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haikavehs-audhd · 2 days ago

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Love and Deepspace Headcanons

Tags: sfw/13+ only (i can't write anything suggestive/smutty for my life), implied autistic/ADHD MC based off my experience, genderneutral/transmasc!MC because i'm a guy and all of you can fight me, some age regressor!MC x Caregiver!Sylus/Caregiver!Caleb in their parts (it is NOT a kink, do not associate it with that.), most of it is silly stuff about the LI and/or the relationship with MC because i'm mentally ill and like coming up with scenarios, some are self indulgement lol

A/N: Also want to clarify a few things: 1) I'm a Rafayel, Sylus, and Caleb main and unfamiliar with the depths of Xavier and Zayne's personalities, so apologies if they're OOC, 2) I Do Not Have both Full Sets if Xavier's Lightseeker* or Lumiere Myths, both Full Sets Zayne's Foreseer* and Master of Fate Myths, Sylus' Abyss Sovereign Myth, or Caleb's Farspace Colonal Myth as of writing this, so anything that references them is due to spoilers I found on Twitter from other players doing in depth stuff, and 3) I. Am not a writer, I am an artist, so this might suck

*I have One Lightseeker and One Foreseer

Recommended Track for the entire thing:

🌟 Xavier 🌟

Has fairy lights and glow in the dark stars in his room/scattered around his apartment thanks to a suggestion by MCMC also has fairy lights and a string light set that has moons and stars. Xavier picked that one out

MC and Xavier made matching Build a Bears to represent each other--MC's is a Pastel Swirl Pawlette, Xavier's is a Pastel Swirl Kitty (Names are up for interpretation)

You know how it's canon that when they LIs are happy they show their Evols via Xavier glowing? What if it's just not happiness and with any extreme emotion?

Aka Xavier glows softly when he's happy, blinding when he's angry, probably super dim when he's upset/sad/hurt etc

He's probably the second warmest LI in terms of body heat cuz of the Light Evol

Give MC a weighted blanket and snuggling up to Xavier in the winter and them 2 are the happiest nappers ever

MC and him both infodump about astronomy together

MC probably taught him about astrology. He probably doesn't believe in it fully but indulges them, listening with wide intent eyes and blinking in code because he loves MC so much

"So you're upset because Mercury is in...gatorade?" "Xavier no--"

They have matching bunny onesies. Xavier's is white and blue, MC's is gray and pink

MC calls him Stardew after showing him Stardew Valley!!

They have a Meadowlands Farm and a buncha animals in, included modded ones

MC absolutely named one of their Rabbits after him

MC probably also plays Animal Crossing with him

Idk he seems like a Cozy Gamer ngl

MC tried to teach him to cook properly

It still doesn't work but. A+ for effort!

Much like his little secret blinking code, MC has a type of tapping/shape drawing code and will use their fingers to tap messages on his cheeks when they squish them!

His love language is Quality Time and Physical Touch

Tara, Andrew, and Simone tease them lightheartedly whenever they're at the Association. Jenna smiles and shakes their head

Holds hands under the desk when they're doing paperwork

Has probably watched Suzume or Your Name together!

Song(s) i associate with Xavier from my playlist: Starlight - Dreamcatcher, Fallen Star - The KingDom, Fireflies - Dreamcatcher, Moonchild - RM of BTS, Supernova - Aespa, Mikrokosmos - BTS

❄️ Zayne ❄️

That man is AUTISTIC and you can pry him out of my grasp WHEN I AM ROTTING 6 FT UNDER I WILL FIGHT ALL OF YOU

Has light sensory issues (that's why he always wears sunglasses stop making fun of him)

MC once stuck snowflake decals on his window. They have not left the window since

Zayne has one of those fat round seel pillows/plushies on his bed. MC gifted him that for Christmas when they were kids and he hasn't parted with it since

MC is kind of surprised but melted at the fact he kept it for all these years

LOVES when MC stress bakes, but also makes sure that neither of them overindulge. Health is important you know

MC's addicted to peppermints because of him. Zayne happily supplies them with the succulent mints (it helps with their anxiety and overstimulation)

I feel like Zayne would be the best at knowing ways to de-escalate a possible meltdown/anxiety attack

Especially with his Evol, he makes sure he can conjure up an ice crystal for MC to grasp so their brain focuses on the cold sensation instead of whatever caused the meltdown/anxiety attack

Speaking of his Evol, his extreme emotions are kinda. Elsa like in terms of it manifesting

Soft snowflakes falling gently around him when he's happy, harsh flurries and blizzards forming when he's angry as his neck and hands crystalize due to the curse, ice crystals forming in sharp #pikes around him, less rapid crystalization of his hands and neck forming when he's upset/sad/hurt as snow falls in wet clumps, etc

He's also the coldest LI body heat wise!!

MC clings to Zayne when the summer heat becomes too much and he's easily able to cool them down

Probably learned how to make snowcones using his Evol for them

They love it

The meal planner of the relationship!! He makes sure that they both have balanced meals and healthy foods in the kitchen

MC also sneaks in cute little love notes when they pack his lunch if they know he's gonna have a busy day!!

Things like "I love you, hope you have a good day!" "Stay warm today!" "Can't wait to see you!" Etc. Sometimes cheesy pick-up lines and poems are there

Zayne keeps all of them in a little drawer at his desk when he's doing smaller appointments/checkups/paperwork

On particularly hard days, he'll take one out, reread it, and gives the slightest hint of a smile

You know how he has dry humor? ...dad puns. That man can and will say Dad Puns

MC loves it tho

They had snowball fights w Caleb as kids

MC claimed he cheated though because of his Evol

Now that they're adults, they likely take walks through the snow and admire how sparkly it looks in the moonlight

MC absolutely sneaks an attack on him with a snowball though

It ends with them making snow angels and going home to make hot cocoa with marshmallows <3

His love languages are Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation

Nicknames from MC: Pear Bear, Sweet Tooth, Sweetums, Mr. Snowman, Doc

Songs i associate with Zayne from my playlist: In the Frozen - Dreamcatcher, Jamais Vu - BTS, Like Crazy (English Ver) by Jimin of BTS, The Apparition - Sleep Token (HEAVY on Dawnbreaker!Zayne for this one)

🐟 Rafayel 🐟

His love language is Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, and Physical Touch

MC made matching kandi bracelets for them!! He proudly wears his and has a fish charm, MC usually has theirs on when not on missions, in their pocket when they are, and has a seashell charm!

Gets art lessons from Rafayel and improves slowly over time

MC is probably more of a fanartist/OC artist

Absolutely made self inserts/OCs based off them and Rafayel

Rafayel absolutely adores them and makes a big deal of hanging up every piece of artwork they draw

Lots of moonlight picnics on the beach!!

Okay listen i know Moonlight Jellies are probably a Stardew Valley only thing, but imagine Rafayel plays into it and gets MC all excited about them as if they were real

MC gets very excited over the stories Rafayel tells them

Warmest LI!! His Fire Evol does wonders in the coldest of winters. He jokes it's only due to him being Lemurian though (it plays a part)

And when he feels extreme emotions? Oh watch out.

Tiny flames and sparks float around him when he's happy, burning infernos and possibly setting someone something on fire when he's angry, sizzling scorches when he's hurt or upset, etc

I also like to think he probably shot flames at the other love interests out of jealousy

Mainly Xavier or Zayne

Because i think he would know those 2 more due to stalking us (OG3 crumbs please take them)

Gets very dramatically pouty if you call him Ariel

"c'mon Rafa please sing A Whole New World for me? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻" "What? So you can tease me and call me Ariel again? No way"

Does it anyways

I'd like to think he saves his singing for very special occassions due to. Y'know. It being a way to manipulate people

And some special occassions include birthdays or when MC needs comfort after a nightmare and needs to be lulled back asleep

rises the moon by Liana Flores is probably the most common

He would sing it so softly

Ugh how much to pay the Eng VA to sing it in his voice.......i'll sell my kidney for it--

He likes listening to MC sing too btw, sometimes will join in for a duet

I think lovely by Billie Eilish ft Khalid would be a good match idk i'm mentally ill okay

MC once said Artsy Birb looks like Psyduck

And probably made him an Artsy Psyduck

That's hilarious to me idk

Nicknames to him include: Raf, Rafa, Fishie, Jellyfishie, Angelfish

MC peobably asks him to tell them stories about Lemuria to fall asleep to

He indulges every time

Is also slowly teaching them Lemurian and Sea Creature languages

Is very surprised when MC brings up a word in Lemurian he hasn't taught them

Probably tears up a little but shrugs it off with his antics

Oh and him and Sylus? Most likely to silent (but happily) cry when you walk down the isle

Very surprised if he finds out the extent of MC's "seafood" safe foods are fish sticks

"Fish sticks aren't seafood, my beloved..." "Wdym they aren't??? They're fish???"

Songs i associate with Rafayel via my playlist: Burn - The KingDom, Suzume - RADWIMPS ft Toaka, Sea - BTS, Black Swan - BTS, Can't Get You Out Of My Mind - Dreamcatcher, Bonvoyage (Farewell Ver) - Dreamcatcher

🐦‍⬛ Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Nicknames MC gave Sylus: Charizard, Toothless, Lord Faul (he did not understand that one, but lovingly and willingly heard MC out with their info dump on Dragon's Keep), My Dragon (he may have teared up a little. Just a bit), My Crow

Despite being a literal gang leader in a lawless land of sorts, he is the safest place you will ever know

Constantly fights MC on whether or not they can be spoiled

Bonus if MC argues because they have grown up pinching pennies/in rough times and hate the feeling because they feel like they owe the person now

"No Sylus, please, I can't allow you to do this--" "MC it's a $20 necklace that you've been staring at longingly for 6 months, please let me buy you it--" "NO I REFUSE TO ALLOW IT"

It was bought for them lmfao

Would absolutely....take care of any problems you face in terms of toxic friends or family members

I mean any of the LIs would but Sylus, Rafayel, and Caleb i feel would be the ones to take it to the extremes iykyk

"Kitten, is your sibling putting you down again?" "Yes, but you don't need to worry about it, I'm cutting them off--" "Are you sure you don't want me to take care of them?" "Sylus no-"

Realizes pretty quickly that MC age regresses due to repressed traumas and easily steps up to the plate of caregiver

When i say this man is the softest dragon alive to tiny space MC, i mean it

Melts when Age Regressed!MC colors in a Toothless coloring page with black and red and says it's Sylus

Caregiver!Sylus is called Papa Dragon, Sylus calls Age Regressed!MC his little one/tiny dove

Makes sure Age Regressed!MC is comfy, safe, happy, and warm and does everything to make sure they know this

If it lasts longer than a day, he makes sure to tuck them in and kiss their forehead gently

Maybe hums a song or two

Age Regressed!MC teases he's offkey the first couple times, but he's genuinely trying!!!

Always sings the lullaby Past!MC sang him, but never finishes it

Age Regressed!MC is asleep by then anyways

I'm not sure how his Evol would show in his extreme emotions. I presume energy flakes would float around him when he's happy, maybe the linkage glows brightly? I know when he's angry...ooh that shit snaps your neck quicker than you can think, upset/hurt? Questionable. Energy is strange idk--

He's a dragon. He purrs. It sounds like a demonic cat. It's soothing do not look at me like that--

He likes curing around MC and resting against their chest and purrs happily. If he had his dragon tail, it'd be wrapped around their leg softly

Sylus watches over MC at night. There's really no reason to, honestly, but because he's nocturnal and MC kinda isn't most times, he takes the time fully appreciating how at peace MC looks, seeing all the finer details of their face. How their lashes brush against their cheeks, how their hair falls in front of their face (if they have long hair, at least), how softly they breathe, etc

It's enough to make a grown dragon cry

Def often gives his chef a day off so he can cook for MC

MC always comes up and tries to jab him like his myth but he always catches them

Cue instant backhug

Very domestic husband coded oh my gods

Actually chuckled when MC brought home the Grumpy Crow plushie he won in the crane machine for them and instantly put them on the nightstand next to their side

"He needs to help Mephisto keep watch"

Speaking of Mephisto, him and MC def have a sorta sibling relationship where they wanna kill each other but also would kill someone if you fuck with the other

Luke and Kieran are def besties with MC and absolutely adore them

How could they not? They make the boss happy and he actually kinda smiles!

Luke, Kieran, and MC def have gossip time and shit talk about different celebrity/influencer news

Bonus if MC is latino/latina and calls it Chisme

Shit gets MESSY

MC insisted they all have a blanket fort movie marathon and watched all 3 Sonic Movies. Sylus enjoyed it and relates to Shadow a bit too much LMFAO

MC pranked Luke and Kieran once by putting cutesy stickers on their masks. They have spares imo, but they keep the ones with the stickers put up in special places so the stickers never get ruined when they're out working for Sylus

Once, Sylus came home to see the twins and MC in a cuddle pile with Mephisto resting on top, all sleeping peacefully. He may have snuck a photo.

Loves to put on his vinyls and slow dance with MC, it's a great bonding experience

He probably also asks MC to sing for him sometimes, like he knows they don't remember but he also Likes Their Voice So Much

Sylus' love languages are Acts of Service, Gift Giving, and Words of Affirmation

Songs i associate with Sylus via my playlist: Take Me Back to Eden - Sleep Token, Monster - Meg and Dia, Cure - AKUGETSU, Park Byeong Hoon (yes Round 6 Alien Stage Song shut up), Black Sorrow - Park Byeong Hoon, Gone - BANG&JUNG&YOO&MOON (aka B.A.P to me), 1004 (Angel) - B.A.P, Bleeders - Black Veil Brides

🍎 Caleb 🍎

Has a box full of gifts and trinkets MC has given him over the years

Probably has kept one of their old plushies that they outgrew/forgot as a reminder of MC

Also domestic husband!! Refuses to let MC do shit. MC argues playfully then gives up

They cook together, CALEB'S the one giving backhugs while MC cooks

He's also the reason they know how to cook

Secretly jealous of any and all classmates that had a crush on MC/asked them out

Used to help MC choose their outfits for different occassions

Him and MC learned the choreo for the Chopstick Brothers' Little Apple because MC said it reminded them of Caleb

They end up collapsing after and laughing

Caleb is a HUGE Mario Kart/Super Smash Bros player and gets super competitive with MC

I'm talking literal fist fights over it don't @ me

He cares for any bruises and wounds caused by it though

And kisses them better

MC is shit terrified of storms and he always is there, arms open, knowing their anxiety spikes even with the chip in his head

Has his hands over their ears to help muffle the thunder

This nerd probably got his ass handed to him in his younger years protecting MC, long before buff DAA Pilot/Colonel of Farspace, and probably worked out to help defend them better

Idk why but he feels like he'd secretly love anime/Kpop/Jpop/Romcoms

Just a fuckin nerd

Also a Girl Group stan. Likes Kara, 2NE1, Twice, T-Ara, Aespa, Le Sserafim, Illit, Itzy, etc etc you get my point

Absolutely knows about the other 4, his reactions to them are vastly diff though

Xavier and Caleb would have a jealousy off, should they somehow end up alone together. Both of them are possessive men, one would stalk the other and the other would hold his blade to his throat and tell him he does not care whether him and MC were raised together, stay the hell away. It's very tense

Zayne and Caleb obviously have known each other since childhood, but Zayne has absolutely no idea what Caleb has done nor the effects of the chip. He does notice small things, like how Caleb will glare at him while MC isn't looking, the slightly possessive arm wrap, the way Caleb leans closer when all 3 are out and about. Zayne doesn't do much though, at least not super obvious. He'll make it a slight competition, making sure MC's okay, telling Caleb it's fine because "MC is his patient, they're taken care of", making sure MC is eating well, his sentences losing the usual monotone tinge it has to show teasing, almost amusement at Caleb's antics. If Zayne knew though...oh, all hell would break loose and i'm sure we'd have a Dawnbreaker incident

Rafayel and Caleb would have the most explosive fights i think, not around MC though. Never around MC. Lots of arguing, Rafayel putting his daggers to Caleb's throat, Caleb pressing his military pistols to Rafayel's head, the both of them grinning like mad men. Viscious words being thrown around, threats being done. Words like "my beloved bride" and "I'm their protector" are used constantly. At the end of it all, they probably both pout when MC is around, leaving them confused because what the fuck just happened??? Hello???

Sylus probably doesn't give him much of any fight, just using half truths and sly, sarcastic comments to get under Caleb's skin. He knows Caleb knows that MC stayed with him in the N109 Zone, he's well aware Caleb knows of the warning he gave them about family being the biggest betrayal, and he uses it to his advantage. Caleb gets easily frustrated and pissed off, Sylus' words affecting him a lot, but he's perfected the art of hiding his emotions over the years, so the only way you know of this is the fire in Caleb's eyes

His Evol when he feels extreme emotions is also hard to pin down for how it activates. I'd like to think when he's happy, he himself floats, maybe MC if it happens to be a hug or kiss from them, not too high though. Or when he's angry, stuff gets thrown to a wall. Not sure about sadness/upset/hurt though...

His love language has all of em, but I think the main big one is Acts of Service and Quality Time

I feel like in their middle/high school days he tried to ask MC out for a school dance a la prom or smth similar and MC, not knowing much better, took it as a "my gege is gonna be my date because i have no one else, how sweet <3"

I wanna say MC probably also realized around middle/high school days that they had feelings for him, but never said anything due to fear of rejection or ruining the closeness

Likely they were both each other's firsts this lifetime. First kiss, first date, etc

Song(s) that remind me of Caleb via my Playlist: 0X1=Lovesong (I Know I Love You) - Tomorrow x Together, My Clematis - Rubyeye, C!naH, Paranoia - Kang Daniel, Sandcastle - The KingDom, Cyberpunk - Ateez, Breaking Out - Dreamcatcher, Don't Leave Me - BTS, Error - VIXX

Pre-Adoption!Caleb probably tried to fight the scientists and doctors that would experiment on him and kill MC over and over but he couldn't do a thing, being such a young child

Nicknames from MC: Applejack, Captain, Big Bro (when they were younger, used sarcastically in Present Day), CaBOOM (used very rarely and very sarcastically)

I hope you guys enjoyed it! All borders are from @thecutestgrotto :)

I probably would never do this again lmfao--this took so long and is super self indulgent i am so sorry

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citty013 · 5 months ago

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Can someone please give me gravity falls aus to draw or dreamcatchers stuff or ocs bc I ne3d to draw some ships or something plssss

#gravity falls #digital art #artwork #artists on tumblr #my ocs #bill cipher #book of bill #another au im in love with lately

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triangle-strategy-notes · 8 months ago

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Ezana Concept Art

Concept art and translations for Ezana! Translation notes and image id under the cut.

Translation notes:

On the first page when Ikushima is talking about how he feels pressure to make his drawings beautiful, he's actually saying something more like "Usually with sexy woman I go 'I'm obligated to/I must make them beautiful!'... " but no matter how I phrased it the wording felt awkward in English, so I changed the sentence to go without the quotes.

There's a note on the second page above the monochrome sketch that was pretty hard to read (the middle character in particular might have been scribbled out?), so I kind of guessed at the rough meaning from the surrounding characters. The first kanji seems to be 玄, which has the general meaning of "mysterious, occultness, black, deep, profound," and the third kanji seems to be 器, which has the general meaning of "utensil, vessel, receptacle, implement, instrument, ability, container, tool, set". I went with "mysterious staff" as the meaning of the kanji together, also working off of the fact that it's. um. pointing at a staff that seems vaguely mysterious.

"Call forth the rain" was more literally just "rain," but it uses a particle at the end that has a vaguely commanding/requesting vibe to it, so I added extra words to convey that.

There's a part on the second page where I write "SHAMAN" in all caps. On that particular line, "Shaman" was written out using English phonetics, whereas on the rest of the page when I use the word it's the Japanese word for an equivalent concept.

"Lines like a weather map" is literally "isobar pattern". I'm assuming that most people aren't familiar with the word "isobar" (including myself) but from a brief google search, isobars are the lines that show up on a map when weather forecasts are trying to show the range of a storm and the barometric pressure specifically. Since it's (probably) not a commonly-known word, I just wrote out the "weather map" stuff instead.

"Sexy as it sounds" is a weird one. I think it's a portion of this phrase, which is defined as, "not existing despite seeming like it should", but just uses some different particles at the end which I'm assuming make it non-negative (e.g., "as sexy as it should be"). But I couldn't find a ton of examples of how the phrase is used though or what the differences in particles would be, so I just kind of went with the auto-translation I got from Deepl.

Image id:

[id: Multiple images from the Triangle Strategy artbook surrounding Ezana Qlinka. There is a page with a large colored portrait of her, along with a smaller line drawing in the corner. There are two illustrator's notes at the bottom: the first is, "Ezana has a really lovely ethnic design. Actually, after the character's portrait was completed, Mr. Ikushima redid all the linework, which added a lot to the character's beauty! (Yoshiura Rina)" and the second is, "Ezana is primitive, spiritual, and also a mysterious kind of character. With sexy women I usually feel pressure to make them beautiful, but strangely she was very easy to draw. I like how the natural colors are interspersed with the lapis lazuli. (Ikushima Naoki)". On the second page, the top half has several drawings of Ezana in a design close to her canon one. It is titled, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman)". There is one drawing where Ezana is without her headdress, captioned, "If there are different ranks of shaman, I think it'd be fine to start out without the headdress." There is a note pointing to her headress labeled, "Sheep's skull with some parts cut off," and another that reads, "Horns. Red and blue cord is coiled." Another note points to a full sheep skull and reads, "Origin. It's been shaved away starting at about this area." It points to roughly the middle of it. Another note points to a feather ruff she wears, labeled, "Crow feathers". Her staff is labeled, "A staff with elements similar to a dreamcatcher". There is a portrait of her from the back, with a note reading, "Back of the dress is open." The second half of the page is titled, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman) Large Brainstorming WIP". There are 5 drawings, each of a different potential design. The first is similar to her canon design, but with darker skin and a black dress. The second is very colorful, and has the notes, "Hear the song from the wind and go into a trance" as well as "Lines like a weather map" and "I think it would look better if the saturation was lowered a little or the colors were narrowed down a bit." The third drawing has a purple cloak with eyes on it, and seems to be throwing seeds into the air, captioned, "Sowing seeds toward the sky." The fourth design uses more pastels/bright colors, and has a drum at her hip. She seems to be saying, "Thunder!" and there is a note that reads, "Beat the cover and let it resonate through the air." The fifth drawing is of a woman wearing a full mask and a heavy cloak made of grass fibers. It has several bullet points including, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman)," "Female SHAMAN", "Indigenous - Separate wind and lightning magic", and "As sexy as it sounds." She holds a staff which is labeled, "Mysterious Staff" and also has a note reading, "Indigenous". She seems to be saying, "Bring forth the rain..." There are two illustrator's notes on the bottom. The first reads, "Mr. Asano requested that I add in leopard print, and I thought about how I could make it unique. (Naoki Ikushima)" and the second reads, "Looking at it again, it's a really sexy outfit. And it's great in battle! (Tomoya Asano)" /end id]

#triangle strategy #ts artbook character ref sheets #ezana qlinka #triangle strategy artbook #I don't like to assume any real meaningful information about the people behind team asano based off these little notes #especially since I'm not a native speaker #but I DO think it's really funny that every other time ikushima's in charge of a design #his illustrator's note seems to be something like 'asano asked me to change it :('#and asano's note is 'looks pretty good if I do say so myself! :)'#that B design in particular is really cool to me with all the weather patterns #though I can see why they felt like the colors were maybe too bright for tri strat

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sakura-cat-nightmare · 4 months ago

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I created this blog over a year ago, but I never used it, but i decided that I'Il change that now, or at least that's my plan.

Some infos about me. You can call me Lizzi or Liz. I'm from Germany, which is sometimes really annoying. (My interests and obsession suffer as a result.. Finding K-pop albums here is a struggle, especially if you want something specific. And I'm not even starting with english movies in theaters)

I love to do creative things like DIYs and digital drawings. I also write Fanfictions (since 2020), but right now, only for myself. I plan to publish them soon [maybe]

Now about Fandoms, Ships, and all that stuff

Kpop

i'm in there since 2021, and I'll probably never get out :3. Generally, I'm a multistan, and I listen to very many groups and soloists, but I still have my Ults and favs.

Ult Groups:

BTS - Army since September 2021 (they brought me into kpop) and i will probably be posting about them regularly, haha

bias: Suga and Jhope

shippings: Sope <3, Namjin, Vminkook

Dreamcatcher - Insomnia since beginning 2022

bias: Jiu and Dami

shippings: Jiubin (Jiu × Dami), Suyeon

IU - Uaena since middle of 2023, but I started listening and loving her songs in 2022 (l also saw her live ♡ and she is so amazing)

Other Favs:

Gidle [Bias: Yuqi], Mamamoo [Bias: Solar, Moonbyul], Ateez [San, Seonghwa], Twice [Bias: Jihyo],Stray Kids [Bias: Chanbin], Itzy [Bias: Lia]

~*~

Marvel

I watched my first MCU movie (Ironman 1) in 2020, and since then, it's an on and off relationship with this fanom. Usually, I will come back every other month or when a good movie/series comes out :D

Avengers

favs: Clint, Bucky, Nat, Yelena (same for the the actors)

shippings: Winterhawk <3

Xmen

favs: Logan, Wade, Yukio (she is so cute), Laura, (same for the the actors)

shippings: Poolverine <3

Gods/Others

favs: Loki, Lady Sif, Valkyrie, Thor,(same for the the actors)

shippings: Valkyrie/Sif, (some year ago also Thorki still love them but not as a ship)

~*~

Football

[I'm German leave me alone l i will call it Football because it's Fußball here] liked football my whole life and when I saw a Bravertz edit it was the push I needed and now I am here haha

Fav Players: Julian Brandt, Marco Reus, Robert Lewandowski (maybe some others too, but they are more an on-off thing)

Fav Teams: BVB, FC Barcelona [honestly, I'm more a player person like the teams where the payers that I like play]

Shippings: Julian Brandt x nearly everyone (like for real I ship him with many ppl but i only write fics about Julian x Marco; Julian Robert; Julian x Marco x Robert [don't ask me why.. it just happened])

YouTube

First, i cant belive i FORGOT YOUTUBE???? IM SO DUMB LOL

Second I watch mostly minecraft Youtube, and do so since idk 2018? Yes I'm young. But i also watch other stuff lmao.

Fav Youtubers: Zombey, Maudado, Bastighg, Veni, Stegi, CastCrafter, Mahluna, Gnu, That Chief Guy, Clownpierce, Branzy, Reddoons, Squiddo.... (many more but these are my favs )

Shippings: Zomdado, VenixStegi, Clownzy, Zickzack (bastixveni), also kinda Bastiplatte but not really as a ship but they have a special place in my heart :)

~*~

This blog will probably be really chaotic, but generally, I'll post about anything related to the fandoms just listed... and maybe other stuff I get obsessed with :)

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callico-awts · 2 years ago

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"I'll lend you my umbrella, you might get cold.."

Yes.. this is spirit snnuy, since in my au has lots of rainy weather going on mostly in headspace well black space too.. but there's a difference red rain sign of shit is going down or something bad will happen.. there's also like normal rain..

So, this is the design I came up with.. The only thing is different he's holding a umbrella,it has a dreamcatcher that has a sun design (not that noticeable..), star and ofc the white tulips..

Ye I'm not good with adding symbolism.. Her brother is the light of her life, like the shining sun, her rainy days vanishes when he was with her. The friend group will agree with her with that, he's the baby bro of the group.

Despite his lack of expression, they know that deep inside.. he cares and loves for his friends, his big sis and family too ofc.. tho he often doesn't talk about them that much

He's forgiving, kind and caring.. He's talented when it comes to writing, drawing and playing the violin.. a good listener.

They didn't know that, the sun is slowly losing it's shine Tulips slowly wilting and losing it's beautiful pure white color..

Haha enjoy some of these long bread crumbs.

Don't think too deep about some things here.. when I read it, they don't make any sense..

Edit: sorry if you noticed I kept editing shet.. I like adding random stuff..

#snnuy #omori #omori game #omori au #omari au #omori spoilers #wilting tulips (omari au)#sunny omori #headcanon #lore #omori art #omori sunny

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the-stray-storyteller · 2 years ago

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Writeblr Intro

*rubs hands together and cracks knuckles* Let's give this another try shall we? (since I was a nervous mess in the first one, but I am nostalgic as fuck so link!) _____________________________________________________________

HELLO TO ANYONE WHO IS READING THIS!

*Ecstatic waving*

*shouts* I AM AN ASPIRING WRITER

*whispers* still learning

Stray (I also go by my other pen name Arushi Ray) over here! Welcome to the disastrous fire that my blog is. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you even if I don't know you! If you love paranormal schools, a found family of superpowered beings, assassins, creepy magical playground, you have got the right place *wink*. If you are a fellow young writer yourself, I cordially invite you to the

Discord Server For Young Writers.

( I could feel my mental version of myself do a salesman style wink while re-reading that. Ew. Great now that idea is repeating itself over and over and over again. Ignore me.)

Projects (with links ofc):

(Note : The tags are the names of the WIPs) 1. Defenders 2.Havenpoint 3.Forged In Red (the link is to the tag which is still the old name of the wip 'Rebel'. I plan to publish this work when I am done so I have not posted chapters. If you want to you can just search about it through the tags or send me an ask/dm) 4.Orphic Academy 5.Little Bit of Nonsense 6. The Playground (Coming soon, after I think of a goddamn plot. Also kinda dead.) 7. Sacrifice (still on the planning stage) 8. Games of the Astute (dead WIP) 9. Stolen by Silence (dead WIP no.2) 10.Random Writing (just snippets of random stuff I write, this will need to be searched with tags) 11. Legends and Lore my podcast

Random Stuff About Me:

1. She/her 2. Bisexual and aromantic mess 3. Open to all tag games, asks. 5. Can't write a romance story even if my life depended on it. But I am trying, okay! 6. Too many ideas and too many google docs 7. Unhealthy obsession with mythology 8. Daydreamer 9. Trying to be adventurous in an adventureless world (at the same time never stepping out of my house). 10. Poisons, weapons, dreamcatchers? Gib them to meeeeeeeeee 11. bleh bleh blah (Dracula style) 12. Formulated exactly 7 different ways to assassinate my chemistry teacher and coming up with more 13. I repeat myself a lot. 14. Overly honest...maybe a little too much. 15. I draw...sometimes 16. Have you ever killed someone? If you know about me I am allowed to know about you!

#writer #writeblr #writeblr intro #writing community #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity

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zs-art · 1 year ago

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Inktober 2023 Day 1 & 2 : Dream / Spiders 💭 🌌🕷️

Outertale Muffet selling you a dreamcatcher she made

(or collecting your sweet dreams to sweeten her pastries 🧁)

first drawing of the month and i almost skipped & messed it up cuz i went to a cosplay con yesterday & i’m still unpacking stuff xP

i won finalist btw~ not the best but still a big win for me cuz it’s my 10th cosplay anniversary (that’s why i recos Fionna) & my birthmonth 🎉 🥳 Happy October !

#inktober #inktober 2023 #undertale fanart #outertale #muffet spider

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egabdraws · 2 years ago

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These were some sketches I did back then when watching dreamcatcher's Mind, was the first time drawing them all and stuff (cuz if you know me from Twitter, you would know... My love for deukae got BIG)

#Dreamcatcher #Sketches

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autumniswonderingaboutspring · 1 year ago

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Okayy soo Hey guys!! My first post on tumblr here~~ I'm gonna give an introduction about my self and tell about who I am so here we go!~

🌻• I'm a teenage girl from India, who loves doing, thinking, reading aesthetic, fun stuff.

🌻• I love all kinds of art and I am deeply interested in them, whether it be singing, dancing, whether it be painting, drawing, poetry. Just ANYTHING.

🌻•I'm a proud Hindu girl who deeply loves God and is proud of her culture🧡

🌻•I can speak, write and understand Hindi, English and Gujarati well. I can just read and write Korean alphabet yet, I'm learning the words and grammar.

🌻• I also have a Youtube channel! I'll drop the link in my description its called 'Purple💜💜'. Im not active on it now but I'll comeback soon, I usually upload kpop edits there.

🌻• Bestie: @pluxyrainbow

🌻• I've also been a fan of animation since childhood so I am a HUGE fan of My Little Pony and Miraculous Ladybug, and I'm getting into anime and have watched alot of Disney and Pixar's stuff.

I am halfway through Death Note and Gakeun Babysitters yet, and I have just started One Piece.

🌻• My hobbies are dancing, singing(although im not good at it yet-), drawing, reading and listening music, I enjoy playing games and sports too. I'm a just started begginer at keyboard too.

🌻• I want to become a music idol and performer when I grow so Im trying to improve my skills day by day.

🌻•Im getting into working out recently(without equipments).

🌻•MBTI: ISFJ

🌻• To describe myself as a person, I am a kind and one of a kind(pun intended lol) person, I am very loyal and have strong morals and opinion. I never judge or bitch about anyone unless they actually are a bad person.

Even though I would hate a person due to how they treated me or how they treat others, I would never go to a extreme of wishing smth really bad to a person, bc at the end of the day we're all God's kids c'mon

Lets say I'm a picky extrovert or a loud introvert because it takes me time to open up to people(due to trust issues and safety measures yk), but when I open up, I JUST DONT STOP TALKING😭😭.

🌻•I love Harry Potter and am a very big Potterhead⚡️💙.

🌻•I love listening various types of musics.

🌻•I stan some Kpop groups as well:

BTS

Twice

Enhypen

Dreamcatcher

Onewe

And almost listen to every other kpop group.

🌻•I'll upload my Harry Potter and other Kpop group's profile soon to let yall know more about it in those ascepts.

Soo that's it for today bye guys see ya!🩷

#new on tumblr #about myself #me time #bts #harry potter #anime #one piece

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dreamcatcherwriting · 9 months ago

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Not the real you.

Yeah haha I had a lot of fun with this one! It's based off the document @hellenite put out with their ideas for the Fading Lights continuation that will never happen.

Spoilers for that below the cut.

This is based off the would-be scene in the continuation where the new version of Ranboo, the reset one, comes back and successfully locates Tubbo. Tubbo at first thinks he's the "real" one, until he flips over Ranboo's wrist and sees that the tattoo is missing.

Here's the original fic (though this scene isn't in it.)

Here's the post hellenite made with the doc attached.

Complete credit for the idea goes to them!

#dreamcatcher draws stuff #ranboo #ranboo fanart #tubbo #tubbo fanart #beeduo #beeduo fanart #hellenite #hellenite fanart #fading lights #fading lights fanart #fading lights art #to hellenite if you see this-#i hope you don't mind i made art of the notes!#if you do i'll take it down obv #i just got inspired #anyway byee

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lotusprotocol · 11 months ago

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dreamcatcher devlog: past 3 months (oops)

(screenshot from current wip level, out of orbit)

full devlog below the cut!

long time no see! really sorry for missing the past two months; i never ended up getting started and by then it was too late to post. i'll try my best not to let this happen again, though i can't make any promises.

anyways, there's been a lot in the past couple months! without further ado, here's everything(?) that's happened since the last devlog:

i started off in december by getting some of the core mechanics working, such as the camera, level transitions, etc. the visuals aren't completely done yet, but my main priority is getting the mechanics to actually work, and i'll make them look good later.

i did a lot of work on optimizing the performance and build size of my game, which i made a few posts about (big one about build size here)

i made another track for one of the levels, and i think i've been improving at music! here's the audio:

(i also tried making album art later in december but it didn't turn out good so i'll redo it at some point)

one of the most important things i did in december was get playtesters! i made applications open from the 15th to the 22nd, and chose 6 people who submitted. it was hard for me to leave people out though, but applications may be open again sometime in the future.

i set up a daily goals list to put 5 things on every day, and hopefully stay focused. admittedly, it's been a while since i used this list, and i lowkey forgot about it until i looked through my post history before making this devlog, but i think i'll get back into it this month.

i also set up a twitch channel! i'll be streaming over at https://www.twitch.tv/lotus_protocol if you want to check it out!

i was on break for the last week of december, so i was able to get a lot more done in that time. i also got a stylus, which is a really nice upgrade from drawing with my finger before, and did a lot of practice with it.

january didn't start off great, and i barely got anything done over the first couple weeks. i was eventually able to get back in the groove, but i had a sucky feeling during that time since this game's a big part of my life and my mood depends quite a bit on it (in a healthy way though, it's not out of control)

when i came back to working on the game, i polished some stuff up before pushing the first playtester build! i got some valuable advice, and it went pretty good.

i wrote down the outline for the entire story! there's still some wiggle room if i want to go back and change anything, but it's nice to have it down instead of only in my head, and i've wrote the dialogue for a few scenes already.

i've been improving my art a considerable amount over january and february! i've gotten a lot more confident in my art as well, which motivates me more to make it!

(pencil sketch from mid february; there's quite a few mistakes here and there but i still really like it)

i continued working on one of the levels, which was what i did for the rest of the month. not much i can say here, but it's been shaping up pretty good so far!

to be honest, february wasn't a good month for development. i had a lack of motivation and a lot of work to do for other things in my life, and there was barely anything new from last month.

the main thing i did in february was work on the tas tools for the game more, which are coming along nicely. i've been having an issue with consistency and don't know exactly what's causing it, but i'll figure it out eventually.

(unrelated to dreamcatcher but) during february, i took some time to make a side project i had been wanting to do for a long time: an upgraded level editor for red ball, a flash game that i enjoy. there's still plenty of work to do on it, but so far it's pretty nice, and it's not my main focus right now.

(screenshot of the tool, you can find it here it you're interested)

i've also been delaying the next playtester build for a long time, and it was originally supposed to come out at the start of last month; if there's any playtesters reading this, sorry again! i'll hopefully have it done this month.

i finished off february by making some more music! here's a wip from a few days ago:

and that's it for the past 3 months! with all that being said, here's what i plan on doing next month:

get the current wip level done, and hopefully do another full one

finish all story scenes for the demo

push at least two new playtester builds

do some story art if i have time

enjoy the process :]

that's all for this devlog, and if you made it this far, thanks for reading! right now, i'm trying to get the demo out by august this year, so expect to see something done by then. also feel free to join the discord server, where you can get more regular updates, ask me questions, or chat with the community! anyways, signing off now, have a great day!

#dreamcatcher game #devlog #gamedev #indiedev

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thick-as-thieves-forever · 9 months ago

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Dream Eater - an essay

“The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment in the middle of the night when every child and every grown-up was in a deep deep sleep, and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world all to themselves.”

– Roald Dahl, The BFG

“Dream logic seems to proceed on associations. One thing is associated with another, for example, a “Paris Restaurant” could lead you to Paris, France according to dream logic, which is also literal use of words. And I suppose you all know that to me one of the most important new facts about dreams is that they are a biologic necessity.”

- William S. Burroughs, Excerpts from a lecture recorded at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics on August 11, 1980

The Fine Lines Archive

I was seven years old when I first thought about memory as a place. My father and I were driving down the highway in southern New Hampshire, and I asked him why it was that when I remembered things, I would see an image in my mind. He described at some length that memory was often associative: the mind is always taking in information, but that information is not just thoughts or sounds, it is also sights, smells, tastes. All of the senses were involved in painting the picture that our memory constructs for us, that it calls up from the depths. When he told me this, we passed by Fine Lines Auto Body, a repair shop and car dealership outside Brookline, and when I recall memory itself this is the first image that I conjure: a red sports car mocked up in plaster crashing through the wall of the second story of the store front. The tie-dye painted Volkswagen Bus, a true hippie wagon, that sits unmoving in the woods down the road that we would always pass afterward. While the exact words that he said are lost, this image is burned into the back of my eyes, and it comes through as clear as if I was still sitting in the passenger seat listening to him speak. Memory is associative, and my memory of associative memory is branded into me through the image of its very association. It is so clear that it is seared in brilliant, blistering sunlight.

It is also fuzzy. There is an imprecision to my recall that makes a drive through my own memories into a hazy road trip. Was the tie-dye van really in that part of the road? Or was it closer to Mason? Was I really seven, or was I a good bit older? The farther that I draw from these moments in my life the more the waves wash away my certainty. The more my memory is filled with salt-water, gritty and flushed, cloudy with the sediment of accumulating time. I can’t be certain anymore that all of these things were as close together as I think they were, that memories aren’t tripping over each other and becoming entangled like distant electrons. But I know that there was a plaster façade of a red car. I know that it burst through the second story of Fine Lines, that my father in that moment bound it in the image of a tesseract, and that the archive of my memories was erected on the foundation of an auto body shop in the woods of New Hampshire.

I have never read Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher, but I saw the movie as a kid, sitting on my couch in the upstairs living room late one night. The plot is a bit blurry, but there is a scene that is stuck in the foyer of the archive, playing on a loop behind armored glass. A group of friends are sitting around a table in a cabin in Maine, drinking and playing games. One character mentions that he’ll file away a piece of information in the “Who Gives a Shit” section of his memory warehouse. The scene cuts to a man pulling a box labeled “Rock and Roll Lyrics” off a shelf and replacing it with a box dedicated to how to use his new MacBook: “How the Damn Thing Works.” A friend asks what he does with all the discarded files, and he claims that he burns them. If he can’t stand to burn them, he sneaks his favorite files away to a back office where he keeps all his secret stuff. I pictured myself keeping a library. Carting around old boxes full of manilla folders, Rubbermaid tubs filled with expand-o files, shelves lined with books. I wondered if I ever burned them. Or if the stacks had just become a wild menagerie of disorganization. Where do memories go when they die? What happens to them if we don’t cremate them? Do they rise from the dead, necrotic and oozing flesh? Do they lurk beneath the surface of a cold lake, waiting to grab your leg? Do they skulk the stacks, waiting for me to turn a corner? There are cracks in the glass, one thousand atmospheres of water pressure forcing their way in: an ocean of forgetting always threatens to spill inward, to flood the Archive, to sweep away the shelves and the boxes and the dreams kept in sealed jars. To make an ocean of my mind.

Dreamcatchers are an indigenous tradition from North America, descending from the Ojibwe word asabikeshiinh, which is apparently the inanimate form for the word ‘spider.’ They are beautiful webs decorated in beads, feathers, and sometimes painted in dyes. They are traditionally hung over a bed during sleep, however in the Ojibwe origin story they are not as explicitly connected with dreams as we have come to see them. They were meant as a guidepost for the Spider Woman, a mythological figure who took care of children. They existed to guide her to children far away from their homeland, or to ward off harm that might be caught in the air. East Asian cultures have a mythological figure that is a bit closer to our modern idea of the dreamcatcher as a ‘net for bad dreams’ – the Baku, a creature in Japanese and Chinese mythology created from the spare pieces left over when the gods had finished with creation, was a spirit said to devour the nightmares of sleeping people. The trunk, head, and tusks of an elephant. Horns. Tiger’s claws. The body of a great bear. When the witching hour strikes and the memories wake from the dead, when they become zombie dreams, the Baku stalks my archive. I call to it, and it squeezes through the narrow doors of the auto body shop. It feeds on the familiar texture of memory, which is the cousin of dream.

I am living within the winnowing of my interiority – the archive is always crumbling around me, always being rebuilt, passageways erecting themselves and collapsing inward – I am eroding from the inside out. Sometimes the archive feels more like Borges’ Library of Babel. Some endless space, one in which you can never retrace your steps perfectly, where you can wander for an eternity and never read all of the books. Sometimes it feels like the world of Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi – a vast array of marble halls that dwarf human presence with the scale of their pillars, stairs, and empty spaces. Statues peer down periodically from their alcoves, mysterious labels set upon them. I struggle to recall their meaning, and I hope to stumble upon the ones that will ignite the memory that Piranesi and I have left behind. I have replaced too many of my files. I can still tell you that on pages 330-339 of Anti-Oedipus they make the argument about capitalism reterritorializing death, I can still find the “zombie schizos good for work” line. I can still tell you the chronological order of the books Baudrillard published, and what their impact was on the field. I can recite the difference between Zoe and Bios, I can talk at length about Bataille’s meditation on violence and self-laceration, I can recall the events of May ’68 in Paris, and I can conjure McQuillan and Miller’s arguments a la Derrida that Masterson and I used at the NDT in the autoimmunity affirmative. I can tell you how to drive from Oklahoma City or Boston to Lexington: all the roads you’ll take, the things you’ll see along the way, the best spots to stop and smoke. But I can’t tell you my first phone number, or the address I lived in three years ago in upstate New York. I can’t remember what I wrote in the letter I sent to my first love. I can barely remember Rose’s face. It is a softened image now, blurred at the edges, rendered behind a pixilated privacy filter. There are holes, chewing away the earth. Erupting through the floor of the library. Swallowing my dreams of the past.

In a lecture at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics Bill Burroughs once delivered a lecture about dreams. I discovered this lecture not out of a particular fascination and burning desire to research his work, but through an album made by an Australian band called We Lost The Sea. This album, entitled Departure Songs, is a collection of songs dedicated to heroes who died on the frontlines of exploration, pushing for the progress of the human race. The opening track is dedicated to Lawrence Oates, one of the first humans to reach the South Pole. Lawrence developed gangrene due to frostbite at one point during the trip, and when he couldn’t take the cold anymore, he walked out of his tent into the endless cold to die. The second track, Bogatyri, is written for the Chernobyl divers who descended into the murky dark of the flooding power plant to open the sluice gates, wielding only oxygen tanks and weak lamps. The Last Dive of David Shaw is written for David Shaw, a diver who died trying to rescue the body of a fellow diver, Deon Dreyer, from the bottom of Bushman’s Hole in South Africa. But perhaps the most heartbreaking songs on this album are dedicated to the crew of the Challenger – a two-part swan song that, when I realized what it was about, dropped me down a well. When Flight begins, the first track of the Challenger pair, sections of Burroughs’ lecture are played. He talks about how dreams are a biologic necessity. How one day, dreams will take us to space. My girlfriend at the time will be so moved by this section that she will tattoo these words on her shoulder: an astronauts helmet with a skull inside, Burroughs words inscribed along the neck of the suit. We do not remember the Challenger when we hear these songs: we were too young to be alive when it exploded. But we will dream its memory, together in a sparse living room during the witching hour, clinging to the sounds that dreams make when they die.

Burroughs, in that lecture, speculated that dreams would one day take us to space. He ruminates on the “human artifact” being unfit for the environment of space, saying that dreams allow us to go places unburdened by our bodies. He concludes this section of the lecture, after a long rambling few minutes by musing to himself, “but we’re not there yet.”

Where Am I?

As the witching hour draws to a close and the sun threatens to rise over the mountains, I drive through the winding fog that clings to the roads that dot Vermont. I am sitting at the bottom of the ocean. It is pitch dark, and the fog is so thick that I can barely see one car length in front of me. The taillights of cars are the only signposts you can use driving here at night. The roads are a single lane, and they hug the mountains that I’m traversing so closely they could easily be mistaken for a child attached to a parent’s pantleg. 18-wheeler trucks scream through these roads, much faster than I would imagine they should, and the force of the winds coming off their sides are enough to jostle the Yukon on its chassis. Hours before, I had departed my grandparents house in New Hampshire, said goodbye to my father, and left to return to Oklahoma for the start of classes in the fall. I used to relish road trips like these: 2000 miles of open road in front of me, a cigarette-lighter-powered auxiliary cord that could hijack the radio frequencies with my own music, a center console full of cigarettes and wraps, late night stops at Waffle House. In my younger years I had found a great deal of freedom on the road: the ability to be alone, to travel anywhere at my own speed, to do so to the blast beats of my own soundtrack. This drive in particular did not have the same brightness – it was not a manic, grinning flight into the next sunrise. It was not long, happy nights spent grooving and planning my next victory at a debate tournament. This was, instead, the night that I truly heard and understood Shed for the first time.

Title Fight, a foundationally important shoegaze and post-punk band in the American scene, plays a critical role in my youth. It is a cornerstone to this day of my music tastes, and a relic passed to me by one of my closest friends. I had always treated them as a high-energy band, and their first EP reflects this buzzing sad-boy young energy: The Last Thing You Forget screams, it is unafraid of making unseemly sounds, it does not shy away from minor keys or somber flat notes, and it pairs a head-spinning combination of pop-punk blast beats with the shredding, driving tones of a punk band. They are a band built around juxtaposition. I had heard their debut album, Shed, a handful of times before but never paid too much attention to it. It was not as energetic as their EP, it didn’t have the bubbling explosiveness that songs like Symmetry or Anaconda Sniper did, and it didn’t call to a feeling beneath my surface that needed music to feel at home. Until that morning. Now, anytime I hear Shed I am instantly sucked into the dream: I am in the fog again. I am driving through Vermont, listening to Crescent Shaped Depression or Where Am I. I am lost in the pitch pines, dead walking through the rises in the road, and my soul is screaming alongside Ned again. I am shedding my skin again.

In these early years of college, when I was 20, I was in love with a woman who lived in Kentucky. Rose and I had met during my senior year of high school, and the relationship that followed was deeply unstable: it burned at both ends. We were obsessed, infatuated with each other, and talked so constantly that it was as if we were never apart. We knew that we loved each other even if we had no idea what that meant, and a part of us also knew that the 1000 miles between us was a burning bridge. The fire had to either be put out or allowed to rage until the space itself collapsed. One night in October of my sophomore year, around 2 in the morning, she called me in my dorm room and told me that she had taken all of the pills that were left. I could hear the rain hitting the lawn around her, and she said she was sitting outside. She was bleeding. She was waiting for it to end. There are many things I don’t remember clearly about the events that followed; much of it has become a slurry of mental sediment, a scramble of memory and dream. But that moment is held inside of a diamond. It is immune to the erosion, too large to be swallowed by the holes. I jumped in my car and drove to her, not a thought spent on the consequences. On the why. On the costs. When the archive floods this moment will be buried, at the bottom of the lake, still trapped in perfect crystallization. It will catch the sunlight that penetrates the cloudy saltwater. It will shine the color of blood.

Years later I will have a dream. To be more precise, I will have the same dream every night for 3 years. It will never differ, and it will come back with the certainty of a sunrise. It will be simultaneously impossible and perfectly reasonable unto itself, a closed loop in dream logic. I am in a hotel that never ends. It is an amalgam, a construct pieced together from every hotel that I’ve ever stayed in. This dream never begins in precisely the same place, but it is always the same place, and there is always a new path through it. Some nights I begin in the Dallas Wyndham that we liked to call “The Hive” because of its reminiscence of Bentham’s panopticon. Some nights I begin in a dingy La Quinta, others in the lobby of the hotel in downtown Pittsburgh we stayed in for the round robin tournament. Once it began in the tiny hallways of our Dartmouth Marriot. No matter where it begins, I am always wandering through the images of my associative past, past ice machines and bare light bulbs on sconces. The hallways are connected, countless in number, always winding their way towards a room that doesn’t exist. I will spend an entire night that feels like years walking through them, tracing my hand along the wallpaper, the plaster, the railings, the doors. I will encounter a myriad of faces here; I will have one thousand unique experiences here that are never the same. But they are always the same. When she appears in the hotel she is standing on a balustrade, her hands resting on the railing, overlooking a winding grand staircase that leads to her landing. When I walk into the room, I know that it’s her before I even see her. This room is always the same, and it has never existed. When Rose looks down to see me enter, she is faceless.

When I think of her now all I can see are places. I see Vermont bathed in fog. I see the winding, mined-out valleys that connect her to Lexington cut from the Appalachians, dripped green with foliage. I see wind turbines at night, and the standing grain silos in Dumas that call me friend when I go walking late at night to call her. I see my grandmother’s old swing in the backyard, I see Evan’s dorm room at the University of Kentucky. I see the hills overlooking an intersection somewhere outside her hometown, beneath the shadow of Mt. Sterling crowding out the sunrise’s pink-orange light. I hear Title Fight. I think of sinkholes.

“She is behind you now. You are leaving.” And the moments that feel the longest are the quiet ones, the ones where the silence screams like Ned. She will marry and have children. She will send you a nice message every now and then, just to see how you’ve been. And eventually, the line will go dark. Maybe there’s nothing. Only this moment.

Acid Rain Noumena

A few years after dropping out of the University of Oklahoma I moved to Massachusetts to live with my father. I took a night job working in a warehouse at UPS and became a loader: 5 nights a week I would wake up at 9pm, have coffee and a bit of breakfast, and then leave my apartment to walk through the city to a bus stop where the company would pick up workers who couldn’t drive. I had long lost my car by this time, and so every week I would trudge through the cold night air swaddled in a winter coat to the bus stop, board an old yellow school bus, and ride 20 minutes to the warehouse where I would spend 6 hours loading packages into the trucks at 20 Door. During this period of my life I became closely acquainted with dysfunctional sleep patterns. I befriended stuporous exhaustion, the delirium that running from dreams brings. I rarely saw the sun, and when I did it was an unwelcome intruder. My eyes softened to its brightness, and the walls of my apartment were painted black. I drew curtains around myself, I lived in the dark when the light shone, and I became a denizen of the night. The witching hour became my home.

Like the hotel, which I had left behind years before, I walked in closed loops. Each day felt like a repetition of the previous, a return of the same that dulled my senses into a fugue. I listened to Philip Glass and J Dilla. I sank into the slow-building minimalism of difference as repetition. The night owl perch, I told myself, suited me well and allowed me to retreat into a hollow that only I could claim. It was a space in which I could truly be alone – I could sit with myself, I could ruminate and wander through my archive, I could find the placid sounds that would put my mind and soul at ease, and I could disconnect from all of the specters that lingered around the jars and files lining the shelves. It was there, floating in that flooded cave system, that I met Sophia.

We met at coffee shops, at Marxist meetings, on the staircase of her apartment in the January snow. We met in the cramped line of my kitchen, where I would bake her bread to warm her through the biting wind. We smoked cigarettes on the stoop together, her always taking care to handroll them from a bag of tobacco that she would carry. I listened to her play guitar, and we ate Czech food from a local eatery, talking politics and music and art and nothing until our eyes couldn’t stand to be open any longer. Never before had I known someone whose idea of a great date was meeting in a coffee shop with printed copies of a short essay on post-modern theory to do a comparative reading. She tapped into something that existed in the sealed halls of the archive, and entered rooms that I had always imagined would remain secluded – meant only for myself. I had hidden from the sun for a long time, but when I got off work some days I would hold my exhaustion in my hands, knead it into dough, and walk it across the wind-shorn streets of Worcester to spend time with her during her daytime. It can be difficult to date a day-walker when you work the graveyard shift. And while it was, by all means, difficult to match our schedules in moments it was ultimately one of the warmest seasons of my 20’s. The winter cold melted when her hand clasped mine. When she smiled. There is a section of the archive where her room is filed. Where I’ve sketched the windows that overlooked rain-filled streets, where her guitar leans in the corner. Where her books are neatly lined on a shelf against the far wall. Where her kitchen resides, a cup of coffee steaming alongside a cup of tea. We did not have the guts to call it love yet, but maybe we knew.

It was her idea to drop acid that night. She had never tried it, and I had tried it a few too many times in college, but not for years. Maybe that means she didn’t know better. Maybe that means she couldn’t imagine that it was a bad time. But two hours into our trip, in the living room of her small off-campus apartment, she couldn’t look at me. And when she finally did her eyes were wet, filled with ocean water, and the only words she could manage became a wall of painted noise. I never filed away what she said. The words themselves, in exactitude, are lost to time. But when she had finished speaking, I could feel them in my bones. She was sorry. She had made a mistake. It was just one time, and it wouldn’t happen again. He didn’t matter to her. It had meant nothing. The words echoed through flooding halls cast in the light of a kaleidoscopic fracturing. They sloshed over boxes, through pages, and pressed against the doors of my deepest rooms. I had already, at that moment, withdrawn to the interior. I had sealed away the most sacred chambers, but water was seeping beneath the doors. She was breaking the seals. I don’t remember what I said, those words were washed away in the tsunami. They are lost to a flurry of intensity, to breathing walls, to the pale eyes of the moon.

I barely remember leaving her apartment. The only image left of the flood is one of my shoes, a pair of worn Timberlands, padding carefully down her ice-covered stairs. Too far to fall. I am flying down Fruit Street, in a night saturated with moonlight and moisture – the light imitation of rain that a mist-shrouded city produces when the pressure is not quite high enough for a downpour. I walked home, and the moon glared. It pulsed, it gave off a pale ringing, it stared down over my shoulder and dripped down the back of my coat in the witching hour’s hands. It was dark and silent, and the streets contained no cars, no people, no animals – only garbage, singing gutters, blinking streetlights, and a wall of wetness that would soak you to the bone without becoming a driving torrent. It was the dampness of still, quiet air that I swam through. It was the clutching arms of drowned stars that heard my whispers to the sidewalk. It was the painted murals on school walls that stretched towards my hunger.

The climb up the stairs of my own building that certainly happened are no longer on file. Nor are the remnants of that night, which could not end until the sun rose far later in the day. My father, sleeping across the hall, did not tell me that he heard me return if he did stir from sleep. He didn’t cross the hall to ask me why I had come home early. He was not friends with the night, he did not belong to the moon. He needed sleep when the sun was down, and did not hear my boots clomping across the wooden landing at the top of the stairs. But I know that when I returned, I sat in the crook of the window, on a long, flat couch. I know that two cats, one orange and the other black, settled against my legs and slept to the tones I played. I know that I stared at the moon in silence, and listened for the sound of pale colors.

When I was a boy, my father gave me a CD during one of my summer visits with some music on it for me to take home and play when I missed him. My musical life, in many ways, begins with him. On that CD was a rendition of Just the Two of Us. It is playing in the windowsill, as I stare at the moon over Worcester. It is playing but it is not playing. There is no stereo, and the apartment is sunken into deep stillness and quiet. But I am humming along to the tune. I am perched between two cats on the edge of a leather couch watching clouds pass over the rooftops of buildings. I am staring out over the distant treetops of the park, drawing my eyes through the squat houses jammed against each other from the hilltop. I am licking my wounds. My head is unspooling, and the rain is gathering in thick, heavy clouds over the city. He is asleep across the hall of our shared top-floor apartments, but he is there. He is here because he is there. There has never been a question, in his mind, of whether or not to be there – to pick me up from the airport with only a handful of bags to my name, to take me in, to help me start anew. To pick up my pieces. To make a pot of coffee and sit with me in the grey of a long afternoon, mending the broken things that I have scattered across a table.

Tomorrow he will wake up and make coffee. He will come across the hall and put a box of Entenmann’s on the ottoman. We will smoke cigarettes and we won’t talk about what happened the night before – it will be locked away by then, kept in a room far from his in Fine Lines. Instead, we will chat about anything else. He will smile, and the sun will rise again over the scattered pieces of my life that lie on the floor of the apartment, littered among the crumbs from a raspberry Danish. I will forget that I haven’t slept. I will warm myself in the sunlight, and I will begin writing the scene down so that it can be filed away in his section of the archive. I will note that we are listening to Vince Guaraldi. I will be sure to remember that he is wearing his favorite blue robe, that his hair is standing in curly salt and pepper wisps again from the night’s sleep. I will tell him about the new job offer I received from Binghamton University. I will ask him about his work, and if he wants to grab dinner tonight. I will laugh with him at the absurdity of news headlines. I will conquer sleep with the brightness of his presence. His love is breakfast, coffee, conversation – it is a sunrise that does not grind my teeth behind the wheel of a Yukon, but warms the skin and smokes Marlboro Reds. His section of the archive lies at the very center, it is the seed. His face is the very face of memory itself. It is the sanctuary and the kitchen and the reading room. His books are kept safe there, his chicken cutlet recipe, his coffee, his smile. There is a bed for the Baku there. There is a boombox playing Just the Two of Us in its center.

I can’t know what’s in the contents of another man’s mind, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d like to think that the sound of my father’s thoughts was like Cezanne’s locusts. I’d like to imagine his head like mine in the dire hours of restless waking life fueled by an unending march toward the next sunrise, filled with the buzzing chords and harmonies of brushstrokes that let you see the sound of wind whispering through wheatgrass - when I am wishful and dreams enter my eyes through gates kept closed, I imagine that he, too, can see the thundering plink of hail, the pitter-patter rhythms of rain on a sheet metal roof, the yawning of a cat. In these moments of suspended desire we are floating above a resonating plateau, ground that seethes with vibration and fills our vision with tendrils of cacophony, strings that reach through and past the eyes to tap straight into our tympanic membranes, a cochlear vision; the rustling of pines under the sheer weight of fresh snow captured in stillness, a stillness that is not entirely still but which hums upon the canvas.

What does a smell look like? A feeling? How about a taste? What is the sound of a cloud drifting slowly beneath a glaring sun on the Texas plains? What does happiness taste like when it leaves the body? I like to imagine that it all converges at the sundown of consciousness, when we wander amongst the ruins of our own senses at the door of slumber, traipsing through the boundaries that separate our perceptions into their rigid selves, locking them in discrete prison cells with neat labels pressed upon the doors in ticker tape. It is in this moment of suspension before our feet cross the threshold of sleep, perhaps, in that cosmos that lives and dies in the smallest flash while we step into sleep and trawl the texture of dream, that the wires of our sensation are released and become crossed, spilling outward upon the world from our open mouths. It is in the nature of trances and stupors to submerge us in a milky haze, to flood the memory with clouds of ink and fog - which is to say that I cannot remember precisely what memory tastes like, nor the sensation of roughness as it cries out to my ears from the surfaces of Beech leaves. But in moments of reflection I often like to pause and conjure a feeling I know must, by its very definition, escape the vocabulary of my senses: a specter from beyond language itself whose very absence becomes for me a pressing, weighty presence that stands atop, behind, beneath my waking thoughts. A specter that asks impossible questions about the smell of love, the sounds of colors, the taste of dreams. I look at him and I wonder if he also hears the pale ringing, the moonlight that falls upon a barren clearing in the deep pelagic hush of a winter’s night. There are days when I don’t leave the archive. Days when I drink memories and eat dreams. And in all my years of dreaming I have never slept.

#DreamEater #TitleFight #CreativeWriting #Essay

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uhlatcha · 11 months ago

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BEGINNING OF END - ATEEZ DREAM CATCHER AU - CHAPTER ONE: MINJI'S DREAM

AO3 | WATTPAD | MASTERLIST | VIDEO TEASER | PLAYLIST

STORY SUMMARY: A group of teenager boys found confort in each other and in the dreams they share, but what they don't know is that a group of girls in a boarding school not far from their city, who hide a powerful secret can change completely their lives, puting not only their dreams in danger, but also the destiny of the world.

FANDOMS: DREAMCATCHER AND ATEEZ

WORD COUNT: 2352

GENRE: FANFIC, SCIFI, FANTASY, MISTERY.

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction influenced by Ateez and Dreamcatcher respective lores. I used a lot of references and canon stuff, but also made some changes so both worlds can work together.

NOTES: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, ANY FEEDBACKAS ARE WELCOME.

CHAPTER ONE: MINJI'S DREAM.

The dream was always the same. A younger version of Minji was sitting in a large room in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. The place was completely dark, except for the light coming in from a skylight in the ceiling.

She is sitting at the table in the center of the room, on which there is a book. The blue leather-bound volume had a curious symbol engraved on the cover, an hourglass in the center of a circle very similar to a globe.

"The universe is divided into many dimensions." It's the phrase on the first page of the book, and when she turns the page, she finds once again the drawing of an hourglass, this time, hand painted on the page covered with characters that she didn't have time to read, because her attention was attracted by the sound of footsteps echoing through the warehouse.

As she looks towards the sound of steps, she sees a silhouette emerging from the shadows, walking towards her. Her heart tightens, it's as if suddenly she can't move. As she gets closer, she realizes that the silhouette belongs to a boy. He would look very normal if it wasn't for his blue hair.

Dressed in black and carrying the curious object portrayed in the book, the blue-haired boy calmly approaches Minji, a faint smile on his lips, as if to transpose her.

She feels like she should run, that's what she wants to do, but her body simply won't move, so she continues sitting, just staring at the boy, who just reaches the light, extends his hand, nodding his head so that the girl takes the golden hourglass he carries.

Minji reaches out and takes the artifact. The boy smiles at her and nods. He doesn't say anything, but something seems to click when the girl picks up the artifact, as if the object should be with her. The boy takes a step back and a bluish light begins to emanate from the hourglass and Minji wakes up, sweating and panting, sitting up in bed in a sudden movement.

"Are you okay?" Siyeon, who was sitting on the bed on the other side of the room with a book resting on her knees and a small flashlight in her hands, asked.

Minji nodded. She didn't remember the first time she had that dream, but it had been with her for years. And the feeling she had when she woke up was always the same. That she couldn't escape, that even in the real world, when she was awake, he would find her. The blue haired-boy.

Which was ridiculous, since Minji had never seen anyone even remotely similar to the blue-haired boy in her dreams. How could someone who didn't exist pursue her? Persecution didn't seem like the most logical word to describe the situation, but that was exactly how she felt.

Siyeon was still staring at her, more curious than worried, she pointed the flashlight at her roommate, who squinted her eyes.

"Had a nightmare?" She asked.

"Kinda." Minji answered, with a confused expression.

"How can you kinda have a nightmare?" Siyeon asked and Minji just shrugged, trying to find a more comfortable position on the bed.

She signaled to her friend that she was going to go back to sleep, or at least try, and instructed her to do the same. Siyeon agreed that she should,since the light might bother Minji and their new roommate, the girl who arrived at the mansion that week, and still didn't exchange a word with any of the girls from the school.

But it still took her a while to abandon the book in her lap, she had to finish it, since it would be discussed the next day at the book club, a book that she should have already finished, but wasn't even halfway through, what made her worried that Sua would get mad at her for not finishing the reading in time.

What she didn't know was that Sua hadn't finished the book either, and was very busy at that exact moment, in another corner of the mansion, with other books and a not-so-benevolent purpose.

****

"Maybe she can't speak, just like Minji?" Gahyeon suggested.

"Gahyeon!" Handong scolded the girl, poking her with the elbow. "You shouldn't say things like this."

The girls were at their usual table at the mansion cafeteria, and Minji was sitting right in front of Gahyeon, drinking a cup of tea, beside her, Yoohyeon, Minji's best friend, was looking with an annoyed face at Gahyeon.

"I'm not mocking her or being mean." Gahyeon protested "Is it wrong to say the truth now?"

Handong couldn't believe the youngest. She just turned to Mnji, saying that she was sorry for her friend's behavior. Minji just brushes it away. Gahyeon wasn't trying to hurt her, they were friends, she was just a little unconsciously mean from time to time, a lot of the richest girls were sometimes, but it wasn't the case at that moment. And it wasn't like she said something wrong, MInji couldn't talk, she was mute. But assuming the new girl was mute too just cause she didn't approach anyone, was kind of wrong.

"Maybe she's just really shy, or nervous." Siyeon suggested "It's normal not to feel so comfortable around new people."

They were talking about the new girl, the one who was sharing the room with Minji and Siyeon. She arrived at the beginning of the week, and all the girls knew about her was her name: Dami.

The girl was attending all classes since she arrived, but never talked to anyone, even to the teachers, she just ignored everyone and kept walking alone through the school.

"I heard she came from a mental hospital." Gahyeon whispered.

"Okay, I had enough of you for today." Yoohyeon said, getting up.

"What? I'm just saying what I heard." Gahyeon protested.

"You shouldn't spread everything you heard from your rich mean friends." Yoohyeon scolded her.Then she turned to Minji. "I see you in class."

"Are you coming to the book club meeting later?" Siyeon asked as the girl walked away. "Sua will get mad if you don't."

"I'll be there." She answered without turning around.

Siyeon sighed, less worried.

"Where is she, by the way?" Minji asked, not obtaining an answer. The one who could give an answer was the one who just left: Yoohyeon, who was Sua's roommate.

"She's probably in the library, or in the photography club room." Handong pointed. "She's spending a lot of time there lately working on a project."

"I don't understand how she stands to stay in that dark room for so long. I find that room suffocating." Gahyeon commented.

"I have to agree with you on that." Siyeon said. She was still with the book in hand, now a lot more close to the end. She would have finished it by the evening before dinner when the book club meeting was scheduled.

The bell announcing the end of the breakfast and beginning of classes rang, interrupting the girl's conversation. The girls started to get up with their trails.

"Are we going to the corner shop tonight?" Gahyeon whispered to Minji after they left the cafeteria. "I'm running out of snacks."

"I don't think it is a good idea." Minji pointed out.

"But it has been more than two weeks since the designated break! We always go to the corner shop after the book club meetings!" Gahyeon sulked.

"I think Minji is right." Handong pointed out "We can't go out and break the curfew when there is someone else we don't know well enough sleeping in their room.What if the new girl snitches us?"

"WAIT?" Gahyeon said. making the other three girls stop in the hallway. "So you having a new roommate we don't trust means we are never going to sneak out of the academy again? UNTIL WE GRADUATE?"

"I hadn't thought about it." Minji pointed out, seeming worried about that possibility.

"We need a solution, really quick." Siyeon said, as the girls headed to their respective classes.

****

"So hum... Dami, how were your first days?" The counselor asked.

Dami was sitting in his fancy office, the room filled with bookshelves would be very cozy and inviting if the circumstances were different. The counselor seemed like a decent guy. Hair well cut and neat, clothes clean and ironed. He wore a placid expression as he watched, waiting for an answer that didn't come.

It didn't matter that he seemed like a nice person, she had already learned not to trust anyone. Dami didn't want to talk about how her first week had been. In fact, she didn't want to talk about anything.

And yet, everyone around her continued to direct questions at her.

What is your name? Where are you from? Why are you here? Do you want to sit with us? Almost everyone at the academy seemed so friendly, always kind and curious, willing to help her with whatever she needed. Of course there were also some people talking shit on her back. She heard some girls in the bathroom speculating about her and the circumstances that led her there. But they were a minority, as far as she knew.

She didn't expect that when she found out she was going to a boarding school. She expected spoiled rich girls, hateful teachers and a horrible place.But the academy was a pleasant place, an old house but very well maintained and cared for.

Many of the girls who lived and studied there were very rich indeed, but there were also girls like Dami, who were lucky enough to end up there after not very fortunate circumstances.And they all recognized how lucky they were to be there, being well cared for and receiving a good education.

Everything there seemed perfect, and that was what bothered Dami the most. How could a place like that exist?

Coming from where she came from, after what she'd been through, all the perfection of that place seemed elusive. The real world wasn't like that, was it?

"I know new beginnings can be difficult" the man who seemed to realize he wouldn't get an answer began "But I hope you start to feel at home here soon."

Home... Dami didn't understand the meaning of that word.

"I'm sure the girls are excited to meet you." he guaranteed. "Your roommates..."

"About that" Dami spoke for the first time, causing the man's eyes to light up.

"Can I have a room of my own?"

The glint in the counselor's eyes disappeared.

"The girls weren't nice to you?" he wanted to know.

"Quite the opposite" She had to admit it "They are very kind and polite."

The counselor smiled, proud of his choice to her roommates. But soon his smile faded in confusion.

"But if they are so nice, why do you want a room of your own?" he wanted to know.

"I still don't feel comfortable sharing a room after... You know." she didn't finished the sentence, she didn't had to, he knew what she was talking about. "I'm not sleeping well yet, and when I fall asleep... Sleepwalking starts again."

"Are you still having sleepwalking episodes?" he asked, worried, taking notes on his notepad.

"Yes." Dami lied. She hadn't had any sleepwalking episodes since arriving at the academy, at least she hadn't had any signs of it when she woke up, but she didn't want to share a room, so she needed a convincing excuse.

"It could be dangerous to the girls, I don't want to hurt anyone" she added.The counselor pondered for a moment.

"Having roommates is important for your socialization." He commented "But if sleepwalking worries you I can see if we can get you a private room. On one condition.

Of course, everything was going too well as she'd planned.

"You need to socialize in other ways... Join a club, maybe?" he suggested.

Dami didn't want to socialize, she wanted to stay as far away from everyone as possible, until she could think of a way to escape that place.

"I can try," she agreed, just to try to reel the man in.

"That's great" the counselor said, opening one of the drawers in his desk and taking out a sheet which he handed to the girl. "You can choose and fill out the form." he said, handing her the list of clubs and sports teams. He really wasn't willing to be tricked, but Dami wasn't about to give up a room of her own, so she skimmed through the list, analyzing the available options. Dancing, music, volleyball, photography... Everything seemed to require a lot of effort, until her eyes found the right words.

"Reading Club". she announced, and the man smiled, satisfied, handing her a form to fill out.

"That's great" he said "I'll ask Siyeon, your roommate, to accompany you to your first club meeting, she's one of the founders of the club, she'll be very happy to welcome you as a new member."

Dami didn't answer. She wasn't the least bit interested in the club, she just thought it would be the easiest to deal with on the list.

"Actually, I think they have a meeting tonight before dinner." the counselor announced, making her even more disappointed with her decision. "You will love it, the girls are very smart and always choose amazing books."

She wasn't really interest in all of that, bit she would have to pretend for a while if she wanted to be free. And God, how she wanted it.

****

Sua caressed the black leather cover of the book she was holding. It was a really old and rare exhibit. She had been taking care of the book for a while but soon it would be in someone's else hands.

It was almost time.That was all Sua could think about. She had been working on that for so long...

She was stuck in her own world when the bell announcing the beginning of classes rang. She had to go to class, so she protected the book, putting it on a velvet bag and hide it in one of the drawers of the studio table, locking it with a key.

If anyone entered the photography club room, they wouldn't find the book. Not that anyone wanted to be in that room recently, or that anyone could do something with the book.

She left the room and ran to her class. She still had a lot to do for her project, but it had to wait. Soon everything would be ready as she planned.

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