#Rose the resilient

[l1linya]

SWAP DOL AU!!! by @just-dol-headshots

I asked and you answered with an okay so.. I hope you like the fanart!!

Featuring: Sydney the loner, Robin the bully, Whitney the faithful , and Kylar the 'orphan'(???)

Extra v

[cockperchance]

you homestuck fuckers are more resilient than a couple of roaches I couldn’t even kill with raid. Yall look like yall could survive several nuclear bombs if prompted . How has this fandom been alive for so long. This somehow feels worse than danganronpa. I salute you all

[molinaskies]

Some people playing the DLC rn have never played Eggmanland from Sonic Unleashed and it shows.

To be fair, I ALSO think the DLC is holistically too hard (it’s unforgiving on hard mode and, at some points, even on easy). I was stuck on master king for 9 hours. But I’ve seen people say that the DLC is unrealistic for a child as if Sonic has never been this hard before.

Sonic Unleashed is difficult. Sonic 06 (for a number of reasons) is difficult. Hell, Sonic Adventure 2 is difficult. All of the classic games, to a degree, are difficult. This is also an optional, free story. It can be entirely bypassed, if needed.

Sonic is a franchise that challenges you. It dares you to push past your limits because that’s the whole entire thesis of these stories (quite LITERALLY for Sonic Frontiers).

The beautiful thing about being a child is that you have resilience. You will get up and try again. Something we can learn from children (and this franchise) is that it’s okay to fail. Pace yourself.

It’s okay to struggle and complain about your struggle. That’s a good thing, in fact. But this isn’t new.

[etruatcaelum]

On Semblances.

As this post mentions, neither Salem nor Ozma have ‘true’ ancient magic anymore: her immense power derives from the pools of light and darkness, and when Ozma created the maidens, they sacrificed their divine gifts but awakened their aura. Both now wield powers functionally identical to the aura and dust-based magic of modern humans; the sole difference between them and ordinary humans is vastly greater experience and, in Salem’s case, the interaction between her infinite aura and her grimmness.

(That is the subject for another post, but in essence grimm flesh and atrum ‘burn’ aura and this reaction can be controlled and channeled just like dust; Salem, who is grimm, uses this to her advantage to mimic ‘true’ magic.)

And, because their ‘magic’ is really just aura trained to a level beyond what any mortal could achieve in a single lifetime, both of them do have semblances.

Salem’s semblance is less an outward projection of her self than an inward one. It developed through the slow reconstruction of her mind and soul after a long period during which she had no sense of identity and was just kind of mindlessly dreaming all the time; her semblance sparked from the need to become whole and to know herself again. What it does, in essence, is immanentize her thinking.

Think method of loci, but crystallized from the imaginary construct into a real, tangible place—in a sense, the interior of her soul, her semblance, is a realm. Not one anything like as vast or complicated as Remnant or the Ever After, but quite a bit larger and more intricate than the vaults, and accessible only through doors she chooses to open.

It’s how she keeps herself sane and also why her sense of identity and conviction are so unshakable in the present: Salem knows herself extremely well and nearly everything that defines who and what she is, she made a deliberate choice to include as a fundamental part of herself. She is capable of change—and in fact capable of changing herself very rapidly and easily, once she decides to do so—but she cannot be forced or coerced or compelled or worn down or manipulated into it. Because the only way she can change is for her to literally disassemble and reassemble parts of herself and her semblance will not let her do that if she doesn’t truly want it to.

Ozma doesn’t know that they even have a semblance, because their semblance fluctuates from one life to the next; they believe the permutations of their own semblance have all been semblances taken from the lives they steal. What’s actually going on is that their very fragile sense of self gave them a semblance that lacks clear definition because it has yet to be fully-realized. It warps and bends and molds itself into the hollowed-out masks of every host, then loses that shape once those masks crumble again to expose Ozma.

There are, however, some constants:

The base essence of their semblance is remembrance and accretion of time. It’s the grasping for another chance and the tearing pain of almost and the venom of what if and maybe then and it wasn’t supposed to happen this way all rolled into one. It’s the aching possibility on the trailing edge of a mistake. Often, it takes the form of small-scale temporal manipulation: with Ozpin, it became an ability to ‘skip’ a second or two here and an idle moment there and ‘save up’ that time to spend all at once, squeezing several minutes worth of action into a single fraction of a second. (<- Ozma still has this ability and Oscar can tap into it for a while, but after the events of V8 it fades as their self-identification as Ozpin disintegrates.)

As themself—once freed from their curse and restored to live as their own person—their semblance is effectively only half-formed: not quite latent, but not truly manifested either. They will need to find themself and know themself before they’re able to fully bring it out. In its true, unalloyed form, Ozma’s semblance is unbinding: the breaking of chains, the opening of doors, the snipped thread of fate to unleash boundless possibility.

In less poetic terms, they will be able to reach back and bring forward the moments when what is now became inescapable. Nothing can be undone, nothing erased: the past cannot be unwritten, but what they can do is create a second chance to rewrite the future, whether by literally making a new possibility that didn’t exist before or by cutting through whatever beliefs or rationalizations a person clings to to pretend that they have no other choice.

Their fully-realized semblance will turn inward and confront them whether they like it or not; toward other people it is entirely under their control. (<- It is also quite likely the one thing capable of reaching into Salem’s head and shaking the foundations of her self, by drawing out her line of reasoning for committing to those choices and asking her to walk those paths anew, decide again.)

Oscar does not have a semblance and will not have a semblance until he’s separated from Ozma. If the integration were completed he would eventually produce a new permutation of Ozma’s, but it wouldn’t in any meaningful sense belong to Oscar, because Oscar as an individual would, for all intents and purposes, be dead.

But once he’s separated from Ozma, and once he sorts out who he is and who he wants to be outside of the looming existential dread of becoming Ozma, he’ll be able to discover his semblance.

(<- Also his aura, when not subsumed by Ozma’s, will turn out to actually be orange. Like a pumpkin. Because his Ozian allusion isn’t Tip OR Dorothy, it’s Jack Pumpkinhead)

Oscar’s semblance is… essentially, a hyper-specialized form of empathy: he can take the words people say and unfold them to reveal the things they mean, the feelings they’re trying to express but can’t communicate clearly, and then find the words to articulate those things back. He’s an interpreter, not of language but of emotions. He’s able to very quickly talk through to the heart of a problem, and he’s preternaturally good at listening in a way that makes people feel seen and heard. It also has the side effect of making him almost impossible to lie to.

Even with Ozma in his head, there are traces of this latent ability eking through to the surface—his determination to connect with Ironwood throughout V7, his intuitive sense for what to say to Hazel and Emerald to earn their trust, and even earlier, his realization that Ozpin is lying and his ability to break through long enough to spill Jinn’s name: these are all inklings of what could be, if not smothered by Ozma’s curse.

That sort of rising-to-the-surface is very rare among Ozma’s hosts. With Oscar, it’s happening partly because he’s fighting so hard to hold on for as long as he can, partly because his upbringing gave him a pretty strong sense of identity to begin with, and partly because the nature of his semblance itself resists falsehood and obfuscation. Latent though it is, it still gives him a firm place to stand when he pushes back and asserts himself against Ozma’s resignation. This struggle also has the effect of deepening the potential of his semblance—in effect, training it before it even properly manifests—so that once he’s free and it emerges fully he gets in tune with it fast.

[sunshine-dragon]

Ok friends I need help finding a white rose fic. I’ve been searching for days with no luck. I can’t remember if it was on AO3 or FFN but what I do remember is:

It was an arranged marriage AU where Weiss was supposed to marry Cardin Winchester so he could inherit the SDC (because misogyny)

Weiss falls in love with Ruby instead and literally leaves Cardin at the altar and runs out to find Ruby in her wedding dress

Background Bumbleby and yang is there driving a truck and I think Ruby drives a motorcycle???

It was before we knew Weiss’s dads name was Jacque and before we knew he was an asshole so he’s surprisingly chill with Weiss bailing on her wedding

Willow is there and she’s an alcoholic per usual

Weiss ends up inheriting the SDC and is a badass

I’ve tried searching for days. Literally any help would be appreciated 🫡🫡

[vicoya]

SACRIFICE. 🩸

🩸

🩸

titled: a resilient rose where: outside of camp, the lostlands when: one day after returning from the mines tw: blood tagged: @alessiathepath

The Tower trained it's witches to manage their energy wisely. Over expenditure was more common among novices casters, and fairly so. They required more energy - more focus - to complete their spells and incantations successfully. And while witches could tap into the Weave, but they weren't ceaseless wells of magic. The Tower couldn't possibly have anticipated Vicoya would go on to learn blood magic after consuming the taint; that she'd go a step further and perform a ritual allowing her to use own life force to heal others. They couldn't predict she'd end up on a battle field, facing down blighted dragons and Aetherians. No one could have prepared her for this.

There was no rulebook on avoiding exhaustion when your own blood was a conduit for magic, when your own life force could restore vitality to others. Every time the question arose - her, or another? - she chose the latter. And look where it got her. She was wandering through the endless snowscape of the Lostlands, a person nor destination in sight. She wasn't entirely sure how'd she made it here, either.

First, she'd been at the entrance of the healing tent, passing out healing potions to whomever tried to enter. As much as she hated to turn people away, there were just too many wounded accumulating at this point, and her magic was all but spent from the recent battle. Luckily, she was a fairly proficient botanist, and the health potions she'd concocted would stem the tide for now. But between healing and potion making and existing, she'd barely had a moment of peace since returning from the mines.

Perhaps that is how she ended up here, in the wintery wilderness and snow. Her feet had moved seemingly on their own accord until she was far, far away from anyone who could ask anything of her. Here, the howling of the wind was more of a comfort than a scare. The wind couldn't demand anything from her other than her warmth, and that was one of the few things she had left to give away.

Vicoya found herself sinking to the floor, her brightly colored robes contrasting against the pale snow as they pooled around her knees. She spied something poking out of the ice - a singular flower, struggling to bloom. How it had even survived her for so long, she had no clue. It was a persistent little thing, to have grown so beautiful in an area so devoid of life. A beauty no one but her would able to admire this far out in the wilderness. Finally, something that was hers, and only hers.

Coya slowly pulled off her black, leather gloves, almost desperate to touch the flower despite how the cold instantly bit into her skin. Doing so revealed a bit of her wrists, the ancient runes carved into her skin raw and angry given their recent use and overuse. Just a day prior the lines of the intricate shapes had cracked open and bled to empower her spells. It would take days before the mangled skin stitched itself back together, and even longer before she'd be ready to use such power again. Yet if they were attacked a second time, she wouldn't have a choice. The same question rang through her head again - her, or another? - and the answer was still the same.

Gently, her fingers brushed across the pale, pink petals. She was scared it'd crumble beneath her if she wasn't careful enough. Luckily, a healer's touch was naturally delicate, and she reveled in the softness of the floral leaves. They were wilted and sagging - clearly the tundra was draining the color out of it as it had done to so many other people and things.

An idea struck her, and a hope bubbled up beneath her chest. Perhaps she could fix this resilient rose before it succumbed to the winter's icy grasp completely. Perhaps she could breathe life into it a new, give it a fighting chance. Even if it didn't end up surviving, it would know it's beauty had at least been seen, and it would know someone was rooting for it, all the way out here.

Coya cupped the bulb of the flower between her palms as her tired eyes fluttered shut. She reached deep inside herself, down to the tainted yet radiant ball of light she called a soul. As she tugged at it, pulled at the magical strings of the delicate Weave, soft tendrils of light began to drift from her palms, stretching out towards the flower as if they yearned to touch it. The wispy tendrils wrapped around the flower in a spiral until every inch of it was bathed in warmth.

Vicoya could feel the energy leaving her with every turn the tendrils made around the bulb and the stem and the leaves. Despite the flower being so small, even this small effort appeared too taxing for the olympian turned legionnaire. She'd drained energy from a well that already been sucked dry, and her mortal body was only built to withstand so much, though she tried convinced people otherwise.

Through blurred vision, she watched as the flower began to stand up straight, and color began to return to its perfectly pink petals. Then she watched a single drop of red fell onto it's soft surface, before slowly trickling into the center of the rose, weaving through the small gaps between the circling petals as if they were a beautiful maze. Then another drop. It'd come seemingly out of nowhere, until she felt the cold sensation of liquid freezing on her face. A shaking hand reached up to swipe just under her nose, and it came away red.

More drops dripped onto the white ground, immediately soaking into the snow beneath her. Her hair was no longer the only thing painting the landscape red now. She tried to blink away the foggy haze that had consumed her vision with little luck. This wasn't something she could will away through stubbornness and grit teeth. Something was wrong.

She turned to make her way back to camp, but dizziness hit her instantly the moment she swiveled her head. Instead of pushing herself onto her feet, she found herself lying in the snow, pale face looking towards the fires of the camp in the far distance. They were even harder to make out through her blurred vision. Next to them, she thought she spied another shape, this one moving towards her. It was taller, black mostly with brown on top. A person, perhaps?

She realized she didn't have the energy nor the time to figure it out. The snow felt like a soft blanket, and she felt warmth overtaking her despite the cold. Sleeping seemed like a great idea, now. It was time to rest, just for a little while...

Just for... a little ..... while..........

[hanayanaa]

help i bought a custom popsocket and V's wing is fucking stuck. Set her free on god

it's by sosoresin on etsy btw HIGHLY HIGHLY RECOMMEND SHES SO NICE AND THE POPSOCKETS ARE RLLY CHEAP TOO...

other photos :3c

[cluepoke-archive]

A couple weeks ago I found a male red breasted grossbeak hopping along my yard with an injured wing, we watched him for a week climbing up smaller trees and bushes for the night so he wouldn't have to worry about predators, and he actually recovered very well! He had a female grossbeak that seemed very buddy buddy with him the whole time and he's been flying really well (although I can always spot him because he still has trouble being precise in his landings)

Today while observing the red breasted grossbeaks i noticed the underside of the female that liked to hang out with the previously injured males wing was red, and it seemed odd to me because I had never noticed that before. Turns out upon closer inspection that this is an example of gynadromorphism! I haven't caught a picture just yet but Google dosent dissapoint

So. Happy pride month to the intersex bird in my backyard :] and her lovely boyfriend.

[gwahren]

elethea and the rose motif. gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

[theartisticintrovert]

Commission Me! (Regular | Furry)

delinquent maid gang hell yeah

set in a bungou stray dogs au my friend made where dazai never left the port mafia, thus leading to a butterfly effect that culminated in her joining the mafia, and myself getting promoted to hired muscle, rather than getting scouted at the armed detective agency.

affectionately called the black sugar verse, it's basically the worst version of our self inserts lmao

characters belong to me and @sarasanddollar

inspiration under the cut

[tales-of-a-wilted-sunflower]

What crimes you do?

"We've never been charged with any crimes but if we were then...Petty shoplifting and involuntary manslaughter."

"...Also involuntary manslaughter and assisting in tampering with evidence."

"Accidental aggravated assault and small level property damage"

"I have not actually committed something that would be considered a crime personally."

"Tampering with evidence, Perjury, and assisting with arson(as a ghost)"

"When I was alive? Nothing, As a ghost I guess technically low level mischief to property but that's about it."

[evergreen--eyes]

Already tried killing myself, that didn't work. God said it wasn't my time and put me back in my body. So there's really no other choice than to transform and grow.

And anyone who envies you for it can burn in hell. They act like you stole your own metamorphosis and haven't had your throat slit to get there.

[diabolita]

Il me semble que montrer une façade toute rose et lumineuse de ma vie de musicienne ne fera pas avancer les choses. Alors voilà ma réalité telle qu’elle est : en 6 mois de travail soutenu je n’ai réussi à obtenir qu’un seul concert et ce, malgré les actualités, la pertinence et la longévité de mes projets. Depuis quelques semaines déjà, le corps manifestait des signes de stress dont l’esprit n’avait pas encore pris conscience. Il aura fallut plusieurs migraines, nausées, indigestion, nerf sciatique enflammé pour révéler la peur à l’intérieur.   La sortie de l'album Grace m’aura coûté 4000 euros en frais de studio, pressage, clip et promotion. A ce jour les ventes de CD stagnent sous la barre des 30 exemplaires. Récemment un « acteur culturel » a préféré chercher un groupe qui jouerait pour moins que les 250 euros que je demandais. Voilà où on en arrive. Alors comment poursuivre mon travail de musicienne en l’absence de concerts, ce qui réduit davantage les possibilités d’écouler des albums? Comment créer lorsque l’on vit dans la peur du lendemain? Je pense que coeur du problème a été parfaitement résumé par l’artiste Santigold dans Rolling Stone : « If we can’t portray ourselves as real humans, it’s going to be hard for people to rally behind us and say, “This is the same problem that we’re all having across the board — it’s human beings, the value of humans versus corporations.” It’s actually the same issue. And the laws that have been allowed to exist, that are unethical regarding workers — we are workers.» Where do we go from here? Crédit photo : Emilie Foudelman

[praiseinchains]

Gratitude Journal Entry (8/13/24)

Today I'm Grateful For:

*That I was able to go into the hospital without a wheelchair :-) Because of all my health problems (specifically my NMO) I have had a horrible time getting around places, especially around corners or down hallways because my disease affects my eyes so much and it leaves me feeling so topsy-turvy. It began when I was 19 and it just never went away. I eventually found that I could use a wheelchair to get around and that provided me with a sense of freedom I hadn't had in years, but then I discovered a roller walker, and that was even better. That, along with my rose-tinted sunglasses to help shield my eyes from the horrible glare of lights, helped me get around the hospital. I was able to go to medical records and sign a release of information AND go to radiology TWICE to get the disc I needed without someone going with me. I wasn't dizzy even ONCE. I would lift my glasses once or twice just to see how much difference it provided, and it was like night and day. As soon as I took off the glasses, I immediately felt that dizziness come back. Along with the dizziness, it also cut down on the eye pain and the anxiety associated with being dizzy. I was SO thrilled, and I can't wait for more opportunities to go out now that I have my rose-tinted glasses and my roller walker.

*My parents took me to one of their favorite Mexican restaurants for lunch. I'm not usually a fan of Mexican food - it all seems the same to me and I don't feel there's much variety. But my dad was so excited to show it off to me, so I went, and I was pleasantly surprised. It had a very warm, friendly atmosphere and the waitress was amazing. There was a music playing and my mom discovered a certain song she loved and wanted to get it for her harp, but she didn't know the name. The waitress actually went and checked and then wrote it down for her. She was SO sweet :-) Also, I got carrot cake for dessert! My favorite!

*I heard back from my insurance today. My NMO affects EVERY part of my body, including my teeth and that, coupled with the fact that I don't usually have the energy or strength to take the best care of my teeth has left me with several cavities and needing at least two root canals. Unfortunately, I don't have dental insurance because it's so expensive and I hardly ever get the chance to go to the dentist. It's only been in the last 4.5 - 5 years that going to the doctor became a regular thing for me. Not having regular checkups or regular cleanings coupled with my NMO has left my teeth in horrible shape. Not wanting to suffer the same fate as others with NMO, who have actually lost ALL of their teeth and need dentures (some of them my own age) I got in touch with my insurance to see if my state would cover the cost of my dental like it does my vision since my NMO affects everything. I don't have a definite answer yet, but I'm supposed to have my eye doctor fill out a form saying how NMO affects my teeth and why I need to get it covered. It was more than I was expecting, so I'm grateful my insurance just didn't outright negate it.

Something I'm Proud Of:

As I've said, going to the doctor wasn't a regular thing for me growing up. I usually only went to the dentist when they were adjusting my braces and I only went to the doctor at the start of the school year or when I played sports. With my health taking a rapid decline in the past 4.5 - 5 years I've had to go to the doctor a lot more often, but all those doctor appointments wouldn't even have been a reality had I not been so insistent that something was seriously wrong with me health-wise. I stuck to my guns and was put on state insurance, which has been a tremendous help because neither I nor my parents could have afforded going to the doctor as often as I needed it. I'm proud that I stuck to my guns and didn't let anything dissuade me from believing I was sick. I truly believe I saved my own life. I was suffering from untreated Hashimoto's (which can be very dangerous). I could not even sit at the kitchen table for dinner under the light because it just made me feel so out of it. I couldn't make my bed without getting horribly out of breath. I literally had to sit in my room with the lights off most of the time and just lay in bed. There were some days I truly felt as if I was dying. Once I got started on medication (around 8 months of suffering like that) the worst of it cleared up almost immediately. That was when I really learned I had to fight for myself if I wanted something done and I am SO proud of myself for fighting and not giving up. I don't believe I would be here today if I hadn't.

Tomorrow I'm Looking Forward To:

Now that I really have a plan of treatment I want to follow (plant-based and being religious with my flaxseed oil regimen and my therapy) I'm looking forward to putting it all together and having a clear schedule.

Daily Affirmation:

I embrace my strength and resilience, celebrating every victory, big and small.

[astrummorte-m]

aryin ethan ashland, the prince of dragons

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

i feel like snowdrops are such an underrated flower roxie ure so based for that

daawwww anonie!!!! ugh i love snowdrops with all my heart the mere mention of them has me jumping for joy 😭 they're just. so damn beautiful in every single way i'll always be so soft for them, incredibly incredibly so :(