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#these asks are so comforting to receive
blindmagdalena · 8 days
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Heeyy a bit of a self indulgent ask here but I had a phobia/trauma trigger today and it caused me to have a messy sobbing panic attack. Do you have anything on how Homelander would deal with his s/o having a panic attack like that? almost completely inconsolable. I know this is self serving and indulgent and I’m sorry for over sharing homelander is a comfort character for me and you write him exquisitely. If you’re not comfortable with this just ignore
Homelander was sixteen when he had his first panic attack. He'd flown further and faster away than he'd ever had the freedom to and collapsed in a dense woodland, sobbing and rocking his body against the cool forest floor.
He'd pulled his hair so hard it should have come loose, grit his teeth so tightly they should have cracked, and choked so badly on his own constricting throat that it should have caved in.
They didn't. He's invulnerable, after all. As solid as marble.
It was the first attack, but not the last.
That's how he recognizes it so quickly in you.
"Hey," he says, ears attuned to the rabbit-like pound of your heart. "Heyy, hey, it's okay. I'm right here, you see me? Hey." He's only just found you, he doesn't know yet what your trigger was, but he can ascertain that later.
Your staccato breaths and sharp sobs, the sea salt smell of tears streaking your cheeks, are nearly enough to rouse his own panic by proxy. He needs it to stop. He needs you to stop. He cares about you too much for you to scare him like this.
"Hey, you hear me?" He asks, cupping either side of your face. You can't answer through it. Your tongue is gnarled with panic and you're sobbing so hard he fears you'll choke yourself on it. He's not even sure you see him.
He takes you into his arms, one moving smoothly around your waist while the other cups the back of your head. He holds gently at first, grip gradually tightening, compressing your body against his in the hopes that the hammer of your heart will meet and match the steady beat of his own.
"Sssshhhhhhh," he shushes by your ear, lifting you just enough to keep you on your feet, but take from you the weight of your own body.
"I've got you. Whatever it is, it's okay. It's okay. I've got you. M'gonna take care of it, alright? Ssshh," he says, rocking you the same way he used to rock himself in the corner of the bad room, soothing himself with the thump of his own skull against those sterile white walls.
He knows it's working when you slip your arms around him in turn. He continues to hush you, whispering more honeyed assurances in your ear, the core sentiment always the same.
I'm here. You're safe. I love you.
It's everything he can think that he always wanted to hear in these moments of raw, horrifically human weakness.
Eventually, your breaths begin to even out, though your heart continues to thunder in his ears, still convinced that the danger hasn't yet vanished. He tries not to take that personally and scoops you up the rest of the way into his arms.
"That's it, just like that," he coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. "Breathe. Breathe. Good... Light as a feather now, okay? Like you can fly," he tells you, sharing the greatest comfort he's ever known. His only real escape has always been his weightlessness, the ability to shed gravity at will. He uses his strength in an attempt to share even a sliver of that sense of freedom with you.
Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. All he knows is that your heart starts to slow alongside the flow of your tears. He kisses your wet cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead. He whispers praise and love with each one, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry," you choke out. He's appalled that would be your first instinct.
"Don't," he says firmly, though his voice is still low. "Don't. I can carry it for you. Carry you. What's the point of super strength otherwise?" He murmurs, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.
You almost smile back, and that's enough for him. He kisses the crease between your brows until it smooths, and the highs of your cheeks until the tears dry up, and your lips until they're ready to speak again.
He'll hold you for as long as it takes your body to realize the threat was only ever in your mind, and that there isn't a thing in this goddamn world he would ever let hurt you.
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cynicalmusings · 7 months
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i think u have a good grasp of xiao’s character. how abt… the prompt “to play with fire” and xiao? — @milkstore
As the old human saying goes, ‘To play with fire risks getting burned.’ It serves as a warning against recklessness, overconfidence, arrogance; the aspects of man’s nature which goad us on to flirt with danger. 
To Xiao, the saying is meaningless. Why should one concern themselves with fire when they have already been burned beyond repair? When their skin is so charred, so coated with ash, that they feel nothing of the flame’s heat? When they are too used to the pain and the crumbling remains that it no longer bothers them at all?
Only once in Xiao’s life did he ever ‘play with fire’. It was not a matter of recklessness, though he supposes he should have been more careful; nor one of overconfidence—well, he admits he should have known better; or of arrogance (though the notion that he could trump the passage of time was nothing short of arrogant in hindsight).
The only time Xiao played with fire was for love.
It had been with a mortal. That was his first mistake. He knew how fragile mortals were; how quickly their lives came and went like a shooting star blinking across the sky, how they barely ever survived to a mere century. 
But he had been younger, then—foolish, then—and for a bright, shining moment, he had dared believe that maybe, somehow, this would not end in death like everything else for him did. That maybe, somehow, you would live a life long enough to spend with him.
Of course, Xiao had been wrong. 
The second mistake he made was letting you in. Once he let his walls down for you, he never wanted to build them back up again. He wanted to let your fingers roam his sharpest edges, cradle his softer ones, let you see and know every part of him as he laid his soul bare before you for your eyes only: the strong, the weak, the beautiful, the ugly. You did this, and you loved him, and he thinks he will never forgive you for it.
Building his walls back up again had been such hard work.
His third mistake was loving you back. 
If he had been playing with fire, then you were the flame: the one which warmed him, nurtured him, and ultimately left him colder than ever when you left, leaving nothing behind except for blackened, grey scars in Xiao’s mind where bright memories had one been.
After this, he learned why humans had their odd sayings, such as ‘to play with fire risks getting burned’. It was to prevent kindling that spark of pain before it could blaze into an inferno and consume everything in its wake until all that was left was ash, heartbreak, and skin too numb to ever feel again.
Xiao’s final mistake was that he learned it too late.
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kithtaehyung · 5 months
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I can confidently say 3tan yoongi brings me as much comfort as real yoongi does
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oh… oh this..
this actually made me cry.
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orokay · 9 months
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So idk if I can really articulate the way I'm feeling rn to translate it perfectly, but I want you guys to know how much I truly appreciate everyone who's followed me over the years, who has interacted with me in any way no matter how small, and anyone who has shown up recently. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. It's probably cheesy to say but everyone here has made my life so much brighter and I feel so unbelievably blessed to have been invited into your lives in some way, even if it's just as someone who sometimes shows up on your dash.
I decided to scroll through my tag on here and the way people have supported me over the years though everything really, deeply touched my heart this evening. The people who have drawn fanart for me, the people who have commissioned me, the people who have tagged me in things (I cringe every time bc I feel soooo bad for not seeing them until I look in my tag once in a blue moon, but know I appreciate you trying to include me), the people who tag me when asked who their art inspirations or favorite blogs are (!!!!!!!!!??????), the people who post their art saying that my art inspired them in some way, people who express their excitement when they realize I've followed them (this will never stop being wild to me, what an incredible thing!!!! I'm just me!) everyone. It's absolutely mind boggling to me and I can't stress enough how much it means.
I've had such an incredible time on this site so far and met some of my closest friends here and just.. wow. Thank you so much to all of you, from the very bottom of my heart. I cannot thank you enough for all of your support!! Every little bit of interaction is a blessing to me and I've run out of ways to express that so I'll wrap this up here but yeah!! I hope you all have a lovely evening or whatever time of day it is in your time zone. Know that you've impacted me in a way I can't express and try to give yourselves a little grace, you'll never know how much you've improved the lives of the people around you by just spending a little time in their space ♥
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natjennie · 1 year
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like seriously whatever you do dont think about the captain and that story about someone calling into gay bars and not saying anything, just listening to queer people living and laughing and having fun. definitely don't think about the captain doing that. haha.
#both during his life and in death#i just looked it up and the 1930s british queer scene was beautiful like jazz age stuff#the idea of the captain just discretely privately calling into places he's heard rumored to be queer#just to listen to the saxophone over the static of the telephone and know that there were gay people living and loving somewhere#and then to think about him missing that EVEN MORE in death because now he cant LEAVE#he cant hear rumors from people he cant call in#imagine the favors he'd have to owe julian to dial a number and let cap listen to the receiver without knowing what it is#like of course julian wants to know and he pesters him. but when cap is Deadly Serious and scared and sad.#a face julian's never seen. he winds his jokes down and agrees to do it#making cap think it was his idea- 'a bit of charity for the old walrus then'- instead of a deep understanding and love#and since its been decades of course the number he calls isnt a gay club anymore. maybe it doesnt even connect#and it breaks his heart and it takes him another decade to gather intel and the nerve to ask julian again#but when he does he finally gets a place and the phone quality is INCREDIBLE he can hear so much#he can hear people and their upbeat music and their laughter and their love#and he cries#and if julian sees it and pretends not to then its so that he can have the blackmail later thank you for asking#anyway im making myself emotional#bbc ghosts#EDIT Becuase then when julian overhears he tries subtly to make the captain feel more comfortable#bc julian is an asshole but he's not homophobic i mean he fucks everyone#so he tries to pepper in more stories about men but that just makes cap uncomfortable#and hes frustrated bc he cant think of anything else to do other than flirt with him but thats a bad idea#but then he remembers that he went to bars and places and maybe he'll like that#so he 'accidentally' dials some clubs he knows were cool and leaves the phone off the receiver for cap to find#and cap just gives him a curt nod and a clearing of his throat and they Dont Talk about it but they Know
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some-mari-thoughts · 1 month
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What do you make of the idea of Blackspace kinda fusing with Hellmari after a post-good ending Omori gave her true life, therefore making her the entire realm by technicality? Omori would do that cuz he needs something to kinda fill the void that appeared when Sunny left and he's getting desperate after not finding anything in Headspace to do that...
(woooooooooo explaining my omori au lore-)
Truthfully this is so wildly different to my idea of headspace and omori and after-good ending that i cannot make anything of this! i think that's up to u to decide
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#they kinda have to coexist anyway in my head#yes they had a big ass fight abt things and sunny's headspace is kinda all crumpled once again and white space is emptier than ever#omori's still the inner 12 y o kid who is also the anxiety and escapism and so many things and he isn't going anywhere immediately#so they do have to work together and fill it w new things. make smth of it and make it comfortable again in a better way#idk we're not letting the nightmares fester#your story is yours though its just so different from mine that it feels like a string of words that i can't tie togetjher#in a way that makes sense at least#so here you know your story best#also pleas#if u wanna put smth that u made and make me see it please let it be related to me and my blog in my inbox#i WILL spit my hcs and story at u if u put unrelated things here#i don't have the responsibility to react to Your omori content that i did not sign up or ask to see!#that's almost your own post material. let me come across it in the tag when i want to see it#and if i don't it was not meant to be#its an honor to receive your omori art of mari btw if u do put it here. just make sure it's not a constant and rather an occasion#cannot publish your omocontent for you#sorry for the tag rant its offtopic from the post#i do get severe urge to ignore/delete asks that seem wholly unrelated to my blog or a fully cooked personal omori post#and not an ask to tumblr user some mari thoughts who makes art and posts hcs and shares some art sometimes#OMORI Sunny#OMORI character#Knife boi#Son boi#my doodles
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acourtofladydeath · 27 days
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🤲🏻❤️‍🩹🪽
Well HELLO FRIEND!
Looks like you might wanna talk about a fic, eh?
Take These Broken Wings is my current passion project.
Are you a glutton for punishment? Maybe a lover of all things whump sprinkled with a little hurt/comfort?
Possibly intrigued by the idea of a polyamorous relationship that may become a three person mating bond?
Have Illyrian politics every interested you? Maybe the dichotomy between female trauma and male trauma within the same society is something you’d like to explore.
Do you want to explore the different facets of trauma, healing, and regression as they relate to mental illness and political change?
Have I got a fic for you.
3/7 chapters of this fic have been posted, with chapter 4 completely drafted and in edits.
Did I mention I’m also working on a playlist?
If any of that sounds remotely interesting to you, check out Take These Broken Wings (TTBW) on AO3 now. Please mind the tags and your own mental health before reading.
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antstarion · 18 days
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thank god for autistic friends. thank god for clear communication and truthfully talking about feelings. thank god for parallel play and comfortable silence. thank god for shared interests and infodumping together and enjoying “cringe” things. thank god for understanding and acceptance. thank god for outcasts of the world looking out for other outcasts.
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novelmonger · 8 months
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Hiya! It's Windmill from Discord! Saw the prompt meme - could you do Obi-Wan and Qui-Gonn with "I love you. You know that, right?" If you're up for it! Thanks <3
Hi Windmill!
Let Me Count the Ways ask game
(Note that this follows the canon of the Jedi Apprentice books - set right after #8, The Day of Reckoning - but I tried to make it still understandable for those who haven't read them.)
Obi-Wan had already powered down the lights in his room in the Temple and lain down on his sleep-couch when someone knocked on his door. He'd felt a pulse in the Force a moment before, and instantly knew the person on the other side of the door was Qui-Gon.
Strange. They'd seen each other not long ago, for a time of meditation in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. And they were due for a training exercise at 0600.
Slowly, Obi-Wan sat up, pushing aside his blanket. “Enter,” he said, reaching over to turn on a lamp.
The door slid open and Qui-Gon stepped inside. “I apologize for disturbing your rest,” he said stiffly.
Obi-Wan shook his head, shifting to sit cross-legged on top of his sleep-couch. “I wasn't asleep.”
Qui-Gon nodded, then paced back and forth across the small space, hands clasped behind his back. He'd left his cloak behind, Obi-Wan noticed, and his dark hair fell loose about his shoulders. It was as though he'd been in the process of turning in for the night, then realized he'd forgotten something and come directly here.
Tentatively, Obi-Wan quested out towards him in the Force. Their bond had been damaged, fractured, since everything that had happened on Melida/Daan. They were in the process of mending it, and their unofficial mission together on Telos had taken them a good distance down that path, but Obi-Wan knew it would still take a long time before they could restore the deep trust that had once existed between them.
Qui-Gon paused, gazing down at the workbench where Obi-Wan had left his lightsaber after cleaning it moments ago. As he stood there, an answering thread in the Force touched Obi-Wan's, like fingertips brushing against each other. Obi-Wan was surprised at how hesitant it felt as well.
“Tahl reminded me today,” Qui-Gon said slowly, absently straightening the tools on the workbench, “that we cannot simply return to the way things once were. And nor should we. We are not the same as when we first met.”
“Master Yoda said something similar to me,” Obi-Wan said with a wry smile. “'Expect not to tread the same path twice, for a path through sand it is, washed away by the tide.'”
Qui-Gon snorted, but he looked amused rather than annoyed. “And Tahl spoke to me of pottery. We're being conspired against by poets.”
Obi-Wan grinned, just as Qui-Gon glanced up with a twinkle in his eye. Their gazes connected for only a moment, but it was one of those moments Obi-Wan had learned to prize above all else in recent days. It was a moment that reassured him that, however else their relationship might change going forward, the bond between them was still intact.
After a moment of silence, Qui-Gon left the workbench and sat down at the foot of the sleep-couch. There was a deliberate quality to his movements, as though he were about to say something of vital importance. Obi-Wan found himself straightening attentively. This was why Qui-Gon was here.
“Tahl also counseled me to be more open with you, Obi-Wan. Too often, I fall into the trap of thinking that, because I can see a path forward, you will also see it and agree with me.” He shook his head. “It is dangerous when a master forgets that his apprentice is also a being with wisdom to contribute.”
“But I was wrong!” Obi-Wan blurted out, his hands curling into fists on his knees as shame pooled in his gut—just as it did every time he thought of that day. “I was wrong to...to defy you, and steal the ship, and....”
“Yes.” Qui-Gon reached out a hand, settling it on Obi-Wan's shoulder. “You were wrong. And so was I, Padawan. I was the one who put you in a position where you felt such actions were necessary. But perhaps, had we taken the time to communicate more openly...some of that could have been prevented. You are my apprentice, Obi-Wan. Not my servant. We are meant to be a team.”
The warm, comforting weight of Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder somehow made the shame break apart and fade away into nothing, like mist on a warm morning. Obi-Wan looked into those wise blue eyes, full of the esteem and respect he'd been afraid he would never see again. So unlike that day on Melida/Daan when they had turned icy and forbidding, as Qui-Gon had held out his hand for Obi-Wan to give up his lightsaber.
Confusion. Betrayal. Outrage. That was what they'd both been feeling, on the day their bond had shattered. Neither of them had been able to understand the other's decisions, and neither had been willing to explain or ask further questions. They had each known they were right, and the very thought that the one closest to them could possibly disagree was unfathomable.
And that had made their relationship brittle, too easily broken. Maybe this was what Qui-Gon had been talking about, when he'd said on Telos that he looked forward to their next disagreement. If they argued, that meant they both knew they weren't of the same mind, and they could work together towards a solution. It didn't have to mean they would abandon each other again.
“I'll try to live up to that,” Obi-Wan said quietly, as Qui-Gon's hand slipped from his shoulder. “I want to earn your trust again. I want to be worthy of it.”
Qui-Gon sat quietly for a moment, then got to his feet, his back to Obi-Wan. At first, Obi-Wan didn't think he would say anything, but finally he said, in the softest voice he'd ever heard from him, “I love you, Obi-Wan. You know that, right?”
Obi-Wan stared at him. “I...yes. Yes, I know.”
It wasn't exactly that Jedi didn't speak of love. Attachment was forbidden, but the entire Order was built on a foundation of love—the selfless kind of love that led to thousands of beings devoting their entire lives to aiding strangers across the galaxy. And of course every Jedi had special affection for their closest friends and teachers, not to mention the deeper-than-blood bond between Master and Padawan.
But Qui-Gon had never been one to speak openly of his feelings. His first thought was always for the mission, or for a lesson to pass on to Obi-Wan. He was foremost a Jedi Knight, and secondly a teacher—as it should be. But underneath it all, he was still a man. A man with emotions and cares and, yes, affections too.
Of all people, Obi-Wan shouldn't have been surprised to see evidence of that. He had seen evidence of that, plenty of times before. But it was still strange to hear Qui-Gon speak of it so bluntly.
Qui-Gon was almost at the door by the time Obi-Wan realized he was leaving. Apparently, he'd said what he'd come here to say. “Master, wait!” Obi-Wan sprang to his feet.
Pausing with his hand on the door, Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder.
Nervously, Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He'd never said this to anyone, but when he instinctively reached out to the Force, it rang with the chimes of a hundred golden bells in his heart, and he knew it was the right thing to say. “I love you too, Qui-Gon. I always have. Even then.”
Even when he was angry and hurt. Even when they were shouting at each other. Even when Qui-Gon left him on a war-torn planet. Even when their connection in the Force frayed and snapped, and it seemed pointless to hope they could regain even a fraction of what they'd once had.
Though Qui-Gon didn't move, it felt to Obi-Wan as if he had reached out his hand and grasped his. The Force wrapped around both of them like a warm blanket, and Obi-Wan found himself aware of Qui-Gon's breathing and heartbeat, in a way that normally didn't happen except sometimes in the heat of battle, when all of their focus centered on their movements synchronizing and complementing each other.
For a moment, Obi-Wan thought he caught a glimpse of the future. All of his worries about whether they could mend the rift between them faded away, because he knew they would be together. Perhaps not always—eventually, Obi-Wan would grow up and leave Qui-Gon's side. One day, he would become a Jedi Knight. One day, he would take on a Padawan of his own.
But nothing would come between them like this again. Not really.
“Yes, my Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, turning once more to the door. “I know.”
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skunkg1rll · 2 months
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when i love someone i WANT to learn abt their past traumas, their insecurities nd pain so that i can learn how to love them right. i want to understand how i should treat, reassure and comfort them. i want to learn their love languages so i can love them the way they need
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blindmagdalena · 3 months
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You use a Wheelchair?
Sorry if that sounds rude
not rude at all! i’m an ak (above knee) amputee, so any time i’m not in my prosthetic leg, i’m using either crutches or my wheelchair. 🥰
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supercantaloupe · 5 months
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earlier tonight my roommates were talking about the halloween party they're planning in a couple weeks (i will be out of town) and since the convo went towards "party supplies needing to be purchased" one of my roommates mentioned that she had the present she's planning on getting me for my birthday in her digital shopping cart already and then made a little mischievous face at me. and like it's sweet i suppose but my idea of "celebrating" my birthday is basically acting like it doesn't exist cause i'm kind of...uncomfortable with receiving Direct Praise And Attention especially for things i don't think are worth it (for example, Existing Another Year). at any rate my idea of the perfect gift this year would be Not being stuck in rehearsal until 10pm that night but that will certainly not be the case so whatever
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willowser · 6 months
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https://open.spotify.com/track/3ISKxnCGKc5B9zr9CTUB3v?si=CiB56KBRS3m1NQQIj2YuJQ
/ bags by clairo recorded at electric lady studios / is so ex - husband bkg coded .. every second counts ..can u see me using everything to hold back ..i guess this could be worse ..walkin out the door with ur bags ..FELL TO MY KNEES FISTS RAISED TO THE SKY GRITTING MY TEETH IN ANGUISH !!!!
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WAAAAHHHH YOU'RE SO CORRECT I'M kaknsalgajgj adding this to my faves.....going to think about you every time it comes on :3c
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superconductivebean · 8 months
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#543
WELL.
SPAMMED TAGS WITH AN ESSAY?
im very proud of these rambles but i can't understand why do i love to spam tags sm
#днявочка#днявочка: hlegacy#eng tag#днявочка: фандомное#damn wright#so i was peacefully asleep and then it came to me that wright is clingy but attaches Value to every hug she received or asked for#because when she was little her parents were too busy so any moment of Family Love was cherished and of gold and --#-- slowly wright was remembering it all after The Battle. what her life was like before everything or what she thought was it like#i couldn't just kill off her mom off-stage i had to implement her in-full somehow so; not to overshare much but sharp will come to know her#and he'll tell everything he learned to wright as he'd originally planned but rookwood intervened and well it's a long story#by the time of that convo blorbos developed bonds over some things already but at that moment -- it was a rubicon ahead of them#wright felt lonelier than ever and sharp couldn't just leave her there for the sake of keeping the subordination up#wright entrusted him with the knowledge and her life and sharp stood by his word; she was *his student* after all and sought his help#so that how it started; still a mentorship but deeper. heavier. *falconry metaphors here*#they did become very close after The Battle but here's the catch: both of them didn't realize it right away#wright's clueless but sharp is always vigilant; he didn't want wright to have too much on her already cluttered mind especially --#-- family related bc the topic is very dear and personal to her. for sharp it was more like 'family what family' --#-- it's tied to scarborough incident (it took his hopes of having any family along with the ship but tshhh oversharing)#so. imagine a loop of suffering; wright seeks comfort and when she finds it in his arms she feels hardly any better because --#-- it reminded her of her father of her mother but sharp is neither of them and the thought of it alone brought wright down very much#sharp isn't a substitute either -- and fear of losing him lingered and ohmygod how much talking they'd go through#self-indulgent part of it: when you're thick skin you tend to oversee many damaging things and may not even know smth has gotten under#wright thought she overcame her losses but in reality she never did and all these events only uncovered her lingers
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tomatoart · 1 year
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the way u draw kris makes me so happy never change ever. our brains are linked i think
I’m so gladdddd I love my kris so so much TY I’ll never ever change I was so excited to put them out there w that specific flavor to fellow geniuses LITERALLY I get so much enjoyment seeing comments like this abt them THEY R EVERYTHING TO MWEEE their nonbinary Hispanic slay.. this is us rn
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softest-punk · 1 year
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Are you studying Classics at uni? I will be next year, does it live up to expectations?
I am currently studying classics (amongst other things) at The Open University (UK) so caveat: I can only speak to that experience. At this point I very much feel it's exactly as I expected it to be, it's an interesting discipline because it's actually six disciplines in a himation. It's perhaps surprisingly not like history, it's much broader and asks different questions.
This unit has covered the performance of citizenship in Athens, Nero's reign + the contemporary response to it, the transition to the Flavian dynasty looked at through the lens of the construction of the Colosseum, the political and social effects of the oracle at Delphi, and the 18th-19thC Grand Tour as classical reception (which is a huge and interesting part of the discipline), to give an example of the scope.
If these things are your jam I'd expect you to be very happy in classics. I think were I not a lit major in the depths of my soul, I would myself be a classicist.
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