#emotional exploration

[aventurineswife]

Hear me out, what if HSR men with a reader who's some kinda mimic based monster who's pretending to be human. They're not bad or anything but just suck super bad at hiding the fact they're not human. My only request is Sunday be in the lineup, but anyone else you think would be fun is fairgame :)

To Live is to Pretend

Summary: During the Charmony Festival, Sunday encounters a mysterious individual—you—who is a mimic-based monster pretending to be human. Despite your awkwardness and strange behavior, Sunday sees through your facade and becomes intrigued by your desire to understand humanity. As the two of you spend time together, Sunday acknowledges your efforts and the shared desire for joy, even in imperfection. Ultimately, he finds something human in you, despite your differences.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Mimic Monster!Reader, Emotional Exploration, Humanity, Fluff.

The glow of the Charmony Festival filled the streets of Penacony with music and laughter, as delicate as the wings of the butterflies flitting through the air. Among the throngs of joyous attendees stood Sunday, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. His presence exuded a calm authority, every step deliberate, his voice a melody when he spoke. He lived for this—a moment where humanity could forget its struggles, even for a while. But he wasn’t here to simply bask in the celebration. His mind never truly rested.

And you...you were part of his latest dilemma.

Sunday’s sharp eyes had seen many things in his life, yet he could hardly make sense of you. Your smile was too wide at times, your laughter half a second too delayed. The way you moved—a little too fluid, a little too precise—made even the most distracted observer notice something...off. And your hunger. That was a beast of its own. It wasn't human hunger. It was a gnawing, endless craving for sustenance that wasn’t food. Something primal. You hid it, but not well.

Yet you were kind, earnest, and oddly endearing in your awkwardness. Sunday couldn't decide whether you were utterly harmless or an enigma with secrets darker than you let on. He had invited you here today to learn the truth.

“Doesn’t it feel alive?” you asked, looking up at the floating lanterns dotting the evening sky. Your voice wavered slightly, as though calibrating itself to match the tones around you.

Sunday tilted his head. “Alive? How do you mean?”

“They’re like...tiny creatures, glowing, free. Like they’re whispering to the stars.” you explained, your fingers twitching nervously as though rehearsing what a human would do. It was clear you were trying to fit in, but every gesture felt off, as if an artist had painted you from memory rather than reality.

Sunday’s eyes lingered on your face, the halo behind him casting soft light. “You see the beauty of it all, even in ways others don’t.” There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. “You’re not quite like anyone else, are you?”

Your movements stilled entirely, an unnatural freeze in the midst of your nervous shifting. “W-What do you mean?” The way your voice crackled betrayed your panic.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Sunday replied, taking a step closer. He loomed, but his presence wasn’t threatening—it was grounding, as though even the world’s chaos would fall silent before him. “You’re different, but difference isn’t a crime. Though I wonder, what is it you truly want?”

Your shoulders slumped, the pretense you’d worked so hard to maintain unraveling before him. “I-I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” you said quickly, stumbling over the words. “I just...I wanted to see what it’s like. To live. To feel.”

Sunday’s expression softened, though his eyes remained sharp. “And this...you mean this festival? Or this world?”

You hesitated. “Both. Humans. I think you call it ‘being human.’ I...I thought I’d try it out.” You chuckled, the sound awkward and hollow. “I’m...not great at it, huh?”

“No,” Sunday said, though the word wasn’t cruel. “But that’s not a failing—it’s an effort. Tell me, do you find joy in pretending?”

The question was so gentle that it made your chest ache. “I don’t know if it’s pretending,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “It’s...wanting. I want to understand. To belong. But it’s hard.”

Sunday studied you for a long moment, his gaze weighing far more than it should. Then he smiled. “Perhaps you’re closer to human than you think.”

Your head tilted instinctively, mimicry of curiosity despite the genuine confusion you felt. “What do you mean?”

“You desire, you strive, and you falter. You want joy but fear pain. It’s the same for them all,” Sunday said, gesturing to the crowds. “Perhaps the only difference is that you know you’re not one of them. Most don’t even see that much.”

As the festival carried on, Sunday remained by your side, the only one who seemed unfazed by your oddities. For the first time, you felt as though someone truly saw you. Not your disguise, not the gaps in your humanity—just you.

And for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you hoped he’d stay.

[blumoonfiction-blog]

Safe Kids Stories: Prompts for Writers and Creative Inspiration Safe Kids Stories is a platform that offers a collection of writing prompts and resources aimed at fostering creativity and emotional expression for young writers. The site encourages storytelling as a tool for growth, healing, and community engagement. Recommended Reading and Writing Ages:Ages 8–18: Suitable for kids and teens who…

[foundfamilywhump]

the question, you see, is not ‘is it too ooc for this character to cry’ but rather ‘what circumstances would push this character to cry’

this is the whump wisdom, go forth and make that character cry

[kathaynesart]

Felt a bit emotional today over the movie's second anniversary and I thought I might embarrass myself about it online. This little film has become really special to me in how it captured my attention and drew me back into something I haven't been a part of for a long time: a creative community.

For a good portion of my adult life I had been forced to put my energies and creativity primarily towards my work. I wanted to tell stories that people enjoyed and had felt like my career was the only method to achieve that. But this community and fandom really sparked a creativity in me I haven't felt since I was younger and I'm so happy to be able to find that avenue I've always wanted not through an employer but through all of you! I have met so many wonderful and inspiring people and none of this would have happened if I hadn't randomly come upon the four minute opening of the film 2 years ago cuz Youtube looked at my algorithm and said: "hm, lets see if she still likes turtles."

Thank you everyone, for loving what I do and enjoying my work. It means the world, and while my updates have become slower due to longer comic posts, real world obligations, and health issues, I still strive to continue the story inspired by this movie with a passion that has shockingly never waned.

Here's to another wonderful year!

[qweenofurheart]

the tim drake experience

[tawnysoup]

Learning to accept support

[pebblegalaxy]

Embarking on an Introspective Journey: Unveiling the Layers of Consciousness

How are you feeling right now? In the vast expanse of emotions, the question lingers: “How are you feeling right now?” As I navigate the intricacies of my existence, I embark on an introspective journey that reveals the intricate layers of my consciousness. Like a wanderer traversing labyrinthine corridors, I delve deep into the realms of my being, exploring the depths of my thoughts, emotions,…

[ofswordsandpens]

thinking about a world in which RR actually committed to the path he set Percy on in hoo (wherein Percy has become jaded, angry, and resentful at the gods for breaking their sworn promises, is frequently sympathizing with Luke, is getting more and more powerful, and frequently losing himself to wrath) and instead of the subsequent Percy Jackson books being about getting recommendation letters, we could have gotten a trilogy exploring a fallen hero arc for Percy (that would ultimately have a positive resolution to it.)

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[vintic-girl]

[aventurineswife]

Where the Lost Find Home

Summary: Jing Yuan encounters an otherworldly fairy who stowed away on his ship after fleeing the destruction of her world. Drawn to her fragile resilience, he guides her as she adjusts to life aboard the Luofu. As the fairy finds a new home, Jing Yuan rediscovers a long-forgotten warmth, a spark of hope that softens his centuries-hardened heart.

Tags: @thalita2, Jing Yuan x Fairy!Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Emotional Exploration, Comfort and Angst, Romantic Undertones.

Warnings: Mentions of loss and grief (fairy’s race is extinct), Gentle romance (slow development), Healing and self-discovery, Light angst, Themes of loneliness and survivor's guilt, Light romantic tension and introspection.

The stars above the Xianzhou Luofu were more than just celestial bodies. To some, they were the beacons of destiny; to others, the silent witnesses of countless ages. Jing Yuan, Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance and leader of the Cloud Knights, often found solace in the stillness of space. His usual calm demeanor belied the depth of his experience—he had lived long enough to see civilizations rise and fall, and yet he remained an unwavering fixture among the cosmos. His time was spent in quiet vigilance, managing peace through foresight and precision.

However, peace was never absolute.

One day, while taking his customary walk through the royal garden aboard the Luofu, he sensed something... unusual. A faint, almost imperceptible presence—a flutter of movement that didn’t belong to any known creature. It piqued his interest, though his expression remained neutral, a quiet curiosity lurking beneath his composed facade.

It wasn't long before he discovered the source of the disturbance: a small figure darting between the blooming flowers. A tiny creature, no bigger than a hand, with delicate wings shimmering in the moonlight. Her wings glowed faintly as she tried to remain hidden among the petals.

Jing Yuan paused, observing her from a distance. He had seen many strange things in his long years, but this was new. The creature was obviously not of any known species within the Xianzhou Alliance—at least, not one he'd ever encountered.

As if sensing his gaze, the fairy froze, her wings vibrating as she turned to face him. Her eyes locked with his sharp gaze, and for a moment, there was a palpable silence between them, the air thick with unspoken understanding.

“You are… lost, little one?” Jing Yuan's voice, smooth as silk, cut through the stillness.

The fairy, though small, stood her ground. “I… I didn’t mean to intrude,” she replied, her voice soft yet tinged with a quiet sadness. “My race is no more. I... I was born to a dying world, and when I had the chance, I fled. This ship... it passed by my planet, and I… I took a chance.”

Jing Yuan's gaze softened, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. “You are far from home. And yet, here you are, trying to find a place where none exists.”

The fairy nodded, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't know where else to go. I don’t even know where I am."

“Xianzhou Luofu,” Jing Yuan explained gently. “A place for the living and the lost.”

For the next few days, they spent time together, him guiding her through the intricacies of the Luofu while she marveled at the new world. Despite her small size, she seemed to have an insatiable curiosity, exploring everything from the ornate architecture to the vast skies above. Jing Yuan found himself drawn to her quiet resilience. There was an ethereal grace to her—an aura of sadness, yet also one of hope, as if she sought to rebuild what had been lost.

It was on the fourth day that the first magical change occurred.

As Jing Yuan watched the fairy with a rare smile, she suddenly shimmered, her wings glowing brighter than ever before. The light expanded, and in an instant, the small figure before him grew, her form shifting until she stood at the height of a normal human. The fairy stumbled a bit at the change, adjusting to her newfound size, while Jing Yuan simply observed with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

"Are you... alright?" he asked, though his voice was laced with concern.

"I... I think so," she replied, testing her newfound height, stretching her arms out. "This is... so strange. I can feel everything so much clearer. The ground feels different under my feet. The air... it’s more expansive." Her voice was filled with wonder, but also confusion. "How is this even possible?"

Jing Yuan stepped closer, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I suspect it has something to do with the magic of the stars. It is rare for such transformations to occur, but not impossible. We will need to take this slowly, however."

The fairy nodded, her face a mix of awe and unease. "But... what do I do now?"

Jing Yuan gave a small, reassuring smile. "Now, you learn how to live in this form."

And so, they spent days together as she adjusted to her new life. Jing Yuan was patient, offering guidance as she navigated this new world. He took her to quiet corners of the Luofu, showing her how to blend in with the other inhabitants without drawing too much attention. Though her heart was still heavy with the weight of her past, the new world she now inhabited seemed to offer her a glimpse of possibility.

She found herself growing fond of the gentle commander. There was an ease about him that made her feel safe. His calm, calculating demeanor was a balm to the uncertainty she carried in her heart. He never judged her for her past; rather, he listened, offering advice without pressure.

And as the days passed, she noticed something in his eyes—a warmth, a subtle affection that had begun to grow between them. Though he rarely showed it, the fairy could feel it. He was not just the strategic leader of the Cloud Knights; he was a man who, despite his wisdom and his years, had never lost the ability to care deeply for others.

Yet, Jing Yuan’s feelings were more complicated than they seemed. He had lived for centuries, seen countless faces come and go, but the fairy was different. She was a symbol of lost innocence, of something pure that had somehow survived the ravages of time. As she adjusted to her new form, Jing Yuan found himself yearning to protect that fragile hope she carried within her—a hope he hadn’t realized he still possessed until she arrived.

"You've changed." he said one evening as they sat atop the Luofu’s highest tower, watching the stars. The wind carried a soft hum through the air, and the fairy’s wings fluttered gently in the breeze.

"How so?" she asked, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

"You've become... more than just a wisp of light in the darkness," he replied, his voice soft. "You’ve become a part of this place, and in doing so, a part of me."

The fairy looked at him, her heart fluttering, and for the first time in ages, she felt like she was home. She had found a friend, and perhaps, something more.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for now, they walked it together, side by side.

And for Jing Yuan, though time had long since stripped him of the ability to feel the simple joys of life, this fairy—this once tiny, fragile creature—had brought a spark of warmth back into his world.

[bixels]

Posting a sneak-peak of this now because I'm about to be In The Shit school workload-wise, so this'll take me a while to finish.

Doing some character design exploration/expression sheets for Celestia and Luna. Figuring out Celestia's weird ass anatomy while I'm at it.

[sansculottides]

pisses me off to no end when people on reddit or whatever complain that the show wouldve been better off without the tuunbaq.....did we watch the same show? the tuunbaq is everything, it held everything together. the tuunbaq is the main transformative element of the terror. the tuunbaq elevates the text beyond mere historical fact and lets it say something about the expedition's broader context of imperialism. it hunted the british men who were trampling on its home as a mere stopover, a side casualty, to finding the northwest passage (for, you know, "trade with china" after britain beat china into submission after the imperialist opium war). silna couldnt complete a proper ritual with it because of the british men - just as british colonizers have historically intruded and disrupted the practice of indigenous culture. and in the end the tuunbaq dies, after all the injuries it's taken from the british over the course of 10 episodes and finally chokes to death on the worst of them. because there's no escaping the reality of colonial history, and there is especially no fantastical escape for the colonizer. there's no proper way for us to move forward otherwise.

good historical fiction doesnt have to limit itself to accuracy - it needs empathy to draw out meanings in history using literary craft. thats what the tuunbaq means to me.... if you wanted a straight depiction of historical record, just go watch a documentary.. TUUNBAQ DENIERS DNI

[alchemistc]

She's not ...entirely sure this is a good idea.

Even as she raises her hand to knock she's second guessing herself.

The thing is - the thing is there aren't a lot of people in her life who don't take one look at her and make assumptions. She's petite, she's blonde, her face is eerily symmetrical.

When people see her, they think they know her.

Cap is great. The sort of man she wishes she'd known more of, growing up. The kind of man who stood in front of the entire crew and doled out cleaning duties and cooking duties to his men and didn't blink an eye handing her inventory, but pulled aside a guy six years into the job to inform him that if he made a snide comment about having to do Mona's job again he'd be looking for a new station. Respectfully.

The kind of man who let his crew cut loose and created a kind of family behind those bay doors, but didn't take their shit when they got out of hand

The kind of man who looked at her and just saw another firefighter.

Cap is great.

It's just...

Well, the guys don't go to Cap for advice, and she knows once upon a time that kind of hurt his feelings, but this feels like one of those things his husband is better equipped to handle.

("It's because he's older, right?" Cap had asked once, failing miserably at holding in a pout while the team around him demolished the roast he'd obviously spent hours prepping the night before.

Fred had still had half a loaf of bread in his mouth when he explained that talking to their boss about their sex lives just felt like an HR nightmare.

"So you go to my boyfriend instead?")

Mona's still considering turning heel and leaving the way she came when she hears whistling around the side of the house, and before she can make a break for it, Cap's husband is rounding the corner of the porch, winding his hands in a grease rag, and he's catching sight of her, raising a brow, slowing his steps.

He must see the panicked look in her eye.

"I can turn back around and pretend you were never here," he murmurs, the slightest hint of a smile on his face, and Mona feels every ounce of flight just seep from her bones.

Yeah. Okay. She gets why the guys all think he's the one to go to when they've royally fucked something up.

There's an ease to him, a gentleness that she knows for a fact was hard fought.

"No, I..."

The brow ticks up a little more.

"I just found a new sour Evan won't touch with a ten foot pole, if you're gonna be here a minute," Tommy says, and any resistance left vanishes. Mona's been to enough of Cap's barbecues to know his husband always has the best beer in the county.

"Yeah, okay."

Tommy crosses the length of the porch and glances glumly at his greasy hands. "You mind grabbing the door? Evan throws a fit every time I leave fingerprints behind."

She's interrupting his day, she realizes. He's a weird sort of semi-retired - flies for the county sometimes during wildfire season, flips classic cars from their huge ass garage around the side of the house, spends a month teaching courses to new pilots every year out of state and it's always the crankiest they ever get to see Cap. People charter his chopper, sometimes, although lately it seems like he only keeps the thing around so he can take Cap up to watch spectacular sunsets because they're the most sickeningly perfect couple she's ever met.

Mona grabs the door. Shuffles in ahead of him when he shows no signs of moving, and makes her way down the hall to the kitchen because she's been here enough times by now not to feel as weird about how welcoming they both were right away.

He uses his rag to pull open the sink cabinet and grab the heavy duty soap from underneath to wash his hands.

The scent rolls over her in waves, throwing her back about fifteen years to her parents tiny little apartment over the shop, her father's rough and callused hands soaking under shitty water pressure, the grease under his fingernails he could never quite scrape clean.

Tommy tips a chin at the fridge. "Grab me one, too? Bottle openers on the side."

There's an ease to the way he says it, like this is a normal occurrence, like Mona's ever stepped foot across the threshold for anything that wasn't a station-wide get together. She supposes for him it probably is. At least a few of the guys act like he's their dad, wandering into the house without even bothering to knock, gathering around him when he shows up at the station like lost little puppies.

He's used to it.

He hums his thank you when she sets one of the bottles on the island beside him, and Mona glances around to distract herself while he's drying his hands.

A couple dozen pictures of Cap and Tommy, in various stages of their lives.

The fridge is plastered with pictures. A couple she recognizes as Cap's sister and brother-in-law, two adorable kids at their knees. A guy standing next to a kid wearing a cap and gown and leaning on two crutches. An older man she's lovingly heard Cap refer to as basically his dad - the reason they eat better at work than anyone has the right to. A couple she'd seen at the wedding, standing with a kid she remembers Cap staring at like he was seeing a ghost. There's so many people that she doesn't know, but - there's the station pictures too. Candids of the boys when they were living in the Captain's house, back when Cap first got here, when she'd still been a year and a half from graduating high school and didn't have a fucking clue what she wanted to do with her life. The Christmas that Fred had cursed them with the q-word and Tommy had spent the day in the station kitchen putting together a meal they'd all stuck around to eat after shift despite the exhaustion seeping into their bones, all of A shift crammed together around a tiny wobbly table to squeeze into the picture.

She gets stuck on the picture of the two of them in hard hats, building what she's pretty sure is the wrap around porch she's snuck a few cigarettes on when the house gets a little overwhelming. There's something about the way they're looking at each other that makes her want to cry, a little.

Fuck.

Damnit.

Tommy leans over to tap the picture with a grin. "We had a blowout fight the night before our buddy took this picture," he says, the deep grooves of his smile stretched wide across his face. "I'd left my job and sold my house six months earlier to chase him across the country and he was convinced if he didn't find a way to turn every half-thought-out desire of mine into a reality that I was gonna vanish in the night. He bought the lumber without telling me and I came home to him and his best friend ripping out the stairs to the front door."

Mona's instantly drawn in.

He makes them sound like a train wreck.

If she's got the math right, that was her senior year. She remembers seeing them around town and thinking they were annoyingly sweet. She remembers her mom baking Tommy a casserole for the excuse of getting all the gossip about the Captain's mysterious paramour so she had the upper hand at her book club that weekend.

Tommy taps another. The two of them under a pergola, the expressions on their faces so disgustingly smitten Mona remembers wanting to blow a raspberry in the middle of the ceremony. She'd been so convinced she'd never let herself be so fucking dependent on another person for her happiness.

"He kept it a secret that he'd invited my father to the wedding until the night before. I spent most of my night with a punching bag instead of Evan." He points out another photo from the wedding. "The photographer tried to murder me when she saw my knuckles. Evan could barely fit the ring over my finger."

"Who snitched?" Mona asks, narrowing her eyes, and Tommy grins, huffs a laugh. He gestures vaguely at her face.

"You've got the look," he tells her, which doesn't really explain a whole lot. "And none of Evan's crew ever makes their first visit anything but love life issues."

"It could be something else," Mona argues, gesturing with her beer, and one of his brows ticks up. "It's not, but it could be."

"You want something to eat? Evan's been experimenting with cakes again, and the red velvet white chocolate escaped the discards."

"Is my so called look that bad?"

He grins. "Mostly I'm looking for an excuse for cake before noon."

Christ, he's good at this. It's actually a little eerie, how quickly he's set her at ease. It's been over a year and the guys still call her prickly when they think she can't hear them, but she never calls them out on it because they're not wrong. It takes her forever to warm up to people.

"Is that how this usually works? You butter us up with Cap's food and get us to spill our guts?"

He's already digging plates from a cabinet next to the stove. She can't see his expression, but she can picture the grin on his face. "Usually they raid my fridge and put their feet up on my coffee table before I've fully registered that they're here. It's sort of a novelty to get to act like a host in my own home."

That checks out, if she's being honest. They're all a bunch of rabid animals who've been emboldened by Cap's open door policy and his infectious smile and his incredibly hot and talented husband. She's never quite sure if the guys want to be him or screw him - not that Tommy's ever looked twice at anyone who wasn't Cap.

"I think I'm broken," Mona admits, the words coming out in a rush, her eyes on the dutch oven tucked under one of the wide kitchen windows.

Tommy slides a slice of fucking delicious looking cake her way and takes a swig of his beer. Waits.

Mona reaches for the fork and spills her guts.

---

"Oh, hey Mo," Cap says, stumbling his way over the threshold, eyes lighting on his husband and his expression going gooey.

Tommy broke into the rack of Banquet's an hour ago and Mona's pretty sure she's one with the couch. It's a good couch. When she'd told Tommy so twenty minutes ago there'd been a gleam in his eye she didn't understand.

She's still a little too buzzed to worry about the fact that she's oozing into the cushions and emotionally wrecked. She hasn't cried in front of another human being in at least six years. Tommy's probably a wizard, or something.

"Everything good?" Cap asks, and she knows that they've got a sort of agreement - unless Tommy thinks something is gonna affect the work, whatever Tommy talks about with them doesn't reach Cap's ears.

"Men," Mona huffs, and Cap pauses, shoots another look into the living room.

"Yeah. Men."

"No Cap. Men," she repeats, and he nods, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Oh. Men," he enunciates, and Mona feels the scowl on her face grow wider when the two of them share a sappy look. It's super fucking inconvenient to be surrounded by the proof of true fucking love when she's trying to convince herself she's already too jaded to find it. "If you wanna stay for dinner I can tell you the story of the time Tommy tried to leave me because he thought he could make my decisions for me."

Even Tommy's scowl is sappy as hell. It's gross. Shes having a hard time convincing herself it's not the best thing she's ever seen.

She tips her neck against the back of the couch to glance up at him. "Who snitched?"

Cap's laugh filters through the room, and right across from her, where the whole world and Mona can see, Tommy's expression goes warm and vulnerable, like the sound has soothed a few decades of wounds. "Word of advice? Never leave Harry with a secret and a crowded room."

[highlysuspiciousstew]