#anyway. past my bedtime. GOODNIGHT!

[subsequentibis]

drew a bit while waiting for my computer to boot up. gonna need to get that fixed. but i'm thiiiiis close to capturing flansburgh's Essence

[sunflowercider]

Once Javier Asrahan becomes a grandmaster, there are only two times he is ever harmed by a blade.

This first time is one of his most painful memories. A chaotic battle in the pits of Hell itself. He desperately attempts to defend his master, and only briefly succeeds. The throbbing pain of his shoulder is no comparison to the shattering of his heart as he watches the man closest to him sacrifice himself to save everyone they love.

(He does not allow this man to suffer alone.)

The second and last time he is injured by a blade is a quiet evening not long after. The master of his heart is resting in the bed before him. The entire household is appalled at the state of his health and has ensured he remains rested and well-fed. Javier is no exception, and has brought an apple for a bedtime snack. The man watches him as he quietly quarters it and hands a slice over, making sure to pick any seeds out. As he cuts into the next slice, there's a long sigh beside him followed by a quiet "I love you". Javier whips up to gape at the man. There's a faint stinging in his palm. It's a wonder he can hear his master's yelp of shock over the ringing in his ears. The man tugs at the hand holding the apple, babbling about something, but all Javier can do is tug him closer and ask him to repeat himself. Through gritted teeth and pink cheeks, he does, and Javier is reminded of his most treasured memory every time he sees the nick on his palm.

[plushri]

Just spent two hours talking in the doorway with my friend, this always happens with us it takes us hours to say goodbye. Sometimes I get a bit frustrated with myself because whenever we go out, even if I'm home in plenty of time I'll get to bed late, but when I'm older I won't look back fondly at all the times I got to bed on time, it'll be those late night conversations with my friend that drag on for hours because we keep thinking of things we need to tell eachother

[yanankim]

Wooseok’s ‘꿈’ in Dr. BeBe

↳ for @mina-love

[headslikekites]

ok I scheduled my artfight things finally. you will never guess what happened (<- the forgetter)

[afraidofchange]

Anyway I haven't really talked about it in depth, and this is not a fully researched headcanon (which I'll do eventually or at least, add sources to this one), but I think Ana's relationship with her faith is complex, and I believe she does not fully follow all aspects, but rather, chooses tenets to follow that she believes in.

So first and foremost, Islam is the dominant religion in Egypt - 90.3% of the population - and as such, not only was Ana raised as a Muslim, but the faith is also very much culturally integrated. However, as mentioned in the (old) lore and my own personal headcanon, the Amari family is a multigenerational military family, and Ana in her youth actively chose to be secular about her faith.

(also, we can infer given the iconography of Ancient Egyptian gods in Ana and Fareeha's designs, that perhaps, in the game world, some of it is still used - especially since Ana says "the Eye of Horus watches over you", but I believe 'Horus' might've been her callsign in the military. That, or Blizz really just said 'Oh, Egyptian characters? Let's use Ancient Egyptian motifs for them!')

Anyway, Ana chose to get a tattoo which is considered haram under Islamic law, and in her young skins in the game, she does not partake in wearing a hijab. So in my view, I believe she is secular and would still participate in holidays and such, but would not actively go to prayer services or other religious events. Her focus was in the military, and then of course, onto Overwatch internationally.

I also think in her relationship with Sam - who we know was a public servant, likely a diplomat - that she had probably suggested raising Fareeha in a secular way. And of course, just before or during their separation, Fareeha was spending time with her father in Canada, spending a lot of her early teen years in a totally different cultural upbringing than home in Cairo.

Religion was not much on her mind - not a lot was, besides Overwatch and her career. However, after nearly losing her life and struggling with temporary amnesia because of the trauma, she spent a lot of time trying to remember who she was, what parts of her core identity were there under the surface. When her memory returned, and Ana was putting herself back together again, she found comfort in her upbringing and a belief in God that was always there, despite not actively taking part in organized religion. In her travels as a 'dead woman', she began to practice some parts of Islam again, like choosing to wear the hijab, taking part in services in different places of the world where no one would recognize her (and where she would keep herself hidden, out of view).

While she is not strictly adherent to all laws and tenets as a Muslim, it is an active part of who she is today, and a core piece of Ana's inner identity after her near death experience. Faith keeps her grounded to the world.

[rabbithaver]

i will say one of the things that i have enjoyed the most about being in the Sonic fandom in the last couple months is just... the sheer amount of fanart. there are so many people with so many amazing ideas and skills that they're honing and practicing every day. it's really inspired me to try to draw more often and try to get better at my own work

[glitteratti]

i know i make this post once a week but oh my god. it is so absolutely embarrassing to be 25 and still so incredibly sad about my high school experience

[paper-star-ships]

"Came Back Wrong" Prompts

♡ ♡ ♡

Insatiable hunger

Unnatural cold

Hair turning white/streaked with grey

Eyes changing color

Sharpening features (angles sharper, teeth and nails thinner and more dangerous to touch)

Weak/absent heartbeat

Living disturbance (animals are wary of you, plants die when left in your care; it's as if you are a poison to the living in these aspects)

Ash and smoke (The smell lingers in your hair and clothes–almost unnoticeable but certainly there–the taste of it lingers after every bite of food or drink of water, after every kiss)

Sensitivity to sunlight (It doesn't burn you, per se, it bruises you, stabbing your temple with a pounding headache and leaving you dizzy and withered)

Desperate and unnamable craving (craving for love, for connection, understanding, newness; craving for life that you've never known until now)

♡ ♡ ♡

[august--and-everything-after]

Mutuals i love you

[whatsabriard]

So it is entirely possible to have withdrawals from a TV show you've watched 100 times already. So to soothe the savage beast or whatever, I decided to fill a flufftober prompt as a way of making myself feel better. So here, have a quick little ficlet.

~ wearing each other’s clothes ~ 

The night was still dark, the slightest fingers of pink streaking the sky when Jonathan awoke. At first unsure of what had started him to consciousness, a sweep of the large bed beside him revealed that she was gone.

He did not entertain the quell of unease at her disappearance, instead swinging his legs from the bed and his arms into his robe. 

Their evening clothes were still discarded haphazardly, which meant she likely hadn’t left the suite.

Her form, silhouetted against the window in the sitting room, settled his rising panic at once. He stood there, taking several moments to appreciate her. His dress shirt was comically large on her, reaching nearly to her knees, and her arms were wrapped tight around her middle. Her hair, a tumble of mahogany in the pre-dawn light, was a messy halo. He’d wasted no time in unpinning the severe roll she kept it in, running his fingers through the large, swooping curls as he held her for the first time earlier that evening. 

He couldn’t see her face, but she seemed relaxed although lost in thought. It amazed him once more to think he could know her that well after such a short amount of time. He didn’t believe in fate or soulmates, but the appearance of Jennifer Edwards in his path and his life seemed to indicate otherwise. And yet her stillness tickled at the insecurities he tried to keep at bay. He trusted her - he loved her - but he didn’t know if what he’d proposed, literally, would frighten her once she had time to think on it.

And so as he usually did, he masked his worry in humor. “Not having any regrets, are you?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, but when she turned to face him her smile was blindingly bright. 

“Never, darling.” She bobbed her head, indicating he should come closer. She didn’t have to ask him twice, and his arms covered hers, wrapping around her middle and pulling her against his chest. “Just thinking.”

He loved her voice. It seemed to caress his skin before heading directly into his heart. He could feel her words there, in his chest.

“About?”

She tittered nervously and tucked her chin. She wasn’t a shy woman, far from. She’d taken his breath away with both her nerve and her verve. But whatever had caused that momentary lapse of confidence, it fell away because she spoke clearly. “Thinking how very much I love you.”

He tightened his arms and buried his face in her hair, wondering at the sting behind his eyes. Unconditional wasn’t something he knew much about before Max, but the gravelly old man had taught him to recognize it and to hold onto it when it appeared. 

Jennifer, he knew, was unconditional and the truth of it was enough to take him to his knees. 

“You have no idea how much I love you.” He whispered, the words punctuated by kisses against her crown. 

And this time, her laugh wasn’t nervous at all, but deep and throaty and full of promise. 

“Oh, I think I do.” She said, even as she twined their fingers together and led him back into the master suite. 

Jonathan followed behind her, docile as a lamb but hungry like a wolf. He eyed her shapely legs as they disappeared beneath the white linen of his shirt. They were just outside the door when he stopped and their twined hands brought Jennifer up abruptly. 

Her eyebrow questioned him - they were so close to the promised land and the rumpled slice of heaven they’d christened only hours before. 

“Looks better on you than it ever looked on me.” Jonathan tugged at the sleeve of the shirt and Jennifer grinned up at him, a challenge lighting her eyes. 

“Maybe you’ll have to fight me for it.” She teased, backing into the room. 

“I doubt it’ll come to that,” was Jonathan’s reply, already pushing the shirt from her shoulders. The door clicked shut behind them.  

[eddieschains]

i love going out to dinner with my parents and they sit on their phones the whole time 😃

what a wonderful outing thank you guys so much for inviting me

[not-orphaned-account]

anyways i have second degree burns on my fingertips but the grind never stops

[apollo-zero-one]

I did NOT just say to myself "it's late I should go to bed or at least open YouTube" and close Tumblr, stare at my home screen for a moment, go mark myself front in SP, and immediately reopen Tumblr and browse several posts before remembering I had just closed it on purpose 💀

[talkorsomething]

I'm just up too late, for some reason. (Keep getting really tired at the end of the day, so... no sense in it.)

That being said.

Surgery, the idea of change is terrifying, somehow. I hold the conviction that this is what i want, have wanted for almost as long as i've known i was trans, and yet...

I don't see a world where i wake up from surgery and say that it was all some... delusion. Something not real. That my discomfort never existed.

I do exist in a world, where, the first time i had my sibling cut my hair, i cried my eyes out half the night. That shit was NOT pretty. But then, i got it fixed (shorter) and I loved it. I felt so much more like myself.

and now, any subsequent time i want to do the same sort of thing, i have a heightened sense of trepidation. It's not a fear of looking bad, per se, but of having the same reaction. God knows why it affected me so much. [I do know why. A holdover from the classic child's experiment with scissors treated, perhaps, a little unfairly.]

It's not enough that i feel uncomfortable at the way i see myself in the third person, mirrors, pictures, whatever. I've tried my best to minimize my chest without being able to bind, and in the process have learned an extreme discomfort of going without an extra protective layer against the world.

(Dysphoria hoodies don't exist without reason, of course.)

Is it enough? Will this mean enough to who i am in the future?

Being out scares me. It's - as with everything in my life - the fear of the unknown, the fear of change. Acknowledge me on my own terms — but am I right? How can I know, for certain? What's the one truth that will tell me, for real this time?

On the flipside, I'm resigned to being in the closet forever/as long as i need to be. But everyone knows. They can tell there's something different about me. This is not unique to the now - I certainly passed, as long as I never talked, when I was younger, had shorter hair. I experienced this.

... and with the same, difficult to grasp sort of shame I feel now. Strangers have no reason to simply humor me; and yet they're awfully quick to laugh at the fact that i could be anything but.

If I know anything, it's that the most I can hope for is too be percieved, maybe, as a slightly butch lesbian.

If I kniw anything, it's that I'm already visibly queer; no hormones added or suppressed, but facial hair that everyone sees, comments on.

Because it's funny that a woman can have a beard. Because there's something wrong with my hormones as they stand. Because I, clearly, have been taught to hate my body and what it stands for. Because society has been telling me this entire time that I must be a hairless, skinny sex object, and I've clearly internalized that message.

I haven't.

Is that so hard to believe? That I was raised with just the right amount of dis-care that it all passed me by? That the only thing passed down to me, by virtue of always being different, was an ED?

It would be hard to say I've never hated myself for being fat, but only in the way that it's hard to say I've never been suicidal. Textual evidence says the opposite, but I've always known just the right/wrong things to tell myself. Living through the tail-end of the "glory days" (so to say) of tumblr meant all the posts of positive self-talk, being mindful, being kind to yourself - I internalized those. And at the same time, I was wildly depressed. At the same time, I was completely fine. I learned a better way of being and dug myself out of the shallow pit I found myself in.

And then, knowing what to do right, I turned around and went right back in. Further, even.

I'm too self aware now. I find myself at odds with how I'm living. I know I need to give myself more grace, more room to recover, but i just...... don't. It's all too easy to throw myself into something, to desparately want to get better at it, but ignore all signs pointing to burnout.

... i forgot what the point was.

I just need to complete one more form, and I should be clear to schedule my consult. I was going to do it today, even. ...and then, i got stuck, because of [redacted].

It's getting better. She seems to have, at least a little, understood what I was trying to say. The future, my future, is still uncertain, built on unstable ground, but I'm not completely lost in the woods. There's a light, however small, to guide me home.

I don't know what that's going to mean for me.

Maybe surgery will happen and she'll cry about losing her daughter. Maybe she won't even know. As long as I have the space and time to recover, I can do this.

I just don't want to prove her right.

[toastsnaffler]

in a veryyyyy strange mood right now 😵‍💫