benthic angel
was writing about lake sturgeon for a class assignment and showed one of my friends what i'd written.. he then sent part of it back to me with line breaks to turn it into a poem! i just had to draw something for it :]
poem text under the readmore:
lake sturgeon don't know
that they're endangered. They don't know
anything - other than the muck
at the bottom
of the water column
and the occasional passing
touch of another.
really touched by how my friend turned my technical writing into poetry. i haven't tried to write creatively in months, so it's nice to see i've still got it- and nicer still that i could get so inspired by my friend, since i haven't made nature art in a little while, either :>!!
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Since I'm almost done working on em here's my demolition lovers costumes so far!
I started this in like mid/late March I believe
This is my first time doing beading ever, I probably should have started with something smaller or even tested on some scrap but I am nothing if not stupidly ambitious.
I wanna say this is roughly 14hours of work so far, I still want to add more to the dress and possibly make some accessories, we will see what I can get done by Saturday lol
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I have been in the solavellan fandom for...A While. (do not count the years, i beg) and everyone has their tropes and themes re: wolves/halla and hunter/prey and the New Herald being worshiped/the Old God nearly forgotten, and tbh I like bits and pieces of all of them, but like...
For me, the most compelling story is that Lavellan is just Some Guy (gn).
They meet Solas and accept that he is like them. He's an elf. One of The People. You are like me. I am like you. We are The Same People. And because of that, I will protect you with whatever power the humans around us have given me, because I know this is not the safest place for either of us.
And it just fucking... gets him, right? Because that's his whole deal. The world is broken because the people aren't People. He's not like them. They're not like him.
I just love the idea that this impossibly old, incredibly powerful sort-of-god, trips into a hole and nearly throws his entire game away because a regular person (albeit one who was thrust into extraordinary circumstances) decided to be kind. Offered him protection and friendship. Asked him to tell them stories. Grieved with him when he lost one of his oldest friends.
He could not deny that they were a person, because they treated him like a person.
I love how ordinary that is. How simple. How devastating.
'You're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything, but it can't.'
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The Painted Lady stared at Zuko, eyes wild in deep focus, and sank into her knees next to him. Her pale, scarred hand reached out to meet him, but stopped short before making contact.
Her voice was soothing and gentle as she asked, “Is that what you truly believe?”
Sometimes, it feels as if Izumi knows Zuko better than anyone else.
For our confidants and spirits (and those who are one and the same) is For the Spirits Chapter VI: Dream of You.
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