#other times they look like fractals and ice

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

What if reader was an elemental dragon similar to Neuvillette? But they were the cryo dragon

Sparkly horns and shiney tail, just jaw droppingly beautiful

oh Legacy is absolutely SMITTEN no questions asked

admittedly it is the glimmer that catches his eye first, the same crystalline gleam of fractal ice and snow from his homeland. Legacy sidles up behind you curiously, gaze following your swishing tail back and forth before he instinctively pounces. your scales bristle with frost as you jump, yelping and whipping around to face him. Legacy has the awareness to look a little apologetic, getting to his feet with a quiet trill and stepping a bit closer, tilting his head. he flares his wings slightly and the ice on your body settles as you calm, allowing him to approach- this is the first time you've seen an Abyssal monster, too, sniffing and examining him with equal curiosity

his claws trace gingerly over your tail and wings, over the horns that glitter like frozen gems. it reminds him of Snezhnaya, a chirp of delight bubbling in his throat as his lilac fluff poofs up. your own hands comb the fur in fascination, untangling any knots and snarls you find. he purrs deeply, leaning into the touch and wriggling his way beneath your wings until he's almost blanketed by them. what a wonder it is, to find a creature so like you, yet still so different, one of elemental energy and the other from the Abyss. Legacy curls closer, watching the snowflakes drift to the ground any time you shake your head. he sticks his tongue out for a few, chittering at the tiny sting of cold as your tail twitches and gingerly wraps around him, keeping him close

two monsters, side by side, forever

[divinit3a]

show me your teeth! -> (ao3 link)

reader x yeti!moon ❄️ word count: 1,312 You never were much of a survivalist sort. Without the help of the 'ice devil' before you, you'd long since be a popsicle left forgotten in the mountains. Vanessa was right; you never should've left town without her. But luck had it you found a different tour guide. Not without ample struggle first.

"Could you do that again?" You ask, watching as the yeti slowly and methodically maneuvers around. Each step he takes is calculated well before his metal paws touch the icy surface of the terrain.

Moon's back is turned to you. Wearing a long, draping cap that ombres from a pastel lilac to a mosaic of stars. A light gust of frigid wind rustles the pristine white fur of his coat wrappings.

A slight twitch of his glacial horns, readjusting in their slots on his faceplate, indicates that the lumbering giant is listening to you, despite his choice to stay silent. He bends at his knee joints, squatting to start pulling a fishing line out from the chunks of ice. Hunting for the hooks, the gleams of silver that could catch upon the wildlife in this area.

Further out, where the mouth of the cavern yawns open, is a watercolor splash sunset. The beginning signs that night is approaching. Floes break off the solid chunks of glacial ice, drifting out to the inky void of the ocean.

You observe Moon for a moment longer, and then, encouraged by the vague gesture of interest, you continue, "Y'know, smile," resting your chin on both your palms, your elbows upon your knees as you lean forward. Whenever you speak, mist curls out from the corners of your mouth. The swirls betray your mischief to the robot a couple yards away.

"no," Moon responds. You fight the urge to instantly react in turn, letting the sloth-like robot take his time as he winds up a fishing wire, "takes too much energy."

A sigh escapes you as you fall back into the powdery snow that dusts the stone outcrops. The darkness of the cavern is split into fractals by the ice draping down from the ceiling in curtains, looking like thousands of tiny crystals. A drained thermos of hot cocoa sits to your left.

According to Moon, you were still a few days out from making it back to town on foot. It didn't help speed matters up that your "guide" only traveled at night, when the temperatures were easily sub-zero. The only other option was to weave through frosty caves, the nightlight glow of Moon all you can follow.

You stretch out your fingers, closing your digits into a fist beneath the dense layers of gloves and mittens. Eyeing a particular icicle that looks like a glittering gemstone. Out of reach.

You turn your head, and look to Moon. The circlet of icicles around his head - six horns, you count — shimmer in the light. The tips of his horns are weathered, a devil only in name and name alone. Frost curls up and down the cold surface of his metalwork frame.

During the day, boredom plagues you as restlessly as the hunger gnawing at your stomach. It was almost time for dinner. Another evening spent relying on your generous guide for a meal. Last night, you hovered by the yeti's side, drooling as he carefully pared off layers of fish scales to expose the juicy meat beneath, nestled between pockets of thin bone. 

You nearly burnt your tongue once you dug into the meal, starved and enthusiastic. That was the moment you first saw Moon smile, as he laughed so quietly into the back of his hand, that you almost missed the rumble of his subdued joy.

You never were much of a survivalist sort. Without the help of the 'ice devil' before you, you'd long since be a popsicle left forgotten in the mountains. Vanessa was right; you never should've left town without her.

But luck had it you found a different tour guide. Not without ample struggle first.

As the quiet settles in, you mull over your options to pass the time. You could help Moon with tidying up—Or! You could continue to badger him. Badgering sounds more tantalizing than cleaning, and so, you press the issue further.

Hopping back up onto your boots, your arms wobble out in a struggle for balance, sliding forward on the ice. Moon stiffens, then resumes his task of winding up the fishing cord.

You pull the puffer jacket you wear tighter around your frame. The jacket has been carefully mended with Moon's help, since Sun's claws nearly tore it to shreds. He was surprisingly good at embroidery, having decorated the jacket where he patched it with a plethora of stars and diamonds, returning it to you with an apology. You hadn't minded being swaddled up in the furs he wears for the time being, actually.

You circle around Moon, expecting the mountain of snowy fluff to respond to your presence. There’s no indication he sees your circling, either playing into the cards or genuinely unaware of your approach.

Feeling playful, you pounce at the robot, arms outstretched to encircle its shockingly lithe framework.

The smile on your face wipes away the instant you feel claws wrap around your wrist to effortlessly lift you into the air. You stand at the tips of your boots, the muscle fibers in your arm stretching and feeling as if they might snap apart thread by thread.

You are pulled up to be eye-level with the hulking, spindly devil, donned with blindingly white furs. Your field of vision is consumed by their face. Your stare widens as the sharp point of their tusks nearly jabs your eyes out.

Steam puffs from the corners of Moon's mouth, briefly fogging up the cold metal on his faceplate with each faux breath. The eye on your left is alive and alert, a vivid LED screen with an acute, digital pupil. The eye on your right — and the side you made the mistake of approaching the yeti on — is a darkened void, metal torn into with deep gashes and corroded with rust.

The warmth of his synthesized 'breath' brushes off your face with a huff of air. Like being sat up right against a furnace, boiling and burning. You watch as silicone shifts, inner mechanisms inside the thin layer of their mask moving to open up the hinge of their jaw. The jaw hinges open at the circle divets at the corners of his mouth; silicone pulled taut to bring out a large, predatory grin. Lined with sharp, jagged, metal teeth that look deadlier than a bear trap.

"happy?" Moon asks. His expression is cast in shadow as the sun sets behind him, leaving only the bright glare of his remaining pupil the source of light you cling onto.

"Y, yes, well, I guess so—" you find your voice enough to stammer. Fear rushes through your body as the muscles in your arm scream, the soles of your boot losing their grip on the ice and causing you to freely dangle from the yeti's iron grip.

All at once, Moon lets go. Dropping you quickly and abruptly down, the decision jarring and sudden. The yeti backs away a few paces, crystalline horns retracting into their face plate as his pupil thins out.

Moon fumbles, caretaking protocols gnashing against his reactive response, quickly sorting through—didn't mean to, reflexes are— before deciding saying nothing at all was better than a half-baked apology seasoned with nonsense excuses. Utterly flavorless.

You are not a threat to him— you couldn't have known that being approached in his blind spot puts him on edge— but humans have not always been kind to what they perceive as nothing more than an eternal beast.

"i'll go check the nets," Moon mutters with a duck of his head away and out of sight, lumbering away with more speed than you've seen him exert in awhile.

You sit there in the snow, and miserably untangle the scarf you wear off your neck, tossing it aside.

The cheerily bright colors of the fabric mock you, waving like a flag in the infinite expanse of the arctic.

[babysfirstfic]

live now, think later

luke hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Luke desperately needs to blow off some steam. In a dingy bar, he finds just what he's looking for...

warnings: Brief allusions to sex, but nothing major. Yet. (18+)

a/n: This is my first ever fic! I would love to hear feedback if you have any. I plan for this to be chapter 1 of 3 (but we'll see what happens)! Shoutout to this Tate McRae song for directly inspiring the title and for subconsciously inspiring the plot.

There were few NHL rookies who had more eyes trained on them than Luke Hughes. Between the constant media attention he received from a young age and the pressure that came with his last name, Luke had always had a complicated relationship with his celebrity.

Don’t get it twisted, Luke was super grateful for all the advantages that came with having two all stars for brothers, and there was a part of him that enjoyed leaning into his status. 

On the ice, he welcomed the attention. He loved the chance to put on a show for the fans, reveling in the opportunities to make game-changing plays. Hockey was his craft; the minute he laced up his skates he was an artist, an author, a showman. A single goal could cause an entire stadium to rise to their feet, and the power he felt in those moments was indescribable.

Off the ice, though, it was a different story.

Luke prided himself on his maturity and his charm, his ability to keep his cool even while being peppered with questions and surrounded by cameras. He had years to perfect the art of the interview, expertly dodging personal inquiries and even cracking the occasional smile to make it seem like he didn’t absolutely despise answering the same inane questions over and over again. 

But one could only keep up appearances for so long. He found it exhausting to have to perform all the time. Though he understood it was a sacrifice he’d have to make now that he was living out his dreams, that didn’t make it any easier. 

After several months in the league, he craved a chance to be something other than “Luke Hughes, the hockey player”. He desperately needed to let loose and to make use of the other sides of his personality, the spicier sides, the sides that the cameras would never get to see. 

It was time for this Devil to earn his horns. 

Within the first few months of being in New Jersey, Luke quickly learned which bars would bend the rules for him. In his desperation to fit in with any teammate who didn’t share his DNA, he was willing to do pretty much anything to get in, buying fake IDs, signing jerseys, you name it. He felt it showed his teammates just how committed he was to building their relationships, on and off the ice. 

But tonight, his team couldn’t have been further from his mind. This time, he’d come alone. 

Luke had never had the time or energy for dating, but he thrived on quick hook ups and meaningless sex. No obligation for vulnerability or commitment, just fun. After the whirlwind that had been last year, he needed some fun, and tonight, he was willing to work for it. 

His bar of choice was dingy, a typical dive bar, complete with sticky floors and disgruntled employees, but the low key lighting and loud music allowed for the perfect cover. Luke felt a sense of safety in his anonymity, a feeling which was becoming increasingly rare. 

Waiting in a booth on the edge of the dimly lit room, he scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of excitement, someone to steal the blood from his brain and force it elsewhere. 

Suddenly, something, no someone caught his eye. It was you. 

In a glittery backless top with a loose, low cut and black pants that you filled out in all the right places, you were shaking your stuff on the dance floor. Your whole body bounced with every movement. Like a beacon in the night, the strobe lights illuminated your entirety, sending colourful fractals bouncing off in every direction. You were practically demanding Luke’s attention, and you didn’t even have to try. 

You had sensed his eyes on you immediately and couldn’t help but to return his gaze. He looked young but strangely sure of himself, carrying the recognizable swagger of a man who’s used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. Luke would call it confidence, but if you asked his brothers, they’d call it his raging youngest sibling syndrome. 

You were undeniably intrigued. Adding more hip movement to your dancing, you hoped that it would encourage him to join. This certainly was not your first rodeo. 

It worked. Slowly, he stood up from his booth and made his way onto the dance floor. You sensed a shift in his energy, like this was something out of the ordinary for him. “Nice to know he has a weakness,” you mused to yourself, just now noticing the flutter in your heart as he inched closer. 

Luke hated dancing, but something about you drew him in, like a ship of sailors drawn by the voices of sirens. Though he hoped he might meet a different fate; he hoped you might give him a happy ending. 

Eventually, he reached your spot on the dance floor. 

“Hey,” he spoke into your ear, leaning in close so that you could hear him above the music. You felt his breath tickle your neck, sending chills down your back and deep inside. 

“Hi,” you responded, keeping your cool in spite of the tides coming in beneath you. You didn’t know him, had never seen him before, yet everything within you yearned to be close to him, craved to feel his hand against your skin, begged to know him in every sense of the word. “Sheesh girl, you need to get out more,” you thought, smiling briefly to yourself.

Without wasting any time, you grabbed his hand and placed it on the small of your back, finally experiencing the brief release of skin-on-skin. You looked up at him, attempting to decipher the look on his face. He reciprocated your gaze, flashing his crooked smile, practically threatening to melt you right then and there. 

Seeing his smile mirrored on your face, he moved his other hand to match the first, pulling you in close. You nodded to express your approval and quickly fell back into your original rhythm, grinding and swaying your hips to the music. Sticking your hands in his back pockets, you led him through the motions, slowly undulating your bodies to the beat. 

Your eyes scanned up and down as you let yourself take him in. There was something about this boy; he completely captivated you. With his arms around you, you felt safe. He lacked the aggression and forcefulness you had unfortunately come to expect from situations such as these. He was clearly strong, but you caught him out of his comfort zone, so he was letting you take the lead, a role you took on gladly. 

After a couple minutes of finding the right rhythm, your bodies became one. The world melted away. Luke leaned in and began gently kissing your neck, stopping only to briefly nibble your ear. As your pelvises moved up and down to the beat, you began to feel the friction of something rising just below his belt. You responded in kind, sensing a growing heat and swelling between your legs. Neither of you had done this in a while and it was showing, your bodies overly excitable. But you didn’t mind; you were both getting exactly what you wanted. 

“I live a couple blocks from here,” you shouted above the crowd, doing everything in your power not to let out the moan that was threatening to escape your lips. “Maybe we could finish our dance there”. 

Knowing full well he couldn’t wait that long, Luke made a different suggestion. “There’s a hotel across the street. I have a room. Care to join me?” 

In the haze of the crowd and the music and the night, you found yourself moving off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the open air of Newark. 

Your entire body was pounding, throbbing with energy and excitement. Your hand was clasped in his, and only then, as you were making your way through the hotel lobby and down the hallway to the room, did you realize you didn’t even know his name. More importantly, you realized you didn’t care. In fact, it was better this way. No possibility of getting attached or contacting each other afterwards. A true one night stand. 

As you reached the room, Luke spun you around to face him, your back firmly placed against the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, leaning close, finally allowing you to get a good look at his face in the light.  

Your gaze trailed down from his curls to his lips, before resting on his eyes. You noticed a slight sparkle in them, a glint, an invitation. This was your chance. “I’ve never been more sure,” you responded.

Lunging forward instinctively, you reached up, taking hold of his hair and guiding his lips towards yours. Your touch was confident, verging on forceful, a byproduct of the pent up energy that needed an outlet and had finally found one. 

Maybe you were a little too forceful. As your bodies collided, they also made contact with the door, sending a loud noise vibrating through the hallway. You briefly paused your moment of passion to laugh, your foreheads still touching, neither of you daring to fully pull away. 

“Someone’s a little eager,” Luke spoke against your lips, chuckling slightly before re-initiating the kiss. 

Just as it had in the bar, the world melted away, making you forget just how publicly you were displaying your affection. 

But you were both being reckless, and Luke knew it. He had been warned about pulling something like this, about bringing negative attention to himself or to the team. He was new and still needed to prove himself. Above all that, he had a squeaky clean reputation to uphold. He was trained to be tight-lipped to the media so that the focus was on his playing, not his personal life. Stunts like this could jeopardize everything he’d worked for, everything his parents sacrificed for. But god, you were making him forget all of that. There wasn’t a single thought in Luke’s mind that didn’t have to do with getting you out of your clothes and under his tongue...

[therentyoupay]

18. "You look lost." for jelsa ??? :3c

from this askbox meme!

"On the contrary," she says, slotting a hand over one cocked hip, sending shimmering fractals of reflected light across the inner walls of the glacier. "I live here."

Jack blinks. "Okay. So... Am I lost?"

The look of mild antagonism in her eyes disappears, and the judgmental slant of her brow softens into something more perplexed and curious than defensive. Jack twists his staff behind his back with a flick of his wrist—partly to seem unarmed but mostly to fill the silence.

"Are you?" the woman in white asks, her gaze narrowing at his bare feet on the ice. Concern curves into the lines of her mouth, her brows. "How did you get in here?"

Jack wasn't sure how well 'Oh! I was just flying around and passed through this funny-looking cloud and found this super cool glacier in the middle of the sea and decided to poke around!' would, no pun intended, fly.

"I don't know," he shrugs, sloooowly making his way closer to where she stands in the center of the cavern. He is careful not to watch her directly, and instead makes a show of looking up and around and admiring the giant slabs of ancient ice—he can feel the Old Power in them, kind of similar to how Manny feels—but out of the corner of his eye, he can see that she still stiffens up, wary of his not-so-subtle encroaching. Her shoulders, he notices, are bare. He tightens his grip on his staff, behind his back. "How do people usually get in here?"

"They don't."

Interesting. "How did you get in here?"

She doesn't answer him, which isn't a surprise at this point. "You aren't wearing any shoes," she observes, a question mark hanging in the freezing air of the chamber.

Jack knows he should try to be polite—has actually been working really hard on it, thank you very much—but he can't resist just a tiny bit of cheek. "I'm not," he agrees, and to emphasize his point, he takes another step closer to her with a cheerful glint in his eyes. He crosses both hands behind his back to clutch his staff behind him—relaxed, but ready.

You're like me, Jack knows, but not?

The woman in white's gaze travels over his hoodie, his old pants, his messy hair. It lingers on the drawstring cords at his collar: on the frost that lingers there. Her gaze snaps to his like an accusation. Like a wish.

"You're like me," she says, "but not."

Jack feels the magic in the walls, threaded into the frozen veins of this ancient labyrinth of secrets. Some instinct inside compels him to slowly reach out a hand and twist the molecules of air above his palm into sparkling diamonds of swirling snow, delicate and fragile: he watches her as she watches, transfixed, as his snowflakes dissolve into the air and become a part of the very fabric of the cavern that contains them, forever with the memory of this moment. Her eyes widen, and her fists clench.

Interesting.

"I don't think I'm lost," Jack says, slowly, like he might to a skittish deer; he knows, in this moment, that she has never met anyone like herself, either. I think we were supposed to find each other, he knows, but does not say.

The woman in white considers him. Raises her delicate palm aloft. Jack swallows. Now who's the deer?

Watches as, from the fabric of time and space above her palm, she pulls forth a wave of Old Magic so powerfully condensed that Jack nearly stumbles back—only catches himself at the last moment, as his staff drops to his side, at the ready—and the woman in white's Old Magic coalesces into a tiny flake of glimmering ice and snow. She briefly closes her eyes, and warmth suffuses the flake, dissolving it exquisitely into nothing but memory, and leaving the air of the cavern alive and singing.

The woman in white looks him in the eye; he'd gotten rather too close when he'd thought he was being sneaky, and now it's hard to meet the blue of her gaze. But he does.

"I don't think you're lost, either," she whispers. She glances at his hands.

Jack swallows. The air in the cavern surrounding them feels alive. He feels like he could do anything; when her gaze returns to his, he knows it. For whatever reason—we are supposed to find each other.

Slowly, through the heavy invisible energy sending sharp shocks of electricity over his skin, Jack Frost reaches out his hand to the woman in white, and waits for her to take it.

→ on ao3

[bookishnerdartchive]

THE BIG FOUR: Convergence(A Once Upon a Time AU), Ep. 1, Part 1 Excerpt

EP 1 – A Strong Enough Belief

PART 1: The Boy in the Frozen Lake

Once Upon a Time…

Up above.

It was a full moon, pure and bright, as the heavenly body seemed to watch over everything. It looked like the moon had a face of its own and one could imagine it beheld a knowing look down the acres of wood in one part of the forest of Arendelle. Although, it doesn’t seem to give away anything else to help an observer guess how much it knew, not even when one would look up at it hard enough. Did it know enough about what was unfolding?

Down below.

A frosted lake, smooth and reflecting the light of the aforementioned moon.

A few cracks barely visible on the surface and then…

The shape of a boy, floating beneath, almost invisible in the opaque and chilled water encasing him. He could not have been older than 17 or 18 and, by some magic, it was as if he was only asleep as the rest of the lake flowed around him. His back was to the surface, his head hung low and his chin against his chest, as he drifted with his arms wide. He wore an unmistakable dark blue coat, with embroidered snowflake patterns on the cuffs and lapels, though a little torn from some fight not that long ago. His hair was white as the first sight of snow.

A glint.

There was a silver delicate chain around his neck, the end of which had a medallion, yet another snowflake, but one that used to belong to a young queen in a kingdom not far from the lake.

In between the heavens and water.

A queen dressed in light blue—the kind that glistened like the frozen fractals on the leaves and branches of trees and the very body of water itself—hurried to the edge of the lake. She was unbothered by the howling winds and the sharp coldness that came with it, running in search of something and eyes trained on anything beneath the surface. Any movement. Any sign of life.

She barely turned around as the sound of a sled and of hooves behind her signaled she was not alone and that the others have caught up.

“Did you find him?” called the high-pitched voice of someone, clambering off a sled. The princess of Arendelle’s voice rarely faltered with tension anymore, but maybe it was something in her sister’s expression that bothered her.

“I’m looking. I just can’t see him. I can’t--” The Queen, Elsa of Arendelle, huffed, her eyes wider this time as her breath made little clouds. She can hear something, something like a siren calling her in the wind. It guided her. Her heartbeats were loud as her sight honed in on a particular patch of the lake, somehow glinting brighter under the moonlight. The necklace!

She scrambled over and fell to her knees. “Wait, I see him! Here! He’s here!”

The ‘calling’ — whatever it was that made her sure she’d find him, had stopped. She pressed her hands on the surface. Rammed her fist. Then, with shaking hands, tried to make the ice melt and go away with a sparkle in her fingertips. It seemed to only make the ice thicker. Stronger, and the boy seemed to move further away underneath them. Elsa pulled her hands back so quickly that she fell to her back, heels slipping, just as five other people approached her from the sled.

Anna, the Queen’s sister was quick to hold her, while her burly blonde fiancé, Kristoff, tried to keep a large reindeer at bay, mumbling something about a ‘cursed lake’. Then there were the strangers that recently came to Arendelle, right before all of this happened. She had a lot of questions and a lot of concerns, considering how the Dark One had arrived only shortly after them, but they seemed as eager and frantic as she was.

A gangly boy with the much-too-big armor of a Viking had introduced himself as Hiccup, and, surprisingly, Princess Merida, a girl with fiery red hair, who Elsa had only heard about in passing from the Queens’ Council. Queen Elinor of Dunbroch’s elusive daughter. She barely had the time to wonder what either were doing in Arendelle or how they knew about her mysterious white-haired ward. But both Viking and Princess carried pickaxes, taken from who knows where and had already started hacking at the ice.

Another girl, one with long, golden hair braided with foreign spring flowers at her back, went to take Queen Elsa’s hand. She had tagged along with the other two when they first came into the queendom, probably only a little less than 24 hours ago. She had shivered the most, claiming that she was unused to the cold unlike Hiccup and Merida, and had been given a heavy cloak and boots. She’d seemed a bit awkward in the snow and even around the village taking it all in like she was just as used to being shut inside as the queen herself.

The girl’s, Rapunzel’s, hand was sunlight-warm against the queen’s cold as ice.

The Queen never used to shiver due to low temperatures, but she’d been shivering for a while now ever since he disappeared, and both Anna and Rapunzel attempted to keep her still. The gesture was warm. The sunlight-girl’s look of determination contrasted with the queen’s worried expression.

“It has to be you, Queen Elsa,” the girl with golden hair said, the mention of her name startling her as if she’d expected only to be a spectator as the strangers took over.

READ THE REST in AO3

[philcoulson-redtapeninja]

Hiya!

📝

For any character you want, please and thank you.

Here are some of my headcanons for Mark “Ik” Ikagami (Real Genius)!

From the Seattle area, probably a Virgo Five other Marks in the dorm his first year, so went by Ikagami which was eventually shortened to Ik by Chris Big fan of motorcycles, used to ride mopeds before upgrading Has to buy a size up for his Harley Davidson shirts bc Chris keeps stealing them Decent pingpong player(based on his line in the script “I'm depressed. Why did I listen to my parents? I should have become a ping-pong pro.”) Major/Master is in Bio Chemistry(from the script "MARK IKAGAMI, better know as ICK. Ick is a bio-chemist who spends a great deal of time in his lab experimenting with various fun compounds that do things ranging from making artificial ice to increasing memory.") Has a strong interest in agricultural genetics, especially in radiations effects on plant DNA He'd be delighted to learn about the new research into the mathematical link to genetic mutations. Also by whole genome sequencing and genetic algebra. Stims by drawing fractals and  the Fibonacci spiral.(I'm sorry did ANYONE think that these folk were neurotypical?) Like looking for math on nature Incredibly sarcastic but in such an utterly deadpan way that no one is entirely sure if it was sarcasm.  Hell of a poker face. Can only be beaten by Mitch counting cards Y'all know that tweet about getting away with stealing chairs by saying they were for a math meet next door? Yeah, that's him No one expects him to be just as much of a being of chaos as Chris, but he is~

I just think he's neat!

[homoeroticfisticuffs]

wip wednesday

(this is from the same work i posted last week, because i've had so little time to write lately </3 this follows immediately after my last wip!) (word count: 1033)

She couldn’t deny that he had intrigued her right from the very start, initially being somewhat impressed by his combat skills and his affinity for his thief’s gadgets. He wasn’t like other men she had fought on typical jobs like this who would just try to use brute force to outmatch her; he was smart in the way that he fought, and probably would have beaten her if it hadn’t been for Rocket and Groot and their subsequent shared capture by the Nova Corps.

She found, reluctantly, that it was extremely easy to talk to him. Just a few minutes alone with him on a balcony in Knowhere had her spilling her whole life story to him, and earning his in return. She had never experienced that before, that honest kind of openness and closeness with someone else. Before she knew it he was showing her his music, the number one most treasured thing to him, putting the very item on her head that he had risked his own skin and bones to get back before their departure from the Kyln. It was almost overwhelming, and it was virtually impossible to resist when he gently cradled her hand in his and slowly leaned in for a kiss.

But she knew who she was, and more importantly who he was, and she knew she had absolutely no time to deal with his tricks at a time like this. So she put her blade to his throat, and that was that. No more tricks from him, message received.

But then, oh then, she found herself floating in the cold expanse of the void, her body becoming a stranger to warmth and to gravity as she watched the debris of her pod drift away, along with the face of her sister flying off into the distance. Even with her body mods she could feel her lungs start to struggle, along with the fractals of ice slowly beginning to form on her skin. Nothing in the galaxy could feel lonelier than this, she decided, completely abandoned and having failed herself and the world. This was to be her destiny; it seemed fitting.

But then he was there, despite everything. He had placed his mask on her head, his only way to breathe out there, choosing instead to give her the chance at surviving that emptiness. She took in a big gulp of air, looking at him through red lenses and seeing his frozen face, feeling gripped by an intense whirlpool of different emotions, the most prominent being confusion, concern, and fear; but for the first time in a long time, not for herself.

He would have died if Yondu hadn’t arrived at that exact moment. He would have died, just to make sure that she didn’t.

What the hell was she supposed to do with that?

Of course, in the end, the intense wave of emotions that was only made greater by his lying on top of her and cradling her face in his hands had come to its abrupt end when Quill decided to open his fucking mouth, proving himself yet again to be arrogant, shallow and selfish. With a sigh, she could only feel disappointed in herself for indulging in her childish hopes and desires.

Even then, as much as she tried to push it down, she could still feel a fondness for him growing in her over time. From the way he spoke as their captain to the way he ended up genuinely deciding to do something for the greater good, rather than just himself, he was growing on her in a way that she didn’t know what to do with.

She knew she couldn’t pretend not to care about him when she saw him grab an infinity stone with his bare hand like an idiot, watching him writhe on the ground in agony, and the only thing she could think about in that moment was how badly she needed to share in that agony so that he wouldn’t have to be alone.

She followed her captain after that, knowing she respected him in a way that was reserved only for him.

Things became more complicated when Ego came into the picture, taking him away from her in a way that she couldn’t understand why it bothered her so much. She wanted to be happy for him, she really did, and in a way, she was; she saw how amazed he was by all of it, and seeing him smile so earnestly definitely made her feel something warm and content, but she knew deep down that something wasn’t right. And that was completely separate from the disappointment that she felt at the fact that he seemed to be lost in this, and not including her as much as she wished he did on this journey that clearly meant so much to him.

She did her best to be there for him as much as she could. Even when he finally came to her, asking to dance, she tried to follow along with his steps but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was incredibly wrong.

She tried to deny the “unspoken thing,” because honestly, it was idiotic and childish, and she didn’t even understand the Terran allegory he was trying to make. It always irritated her blind when he would make his Terran references and expect the whole crew to magically understand what he meant, as if it wasn’t complete abilisk bile every time. 

But then she almost lost him again, and she had to be there for him in earnest through the death of someone he loved, and everything changed. She finally saw him in a different light, and found herself unable to deny their “unspoken thing.”

It was surprisingly easy being with him. Around her, he was completely patient and understanding, totally unlike the way he acted around Rocket and Drax, or even Mantis. His pride came second to her, which was an enormous relief considering the state that his confidence and overall character had been in when they first met. He was like a completely different person, in the best way possible. It was like taking in a breath of fresh air.

(as always you can find my other writing here!)

[piece-of-the-pie-if]

Could we get 🌼 🌾 🌻 🍂 for Theo and Kinsley please?

this is a little long, lemme know if I should add a read more~ from this ask list. +I had nothing for Theo's part so I decided to just upload this for Kin, hope that's okay

KINSLEY

🌼──Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

Honestly, the people Kinsley surrounds herself with aren't good for her. Despite the fact that she calls them friends, both Tiffany and V are in her life for reputation... by default. She honestly avoids them just as much as she's seen with them. (Which is probably to her detriment considering she hasn't yet realised how manipulative both of them are.) The reason she's latched on to Dylan so much is because they're real with her, they don't pretend with her and they don't hold back their words for her. (Plus Dyl actually cares about her, which she hasn't had in a long time.) At the very base line, Kin just wants someone who will take her for who she is and will stay when they finally figure out who she really is─too many of her s/o's only wanted her because of her status.

🌾──Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them.

Kinsley is a wildfire. She's fierce and untamed and her influence spreads at the speed of light. She's untouchable and if you get too close too quick you'll get burnt. But she's warm behind the lick of flames, and she keeps the weeds at bay, she's protective of her territory. Kinsley is a shard of ice. Her gaze is cold and her words are sharp. If you handle her the wrong way you'll get cut. But she's unique, a complicated pattern of fractals to build up her walls, she's beautiful from the distance she keeps you at. But when her walls are shattered, she's the ice to keep you cool during a heatwave. Kinsley is a speckle of sunlight. It's not big enough to wrap you in it's embrace, warm you and heal you under it's light, but it's enough so you can see through the bitter darkness─a glimmer of hope, a helping hand to the other side of the tunnel. When she's yours, she's yours loyally.

🌻──What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

It might seem really insignificant to others but she really likes the colour green. Kinsley makes a little game with herself to. keep track of things she sees that are shades of green. She jokes with herself when she debates counting the things that aren't her preferred shade of green. She even makes physical notes of what she sees in a notebook when she gets home. If anyone else were to read it they'd just be met with lists and lists of random objects and, if she remembered, where she saw them.

🍂──Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others?

Kinsley likes hugs, she just doesn't get them very often. One could say she's touch starved, leaning into the embrace of people she cares about longer than 'appropriate'. However, she's not particularly affectionate with most people, she shrugs off arms slung over her shoulder and she'll avoid cheek kisses from Tiffany, she'll drop attempts to hold her hand. She's not a very public display of affection person! She can and will straight up ignore strangers or sometimes she'll switch up and just glare at them until they go away. With her s/o however, it's different. She's not exactly clingy but she likes being in their space──or having them in hers. She maintains eye contact more, but now instead of an icy glare those eyes hold conversations. If you let her hug your arm she doesn't think she'd ever detach! Overall Kinsley's not very affectionate in public but will pull her s/o into a cuddle puddle when at home!

[thewolfisawake]

I thought I put this in its own post but I did not. So moths are usually how Balmoral chooses to have his power manifest. Honestly in their most basic form they're indistinguishable from even a butterfly. They're just a flurry of his aspect/magic that he can conjure and dismiss as easily as ice constructs. Giving it form just helps him control better.

However, there are more specialized ones that exist. And these are the named and unique appearing moths. They function similarly to familiars although arguably more sturdy than them. They are crystallizations of Balmoral's power as well as conduits through which he can channel his aspect or magic through. With them he can...hm, when I think about it as I write, sorta telepathically communicate with another through them? Like the moth has to physically touch the party in order for Bal to talk to them. Unfortunately other party does have to speak for their words to get relayed to him (In Royal AU, the Consort doesn't have this issue and can communicate both ways without physical vocalization).

Bal can make a decent amount of these familiar-like moths but chooses not to. The most he's attempted to make before is about 270 and it exhausts him. Again, these are bits of his power so fragmenting it so much is very tiring. Also it gets annoying as he can track individual moths and that number is a lot and feels like buzzing to keep a hold on where they are.

When the specialized moth is created, they look the same as the ones he uses for conjuration: delicate and silver colored (they are iridescent sheened in the Royal AU). Because they are essentially a bit of magic, they do not need food or rest. They tend to stick around a person idly. After some time for Bal to passively feed it magic to make it more stable, it'll start acting a bit more independently. Because they're normally made for someone else, they seem to adapt a personality and/or appearance that is more suitable for the person.

When they seemed to adapt one of these, they are a lot more autonomous. As in they might behavior like a normal moth/butterfly and can act without Balmoral or anyone's command. Although they are inclined to remain around either him or their intended bonded. But they still always will listen to command of their bonded and can received orders telepathically from Bal.

They can serve as protection as they can form a shield that is drawn from Bal's aspect. So it might look like fractals or a cloak of stars. It can also push back with either a reflective counter (basically the attack will get thrown back at the attacker) or with spikes of ice. How long it can last usually depends on how long the moth has existed and if Bal contributes to it by channeling through it. For the moths that serve his children, Sceolan and Nathair, they can further be used to turn into a weapon that can be used.

A small thing about the moths that not even Bal really noticed nor thought about is how they have that bit of independence. He thought that is normal...as he's not really a technical-based magic user. However what is up with them is...that, essentially, the specialized moths develop traits...from him. They are some part of his personality and usually traits that come about from the bonded. But they are not developed or complex enough to really cause any problems.

The only real exception to everything is Coorie. Coorie is not bonded to anyone and is not usually used for anything particular (although she does tend to be helpful). And she is the one that is more born from a wish than anything existent within Balmoral. Coorie was shaped with Bal's very quiet and very unknown desire to be able to rest. She is considered very lazy and cuddly because of this. And this may be because...she is the first. She is the first moth Bal created back when he was a child but she wasn't stabilized/permanently within the world until he was in the militia. So she is actually the strongest concentration of his power but she doesn't serve any particular purpose. And...weirdly enough, this is like the only 'part of himself' that Bal is never mean to. He likes Coorie even he can't explain why and normally does not like anything without purpose but never dares to think being rid of her.

[frostbittenfemme]

The screams that echo the halls spur all the lab staff and researchers into panic mode. Half of them start pushing workbenches and equipment in front of the door, others attempt to find hiding spots within the lab themselves.

One of the lead researchers crams himself into a storage closet, another hides herself under the desk. One of the lab technicians transforms into their alt mode; a centrifuge, hiding in plain sight.

Wild comes to a halt when she’s outside the bulky door to laboratory 01, she takes her time looking over the locking mechanism before letting her servo rest on top of it.  The tips of her digits can feel the thrumming of an electrical current pulsing through the lock, for a moment her servo simply rests there before a small blue glow emanates from her palm. Ice swiftly spreads over the door working its way through the locking mechanism, rapidly cooling and contracting the metal. After a while of working at the mechanism a loud thunk can be heard, prompting the small femme to push the sliding door open. She’s greeted with a pile of laboratory equipment blocking her way inside. The femme stares at the barricade for a moment, letting out a twisted laugh. “Do you really think that’s going to stop me? Pathetic.” Wild grabs a hold of the barricade, tearing away the equipment piece by piece as she flings it behind her, smashing it into the wall before crashing to the ground. It’s light work to the former gladiatrix, only briefly slowing her down from entering the lab.

With the barricade removed Wild crosses the threshold. Her merely doing so was enough to cause the lab worker hid under the desk to emerge from their hiding place and attempt to leave from the opening Wild has created. Wild is prompt and swift, flinging her glowing arm in the direction of  the lab worker. Spears of ice instantly shoot up from the floor, acting as an extension of her own limb, goring the lab worker in the face, chest and abdomen like a pig on a spit. Energon runs down the icicles, pooling on the floor beneath the corpse.

The femme moves her arm to point at the doorway,  servo closing into a fist prompting fractals of ice to form around the edge of the doorframe, closing in until the room is completely sealed. Wild moves around the room slowly, optics peering around every inch of the laboratory. She doesn’t touch anything, once again simply observing. There’s not many places to hide. The femme comes to a stand still in the middle of the silent room and it is here she breaks the silence. “Are you scared?” She asks; a rhetorical question to a silent room.

The lab worker hidden inside the storage closet trembles, servo covering his intake in a poor attempt of muffling his whimpers. He’s praying to Primus that she’ll just leave and spare him.

Wild inhales sharply, pressing her glossa to the roof of her intake, for a moment she makes no movement, simply taking in the scent of the air.

The lingering scent of disinfectant is masked by the smell of freshly spilled in the air, yet there is another scent she is looking for; it’s hidden but a scent she grew oh so familiar with during the war; fear. The peak in the lab workers cortisol hits the femmes olfactory sensors and as soon as it does it’s all she can smell, all she can taste. The fear and desperation gripping the mech is almost palpable in Wild’s frigid servos.

Wild tilts her helm in the direction of the closet, fanged grin painting her face as she launches herself at the door, talons gouging into the metal as she rips it away from the frame.

 “Found you~” 

[escapedartgeek]

Fashion & Appearance Stats. BOLD what applies to your muse.

 BODY long legs / short legs / average legs / slender thighs / thick thighs / muscular thighs / skinny arms / soft arms / muscular arms / toned stomach / flat stomach / flabby stomach / soft stomach / six pack / beer belly / lean frame / muscular frame / voluptuous frame / petite frame / lanky frame / short nails / long nails / manicured nails / dirty nails / flat ass / toned ass / bubble butt / thick ass / small waist / thick waist / narrow hips / average hips / wide hips / big feet / average feet / small feet / soft feet / slender feet / calloused hands / soft hands / big hands / average hands / small hands / long fingers / short fingers / average fingers / broad shouldered / underweight / average weight / overweight 

Zora in the more everyday form - has a fairly slender, average kind of form. They do have more noticeable weight in their legs and hips so that does stand out silhouette-wise. There's a softness to them - but they do have callous hands at times depending on the kind of materials they had been working with.

SKIN  pale / rosy / olive / dark / tanned / blotchy / smooth / acne / dry / greasy / freckled 

EYES  small / large / average / grey / brown / blue / green / gold / hazel / red / doe - eyed / almond / close - set / wide - set / squinty / monolid / heavy eyelids / upturned / downturned 

Z has kind of gone back to using the brown eyes default but they do have a highlights of lavender ever-present within them. Their eyes tend to be pretty big and look like they are gazing into other worlds (probably because they are).

HAIR  thin / thick / fine / normal / greasy / dry / soft / shiny / curly / frizzy / wild / unruly / straight / smooth / wavy / floppy / cropped / pixie - cut / shoulder length / back length / waist length / buzz cut / bald / jaw length / mohawk / white / platinum blonde / golden blonde / dirty blonde / colourless / blonde / ombre / light brown / mouse brown / chestnut brown / golden brown / chocolate brown / dark brown / jet black / ginger / dark red / auburn / dyed red / dyed an unnatural color / thin eyebrows / average eyebrows / thick eyebrows

Z has ha their brown hair for a while but have been wearing their hair in most recent years in shades of purple. It is actually a natural color for them but whether people know that is another thing altogether.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS  no tattoos / one tattoo / a few here and there / multiple / full sleeve / thigh tattoo / shoulder tattoo / forearm tattoo / neck tattoo / chest tattoo / no piercings  / ear piercings / nose piercing / lip piercing / tongue piercing / eyebrow piercing / navel piercing / cheek piercing / nipple piercing / genital piercing 

Zora has a few fractal tattoos on their body which in combined with the other markings that have more prominent over the years - tend to shift location and expand every so often. Like usually there's stable tattoo on their shoulder and back.. but the details can grow and shimmer from there.

COSMETICS   eyeliner / light eyeliner / heavy eyeliner / cat eyes / mascara / fake eyelashes / matte lipstick / regular lipstick / lipgloss / red lips / pink lips / dark lips / bronzer / highlighter / eyeshadow / neutral eyeshadow / smoky eyes / colorful eyeshadow / blush / lipliner / light contouring / heavy contouring / powder / matte foundation / shiny foundation / concealer / wears regularly / occasionally wears / never wears

Zora keeps it relatively simple with makeup, they do like playing with colors for their eyes and lips. They do tend to favor darker colors on their lips just for that starker look. But there are plenty of days where they will just put on a colored lip balm and keep it moving.

SCENT  floral / fruity / perfumes / aftershave / cocoa / moisturizer / shampoo / cigarettes / leather / sweat / food / incense / marijuana / cologne / whiskey / wine / fried food / blood / fire / metal / ice

Zora has a little zone-y kind of smell by default. But they do like light herbal scented lotions and body washes. So that kind of influences what they smell like on a day to day basis.

CLOTHES  jeans / tight pants / over knee socks / tights / leggings / yoga pants / pencil skirt / tight skirt / loose skirt / formfitting dress / cardigans / blouse / button up shirt/band t - shirt / vests / sweatpants / tank top / cutoff t - shirt / designer / high street / online stores / thrift / lingerie / long skirt / miniskirt / maxidress / sundress / tie / tuxedo / cocktail dress / high slit dress/skirt / t - shirt / loose clothing / tight clothing / jeans shorts / sweater / sweater vest /  khaki pants / suit / hoodie / hareem pants / basketball shorts / boxers / briefs / thong / hotpants / hipster pants / bra / sports bra / crop top / corset / ballerina skirt / leotard / polka dot / stripes / glitter / silk / lace / leather / velvet / chemise / linen / cotton / wool / patterns / florals / neon colors / pastels / black / dark colors / fur / faux fur

Zora overall tends to favor loose fitting clothing with bold colors and patterns. If they do wear skirts, they are long and paired with tights leggings and some layers. Any more formal outfits often involved pants that are fit at the ankle and button downs and long coats. The more crop top fits are more likely to show up in the summer.

Tagged By: @bewitchingbaker

Tagging: you

[absol-lutely]

Hiya, name’s Astra. Astra Hoshi. Apparently means “of the stars”. Somehow related to my birth? Anyway:

pronouns? She/her

gender? Weird, but not trans

hometown? Fortree

current town? Snowpoint

starter? Swampert, Axolotl (Axel), he/him

other mons? Swinub, Fractal, he/him, and gible, Chomps, she/her

family? Two parents and adopted sister Stella (14 now), still in Hoenn

age? 21

sexuality? Hard no: aroace. QPRs maybe

rotophone? Yes, Sparks

{{hello, is me. i don’t use caps and may occasionally translate for astra if she loses human language. wait, you didn’t mention that part yet. astra, how can i be a good service rotom if you won’t let me tell people what i do? do you expect me to just not tell anyone why i’m transcribing for you? it’s the internet, it’s not obvious like it is in person!}}

Oh, right, the weird ones:

species? Absol hybrid

hybridization? Truly unclear, adopted

absol traits? Danger sense, little horns and fangs, pokespeech, skin/hair/eye colors, reflective pupils

mega evolution? Can. Hurts. Rather not again

danger sense? Wildly inaccurate

pokespeech? Easier than human

other effects? Autism, SPD, ADHD… six senses are harder than five

Here’s me and my sister, before I moved out. I’m told my appearance is unsettling, so apologies.

//ooc notes start here. First things first, this blog has nothing to do with wishmaker-astra, though I love the blog very much. Original post on that one here:

Interaction notes, because Astra seems really overpowered without clarification:

Pelipper mail, its variations, and magic anons can be avoided if I don’t want to deal with it. IC, Astra knows protect and she will use it if her danger sense directs her.

To avoid her being overpowered, Astra’s danger sense is extremely fallible. She can fairly easily sense something immediately dangerous to her, but not what it is, which is why protect is her immediate reaction. Danger towards others is harder, and she needs to concentrate to tell who is the target. The gods and their chosens or hosts are hidden from her, along with magic anons, though their effects are not. For example, if Rayquaza tried to hit her with dragon ascent, she’d get hit, but if Rayquaza picked up a boulder and dropped it on her head, she’d sense the boulder. Her need for focus with danger towards others is a catch-all way for her to have not seen something coming. She can also be overwhelmed by her danger sense if too many people will be affected by the same thing (this is why she left hoenn).

Most importantly, this blog follows shinxverse rules (with permission). The two most important things from that are that A) the gods are uncommonly active in their regions and B) accidental hybridization via rituals/god powers is a thing that just happens sometimes. If still confused, she basically came from ORAS Hoenn but if the legendaries and mythicals were both active and unpredictable.

Now, lore notes:

Astra’s hybridization comes from her parents accidentally wishing on a jirachi while struggling with infertility, and jirachi made her wrong. There is no angst here, the hybridization itself is hard on her but its circumstances if discovered are no-stakes. Her parents are also good people, their relationship with her tops out at drama-stakes.

Astra has no link to jirachi, though this can change with blog interactions. Thus far jirachi made her, stuck her in fortree, and forgot about her.

Astra and her family worship jirachi, which led to the accidental wish. Their religion is highly spiritual and frowns upon proselytization.

Astra is wildly autistic because of the absol stuff. Humans can’t naturally deal with the extra absol senses, so she got autism, and her words come out easier in pokespeech.

Trigger warning time:

Of course, this is an rp blog, everything here is unreality. As such, it will not tag unreality unless there is ic unreality occurring to allow everyone to participate. Otherwise, this blog may contain mentioned ableism, mental illness, panic attacks, fantasy religion, and some body dysmorphia. Always ask to tag: will follow the format of “tw ______”. It will not contain suicidal thoughts, religions resembling real major religions, intentional parental abuse (meaning the worst case is saying something they don’t mean while angry), or anything remotely sexual (mun and muse are both sex-repulsed aroace). These topics may appear occasionally from reblogs or enter my inbox in asks, but never come from Astra or absol-lutely. Character arcs that I expect to have trigger warnings will have a character arc post noting these things beforehand. If there’s something you need me to tag, let me know. Astra is generally low- to medium- stakes for any of her own posts, but may participate in other characters’ high-stakes events.

mun follows from @funlovingfuzzball

[syntia13treeman]

TMA vs insomnia, go.

What a weird night I've had.

It was late Sunday evening, and I can be a responsible adult sometimes, so knowing I'll have to get up at 6:30 I turned off my computer shortly before mightnight and went to sleep. Or tried to. Now, I do sometimes get random bouts of insomnia, when I go trough weeks of maybe 4 hours of sleep on weekdays, because I'm to wired to go to bed at reasonable time; much rarer are individual nights when without warning I'm lying down and tired to the bone, but just can't fall asleep. Today was one of those days, but I made it stranger than usuall. There are two factors I'm going to 'blame' here.

One was the weather. After a month of pretty mild winter, yesterday the temperature rapidly dropped to 13oC below zero while air pressure skyrocketed. This is what I think caused me to spend post midnight hours tossing and turning.

The other is the fact that I've been binging Magnus Archives for the past week.

When at some point I checked the time and saw it was going on 2 am and I wasn't any closer to falling asleep than 2 hours prior, I decided, what the hell, I might as well listen to spooky bedtime stories and hope for the best. And so I grabbed my phone, turned volume as low as it would go and listned to a couple episodes before deciding it was enough, and putting the phone away. Half an hour later I realized that sleep still wasn't happening, so I grabbed the phone again. I repeated this process several times, and only once I suddenly got confused about what was happening, checked the phone, and saw that I was a few minutes into an episode with a title I didn't recognize. But I only had to go one episode back and found a familiar spot halfway through it, so I know I only nodded off for 15 minutes tops. And I was once again wide awake, and so I continued to listen.

And then, eventually, my alarm clock went of and I got up, dressed and put in my contacts and went into the winter morning/night and drove to work, watching in real time the fog of my breacth freazing on the windshield into the most beautiful tiny fractal flowers.

I'm there now, sitting at the computer, and when I look out the window, I see the first lines of dawn in the sky behind the line of leafless trees. A day of work lies ahead.

Wish me luck.

P.S. all through the drive I also felt strangly awake, and kept wondering if I'm actually clear headed and alert, or was I like that thing when drunk people would swear they are not drunk at all, and if I was, in fact, barely awake and about to drive right throug a shop window any second. I've never been so carefull navigating the iced-over turns as today, I can tell you that. :D

[margindoodles2407]

Littol Margin Mannerisms that the Links Have

Luminary is a stress eater. Fight me. Genesis, who is quite short, walks around on his tiptoes (subconciously) so as to appear taller. He is also an avid drinker of teas once he moves into the palace. Orpheus (bless his autistic little heart) stims like a madman. He slaps his face when he's happy, rubs his knuckles when he's anxious, paces, clicks his tongue, picks at any and all exposed skin, and rocks back and forth when sitting down (for various reasons), among MANY other things. (these are all things that i do, btw) Obviously, Forger loves to nap. This man can and will sleep anywhere, in any circumstance, under any conditions. But he also has trouble going to bed at night and will often stay up absurdly late for no reason. He's also very touchy and gives out cuddles like party favors. Awakener sings/hums/whistles to himself. Usually shanties, sometimes originally composed songs, and when he's stressed he makes up little ditties about what he's doing in real time to keep himself grounded. Tetra would never admit it, but she finds this adorable. Odysseus would be the kind of man to make 200+ page slideshows about topics that pique his interest, if slideshows existed in Hyrule. Graffiti DOODLES. EVERYWHERE. No paper is safe from his pencil. It's gotten him in trouble on numerous occasions when he accidentally drew on some commission papers for Mr Smith and the details got lost in all his art. Dawnbringer likes to go on LONG walks. He'll disappear into the woods for hours at a time. And he talks to himself as he walks. Audibly. When he was younger, it got him some strange looks from the Ordonians. Over time they grew to love him and got used to it, but it was WEIRD for a while. Engineer MUST write things down or he'll forget. Man is also the type to color code every single thing he's ever gotten.

For Fractal I'm going to split him into the colors for a second and then stitch him back together: Most people would assume that Vio is meticulously neat and never has anything out of its place, but it's actually Blue who struggles with the need for order. VIO, on the other hand, is a MESS. The disorganized genius trope personified. It annoys Blue to no end. Blue isn't by any means unnecessarily mean- I've always interpreted it rather as a strong sense of justice (that's where that need for order comes in). That being said, he does have a fiery streak and- actually, much like Red- tends to lose himself in his emotions. He always feels REALLY bad afterwards (even if he doesn't show it), ESPECIALLY after the whole ice cavern debacle. Red isn't AT ALL unhinged or creepy. He is genuinely a sweet, caring, bleeding-heart young man who would never wish anyone any harm- even if he does have a bit of a mischievous side. What my boy lacks is a filter, because he's so honest and genuine and autistic, so he says pretty much whatever comes to his mind, even if what's crossing his mind should perhaps be reflected upon beforehand. GREEN. MY BOY. MY SWEET UNDERRATED MAN. He struggles with self image- is he a good enough leader? Is he responsible enough? What will happen to his brothers if he slips up? He's the """original""" Link, is he acting enough like it? What if his brothers secretly hate him? He couldn't even use proper self-restraint in the Gerudo Desert, what if he fails again and he never gets out? and such.

Paladin, having been in the army, struggles the most with emotional repression. He has a tendency to bottle up his emotions… but also, due to the nature of being a Link, doesn't do it very well. So he'll be just on the verge of tears sometimes and is mentally screaming at himself not to cry, this is stupid, this is not worth your tears, Link shut UP--- and then break down sobbing when he's alone. It got really rough during the whole Cia debacle. Thank the goddesses he had Zelda and Proxi and Time-Traveling Baby Orpheus or my man might not have made it through the war.

[violetren]

Aether Chapter 22

Nomi... You are dealing with enough gay drama with Ashley and Hannah. Don't let yourself get dragged into the gay drama of Sierra and Maggie.

Actually that isn't entirely fair. Nomi knows Maggie is a math whizz and given what they are working on if Sierra says "Maggie might know" then the smart play is to call Maggie.

She's on thin ice for not giving Maggie until tomorrow properly though (even if it was a forgone conclusion) is rude when you're calling her in to identify some math. I realise these is something of a time crunch around finding Garrett and Co. before they summon xenophobic aliens to obliterate the world but like Fractal or at least an algorithm comparing those notes to other notes taken by Beth that were better labelled. Idk. I might just be feeling grouching because we interrupted Chance time for this.

Sierra could barely look Maggie in the eye at the start of the scene, but when they were both given space to focus on work they both settled back into their normal friend pattern. That could be a good thing, if they get around to having proper conversation later when they've both had time to breathe. Or it could be really messy if they just try to act like it never happened. That doesn't seem to be their vibe though.

Nomi is so fucking relieved when Maggie says yes. This woman is Under Stress.

It's awesome that Maggie is getting a hero suit, but Alan from marketing insulted Naomi and Chance's super suit and Vera started out by pestering Nomi about redesigning her very personal (and frankly already badass sounding) power armour and that set the tone for my attitude towards these designers for the whole meeting. My conclusion is that both of these people are Straight straight. Tracy seemed ok but then Tracy's only real contributions were estimated production time.

Thank goodness Ashley was there to be someone in world rolling their eyes at that bullshit. She also probably saved Maggie a lot of hassle so quickly finding a good symbol for her because oooh boy I shudder to think what Alan might have gone for. Something bland that tested well with middle aged conservative white women in the american mid west.

[blue-opossum]

Frozen Guitar (and reporting on the A.I. enigma)

        Frozen Guitar (and reporting on the A.I. enigma)

        Friday morning, 12 June 2020. (Original dream.)

        Dream #: 19,534-02.

        3 minutes to read (report on 20 May 2023).

        While working on a report on dream content causality, I made a startling discovery (that has occurred twice so far) that A.I. cannot only map my dreams correctly but produce content (correctly dated) that I have never posted online. Whatever is going on is anyone's guess. Yes, dream content and its causality are extraordinarily predictable - and I sometimes see people posting dream content virtually identical to mine (sometimes on the same day) - not that anyone ever notices anything. (For example, if it had produced a flying dream, that would not be unusual since flying has occurred every sleep cycle for over 50 years as the most predictable response to REM atonia variations and illusory vestibular dynamics.)

        I wrote a summary of a 5 March 2020 dream as follows (that is still in its complete original form online in a few locations - for example, as 224794 on the dream journal website): I find a dead snake inside a typewriter near the railroad tracks. In the outcome, while in the bedroom, I look through the typewriter that now seems like an abacus without counters. I shake it, and ashes fall out.

        Meanings: Dead snake: Inactive spinal energy (REM atonia and absence of control of muscles). Railroad tracks: Additional human spine analogy and potential mobility. Typewriter: Its use requires real-world dexterity and cognizance that does not exist in the dream state. Abacus: Its use also requires real-world dexterity and cognizance. Abacus without counters: Lack of dream state cognizance. Ashes: lack of consciousness. In this dream, real-world literacy and real-world numeracy are the underlying themes - but it is crucial to understand it is also about attaining awareness of manual dexterity after being in dream state REM atonia.

        This dream is from 12 June 2020. If anyone decides to investigate, they will see that this one was previously unposted! For example, up until today, the listings would have been for June 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11...13. I did NOT tell A.I. what date to imply! (Validation can be by dream journal numbers, ranging from 225587 to 225745. THIS dream report on the dream journal website would start from 236___ (as other people post from time to time).

        Anyway, here is the narrative. (12 June 2020).

        I see a broken guitar on a frozen lake.

        I will pause here to include dream content from 18 December 2008, where I found parts of a broken banjo on the inner rise of an icy trench in the winter. That dream was predictive because it occurred when Blaine Cox died without my knowledge (and as of this writing is number 203393 in the dream journal website's URL). He was a man who played the banjo and performed on stage with my father. (His obituary was published on my birthday.) However, as I mentioned many times before, dream content causality (and understanding it) still sometimes matches upcoming events regardless of how unlikely.

        The guitar strings are loose. Later, in the kitchen of my current real-world home, I find a smaller version of the "same" guitar in the freezer, and ice cubes fall out and bring about indoor-outdoor ambiguity (the sense of being indoors and outdoors simultaneously).

        The following is what A.I. also produced about causality (though of which I already know from over 50 years of dream study):

        Guitar: Its use requires real-world dexterity and cognizance that does not exist in the dream state. Broken guitar: (REM atonia and absence of control of muscles). Frozen lake: Additional analogy of REM atonia and lack of viable mental processes (lack of real-world cognizance). Ice cubes: lack of consciousness.

        What can I learn from this? Some factors may be coincidental, but not everything. I suspect fractal continuity is involved. I worked a lot with fractals years ago and was astounded by how predictive they were (similar to predictive text but exponentially more accurate).

        Playing guitars with strange attributes (including loose strings that do not sound out loudly enough) has occurred continually in dreams since childhood. (Again, simply intuitive recognition of my lack of real-world dexterity while sleeping, not the "interpretation" fallacy but genuine knowledge of causality.) Other factors may be from A.I. "predicting" past documents without seeing them simply from inexplicable pattern matching of some kind. I had done it often, so I can imagine what A.I. could do.