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unknownati · 5 months ago

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vii. dreamin'

a/n: getting ekko high for the first time <333

i usually always see this fic the other way around but i js wanted to reverse it 🙌🏾 next few fics will prob be fluff to make up for my freakiness my fault yall

*typos do not exist to me anymore choosing peace ☮️🌿🌎 stay blessed hakuna matata

warnings/tags: black!fem!reader (again, just using aave but i usually have a black reader in mind 🤷🏾‍♀️), no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, slightly sub!ekko if you squint, modern!ekko, marijuana use, if the terms r wrong that's cuz i dont smoke im just a freak, shotgun kisses, contact high, hot boxing in the back of your car, grinding, riding, passionate asf, fluff and smut, ekko's in love with you real bad, ...breeding, this one's just nasty sorry guys 😕, also maybe a little ooc

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ekko gets high on the way you look when you smoke.

a blunt—a neatly packed backwood—between your glossy lips. watching the flame from your lighter dance around illuminate your features with a golden light. the frayed end catches, glowing briefly before dissipating as you take the first pull, the cloud of smoke swirling around you, it was a sight for sore eyes.

ekko always watches in silence, the thick vapor settling in his lungs. he's definitely gotten contact high before, feeling the edges of his muscles relax ever so slightly a few minutes after you spark up.

this time was no different, of course.

he’d planned the night with excitement, he always did after realizing he wasn’t taking you out as often as he’d like. monthly dates; something to make up for it. he had no doubt this one was the date of all dates.

this time, he hit you with the, “i know a spot,” but insisted it had to be your car. no question. you didn’t mind—not like you were driving, anyway.

the place he drove you to could only be described as breathtaking. you were parked perched on a cliff overlooking a lake, moonlight glittering off of the water. waterfalls cascaded in the distance, crashing down on the water in a gentle purr. twinkling fairy lights hung from the trees, casting a soft glow around the area. you gasped in fascination, the cutest, "there's more!" replacing your expression with a smile.

he clicked a button on the car fob, the trunk clicking open. your eyes widen upon finding a picnic was laid out in perfect simplicity.

"how'd you hide this from me?" you marvel, crawling into the trunk. ekko snickers.

"you don't carry anything to your trunk."

"is this why you needed my car?"

"yeah, your trunk's actually able to be sat in."

you pout in adoration. "you're so cute," you thank him with a peck to his cheek.

__________________________________________

nearing the end of the night, the two of you migrated to the backseat, r&b nearly whispering in the background. in your search for a phone charger, you found a half-smoked blunt on the ash tray in your car.

"look at god," you grinned, settling back down and tugging a cheetah-print lighter out of your pocket, igniting the burnt end. closed windows jail the smoke inside the car walls, so when you exhaled the smoke it immediately flooded his nostrils. he coughed, a light chuckle overlapping his sputters.

"sorry," you whispered half-heartedly, resting your wrist against your knee. you catch his gaze, the arch of your brow raising. "you want a hit?"

"what?" he croaked after a beat. your arm straightens to offer the blunt to him. "...nah, i don't even know how."

"you forreal?" you snicker. "...want me to teach you?" consideration; then hesitation. his lips twist. "you don't have to if you don't want to."

eventually, his shoulders raise and fall and he murmurs 'i'll try,' your body already excitedly scooting closer to him the moment he shrugged.

"yay! okay, so all you wanna do is jus'...relax 'n inhale. don't suck, inhale. slow and steady."

he nods, half-lidded eyes following your hand as you brought the blunt to his plump lips. you wished you could get that image permanently tattoo'd on your lids. ekko takes a moment to register your instructions and inhales, yet he bails last second, tearing it from his mouth and coughing into his elbow. you can see smoke exiting his nostrils in tendrils with each cough, though.

"you almost got it!" you laugh, proud.

"yeah but—" he gets interrupted by his cough, his brows furrowing. "the taste—"

"you can taste it?" you question, intrigued.

"i think?"

hearing the giggle that filled the walls of the car while you took the blunt back from him made embarrassing himself a little more worth it.

"you looked good as fuck though," you praise.

"did i really?"

"yeah, but when do you not?"

a cool chuckle leaves his lips. "you right."

silence falls between you for a moment before a lightbulb flickers alive in your head.

"got an idea," you announce, shifting your weight closer toward him again. you bring the blunt back to your lips, taking a long pull that almost makes you pass out. your free thumb presses into his lip, prying his lips ajar.

leaning into his space, you blew the smoke into his mouth. he completed the kiss, eyes fluttering closed. searching hands immediately found purchase on your waist to pull your weight into his lap. you grind down into him, coaxing a moan out of him that has immediately has you soaked, pushing down into him again and again.

blood immediately starts rushing down and up at the same time. his dick pokes at your thigh and you laugh, surprised at how quick you got him worked up.

his hands creep up your wielding wrist, tugging the backwood toward his lips.

"tryin' again?" your head tilts, hips not halting their slow winding movements. ekko nods, peeking down at your hand as he draws air in. withdrawing, his head leans back and smoke fogs around the two of you.

"you did it baby, good. fast learner."

the slow drawl of your voice seeped into his ears and directly into his bloodstream.

he started to understand why you smoked so often. the euphoric high was rushing to his head and making his breath hitch, yet he wasn't sure if it was from you or the weed. his hips push up to meet yours.

"i need you so bad," he gasps huskily, pawing at your top.

"shiiiit, that's all you had to say."

you tug your shirt off, shifting awkwardly as you remove your pants before settling back into his lap. he pulls off his shirt at the same time, both of your clothes discarded carelessly into the front seat. you lean down to avoid straining your neck against the roof, but the kiss lingers so long that it didn't seem to matter.

you shift in his lap, gliding closer towards his knees. your hands dance down from his shoulder, fingertips gliding along scar-riddled skin. the trail of white hair tracking down from his naval to the hem of his pants was tantalizing, a sight you don't think you'll ever grow sick of. you absentmindedly stick your hand in his boxers and tug his length out, closing your fist around the tip. his abs quiver when you stroke along it.

you both hold your breath as you lift your hips, a featherlight grasp on the base of the head guiding him towards your core. his weeping tip presses against your clit before sliding towards your entrance. eventually you're sinking down, slow, torturous. two relieved exhales spew out, a silent 'finally' from the both of you.

"y'feel so good, firefly." he murmurs, brows tightly knitted together as you relax on your knees. his hands cup the sides of your ass, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

you lean onto his shoulder, rising slow and falling hard.

"shit," you mewl, grinding your hips into him. his hands fly to your hips, his own unintentionally jerking up to meet yours halfway.

you take another hit of the blunt, transporting the smoke to ekko's mouth as you kiss him. the car rocks with your desperate movements, windows fogging.

when you pull away, his glassy eyes dart down to watch where you two connect. you grab his chin and make him face you.

"you're like a fuckin' angel," you punctuate your words with a shaky hand gliding up the back of his buzzed head, white locks tangling in between your digits. "wish i could stay like this forever."

he smiles, though you barely see it when your eyes screw shut. the tip of his dick hits a spot that sends a burst up your spine and you straighten up, your crown thunking against the car roof.

you hear an amused laugh and you scowl. his hand immediately presses against the back of your neck and pulls you down. your sweaty foreheads bump together, eye contact struggling to become a possibility when yours keep rolling back.

for a moment, time slows down. your fingers fumble, dropping your blunt on the rubber mat lining your car floor. your hand meets his chest and you bounce on him, hungered and impatient. whines and groans bounce off the windows, your unoccupied hand patting around to find ekko's hand. clammy fingers intertwine; you squeeze, tight.

"gonna cum, fuck—love you so fuckin' much," you whisper, warm breath tickling his nose. he flashes you a smile and a groan takes it's place. the hand that once graced the back of your neck moved and his arm wraps around your waist, chests pressing against each other.

"i love you too," he whispers back, pressing his lips your collarbone. that phrase was all you needed, your eyes squeezing shut, your tongue stuttering his name and chanting it like a prayer. your hips falter as you reach your climax.

after catching your breath, you push ekko's arm off of you and brace yourself on his shoulders. rise, fall, rise, fall; you find your pacing again to bring him to completion. your foreheads don't separate for a moment, except for when you kiss.

"i'm...fuck—" he can barely get his words out, his muscles a wobbly jello beneath his skin. "close, baby. i'm so close."

it's a warning, but you don't get off of him. you just ride him faster and his groans lace into whines, a trembling hand weakly tapping your thigh.

"fuck, baby i said—"

your walls tightly squeeze around him and you do nothing but stare at him. "i heard you."

he swears he felt his soul exit and reenter his body in those few moments.

his head tosses back against the headrest, struggling to keep his desperate moans contained as he releases inside you, warmth flooding your insides.

when he comes down from his (orgasmic) high, you still don't get off, feeling him slowly grow soft inside of you. your head weakly falls onto his shoulder.

"...i'm tired," he comments.

"i'm hungry," you emphasize, twisting a loc between your fingers. he chuckles; you just ate. you're not joking.

after a moment of silence, which you presume is from him thinking, you hear him speak up. "you ARE on birth control, right?"

"...no," you admit.

he sucks air through his teeth. "damn."

"bad damn or 'oh well' damn?"

"'oh well' damn.'"

a beat. "...random, but you know when i first met you, i thought you were a stud lesbian?"

"yeah get off me."

#Spotify #arcane x reader #ekko x reader #ekko x you #ekko x fem reader #ekko smut #arcane x reader smut #arcane smut

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put-me-out-of-my-destiny · 3 months ago

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Today, I'm making another Devil May Cry OC post. Though, depending on how you look at them, this post is actually about three OCs.

The OC in question is a human/demon hybrid similar in nature to Dante and Vergil, though their demon parent is actually a Cerberus. They weren't conceived the good-old-fashioned way, but through artificial insemination facilitated by the Antagonistic Military Organization I've mentioned before (in a series of posts linked in my pinned post, under "The Machiavelli Duology").

While the AMO doesn't covet demonic power the way the Order Of The Sword did, I don't think they're squeamish about using demonic power or even demonic labor, so long as it can be done safely (for themselves, of course, not for the demons involved).

This character's purpose is to be some kind of bodyguard. For what or for whom, I haven't decided.

Generally, they appear as a human, with the only abnormal traits being very dark green hair, sharp canines, and very unnatural eye colors (though they are rather tall at 1.996 meters, or 6 feet and 6.6 inches). While they do not have three heads like a full-blooded Cerberus, they are essentially three beings sharing a single body. They are about 21 years old as of the events of Devil May Cry 5.

While the AMO generally just refers to this character as "dog", each "head" does have their own name they use for themselves.

Chase (He/Him/His)

Chase is the head most useful to the AMO. He, as is tradition, can conjure and command ice to fire ranged attacks, to create armor for himself, and to slide around in a fashion similar to Dante's Trickster style, or perhaps like V's 'run' where he rides on top of Shadow.

He isn't necessarily loyal to their cause, in fact he doesn't ask questions about it at all. He's acutely aware that he was created to serve them, and views them as his purpose. Outwardly he's very cold and stoic, but privately he's very sad and angry about his lot in life. He can be arrogant due to his power, but he would graciously accept defeat if he lost in a fair fight.

When he is in charge, his irises are cyan.

Clementine (She/Her/Hers)

Clementine is very inconvenient for the AMO. She conjures and commands water to attack with energy waves like those produced by Drive/Overdrive/Showdown, to trap enemies in bubbles similar to those created by Geryon demons or Ragtime, and to Air Raid as though she's swimming through the air.

Clementine is strongly opposed to the AMO's cause, and wishes to stop them and secure independence for herself. She has compassion for demons and humans alike, and this includes herself and her fellow heads. She has a fun-loving attitude, and lives in the moment rather than regretting the past or worrying about the future (which may lead her to be reckless).

When she is in charge, her irises are a very deep blue.

Her body does alter itself to reflect her gender, as it belongs to her just as much as it does to Chase. This, along with her outspoken attitude, led to the AMO quickly discovering her existence.

This motivated them to engineer a collar, which suppresses Clementine, prevents Chase from accessing restricted locations or attacking AMO personnel, and can suppress his powers with the press of a button.

Cyril (They/Them/Theirs)

Unlike Clementine, the AMO doesn't know Cyril exists, as they've made a point to stay under the radar. They conjure and command vapor to scald enemies with hot steam, to shock them with storm clouds, and to Air Hike around by forming clouds beneath their feet.

Cyril is motivated mostly by self interest, and cooperates with the AMO because they're a consistent source of food and security, though perhaps they're just biding their time hatching a plot of their own. Unlike Chase, who does feel some remorse for the cruel acts he commits for the AMO, Cyril doesn't have much regard for beings they see as weaker than themselves, as is typical for demons. However, they won't go out of their way to be cruel, and wouldn't be as reluctant to turn on the AMO as Chase.

When they are in charge, their irises are pure white.

Their body usually stays in whichever form the previous head to be in charge left it in, as they have no strong preference between the two states (though they do get a kick out of having boobs).

Cyril and Clementine would be willing to cooperate to resist the AMO, and Clementine could convince Chase to act on his conscience rather than his loyalty. She's sort of a mediating force between the two, and is the best head to be considered "in charge".

Besides the trio's command over water in its various states, I can imagine they can transform into a large demonic dog (still with just one head) at will for an alternate set of attacks. On top of this, I like the thought of them having access to a Doppelganger-like state where all three "heads" can be active at once (perhaps attained with a shard of Yamato's original blade, like the one Balrog used to enter the Human World?). Their ultimate power would be their "true form", where they essentially become a werewolf that can access their human and dog movesets with the benefits that would be expected from a standard Devil Trigger.

As for their power level, I think they can defeat King Cerberus, though not as easily as Dante, mainly due to the advantage of formal combat training. They'd ultimately lose if they challenged Trish or Lucia (and even Lady if she knew what she was up against), and they wouldn't stand a chance against Nero, let alone Dante or Vergil.

All that's left to answer is, how would the trio get along with the main cast?

Dante would really feel for chase. He knows what it's like to feel unworthy of love or happiness. At the same time, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him if it proved necessary. Clementine would admire Dante a lot, and I think he and Cyril could hang out (though perhaps they'd challenge Dante's appetite, hogging the pizza is a grave offense to him).

Trish and Clementine would get along, and Trish wouldn't mind Cyril so long as they behaved themself. She would probably have the most patience for Chase, given that she also used to be on the wrong side, and changed her path because someone showed her compassion.

Lucia would be vehemently opposed to the AMO, in part due to their association with the Uroboros Corporation, and like Dante, she'd be willing to kill Chase despite her sympathy for him. Clementine would also admire her, though she'd be saddened by her anxiety about her demonic nature. I think Lucia would dislike Cyril for leaning into such a demonic "might-makes-right" attitude.

Lady and Chase could work well together if they were on the same side. Clementine would feel really gay for her. Cyril would dislike her, she's a hardass like everyone in the AMO, but she has a strong (and annoying) moral compass too.

Cyril's selfishness would remind Vergil too much of his youth, it would make him cringe. He and Chase could comfortably coexist in the same space without making conversation. I don't think there'd be any strong feelings, positive or negative, between him and Clementine.

Nero and Chase would initially butt heads, but I could see them finding common ground and growing to be close friends over time. He and Clementine could also get along, they're both rebels. Cyril is on very thin ice with him, Cyril thinks he's a hardass.

Chase would remind Kyrie a little bit of Credo. Not sure if that means she'd like him or if that means she'd be cautious around him. He'd like her, though, Nero's a lucky man. Clementine and Cyril would be good influences on her, encouraging her to think, speak, and act for herself.

Nico and Clementine would get along really really well. Dream blunt rotation. She and Cyril could hang out too, and she'd even get a kick out of pushing Chase's buttons (he'd warm up to her with time, though).

And, as a bonus, how they'd get along with my other OCs:

Slink (see this post) would find Chase very intimidating. He'd get along with Cyril at first, but they exhibit a lot of the attitudes that made living in the Underworld a nightmare for Slink. Clementine's the only one who Slink would really like, but even then he'd be worried about her leading trouble to his doorstep.

Bhumi (see this post) would relate strongly to Clementine, being the big sister who had to step up and take care of her little brothers. She'd be more tolerant of Cyril's flaws, due to just how common they are in the Underworld. I don't think she'd feel very strongly about Chase.

Varuna (see the post linked with Bhumi) would get along really well with Clementine, their personalities match up just like their elements. He could have fun with Cyril too. He and Chase would clash, though, he's kind of a stick in the mud.

Aphrodite (see this post) could get along with anyone Nico can get along with. Though, perhaps Chase would side with Lady when she questions Nico's choice to date a devil arm, let alone one created by the same guy who created Artemis, which possessed Lady for a whole month (and that's not to mention Machiavelli's involvement with the AMO). Clementine would encourage Nico to follow her heart and not to judge Aphrodite for where she comes from, and Cyril simply wouldn't give a shit.

Kyrie's minions (look under "The one where Kyrie gains her own demonic minions, like V's familiars, but based on bosses from Devil May Cry 4" in my pinned post) would generally share Kyrie's feelings toward the trio, and would agree with Clementine and Cyril that Kyrie should be a little more selfish.

#just like with slink i'm gonna reblog this to my sideblog with some 🔞 thoughts #devil may cry #original character: chase/clementine/cyril #i'm not gonna tag for every character of course #quen speaking

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lensdeer · 5 months ago

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I wish vaping's* health effects were better understood :<

flow-of-consciousness rambling below the cut. (TL;DR I'm annoyed at the moral panic and have personally seen it be good* for people quitting nicotine, but non-smokers probably shouldn't pick it up, which annoyingly includes me)

So far signs point to it* being significantly less harmful than smoking in the areas where smoking does the most damage, and there's both anecdotal and proper evidence of it* being a highly effective tool to quit nicotine and eventually smoking/vaping at all. It's* likely a net positive/good alternative for smokers with an established nicotine habit who don't feel comfortable quitting cold turkey or have failed to quit using other tools.

Bbbbbbut I'm not a smoker! I don't even remotely enjoy nicotine! I'm just autistic and the specific act of blowing clouds of smoke/vapor is a fucking UNPARALLELED stim for me, and all the "use your mouth for something else" alternatives don't do it for me (I mean I do like hard candy but it's for different reasons y'know?)

I was forced to learn a lot about vaping in 2018 bc of my ex (and I've loosely kept track of developments since then bc I find the hobbyist/diy side interesting), so I know harm reduction and how all the ingredients and components work and how to properly store/handle this shit safely etc etc etc. I'm like 90% sure casual light usage of well maintained hobbyist hardware with unflavored actually nicotine-free liquids and proper harm reduction practices would be fine enough for my non-smoker ass*, so I should know enough to make an informed decision that won't bite me in the ass later, right?

Buuuuut obviously emotionally there's the whole tobacco-planted moral panic + rationally there's the "smoking itself used to be publicized as good for you and you're not immune to propaganda so you should err on the side of caution" part of the issue, right? Like, I've had 6 years to get into this stuff since I first tried it, and I haven't, and I won't, bc I know that even though it's* likely fine there aren't enough long-term studies to be fully sure! And I know that even when those studies do come out they'll say as a non-smoker I'm obviously better off not picking it up!

...And yet I yearn for the cloud stimmies :c the accursed sensorial white whale will forever keep eluding my grasp :c

*: (Using safely produced liquids** on clean and well maintained high-quality hardware with safely and carefully handled batteries. """Pods""" and the landfill-ready disposable shit that's become popular lately should not exist.)

**: I'm not as well informed on THC liquids so I can't speak for those, but last I heard they were still Kind Of Messy bc of temp requirements or something?

***: Yes, none of it should be advertised or sold to children; hell, nothing at all should be advertised for anyone anywhere ever anyways, but I digress.

#deerbleats #got a free piece of shit disposable one for Reasons and I decided I don't want another one when it runs out but I'll miss the stim #as much as I've missed it these past 6 years ig but still #so I've been thinking abt it bc it's* an interesting technology imo

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objectumconfessional · 11 months ago

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i think clouds are so neat!! don't you ever see some big fluffy clouds like cumulus or cumulonimbus and just wish u could lay in them like big fluffy pillows. like yes i know it's just water vapor and would be so cold but what if i lived in fantasy land where clouds can hug me. what then. also: thunderstorms!! when i see massive clouds i wish i could fly (and be immune to the cold and lightning and other problems) and just Exist inside of those big clouds, i want to know what it would feel like to be surrounded by them and just float there

#objectum #os/or #confessions #anon #objectum community

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sunflowernyx · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1 I New Chapter

“I don’t know what’s crazier…”

Mulder leans in, chest to steering wheel, and squints through the window. There’s a crossing somewhere around here, he knows, but—

Lights appear out of the heavy fog and he slams the breaks hard enough both he and Scully bounce in their seats.

Stupid heatwave.

“Driving in this damn fog,” Scully continues, gasping and grabbing at her seatbelt. “Or going on a wild quest to really prove aliens exist. Mulder, that was a green light!”

She turns in her seat, her hair flying out wildly. She is furious.

“Says the woman with the telepathic child,” he counters cheekily to direct from his mishap.

“We are not talking about psychic abilities here,” she snaps. “Why are you stopping?”

All around them the world is draped in white. The snow hasn’t entirely evaporated from lawns and side-walks yet, but it’s a close thing. All the vapor hangs in the suddenly much warmer air, the contrast brought on by what he can only assume is an unnatural heatwave. Climate change.

Winters never used to be dangerous like this.

“You know, the interesting thing about you, Scully?” He asks, misdirecting from his colour-blindness once more as he starts up the motor again. “When you have definitive proof of something you no longer treat it as extraordinary or fantastical.”

She turns her face away and he wishes it was safe enough to follow the motion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffs. “I’d still like to catalogue it. But I’m not going to put her through an MRI at her age. And that still doesn’t prove the rest of your, frankly, outrageous claims.”

“Which is why,” he says, safely sliding into a parking lot two blocks from their actual destination and singing, “we’re here.”

He waves Scully around to the back of the car, and they each done one of two backpacks he intends to fill with evidence and paperwork.

The lid of the trunk falls, the lock clicks, and Mulder pats his pocket one last time to check that the stiletto is safely within his reach before waving her along across to the building on the other side of the street.

The fog weaves between trees and buildings, covering cars and eating at the edges of the world, leaving the sensation that no one else exists, that all that is left in the world is ghosts.

Mulder hates it.

He prefers the howling winds and confrontational frost of New England. Here the cold creeps in slowly, through cracks and openings, and the heat seeps out — like water he cannot hold in his hands.

It causes an oppressive silence that is difficult, if not impossible to break, so that even Scully remains a silent shadow amongst the clouds.

It’s the gunmen that saves him.

A screech like a broken fax runs through his ear, and Mulder almost jumps out of his skin.

“— you there, Mulder?”

“Jesus!” He exclaims, tugging the ear-piece momentarily away from himself.

Scully jumps and Mulder waves the tech at her.

“Are you trying to make me deaf, guys?” He demands, stuffing it back into his ear.

“It’s this fog, Mulder,” Byers explains. “It’s weakening the connection.”

“So much for modern technology,” Mulder mutters darkly.

Beside him, Scully smiles.

“Or,” Frohike jumps in. “Next time pick a better day to impress your chickadee.”

“Shut up, Frohike!”

“Ouch. She that pretty?”

“No—“ he stops himself, glances at Scully and amends. “Yes, but that’s not the point. I didn’t predict the fog and the blockers are already up. Do you want them to be found?”

“Of course not,” comes Langley’s drawl. “So get to it, Casanova.”

Mulder shakes his head and is glad for his own inability to remember two headsets so Scully can only hear his side of the conversation - and she doesn’t seem that interested.

She’s lifting her head to take in the fertility clinic once more as it comes into view across the parking lot.

Out front where it faces the rest of Germantown, Zeus Genetics is a shining golden block of concrete, lit up like a beacon of hope for the future. But at the back it is a hulking shadow that breaks apart the white mist and draws grey lines into the world. A pair of cars remain parked outside, but otherwise there is no sign of life.

“That’s the plan,” he sighs.

In his right ear Byers lists the cameras they have to be aware of to the background rhythm of Langley’s typing, breaking apart the buildings security from the inside.

“Looks like this mist is both a blessing and a curse.”

“Come on, guys,” Mulder says, while Scully taps her foot impatiently at the door.

The light by the key turns green.

“And voila,” Frohike crows.

Mulder’s hand finds her back and the door closes behind them.

Continue reading here

#msr #txf #the x files #fic #dana scully #fox mulder #louie writes #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #vandalize the stars fic

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m1ckeyb3rry · 10 months ago

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OK ARYU’S SUPER SPEED SKIM I’m ngl this is longer than I expected because I again failed to continue actually summarizing instead of transcribing some parts so it’s like half summary half verbatim oops. Anyways I did this one a lot more quickly to lmk if anything is off and apologies in advance if it’s kinda messy LOL I went through many mixed emotions doing this one LMAO

-Karasu anon

Aryu summaries

1- Antique:

Aryu lives in an old fashioned styled house surrounded by nature. His parents are easy going. One nice day, his mother wears a pink dress while holding his hand. She sometimes looks over to him and smiles lightly. Upon entering their house, you’ll be greeted by all the tatami in their house. They return home to his father ripping a bong. Aryu thinks the vapor that exits his mouth looks like clouds. His father has long hair that reaches the middle of his back and also has an easy going smile. His father travels the world, collecting odd souvenirs and trinkets like a cursed panel he got from an old man running a souvenir shop. He likes telling stories about all the items he gets. Their house also serves as an antique shop. They section off a part of the room on weekends and sell odd bone wares. The things they sell are rather priceless, they aren’t high end or particularly valuable. They have things like an old backpack, a stained glass lamp, etc. But each item has its own story. Aryu sits on his mother’s lap listening to his father’s tales. He thinks his father is cool. His father likes finding beauty in life and narrates them via tales. He often told Aryu stories about these items while smoking. Aryu loved these moments and grew to be accustomed to being surrounded by beauty (based off the things his father had picked out and called beautiful). Everything that he could see or touch had beauty in it. But in the end, he didn’t like antiques. His clothes were all old, and his toys were all things from other countries that might’ve already been used by who knows what. It was all weird. One time, his father had brought him a vintage Hawaiian shirt. And a wooden horse used by France’s nobility. Being told that, Aryu hated it even more. It’s old, dirty, and lame. He’d heard adults say that their house had been renovated and was designed to look a bit odd and old, but it was cold in the winters and bugs easily flew in in the summer. His friends’ houses were new and clean. Winters were warm and summers were kept cool. They get lots of toy cars and colorful blocks to play with, watching fun anime on TV. He also wanted shiny new things, he came to strongly desire them. In the process, he had come to hate the oldest, so old you could almost smell it, thing he had: his name. His friends had names like Ren or Hart, but the name Jyubei made it sound like he had just walked out of an ancient folk tale. He wish he had a cooler name, but of course, he’d never say that to his parents. His father was always kind and his mother looked so happy by his side. They glittered in their own way of life, and Aryu existed between them. But as the four seasons passed and changed, he embraced the wind that blew into the house. He had loved those peaceful days. In his childhood, he lived in a beautiful old fashioned world, peacefully and happily.

2-The Birth of Osha:

Aryu was now in elementary school. His father had encouraged him to use the old backpack he brought back from that one museum, telling him how it was finally time to crack out that bad boy. His father had told him about the history. He couldn’t remember a single fact as of right now. But his father looked really happy so he decided to suck it up and use it. Wearing an old shirt and carrying the old backpack on his back he quickly became the center of attention in his class. His long black hair certainly didn’t help with him being labeled anything other than an eccentric either. His classmates had asked if he had come from abroad in a teasing tone. Wearing their new shirts and clothes, they made fun of him, asking him if he had been born in the wrong era. A both with a shiny blue backpack and snot dribbling out of his nose had firmly hit his backpack. Like his easy going parents, he hadn’t gotten mad before. As expected, though, he had gotten mad in the moment, but he didn’t know what to do. In the end, he could only remain silent. With worries troubling him, he had returned home from school. His father, who had been doing shop business, had noticed his long face and asked him what was wrong. Aryu started to respond but trailed off. He wanted to tell him how he didn’t actually like old items and wanted shiny new things. But he didn’t want to reject the things his father called beautiful, and instead responded with a “Nevermind, nothing happened.” He went to his room and placed his backpack on his desk, thinking. Next time he got teased, he would hit them back with a nasty glare to scare them off. He’d confidently tell them to cut it out.

The next day, he got teased again. It seems he had gained the nickname “Time Slipper”, as if he had slipped through the fine continuum and landed in the wrong era. The boys from yesterday continued to bully him relentless. And to that, he lifted his hair up, side eyeing them, remembering what he told to himself last night. “Do you have complaints against ME?” He had begun to refer to himself with a powerful ME. It evoked a sense of superiority, and he wondered if he laid it on too thick. Everyone stared at him and he wondered if his plain had failed. After a pregnant silence, people had finally spoken up, calling him cool and interesting. It hadn’t been exactly what he was expecting, why were they so happy? In the blink of an eye, he went from being bullied to being swarmed out of popularity. It seems that in reality, everyone was a bit curious about Aryu. He was cool like an adults, and his items seemed exotic as if there were from some sort of fantasy game. When asked about the origins of his backpack, he’d retell the stories his father told him (like how his backpack was originally used as a drum). His classmates were impressed by his father’s stories, and his old backpack seemingly sparkled and shone. The stories of his old items had made him shine in the eyes of his classmates. He began to address himself with that “royal” ME everywhere. He’d stage out obvious facts using the same tone, announcing when he was going to the bathroom or getting curry; it made people laugh and school became fun. He had grown up around beautiful things, and now the beautiful stories resonated in his classmates’ hearts. Aryu, however, had refrained from using the word beautiful. It was his father’s treasured word after all he wanted to find his own word to use. One beyond beautiful.

One day he was telling his classmates a story about his antiques as usual. This time it was a pouch that he used as a pencil case before he might’ve wanted his friends new pouches, but now, he had genuinely been interested in his own. “Yes, this item is truly…! Truly…” He couldn’t think of what word to use. But it was like a revelation suddenly hit him. As his classmates listened anticipation, stood up and spread out his arms. He struck a pose, lifting his knee up, and it was like he was standing amongst the stars in a galaxy, surrounded by all the planets, with big letters in the Roman alphabet spelling OSHA. He had found his own word to use: Osha, derived to the word stylish, but without the extra RE at the end. His classmates were awed. They weren’t really sure what just happened, but it was cool and interesting. Soon, his osha-pose had become a trend that went viral at school.

3-Osha Living Style

Thus began Aryu’s way of living, always aiming to achieve Osha. Everything could be divided into Osha and Not Osha. He had categorized everything in life according to this convention. When he was 10, he played soccer for the first time in class. He hadn’t expected it to be such an Osha sport. On top of that, he was already 170 cm and had incredible jumping power. He had good athletic genes and was fast too. He quickly became the best striker on class. To him, he was the most Osha on field. When he turned 12, he had a significant turning point. The class had been assigned to think about their future. His classmates gave various answers, like being a manga artist or pro-gamer. Aryu kept wondering about what kinda of life, what kind of osha he wanted to live out. He realized now that his father seemed rather Osha. He flew around the world collecting things he liked and meeting different people, living freely while sparkling in his own way. He thought that a job where he could attract the attention of many people, like that day he created Osha, would be good. He had concluded that he wanted to be a musician, a rockstar. Then, he’d be able to live freely, fly around the world, and make an impact. He soon bought himself a guitar. After all, he couldn’t talk the talk but not walk the walk. To let his dream live on, he earnestly practiced and even wrote his own songs. He’d sing his heart out practicing in the woods in the middle of the night where he wouldn’t disturb anyone. For the sake of his dream, he worked hard.

When he became a middle schooler, he was nicknamed “The Beautiful Giant.” He had a face like a schedule and a dynamic build. He was completely Osha. But one day, something that would send his hopes and dreams straight into hell occurred. It was the night he completed his first song. He had shed blood, sweat, and tears forming the lyrics and melody. It was titled “BEANUS” (a play on words, Venus is pronounced Bi-nus, and Bi happens to be the pronunciation for the word Beautiful too). His band would be called O.S.HA (an acronym for I’ll flap my wings to the fullest to fly to you), although he was both guitarist and vocalist. In his mind, he had established a large fan base who would thus be “Osha lovers” to whom he’d blow kisses to. But when he listened to the recording of his own song, he was disgusted. What the hell was this? Everyone could see that he had grown up surrounded by beauty and lived by Osha, so how had he created such an ugly song? It was so vile he had gagged and thrown up in the woods. His parents had noticed him and run to his side. At his own lack of talent, tears began to flow. At his own regret and “not-osha”, he had stayed home from school and slept for three days. He had continued crying in his bed, sometimes thinking of the song he wrote and getting so disgusted he’d throw up again, making his parents panic. He wouldn’t let anyone hear that song, deciding to bury it in the past.

4-To The Path of Buddha

Aryu was now 14. He couldn’t be an Osha musician. Giving into the heartache, he threw his frustration into the soccer club. He was always Osha on field, and strong too. He’d never lost any midair battle. He’s tall and has long limbs, his physique has allowed him to easily steal the ball. People who skipped practice were Not Osha, and Aryu earnestly practiced day by day. Because of that, his stamina and technique became top class, he had no doubts about it. He’d win by scoring Osha goals. He played a very active role, and his mentality had started to influence his teammates. They had even started incorporating Osha into their own vocabulary. They had respected his Osha plays. His team had grown stronger with him. But of course, things were not always so happy. Sometimes, when they had practice matches, the opposing team would take one look at him and lose all motivation to play. They’d thought that there was no way they’d win against a huge guy like him. Aryu paid them no mind, however, a sharp voice suddenly told them to cut it out. The captain of the opposing team, Ooki Taishi, had told them off, saying it was lame to find excuses and bad mouth the opposing team. They were to do their best using their own plays and to test out the things they had practiced against Aryu’s team. After that lecture, the opposing team started to feel more energized. With Aryu’s overwhelming height and strength, and Ooki’s nice saves, the practice match ended up being quite the heated game. In the end, the score was 0-3, Aryu had scored a hat trick. Ooki had stood taller than anyone else and loudly thanked Aryu’s team. Aryu had went to shake his hand, telling him that “It was an honor to fight against someone as Osha as you.” Ooki had returned his handshake, but had no idea what that meant. He was happy regardless. Aryu had become a person that both his enemies and allies grew to like. But even all that couldn’t heal the pain of having his dream of being a rockstar crushed. He wanted to travel the world and become famous. He wanted to be someone who could influence the lives of others. In order to fulfill that, what should he do? What options had even remained after his music dreams had been crushed? He had constantly worried about that.

His father was now traveling overseas so he ran the shop with his mom. He had gone to help her with tidying the place. It was a practice free Sunday. The shop had been filled with the beautiful, old, and intriguing things that his Dad had brought back. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a Buddha statue his father had collected. He had truly thought it was beautiful. He usually hated old things, so why had he liked the statue? He remembers when his dad had took him to a temple when he was five. His heart has been captured by its beauty. He did never forget that moment. Thinking about that moment, now still makes his heart squeeze. Maybe the answer to his problems was the path to Buddha. He quickly ran to that temple, dashing along the mountain road. He had bowed down on the floor, asking to be taught the way of Buddha. He was met with a surprise, head priest. One minute he was cleaning and the next beautiful boy was on the ground with his head on the floor. He had thought he was a little weird, but he was earnest with a beautiful heart. He had taken him in to teach him. Finding a kimono that fit him proved difficult, so he wore his mother’s old dresses. In his free time, he would read books of Buddha’s teachings. He had thought he had found his true calling. He had forgiven the dark history of his that was his aspiring musician phase. He now wanted to become a monk. To do so he would have to cut his hair off, though holding scissors in one hand he held his hair in the other, his hair had already grown longer than his father, reaching to his thigh. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he wasn’t able to cut his hair. His hands were shaking and his breathing ragged. Finally, the scissors fell from his hands. He couldn’t do it. When he imagines himself bald, his fingers freeze up. He once again blamed himself, wondering if he wasn’t able to live by the Osha philosophy. The path to Buddha had closed. This marked his second setback. The next day he channeled his frustration into a soccer match successfully scoring seven goals and getting his team into the national tournament.

5- I’LL Shine

He was now 15, a third year in middle school. He had to choose where he wanted to go to high school, but unlike the rest of his classmates, he didn’t have a dream for his future. The setbacks from his encounter with music and Buddha, both of which he had originally been so sure of, had left him, unsure of how to proceed. When the teacher asked what his dream was for the future, he still wasn’t able to answer. His future was completely dark, he couldn’t see anything in it. Maybe this was the end of Osha. Maybe living by Osha was just a fleeting dream. He had been questioning himself and his identity. After much worrying, he decided to consult his father who had just returned home. He asked him how he should proceed with his future. He hadn’t made any progress since he had received that assignment when he was 12. His father then suggested, “Why not do soccer?” While taking another smoke, his father had answered with ease. Aryu let out a confused noise. His father thought it was only natural, since he was so good. Heck, he might even get a recommendation. “If you do soccer, you can fill all of your Osha requirements, can’t you?” Aryu was left dumbfounded. His mother walked in and added on. If he had become a professional soccer player, he would have activities and countries all around the world, and be supported by lots of people. After all this time, he had been the most Osha on the soccer field. he had once dreamed of screaming fans as a rockstar, but he failed to realize that he already had boys looking up to his soccer skills and fan girls cheering for him. Soccer, which he had worked so hard in, could be his answer. Without any doubts, for the first time, he had an answer. With newfound resolution, he was determined to continue playing soccer. In the end, he joined the soccer club at a famous school in Tochigi called Gokou High School.

He was now a highschooler. In his new team, his post plays and mid-aie battles had been up to par. However, he was lacking everywhere else. With his teammates aiming for the nationals tournament, he wasn’t able to become a regular at first. Sitting on the bench, he still had a long way to go to become the most Osha on the field. He wasn’t perfect. There were parts of him that weren’t Osha. That’s why he wished to live by Osha. And that’s why he dedicates himself to soccer, giving his entire high school career to it. In hopes of someday achieving the sparkling and lively life his parents live, he puts his all into soccer. Just like he isn’t perfect, other people are perfect either. What you see on the surface of their lives isn’t everything. Even his Not Osha past constitutes the Osha self that he is now. Even now, he doesn’t like his old and traditional name, but it’s a part of him. You shouldn’t give up what’s important to you to someone else. He wants to live acknowledging other people’s cherished things. He sits crossed leg in front of a mirror, talking to his reflection. Striking a pose, he doesn’t hesitate to reassure himself. “I am shining”, he says. And to that Aryu, a letter from the Japanese Football Union had been sent. “To the Blue Lock”. Aryu Jyubei’s path to Osha continues.

HELP i’m so conflicted this is somehow so emotional in the dumbest possible way 😭 aryu is too silly

#answered asks #karasu anon translations

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lurkinginnernarrator · 1 year ago

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Ive been hitting a block recently when it comes to the MDZS fic I've been writing. But I was outside and saw the clouds today and was inspired to jot some thoughts, so to speak.

So here's a little unedited piece of fancy

The Tragedy of The Raindrop

Does anyone ever consider the tragedy of the raindrop?

You are vaporous and ethereal, surrounded by a smattering of your kin,yet a migration of billions. The sun to warm you, the stars to light you, and the moon to dance with.

You start to love. The ones closest to you grow closer. You learn to dance with them. You rejoice in the twinkling stars and sacred light. Should you wish you could reach out, and be reached to in return. Stars whirling overhead and loved ones beside you.

Then all those ones around you become closer; it's suffocating. No longer do you dance with the moon or are lit by stars. The warmth of sol is foreign. You are crushed together with the ones you once loved, the ones you still love yet are damning you with their weight. You resent them yet hate yourself for it because you can see: All the others crowding in on those special ones of yours, they cannot help but burden you, their strength is failing as is.

But… they lean on you over and over and over and over… you are always so heavy. And you watch as they continue to weigh you down and your traitorous heart cries ‘why must you do this to us? Can't you be a little stronger? Can you not see the strain of our arms and the hunch of our back? Why do you hurt us? Please… I cannot carry your weight anymore…’ Yet you persevere.

You hold the weight of your own society on your shoulders, carrying it on your back, silent in your torment.

You live in that limbo for countless dusks. Merely drifting. You forget the feeling of the stars. The heat of the sun. Or how to dance with lune.

And you forget what it was like to be weightless, and what unrestrained joy felt like. You forget everything but what is.

Life is a white purgatory and you cannot remember the life you lived to be sent there.

And you fall.

For a moment your betrayer of a heart weeps in relief singing ‘finally, finally they cannot weigh me down anymore’.

The world is beautiful. You can see the sky once more. Brilliant celestial bodies greet you and you weep to see such precious gods again. For a moment you exist, a heathen finding God again, dear, lovely precious salvation.

Then you see the ground. You die to live, but when you live you die.

To die is pain, but to be forgotten agony. You find solace in the family still above you in the heavens, knowing they will remember you. Perhaps even regret what pain they caused you. Even not, they will still remember.

As you hit the earth, for a split moment you see the sky once more. You are destroyed, last thought one of detached horror.

Your family hurtles towards their death. All your pain in vain. Nothing of you will survive. They will not survive. You have already been forgotten.

Who would mourn for the rain?

#my writing #short story #drabble #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing #drabbles #LurkingInnerNarrator writes #inspiration #tragedy #writing inspo #writing inspiration #writing is hard

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mamamittens · 1 year ago

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Fun little AU Nikia ideas while I pretend like it's not 2 AM and I should be asleep 😃

Just for clarification, OG Nikia right now is a very introverted elite ranger who lives in a cabin on a mountain in perpetual winter with giant ass wings by nature and a devil fruit to alter her size (whole or in parts).

Summer Isle AU, Nikia is a life guard beach babe who talks to no one because the only change here is she prefers summer and is okay existing around other people lol (Thatch suffers because there's only so many times he can pretend to drown well enough to fool her before he gets slapped clear to Impel Down and he's not scoundrel enough to do it but really wants to be personally saved by an 'angel'). No devil fruit because how you gonna rescue people in the ocean if you're a drowning risk yourself???

Spa AU Nikia where she's got a different devil fruit and doesn't hate the thought of touching strangers so much. So she works in the spas with her 'dream sheep' devil fruit that puts people to sleep with weird (occasionally prophetic) dreams. Hair is a fluffy, curly cloud when active and she kicks like a mule. Still has her wings but they put off cloud vapor like crazy. Very easily blends with clouds when flying.

Mermaid AU Nikia where shes basically half mermaid. Unsure what her wings would be... Either more like fins or covered in feathery filaments. As much as I like moon jellyfish (not sure how I'd accomplish that one specifically), as well as tetras, there's simply no funnier option than flying fish. Though I'd be tempted to do an eel or octopus as well just for shenanigans like stealing things when someone looks away or excessive cuddling for fluff. Preferably something venomous for added danger lol (Thatch would face many fishy allegations and beat none of them in this au).

Star fruit AU where she's still antisocial on the mountain but with a devil fruit that enables her to make stars. Enjoys casting them into the night sky and making her own light, not fond of the dark in this AU. Her eyes have stars in them that glow and she doesn't tell anyone but she can make wishing stars. Sometimes little stars get stuck in her hair and wings cause they don't wash out, they have to be physically removed by hand. For fun, she'll give herself freckles. Thatch gets to suffer from how cute it all is but will not be complaining, most agree with him.

Marine AU where the job market of her island (not the sister Summer and Winter Isles) is so bad the only real paying jobs are civilian contractor for the marine base nearby. Too out of the way to get 'real' Marines but still too close to an important trade route to go unguarded. There's a volcano on the island that's getting closer to blowing every year as the inhabitants scramble to earn enough money to live elsewhere, the government no help at all. Due to the shitty economy and frequent earthquakes, most buildings are especially vulnerable to strong forces, making everyone very nervous when the only real marine on base manages to catch and imprison a pirate. A Whitebeard Commander specifically. Nikia ends up as his guard and openly admits she's just waiting for his crew to arrive before he 'escapes' so her home can remain standing a little longer. Of course, things go awry and she ends up getting pretty badly injured protecting Thatch from the worst of the building falling apart. He can't just let that go, so it looks like she gets to leave sooner than expected. Not sure if she still has wings in this one. I want her to though...

Obligatory O/B/A. She doesn't have a devil fruit in this one, and I run wild with some less porn-specific ideas for how dynamics work. She's an omega but effectively lives as a beta with what I call 'puppy heats' every few months. It's the urge to nest, hoard resources, and occasionally cuddle people she's close to without any real need for sex. So none of that 'slick' or mindless lusting (as fun as it is to read, I'll fully admit). Less severe than full blown heats, hence the odd term. Her cabin is effectively her nest, and she's a bit... Brutal defending it from outside threats, particularly around her heat. Tends to molt before her heat and knows how bad it's going to be by how the molting goes. Lots of sleepy cuddles in this one. And yes, I imagine Thatch has at least strong alpha tendencies if he's not an alpha. I have a type and I'm only a little ashamed about that.

#one piece #one piece oc #mittens rambles

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thebutterflyeffectarchives · 2 months ago

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I looked up at the clouds and wished I could trade places with them. Then I realized that if I were a cloud, I wouldn't be this one piece of fluffy carefree matter like I would imagine I'd be but instead a group of many ice crystals interspaced with air molecules. Peer even closer and I'd be a crowd of quarks...not much different from what I already am now. I'm craving a different macroscopic manifestation I suppose. It's interesting to me that we can see the ends of the water vapor of clouds and from far away, it appears to be it's own entity but when you zoom up extremely close its borders are blurry. I began thinking of my own borders - how they don't really exist. The idea of a "border" is an illusion. At this moment, billions of neutrinos are passing through me, leaving me, and likely on their way to the grocery store. Zoom in on my finger close enough and the electron from an atom might be like texhoma, partly on my finger, and partly on the letter "s" on my keyboard.

With a reality like that, it's hard to take everything so seriously. Yet, somehow I still manage to do so on occasion. On Occassion, I hold too much stock in this life I'm livin. I forget about the 39 trillion microbes finding shelter in this human body and instead, get so focused on my own human earthly narrative. Silly.

I'm jealous of elementary particles. How's that for a confession. The irony is, I am them.

Earlier I felt this mixture of sadness- not unbearable but definitely uncomfortable and unpleasant. I try to remember the words of Eckhart Tolle in A New Earth, to be with the formless. Be with the emotions that you aren't so quick to name. Be in that space of unknowing and allow yourself to not have that control over your mind.

I used to think writing was a good sign, but maybe it's more indicative of sadness. Maybe it's the thing I do when sadness gets heavy that it acts as the lever that pushes me back to joy. Archimedes thinks the world could be moved with a lever. Surely, this pesky sadness isn't harder to move than the earth.

I am reminded that you can't have joy without it's opposite. Time has shown humanity that quarks have their anti quarks, electrons their positrons... However, the photon doesn't seem to have one. There is no match for this chargeless magical wonder. So, can joy be the same way?

I'm going to pretend writing is the lever. I give the formless form and suddenly, it isn't so scary. Ironic, since earlier I was on a walk in the mountains and meditating on the ideas found in Eckhart Tolle's writings on how we should be with the formless. We should try looking at a chair without naming it a chair and it will come alive. I think it's a beautiful thought, but why is the act of naming so bad? I happen to love naming things. Hell (I had to fight the urge to not write heck and I found that funny) I've changed my own name a few times. My pink soccer ball in high school was named Princess Pancapes and my first vehicle, a green ford explorer, was named Oliver. I am quick to label those in my life and understand their purpose and what the gives/takes are on both ends. I think I feel more comfortable in the form. I think the formless is absolutely terrifying. Can someone be in my life without a category? I dare not imagine it. So, is that what I need? I hope not, because the formless sounds like chaos.

Listening to hold on we’re going home cover by Nick mulvey and your love is strong by Jon Foreman while I write.

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originalhands-kw · 4 months ago

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FOR THOSE WHO READ THIS:

these are all of the lyrics to Like Lions secret album

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temporary

a body

a temporary host

leave it & let go

dust once bones

were or will be stone

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•pursuing purpose through unknown•

Follow foreign foot prints in the snow

Have I been here before?

Somewhere drifting in the cold

It’s the risk we take when searching

Swear I’ve never been here

It’s the risk we take with naked bones

Swear I’ve never been where these tracks go

Some days I wake up in the morning

Both my hands sore & burning

In my dreams I must have created

Something perfect

Other nights I wake in the same house

Where I swear I’ve never lived

Honesty I sound strange

Honesty sounds strange

I couldnt it make out

couldn't hear at all

lacked the luxury

a failed heist in the crawl

had to listen

pressed ear to the wall

Closed both eyes

I want it all

All vivid color involved

Where is your imagination

Where is your creativity

I don’t think we fit in

We don’t fit in

Here here

I’m afraid we don’t fit in

Followed foot prints in the snow

I was here before

Drifted out in the cold

I was always alone

Leave your tracks in the snow

That way they might now you were here

You were here

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•connection•

reveal all the things

you want me to say

blind in the fog

feel me, I'm wasting away

in between the stars,

there are no strangers

Well I’m a stranger

reluctant & tame

glorify the mystery,

of being stuck inside a brain

It’s cumbersome

Oh how deep does it go

The advent of

Foot prints in the snow

Modern love

Glimpses never show

Modern love

How deep we can go

How deep can we go

Captivate its all we’re thinking of

If all we have is smoke & vapor

What can we both do to make it last

We burn too bright

With hearts of paper

Instead I’ll write of days I’ve spent

Never looking for an answer

I’m wasting away

So when I’ve nothing left to reveal

How can I claim anything was real

Have I dreamt those

foot prints in the snow

Or the clock that set the pace

It’s cumbersome

The advent of

modern love

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•our importance or lack thereof •

Pressed together

at the center

collapsed layers of dirt

life eats life

creates a universe

rotten damage

my feet planted

stranded in paradise

surrounded by

bone bleached coral reef

If hesitant

the ocean tide

bares it’s teeth

Yeah

like a smile or a grin

I felt the push

I felt drawn in

And the sky

The sky lit up

like a flash

a photograph

just a splinter of a memory

Subconsciousness

Hoping this isn’t reality

Like a flash

Faint traces of bright red

Split seconds down the center

Now my only thought

My only

thought was this

Imagine no sound, no space

These fragments of time

can’t interpretate them

Perspective finally changes

You can see the panoramic

Distorting sentiments

Discarding evidence

Designing elements

I'm choking on the ocean

strangled by the notion

Breathing in every last word

You whispered in my mouth

Am I still stranded

Are these feet planted

Are we all stranded

In Paradise (together)

Hand in hand hesitant

All along the coral reef

Let the ocean choke

Let the ocean choke on me

Notion or no indication

Let the ocean choke on me

in quiet desperation

Let the ocean choke on me

Leave no indication

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•our impermanence & making it meaningful •

temporarily

existent

What will we be

A legacy

a instance

Were bound to be dirt

Crystal or stone

a supposed perk, an honor

the privilege to grow old

Paint a wish on a velvet sky

we may deserve some answers

there’s no reason why

think all this time

all this room to grow

Some live life

to see what can we own

choose a circle

around we go

listen close

calling out...

mix of purpose

& persuasive doubt

like a whisper through a wind storm

footsteps on clouds

across great distance

a far out sound

PT. ii

Life is conflict

a constant test

of awareness

cognitive dissonance

Silence

resonates

to subordinates

who celebrate

few rotten apple

hate, riot & raid

festering through tulip parades

Part iii

outside your body

exposed to the sun

come all unraveled

come all undone

few enlighten

through mud

you say

you do

unknowingly chose

add weight

to what’s real

what’s surrounding you

Unconsciously breathe

accepting knowing

we’re temporarily a body

temporarily a host

we can be both dust

we can be bones

will footsteps be set in crystal

or against a clock set in snow

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

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krnjcbs · 10 months ago

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"Becoming Oracle", 2023 Video of sitzbath performance, 10'20''

Becoming Oracle documents the performance of a sitzbath ritual (that i performed in the woods behind the academy of fine arts Nuremberg) and combines it with a text about the struggles I have with the neospiritual movement of modern witchcraft.

Below I translated the subtitles from German to English:

The high priestess talks to me. tall, wise and powerful

The high priestess looks beyond the veil for me.

Clouded in smoke my view becomes transfigured.

The fragrance of the herbs enters my lungs

and searches for its place inside of me.

Even if not now, soon i will be a witch Healing vapors make their way beneath my skirt

penetrate me,

moisturize my mucous membrane

and heal me from all evil.

The toad cozies up inside my uterus

curls up and solidifies in pleasure. It is in peace and will not drive me to hysterics anymore.

How do I connect to a tradition that doesn’t really exist? The wish for spirituality is a grasping for straws.

Am removed from all witches.

Desire for supernatural power simply an expression of my female powerlessness.

I feel impotent.

On the lookout.

Want to become a witch,

but can’t find a crone to teach me.

Witchcraft as science, but the sources are unreliable.

Seized by right-wing ideology and pseudo-myths,

I don’t have a clear view.

The veil isn’t lifting,

I thought I could be oracle.

I am disgusted with hypocritical witches on the internet.

Feigned enlightenment as proof of their superiority.

Cultural practices are being hand-picked, stripped, alienated and violated.

Modern witches remain imperialistic in their choice of interests.

Breathe in. Close my eyes. I sense myself. I draw the cards and see the future that I want.

I stand on the shoulders of giantesses. and look with two faces towards the future and the past. I need the custom, the ritual. Maybe I can be a witch, like I am an artist. Always learning. Continuously evolving. Conscious of history but on my own path. Build my own oracle. Find a way to be an antifascist witch.

Am an artist. Am a painter. Am an oracle. Am a witch.

#contemporary art #performance #sitzbath #witchcraft #video art #oracle

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chrisryanspeaks · 2 years ago

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HEAR: Synth-Pop | Born Days - “How To Disappear”

Born Days has released “How To Disappear” a unique and inspiring track born from a dark period in the artist’s life. The passion and intensity in this track is present from the first note to the last. Born Days is the conceptual darkwave synth-pop project from Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist singer, songwriter, and producer Melissa Harris. Her debut full-length album My Little Dark is set to release on October 6, 2023, through AudioSport Records. Read More: Harris explains the background of "How To Disappear": "I wrote this song while going on very long walks every day during a dark period in my life, maybe even for 2 or 3 hours sometimes. I live about a 10-minute walk from Lake Michigan and I would go there and watch the waves and record them every day. The sound of the water always felt really soothing, especially when you want to disappear from the world and join the clouds and the trees in their unknowing state. It’s that feeling when you don’t want to live anymore, but you also don’t want to die, it’s just the in-between where you wish you could just disappear and join the vapor breezes. Life can be very unkind sometimes, and it’s hard to know what to do when you’re feeling really down. My favorite thing when life is unkind is to write music about it and tell a story with sound. I love to create sound and use found sound, too. I tried to capture the little sounds of the world while walking around. Sounds like leaves crunching underfoot to make the rhythm, the sound of lake water breathing in and out and then run through a phaser, little sounds that no one really notices that make natural rhythms in nature. Then, I would go home and pitch and stretch and retime these sounds to the beat. I used a variety of synths and a really dark bass to create the disorienting feeling of being sad and neutral and dark about whether or not I want to stay on this planet. I added some cringey y2k chants for irony. I hope you enjoy it." Candidly vulnerable and emotionally complex, My LittleDark is an album that draws inspiration from the realm of confessional poetry and the world of childlike innocence to sonically explore and narrate the anagogic, deeply personal, and complex labyrinthine pathways that exist within the heart and mind. Mystical and melancholic, Harris’s ethereal voice escapes into dark symphonic soundscapes driven by dreamy, synth-heavy polyrhythms that paint a cinematic electronic pop soundtrack soaked in moody, hazy textures. The album was partially written while Harris spent time in an outpatient program dealing with a severe mental health crisis and as a means to heal. Writing this music was one of the ways that Harris was able to continue living on this planet. Harris admits that it is hard to put that previous sentence into words, but this music is about truth and beauty, and so that is what inspired the songs on My Little Dark. Drawing influences from alternative, darkwave, dreampop, and goth culture, Harris plays with a sonic palette of soft, dark, and dusty tones that mix elements of grunge, post-punk, neo-psychedelia, shoegaze, and modern pop. Deeply nostalgic and profoundly personal, My Little Dark explores Harris’s struggles with mental illness, trauma, destructive cycling, love, innocence, and beyond. Her distinctively soft and sweet voice is saturated with otherworldly essence that explodes into apocalyptic crescendos and escapes into ghostly innocence. Harris’s songs are brilliantly enchanting and sonically dripping with haunted textures, little spirits from the ether, and dystopian landscapes that leave you longing for a more innocent and beautiful time. TOUR DATES + LIVE SETS 10/5 Chicago, IL - Loud Pizza Records // My Little Dark pre-release listening party 8 PM CST 10/5 Bandcamp // My Little Dark Album Release // Live Virtual Listening Party 4pm CST 10/13 Chicago, IL - Empty Bottle // Album Release Show w/ Lipsticism + Sunglow Read the full article

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audiofuzz · 2 years ago

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HEAR: Synth-Pop | Born Days - “How To Disappear”

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dailycharacteroption · 4 years ago

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Conversion Corner: XCOM playable races part 3

Viper

By far one of my favorite alien species that show up in XCOM, the so-called “vipers” were an homage to the “snakemen” aliens from the original XCOM series. Admittedly, the snakemen from the original were even more superficial in their comparison to earth reptiles than the vipers of the modern series, but that’s neither here nor there.

According to the Uber Ethereal at the end of Enemy Unknown, the aliens known as Thin Men (which would be revealed in the next game to be highly modified vipers meant for infiltration among humans) were a species that they found to be intelligent and exceptionally loyal and adaptable (presumably both in terms of genome and in terms of mental flexibility), but were ultimately rejected as they seemed incapable of properly implementing the genetics that unlocked psionic power. (Thankfully, in Starfinder, psychic spellcasting has been melded with the other two disciplines, and even where it’s trappings exist, it is more a matter of discipline than genetic predisposition, with perhaps the exception of the psychic bloodline for sorcerers in Pathfinder).

Still, they remained useful to the Elders as infiltrators and fast attacking troops, particularly once they were allowed to be seen on the planet in their true forms, rather than the human-like facades they once bore, taking advantage not only of their training but also the many physical benefits of their serpentine forms and alien biology.

However, with the fall of ADVENT and the occupying forces on Earth, the vipers, much like every other species of alien, were forced to adapt and integrate with human society, and proved just as capable of living alongside humanity as others even with their various deadly adaptations. In fact, amusingly, the fandom jokes and memes about viper… “assets” and attractiveness have transcended back into the game by there being a viper-themed strip club in Chimera Squad. There’s a market for everything, after all.

In any case, vipers appear to be serpentine humanoids with a “lamia” or “naga” body plan, humanoid upper body over a serpentine, legless tail. Their heads are fully serpentine, and sport folding fangs like the vipers they are name for, as well as most, but not all, sporting a cobra hood. Inside their mouths and throats are both a long, prehensile tongue that can be projected at great lengths to drag foes closer, as well as poison glands that allow them to spit wads of poisonous saliva that typically vaporizes into a toxic mist on impact, though some possess a thicker saliva that can adhere to targets, while others focus their venom through their fangs. (some can even do all three). From there, their arms are of typical strength for a humanoid of their size, but their real power lies in their tails, which can propel them quite quickly, and boast the muscular power to crush foes like a constrictor. Most vipers have golden patterned scales, but a rare few from arctic facilities are white, while dark blue-green and gray are also possible.

Interestingly, only one male viper has ever been canonically seen, the genetically-altered “viper king” from XCOM 2’s “Alien Hunters” DLC. The reason for this was because the Elders wished to control the viper population, forcing the intelligent and independent vipers to be wholly reliant on them for the continuation of the species, though I imagine that by the time of Chimera Squad, at least someone must have been working on gene-engineering to help new males be born, or transitioned into by interested vipers.

While not much is seen of Viper mentality and behavior outside of Agent Torque and the brief appearance of the arms and intel dealer Xug, it can be inferred that vipers are an intelligent and practical people that see the value and wisdom of operating with other sapient species and organizations for the betterment of all, though the fact they are also obligate carnivores can make them seem unnerving, aloof, or even standoffish to other species, though of course there is plenty of room for variance there, as Torque, with her antisocial snark and hostility is merely a mask to hide her awkwardness.

+2 Dex, +2 Int, -2 Cha

Hp: 4

Size and Type: Vipers are medium monstrous humanoids of the viper subtype

Racial Traits

Crushing Coils: A viper can use their serpentine lower body to grapple foes, allowing them to grapple without needing a free hand. Additionally, they gain a constrict special attack, dealing 1d8 bludgeoning damage to the grappled foe every time they succeed their roll to maintain a grapple.

Poison Resistance: Vipers gain a +2 resistance to poison, and are completely immune to Viper Venom.

Poison Spittle: Vipers can be born with one of three adaptations for their venom, though they can develop more with training. Regardless of which version or versions they have access to, they can utilize their poison a number of times per day equal to 1 + Con modifier (minimum 1)

Poison Mist: The viper spits a ball of concentrated venom bile up to 30 ft away, which explodes in a 10 ft. radius cloud, exposing all within to viper venom as an inhaled poison (therefore, creatures that don’t breath or have environmental protections are immune).

Rooting Venom: The viper spits a less toxic and thicker wad of bile that sticks to a single target, possibly rooting them to the ground. This is a ranged attack targeting EAC, and on a successful hit, the target is entangled for 1d4 rounds, rooting them to a surface if they are in contact with one.

Poison Bite: The viper lashes out with their fangs, which count as a natural weapon as the racial trait of the same name, but a successful hit that deals damage also exposes the target to viper venom. A viper that is out of daily uses of Poison Spittle may still make natural weapon attacks, though they lack the venom effect.

Viper Venom tracks along the Dexterity poison track at a rate of 1/round for 4 rounds, and the poison save is equal to the 10 + the viper’s level + their Constitution bonus.

Tongue Pull: A viper’s tongue counts as a grappler with 30 ft of cable for the purposes of firing at other creatures to grapple them. As a move action while grappling a target in this way, the viper may pull medium or smaller targets adjacent to themselves, transferring them to their Crushing Coils as a free action. Sundering the tongue causes the viper to take 1d6 damage and lose the ability to use their tongue until they receive magical healing.

Viper Movement: Vipers have a move speed of 30 ft. and a climb speed of 20 ft.

Viper Senses: Vipers have Darkvision 60 ft and Blindsense (scent) 30 ft.

#starfinder #conversion corner #conversion #xcom #xcom viper #race

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sometimesnat · 4 years ago

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WIP: Black Squirrel

genre; queer, literary

POV; 3rd past

length; short story (~7k words)

status; revising

synopsis;

Ezra is in love with his boyfriend Teddy, but he’s so afraid to say these words that he constructs a game that will allow him to discover if the love is mutual. All they have to do is share their deepest secret with each other; Ezra figures that if Teddy knows the worst thing he’s ever done and sticks around, that’s enough.

What Teddy tells Ezra sends ripples of uncertainty through their relationship and Ezra finds himself drifting away, though he can’t quite put his finger on why until he sees a familiar poster on the wall in a professor’s office. The truth clicks into place, but Ezra’s always been good at denial.

characters;

Ezra is an obsessive person, focused on controlling every aspect of his life that he can. And though he can’t control Teddy, wouldn’t dream of it, he can control the idea of Teddy in his own mind. Ezra has a dark past that exists as an undercurrent over the frozen surface of a lake, and his fixation on the cold causes him to over-prepare for the weather and approach winter like a cautious but entranced child.

Teddy is perfect, he’s Ezra’s perfect thing, a beacon of goodness and purity in a world that so often feels sullied. But he’s hiding a strange desire, a compulsion that Ezra isn’t sure he can wrap his mind around. Ezra’s internal construction of Teddy hits a wall and hits it hard, and though the last thing he wants to do is abandon someone the way he’s been abandoned, Teddy’s secret has Ezra in over his head.

excerpts;

extended excerpt IDs and taglist under the read more (feel free to ask to be +/- from general taglist! <3)

excerpt 1;

“The dark fur is actually a result of an abnormality in their genetics,” Teddy explained. He was full of hyper-specific animal facts. “The extra pigmentation probably helps them keep warmer in the cold months.”

“So you’re saying I’m a mutant?”

Teddy laughed, a cloud of vapor puffing up in front of him. “No, I just mean they’re always ready for the cold, just like you.”

But Ezra always thought they were more like Teddy. Soft, resilient. Perfect. Part of him wishes he’d heeded his father’s words with more care. When he’s with his boyfriend, Ezra so often feels like he’s finally made the catch. But he doesn’t know what to do next. He’s just holding on for dear life, hoping Teddy doesn’t decide to squirm away. Hoping that Teddy doesn’t bite him.

excerpt 2;

Once, towards the end of that first summer they spent together, they were sitting on a dock at Ezra’s family’s summer home and after a playful shoving match, both ended up in the water. Though Teddy took it in stride, Ezra could tell later he was upset by the occurrence. When he asked his boyfriend what the problem was, Teddy said, “Wet clothes make me feel naked.”

Ezra thought about this a lot after the fact. He thought about the way some experiences were like being shoved into a lake and emerging sopping, the way wet clothes cling tight to the body, revealing everything even though one is still completely covered up.

excerpt 3;

Ezra crouched down slowly. He wondered what was the good of camouflage if it only protected you in the dark. If it only kept you warm at the cost of revealing you in the light.

The squirrel seemed frozen, its eyes wide and darting about madly, though the rest of its body didn’t move. Ezra pressed his forehead against the window, cold glass a shock and a relief against his skin. The squirrel stared at him. Its tail twitched.

Ezra closed his eyes. He could hear the snow coming down, little pitter patter of soft wet on soft wet. This was interrupted by a small thump, and when he cracked his lids open, the animal was gone.

Taglist (tagging gen and some others!): @my-liminal-spaces @ahowlinwolf @sugarcoatedglass @chloeswords @rainbowcoloreddays @alicewestwater @ryns-ramblings @vitrichor @lasbrumas @sprigofbasil @reverieternal @incipientdream

#wip: black squirrel #wtf else do i tag things??#WTWcommunity #writeboardwalk #wip intro #writeblr #writeblr wip intro #thats enough i think #also i do Not Love the main square graphic but im tired so please just #pretend its better <3

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