quixoticmoth

[quixoticmoth]

Please keep work place safety in mind at all times

[quixoticmoth]

Saw this one and just couldn’t resist sharing

[quixoticmoth]

*human beings seeing a variety of creatures and critters*

[quixoticmoth]

I'm in love with this story.

(a colored sketch of four characters. from left to right there’s Gene who has dyed green hair and an orange jacket, Casper who has long flowing hair and pale skin, Saint who wears round sunglasses and a simple T shirt, and Tab who has curly orange hair and snakebite piercings.)

It’s far past time to introduce the main characters for the moon book (intro) so I can finally talk about them! I’ll be sharing plenty more about them as I develop the story now, but here’s some basics for now.

Saint 🌙 19, he/him, 4w5, ENFP, the protagonist!

Because of a medical condition, Saint has periods where his senses are dulled to the point where he can’t perceive with the outside world. So he turns inward. He has a rich creativity and passion for storytelling, it brings him a lot of joy :)

He doesn’t share his stories very much, but whenever he does there’s a gravity to his voice that pulls listeners in. It frustrates Tab to no end that he doesn’t do much with his talents.

Saint’s best and only friends are Tab and Gene, but sometimes he feels like they’re just humoring him. He loves to play the piano and sing, the latter of which he’s supernaturally good at.

Tab 🪐 19, they/them, 3w2, ESTJ 🏳️‍⚧️

Tab loves academia and used to excel in every class- until their senior year. They’ve got a great memory and will happily learn and repeat back information all day, but the second the advanced classes they took got into more abstract ideas, they started failing.

Now they’re retaking their senior year, which has ruined their hopes of getting into a good college. That was, until they met Casper who got them into the supernatural and ghosthunting… if they can find concrete proof of the things that exist beyond earth, they’d be able to get into whatever college they want.

Tab can be inflexible, stubborn, and a bit blunt, but damn if they don’t get things done.

Tab has a lot of friends that come and go, but the closest to their heart are Saint and Gene. They have a rotating cast of passions, but their most consistent are playing guitar and history.

Gene 💫 17, he/him, 9w8, INFP 🏳️‍⚧️

On track to graduate a semester early with high grades, Gene’s just been accepted into a fancy college that’s sure to lead to a promising tech career. The only problem is, it’s across the country and he’s starting to feel a growing unease about leaving his friends behind to sit behind a desk taking orders from a boss for the rest of his life.

The persona of a quiet nerdy academic the world projects onto Gene doesn’t fit as well anymore. He’s an idealist with strong values, and a deep optimism + compassion. He’s young, he’s still growing into himself! He wants to change the world!

Gene adores his brother, Saint, and he’s been friends with Tab since they were kids. He plays the drums, loves baseball, and actually reads the news.

Casper ⚡️ 22, he/her, 7w6, ???? 🏳️‍⚧️

Casper had a pretty good life. She had an internship at a good tech company, a loving girlfriend, plenty of friends, and an apartment in a city with a nightlife appropriate for her love of partying.

Then it all stopped when he got into a car accident while visiting his girlfriend’s hometown. Casper had to quit his job and stay in that boring little town while going in and out of the hospital. It’s been a year now and she’s getting pretty bored.

Casper is a person that placed his value in the things he could do, so now that he can’t do a lot of them, he doesn’t feel like himself. Or maybe it’s the alien who accidentally attached itself to her body in its attempt to keep her alive after her accident and has lost control of the separation of their souls. But she doesn’t know about that yet. He’s been having weird dreams.

Casper hasn’t kept in touch with many of his friends, he mostly just talks to his roommate Emma and two new friends, Tab and Gene. She loves working with her hands; that means fiddling around with technology and more recently, crocheting.

[quixoticmoth]

mildly concerning computer pins [x]

[quixoticmoth]

It might even help to view identities/labels less as diagnostic or descriptive, and more as identification with a group. My trans experience is different than my friends, but we identify as trans to connect and share. Or as a teen I identified as lesbian, but now an adult, as aroace. My attraction didn't change from then to now, but who I identified with changed alongside my knowledge and experience.

We're all just silly symbolic creatures trying to make sense of the abstract and find a place to belong.

occasionally there will be a queer person whose way of living their queerness is in conflict with our expectations and definitions for their label

at those times, we remember that queerness is not about the labels, or the definitions, or the rules of expected behaviour, but about living authentically to the crooked strangeness of our human conditions

[quixoticmoth]

MY LIL GUY BECOME REAL. WATCH OUT WORLD

(id: a 1:12th scale doll with a cloth body and clay face and hands. She has light skin, long pink yarn hair, and antennae. She stands propped up by a metal stick with a smug expression and finger guns held up.)

Here’s a doll I made for my friend @quixoticmoth , I can finally post it now that they’ve gotten it! Details under the cut :)

(id: two photos of the same doll, with more parts laid out. The first shows she has 6 interchangeable hands and 2 interchangeable faces. The second shows her clothes: a pink miniskirt, pink and blue platform boots, a blue bralette, and a pink leather jacket with blue stripes along the sleeves.)

I’ve never made clothes this small before, so it was a fun challenge! The top is made from just a ribbon, some thread, and a bit of curved wire for the fastener. Very proud of it :)

(id: a detail shot of the back of the jacket, which has a dragonfly painted onto it. The second photo is another picture of the doll, this time in a neutral pose)

It’s their character Sorano, who I adore and had a lot of fun recreating as a doll! Look at this little guy!

(id: a drawing of the same character in a bright, graphic style. She wears a similar outfit, and dances with a tall anthropomorphic bug.)

[quixoticmoth]

i need more of these kinds of images

[quixoticmoth]

original character in chinese wuxia style of 旋风博文

[quixoticmoth]

Guys do u know that one meme where there's a girl and like a bodyguard (???) ordering drinks and the waiter give them the wrong drinks so they switch them on the last panel,???????? BECAUSE I C1NT FING IT^

[quixoticmoth]

Trick or treat 🪣

Treat for you.

[quixoticmoth]

ME: hold up. you see that? train's been through here FRIEND: how can you tell ME: tracks. they're not fresh, maybe 60, 80 years old FRIEND: no chance it'll come back, then ME: don't be so sure. That's well within their lifespan... and they're highly territorial

[quixoticmoth]

In tears (literal) because it's so good and the story is so much and the music is so emotion and I'm so excited and and and

Finally, here’s the trailer! It should be coming out this winter/next spring depending on how editing goes ;)

More about Interrobang

Script/Visual Description

[quixoticmoth]

Missing Someone

(A small scene for my work Railway Ronin from the perspective of Mikazuki, one of the two main characters.)

Above the lake I watched the green-hued moon; impending as it was and close to the earth, and around my feet I felt warm caresses as it pulled the tides higher to meet me. My shoes were gone, and I hadn’t any idea of when I shed them. I think at some point I shed my gloves; I only realized as my fingers dug into silky, water-loosened sand. And when I took a deep breath of humid air, I found that I shed my mask at some point as well. It was me, here, bare of all identities.

Content at the foot of the celestial throne, I was a mere visitor to the god of the lake who lived here and whispered to me from the distant shore. Not in words she whispered, but in the chimes that hung from her shrine. They played out across the water, riding the ripples in concentric circles that crossed the ones which emanated from me in kind. The geometry was beautiful. I wondered the sound of my own music and hoped she heard this song of mine. 

But as I rested here at water’s edge, the song grew sour. Her chimes responded to mine with an indignant harshness that struck my ears. What had I said? What had I done to upset her? I couldn’t explain myself, not without my face or name… No, not that I couldn’t, but she didn’t listen. The once artistic ripples rose to roaring waves that roped me in. As a wave of anger swelled up inside, I struggled! 

The sky and moon were lost to me, and the fabric of the lake that surrounded me held my arms fast. I couldn’t stand to listen to the music anymore lest I scream and fill my lungs with cotton and feathers and silks! Then, freeing a heavy arm, I reached for the phone on my nightstand, sliding a thumb to hang up the call. The offending music was all at once gone, and the lake along with it.

 All that was left was me, the darkness, and the phone lain next to my shoulder drowning among the sheets.

And the irritating song played again. So I squinted against the irritating light. The caller ID read the name of my most irritating half. And tempting as it was to hang up again, I hadn’t enough mind to question what this early morning call was for.

“Good morning,” I said, and since I was fresh from sleep, my voice sounded softer and higher than I intended. I cleared my throat of day’s-first-words.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he said. I judged he was loud enough that I could set the phone on the pillow and still hear just fine. I could even close my eyes. “Sounds like you slept well.” 

Not really.

“Mikazuki?” he asked. I had been lulling once more, and never actually said what I meant to aloud.

“Sorry, I was dozing off,” I said. I overcompensated for the lithe voice before and now came across husked. Oh, absolutely not that either. 

Kyle's laugh vibrated close to the microphone. “Have any good dreams?”

I thought of them, but only found myself seeing vague shapes of branches and the feeling of going. I went somewhere; somewhere important to me. There was someone there, but I couldn’t remember who. It was such a grief to only find the shell of a dream. So I hummed and moved past the question. “What time is it?”

“Mmm… half past 3?” Whether that was in my time or his wasn't clear. There was a tint of the anger from my waking moments soaking into the edges of my consciousness. “I just got home,” he continued, ”wanted to see how my favorite person in the world is doing.”

So it was this sort of day, was it? It’s too early to play, but play I did. “Is that me?” I said, not answering the question.

“Of course!"

I hummed again, wishing to fall back to sleep. “You’re home early, aren’t you?” “We wrapped the meeting up early,” he said. “The guest speaker canceled, you know how it is.” 

“I do,” and not wishing to talk about work upon waking, “Have you thought about dinner yet?” “I haven’t even had lunch yet.” “Kyle…”

“I’ll grab something now, don’t worry.” “Thank you,” When I said these things, I imagined myself a busy but beloved wife out of a sweet American soap. Not a romance I think I particularly fit, but a romance nonetheless. With my eyes shut, the scene transformed, colors re-assigned, the static overlay of a TV. Cameras were pointed at us from the periphery of the perfectly arranged kitchen set for a perfectly arranged couple. He went through a few cabinets, rustling packages and pulling boxes of dry snacks onto a counter.

“That’s not a meal,” I said.

“You don’t even know what I grabbed.” He sounded baffled, which uncovered that he was caught.

“I know well enough.”

He put the freeze-dried fruits back. I’ve seen them when I stayed with him; they were his go-to, and I could imagine the specific plums I brought last visit already half empty, but still in the gift packaging.

“Psychic,” he said, getting something from a refrigerator, which then opened with the click and hiss of a vacuum-sealed container.

“You could put them on the salad though.”

“No fucking way.”

I was smiling now, only slightly. He looked around for the studio cameras, but little did he know he was inside the show, and all he could see was me, hovering behind him, watching over his shoulder.

After this, he turned on video call while he ate, dissipating the illusion I had set up in my tired mind. He acted sad when I wouldn’t turn on mine in turn; however, I figured that he just wanted the consolation that I could only see him because he set up a camera himself, rather than wonder what secret way I knew his actions. Which was fine. I didn’t look at the screen the entire time, and when I did, I squinted with one eye at the bright light composed of the white interior of his suite. It had that American city aesthetic of new-age sterility accented with the painted-over carved woodwork of the home’s heritage. It was not my favorite, but I’m sure my home’s style wasn’t his favorite either. 

As I thought about architecture, we spoke longer about the week since we last saw each other. For a moment, it was pleasant; it felt like catching up with a friend. But that wasn’t what it was supposed to feel like; it was supposed to feel like the yearning of a decade-distorted long-distance love affair.

“You never actually told me how you’ve been,” he said. 

“Lonely as usual,” I said quietly as if to hide it from those who share this home with me. There was a sharp rustling against his phone as he moved to another room. I pulled one of my many pillows close for comfort, accidentally bumping my own phone’s speaker in the same way. 

“Yeah?” “Yeah…” It wasn’t a lie, I was lonely. Met with a lapse, my sleep-wracked mind questioned if I should have even admitted that.

When he spoke again it was uncharacteristically gentle. “I miss you…”

“I hate when you say that.” Now that I shouldn’t have admitted, but I already spoke, and so I continued. “I’m right here, you are talking to me now.”

He was thrown off his grove. I threw off the whole grove of the arrangement. Now I was stripping back the layers of this show one by one-  awake enough to know better but bitter enough not to care.

“You aren’t lonely; you have company even when I am not around. And I know you don’t miss spending time with me, as you always find ways to keep apart. You don’t miss my affection. And we talk often; we are talking right now, and still you say you miss me. So what is it in me that you miss?” He wrung his hands, posture deflated on that sterile white couch. The symmetry of the composed shot was broken as he looked off to the side. I knew what he missed. All that was left was for him to say it.

“I…” He hesitated. Inside I was begging him, now cradling the phone in my hands. Please, just say it. There was no one here but us to hear the confession. “I...” Please... “Well, don’t you miss me too?”

I hung up.

The fire-fanning ringtone that had woke me before sounded yet again, and my heart pounded in my throat and ears. “Yuzuki,” I said and was met with a soothing jingle. “Block Kyle, please.” Her voice responded with a mechanical inflection, affirming that Kyle was blocked. The song did not pick up afterward.

It was crushing- the disparity between the silence in the room and the noise from the emotions and thoughts that wracked me. It felt as though that ringtone was still echoing in my head, over again, because I knew that it should be. How was I supposed to go back to sleep like this?

“Yuzuki?”

“How can I help?”

And maybe it was wrong of me to think that the voice of this virtual assistant made me a degree less lonely than the call of my betrothed. “Let’s do a meditation.”

She affirmed my request again. Not long after, I heard her play the calming sounds of water and wind... and the nostalgic music of distant chimes.

[quixoticmoth]

fuzzy brain

I finished my first bjd sculpt! It’s a little rough around the edges because I used way too hard of clay + has awful tension because it’s so hard to string, but I’m proud! Now to throw myself into the over-complicated second doll I’ve been thinking of all month

(id:

Image one. a hand holds a small black ball jointed doll up to the camera. It has a simple body, with only one point of articulation in each limb. It’s stomach is pear shaped and round, with chunky rectangular arms that taper out as they transition into three chunky fingers. It’s face is rectangular, with a simple eyes and smile. It has two curling antannae, and seems distinctly alien. One hand is raised in greeting

Image two. The same doll lying down in a hand, angled from above

Image three. The doll’s faceplate is removed, showing items held on by four magnets. There’s fuzzy green wires inside the head.

/end id)

[quixoticmoth]

I adore this I scream for this sort of mundane, sweet life happenings from perspectives distinct from my own.

Baby’s first fanfic :)

> As I stood in an overgrown field, surrounded gnarled flora and tiny buzzing fauna, the enormity of my mistake dawned on me.

Murderbot tries gardening. It even gets its own wagon

[quixoticmoth]

Cheat Code #3 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

If you want your setting to be accommodating, change the environment more than the person.

i.e.: On a worldbuilding level, if you want to portray a society that keeps disabled people in mind, then that needs to be reflected more broadly, even without your disabled character on screen. Because this means that your society was considering disabled people as part of itself when it was figuring out what's necessary.

If your computer takes voice commands, it should also have an optional keyboard in case someone can't speak.

If your magic school has multiple floors, it should have a teleporting rune circle for those that can't take the ever-changing stairs.

Whenever you have a feature you're adding, ask yourself—"If my character couldn't use this, what would they do instead?" And if the answer is "they'd have to wait until they could" or "they need someone else to use it for them," then your setting isn't accommodating. An accommodating setting always has an actionable answer to that question.

And as a bonus, if you follow through with it, oftentimes you'll end up with a more interesting world and story overall. Spells most people can speak can be written in ancient elven instead? That means you can have a character sneak a spell into a magic-banned city by writing it on their hair ribbon, and that it's possible that a book might be a self-generating spell on its own. Your spaceship has textured lines on the walls to let blind people navigate without guidance? Not only can you make it look artistic (different colored paints, glowing patterns), but now your engineer can make it to the warp core when the power's out and oxygen's finite.

Don't limit yourself just to what's needed in the moment. Figure out interesting alternatives to your setting's features, and your world will automatically feel more alive.

Cheat Code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 2: What kinds of aid to use to accommodate disability

Cheat Code 4: How to personalize your character's disability aid