#hope this is ok for you

[silvygonzalez]

Starter for @beatrice-murray Setting: Bea's trailer

One, two, three…

One thing crochet had taught Silvy was that she didn’t know how to count as well as she thought she did. No matter how many times she had been sure she had crocheted a certain number of stitches, the result would look wonky and it would turn out she had counted wrong.

Ten, eleven, twelve…

And surviving the collapse of civilization as she knew it had done something to Silvy’s attention span. Before the virus, Silvy hadn’t needed to double-check her work nearly as much as she did now. She supposed this was a natural reaction to all that had happened but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…

At least she was in a safe space now, namely Bea’s trailer, with good company in the form of Bea and her dog, Trav (who was currently asleep next to Silvy, his soft sleepy grumbles providing comforting background noise). Bea’s trailer was cosy, soft, and warm. Silvy felt like she could relax here, as if for the first time since the virus first broke out.

Thirty… Wait… Shit!

Silvy held up the piece she was working on (a new triangle shawl in an effort of making something other than a long scarf like she normally does). At first glance, it looked fine but Silvy’s inner-critic wasn’t happy.

“Does this look wonky to you?” She asked Bea.

[midmare]

@caelitus (jellal) said: “that didn't go quite like i thought it would.”

painted lips drawn into a thin line, words wedged in his throat, he let silence speak instead of laying bare countless grievances. a hidden, spiteful, injured part of him wanted to set free blame upon the person whom he had heaped with so much fault already, that it was a miracle the man didn’t wither under his bitter crimson gaze alone. it would be easy to add today’s setback to the litany of crimes and offenses macbeth liked to pin on jellal within the privacy of his thoughts, but, he swallowed his rancor and saved it for another day.

“no, it didn’t,” he admitted flatly, taking inventory of their injuries. frequently, macbeth emerged from altercations with dark guilds unscathed, protected by his magic more often than not. in this case, he had the misfortune of encountering a mage that preferred physical attacks, quickly exposing his gross weakness (he liked to tout he was untouchable, without flaw, but he knew better than anyone how fragile he was inside). they won, but macbeth felt the ache of his own shortcomings like an old injury ripped open again.

(it was his fault the plan fell apart). he tore his eyes away from the other, rubbing fresh bruises that bloomed like black flowers along planes of pale flesh. “i’m tired. i’m going to sleep.” losing still stung, stole his pride and confidence from his stature and left him desolate. he didn’t want to talk, but it was an excuse all the same. with the day’s shame left to rot and fester in his mind, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to drift into blissful unconsciousness for a while.

[wewontbesleeping]

the weirdest fucking thing to me is how men will be like "it's so hard being a man. no one cares that i'm sad. the loneliness we experience could NEVER be understood by a woman" and then also be like "btw i never talk to my friends and i don't know their names and i love hanging out with men because they don't talk about their stupid emotions all the time. women could never understand a bond like this." like ???

[roppiepop]

Who’s coming to the cookout?

[little-eye-guy]

"this is too raw of a line to come from—" shut up. beauty and meaning is everywhere

[wetslug]

ppl who r using poll results as a way to Prove Something about society or come to any conclusion.. i hope you are aware that tumblr users are one of the most biased population groups you could conceivably find. gob bless

[puerto-nic0]

[jockbrannigan]

Starter for @mxyacho Setting: close to the Overflow Storage

It was time for Jock to earn his keep here in Redwood. That was what he was telling himself as he hovered at the threshold of his trailer. All he had to do was make it to the Overflow Storage and take inventory. That was it. Simple. Of course he couldn't let it be just simple, could he?

Deep breaths, counting to ten and back again, reminding himself Redwood was as safe as he could ever get these days and Jock was able to set foot outside of his trailer. And he was fine. So he could take step, and then another and another until he rounded past the solar panels and saw the overflow storage up ahead.

There was someone already at the overflow storage which Jock wasn't expecting. His heartrate spiked upwards as panic flashed through him. More deep breaths, more counting, and he pushed back against the panic. Besides, this person ahead of him was oddly familiar.

Apparently it wasn't enough that he would find Renee and her boys living here in Redwood but someone else from his long stint at the Hyland farm too. This woman's name didn't come back to him immediately but one fact about her did: she owed him a tattoo!

"Hey, I know you!" He called out to her, all the more certain she was who he was thinking of. "It's from a while ago, right? You stayed at Hyland Farm. We talked a lot and you told me you were a tattoo artist. Right? Am I right?"

[triona-tribblescore]

I WANNA DRAAWW!! RAHHHGG!! Absolutely swamped with college work, im so tired TT (hence whatever tf this is lmao)

[inafallsaway]

Drawing time!

[earl-of-221b]

I can’t explain what blue eye samurai makes me feel…….its a typical revenge story, a man sets out on his hero’s journey to kill the four men who have wronged him. A lone ronin, wide brimmed hat and sword in hand, roaming Edo Japan on his vendetta. But he’s not a man. He’s a woman. And how has he been wronged? What’s she getting revenge on?

On the fact that she exists. She wants revenge on the four white men that could possibly have conceived her. Who got her Japanese mother pregnant with a blue-eyed child. And not just any blue-eyed child, but a girl child. How is she possibly supposed to live in the world like that? For the wrong of being conceived, for the wrong of being born, for the wrong of being birthed into a world that will never love or accept her, she will kill her father.

I don’t know what level of convoluted self hate that is. Is she a child of rape? Or a child of a whore? Halfway through I realise what she told herself at the start couldn’t possibly be true - it’s not really for her mother. Her mother wasn’t the root of her vendetta, she wasn’t really doing it for her. When she leaves that farm and leaves the chance to live a simple, legitimate life as a woman, she goes right back to hunting down the men. Those men personally wronged her.

And then there’s so much to be discussed surrounding the way she grew up, because as a boy child and a man she can afford so much more than life has dealt her. Her swordfather who took her in out of the love and care in his heart had no shame in teaching a mixed man his art. The face of a ‘demon’ is fine. But not the identity of a woman. Shh. Don’t say it. Don’t confess. He knows and doesn’t want to hear it.

And because she’s lived that way her entire life for safety and security, she’s so completely alienated from being a woman, perhaps she really is he. But not really by choice. Or is it? The thing she does best is the art of killing, the art of men. Gender is a prison and gender is a performance and she has to choose which to perform. The times cannot reconcile hatred and violence with a woman. So she lives as a man.

So she can get revenge on her father, for revenge on herself.

[olasketches]

I can’t contain it anymore guys… I absolutely love uncle sukuna. I am actually obsessed.

[tzarrz]

i listen to fog lake too much

[syea-say]

The finale of a never-ending masquerade.

AQ 4.2 spoilers.

[starrysharks]

poids

comparison with the original from last year:

[biruesque]

who will love you in my place if i am gone?

5/12