#as an alto i approve

[soaps-mohawk]

The fact that multiple videos like this have been showing up on my fyp since reading the latest chapter... you too, shall now be graced with them

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNeTWjt9/

....as they should 😌

What's funny is I was just talking with a friend about those 😂

Bless though my fyp is insane rn

[yusuke-of-valla]

If you’ve finished p5t, what are your thoughts? I’ve heard mixed stuff

Hmmm well the short version is, if you like my blog you'll probably like this game. It's pretty much the kinda fic I like writing, not really a personal story about the Phantom Thieves but a Weird Metaverse Thing happens and they have to deal with it with occasional bits of introspection

In short the kind of thing I eat up. It's definitely Toshiro and Erina's story but I LIKE Toshiro and Erina and the Phantom Thieves have great interactions in quests and the Talk sections. (I know I've been liveblogging but out of respect I deliberately didn't mention a plot point I really like, I do have an agenda)

Plus I love the art style it's so goofy and expressive and the sprites are great.

Honestly the thing that hurts it is it came out after Strikers, because Strikers takes steps to move the characters forward while this, uh, doesn't. Like Strikers feels like a season finale, Tactica feels like just a mid-season episode in a Monster of the Week show, and you don't usually watch those out of order.

Also gameplay-wise, I have never played an XCOM game but oh my gosh this is so fun? Like it feels different from Fire Emblem, it feels faster, it feels flowier, it's just a lot of fun and I would love more entries in this series because the movement is so good. It feels good to play.

At the very least if you don't feel like buying it I'd recommend watching the cutscenes because yeah the Phantom Thieves aren't growing as characters, but like. They're my friends and I love them and it's nice seeing them hang out. There also weren't any moments like in Strikers where I was like "hey wouldn't X have something to say about this?" Like every time something happened, the relevant character spoke up or at least reacted so characterization wise it has my seal of approval.

Idk I guess that's how I'd describe Tactica: It's really nice to play! It's a good fun time! It's like The Great British Bake Off of Persona 5 games, except with more child abiuse

[literallyjusttoa]

Muses HC's!

Bc why not, the muses are awesome. Also! Just a quick refresher bc I know not everyone is insane and has all the muses memorized.

Clio: Muse of History

Eutyrpe: Muse of Lyric Poetry

Thalia: Muse of Comedic Poetry

Melpomine: Muse of Tragic Poetry

Terpsichore: Muse of Dance

Erato: Muse of Erotic Poetry

Polyhymnia: Muse of Religious Hymns

Urania: Muse of Astronomy

Calliope: Muse of Epic Poetry

I know that Hesiod said they were daughters of Zeus but you know what I say? I say NO. I instead listen to what some other poets said, which is that the muses are very powerful nymphs that burst forth from sacred streams. I like to think this happened like five months before Apollo was born, and everyone was very confused about these nymphs that seemed to have control over domains that no one else really had any claim over, and then Apollo was born and everyone was like “ohhh that makes sense, yeah.” In a way, they prophesized Apollo’s domains (haha get it, cuz he's the god of prophecy, I’m a genius guys i’m a comedic geni-)

Thalia and Melpomine argue about everything, but they’re also inseparable. You’ll often find them discussing heroes' stories and debating whether or not their lives should take a comedic or tragic turn. 

Calliope doesn’t just write epic poetry. No, she also appraises weapons and artifacts of bygone myths with Clio, maps out constellations with Urania, and watches over upcoming epic heroes with Apollo. She’s really the jack-of-all-trades of the group.

Soprano: Eutyrpe, Thalia Mezzo-Soprano: Terpsichore, Calliope, Erato Alto: Clio, Polyhymnia Contralto: Melpomine, Urania

(Obviously they can sing all the notes but this is like, their preferences when it comes to harmonizing) 

Eutyrpe and Terpsichore love to have mini shows, with Eutyrpe performing any new lyrics she’s cooked up and Terpsichore improvising dances to her songs. 

Clio’s kind of the unofficial leader of the muses. Like, Apollo is the official leader, but whenever he’s out of town Clio’s in charge. 

Whenever Apollo makes a new poem, he shows it to whoever’s sphere it falls into first, and then Urania, bc Urania just loves reading poetry and her praise will heal the bruised ego he might have if the first draft was not approved. 

 Whenever Urania makes a new constellation, the whole group has an overnight star-watching session, where they reminisce on old heroes and make smores. 

Polyhymnia and Erato actually have a lot of overlap. Especially because Polyhymnia was making religious hymns for greek gods and, well, you know how greek gods are. This is why Erato is the only one not surprised by Polyhymnia’s dirty jokes. The other sisters think Polyhymnia is “too pure”

Apollo has been with all of the muses, but it’s honestly more of a queer-platonic sort of thing (and/or a friends with benefits situation) he has a very fluid way of showing affection with all of them, since they’ve been some of his closest companions throughout his life. Also, the ten of them have single-handedly made it through the equivalent of thousands, if not tens of thousands of tech weeks together, and I don’t think anything could bond people together more than that.

[wish-pass-666]

I'm not sure how helpful/relatable this ventpost/PSA is, but this morning I experienced a very public, transphobic microaggression from a vocal instructor. I just wanna put it out there that I've been a performing vocalist and musician for 20 years now, I can confidently tell you that "vocal types" are bullshit and deeply rooted in (suprise!) misogyny and racism.

Nobody has a "natural" voice. The voice is a very complex instrument that involves activation of a multitude of different body parts. It is one of the most permeable aspects of a human body. If you don't like your voice, you can change it. It takes work and time, sure. But it DOES change if you pursue to change it.

This vocal teacher i had in college over the last two years (as I've socially and medically transitioned) who has been encouraging me to sing like "myself," read here as not like a woman, even tho I AM A WOMAN. She cemented that notion in at our last class today.

She tested a handful of us on our vocal range. She started with a few of the cis girls in the class who claimed to be Alto's (the baseline "feminine" range and also the range that I have worked hard for 5 years in order to sit comfortably inside of)

She joyously told them, "I think your selling yourselves short, I think you could easily become sopranos (high femme register) with a little practice."

Then she brought me up and decided to basically out me to the class. She started at a lower range than the other girls, which I matched with difficulty at first because, you know, I don't normally sing down there anymore, then stopped midway through the tenor range and said, "you're a baritone. It's ok."

I did not work myself to pieces to create a voice that I'm comfortable with and proud of just to be held back by INCORRECT assumptions about my bodies capabilities. I did not work this hard to be backdoor misgendered on stage in front of my peers.

edit:

I also wanna add that there is NO inherently masculine or feminine vocal range. My voice as it was from my point of view was a source of dysphoria so intense that I began the work to change it YEARS before hrt. I did not change it to sound like a woman. I changed it to sound like ME. I created MY voice. And anyone can and should feel empowered to do the same if they feel it'd make them happy and more comfortable in their own skin. Everyone deserves to feel good about the sounds they create, some of us just have to work harder to get to that point.

All this to say, I wanna tell every trans girl struggling with their voice, feeling like their voice isn't passing enough or at all, I want you to know that no matter how hard you push yourself, no matter how beautiful we're able to sound, we will NEVER get the approval we think we need from cis folks. Create the voice that makes you happy and comfortable for no other reason than it makes you happy and comfortable.

[deepwoodmotte2]

ok me again many thoughts this evening!formal investigation into cregan x dornish reader if you write dorne as a generic combination of South American/Latinx cultures below!! (inspired by me, who is Latinx. super super promise i am not being weird i was making salchipapas while I thought about this the first time.) (reader is referred to as a princess, she/her pronouns. her appearance isn’t referred to besides long hair. i can also write a GN version of this if people want it!!)

ok so in my mind cregan would only be likely to end up with a dornish reader if the war necessitated it, OR, in my favorite rendition, she was his third wife. I love Alysanne blackwood too much to write her out entirely. so cregan, single dad again at, say, 35, attends a council at King’s Landing. Why? Not Important! maybe a grain deal?? but reader, who is a dornish princess, is there as an envoy (think when oberyn attended the wedding!) in place of her parent, the current ruler of dorne. reader is mid or late-twenties, married once before and widowed. she has one unnamed son, who’s 10.)

the council pair off, and somehow, a deal gets struck between the north, dorne, and king’s landing. maybe for spices? and so suddenly you, reader, are having to work very closely with this imposingly tall, broad northerner with a thick beard and long hair and a nose that’s clearly been broken a couple times and apparently a crop of children and you cannot look away. i like to imagine the north as scotland when Scotland was heavily populated by the danish - cregan has a unplaceable accent to you, but his voice is so rich and gently firm that you can’t help but swoon a little. he’s stormy - he’s dour, and he gets a little tiny mischievous smirk when he’s talking sometimes that you think you want to see in your child’s face someday. he’s a bit older than you but in an appealing way, he’s a lord, he looks like that, and you, who have always been independent, strategic, and witty, are suddenly at a LOSS. i always like to imagine my readers with happy families so i’m imagining reader speaking furiously to a bastard sister she’s brought with her in spanish like “¡¡¡si si si !!!!! y es MUY alto y…. tienes que jurarme que guardarás silencio… pero es tan guapo….” and the whole time reader is completely unaware that cregan stark is having a moral crisis in the corner because he doesn’t really just WANT to be like “this is the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen” he wants to grieve and sit with that for longer for the sake of his children. and so he finds himself at odds. and not about to do anything about it at all!!! dornish princess is ruining his life and she doesn’t even know it!!

and then maybe one day a Lannister or someone else we can guarantee wolf-man would loathe says they intend to ask for your hand. and suddenly cregan realizes he might lose something he never even had - and he never loses. he makes a vow to himself to try, and seeks you out. maybe reader likes to hunt or walk or swim; either way, you’re in the godswood, on a blustery evening, and it’s you and a couple of personal guards. cregan stark rides into the godswood with his own guard, ice on his back, in a light grey tunic with a divet in the middle and riding pants. his boots are black leather, cut high and to his calf. they frame his thighs, which are are as wide as a barrel; the muscle in them ripples when his horse gallops. you are thinking nothing the faith or your septa would approve of. his clavicle peeks through the top of his shirt, the enormous sinewy muscle of his neck visible. you think, for a half second, that he would look ravishing in martell yellow.

you clear your throat. and try not to stare as he comes off his horse and his back muscles peek through the thin material of his shirt. even in this weather, which is not warm, he’s a little sweaty. you don’t realize what he knows - it’s not weather, it’s nerves. you’re exactly what he wants and what he is most terrified of. you’re widowed, too - you know his pain. you’re of high - incredibly so - rank, and you’re beautiful, intelligent, and while he’s unfamiliar with your culture, he wants to know everything he can about it and you. he wants you. he barely knows you and the idea of not getting to further feels like it’s eating him alive. his shirt sticks to his back some more. he turns to face you.

“lord stark-“ he cuts you off, accidentally, but confidently. “Princess, i had hoped to speak to you alone.” you jolt, surprised. had your sister repeated what you’d told her? was he here for council business? had you offended him somehow? you look at him, studying his eyes as best you can as the distance between you slowly closes and he walks forward, and you see, for the first time, an unsureity. he looks afraid. you dismiss your guards as he does.

“what is it you need, lord stark?” his Adam’s apple flexes as he swallows, his neck muscles twitching as his jaw tenses in worry. you’re almost worried - he looks pained. had something happened?

“I thought we might walk while we speak.” you take his arm, gently, trying to look him in the eye. his beard seems unkempt, unlike him. his hair needs to be shorn. he looks wild. you walk, and out of the silence, he says “my first wife, who i married at six and ten, proposed to me. my second wife did the same.” before you can respond, he continues, “as it stands, i have never arranged my own marriage - i… have wandered into them without set intention. it leaves me at a loss then, of knowledge of how to ask.” you swallow, expecting the worst - is he asking you how to propose to someone else? but you’re both too recently widowed, grieving, and then he takes a deep breath in, and says “Princess, i understand that you may not agree to it, and i respect that. i also understand that lannister intends to ask you the same.” you breathe in in shock at that - lannister? - and then go “agree to what, lord stark?” he takes an unconfident stride, turning his face quickly away and then back. you stop walking. you need to look him in the eye.

“i wondered, princess, if you would be willing to be my wife.”

a moment passes. you realize you’ve just been staring at him. he takes a breath in and goes “i have caused-“ you hold a hand up. “you have caused no offense, lord stark. i merely had no expectation of this.” you’re red in the face, but not in a bad way. it’s certainly not warm out right now, for what you’re used to. “i… i would. i would very much like to. i took pause because i did not expect you to ask.”

there’s a long pause before cregan stark asks if he can kiss you. you need him, in every way. your hands grip his shirt collar, his neck, his beard, and eventually, into his hair - one of his hands has encircled your waist, pulling you into him. you are not fragile, nor particularly petite, but you still disappear behind his figure with ease. his beard burns against your skin, but the friction does nothing to cool your fires - he bites at your lip, hard, wolfish, and you gasp, taking in air. he does it again a moment later, and you realize you will end up in this man’s bed, lest it kill you. it goes on for a while before either of you formally come up for air, and it’s only because a raindrop hits you in the forehead.

“i am glad of your offer,” you say, placing a hand on his chest, “and glad of you.” cregan stark, lips red, beard tangled from your hands, hair askew, looks at you like you know a secret. he doesn’t smile, not ever, that you’ve seen. you like to imagine he does for his children. you want to ask about them. (you’ve met his only son, an equally stormy and dour teenager, who you suspect your own son, a boy of ten, all chubby-cheeked and spritey, would find terrifying. cregan and his son, however, seem to share a kindness - an earnest one - and you are not blind to that. you wonder what else there is to cregan you can’t see.) a brevity graces his stern brows, and there is a warmth to his voice previously unheard to you when he says “and i of you, princess.” you smile then, lightly and truly.

[oopsarboreal]

I was bored and I did this:

Ohhh these are great! Especially proud of how Alto and Gerald react. Poor Mr Misfortune my man can’t even get a hug without something EXPLODING 😭

Approve of the hugging. Best character ai activity honestly

[altocat]

Hey Alto, I am not feeling the best, so I was wondering if I could ask you for some wholesome Miniroth + Team Glenn hcs where they let him experience normal kid things? 🥺💔

Hope you feel better! Get some good rest, anon ❤️

All of these are subject to change depending on the direction of the story lol

Sephiroth and Glenn are probably the closest, though they are constantly arguing. For as much as they yell at each other, bicker, and butt heads, Sephiroth secretly likes when Glenn gives him special attention, and inwardly covets Glenn's approval.

Sephiroth is also close with Lucia, as she seems to most outwardly vocal about the fact that he's still a kid with specific needs to be met. She tends to dote on him the most, easing some of Sephiroth's emotional void when it comes to maternal warmth.

Matt relies more on logic than emotion and there isn't that interpersonal closeness so much as a deep mutual respect between him and Sephiroth. Some of the lessons he imparts onto Sephiroth influence Sephiroth's personal battle tactics as an adult.

Sephiroth sleeps away from the trio most of the time whenever it comes time to call it a day. He always keeps his distance. Lucia pesters Glenn to invite Sephiroth over to roll out his sleeping bag next to them, as it's clear that the kid probably doesn't feel like he's truly part of the group. Sephiroth very happily accepts the offer.

Glenn brought snacks for the trip to the island, but he wastes pretty much ALL of them because he keeps giving them to Sephiroth to try. Sheltered brat's never had a potato chip. A tragedy.

Matt and Sephiroth work together to put hunting traps all over the island to keep the monsters away. 90% of this involves Glenn getting caught in them and the other 10% is Sephiroth freaking everyone out by suggesting that they eat what they catch.

It's an island. There's probably a beach episode. Just sayin.

Glenn sits Sephiroth down and explains the birds and the bees, since Sephiroth actually seems pretty clueless about the adult world. He then teasingly suggests that Sephiroth goes and hits on Lucia, even offering personal pickup lines. Sephiroth gets flustered and butchers the entire delivery, only for Lucia to quickly round on Glenn for trying to corrupt the baby.

Matt shows Sephiroth the more swampy areas of the island in order to record more data on the wildlife. They both end up catching frogs together for 90 minutes.

Glenn teaches Sephiroth swear words under the guise of this being "how adults talk". Lucia smacks him again.

AU where they collectively decide to just adopt Sephiroth and now he has three parents who love and adore him and nothing bad happens ever the end.

[paloma-ascends-into-hellfire]

intro post or whatever because why not i'm bored and i should be studying for my finals but haha, clearly i'm not

~ basic info ~

paloma/palo/whatever | she/they | aroace + bi | latine (el salvador)/canadian | infp | bookworm | writer | music lover | theatre kid |

---------------------------------------------------

~ books and movies and musicals, oh my~

percy jackson / a good girl's guide to murder / one of us is lying /

epic the musical/ starkid/tcb/ dear evan hansen (i'm sorry i'm a cringey teenager) / stranger things (fuck noah schnapp) / the outsiders / glee (again, cringey teenager) / wednesday / rtc / the owl house / shakespeare /

---------------------------------------------------

~ music ~

laufey, olivia rodrigo, melanie martinez, the cardigans, em beihold, precious pepala, paris paloma, dove cameron, showtunes, taylor swift, abba, seb lowe, daisy grenade, billie eilish, renée rapp, paramore, dua lipa, camilla cabello, kaia jette, kendall nicole, mariah rose faith, haim, maisie peters

---------------------------------------------------

~ fav albums ~

guts, olivia rodrigo

reputation, taylor swift

1989, taylor swift

speak now, taylor swift

midnights, taylor swift

egg in the backseat, em beihold

when we all fall asleep where do we go?, billie eilish

sour, olivia rodrigo

the good witch, maisie peters

---------------------------------------------------

my chaotic tagging system:

#as a canadian i approve - canada stuff

#the friends - interacting with my moots, individuals will be tagged with their name + <3

#wholesomeness - self explanatory

#mental health shit - what the name says

#important - stuff i want you to see

#<3 - misc things i find nice

#snake snake snake - snakes!

#rant rant rant - my lil ranty rants

#personal - me stuff!

#🏳️‍🌈 stuff - queer stuff, be it wholesome, important, or funny. i’m really bad about tagging this one though lol

#disabilty - mainly chronic migraine things

#adhd stuff - what it says

otherwise i just kind of tag my fandoms as their own thing depending on how i want to see.

---------------------------------------------------

~ misc. ~

i play alto sax, drums, keyboard, and clarinet

i have a sideblog, @paloma-writes-about-hellfire - irls dni with that one

my blog is kind of a disaster, but it's mostly hatchetfield, epic the musical, spies are forever, lgbtq+, current events, wholesome stuff, and occasionally a personal anecdote, we're kinda all over the place here but oh well

i love all animals but especially owls, snakes, butterflies, and cats

PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT MEDICAL STUFF ESP MEDICAL HISTORY

ask me about leopold and loeb, PLEASE I LOVE YAPPING

also i love ranting so if you wanna rant with someone, i'm your girl

free palestine

fuck jkr

trans rights

go away terfs, homophobes, aphobes, islamaphobes, anti-semites, racists, bigots in general

--------------------------------------------------

[igottatho]

News. Didn’t sleep much last night so I’ll have to do captions and more detailed stuff later, my sincere apologies.

Here’s a sumup for Feb 22, 2024:

Norway has divested $500 million from Israel bonds. A huge win for BDS movements. More info and the original tweet thread can be found here.

Hundreds of protestors begin again in the Bay Area, directly to Biden’s fund raiser in SF. All of the standalone images are from this event, as reported by Kqed, found via Instagram here. Descriptions for images are attached to each. Entire post contents are as follows: “kqednews Protesters demanding a cease-fire in Gaza gathered Wednesday night near a fundraiser in San Francisco for President Joe Biden's 2024 campaign. Hundreds of activists filled Alta Plaza Park as part of the demonstration organized by the Palestinian Youth Movement and the Party for Socialism and Liberation. Protestors chanted "free, free Palestine" and "from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free" and urged the president to end U.S. aid to Israel. "How dare he visit San Francisco only to rake in cash, ignoring residents of a city which passed a ceasefire resolution with a supermajority?", said Suzanne Ali, a Palestinian Youth Movement member, in a written statement. "While Biden charges donors $100,000 for a ticket to his cocktail party, bombs labeled 'Made in the USA' are raining down on civilians in Gaza for the fourth consecutive month, killing over 13,000 Palestinian children and counting." "We are demanding that there is a permanent ceasefire now," said Party for Socialism and Liberation member Ramsey Robinson, who spoke at the protest. "That's our money, stolen from the people, stolen from the taxpayers, and we want to let Joe Biden know that we know that." President Biden is reportedly making multiple campaign stops in San Francisco and Los Altos Hills between Wednesday and Thursday. But Robinson thinks that other than "the tiny number of the super rich," Biden isn't popular in the Bay Area. Read for more details at kqed.org/news”

Girl Scouts have received funding from Raytheon Tech and has made “stay neutral” merch. We hates a neutral ass bitch, sorry Girl Scouts, not sorry. Full story, from @prem_thakker : “Wow—Girl scouts wanted to make bracelets to help aid Palestinian kids. @girlscouts leadership threatened them, saying they must "stay neutral." After it was pointed out there've been similar efforts for Ukraine, they pivoted, saying the troop didn't follow "approval processes:” Prem then displays another image which says: “The last sentence hit her hard: "Unfortunately, if this direct violation of the organization's governing documents and policies continues, Girl Scouts of Eastern Missouri and Girl Scouts of the United States have no other choice than to engage our legal counsel to help remedy this situation and to protect the intellectual property and other rights of the organization." "I got a little scared; I'm not gonna lie," she said. "I wondered, what are they going to do to me?* For years, she had strived to give these girls the opportunities she had missed out on herself. The troop had formed a sisterhood, growing up together since kindergarten. Abuhamdeh reached out to the other parents. They decided the organization's values didn't align with what they were trying to teach their daughters.” I’m unclear where this image/quote was taken from, presumably from the original reporting of STLtoday.com

There’s additional tweets from Prem, which talk more about Girlscouts & weapons contractors here. The images at source are screencaps (from the girlscout website) which I’ll share here:

The last two images are the most important; the first depicts an image of a Palestinian boy holding a blanket he has apparently salvaged from rubble. The tweet from @Times of Gaza reports at 2:50 am of Feb 22, “Day 139 | During the past 24 hours: 9 massacres committed by the Israeli occupation • 97 people killed • 132 injured.” At 10:52 am @Times of Gaza reports: “UPDATE | 23 people killed in the Deir Al-Balah airstrikes. The death toll is expected to rise.”

This continued loss of life is irreplaceable and my heart mourns for them. FREE PALESTINE please God.

Eta: I added text to all images for my comrades who need it. I also added a couple new images for Girl Scouts info (I had to remove a redundant img of the Kqed insta, in order to include this info). Please LMK in the notes if it’s more helpful/ easier for yall for img notes or directly in my post. My brain is fried, I’m sorry this is such a haphazard post.

Biden and Raytheon info will have to wait til tomorrow. I also hope to get some info/ articles up about Israel and diamond trade - responsible for a huge portion of Israel’s GDP and stolen exploited resources from the Congo.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - The Returnee Household

Allies

The first thing Blair wanted to do was get a warmer jacket. So she went to her house, picked out something suitable from the many clothes provided and went back outside. She walked slowly along a path that was supposed to lead to the beach. But there was no beach anymore. Instead, there was a steep cliff that made access to the sea impossible. "This is so… sad."

Her thoughts wandered to the time when everything was still fine, the time before the city was destroyed. She loved working in the office at the police station. When she wasn't working, she enjoyed spending time with friends. And many of them died in the disaster. The beach was always a popular meeting place in summer. Blair stayed for quite a while and looked into the distance.

While Blair prefers to enjoy the silence, Cyclone has already arrived in the gym and runs into familiar faces that are barely recognizable. "Wait a minute, young Cy Sword?"/ "You recognized me, hello, Mister Bunch? You've lost weight"/ "haha, yes. Oh man, I didn't want to believe it at first when they told us you were back and now you're standing in front of me.". Cy noticed that Jack even seemed relieved to see him.

"it's really good to have you back, Cy. I don't think there's a cleverer head than yours"/ "hnhn, don't say that, there are other clever people out there too. But I've put my head to good use here by now. Has anything unusual happened at home this morning?". Jack thought for a moment. "Oh, yes! My daughter said she got a text message on her cell phone from an anonymous sender who…" Jack noticed that Cyclone's smile was widening. "Wait… do you have something to do with this?"/ "hnhn".

Jack couldn't believe it, but it wasn't a complete surprise that Cy, of all people, would manage to restore some things. "How did you manage that?". Cy looked around to see if there wasn't someone behind them who might be eavesdropping. "Everything was blocked here, by a jammer"/ "I knew it!"/ "shssh, quiet! I was able to paralyze the thing. And I now know everyone's ID, and don't worry, I'm not a snoop. only selected people have access"/ "Even the Altos?". Cy heard a slightly desperate undertone in his voice. He could well imagine that many people had become suspicious of the Altos by now. "No, of course not".

Jack was almost a little overwhelmed and gave him a big hug. "Man, you're really something, Cyclone. As a former member of the military, I'm not supposed to approve of this, but… unbelievable"/ "yeah, I know. But this information shouldn't necessarily get through to them"/ "but there's no way to avoid them noticing…"/ "yes, I know. But we have to try to use this privilege with the Internet for as long as possible".

"Do me a favor…". He handed Jack a small piece of paper. "This is the list of those who have access. Talk to them and tell them not to use the computers in public, or the cell phones, just At home. ."/ "My daughter has a habit of leaving her cell phone plugged in all the time. She only noticed it by accident. Thanks, Cy, I'll pass it on".

Cyclone knew which people he could and couldn't trust here. And Jack was definitely one of the good ones. He had hoped to meet others, but it was already getting dark and most of them were in their own four walls. So he also made his way back home, thinking about what to do next.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover 🙂

[hazyaltcare]

Typing quirk suggestions inspired by...

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Character Adjustments

Capitalize "S."

Remove the "g" from words that end in "-ing."

Word Adjustments

Replace "beautiful" with "bonnie."

Replace "clothing" and similar terms with "claes."

Replace "don't" and "do not" with "dinnae."

Replace "ears" with "lugs."

Replace "fine," "good-looking," "pleasant," and similarly contexted words with "braw."

Replace "glasses," "spectacles," and similar terms with "geks."

Replace "give" with "gie."

Replace "gonna" and "going to" with "gonnae."

Replace "head" with "heid."

Replace "mountains" with "highlands."

Replace "mouth" with "geggi." (In its original context, this is considered an impolite term. So keep that in mind!)

Replace "out" with "oot."

Replace "small," "little," and similar phrases with "wee."

Replace "to" with "tae." For a more complex quirk, use this with parts of words as well. Ex. "into" becomes "intae," "alto" becomes "altae," and "motor" becomes "motaer."

Replace "you" with "ye."

Replace "you're" and "your" with "yer."

Use the term "gallus" to describe someone cheeky and arrogant.

Use the term "rooster" to describe someone who you find rude, worthless and/or trash-like. (In it's original context, this is considered an impolite term. So keep that in mind!)

Use the term "tidy" as an expression of approval.

Text Prefixes & Suffixes

🐑⛰️ <text>

🌊🌊🌊 <text> ⛰️⛰️⛰️

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 <text> 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

<text> -𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰

Phrases To Use

"Am a pure nick." A phrase which means "I don't look very presentable."

"A nod's as good as a wink tae a blind horse." A phrase that underlines the importance of explaining oneself clearly.

"Black as the Earl of Hell’s Waistcoat!" A descriptive phrase used when something is pitch black.

"Failing means yer playin!" An encouraging phrase that reminds the listener that when you fail at something, at least you're still trying.

"Haud yer wheesht!" A phrase meaning be quiet.

"I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!" A phrase that means "I'll give you a slap on the ear."

"Lang may yer lum reek." A phrase generally used at formal occasions that wishes the recipient a long and happy life.

"Keep the heid!" A phrase that means keep calm under pressure.

"Pure dead brilliant." A phrase meaning something is excellent or the best.

"Yer lookin' a bit peely wally." This phrase expresses concern for someone who doesn't look well.

General Quirk Suggestions

Most (but not all) of this was inspired by Scottish slang and soundalike Scots words. Seek out more to incorporate into your quirk.

(Small disclaimer: Using this quirk obviously won't make you sound or write like a Scottish person. This is simply a typing quirk inspired by Scotland. If you have an interest in learning Scots or more about Scottish culture, I highly encourage you to seek out Scottish people who are openly sharing their culture and listen to them; and also find a Scots tutor.)

Mod Haze

[hoetachi]

IS IT A CRIME? — [PART 4] J. KUJO

❝… and it ripples like the deepest oceans ❞

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

you lure men in — uttering sweet nothings and forgettable promises, saying anything to get them to stay and give the attention you longed for, but you rightfully deserve their attention and praise for being such a being of seduction

you’re a siren

but specifically, you are jotaro’s siren

he would be lying if he said what the both of you had was just in the past and it was just lust, however there’s a fine line between both lust and what you two had experienced

now look at him. a married man that’s fighting to keep his wife with a daughter that he barely spend time with — he sometimes guiltily wondered if he were married to you, would he still be here? seated in the shadows, waiting on the performance of the woman he once had the pleasure of exploring certain parts of his life with

problem is, he would never reveal himself to you out of fear you may— or moreover is resenting himself for not committing to you. surely he knew it would amuse you that a so-called happily married man would attend such an intimately erotic and alluring show when a love-sicken wife awaits him back home, naively making a hot homemade meal for dinner as well as a little girl that imaginatively draws the creatures of the deep blue from memory as the praise she’ll receive from her father for drawing such wonders fill her with delight

but all thoughts of a loving & loyal wife waiting for his arrival seems to withdraw once he notices small ripples of movement against the velvet crimson curtains. the lights dim and alters to a blue that mirror the sea on a moonlit night

the sharp and erupt sounds of an alto saxophone followed by drums and trumpets with a piano blending with the melodic chaos, but are soon brought to an almost whispering halt as the curtains draw back and reveals a curvy mocha figure dressed in glimmering jewels all across of her abdomen as well her feet; whistles and other expressions of approval sounded through venue before shortly dying down.

his turquoise hues scanned upwards to the enormous headpiece with white feathers infused with crystals corresponding with the warm undertones of your exposed back. if the back had him so intrigued like this, he’s only curious about how the front may look

just as if his mind was read, you turn slowly on your heels revealing a sight for tired and sore eyes. chocolate eyes smize towards the once rowdy crowd of men as they wait like obedient puppies for the slightest movement. your glossed lips are teased by the tip of your tongue as you readied your voice

this may come.. this may come as some surprise but i miss you

i could see through.. all of your lies

but still i miss you

your eyes lands on his hidden figure and almost feels as if he’s now under that soft blue spotlight as you hold eye contact that felt like an eternity before shifting your gaze to the rest of the audience

he takes her love.. but it doesn’t feel like mine

your fingertips danced as well stroked the length of the stand and it brings him a ghostly feeling from his naval to his pecs, which causes him to shrug off the white trench coat as his skin emits a heat he never felt before unless with you. as dainty as you hands may seem, he still remembers the vicious scratches left on his muscular back that would be greeted by your soft plump lips

he tastes her kiss.. her kisses are not mine

they are not mine

speaking of your lips, he watches them intensely as they quiver and cracks small smiles every once in a while. to him, your lips were his favorite part of your body next your hands; it’s just something about how the little kisses you would leave on his birthmark would make him feel so small and vulnerable. jotaro was known for being strong and unheard, so having someone that could make him vulnerable and listened to was uncomfortable for him and now looking back he wish he was more accepting of it instead constantly being this emotionless wall to people; you made him feel down to earth… normal… human

he takes.. but surely she can't give what I'm feeling now..

she takes.. but surely she doesn't know how..

is it a crime?

is it a crime

that I still want you?

and I want you to want me too…

you sneakily watched him as you sang the song of your lonely longing heart. all these men in front of you could never compare to him. jotaro gave you the world and all it’s finest that it had to offer, yet they weren’t the things you longed for. you longed for him and all his insecurities; you longed for his raw emotions. anger, misery, bashfulness and so much more, but it always seemed he wanted to just show his surface while all you wanted was to peel back the layers of his soul and see him for him to the point he calls you his wife. you wanted him to be human again, but more importantly your human

my love is wider.. wider than victoria lake

he tipped his hat down, hiding the pink that emerged on his cheeks as well as the small smile as the memory of him taking you on a vacation out in the woods near the lake you mention. soft mornings with either him kissing every crevice of your body out of your peaceful slumber so he could latch his lips on his favorite part of you with your acknowledgment or star platinum embracing you as he goes out on the trail near the body of water in search of whatever creatures he come across of.

you noticed the subtle movement and wanted so badly to poke fun at his bashfulness. you remember when he took you to victoria; you thought the trip would be boring with such a man of little words, however that trip made you realize little is so much more. the little kisses over your body as you slept, the warm embrace that lingered even when he left from your side, as well as the small discussions of his latest discovery

you slowly made your way off the stage and all eyes on you like a predator stalking it’s prey. every man’s eyes ever so lustful as they watch your figure maneuver through the crowd of tables — caressing some men on their shoulders or trail up their ties to the bottom of their chins; just any specific touch to draw their attention to you

every step you took towards his way made his stomach twist into bigger knots, he almost felt nauseous. it was too late for him to get up and move away since your scapolite-colored orbs were burning into his being. he had no choice but to be put into this spotlight which involuntarily made star platinum reveal himself and stand before your upcoming path 

he watched from beneath his hat as the spiritual being leaned back against the table and watched you with pure adoration that he never once shown around his actual wife; you’re truly something special 

your stride towards him came to holt, as if you knew something was in your way— not allowing you to get your destination, however it didn’t seem to bother you though because you knew you had his actual attention. even though his eyes weren’t acknowledging you in the slightest, you still felt them elsewhere

my love is taller.. taller than the empire state 

you glanced up with a hearty smile and to him it feels as if you just greeted star platinum and proceeded to inch even closer to the table. at this moment, your aroma invades his nose and he almost lets out an audible moan at how sweet you smell and how it makes him want to bring you into his lap and bury his face into the crook of your neck to really engulf your scent whilst leaving small lovebites amongst your mocha skin

it dives..

it jumps..

you pull out a chair from his table and quickly stood on it, causing the humanoid stand to grip the chair firmly.

you then placed yourself on the table with your back towards him as you leaned back, arching your back as you traveled your hands over your curvy body while star leaned over you, caressing the side your neck whilst you eyed him with such want and need. he almost thought he saw tears in your eyes..

and it ripples like the deepest ocean..

soon you rolled over and arched your back deeply, hues locking on to his being. your knees—one after another—began to crawl towards him and in that moment, he felt a change. him being prey and you, the predator. you stopped once you realized you finally reached him and now it was now your turn to breathe him in. woodsy is how you describe the faint essence that emitted from him, truly invigorating

i can’t give you more than that..

with you now infront him, he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. deep down he knew one look and he’ll fall harder than he has ever before. he was already conflicted with how you may feel about him. he didn’t know if what you were doing now was just part of your performance or something much more, nonetheless you gave him his answer once he didn’t sense the presence of his hat but instead your fingers raking through his wavy raven locs then finding their way to his cheek, finally cracking him to look your direction and fluster once he realized the look on your face

surely you want me back

star platinum, the world” he thought and just like that you were frozen in time as well as everything else around the two of you. he took this limited moment to really gaze upon your undeniable beauty as well as raising from his seat and taking you hand into his and placing the most gentlest kiss he has ever given you. with 3 seconds to spare, he quickly decided to press his lips amongst yours; he desperately wished this moment could unpause itself and have you feel the passion behind his lips and how badly he wants you back in his life

he pulled back, caressing the smooth of your cheek before leaving. he smiled softly to himself as he exited the building, knowing the both of you will indeed cross paths again and let these buried feelings emerge once again for each other.

you blinked at the now empty seat, confused on his sudden disappearance before noticing the white hat that sat under hand. you picked up and examined it with a smile and a loving gaze

is it a crime?

this is dedicated to @dejwrites bc i want her to fall madly in luv w jotaro

reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated <3.

[inhumanheresy]

Liyue is so vastly different than Sumeru in so many broad ways that it's overwhelming to try and take it all in with just one awed stare at the sheer enormity of differences. But Dehya wears that look for a long minute, trying to decide what to focus on first, before deciding that it would be much easier to just go into the city, start small, get some food and drink, walk the streets, look at the vendor stalls and shops. She's ready to be done walking, as most of her trip from Sumeru was done on foot, but resting can wait for later, after she's had a look around and sound her way to an inn.

And so she does, spending the day meandering without purpose, buying some snacks (and promising herself to go back for more later, because damn that's good), finding her way to the harbor and watching the sea, the ships, taking in the scent of the salty air. It's so different than the dry desert she hails from, and she can feel that same awe from esrlier beginning to fill her mind again. It's incredible.

As the sun sinks towards the horizon and paints the sky with pinks and yellows, she tears her eyes away and glances around. She still has yet to find an inn, but food and drink feels more important. She could go for some wine - or something harder, but she'll save that for when she isn't brand fucking new to the city. A man catches her eye, a mask affixed to the side of his head, the silhouette of what reminds her of a Fatui. Not unusual, there's Fatui everywhere, but he looks far more relaxed than most she's seen. With a smile, she moves towards him.

"Hey there," she says with an air to match what he exudes: casual, friendly, but still with an edge of alertness disguised behind a grin. "You know of any good places here to eat? Preferably with a decent wine to go with it."

Childe heads out of work just before the sky and clouds start turning colours, the sun not yet all the way behind Mount Tianheng. Instead of heading straight back to Baiju Guesthouse, he slips his hands into his pockets and ambles his way southward through the throngs of people on the main street, debating the pros and cons of picking up groceries versus finding a place to eat for dinner against the murmuring backdrop of the crowd.

He has yet to make a decision when a call in a distinctly non-Liyuen accent catches his attention, almost as striking as the visage that accompanies it — a lilting woman’s voice, probably a low alto, he thinks, whose consonants terminate in an unfamiliar manner. Her hair is… wow. That mane alone is extremely eye-catching with its luxurious volume and streaks of gold. The woman wears dusty travel clothes, ones mostly well suited for the heat and humidity of Liyue, but not of any style even remotely close to those worn by people in the harbor.

That leather will be miserable to get out of.

“Depends; do you know how to use chopsticks? My usual dining company is very insistent that,” he folds his hands behind his back as he draws himself up perfectly straight — thanks owed to his old foot-soldier training — and affects a deep, Liyuen-accented voice, “‘Liyuen cuisine can be properly appreciated only when one dines with the appropriate utensils, as the chef and tradition intended’. Restaurants up on Feiyun Slope share that idea, and while you can forego chopsticks there, they’ll give you judgy looks.”

Childe chuckles, his posture relaxing back into his usual lanky ease, and thumbs over his shoulder towards the less-upscale district of Chihu Rock. “But I happen to know that Wanmin Restaurant keeps forks on hand for foreigners; there’s good food there too, and they’re not far from a little hole-in-the-wall place that serves good baijiu and beer both. Chef Mao at Wanmin lets customers bring their own alcohol to the tables so long as nobody gets rowdy.”

The mysterious woman doesn’t look like she’s from Mondstadt or Fontaine, despite the immaculate eye-shade and lines of kohl that would meet the approval of even the strictest salonnière, so he doesn’t extend his hand for an introduction. Instead, he gives her a friendly little two-fingered wave. “Call me ‘Childe’.”

[pijulle]

Tipping Point

@seasonsofcapri

The last few prompt didn’t fit the story well, but this one do! For context: I’m trying to do a canon rewrite with a mythology and all the royals being demigod.

 In this extract, that I don’t know where it’ll fit in the story yet, Damen, son of one of the godesses of creation and himslef god of the sun, remembers the Battle of Marlas and how he has get rid of Prince Auguste.

Side note: The concept of ‘being a demigod’ is materialised and the characters names it their ‘divinity’.

This day at Marlas the sun had been playing hide and seek with the clouds, limiting Damen’s power. He hadn’t thought it would matter, for the day was supposed to be dedicated to the negotiations. But as Father had gone speaking with the King of Vere, a distant glimmer had been seen from across the field. Near the fort, Veretian forces  gathered, at their head the most beautiful man Damen had ever seen. From afar, Damen could only notice his golden hair glittering when the sun was out, but he would see him from close soon enough. 

Damen’s Father had come back quickly.

“They’re attacking,” he had said, furious. “During negotiation! I wasn’t expecting much from those sneaky assholes, but this is beyond trickery. This is treason!”

Kastor had been the one leading the troops to the battle. Damen’s brother had expected a bloodbath from both sides, a battle of iron against iron, but once again, the Veretian surprised them. Kastor was arraying the battalions, as fast as he could  to defend their positions. But it happened too suddenly. Before Kastor could even order the charge.

The Prince Auguste, on the top of his white horse, had pulled out his alto. Kastor, seeing that,  had yelled the retreat but it was too late. The Veretian Crown Prince had played a low and melancholic note and gigantic branches and roots had shot out of the ground. They had pierced the unprepared lines, speared through the flesh, strangled the men, destroyed the equipment. A bloodbath there had been, but one-sided. Damen remembered with an ounce of bewilderment that the horses had been spared. Even the most disciplined men could not hold the line. It was a debacle. And Kastor was not coming back.

“Father, I can kill him,” Damen had said, noticing the sky was temporarily clear.

“No,” Father had said, eyes widened. “Do not kill him. He is a Volva, a kind of northern minor god of death. If you kill him, he will exalt, and with his new powers, he’ll definitely annihilate us.”

Damen couldn’t stay there and watch his men being mercilessly killed, while Kastor was nowhere to be seen. He had glanced up, praying for the sky to remain clear, praying his mother to tell him what to do. 

And she had answered. Damen recalled the relief when he had seen an owl landing on his shield. Inside her beak, a golden harpoon. The same expression of gratefulness as Damen’s had drawn on his Father’s features. The owl had flown away, and Father had approved of Damen going to fight. With one hand, Damen had shaped a sword with the sunlight, while the other he squeezed the harpoon. 

Damen didn’t remember how long it had taken him to get close to Auguste, only that he had spent his time cutting his way through thick pine branches, with needles jabbing his skin and smelling strongly enough to dizzy him. At some point he had jumped from a particularly big root, inside a little clearing where the Prince was standing with his guards. Damen recalled their shocked faces as he cut the storm of pine Auguste was throwing at him. Damen still heard the raging melody  in his dreams sometimes. When the Veretians had realized it wouldn’t be enough to stop him, the guards had soared into the battle, only to be killed one after the other by Damen’s relentless assault.

Only Auguste was left, glowing like the demigod he was and proudly sitting on his horse. He had eyed at the harpoon, before putting down the alto. Swiftly he had dismounted, and bared his sword. Damen remembered he had thought the Prince was so arrogant, he didn’t even wear an armor. Only a long coat  embroidered with strings as golden as his long hair over his shirt and pants. Damen and him had fought for what had seemed hours. Around them, nothing but circles of roots and needles. It muffled the sounds around, but not enough for Damen to not hear that the battle had started again. This time at least his men had a chance. 

Auguste fought skillfully with strength and speed, and Damen had difficulty keeping up. Damen recalled the grace of Auguste’s gestures, the fall of his long hair and his coat accompanying his fluid movements, his eyes bluer than the sky, and very human. They circled around each other as if caught in a lethal dance, in a ballroom made of tangled woods and bloody mud. Damen’s brutal strength had no chance against the Prince’s poise, and soon enough, his sword was on the dirt. Auguste had impaled Damen in the shoulder, and the sudden pain had loosened the grip Damen had on his sword. Damen expected to be killed then. Or at least taken prisoner. It was the consequences of his own hubris, thinking he could slay a magnificent creature like Auguste. Maybe the gods were on Damen’s side. Maybe Auguste was more honorable than his peers. Damen still wondered to this day why the Prince had  looked at him and said “Take it back,” gesturing at Damen’s sword. 

Damen had taken it back. He did not climb back the nestle of pine, fearing Auguste would use his absence to attack his people with magic again. Instead, Damen captured a ray of sunlight just before it disappeared behind a cloud, bandaged his wound with it, and resumed fighting. 

The fight went on for a long time. Damen’s shoulder throbbed with pain. Auguste began to show signs of exhaustion. Damen still held the harpoon, and when Auguste made a mistake, cutting too far on the left, Damen sank it into the Prince’s flesh. Damen remembered Auguste’s shocked expression when the harpoon had caught something inside. With his wide eyes and open mouth, the Prince had looked like a fish just captured. Damen had pulled off the harpoon, and a shining ball of light had come with it. Auguste had watched with horror Damen throw the harpoon away as his golden hair had become a mere yellow, and his godly glow had fainted.

“No,” the Prince had whispered, but Damen didn’t let him time to beg. Using Auguste’s shock, he dove his sword inside Auguste’s now mortal torso, aiming for his heart. The Veretian Prince had died quickly. 

After pulling his sword out, Damen had collected the discarded harpoon. Caught at its end, a polished river rock, with a golden starburst carved in it. Damen took it delicately and squeezed it in his palm. It was hot and  furiously buzzing. 

The Prince’s death had been a tipping point in the battle and when Damen had climbed back the nestle of roots, which had shriveled and  died, he had witnessed the Veretian troops surrender, the soldiers dropping their sword, some falling on their knees, some crying. Damen thought their Prince and them had some magical connection and they had felt him dying. It was true for some of them, but he learned later that the despair of the Veretian came from the death of the King, struck by an arrow a few minutes after he understood the fate of his son.

 For some reason, Damen had also felt incredibly sad. He told himself it was Auguste's feeling of being stripped out of his divinity, that Damen should rejoice to have killed his enemy. 

Yet when the night had fallen and the victory celebrated, Damen could not help but feel melancholic.

[shredsandpatches]

Other things that happened to me today included having a fairly intense discussion of the relative merits of the Faust operas with our guest chorus director (@tuttocenere he recommended the Busoni one to me! He is also willing to be on board with my conviction that I would be a great Marthe in the Gounod version so I approve of that).

I also got an invitation from another member of the chorus to sing in the St. John Passion with her Bach group (which is short on altos) but idk if I'm going to do it. A lot depends on when the rehearsals are.