#it is *so* cathartic to cut fruit

[studentbyday]

day 01 // 100dop++

decided to start a loosely defined productivity challenge to start off the new year, counting the days for as long as i feel like. the goal is to get off holiday potato mode, focus on my priorities, and work towards the version of me i dream of without burning out, fighting fear and doubt and visualizing success - no self-discouragement here. (but since i want to try to make daily posts, i will probs mostly be taking my pics from the internet...like i've done today)

🔪🍉🔪🍉🔪🍉🔪🍉🔪🍉🔪🍉🔪🍉🔪🍉

study stats (50/10): 🍅🍅🍅

meditate ✅

physio ✅

learn Perl ✅ (timestamp: 22:52 / 4:10:32 hopefully it gets easier...i doubt it tho 💀 but i feel my brain expanding and it's fun to practice git while i'm at it - i was quite intimidated by git for a while so i feel extra cool when i use it rn 😎😅)

sensation & perception notes (1/3) ✅

digital organization ✅

learn R ✅ (if i continue to do 2 sections / day, i can finish the course in 3 days! 😤)

exercise ✅

start beginner java course ✅ (anyone else also feel the need to learn >1 language at a time to not get bored? 😅 hopefully i can keep up the momentum with school... when i say i started this course, i mean i barely started it.)

laundry ✅

[smallestgalaxylemon]

You're telling me THIS reader is seeing through an omniscient viewpoint?

[More]

Thank you once again @princess-of-purple-prose for the ID under the cut

[ID: A series of Tumblr posts with Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint characters edited over them.

Kim Dokja: are you mad at me? would you like to be

Jung Heewon: "hey it could be worse" well i would like it not to be. how about that

Kim Dokja: what's a guy gotta do to have a cathartic swordfight around here

Han Sooyoung, about Yoo Joonghyuk: "comrade in arms" yeah i bet he was in your arms. every night. fruit

Kim Dokja, Han Sooyuong, and Yoo Joonghyuk: theres something so specifically wrong about you its alluring

Yoo Joonghyuk: death will not do us part you stupid cunt

Han Sooyoung to Kim Dokja: it's because you're always in that damn coffin

Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja: If he's your man then why is he MY thematic parallel

Kim Dokja reading: the world is built on mundane ppl with extremly passionate and niche intrests BTW

Kim Dokja: "what the fuck is your problem?" (compliment)

Joonghyuk: "are you sick in the head or something?" (flirtatious)

Sooyoung: "fucking freak" (affectionate).

End ID]

[cure-icy-writes]

Regarding the transgender and autistic coding of Octodad: Dadliest Catch.

To preface: this essay will be in two parts. One with spoilers, and one without. The spoilers will be hidden under a cut, and optional. 

Octodad: Dadliest Catch is a 2014 action/adventure game in which the protagonist, known only as “Octodad”, is an octopus masquerading as a human man. If it sounds ridiculously goofy, that’s because it is. Octodad rarely takes itself seriously, and that works to its credit.

Now, before going any further, I want to take a moment to lay some groundwork for the premise of the game and how it relates to otherness. Octodad, being an octopus, is fundamentally Other. He is a nonhuman in disguise, he is living a lie, et cetera. The concept of beings that disguise themselves as human is an old one, from Greek gods seeking hospitality to changelings left behind as supernatural brood parasites. They are shapeshifters and deceivers, whose stories are born from the fear of Otherness. And more often than not, these beings have malicious intent.

But Octodad, fundamentally, does not. He is a loving father and husband who hides his identity out of fear. He is Other, and this otherness isn’t portrayed as predatory or evil in any way. And viewing this story through the lens of Octodad, controlling his actions, the player gets to know a little bit about him.

Back to the trailer— Octodad’s gameplay is showcased, and it’s immediately obvious that the control scheme isn’t exactly typical. Players must control each limb individually, resulting in sloppy, uncoordinated movements. Octodad stumbles through the grocery store, across a play set, leaving destruction in his wake. He isn’t trying to make a mess, unlike a certain goose, but rather, this is the natural result of what he is. He’s literally a fish out of water— and yes, he is a fish if you’re pedantic enough about cladistics, which I am going to be for the sake of this metaphor. 

The control scheme is deliberately messy, a stylistic choice that forces the player to constantly remember that Octodad is something Other, and the resulting mistakes have consequences. The levels are designed in such a way that even an experienced player will have to make a mess at times, and it comes with a sense of shame— after all, a normal protagonist could do this. Mario could platform his way through this grocery store with no problem! But Octodad can’t. He slips on banana peels and breaks open crates and spills fruit all over the linoleum. And the UI forces you to be constantly aware of when others are watching, furthering that sense of shame.

The game won’t punish you for slipping up sometimes. But the mess you’ve made, the judgmental gazes of the NPCs, will. You are an imposter, facing a constant uphill battle to perform difficult and unnatural tasks that are effortless for the humans around you. They cannot see that you’re an octopus. They do not know that you’re an octopus. So long as you are wearing your suit, no one can tell, even with the tentacles and bulbous head and suckers on your limbs. But they can see your mistakes, and your failures.

How does that relate to autism and transgenderism? Well, let’s start with autism, since the transgender coding is mostly in story spoiler territory, while the autism is largely in the gameplay mechanics. Autism is a pretty broad spectrum, and it’s difficult to point at something and definitively call it autistic-coded when the autistic experience varies so drastically from person to person. But Octodad and his Otherness, even as a silly octopus, strongly parallels autistic masking.

Octodad’s enforced sense of shame strongly resonates with the autistic experience— constantly aware of eyes on you, always messing up because no one explained the rules to you properly, or struggling with sensory issues or executive dysfunction when everyone is trying to convince you that your experiences are normal and you’re just being dramatic. And in that sense, it’s cathartic to see Octodad, because he is unmistakably and undeniably Other. You cannot say “Oh, honey, everyone’s a little octopus, you’re just not trying hard enough,” to an octopus the way that neurotypicals often do with autistic people. You cannot deny him his Otherness which causes his struggles.

Remember the changeling story I mentioned earlier? Changeling myths and autism are inextricably connected, and far too often, they demonize autism. The problem with trying to define humanity in a way that excludes imposters that pretend to be human is that you will inevitably end up excluding and hurting people, particularly those who are neurodivergent, queer, disabled, or otherwise in a minority. So, if you cannot define humanity without excluding humans from the definition, then it serves to reason that broadening your scope will include non-humans. And this is portrayed as an unambiguously good thing, to acknowledge the humanity of an octopus.

Real life isn’t like Among Us, where the imposters are murderous freaks who unhinge their jaws and chomp off the top half of their fellow crewmates before hopping into the vents. Sometimes, they’re scared people who go through life hurting because they tried to be normal until they forgot who they were.

And now, let’s examine the story and talk about the further coding it contains. The first thing that catches my attention is Octodad’s morning routine— coffee. It seems innocuous at first, but it’s later revealed that this is the only reason Octodad has the ability to walk upright, because he’s constantly self-medicating with caffeine.

There’s a very domestic portion of the game where you see just how much Octodad adores his family, he does the chores for his wife whom he loves a lot, and then— he survives a couple murder attempts. His neighbor knows he’s an octopus, is a chef at the local grocery store, and is the main antagonist of the game. He breaks down the fence between their yards with some sort of nightmarish combine-harvester machine that nearly sucks in Octodad, but the situation is resolved quickly enough. Then, just a little later in the day, he goes out to the grocery store, where the chef finds him and chases him with a knife, threatening to turn him into moderately priced sushi. Interestingly, though, is the fact that Octodad seems more worried about his wife finding out than the fact that he’s an octopus than the threats on his life. We don’t know how often these happen, but he just brushes this off and hopes to keep up the masquerade a little longer. He has to be human, he has to be normal in order to be loved, and nearly dying alone to his murderous neighbor is a small price to pay. And… it’s sad, honestly.

The real meat of the game, though, is at the aquarium. Octodad is frankly terrified of this place, but he can’t tell his wife why. There was a scene that stuck with me— it’s meant to introduce you to the fact that the Biologist enemies are a threat who will recognize and out you, but it made me think about TERFs. They always claim they can spot trans people, as if there’s some secret sense for it, as if a world in which women are subject to random and invasive genital inspections is somehow better than a world where the lady in the bathroom stall next to you is standing up to pee.

After getting through the first part of the museum, Octodad has to find each member of his family and do some minigame puzzles. The kids are absolutely adorable, but what struck me was the conversation with Scarlet, as she grows frustrated with Octodad’s secrecy. He sleeps downstairs, he somehow “made more” when the printer ran out of ink, he lost a limb in a plumbing accident but it somehow grew back, and he’s keeping things from her. He won’t have an honest conversation, and she’s getting frustrated.

Take a moment to imagine the veneer of metaphor peeled away. Imagine you have been married to a man you love for ten years, but you know he’s hiding something from you. He doesn’t sleep in the same bed as you, never wanted to consummate things, and you’ve respected his privacy and consent, but he won’t explain why. He’s ecstatic about raising kids together, but he doesn’t want biological ones. There are these instances you can’t explain, like his sudden insistence on buying a shark plushie from IKEA, or the time you caught him mailing a tank top (was it a tank top, really, because you never got a good look at it) to someone and he looked guilty. You find a list of names, some of them crossed out, and wonder who these women are. He never wants to look in the mirror or have pictures taken. You love him and you want to respect his privacy, but the secrets are driving a rift between you.

Imagine it from the other side, now. You have been married to the woman you love for ten years. She doesn’t know you’re trans, and you’re terrified she’ll leave you if she finds out.. She didn’t seem to mind when you told her you didn’t want to get horizontal, but she doesn’t know it’s because sex in this body makes you dysphoric. You love your children so much, they’re the light and joy of your life, but you can’t help but wonder if your wife wanted to have them the old-fashioned way. You try to escape what you are but it’s getting harder to repress. You know she suspects something. You ended up with a binder, and sent it to someone you met online. You bought yourself a Blåhaj and you don’t know why it was that desperation had seized up in your chest when you saw it. You spent ages on name websites, looking for the perfect one, writing them down to see how they felt. You have the most amazing wife in the world and she is slipping away because you couldn’t keep pretending.

Scarlet asks Octodad to meet her at the shark tank when he’s ready to have a real conversation. And the shark tank is where things get interesting— the chef is there, waiting. He cuts off Octodad’s clothes with a cleaver, and tosses him into the tank, yelling, “Go back where you belong!”

The thing about the coding of Octodad is that it’s never a consistent one-to-one. That particular line? Could be read as immigrant coding, out of context. But then, looking at how easily he moves in the water compared to the flopping rag doll movements on land. He no longer has to mask, he no longer has to hide himself and navigate a world that is hostile and judgmental to him. 

And he’s miserable. He misses his family. And he’s determined to find them, and save them from the chef. So he sets off to do exactly that. 

There’s a series of objectives to complete to get there, but the one that stuck with me? Sneaking into the women’s bathroom. Granted, it’s for the purpose of going through the vents and causing a diversion in the break room, but it still strikes me that Octodad, who presents as a male human, has to sneak into the women’s restroom. And this is presented not as some scandalous affair of a peeping Tom, not a forbidden thing, but just an objective. That’s where the proper vents are, after all. 

On a sillier note? You walk into the aquarium in a shark suit, and you have to cause a diversion. So now, rather than Octodad’s clumsiness being a source of shame, it’s his strength, and it’s a point of pride. He’s an octopus! He’s excellent at making messes!

And then there’s the grand finale— it’s corny and dramatic and there’s a cafeteria on fire, and the truth is out. He’s an octopus.

And Scarlet? She says she was expecting so much worse. She loves her octopus husband exactly as he is, and no matter what adjustments she has to make, she knows her family will be stronger for it. Because now, she has the chance to love her husband in his entirety, in his Otherness, and she takes it.

Octodad is a story about an octopus walking around in a suit and pretending to be a normal human man, but it’s also a story about being closeted, masking, living in fear, and finally realizing that the love remains. That there are people who will love you as you are, genuinely and truly, tentacles and all.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Would Doflamingo visit Crocodile to ask him what happened and why did he stab Lizard?

They don't have a proper discussion until after the Straw Hats split off to get stronger. Any attempts he made before that resulted in Crocodile snapping at him to leave him alone because he has enough on his plate without Doflamingo bothering him.

This is fine. Doflamingo knows how to play the long con. He takes delight in watching the guilt eating away at Crocodile, taking away his hardened exterior until he's far more malleable. Doflamingo was able to deduce that it was a legitimate accident without ever asking him directly. It was obvious in the way that he's carried himself since then.

Cut to around a year into the timeskip. Crocodile gets a letter from Doflamingo. It's short and to the point: I have something that you need. Come see me.

After years upon years of consistent rejections, having Crocodile so desperate that he willingly comes to him for help is downright cathartic for Doflamingo. Even before they talk about the youth youth fruit, Doflamingo knows that he already has Crocodile under his thumb. He's going to have to thank Lizard for breaking her father enough to allow this to happen. She really is such a darling niece to him.

[quinnyundertow]

Can I ask what got you into writing? I love your writing style and I'm so curious about your process as well.

This is such a sweet ask. I love it. This may be way more than what you were expecting haha. But I’m alone in the hospital and this feels cathartic.

I’ve always loved to write since I can remember. When I was in elementary school I remember getting yelled at and crying because I had to write a story about a thanksgiving turkeys adventure and mine was like twenty pages. They said it was too long and hurry up and I was frustrated because I wasn’t done!

I think what really solidified my love for writing is I needed fantasy to escape. In middle and early high school my parents divorced and I was bullied relentlessly. Gum put in my hair, things thrown at me, called fat at every opportunity. I had teachers that bullied me too for being fat. I was SA’d multiple times, depressed and started cutting. I’ve honestly tried to block most of it out.

The point is I had found anime and a few friends who loved it too. So any opportunity I had I begged friends to do writing journals with me. We’d make up a crack fic plots then write self insert and pass a notebook back and forth between classes every chapter for the next person to write. We wrote for Yugioh, Naruto, Dragonball Z, Fruits Basket popular ones at the time. I also wrote poetry, fanfics and original stories to try and escape anyway I could. Writing was the highlight of my teenage years. But other than that it was hell and you could never pay me enough money to repeat them.

I dropped out of Highschool from the bullying and my depression. But I studied and took a test for Highschool equivalency and then went to college and got straight As. College is nothing like Highschool. No one cares what you do. At least in my experience. I wanted to be a writer or manga artist but my father told me I wasn’t good enough and I wish I wouldn’t have taken it to heart and listened. I stopped writing for like ten years except for periodic ideas in notebooks until this last November.

Jujutsu Kaisen had become my comfort anime and then chapter 236 happened. I was so depressed I decided to try and read fanfics again. I’ve always read a lot of published books and was staggered to see a ton of fanfic writers were just as good if not better than published writers. After reading a ton of amazing works I decided I needed a fix it story that was ultimately happy for JJK and here we are.

Sorry if this was boring or too much. But if you take away something from this take this. Life is always changing. Tomorrow will not be the same as today. That much is guaranteed. If you have nothing left to live for then you have nothing to lose by trying something crazy or new. I was broken down to nothing by bullies, family issues, mental and physical health and I was incredibly suicidal. Somehow I found the will to try again. I got on depression and anxiety medication (still on to this day), worked for a higher education and took a shitty paying job to claw my way back up. My life is far from perfect but despite everything I worked hard to now have a boss babe high paying career and after restarting writing and meeting you all I’ve never been happier.

As far as a writing process I pretend I’m not going to post what I write and write it just for me. I ask myself what do I think would be the coolest thing to happen? What would I want to see next? Then I write it. Most of the time it sucks, or I don’t feel like writing it but I force it out. I make myself sit for 15 minutes and just write something. Then I rewrite it. Keep what parts I liked toss what feels off. Repeat. Eventually I’m having fun and loving the process.

When rewriting I’ll name them things like WICYG Chapter 12.2 for the second rewrite etc. I’ll screen shot my google doc so you can see the insanity haha. Sometimes I’ll rewrite four plus times. At the end of the day I want to love what I write and do it for me. Then when I find people that like it too it makes me over the moon happy. I hope one day to have the confidence to write my original stories in my head out. Writing fics for yall has definitely helped build my confidence as a writer.Thanks again for the ask anon sorry for the life story but I’ve never told people all that and it was healing to get out.

My messy google docs 🥹 Madhouse is Sanity Last Stop lol.

[ogurizz]

my magnum opus: metalocalypse x transformers crossover

aka the most metal death metal band in the galaxy

separate designs + a bit of lore under cut

it's geared more towards metalocalypse fans, but if you haven't watched the show or don't feel like reading just enjoy the designs :)

it would be weird if they still had human names so 60% of my creativity went into making up new ones

au is based on idw 2005 comics, i'll put the canon lore into square brackets

[short history summary:

cybertron was ruled by functionists. they believed you must live according to your vehicle mode. so if you're a cement mixer, you will mix the damn cement until the end of time or else

eventually, a miner-turned-gladiator megatron said: "guys this is bullshit, everyone should have equal opportunities in life". a lot of people shared his opinion, so he gathered an army, named them decepticons, assassinated the government and the civil war broke out. it lasted four million years, a whole bunch of war crimes was committed on both sides. also megatron stopped giving a shit about equality and turned into a tyrant but that's irrelevant

post-war cybertron population was like.. 100 times smaller and had a hard time adapting to civilian life. maybe death metal wouldn't fix them but it would sure be cathartic]

SCRAGMUG, being a humble cement mixer, really vibed with megatrons ideas about equality and emancipation and all that. in reality decepticons assigned him on construction work again, with the only difference that he could get caught in artillery fire now. he compensates with making up heroic stories about losing his arm every chance he gets

war was kind of a social lift for DETONATE: he went from odd security guard jobs to elite decepticon storm troop. while he never cared about ideology, end of war still leaves him confused on what to do with his life now. therapy is for pussies, so he pours his ptsd into gory poetry on his secret datapad

he met scragmug once in a prison cell before the war, they both got into a mass brawl. the cement mixer talked his audial off while detonate stoically listened. decepticons soon opened the prison gates and scragmug left thinking they are besties for life (he didn't even get yelled at!)

DOUBLEKICK is from junkion, a literal garbage-dump of a planet where all fauna will try to eat you! its culture is 15% scavenging, 15% cannibalism and 70% earth tv. he had a pretty good relationship with his twin triplesnap, until this rat accidentally burned down an important storage building and blamed it on his bro

conveniently, decepticons were recruiting junkions at the time, so doublekick escaped the ostracism by enlisting as a mechanic. he became fast friends with scragmug and after the war they went to cybertron together, where he set up a workshop.

[short digression on spark bonds since this pair of fruits has one:

sparks are transformers' souls and hearts simultaneously, extuinguished spark = death. it's located in a spark chamber in the middle of a chest and powers the body.

there are two kinds of spark bonds: conjux endura and amica endura. first is similar to spouses, second - to best friends. to become amicas, you must perform a ritual: bare your spark to your friend, invite them to share your light and tell them how much you appreciate them :]

the guitarists are from camian, cybertron's long-lost distant colony, so the war didn't touch them at all. luckily for them, camian places a lot of value into art and culture. unluckily, it is also required to find an amica in 10 megacycles (about 93 hours!!) or face ostracisation. it's a religious thing

WINTERSUN has a total of three interests in life: flying fast, playing guitar fast, and fragging. social stigma would significantly limit the pool of sexual partners, so he chose his amica based on guitar skill. turned out this doesn't make a solid foundation for a healthy relationship. after a particularly nasty fight wintersun compulsively left for cybertron

SCRAPFANG has always dreamed of flying, he used mountains as springboards so he could get into the air for a few seconds. with this comes fangirling about planes, so he was ecstatic when a magnificent white jet became his amica, and making music together was amazing! he's determined to find wintersun, apologise and fix everything

... ok i also have a 1000 word google doc on how they all got together but no one will read that shit so i'm planning to illustrate some highlights from it. and design charles and maybe some other characters too. follow me for more robot art

+ bonus height chart, they're big boys!

[shadowxamyweek]

When you say you want Shadow to just stay home, what do you mean?

lkajsdlj Oh! Yeah, okay! I'll gladly talk about this, actually!

(For reference, I'm assuming anon is talking about this post.)

Listen, I've got... I've got a lot of opinions on a lot of different things with Sonic so please understand, I'm going to be using some strong language, but that doesn't mean I actively dislike any other headcanons.

But yeah, in case you haven't picked up on it (especially with the recent Sonic Character Ask 'chapter'), I think it was a mistake for Shadow to join GUN, and I would love to see a future where Shadow, Rouge, and Omega ultimately all leave GUN and find some freedom/autonomy in their lives again.

I can imagine Team Dark still doing things. I've written a bit about it and it still lives rent-free in my head. But even while I can imagine Team Dark still being a team (and, above all else, friends), I also just... love the idea of Shadow finally getting to relax.

When I think of a future for Shadow, I see someone who frequents the library. They take out books in so many different genres and subjects. I think Shadow would just love to read. They might not finish 'every' book they take out (they don't really have the patience for something they don't like), but they still read A LOT. I can also imagine them borrowing cds and cassettes, or listening to talk radio/podcasts. Not all the time, but sometimes, when the mood takes them and they want something to listen to.

I can see Shadow getting really into gardening. They'd want space for flowers and shrubs and trees. Fruits and vegetables can always be found there. Shadow already loves flowers, and I can see taking the time to work with their hands and get a product from it to be really cathartic for them. Gardening is also a lot of heavy, manual labor. It's physically taxing, especially when you're trying to harvest produce. It would give them a healthy outlet.

Plus, with taking care of everything they need to eat for the most part, it would largely cut back on their living costs. The occasional gig with Rouge would be more than enough to keep their bills (it's not like Rouge takes any low-paying clients anyway.)

Someone once mentioned Shadow getting into writing. I love that idea. Keeping a journal to assuage the nagging fear of forgetting again, but then slowly, as they begin to relax, they start to get artistic with it. Pressed flowers and leaves make their way between the pages, little sketches, little poems or purple prose.

Basically, I want them to find a patch of ground that is theirs, bathed in wild flowers and a big sun beam... and just feel safe enough to take a fucking nap.

[deadite-central]

Long Ring Long Land here we go!! I try to be more positive than negative during my read, but nothing is above criticism and god do I have problems with this arc

But before that, we get one last look at Cricket, a lovely conclusion to the Skypeia saga. The beginning of the arc in itself is actually pretty good!

We also get the second appearance of Doflamingo. Jaya already set him up as an unhinged guy with a weird power that forces people to act despite their wishes, and I love it when one piece villains don’t have their powers revealed from the beginning letting us think for ourselves. My personal idea when I first saw him was a fruit that turned people into puppets

He goes on about a New Era, disposing of Bellamy, who has been nothing but loyal to him, and like I said before with Crocodile, it works to set him up as a man who sees his underlings as tools to be used

Enough about Doffy, let’s go back to the Straw Hats:

The beginning of their adventure on Long Ring Long Land is pretty funny, the long ass animals are hilarious, the world building about how the island works is cool, and I love the little moments between the old man and his horse

Unfortunately, the second Foxy appears things start going downhill. The introduction of the Davy Back fights is important, but because of Foxy being a pretty nothing character, with the occasional funny gag, and his crew being absolutely unmemorable, the arc feels kinda,, empty?? I don’t know how to exactly say it but I just don’t feel any of the usual excitement or urgency, and I haven’t felt it while originally watching the anime either

The jokes are fun tho so the arc definitely has comedy going for it, and Luffy FINALLY punching Foxy to oblivion is such a cathartic moment because Foxy IS SO ANNOYING

Good thing, just like the beginning, the very ending of the arc is really good, with the introduction to Aokiji, and Robin’s character arc winding back up again, one that had been set up way back in Alabasta, and I’d call this the true start of the Water 7 saga

Speaking of what’s to come in this saga, Usopp is currently having doubts about whether or not he’s cut out for all of this, which will result in one of the most gut wrenching moments (for me at least) in this entire series

[daevstroders]

ok so i cant find the post that triggered this but it was something about complaining about the wave of cannibalism/dog/tangerine imagery in modern poetry on tumblr and how 'not everyone can relate to that'

while that may be true, and this theme of imagery is popular now to the point of oversaturation (which i actually just kind of think is poetry in and of itself (metaphors about consuming turning into overconsumption? i love it)) i also think its unfair and shows a lack of understanding to society and to the meaning of the metaphors themselves.

(an analysis of sorts under cut)

in a generation of consumption, where we are no longer regarding media casually but consuming it constantly (tiktok, shows no longer having spaced out emissions, never having to wait for a dopamine fix really etc) is it not incredibly in keeping with the times that we would then turn to a metaphor of complete consumption as love? we love our media, we spend our days consuming it, therefore that being translated into cannibalism for the ones you love, consuming them with the same gusto, isn't as far a reach as it is made out to be. also the idea of all of us, the bad parts, the parts we keep hidden, being devoured as lovingly as the parts we share, speaks to a generation of anxious children who have been trained to perfect a persona that is palatable to a wide audience (see, generation of social media)

following that, the fruit metaphor, which i will admit, can be annoying - the constant tangerines, i get it, its overdone (but again see beginning of the post, poetry in and of itself) but the act of peeling away your layers, your facade that is so intrinsic to todays society of social media where your face on the screen is generally not the same face you wear on a sunday morning, to show your mushy insides, dividing them up and sharing them with the ones you love is inherently relatable. a culture of separated parts of self, the idea that there is a person you are online, at work, with certain friends and a different person with others etc, personas that have been watered down, the idea of giving them over to be consumed with the seeds still in, juice on the edge of too sweet, is cathartic. we dont feel we have the luxury to be our authentic selves for the most part, so the tangerine metaphor is an easy way to both express these ideas, and understand them.

and finally, the dog motif, which i think is the most nuanced of these metaphors - the idea that we are either a man or a dog, that we are the hand that feeds or the hand that takes, gives us a place to explore our humanity and what it means to be human- is all that a man is good for is to give? is all that a dog is good for is to take? (i could go on but this is getting to be too long now) calls back to a lot of older imagery, not to far a step from imagery of waves, the pull of the tide - who is the moon, who is the ocean? is it a steady rise and fall, or is it a raging storm? vs is it a symbiotic relationship, or do we bite the hand that feeds? is the hand that feeds also the hand that hurts? i believe there is so many different ideas to explore within this metaphor, and it is again an easy to digest way of presenting ideas, just like the waves once were.

also i just think the whole criticism really calls back to an age of keeping poetry inaccessible and exclusive. like, these young kids who probably dont have any experience of poetry outside of what is taught in school, are exploring in their own way, finding something easily accessible and easily understood, and are using it as a stepping stone to engage with poetry. this is great!! they may start off with richard silken, nina lacour, maggie nelson, but may go on to engaging with maya angelou, naomi shihab nye, paul tran, and even have a better appreciation for the old canon (eliot, cummings, keats, etc). we had this with rupi kaur guys!!! we need to encourage them to explore, not shun them for it!!

anyway tldr, cannibalism/fruit/dogs are incredibly relatable topics and poetry is for everyone. <3

[surveillance-0011]

I was wondering if you could maybe do some Kenny high on life headcanons if you haven't already

yes ofc! im also gonna take the time to say feel free to send asks + hc requests whenever bc ill most likely get around to it even if it takes me a bit to think of things. just nothing abt the comic yet bc i'm still working on getting my copy :3c

he/him polysexual demiaroace

Big on collecting, had a huge collection of geeky merch back at home and he'd love to build that back up again asap

huge weeb huge nerd duh

Very very glad general space culture is a bit more open to the sort of things he's interested in and very very glad the Bounty Hunter is also a huge nerd

exaggerating a liitle bit of how much space loves anime but he's not far from the truth

Loves Akira and NGE. Also big on Gurren Lagen and Gundam.

Gunpla builder. glad BH, Lizzie and Gus have hands to help with this. Gene DGAF so he don't count

Likes fruit flavored candy a lot. Like anything from hi-chew to juicy drop n peach rings n stuff

More than a little impulsive and impatient. Gets restless easily.

Trusts easy, kinda gullible especially before the events of the game. Easily fell for spectacle/face value assumptions.

Generally just. doesn't read the fine print. not as observant as he could be. should be.

But also very curious very excited to learn and see new things he needs his enrichment. take him to aquarium take him to library take him to museum

Wanted to be an astronaut when he was a kid

Likes those glow in the dark stars that you can stick to walls.

Went to trade school, good with mechanical work.

In a human au he’d wear headphones with lil antenna attached

Chill with knifey if concerned by his perpetual bloodlust. Tried to get him into Chainsaw Man and Akira.

If he ever meets Harper I think things would be more than a little awkward but they would end up getting along really well. Like besties well

BUT she would kick his ass/spray him with the hose on the highest power setting in the back yard first. It's only fair.

I don't say this as "ew icky kenny must suffer" i have the idea in my head that they mutually agree to something like this since harper has repressed so many of her emotions that something weird and cathartic like this would be the only way to work through it and Kenny just decides it's better to get it all over with in this kind of self flagellating manner than deal with someone else being mad at him for years perhaps in a moment of weakness he instantly regrets but it ends up working out.

Maybe he'd feel slighted at first?? Or insecure about it?? But Harper being so buddy buddy would make him slip back into place more and feel more like it's alright in the end.

And also anime buddies. We can make this happen. we don't have to fight. peace and love

that being said...

More below the cut but warning it's all abt the whole G3 thing and uh warnings to mentions of character death, manipulation and mentions/implications of suicidal ideation.

I think Rel was taking advantage of him but it wasn't like. 100% trying to play Kenny like a fiddle. It's just that he definitely cared more about infinite ammo, a mechanic, and quirky commentator for his exploits 3-in-1 than Kenny as an individual and had no qualms about bringing him into his shady, dangerous lifestyle.

Kenny definitely let a lot of information slip to Garmantuous and the G3, under the impression that maybe they would just cooperate with the Gatlians and it would be a mutual helping sort of thing. He didn't know the extent of the G3's crimes or what they would really do to Gatlus.

I think Garm and/or Nipulon mostly pressured/ encouraged him to talk and he figured at worst they’d be pushy or get some folks on Gators into hot water

Escaped from their clutches for a while only to be recaptured. Rel became much crueler to him as a result of the attempted betrayal.

Conflict-averse, when it comes to actual social disputes.

Creature forgave him quickly. Gus and Sweezy had to gradually warm up to him and it would never really be the way it was before.

Kenny felt pretty distressed by this. didn't they know he lost everything too? Couldn't it just. be over now?

I mean. Let's be real here. Yes Kenny was manipulated and his worst crime was mostly just running away and trusting the wrong person. But when that mistake leads to something so big? Ofc it's gonna make people mad. Esp with a vague, rushed confession instead of really being able to speak his peace

And I think not wanting to tell people, only being prompted to in order to tell the story first, and that whole "you mean i didn't even have to tell anyone ermwhat the sigma!!" bit really do seem. pretty selfish. i'll admit it irks me more than just a little.

Granted I'm sure no one's thinking straight when their whole planet's been wiped off the census and I think general survival and trying to keep a stable group came before most else in Kenny's mind. And in general he wanted to get out into the world, really see it, and prove himself only to fuck up more in the end. but it's a principle sort of thing to me.

But I like to think (and definitely want to write/draw a little something about this) that he eventually managed to really talk things out and reach a slightly better middle ground. Because everyone else really suffered for his fuck up and ofc they can't just "oh it's okay" it all away. But at the same time changing the trajectory of the galaxy's politics and wellbeing as a whole, getting entire planets destroyed because of one wrong move would break anybody down.

And I think they were getting somewhere before he. well. vanished off the face of the Earth

I read that reunion with Lez as a sort of reconciliation but I'm not sure if Kenny ever forgave himself for fucking up his friend's life like that.

I think Lezduit is relatively lucid if a bit dazed + confused, just unable to speak verbally. At the very least he's got a general idea of where he is what's goin on etc. And I think he did forgive Kenny but I'm sure if / when he is/was still aware of everything he'd still feel grim about stuff. If he could he'd totally just tell Kenny it would be better to be honest

And I think when Kenny first confessed everything Lez really wanted to tell him he could have been honest about all his doubts. Lezduit never thought he was a fuck up after all.

I'm honestly interested in the idea that maybe the Bounty Hunter didn't drop him, or that that was only half the problem; maybe he let himself fall or wriggled out of holster/grasp during a bout of guilt and doubt to just say fuck it and start over.

Or maybe not to start anything new at all and just. end it. That's dark but after everything maybe during a stressful mission it just all got to him and he freaked out and make that knee-jerk decision.

Though I'm sure he's survived and in my mind he's currently trying his damndest to make his way back to the Bounty Hunter.

i still like my prediction, as contrived as it may be, that Lizzie ends up finding him now that she's off on her own, too, and you end up reuniting with them both.

I mean. they're still using him for promo shit. there's no way he's GONE gone, they're probably just looking for a new VA and making sure the story fits together now.

And he is missed. By Creature definitely, by Gus yes even though he's not quick to admit it, and totally not Sweezy nooo why would you think that nooo why does she get kind of quiet and solemn when she goes to make fun of him and remembers he's not there noooo naur ahaha wtf are you talking about.

Knifey has also been like "Man i miss that blue bugger shame he's probably dead' and freaked everyone else the fuck out for a little bit

Lez doesn't know he's gone but I'm sure if/when the news reaches them it would be a small bout of mild panic (read: Major, major panic covertly expressed as " :O uh oh") but as much as they worry they'd kind of also just be like "eh he'll turn up somewhere". Happened before, and he's sure the Kenny he knows will tough it out. Not necessarily or primarily denial, mind you. I mean a real, genuine faith here. Lezduit knows his friend.

[mrfancyfoot]

Patchwork Plots

Woohooo! Celebrating my 500 kudos milestone on Patchwork Plots so have some fluff!

💕I even caught the flip from 499 💕

Potentially planning something for the 10k hits milestone that's coming up faaast.

Drabble 33 - Knifeplay

Read Patchwork Plots on AO3 | Fic Rating: Explicit | Pairing: Astarion/f!OC/Halsin

In which Astarion slowly starts to discover that he enjoys the process of cooking.

Drabble rating: G Warnings: None

Astarion halfheartedly flipped through the cookbook that Evie had set out on one of the tables near the main campfire that she used to prepare meals for the camp.

“You wanna learn?”  From prior conversations, Evie knew he knew absolutely nothing about cooking or much of anything food-related that wasn’t blood.  Aside from fancy factoids gleaned here and there to impress others - a number of which she had challenged for accuracy - it simply wasn’t information he had needed to know since becoming a vampire.

But he desperately needed another damn hobby out here.  Or he could at least busy himself helping her out if he was just going to hover.

He pulled back with a scoff - the cover of the heavy, worn book closing with a thud - and looked down his nose at her as though the very idea was preposterous.  “I don’t eat, so why would I?  It would be a waste of my time, darling.”

Maybe a change of perspective would work?  Appeal to a certain…homicidal side of him?

She turned and leaned her hip on the table as she slowly ran her finger up and down the dull back of her chef’s knife.  “‘Cuz it’s fun.  You get to stab things.  And beat things.  And play with fire.  And there’s often lots of cursing.  And begging.  And it can be messy.  And sometimes you get to be artsy with it and make it look all nice.  I don’t eat even half of what I make, but it feels nice to have others eating what I make.  It’s cathartic!”  Looking around the ingredients she’d gotten out to make a hearty stew, Evie grabbed a tomato to demonstrate.  “Here, this needs to be stabbed into small cubes.  Ish.  Shape doesn’t really matter.  It just needs to be small pieces of tomato, so how it gets there doesn’t really matter since none of us are fucking Gordon Ramsey.”  She set the tomato on the cutting board and started going through the motions to dice it with her knife.  His eyes followed the motion of the blade.

He might have been uninterested at first, but she saw the subtle changes as he crept closer while she began prepping that night’s supper.  She re-opened the cookbook to the recipe she wanted to reference and he scanned over it.

When he was leaning over her shoulder to watch, Evie asked, “You wanna try?”  She set a large tomato on the cutting board and offered up her knife.

He stared at it for a long moment and then hesitantly took the blade, inspecting its shape and weight in his hand.  Taking her place, he stood over the fruit and moved it this way and that to determine the best way to start.  A couple minutes later, it was finely diced in a fashion that honestly looked better than the somewhat careless, rough-shod job she’d done - it was going into a stew after all, it didn’t need to look even or nice, she justified.

“Good job!  Wanna do another?”  She swept the cut tomato into a bowl off to the side and set another on the board.  His eyes widened at the praise and he hastily grabbed hold of the next one to cut.

.

.

Gale, who had been silently watching the last several minutes, stepped up next to her with his arms crossed as she prepared the stew base and quietly asked, “What magic is he under for you to have pulled this?”

She turned to Gale and whispered back, “Kinda thought he’d go a bit more wild with it, to be honest.”  Astarion was most certainly playing with the food given the unwavering, fixated stare as he leaned closely over the fruit - the occasional flash of a smug smile gave that away.  With dextrous precision, he carefully and very quickly had turned several tomatoes and an onion from whole to perfectly shaped, identical cubes and slivers.

Evie grabbed the rest of the large tomatoes and placed them on the edge of the cutting board for Astarion.  The diced tomato cubes were unceremoniously swiped into a bowl as his eyes fell upon the new fruit.  He happily plucked one up and his knife drew across it.

Pulling over another pair of large bowls, she tossed another onion and a bunch of potatoes in one, silently setting it within his reach, and set the other on the other side of him empty.

“Think I could get him to help me?” Gale grinned with a chuckle. Evie hushed him - the last thing she wanted was to pull Astarion from the little slice-n-dice fixation he was in while there was still so much that needed cut up.  “Baby steps,” she warned, plucking sprigs of herbs from her supply to chop up and add to the stew pot.

Read Patchwork Plots on AO3

[downinthehull]

Hi there! I hope you’re doing okay :) 

I’ve been watching a lot of those cute lunch box packing videos, and it made me think that Stede would totally jump on that idea for his boys! Obviously Ed and Izzy (or whoever, for that matter) wouldn’t be going to school, but I think for picnics n stuff, Stede would pack the cutest lunches in the cutest fancy containers! And he would have little things to cut sandwiches into cute shapes and animals and all that!

Also, just wanted to say that I love your blog and ao3 so much, and everything you write is so cathartic and sweet <3

hi there matey! thank you, i am doin a little bit better now xx

an thank you so much!!! T-T that really does mean a lot! it makes me so happy to have people enjoy all my silly ideas an fics about all these lil guys 🥺 <3

and oh my gosh-that is so cute! i can definitely see stede packing cute lunches for ed and izzy!!!

stede would see a few of those videos pop up and think, 'Oh, they would love that!'. he'd be so confident and excited, picking out all the cutest containers/lunchboxes he can find!

as i've previously established, stede isn't the greatest cook, so the lunches would really only have the bare essentials-but ed and izzy don't mind! they care more about the fun shapes their sandwiches are and all the cute little ways their fruit is sliced! the fun shapes definitely improve how much of their lunch is eaten, because stede is almost surprised to find that both of them had eaten almost everything!

stede sucks at cooking, but he would be so excited and giddy making the lunches. he loves using fun cookie cutters to shape all the fruits differently, and he loves knowing that his work is going to make his little ones happy <3

stede would also be the sorta carer to put little love notes in their lunches! he of course keeps them relatively simple, sometimes only putting a heart on izzy's if he's feeling smaller.

the first time he tried to write a small love note, it had quickly turned into some sort of love letter-and he had to start all over, with something much simpler (still giving ed or izzy the note he wrote once they've aged up).

he just loves doing something that he knows will make his small guys happy :> and maybe one day he'll be able to do something past regular sandwiches, fruit, etc.

[wondrouswendy]

🍎 for the fruit game. I'm always a day late on these things.

I just appreciate being asked questions. There's no time limit on asking. So thank you for asking anon!

🍎 Is there anything you straight-up won’t write?

I try to avoid pairings I don't particularly like because my time is finite. I'm a firm believer in NOTPs. I just tend to stay in my lane with regard to what I like writing and reading.

I tend to avoid unhappy endings, not because I don't think there's merit to them, it's just not what I enjoy writing. I prefer to write "earn your happy ending" stories. Hero's journey and all that. On the flipside, I do sometimes read stories with unhappy endings, but it's very rare for me to commit to a long story that has that.

More detailed discussion about squicks and whatnot under the cut.

I won't write vore, incest, explicit domestic violence, characters outright cheating on each other. Overall, the usual squicks. I don't seek out this kind of content either. With regard to dub/non-con, I typically don't write either explicitly.

Implied references to something traumatic happening? Yes, if it's appropriate for the story and I feel I can handle it tactfully. I won't avoid writing about sensitive topics, but I try to approach them with a serious mindset. And, of course, I would warn appropriately for this kind of content.

The list of what I'm comfortable writing versus what I'm comfortable reading has some differences, though. Like for example, there's a story I'm working on that will feature a character with terminal cancer. Writing about this topic feels cathartic to me, but I probably would avoid reading about cancer in someone elses' story because it's a trigger for me.

There's probably other topics I could go into further, but overall, with regard to sensitive topics, I try to approach them with nuance. If I don't feel capable of respectfully handling them, I don't include them in my stories.

[writer59january13]

Sebaceous glands connected to follicles secrete an oily substance called sebum

With a title deeply rooted in subject matter iterated above invariably makes for hair raising poem, though I immediately attest said material constitutes atypical topic the writing process (with intent to share bizarre pet peeve) mildly cathartic to ameliorate long established body dysmorphia, (which lifelong aversion

about how body electric of mine - a corporeal entity housing an aging baby boomer wordsmith), steeped with lifetime worth of disproportionate outsize importance linkedin to those fibrous harried styled brunette strands sustained courtesy by tiny blood vessels at the base of every follicle buzzfeeding the hair root to keep it growing. But once the hairs becomes visible (not just on my chinny chin chin), but more so at the skin's surface, the cells within the strand of hair aren't alive anymore. The hair you see on every part of your body contains dead cells. Nevertheless empirical evidence witnessed bajillion dollar industries, where many an entrepreneur made a bundle of money buttressing caparisoning oneself aspiring to attain exemplification towards how western civilization (and subsequently webbed wide world) defines contrived beautify. Yours truly (particularly during his emotionally tumultuous adolescence) for all intents and purposes most all each of his life long journey into night,

he considered himself afflicted with obsessive compulsive behavior in general, and incongruous objection

with arbitrary template of attraction (as applies to the male species) in particular. As a cute little boy with strawberry blonde hair kept cropped short to scalp acquired motherly endearment of "little monkey," accompanied courtesy pinch of cheeks yet outgrew both imposition of buzz cut and appellation, yet bananas as passion fruit never faded but parental decree to schedule appointments with barber became vehemently reviled. I vaguely recollect demonstratively niggling, remonstrating, and voicing strong objection, ne protestation against getting a haircut (in tandem with gesticulations) as aladdin upper grades of elementary school, whereby parents quickly relented allowing, enabling, and providing their singular sole son opportunistic fostering unhealthy relationship growing his long luscious locks with what in short order became nonestablishmentarian true trademark. Fixation as a vitamin junkie peculiarly evolved whereby ingesting over the counter supplements (despite evidence to the contrary)

buzzfeeds limp tresses lacking pseudo/quasi Jewfro (a curly, frizzy, or bushy hairstyle

worn by some Jewish people,

reminiscent of an Afro) sported by yours truly

during his emerging adulthood.

[alchaeus]

Pie, (XII, XIII, ect)

noun [c] 1 a: a dessert consisting of a filling (as of fruit or custard) in a pastry shell or topped with pastry or both

i baked a pie.

i dont like pie, but i did it.

i had people to share it with, and they all ate it for me. Kinda ironic.

pie is made up of many pieces, its meant to be cut up and given to people. Its the way i see myself, Noone has me for the “whole” of me, simply the pieces of myself i give to them. But theres smth cathartic about sharing myself with multiple people.

Even if i still suck at trusting, i trust that people like the pieces of myself i let them have :)

I saw my friend dance today.

I dont think ive ever seen her dance before. She was so lively and laughed with all of her teeth, shes always been pretty but in that moment she was everything. I remember when there was a time where noone except me knew she had such a pretty laugh and now everyone knows it and everyone sees her smile and i am so happy

i think i’ll be okay.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Seven Hundred & Sixty-One Days (Part 3)

You all knew it was coming…

Read Part 1 here & Part 2 here

Elain POV. 1.2k words. 

Sweat beaded at her temples despite it being the middle of winter and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. Beneath the layers and layers of clothing she had bundled herself in, Elain’s skin had become damp with perspiration from hours of toiling in the sprawling gardens of the River Estate.

She’d been up before dawn, roused from sleep, panting and incredulous to what her subconscious mind had shown her. After that… particular scene, there was nothing she could do to calm her erratically pounding heart. So, ignoring the heat across her cheeks, the longing in her chest, the honeyed desire coiling deep in her gut, she stubbornly shoved it right down and threw herself into her day instead.

She had already baked several loaves of bread for when the remainder of the household arose. They didn’t usually require so many loaves in a day, but kneading and pommeling dough had proven to be extra cathartic this morning. She had baked, decorated and garnished a fluffy bunt cake utilizing the excess of vibrant citrus fruit currently available, complete with a thick lemon sugar syrup and candied orange slices. She had pruned back the wimpy summer growth from the wisteria and covered the remaining buds in burlap, and was currently working on her roses. Cutting back branches to just above the bud, readying them for spring time to ensure a magnificent flowering season.

Snip, thud. Snip, thud. She found with every branch she pruned that fell to the ground, her fraying nerves only grated on her further. The laborious work she had subjected herself to all morning was not having the desired effect. She scowled, cursing her traitorous, wandering mind.

She had become very proficient at casting aside her dreams, her visions, if and when they came to her. The visions had not been particularly frequent, usually appearing to her in small cryptic glimpses that she could not decipher, or images that were quickly swallowed in plumes of shadow. Hypnotic, beautiful, swirling shadow.

But this dream… this dream had been different. It had felt so real. The feelings it elicited so genuine— if her body’s physical reaction to it was anything to go by. Could she call it a dream? Or was it indeed a vision? 

No. 

She wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on it. Not for a damned minute. Not after all the tears and heartache she had wasted on Graysen. Not after…him. But if it had been a vision, would this mean it could still come to fruition? Oh goodness. The way he had gazed up at her, pleaded with her, the yearning she saw in his eyes. As if—as if, he loved her. And it pained him--

No! No. 

She shook her head to clear those thoughts. They served her no favour.

Snip, thud. Snip, thud. The dormant branches of the rose bushes fell before her feet, dry and brittle, patiently awaiting the natural turn of seasons to be enabled to awaken once more.  Quietly anticipating the rejuvenating warmth of spring to breathe life back into their slumbering branches and allow the small sleeping buds to flourish and bloom. She continued to prune. They fell to her feet before her, just like he had fallen to his knees before her. And then he had… he had—

She groaned in annoyance, her mind not rutting letting go of the utterly sinful images revealed to her in the dead of night. Throwing her secateurs away in frustration, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Spots formed behind her closed eyelids as she willed herself to Let. It. Go.  

He does not love you. He does not need you. He doesn’t even bother to seek you out anymore. She chastised herself, pushing and clawing at the eddying thoughts of him, dragging them down, down, down to the deepest, darkest part of her. A small, precious, secret little chamber carved out of her soul, especially for him… only him. 

She attempted to stuff the thoughts back inside. 

She had had enough. Enough of giving men—males-- any more attention than they deserved. Enough of allowing her mind to be overrun with incessant thoughts of them. All of them, rogues! The lot of them. She didn’t need the heartache. She didn’t need anyone. Not at all.

But Gods, Gods- she wanted him.

No, she didn’t need anyone. She had imparted that wisdom upon herself months and months ago. But she could still want. Did still want. Positively ached with want. She wasn’t all surprised her subconscious had indecently fed her those dreams; Azriel on his knees, his beautiful wings unfurled powerfully behind him, feasting on her as if he were a man starved, as if he had been left to famish for weeks and months in one of those dungeons she knew he occasionally serviced in the Hewn City. The way he moaned at her taste like it meant something.

She blushed at the memory of those images. Blushed and burned. Burned with desire deep in her gut for the male she couldn’t help but want. Burned with shame, for her lingering human sensibilities told her she ought to not want for such things. And burned with resolve. Unyielding, steely resolve. For she was no longer human. And she was in charge. She oversaw her own destiny, regardless of what others may think her capable of.

She was, sadly, no stranger to being underestimated. Her whole life, she had been underestimated. By her mother, and their friends in the village, and Graysen, even Feyre and Nesta. Elain, so pretty she doesn’t need to be clever. So docile, nothing great will ever come of her. So loyal, she will always do as we please.

But she had learnt to use others’ oversights to her advantage. Had learnt to let people believe their precepted weaknesses of hers, had adapted to allow these prejudices in fact be her strength.

Let them think of her as simple, and beautiful, and meek. Let them be unaware of the claws that lurk beneath the pretty façade. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. That’s what she was. Let them forget it was she that slayed the King of Hybern. That it was she who wielded that knife and was willing to cleave her soul in two defending those that she loved most.

She understood now there was strength inside her that was born from a different place than that of her sisters. A different strength than Nesta’s fiery rage and warriors’ acumen, than Feyre’s impartial fairness and just leadership. Her strength was in her ability to always see. And not just See with the Sight that blasted Cauldron had gifted her with, but truly see people. See their hearts. See their motives, and their goodness, their longing and desires.

If only someone had ever bothered to see her.

No one ever saw her. Not really. Except him… He saw her. He had looked. At least—she thought he had.

She signed heavily through her nose and willed the thoughts to be expelled from her mind with the breath she released, stuffed those thoughts into that tiny secret chamber deep within her and closed the lid. Silencing it once more. 

Elain marched over to where she had thrown her secateurs, picking them up off the soggy ground and diligently returned to her work.

She didn’t feel the tortured pair of hazel eyes watching her from a second story window within the manor behind her. Didn’t see how they were plagued with anguish, sleeplessness, over her.

She instead immersed herself in her garden, her roses, for the remainder of the bleak winter day. Continued cutting away at the brittle, dormant branches. Snip, thud. Snip, thud.

*******

Tagging: @the-laughing-bubble