#consci

[trollblivion-ooc]

words words words

[my-marciorodas-blog]

Ano Novo, mais exatamente 2023, quando você por meio dos rituais como ceia de ano novo, fogos de artifício demarcando o fechamento de um ciclo e abertura de outro onde você realiza suas promessas tanto para si quanto para as pessoas que você ama. Por exemplo, os seus desejos, nessa hora, você traz os seus desejos, suas vontades, o que você gostaria de realizar no próximo ano. Mas vai passando o tempo, os dias, os meses e olha você de novo repetindo as mesmas promessas do ano passado, e ano após anos daquele jeito... Quem nunca se viu nessa vida que atire a primeira pedra. Isso por que, você não toma suas decisões, apenas deseja, mas não decide, deseja, mas não decide e aí você deseja, mas não decide e isso se repete e repete e repete ... Não decide por que você não abre mão da mediocridade, das distrações, das ilusões e do preço a ser pago, compreende ?! Decidir é pagar o preço é se conhecer intimamente é se disciplinar e até mesmo buscar ajuda para resolver o seu problema. Para chegar onde se quer chegar se não está dando conta de chegar, você busca ajuda para sair do lugar, ao invés de ficar perdendo o seu tempo, lhe criando frustrações! . MARQUE SEUS AMIGOS 👇👇 Curta ✔ Comente ✔ Compartilhe ✔ 😀 #o #expansao #expans #ncia #neg #sucesso #conceito #goodies #o #expans #ncia #sucesso #gb #cios #integridade #a #cura #expansaodaconsciencia #amor #autoconhecimento #espiritualidade #consciencia #consci #empreendedorismo #evolu #brasil https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm7tVx8p9fJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[that-spider-witch]

Project Moon apologists continuing to use that one video as it was a "gotcha" for everything and continuing to dismiss the still on-going Korean systemic misogyny situation and how it relates to the things Project Moon/KJH has done as "drama" feels to me as if every JKR apologist on the planet continually spammed every mention of transphobia on the Internet with "actually this Harry Potter drama is already years old and was proved fake :)"

Like seriously you can't make this shit up. So embarrassing.

[conscydraws]

Violent lil creature 🔪🍌

My beloved sketched this fella on a marker board, I turned it into a jewel.

It's crafted from bronze and covered with cold enamel.

[mysterious-corpse]

having brain fog while also taking adderall is such a weird experience

also i feel sort of dizzy like im about to start to faint constantly is that normal

[housederiva]

Wait wait hold on what do you mean I’m gonna be playing Dragon Age the Veilguard for the first time and I won’t know the consequences of my actions until the conscies come quencing?

[kailasakalpataruchinese]

你是否正在寻找一种方法来改善你的身心健康?来发觉帕冉玛希我含Paramashivoham 一级课程的力量吧 2023年4月8日第一级第二天的亮点 了解你身体的7个重要能量中心，也被称为脉轮，以及它们的运作如何影响你的整体健康。 对自己的情绪有一个彻底的了解，包括性、恐惧、担忧、注意力需求、嫉妒、自我和不满。 超越这些情绪，在你的生活中获得更大的平静和幸福。 ✅注册凯拉萨的帕冉玛希我含Paramashivoham 一级课:https://events.kailaasa.org/psm1/ 👉计划从2023年4月7日开始。 欢迎您加入一天或多天的课程！

原文链接： http://m.facebook.com/photo.php/?fbid=789070119252488

～尼希亚南达翻译小组

联繫凯拉萨华人世界的方��： 微信：14595087（Ma Kailasa） 联繫凯拉萨台湾的方式： 台灣凱拉薩 Line ID : kailasa_taiwan phone:0919-132331 phone:0910-880195

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤfever dreamㅤ...ㅤ( 제이 )

꒰ ✉️ ꒱ where jay reckons that the stars aren’t worth watching, and so do you.

ㅤㅤ﹙1509﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, suggestive, bsf2lㅤㅤwarnings kissing / making out, drinking, awk ending probsㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ cooked this up on the way to the doctor's :/ happy reading, pls rb and leave feedback >_< iNDEX

being friends with jay comes with surprises. 

just like the one in front of you— a whole camping scene prepared in front of you even though it’s on the huge open balcony of his house. a tent placed right where the potted plant used to be, decorated with fairy lights connected to an extension board. you don’t miss the amount of pillows inside, your heart swelling up at how warm everything looks, especially at the sight of the endearing smile on his face as he brings in another blanket. 

“i didn’t know you were serious about this,” you could only manage to whisper a few words out of amusement, earning a playful huff in response. 

“of course, i was. what do you even take me for?” you stand still as he brings the snacks from the kitchen— all your favourites. 

all because you mentioned wanting to stay up all night stargazing, and then witnessing the sunrise. it was abrupt, just something said out of the blue when sunghoon asked what you’ll be doing during the summer breaks. you hadn’t enough finished dreaming about it, and jay was already in front of you, turning it into a reality.

he turns to ask you something before noticing your glistening eyes, the tear rolling down your cheek which brings him at a loss of words, the whole scene tugging his heartstrings a little painfully. it isn’t until you notice his surprise that a soft chuckle falls off your lips, your voice faltering for a moment. “i’m sorry, i just—”

“hey, don’t be embarrassed,” and jay knows how you get emotional so easily. he finds it endearing, your tears leaving a twinge of sadness in his chest. he reaches out instinctively, gently tugging strands of hair behind your ears. “i think it’s sweet how easily you are moved,”

you almost freeze at his actions, hearing your heart beats reverberating through your ears, afraid he would hear them too. it’s cinematic how time seems to stop when you look in his eyes— and he thinks you look impossibly breathtaking under moonlight with beads of tears resting on your eyelashes. 

you almost feel your eyes darting to his lips, almost, before you break away from the contact and try to calm your nerves. you grab two cans of beer from the tray kept aside, passing one to him. “let’s make a toast,”

he laughs softly, the sound almost a relief from the sombre mood that had settled between you two. he gladly takes the can and pops it open, taking a sip from his beer can and eyeing you as you take yours. “you’re emotional and lightweight. what a deal,”

all it takes is a playful slap on his arm for you to settle between the pillows and blankets, grabbing a packet of chips. you both had agreed on the ‘no phone’ condition, leaving your devices somewhere in the living room. you didn’t have time for your phone anyway, having your hands full with the opportunity to look at the stars, and jay.

you barely finish a can before he’s reaching out for another, already dazed by the drink messing with his neurotransmitters. this usually never happens, even after two and a half bottles of soju. today, he’s tripping down the tipsy lane, just nodding and smiling aimlessly as you talk and talk— and he thinks to himself how lacklustre the stars look compared to you, and the way the soft yellow glow of fairy lights illuminates every single feature of yours that makes him swoon. 

the stars aren’t even worth watching.  

he takes another swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving your face, just like your gaze that refuses to leave the stars. he studies you for a few seconds, enjoying the blissful silence between you two. you are the one with less tolerance between him and you, but today jay is feeling the buzz of alcohol blurring his conscience. “you really are a sight, you know that?”

it doesn’t dawn upon you how close his face was until you turn to look at him. he takes in your reaction, the way your eyes widen. your shyness only emboldens him further, making him lean even closer, face now mere inches away from yours. he feels the subtle scent of your perfume tingling his senses, driving him crazier than you have already done. 

he reaches one hand to cup your face tenderly, his thumb lingering a little too close to your lips. it sends a shiver down your spine, a sensation that makes it hard for you to think straight. he notices the way your lips part ever so slightly, although not a single word coming out of your lips. “so beautiful,” 

sobriety wouldn’t have let him cruise this far, nothing would’ve convinced jay to act upon his feelings, except maybe a little bit of liquid courage that makes him bolder than usual. his gaze remains fixed on you, his silence giving you an excuse to back down from whatever this could lead to, eyes tracing every single feature on your face. and when you don’t, he leans in even closer, his breath hot against your skin. “stop me before i lose myself to you, yn,” 

his voice is a heady mix of desperation and desire, as if pleading for you to drive him out of whatever spell you’ve done on him. he watches you intently, waiting for you to push him away, to stop him before he does something he might regret, but your silence only fuels his desires. he moves his hand down to your chin, tilting your face up slightly, thumb gently tracing your lower lip. his gaze locks into yours yet again— an action that sends your heart racing a thousand miles, unbeknownst to him, faster than it was already beating. “say something, please,”

you almost melt under his touch, under his pretty voice and a gaze admiring you as if you put the stars in the sky. it feels like a fever dream to be this close to him, stuff that your highschool self used to daydream about. you would go to bed, giggling about the slightest possibility of him giving you flowers on valentines, something your friend indulged you into. it was a dream, wanting to be with someone who embodied perfection, and yet again, jay was in front of you, making it come true even before you had finished dreaming. 

so, you just stay quiet for a few more seconds that feel like hours on empty before whispering against his lips. “kiss me,”

a pause, his breath catching up in his throat. 

jay wasn’t expecting you to initiate it, it felt like he was going to get a heart attack. hell worse, if he’s starting to hear things due to alcohol. however, your eyes tell a whole different story with the way they’re taking in every single part of him, begging him to do something. he doesn’t hesitate— with a swift, fluid movement, he closes the small distance between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. 

it’s like a need, the way every part of him years for you. the way flesh wants to knit itself over a wound. as if he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs. his lips refuse to leave yours, hands sliding down your body to pull you onto his lap. he deepens the kiss, letting his free hand down to the small of your back to pull you even closer. he feels himself slipping out of his sanity when your fingers get tangled in his hair, tugging onto them ever so slightly. 

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, lips trailing kisses down your neck and leaving faint marks in their wake, his nose brushing softly against your skin that makes you sigh in bliss. he stops abruptly, breathing erratically against your neck before looking up at you. he takes in your appearance, your flushed look with hair a bit dishevelled. you looked like a mess, and unbelievably his. “you’re so beautiful,”

you smile at his words, feeling your face heat up even more than it already has. this has to be a fever dream, you tell yourself, and then cup his face ever so gently. “you should kiss me again,”

he smiles. “you always order me around,”

“kiss me.”

“are you sure?” he murmurs, lips curved into a teasing grin as he leans in even closer with his forehead against yours. “i’m really bad at keeping my hands to my—”

and then you grab the back of his neck, yanking him towards your lips and pulling him into a chaste kiss. you feel him smile into the kiss, his hands resting on your sides as they pull you closer than possible. soft giggles erupt in between, sweet nothings shared between quick pecks oozing with admiration, and ‘i love you’ spun in the air and you realise that the stars aren’t even worth watching, for you have yours right in front of you.

taglist

[mrchiipchrome]

Nosebleed(s)

W.C - 1,6k

The moment you hear the resounding crack of your nose, you know something is wrong, seriously wrong. Pain sprouts from your nose out towards your eyes in unsettling waves and you feel how a warm liquid seeps down from your nose and into your mouth, half open in a silent scream.

The metallic taste of the sticky liquid clues you into what it was, the red staining your hands in an unsettling way. You can feel the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as your surroundings fall away, the pain much too overwhelming as your face throbs. 

Your knees find the ground in an instant, the turf scratching uncomfortably against the tough skin. The rest of your body soon follows in its path, meeting the ground painfully. 

Your already red jersey stains with a deeper shade of red as the waterfall of blood continues its rampage. The warm blood soon transfers onto the vibrant green grass, making it an ugly greenish brown color as you shove your forehead into it, willing the pain to go away.

Only moments after your form dropped onto the hard ground, you can feel pain spreading on the left side of your face, distracting you a smidge from the pain in the middle of your face. The scratching sensation disappears after a second or two but leaves behind paralyzing pain that makes the wail stuck in your throat escape.

Blood mixes with sweat and drips dangerously into your sensitive eyes, something you can feel as the burning sensation in your eyes blinds you. 

In the span of a few seconds, you had gone from running all over the pitch and creating chances left and right to laying on the ground twisting and turning as the pain creates spots in the little vision you had.

The last thing you could feel before everything went black was a hand giving you a soft pat on your shoulder and someone trying to turn you over onto your back. 

The limp nature of your body concerns the Chelsea player who’d taken you down, the blood not noticed by her yet. She stands up, dusting herself off all while thinking that you were fine. 

It’s when the whistle blows and she notices that you still haven’t moved from your position that she starts to become slightly concerned. She bows down, putting her hand on your shoulder softly as she waits for you to react, only you don’t. 

The referee approaches with a slight jog as she notices the small commotion happening on the field. All the players' eyes follow after her and soon after they notice the pool of deep red appearing around your head. 

The Arsenal players rush towards you, pushing the Chelsea player out of their way as they crowd around you. A few of them turn you on your back, gasping at the horrific scene that might as well have come directly from a horror movie. Blood covers the majority of your face as deep scratches on your left side continue to seep out metallic liquid at an alarming rate.

There is a gurgling sound coming from your throat and your girlfriend drops down to her knees worriedly by your head. Leah pulls your head onto her lap and with the help of a few teammates, she turns you on your side looking on in worry as a few drops of blood slip out from between your lips.

Somewhere in the far distance she can faintly hear how Katie argues with half of the Chelsea team and the referee to card the player that took you down, but she tunes it out, all too focused on you and the continuous flow of blood from your nose and cuts. Leah strips her shirt off in a desperate attempt at stopping the bleeding, pressing it firmly to the side of your face, the blood staining yet another shirt.

Leah presses a soft, reassuring kiss to the only piece of skin she can find that isn’t smeared in blood, muttering soft reassurances to you as she strokes your hair carefully. She doesn’t want to mess you up any further.

Soon enough, the once steady shallow breaths turn labored and deep, the puffs of oxygen mixing with whines as the pain hits you like a truck. Your face feels sticky and dirty as you regain consciousness, the soft and familiar feeling of your girlfriend's thighs making everything better. 

Your senses are in overdrive as you feel everything all at once, the roughness of the turf beneath the rest of your body and everyone’s eyes on you, the smell of sweat and metal mixing together in an unpleasant symphony and how everything just hurts.

“Make it stop, please Lee make it stop.” You manage to get out from between clenched teeth and chapped lips, the whisper being near inaudible due to the surrounding noise and yet, Leah could hear you perfectly fine.

“The medics are coming love, don’t worry you’ll get some help. See they’re nearly here.” She dips her head to whisper in your ear, fearing that the rather obvious concussion would get worse if she were to talk normally. 

She continues to reassure you, telling you that the help was near when it wasn’t in fact near, the slight tremor to her voice telling you as much. Leah grasps the hand that comes up to touch your face in her own, her fingers hugging yours tightly in a comforting gesture.

After what feels like an eternity, but in reality closer to minutes, the medical personnel finally show up. Leah wants to scream and question why in hell it took so long for them to get there, but she realizes that it’ll help no one, not you nor the medics if she did. She lets them run through the concussion protocols, and as it turns out you in fact have one. 

The garment she placed over your cuts gets removed, the shirt having formed a glue-like bond to the cuts on your face which in turn reopens the cuts and lets the blood start to flow yet again. You groan in pain as the normally stinging sensation instead turns out to be a sharp and stabbing pain.

The medics take one look at the deep scratches made from the Chelsea player’s studs and decide that they’re deep enough for you to need stitches. The continued groaning and moaning pierces Leah’s ears and she keeps her hold on your hand firm as the medics wrap your head in blindingly white gauze.

Red spots soon appear on the light bit of fabric, looking more like an abstract artwork than a football player’s head, and you can feel how fingers prod at your nose. Your eyes start to water once again and as one single tear slips down your face, it leaves a noticeable path of unstained skin.

They decide that it’s broken fairly quickly, sticking two wads of cotton up your nose to stave off the bleeding a bit.

The grass feels pokey in your hands as you put them to the ground, pushing yourself up to your feet with help from your girlfriend who keeps you steady with her arm hanging firmly around your waist. Your body sways dangerously as you put your arm around her shoulders, steadying yourself while the other one goes around one of the medics shoulders.

The two escort you to the sidelines and as you reach them, you feel Leah let go of you, Jen quickly taking her place so as to not let you fall down. Leah presses a quick kiss to your lips, the blood having been wiped off earlier, before she tugs on her new shirt and runs off towards her place on the pitch. 

The rest of the game is played with surprising vigor from Arsenal, the red side scoring a few more goals in your honor and as soon as the whistle signaling the end of the game blows, Leah legs it to the medical room. 

The door slams open, leaving you to turn your head quickly and spot your girlfriend standing in the doorway panting slightly. A smile paints your now clean face as you open your arms for her to enter, and she springs into them carefully so as to not put pressure on any of your cuts and bruises.

“Are you okay? It doesn’t hurt too much right? You’re coming home with me, I’m not letting you drive let alone be alone at your apartment.” Leah rambles, her nerves quickly becoming noticeable as she rants to you, cupping your face in her soft hands.

“Lee, stop worrying, I just have a pretty bad concussion and my nose is broken but I’m fine. I love you so much babe.” You respond to the pretty blonde, a small smirk situated on your swollen and bruised face.

“Okay, you're still coming home with me, I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next few weeks.” Leah tells you sternly, but the loving look in her eyes betrays her as she looks down at you where you’re sitting on your bed.

“I can agree to that, I guess”

Six days later

Looking down at the field from your place in the nosebleeds is an ethereal feeling. The club had been nice enough to give you some seats with an incredible view to watch the rest of its fixtures until you were back to training again. 

Sitting in the nosebleeds, watching your team destroy another team was bittersweet as you’d much rather be down there playing with them, but you had a much better view of your girlfriend which sweetened the deal oh so much…

a/n; honestly this is so shitty, but i felt like posting something

[demonslayedher]

Just thinking about how Chachamaru is a male calico, at least according the Taisho Secret right before chapter 195 that calls him manly. It really doesn't surprise me that he's male, because so many references to calicos I've seen in manga, mascots, and temple architecture specify that the featured calico is male.

This is because they are rare, and therefore considered lucky.

The figure that gets thrown around the internet is that supposedly only 1 in every 3000 calicos is male. (I'll bet the people who did the often quoted study at U. of Minn. College of Vet Med would love to tell you how it's more complicated than that.) This has long made male calicos popular not only in Japan, but in other countries as well. The thing is, though, the male calico might not always be so lucky.

To be very brief about why calicos (and some other multicolored cats) are almost always female, this is because, put very simply, one X chromosome gives us the black splotches, and one X chromosome gives us the orange splotches. That might leave you wondering where the white patches come from, and this is the part where I say that genetics is never simple and you should have fun reading about it. The important takeaway here is that in order to show this color pattern, a cat needs two X chromosomes, one from its mother and one from its father.

Typically, a male cat has an X chromosome (from its female mother, who only has two X chromosomes) and a Y chromosome (from its father, who had both an X and a Y), but because the calico coating can only occur with two X chromosomes, this male cat somehow got an X, a Y, and... hmm, another X somewhere.

So not a typical XY male, not a typical XX calico... this sterile XXY male calico has an extra chromosome, and mutations often are not ideal for the health of the animal with the extra chromosome. This particular condition is Klinefelter’s Syndrome, which can lead to a male calico having cognitive and behavior issues, weaker bones, increased risk of diabetes due to higher body fat, and perhaps a shorter lifespan.

Now, none of the fictitious lucky cats I've seen have ever been portrayed as anything less than smart and pleasant, though a lot of the maneki-neko are pretty round. For everything Chachamaru is tasked with, I have to assume he's above-average when it comes to intelligence, reasonably healthy enough to handle long-distance travel, and for a cat, he's extremely, extremely cooperative. For the record, the same Taisho Secret (as well as Yushiro's statement in Chapter 194) makes it clear that for most of canon Chachamaru was a regular cat, for he was not made into a demon until right before the final showdown with Muzan. Even with her hands full making the medicine for Muzan, she still put a lot of effort into changing Chachamaru so that Yushiro wouldn't be lonely. It's ironic that Chachamaru winds up immortal, rather than doomed to a potentially shorter lifespan due to his mark...ings. In the first place, was Tamayo perhaps moved with pity for a sickly kitten and nursed him to the health he's in now?

Or did she always keep her eye out for a male calico, wanting to put some faith in them being good luck?

Also, what sticks out to me in this Taisho Secret is that Chachamaru, not having a language in which he could communicate with Tamayo, had no choice in becoming a demon. Tamayo felt sorry about that. The word bubble over manly little Chachamaru says, with bravado, "Fine by me, if that's what the woman I'm smitten with wishes." If Chachamaru truly is that smitten with her, that perhaps accounts for what an unusually cooperative cat he is. But it also reminds me of a fan theory that I saw once (and found worthy of weight) which said that perhaps Tamayo's blood technique has an effect like makes others smitten with her, and Yushiro might had been under its influence, however strongly or subtly. If such a thing were the case, it might or might not had been something Tamayo was conscious of. If she was conscious of having some effect like that, she probably felt awful about it but found it a necessary precaution to keep any demon she made under control. If she wasn't conscious of such a thing, that means she might had subconsciously developed it out of loneliness, and had been trying to keep company at her side.

[tomarry-harry-meet-more-harry]

Typical time-travel tomarry Harry meet Typical A/B/O Tomarry universe; 3- A Favour?

Context: Following a typical A/B/O Tomarry story, Harry would be an Omega, Voldemort (let's go with snake-face) will be an Alpha. However, the view of Omegas in these omegaverse tend to lean towards weak and easily dominated- so, assuming Harry wasn't born an Omega (otherwise Voldemort wouldn't have deemed him worthy of being the 'chosen one') and instead presented later during his teens, the context I'm going for in this one is the Omegaverse Order summon an other Harry Potter from a different universe to take the place of their own Omega Harry Potter, whom they consider too weak to fight.

Harry blew gently into the mug of hot chocolate he had been given.

Sitting in an armchair next to the fireplace at Grimmauld Place was giving him all manners of deja vu ; if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was visiting Orion during the Easter Break with Tom lurking just an arm's breadth away, but he could also remember crouching in anticipation with the Weasleys around this exact place, waiting for news of Arthur Weasley's condition after Nagini attacked him.

A good moment and a bad moment.

What does this one count as?

He wasn't even sure how he felt right now.

"….So," he begun slowly. No-one had spoken since Dumbledore (not his own, another one, who looked and sounded and acted just like the one who fell from the Astronomy Tower) explained to him what had really happened. Their gazes weighed heavy on the back of his neck, prickling with pity and caution. It itched on his skin. "To summarise, you guys summoned me, from my universe, into your universe, because different universes exist now, to defeat your Voldemort, because you thought the other me- your Harry- was too weak to do it?"

There were murmurs of affirmations from all around the table.

"Oh," he couldn't stop his voice from coming out strange. His hands trembled around the mug and he clutched it tighter. "I thought…"

Remus (his heart palpitated within his chest so painfully Harry almost glanced up to check if someone had cursed him) reached across the table to fold Harry's hands within his sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You must've thought the Sirius of your world was brought back to life?"

That was not quite it, but Harry didn't want to explain the whole time-travelled-back-to-the-1930s-by-accident thing, so he nodded mutely. He would just bring it up later if it became important.

(He had hoped, for one disastrously vulnerable moment that he had been brought back to his own time.)

(Stupidstupidstupidstupid.)

The hands around his own squeezed tightly in encouragement. "I understand if you want to leave-" Moody made an angry noise in the background. "-but we have to get rid of Voldemort. Could you help us? Please, do us a favour?"

Harry remained silent for a moment.

He was angry, for starters.

Voldemort. It was always Voldemort, from his cradle to his cupboard, to Hogwarts, to the Horcrux Hunt, to the 1930s, and now here. Every single aspect of his life always seemed to have Voldemort as centre stage, and nothing seemed to be separate from him. It didn't matter if he in a separate universe, it always seemed to loop right back to Voldemort.

Secondly, he felt so out of place.

He was firstly The Freak at Dursley's, then The Chosen One at Hogwarts, then time-travelled Harry Evans the Transfer Student Who Punched Tom Riddle On The Train, and now this.... whatever this could be.

Lastly, he was tired.

It was also always 'Harry, could you help us?', 'Harry! Help!', 'Save us, Harry!', or 'You're the chosen one, Harry!'. He had loved it at first; handing the Remembrall back to Neville felt like being wanted for the first time in his life. But then-

then-

-dirt blood screaming run run running away HELP HELP HELPUSPLEASE YOUHAVETODEFEATVOLDEMORT ANDDEATHLURKSWITHIN-

Yet Harry always answered.

How could he not?

He often acted first, then thought later, and even if he didn't he knew his conscience would gnaw him hollow inside.

"Alright." he said. It felt like signing his death warrant; tasting bitter at the back of his mouth. "I'll do you this favour. What do you guys know about Horcruxes?"

[quartafuga]

A settembre inizio a scuola a fare il lavoro che sogno da una vita e la sindrome dell'impostore mi sta divorando dall'interno da giorni. È la prima volta in assoluto per me e sono certa che non sarò in grado di gestire le classi, i colleghi, la didattica, i rapporti umani. Come fanno quelle persone che anche conscie di star partendo da zero sono così sicure, fiduciose, serene? A volte sono stanca di essere me

[trollblivion-ooc]

my atomized guys. below the cut is my reasonings for some of these sign designs :•)

Cherie: based off of the typical Burgundy sign and the Ourobouros (to represent a his identity confusion and his self consuming behavior)

Coleop: based off of a beetle with elements from a few Lime signs (also an upside down peach sign)

Caiine: based off the aquarius sign and a shooting star

Cosmos: Two circles to represent his initial color wheel design, how he is a chimera (the color white and the whole circle symbolism)

Magnus: represents a mantis head with some Libra (teal) elements

Corall: meant to represent a star and coral. (also mimics the starfish parasite thing: dendrogaster)

Teevie: is a True Taurus but prefers to design their own sign

Luciel: Oval elements taken from fuschia design, meant to look like a 707 (to represent the character hes made from)

Chiani/Noraxi: Tauranius

Consci (Endur): Aquo

Akrine: Golden Aquo

[ma-pi-ma]

Lo scopo della vita è vivere, e vivere significa essere consci, gioiosamente, ebbramente, serenamente, divinamente consci.

Henry Miller

[raccontidialiantis]

La sposina

Ma porca puttana! Fra tre ore mi devo sposare: Alberto probabilmente è in casa sua, fremente. E sicuramente, conoscendolo bene, lui è quasi sul punto di uscire per andare in chiesa, impaziente e trepidante. Perché si preoccupa sempre che tutto vada bene; è emotivo, il mio tesoro! Tutto è pronto, gli altri sono certamente già vestiti elegantissimi e tu invece poco fa... mi hai fatto fare peccato! Demonio mio adorato e segreto!

Quando sei arrivato qui alle otto del mattino, con un durello per me irresistibile, nella mia mansardina di scapolotta, abbiamo scopato immediatamente appena t'ho aperto la porta. Io sotto l'asciugamano ero già completamente nuda dopo la doccia appena fatta. Profumavo di passione e bagnoschiuma. Sei impulsivo e non sai resistere all'aroma della mia passera e dei miei seni. M'hai appena detto un "ciao" e me l'hai infilato subito dentro. E io scema ad accoglierti senza fiatare.

Come fosse il solito e segreto cornetto pomeridiano al mio uomo. Perché mi sei saltato addosso immediatamente come un toro infoiato. Ammetto: oh, quanto mi piace, 'sta cosa tua! Purtroppo dobbiamo sempre farlo velocemente e di nascosto. Grazie a Dio non ho sporcato il vestito nuziale, che è in salvo in camera mia. E poi tu sei anche il testimone di nozze dello sposo!

Dovresti essere già lì, al suo fianco. Come fa un amico leale.Penso proprio che ora dovresti andare. Fra un'ora o giù di lì di sicuro mamma arriverà da casa sua, dopo essere passata dalla fioraia. E poi stanno pure per arrivare le mie damigelle, inclusa la mia amica parrucchiera.

Che dovrà darmi la sistemata finale: tu qui saresti molto sospetto. Noi due da soli in casa mia. Un bel fico come te con la neo-sposa! Non si stuzzica una donna sensuale e calda come me. Ma tu lo sai e me lo fai apposta. Stronzo. Neanche oggi mi lasci in pace. Che bello! Conosci bene quanto mi piace prendere il tuo bel cazzone. Ovunque.

E quanto adoro esserti sottomessa, in ginocchio di fronte al tuo uccello: mi piace saggiarne la consistenza, giocarci, annusarne l'odore e infine piegarmi a novanta perché tu, maschio impaziente di sborrarmi dentro, possa mettermelo in culo. Essendo consci entrambi di rendere il povero Alberto un grande e ramificato cornuto d.o.c. !

Mannaggia la puttana: m'ero confessata ieri pomeriggio ed ero quindi monda da tutti i peccati, pronta per la cerimonia. Adesso chi ha il coraggio di confessarsi di nuovo, di dire al prete che mi sono appena fatta inculare da te e che ho scopato poco prima della cerimonia, per giunta col migliore amico dello sposo! Il giorno delle nozze! Non fa niente: non andrò di sicuro all'inferno per aver preso la comunione mentre sono in pieno peccato mortale da passione irrinunciabile.

Del resto, di peccati mortali ho già l'anima bella piena. E Alberto ha più corna di un bue muschiato, per la maggior parte messe da te. E già che ci siamo, fatto trenta… vieni ancora un attimo qui da me: fammi vedere se t'è tornato già duro, che te lo succhio un po’ rapidamente. Col mio “tiraggio turbo”, come lo chiami tu. Mi devo saziare del tuo seme gustoso: si, proprio in questo sacro giorno!

Ho bisogno delle tue proteine fresche, per affrontare questo passo impegnativo della mia vita. Mi viene sempre fame, dopo una sana scopata; tu lo sai bene, da anni. E poi… non ci posso fare niente se sei così sexy… non è colpa mia se tu sei per la mia mente così attraente. Costituisci per me una dolcissima, continua e irresistibile tentazione. Oooooh… Dai, veloce veloce che ti voglio ancora… Ho l'acquolina in bocca e in gola… dammi quel tuo bellissimo cazzo. Dai: sborra rapido ancora un po' per me. Ti scongiuro...

RDA

[the-strength-of-the-wolffe]

Finally! I get to share my headcanons about this loveable piece-of-work, my boy Sinker.

Like Boost, he didn't choose his name; their batchmates came up with it because of his pessimism, a quirk that stress exacerbated (more on that below).

He was a reluctant “older” brother—not naturally responsible or nurturing but arbitrarily chosen to be in charge of his batchmates by their superiors. Although it felt unfair at the time, it’s the reason he’s a sergeant at the start of the war.

One of their trainers didn't get on with him (personality clash) and took every opportunity to beat him down. He put on a front of insolent indifference, but the harsh words (on top of Kaminoan indoctrination) eroded his spirit, leading him to develop that famously bleak estimation of himself and all clones.

For an engineered soldier, stress had an unusually adverse effect on him. It didn’t just sway his mood; by young adulthood, his hair started to thin and show gray roots. He couldn't stomach shaving it off, nor admit his shame by dyeing it black, so his solution was to dye it entirely gray and pretend to own it.

Needless to say, he isn’t in the healthiest frame of mind as we meet him in “Rising Malevolence.” He has a callousness about him that strikes me as a defense mechanism. Sadly, he doesn't take General Plo's words to heart that day. In fact, he isn't sure what to make of the General for some time.

If he had met Wolffe under any other circumstances, they wouldn't have become friends; they're too different, and Sinker is nothing if not realistic. Suffering the massacre together, and later rebuilding the 104th, bonds them like nothing else could. Even though rank and duties often keep them apart now, they hold fast to that bond.

He tries to move past the loss of his old squad by falling back on cadethood excuses ("I didn't want this job!") and cold memorized truths ("that's the reality of war"), but the horror and guilt get to him on occasion. For a while, he's at turns distant and aggressively protective toward his new squad.

He takes an immediate disliking to Comet, regarding him as a liability at best and a threat to the squad's safety at worst. Truthfully, he sees a bit of himself in the rookie (that defensive apathy), and he hates it. The tension between them erupts one day into physical violence, which he immaturely instigates. The brawl puts a bad mark on his record (and is my explanation for why he doesn't seem to climb any higher in rank). However, by coming to blows, the two of them are able to confront their issues with each other. Gradually, they work toward a more amiable relationship.

His personal beliefs and his mixed feelings about General Plo come to a head during a dangerous search-and-rescue operation. When half his squad (including Boost) become trapped in a damaged building, he fully expects he'll have to leave them to prioritize civilians, a prospect he suddenly finds chilling. To his shock, Wolffe and the General converge at once, the former taking over evacuations while the latter goes after the troopers. In the end, not a single one is lost.

Because of this harrowing event, he realizes first how much he cares about his men, what their lives are worth to him (not expendable!), and second that he's not alone in feeling that way—General Plo meant what he said. He still has some qualms about the General (e.g. the health considerations are a source of stress), but his love language is acts of service, and the General's tremendous act of saving his squad wins him over.

From this point onward, he's able to shoulder his responsibilities with less fear, and that confidence does wonders for him. He really evolves as a character—just look at how different he is in "Mercy Mission"! (I've got a separate post about this in the works: contrasting his arc with Wolffe's.) He doesn't lose all of his rough edges, of course (he can still get nasty when stressed, and be rather angsty at times), but overall he rounds out to be a tough, conscientious, steadfast individual.

His sense of humor, however, does not improve.