for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.
i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.
in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.
the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.
i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.
i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.
i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.
the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.
when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.
we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.
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Presence Pressure
Danny learned the reason why both his adopted parents and the GIW find it a little hard to somewhat track him down in human form (unlike when he's in ghost form) is because when he was still in the LOA he learned to suppress his presence (he was always good stealth, blending in, and other things like that, unlike his brother who didn't have the patience for it) and he does it subconsciously in human form but not in ghost form.
After finding that out he starts to train his ghost form to suppress his core/presence to that nearly of a blob ghost (and boy has it been fun being able to sneak his way into fights when his rogues come to town. Skulker is both the best and worst, he enjoys the challenge, Danny won't lie he enjoys testing his abilities against the 'greatest hunter')
Once Danny got a good handle on it, his parents suddenly burst into his room and announced that they're heading to Gotham tonight!
Cause apparently that 'ghost scum' ecto-signature has been detected there and they finally found it after months of recalibrating their inventions to find his trail. (And where his parents went the GIW have their eyes in his parents which meant they're not to far behind)
Danny is stunned (he forgot Damian and his DNA were very similar due to being 'hand-crafted' and the fact they grew up around the Lazarus Pits, that Danny suspected was dirty ecto now)
Oh... oh no.
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beastmaster erenville 🙏
i don't really care for designing outfits so i just tweaked the gleaner fit. as you can see my research into other ff bst looks didn't help, but they were kind of funny
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🌷 🖤 🏁 🌿 🐛 🐌 ✨ // still life with fritillaries & hellebores // gouache on hot press paper
A gift painted for a friend for their help with top surgery stuff! fritillaries are wild; they're actually checkered that way in nature, and hellebores really do come in black.
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You know what's the best thing about Childe doing Zhongli's spear kick in the 4.2 cutscene?
It implies they got their reconciliation fight. Childe never fought the guy in Liyue arc so it obviously happened later. He wouldn't have seen that move otherwise.
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Can we talk about the fact that Tech went from flat out unconscious, snoring, basically stage 3 non-REM sleep...
^(no but seriously, if you watch the scene closely his breathing is deep and even, dude is passed out)
... to wide awake, alert, and talking in less than 2 seconds?
^("Oh, you made it," he greets Wrecker.)
My man even maximizes the efficiency of his sleep!
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