pockets and embellishments to her, which is what she does anyway. So that's my goal there, and we'll see if I can reach it.

Anyway. If only I didn't have to work at all and could just sew all the time. I am not the first person to say this, LOL.

I have a lot of irons in the fire but at the moment am trapped under a cat so those irons are not going anywhere.

[themarkofoxin]

still time to delete your post. you were uninformed, that’s fine, but now you know that there is a pattern of racist behavior on dan’s end and we are right to be upset. him outright saying that he won’t tour in ‘third world countries’ like mx and brasil during a WAD show is racist. calling my home a third world country is racist. this is not in the past, you can say logistics all you want but dan outright said that he will not tour in our ‘third world countries’. it is not logistics. it is racism.

if i'm remembering correctly, dan did not "outright" say he just wouldn't tour in mexico & brasil. he made a tasteless, dismissive joke, sure, with the fans as the butt of the joke in the same way fans were the butt of the joke in many wad segments; it was insensitive and dismissive because the fans he was poking fun at weren't actually there and, obviously, have real frustrations with his behavior. but the meaning and implication of the joke was never that he actively avoided those places and would never go there--hell, they have been to brasil, to show a recorded version of ii and do a q&a. they had a mexico date for ii but it fell through, right? claiming he "outright [said] that he won't tour in 'third world countries'" is a mischaracterization as much as it would be to say "he outright said he hates phil" because he's said it in competitive gaming videos before. the key difference is he has failed to build a rapport with latam fans so it was insensitive and hurtful.

also, it is very much influenced by logistics. as much as it sucks, we absolutely cannot dismiss that. i was too sarcastic and dismissive in my additions to the post, and i've deleted those, but i stand by the original paragraph. regardless their (but especially dan's) racist comments, booking venues in countries where

1) english is not the predominant language,

2) they are not widely known,

3) once the venue learns about them they figure out they may be well past their peak in popularity and,

4) in some cases, it is relevant that they're gay and much more open about it than ii,

DOES actually make it significantly more difficult to convince a venue that it will be profitable for the venue to put on your show. most of the time, that is all venues are worried about. will people actually show up, or will these two faggots who peaked ten years ago draw in an audience of like, 20 people, and the venue will lose money when they could have booked a more profitable show? if the venue manager had to google them, are they really that popular anyways? the venue managers don't care unless they are certain they will not only break even but profit from dnp more than they would profit from literally anyone else they could book that night. why do you think they were able to do locations in asia for ii, but don't have them now (yet)? in 2018, they could reasonably argue their profitability, and even that wasn't enough in manila.

i am hoping, genuinely and from the bottom of my soul, that they will use the speed at which most of their shows sold out when the tickets went up to prove to venue managers in places other than the US and europe and commonwealth oceania that it is worth it. i hope they try very hard, and that they're able to add more dates. it certainly seems like they want to. i think it's also likely--whether it's right of them or not--that their experiences in MX & manila have led them to believe it's better to stay entirely quiet before they're absolutely sure they can announce a date and it will work, which makes it look like they're not communicating at all, but they may see it as them saving people from getting their hopes up if it doesn't work out. idk which is better, honestly. it at least seems to me like they're telegraphing that they're trying to book in other regions

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells Earth 2 (Flash) - Extra 1

Note: Apologies if I posted this already, I couldn't remember lol. Enjoy!

Learning that you have meta abilities, especially ones that are similar to Central City's greatest hero is a lot to swallow.

Barry was very grateful to you for restoring his speed back to its neutral state. You had to admit it felt nice to help the Flash.

Although you couldn't exactly tell anyone about your little superhero team up, knowing that you made such a difference was enough.

"I know it might be too much to just expect you to become a part of the team and start fighting bad guys, but if you want, I can show you how to control your speed. It really helps when you're running late."

Barry's invitation was sweet. You liked that he respected your decision to remain somewhat normal. Being a hero might have been his calling but it wasn't yours and you were fine with that.

So you started your little practices. Barry and his team allotted time between their hero adventures to help you master all the perks that came with being a speedster.

Harry carried out a lot of the calculations and kept recordings of your progress. When you weren't at your day job, you were in Star Labs running in the speed lab or completing other tasks to improve your abilities. The first time you'd launched a bolt of lightning you were a little hesitant, but Harry wasn't worried. The sizzling dummy before you had you gaping. Harry just jotted down a note with a small grin.

"You're improving fast. I guess it's expected. It's a lot easier when we already know the fundamentals of speedster capabilities."

You were still a bit awe struck. The entire situation was a bit hard to believe.

Harry noticed your still form, lowering his tablet.

"Is everything okay?"

You nod.

"Yeah I'm fine, it's just crazy. You guys deal with this everyday. I live in this town so I've seen a lot of the weird and unexplained, but to actually become a part of it is kind of strange."

You've come to appreciate all that Team Flash does. Everyday they lay their lives on the line for strangers. Using their gifts to stop the truly bad people.

"You all are so amazing. I know you must get this a lot, but thank you for all you do for the city. I'm sure everyone in this town feels the same way. Thank you for showing me how to make a difference, even when I didn't think I could."

Even when you doubted yourself, Harry believed.

"It was nothing. All I saw was your potential. " He adjusted his glasses, directing his gaze back to his tablet.

"I need to get these readings to Cisco so we can keep track of your speed pattern." You smile, moving to his side. He raises a brow.

"Mind if I tag along, I never really stick around for all the science stuff. I'd like to see how it all works."

Harry didn't object, so you grab your water bottle as you both head to the cortex. When you walk in Cisco is seated at the desk, munching on twizzlers. Not that you're surprised.

He catches sight of the both of you, straightening.

"Hey speedy, how was training?"

"Good I think."

Harry hands Cisco the tablet and Cisco basically shoots out of his seat.

"Are you kidding me! You managed to do the bolt of destruction!"

"We're not calling it that." Harry says blankly. You just giggle.

"Just one. It was a bit difficult."

Cisco places a hand on your shoulder.

"The fact that you can even do it with just two months of training is awesome. With this kind of progress you'll be mastering Flashtime in your sleep." Cisco is already rushing to log the notes into the computer. Cisco and Harry begin to bicker over the entries. If you're being honest you barely understand what some of the notes truly mean. The stats look a bit foreign to you.

Your eyes glance over in Harry's direction.

You've been trying to think of a way to thank him for all the assistance. You've known him for roughly two and a half months and you can tell his personality is a bit standoffish. He's blunt, short tempered and smiles are very rare. Yet, here he is on another earth protecting your city.

Maybe your need to please him isn't strictly due to your need to repay his kindness.

He is very good to look at.

"Next week we'll work on your phasing."

Harry's words pull you back and you nod in hopes that it appears as though you've been listening.

"I guess I'll see you all tomorrow then."

You squeeze your bottle, waving at them.

"Bye!"

You're gone in under five seconds and they both blink at the whiplash of wind.

The concept of phasing sounded so easy. It was actually something you were looking forward to. That's until you really understood what it fully meant.

Alas, you should have known better.

"H-Harry!"

He grabs your hand, and you're full on panicking because the lower half of your body is still phasing into the ground.

"I-I'm scared! H-How do I get it to stop!"

"Just breathe, you need to relax. I won't let you get hurt, just look at me."

You're still breathing heavily, and you direct your shaky gaze at him.

"Picture your body moving through the floor. I'm going to tug, and you'll need to do the rest."

"I-I don't think I can..."

He squeezes your hand.

"You can, I believe in you. Just trust yourself. You can do this."

You swallow and train all your focus on Harry. Taking a deep breath, you try to follow his instruction. Harry gives a tug, and your body begins to move from beneath the floor. You're slowly rising and he smiles. You stumble out and when your body is freed from the floor, you crash into his chest. He steadies you, looking you over. Your body is no longer phasing.

"You did it."

You nod, still gripping onto him. You're a bit scared that if you let go you'll sink into the floor again. It's a bit discouraging how hard this is to grasp. You have no doubt that Barry didn't struggle this much with his abilities. He seems so confident.

Fearless.

"I'm sorry that I'm so bad at this." You mutter.

"I don't expect you to master every skill all at once. You're learning. It's alright if you don't get it on the first try."

Given Harry's personality, you appreciate how patient he's been with you.

"Thanks for always putting up with me."

You finally get yourself to really let him go. Harry looks down and you can't find it in yourself to move back.

"You don't have to keep thanking me."

You really wish he hadn't said that statement so seductively, or maybe it's just your brain amplifying everything.

"I need to stop watching those hallmark movies."

It's definitely warping your reality. But then, where's the harm in asking.

"Then how exactly should I repay you.."

What possessed you to say that.

Harry himself looks surprised at the statement. You both are still very close. His hands are resting protectively on your shoulders. Given the previous situation, it makes sense. The gesture was for comfort, but now it's electing a completely different reaction.

"What if I asked for something outrageous, would you still be willing?"

You swallow, because you can't hallucinate this. It sounds like he's flirting with you.

You can't help but let your eyes stray to his lips, and he catches the action.

"Maybe I-"

"Hey (Y/N) I heard you were practicing your phasin-" Barry stumbles when he sees the lack of distance. You move back from Harry and Barry starts stammering.

"S-Sorry I didn't mean to interrupt."

Barry makes a quick escape and suddenly the air is a bit tense.

You push down the nerves that rise to the surface, turning to Harry in what you hope is confidence.

"Harry, would you like to go out sometime?"

You can tell he hadn't expected the bold move. But he doesn't seem opposed.

"Is this just payment for my help?"

You can tell that the inquiry means a lot to him.

"It isn't."

There's a bit of a twinkle in his eyes at the response and you wear a bashful smile.

"I'd love to." 

[chronicallyuniconic]

No purpose, just pain.

Do you remember your first obsession? Your first love? The first event that filled you with so much excitement? Your first holiday? That time your favourite game you've been waiting years for, is here next week? The hobby you took on like it was your purpose in life? maybe you got married?

That 'thing' where it was alllllll you could think about. You'd spend hours trawling the Internet or even books for anything to do with your new 'thing.'

Your stomach would flutter with excitement, your heart would race with anticipation. The closer you got, the bubbling anxiety would build to the back of your throat & you pace around your home opening and closing the fridge until the day arrives.

*throws 🔧🔧🔧*

My "first thing" is my illnesses & their many many varying symptoms. All I can think about is how awful I feel, every minute of every day and somehow I'm not(?) dying. [How/Why?]

It occupies my every thought. I spend and have spent countless hours scouring the Internet, medical journals, buying books written by doctors, finding actual doctors, to find answers, help, guidance, a drug maybe.

I've found an online community that has helped me feel less alone but none of us have rarely found answers. When we are given answers we are told to just deal with it, usually with OTC meds because there is no help for what we have, apparently.

We are a community on the slowest moving boat you've ever seen, rocked by our pain, our cries, our wait, our hope, that one day we are seen and our illnesses are given the recognition, research and funding they desperately need.

My stomach does not flutter with excitement anymore, it's a string of stomach and bladder problems that are ignored*. I'm not dancing with excitement, I'm jolting with nerve pain that is ignored*. I'm not searching up anything anymore because the 10kg weights on my eyelids & the sedative that seems-to-occupy-my-blood, send me to sleep.

*{When symptoms are ignored that means they are never addressed, studied, tested, looked at, are put under an umbrella term for your chronic illness and that is where you will remain}*

I can't "pace" my way through the pain-filled days because I am too weak & exhausted, filled with heavy lead bones & lead blood. When I try to go back to my 'thing' I am distracted by the pains & fatigue & the fact that no help is coming, even from myself.

"How can I paint a flower when I'm being struck by lightening with every breath & stroke of the brush?"

I've put my all into finding ways to make the best of my symptoms, to manage them, understand them, come to terms with them, accept my new body and what it wants or needs. Yet I've failed to nail any real reason, finding, bodily requirement or pattern that makes it manageable or predictable.

Pain diaries, food diaries, bathroom diaries, sleep diaries, how many diaries over these years will/does it take for a result? A conclusion? Blood tests, urine tests, tests tests tests that provide the same information but no further action. How many needles does it take for further assistance?

All of this & I'm told to be happy, be grateful. I'm told to just take each day at a time when each day is the same, breathing, pain filled void, achieving nothing, trapped behind 4 walls. I'm told I'm not trying hard enough or that I can't give up.*

[apparently being sad about your symptoms means you have given up]*

How does one go on when they have nothing left of energy, no path to turn, no doctor to just "get it," when there is no way out of this trap.

How does one carry on with no purpose but pain?

If you got this far, thank you. This has taken me some days to write up💜✨

[alarrytale]

One of the twins mentioned something a little off of their usual brand back in October. When someone asked if they were going to post more pics from their vacation, she said no because it always ends up as a headline. I think this response may have been tied to when tmz, etc posted pictures of Louis on vacation and insinuated his happy expression in the pictures was just after Liam died. Loads of people commented on that. Of course it was proven that the pictures were taken before Liam but that caused a negative reaction. I’m not saying that’s what it is, but it was just something they would not have said before. Plus Christmas with the Tomlinsons was always filled with pictures, whether F was there or not. Maybe Lottie being unable to leave London might have something to do with it too but I think she mentioned the family would be traveling to see her for a celebration so I don’t know. We only got tree pics with ornaments on the tree. But the ornaments had only 6 names. No younger twins or any of their children. I don’t know, that struck me a bit odd too. We also got that video with I think phoebe and Louis’ sweater was in the background. I’m not sure really what’s going on but this Christmas/louis’ birthday was definitely different.

I’m curious about your thoughts on warning tweets. In my opinion, I think they’re not a thing anymore and people get all riled up over nothing. Like this last post from Louis checking in. I was relieved to hear from him after Liam and that he’s ok because he looked unwell in those pictures from the funeral but some Larries got angry at him and jumped to F right away, even though we haven’t gotten “warning” tweets for Christmas in years anyways. I think it may be time to let go of some of these ideas that were around from the 1D days. Instagram likes, warning tweets, etc. At least we’ve seen from Louis that the Instagram likes mean very little these days and warning tweets aren’t a consistent thing anymore. Harry is a wild card only because he’s so sporadic on social media, I’m never sure what he’s up to.

Hi, anon!

I think what one of the twins said was very on brand actually. It was a humblebrag and i was yet again reminded of how much i need to stay away from their family members for my own sanity... As i've said many times before, if F is there we will get pics and video. It's a stunt, so if nobody is aware of him being there, there is no point of him being there. We will continue to get pics of F from the Tomlinsons. Pics or it didn’t happen always applies to stunts.

About the warning tweets, signalling and other warnings, i both agree and don't agree with you. I think there's really nothing to warn fandom about anymore, because things follow a pattern and are very predictable. We can figure out things on our own, we don’t need a pre-warning from them. At the same time, they're closeted and still have no other way to "speak" to their fandom (the not gaslighted part of fandom) than through t-shirts, lyrics, numerology, bluegreening, cryptic tweets etc. It's a well established way of communication between us, so if they ever have a need to talk to us or get a message across, we will know how to pick up what they're trying to get across.

I still think an ig like might be a first step in showing a PR relationship is afoot. It's not to warn us though, it's to make people excited for the connection and start fantasising. For us, it will serve as a heads up though. It's been a very long time since they've done any of this, but that doesn’t mean they won't in the future. Warning tweets and signalling were never a consistent thing, probably because they managed to stop several things from happening by doing the fandom warnings. So to sum up, i wouldn't outright dismiss it, i would put it in context and wait to see what happens next.

[janyxbeloved]

KNY oc content, no pics yet, I'm not done with their arts yet. We listen and we don't judge(Unless your oc is genuinely concerning to the fan base, which I hope is not the case) and I've been waiting to share this for a while.

Slayers for now, demon oc is next! Ramble about your OCS too if you want! I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEYRE OP BTW I JUST LIKE SEEING PEOPLE GET SO CREATIVE!

Ichiinama Hanakitsune （花狐一稲間 Hánakitsuné Ichiinámá)

"As a child, I never understood why I was the way I was, it just happened. I was a hermit and I never got any friends. No one wanted to associate with me because of how quiet and timid I was at the time. No one wanted me as a friend. And somehow I was unbothered, I wasted my childhood being inside my room or outside under a tree, reading away at books I've read over and over again. Even some demons thought that my hobby was stupid, reminding me why I never had friends as a child when it was all I ever wanted. I trained hard to be where I am today. I can't say my life was wasted doing swordsmanship, I found people who appreciate me for being me. I will never put myself down like that ever again." - Ichiinama Hanakitsune to herself in Abnormal situation

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 14

Height: 170cm(5'7)

Weight: 56kg

Birthday: July 23rd

Hair color: Black and silver

Eye color: Silver

Affiliation: Demon Slayers Corps

Occupation: Demon slayer, Spirit Hashira

Combat style: Spirit breathing

Status: Alive (Before infinity castle arc) - Desceased

Brief background introduction:

Ichiinama was born into the Hanakitsune family, she is smart - Despite the lack of resources, she's managed to impress her parents with her brains, her parents call her and her sister beautiful, however, Ichiinama was never one to express her ideas and inputs, some say she was a hermit. Always stuck with books instead of people, envious of her sister being a social butterfly, she was desperate to have friends but not many wanted to discuss the otherwise "nerdy" topics. So she just kept to herself. One day, her home was infiltrated by demons, killing both her mother and father, leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves. They ran until they came across Gyomei Himejima, Ichiinama's older sister, tired from carrying her, pleaded with Gyomei to save Ichiinama and just leave her - However, despite the given issue, Gyomei refused to take only Ichiinama and took both sisters with him. Her older sister was around 17 at the time of their rescue and Ichiinama was only 10. Now, as the Spirit Hashira(スピリットハシラ Seirei Bashira) - Ichiinama is 14 and her older sister is 21. She attended the final selection at the same time as Muichiro Tokito and Aoi Kanzaki they managed to become friends and Ichiinama finally accepted the fact that she was just mingling with the wrong group because Muichiro and Aoi were actually... Really great friends. Don't allow those looks to fool you, she's actually really nice once you get to know her.

Uniform description

Ichiinama wears the standard corps uniform - Under the watchful eye of Shinobu Kocho, Ichiinama received the uniform that was tailored by another Kakushi NOT Masao Maeda. Ichiinama wears pants, rather than a skirt. Ichiinama also wears a gray Haori with rainy cloud-like pattern. Alongside with gray Kyahan with the same pattern as her Haori, blue tabi socks and dark blue zōri with dark blue straps.

General appearance

Ichiinama wears the standard corps uniform tinted in dark purple. Has black hair with silver streaks that were natural. Silver eyes with spiderwebs as pupils. She looks almost identical to her older sister aside from a few features. She wears a necklace with a fox pendant. Her hair hangs low, past her shoulders. She has glasses on her.

Inspirations:

Japanese paitings

Athena and Ares (EPIC: The musical)

Artemis (Greek Goddess because she isn't in EPIC)

Clouds

Ghosts

Ayano Aishi

Overall abilities:

Ichiinama is a quick thinker, saving some from a potential casualty. Using her brain to formulate all sorts of tactics,

Demon slayers abilities:

Demon slayer mark: During her battle against Gyokko, alongside Muichiro Tokito, she managed to resonate her demon slayer mark with the help of Muichiro Tokito, whom she resonated from.

Transparent world: She was able to access the transparent world and look right through Kokushibo, however, true fear as struck her as she realized she, along her comrades, were most likely bested by this powerful demon.

Songs that would sound similar to her personality:

Just a man - Facing an internal struggle with her personality and her actions. Tends to act out in anger even though it wasn't her intention, she's only fighting for her life.

We'll be fine - Strongly believes she and her loved ones will be okay.

Keep your friends close - As if to say you can't trust everyone you meet for a short period. Wants to get to know people before trusting them entirely. Has trust issues so wants to know people before considering them as friends.

Open arms - Greets everyone in a happy way, the Tanjiro effect helped her understand that you can greet the world with open arms.

Trivia

Ichiinama's name is derived from the following terms: Ichi-i-nama (Ichi-One, i-beautiful, nama-pureness/freshness) - Relatively, her surname, Hanakitsune means "Flower fox".

Ichiinama's level of openness is 40%.

The books she likes to read consist of fiction and non-fiction.

She owns a copy of the Odyssey. (HAHA-)

Other than her Kasugai bird, Ichiinama has two cats Hachi and Katsu.

She is a dual blade user, the charms on her blade were gifts from Muichiro Tokito and Aoi Kanzaki on her birthday.

She has a snow owl as her Kasugai crow. The owl is a shy and timid bird named Rōzuuddo

Ichiinama's hobby is weaving.

Like Genya Shinazugawa, Ichiinama addresses her sister formally, calling her "Aneki" the female counterpart of "Aniki".

Ichiinama has very legible and neat handwriting.

Her favorite food is Miso soup.

Ichiinama views the other hashiras as follows:

"She's beautiful and smart. I like her." - Insect Hashira

"I find him immature. Maybe that's his sense of humor..." - Sound Hashira

"He comes to my library sometimes. Borrows books and then returns them when he's done reading them, he has pretty eyes and I see him talk to Kanroji-san." - Serpent Hashira

"I talked to him a few times. He was mostly quiet but he did want to borrow a book from me." - Water Hashira

"I admire his strength. Despite that, he's pretty nice." - Stone Hashira

"He once bought a book collection for me. I'm thankful he thinks my reading hobby is fun, he has a pleasant aura." - Flame Hashira

"She's really pretty. I love her hair. It's really pretty." - Love Hashira

"He's a gruff." - Wind Hashira

"He's a good friend. Even if he does tend to forget who I am." - Mist Hashira

"I admire my sister. She's strong and she cares for me." - Smoke Hashira

Likewise, this is what the other hashiras think of Ichiinama:

"Incredible talent she has there." - Insect Hashira

"She's too mature for her age! She should lighten up!" - Sound Hashira

"She's not good with her words. But I can see she's doing her best." - Love Hashira

"Quiet child, almost too quiet. She can sneak up on anyone without alerting them, who knows what she can hear with that skill of hers." - Serpent Hashira

"She's meek and timid. Sometimes even sly." - Wind Hashira

"She has good friends, I think I can trust them to be with her." - Smoke Hashira

"She's like a fox... Cunning, smart and quiet..." - Mist Hashira

"I think she's a good person despite her lack of use in words." - Stone Hashira

"I went to her library once, I almost thought she wasn't home because she wasn't there, she snuck up on me and I screamed so loudly!" - Flame Hashira

"I honestly thought she was never home. She's just... So quiet..." - Water Hashira

Jurei Hanakitsune （花狐樹麗 Hánakitsuné Jūréi)

"When I was younger, kids always wanted to be my friend, I was unique, because of my heterochromia, I was also extroverted, people wanted to be my friend and I can safely say that kids preferred me over my sister. However, I wanted to also include her, however the other kids thought she was weird for being so quiet all the time. Seeing the envious look she gave me whenever I catch a glimpse of her staring at me from the second floor of our home... I couldn't help but think why people didn't like her just for reading a lot." - Jurei Hanakitsune to herself in Get it together, moron!

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 21

Height: 177.80 cm(5'10)

Weight: 63kg

Birthday: October 24th

Hair color: Black and silver

Eye color: Red(Left eye), silver(right eye)

Affiliation: Demon Slayer Corps

Occupation: Demon slayer, Smoke Hashira

Combat style: Smoke breathing

Status: Alive(Before sunrise coundown arc) - Desceased

Brief background introduction:

Jurei was born into the Hanakitsune family, she isn't as smart as her younger sister - She was still an incredibly smart person. At a time at night, she heard a noise, seeing her and her sister's parents being murdered by a demon, she quietly carried her sister, Ichiinama, who was awake, who also was only 10 at the time, out a window and left their home, not after lighting it on fire to assure the demon will die for what it did. Jurei ran away from the wreckage for a few hours, exhausted carrying her sister, she came across Gyomei Himejima, Jurei pleaded with Gyomei to take her sister and just ditch her, Gyomei, sensing the selflessness of Jurei, did not abandon her, he took Jurei and Ichiinama with him. Jurei trained hard to get where she is today - 21 and the Smoke Hashira(けむりばしら Kemuri Bashira) and she is thriving well, she is good friends with Mitsuri Kanroji and enjoys accompanying her.

Uniform description

Jurei wears the standard corps uniform - Under the watchful eye of other Kakushi, Jurei received the uniform that was tailored by another Kakushi NOT Masao Maeda. Yes, Jurei wears a skirt, however, the skirt reaches until her calves. Jurei wears a Haori with smoke patterns on it, based on japanese Ukiyo-e. She also wears Kyahan with smoke prints and wears dark gray tabi socks and wore a dark purple zōri with peach pink straps.

General appearance

Jurei wears the standard corps uniform tinted in dark purple. Has black hair with silver streaks that were natural. Her left eye is red and her right eye is silver, she has X-shaped pupils. She looks almost identical to her younger sister aside from a few features. Her hair is tied into low twin drills.

Inspirations:

Penelope of Ithaca (EPIC: The musical)

Hera (EPIC: The musical)

Ryoba Aishi

Obanai Iguro

Cats

Overall abilities:

Jurei is quick-paced and flexible. Along with that, she has really good hearing.

Demon Slayer abilities:

Demon slayer mark: During her battle alongside Mitsuri Kanroji and Obanai Iguro against Nakime, she unlocked her demon slayer mark which enhanced her overall abilities.

Songs that would sound similar to her personality:

You & I - Death cannot seperate Jurei and Ichiinama

Ruthlessness - It's a given that as a Hashira, Jurei has to be ruthless, demons are vile creatures.

Odysseus - Jurei snapped when she heard that Ichiinama was killed by Kokushibo, it fueled her anger and hatred for demons, as an older sister, it's in her right to be angry, the same way Odysseus was angry that Penelope's suitors are going to do diabolical things to her and kill Telemachus so she's fully defenseless. (Unrelated, I cried so much when the saga came out.)

More than anything - Jurei wants to support Ichiinama no matter what, like Lucifer wanting to support Charlie and her dreams of redemption.

Trivia

Jurei's name is derived from the following terms: Ju/Jū can be translated to "Tree" or "Ten", and Rei is translated from "Example". It may be taken as a pun because Jurei is the older Hanakitsune sister, and Hanakitsune is "Flower fox".

Jurei's level of openness is 80%.

Her heterochromia may be a result of hereditary genes. Like her hair color.

Her favorite food is Wagashi.

Jurei has cursive handwriting.

The name of Jurei's Kasugai crow is Shizuka

Jurei viewed the other hashiras as followed:

"She's pretty smart. I look forward to having more conversations with her." - Insect Hashira

"... His lack of self restraint surprises me." - Sound Hashira

"My best friend! She's really strong and I admire her and she's so beautiful!" - Love Hashira

"He looks like he wants to put me six feet under for being close to Kanroji-san. I don't know that's his resting face but I guess I should be glad that I'm not a boy." - Serpent Hashira

"He's quiet, he reminds me of someone..." - Mist Hashira

"She has good friends, I think I can trust them to be with her." - Spirit Hashira

"I admire him. He's strong and a good listener." - Stone Hashira

"Mood." - Wind Hashira

"Pretty great guy to be around. He's a good person!" - Flame Hashira

"Quiet, but also really reliable." - Water Hashira

Likewise, this is what the other hashiras think of Jurei:

"She's really nice to talk to. I admire her skills!" - Insect Hashira

"She's grown quite well, she's stronger now and still as reliable as ever." - Stone Hashira

"I admire my sister. She's strong and she cares for me." - Spirit Hashira

"She's like... A brown hare. Very fast and agile..." - Mist Hashira

"A really great friend!" - Love Hashira

"... A really great friend." - Serpent Hashira

"She talks a lot, I don't mind." - Water Hashira

"I don't really know what else we have in common." - Sound Hashira

"Bold." - Wind Hashira

"A good listener and a great giver of advice!" - Flame Hashira

[lizzyscribbles]

So I watched Arcane for the first time the other day. I've had my eye on it for years, I just never set aside the time to watch, but I needed something to keep my mind off stuff and so I turned it on. And like...holy shit. Holy shit. Like I have so many thoughts, it was such a mind-bending, morality twisting adventure and I'm stoked to go watch the new season. I wanted to bring up something I've been cooking on for a bit for funzies because apparently this is what I do for fandoms I'm interested in.

I want to talk about Jinx's season one outfit, specifically the subtle genius in it and how it adds to her character. When I first saw older Jinx's outfit I had to do a full stop and stare for a second. My first thought was just "great, another sexy, impractical video game outfit". Like, don't get me wrong, it's a sick outfit and I think it looks really cool, but her abdomen - and thus a lot of her vital organs - is completely exposed. What's up with that?

We all know that Arcane is based on League of Legends (fun fact, I actually didn't know until I started watching it), which is a video game. "Lizzy, we know this," I know, but bear with me. Video games of this caliber aren't always known for having good, realistic female outfits that aren't solely designed to be eye candy. So, as much as I like the outfit in the show, it was kind of a turn off.

But, as I continued to watch the show, I came to a realization. You don't see that design among the rest of the female characters in the cast. I mean, look at Vi, Caitlyn, even the female members of the council. They all have far more functional clothing that doesn't expose their vital organs. Usually, when developers, show runners, animators, whatever you will, don't care much for practicality and do things for fan service, it's something that spreads to most, if not all, of the female characters. (Example, My Hero Academia. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE this show, but take a look at the girls' hero costumes and then look at the boys and tell me you don't see a pattern).

This is when I realized something, I think her choice of outfit was intentional. Like, actually intentional and served a purpose.

Jinx is the embodiment of chaos, we know this and we love her for it. She's unpredictable, temperamental, and impulsive. Reckless, is really the word I'm looking for. She's reckless.

In that light, her outfit starts to make way more sense.

Going beyond that, she rarely, if ever, actually fights hand to hand. (At least in season one, like I said, haven't watched season two yet. I'm planning to start tonight). Unlike Violet, who needs that extra layer of protection wherever she can get it, Jinx never intends to let anyone close enough to take advantage of her lack of protective gear. So yeah, why is she going to care about covering her midriff and protecting it?

And I honestly think that's such an incredible piece of nonverbal storytelling. It drives home just how fucking unhinged she is and tells us, the viewer, more about her than they could've in other ways. It's subtle, but powerful, and was one of those things that made me pause and go "huh...oh, oh, that's genius" when I put the pieces together. I mean, look at how I managed to drag that one thought into an entire post.

Could it just be a fan service thing? Yeah, it could be, but I want to believe there was more thought put into it than that. Giving the designers the benefit of the doubt here.

Anyway, I think it's really cool and I salute whoever came up with it. 10/10, love it.

[exquisitelyrandom]

hi i know one of them is kinda old but if you're okay with it i would love to do a fic of either of these tacophone comics of yours, maybe even both (with credit ofc)

https://www.tumblr.com/exquisitelyrandom/690825927273463808/draw-something-tacophone-related-and-if-you-dont

https://www.tumblr.com/exquisitelyrandom/713112801221263360/angst-because-the-sillies-are-on-my-mind-again

oh my god ofc you can w credit holy sh

YES!!!! AAUGQHZHHQ I'D LOVE FOR YOU TO!!!!! yuo have no idea how much I've been looking for reading content of them plsplspslsplspls

btw where would you be posting the story? I'd love to read it,, if you do make a fic of them, please tag me/send me a link!! ^^

going into small detail abt the ideas behind the comics below because im insane abt them vvv

they're actually very similar to each other so they may as we 🐝 connected/have the same situation lmao

first comic is leaning more on mic's. side

;After getting into the hotel, she's. absolutely miserable but keeps trying to pretend she's fine (she is not). Of course, Soap and the others notice her mood and one of them eventually get to talk to her about it. But even as she does open up, she never outs Taco. Ever. And blames it on the contest. Soap/Whoever confronted her knows it isn't true, but doesn't push further. After the talk, Mic basically just sits there and contemplates, before deciding """past is past""". Eventually, she starts thinking about the whole thing less, and she's smiling a lot more the next few days/weeks. Er. Until. That one night.

The second comic - or, in both comics - , here's Taco's side

There was actually gonna be more similar..things.. in both of the panels i put up above,, but i decided they'd look too similar to each other so Taco looks angrier in the second one

It all starts when Mic walks through the portal. Yeah. She didn't expect that. Taco's not someone to be caught off guard; her moves are calculated, and she knows the outcome of something even before it had a chance to start. She's memorized the puzzles and patterns on an object's mind, knows how to use it to her advantage - knows how to manipulate it into what she needs it to do. So why was it that she..?

She's teleported to their little spot, and her emotions are. overwhelming. At first, she feels.. sad. Distraught. Distraught that Mic left. Then, she feels.. angry. Angry at Mic for even leaving without any further word. Angry at Mic to have the AUDACITY to blame ..her. And she's angry.. at herself. Then, she's sad again. Her mind goes back to the words Microphone last spoke to her, and it stings, just as much as when she first heard them, if not more. She sits on the log -[soft thud]- oh, nevermind, she's on her knees in the soft grass, head in hands. She grips her shell tight and tries to shout, to let out the scream that's been trying to claw its way out of her throat, to get all of the overwhelming thoughts out of her head, but all she can manage is a choked sob, her throat tightening as she curled into herself.

And I'm only now realizing I'm getting WAY too carried away so fast forward everyone:

Taco thinks back on all the mistakes she's made, and back at one of her.. biggest mistakes yet. And, after a while, she decides she's done running, and she's not letting her slip from her grasp that easily. Not again. Not like him.

So, she writes, and writes, and writes, and writes. Until, after over fifty crumpled papers and about three half empty cups of - now cold - tea, she's finished. A letter to Microphone. She spilled her heart out on it, not leaving a single detail on everything she's done, opening herself up completely to the object never expected to break down years worth of built up walls. She's a little hesitant as she sends it to the hotel's mail, and then she waits.

She doesn't respond. Its not the first time. She takes a deep breath. No, she's not letting it faze her. She needs Mic to see she's being genuine. Why couldn't you be genuine from the start? When she most needed you to be?

She sends another letter, this time, directly into her room. She drops it through the little window, and she runs off before anyone notices her. A week passes. She doesn't respond again. She doesn't give up. She sends another letter, and another, and another, and another..

Two months has passed since then - has it really been that long? - And she's on the floor, miserable. The cracks have gotten worse and she can barely see with her right eye, she can barely stand, and her knees feel weak. Her head feels heavy, and her mind goes back to quiet picnics, white bowties and purples hues. And it just.. hurts. It hurts. It hurts, so much and she doesn't want it to. It hurts, and she's angry. Angry at herself for even considering to leave Microphone after they get the million. She's angry at herself for not paying attention to what may have caused the whole thing. Angry at herself slipping up the one good thing she had.

Did you ever have her?

She's angry at herself for being the reason Microphone left.

She feels lightheaded, yet her head feels heavy. And she's so, so tired.. she blacks out

The next thing she knows, she's on her way to ..hotel oj.

Uh oh

so um when I said "small detail" i may have.. lied HEJHSJQJZNNQJXN I WAS GENUINELY GOING TO JUST DESCRIBE MY IDEA FOR THE COMIC IM OSRRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY i had many things to say about tacoy

YOU DONT HAVE TO FOLLOW THROUGH W THE PLOT I'd love to see ur take on the comic!! Ignore my gay little writings hehr

[perpetualexistence]

Sea Monster AU: Poor Unfortunate Soul (1/2)

'What's with the 1/2 in the title, that's new' you might be asking yourself. You see, this part right here was actually originally supposed to be just one Then, I realized I'd need to split it into two, 'Poor Unfortunate Soul', and the next part I'm not spoiling the title of yet.

Then I started going into this, looked at the time, looked at the word count, and realized it's for the best if I just split this up once more. Future Perp might end up renaming this chapter as the title definitely fits more for the second part than it does this one. Time will tell.

Either way, before we get to the post proper: Warnings! Oh boy have we got them for this part and the next!

Content warnings: Non-suicidal self harm, Body horror

Since the content warnings happen as part of a scene like rather than a brief mention, I've separated the more gruesome bits with asterisks. You can look all the way down at the bottom for a safer summary.

<- Prev | First | Next ->

Now that Noah has a book on magic, he has to deal with the problem that Chris could never get past: actually reading it. It's not in any language that Noah can recognize. Still, he's smart and can recognize patterns in text thanks to his poetry phase. He manages to work out the basic alphabet. Now that he's got that, his next step is simple. Create a program that will translate the text as he scans it. He'll get to save so much time, and might even be able to get what he wants faster as he can just search for whatever seems most promising.

The book snaps shut the first time. Noah can't excuse it as the wind when it happens again. After a few attempts, he finally manages to get a good scan of one of the pages.

One waterlogged phone later he realizes why there weren't any references for how to actually use magic on the sea monster database.

Magic really doesn't like cheaters.

So instead he has to translate everything himself using the alphabet he figured out. It gets easier as he keeps doing it, and eventually he no longer needs to look at his reference sheet in order to read it.

Before that can happen, he needs a new phone. Both because he's a young adult addicted to having a screen with him at all times, and because without one he won't be able to talk to Owen, who is currently one of the few things reminding him that there's some good in humanity, and that all of this pain is going to be worth it.

He doesn't have any disposable income. Yes, he has some of the treasures that Alejandro gave him from the ships they hunted. But the problem is actually selling those. Now that people are noticing the disappearances (thanks Alejandro), he can't exactly sell anything identifiable from those very ships that have 'gone missing'. His lazy ass had just sat on them assuming that he could sell them whenever he pleased.

Present Noah would slap Past Noah if he could.

So he goes to his mother to ask for a new phone. Which is a task in itself given her multiple jobs. He'd text her, but that's part of the problem. He'd also prefer not to get his older siblings involved because they'd just ask questions. The one good thing about having an overworked mother is that she rarely questions why you want things, and as the baby you can exploit this to its maximum potential!

Noah's a terrible son.

He'll make it up to her when he actually does manage to sell off his stolen goods. Like a criminal. Which he is. As an accessory to murder. Multiple counts.

He can either think about this too hard or he can have a new phone.

So he manages to track her down and asks her for a new phone. He doesn't ask for anything fancy, just something that works. She looked at him, gave him an all too familiar rueful smile, and told him they don't have the money right now, though he can try using one of his siblings' older phones.

Noah's not too surprised by this answer. Living as they are, it's always a gamble for when they do have spare cash. What does concern him is the look in her eyes of someone who doesn't want to burden others. Not just the burden of saying no.

The burden of hiding something. And there's only one things he's ever tried to hide from him. The loan shark's back.

He does this every once in a while. Usually when they're getting too close to fully paying him off. He'll hike up the interest rate or make up some bullshit fee. He'll expect a big immediate payment, and then lay off for a while until he's ready to wring them by the neck again.

He'd have pushed the bastard directly into Alejandro's mouth himself if he wasn't so good at covering where he was. The fact that he's in town means he's going to stay a while. There's no telling when he'll move out, or if he'll even do it by boat.

That's a problem for another time, as much as he loathes to leave it hanging. He's got to get more money from somewhere else. Not just for the phone now, but to get the loan shark off his family's back again.

Noah remembers Duncan. The guy made his reputation as a delinquent known just from the five seconds he got to know him, and spoke about going to juvie. It'd be a risk, but Noah's running low on options. He's not about to watch his mom work herself ragged again.

He gets in touch with him Duncan via Owen. After assuring Owen that no, he's not dead because it's been two full days since he texted, no he's not mad at him either, he just dropped his phone in some water. Luckily for him, Owen's willing to help the two meet without asking too many questions.

Duncan, meanwhile, has plenty of questions. First of all, who Noah thinks he is just asking for Duncan to fence stolen goods for him. Second of all where someone like Noah would even GET stolen goods. Noah lets him know that he can either have answers to those questions, or he can get a profitable cut. Duncan begrudgingly agrees (which has nothing to do with the fact that Noah accidentally lets slip why he needs the money, and Duncan's still got a bleeding heart).

Noah starts with just enough money for a new phone. He can't just dump everything onto Duncan, because then his curiosity/suspicion would definitely outweigh his willingness to help Noah.

Now that all of that is settled, he can finally get back to translating and studying magic.

He learns that in order to use magic, he needs proper tools to do so. And he can't simply buy these tools. No, for the magic to work properly, Noah needs to make these tools. The making imbues them with his essence and makes it so the tools will only ever work for him. Since he's working with sea magic, he's got to use it from materials he finds underwater.

The only place underwater he can safely look without Alejandro catching on is an underground cove he found connected to Chef and Chris's place. Which limits his options severely. So he decides to keep on reading for the actual spells to see what he'd actually need before figuring out how much of a migraine he's going to have.

One thing he notices rather quickly is that all of these spells must be prepared and performed underwater. This part wouldn't be a problem if not for the fact that unlike merfolk, Noah does need oxygen. So solving that problem takes priority.

He finds that solution in a ritual that will give him gills. However, it presents him with a choice. For there's two different branches of magic: the slower, safer process and the faster, more painful process. In this case, Noah can either take the time and effort needed to gather ingredients for a potion that will give him gills that he can open and close at will...or he can make himself a permanent set of gills.

Noah would love to pick the first one. But the longer he takes, the more Alejandro will eat, and the longer he stays a threat. So the second option it is. He starts wearing a scarf and uses the perpetually cold lie. Mostly for Alejandro's sake. Which is good because Alejandro does 'playfully' remove the scarf to see what's underneath the first time he sees it, and once satisfied that there's nothing, doesn't mess with it like that again.

Now Noah needs a knife of coral. Noah's lucky that the new cove he's in has agatized coral. With it being fossilized, it's old and has more of a connection with nature, making it a perfect magic implement. Noah's able to get pieces out, but now he has to make a knife out of it.

Who better to ask but the resident knife expert?

Noah does need a more reasonable excuse for this one, so he pretends that he only needs to learn how to make a knife due to self defense because he's getting paranoid with all the disappearances. Duncan points out that that's bullshit because Noah could just buy a knife then. Why the hell does he need to learn how to make one?

Duncan's asking too many questions, so Noah throws his hail mary. If Duncan can stop asking questions about pretty much any of Noah reasons and helps him out with learning how to make a knife and maybe a few other things, he'll use his hacking abilities to get rid of Duncan's criminal record. That's an offer Duncan simply can't refuse. So Duncan agrees to teach him, and over time, Noah crafts his knife of coral. He adds the runes that he needs to enchant it by himself. Both because that's meant to be a private affair, and so Duncan doesn't say anything despite his bought silence.

Now to actually do this.

***

Noah gets all the underwater runes and preparations done one dive at a time. He also makes sure to get makeshift medical supplies for himself. He's doing this as close to the surface as he can in case everything goes to shit. He'd prefer not to bleed out.

He stares at the knife in his hands. He's actually going through with this, isn't he? No going back. There will be permanent evidence that he's taking a stand against Alejandro if he finds it. The whole 'sea monster vs. sea witch' conflict he'd read about doesn't promise anything good when Alejandro realizes he's using magic.

He could seriously screw himself up. He's a genius, but he's no medical expert. One wrong cut and it's lights out forever. One wrong move and he's fish food either way. He's come so far, he can't afford to let himself get choked up now.

He slices the right side of his neck before he can let himself doubt any more. He's unable to stifle a yell of pain. He loses precious oxygen when he's just started. He has to finish or else this won't work.

He slices the left side of his neck to keep it balanced. More oxygen lost. Now that he's cut both sides of his neck, he can feel the cuts throbbing. It feels like the cuts are burrowing themselves deeper than he made them. They are creating new passageways into his lungs and they burn.

His instincts kick in and he begins to swim for the surface. The runes he set forth earlier start to glow and he finds himself unable to move far from the spot he started in. He's holding his breath in for as long as he can. There are more cuts to be made but he wants to pass out now. But he can't. He has to keep going.

It's when he starts making the second cut on the right side of his neck that he feels his first set of gills go from a burrowing sensation to a throbbing one. He's about to pass out, but it should be safe now. He just needs to breathe.

It's a battle of sheer will over his instincts to force himself to breathe in while underwater. He feels water go in through his gills yet not through his throat like an injection. It is shoddy and feels like when Noah is so congested he can only breathe through one nostril. That would likely be why he needs three pairs of gills total.

***

With at least enough air not to die, he forces himself to finish the ritual. By the end, he's underwater, breathing in and out. It's no longer panicked as he forces himself to take nice deep breaths. He has to pinch his nose shut to stop himself from instinctively breathing through it when underwater. He'll either stay here or keep coming down until breathing underwater comes more nautrally.

He still can't believe he's even thinking that. He's actually breathing underwater. He did magic. It can be done. This crazy, stupid plan of his might actually be doable.

It's a start.

[Safe for work summary: Through a lot of pain, Noah manages to make himself a working set of gills.]

[fernshroudedcreek]

To cross, how long have you been serving nightmare? And what's your favorite memory with your friends?😸

(This one is so long, I'm sorry.)

Cross had been walking through the castle, on his way to the dining hall for breakfast. Nightmare, still a little drowsy, lazily followed his every step. Cross paused when the message appeared, and Nightmare nearly bumped into him because of it. The king narrowed his eye. "They're still pestering you?" He growled.

"It's fine," Cross assured him, running his hand along one of Nightmare's slowly swinging tendrils. That made him instantly ease. Cross focused back on the message and it's questions. "How long I've been serving Nightmare... I think it must be around eight-"

"Nine years. Just past nine years," Nightmare answered for him when he miscalculated the time. Cross hadn't really been concerned about counting the days, or months, or years even. Nightmare on the other hand seemed sure to keep track. He was more sentimental about it, having showered Cross with affection whenever their anniversary came around. Cross found it ridiculously charming. Nothing made him swoon faster than when Nightmare actually tried to be romantic.

Cross snapped himself from the thoughts, realizing he had a small blush dusting his face. "Picking a favorite memory I have with my friends is difficult. We're so close-knit that nearly every day we manage to make a new memory to cling to," He admitted, smiling softly as he thought about his friends. How do I pick just one? He opted just to pick a specific memeory for each close friend.

"I remember when Killer and I were the only two here. We used to train every night. I started developing this strategy to knock people off their blasters by jumping in a zigzaging pattern," He recalled with a chuckle of amusement. "He started calling me Criss-Cross after that. At the time I thought it would grow to annoy me, but it never did. I actually like the nickname," He admitted.

Nightmare listened in and subtly smiled at Cross's reminiscing while they walked.

"Me and Dust have our own time together every now and then. Sometimes when-" He glanced at Nightmare, hoping he wouldn't take his following words the wrong way. "-We feel the need to be away from everyone else, we head up to the crypt together. Unlike the others, we can enjoy just silently sitting beside one another. He'll drink, and I'll read. We hardly even talk to each other, but it always feels nice to just have that calm company," He explained, voice bordering on a purr.

"I am calm company!" Nightmare complained. Cross made sure he walked a step ahead of Nightmare so he wouldn't notice the way he sarcastically rolled his eyes at the claim. "I keep calm all the time. Unless I'm annoyed about something." Which is all the time.

Cross continued on. "My favorite memory of Horror is honestly when he stopped us all from attacking Ghost when we first found her in the library," He said, remembering the way they had all drawn their weapons aside from Horror. "It's not as personal as the others, but it was adorable watching him manage to form a connection with an actual mountain lion. You could tell right off the bat that he loved her to death," He chuckled.

"And now you all love Ghost to death," Nightmare mused.

"So do you," Cross replied. Nightmare looked away, which just meant Cross was right. "I think overall, the best memory I have of any of them would be that time on the frozen lake. We had only just met Dust and Horror, yet when we started playing on that ice, we all just clicked. All of us had fun, and all of us talk about it from time to time," He said, voice soft from the amount he cared.

Nightmare tapped him with a tendril. "Don't get too lost in your thoughts. We're here," He pointed out, nodding at the dinning hall doors. Cross nodded and waved off the message so he could join his friends for breakfast.

As soon as he opened the door, Ghost affectionately tackled him.

[bomberqueen17]

sewing and dyeing

I have managed to achieve some sewing!

I finished the silk dress from the yardage I'd dyed around Christmas, even hemmed it and everything, I feel very accomplished. So that's done.

And the linen bias-cut slip dress I made around Christmas, which I never wore anywhere because it was white-- I've managed to dye it, and it came out much more interesting than I'd expected! So, pictures and discussion behind the cut.

[image description: A mirror shot of me, a fat blonde white woman, in a grungy basement, wearing a clingy white knit tank top with a drapey cowl neck]

Firstly, I made this tank top (I bound the armholes, it looks nicer that way)-- started with the Cashmerette Wexford top, then used this tutorial from Threads Magazine to hack a cowl neck onto it. Ages ago I'd had a cowl neck sleevless top that I loved, and wore holes in, and couldn't find one again. So I used a yard or so of very slinky knit, probably some kind of rayon blend from Dharma would be my guess.

I tried it on, and immediately threw it in the soda ash solution to dye it because I don't need a white top like this, it'll get shit dripped on the tit immediately so I might as well give it a busy dye job. I will make more of this top in other fabrics, but 1) make the cowl just a bit longer so it drapes farther, and 2) make the self facing deeper, I feel like this one is going to flip out all the damn time.

I also think I'll hem this shorter, but I haven't hemmed it at all so far so it remains to be seen.

Secondly, I have nearly finished this button-up camp-collar shirt from the Cashmerette Club, in a natural linen that I have so many yards of from an old project I never did.

[image description: me in the same grubby cluttered mirror view of my basement, wearing a gray shirt, slightly wrinkly, with unfinished sleeve edges and I'm holding it shut because there aren't buttons on it yet. There are two breast pockets and one is significantly higher than the other.] So the breast pockets are optional and uh I am definitely only going to put one or zero on the next one of these I make because I checked and rechecked and rechecked and this is literally the best I could do at making them even??? ugh also they don't sit right because there's a bust dart and one of them went on ok and somehow the other one is overlapping the bust dart slightly, which means it's Not On Straight. Just.... not optimal. I get why there are pockets but I also super get why they're optional. No thanks!

I hate the interfacing too, it was awful to work with and feels like paper. But once I've finished and washed this I hope it will settle down. (In the past I've used shitty salvaged interfacing for things I was making, and used spray adhesive and sewed the edges where possible, and it worked fine. This, I splashed out and got the stuff in the package that's ostensibly meant to fuse on with your iron and guess what doesn't fucking work? that. So it's been just a nightmare and I'm not buying the nice stuff again because it fucking sucks. I get that you don't want to not interface the collar of a shirt like this, and the button band would be awful un-interfaced, but christ, I'm using the flimsy salvaged shit I cut out of an old bedskirt next time.

The directions on this pattern are... well as long as you know what they mean it's great. But there's a video sewalong, and that helped a ton. This is a very complicated pattern and yet somehow none of it has been beyond me, even though i sewed one bust dart inside-out first thing, and immediately also sewed the yoke to the back inside-out, and then right away also assembled the collar inside-out because I was so distracted by how much the interfacing did not actually fucking do what it was supposed to (yes i followed the package directions, no it did not fucking fuse). I got a lot of seam-ripping done, is all. (It really is a cool pattern, and if you manage to get through the directions, which are extremely specific, you wind up with a fully-finished interior with almost all the seam allowances beautifully enclosed-- it's cool as fuck.)

I have fabric already set aside to make at least two more of these. IDK how much I'll wear them but I love them. (I *have* coveted a shirt-dress for years, with one Almost Okay from Torrid that I wore a lot but have recently realized looks awful on me actually, so I will be making it a dress too, no fear.)

But then! Also: Dyeing!

So I looked on Dharma Trading for their tutorials and was not disappointed. I don't want to do traditional tie-dye, but I want the effect I got at Christmas with the silk scarves that I space-dyed. I don't have to steam-set fiber-reactive dyes, so that's a plus.

I saw this tutorial on dharma for ombre dyeing and I'm super gonna try that next, but haven't yet.

Tie Dye Tutorial on Dharma Trading: this is the one I used as a starting point.

So I dissolved a cup of soda ash in a gallon of warm water, put that in a plastic bucket, and soaked my fabric for 5-15 minutes, and then I decided to do a kind of gravity-based thing with squirt bottles and a spray bottle. I hung a clothes hanger from the gas pipe in the ceiling, put a big plastic mortar tub underneath, put a smock on myself, mixed up my dyes (and urea and in some cases salt, as directed by dharma the all-knowing-- half-cup batch size for the squirt bottles, and quarter-cup sizes for the spray bottle), and got to work one garment at a time.

I put some pleats into the garments and held them with clothes pins. Then I sort of "drew" along the pleats, picking a color to be the tops, and a second color to squirt into the valleys. I filled in with the spray bottle to highlight the pleats more, since that would hit the outer parts of the folds but the interior would be shadowed and stay white; then I could go draw in those white areas with my shadow color.

Everything then would drip down toward the hem of the garment, though there wasn't really that much movement; if I wanted a drip to cascade, i had to draw it down there myself with the squeeze bottle.

[image description: two squeeze bottles with narrow nozzles, and a spray bottle of more rigid plastic with a pump-dispenser top, sitting on top of a piece of stained scrap fabric on an old washing machine with tubs of dye powder sitting in the background.]

I also did a shirt where I spread it out on a rack in a pan at an angle, and sprinkled a mixture of dye powder and salt on it. Then I went and used the squirt bottles too, but it was a fun technique and I'd use it again.

[image description: a garment lies in loose folds, speckled with dark blue-green spots, and at the top decorated in splotches of blue and green.]

I wrapped the garments in plastic, and put the smaller ones into plastic bags, and then hung them outside in the sun so that a) the dye would flow downward rather than backstaining the areas I'd meant to leave white, and b) the sun would warm them so the dye could cure, and c) the plastic would keep them wet because the dye only chemically sets while damp.

Let them cure for 24h, and then today I brought them in and rinsed them for about a thousand years, and then washed them and gave them a soak and rinse in dye-fixative, then dried them on the line.

Here is the linen bias-cut slipdress I made at Christmas time, dry and ironed.

[image description: a dress on a hanger, with my hand pulling out one side of the skirt: the straps and neckline are bright emerald green, and then the body is streaked vertially with varying shades of green, teal, and dark blue, with a little purple at the hemline. The colors are light and a little muted, and some white shows between them in a few places.]

The linen took the dye lightest, the cotton a little darker, and a small offcut of rayon I'd had sitting around took the dye darkest of all.

here's everything still damp on the line:

[image description: under a blue sky, a metal clothes-tree-style line on the left has several small items in shades of green and turquoise, and then a line crosses the screen from right to left through the middle, with several items hanging on it. In the background are two cotton dresses, one mostly teal and the other green at the top with a white and purple skirt, then the linen dress from above in the middle, and closest to the camera is a mostly-quite sheet of fabric with geometric lines in green, blue, and purple.]

The foreground fabric is the rayon, and I sandwiched it between two blocks of wood with rubber bands holding it in place, and just saturated the edges with dyes. I'm extremely into it, it came out beautifully. i have more rayon so I am going to make something from that to ombre-dye, for sure.

I have severely overdone my physical activity the last two days though; I lay awake for a couple of hours the other night with my sciatic nerve just burning, and I expect the same tonight. We'll see though, maybe I'lll be pleasantly surprised, or just lucky.

Oh yah I'm trialing Ritalin, but just like the other medications, it's such a low dose and it's not extended-release. I looked up how to take it and the directions assumed I'd been given two or three pills to get through a day. Not so! So I have about four medicated hours in a day, and keep experimenting with where to put them. I don't notice it wearing off the way I did with Adderall though, so there's that at least.

Maybe by the end of May I can try a full dose of something, and see if that helps. IDK, it seems like it might.