#symbolism explanation under more

[sunst3rr]

fragile means that i can hear her flesh, crying little rivers down her forearm

[dravencroft]

A start, an end, a rise and fall No system eternal and no one immortal

Yet another dramatic illustration for little Dante and the many forces that are always trying to tug on his life and control his destiny. Sometimes I feel sorry for everything I put him through, but then I remember it makes him a great subject for this kind of symbolic drawings.

A quick explanation of most of the symbolism in this drawing:

The hands on top belong to Dante's Sire, Jonathan Faraday, current Prince of New York. He had decided to adopt and embrace Dante to groom him into his perfect successor, but a lot of things went wrong. Jonathan is still trying to force the crown on Dante's head despite everything.

The crown is bleeding because of all the lives that were sacrificed to try and mould Dante into the perfect Childe - first among them Dante's older brother, Nicholas.

The chains around his right wrist (left side) represent the Camarilla, the Ventrue clan, and Dante's own desperate desire to be perfect and strong (the Amaryllis flowers). The chains are taut because of how strict the sect's control on him was.

The chains around his left wrist (right side) represent the Sabbat and his current mentor, a Toreador Antitribu (the roses). The chains are slack because he has much more freedom in this sect, but he is still a prisoner.

In the background: the FIT Tower, HQ of Faraday's tech company and Dante's home for the first two decades of his life; on the right the tower is burning and destroyed, maybe a - hopeful? - auspice of what might happen in the future.

Dante isn't wearing any gloves. He always does, but whenever I want him to look even more vulnerable, I like to show his bare hands. They are bloodied without the protection of his gloves.

[gghostwriter]

Whispered Truths

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 0.8k a/n: This is actually a request from @bloodredrubyrose and I really liked how this came out. I also used my favorite piece of fiction here as a prop so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Couples, no matter how new or old, tend to create personalized dates as a way to strengthen the relationship. Some go on hikes together, some go on travels, while some stay in the comfort of their homes—under a blanket with a chosen book on hand.

You and Spencer definitely fall under the latter category. It was quite obvious from the first meeting that literature would be one of the strongest bonding agents between you and him. After all, it was how you were brought together—crashing into one another at the library with books and miscellaneous items scattered on the tiled floor. A few shy glances and bewitching dates later, you found yourself spending your Saturday nights in the presence of your boyfriend of six months, hosting an exclusive reading club with just two members, you and him.

“I never thought of it that way,” your left hand paving an aimless path through Spencer’s curly hair while the other held the book up high.

The pitter patters of the rain outside softly echoed through the walls. You were propped up on the loveseat sofa, his head resting on your lap as he looked upwards in question in regards to your statement.

“Never thought of which?” His voice low and soft, striking a resemblance to how he gazed at you oh so lovingly. As if you were the most riveting piece if art he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“How water played a big symbol throughout the whole book. It was really focused on during the first chapters but I—I just never quite connected the dots,” you clarified, bring the book to a close.

It was your choice for the week, East of Eden by John Steinbeck—a modern classic and had been your favorite work of literature since high school. Spencer had lent his copy to you last week and you vice versa—both turning brown from age, pages about to fall apart from its binding, annotations scribbled on the margins and any lengthy self reflections written on various notebook pages sandwiched in between.

“Your explanation on the empty pages at the end—how water is capable of bringing both life and death. Water being essential for the crops but at the same time, drowned victims. It’s such a poignant note that I think I just fell more in love with Steinbeck’s writing,” you added. “It also made me realize how water in his novel represents the dual capacity of the human soul for good and evil. How we are all filled with conundrums and contradictions and what makes us different from the other species on Earth is our ability to choose whether we are good or evil—” Spencer had sat up and leaned in, interrupting your musings. “—what?” You breathed out as his lips hovered on yours.

The once cozy atmosphere quickly charged with tension and desire that seemed to ooze out of Spencer. There was little space in between and you had no doubt that from the outside looking in, it looked like he was kissing you but he was not, rather a sliver of air was still given space to pass through. So close but so far.

You studied his features up close. How his long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings beating against the wind as his molten, darkened, hazel eyes flickered between your lips and eyes. How his nose lightly caressed yours in an endless Eskimo kiss. How his cheeks stained into a lighter shade of red. And how his pink tongue peeked out to wet his pillowy lips. 

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered as if it was some kind of national secret that he now felt right to expose.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was the first time he had said it. His love for you had been conveyed with every touch, with every action, and with every silence but this was the first time he had put it into words.

His lips caressed yours—the pressure almost non-existent. A ghost of a kiss to gauge your reaction and consent.

“I love you,” he repeated a little louder this time, eyes locking into the very depths of your soul. “You and your mind have enchanted me since the beginning—so beautiful, so captivating.”

The butterflies set free in your stomach caused you to viscerally shiver in reaction.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

A smile graced his face and it was bright and as blinding as the sun, like it had finally decided to stop hiding behind the clouds and show itself in all of its glory.

He leaned in once more. The pressure from his lips now heavier and headier, trying to stamp his everlasting mark on you and in between all these kisses were whispers of his utter devotion and adoration until there was no more space—until you both became one on his loveseat sofa.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[novelistwriter]

The Al Ghul Siblings

DP x DC x MLB x Marvel Prompt

Damian wasn't the only child of Bruce and Talia, but the youngest of 4.

 

Mariam, the Eldest daughter of Bruce and Talia, whose strategies could turn the tide of battles she is part of.

 

The twins, Danyal and Boutros (Peter in Arabic), Danyal, who was so good at stealth that he wouldn't let you know he was there until he wanted you to know, and Boutros, whose awareness was so sharp, that none could get the drop on him, both Twins Rival Ra's and Taila in these aspects.

 

Damian is the child that excels in combat out of the four, constantly trying to he like his older siblings.

 

Mariam had to leave the League, because of what Talia overheard the plans Ra's had for her daughter. She sent Mariam to Paris under a new name, Marinette. Where Marinette would be left with people Talia trusts.

 

The twins had a bit more tragic fate, Boutros was fatally wounded during a rebellion in the League, he was dipped in the Lazarus Pit, but never resurfaced.

 

Danyal was sent away by Talia to an orphanage, Damian wasn't told where though, but a few years later, Damian was brought to Bruce.

 

Mari was contacted by Danyal one day via a letter with a familiar symbol on it, they send each other letters from time to time, but can't reach out to Damian, fearing that they would be found by Ra's.

 

The events of Danny Phantom happened regularly, but with Danny becoming the Heir to the Throne for the Infinite Realms.

 

But when the Nasty Burger does explode, Danny doesn't go to Vlad, he runs away and goes to Paris to be with his other sister.

 

Mari became the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous, and told her foster parents about her being Ladybug a few days before Danny came to their place.

 

When Danny did arrive at the place, it was during a heavy storm, and Danny didn't have a coat, so he was standing in the heavy downpour, arms crossed and looking so sad and heartbroken.

 

After some explanations, and seeing Danny being able to resist the Akuma Hawkmoth sent to corrupt him, Danny is welcomed by Mari's foster parents to live with them.

 

A few weeks with Danny living in Paris, a green portal opens up in the living room with Danny and Mari in it, they are ready for a fight, but they see an older Boutros stumble out of it, it's a tearful reunion, with a being in a purple robe smiling to himself elsewhere, where a family is soon to be reunited, and where an almost exact replica of Boutros would be placed back in the dimension he found himself in to prevent the timeline of that dimension from destabilizing.

 

The twins and the Eldest Daughter worked together with Cat Noir and other Miraculous holders to take down Hawk Moth in a few days. The Trio of siblings decided that they will take a risk, they head to Gotham to reconnect with Damian

[moodyseal]

Meg and Apollo tarot card designs for @ferodactyl <3 I'm not an expert when it comes to tarot cards (this was actually the first time I looked into the full deck) but hopefully I got it right!

The explanation of the cards' symbolism is under the cut because it's a bit lengthy oof

Meg's card is the Knight of Swords, one of the minor Arcana, I think? Upright, the Knight of Swords refers to a person who is action-oriented, determined and unstoppable in what they set their mind to; however, when it's reversed the card also indicates a person who might be blind to the consequences of their actions and charges into things without having fully considered their options. Meg's choices throughout TOA point to her being exactly this sort of person: while her determination and lack of hesitation were exactly what was needed to balance out Apollo's occasional self-doubt, her impulsiveness was also what got them both into trouble multiple times. The fact that, eventually, she learned how to rely on others and slow down when needed goes hand in hand with the warning this card poses.

Apollo's card is instead one of the Major Arcana, and it's Death. The Death card is a symbol of change: it indicates a time of transition and new beginnings that are sometimes unexpected and difficult, but still necessary. Reversed, the card indicates that the person is resisting that change, and unwilling to let go of the past, which makes the journey all the more painful as the transformation that they're going through is inevitable and cannot be reversed. One of the major points in Apollo's character arc, and the biggest change he goes through, is the transition from the god he used to be to the one he would be in the future. It's a slow change, and one he didn't fully lean into at first—after all, if he chose to give up all that he had been up until then, what would he have left? However, ironically enough, death is exactly what set things in motion, and let him finally shed away his past beliefs to embrace his new sense of self.

[alastor-simp]

Mistletoe🌿😘 - Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary: It's Sinsmas in Hell, which means the hotel is decorated from head to toe in Christmas decor, including the festive tradition of the mistletoe. What happens when you find under it with Alastor?

❥Tags: Mistletoe kiss, Hazbin Hotel, Christmas, Fluffmas, Mistletoe, Holiday Season, Festive, Fluff and Romance, Sinsmas

❥Notes: Its time for some mistletoe kisses with our favorite deer demon. I've always love mistletoe kiss stories so I decided to write one. Enjoy 😊

❥Credit: Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Standing on top of a ladder, you were gently stringing up the ornaments on the Christmas tree that was standing in the middle of the hotel lobby. You and Charlie were in the Christmas spirit, or Sinsmas spirit, as that's what Christmas was called in hell, and decided to decorate. Charlie, with her powers, was able to string colored lights on the walls and stairs of the hotel, while you decided to do the tree.Humming to yourself, you continued to hang decorations until you heard a tapping noise coming from below. Looking down, you saw the radio demon himself, smiling up at you, hand tapping on the ladder to get your attention. "Enjoying the weather up there, my dear?" Sarcastically laughing at his joke, you continued to hang up decorations, "Do you need something?"

"Ah yes! Our dear Charlie needs you in the kitchen. She seems rather exuberated at the idea of making cookies." Alastor said, his crimson eyes continuing to gaze up at you. "Oh alright," Holding the box with decorations gently, you slowly descended down the ladder, as you were ready to meet Al at the bottom. Reaching the floor, you turned to Al smiling, as he motioned for you to loop your arm with his, as you made your way to the kitchen.Upon entering the kitchen, that was filled with the delicious smell of frosting and baked goods, the both of you stopped catching the snickering coming from Angel, who was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, phone raised up in his hands. "What's so funny?" You said, tilting your head at him. Angel continued to laugh as one of his hands pointed up. Looking up, you noticed the little sprig of mistletoe that was hanging next to the kitchen door, making your eyes widen in shock. Charlie had noticed too, since she was distracted by baking and a smile had risen to her face, heart symbols popping out behind her.

You knew about this tradition, "whoever is under a mistletoe has to kiss each other," and you were under it, with Alastor. Nope! NOPE! No way was Alastor going to do this, knowing how touch-averse he was. Yes, you had a crush on him, but you respected his boundaries, and you didn't want this to be overstepping them. Alastor eyed the little branch on top and gave a small head-tilt, confused at what was such a big deal about the item hanging above their heads. "What is a little weed doing up there?" Angel continued to laugh, while recording while Charlie realized that Al didn't know about the mistletoe. "Oh that's a common tradition that is done in the human world Al! The two people who stand under a mistletoe have to share a kiss!" Jumping with enthusiasm, Charlie pointed to the both of you, really wanting to see the two of you kiss. Al remained still once he heard Charlies explanation, his smile still on his face as always, but his body was tensed. His glowing red eyes locked on to you, staring into your soul, who honestly didn't know if he was happy or upset with what he was told.

His sharp gaze then locked on to the mistletoe and with a snap, the little plant had caught on fire, green flames burning it into blacken crisp. "While I am one to follow and uphold certain traditions, that is one that I will not partake in." He said, lips growing into an evil smirk, until he disappeared, body disappearing in the shadows, leaving behind the three of you with widen eyes and a small burnt mistletoe, that had fallen to the ground from where it was hanging. Okay that hurt a bit. You had a feeling Al would say no, but it still hurt coming from him directly. "What a dick!" Angel raged out, using his hands to flip off where Alastor once stood. Charlie, noticing your demeanor, approached you slowly, offering you a kind smile, "Umm want to continue making cookies with me?" She said, trying to help as she could tell you were sad by Al's reaction, but she felt like she was responsible as well, since she didn't think into consideration how Al would respond, but she had no idea Alastor would react like that. Shaking your head to rid of the negative emotions, lips drawing into a forced smile, you moved towards where Charlie was, hoping that this would distract you from what had happened.

**A Few Hours Later**

Spending quality time with the others, drinking hot chocolate and watching silly Christmas movies did make you feel better, but the lack of Al's presence kept reminding you about what happened. "He must still be angry." You thought, as your feet carried you back to your room, having grown very tired from all the activities you did with the others. Having arrived at your door, your hand slowly grabbed the door knob, opening it as you walked in, only to walk head first into someone. "AHH!" Screaming, you grasped your chest, back hitting the now closed door, as you looked at the intruder in your room. The intruder was the red deer man himself, hands placed behind his back, smiling down at you. "Ah! There you are, my dear! I was wondering when you would arrive." He bent down, face moving closer to you, smile breaking his face, since he so enjoyed scaring you. Still holding your hand against your chest, your eyes glared up at Al, wondering why he was in your room. "If I remember correctly, this is my bedroom, so why are you waiting for me inside my room?"

Chuckling, Alastor had leaned back up, but he remained close to you. "There was something I needed to complete and I require the assistance of another to do it, and who better to offer their assistance than you, my dear." Listening to him, you had managed to calm down from the previous scare. He wanted your help with something, well as long as it doesn't involve a soul contract or killing, you could help. "Oh! Alright then, what do you need help with?" You asked, tilting your head at him. His radio-static laugh resonated through the whole room, as his sharp gloved hands pointed above you, making your eyes draw up to the ceiling.

Above you, was a dark creature resembling Alastor, grin stretched across its face, dangling a little mistletoe above you. Widening your eyes, you looked back at Al in shock, "Wha- What?!" You stuttered out, brain still trying to process what was happening. Alastor noticed your reaction, laughing again, before he walked closer, his chest becoming extremely close to you, as you gazed up at him, gulping at the situation you were in. "I believe there was a tradition we needed to uphold when we are under this small leaf." He said, voice dropping the radio effects, sending shivers all over you. "But I thought you didn't want to do it? You burned the one in the kitchen." Your words were failing you, as you were too distracted by how close Al was, heart beating out of your chest. A gloved hand softly held your chin, tipping it up, making your breath hitched in your throat.

His eyes were tender, drastically different from his usual enigma ways, "It was merely a show of theatrics, my dear. I have a reputation to uphold, being the radio demon. I much rather partake in acts like this in private, away from the other little misfits, particularly the feminine spider. This side of me is only for your eyes to see." Fingers traced your bottom lip, as another hand was placed on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. "Well? Do you wish to continue?" He asked, voice dropping into a whisper. You pleaded in your head that this wasn't a dream, that this was really happening. The little nod you gave Alastor, made a soft smile appear on his face, as he slowly inched closer to you, lips planting against yours. It started with a small peck, nothing overly extreme, but the both of you refused to pull away, as you wrapped your arms around Al, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Alastor stilled for a second, but his body soon relaxed, yet his tail remained wagging behind him.

The breathtaking kiss soon came to a stop, as Al slowly pulled away from you, his ashen face sporting a pinkish color, making you giggle. Alastor heard your giggle, and gave one of his own as well, static returning to his voice. The shadow version of Alastor had come down from the ceiling, appearing next to you, glowing red eyes in the shape of hearts, as it hanged the mistletoe above you and placed a shadowy kiss against your cheek, before disappearing. Alastor's arms soon engulfed you, holding you against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. "Merry Sinsmas, Y/N" He hummed, nuzzling your head. Moving your hands slowly, you placed them against his back, returning the hug. "Merry Sinsmas, Al."

-END-

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink ,

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Matters of Fact

CW: Mentions of death, mentions of mind-altering drug use, manipulation.

The Arkham Knight knows what he is, until he doesn't ~1.2k words

The Arkham Knight is a bad person. He knows this. Knows it even as he slips under the covers of your bed. Knows it when he leaves grime and dirt tracked across your windowsill and the floor of your room.

The Arkham Knight is cruel. He knows this when he leaves after you ask him to stay. Knows this when he disappears for days on end to plan his revenge, to train his men.

Knows it when he makes you cry and beg for someone he isn't.

The Arkham Knight is twisted. He knows this when he kills the man who gave you his number. He knows it when he holds you close and consoles you, tells you that guy wasn't worth dating anyway.

Knows it when he tells you that you don't need anyone but him.

The Arkham Knight is obsessed. He knows this because he dreams of the way your lips feel against his skin, the way your fingers thread through his hair, the way your pulse flutters against his hand.

He knows this because he can't seem to leave you alone, even if it would be better for you, and for him.

The Arkham Knight is a liar. He knows this when he tells you Bruce is going to keep him from seeing you. That his enemies will hunt you down, hurt you to get to him. That it's safer, to be tucked away in his base with him.

The Arkham Knight is mean. He knows this when you yell at him over his men stopping you from leaving his base. He knows it when he yells right back, when he grins wickedly as you snap at him in return.

Knows it when you don't shy away as he stalks towards you, tugging off his helmet and grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss.

Knows it when you slam your fist against the plates of his armor before kissing him right back.

The Arkham Knight is sick, knows it when he slips a fine powder into your drink the night he takes over Gotham. It's nothing that'll hurt you, at least, that's what he tells himself.

The drug only makes you happy, relaxed, more compliant when he drags you from safe house to safe house without explanation.

The Arkham Knight is a mess. He knows this because he's not exactly the Arkham Knight anymore. His symbol torn from his chest, his helmet no longer blue but a bloody red. He knows this because he's crying.

He knows this because he's on his knees in front of you, and you look like you don't if you're going to hit him or hug him.

He knows he deserves to be hit. But he so desperately wants you to hug him. You don't do either. You kiss him. His heart is in his throat. He thinks maybe there's a chance for him.

He's not sure what that chance is. Maybe it's to be good. To be better. To really be with you.

But then you say goodbye. Then you break his heart. Then you leave.

He knows he deserves it for what he's done.

Red Hood knows he isn't good. He's not completely bad, but he's definitely not good. He knows this because people flinch when he saves them. He knows this because there's a trail of bodies in his wake.

But he also knows every single one of them deserved it. He thinks maybe that does make him evil.

Red Hood aches for you. He knows this because he finds himself following the familiar path to your apartment before catching himself.

He knows this because he still dreams of you curled at his side, your mouth pressing kisses to his jaw, your fingers tracing the lines of his back.

Red Hood is a shell of a man. He knows this because he goes back to his dirty, disrepaired apartment, and all he sees is gray.

He knows this because his days and nights are robotic, driven only by the mission. The hole that the death of Batman left in Gotham.

Red Hood is weak. He knows this because he opened the door when you came to his apartment. He knows this because he let you sleep on his bed while he stayed on the couch, unable to rest knowing you're so close but so far from him.

Red Hood is in love with you. He knows this because he'd do anything you asked, and everything you won't.

He knows this because when you break down in the morning over breakfast, when you finally tell him why you came to him, he tugs you to his chest and lets you cry.

Red Hood has no mercy. He knows this because he takes his time killing the man who frightened you. He knows this because he doesn't react to the begging, the screams, the terror in his eyes.

He only feels a sick sense of satisfaction, knowing you won't have to be scared of that disgusting creep ever again.

Jason Todd is dumbfounded by you. You keep showing up at his apartment door. He keeps letting you in, as if he could ever turn you away. You keep making him meals, filling his fridge, adding your things to his apartment.

There's throw pillows and blankets on his couch with your favorite colors. Your favorite movie is paused on the TV. You sleep in his bed more often than not, even if he never joins you.

Jason Todd has no idea how to treat you. He's only even made mistakes with you, only ever done things that should terrify you and drive you away.

But you keep coming back, even after the body of the man who hurt you was found by the police.

Jason Todd wants to be good, at least for you. So he tries. He knows he isn't great at words, but he tries to soften his voice. He knows his touch is rough, so he tries to be still and gentle when you lean into his side.

He knows he's scary looking, so he tries to be smaller when you're around. He knows what he does is dangerous, so he sets up even better security in his apartment, and with permission, yours.

He knows there's something wrong with him, so he reminds you not to hang around him so much.

He doesn't know why you don't listen. Doesn't know why you kiss his cheek, why you start to lead him from the couch to sleep next to you in his bed.

He doesn't know why you sleep curled at his side, on his chest, a leg thrown over his thigh. He knows a lot of things, knows a lot about you.

But does he understand why you kiss his scars and nuzzle his shoulder?

No. Absolutely not. But he doesn't think he needs to. Not when you tell him you'd like to sell your apartment. Not when he gets to help you move the last of your things to his your shared bedroom.

Not when he knows he loves you. Not when you say you love him. Not when he knows it's true.

[mariasont]

Sundress Season - S.R

a/n: spent all friday & saturday writing so sorry 4 dumping so many works 2night lololol

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer decides to come help you out with some research and gets a little more than he bargained for

warnings: fluff, thigh kink if you SQUINT LIKE SQUINT

wc: 0.9k

You crossed one leg over the other, your nails drumming against the table, while your eyes bored holes into the book that lay open in your lap. You loved reading, more than most people, but when it was something you were interested in, not when the pages were smeared with the arcane symbols of mathematical algorithms that you could not seem to comprehend. It was giving you a migraine. 

At the call of your name, your head lifted abruptly, a welcome excuse the cast aside the loathsome book, expecting your coffee to be awaiting you at the counter. You weren't, however, expecting to see Spencer standing there. Your brows knitted together in a moment of confusion before you face relaxed into a warm, welcoming smile.

"Spence? Hey, what are you doing here?" 

"JJ said you were researching the neural network algorithms," Spencer said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement as he pulled out the chair across from you. "I figured I could lend a hand."

“Oh, bless your heart, Dr. Reid,” you praised, hand dramatically pressed to your heart, “I could kiss you.”

The subtle rosiness that blossomed on Reid’s cheeks didn’t escape your notice, and you couldn’t deny the small thrill of saying things designed to elicit the delightful blush. It was cute.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing towards the book, ignoring your words.

You give a nod and pass it over, his fingers brushing over yours in the process. It was hard not to stare at his face, admittedly, your scientific knowledge (or any knowledge) didn’t rival his, yet surely there was some explanation for why you found him so attractive.

You watched, curiously, as he made quick work of the pages, absorbing the information with the ease of a child flipping through a picture book. Maybe that was it—his intelligence, now that wasn’t far off. I mean, who didn’t want a man who could effortlessly recite pi to the hundredth decimal?

You found yourself following the lines of his face— from the subtle shadows under his eyes to the rhythmic movement of his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he concentrated, down to the soft dip of his lips. God, he was so beautiful. And even that term barely did him justice.

Your blatant starring was broken only when you realized his lips were moving.

“Yeah, totally,” you said, bobbing your head in agreement, clueless to his actual words but hoping you said the right thing.

He regarded you with a puzzled glance, his brow raised while carefully marking his place in the book. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.”

That famous, gorgeous smile of his spread across his face as his eyes darted around the coffee shop. His fingers patted his cheek thoughtfully in silent, teasing challenge.

“Wait, what?”

“The issue was with adjusting the weight initialization to prevent the vanishing gradient problem,” he remarked with an easy shrug. “Seems like the perfect time for that well-deserved kiss.”

His words sent a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks. Was he serious? You decided you didn’t care. Rising just enough to meet him, you cupped his face and planted a sloppy kiss against his cheek. As your drew back, you couldn’t help but delight in the sight of his ears, now tinted with a charming blush of red.

The intimate bubble burst as the barista’s voice rang out, announcing that your coffee was, in fact, prepared at last. You tapped his nose lightly before standing fully. “My hero.”

Spencer watched with a slack jaw as you walked away from the table, his eyes drawn to your thighs. The air seemed to escape him in a rush, his gaze locked on your outfit, now fully revealed as you stood up. He was so used to seeing you in dress pants, he’d never seen you in a dress, a sundress at that.

He was already burning from the feeling of your lips on his cheek but now it was spreading through every part of him as he traced your curves before landing once again on your supple thighs. God, you were beautiful, and that ass—

He was on the cusp of entertaining some rather less-than-holy ideas when the shrill ring of his phone intervened. He mentally berated the caller, wishing to preserve every detail of your image in his mind. Morgan. Naturally.

He swiped deftly at the phone, realizing it was FaceTime. Morgan’s head filled the screen, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in Spencer’s appearance.

“Morning, lover boy.”

Spencer was unsure what he meant. “Huh?”

Morgan simply flicked his cheek with a smirk. “Looks like ya missed a spot, hot stuff.”

Spencer’s face warmed with a fresh flush, hastily angling the phone away, his fingers working to erase the lipstick stain.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up, man! You on a hot date or something? C’mon, Reid, who’s the lucky lady?”

Once assured his skin was free of the pink evidence, Spencer lifted the phone again. He didn’t get a chance to ask Morgan’s reason for calling, as your face appeared behind him, curiously glancing at the phone.

“Oh, hey Morgan!”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “No way! You’re kidding me! Penelope is going to freak—,”

His words were cut short as Spencer swiftly hung up.

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 18: JoeHills. Today's style/medium is puppet-making! Or mostly sewing with a few other things thrown in. I had a ton of fun with this one, even though it took...so much time to make. I usually explain why I chose a certain medium but this one is...pretty self-explanatory, I think. If you have any Joe clips you want to see a puppet show of, send them my way! Details, materials, and a couple more pictures under the read more.

Materials: this pattern by Abby Glassenberg and all of its required components (minus the eyes), googly safety eyes from Amazon, baby clothes from a local thrift store, and white fabric paint.

I was originally going to try to get doll clothes to dress the Juppet in, since I didn't want to sew the outfit from scratch, but couldn't find any that were quite right. After a couple unfruitful trips into stores, I stopped by a local children's thrift store and poked around their newborn and preemie section until I found an orange onesie and gray jacket/cardigan that were close enough to the right colors. I know the jacket on Joe's skin is probably a hoodie, given the pocket placement, but surprisingly, few people seem to be manufacturing hoodies for newborn babies. Once I got home, I hacked off the bottom of the orange onesie, hemmed it, and painted the at symbol on the back with fabric paint. The front (now back) still says "daddy's mighty guy" with a picture of two dinosaurs on it and that amuses me greatly.

The puppet pattern itself was a little tricky, and there were a couple spots that I think could have used some more explanation, but I made it through. In hindsight, I wish I'd used bigger eyes, but I couldn't find safety eyes (the kind that pokes through the fabric and gets secured with a washer) in a larger size and the style I wanted, and I didn't want to just glue regular googly eyes on because I was worried it wouldn't be sturdy enough (and the edges might look messy). I ended up having to hot glue the felt pieces to the inside of the mouth, even though the pattern recommended normal craft glue for that part, because it would not stick no matter what I did. If I were to make the pattern again, I'd probably try to sew the roof of the mouth and tongue pieces onto the pink felt before attaching it to the head, rather than gluing them on after.

Honestly, there are a lot of things I would do differently if I were to make another puppet, but I'm pretty proud of how this one turned out, especially for my first time doing something like this! I just. have a Juppet in my house now. I don't know how to feel about this. I know this is a pretty complicated piece, so if you have any additional questions, feel free to message me (or send an ask, or reply to this post, or send the message by carrier pigeon--whatever floats your boat).

[tungledotedu]

prismatic bell is shamelessly doing genocide denial again (archive org version), with some points such as:

'the keffiyeh is a symbol of arab colonialism'

'Every civilian killed is a travesty to be laid on Sinwar’s bloody hands. But…it’s actually also REALLY GOOD for urban warfare'.

no amount of 'it's tragic, i know it sucks, it's heatbreaking' will make up for the fact that xe LITERALLY SAID THERE IS A 'GOOD' AND 'PROPORTIONATE' NUMBER OF DEAD CIVILIANS. including children and babies. and this is right after xe called them colonisers.

xe's still desperately trying to deny the death toll. 'the numbers as given have been proven false. Someone was literally able to show they’re generated with a math formula. (I have articles backing this up, but again, will have to add when I’m off mobile, sorry.)'

also known as 'i can't add more sources right now, but i DEFINITELY have them!' (uses memri tv as a source)

'actually it's completely legal for israel to target hospitals because they fabricate evidence of weapons in those hospitals.' who's going to tell xir about how the iof mistook an arabic calendar for a list of names. also, legality=/=morality.

'DELIBERATE TARGETING OF HOSPITALS: yes, Israel has bombed or raided several hospitals because they were being used as weapons depots or missile launch sites. This is completely legal—what would be illegal would be raids on hospitals not being used as military sites.'

'hamas is the one that's committing genocide! if israel was really trying to eradicate all of gaza it would be done already!'

62% of homes and 84% of healthcare facilities have been damaged or destroyed. as well as more than 80% of schools.

'what is happening in ukraine IS genocide! but not palestine!'

since this person seems so fixated on 'proportionate' death tolls...

ukraine has a population of 34 million, and the 2022 russian invasion has resulted in around 34,000 civilian casuallties as of june 2024. that's a lower ratio of civilian casualties to total population (1:1000). mariupol and the rest of donetsk oblast (population: 4 million) have sustained the highest number of casualties, with over 25,000 dead. this means the ratio is 1:160. according to this user, this is enough to warrant the label of genocide.

(edit: the number of dead ukrainian civilians may be higher at 100,000, making it 1:340).

but the gaza strip had a population of 2.4 million in 2022 (see the quote below), and the estimate of around 40,000 deaths has been outdated for some time now due to israel's destruction of gazan healthcare infrastructure and staff. even without a more accurate death toll, the ratio is higher (1:60). but for some reason (racism), it's not enough to be called a genocide.

the death toll in gaza is estimated to be much higher. according to the lancet,

Applying a conservative estimate of four indirect deaths per one direct death to the 37 396 deaths reported, it is not implausible to estimate that up to 186 000 or even more deaths could be attributable to the current conflict in Gaza. Using the 2022 Gaza Strip population estimate of 2 375 259, this would translate to 7·9% of the total population in the Gaza Strip.

and this is a conservative estimate.

also, according to this user's 'logic', with a lower ratio of casualties, russia is actually 'doing urban warfare' better than israel. so much for being pro-ukraine.

all of this disgusting vitriol is tacked on a post with artwork of jesus christ, because one of the sketches depicted him with a keffiyeh. i don't think prismatic bell has anything of worth to say about christianity.

(edIted on 20 july)

changed pronoun to xir. explanation here.

i've added a link to a source for 100,000 killed civilians in ukraine.

but still, given the choice between an academic article and an internet user, i'm going to trust the academic article to have actual research with sources and not 'fake numbers' for gaza.

i wrote a bit about how the alleged 1:1.5 civilian death ratio is incorrect under the read more, but then i realised, does it actually matter? should this be the metric by which we measure proportionality in the first place? should we forget how more palestinians have been killed by israel since its founding than the other way around?

if we only focus on this, we overlook the bigger picture, the alarming number of people who have been killed or left sickened and disabled. we have to keep the total population in mind, and the fact that israel also mass murders palestinians 'indirectly'. through starvation, cutting off electricity and water, blockading medical supplies as well as other resources, denying life-saving healthcare, and other means. what prismatic-bell said about russia targeting aid workers applies to israel too.

what about how israeli militants rape and sexually torture palestinian hostages? how they don't distinguish between combatants and civilians, and their 'definition' of terrorist includes elderly men and kids they've captured and stripped to their underwear? or how they've maimed people as part of rabin's 'break the bones' policy since the first intifada? or when the iof lied about letting an ambulance rescue hind rajab, only to kill the paramedics and shoot 335 bullets at the car where she was hiding? or how they haven't stopped bombing and sniping people despite orders from the icj and credible evidence of them committing genocide?

and 'fake numbers'? sounds like projection to me. here's what prismatic-bell said:

'And finally, let’s look at the civilian-to-combatant death toll. [...] With that said, the best data we have at this moment suggests one civilian killed for every 1.5 Hamas militants.'

no source given, but i'm guessing it came from wikipedia (where the sentence is unsourced as well).

here's an actual analysis by yagil levy on ha'aretz. it's outdated, but it argues that even early on in the genocide, the israeli army failed to show restraint in targeting civilians. none of that 'it's actually also REALLY GOOD for urban warfare' or 'entirely proportionate', or however you want to cruelly dismiss human life.

It follows that with a high proportion of noncombatants among the total number of those killed, we can conclude that the principle of discrimination was not adhered to, and an unusually high rate will reflect either a departure from the principle of proportionality or a highly flexible interpretation of it. [...] Thus, rather than this being a case of "collateral damage," it was the reverse: Because most of those harmed are civilians, what was produced is "collateral benefit," in the form of a low number of Gazan combatants killed.

This calculation shows that out of the total of 6,747, at least 4,594 individuals of both sexes who can be categorized as noncombatants were killed – 68 percent of the total. 

this is a different way of calculating the ratio. it takes civilian deaths and divides it by the total number of people killed, not by combatant deaths (as the 1:1.5 ratio does). with 2,153 combatants killed, the ratio is actually around 2:1, meaning it is biased towards civilians killed. this is an outdated estimate and is probably higher in reality.

or take the iof's more recent but probably inflated estimate of 16,000 dead hamas fighters, meaning 24,000 civilians out of the 40,000 killed. the ratio would be 1.5:1. or 170,000 civilians if we go by the lancet.. that's 10.5 civilians dead for 1 militant. (if anyone has better sources let me know.)

[nicotine-boi]

So much senseless pain..

YALL I FUCK SO HEAVY WITH THIS DRAWING IT ALSO TOOK ME A LITERAL MONTH TO COMPLETE BECAUSE UNI BUT I ALSO SNEEKED (?) A LOT OF symbolism ig IN HERE AND IM LIKE. SLSJSKKSKSN

Explanation + other versions below (excuse any typo I'm writing this up on my phone at 11pm)

A.) all the different hands are from characters that he (mostly) directly impacted.

Silco [top hand] because, intentional or not, their paths were always slightly intertwined. (jinx stealing hex-plans, jayce proposing peace, even back to vik's apprenticeship eith singed and him creating shimmer for silco). He's placed at the head because he was the catalyst of basically all the events in the show.

Vi [1st left] and Jinx [1st right] because not only did he lead them to were they went in act3, but their paths beforehand were also slightly intertwined throughout the series. THEY'RE ALSO A MIRROR IMAGE OF EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY ACCIDENTALLY MIRROR EACH OTHER (2nd season Vi mirrors 1st season jinx and vice-versa)

Isha [2nd right] because he UNINTENTIONALLY led to her death by allowing her to bond more with Vander and to see him interact 'normally' with Vi and Jinx which led to her sacrifice. She is placed under Jinx because she was her shadow, mentor, kid, etc. and her sole purpose was to emotionally wound Jinx cus the writers suck lol.

Steb [2nd left] because he was tasked with destroying his cocoon thingy in the final battle. He is placed under Vi because he befriended her at least a little while they terrorized Zaun and also as he was the one charged with awaiting for Zaunites at the bridge when it came to recruiting for the final battle.

Mel [3rd left] is here because of her involvement with everything that is Hextech. From allowing them to break into the lab to the subtle manipulation it took to create the weapons, she was there through it all. She's positioned like that in the shoulder because it feels, to me at least, slightly condescending. I'm p sure she never directly addresses him for anything and that's how the hand placement feels to me, a dismissal.

Sevika [3rd right] on the other hand (ha ha) is there because she has always advocated for Zaun. She wants what's best for them and he represents that. They might've not met, but he an important member of society that, even for a single second, coexisted within Piltover as their equal. Her grip on his shoulder is more forceful, she wants to hold on to that idea for the entirety of Zaun.

Caitlyn [4th right] is between most Zaunites because of how she barged into Zaun throughout the season. She almost willingly stepped into the role Ambessa gave her in order to weed Jinx out. The grip she has on his arm is one typically used when helping someone walk (at least as far as I've used it with my grandma) this is to show how she turned the thing that caused his illness and hurt many others into a torture device, essentially.

JAYCE [4th left] UUUUGH. HES HOLDING HIS HEART BECAUSE IT WAS AFFECTION THAT HELD THEM TOGETHER. HE ALSO BLEW HIS FUCKING CHEST OUT. HE ALSO REMOVED ANY SELF-CONFIDENCE, FAKE AS IT MIGHTVE BEEN, THAT VIKTOR HAD IN THE COUNCIL SCENE WHICH LED TO HIM AGREEING TO BECOME THE THING JUST TO GIVE IT BACK WHEN THEY WERE IN THE ASTRAL PLAIN!! HE CRADDLES HIS HEART AT ALL TIMES EVEN IF ITS UNKNOWINGLY AND VIKTORS HAND ON TOP OF HIS IS BECAUSE, EVEN THOUGH HE WILLINGLY LETS JAYCE HOLD IT, HE'S HAD HURT IT BEFORE AND VIK IS JUST CAREFUL ABT IT NOW.

Ekko [5th left] is holding him back via the leg because he never really met him but he did want to stop him, he wanted him to wait so thats what the position represents and Vandor [5th right] is almost cradling his hip because Viktor was rebuilding the family he had left by bringing his soul back, he's almost holding him like he's precious because to Vander, he was.

B.) He is partly metal tin toy, partly astral projection because of the fact that that's how the characters saw him mostly. they met the monster once during the final battle but they knew him more as he was before.

C.) Gay rune circle because I say so.

D.) Hex patterns in the other bg because. because ^^

And now more versions because pretty

[contamination-zone]

Hiding Spot

[UTMV FIC] Contains: platonic Fresh & Nightmare, cuddling, possessive Nightmare, [~1,500 words]

He rose with an annoyed groan. Pests, in his castle… one of those incompetent fools would be punished for this. Perhaps he could skewer the creature and leave it before their door. He pulled back his chair with one quick movement, tentacle raised and ready to strike, only to find a different type of pest hiding there. Shoved into the corner, much too big for the small space, Fresh.

Fic under cut! or on AO3

Creaking in the dark was what woke him. Scrabbling, like a rat.

He rose with an annoyed groan. Pests, in his castle… one of those incompetent fools would be punished for this. Perhaps he could skewer the creature and leave it before their door. 

Foot steps silent as he made his way to his desk, the one he kept in his room when he didn’t want to work in his office. Smaller, but still much too nice to have some rodent trying to make a home in it. His mouth curled at the thought.

He pulled back his chair with one quick movement, tentacle raised and ready to strike, only to find a different type of pest hiding there.

Shoved into the corner, much too big for the small space, Fresh.

He blinked his eyes. Bringing a hand to his face, he tried to wipe the last dregs of sleep from them. That was… he was seeing it right.

“What are you doing here…?”

It didn’t move, uncharacteristically quiet. Worryingly so, if he was any other monster.

“Answer me.” He growled. A tentacle moved closer, snaking around its ankle, ready to pull it out from its hiding place.

That seemed to finally shock it out of its stupor, [one he was beginning to think was sleep] and make it flinch. Harshly.

Fresh’s glasses, which had been blank until that point, flashed a few symbols he couldn’t quite catch before settling on “wassup.”

“Nightmare! How’s it hanging?” It’s voice was squeaky and loud, compensating for the tiredness that seemed to dwell under the surface. It shifted a bit under the desk, seemingly trying to catch its bearings. “Fancy seeing you here…”

He gave it a flat look. “Yes.”

It laughed nervously. It must have felt his restraint. Seeming to have at least a little logic in its empty skull, it didn’t pull him off.

The parasite didn’t offer anymore explanation, just engaging in a staring contest with him. He gave its ankle a warning tug, pulling it half-way out from its “hiding spot.” He would not be humoring its games.

A squeaky noise and almost desperate scrambling was his reward, the creature seeming almost desperate to stay in ifs hiding place. In pity alone he let his grip go slack again. The warning was clear, however.

“Think you could let me in your crib for a tad, bro? Just ah… just until morning.”

Searching it up and down for the cause of such a strange request, he took a closer look at its appearance. Its pristine coat was rumpled, little tears littered its pants and shirt. Mud crusted its heelys but he could only feel a half-hearted disgust at that.

A new snarl creeped across his face. Nothing could hunt his prey but him. This was… unacceptable. Z 

He tightened his grip once more and dragged it fully out from the desk and into his space. Ignoring its yelp and struggles, he categorized the rest of the damage.

“Wait hold on a sec my brotato-“

Running his hand along its arm he noted the way it tensed and whined. His tentacles did the same, feeling along it and seeing which spots got pained reactions.

“Personal space! Mind the merchandise!!”

It seemed only a few light bruises marred it, but still too much for his comfort. 

He kicked out its legs and left it kneeling with a single motion. Eye level, he growled, “who did this?”

It squirmed trying to get comfortable on its knees. Motions sluggish, it seemed it hadn’t left sleep behind fully.

“Watcha taking about bro?”

He squeezed one of its bruises.

“Ow ow ow- no- okay okay!!” It squeaked, giving in. It shifted guiltily, though Nightmare suspected it was just trying to look pathetic for him. “Was looking for something to eat in that dungeon of yours. That unradical guard you have didn’t seem into the idea of cannibalism though.”

Horror did this…? He should have assumed. None of his gang had been formally introduced to Fresh, even if they had seen him around with Nightmare. The idiot he’d given guard duty had a short fuse, and Nightmare knew the closest monster they had in the dungeon was a papyrus. If that’s the one Fresh decided to make a meal out of… he could see how this situation happened.

Even as he figured out the how and why, the annoyance didn’t subside. He would not tolerate his subordinates touching his pet. 

It shifted again, and he was once more reminded of its presence out of the hypothetical. He didn’t think it would tolerate him keeping it on the floor much longer, even if it did go to him for protection. [Internally, he was trying not to preen at that fact. Of course his pet would come to him for safety.]

“You got your answer. Be a pal and let me up?” If it wasn’t wearing its glasses he’s sure it would be batting its imaginary eyelashes at him. 

He considered its plea. Letting it go would probably be beneficial to its opinion of him, but… “and why did you hesitate to tell me?”

It stilled, glasses turning into question marks. “Don’t you complain about your lil’ posse always being up to this typa’ thing?” And he usually didn’t do anything about it, was left unsaid.

He tightened his grip, ignoring its wince. “You’re not part of my gang.”

“Yeah?” Confusion was wafting in the air, slowly replacing the fear. Not very appealing…

“That means,” he spelled out very slowly, “that different rules apply to you.” 

“Aw, am I your favourite?” It puffed up, though he could see through its facade. Anxiety was slowly seeping from it, freaked out from not knowing his expectations. 

He sighed. “No. You are just more useful to me unharmed.” That wasn’t wholly true, the negativity was more potent when it was hurt. However… if it was harmed it was more likely to run away, and that would render all this a moot point.

It seemed to relax at that, any established motives always putting it at ease. It was cute how easy to please it was. Maybe it was too ready to fall asleep in his grasp though.

It did go to his room to sleep under his desk… it probably didn’t get much rest yet. He wouldn’t be letting it get itself killed from lack of sleep, and he certainly wouldn’t be letting it sleep on his floor like an animal. Mind made up, he dragged it to its feet. 

“Nightmare?” It squeaked as he dragged it to his bed.

“You said you wanted to spend the night. I refuse to have you on the floor, so you’ll be joining me.”

Fresh flailed around a bit before seeming to give up on resisting, resigned to its fate. He knew it was a clever little thing.

He settled comfortably where he’d been before this mess, dragging Fresh along.

It was tense as it tries to find a comfortable position, eventually curling into a tight ball at his side. His dear Fresh was always unsure in bed, more used to sleeping in tight little hide-always than the open spaces a bed provided. 

The anxiety was sweet, and he brought the tense bundle of bones closer; tentacles draped around it, leaving it in a tight dark space. Relaxation slowly seeped into it, like a bird with a blanket over its cage.

It’s claws scrabbled a little at his chest, the motion almost digging. It would probably be more affective if it was actually in a hole in the ground and not in his arms.

“Settle down, pet,” He murmured against its neck, wondering if it knew how easily he could snap it.

It hummed, sleepy, shivering at his cold breath. The motion was undeniably cute….

He nuzzled against its vertebrae, eliciting a whine. “Lemmie’ sleep man…”

“Thought you were always to to having fun,” he teased.

“Tomorrow… tired, hungry.”

“Fine fine. Tomorrow.” He settled his face on the crook of its neck, pulling it as close to himself as he could.

It squirmed a bit, before settling back down again. The bruises must have been bothering it.

Tomorrow, he’d give it a new body without bruises. Tomorrow, he would deal with the fool who’d done that to it. Today though… he was going to enjoy this, having it in his arms and too tired to leave.

[muletia]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 — [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐] ⊹₊⟡⋆

[tfp] yandere!soundwave x human!reader

summary: over time, you stopped screaming, stopped struggling. as it turns out, it has its benefits.

cw: yandere, kidnapping, isolation, reader's pov, implied stockholm syndrome, silliness

word count: 925

[part 1] / [part 3]

Goliath returned, ending your loneliness. You smile at the sight of him, more out of habit, automatically than from genuine joy. It was a game, a performance. And you played the lead role. Besides, you already knew well that your alien liked it when you showed happiness, no matter the form.

You wave at him, not particularly interested in his usual actions, which, in most cases, followed the same pattern. Your eyes return to the movie you’re watching. Soon, he’ll ask you, without words, what you’re currently doing, and you’ll have to give a detailed explanation of the book you’re reading or the movie you’re watching. Then, he’ll start working, typing unfamiliar symbols and letters on the keyboard, standing in the same spot, in the same position, for hours on end, occasionally asking your opinion on something—because he liked listening to you. A routine you had grown very familiar with.

But today is different. The titan carries something unusual in his hand, something that breaks the routine. He places the item on the desk, right in front of you, finally earning your attention. Oh?

You put your tablet aside and wriggle out from under the warm blanket. The robot has brought you a large cardboard box, filled to the brim with a random assortment of items. It’s been a while since he last gave you something for “good behavior,” but you’re not about to complain. The more little things that made your life feel normal, the better—even if longing choked you now and then. It was nice to have human things in a world where nothing was human. It was nice to pretend your life was normal.

The box’s contents are chaotic and uncoordinated, and digging through it doesn’t improve the impression. A mushroom-shaped desk lamp, a black pillow, a deck of cards, two pairs of pants two sizes too big, a pack of bottled water, and a stack of instant noodle packets… Somewhere in there, you even spot an iron and a copy of Stardew Valley for a console you didn’t own. You wonder where he could have gotten such random items, but robbing a delivery truck probably wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge for him—nor would breaking into a parcel locker.

“Thanks for everything.” Because trying to explain the moral implications of stealing to the robot who abducted you would definitely be a very fruitful discussion.

A smiling emoji appears on his screen. At this point, he should leave you alone and get back to work, but he doesn’t. Once again, he breaks the routine. He stands stiffly in the same spot, tilting his helmet toward you. Watching. Was he curious about how you’d use his gifts? You could gladly show him—if most of them weren’t useless to you. Worse still, you couldn’t tell him that, too afraid of risking his anger and losing the privileges you already had. Besides—Christ—you hated yourself for thinking this way, but his efforts were endearing and came from good intentions. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain that no, you had no use for an iron in your current circumstances, and next time, he should bring you something practical.

You were probably starting to lose it. And the titan was still waiting.

Eventually, you decide to pull out the deck of cards and quickly open it. Aside from the food and water, it’s probably the most useful item in the box since at least you could think of an immediate use for it. Sitting cross-legged on the cold surface, you shiver slightly, missing your warm nest, but keep fiddling with the cards, determined to please your silent observer. Engrossed in the activity, you don’t notice when something moves toward you, silent and quick. It’s only when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye that you snap back to reality.

The robot has extended one of his tentacles, wrapping it behind your back, cutting you off from your little corner. For a moment, you’re terrified. What was he planning? Was he going to lift you? Crush you? He was finally tired of you, wasn’t he? Your fears are quickly dispelled, however, as the tentacle merely curls around you, resting against your back. And it’s warm. So very warm. You don’t even try to resist, leaning into the warm metal, though you know full well he could have just handed you one of your blankets.

“Thank you,” you smile, and the screen now shows a heart emoji. “Hey, have you ever seen a magic trick?”

It’s a silly question, one you should never ask a giant, highly advanced alien. But if he wanted to actively participate in your day so badly, he’d have to give you an answer. Besides, if his feelings toward you hadn’t changed, maybe he’d actually care.

He shakes his head, and you smile. Because it’s silly and insane, because all of this is a farce, because you sincerely want to impress him. Because this silent robot is slowly planting roots in your heart, even though you built walls around it long ago.

“Great! Pick a card.”

You can’t tell if the trick impresses him. Maybe he figured out your technique immediately, maybe he was more focused on the interaction itself, or maybe he thought it was stupid. His thoughts and feelings were inaccessible to you, locked behind silence. But when he points at the cards, clearly asking you for more, you allow yourself to forget your situation and who you’re dealing with—for just one moment letting his warmth seep into your heart.

[crabussy]

it’s autism acceptance week!! some information and reminders for our non autistic allies:

- autism speaks is horrendously harmful to the autistic community. I won’t go into it here but research it if you’re curious!! don’t support them or donate to them.

- “light it up blue” and the puzzle piece symbol are both disliked by the majority of autistic people, as they were both coined by autism speaks as well as the ironic fact that blue lights can be extremely unpleasant and painful to autistic people with sensory issues. The puzzle piece implies that we are a puzzle to be solved, which removes agency from autistic people and is generally hurtful and disheartening.

-autism acceptance week > autism awareness week!! this one doesn’t need too much explanation, acceptance is always better than just awareness (:

- better symbols to show your support include the rainbow infinity symbol!! this symbol was coined by neurodivergent people and is a much more appropriate and appreciated choice than the puzzle piece.

- asperger’s is a term a lot of autistic people are trying to phase out of language used for ourselves, as it was coined by a man who was extremely involved with nazis and has roots in eugenics. It's origin is complicated, but overall it's a label most autistic people dislike for many reasons.

- high functioning and low functioning are also labels we are trying to get rid of as they remove agency from autistic people with high needs and diminish the chance of accommodations for low need autistics. (low needs is the new high functioning and high needs is the new low functioning!!) these new labels address the needs of autistic people without referencing functioning abilities, which are often arbitrary as our needs are more important than our ability to process things (:

- autistic people are sexy and awesome and deserve your patience, respect, and support!! want to show your support in the little ways? ask your autistic friend questions about their special interest(s) or hyperfixations!! try to up your use of tone tags, as they’re necessary to many autistic people. and just be normal about us!! dont act like we’re special or more worthy of attention than others, and don’t ignore us or throw us under the bus. happy autism acceptance week!!

please reblog to share this so it reaches more people (:

[anonymouscheeses]

Bonus under cut vvv

Later that same day:

And... I made an Emily redesign too...... *sniff sob /j* it's not final (like all my redesigns) I'm just trying get better at this design stuff and where better to do it except my current fixation ehhh?????

Long Emily design explanation/rant thing ignore it probably but pls dotn im desperate: I wanted to make her more round and soft cuzzz I love those typa designs I'm just a sucker for circle characters. Made her actually black and not fuckin gray cuz its a transformation to look more human and gentle(for me they go between two forms, their true ones that we see the first time we see them snd their human/softer ones if they ever interact with actual humans which... they usually dont.) Not a demon form tfff. In this version I wanted to put Emily in animal inspired features like... the sheep nose, ears, and hooves. Because she and Sera know that humans and about all beings love animals. Birds have sharp features mostly so they don't look as welcoming as they want to seem. I wanted Emily to look sheep likes and pretty much all the seraphim look more sheep like to make Lucifer stand out as the only one who was symbolized as a snake/goat(still don't know if I'll make him goat or make Lillith goat. I'll decide when I get there lmao). Justtt overalll wanted Emily to look more round, welcoming, and cute. I kept the freckles lighter than her skin color(even tho that's SUPER not accurate to what actually black people look like with freckles but whatevr) because it reminded me of fawns and.... sure Emily is a sheep but I still wanted to incorporate other cute animal traits with her cyz y not.

[angelsofchaos]

sp group template :3

✦⠀00 . 0.0⠀︵⠀ TEXT⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.

✦⠀00 . 0.0⠀︵⠀TEXT ┈┈┈┈┈┈⭒┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

✦⠀00 . 0.0⠀︵⠀text

More detailed explanation of how to use under the cut!

[Main Group] filled out as examples

✦⠀00 . 0.0⠀︵⠀ SYS INFO⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.

Then, underneath.

✦⠀00 . 1.0⠀︵⠀ROLES ┈┈┈┈┈┈⭒┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

if the divider gets funky, just delete 1-2 symbols from each side of it.

Then, each section of your groups

✦⠀00 . 1.1⠀︵⠀higher ups

✦⠀00 . 1.2⠀︵⠀care roles

etc

if you want to make it more detailed , within the " care group" you could do

✦⠀00 . 1.2a⠀︵⠀soother

✦⠀00 . 1.2b⠀︵⠀caregiver

etc etc. letter organizations cool :>

then you can head on to your next group in the sys info section, let's say sources.

✦⠀00 . 2.0⠀︵⠀SOURCES ┈┈┈┈┈⭒┈┈┈┈┈┈

If that's all you want to in that section, time to move onto the next :3

✦⠀01 . 0.0⠀︵⠀ ALTER INFO⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀.

etc etc etc. if you have any more questions feel free to dm or comment