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#i have been thinking about this a lot recently idk idk
choccy-milky · 23 hours
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bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below
so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"
BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.
and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺
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gold-rhine · 3 days
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Hello! Sorry if it's a stupid question, feel free to ignore! But could you explain ayaitto? there was no official content for them, we only saw them on screen in a recent event and it was super quick, but I've been seeing people ship them for years. It just kind of seems random? Idk I'd love to hear your thoughts!
well, we've always known they are friends from their character stories, we just never saw them on screen. but i think their dynamic is so obvious from the premise, like you don't even need to see it?
and without taking it into account, ayato loses a lot of dimension, not bc itto is what makes him interesting, but bc of seeking out someone like itto says about him? like a spoiled sophisticated princeling with soft mannerisms whose actually ruthless spymaster and manipulator is like okay sure. but the fact that his only real friend outside of a family estate is a socially unacceptable loud hooligan who is also the most sincere sunshine and he doesnt know ayato's status? like it absolutely reframes ayato, shows that despite being good at noble games and intrigues, he's drawn to sincerity and being seen as equal. he might treat it with air of like ironic amusement, but he listen to itto infodump, learns all the beetle names, plays the card games, and with how he had to grow up so fast and take so much responsibility, its obvious he actually enjoys being silly and having fun and hanging out with someone who has no hidden motives, doesnt put him on pedestal and just wants him for who he is. like they are just sweet and funny together
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justifficc · 5 hours
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What is your most shameful and depraved kink or fantasy? What is it that gets you so dripping wet you can't help but spread your legs and fuck yourself even though you know you'll feel like the pathetic little fucking whore that you are when it's all done?
And show everyone what a fucking dirty slut you are by showing those tits and filthy cum holes of yours!
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I have a lot of both shameful AND depraved kinks tbh.
One fantasy that I’ve been thinking about a lot recently is being tied down with my face to the floor and ass in the air at a house during a boys night. The group plays video games, watches sports, eat, any normal kind of thing, but I’m just there in the corner available for any of them to just walk by and fuck while no one bats an eye. Like, literally just there to be masturbated in and then left. Idk I just want to be used by men.
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chimkin-samich · 2 days
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Hi :> So idk if this has been asked at all or not, but how do the boys act if they somehow get high or drunk bc I seen in your recent cowboy comic that sun was.. Yeah and how does Tari react to it?
Hello!
Considering it’s the Wild West, drinking and smoking are a common thing so it’s something they both partake in often, though Moon does prefer drinking while Sun prefers smoking, the amount of how much they do it depends on where they are,
At home they’ll let loose and take as much as they want, anywhere else that poses as a risk they do in moderation, not enough to cause an issue if they need to get out of trouble, though if they agree one will babysit while the other lets loose but it’s not a common occurrence
Now! As to how they are during I’ll put under the cut, have a feeling it’s gonna be long lol
Moon like I said prefers drinking, when he gets drunk he lets loose a lot, his constant hyper awareness is at a minimum and he can actually relax and is a bit goofy and playful, as well as having almost no filter, if he sees a pretty woman he will tell her lmao but it comes out as starstruck
Smoking is a similar situation, though he can be very forgetful (which is how Sun can trick him to smoke more than he realizes lmao) the no filter plays in also with him constantly question everything in his sight, wether it be something as simple as when did they get a new chicken to asking about the meaning of life, he’s also very giggly
As for Sun! He very much prefers smoking over drinking any day but he doesn’t mind a drink here and there especially if Moon makes him a cocktail he enjoys, but if he’s just looking to get messed up he will create what he calls a potion of many different alcohols that Moon prefers to call “an atrocity to robokind”
A drunk Sun is basically just more impulsive and reckless than a sober Sun, if the thought to jump off to the roof in an attempt to fly comes to mind HE WILL DO IT, luckily for things like this they usually hide anything that can make Sun want to cause mass destruction before hand, they’ve learned the hard way on how to avoid disasters
For the smoking, Sun is actually a bit more relaxed at least physically, he’s still just as out of pocket if not even more with what he says, smoking helps his body slow down or it can do the reverse, it’s a surprise and also how much he smokes affects the result as well
When the reverse happens, he can not sit still for the life of him and NEEDS to move around and do something, it usually ends up with him doing some weird acrobatics or creating something with whatever he finds laying around the room
Tari is a of course wary of them when their intoxicated at first, she’s seen first hand the atrocities that people have done both without and under the influence, so she doesn’t join them the first time other than having a singular drink, the wariness instantly flies out the window watching them tho lmao
She finds It absolutely hilarious to watch them both alone and interact, it’s also a bit endearing how Moon just stares at her and when questioned simple scowls and huffs out how it should be illegal for someone to be this beautiful before starting a heavy debate with Sun about how someone so beautiful can exist (it’s a common occurrence even before she was invited to their place)
She thinks their adorable and hilarious, she very much enjoys watching just how human the Celestial Bandits are, and if she gets some teasing blackmail and see how the two always end up cuddling when they crash she counts it as a bonus
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myimaginationplain · 5 months
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AU where Katara & Toph both set up premier waterbending & earthbending academies in Republic City; the two schools are dedicated to teaching holistic, unified forms of their respective elements, bringing together previously disparate styles. Katara's school teaches Southern style, Northern style, & Foggy Swamp style waterbending, without any gender-based segregation between self-defense or healing classes (no, bloodbending wouldn't be taught because Katara don't like that shit). Toph's school teaches her personal seismic style of earthbending, metalbending, & more classical forms of earthbending. Katara's academy is on the coast of Yue Bay, in sight of both Aang's memorial statue & Air Temple Island; Toph's academy is far inland, to the east.
Rather than Toph, Suki is the one who establishes a police/security force. Suki's police academy could have a special program with Toph's, so you'd still get those cool metalbending officers. But the school prioritizes non-bending combat first & foremost. Ty Lee's chi-blocking technique is taught there as a required course.
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spearxwind · 4 months
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I have to figure out a way of getting more interest in my oc stuff without needing to draw as much because I dont have the time or energy to draw as much as I would like, which includes a lot of concepts and/or scenes that are in my head only but can't commit to drawing, but it feels like most people are only interested in visual stuff as opposed to just written stuff (and for good reason, visuals are flashy and all!) It just makes me a little sad that I cant draw and share everything Id like to show, and what I can do most is talk about it, but that barely ever gets responses unfortunately
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maeamian · 5 months
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When I was a young excited physics student I went down to my advisor and asked for a job in a lab. Those of you who are in the sciences may recognize this as exceedingly common, most schools with science departments will hire undergrads for their labs both to give the undergrads experience and to have someone comparatively cheap to do the least skilled labor in those labs.
For me, the lab I was sent to was one doing cool photonics projects and I was assigned to a guy who was doing the theoretical modeling for them and I got put on a side project for them to develop a method to double check their results using Monte Carlo simulations.
Put bluntly, I toiled away in the little cubicle they had me in for about half a year before I transferred to a different school without ever having produced anything of any particular value other than a Monte Carlo simulation whose temperature readings were not taking into account the existence of a heat sink and therefore got overwhelmed by thermal photons in a completely inaccurate and unhelpful way.
Ultimately, many tasks, farmed out like this in a speculative way to undergrads, fail, certainly it's not exceptional that mine did and I learned a lot about the process in the process, so it wasn't wasted time for me, but it produced absolutely nothing the lab could use to further its results.
This is where it turns from a little anecdote about my work history into a morality tale, because what I have thus far deliberately failed to tell you is that the lab I was assigned to is a provider of radar services to the US Military. Had I produced anything of any value whatsoever the work I did would have been used by the US military to help with its capacity to deliver bombs. This is, unfortunately, as those of you who are in the sciences may recognize, also exceedingly common. Luckily, and through no foresight or moral thinking of my own, simply the inexperience of youth, I produced nothing of value but view the path they tried to set me down as a grim warning of what might have been.
I'm not asking for forgiveness, the harm I might have done was not done by me, although I'm also sure was done without my help. They didn't need it to be me they just needed someone with basic calculus knowledge who wouldn't think too hard about the connection between the work and the world, and they were happy enough that particular warm body was me.
So this is my plea, if you're young and getting involved in the sciences because you're passionate about knowledge and understanding our place in the universe. When you go to get that job in that lab that's such a good stepping stone to the next thing you want to do, take a second and look into where that lab's funding is coming from. If it turns out it's the military, maybe then take another second and really deeply consider what kind of thing your work can be used to do and if you would like some of the most bloodthirsty people on the planet to be able to do that thing because of your help.
I got lucky that I didn't help, but I'm hoping that with this warning you might be able to not help on purpose which is a greater moral good than what I managed.
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rawliverandgoronspice · 3 months
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one of my major problems with my job is that I get sososo tired of trying to figure out how to interact with people in a way that is honest, productive, but also doesn't bruise anyone's egos, and I can feel myself getting worse at it as time goes on and it's genuinely what drains me and stresses me out the most by far
#thoughts#personal#I am sooooo wary of being banished back into the Bitch Corner#part of me feels like it's inevitable (and probably some neuroatypical behavior honestly)#that the longer the collaboration goes on and the more I feel defeated in advance at the notion that these people will end up hating me#but trying to pull out before this actually happens will lead to people not understanding why I'm backing away#and also hurt my reputation in a way#tired tired tired#not to go all sjw on tumblr dot com (the audacity!!) but#wonder how less of a problem that would be for me if not woman-adjacent in games#I mean don't get me wrong I would be a Horrible Person if I had received amab socialization I have zero doubts about that#but#yeah like a lot of the time the reason why I get shoved into the Bitch Corner is because I reacted to bullshit I did not start#but the way I react becomes more important than what I was reacting to (I have Very Bad examples of that in mind)#I've been called a living shotgun recently in a way that wasn't entirely derogatory and even a little appreciative?#and the thing is that do sound like me (oh no) and I would appreciate and own that descriptor I think#if the notion of being perceived as harsh and bossy didn't fill me with absolute dread as to how I'll eventually be treated#how people will eventually feel like it's okay to treat me because surely I must have deserved it at least a little#so#idk don't love that being a constant in my career so far!!!!#sorry I'm just being very Panic Attack Trigger Happy since a couple of days#doesn't bode well for the year to come
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aroaessidhe · 1 month
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2024 reads / storygraph
Stuck In Her Head
short contemporary YA coming-of-age set in Hong Kong, following two teen girls who are friends
one is a musical prodigy but has lost her passion and wants to explore different possibilities for her future
the other is passionate about music but dealing with mental health & family issues
the latter develops a crush on the former, who is aroace, and they have to re-navigate their friendship, while working on a music/coding competition project together and dealing with their own issues
#aroaessidhe 2024 reads#stuck in her head#Hm this had a lot of aspects I found interesting but didn’t quite live up to what I wanted it to be#I definitely love reading YA set not in the west - this is set in Hong Kong - and I liked that a lot!#And of course we always need more YA about friendships rather than being romance focused (though this has an unrequited aspect of that)#This is written by 17yos which is cool! though it does show in the prose a bit. There’s a lot of ‘the girl’ ‘the teen’ instead of their nam#Or like informing the reader of info in slightly awkward ways - one visits the other’s house and says “is this the first time I’ve been to#- I feel like there are better ways to tell the reader this. Like that’s not something you wouldn’t be sure about right?#This made it feel like their friendship was quite tentative - school friends who’ve known each other for years but only really#started hanging out properly recently - but the text says they’ve been inseparable for years.#It definitely tackles a lot of things from burnout and perfectionism; losing passion for your talents; parents divorcing; depression#I just think some could have been handled with a bit more depth/nuance; with more space and introspection given to them#especially their main conflict about one having a crush on the aroace and then she pretends to reciprocate bc the other is suicidal and the#the other finds out and gets mad and it's......weirdly drawn out but also barely explored in depth also? idk#definitely anticipated it to be a bit like this because it's written by such young authors it's expected that they're still perfecting thei#I think teens who prefer shorter books & are looking for this sort of thing would still enjoy it for sure. I'll def look out for future boo#bisexual books#aroace books
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fortyfive-forty · 5 days
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6, 23, 25
-@fritzes
6. favorite surface to watch?
probably clay! objectively it's my favorite, plus imo clay matches are generally more fun and a lot of my favorite players are good on clay
23. what's your favorite stroke?
this is one of the ones i can't really answer 💀
more recently learned about the term "inside-out forehand" and have subsequently become very fond of it
25. if you could change the result of one match, which one would you pick?
my god, i mean. the easiest one would be rg final 2023, but idk, i feel like it's difficult bc at the time i actually was very happy with the result...and if iga didn't win she wouldn't have been year end #1. i think i don't have enough knowledge of tennis from previous years to give a non-recency-bias answer but my next would probably be wimbledon final 2023.
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i was thinking about werewolves, and legends about calling someone you love by their name to transform them back, how much love that must take (and how that maybe wouldn’t be a good thing), and...
dream of the place where nothing is red
an au where jacob black is a full-blown, full-moon, body-horror werewolf. this story is nothing but vibes, please don’t overthink it. also, mild body horror ahead, enter at your own risk
(as always text below the read-more for those of you who prefer to read on tumblr; about 3,000 words!)
Bella stands on the cliffs and clenches her fists.
She’s put it together, all the pieces of clues, all the truths she didn’t want to admit.
The phone rattling to life in the midnight-dead-quiet of the house, startling her out of sleep to listen to Charlie stumbling and swearing through the dark. Grim reports and bodies in a morgue, in a too-regular rhythm, spaced almost far enough not to notice.
Pawprints torn bloody into black dirt, the dragging trails of heavy claws—too large to be anything but a bear, too unmistakably canine to pretend they are. Whispered stories between hikers in the store shelves.
Unanswered calls, ringing out and out to a full voicemail box to, eventually, the click of a disconnected line.
I’m not good anymore, a cracked voice, and cracked nails on shaking fingers. Rain pouring down and down and down, choking, drowning—
The moonlight silver on the waves.
Ssh, the ocean roars, crashes and churns and spits bitter salt against the rocks, so far below her it sounds like a whisper. You hear it. He’s coming.
She does. Not howls, for all that some part of her is braced for a high and piercing voice to split the lonely night. Just the thunder of footfalls, the huge heaving breaths of something too big to exist, branches snapping on its back as it churns toward her through the trees.
She inhales, and clings to the cold in her lungs. The cut on her forearm, so long and deep her brain has whited out the pain, pulses—she can feel cool liquid sliding down her wrist, taste the rusty, sour smell on the air. Her heart beats, furious as the waves. Blood drips off her fingertips, splashes onto lichen-streaked stone.
Above the forest, the full moon gleams.
And the werewolf bursts through the trees.
A scream flails in Bella’s throat. She bites her lip, refuses to let the sound free.
It’s huge.
Except even that isn’t enough to describe it, nowhere near.
The creature across the clearing—slinking to a wary halt at the sight of her, pawing at the place where forest melts to clifftop with a horrible screech of claws against stone—is so big that part of Bella’s brain has stuttered to a stop just trying to make sense of it.
Its head looms higher than hers, even on all four paws. Jaws snap open, closed, open. A red tongue lashes out over black lips, both oozing a darkness she won’t try to name. Teeth burn white in the moonlight, fangs so long Bella thinks she could wrap a hand around one and her fingers wouldn’t meet on the other side of it.
Muscle ripples under russet-red fur as it paces, tossing that huge shaggy head, and the force would be enough to tear her limb from limb without any effort at all.
Some shivering part of her wails run, RUN, but she knows it’s far too late for that.
She’s left herself only one way out.
Over the edge of the cliff. Down into the hungry roar of the waves. Maybe luring the monster after her if she’s lucky. If she’s quick and clever enough to make one last difference, even though her life has meant less than nothing since Edward left her—
The wolf shudders, tosses its head high one last time…and steps onto the stone.
Muscles coil in its back legs, readying for a spring. Its eyes burn in the heavy shadows under that bristling fur—she can’t tell quite where they end or begin, but she can tell they’re locked on her.
For one last moment, she pictures turning. Jumping. Both of them plummeting down into a rush of silver bubbles—drowning together, sinking somewhere neither of them can hurt anyone ever again. Dying this time not in the place of someone she loves, but with them, gripped in their jaws and thrashing down, down, down together.
 But her heart pounds and the waves crash and adrenaline is as sharp and as bright in her veins as the gleaming moon overhead.
There’s a different story clenched in her fists tonight.
The wolf, (the huge slavering bloody-mouthed monster, the killer with screeching claws and bristling fur and a lashing tail), leaps.
Bella stands straight, summons every ounce of air in her aching lungs.
“Jacob Ephraim Black.”
Her voice cracks, but it doesn’t shake, and the wolf—the werewolf (the terrified, trembling monster out of place in these woods and knowing it, with too-bright eyes and jagged, wheezing breaths desperate to fill too-large lungs)—
Stops. Gracelessly, furiously, crashing to a halt at the last instant, digging claws into stone and sending shards of it flying—one grazes Bella’s cheek, slices it open.
It's so close that Bella can smell the sour-rot scent of someone else’s blood dripping from the jaws bare inches above her, so close that hot breath gusts across her face and sends shudders down her spine.
So close that she can recognize his eyes.
 They’re not black, the way they looked across the clearing with subtlety scored away by moonlight and the shadows of trees and the buzz of terror under her skin. No, the wolf’s eyes are brown—deep, mesmerizing, rich and cool as the soil humming with life between pine tree roots—
She knows those eyes. Human eyes, stretched too big to fit in this massive skull, with pupils blown wide in terror and burst blood vessels staining their whites. Emotion hums from them into the pit of her stomach, even though there’s no cue to explain it. Terror. Rage. The desperate need to hurt, to heal, to run—
His pain hers, just like always.
Jacob.
Bella swallows. She strains onto her tiptoes and raises her left hand, (ignoring the pain that lashes lightning-quick from the cut up to her shoulder, ignoring the stained fur that makes it clear the half-baked plan of her blood luring him to her first failed). She can’t reach anything but the bottom of his muzzle, wants desperately not to get that close to the fangs bulging behind his pressed-close lips—
But then he bends his head. His eyes are still wary and wild, but the nose that he presses into her palm is cool. She slides her hand farther up his snout, into shockingly-soft russet fur, and watches him tremble at the touch.
"Jacob,” she says again, and clings tight. “Jacob Ephraim Black.”
He growls, low and fierce and so loud it rumbles into the pit of Bella’s stomach.
RUN! the back of her mind insists again, but she’s floated so far from that shaking, rational voice that it barely even registers. The wolf’s skin burns, and she's warm, flooded by it from the palm of her hand and sheer proximity.
The shape of the werewolf will be removed if he be reproached by name, the book had said, or if again he be thrice addressed by his Christian name.
 It had taken her so long to find a copy of it, scouring library shelves off the desperate hint of one careless mention of a myth, if someone who loves a werewolf calls them by their name, they transform back! on a barely-maintained blog.
She’d stumbled across that searching werewolf and trying desperately not to collapse into memories at the just-barely-warped reflection of her first weeks here. (Was every legend true, every horror story and myth alive in the gloomy shadows of these trees? Was she going to keep falling in love with them for her whole miserable life—)
It was less than half a clue, less than half a chance. Hadn’t she already known first-hand how unreliable all the stories were? (A vampire standing in the sun, blazing gold tracing the map of where veins should’ve been, light caught blinding under his skin like it was about to sear away and she’d gasped on the verge of a scream, but he just smiled.)
But she’d been heartsick for weeks by then, gnawing on her lip so constantly, so deep, that the sores stung when she brushed her teeth. Notes about missing persons taped to their fridge in Charlie’s shaky scrawl. Stumbling across smudged pawprints on a hike with Jake and he whistled but the scar of a monster’s fangs on her wrist burned suddenly ice-cold.
Jake, leaving a movie early because he hadn’t wanted to cancel on her but Embry and Quil were already at a campsite waiting for him and he’d honked and waved furiously out the window as he peeled out of the parking lot, and she’d buried her head in her hands to hide the fact that she was grinning—
And then there was nothing, nothing, a phone ringing out to Billy’s pre-recorded voice.
One last argument in the driving rain, and the terror on his face. You have no idea what I’ve done, he whispered, and she grabbed his hand, begged, I don’t care, Jake, I don’t, please, but he tore free, spat you should.
And when she went back the next day even Billy had no idea where he was.
She’d been sobbing herself to sleep, sliding slowly back towards the blank-page apathy that she knew could swallow her whole. Dragging the screen out of her bedroom window to perch on the sill and let her feet dangle down over a drop that probably wouldn’t kill her, when the nightmares jerked her awake and refused to let go. Watching the woods behind the house, pulling a too-big hoodie tight around herself and trying to convince herself it still smelled like Jake.
He’d lent it to her, one miserable day when it started snowing out nowhere while they were in the garage and she hadn’t been able to stop shivering even curled up around the tiny, coughing space heater. And then, of course, he insisted she keep it at least long enough to get to her truck through the snow—and of course she’d kept meaning to give it back, but—
But she stood in the library months later with a reprinting of some priest’s book heavy in her hands, the only other stories of solutions she’d been able to find, (solutions, never cures), churning bitter in her stomach, and thought this.
(She’d been choking awake from nightmares for weeks. Silver knives buried in the middle of Jacob’s forehead, right next to the near-permanent smudges of engine grease because he always forgot and brushed hair off his face in the middle of working on the Rabbit. Her hands pouring poison down his throat and he looked at her heartbroken for one long moment before he choked, gagged, and instead of vomit his face crawled back out of his throat, bloody and swelling and snapping fangs—)
This I can do, she thought.
(The worst part was never the nightmares themselves. The worst part was remembering them as she stared at grainy obituary photos, at the flickering of plastic battery candles tucked in the memorial nook by the cafeteria and the glossy smile in a cheap picture frame between them—and love still sat heavy as a stone in her stomach. The worst part was waking up sweaty and screaming and knowing that the dreams were a best-case she’d never be strong enough to reach—)
And now she stands a bare step from the edge of a cliff, Jacob snarling and shivering beneath her hand, and he doesn't bite. The exhilaration is too strong to even remember her terror.
She winds her fingers tighter into his damp fur, soaked through now by the blood on her palm.
The wolf’s head is too huge to really meet both his eyes at once, but she tries anyways. Stares into that frantic, frenzied brown—thinks about the handful of fears Jacob’s confessed to her, slow and shaking every time like he expected her to hate him for it. Thinks about how she sometimes wanted to tear the world apart just listening (I don’t think I can remember my mom’s voice), but she could never find that anger in him—
“I love you,” she says, ignoring that this of everything she’s done tonight makes panic claw between her ribs, “Jacob Ephraim Black.”
She wants to slam her eyes shut as she says it. To have nothing but the feel of his name on her lips, to not have to know if the story was just a story, if she’s run out of whatever luck or coincidence stopped the wolf the first time she spoke—
She keeps watching. Grits her teeth and swallows her fear, and stares into brown eyes as for a moment, under the harsh light of the moon, everything goes still. Even Jacob. The tremors vanish. His growl and his gasps for breath fall suddenly silent.
The waves roar.
The wolf—
Blinks.
 Hope has its own heartbeat in Bella’s throat. It pounds her temples, aches in the sockets of her eyes.
Jacob’s eyes snap open, pupils narrowed to pinpricks, a million miles away from meeting Bella’s gaze—and then he jerks his head away. Fur rips free in Bella’s fist with the force of it. She stumbles, dragged a useless step in his wake as—
He whips his head up and (finally, furiously) howls.
It rips the night apart. Ricochets out across the ocean, not plaintive or lonely at all, shrill and hoarse and agonized. Bella blinks back tears, ears ringing.
But the wolf is shrinking.
For a second Bella thinks maybe it’s just that aching hope, strangling her now—but he topples over sideways, and it’s unmistakable.
He curls in on himself, and with every spasm limbs shrink, huge heaving sides cling closer and closer to the ribcage twisting under his skin like something alive. The claws gouging into stone leave smaller and smaller trails—and then don’t break into it at all.
He keeps thrashing.
Red fur ripples, crawling onto its ends and then melting back into clumps and knots and messy, impossible lines—leaving smooth brown skin underneath it, shining sweat-slick.
A crack echoes out, like gunfire—another, and another—bones, Bella realizes dizzily, those are his bones breaking.
He whimpers, caught halfway between the wolf and the voice she knows some days better than her own.
She doesn’t have a plan. His head is still the wolf’s, with bristling fangs and jaws cracking at impossible angles as it strains to fit all of them—she doesn’t have a plan. Has a screaming primal terror in her stomach telling her to stay back.
But she steps closer.
“Jake,” she says.
He rasps another horrible half-human howl, and she sinks onto her knees beside him. He’s almost all human-shaped now, twisted down in the time it took her to get to him, into two long legs that bend in all the places they’re supposed to, a human torso scraping against the jagged stone, long black hair spilled out in a puddle around his head.
But his skin still seethes. Ragged patches of rust-red fur crawl across his thighs, wrap his stomach around to his back, line his shoulders. It clings stubbornly thick to his wrists and the backs of his hands, clustering around elbows that bulge not quite right, and—
His face. A long stripe of fur slashes across it, forehead to chin, around the edge of lips that still bulge a little out of his face, not quite done being a muzzle. One long fang curves over his jaw, digs viciously into the soft flesh of his neck. Bella chokes on a gasp.
He wrenches around. His eyes, still red with burst blood vessels, lock onto her, and this time she can see him recognizing her. Sees the shame, the guilt, burning straight down to his heart.
“Jake,” she repeats. He squeezes his eyes shut.
She reaches, catches one of his twitching hands—the inside of his palm is still coated in soft fur. She laces her fingers through his. Two of them are still half claws, knuckles melting into hard bone and razor-sharp edges—
“Jake, please.” Her voice cracks. She clutches tighter, not caring that she can feel her knuckles bruising against the claws. “Jake, I’m here.”
His hand is so, so cold, and she's never felt so useless—
Realization hits, electric.
She drops his hand, fumbling for the hem of her sweater. She wore it for—some stupid reason. Something in between a desperate attempt at scents that would catch his attention from wherever he was hiding, and just needing the comfort, as she stumbled out of the house with her heart in pieces, a note on her desk that she was hoping desperately she’d be back in time to burn before Charlie had to read it—
Give the werewolf his human clothes, and he will remember his human shape—
She’s wearing Jake’s hoodie. She drags it over her head, wincing as it drags against the cut on her arm, but then it’s loose in her hands, fabric still warm from her own body. Goosebumps prickle down the back of her neck.
She leans in, grabs Jacob under the arms, and heaves. (He’s heavy, but worse than that she can feel bones still moving under his skin, grinding below coarse red fur, and for a second she thinks she might vomit—)
But he groans as she drags him upright, and the sound is almost human.
“Come on,” she whispers, heart hammering, as he slumps forward onto her shoulder. (There are too many teeth in his mouth still, shining as his lips part to gulp down air, and she’s hyper-aware of their inches from her skin—) “Come on, Jacob.”
It’s hard, and horrible, and she’s going to be so sore tomorrow, but she pushes him up again just long enough to wrestle the hoodie over his head. He shudders, violently—
And this time when he collapses onto her shoulder, his arms fly up to hug her. To grip the back of her t-shirt, with fingers that aren’t claws at all. (She can feel blood soaking off them in tiny pinpricks, knows his nails must be cracking and tearing from their beds again, just like that last shouted conversation where she finally let herself suspect.)
“Bella,” he sobs, hoarse and desperate and familiar as the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
“Jake,” she says, one last time. Below them, the ocean murmurs, and finally, she uncurls her fists and reaches out to hug him back. 
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pinkcarabiner · 8 months
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i'm gonna talk about gender in the tags <3
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bluejayblueskies · 11 months
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i've often yearned to be in a romantic relationship, from when i was pretty young to now even though i now recognize that i'm aromantic and it's not something i actually want when push comes to shove. and this probably isn't anything profound, but i've started to wonder recently if i'm actually yearning for a romantic relationship or if i'm yearning for a deeply meaningful, intimate, and loving relationship with somebody who i can trust and show all the parts of myself and know that they'll always be on my side and spend the rest of my life with, and society has just told me over and over and over again that i can't have that without the romance
#now i know what you're thinking:#'hey jay you talk a lot about queerplatonic relationships and how they're important#and you talk a lot also about how friendships are just as intimate and loving as romantic relationships'#and yeah i do! recently i've been involved in fandom spaces where we talk about these things (like malevolent)#with a lot of other aspec people who share their own experiences (esp. with malevolent with the aro!arthur headcanons)#but i've always been really bad at actually integrating that stuff into how i go about my own irl life#and tbh ... even if it crossed my mind before i never really thought it was a realistic thing to want yknow?#the thought of 'well who's going to give you what you want out of a relationship and be okay with it *not* being romantic'#has definitely crossed my mind many times#but idk! i've always just really wanted that One Person Who Will Be With You Always that i saw growing up irl and in media#and that i still see and love and want#and i still don't know if i personally will ever find somebody who i want that with who won't be looking for romance#but it's finally started to sink in i think that what i want and who i am are not two conflicting forces#i can want all the things that a romantic relationship has to offer (minus the romance of course) *and* i can be aromantic#and these are two things that can coexist#and that real people have! and that i'm seeing written into media! (malevolent my beloved)#it's just helped me wrap my head around all of this a little bit better#personal
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catzgam3rz · 1 year
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Got a new sketchbook, Mystreet brainrot is swinging back with passion take the girl
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fruitsofhell · 1 year
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       An idea I’d been working on for a second was that Morpho Knight isn’t the only grim reaper of the Kirby universe, and more just fills the specific niche of taking the souls of warriors. It came from reading the novel where Meta Knight falls into hell, which explained that he came just for the purpose of taking the souls of strong warriors, (something that was then canonized in KatFL). Which is fun cause it opens up the idea of like a little pantheon of reaper butterfly characters for specific niches.
Which I will talk about a lot now.
       So building off that I thought about Morpho’s actions and how it seems he specifically shows up when a character has long overstayed their mortal welcome and needs to be taken away, or needs to have a “final battle”. Given the nature of how Soul Bosses work and how Forgo himself was in that state before Morpho came and got him, I figured the idea was that in the Kirby universe character’s souls can linger on and get lost when they’re still filled with too much emotion and a will to fight on. Thus needing to be tracked down and forcefully taken away by a reaper. It’s easy to imagine this happening with warriors, who are likely to die in fights still full of energy and vengeance, but also power seeking maniacs drunk off power are commonly turned into soul bosses within the games.        Another part of it I thought of though is how much “judgement” is emphasized in Morpho’s descriptions, so obviously that’s an important part of why reapers would exist beyond souls just wandering off. Warriors are probably very tricky to judge because their job includes spreading death and destruction, and you have to weigh that against the good they brought as well as intended to bring with it. And back to the theme of those power hungry maniacs, while some of them were clearly vain like Sectonia, you have Haltmann who started just with the wish to bring back his daughter before he went down a path of corruption.        And Morpho’s origins had always been hard to think about for me, the most obvious idea at first was that it was the same species as Galacta, Kirby, and Meta, but his appearance couldv’e just been because of absorbing Galacta. But then KatFL comes around and he’s still an orb with wings which is in line with our description of their species. As well as the fact that Forgo manages to get “Chaos” powers it previously never showed off only after escaping Morpho... I think it made a strong case for Morpho being soul matter, the way Kirby is heart matter and Zero is dark matter. It’s power’s seemed in line with the idea of how Kirby and Zero represented their specific elements.        (Also as an aside, I wondered if Elfilis would be dream matter, but if Kirby, Zero, and Morpho are our bases for this species... it would not make sense. Plus like I said, it only got the “Chaos” powers related to Astral Void after interacting with Morpho. So no in my opinion.)
Headcanon Starts Here:
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       ANYWAYS, thankss to KatFL I’m very sure Morpho, and subsequently his reaper pals, are all a form of Astral Void. But unlike Kirby (Heart Matter) or Zero (Dark Matter), they’re weird trans-dimensional shadow orbs. Which is how they can teleport, turn into butterflies, and break the rules of space-time in order to judge souls across the universe. A butterfly of a certain type comes to everybody who dies, but these bad boys only really make true appearances when things are special. The butterflies work kinda as just pieces of them spread across time and space, and they can appear from them at will as long as they have enough power.        There’s probably far more I could hypothetically make (it would be fun to make a whole rainbow of them), but these are the ideas I have now based on the qualifications of being needed to wrangle troublesome souls and/or those souls needing careful consideration. They also have roles in the actual underworld, which is probably where they consciously spend most of their time as their butterflies go about bringing souls to them.
       All the reapers regard eachother warmly, as being an eternity old makes it hard to keep grudges, and they see eachother sort of as friends or coworkers. Unlike Heart Matter and a lot of other creatures in the universe, they don’t have a burning need for deep attachment and they spend lots of time completely solitary from eachother. They sometimes have small rivalries and running gags though. A big one is how Morpho had been looking forward to claiming Galacta Knight’s soul for most of the warrior’s life in order to punish his hubris, but once he got sealed outside of space-time that became rather impossible - much to Morpho’s despair and the others’ amusement.        The reapers are also completely sexless, and regard themselves as genderless. They just pick up whatever mannerisms or characteristics they feel suits their niche, like Morpho adopting warrior-like traits that could be read as masculine, and Shepard adopting caring and nurturing traits that can be read as feminine. They mostly refer to eachother by name or maybe as “it”, but adopt the pronouns of any peoples or mythologies who regard them as well. To a patriarchal culture the King reaper would be thought of as a man inherently, but to cultures like the Ripple Star fairies who are matriarchal they’d refer to it as a ‘she’.        Most cultures across the Kirby universe pick up on the connection between the butterflies and death, but interpret them in different ways. Some base their versions of them on accounts of their true forms, and some make up characteristics from scratch. The ancient Halcandrans were very familiar with accounts of Morpho and the Artisan as a culture who valued both valor and ingenuity. The fairies of Ripple Star are most familiar with the Shepard as a species of children, and the King who comes to take their queen. Some cultures like the Jamba whom are very absorbed in their own beliefs actually attribute others, such as Astral Void, to ferrying the dead. Which surprisingly holds a tiny nugget of truth as the reapers are spawn of it.
       And speaking of Astral Void, the reapers do tend to pay extra close attention to their fellow voidspawn cousins. Morpho watched Galacta very carefully from a young age, knowing that he would be a truly great warrior but blinded by ego. He did try to scare the guy into not developing a god-complex, but Galacta was stubborn and only saw death’s warnings as challenges. Ever since then he’s watched Meta and Kirby very carefully, and is actually a big fan of Kirby due to him quickly becoming such a humble, merciful boy. Zero created a similar problem for King, and it waited very very patiently for his unimaginably long reign as the god-king of dark matter to be ended by everyone’s favorite pink ball of peace.        They’re not able to communicate directly with other beings, only with their souls, which isn’t very easy to reach in life. Even when appearing as Morpho did in KSA and KatFL, it wasn’t able to talk to others, but it could finally talk to Galacta’s soul in it’s head. The only way they can make appearances like Morpho did to the living and healthy is by using a dead or dying soul, and to those in that state already they can appear like that when casting judgement. They can also control souls of the dead as ghosts to do their bidding and send messages too. But that’s fun stuff for my HC writing. I’ve rambled on long enough.
TL;DR - Morpho is the Knight of Hades, and I thought up a King, Shepard, and Artisan of Hades who have their own niches of souls to guide and judge. They’re genderless, solitary, hyper-dimensional shadow people who are interpreted across the cosmos as different pantheons of death gods. They’re cool with eachother and even look out for their fleshling void-kin, but don’t interact with mortals outside of death matters. Morpho is an exception with it’s shenanigans cause Gala and Forgo cause hard times.
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mishapen-dear · 9 months
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people can use this site however they want but there's something almost- idk, sad? about how few people are actually using their blogs. you can turn themes on and have skeletons dancing in the background. you can make everything hot pink. your blog is your scrapbook and you can put whatever you want in there. tags are okay at organizing things so you can have just a whole archive of cool shit to look at later. i know people complain a lot about people liking stuff about reblogging for engagement, and on one hand i get that- it is WILD to see a drawing i spent hours on get only 12 reblogs and 60 likes. Absolute culture shock compared to my previous fandoms. but i don't think you should reblog anything to make artists happy. i think you should reblog things so you can find them again. i think you should queue things to appear on the dash at specific times on certain days. i think you should reblog things so when you're talking to your friends about xyz post you saw you can look in your blog's archive and find it again. i think you should reblog things so that your dash is filled with one really sleepy cat. with the loss of reblogs there's the loss of engagement, which Does hurt the community-focus that makes tumblr so appealing, but idk i just wish people were more excited about the incredible amount of customization that tumblr allows and took advantage of that more
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