#human body abilities

[catholic-on-main]

Hot Truths About Personhood, part 2 Personhood is not a sliding spectrum! No human being can be more or less of a person than any other human being! <3

[ctrl-lupin]

THE GLASSES ARE BACK!

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

random omegaverse thought:

There must be people who experience specific instinct things with indifference or boredom.

Procreative cycle coming up? "Crap, I've got plans this weekend...stupid skip weeks."

Caught an intriguing scent while walking? "But I need to get to work! Shut up brain."

Had a snap response to a distressed sound? "Who was it?! ...right, it's my day off, I can go back to sleep."

Somebody growled at them? "Kid, I'm not a rival, that's my sibling."

Super cozy cuddle session happening nearby? "I'm gonna pass tonight guys, no social battery left, maybe next time."

Group of friends heading out to flirt and check out other singles? "I'm coming with you but only to make sure you all get home safe."

Setting where fated mates or soul bonds or permanent marks are a thing? "Meh. I don't really want one or care if I ever get one."

People in the actual omegaverse would get as bored of their stuff, as we do of ours, you know? It could be interesting to see that kind of vibe in fics. Biological demands faced with all the excitement of paying bills or doing laundry or tying your shoes.

Even if that kind of energy might not drive a plot, it could be interesting to have as a contrast to the people who do have big feelings about them - good or bad.

There's the friends who can't wait til they have a pack of their own, and the one friend who isn't against it but couldn't care less. There's the group in the office who are all about scent compatibility tests and figuring out one's best match and what sprays most highlight it, and the coworker who has no intentions on putting that much effort in. There are parents who hover and protect their offspring by scenting them multiple times a day, and others who don't see what the fuss is as long as it's done in the morning.

...also: packs with introverts who show care by giving each other space. So often, closeness is depicted through physical touch and tactile affection, but comfortable silence is meaningful too. Knowing people are near, but not having to interact until you're ready. Sitting in the same room doing different things, knowing that all it takes is a "hey, look at this" to share what you're up to. People understanding and accepting each other's differing or fluctuating needs for how and when to recharge. Seeing somebody reaching out or sharing space, beyond what's their norm, as a signal of the fact that they care.

[akuryuuka]

Is this anything?

[sysig]

Hi! I'm here for the requestober. Could you draw Handplates!Gaster and Scriabin interacting? Not in any specific way, whatever you think is fine ❤️

Day 9 - Also stop following me

[moeblob]

OC OTP. Just a prince (Ego, the ginger) and his wonderful energy alien fiance (Serenity) who he doesn't know is an energy alien. Ego also doesn't know that the future marriage is never going to happen and he's been lied to his whole life.

[msfcatlover]

Duke in the Reverse!Robins AU be like…

”Eldest daughter syndrome? What eldest daughter syndrome? Nah, just because I’m the oldest does not mean I have eldest daughter syndrome. Sure, I’ve had to mediate between Damian & Bruce, or Steph & Bruce, or help certain Titans find a middle ground, but that’s just being a good leader. And yeah, I’m protective of the younger kids, but that’s just what any responsible adult in my position would do.”

*finds out one of the members of his team has such bad civilian trauma they need to straight-up quit hero work*

“Oh shit… I fucked this up. I was too focused on my own problems, how the fuck did I miss this? Okay, okay. I was already burning out trying to juggle being Gotham’s only daytime hero and single-handedly leading the Titans. I need to pick one. And find some way to make it up to Grant. Jesus fuck, how did I miss this…”

*Tim becomes Cass’s apprentice. Steph & Cass start arguing more often. Steph has her biggest fight with Bruce yet. Steph goes missing.*

*Steph dies*

“After that fight with Bruce, no one backed her up. She didn’t know anyone was supporting her. She died thinking none of us were on her side. If any one of us had actively taken her side, instead of getting distracted with our own messes, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Oh, but am I really expecting Damian or Bruce to be intelligent about feelings? Am I really expecting tact from Cass? I know them too well; it should’ve been me, shouldn’t it? I can’t believe I managed to fuck up worse than I did with Grant…”

*Luna gets taken away*

“Look at what you’ve done, Bruce! Look what you’ve fucking done! You’re tearing this family apart! We all promised to look out for her if anything happened to Steph, and you’re just going to force every single one of us to break those promises?! You’re going to rip away the last piece of Steph we had?!? Look at Dami & Cass! Look at them! You did this!”

*finds out Damian’s training for Tim to be Shadow uses all the LoA techniques he refused to use for Steph, making it borderline-through-outright abusive, almost certainly to try to drive Tim off by making him too miserable to continue*

“I. I can’t fucking believe this. I can’t… I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. Damian, nobody is happy about this, but fuck you. I thought you were trying to be better, you absolute fucking asshole! And I… I don’t even have the excuse of not knowing half of the involved parties this time, or being away, or too busy, I was just looking away because I didn’t want to think about Tim taking Steph’s mantle. I should’ve fucking stopped this the first time Tim came back from Bludhaven. God fucking dammit, how do I keep failing the kids in my care in the same fucking way, over & over again?!”

*was all the way at the other end of the room & looking in the wrong direction to have enough forewarning to actually save Tim from being shot*

“I… I… I… I’m literally the only person who could’ve fucking stopped this. I have all the training, all the abilities, but I went to refill my punch glass, and now Timmy might never walk again. I mean, absolutely blame the asshole who pulled the trigger, but Tim & I were in the same fucking room. Who would even put a hit out on Tim Wayne? There’s no way Tim doesn’t know who’s behind this, but he won’t tell me because he doesn’t trust me, because of course he doesn’t! Look at my track record! When it matters most, I let down the people I love. My parents, Grant, Steph, Tim…”

*Jason becomes Shadow.*

*The Tower fight happens.*

*Jason gets kidnapped by the Joker.*

*Bruce “dies,” and Jason runs away to have the Red Robin arc.*

*Dick only begrudgingly puts up with Duke because Duke’s rather overbearing expressions of protectiveness support are not meshing well with Dick’s “stuck on anger til I personally catch my parents’ murderer” issue*

“…If anyone needs me, I’ll be screaming in the closet.”

[annabelle--cane]

[walks out of the gothic art history lecture covered in blood] actually I think hal yorke is like that because he grew up in the wake of late medieval macabre arts culture

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #685

Lampreys!

While some lampreys turn to a parasitic lifestyle as adults, drilling into the sides of bigger animals to feed on their flesh and blood, lamprey larvae, ammocoetes, are actually filter feeders! The lamprey larva life stage can last up to a decade, and they spend their time being half-buried in sandy substrate, consuming whatever tiny organic particles float to them. Ammocoetes' feeding rate is the slowest of any suspension-feeding animal, and due to this they require a habitat very rich in nutrients.

[unholy-boi]

deeply underrated duo. i think they should have hung out

[boxheadpaint]

<-Human hummingbird

[aeroblossom]

narcissus without water; sou hiyori

i wasn't gonna post this here because i really reaaally hate it but ehhh fuck it we ball. 3-1 unused intro spoilers. does that even count. kanna route implied.

In the aftermath is cold. Icy, chilling cold. The immense rush of the impact lasted but a moment. Time is a fleeting thing for all who live, whether the hearts beating in their chests are made of muscle, or of metal; whether the circuits powering them and every moment of madness, every second of passion, every victory and every mistake, are made of grey matter, or of a network of microscopic transistors.

The merciless weapon, which had moments ago pierced through his torso, now meets him eye to eye. As if a deeply loyal animal that was too loved to know when to retract its claws, destroying everything in its path to be close to the one it owes its devotion to. Through flickering sparks in one eye, and slowly blurring vision in the other, he stares. He smells blood. The sight of it would not bother him in the slightest had it been someone else it was coming out of. But when you've lived as he has, blood seeping from a wound feels unnatural. And he'd started to believe he was finally rid of the last vestiges of his humanity. Red drips down the side of his face, from the grey matter in his skull that still held proof of something human. The emotion centers of his brain were dysfunctional since he came into the world. So really, it matters little to him. He can barely even feel the pain.

The thing that upsets him more is the red on his chest. It doesn't trickle down from his crown, but spurts from the gaping wound in his center. Sparks fire in all directions, somewhere in his ears he hears a low ringing of both his organic bodily systems as well as mechanical ones. The gears cry emergency, the cells cry of death. A realization supplied by his mechanical logic center creeps slowly into the back of his head, surrounding him fully until he submerges in acceptance. He has little time left.

Eyes the color of sea glass stare at nothing in particular, yet keep darting about, aimless, anxious perhaps, but with unmistakable defeat in them. Little light penetrates the coffin, brought in only by the gaping hole created by the drill. It illuminates a straight stripe across his now ruined body, one bright seafoam gaze and tousled mess of green last in the light's path. Dust particles shimmer like gold specks, his contemplative eyes fixating on their fluttering dance.

He hears distant voices, he thinks, if his audio faculties are even functioning by now. Crying - pained voices, happy voices. Meister's scrawny tone, and determined words from the young girl with copper hair. They must be huddling together right now. Allies. Cooperates. A team spirit reignited.

Petty emotion lurches inside him, wanting to shatter that nonsensical resolve with his own hands. He knows how to. Even now, it would not take much -

No.

It's over.

Defeat weighs heavier than how it first felt to have your flesh replaced by porcelain. It's heavier than the volume of crimson flowing from the wound in his chest. Not that he has needed to breathe in a long time, but here, now, he suddenly feels breathless.

Silence is the mind's curtain call. Contemplation weaves its way through his thoughts, thoughts that will soon fade. Thoughts that are firing wildly due to the vast amount of information being processed in these final moments, alongside a slow system shutdown.

It's a bit like he's dreaming with his eyes open, if you think about it like that.

Ah. He's wasted so much energy in meaningless thoughts. Not that it truly mattered at this point. Right... where had he gone wrong?

Hiyori, Sou. Assumed age, twenty. An easily recognizable mop of green hair, tied down at the ends into a neat rattail that didn't match how the rest of his hair looked. The nickname they gave him was his namesake hair. Tall, fairly lithe. Eyes a deeper colour than the hair, like pure, vibrant jade. Plainly, more than half of him was doll, and the vestiges human. What were once the tender hands of a real human are now porcelain and alabaster. Gears tick inside the system, rhythmic, he was a mechanical harmony. Occasionally interrupted by remnant humanity.

Living, breathing red pumped from his heart, no matter how much he'd separated himself from flesh and blood. The proximity of that living heart to electrical equipment gave him a quicker heartbeat than most. The proof of this regnant humanness now bled and ripped itself apart. He thinks he feels a bit of pain. This is probably the only physical pain he's felt since the last time he had real hands.

But it's not what he'd thought it'd be like. It does hurt, it hurts so much. Yet something else hurts a little more, something that rises from a faulty limbic system and creeps down in physical form to become surging pain in his core.

He observes, silently, the ache surge in intensity as the voices continue to speak. Words, thoughts, emotion, memory rapid fires in his mind. He tries to recall the path he'd taken so far, wanting to make out what error he had made to make him up end like this. This would not do, after all.

But no matter how he tries to focus on this endeavor, a recurring feeling scratches inside him. A sharp pain, tearing him into two. He feels he recognizes it as something from impossibly long ago. Suddenly, he realizes, in that silent grave of his, that he was entirely alone in this death. His heartbeat begins to ring into his ears alongside the periodic beeping of his system going into overdrive.

System warnings, words ringing in his head, and the wildly pounding heart, all converge like oil and paint into a wretched musica humana.

It's really stupid. Hilarious, in fact.

He wasn't human. He hadn't been so for a considerably long time, as far as himself was concerned. Death... to him, wasn't it trivial? An infinite amount of copies of himself can be made. It's meaningless, however many times he dies.

...And yet, here he was.

Does Hiyori Sou feel? Does he regret? Does he hurt?

Does this largely doll, barely human, ever find himself lonely?

In the moments that follow, the emotion that grips him next is sheer horror. At not just these intrusive questions, but his body's physical reaction to it.

Something clouds his vision much more heavily than before. What little he could see before him twists into an oil painting, unrecognizable, an intense pain radiates inside his neck, like strangulation. And then he heaves a sigh as a singular, pearlescent tear streams down his face.

He can hear Meister's scratchy voice from a while ago, before any of this. Before all of this.

So you can cry too.

He had said, as Hiyori leaned against his screen and shed tears at the sight before him. Him, of all people, mourning - it was, of course, an unbelievable sight. At the time, he had found it jestly insulting that Meister would imply he couldn't cry or feel such emotion. So what makes this different? Why does it feel so different?

Ah, it really does feel like the entire world is making a mockery out of him. But perhaps this is a fitting end for himself. Villain he was born, villain he will die.

Death holds little meaning to someone like him.

It's almost time. His thoughts begin to slow down to a grinding halt.

He faintly registers some shifting sounds. The coffin he resided in is being laid flat on the ground. Will it be opened next? Will they see him like this?

A light slam signals to him that the coffin has been taken down. The drill carefully withdraws, now leaving only his mauled body behind. The sound of dust and rocks crumbling, and then light filters into the depths. Though it gets brighter and brighter, he finds his world only becoming darker.

Meister is the one lifting the lid. He has it propped up with one hand, the other on his knee as he knelt down, chewing on a cigarette, inspecting what he was seeing with a careful, suspicious, and yet rather surprised expression. Tia Safalin stands beside him, one hand on her chest and the other seemingly reaching out to touch him in the coffin. He knows hearing is beyond him when he sees the anxious woman mouth his name, when he watches them talk amongst themselves, and can't make out any of it. It's probably too late to worry about what it could be.

The crying doll leans down, placing one hand to his face. As if the plaster skin wasn't stiff enough, he finds himself turning into what may as well be stone. She inspects his head wound. He can't move his eyes anymore to follow her actions, but he can still vaguely feel them. The small hand moves down slowly, tracing a line across his face and down his chest, analytic. She shakes her head with a sigh upon the damage to his torso.

It's really over for him, isn't it?

Her finger ghosts its way back up, this time lingering on his face. He notices the slight dumbfoundedness in her expression, pressing slightly to make sure she was seeing right - the tear stains on his cheek. He wants to smile, all of a sudden, but he no longer can.

As she concludes her inspection and stands up, hiding her expression with that stupendous hat, he faintly wonders if she's crying too. Is she crying for him? No... that would be ridiculous. There wasn't anyone left who could cry for him. In death as he was in life, alone.

Mere moments remain for him, and he wonders, for the final time - should he have led a different life, would there be comrades by his side? Does there exist a world in which Hiyori Sou, too, has allies?

Vibrant seafoam eyes darken like a wilting flower, unable to make out anything clearly, shedding one final tear.

[lucabyte]

I am literally obsessed with everything you do that involves sifloop you are THE sifloop artist to me

thank you!!! it means a lot to hear that haha

I've been like... near exclusively an OC artist for like 8 years at this point so every time i post fanart and ESPECIALLY ship art i feel like i have to fight every screaming cell in my body to post it because i feel like... RUDE? for projecting my own thoughts onto another creator's characters LMAO... so it's reassuring to know people actually like what i'm contributing!!

as for sifloop as a ship. i really should draw more isiloops because . rotates all three of them in my mind. but yeah. I think the thing I like most about the dynamic really is the like... way Siffrin and Loop canonically aggress each other despite an extremely persistent undercurrent of caring about the other not suffering.

Like. the back and forth between Loop constantly talking past/through Siffrin to really painfully insult the pair of them, and things like the [Forgetting Mirabelle's Name] event being so astoundingly gentle. just as a general example. (RNG event that only triggers after certain actions so you may need to look it up)

THEN adding the element of throwing them in postcanon with neither of them wanting to upset the party and thus having to keep a lid on it... I like the potential dynamics of such a painful and conflicted relationship having to be almost hidden and downplayed so as to try and not worry anyone, and thus becoming softer and introspective while still keeping a bunch of the more insidiously toxic behaviour.

Both of them acting with genuine best intentions in mind but still understanding each other to have way *way* more sadness and anger and guilt than they let on, and thus being able to clock it. Both for good and ill. Neither of them enjoy confrontation, but it's almost unavoidable when they KNOW the other knows what they're probably thinking.

. but yeah i just think they're neat! also a bunch of stuff related to asexuality but . shh

[meownotgood]

can't write about viktor or play viktor in league of legends because my cramps are so bad.......... this is terrible

[deprivedofbraincellsandsleep]

I wonder how human flesh tastes like

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Getting closer and closer to the limit of how many bright neon colours I can put in a character. This is Ulysses Cryptograph! I wanted to draw him so I did. Lol. Ulysses is a being from another realm and a biiiig big rock music fan. Discovered it in the 1960's and he was never the same afterwards; his species don't tend to look like humans and he didn't either in his youth! That sure changed. Nowadays him and his family live in a small community of fellow human culture appreciators.

Ulysses himself would love to meet a human, even a boring non-musician human, but resigns to his fate of having to watch their culture from the safety of his own realm. Idea people like him haven't been to Earth in 10 000 years, after all.