#small blue bag has cords

[w04hxo]

This isnt the prompt but hopefully op enjoys anyway

im so curious abt what ppl carry around on the daily.....rb & tag what's in ur pockets/bag?

[kagetxiga]

MUSIC CLUB

Movie! Cole Brookstone x Reader

COLE WAS IN A MUSIC CLUB BUT DIDN’T REALIZE THAT THE MEETING WAS CANCELED AFTER SCHOOL, ENTERING THROUGH THE DOORS HE FOUND SOMEONE NEW.

Headphones blasting at full volume and walking in the hallway.

Cole Brookstone, one of the students who were known to be a “member” of the “Garma-dork squad”, other than that, he was known as one of the most laid-back students who couldn’t care less about anything. School has ended, but that didn’t stop some students from being in the school. Whether they’d be doing club activities or to just hang out after school to finish up some homework. Cole was accepted into the music club, although due to the work of being a secret ninja and with all the exams coming up, he had to be absent most of the time. Kai was also accepted into the club but he isn’t as passionate nor as committed to music like Cole, so Kai left the club a while back to join any sports club.

Cole’s phone died during his last period so he was listening to some music through his large boombox which was currently playing some AC/DC. Bopping his head to the tunes and the rhythm, he made it in front of the music club’s door, but before he entered, he heard some noises on the other side of the door. Slipping off his headphones and pausing the music, he pressed his ear against the door.

Silence was heard on the other side but then a loud electric guitar noise was heard, making Cole flinch back in surprise.

Slowly turning the doorknob, he peeped through curiously. The music was louder than before, his brows burrowed at the absence of the rest of the club members, was he too late or too early? Looking more into the room, he spotted a girl with a black shiny electric guitar, her back was facing Cole, hiding her face. He took in some details of the female in front of him with curiosity lingering on his face.

Settling behind her, he sat on the blue carpeted floor, listening intently to her tunes and stringing, her fingers dancing across the strings and she plucks and bends them. Bopping her head up and down to the rock like music.

Cole’s face grew a smile onto his lips as he stared in amazement at her talent, recognizing the song.

She was playing the guitar solo of the song “I don’t wanna be me” by Type O Negative.

Her fingers going up and down the fret board, her hair jumping from her head bops. The song came to an end as she paused and sighed, then becoming startled by the sound of clapping coming from behind her.

Turning quickly, she saw Cole sitting down on the floor, boombox next to him as he was clapping his hands at her solo. “That was awesome” he spoke out happily at her accomplishment, her face held a slight pink tint on her cheeks from embarrassment and from someone seeing her play for the first time.

“Thank you! I wasn’t expecting someone to watch, I would’ve done much more better” She spoke out softly with a small chuckle, turning around to her guitar stand, she turned off the big amp as she placed the shiny instrument on the stand, while at the same time she was pulling out her aux cord. Cole stood up from the floor while watching her clean up, deciding to break the silence he spoke out first.

“So am I late to the meeting or was I early?” Cole asked with curiosity in his tone, the girl turned to look at as she grabbed her bag, “oh, for music club? It was canceled today and was rescheduled to tomorrow” she grabbed her phone and showed him the texts in the group chat.

“Ah, okay I see, my phone died in last period so I didn’t see.” He replied back to her, silence was filled in the room as they awkwardly stood there in the middle of the room.

“So, what’s your name?” The girl asked, saving them from the deafening silence, Cole was secretly grateful. “I’m Cole, what about you?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he looked at the girl in front of him. “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you” She spoke out with a closed eyed smile, he felt an immense surge of relaxation from the girl, something about her was calming and comforting, like a warm aura.

Checking the time on her phone, she had a few minutes left till she has to take her leave. “So, you’re friends with Lloyd?” She asked curiously, “I usually see you by the lockers with him and the others” she added on, Cole immediately felt uncomfortable, not like he was uncomfortable, he felt that he was making her uncomfortable. “Oh, uh, yeah I am, I swear Lloyd is-“ being cut off from the girl she smiled and nodded.

“That’s cool, I’ve always wondered how is he, even though we never really talked nor does he know me, I was always so worried for him cause of all the bullying, especially from chen” her smooth voice replied at cole, making him stunned at her words, she doesn’t hate Lloyd. Which was rare, especially from being in this city.

“You don’t hate him?” He asked whilst tilting his head to the side.

You disagreed and started to state your opinion on the blonde boy. You were about to speak up once more but a ringing was heard in your pockets, you earned a phone call by your ‘mother dearest’ as how you would like to call her.

“Well, looks like i gotta go, see you around?” You smiled at the muscular teenager in front of you as he nodded, “yeah, see you later” he held up his fist in which you knocked your knuckles against his with a smile. Exiting through the door, Cole couldn’t help but smile as he made a new friend.

Maybe he should go to the music club more often.

Thank you!

-K.T

A/n: this was incredibly rushed so i apologize severely if theres any grammar mistakes or so fast.

[beansprean]

Queening the Pawn Act 3 Part 7

Back to Nandor… Crew cameo! Wives cameo!! Jahan cameo!!!

Acts 1-2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Waist up of Nandor sitting on the couch in the library, continuing the talking head from part 1. The camera is now shooting from the side, and behind him you can see the right half of the bay window; a side table with a lit lamp, abandoned book, candle, butterfly display, and a small brass horse statue; a bucket of loose scrolls, and a wide gold mirror. The camera crew are reflected: a brown man with floppy bags and a sparse mustache is in the front, aiming the camera with one eye in the viewfinder; behind him is a large older Samoan man with a white beard ducking in front of a light reflector and pulling up cords; behind him is a white woman with long blonde hair in a ponytail, presumably the director, wearing a headset and holding up an iPad that she is writing on; behind her is a bored-looking Latine sound technician with long messy brown hair holding up the boom mic. Nandor is looking pensively away from the camera, brow furrowed and cheeks lightly flushed, fiddling his hands together in his lap. He says, “I was very confused by Guillermo’s conclusion. Which is obviously an unusual feeling for me, as he is normally so predictable.” 1b. Close up on Nandor at the same angle as he whips his head toward the camera, wide eyed and incredulous. He shouts, “Fuck that guy for making me feel confused!” 1c. Repeat. Nandor calms slightly and looks away again, flustered, hands curling into fists to press uncertainly against his chest. He spits sardonically, “Like I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like…”

2a. Flashback in sepa tones on a mottled brown background. Waist up shots of several of Nandor’s wives in a line, dressed in their 13th century finery and chatting happily together. One is clearly Marwa; there is also an older woman with short hair tucked beneath a scarf, a younger woman with freckles and long reddish hair, a fat man with a beard and long curly hair playing a barbat, a young person with a Roman nose, a man with a very fun handlebar mustache, and a person with long dark hair with their back to the viewer. Nandor’s dialogue continues from the present: “I loved many of my wives, but I did not want them around all the time. Or even most of the time. They were appealing primarily because they allowed me to do whatever I pleased and did not bother me unless I asked for them.” 2b. Zoom out to full body as the flashback continues. The group of wives, now including a young woman with a mole on her cheek and a young bearded man with three, are on the right, engaged with each other and mostly ignoring human Nandor and Jahan as they pass by. Human Nandor and Jahan are dressed respectively in the blue and silver armor and bejeweled tack they wear in their portrait together. Nandor has one hand on Jahan’s saddle and the other on his sword as they both trot excitedly across the frame, Nandor sporting a large open-mouthed smile and Jahan holding his tail high and ears pricked forward, uncaring of the wives left behind. The only wife to make a fuss is the younger woman with the mole, who has her skirts gathered up and is glaring at Nandor’s back as if readying herself to stomp after him. Marwa stops her with a hand on her arm, expression compassionate but sad. The older wives know better than to expect much attention from their husband. Present Nandor’s dialogue continues: “The one I preferred to spend all of my time with was my dear horse, John.” 2c. Shoulders up of present Nandor in front of the flashback in 2b. Pausing his narration, he looks down at his lap and bites lip softly, a contemplative line appearing between his brows. His speech bubble holds only an ellipses. /end ID

[happyk44]

When Annabeth becomes pregnant at twenty-three, everyone is excited. Percy, most of all. They get married in a small shotgun ceremony inside the safe haven of New Rome, mortal and godly parents in attendance, friends shedding tears of joy.

She gives birth a month early to a screaming, underweight bundle of joy. Everyone adores their son. He has fuzzy hints of black hair and wide curious gray eyes. He doesn't cry much after his birth, is abnormally quiet, observing everyone who holds him like he sees something more beneath the surface.

His quiet demeanour reminds Hazel a lot of Nico. When she mentions this in passing, Annabeth laughs quietly and squeezes baby Oliver's chubby fist. "He does, doesn't he?"

Her words sound unbelievably fond. The tone doesn't shock Hazel - she knows that the three of them have gotten close recently - but it seems... odd. Misplaced in its meaning.

She finishes off her final protective ward on Oliver's crib. "Has he met him yet?"

Annabeth hums. "He was here this morning."

She doesn't say anything more, and before Hazel can ask, she effortlessly glides the conversation to Hazel's training as a witch. Hazel takes the hint and lets the conversation change without any complaint.

-

Grover counts himself lucky in many regards. He's got a wonderful wife. He's Lord of the Wild. He hasn't been eaten alive by any monsters yet. All but one of the kids he's brought to camp are living successful happy lives.

And he knows the truth about Oliver.

They never talk about it - the circumstances that brought him into the world. It was just a few hints here and there in conversation, before he cuts the cord and just asks.

"Nico is Oliver's biological father, isn't he?".

Percy doesn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Grover watches from the kitchen, Percy at his side, as Nico emerges from what everyone thinks is the guest room, but Grover is confident is actually Nico's room. Oliver sits on his hip. The one year old is bundled up from head to toe. Nico himself has a matching beanie - bright blue with a warped crochet design of a yellow fish. He waves Oliver's little hand their way before disappearing into the shadows.

The two of them come back a couple hours later with In-and-Out takeout bags. Oliver is chewing on a lone french fry. He falls into Percy's arms with ease. Nico smiles kindly at Grover and comes to sit at Percy's side on the couch. Their thighs press together.

Grover doesn't ask about it.

They're happy. He can tell just by looking at them. Whatever thing is happening between the three of them, they're okay.

That's all that matters.

-

Piper loves Annabeth, she does. But she also believes in integrity. Oliver is three years old and the shadows tremble when he's annoyed. The air goes cold and frigid when he's upset. He doesn't talk very loud, but he's perceptive.

It's one hour into Piper's babysitting time when Oliver tells her that her grandfather says hello and she pieces it together. Oliver doesn't understand what he's done, the secret he's just revealed. She asks him to get her grandfather to tell him a story, just like he used to tell her. Oliver reaches out with one hand, and Piper's world turns upside down.

Annabeth and Percy come home two hours later, laughing and carrying a goodie bag from the restaurant. Grandpa Tom left half an hour ago, right when Oliver murmured a sleepy, "I'm tired", and let go of his hand. Piper doesn't know if he's still around, watching her. But it's the idea that he is, that keeps her brave.

When Percy disappears down the hall to check in on his sleeping son, Piper corners Annabeth in the kitchen.

"Are you cheating on Percy?" she whispers.

Annabeth blinks at her, startled. "What?"

"Are you cheating on Percy?" Piper whispers again, trying not to hide the urgency in her voice.

Annabeth is cool as she puts the leftovers in the fridge. "Why do you think I'm cheating on Percy?"

The question is easily answered, yes or no, and Annabeth's side-stepping is obvious and painful to Piper's heart. She changes gears. "Is Nico Oliver's dad?"

Annabeth pauses. It feels like hours. Then she closes the fridge door and crosses her arms over her chest. "People can have more than one dad, Piper."

Piper scowls and gets in close. "Does Percy know?"

Warm hands plant on both her shoulders. "He knows," Annabeth says, her voice soft. "And I'm not cheating on him."

Piper can't tell if Annabeth is lying. She wants to say more, ask more, but Percy's footsteps are loudly closing in. She takes a few steps back just as Percy rounds into the kitchen and slips an arm over Annabeth's shoulders. The image is sickly sweet. The two of them gaze happily at each other. They're so painfully in love.

Piper's stomach clenches.

The three of them stay up an extra hour. Percy is oblivious to the tension ruminating off of Piper. Annabeth seems fine though. It only stresses her out more. When she finally turns in, she doesn't know how to feel. She pauses just inside the guest room, the door pinched open. She can hear the two of them talking quietly in the hall. Oliver's bedroom door squeaks open.

Another voice, one Piper hasn't heard in a couple months, teases Percy from nearby. Percy protests his protective habits. Piper peeks through the gap. Nico is leaning against the wall. He's smiling widely in Annabeth's direction. Percy is oblivious, sneaking into Oliver's room. Annabeth takes Nico's hand. He pulls her close.

Piper relaxes for a minute. Maybe she doesn't have to say anything, maybe Percy will catch them before they can drift apart.

Or maybe he'll walk out of Oliver's room, shove Annabeth away and dive into Nico's mouth greedy, like he's starved for breath and Nico's mouth is oxygen. Maybe he'll tangle his hands into Nico's hair and push him into the wall with a low growl.

They don't separate, not really. Instead Percy drags Nico towards his - their - bedroom, Annabeth laughing as she follows.

The door clicks shut behind them. Piper takes a step back before pulling her own door closed. In the morning, Nico is gone and Percy is making pancakes. When Oliver asks for pomegranate juice, Piper passes it to him from the fridge and says nothing.

-

Leo doesn't know where this new baby came from. Annabeth wasn't pregnant the last time he saw her, but there's definitely a newborn asleep in the corner of their combined workshop. Annabeth doesn't even let him ask about the kid, just throws revised plans for their latest project in his direction before answering her screaming phone.

Oliver is there next to the baby, rocking her back and forth in her carrier. A picture book sits on his knee. He blinks up at Leo as he approaches. Leo likes Oliver. He's quiet and isn't afraid to use a hammer. The baby girl has small curls of black hair. She is bundled up in a fish-printed blanket.

"Who's this, big man?" Leo asks, squatting down to get a closer look.

The four year old stares at him. Then, "Ariel. She's my sister." He pauses, before adding, "She's really loud."

"When did your mom get a baby?"

Oliver stares some more before answering. "My uncle made her yesterday."

Leo doesn't know what to say to that.

-

Oliver and Ariel are joined a year later by a third and final child. While Ariel's origins are still speculated by anyone not in the know, it's clear from Annabeth's round belly where Eve was going to emerge from. She has thin wispy hair so blonde it blends into her skin. Her bright sea green eyes mimic her father's.

But Nico is her favourite. By now everyone knows not to bat an eye when instead of "Daddy" or "Mommy", her first word is "Papa". She reaches for him more than anyone else. As soon as she is old enough to crawl, her favourite place to wiggle towards is his lap.

Frank watches as she tries to pull herself to a stand. He runs a hand over the head of a nearby cat. It purrs loudly. Nearby Nico's hands are outstretched, ready to catch her if she falls.

Like Grover, he cuts the cord fast. "Is she yours too?"

Nico doesn't falter. "No."

Eve doesn't make it to a stand, but gets close enough before she falls face first into Nico's arms. He bundles her up to his chest and she squeals, reaching out with one hand to tug at his necklace.

He doesn't wear the camp beads anymore. Instead, it's a silver band looped through a golden chain. The band has three different jewels studded into it - a diamond, an aquamarine gem, and an onyx. What each jewel represents isn't a question. The fact that Percy and Annabeth wear the same silver band just above their wedding rings isn't much of a question either.

Frank takes Eve when offered and holds her close. Her green eyes look exactly like her father's, look exactly like her sister's. Her blonde hair is soft against each stroke of his fingers.

Nico comes back with drinks. Frank doesn't go for them when offered, content with where he is. Nico puts his can next to his foot, before lowering himself back to the ground. Frank watches him for a moment.

Then, "I thought you were gay."

Nico shrugs as he pops the top to his soda. "Annabeth's pretty," is all he says after a slow sip and Frank snorts.

He hands Eve back when Nico reaches for her. "Is that why Oliver was first?"

Nico's grin is wicked sharp, but happy in all its angles. "No," he says. "That's because I'm pretty."

-

Jason watches as Ariel and Eve team up to drown their older brother in the lake. In retaliation, he summons skeletons that ignore Ariel but grab at Eve. She screams, loud and unholy, as she’s tossed through the air and lands with a gigantic splash. Oliver pulls himself out of the water, shaking wet black hair out of his face. Ariel bats her eyes at him as he approaches, unafraid even as he picks her up and tosses her into the lake himself.

The two girls laugh as they surface, before swimming speedy laps around each other. With a short scowl, Oliver settles on the towel next to Jason. He does not enjoy swimming. Jason remembers the first summer after his birth.

They had tucked his feet into the water to splash and he’d screamed bloody murder. People joked about how Percy’s ocean powers clearly hadn’t made themselves known yet. But now it was pretty well known that Oliver didn’t have any ocean powers.

It had been pretty funny when Ariel came around. She took to the water like a fish and Oliver had panicked himself into a stressed out ball around the edges of the lake before he accidentally summoned a dozen ghosts to wrestle her from Percy’s arms and bring her back to the safety of dry land.

Percy hadn’t been allowed to hold Ariel for the rest of the day after that. If he tried, shadows would whip at him with Oliver’s frustration. He stayed tucked around his little sister while she cooed at the ghosts still protectively hovering nearby.

After that, everyone had pieced together what they had already started guessing at, if not outright knew.

The three of them never said how, or why, or even when, it had all come together for them, but they seemed happy nonetheless. And Jason was good with that. Nico deserved to be happy in whatever shape or form that came in. He didn't bat an eye whenever Nico kissed Annabeth's cheek before leaving with Jason. He didn't question it whenever the two of them came back and Percy clung onto him like needy barnacle.

Nico would flush a soft pink, and his smile was gentle, almost hidden sometimes. But he was happy, genuinely happy.

And that made Jason warm to see.

He pulls out the book Oliver had packed for their day out. Oliver puts on his glasses, thin round frames just like Uncle Jason’s, rolls over onto his stomach, and begins reading. In the lake, the girls are still splashing one another. A couple times they glance over at Oliver, like they’re thinking about pulling him into their game. But they know better than to bother their brother when he’s reading.

Oliver hums curiously and kicks his legs. Jason glances at him. “Good book?”

“Yes,” Oliver says.

He still speaks quietly and slow, each word a deliberate thought. It makes him the worst person to argue with. Ariel and Eve get loud and passionate - Ariel like Annabeth, cutting sharp like a knife, each spit of her words an uncontrolled punch; Eve like Percy, thunderous and vibrant, fast and off the cuff.

Watching the three of them fight a genuine fight is a masterclass in terror. The last time it’d happened - Eve blowing out Ariel’s candles on her sixth birthday and Ariel throwing a tantrum that exploded cake all over Oliver’s face - Jason had thought the whole city was going to be destroyed with every scream and thrown punch.

It had taken nearly half an hour to separate them. Oliver remained furious, refusing to cry even as Jason helped him wash the cake out of his hair, and stubbornly avoiding everyone for the rest of the day. Eve, like her mother, refused to admit she was wrong, steadfast in her determination not to apologize (although she caved fast when Nico came back with Ariel). Ariel got over it fast, she always did, which Jason found hilarious considering how emotional each of her fathers’ were. But her eyes remained red rimmed and she would tear up each time she caught sight of her siblings’ bruises.

She hit the hardest. Always did.

But when they fought together? In defense of one another? Amazing to see. It reminded Jason of the wolves, of the Cohort - working in tandem with one another, flying seamlessly off one another. A well oiled machine, each cog fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle. Oliver was the leader, in charge of each attack, Eve assisting in his command, and Ariel the powerhouse ready to take aim.

It’s clear where they picked it from.

-

The kids are half-asleep in a pile on the floor as Nico crawls across the couch cushions and into Annabeth’s lap. He dangles mistletoe above her head. She laughs and rises up for a kiss. In the chair nearby, Percy watches with half a grin across his face.

“That’s gross,” Eve mutters tiredly.

“Go back to sleep,” Nico calls back before kissing Annabeth again.

Ariel makes a gagging noise. Oliver swats at her before he slips out of their pile to rise slow to his feet. His glasses are lopsided on his face, but he doesn’t fix them. Instead he leans down to pull both girls to their feet. Eve yawns as she ducks her face into his shoulder. He slides one arm across each of their shoulders before tucking them in close and dragging them off to bed.

Percy pushes off the chair and flops against Nico’s back. Annabeth groans under the added weight.

“Seaweed Brain,” she grumbles. “Get your fat ass off my boyfriend.”

“Fat?” Percy huffs. He leans in harder. Nico laughs while Annabeth groans louder. “Woman, I am toned.”

“You have a dad bod,” Nico says. He tilts his head back and Percy accepts a kiss.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t put any weight on your bones.”

Nico rolls his eyes. Percy squeezes his hips and pulls away. Annabeth breathes easy, and then easier when Nico pulls himself from her lap. Percy turns off the TV as Annabeth rises groggily to her feet. Nico tucks her under his arm, and the two waddle off to bed.

Percy crawls in soon after.

In the morning, Eve will ask for pancakes, which Percy will make while she helps. Ariel will braid Nico’s hair in the bathroom and he will braid hers. Oliver will argue with Annabeth about the philosophy of Plato.

In the evening, the kids will ask the question that no one else has ever been brave enough to ask. And without falter, their parents will answer.

It was never a secret to begin with.

[bakiuwu]

SillyHanma Amimal Hcs

This idea isn't going anywhere but

All Hanmas ended up being animal-like with animal ears and tails and show animal-like behavior, they are still human but 14% of their brains operated like the animal they are (if tha makes sense)

Baki-bunny

Jack- wolf/dog

Yujiro-cat

So basically the hanmas their normal-self but will show animal-like behavior like baki will still be himself except for the bunny ears and tail, he is like any normal person but does bunny activities like it's normal ya know eating greens, doing tha nose twitch, having the zoomies but he is still human.

Baki might try to chew on cords, but kouze is always quick to catch him before he electrocutes himself. He'll also be circling kouze feet when he's excited to see kouze, especially if he hasn't seen her for a while. Sometimes, he'll slightly nip kouze to get her attention, Kouze tries her hardest not to randomly pet baki's ears, but she can't help herself. Her bunny-rabbit boyfriend is too cute to resist. Since baki is part bunny, he became a vegan. He would try to eat meat, but he ended up throwing it up an hour later(vegan baki hc goes hard)

Jack is a wolf or maybe a dog (idfk it's like 2 in the morning) he still his normal self but he does dog like shit like digging holes, chewing on bones(he does tha already), and liking belly rubs(only if its kurhea). Having a ball thrown for him to fetch. Knowing kurhea hell probably get Jack a collar, a spike one to be specific.

Jack would probably sleep on a dog bed but still in a regular bed if he feels like it, He doesn't eat dog food (he'll give you the dirtest look) but he does like doggy treats. He wouldn't appreciate being pet outta the blue(unless it's kurhea), so you'll have to ask. JACK CAN NOT BE TRUSTED WITH TENNIS BALLS, HE WILL EAT THEM. He has eaten at least 7 (he got a hold of a pack tha Kureha was hiding. He said it tastes like limes).

Yujiro is a cat(basically a neko), he is still his normal shitty self but has cat ears and a tail, which is very long and fluffy. He doesn't eat cat food( he would kill you if you try to give him some) and doesn't play with cat toys(except for laser). He likes to sit wherever despite being too big (likes to spread out on strydum's desk while he's doing work).

He has a habit of licking himself in front of people. If he ever goes missing it's most likely he's under a pice of furniture, waiting for someone to walk by so he can claw at their feet(it's his favorite game to play) He likes to hunt small animals, and if he's feeling nice he'll plop one on strydum's bed as a present. Also, he doesn't feel the need to wear clothes. He uses the excuse "Last time I check cats don't wear clothing " (he's a dick). So to strydums dismay, he has a big naked ass cat man lounging around his home.

Despite not liking most cat things, he loves catnip( but he would never admit this). One day, while out, Strydum wanted to see if yujiro would react to cat nip. He bought a big bag of it but somehow the bag tore and he was covered in cat nip, Before he could make it through the door, yujiro pounced on him. Rubbing up against him and oddly enough meowing It's like for a moment, he went full cat mode. He was like this for the whole day. Just rubbing and grinding on stryudm( he was also naked). After the effect of the catnip wear off Yujiro was fucking livid, So ever since that incident yujiro has ban cat nip from ever coming near him.

It's common sense to know that trying to pet yujiro is automatic death but if he does allow someone to pet him, they'll only have a good 10 seconds before he attacks their hand(he is such an asshole cat.) If you end up hearing purring while petting Yujiro, for your own safety DO NOT MENTION IT, YUJIRO HIMSELF DOES NOT KNOW WHEN HE IS PURRING. IF YOU TRY TO BRING IT UP TO HIM IN A TEASING MATTER HE'LL ATTACK YOU ON SPOT

[andorerso]

Hi! I'm taking an opportunity you presented and I'm asking for more of your story: let the cat out of the bag. I adore it and would like more of it!

A sequel to this AU with some more adventures of Mimi the Cat! Thanks for the prompt, I hope you like this <3

Summary: Five months after they started dating, Jyn gets cold feet and tries to run from her feelings. Naturally, Mimi is not happy about this.

OR, how Mimi saves this relationship for the second time.

Jyn has prepared a little box with all of Cassian’s things she could find: a pair of socks, two shirts, a toothbrush, a razor, shaving cream, his favorite shampoo, one of his cookbooks… She didn’t realize how much stuff he’d kept at her place, growing roots in her home the same way he’d sneaked into her life. Slowly, steadily, subtly. And so thoroughly, she doesn’t know how to cut him out.

She hesitates when it comes to the blue shirt she loved to sleep in, running her fingers across the soft material like it was his skin.

A clean break would be better, right? No need to torture herself with old memories. This would be hard as it is…

Jyn puts the shirt in the box and slams the lid shut. It sits on the living room table all day, taunting her, while Mimi squats under the couch, unwilling to even look in her direction.

Fair enough. She doesn’t really want to look at herself either right now.

Cassian is stopping by soon to collect his things, and then it’ll be over.

She shouldn’t complain. She’s the one who ended things after all. Still, the finality of it squeezes her lungs so tight that she has to stop and remember to breathe. They dated only for five months; it shouldn’t feel like this. He shouldn’t be such an integral part of her that she can’t go on without him. It was meant to be just some harmless fun. But she’d underestimated how much this would hurt.

Seeing Cassian on her doorstep doesn’t help. The face that once put a smile on her lips now makes her want to curl up in a ball and cry while she eats ice cream out of a box like those women in romantic comedies during the second act fallout.

Except this is no movie. She doesn’t expect a grand reunion at the end of all this.

Jyn leads him to the living room, ignoring the memories of all the times she’s done that only to grab him by the collar and pull him down on the couch to fool around. It’s more or less how their first kiss went, right on that couch with half a dozen notebooks open in front of them and forgotten for the night as her legs wrapped around him and his hands slid under her shirt.

Then, a couple of months of unattached sex, or so they had said until Mimi had meddled in her own strange, brilliant way and made them admit their feelings for each other. And so they’d begun dating, five months of bliss Jyn had never experienced before. Not perfect, no, but imperfect in a way that was just right.

Oh, she remembers thinking one night as she played with Cassian’s hair while he slumbered peacefully next to her. So this is what people write all those poems about.

Looking back now, that realization might have been the beginning of the end. Because this is what she does, she runs. When things get too real, she cuts the cord and disappears. Leaves behind a string of broken hearts, but none of them her own.

Except this time, it feels more like she severed her own hand rather than whatever cord tied them together. Cassian left, but the cord stretched taut and continued to tug her towards him while she slowly bled out from her self-inflicted wound.

Now here they are. All those months, and they can barely stand to look at each other. Pathetic.

A scratching sound interrupts her train of thought as Mimi finally pulls herself out from under the couch. Of course she would, now that he’s here. Little traitor.

With a single, drawn-out meow, she runs to Cassian and greets him by rubbing her small body against his leg while she trots around him in circles. The twitch of his lips as he looks down at her is Jyn’s first glimpse behind the calm mask he donned.

Her heart squeezes. Damn it. He’s always loved her stupid cat to irrationality. Once, she joked that the real love story was not between her and Cassian, but between Mimi and Cassian. Cassian laughed and kissed her forehead while he continued to rub Mimi between her ears.

“It can be both,” he said.

Well, she’s effectively ended both as well.

Cassian leans down to stroke his hand against Mimi’s white fur a couple of times, a sight so familiar that Jyn has to dig her nails into her palm to keep her composure. The cord tugs harder but she digs her heels into the ground and refuses to budge. She can’t go back now.

Cassian doesn’t linger as long as he normally would. He straightens up, despite the displeased yowl Mimi lets out, and gives Jyn a look of apprehension.

She jerks her head towards the box on the table. “That’s all I could find.”

Her voice is strained with things she doesn’t want to admit. Like how much she’s missed him in just the week they’ve been separated, how she isn’t actually sure she’s making the right choice, how scared she is to never see him again…

What would he say if she told him all that?

Cassian picks up the box, ruffling through its contents. He has nothing to give back to her. They spent more time at her apartment because of Mimi, but the realization still gives her pause. Had she really been so closed off that she wouldn’t even bring over a toothbrush? Had she been holding him at arm’s length all this time without knowing it?

“Thanks.” He clears his throat as he closes the lid shut, gives her a fleeting glance. He’s unable to hold her gaze for too long. His face is smooth as marble, but the tension in his posture is obvious. “Well, I should just…” He trails off, gesturing towards the door.

“Right.”

Neither of them moves. They stand in awkward silence, waiting for the other to say something, fix things, be honest. But she can’t make her voice work. If that was so easy, she wouldn’t be here to begin with.

Cassian snaps out of it first. He turns away, heading for the door, and Jyn knows the window has closed. No takebacks now. She follows him with a heavy heart, watches silently as he pulls on his coat and prepares to walk out of her life. Will they go back to strangers now like they’d never known each other? Will he nod at her politely on the street or turn away with a frown? Will it still mean anything to him a year from now?

He pulls the door open, and Jyn loses her composure. “Cassian —”

Before she even finishes saying his name, he’s already stopped and turned to face her again. One hand on the doorknob, he waits, patiently, for her to speak. But with those dark eyes that miss nothing watching her, she loses her nerve again, and the words get stuck in her throat. Whatever those words even were.

Don’t go? I’m sorry? Can we talk about this?

As Jyn hesitates and Cassian waits, Mimi, who’s followed them to the foyer, slips between his legs and runs out the door.

“Shit!” Jyn takes off after her without a second thought, but the little devil is far too fast for her own good and is already sprinting down the stairs at the end of the hallway. “Mimi, stop!”

She can hear Cassian fumble with something in her apartment, but she doesn’t stop, taking stairs two at a time as she tries to catch up with Mimi.

It’s no use. By the time she reaches the ground floor, Mimi is nowhere to be seen, and the single mom from the second floor is blinking at her in surprise, holding the main door open.

“She just ran out, I didn’t see —”

Jyn doesn’t dignify that with a response, tearing out into the street and blinking helplessly at the busy neighborhood. It’s the typical picture: people rushing by on their phones, cars honking, drivers yelling, a baby crying in a stroller, a street musician on the other side playing his guitar… The noise feels oppressive.

Now what? She looks left, she looks right. Mimi could have gone in any direction. And with the amount of traffic they have in this area…

Her heart racing, Jyn takes deep breaths and tries not to panic. Too late. She’s not prepared to deal with this. Sure, she often jokes about Mimi being her heartless little devil cat, but it’s nothing but affectionate teasing. Mimi’s her baby and she can’t imagine her life without her. She’s never run away before; she isn’t an outdoor cat. If something happens… if they can’t find her…

Cassian arrives behind her, but Jyn’s still scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a flash of white fur.

“Is she gone?”

“I…” She can’t finish her words, a ball lodged in her throat.

Cassian grips her shoulders and turns her to face him, but she’s too distraught to even feel the burn of his touch.

“Hey, don’t panic. She must be nearby.” He sounds so sure, but Jyn knows he’s only trying to reassure her. Well, she’s gonna let him. Eyes locked on Cassian, she nods and tries to believe him.

Mimi couldn’t have gotten that far, right? She was just pissed at Jyn for sending Cassian away, a fact she’s already made clear in the past week. She was playing the part of an angry teenager running away from home to piss off her parents. Very dramatic. Very unnecessary. But she’d come back.

She has to.

“I locked your door,” Cassian continues, producing a key from his pocket that he hands to her. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

“You don’t have to,” Jyn begins feebly, but nothing sounds worse than the thought of doing this on her own. Luckily, Cassian sees right through her bullshit. He sends her a look that says he isn’t willing to argue about this, and Jyn’s heart swells with appreciation.

“We’ll find her, I promise.”

xxx

The sun starts to set, casting the sky in pink and orange hues, and Mimi is still missing.

Jyn is beginning to lose hope of ever seeing her beloved cat again. More and more nefarious possibilities of what might have happened circle her like dark clouds before a storm, and she can’t push them down anymore. What if she was attacked by a dog, what if she was hit by a car, what if someone saw her, thought she was cute, and picked her up to take her home, what if what if what if

Cassian tries to keep her spirits high, but he’s fighting a losing battle.

“She’ll turn up,” he insists, always so determined, as they make their way back to her apartment building. “We can print some posters, post it on social media —” he goes on but Jyn doesn’t want to hear it.

It all begins to build in her chest; breaking up with Cassian, the shitty days at work, the sleepless nights, the endless cycle of repetition… Now this. She can’t lose Mimi too, she just can’t.

She doesn’t know how to survive without both of them.

“Stop!” Jyn bursts out just as they reach her apartment building, then buries her face in her hands. Cassian clams up, but she can feel his worried gaze boring into her. “Everything sucks!”

With that, she dramatically plops down on the front steps, removing her hands from her face to rub at her temples. Everything sucks is an understatement, but she doesn’t have the words to describe the heavy weight sitting on her chest. Tears prick at her eyes, and it takes all her energy to keep them at bay. Crying in public in front of your ex-boyfriend was not on the agenda today.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cassian hesitating for a second before he joins her.

“You wanna go upstairs? Rest a little?”

“No.”

“Okay. How about those posters then? I can make them if you want.”

“I can make them myself!” she snaps, angrier than she should be.

“Okay. Do you want me to go then?”

“No.”

“Right.” Cassian clears his throat and falls silent. For a while, neither of them speaks as they stare out at the street while the night grows darker around them. Clearly, she’s sending mixed signals here. She should say something. Tell him that he can go, that he’s already done enough. She can handle it from here. But she isn’t sure she can. Selfishly, she doesn’t want to let him go yet — because then, she’ll be truly alone.

No cat, no boyfriend. Just Jyn in her all too empty apartment with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company.

“Hey…” It’s Cassian’s gentle voice that pulls her back to the present and makes her realize those damn tears leaked from her eyes anyway. And now she can’t stop. She wipes at her face furiously, sniffing, but they keep falling, and when Cassian reaches for her hand and pulls her into his arms, she doesn’t fight it.

She buries her face in his shoulder and lets herself weep for a few seconds. Cassian’s arm circles around her waist, one hand rhythmically stroking her hair. He doesn’t say anything, but she’s glad, preferring his silent but solid presence over meaningless words of reassurance. It doesn’t erase the ache in her chest but calms her down long enough to stop sobbing and pull herself together.

“I’m sorry,” she says when she pulls away, wiping at her eyes. Despite their five-month-long relationship, it’s only the second time she let herself cry around him. She doesn’t think Cassian would judge her or make fun of it, but it’s hard to override two decades worth of self-preservation instincts. Don’t show weakness, don’t show vulnerability, don’t give them ammo to hurt you; it’s always been one of her most important rules.

But it’s also why she broke up with him, isn’t it? She’s never considered that you can’t build a relationship on mistrust because she’s never had any that mattered. Now she has to figure out if she could unlearn those habits and keep Cassian, or let him go for good.

“And not just for sniveling all over you,” Jyn continues, speaking slowly as she thinks about what she wants to tell him and how to say it. “I’m sorry for chasing you away. I was just… I was…”

“You got scared,” Cassian finishes for her, getting to the heart of the matter without preamble. Jyn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He lifts a shoulder, a quiet huff on his lips that almost sounds amused. “I know you. Better than you think. Better than you probably want me to.”

“I… That’s not true. I want you to know me.” She can understand how it might not seem that way, but it’s true. Deep in her heart, she wants nothing more than to be seen and understood by him. It’s just all that fear getting in the way, whispering cruel things in her ear and making her question herself. You’re not good enough for him. He doesn’t want you like you want him. He’s not going to stick around forever. It’s better to cut your losses now while you can. Leave him before he can leave you.

Her armor may have protected her for years, but it’s now become the number one enemy working against her.

“But if you knew,” Jyn begins, her mouth pulling into a frown, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Cassian’s gaze drops to his lap. “Jyn, I can’t force you to want to be with me. I can’t force you not to run. You have to figure that out for yourself. I thought… if you’re ready, you’ll come back.”

“And if I’m not?” she asks, a strange tremor in her voice.

“Then you’re not.” He looks up, and his dark brown eyes and long eyelashes mesmerize her for a second. He’s so close, so warm, so pretty; she has to ball her hands into fists to keep from reaching out. Touching him has become natural like breathing. She doesn’t know how to quit it, quit him.

Fuck, it’s not fair. How is she expected to think clearly when he’s watching her like that? Fantasizing about kissing him breathless is not a productive train of thought at the moment.

“I want to be with you, but it has to be your choice to come back.”

So maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s the way he looks at her, maybe it’s his smell, his warmth, his magnetism, maybe it’s that she doesn’t want to be stuck behind her castle walls anymore. Safe but alone.

Or maybe it’s the way she’s struggled to sleep at night, kept awake by the memory of their time together and how happy he’s made her, but she tells him, “I think I can try harder.”

“Jyn, is that Mimi?”

Jyn blinks, surprised by his response for a second. Then she remembers. She isn’t even sure Cassian heard what she said, but when she turns and finds Mimi strutting down the sidewalk towards them like nothing was amiss, all thoughts of their relationship issues escape her brain.

Gasping, Jyn shoots up and runs to snatch Mimi into her arms, hardly daring to believe it. She’s come back. She’s okay. A little dirty, and positively grumpy at being held like this, but otherwise unharmed.

Jyn’s almost lost all hope, and the relief that floods her chest now threatens to bring on another wave of tears. Biting down hard on her lip, she tightens her grip around Mimi and breathes in deeply. She’s cried enough today.

“Where have you been?” Jyn demands, but her voice is too high and shaky to sound scolding at all. “We’ve been looking all over for you, young lady!”

“Yeah.” Cassian comes to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to rub Mimi under her chin because, as Jyn knows from experience, he just can’t help it. “You scared us.”

Us, Jyn thinks, sending a small smile his way. A team.

Mimi lets out a belligerent meow and starts wiggling in Jyn’s arms. By the way she wags her tail, Jyn knows she’s getting annoyed at being held like this, but tough luck. She’s not letting go until they’re back safe and sound in her apartment. That’s what you get when you run away from home and scare your parents half to death.

Readjusting her grip on Mimi, she turns to Cassian and gives him a tiny, hopeful smile. “You wanna come up for dinner? We can talk some more.”

“That depends.” His eyes sparkle with playfulness. “Are you cooking?”

Jyn lets a bark of laughter. “I can be convinced to leave the task to you.”

“In that case, I’m right behind you.”

As he always has been.

Hiding her smile, Jyn turns and leads the way back to her apartment. She’s taken the leap, she’s chosen to fight, and she’s never been one to back down from a challenge. So screw the insidious voices whispering in her ear; she’s not going to let them win and cost her something important.

She has her cat, and she has her almost-boyfriend, and she’s ready to give this another shot.

[theglamorousferal]

Backstory for my character for a modern Death House game of D&D where my character has Alcor the Dreambender as their warlock patron.

Morgan Helsmoortal grew up playing baseball with their military father and learning guitar from their conservative mother.

They always liked the occult growing up, especially different runes and spell circles. Their parents did not approve, so they hid this from them. This was not the only thing they were hiding from them.

The day they graduated high school they packed grab bags filled with some fruit jerky, nuts, water, clothes, their phone with a new SIM card, their guitar and their laptop. They set the bags with their bike and helmet at the end of the driveway d then told their parents that they were non-binary. In his fury as they were walking away, their father threw the baseball bat he had bought them for their birthday at them.

They kept the bat.

They train hopped for a little while, going from city to city, busking until they landed in the outskirts of a cozy little town.

They found an abandoned shack in the woods, sturdy, sealed enough from the elements that they won’t die and there’s a fire place that has a stove top.

They rode their bike into town, and picked up odd jobs to be able to afford a PO Box and a phone bill. They are super tall and pale and dress mostly in black, so some local kids have taken to calling them “Slendy” after Slenderman. They started working part-time at a coffee shop by the local community college who recently got a boost from the local theater. They get a deal through work to take a class in sound design and then decide to make a podcast about the occult.

They make it like they’re a tavern keep after-hours telling the stories of adventurers who came through their tavern as they stoke the main fire in the tavern hall.

While doing research on an entity of knowledge specifically on the occult they dropped some of their research notes and a bag of gummy worms onto a summoning circle they had drawn on the floor.

In a burst of bright blue light, Alcott the Dreambender emerges. He takes one look at the shocked face of Morgan, then at their surroundings (the dingy shack, thin camping cot tucked in a corner as Morgan sat their entire 6’10” frame on a five gallon bucket with a pillow on it, empty energy drink cans scattered about) and decides, nope.

“NOPE no way in hell is someone strong enough to pull me from my home dimension going to live like THIS. Give me three days. You can keep the notes, but I’m taking these gummy worms.” And then disappears.

On the third day, when they get back to the shack after a shift at the coffee shop, Morgan comes back to the place with two cords of wood outside, electricity, and running water in the formerly decrepit bathroom. There’s two comfy-looking chairs and a TV with what looks like a Boku box hooked up to it and a couple board games on the shelves under it. A book shelf with all the books and journals Alcor found scattered around the shack. Two small tv tray tables and what looks like a salvaged countertop in the corner with a microwave, some coffee mugs, a box of tea and Morgan’s mess kit on it. Behind a thick curtain that held the side of the room with the fire place, the piece de resistance, a bed with an actual frame that fits their full height with a super comfy looking new blanket and two new pillows on it.

Morgan stepped inside and was startled by Alcor appearing right behind them.

“So, what do you think? It’s the best I could do with the time I had. Honestly with a little more push I could probably get you ownership of the land too. My mojo seems to work a bit different here, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. By the way, what was your name again?”

Morgan stared at him, eye level with them because he was *floating*. “Hello, my name is Morgan Helsmoortal, they/them. I never found your name or title in anything I had translated yet, how should I address you?” They spoke formally, so as not to give the unknown and powerful entity and grip upon them.

Alcor smiled a fanged smile. “Oh I like you, know the rules of magic do ya Slendy? Well you may call me Alcor, my title is Dreambender and I believe my classification is that of a deity of knowledge, specifically on arcane magics. I usually stay in my home dimension, so most of the magic here I am unfamiliar with.” He took a moment before straightening himself out and settling on the floor. “I would like to make a deal.”

Morgan crossed their arms and leaned most of their weight on their back foot. “I’m listening.”

“I would like to read through all of your currently accumulated research and have journals provided for me to make notes myself and also for you to find me rare grimoires, tomes and scrolls for me to research and read, and as long as you do that, I will give you the ability to do magic.” He paused for a breath. “I would also like to hang out with you and maybe research with you. In return for that, I will tell you some of my story.” He said in a softer voice.

Morgan took a moment to look at the entity before them and then immediately stuck their hand out to shake. “I agree to both deals. It would be nice to have a friend for a change.” Alcor smiled an understanding smile and then stuck his flaming blue hand out.

“This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Alcor forgets time at one point and doesn’t check in for six months and somehow in that time, Morgan has found themselves in Barovia picking up on a lead about some occult artifacts.

I did rewrite some of the original backstory, but I feel that it fits better this way. I also have Alcor as a Seeker patron from UA material because I felt it fit better from what I’ve read of him and how he was as Dipper as well. In the original I had it so Alcor had personal beef with Strahd and so when he found out in game that Morgan was in Barovia he flips his shit and then asks them to collect a book he left there the last time they played chess together.

[daxwritesstories]

The Luxury of Goodbye (vent piece)

[A/N]: This is a "scene" from Cyra's old TV show. It's mostly just me trying to process something...

Content warning: drug abuse, suicide

INT. Cyra’s bedroom - Morning

Cyra is just finishing getting ready to go to school. She puts her laptop into her bag, along with her mouse and charger cord. She zips up the packed-full bag, struggling a bit to get it closed. 

Once she has everything ready, she throws her bag over her shoulder and makes her way to the door. 

She almost makes it out of the bedroom when she suddenly stops. Her shoulders and arms tense up and she tilts her head down, squeezing her eyes shut. She breathes deeply a few times but this doesn’t relax her at all.

She gives up and checks the time on her phone. We see a closeup of her phone. The time is 11:35 and there are a bunch of stacked notifications from her class group chat.

Upon seeing the time, Cyra’s eyes widen in panic. Ignoring the message notifications, she turns around, going back into her room. 

Cyra heads straight for her closet and picks up a bottle of Advil from one of the shelves. She hastily pours six pills into her hand and puts the bottle back onto the shelf. She reaches into the side pouch on her bag and takes out her coffee thermos. She takes a large swig of the liquid inside and shoves all six pills into her mouth, swallowing them in one go. 

She isn’t done yet. Cyra reaches past the Advil bottle and grabs one of the packets of cold medicine behind it. She removes two of the blue pills from the packet. She uses her coffee thermos again to swallow them. 

Looking just as anxious as before, Cyra breathes a heavy sigh and leaves her room.

EXT. Train station - Morning

Cyra waits by herself at the train station. She seems just as anxious as she usually is, but she also looks a bit dizzy, involuntarily swaying at random.

It’s a warm sunny morning. So warm that Cyra isn’t even wearing her coat, just her hoodie. There is only a slight breeze that gently brushes through Cyra’s hair. The train station is relatively empty. Only a few small groups of people are there waiting.

As she waits for the train, Cyra glances down at the tracks. This makes her even more anxious. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. We hear her inner-monologue as she breathes.

CYRA (internally): I feel like something terrible is going to happen today.

Cyra opens her eyes again and we hear the automated train announcer.

ANNOUNCER: The next train is arriving. Please stand behind the blue line.

INT. Train car - Morning

Cyra sits on one of the side benches in the train car. The train is so empty that Cyra has the entire bench to herself.

Cyra stares out the window across from her as another train passes in the opposite direction. The other train warps a bit as it passes. The windows and paint patterns shift from moving horizontally to moving diagonally. Cyra doesn’t react to this.

Cyra’s phone buzzes, catching her attention. She turns on the screen and sees a message from Arella. Cyra makes a confused face and opens the message. We hear Arella’s voice reading out the text.

ARELLA (voiceover): Hey, are you okay?

Now Cyra is even more confused. Regardless, she answers honestly. We hear her voiceover as she types her response.

CYRA (voiceover): Not really.

A new message from Arella pops up almost immediately.

ARELLA (voiceover): Well if you need someone to talk to I’m always here for you.

Cyra just stares down at her phone with a look of pure anxiety. Before she can even start typing back, another message pops up, this time from Travis.

TRAVIS (voiceover): Hey man, are you doing alright?

CYRA (whispering): What?

Now panicking, Cyra checks her class group chat. There are well over thirty new messages that Cyra has to scroll past. We can catch glimpses of what the messages say. Most of them contain “RIP”. 

Cyra finally stops scrolling when she sees a post linked by Emmett, followed by a message from him.

EMMETT (voiceover): Tragic news. Thought I’d share this post that Ainsley mom made. Everyone should send their condolences. 

Cyra stares blankly at her phone. She moves her finger almost robotically to open the link. She is immediately taken to a Facebook post. 

We don’t get to see the full post for more than a second before it is zoomed in to certain words in it. First we see “My beloved daughter”, then “gone”, then “Ainsley”, and finally “ended her own life”.

Cyra locks her phone and drops it face down on her lap. She stares at the floor of the train, eyes cloudy and unfocused. Her body then curls forward, wincing in pain.

[binarywaltz]

i realize i have not posted here much, so here's one to try and compensate for that! these characters are all from ANOMIE, a personal project of mine i've been working on for the past half year or so.

third image is heavily based off a photograph by gie knaeps (for getty images) of brian molko

image description(s) under cut

image 1: digital illustration of a group photo of anomie, a fictional band, consiting of marco, rice, eulalie, and Q. they are all wearing colors of their respective pride flags. marco, a half human half frog man, has eyeshadow in the colors of the aromantic and bi flag, with a boa with the colors of the trans flag. he wears interlocked male symbol necklace and double crescent earring. rice, a werewolf, has streaks of trans flag colors in hir hair and a non-binary bracelet, with generally subtle allusions to their identity. eulalie, a mantis, is in full rivethead fashion, with an aegosexual flag stiched into her top, parts of her beanie, and a lesbian flag coat tied around her waist. she also has an asexual symbol on a choker and a belt with interlocked female symbols. Q is a rusted one eyed robot with a curled antennae on their head with a light bulb at the end, like that of a female angler fish. it wears a shirt with the aroace flag colors on one side, ties around the cords on their arm in the colors of the gay flag, and a skirt with colors of the non-binary flag. they all strike poses and smile. [end id]

image 2: digital illustration of Q from anomie. they stand on a pier at the beach, wearing a sun hat with flowers, a bathing suit with a pattern of lemons, and a multicolored shoulder bag. on one hand, they wear a falcon glove, with a barn owl perched upon their gloved hand. [end id]

image 3: digital illustration of marco from anomie. he is younger than he appears in the first image, with a differently shaved beard and hair partially dyed blue and in braids that gradiate to red. a microphone obscures a small part of his face as he smiles, looking out at presumably a crowd. he hugs his guitar, a fender player stratocaster. [end id]

image 4: digital illustration of marco and rice from anomie. they both look significantly younger than the first image: marco has long, teal hair that fades downwards into red, and no beard or tail. rice has shorter , silver ombre hair, and fur around their muzzle that looks like a beard. their backs are turned to the viewer, faces visible as they face eachother, standing in front of a huge, theatrical curtain. marco looks at rice with a surprised and curious expression, raising his eyebrows far above his glasses. rice glares angrily at him, putting their ears back and frowning. marco grips his pants with his frog hands, seemingly about to take them off, with his boxers low enough to see his lower back. a slightly smeared lipstick kiss is partially visible above his boxers. [end id]

image 5: digital illustration of marco and eulalie from ANOMIE. marco is talking, raising a frog hand and tilting his head to look at eulalie. he wears a jacket and pink t-shirt, and eulalie wears a black bandana and her usual rivethead fashion. behind them is a very blurry city. [end id]

[emotional-support-lieutenant]

I'm on a roll today, I just had a very small part to finish on this project and then I could put it together!

This is my entry for my Greatcoat square on my Terror Bingo card! I don't 100% know what to call it. I mostly call it my Macabre Wind Chime and @jamesjamesonfitzjames called it an Art Installation. Basically, I wanted to make something that might be created as a decoration from whoever finds the ruins of a greatcoat out on the shale. Or repurposing bits of it when the former wearer switched to furs.

The blue section is modeled after that bit of the coat at the small of the back, I didn't have wool easily accessible, so I took some navy blue fabric I did have and sewed it together with two layers of cotton batting for added density. I was really just eyeballing it based on pictures, I wasn't using exact measurements. The buttons were a nightmare to find, I mostly used the promo portrait image of Nedward because I could zoom in real close on the buttons. I think I managed to find a really close match. And the amount of buttons on this (I think eighteen, I can't remember now) does match the buttons I counted out on different greatcoats, sixteen in the front and two in the back.

The leather is genuine leather cord, it was important to me it was real leather. Only as I make this post do I remember my bag of leather scraps, so I might add to this in the future lol. The bones are real bones, I got them from a friend of mine who lived in the woods and collected bones for the hell of it (which I also do, but I wanted older looking bones for this so I grabbed ones I got from @xgutter-glitterx). They're all deer bones I believe, but the small rib looking one might be something else. They're bones from the woods ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ so who knows.

I had a lot of fun tying all the leather bits together, I learned some new knots (like a monkeys fist) because I wanted to use a lot of sailing knots in it. The very top leather bit is my approximation of a hangman's knot, I don't have experience tying those and the leather didn't want to cooperate with it. The fabric piece was a nightmare but only because I absolutely loathe sewing button holes, that took 80% of the time spent on this project lol.

For all I make jokes about it, I do think of it as a mourning piece. The navy greatcoat is so immediately identifiable, it sets the men apart from the indigenous peoples and makes them so visible against the land and the ice. It is one of many pieces of the empire, symbols of their job and duty. And it does not protect them, not really, not the way furs protect from the elements of the Arctic. So this piece of leather and bones and shining buttons could be something made by someone who found an abandoned, disintegrating coat on a dead man, or it could be made by someone who no longer needs the greatcoat, who's traded it for furs or blankets because all my favorites lived and everything is fine now and otherwise has no need of it anymore. It is the death of the wearer, or at least a death of who they used to be, a severing of a vestige of so called civilization.

Anyway, I do love my freakish little art piece. It's currently hanging in my closet with my Terror Pinup calendar, but I'll probably put it out in the family room once I've figured out wall space in there.

[scientia-rex]

This gets notes every time it drifts into leftist circles. But here’s the thing: I am a doctor. I have cared for children in hospitals. Vast, intricate supply chains that rely on functioning world governments with trade agreements are necessary to the provision of modern medical care. There is no way to work it so those kids can win if electricity, water, food, or medical supplies like sterile intravenous fluid bags or EKG stickers get interrupted. Forget even permanent disruption, a temporary disruption of the sterile tubing necessary for surgery would mean a lot of kids die of appendicitis. The generators we have as back-up are meant to last minutes, not weeks. And you can say “under my new system, the total violence done would ultimately be less than the violence done by the state,” but it’s easier to say that about a hypothetical kid than one lying on a gurney in front of you. When you’ve been responsible for a life—when you’ve lost a patient, when you’ve been through a Code Blue for a one-year-old—there is nothing you would not do in order to protect that life. I think all the time about what Devil’s bargains I would make for various situations; it’s one of the fucked up things I do. I can tell you that I would kill anyone who tried to cut power to my hospital, or I would die trying. There is no alternative.

The world is too interconnected to allow one part of it to go down. When Puerto Rico got slammed by hurricanes and the US did fuck all about it, we had a nationwide shortage of bagged IV fluids. I was working in hospitals through that. Things we normally do as part of routine medical care, like giving the puking kid with the migraine IV Zofran and Reglan, got a whole lot harder. I was working inpatient during COVID, when there were sudden shortages of pain and anxiety medications we relied on, like opioids and benzodiazepines. There was a nationwide shortage of lidocaine last year and we had to save it for biopsies of suspect cancers. Surgery requires not only a surgeon but an entire team of people and complex equipment to safely sterilize tools, most of which are now based around laparoscopic surgery that requires camera tools instead of the old-school open surgeries. You could not even say “but the surgeons can still operate” because no. They can’t. Not safely. Not with ether instead of succinate and fentanyl. I could deliver your baby after the apocalypse, but who’s staffing the blood banks when you have a post-partum hemorrhage and I don’t have three trained nurses with a kit of specialty meds to slow the bleeding? I still remember the time during the worst of COVID when I couldn’t fly a patient from our rural hospital to an urban hospital that could have done the operation he needed, because the hospitals were completely full. I had to buy time with heavy-duty IV antibiotics (the one and only time I’ve been allowed to use a -penem) while he lay there in agony for 12 hours until a bed came open and we could transfer him. If we couldn’t treat the pain and keep the infection from killing him long enough to operate, he would have died then and there, in front of us, while we stood there helplessly.

So how many kids are you OK with watching die from a ruptured appendix? That’s what comes in to the ED at two in the morning and within half an hour if you’re lucky has an ultrasound proving the diagnosis and a surgeon getting scrubbed in. If there isn’t ultrasound, ultrasound techs, pain medication, anesthesiologists, ventilation machine for when you’re under, light-up scopes with blades to allow for intubation bc then there’s direct visualization of the vocal cords, paralytic medications to keep you still, medications to keep you asleep, monitoring machines that read your blood pressure ans CO2 levels and pulse oximetry while you’re under, computer scheduling for OR time, post-op recovery nurses, gurneys, autoclaves, specialized small metal tools for the surgery—if there are interruptions in training or production of any of these and a whole lot more, anyone could die of a surgical problem, but it hurts worse when it’s a kid. Watch breast cancer come back into vogue, as we lose mammograms. You ever treated a woman who’s ignored breast cancer so long it’s now a fungating mass? Go Google what that looks like. Two cases have walked into my office and they are both dead now. One was schizophrenic. Without modern global supply chains, we don’t have lorazepam or morphine for humane death, let alone psych meds. How many people would deteriorate? Get specific. Which friends would you be willing to watch die? Which of their kids are expendable?

What kind of violent revolution are you planning where you are able to look a patient in the eye and tell them, “Your death is necessary to my vision,” and not understand that you are the villain?

You get to decide whether you want to end your own life for this glorious future. You do not get to decide to end my life or my patients’ lives or anyone else’s. You are not God and you do not get to make plans as if you are, as if you have the One Correct Vision and the rest of us just need to fall in line and follow the prophet. Fuck you. You think the Black kid whose treatment team I was on while he writhed in pain on a hospital bed because he had a kidney transplant and it was rejecting wouldn’t tell you to go fuck yourself about your violent revolution? Our society is no longer able to tolerate large-scale disruptions. We have built too much and we would lose too much. We are too big to fail, and although it’s easy to see that as a bad thing, what I keep seeing, over and over, is that transplant team. How the nephrologist and the resident and the nurses and techs and pharmacists and therapists were working together to keep that kid alive. The scientists who did the research, relying on impossibly complex systems that have taken hundreds of years to build. Collaboration is how we survive.

We cannot allow the vulnerable to die and call that progress. We cannot turn the lights out on any hospitals, because the people in the ICU on ventilators will stop breathing and die within minutes. Would you want that to happen if it’s your mother in that ICU? Would you tell your mother the answer to that? What if it was your child? What about your favorite sibling? How many of other people’s families are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of something that stands a virtually 100% chance of going up in flames immediately, when we look at prior attempts at creating a new government out of war and chaos? The massive impacts of even “small” shortages on patients is not theoretical and has killed patients since I’ve been an attending, starting three years ago.

You do not own the right to anyone else’s life.

And if you think you want a violent revolution, see how you do with your next toothache without pain meds, lidocaine, dental expertise, and composite that lets you keep the tooth and keep chewing. How long would you have to suffer to crack?

I think a lot about how, if the glorious violent revolution happens, every kid with significant medical needs in a hospital where power gets cut will die.

You can decide you're willing to sacrifice your own life, but you don't get to tell everybody else on the planet that they're acceptable collateral damage.

[atplblog]

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[fromdevcom]

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[waltzofthewifi]

Final TLH character art dump

ID start: digital art of a person kneeling, handling a net. She has brown skin, brown eyes, and brown hair up in a bun. She is wearing a pink shirt, a gray jacket with a pink stripe on the sleeves, and gray pants and boots and is on a gray floor with a gray column behind her and dull blue sky. She is kneeling, focused on the net, and has a necklace with a brown cord and a white/blue necklace. End ID

ID start: digital art of someone leaning against a tree with one leg bent and crossed arms, looking to the viewers right. He has pale skin, short brown hair and brown eyes, and is wearing a brown shirt, a gray jacket with a blue stripes, gray pants, and gray boots. The background is simple, showing the tree he’s leaning on, two trees on both sides, and a dark background. End ID.

ID start: digital art of someone with a sword on a green background. She has white skin, blonde hair pulled into a ponytail with loose strands, and blue eyes. She is wearing a gray jacket with yellow stripes, gray pants, and has a green cloth wrapped around one shoulder. She has her legs apart and a sword in front of her, facing down like it’s touching the ground. End ID

ID start: digital art of someone kneeling before a fire. He has light brown skin, brown eyes, and long brown hair, and is wearing a gray jacket with yellow stripes and gray pants. There is a rip in his jacket on his arm showing a cut. He has a sword on the ground, grip in his right hand. The background shows a brown ground with distant trees. End ID

ID start: digital art of person with medium brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes with light acne on her face. She is shown from the shins up, clutching an orange strap and bag, and looking at the viewer. She is wearing a coopery orange shirt, a gray jacket with stripes matching the shirt, and gray pants. She is on a gray floor with a brick colored wall behind her. End ID

ID start: digital art of a person on the ground, covered in leaves and mud. She has pale skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, and her hair is in braided pigtails. Hershey is wearing gray pants, gray boots, and a gray jacket with a pink stripe on the sleeves, and has one leg tucker under her and one crossed in front. The tree behind her has many roots, and there are several more trees in the background. There is a blood-covered small rock next to her and blood on her sleeve. End ID

[transguyhawkeye]

[ID: a small navy blue and cream woven drawstring bag. The bag is woven with an intricate pattern of birds in profile, with a large bird surrounded with foliage in the centre and smaller birds tiled on the edges. The upper half of the bag has a border design of medium birds on branches, with a geometric pattern at the very top. The woven ends are tied off into tassels above the drawstring, which is a braided cord made from matching thread. end ID]

Bag, early 1900s, Guatemala.

[burningarcadesandwich-6448f9e7]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage drawstring bag, red white blue clutch, 1970s.