#treat it kindly.

[noblesknightsandswords]

Listening Through Imperfection

My eyes hurt. Why do they hurt? Was I blinking or had I stopped again?

I feel stymied, I want to write, to see my words on a page again like they used to always be.

To hear my voice echo out into the white void that is a screen or paper in front of me.

It’s cold outside and I can’t help but constantly think of Christmas Eve church services with the family. Why do I think of that before Christmas when it’s cold? Why does that mean more, feel more magical than even the best of Christmas days? Because I love the night so much? Because that specific night is full of song, candle, family, and freezing air? When I think of Christmas Magic that is what I think of, not Santa or gifts or Christmas feasts. It’s the quiet of the night walking out of a Church we only ever go to on that night, flushed and joyful, met with ice cold air filling my lungs. 

I am human, that can not be changed or conquered in some silly way by some unimagined foe. Imperfection is all I will ever be able to strive for and that’s more beautiful than any perfection possible. What are the angels for if not to whisper well wishes upon the airs of their feathers. Is that not why they fly? Why they see with their so many eyes? Is it not to spot the every imperfection of the human in humanity and still yet whisper “it’s okay”? Is it not what they were put here for, to watch and to guide, they are Hera’s Hundred Eyed Warrior, they are the love of Aphrodite’s Eros. 

The evening has always been my favorite, when it’s dark and light coexisting. I can walk out and breathe in a fresh air better than midday in any season, a perfection in an imperfect world (it is still imperfect, just not to me). A contradiction that makes me a hypocrite. Oh how I hate hypocrites and the act of hating a hypocrite makes me a hypocrite myself. How a wonder continues to travel. Do you understand that the best voices are the ones that play without artificial smoothness? That people cry and acclaim the raspy voice over the smooth clarity because we do not live for perfection, we do not crave perfection. We crave for someone to tell us that there is beauty in our imperfection, and we strive to show others how wondrous imperfectability is.

Sometimes I am tired, sometimes as I write my throat begins to ache as if I was saying this all, as if I was singing this all non stop and continuously. I can feel it crawl up and out from my lips like an internal smoke to match the eternal flame that burns deep within my cavity, begging to be seen. Not to show, but to provide light, to burn and be fed. The smoke floats higher than I will ever walk, the smoke floats and flies as I lay back in the grass and stare into the sky. Is it day, is it night? Am I staring into endless blue, or the magic of sunset or the mystic beauty of the stars beaming? 

I feel lighter each time I do something like this, it’s like arguing a point, debating a right and my legs don’t shake and I hurt nobody. It’s perfect in the way it will never be perfect because I remain unheard when this remains on a paper rather than screamed through a hall, debated sitting at a table, to be told through tales at a fire. It’s burning that star I’m made of brighter without burning anything around. 

Is this what it feels like to fall in love again, with the words I can put on a page and the ability to read it and feel passion? To see the imagery and understand myself again? To love life and see how bright the grass is, how deep the brown of bark? Am I seeing the world in it’s bright colors the same way I did when I sang annoying little tunes non stop? Before I knew what it was like for my throat to hurt?

Annoying. Annoying little tunes. I do not think that. They were passion and joy and the love of a child for the life they had. Others told me it was annoying and so I silenced myself for a constant noise is unkind to others. A fraction of my words and thoughts were spilling from between my lips and dripping between my teeth but others could not handle the quantity and consistency I was constantly swallowing. Do they think the thickness thinned just because I was able to prevent it from spilling between my lips as I grew? 

I must remarry myself with the child I was and understand the cruelty of the world ruined me, and I must bury my corpse and pray upon the altar of my headstone and tip my face to the stars when it begins to rain. I will live again, I will continue to grow as the roots of my skeleton continue to spread to others. I will continue to live and I will allow my words and songs to seep from my skin to those around me and share myself with them. I will never be silent as a grave again.

This is a death. This is a death that will never spread and no one else ever remembered the story to. I am here again and I will sing in the eerie silences and at the festival grounds. It will not matter because I rose from the dirt singing and I will never go silent again, I cannot be made to do so. This is my child with the ability to destroy, this is the me that others were so afraid was right. I will continue and as my bone-roots spread, so will my wish, and every word will mean something as the dark of night spreads through and peace is allowed in love. It is not a war to be yourself and fall in love with life. My smoke will rise and coat the sky and its smog will pollute the earth with Joy. My fire will burn and keep my chest alight to guide others in the shadowed night.

[whimsicalgoose]

thinking about spock being too human for vulcan, and too vulcan for most humans... and then there's kirk who looks at him with huge homosexual eyes and trusts spock with his life time and time again. and compliments his mind. and compliments the glimpses of his emotions. THEY MAKE ME ILL!!!!

[wombywoo]

#OC

[turbo-tsundere]

*superglues them together*

Aka, eeeeh fok it. Here's some ougoku stuff I've been sitting on. Happy THOSE GUYS day.

[s-aint-elmo]

girl who has suffered more than alll-mer

(ID in alt text)

[bubbledsoap]

“He’s staying inside and reading a book” WRONG‼️ GO FOR A WALK 💥💥💥

[thehotpilot]

every day i wake up and i am so thankful 911 let bucktommy develop after the failed first date…like it wasn’t just a plot device for bucks bi awakening but also a lesson in how real adults communicate and treat each other in relationships and it’s not just about buck it’s about tommy too!! like that date was about him and his right to be treated with respect as much as it was about a first for buck!! and we know tommy can be dead pan and kind of a bitch (so affectionately) but he is also so very kind in the way he lets buck down. and abc could have just left it there but instead they brought him back!! and i think just as much as the bi awakening the lesson buck learns this season (or gets to exercise at least) is that even as an adult you will inevitably behave and treat people in ways that you are decidedly not proud of (i am also looking at you basketball!buck) and you have so much power to let the communication and discussion that follows strengthen your relationship with that person but you have to work for it. and sometimes you will be treated poorly and you have to remain kind in the face of that and all of it also takes so much work but the work MEANS so much.

but yeah tldr i’m so glad 911 brought tommy back for that follow up coffee date bc it was such a good example of how real life communication and apology works and can lead to something more even (especially) if you’re feeling embarrassed and vulnerable!!

[hajihiko]

I'm just saying... they're responsible 🤷‍♂️

[5qui99l3draws]

"warmup" doodle that ended up being my only drawing last night, you know how it is

[turtletoads]

starting the year off with yugi and his alter egos

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Childe promising to play hide and seek with the melusines as foul legacy, and accepting to train new recruits.

He decides. Hey! Why not! Let’s play hide and seek! And I’ll throttle these fucking idiots as foul legacy!

Imagine showing up to train with the eleventh harbinger only to catch a glimpse of FOUL LEGACY AND CUTE LITTLE MELUSINES GROM FONTAINE

CLASH OF THE MELUSINE AND THE FATUI!!

your siblings almost instantly tense when they see other humans, moving in front to conceal you from view. they don't have the weapons and years of training that the soldiers do, true, but they have the same determination, the will to protect their strange, otherworldly sibling. but the agents don't even move, just staring in something akin to awe at the sight of their superior in his Foul Legacy form, sitting amongst these small bloopy creatures. you're perched in his lap, soft antennae pressed nervously against your head. Legacy's claws gently pat your back, a soft growl of reassurance slipping from his throat as you look up at the soldiers with wide eyes. one hesitates, eyes flicking between your colorful markings and shimmering markings, and slowly they sink to their knees into a bow

the other agents follow suit, and gradually you and the Melusine relax, a few even wandering closer to investigate. Legacy insistently holds you close, glaring at any Fatuus that approaches too quickly. it quickly becomes rather pleasant, though, the curious Melusine asking hundreds of questions about Snezhnaya and the snow and what the Fatui do and how they operate. Childe tries so hard to start the training session, but the agents are too busy chatting and running around, a bit of light sprinkled into their otherwise dull and dreary lives. Foul Legacy huffs out a sigh, looking down at you comfortably snuggled in his arms. your little tail wags happily, and gradually his wings begin to mimic the motion in enthusiastic flutters

everyone plays hide and seek that day

[tornado1992]

Even if his big brother instincts tell him to, Sonic can’t make the “oh I actually found you in a dumpster as a baby” joke to Tails cause that isn’t that far from how they met.

[utilitycaster]

one more thing (started to put this on the previous post but realized it applies to CR too) but between CR and D20 discourse, why are so many people surprised when US-based actual play shows are coming out with the message of "being angry and resentful and using your pain as an excuse makes you prone to radicalization into a violent cult with little regard for the lives of others, and that is not good of you" and what does it say about them that they keep trying to argue against this.

[aingeal98]

The funny thing about Zdarsky making Damian be an ass about Bruce's clone is that he picked the one topic where we have multiple bits canon evidence showing how compassionate Dami is towards clones. He relocated his own clones in Robin Son of Batman so that they can live peaceful lives and treats them gently. He's so excited at the idea of Respawn being his brother despite him being created from Talia and Slade's DNA.

If you told me the only Damian content Zdarsky knows about is his appearances in Tim comics I'd believe you because he's clearly not interested in writing Damian as his actual canon self, just a "bad Robin" to show why Tim is the best.

[erineas]

Found this on my timeline and instantly felt like this

[irisfixation]

genuine question does any writing in empty spaces/dollposting actually focus on the interiority of the primary witches rather than just the dolls

nearly everything i see of the setting, time after time, is written exclusively from the dolls' perspective; even things written by those who would fill the role of Witch doesn't stray from this, as far as i've seen

this wouldn't be surprising in, say, HDG where the dom-figures are intentionally unknowable alien entities that are, from a doylist perspective, functionally plot devices for horny purposes

but in dollposting where it's theoretically a brainweird hornyqueer space about exploring angst and tenderness and relationship to a lack of humanity it's kind of weird how the 'Witches' who fill the role of the dom-equivalent tend to be assigned to only existing with relation to the Dolls they have

am i wrong with my analysis here? do we simply not follow the Correct:tm: dollposters? a lot of our system identifies quite closely with the aesthetics of the witch-archetype as is depicted by the empty spaces ouvre and it's a shame that as far as we can tell that's not explored as much as we'd like

what does it mean to willingly shoulder the burden of holding control and sway? how do these entities live, being both less than and more than human, distorted from whatever former selves they once were? how does that doll's mistress feel, in the quiet moments, when she is alone? truly alone, not just 'needing to be cheered up by her dolls'.