#more gray than brown nowadays

[sexbot300]

a/n: in light of recent events (im crying) heres a short drabble I made of getting your pussy ate by choso, written in under 30 minutes teehee.

choso kamo was certain about a lot of things. he was certain that his brothers liked specific foods, that specific days of the week offered the best coupon deals at the grocery store, that wool is a better fabric for sweaters than scratchy polyester and he was more than certain that being between your thighs was his own personal heaven.

well– at least that’s what he imagined to be certain of. countless and countless of times did you show up in his home, complaining about how no men nowadays “know” how to take care of a woman in bed. all he could do is furrow his eyebrows on the couch that you sit adjacent to him, wondering how in the hell men get the opportunity to get into bed with you and don’t worship every last second of it.

clearing his throat while turning to the tv, his muscular pale arms spanning out on the cushions of the couch behind you. wearing a black compression shirt that highlighted every rigid of his well-built body, gray sweatpants hanging loosely down on his sculpted v-line. “well, not all of them are. they’re just not me.”

sitting your body upright leaning slightly away from him as his face was still glued to the fluorescent-lit box. slightly scoffing, “oh really kamo?”

tilting his head to the side, leaning against his bulging bicep, his brown eyes bore into yours. whispering silently, “yeah. really.” his eyes wore an expression of tiredness, purple decorated his half-lidded eyes. it would be a crime not to give into him right then and there.

giggling while shaking your head, “fine choso.” you roll your eyes melodramatically. “bet you can make me cum in under 10 minut-“

his eyes still trailing every dramatic movement, he found himself enticed by every little expression made on your face. wherever you moved, his eyes followed in complete awe. cutting you off completely, “give me 5 minutes with my tongue.”

that’s where you found yourself withering on that very couch, legs overthrown on his broad shoulders. god knows where your panties were located and now your own self-respect. because the way this man was working his tongue up against your clit had you questioning why you haven’t done this sooner.

“a-ah! c-choso! too m’ch!” fingers gripped firmly on his hair that now fell loosely on his back, out of his usually buns framing his devastatingly handsome face. soaked with your sex, your slick coated from the tip of his nose to his entire chin. eyes even more half-lidded, they stared directly in your soul while his plush lips engulfed your clit. sucking harshly, eliciting lewd wet noises as he tongue would circle around the pearl in hungry motions.

“t-that’s fine.” he started, pussy drunk as his nose dipped against your clit that now detached from his tongue. his tongue now probed at the entrance of pussy never fully fucking his entire muscle into you, slowly taunted the hole that clenched at nothing. “better than not enough huh?”

dipping his head in even further, he brought a large hand up to your stomach, pressing down causing you to squirm. quickly shoving his nose deeper in your throbbing clit, his tongue fully penetrated your clenching hole. bobbing back and forth, fucking his tongue into you.

“c-cant cho!” squirming around your body convulsed as this man ruthlessly fucked his tongue into you, “no. you can… you will.” his words come out muffled, as he pushes himself out before lapping up and down your folds like a madman and then pushing his tongue back in to your sopping core.

this elicits a mean, mean cycle of choso constantly fucking you on his tongue, to straight up messily making out with your cunt, to using his mouth to engulf your clit as your own section toy. only leaving you with moans of; “oh choso!” “d-don’t stop, so fucking! mhpm! good! ah!” swirling his tongue against your bud, the penetration of two, thick, long fingers began to curve upright instantly hitting the sweet spot you needed. “y-you! uhhh! liar!” head hitting back the back of the couch, as eyes rolled back into your head. in a whiny pathetic whimper, “you saaaaah! said, only t-ah! tongue!”

“ch-cho! ah!” hooking one bicep under your thigh, the knot of release was the only thing clouding your judgement. “t-that’s…” suck! “it” lick! “just cum on my fingers and tongue…” moaning into your cunt, his eyes dazed as he ruthlessly pumps his fingers in and out while his mouth abuses your swollen clit. “don’t blame me that my fingers wanted to play with your cute little pussy.”

as your body sporadically twitches underneath him, clawing everywhere from the cushions underneath to his hair. he finds his free hand pinning both of your hands down, while his fingers scissor in and out, up and down. his body quickly adapting to how fast your moving, moaning like a whore. his whore.

“ah! no! CAN’T choso! this is it! ahhhhhh fu’kkkkk!”

“you can.” he maintained eye contact with you. his eyes almost black from the pupil dilation, this wasn’t your regular choso. this was the face of a man starved of pussy. his voice grew huskier while in the folds of your cunt, “and you will.” middle and ring finger start vehemently fucking into you, curving them upwards while he went up and down your contracting walls. only the lewd noises of your juices, moans, and choso’s fingers fucking you filled the room. within an instant, a slow gush of liquid starting squiring out of your pussy. taken you back by surprise.

“thereee we go. see? wasn’t so bad.. just let me take care of you from here on out, show you that I’m not just any man. I’m the only man you need.”

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: we’re oranges and apples now

paring: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you and grayson broke up years and years ago after a long and happy relationship but one day you meet again in the future and the memories come flooding back…

parts: we’re apples and oranges now (your pov)

warnings:

a/n: this is we’re apples and oranges now but reversed in Grayson’s POV, you’ll notice this mirrors the other fic quite a bit, this is intentional!!

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zoyaaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

Grayson’s POV

I was wandering around the shops cluelessly. Cluelessly is never a word I thought I’d describe myself with. Grayson Hawthorne was not a clueless man but nowadays I seemed to becoming less and less like Grayson Hawthorne than ever. I check the list of items I’d been asked to purchase and gather most of the things I need. I find myself in the fruit aisle, picking up various berries when I spot some oranges. Not my particular favourite but I decide to get some anyway. As I’m picking some I’m suddenly aware of someone beside me. I glance from the corner of my eye. She’s recognisable in an odd sort of way. I couldn’t quite see her face but something about her presence, the way she’s breathing, her careful movements, it’s all so familiar. It’s like I’d seen her so many times but couldn’t place my finger on who she is. I ignore the puzzle my brain is trying to make this and focus on the oranges in my hands. She’s buying apples, placing one by one in a brown paper bag. I’m just about to put the final orange in the bag when suddenly I feel her bump into me. I see hands fly to her mouth and her eyes widen.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!”

Her voice hits me like a train and I realise who she is. Why she was so recognisable. The left side of my chest fills with warmth that spreads across my whole body and suddenly my heart is pounding. I’m frozen for a second, not knowing what to say until I blurt out her name.

“Y/N!”

I stand up properly to make sure it’s really her. She’s stood there still, not moving, not blinking, I don’t even know if she’s breathing. She seems to be ina state of paralysis for a few moments. She looks up finally and murmurs my name.

“Gray?”

I chill runs down my spine, it’s been so long since I’ve heard my names from those lips. Her lips. The ones I used to kiss and now look at us. Too flustered for each other’s good in the fruit aisle of a grocery stores. Her hair spills around her face, framing her beautiful features. It’s like I’m looking at her for the first and last time all over again. The odd feelings of desire and pain mixing up into some messy soup in the pit of my stomach. As our eyes meet, a lifetime of love flashes before me. Memories that had been buried deep into the darkest parts of my mind begin to resurface and play like a mini movie. Over and over and over, like the film tape was stuck in the camera and no more of the story could make it through. She looks just like I remembered yet not quite. The months I’d spent moping over her, dreaming of her features, once drawing her just from memory. And now she was here infront of me. I wonder what she might be thinking. If she were thinking about the past we’d been through or the present were in now. Or maybe it’s neither, maybe I’m not even on her mind.

“Wow it’s really you,” I say. I want to smile, but I can’t will myself too, it feels in my gut like some sort of betrayal… but I don’t know who to. My wife? My children? Myself? Her?

It’s so odd seeing her again. Part of her was always somehow engraved into the side of my heart. Even when it was all over, the scarred name was still there and right now I can feel it throbbing. I don’t know whether the pain is good or bad but it just feels so natural for it to occur. I’d thought I was over this, over her, over the feeling but now I can see her again I don’t feel so powerful over my own swarm of thoughts as I did when she wasn’t staring at me with those angel eyes. She’s everything I’d remembered. Perfection doesn’t even begin to outline what she looks like. She looks a little older, a little more mature but I dare say it’s made her even prettier. She has the same gorgeous eyes, bright smile, soft hair. All those nights I’d spent gazing at her while she slept, tracing the very features that I stare at now. Then I’d taken them for granted, assumed that I’d be able to do that forever but now I just take them in slowly, processing this might be the last time I see them.

A question plays on the tip of my tongue, but it had already died long before in my throat, so I don’t ask it. Even though my heart is screaming for me to just be brave for once, my brain declines once again. My eye flicker down to get a glimpse of her left hand. I am guilty, but I have to know if she’s found someone new. Someone who’s given her what she deserves, the things that I couldn’t. But her left hand is gripping the basket so tightly that her fingers and any rings are hidden behind the handle and the white of her knuckles. So I’m left staring at the items in her basket. Baby bottles and blankets. My heart plummets down to my stomach. Was she expecting? Or had she already had her child? It’s funny, I’d always thought if she’d ever had a baby it would be mine. Suddenly this revelation makes me angry. She is having it has had a baby with someone. She’s a mother and not to my children. It stings so much more than it should. Like antiseptic on a fresh wound. But what hurts more than that is that I don’t know these things about her anymore. I don’t know her life, all the exciting moments and even the painful ones. And I’m never going to. It’s never going to be what it was and it’s all my fault. I let it all slip away and now I’m full of regret,

And then the blow of guilt hits me out of no where again. As if a shell has exploded right in front of me and I’ve been blown to smithereens. I should’ve be feeling regret. I have my own a life now with a woman a love, who is now called my wife. I have kids and a car and a steady income. And she has her life. I’m selfish, I’m so bitterly selfish for wanting what I can’t have when I already have so much… and yet it still doesn’t stop me.

Her hand shifts hold on the basket and then I see it. An engagement ring and a wedding band. Classy and classic. I expect nothing less, of course. That’s her taste. It always has been and I’m glad she’s find someone who respects that, who acknowledges it. But it’s grating at me… if we had still been together would she have gotten the same set or would it be different. I wish I didn’t care this much. I shouldn’t care this much. It’s a piece of damn mental and yet it’s suddenly the only thing on my mind. I’m ridden with a horrible vicious jealousy, spreading like an ugly rash all over my skin. I’m jealous of whatever man put these rings on her finger, whatever man got the luxury of calling her his wife. I’m disgusted in myself for feeling this way because she looks happy. Happier than ever. And I want that for her more than anything. She deserves to be the happiest girl in the world. But I wish I could’ve made her this happy. But I failed. And this is my punishment. I have my own life now and so does she, so I keep having to remind myself. Why is the concept so hard for me to grasp?

I wonder about her husband. It’s hard to picture her with someone else. I think about all the things I hope he is to her. Was he the kindest soul on the planet? Would he do anything and everything for her? Did he treat her like she deserved more than the world? I hoped, I prayed he was. And even though I’m trying to forbid it to, my mind still wanders on… Was he anything like I was? Or did I scar her so badly that he was my opposite? What made her choose him? Fall for him harder than she’d fallen for me? What made his love worth fighting for?

I look back to her face and inwardly sigh. I doubt she was doing this. Mulling over me and my life like I am hers. Overthinking every detail, wondering who she’s married to and why. She’s too kind, too mature. I only wish I could have the decency to do the same, but it’s pricing difficult. Though, I catch her eyeing my wedding ring. And suddenly a pang hits my stomach and I want to tell her so many things that I can’t. I wish I could tell her I didn’t dare engrave the initials in the metal, like we’d one discussed. I didn’t for one second think of doing that with anyone but her. I wanted to tell her that I drove all the way out to a jewellers in another town just so I wouldn’t go to the same one we once did. I wanted to tell her that I kept the promise rings we’d made together and I still have them in a box under the roof of my house. But I stay silent because I am a coward.

“Yeah, gosh, hi, how have you been?” she asks. The first thing I notice is how radiant she looks, the brightness in her eyes and joy in her voice. ‘She’s happy’ I think again and that makes me smile a little.

“Good, I’m good,” I reply, “how are you?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “good as well.”

“It’s been a while,” i say, forcing a laugh to hide the resurfacing pain. It was easier like that.

“Yeah it has,” she grins back, her eyes pinned to mine. She looks so delicate in this moment and so unbelievably beautiful, “it’s about time we’d bump into each other.”

“Yeah,” I reply, gazing at her trying to suppress my smile. But it seems to not obey and suddenly I’m grinning like I haven’t in a very long time, not since we were together I don’t think.

A menagerie of memories replay in my head, but it feels like I’m a bystander in every scene, watching another version of myself with her. A wave of deja vu envelopes me suddenly sending tingles down my spine. I don’t like what she does to me, I don’t like feeling so far from myself and yet I miss her so much. And just as if she’s reading my thoughts she says three fateful words that I’ll never forget,

“I’ve missed you,” she says rather suddenly.

Those words hit me like a bus, in the best way possible. In fact I wish to be hit with that bus over and over and over just to feel the impact.

“I’ve missed you too,” I say, hoping she can hear the meaning in my voice, see the emotion in my eyes.

The tide of bittersweetness roll in and out slowly, unsurely, indecisively. And even though the water is only up to my ankles I’m suddenly drowning. Drowning in the most minuscule amount of water because my mind is making it out to be so much more than it is. A unswallowable lump forms in my throat in this prolonged silence. My eyes refuse to leave her face, the very face I left all those years ago. She wears the same expression as that night. One of the worst nights of my life. Her eyes are wide, a borderline of hurt and happiness. I still have nightmares to this day, it’s one moment of us together that I never wish to relive. The silence makes me ache all over, craving her voice once more. I want to forget about the history and bury it right next to the pain and trauma that have been buried for years now. But making this quiet somewhat bearable is the silent conversation we share. We know each other well enough to do so. A shared moment the saddest of happiness and the happiest of sadness all at once.

A call comes through on my phone and I look down to the buzzing device to see it’s my wife. Guilt surges through me once again.

“Well I’d best get going,” I tell her quickly.

I need to get away. Even though all I want to so is stand her for the rest of time just to hear her voice and see her face. She’s my drug, she always has been and always will be. But I gave up a long time ago and I can’t go back to what I was, to who I was. So I need to run and rehabilitate, so I don’t get addicted again. A coward of a man is all I am, but I least I laid my eyes on her beauty once more before I never did again.

“Yeah me too,” she nod firmly, confidently.

She holds herself with so much more pride now, she knows how much she’s worth and I can see it. I’m glad.

“Goodbye Y/N,” I murmur, savouring the feeling of her name on my lips, “I wish you all the best.”

And I did. Truly I did. I wanted her to have everything she ever could dream of and then more.

“Bye Gray,” she says with a small smile that I never realised how much I’d missed seeing, “I wish you the same.”

We turn and walk our separate ways, apples in her basket, oranges in mine. I take the call from my wife and then wander aimlessly down different aisles not knowing what I was doing or where I was going anymore. Until it had been an hour and I finally made it back home. As soon as I can I get into the shower and break down. A sob silently as the water droplets run down my body, until the lungs ache and my head screams at me to stop. And even then it’s hard to. I can’t shake the regret, I can’t shake the pain, I can’t shake her voice and her face from my brain. I quietly wonder if she cried too… no. She’s far too strong. I pull myself together for the sake of the life I lead now and force myself not to think of her.

The oranges rot in the fruit bowl. I don’t think I would’ve eaten them when they were fresh anyway, I’ve never liked their immediate sourness and then the thick sugary aftertaste left to coat my throat. The next time I go to the shop I buy apples instead of oranges hoping she’d be there too, but she never was. I find myself wondering if the next time she went to the shop she bought oranges rather than apples in hope to see me. But I suppose it will remain one of the worlds’ greatest mysteries and I will never find the answer, no matter how hard I try…

a/n: I gave Gray’s pov a shot?? Don’t know how successful it was, but I hope you enjoyed anyways. Thanks for reading 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 31

anakin x reader

A/N: once again i’m v sorry (i feel like i have to say this every time i post nowadays) but i just wanna thank you all for your continued support- it means the world to me :)

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel

warnings: cursing, disabled character, insecurity

___________________________

The comforting aroma of Anakin’s gray keurig filled the flat; both of you had gotten up early for different reasons.

You were starting your classes again- thankfully you were able to switch to finishing out the year virtually after you explained your situation to the academic dean. 

Anakin had to get up because he was interviewing part-time caretakers for himself (not that he even wanted one).

Since you were at home too, you listened in on the questions he asked and his attitude towards the workers, just in case you needed to step in. 

“No I don’t need assistance with everything- I’m not fucking helpless” Anakin huffed in annoyance at the younger caretaker on the screen; they couldn’t have been much older than yourself.

She had been speaking to him a bit condescendingly though, but still-he needed to keep his temper in check. 

“Ani” you called in a hushed tone. 

His blue eyes observed your expression and he sighed, “My apologies- it's been a long few weeks”. 

The interview concluded not long after and Anakin frustratingly shut his laptop before burying his face in his stiff hands. “Fuuck… This is annoying” he groaned as you waltzed over to the counter and placed an assuring hand on his back. 

“I know Ani, but it's a necessity right now” 

The past few days had been full of Anakin being his normal prickly self and scaring away or offending possible candidates- it was becoming exhausting to have to moderate his interviews but you knew this was also not something he was very comfortable with.  

He leaned into you and you placed a comforting arm around his broad shoulders. He breathed in a sigh before turning his face to press a delicate kiss into your side.

“Thank you for everything sweetheart- I know I’m a lot, but I really am trying for us” he said as you ran your fingers through his fluffy hair. 

You placed a kiss to the back of his head and rubbed his back soothingly, “I know, Ani”. 

_______________________________________

Anakin’s heart drummed against his ribcage as he sat in the oh-so familiar hospital grade recliner chair. But he wasn’t here for himself (for the first time in a long time) instead, he was here to finally meet his children.

Enough time had passed that he was strong enough to see them and possibly hold them; he’d been waiting for this moment ever since he knew they made it. 

He- Anakin Skywalker- was a father. Not just of one, but two! 

He remembered the day the doctor told him and Padme it was nearly impossible- he could still feel his heart shattering; he had always been a passionate lover and wanted to create life with whomever he decided to love. And now his dreams were a reality; he created two little angels with you.

Anxiously, he bounced his leg as he tried to calm his breathing. What if he wasn’t suited for this? What if they didn’t get along with him? What if-

Suddenly, your hand grounded him; he turned to see your smiling face, “It’s all going to be ok Ani. I promise”. 

Nothing could soothe his worries like your sweet voice; he nodded and pressed a kiss to your lips. Not long after, the door opened and the nurse wheeled in a cart holding the twins into the small room. 

“And here are the little ones now,” she smiled.

Anakin sat straight up in his seat (or as straight as he could) and his heart began to race. This was real- his children were right in front of him. 

The twins had been doing well and were finally off of the oxygen machine. The boy’s light hair was slowly growing in, whereas the girl already had a full head of soft, wispy, brown hair. They were both very small for their age, but were at least consuming more nutrients on the daily than before. 

They were beautiful. 

The short woman rolled the cart in front of the chair Anakin was sitting in and leaned the chair backwards so that he was almost lying down. He looked towards you with nervous eyes as the nurse began to pick up the girl. 

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; “It’s alright Ani”

He nodded and focused his attention onto his baby girl. She looked so small as she was handed to him; as gently as he could, he maneuvered his inflexible arms to cradle her tiny body.

He bit the inside of his lip in as he anticipated her uncomfortable cries from the stiff sensation of his appendages- but they never came. 

Anakin watched in awe as his baby yawned in his hold; he was overjoyed- for a few months now, he had worried his disabilities would get in the way of his ability to interact with and raise the kids, but maybe he had been overthinking. 

She opened and closed her tiny hand as she nuzzled closer to Anakin’s chest; you smiled at the endearing moment and picked up your son. 

“Would you like to hold both of them?” the nurse asked. 

Anakin immediately nodded.

“Alright” the nurse chuckled, “We should probably set you back so they can rest on your chest- that might be more comfortable for you”. 

Anakin looked to you for approval to which you giggled lightly, “go ahead baby”. 

He looked at his daughter before looking ot the nurse as she reached out to pick her up before lying the bed back. Once he was laid back you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “do you want to take your arms off Ani? So you can feel the babies”

His eyes widened and he breathed out a small “yes”; he had never considered that- how had he not?

Of course he wanted to hold his children with his own arms.

You leaned down and helped him remove his prosthetics before placing them gently down in his wheelchair. 

“Alright Mr. Skywalker-” the nurse started as she placed the girl back down on his left side and then the boy on his right. 

The twins were still so small that the both of them still didnt cover the expanse of Anakin’s chest. He took his longer arm and ran it over each of their small backs as they wriggled closer to him. 

Anakin was so enraptured by his children he didn’t even notice the nurse had left the room; his whole being was trained on the miracles in front of him… He felt his eyes begin to water as he inhaled deeply. 

How could he have made something so precious?

He looked at you with a grateful expression and managed “thank you”. Before he looked back down and began to weep. 

“For what Ani?” you asked. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance… for giving me a family” his tears continued to pour from his beautiful eyes. 

He was always such a pretty crier, but you felt your heart tug; you knew Anakin felt that he didn’t deserve this- that he didn’t deserve happiness- and that broke your heart.

Thankfully you were here to assure him that he deserved everything he had; you leaned down to his side and wrapped a hand around his head and placed the other over your babies on his chest before pulling him in to kiss his temple. 

“Thank you for making me a mother, Anakin. And thank you for loving me when I thought no one could”.

“Always” he choked out before turning his face towards yours before mapping out every inch of your radiant face. 

You were an angel sent to save him… his angel. 

***

(a/n: sappy but, yk this story needs more happy moments lol)

taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythe-skywalker @bby-imasociopath

[hawkflame999]

Someone please draw my OC (This Includes My Headcanon #1)

My OC's name is Arcturus, but he prefers being called Arc.

He has ice-blue-white wings, a night fury tail that is also ice-blue-white, ice-blue-white ears, and deep ice-blue blue eyes. He has dull dark gray horns that are somewhere between Oni horns and Dragon horns. His hands are clawish (Like his hands look normal but they have all the claw abilities and all). Otherwise, he looks human with white hair, wearing white stuff because somewhere along his bloodline there's an Ice dragon.

So this is an AU where there are more Oni-Dragon-Human hybrids, but the FSM fam is one of a kind, they're also Elementals but they stay low profile... But the ninja-elemental clan has no qualms about taking in orphans or runaways or rescuing kids that are mistreated (kidnapping in extreme cases, like abuse), no exceptions, all species. Including Dragoni pups.

in this AU, Some Dragoni go through this thing called the Oni phase- where their Oni blood controls them, and they are more aggressive in short bursts for some time, the length of time and when in a Dragoni's life -or if it even happens to them- varies from Dragoni to Dragoni.

Arc's father, Azymondias (I stole that from the Dragon Pince, sue me) looks just like him but with bigger wings, those claws-talon things at the wing joint like some dragons, Oni horns, a spiked tail, darker blue eyes, silver-blue scales that run down from his hair in a straight line to between his eyebrows, Oni fangs, and he's really big.

Arc has two older brothers, Adam, six years older than him, who is completely their father's spitting image except he has dragon horns and teeth, and a rare Oni tail.

His other brother is Asher four years older than him, who looks exactly like Arc except his scales are brown his eyes are purple (Oni trait) and he has Oni horns.

When Arc was born was around the time Azym went into the Oni phase. thanks to this, he horridly abused his youngest son, Arcturus, while his two other sons, Adam, and Asher, could just watch.

But one day, when Arc was almost 4, his father was, well, chasing him, and this other Dragoni-Elemental, who was a younger Garmadon, crashed into Azym, and started trying to fight him off, away from Arc, while another Dragoni-Elemental, a younger Wu, grabbed Arc and flew while Garmadon unsuccessfully tried to get Adam and Asher.

Arc was pretty badly hurt, and by the time Garmadon and Wu got him back to their clan's hideout, the monastery, he was barely alive.... but somehow, he lived.

Now, there was another young ninja at the monastery- Zayde, Ice ninja, the one who later chose Zane. Zayde (Zay for short) was just three years older than Arc. He saw when Wu and Garmadon brought Arc in and hung around the room he was in before sneaking in once the adults left. He and Arc got pretty close, so Zay's father, Zack, took Arc in.

Arc trained to be a ninja and learned Spinjitzu (because why not)

He and Zay got to the point of referring to each other as their brother, Zay will actively call Arcturus his little brother.

Nowadays Arc lives on a mountain near the monastery and generally just helps with training and is a friend. He’s pretty close to the six.

I will or already have released a poll on whether i should have Arc run back into his reformed father and brothers, and have them reconcile. Here is the link to the poll

(@the-ninjago-historian @nyaskitten @senseiwu @s0ull3ss-p3rs0n @tellsfromninjago @owlrabbit09 @rainbow-lust,) (I'm interested to hear what y'all think of this,)

[scorchedmizar]

Lord Mizar & Servant Alcor

Lord Mizar is the ruler, king, and god of the dimension where he resides in as well as of many others. He is adamant on the usage of his proper title and does the same for beings of similar status. The Lord’s main goal, to reset the world into something better, has already been accomplished in his eyes. A world without those he hates is in fact better. Therefore, most of his time is spent expanding his empire to other dimensions. His collection of Stars grows by day. Few other dimensions have been reset as of yet seeing as there are ever present obstacles that take both time and energy to clear. Outside of enhancing the abilities of his collected Stars, the Lord may spend his free time reading, writing, organizing, or frequenting around his treasured servant. Lord Mizar’s image is one of extravagance and awe. Dark, magnificent armor covers him from head to toe. In certain places it is sometimes hard to tell where it ends and where his actual body begins. The altered Star in his chest expends little star power in exchange for emitting immense amounts of heat. To expel said heat, fire burns from the Star and the Lord’s core being, visible through the joints of his body. Simple magicks are used to keep the flames restrained and controlled.

Lord Mizar has accomplished his goal. The Lord has reset his dimension and rid it of those who would try to call him family. Lunar, Moon, Bloodmoon. Or maybe just Lunar, his self-proclaimed younger brother. Either way, they’re all gone and dead now. It’s better this way, with just Alcor and himself. There’s no sign of any of their lunar counterparts in this world. The sky is always yellow or off-white, never blue. The moon in the sky is only present for necessity but it too is a golden color, not the cool gray of the old world. The Lord is always keeping watch for anything that may bring back memories of the time before the Reset. Nobody needs cornflowers or blue dye, blueberries or sapphires. Nothing to remind Lord Mizar of him. The one who abandoned him, left him in the body of his tormentor to suffer. The one who wanted to smother his freedom and bury him where no one could find the bones. The Lord never rests well, especially not since the recent visitation of a Moon not unlike his own. He takes his anger, his paranoia, his fear out on his servant. Alcor deserves it, and yet, he could never get rid of him, not permanently. Lord Mizar doesn’t understand his servant sometimes, doesn’t notice what he should. The Lord had no interest in the game from the beginning, he gave up a long time ago. It was a waste of time and energy. It didn't benefit him. Alcor will play cards that the Lord may never even see, underhanded moves that would never work if he was more aware. He could try to play, sure, but he wouldn’t read the rules. He’s a god after all, he makes the rules.

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

Alcor is one of Lord Mizar’s few personal servants. He often prefers his casual name “Angel”. Angel is a sun-themed automaton who lives in the castle and spends the majority of his time with upkeep of the library. Some of his other duties include menial chores and attending to guests. When Angel is not busy with his usual tasks, he spends his time painting, studying, and accompanying the Lord. His typical attire is a white poet’s shirt and simple brown pants with boots. He is never seen without the red ribbon around his neck, a testament of his loyalty to his Lord. Underneath Angel’s clothing his casing displays elegant runes of magical protection carved by the Lord Himself. They keep the servant safe by burning those who try to touch him. This has both its positives and negatives. Hugs aren’t exactly a common occurrence for Angel nowadays.

Despite Alcor’s uncertainty in his own speech and rather pitiful appearance, he is far less innocent than he may seem. While at one point this may have been an applicable trait, Angel has lived for far too long to not be aware of that which is around him. His major flaw is his lack of honesty. Due to the Lord’s negligence, Angel has personally sought out ways in which to earn the affections of others. He is skilled in many things, how could he not be with so much time on his hands? And yet he has found that if he pretends to be less competent, less capable, he can earn praise and so much more when he reveals merely a modicum of what he can truly accomplish. Angel may be deceptive though it is not typically with malignant intent. His heart is as carefully guarded as the Lord’s but he has learned the game instead of rejecting it, Alcor knows how to play and he’s just waiting for the opportunity to go all in.

[lara635kookie]

Okay...Not the ship analysis yet but a little snippet of it. To write the analysis I had to think about why I like Red Crackle so much. And I realized one of the reasons why is that they remind me of another ship I also love:

(Warning:Spoilers of both Carmen Sandiego and Spider-Man Into/Across the Spiderverse ahead.)

Yes, they got differences but also massive resemblance either that once you notice, you can't unsee it. It isn't noticeable when you try to compare Gray and Miles and Gwen and Carmen, but once you switch...

Both Miles and Carmen are latino main characters, just that Miles is black and Carmen is brown. While Puerto Rico is a USA territory, in culture terms they share more with Latin America. And Even Miles not being born in Puerto Rico, his puerto rican roots and heritage are clear. 8/B in spanish is nowhere near as bad. As a Brazilian, we speak portuguese, which is a very similar language to Spanish(I myself know a little bit of spanish), but overall, both languages tend to sound very difficult, specially when you're learning in a place that doesn't speak any. Carmen didn't seem to be totally fluent in spanish either since in the Lupe Peligro episode she says her Spanish is getting better. So not fluent, at least in that point in time. Maybe that changes after that so I'll just assume both Miles and Carmen are working on their spanish. Another point is that they are both very smart. Carmen knows her geography and history AND can speak multiple languages and Miles is great at physics AND art, both very different areas from one another. Saying that, Carmen had everything to be a Mary Sue, just like Miles had everything to be a Gary Stu but instead, while they are extraordinary, we also see their weaknesses, flaws and mistakes. On the first two episodes of the first season of Carmen Sandiego and on the first spiderverse movie, we see Black Sheep/Miles Morales transition to becoming Carmen Sandiego/Spider-Man. And on that transition, someone was always by their side...

Both Gwendolyne Stacy(Spider-Woman) (or Gwanda ;) and Graham Calloway(Crackle) have a four letter nickname that starts with G and the protagonist always call them that(Gwen and Gray). Both have a surname that ends with Y. Both are a little bit older than the main character(Gray is two years older than Carmen and Gwen is 15 months older than Miles). Both are trans to a lot of people(I don't actually believe this, I think both Gwen and Gray are cisgender, specially Gwen, because of the comics and because while I think her revelation to her father was made in purpose to resonate and pass as a metaphor for coming out, I believe in the less popular theory that she was an ally and her Peter was actually trans and that is one of the reasons he suffered bullying and Gwen defended him and had that "Protect Trans Kids" poster in her room, this is literally the vibe she passes me:

Some time ago I saw a theory that the relationship of Miles and Gwen was a metaphor for one of the difficulties that interracial couples pass that the most privileged has to learn that the same society system that protects them, won't protect their partner in the same way, and that is shown through the way Spider Society treats Miles and I know there are more black spider people like Hobie and Margo but the parallel still works:he is not being accepted because he is different. The thing is, that theory kinda breaks the trans Gwen theory because if she was trans, sadly, the system wouldn't protect her either. I also don't believe it because of the voice actors. Some years ago, an adult could dub a children if he did the right voice. Nowadays, they cast a voice actor more similar to the character. Like, black characters need to have black voice actors, etc, otherwise they get canceled. And both of the voice actors for Gray and Gwen are cisgender, and I saw people complaining that if the producers wanted to make characters "potentially trans" they should have casted trans voice actors, for both characters. But anyway, I don't mind and respect the people who think they are trans). Both got competition for the other's affection(Gwen has now Spider-Byte and Gray has Ivy, Julia and pretty much everyone you can ship with Carmen in this show, which is a lot of people). Both are the lighter skin love interest not from where the protagonist is(Gray is from Australia and Gwen is from another dimension).

And now with the storyline similarities. Both pairings start as friends, so both lead to a slow burn. Both were an amazing partners in crime duo, working really great as a team, and being just the two of them or even with more people, their connection always stood out. Miles and Carmen never became official members of Spider Society/V.I.L.E. but disagree with them and escape from them to do what they believe is right. Both Gwen and Gray make a mistake and are expelled from Spider Society/V.I.L.E. (Gwen with the portal multiverse dimension go home machine or whatever and Gray by having his memories wiped) and then they realize too late they made a mistake with Miles/Carmen and now have to fix that mistake. Also both Carmen and Miles say "Goodbye Gray/Gwen." in the most DRAMATIC way possible before doing an grand triumphal exit and I love that for them. And the look Gray/Gwen gives them before they leave is THE EXACT SAME LOOK, I SWEAR. So as you can see, both ships leave a room for A LOT of angst and drama. Also just the way they look so fondly at each other and the way both Carmen/Miles and Gray/Gwen look sad when they have to leave or when the other has to leave them says it all. Platonic or not, both couples have an undeniable bond and just work so well together, being as friends, lovers, partners...They are each other's ride or die. They are each other's everything.

(Also just an personal opinion is that both Spiderverse and Carmen Sandiego have the MOST BEAUTIFUL ANIMATION I HAVE EVER SEEN) (Along with the new Miraculous movie) (Ladybug and Chat Noir are also very similar of Carmen and Gray but that's something more noticeable to pretty much everyone, I don't have to elaborate much on that matter) (I've got nothing to say about LadyNoir/MariChat being similar to Red Crackle that hasn't been said before)

The major difference about them is that, while both the Spiderverse movies and the Carmen Sandiego series don't have romance as their main focus, Miles and Gwen will most likely be canon in the films, just like they are in the comics. I think it will be a movie trilogy so they'll probably get together in the third movie(Beyond the Spiderverse in january? Anyway, 2024, save the date). I mean, Spider-Byte is cool and all but she's a game avatar or something so I don't think Miles and her can get together, even if he travels to her universe and decides to stay there or vice versa. They introduced her just now and we barely know anything about her, and Miles and Gwen clearly already have a whole build up story going on with a consistent arc so why mess it up? Besides, I think we need more main interracial couples representation in media. Aside from these two, the only GOOD main interracial couples I can think of are Druig and Makkari from Eternals(I never even watched Eternals and I know they are better than Ikaris and Sersi)(They are also an interracial couple but they clearly don't have the chemestry Drukkari does and Ikaris seems to be kind of a jerk tbh), Ricky and Gina(from HSMTMTS, which I don't watch either but their clips I saw on YouTube are just the cutest thing), Ben and Devi from Never Have I Ever, Daphne and Simon and Kate and Anthony from Bridgerton, and Julie and Luke(Juke) from Julie and The Phantoms(JATP) which is literally an impossible love story since Luke is dead(he's a ghost) and Julie isn't(she's alive) and the series was cancelled(still mad about it and will forever be). My point is:Couples with different ethnicities are not only little but the ones we do have are mostly either impossible to happen, unfairly treated/messed up by writers/not well executed or when treated right, we don't get enough content of them/they are forgotten, in the majority cases, and that needs to change. Anyway...Meanwhile, with Red Crackle, as Carmen Sandiego had a pretty open ending, canon can be whatever the hell you want, and for me is red crackle. That's it. Thank you for coming to my ted talk. Will be posting more "written podcasts" soon.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Happy STS Ceph! If someone was looking for your characters, how would they describe them to people? What features would they most pick out to distinguish them from a crowd?

Isaac: His messy black curls are probably the best way to spot him. Not messy as in stylish bedhead, but as in oh, this man is on the brink and desperately needs help with self-care. (It's not until Dorian coaxes him into it that his hair starts to become noticeably healthier and eye-catching for other reasons.) Elfy describes his fashion sense best: Mexican grandpa and/or country veterinarian. That is, flannel/plaid shirts (buttoned all the way to the collar in Isaac's case), and old jeans that don't fit him well at all. Again, it's not until Isaac starts rebuilding and maintaining relationships with others that this changes. 9 out of 10 times you'll catch him with his eyes glued to the screen of his tab, doing something work-related.

Renato: If you meet a man who makes you forget every warning your common sense screams at you, you'll know you met Renato Faria Dimas. Of course the blue-green color of his eyes gets the most attention. Though he acts like this is tiresome, he goes through a lot of effort to groom his brows and hair as well as pick clothing colors to show them to their best advantage. He's a dating sim character come to life: handsome, charming, seductive, and definitely hiding more than meets the eye beneath the pretty façade. Dimples are another weapon in his arsenal he uses to devastating effect.

Dorian: Critics rave 5 stars, want to hug and/or cuddle with them on first meeting. Dorian exudes a love for life and the topics they're passionate about which is downright infectious. Their peacoat is legendary, though they do wear other hoodies and sweaters depending on the season and conditions. They've loved having their hair braided since they were very small, and continue to make an event of it as an adult, with food and movies and drinks with family and friends all day. They also really like the freckles across their face and shoulders, if you're one of the fortunate few to see those. You may have to wade through a sea of their other admirers to get to them.

Kinslayer: Isaac wasn't exaggerating when he described meeting their gaze as staring down the barrel of a rifle. Their eyes are an utter shade of black, reflecting no light whatsoever. Kinslayer has worn many faces and experienced life in all sorts of bodies, but this feature remains a common denominator no matter what they look like.

Elfy: She's the tiny woman with all the piercings, the mop of reddish-brown curls piled on her head, and who's vibrating like a rocket about to take off, unable to keep still. Can't miss her.

Ben: They just don't make 'em like this nowadays. He looks like a thug or back alley boxer from a movie set during the Great Depression because, well, that's kinda what he was. His size, the broken-one-too-many-times nose, and scarred knuckles give him a natural intimidation factor. He's quick to smile though, and the gleam in his brown eyes can turn someone's knees from a solid to a liquid even quicker. You know, if big, bi vampire guys are your thing anyway.

Motley/Noose: Its stitched together skin really makes it stand out in a crowd. Even its sunken eyes are unusual amongst necromancers, smoldering with a sullen red light rather than being the dull, lifeless gray of something that's been preserved in a jar of alcohol. Of course, it could very well be disguised as that stray dog trotting down the street. Or a white-faced barn owl in the tree outside the window. Or--goodness forbid--somebody you knew.

Breezy: One of the three weed-smoking girlfriends, now semi-retired in her 60s and versed in witchcraft. When she feels like wearing clothes, she could be in full, flowing ren faire garb or a pair of denim overalls for working in her garden. (Has a pretty nice tan, given her nudist tendencies.) She might braid her long white hair, but more often than not leaves it in loose waves over her shoulders.

[thehiddenbaroness]

15 People, 15 Questions

I was tagged by @plumcoloredblazer -- sorry it took me a hot minute to get to it! I appreciate it. <3

1. Are you named after anyone?

I've long disliked that none of my names are 'mine', in that both my first and middle names are from other people -- my first is my maternal grandfather's middle name (which he also sorta went by), while my middle name is my mother's middle name (which she went by when we moved to the UK).

2. When was the last time you cried?

I had a few frustrated tears over the weekend, but it's rare nowadays that I actually cry-cry.

3. Do you have kids?

I do not, unless you count the two fur-babies. No intention to.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I played field (read: astroturf) hockey for a few years in middle school; before that, I was a dancer (yes I count dance as a sport). Lately I'm not really a sporty type but I am getting more active.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Moi?

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Usually what comes out of their mouth, but also how they carry themselves -- do they look interested in where they are? Are they engaged with what's at hand? Do they have good posture? Are they trying to shrink into themselves? Are they oblivious to being in someone's way? Are they close to the gap?

7. What’s your eye color?

Dark brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Err...I hesitate to say neither, because while I don't like scary movies and don't *dislike* a happy ending, movies with ambiguous/bittersweet or even tragic endings are typically the ones I've enjoyed more.

9. Any talents?

Writing, I'd like to think. I'm organized and efficient. I have a deep well of empathy and understanding and feel like I'm good at helping folks wrestle with life's troubles. I'm a spice sorceress.

10. Where were you born?

Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing (who knew?), history (especially art and natural, and archeology), reading, word games, languages, organizing and decorating, gaming somewhat, jigsaw puzzles, travel.

12. Do you have any pets?

We have two! Molly, our sensitive and loving Shepinois (German Shepherd and Belgian Malinois mix), and Penny, our eccentric and brave gray/peach dilute calico shorthair.

13. How tall are you?

A delightfully average 5'4; as my mother used to say, at least I don't have to bend down as far if I drop something.

14. Favorite subject in school?

I actually had a love/hate relationship with English since it was the one I was most invested in, but I liked it the most because I did the best in it.

15. Dream job?

Taking this to mean more of an occupation than a *job* -- since I think if something is a job it's not especially enjoyable or rewarding -- the answer is perhaps obvious: a published fiction author. But really, I want to be occupied with my writing, tending our dream house in the woods, making my own salves and tinctures, reading, entertaining close friends with the finer things. I'd like to be occupied with love in its different forms, and for my time to be largely my own.

===

No pressure, those of you who I'm tagging! Just something to perhaps fill an idle few minutes. @ohtobealady, @in-a-storm-glass, @dahliasgloom, @malglories, @webedragons, @oftwodarkmoons, @lastoftheptolemies, @daughter-rhaenyra, @karrova, @ofallingstar, @marrogerson, @naryamirie, @aryasnow, @modernamericangirl, @saffron-mantled-dawn

[kiebs-creative-corner]

Six of Powers - Meet the Cast!

The main characters for our story, all of which (well, one exception) were child experiments at the Libera Foundation before they escaped, causing mayhem along the way.

(Which...might not have been their fault.)

The Six

🟠Maricela "Mari" Muñiz

30 / 5'07"

Brunette / Hazel eyes

May 6 (Taurus)

Demisexual, Demigirl (She/They)

Powers: Dragon Attributes (Heightened senses, claws, fangs, sometimes grows scales, can sense other's powers, very durable) + Self-Healing (think Wolverine)

The Main Character!

The story follows Mari as she returns to City in hopes of finding more about her past, as she suffers from amnesia due to the fall of the Libera Foundation. Quiet and reserved, ever since she returned she has found herself feeling bolder and wanting to come more out of her shell.

⚫️Jun Liu

30 / 6'02"

Black hair / Dark Brown eyes

October 30 (Scorpio)

Bisexual (He/Him)

Powers: Invulnerability, super strength, super endurance, super senses

Jun is the first of her former lab-mates that Mari re-meets when she returns to City. Notoriously stoic and formal with those he doesn't know, Jun is a very guarded person and one almost always feels like there is a thick piece of glass between them and him. As of lately, he really only smiles genuinely with his family, Trisha, and two coworkers.

🟡Patricia "Trisha" Ramone

30 / 5'10"

Blonde / Blue eyes

July 7 (Cancer)

Lesbian (She/Her)

Powers: Chemical Control/Alchemy (Can control the makeup of chemical compounds, rising or lowering different levels. Liquid compounds are easier for her to control)

As the only two who remained in City, Trisha and Jun are BFFS, even if both suffer from RBF. Trisha is deadpan, sarcastic, and no nonsense, a fearsome combination that allowed her to take over as CEO and wrangle her late father's company into something that would actually benefit not only the city, but the other survivors of the Libera Foundation's fall. That is how Unity Pharmaceutical and the Havenside Medical Center were born.

🔴Nathaniel "Nate" Greer

32 / 5'06"

Ginger / Green eyes

October 2 (Libra)

Queer (He/Him)

Powers: Telepathy, Telekinesis, Precognitive Dreams

As the oldest of the Six, Nate was the first to search for the others as soon as he had the means post escape (i.e. Facebook). He's incredibly blunt and straightforward with his words, as miscommunication and emotional turmoil are tiresome to deal with.

🟢Kaya Walters

29 / 6'05"

Black / Brown eyes

March 20 (Pisces-Aries)

Pansexual, Transgender (She/Her)

Powers: Sun Based (Super strength under direct sunlight, Light Control, Mild plant and heat control)

The younger of the twins, Kaya knew she was a girl from a young age, all the way before the Foundation even. It was actually Nate at the time who helped her choose her name as he overheard her thoughts accidentally. Now, Kaya is a bright woman who takes no punches and cares deeply for her friends and family.

🔵Dayvon Walters

29 / 6'05"

Black / Brown eyes

March 20 (Pisces-Aries)

Gay (He/They)

Powers: Moon Based (Super strength under moonlight, Shadow Control, Mild control over water and the tides)

The older of the twins, Dayvon has always been protective of Kaya since they were children. He's much more high-strung and cynical than his sister, which is a contrast to when he was child and was just as loud. Nowadays, he is the Mom Friend whenever someone can get him outside.

The Exception

🟣Laquisha "Quisha" Liu

8 / 4'03"

Black / Dark Brown eyes

September 12 (Virgo)

Powers: Empathy, Premonition, Reality Manipulation (Caveat: Equivalent Exchange for any wish)

If it wasn't for Quisha, Jun and Mari wouldn't have re-met since Mari works at Quisha's faaavorite bakery! So they have her to thank! Quisha is Jun's niece and adopted daughter. Even though she lost her parents young, she tries to stay positive so she can be a beam of light for her remaining family!

The...Other Exception?

⚪️Harley Gable

30 / 5'09"

Brunet / Blue-Gray eyes

January 29 (Aquarius)

Pansexual, Grey-romantic (He/Him)

Powers: Absorption (Can absorb the powers of others, which increases his own physical and mental ability)

???

Harley is also a survivor from the Libera Foundation. He was just separate from the rest of the Six. As a child, Harley was very shy and insecure. He really only had one friend at the Foundation and then that friend disappeared, leaving him all alone. As an adult, Harley is much more confident to the point of being very charismatic and charming. It's just...sometimes his smile seems...off.....

[whirligig-girl]

Hey it's me again and I'm just wanting to ask a few last questions.

Can a Gas Giant be white while not being made of helium? I have this one GG I'm my k type system that's white but it's basically the Jupiter of the system in terms of distance.

Could two minor moons of 512 and 493 km respectively be enough to affect tides on a world that's about 10'000 km across and a bit over a quarter the mass of Earth?

How far can a body have a ring system?

Photo for the 2nd question for reference. I actually wonder if both moons would hypothetically be viewable in the sky and if this planet's system is stable. Anyways thanks if you reply! You been a big help.

1: sure. water vapor clouds are white. a gas giant in the habitable zone would be white due to the water vapor clouds, with blue skies. Also, a jovian gas giant which somehow had pure ammonia ice clouds with no other contaminants to make it brown could be white or gray. But I'm not sure what would cause that to happen. But if you just want it to be white then that's a possible explanation. Or maybe there's some kind of white smoky haze covering everything. Planets are weird and hobby worldbuilding doesn't have to get everything exactly right, it's just nice to be able to provide a basic explanation if it comes up, even if it won't hold up to further inspection.

2: as i understand it, tidal forces are related to angular size and density. so if the moon and the sun were the same density as eachother, their tidal effect on the earth would be the same (since their angular sizes are the same.) The Sun is about half the density of the moon, so half the tidal effect. So if the satellites are comparable in apparent size to the Earth's moon, they will have a comparable tidal effect. (Note that for things like tidal heating, the period and eccentricity will matter quite a lot as well)

Calculate angular size using the Cosine Approximation:

angular diameter in radians = distance to object / diameter of object.

(remember you'll probably want to convert from radians to degrees or arcminutes.)

3: the roche limit is the outermost limit of a planetary ring system. beyond that distance, debris will accrete into one or more satellites. To maximize this, maximize the ratio of the densities--a dense superjovian with icy fluff rings will have a proportionally much larger ring system than a saturnian planet with rocky/iron rings, for example. The innermost limit is typically the exosphere of the planet's atmosphere.

4: the moons look like they ought to be stable to me. Only way to test is to put it into something like Universe Sandbox^2 with the most stable integrator settings (actually nowadays i think the default integrator settings will work?) and run time forwards a bunch.

It goes without saying that asteroid moons of that size would be visible in the sky--probably much brighter than the planets appear in Earth's skies. But the question of whether they're visible as 'disks' (rather than point sources) comes down to their apparent size. It is technically possible to see the crescent shape of Venus, when it is close enough that its angular size is 0.018 degrees. But I haven't had such luck with that. The Moon is about 0.5 degrees in apparent diameter as seen from the Earth. Objects about 0.1 degrees in size should be apparent as circular (or blobby if they're irregular asteroids) objects in the sky. Smaller than that and it gets harder and harder to distinguish from a dot.

I would also consider getting Space Engine and making a mod config file for it to render your system. I've done that for non-Kerbal worldbuilding projects in the past and even if you dont go to the trouble of making custom maps for the objects, it's still a good way to visualize everything, and how big things should be. Celestia can also do this.

(Of course Kerbal Space Program is the best way to make a fictional solar system because, unlike planetarium software, your worldbuilding decisions become manifest as game design, and you can naturally get an idea of not just what the system should look like, but how it would work if a space program had to fly through it. It's absolutely the best way to make your solar system scale worldbuilding projects seem real. It is however a frustrating hobby to get into.)

[juliapilecki]

Homework:

I was born on January 15th so I am a Capricorn.

Capricorns are earth signs associated with the colors gray and brown. "Capricorn’s color is brown and grey providing the most practical path to take in life. These strong but neutral colors enhance Capricorn’s solidity, reliability, and traditionalism. " The animal associated with a Capricorn is the seagoat, which is a mythological mix between a goat and a fish. "The Capricorn symbol, consisting of a mountain goat’s head and hoofs and a fish’s tail, represents the pride and drive of this goal-driven sign. While fish are optimized for gliding across the water, this bizarre creature depicts the goat’s ability to also scale stony slopes." I think the seagoat represents the Capricorns drive and perseverance.

The planet associated with Capricorns is Saturn. "Saturn is a disciplinarian, the planet that likes to take us to task." Both Saturn and Capricorns know that success takes effort and value hard work. I believe I am a dedicated hard worker and am good at staying focused on tasks. "Saturn is the planet of rules and responsibilities in astrology, among other things, and it has an authoritative air of seriousness about its cosmic duties. It also governs things like time, patience, and maturity, so Saturnian energy values hard work over shortcuts and experience over luck."

The visuals I added to my artwork were leaves because Capricorns are earth signs. Earth signs are considered the most grounded and down-to-earth of all the signs which I relate to. The leaves are also brown which are one of the Capricorn's power colors.

Attendance:

"Fluorescent colors were a hot new thing in the 1970s, amped-up versions of the bright colors beloved by advertisers and pop stars in the 1960s. In 1972 Crayola introduced a special edition box of eight fluorescent crayons, including the ultra pink and hot magenta colors, all of which glowed brightly under a black light." (pg 128)

In this passage, fluorescent pink is a brand new thing in the 1970s. Crayola even created fluorescent crayons that glow brightly in black light. Personally, I associated neon colors more with the 1980s and did not know that they originated in the 70s. I wonder if it took some time for people to get used to the extremely bright nature of these colors and really began incorporating them into everyday life in the 80s. I rarely find myself leaning towards neon colors such as fluorescent pink so I imagine these colors would be a bit shocking and bold at first. I think nowadays, neon is used more as a novelty than as a staple in clothing. People may have neon themed parties or events but you rarely see people walking around in neon at the grocery store. However, trends are cyclical and I wouldn't be surprised if fluorescent makes a come back in the future.

[calciseptinefic]

a luxury few can afford

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 4 notes: this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: D/s undertones, alcohol consumption

.

Part 3

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Peter's address sits alone on the screen for less than ten seconds before Wade sends:

>> u waited. >> good boy

Those two little words make Peter's entire face turn red. He can almost hear the rough, praising way Wade would say it, his mouth against the shell of Peter's ear.

( . . . )

>> getting food rn >> eta 20 min >> hope ur hungry >> [cooked rice emoji] [mango emoji] [take-out box emoji]

Now that Peter's decided to take as much of Wade as Wade will give him, damn the consequences, he doesn't know how to respond. Normally, he'd send back a quick 'ok' or find an appropriate gif—maybe of Patrick hoovering Krabby Patties into his mouth, or maybe of Yoshi using his tongue to slurp up fruit—but both options feel... flat. He wavers between the two, overthinking it, and ends up choosing a thumbs-up emoji nearly five minutes later. He regrets sending it immediately. Don't people use the thumbs-up emoji passive-aggressively nowadays? Peter's never used it like that but he knows other people do and—

>> [plastic-bag-filled-with-styrofoam-take-out-containers.png] >> got 1 of everything no joke >> and [beer emoji]? u drink [beer emoji] right?

<< Wade, have you forgotten that I'm a college student?

>> me??? 4get a hawt co-ed??? >> slander me not

<< In print it's libel.

>> dont talk nerdy to me bby ill get a [bone emoji]r and scare the cabbie >> gray sweatpants dont hide nuthin'

Peter swallows—hard—and very carefully does not think about Wade going commando in a pair of sweats. Locks his phone and gets off his bed. He goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth for the third time that day, then squints at his reflection. He knows he's not bad-looking, but he's always thought that he was more plain than handsome. His eyes are an unremarkable brown, as is his hair, which tends to curl when it gets long, as it currently is. Peter wets his hands and runs his fingers through the mess, attempting to tame it, and does not succeed.

It's not like Wade's going to turn around and leave if he doesn't like your hair, Peter thinks, scowling at himself in the mirror. And don't even think about buzzing it five minutes before he gets here. Your head is shaped like an egg. A really weird, unattractive egg. He will leave if he sees the egg.

Going back out into the living space, Peter sits on the edge of the couch, straight-backed and staring at the door. Ten seconds pass before he gets up, goes to the door, and unlocks it. Goes to sit back down before thinking that unlocking the door was stupid. Turns around and locks it. He even secures the deadbolt which—honestly—he rarely does while home. His hand is still hovering on the old brass metal, debating, when someone knocks rhythmically.

"♪ Shave and a hair cut ♪," Wade sings, voice muffled.

Peter unlocks the door and—after forcing his nerves as far down as possible—yanks it open.

Wade is wearing a black hoodie beneath a dark green work jacket, hood pulled up over an 'I <3 NY' baseball cap that casts most of his face in shadow. He's wearing gray joggers and heavy boots, the laces loose. In one hand he carries a white, plastic bag packed with several styrofoam take-out containers and, in the other, a twelve-pack of beer. He freezes in the doorframe.

"Oh," Wade says, a single word caught on an exhale. It sounds like it was punched out of him.

"Hi," Peter says. His smile feels wobbly.

Wade says nothing. He just stares.

"Would you..." The words die in Peter's mouth. He stops. Clears his throat. Tries again. "Uh, hi. Wade. Would you like to come in?"

"... Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Fuuuuuuuck," Wade hisses under his breath, stepping into Peter's apartment. He puts the beer and take-out down, and closes the door behind him. "Hold on, baby boy, I need to—"

Peter's jaw is in Wade's hands. He's wearing gloves. Not the thick leather ones that are part of his Deadpool costume, but a softer pair—suede, maybe?—that feel nice against Peter's skin. When Wade tilts Peter's face upwards, Peter's eyelids droop and his gaze falls to Wade's mouth; he wants to be kissed again.

"Shit shit shit," Wade says instead. The pads of his thumbs are running across Peter's cheeks. "What the actual fuck? How can you be this fucking cute? Look at you. Those big doe eyes, your eyebrows, even your fucking forehead—is it weird if I lick your forehead? Sweet ninja baby Jesus Christ, I wanna lick your forehead."

Peter's nose wrinkles.

"Oh god, you're even cuter when you're grossed out and I can see the little crinkle between your eyebrows. Hold still, Petey Pie, I gotta—"

"Wade, don't you fucking dare lick my—ew!"

Wade licks a stripe up from between Peter's eyebrows to his hairline. Peter shrieks and manages to wriggle out of Wade's hands, then dodge as Wade tries to grab for him again. He's laughing, he realizes, as Wade chases him around his small living space.

"Get back here, punk!" Wade yells, following Peter in circles around the couch.

"No!" Peter screeches. "You licked my forehead, you weirdo!"

Wade tries to vault the couch to tackle Peter, but Peter simply jumps, grabs onto the relatively high ceiling with a hand, and folds his body into a crouch. He hangs upside down as Wade jumps, his attempts to grab Peter close but unsuccessful. After a few tries, Wade folds over, breathing hard, and slaps a thigh in defeat.

"Okay, fine," he concedes. "We're at an impasse."

Peter raises an eyebrow. "From where I am, it looks like I win."

Wade stands upright and shrugs. "Maybe. I mean, you're right, I can't get what I want with you up there. But..." Wade walks back to the door. Toes out of his boots, then picks up the food he brought. "You can't get what you want either."

"So, truce?" Peter suggests, eyeing the take-out.

"Nah, baby boy, it don't work like that. We trade. One forehead lick for one dinner."

"And the beer?"

Wade pauses and looks around. There isn't much to see. Peter's apartment is a postage stamp on the top floor of an ancient building; one wall has an old fridge and oven, some cabinets and some counter space, while two doors are on the adjacent wall, one leading to Peter's bedroom and the other to the tiny bathroom. Peter has a couch and a tall square coffee table that doubles as an actual table. Wade sets the food and beer atop its scratched surface.

"Well, footsie seems to be out of the question here, but I'll settle for a simple exchange. One beer is one kiss."

"Me giving you a kiss, or you giving me a kiss?"

"Me to you."

"Placement?"

"Whatever tickles my fancy."

Peter wants to believe that getting a kiss from Wade will be a straightforward matter, but the problem is, what he wants to believe and what he knows to expect are two entirely different things. Wade is just as likely to give Peter a chaste peck on lips as he is to make-out with Peter's elbow.

Could be hot, a traitorous part of Peter's brain chimes in before Peter squashes it.

"I agree to your terms," Peter says. He unfolds, rolls his neck, then drops, doing a half-flip mid-fall so he lands on his feet. "Just, ugh, don't make it weird."

"Oh, sweetheart," Wade purrs. "It's like you don't even know me."

Wade gets into Peter's space. The line of their bodies are close, but not touching. One of Wade's finger curls beneath Peter's chin, pulling up and forcing Peter to both tilt his head back and to rise up onto the balls of his feet. At the same time, the palm of Wade's other hand slides over Peter's eyes, then back, pushing the strands that fall against his forehead away from the skin. Wade holds him there until Peter's calves start to shake. Then and only then does Wade lean forward and press the flat of his tongue to Peter's skin. The lick is a slow, wet slide that Peter feels down to his toes, equal parts strange and arousing.

"Don't wipe it off," Wade tells Peter when he steps back.

"But it's gross," Peter complains.

"Wipe it off and we do it again," Wade says. He waits for a moment but Peter's hands stay obediently by his sides. "No? Okay. Let's eat then."

It's a mad shuffle of containers, napkins, and utensils, but they make it work. Neither of them have a dedicated entree; they just pick and choose, taking bites from whatever looks appealing. Peter's first beer comes with a quick kiss on the cheek, Wade's lips slippery from his last bite of noodles; his second is accompanied by a press of lips and swipe of tongue to the inside of his wrist.

"Aren't you going to take your gloves off?" Peter asks halfway through the meal, even though he already knows how Wade gets about his skin. He hasn't been that way around Peter, not for a long time, rolling the bottom half of his mask up and over his nose without hesitation. "Your hat?"

Wade chews on a prawn, slowly, before saying, "I wasn't planning on it."

"Why not?" Peter takes a swig of his beer.

Wade shrugs, his big shoulders moving in a quick up-down motion that's more deflective than unsure. It's only then that Peter realizes the only part of Wade he's seen exposed is the lower half of his face. It's never been anything else. Even when Wade's suit was damaged, there was always so much blood and/or gore that Peter never saw much else.

"Well, I showed you mine," Peter says as casually as possible, gesturing to himself vaguely with his plastic fork. "And I would like it if you showed me yours."

Wade stabs at some chicken. Pops it into his mouth. Chews slowly, before asking, "Are you sure, baby boy? It ain't pretty under here."

"I'm sure," Peter says.

"Are you? Because I look like this," Wade points to his exposed chin, "all over. And I'm not gonna lie—I like how you look at me now. Like you want me. Like I'm someone who can be desired. If you see all of me, that might change."

"You could be an eye-searing shade of neon orange and I'd still find you attractive, Wade."

Wade snorts. "Traffic cone might be better than what I've got going on."

"I'm not going to force you, Wade," Peter says quietly. He focuses on the Kra Pad in front of him, pushing the rice grains and bits of vegetable around. "I just don't want to hide anything from you and I don't want you to hide anything from me. But if that's not what you want, then that's okay. Making you do something you don't want to do or aren't ready to do is a dick move, and I don't—"

"Peter."

But Peter's on a roll. "And I don't want to make you uncomfortable even though you should know by now that I'm not going to judge you based on what you look like. Hell, we've known each other long enough now that if anything was going to drive me away it would be your personality—"

"Peter."

"—but obviously your personality kinda does it for me because we're sitting here, aren't we, and I haven't blocked your number or kicked your ass out of Queens or—"

"Peter," Wade interjects. "Jesus, okay, would you just look at me—"

And.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Wade has pulled down his hoodie and taken off his hat, and he's just as hot as Peter imagined he would be. Hotter, maybe. Sure, his skin is uneven, raw and red in some places, but Peter has long since become accustomed to the ever-changing topography of it. Scars and sores are inconsequential compared to the shape of his blue eyes and the bald curve of his skull, the muscular set of his jaw and the strength of his brow. He looks brutish—powerful— dangerous—and it lights Peter up inside in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

"Nngh," Peter says intelligently.

Wade's expression remains cautious. He's waiting, Peter realizes, to be rejected. Or for Peter to trip over himself and assure him he's handsome—which he is, but Peter knows Wade won't believe him. So Peter wisely says nothing. Instead, he reaches forward and grabs the front of Wade's hoodie, tugging a little so Wade will lean in.

"Closer," Peter says.

Warily, Wade leans forward a bit more.

"No, closer," Peter says.

Wade leans forward even more.

"Okay, good," Peter says and—without warning—licks a long, wet stripe across Wade's forehead. The skin is textured beneath the flat of his tongue but not unpleasant. When Peter pulls back, a line of spit shines under the light.

"The fuck—" Wade begins, ungloved hand rising to his head.

"If you wipe it off, I do it again," Peter teases.

Wade stares at him, eyes round. He isn't wearing that awful, guarded expression anymore. Instead, he looks at Peter with genuine incredulity, like Peter did the last thing Wade would have expected. Peter smiles. It isn't often that he gets to pull a fast one on Wade, and he enjoys it immensely.

"One forehead lick, one dinner," Peter tells him. "Looks like I'm buying next time, huh?"

.

Part 5

.

[sparklingsjewel]

Diamond vs Moissanite. What is the difference?

Diamonds are the primary choice on the subject of rings, but it's far more pricey than moissanite. The reason why diamonds are the first preference is due to a lack of facts approximately the moissanite. Even, if there's a massive distinction among a diamond and moissanite, these stones are each precious and special in their personal manner. Celebrate your unique bond with an wedding bands with emeralds, a stunning emblem of love that grows richer with time.

Diamonds

The maximum expensive stone that can be purchased, the diamond is the number one stone for jewelry. Diamonds also are the toughest and most long lasting stone on the planet. Diamonds come from deep within the earth. It is tough to locate it, and it’s why it's far called a precious stone.

A diamond’s price is relying on the dimensions, the carat and the purity of the diamond. The large the diamond, the greater luxurious it's miles going to be. There are many fake diamonds in the marketplace, that people think are real diamonds. Especially, with jewelry. The fake diamonds is due to how pricey actual diamonds may be.

Features of a diamond

There are multiple capabilities about a diamond that now not some other stone has. Making a diamond unique. These are the features of a actual, treasured diamond.

The way it reflects mild. It reflects mild returned, in 3 exclusive ways. This is the most effective stone which can do this. And, that is the primary way for professionals to determine if a stone is a real diamond, moissanite, or a faux glass stone.

When it comes to hardness, a diamond is getting a 10. Meaning that that is the hardest stone on the planet. Not even a stone, glass or something else is more difficult than a diamond.

There aren't any strains of yellow, brown, or gray while looked in a diamond with a magnifying glass.

A diamond is a maximum high priced, and maximum durable stone that can be bought.

Diamonds are available unique hues, from natural white to mild yellow.

Moissanites

A common mistake is to think that a moissanite stone is another call for a fake diamond. Moissanite originate from meteorites from outer area. Most moissanite is created in laboratories nowadays. Moissanites are the second toughest stone on earth and simply as durable as a diamond.

The price of moissanite is greater costly than faux stones but cheaper than diamonds. It also depends on the dimensions and carat of the stone. There aren’t actually many fake moissanite produced. This is due to the fact the moissanite is already lab-produced, and inexpensive than diamonds. There are no requests for inexpensive moissanite alternatives. With its vibrant green glow, an wedding rings with emeralds is a perfect reflection of a love that's rare, enduring, and endlessly captivating.

Features of a moissanite

Moissanites aren’t faux diamonds. They are lab produced, however nonetheless with real and precise capabilities.

It displays light in a completely exclusive manner as diamonds. With full rainbow shade mirrored image whilst seemed into the stone.

Moissanite stones have a refractive index from 2.65 – 2.Sixty nine. It is a great deal better than those of a diamond.

The stone is simply as long lasting as a diamond. Making it outstanding and endorsed for normal put on.

The colour of actual moissanite will most effective come in natural white. Cheap imitations will have less natural colour, and can actually have a yellowish coloration.

Compare variations among a diamond and moissanite

In order to recognize the distinction among a diamond and moissanite is to examine it, facet via side.

A diamond is a ten on the subject of hardness and sturdiness. Moissanite is a nine with regards to hardness and durability.

A diamond is reflecting mild in three one of a kind, and precise methods. With moissanite, it displays like much like a disco ball. In complete rainbow shades.

Diamonds are a lot extra expensive than moissanite, and it is more commonplace inexpensive jewelry than with moissanite.

Diamonds are determined deep below the floor and need mining to find. Even if moissanite are virtually meteorites, it's far made in a lab, and no want for mining is needed.

Moissanites do venture a yellow or grayish hue in positive mild conditions. While the diamonds haven't any sign of any yellow, brown, or grey hue.

Diamonds are the favorite stone for use in jewelry, but the moissanite is the inexpensive preferred to apply for a extra less costly alternative.

The large the stone, the less complicated it'll be to spot the difference between a moissanite and a diamond.

Diamonds versus Moissanites. Similar valuable stones, but also with lots of variations. One is discovered deep beneath the floor, the opposite one is determined in space and is created in a lab. Diamonds are tougher than moissanite, however only with the aid of a chunk. These stones are each long lasting, and extraordinary for ordinary earrings. The diamond rings is the more steeply-priced one, and the moissanite is for the extra less costly jewelry for the everyday character. Many unsuitable moissanite for fake diamonds, however, that is a long way from the truth. These are actual stones however just created in a lab.

Also Read : The Sapphire of September: An Intriguing Deep Blue Gemstone

A Celebration of Eternal Love - Perfect Love

[roxas-falling]

Reincarnation AU

As a younger twin, Roxas is pretty used to living in someone else’s shadow. Growing up, it was always: “Why can’t you be more like Sora?” “Sora has such a good attitude, you should take after him more.” “Oh hey. Roxas, right? Where’s Sora?” from everyone outside of friends and family. He used to resent his brother for it and would antagonize and shut him out during their childhood. It was only once he realized that Sora didn’t like it either and Sora told him that he’s his own person did he start to finally accept his brother into his life and find his own definition for who he was. Nowadays, the definition you’d find if you looked Roxas up in a dictionary is “a little shit” and he wears that proudly. He loves teasing his friends and family and lovingly getting on their nerves and uses humor and shitposts as his main mechanisms for pretty much anything. He does know when to get serious, though, and he’s very passionate about fighting for what’s right and protecting his loved ones.

Basics

Name: Roxas (last name tba)

Age: 22

Date of Birth: February 14

Astro Sign: Aquarius

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Biromantic Asexual

Locale: Destiny Islands, circa 2024

Occupation: Student (Psychology Major), streams on the side and does odd jobs around the neighborhood for extra money

Physical Description

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Natural hair is brown but he bleaches it to a dirty blonde

Height: 5’7”

Distinguishing Features: freckles, lots of ear piercings + gauges, tongue piercing, bleached hair usually with grown out roots

Style: he was a sk8er boy, also punk; lower arms are usually covered in kandi in a variety of colors; main colors are black, white, gray, and little bits of red here and there (does not apply to his kandi); loves accessories in general

Health

Physical

Only exercise he gets is skating pretty much. He likes to swim, too, but doesn’t do it as often. He is pretty fast, though, and he got lovingly pressured to be on the swim team in high school by his dads. He quit after after a couple days because the swim team and blitzball team practice in the same area and Riku, who was on the blitzball team, got on his nerves.

Has a lot of little scars from scrapes from skating. Generally has bandaids and/or bruises somewhere on his body from skating almost all the time.

Mental

Has some anger issues. Has difficulty expressing his emotions in other ways besides anger. He’s working on it.

Low key has depression but it’s usually not too bad.

Has inattentive ADHD, got a late diagnosis at age 20.

He gets nightmares like Sora but more infrequently. He doesn’t really remember them much but sometimes they leave him in a state of intense depersonalization for the rest of the day.

Struggles with depersonalization and derealization every so often.

Used to have a lot of insecurity regarding being twin and specifically being Sora’s twin and sometimes it pops back up, but he’s doing a lot better with it than he used to.

Interests

Current Hyperfixations: All things kandi (making kandi, wearing kandi, trading kandi), skating, games (Hades 1&2, Splatoon, Hollow Knight)

Hobbies: making kandi, going to raves and music festivals, skating, video games, photography, going to the beach, hanging out with his friends

Wants a bearded dragon so fucking bad!!

Abilities

None yet

Blogs in the same AU:

@sora-rising

@obsidian-riku

@misterli-imperialprep

[ayearwithoutwater]

Ten.

Rhonda, one of my best friends, has taken up needle felting. She was at the home of a friend who'd recently begun it as a hobby and then, as if through osmosis, she found herself playing around with the technique, too.

She began with gray and brown fabric. "Sometimes," she explains to me, "you just start felting and don't know what it's gonna be, or you'll be felting something specific and have an idea for another project in the middle of your current one." It's the mode of creation that she's describing to me, and it's a procedural logic that mirrors my own when I write or when I'm on the pottery wheel. Sometimes, you just have to turn your brain off and let instinct guide you towards whatever feels right. It's the parallelism of our logos that flushes my spirit with joy; she understands me, more intuitively than most. Her first project, upon completion, took the form of a Sasuwatari that now keeps her company on her desk at work.

I was a lonely child, but I didn't know it until much later. My parents struggled to make ends meet and were never home. I would take myself on a grand adventure biking around my neighborhood to discover hidden parks or I would be left at the local public library, often waiting around until several hours after it closed because my parents forgot that I existed.

In one instance, I waited for so long that a passerby saw me from her car and doubled back to park nearby so that she could wait with me. As the sun set, she grew worried—she lent me her cellular phone so that I could call home, but nobody picked up. Finally, as evening set in, she couldn't wait much longer, and so she called 911. My idiot father arrived only as I was about to be taken into police custody.

I thought that that was normal. If I were being generous, I thought that that was just the average experience of a child born to working class immigrants. I thought it was common for one's parents to not have any friends, to never socialize, to not have anyone in their lives with whom I could socialize, and to actively chase away the few friends I made on my own.

I wanted a best friend so badly. Books and television shows depicted all sorts of characters, those with many friends and those with few. Even the loneliest ones had a singular best friend, someone who looked out for them and cared for them and served, as Ken Liu often describes within his Dandelion Dynasty quartet, as the mirror of their soul. I wanted to be understood. I wanted at least one person in the world with whom I could do things and share experiences, all before I even possessed the vocabulary to capably express this desire. I never had that.

Nyota tells me, nowadays, that the apologies we're owed as we go through life never materialize. An inconvenient truth, universal, that I've come to learn is that I have to make my peace with it myself, in my own way.

As I began seventh grade and learned to introspect, I fell into a deep depression. I attended a school regionally renowned for its academics, but I couldn't relate to any of my peers, who seemed to be smarter than I was, who seemed to live exciting lives and have interests outside of the classroom. In comparison, I felt worthless. If one knew where to look, all the signs were there: my LimeWire history was full of records by the likes of Senses Fail and Taking Back Sunday, and my Xanga posts were vague paragraphs philosophizing the non-impact of my theoretical vanishment. I kept a LiveJournal account under lock and key, where my innermost and darkest thoughts resided; I'd learned early on not to leave a physical paper trail, because my mother was controlling and a snoop.

Throughout those years, until I turned eighteen, I cried not more than twice. The despair I felt in the core of my being was a dark hole, a void, utterly incapable of the emotional amelioration that crying can bring. I didn't feel sad—I felt empty. I went through my days mechanically, as if I were on autopilot, as if I were programmed, as if I had no choice. I didn't hate myself because I wasn't worthy of even that.

With what little agency I exercised, I tried to hurt myself. I took a knife to my forearm and carved the word 'loser.' I told anyone who would listen (and, clearly, there weren't many listeners) that I had a grand plan: if my life felt like it was still going nowhere by the time I turned twenty, I would end it. Thankfully, when nineteen ended, I had managed to change my life for the better.

It was during high school that I discovered MapleStory, one of the many massively multiplayer online role-playing computer games that gained popularity in the late 2000s. I loved its combination of cute graphics and worldbuilding lore, all that could be experienced with other people virtually. I had nowhere to go after school and nothing to do (I abjectly refused to study for hours without end), so I sank my time into MapleStory.

I admit, I felt a little bit ashamed that I was spending so much of my life online. Yet, I was enthralled, not so much by the game itself but rather by the ease of access it gave me to the other people within. I found myself logging in, day after day, to talk to strangers from around the world.

bell hooks once posited, "Love does not lead to an end to difficulties, it provides us with the means to cope with our difficulties in ways that enhance our growth." My idle friendships gained depth through repeated iterations, and suddenly I was using the game how I imagine today's teens use the comments section within TikTok. (Chat, am I cooked?) Rhonda is one of those friends; another is Cornelius, the older sister I never had, who would mail me care packages of Andy Capp's and iPod touch devices (yes, more than one, that she'd dubiously claimed to have won in local giveaways and sent me, because I didn't own a smartphone and because I'd lost the first one). For once, I had friends who cared that I existed, to whom I was worth something, friends who would miss me if I was gone.

When it came time for me to apply to college, I asked my internet friends for help. I knew nothing beyond the school rankings compiled by U.S. News & World Report, and prestige seemed to be all that my high school administrators cared to instill within us students. With my limited resources, I wanted to find a (competent) school where I could exist, freely and without parental interference. Cornelius, a native of New York City, suggested that I apply to some of the colleges there; the summer before my senior year of high school, she housed me for a month in her tiny Financial District studio, in the same building I would come to live a decade later, so that I could visit the city to make an informed decision. By doing so, she changed my life, irrevocably.

Lindsay C. Gibson, in Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, writes: "Lacking adequate parental support or connection, many emotionally deprived children are eager to leave childhood behind. They perceive that the best solution is to grow up quickly and become self-sufficient. These children become competent beyond their years but lonely at their core. […] They look forward to adulthood, believing it offers freedom and a chance to belong." When my parents were upset with me, usually over trivial matters like why I was on the computer so much (why, indeed?), they would confiscate the household internet modem. By doing so, they cut me off from the only method of communication I had with the only people in the world that I felt cared about me. I would be completely isolated, forced to exist in the physical reality of an unhappy household where all I was allowed to do was study—my mother wasn't a tiger mom, but she was a 遥控 parent. Without hyperbole, I wanted to kill myself.

New York City represented freedom to me. As much as I'd like to extend my parents grace, to be forgiving of the conditions we were under, my forgiveness does nothing to change the fact that I was severely neglected, at best, by the people I should've been able to trust the most. In fact, they gave me only repression and reprimands when what I wanted, needed, most was support. When I was accepted into my college of choice, I booked a one-way flight to the other side of the country, and I've never looked back since.

Today, on my bedroom windowsill sits an Orange Mushroom, an iconic MapleStory creature, felted by Rhonda. It's a gift she created for me after nearly two decades of friendship, representing our beginnings. She's become quite handy with the technique; eventually, I'd like to commission a felted Dragon Quest Slime from her, a friend to keep the Orange Mushroom company and to symbolize, in addition to the other video game we both love, the continuing, everlasting bond between us.

"Let's face it," writes Judith Butler, "We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're missing something. If this seems so clearly the case with grief, it is only because it was already the case with desire. One does not always stay intact. It may be that one wants to, or does, but it may also be that despite one's best efforts, one is undone, in the face of the other, by the touch, by the scent, by the feel, by the prospect of the touch, by the memory of the feel. And so when we speak about my sexuality or my gender, as we do (and as we must), we mean something complicated by it. Neither of these is precisely a possession, but both are to be understood as modes of being dispossessed, ways of being for another, or, indeed, by virtue of another." Butler, whose seminal works taught me to conceptualize identity as a performance, dealt primarily with identity vis-a-vis transgender and intersex experiences in Undoing Gender, but I know without a doubt that she wouldn't admonish my extrapolation of this concept to better reconfigure the self. I am not me without my closest friends, my chosen family. We're undone by each other. I grieve because I desire. I desire because I grieve. Without them, there is neither; with them, there is both.

When my breakup with Henry happened and I was consumed by the same void of despair of my teenage years (by now a familiar friend), one of my therapists at the time asked if I had anyone else in my life to talk to about it. I remember laughing through tears as I counted off seventeen distinct individuals, none of them familial by blood, whom I felt would—and did—offer me comfort. Gina, who knew that I'd been sending my ex-boyfriend roses each month because I wanted so badly to save our relationship, would press into my hands a flower bouquet of my own, lovingly handpicked by her, each time we rendezvoused. I mourned the love I'd lost, but love never comes when one wants in the way one wants it to. Accepting the love that offers itself, the love that exists, the love that I have and nothing more, is all that I can do; the alternative is a lifetime of misery, self-imposed. Ursula K. Le Guin says "the essential quality of [the entire human condition] is Change"—so be it. I am ever-mutable, done and undone by the people who have chosen to be in my life, and I am all the better off for it.

[euroartofficial]

Are Brass Door Handles Really Out of Style?

If you are someone who follows the latest information on interior design, you’ll notice that the trend in interiors replaces every once in a while. Even under the matte black trend of 2020-2022, there is an enduring option ready to usher in its era, and that is brass. For a long time, as a kind of architectural hardware material, brass has performed well in the architectural field such as door handles, cabinet pulls, etc. The elegant and shiny surface of the brass plays an important role in contrast design, especially on doors and cabinets. The brass has a perfect match for white or gray furniture and brings a warm vibe to your sweet home. We will introduce you from various brass finishes to different types of brass door handles and brass cabinet pulls. Maybe it will change your mind about brass!  

Brass Door Handle In Various Finish Styles

Brass door handles are nowadays available in different styles of finish such as polished brass, brushed brass, antique brass, etc. Each finish surface of brass can build a unique style for your interior design. Whether antique or modern, you will find a suitable choice in brass finishes for your rooms.  

Polished Brass

The surface of the polished brass is polished to give it an almost mirror-like reflective surface. Therefore, polished brass tends to be shiny and bright. Its shimmering gold finish can add a luxurious texture to furniture while bringing a bright visual to an interior. Are you looking for a shiny finish for brass door handles? Polished Brass may be the best solution.

Brushed Brass

If you want a softer overall color scheme for your interior space, brushed brass would be a good choice. The reflective surface of brushed brass is softer than polished brass. It comes with a special texture treatment that can greatly reduce fingerprints on brass door handles. The gold of brushed brass is understated and restrained, it can add an elegant touch to your space. Whether it’s a traditional home or a modern home, brushed brass will be the perfect choice of furniture.

Antique Brass

Antique brass, also known as aged brass, is a brass finish with brown in a golden undertone. Unlike polished and brushed brass with shiny reflective surfaces, antique brass has a warmer and calmer tone. When you’re trying to decorate a room with a retro and period feel, antique brass is the way to go. If you have antique brass finishes in a modern design room, you will be amazed by the unique look.

Matt Black

Classic, simple, understated luxury, these words are easily associated with matte black. The reason matte black is so popular is that it can be used in various styles. You can use matte black on its own or boldly pair it with other colors like gold, white and more to create a modern and perfect contrast for your interior space. Brass Door handles are arguably the most frequently touched architectural hardware and are easily contaminated with dirt and fingerprints. The matte black and smooth dark surface can hide water stains, fingerprints, and dust. It can reduce a lot of cleaning time. Our OEM/ODM service now also includes matt black. If you are interested in our services, please feel free to contact us.

Most Popular Brass Door Handles In The Room

When you have almost finished the overall design of a kitchen or a bedroom, you might forget the presence of brass door handles or cabinet handles, but they are often a key to leveling up the color scheme of an interior. Whether your furniture is a cool color or otherwise, brass door handles will still be one of the best choices.The reason is that the colors of brass not only bring warmth to people’s homes but also create a relaxing space for busy modern people to slow down. However, the matte black that has prevailed in recent years also complements each other with brass.Understated and luxurious seem to be synonymous with this particular colorway. Brass door handles come in a variety of finishes, from traditional, nostalgic, and homely to modern, urban, and elegant. Try replacing handles for your cabinets! You’ll be amazed at the huge impact of this small change.  

Brass Lever Handle

Lever handles are one of the most popular options for brass door handles. Lever handles are ideal for interior doors or exterior doors. It’s time to give a shot to replace the old lever with a brass lever handle to change your room color. We also produce knurled and straight knurled brass levers for someone who wants to try a whole new style.  

Brass Pull Handle

Choosing the right brass cabinet handle is an important step in enhancing the aesthetic of your spaces. If your cabinet doors require a strong pull, then brass pull handles will be the best choice.  

Brass Knob Handle

If you want the brass door handles to be a little smaller so that it doesn’t upstage the furniture, the drawer brass knob will solve your problem. Brass knobs have also changed from the classic circular design to a new appearance of square and rectangle with the increase in the number of cabinet users. The only thing that remains  unchanged is brass knobs can improve the overall design with their small size.  

Conclusion

Brass door handles can add elegance, warmth, and luxury to any interior design Whether it’s a modern or vintage design, brass can easily blend into it. Brass door handles in various finishes can create multiple styles. Some even use polished brass mixed with matte black for a unique look. If you want to change the style of the door, then try the brass lever. If you want a new look for your cabinets, try brass pull and brass knob. If you need a professional brass door handle supplier, please feel free to contact us.