#style-consciousness

[vintage-tigre]

“A man who has become conscious of the absurd is forever bound to it”

Albert Camus - The Myth of Sisyphus

[heartorbit]

revstar emu save me

[moriphyte]

as much as i have stuck to drawing child tommy, as thats the version all of us are most familiar w and the version we know well, its also really inspiring to imagine him grown up. to imagine what he would look like and which features he would grow into and who he would resemble be it by genetics or choice or both. this character that was never allowed to live, never allowed to die on his own terms, being able to finally grow up like normal. what would he look like? of course when i imagine an older ctommy, i simply can’t divorce him from the image of cwil no matter how much i may want to. they’re brothers, by blood or not depends on your hc but to me it doesn’t matter. they look alike, sometimes almost eeerily so. not that they would ever be indistinguishable, there are a few very visible differences, but it’s the little things. all the little things that make them so painfully like despite the obvious differences. the way ctommy tugs on his curls when he’s upset, the way he paces the room frantically muttering and cursing when he’s stressed. the way he sings while making potions, the way he sometimes lets the dramatics take him and allows his gangly limbs to swing like misweighted pendulums as he waxes not so poetic about something or another. the way he hunches up to make himself look smaller without even thinking and ctubbo always has to remind him not to slouch. and the way he stands up tall and holds himself like their former commander in chief when he’s trying to be a BIG MAN. i started this post thinking of the specific facial features and details ctommy would have as an adult, and how they would relate and differ to his brothers, but now i am lost int he sauce of imagining eve r little mannerism ctommy picked up being raised by cwil and no matter how far away from each other they are these connections will always remind them of each other (because god knows wil has picked up just as many of tommy’s mannerisms over their many codependent years together) and it quickly gets too painful to think about. anyway im normal .

[otaku553]

Something funny for your spy x family ASL au

Luffy took ONE look at loid and internally went 'oh sweet. He's a spy like sabo' and never brings it up while anya just stares at him horrified and like with ace and sabo, he just never brings it up.

This also happens with yor and anya makes a funny noise

(As i am typing this my dog has the zoomies and is running around like a maniac)

HAHA YEAH THIS WOULD DEFINITELY HAPPEN

I think loid’s a good enough actor that luffy wouldn’t figure it out immeditely from like just a few seconds of meeting him but give him a minute or a few and he’ll figure it out on vibes alone

[head---ache]

its so silly when i see one of my follower's art and i like. see some influence from my style. its like OH! i know you!! hello little detail!!!! i see you!!!! EHEHEHEHEHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[solarlyls]

⩇⩇:⩇⋆˚.⋆ぎゃる — 𝔑atalines 𝓦𝓪𝔯ᵈʳ𝓸𝙗𝙚 — ,fame dr’

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　, ,　　　　　　.

ᶻz — 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙖𝙮

Nataline Clemontè is the kind of girl who turns sidewalks into runways without even trying. She gravitates towards Miu Miu, Isabel Marant, Chloé, Loewe, and Sandro for her everyday looks. A bold print here, often softened by muted tones there, because balance is everything to her. And, of course, her signature: oversized bags (usually Miu Miu or Chloé), made unmistakably hers with tiny trinkets and charms. On her feet? Always something charming—Mary Janes, kitten heels, or the kind of sneakers that say, yes, i walk everywhere, but i do it way more flair.

✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　. *

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀✦⠀

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　

ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　��. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　 　,　　 　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　

✦ — 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡

Clemontè’s style has range, especially when it comes to dressing up formally. She mixes Chanel, Dior, Maison Margiela, and Saint Laurent, always putting together something effortlessly sophisticated, but wrapped in soft silks. But when she steps out of her usual flow, she leans toward suits, which are quite sharp, structured, and just a little unexpected. The finishing touch? Bold jewelry, usually a Vivienne Westwood pearl necklace which sits perfectly against her collarbone.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　⠀✦ *

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　* ⠀⠀⠀.

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.　　　

.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ,

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

𝄞 — 𝙂𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩

When people say Clemontè has range, they mean it. Her party looks are nothing short of extraordinary, with gold and silver jewelry mixed together on her wrists and neck, clashing patterns that somehow just work. She’s always dresses in Mugler, Chrome Hearts, Alexander Wang, or Versace, and turns every night out into a spectacle. And those heels? The tallest you’ve ever seen, yet she moves in them with such effortless grace, you’d think she’s born to dance till sunrise.

　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀

[vintage-tigre]

“This revolution will be telepathic”

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama Psycho Noah AU, how does Alejandro react to seeing Noah's true colors through the cameras?... How would Alejandro react to Chris + Chef not being surprised or shocked at all?... What if when Noah learns that everyone saw his true colors, Noah simply smirks and says: "...Whoops." 😏

Well, the cast as a whole are all sort-of introduced to Noah's 'true colours' through the screens in First Class, but I think a lot of them would struggle through the cognitive dissonance between what they 'know' about Noah (apathetic, lazy, almost pathetically harmless) and what they saw on the cameras (emotive/smiley, physically capable, decidedly not harmless), so the initial reaction would be a mixture of terror, confusion and disbelief, mostly.

When they notice that neither Chris nor Chef seem to find anything amiss with Noah's behaviour, that's when the confusion and disbelief morph into outrage (for the more confrontational contestants like Heather) because they knew? Chris and Chef were fully aware that they'd been in near-constant close proximity with the thing they just saw on the screen, and said nothing?!

Alejandro, being a composed person of more subtle displays of emotion (for the most part), masks his fear and anger behind a veneer of concern- for his castmates, for the Ripper, maybe even for Noah himself, because clearly something has happened to his dear teammate that's caused this bout of insanity, surely?

No? He's just like that? Oh. Oh.

Alejandro realises that he's spent the majority of his time on the jet playing nice* with someone who's fully capable of snapping both of his arms like toothpicks, who apparently has an affinity for sharp objects and the colour red. The one person on the jet he felt some semblance of genuine kinship with, as the 'most sane' member of Team Chris barring himself, has been an act this whole time? Has been that dangerous this whole time?!

Needless to say, Alejandro's concern quickly becomes genuine. And self-directed. He's terrified; Noah could've snapped at any moment, and Alejandro likely would've been caught in the crossfire of that thing's hysteria.

But the cast can't exactly air their displeasure with the situation, as two figures hover by the doorway to the First Class Cabin.

It's Courtney and Gwen, dragging a burlap sack behind them. A sigh of relief washes over the group; it's just those two, and not him.

-

When Noah and Owen skitter into First Class, Owen carrying the sack-captured Ripper in his arms (in a kind-hearted gesture to prevent any more damage befalling the Ripper's broken forearms), a trepid silence permeates through the cabin like fog.

Owen, ever the obtuse sort, pierces the veil of fearful anticipation with a victorious cry.

"Sweet! Everybody's okay!"

The others (barring Gwen and Courtney) hesitate to answer, their fear-blown eyes fixated on the nonchalant form of the cynic beside him. Until Heather works up enough courage to respond with her usual haughtiness- though her tone is off, embittered by the acrid taste of anxiety on her tongue.

"Yup! Everyone's fine, no worries here!" She ends her statement with a nervous giggle, ignoring the way her voice cracked mid-sentence, and her focus never drifts from the monster bookworm stood only a few meters away.

"Though it is reassuring to see everyone safe, no?" Alejandro adds sharply, peeling his attention away from Noah to send a pointed look towards the hosting duo.

"Safe? Duh, it's just a challenge. No one was ever gonna really get hurt, it'd be 'bad for ratings'."

A collective flinch tremors across the crowd as Noah speaks, his usual sardonic deadpan accompanied by finger quotes at the end of his sarcastic comment.

It's followed by an awkward pause, the others either too scared or too confused by the frigid atmosphere to talk, and Noah shoots an imploring look towards Chris- a nonverbal request for clarification. Chris wordlessly points towards the flat screen television that's hung on the wall behind the captured contestants, displaying a series of live-feed camera footage; the inside of the bus he and Owen had previously adventured through, bathed in cold moonlight but otherwise eerily gloomy, stares accusingly back at him.

That's interesting.

Owen follows his gaze, as do the rest of the competitors, and the Ripper-wrangling duo both quickly realise what's happened.

A laugh, something unnervingly shrill and breathless- more akin to the yowling of a feral cat than any human noise- rings humourlessly through the cabin, and all eyes snap back towards Noah.

Who's face has twisted into a mirthless grin, more similar to a snarl, that's far too wide for his face and bears unnaturally sharp teeth. His eyes have widened into owl-like near perfect circles, almost drowning the hickory brown of his irises in a sea of ivory sclera, making him look uncanny and deranged. Barely even human.

"Whoops."

[groselha-atomica]

[lukesdefenceless]

how many nights does it take to count the stars?

thats the time it would take to fix my heart.

[waterfallofspace]

Actually Adorable

The one in which Jon and Martin both discover something new about each other.

feat. martin with kitten allergies, and snzs~ not actually one of my main t/ma snz bois, but he's absolutely precious to me, and i got a request, so I hope this is enjoyable!

(warning: there is talk of wheezing in this, it's pretty light and nothing super heavy, but just be aware of that incase you don't like that sort of thing)

Characters: Martin, Jon, Tim Word Count: 4k (so much for 'small drabbles')

He’d normally avoid the alley, but being as late as he is, Martin finds himself with no choice. It’s not as if it’s a particularly bad part of town. In fact, while the institute doesn’t get much respect, everything around it always seemed to be well kept. At least, everything outside of the archive, that is. Still, ducking through the alleys of London isn’t exactly Martin’s idea of a safe commute. 

The city’s background ambience dulls in the quiet street, Martin finding himself humming slightly just to fill the gap. It’s a fast walk, cutting nearly ten minutes off his commute. Again, normally that wouldn’t be worth much, but being already nearly twenty minutes late, he’ll take what he can get. 

“Jon’s going to kill me…” he hums to himself. It’s not as if anyone’s around to hear him singing about his death in an alley behind the institute. It’s okay to lighten the mood a bit before his imminent demise. 

A sudden, yet oddly soft noise knocks him from this spiral of thought. He barely manages to catch the scream that starts, smothering it into a strangled noise of pure panic. Martin scans the alley, heart beating into his throat. It takes him a minute to locate the source of the sound, and the sight that greets him is enough to leave him speechless. 

There, in the corner of the alley, crouching beside a few abandoned boxes, is Jon. As in Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the magnus institute, his boss. In an alley. Crouching. 

“J- Jon..?” Martin whispers, almost hoping he isn’t heard. The wish is, albeit self-fullingly, granted. Jon doesn’t look up, still entirely focused on whatever task has brought him here. His hand is reaching out behind the boxes, and Martin can’t seem to make out what he’s doing. 

Martin finds himself standing there for almost too long, debating what to do. Okay, there’s a few ways this could go. Option one; he can go back the way he came and take the extra nearly twenty minutes it’ll take to get all the way back, and just hope Jon’s too busy to notice. No, Jon will definitely be back inside by then and he’ll be screwed. 

Okay so option two; shuffle past Jon as fast as humanly possible, and hope Jon doesn’t see him. Except what if he does, and Martin didn’t announce himself, and then Jon thinks he’s a creepy stalker, prowling the back alleys and looking for- no, that won’t do. 

So option three it is; announce himself and make sure Jon knows he’s there, and try to explain that he was running late (and that he’s so sorry for that) and hope that whatever Jon’s doing isn’t any form of criminal activity that would lead to getting fired-

Another soft noise cuts through these thoughts, Martin realizing it’s the same one as earlier. He manages to focus his gaze on Jon, watching as Jon kneels down closer to the floor, reaching out his hand again. This time a small form crawls out from behind the box, and rubs up against the hand. Oh. 

Martin finds himself nearly fainting with relief, the million ways this situation could end badly starting to fade as he watches the scene unfold. Jon has sunk fully to a sitting position by now, coaxing the kitten closer with a mixture of soft cooing and gentle tongue clicks. The kitten seems enraptured, beginning to let out a purr as it sinks into Jon’s lap. 

They stay like this for a few minutes, Martin unable to draw his eyes away as Jon strokes the kitten behind the ears, continuing to speak softly to it. The kitten, for its part, purrs loudly enough that even standing a few paces away, Martin can hear it clearly. Jon has a look on his face Martin’s never seen him have. It’s mesmerizing, and Martin has to fight to keep the warmth from flooding to his cheeks. He’d never known Jon was such a cat person, but he seems a natural at it. 

There’s something so… open about Jon’s posture. It’s an unfamiliar sight on the normally politely restrained boss. His voice, which would usually carry a tight air about it, is soft. Warm. He’s… almost adorable like this. It’s a tone Martin didn’t even know Jon could produce, though he feels a bit bad thinking that. Of course Jon can be soft, he’s just always at work when they see each other. Not the place for such things. 

There’s a slight pang in his chest as Martin starts to drift into imagining Jon speaking to him with the same- No. Don’t be creepy, that’s a completely unreasonable train of thought. This is your boss, and you are watching him in an alley. Okay, line definitely crossed. 

“Jon?” Martin speaks up, clearing his throat first, hoping that’ll be a touch less startling. 

Jon nearly jumps out of his skin, eyes snapping to face Martin. The kitten, however, barely stirs. It seems far too content in Jon’s lap to worry about anything else. It purrs deeply, melting into Jon’s chest, dozing lightly. 

“Martin? What the hell are you doing here?” Jon asks, all softness drained from his tone. Martin feels another pang, but pushes it down. He’s just surprised Jon in a back alley, of course his tone is tense. 

“S- sorry! I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, I promise, I was just running late- which I know I should have been more prepared for, but it was that kind of morning- which isn’t an excuse! But the point is I was trying to save some time, and-” Martin feels the words start pouring out before he can really stop them. It always seems to happen when he’s nervous, and around Jon? That’s almost always. 

The look on Jon’s face is hard to read, and Martin manages to cut himself off abruptly as Jon holds up a hand.

“S-sorry,” He stammers out again, meeting Jon’s eyes carefully. 

“It’s of no matter,” Jon sighs, glancing down at the kitten before tracing back up to Martin.

“He’s cute!” Martin says, hoping desperately to break the tension. He reaches down and gives the kitten a light pet, smiling as it leans against his touch. “I didn’t know you were a cat person! What’s his name?” 

“Doesn’t have one,” Jon replies, looking almost tenderly at the mass of fur. “Found her out here. At least I think it’s a girl. Not exactly an expert.” 

“Oh, r- right! She’s cute then!”

Jon clears his throat, “Indeed.” There’s a pause, then he continues with, “I was just…” 

Martin waits for the end, but it doesn’t come. Jon’s mouth sort of just… closes. He won’t meet Martin’s eye, and for a second it seems like… embarrassment? But for what? Finding a kitten? Petting it? 

Martin doesn’t have the time to linger on these thoughts, however, as a new one presents itself with urgency. He has to sneeze. And badly. 

He pulls away from Jon, taking a few steps back and managing to get an arm over his face before the first breaks through; a tiny stifle that’s barely audible over the kitten’s still pronounced purring. “hh’nxt!” 

Jon doesn’t reply, simply watching Martin with… another unreadable expression. Martin stutters out a few apologies, before turning on his heel and ducking back into his arm for another tight, “ih’nxt! hh’ngt!” 

This time Jon does reply, or at least… Martin thinks he does? Whatever it is comes out hushed, barely a whisper, the only trace it was even there is Jon’s lips seeming to form some sort of words. He does, however, stand up. The kitten gives a disgruntled mew as it’s jostled from its position, sluggishly crawling back onto the ground.  

“Well,” Jon says, lightly brushing off his legs. “Shall we go inside then?” 

Martin blinks a few times from behind his arm. He was expecting some form of lecture about being late, but… gift horses and all. He decides to just take this mercy. He drops his arm and nods silently, falling into step behind Jon as they walk, not quite together, but both in the same direction. 

“What about the kitten?” Martin finds himself asking, regretting it instantly as Jon’s entire back goes tense. “Or, I- well, I was just… I don’t want to leave it to die out there… N- not that I’m saying you’d- I didn’t mean you-” 

“I’m sure that Sasha or Tim can find it a nice place to stay,” Jon replies, voice tight and contained. “Tim’s always looking for an excuse to dip out of work. As for right now, we are late, and I know I have a lot of work to be doing. I’m sure you do too.” 

Martin curses himself internally, that was of course a stupid thing to ask. Jon’s obviously a bit on edge about being seen like that, and it’s not really like he can blame him! He’d certainly not want anyone at the archives to catch him unawares. If someone walked in on him recording his poetry… Martin feels a shudder at the thought. And then another one, as his nose begins to burn again. 

He manages to stifle these too, a quick triple that he’s almost certain Jon doesn’t hear. It’s a short walk to the institute, of which Martin is deeply grateful. The itch in his nose is rapidly growing, and it’s beginning to spread to his eyes. He’d really thought just a single small pet would be alright. They were outside, it wasn’t like he was holding the kitten to his face or anything like that. 

Yet it was becoming rapidly apparent that it was not alright. Thankfully, Jon still seemed oblivious. Or perhaps was just giving him the courtesy of pretending he didn’t notice the increasing amount of sniffling. 

“hk’gt! eh’nxt! nxgt!” 

Or the small bouts of sneezing that kept breaking free. Martin had always been quite allergic to cats, but could never quite find it in himself to dislike them. They’re such intelligent animals, and so cute, and fluffy, and… well, they always seemed to like him back. He’d been told more than once by their owners that cats can always spot the allergic one, and seem to gravitate towards them. In his experience at least, this had been true. 

“Martin!” Jon called, snapping him back into focus. Turns out he was so focused on his own thoughts he’d nearly walked right past the institute entirely. “Planning on coming into work?” 

It was heavily sarcastic, and Martin felt the blush sink deeper into his ears as he gave a light nod and muttered apology. He hurried through the door Jon was holding open, ducking his head a bit to avoid Jon’s glare. 

Just walking past him, Martin could see the fur coating Jon’s entire lap, and spreading up over his vest. The sight of it reflexively brought his hand to his nose, pinching it shut as his eyes crashed close against another round of- “h’kngt! nngt! hk’ngxt!” 

This time Jon did offer a blessing, to which Martin replied with thanks, apologizing again. Jon’s face is unreadable, and Martin chokes back the urge to apologize. Again.  It seems it’s the only thing he’s capable of doing anymore. Though, with Jon… that was starting to feel like the norm. With him, it always felt like no matter what Martin did, it was always wrong. 

Before he can get too lost in that trainwreck of thoughts, Martin pulls himself together, and gives Jon a polite excuse, attempting to move to the kitchen. 

“Martin, wait-” Jon starts, before awkwardly pausing. There’s a beat of silence, both of them staring at each other. Martin blinks slowly, feeling a bit worried as the seconds seem to tick on forever. The more time passes, the harder Martin finds it to ignore the tingling spreading throughout his sinuses. Finally, Jon manages to offer a weak, “I’ll forgive the lateness this once, but don’t let it happen again.” 

“Th- thank you…” Martin stutters out in reply. They drift into another awkward pause, before Martin ends it with a rapid “hh’ngxt–nngt–k’nngdt! ngt’shiiew!” 

The last one breaks free, and Martin blushes hard, more apologies tumbling out over each other. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I was trying to catch it but they were a bit fast and it just slipped out-” 

Jon interrupts by clearing his throat again, and looking distinctly not at Martin as he offers, “Nothing to apologize for.” 

Tense silence settles over them again, and Martin’s starting to think maybe being berated isn’t actually all that bad. It certainly beats the hell out of whatever this new dynamic is. 

“So,” Jon starts, Martin nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden noise. “Back to work then.” 

“Yes, of course,” Martin begins to turn around, before pausing as Jon speaks up again.

“Unless you… need anything?” 

It sounds oddly sincere, and Martin feels confusion spreading across his face. “S- sorry? I don’t… I don’t think so, I’ve got a fair number of cases already to investigate, and I’m sure Tim and Sasha will have some things for me to do too.” 

Jon looks a bit taken aback at this, and Martin feels the panic swell again. Was that the wrong answer? What else could he possibly have meant- 

Before he can spiral too far, Jon seems to collect himself, that unreadable expression settling back over his features. “Indeed, yes. Back to work then, lot to get done, and we’re already behind. Lord knows everyone’s overworked as it is, and Tim will surely complain about our absence.” 

Martin nods cautiously, biting back the urge to apologize again. He’s not even sure what for, there’s just… that sinking feeling that he’s said something wrong. He absentmindedly rubs at his eye, but nearly lets out a groan at the sensation. It’s equal parts relieving and unsatisfying, the itch far too deep to actually scratch. What it does do is spread the tickle back through his nose. 

“Oh-” Martin lets out involuntarily. He barely catches a glimpse of Jon turning back from where he’d begun to walk away through his rapidly watering eyes. Seems they both keep getting pulled back into this interaction, and Martin curses internally. If he’d just kept quiet and rushed away before the fit broke loose- Well, too late now, and he attempts to stutter out, “Sorry I think… thinkI’mgonna– hh’nxt! eh’gnxt! nngt–ed’gnxt–ngt’iew! hihhiieshh’iew!” 

“Good lord, Martin,” Jon says, and Martin suddenly wishes he could sink through the floor. 

He tries to stutter out more apologies, but his breath is stolen by the ever-increasing fit. Rapid, yet tiny, sneezes continue to pile over each other, though the stifling is long forgotten for lieu of being able to get a breath. 

“hh’ieshhiew! ishhhiew! ishhiew! tshhh’iew! ishhh–eshhh–eshhh–eshh’iiew!” 

Jon’s standing in stunned silence, seeming unable to pull his eyes away. Martin can only stand, arm against his face, gasping into his sleeve, waiting for the end of this humiliating display. It, mercifully, comes fairly quickly, a final “heh’iSHHHiew!” seeming to clear out the remainder of the burn. 

The absent tickle still lingers, his eyes watering as the itch still buzzes through them too. At least the fit seems to be over. Jon’s still staring, mouth pulled tight as he surveys the scene. Martin wishes, again, that he could sink through the floor. There’s another silence, Jon seeming to just… watch. 

“I’b so-” Martin starts, before hearing his own congested voice and blushing deeper. Jon seems to notice it too, wincing slightly as Martin attempts to sniff, the noise coming out strained and heavy. There’s another pause before Jon suddenly turns on his heel and hurries away. 

Martin feels the shame begin to sink into him, and he curses again, this time a little more externally. Of course Jon would leave, that was a humiliating display, he can only imagine how disgusted Jon must be with him. It’s so unprofessional, to have a fit like that in front of your boss, Jon would never succumb like that in front of Elias. 

His self loathing is interrupted by a clearing of the throat, Jon standing in front of him almost- nervously? But that doesn’t make any sense, why would he be nervous? Surely it’s gotta be something else, maybe it’s- 

“Here,” Jon says, cutting through the silence. As Martin glances down, he realizes Jon is holding out a box of tissues. He accepts them, a bit hesitantly, utterly speechless. 

Jon seems to notice this, and gives him a slight nod, an attempt at being reassuring. “You seemed to need them. Bless you, by the way.” 

The words seem to be a bit foreign to him, he doesn’t stutter over them or anything of the sort, but they seem to be a conscious effort. Come to think of it, Martin can’t recall ever hearing Jon bless someone. Unlike himself, where it’s a habit so deeply engrained it’s more of a reflex than anything else. 

It does make sense, Jon’s always seemed more the polite yet tightly wound sort. Whenever Martin’s heard him sneeze, which has been quite rare, it’s been obvious he wants no attention drawn to it. Perhaps he assumes others feel the same..? 

Either way it hardly seems to matter, and with a start, Martin realizes he’s been standing here silently for almost a full minute. He gives Jon an appreciative look, pulling out a tissue, folding it, and turning around to lightly blow his nose. For his part, Jon turns away, most likely to give him a bit of privacy. 

After cleaning himself up, Martin throws the tissues in the wastebasket nearby before turning back to Jon. “Thank you, for the uh- tissues and all.” 

Jon stares a bit, before clearing his throat. “Right. Well, again you, uh, seemed to need them.” 

“Yeah,” Martin gives a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that. Just a bit of allergies.” 

“Seems an understatement,” Jon replies, seemingly without thinking. Martin chuckles a bit at the candor.

“I suppose you’re right,” he says with a laugh. That was apparently a bad idea, the vibrations from the laughter leaving him gasping. Jon looks on in what appears to be sympathy as Martin grabs a few more tissues. He just manages to bring them up in time. 

“hh’ishhh! ishhhiew! t’shhhew! tshhh–tshhh–tshhh’ieeww!” 

“Bless you,” Jon says, this time without much hesitation. Martin nods his thanks, grabbing another tissue, and folding it nicely before attending to his nose with it. These he also deposits in the wastebin. 

“Thank you, sorry again,” Martin starts, breaking off with a light cough. It’s not chesty, but it does come with a slight wheeze to his breath. Jon definitely takes notice of this, his face going a bit pale. 

“Are you- are you wheezing?” Jon asks, almost a touch accusatory in his tone. 

Martin blushes slightly, but draws in a deep breath to test it. There’s an audible wheeze, and he finds himself getting caught in another cough. 

“S- sorry,” He sputters out between light coughs, glancing down at the cat hair covering Jon. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry, it happens quite often, I’m just uh… a bit allergic to…” 

Jon follows his gaze, looking over his clothes. A moment passes, then realization dawns across his face and Jon pales a bit further. He gives Martin a look that’s quite clearly concern, before it’s quickly replaced by a glare. 

“Good lord Martin, why didn’t you say something?!” Jon snaps, taking several steps back. 

Martin feels a shiver run through him at the harsh tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-” 

“No, you didn’t,” Jon interrupts, his tone still firm, but with something that still sounds a lot like concern flowing through it. And maybe… guilt? “If I’d known, I’d not have made you stand here, suffocating yourself with an allergen.” 

“It’s really not that bad,” Martin tries, his body betraying him with another “ishhh’iew! ishhh–ishhh–t’shhheeww!” 

Jon gives another blessing, his displeasure palpable. Feeling another twinge of guilt, Martin attempts to apologize again, but finds his words stolen by another set of sneezes. “ieshew! tshhiew! hihheshhiew!” 

“Bless you,” Jon says yet again, taking a few more steps back. Even through his slight wheeze, Martin thinks he hears Jon mutter something. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was something about ‘actually being quite adorable’. A smile begins to slip over Martin’s face before he even has time to process the words. 

It’s quickly countered by Jon calling out for Tim. Martin nearly jumps at the volume, coughing again as the jostle brings another light wheeze. 

Turning back to Martin, Jon begins to give instructions. “I’m going to go to my office, I have a change of clothes in there, I’ll switch over to them. Tim will help you, he always has some meds around for his own struggles, I’m sure he can lend you some. You are to sit down, and under no circumstances are you to go back near the kitten. Sasha can find it somewhere nice to stay.”  

Before Martin has a chance to respond, Jon’s rushing down the hall, taking a turn towards Sasha’s desk. Tim comes around the corner at the same time, just barely managing to avoid crashing into Jon. He utters an expletive, but Jon pays it no mind whatsoever, just pointing towards Martin, and saying something Martin can’t make out. 

“Jeez,” Tim calls out as he gets closer. “What’s his deal?” 

“There was a ki-” Martin starts, before stopping himself. Jon hadn’t exactly been advertising that he was in the alley with the kitten, and… much as Tim was a nice guy, he’s not entirely above taunting. Especially if he knows this isn’t something Jon wants people to know about. 

Thankfully he doesn’t have to come up with a new excuse, as the tickle returns with a passion. He simply ducks into another handful of tissues for another set of “hhshhhiew! ishhhieww! t’shhh! kshhhiew!” 

“Woah, bless you,” Tim says, giving Martin a quick once over. “What happened to you?” 

“Nothing,” Martin sighs, with a bit of a wheeze. He attempts to give Tim a reassuring smile. “I’m alright.” 

“Clearly not,” Tim replies. “You’re wheezing and sneezing all over the place. Plus the boss sent me to help, figure that’s not for nothin’.” 

“Just… a bit of a run in with an allergen,” Martin says, coughing against his sleeve. Tim looks sympathetic, they both know he’s had a few of those himself. Even in the time he’d been here, Martin had witnessed a couple of situations when someone brought a bouquet into the archives. 

“Sounds bad,” Tim says, a bit more gently. 

Martin nods, bringing another group of tissues up to his nose. “ishhh! eshhh! kshhh! hhieESHhiew!” 

“Bless you!” 

“Thagk you,” Martin replies, giving Tim a soft smile. He’s interrupted by another fit, this one breaking out rapidly, piling over each other until he feels Tim’s hand on his arm steadying him. 

Tim lets out a low whistle as Martin blows his nose again. “That’s quite the attack. You’re nearly on my level! Right-o, let’s get you medicated, shall we?” 

Martin nods, putting up no resistance as Tim begins to guide (drag) him back to his desk. 

“You know, you have quite the kitten sneeze going on there,” Tim says, looking a bit confused as Martin begins to laugh. “Something funny?” 

“No, no,” Martin replies. “It’s nothing. Thank you for the help.” 

Tim nods at this, giving a wide grin, and going on some tangent about his own allergies, and the last time he had an attack like this. Martin nods along, but finds his thoughts drifting back to Jon, and the words he could almost swear he heard. ‘That was actually adorable’. 

Sasha will surely be told about the kitten by now, but… the details of how Jon found it… well, Martin has a good feeling that’s something only he gets to know. He feels oddly warm at this thought. Even if it wasn’t exactly Jon’s choice to tell him, it’s something they get to share. 

A memory just for them.

[autumnoakes]

thinking about the inevitability of botw.... idk, there's something about how calamity ganon was only able to be defeated after he pretty much won. the champions all lost, and DIED the first time around. they were not set up for success. the calamity was a perfect storm - everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. the guardians and divine beasts were taken over by malice and turned against the kingdom. the champions all faced blights specifically designed to ensure their deaths. the hero fell trying to keep the princess safe. the kingdom fell into disrepair after the princess sealed herself away with calamity ganon to protect what remained. but after link woke up, freed the divine beasts... only then did they win against the calamity. it sort of feels like the calamity HAD to happen in order for it to be defeated.

and again, in a way, this led to the events of totk. because ganondorf CREATED calamity ganon. and it didnt take anything at all for him to wake up again. link and zelda just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

[aelf-hlaf]

Stripped paint off my half-finished Guardians so I can paint them as Altansar instead of Saim-Hann as I originally planned. And now it's got me thinking about lore...

Saim-Hann wild riders on a diplomatic visit to Altansar when the eye of terror opened. Honor-bound to remain there and fight as the warp dragged it in. Centuries later, still wearing red, the occasional white helmet spotted in a squad. Still centuries later, those colors become rarer and rarer: some perished, but others repainted their armor themselves. Did they do it as a gesture of unity with their comrades? Or as a final acceptance that here is the only place they can ever hope to find companionship again?

Milennia pass, and Altansar is freed. One night a sole remaining rider in red departs through the webway. Returns to his home. He is older than even an eldar should be, and they scarcely remember him. Still, they celebrate. He pretends their boisterousness doesn't make him wince. They pretend not to see the unfamiliar runes thrice-etched on every surface of his once-familiar armor. The celebration ends and he tries to settle back into routine. They pretend not to stare at him. He pretends not to notice. He goes out riding, like he used to. Tries to join in the howling exhilaration of his companions, and still cannot raise his voice above a whisper. The wide, open plains make him paranoid without a wall to his back. He pretends he's just rusty, that he'll settle back in in time. He pretends he is the same as when he left. He pretends he is home now. After a week, he stops pretending: he leaves his white helmet at the foot of his bed, wordlessly, and rides the webway home again in black, maroon and bone.

[romanceyourdemons]

the thing about my fic is i want the different pov sections to be more or less balanced, but lestat talks SO much fucking more than tyler durden. i just burned 1000 words saying what tyler durden got through in fifty. because of course lestat has to express and justify his opinions on all the decor first

[harrys-only-angel333]

Finally introducing my Fame DR after a year…

This is my main DR. I’m permashifting, so this one in particular is very personal to me and I love it. I would’ve done this post around a year ago, but I didn’t, and I have no idea why, because I love these boys and they match my energy. I’m so excited to shift cause I haven’t managed to do so yet…

ENOUGH OF THAT SHIT

——————————————————————————

My 1D DR

Name: Chloe Lilian Adams

Face claim: Gracie Abrams (except I have blue eyes)

Birthday: 14/05/94

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthplace: North Yorkshire, England

Friends: Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, and Harry Styles

S/O: Harry because he’s the loml. We don’t start dating until 2011 though

Nationality: British

Backstory: Grew up in a small town in North Yorkshire. Could often be seen in the local park with my mates, or up in my room playing on my guitar or my drum kit. Music was always my passion and it was the only thing I was really confident in growing up. I loved singing too, I had a YouTube channel that I would post covers on and it went viral. I decided to audition for the X Factor in 2010 when I was 16, and I was put in a band with five boys.

——————————————————————————

I really ought to talk about this DR more because I adore it but I never really get the chance to. Anyway, I’m glad I’ve finally had the chance to talk about it cause it feels good to finally say something… :)

Anyway, y’all have a good day/night. Regardless, I hope we all shift soon <3

I have this awful fear of judgement which is another reason I didn’t post this earlier smh. I need to teach myself not to give a shit about what others think :(

[violaroseshade]

I can't explain, & I won't even try.

I'm laughing , I'm crying,

It feels like I'm dying ?