#i picture them with the same wolves expressions

[12u3ie]

Hi I am NOT normal about pottery shards and I WILL talk about them

AKA: under the cut is me explaining all the pottery shard designs out in Minecraft 1.20 snapshots as of now (March 23, 2023) in alphabetical order, going over their design and their possible meaning in the lore. Pictures of each shard will be above the text of the listed shard. Now, let's get on with it shall we?

Angler. Starting off simple. A fishing rod with a fish at the end. The ancient society knew how to craft fishing rods and catch fish.

Archer. A drawn bow and arrow. They crafted bows and arrows and knew how to use them. Probably related to skeletons somehow. Maybe the skeletons are them? Maybe the skeletons just stole their technology once they were gone? Unsure.

In real life, bow-and-arrow technology was revolutionary in terms of human evolution. Some archeologists even theorize that bows were the tools that began the end for our cousins, Neanderthals. But in Minecraft... who knows?

Arms Up. A humanoid figure with their arms raised. The arms-up pose means something unknown. Perhaps a gesture of friendship, or peace? What we do know is that, for near certain, the ancient peoples were humanoid in nature, close if not near identical to modern players.

Blade. A sword. Very similar to the standard Minecraft sword model, with a slightly different hilt. Maybe a pixel art limitation, maybe not. The ancient peoples knew how to make swords.

Brewer. A bottle of some description. Seems like a mixed design between a glass bottle and a cauldron. Nevertheless, it has its origins in brewing. They knew how to brew potions. Did they have a different system of brewing to the modern day, or did they have access to the Nether for materials? Currently unknown.

Burn. A flame. They knew how to make fire, or at least knew of its existence. But drawing on the last point, perhaps it's not a fire, but a blaze powder instead. The textures are oddly similar to one another.

Danger. A creeper. Seems like these mobs have been around for a while, and have always been a pain in the backside to watch out for. Wonder if they replied to such a call of danger with "aw man."

Explorer. A map with an X, marking a specific spot. They hid treasures in the ground likely in the same way of IRL pirates - marking a spot on a map for later. Sadly, from modern treasure maps found in shipwrecks, it seems they weren't able to get back to all their spoils in time. Also indicates they knew how to make and use maps.

Friend. An iron golem face. The ancient peoples knew that iron golems existed and that they were protective and friendly towards them. Perhaps, building upon other, older theories, they made the iron golems themselves.

Heart. A standard heart shape. Possibly a visualization of love. Or perhaps they had hearts within them as humans do in the real world, and this is what they looked like.

Heartbreak. A heart broken in two down the vertical center. ...Let's go with the first assumption of the previous shard's imagery. A broken heart is often a symbol of a bad feeling over a lost relationship. The ancient society had intricate relationships between its peoples. They loved and fell out of love, in any and possibly every such meaning of the term.

Howl. A wolf. In the words of a dear friend of mine, "They had doggies!" Or, more likely, began the process of domesticating wolves into the tamable breed we know today. At the very least, they knew of the existence of wolves, regardless of whether the ancient people-wolf relations were good or not.

Miner. A pickaxe. The ancient peoples were able to craft tools like pickaxes to mine for resources. The pickaxe here, much like the sword, is slightly different in design to what we know today.

Mourner. A warden. Now this... this is a very interesting one. I have my own theories that would require a bit more explaining than this format will allow for. (Maybe I will express such thoughts at a later date, if readers wish to hear them...) Let your thoughts be known in the tags!

Plenty. An open chest. This proves that the ancient peoples had the ability to craft chests, and the need for extra storage beyond what could be carried (presumably in their inventories, if they had them).

Prize. A gem. This is an indicator that they were able to mine for resources. Now, some sources may indicate this as a diamond. However, the shape is very distinct from that of any diamonds ever in Minecraft. This may be a completely new - or rather, very old - and different gem than anything players have seen before.

Sheaf. A bundle of wheat. They had means of farming and collecting wheat, and perhaps other crops as well. Agriculture is a part of their culture.

Shelter. A tree. They were able to hide from the elements underneath trees, later emulating this with their own buildings.

Skull. A skull. This could either be the skull of a skeleton mob, from which the skull item drops today, or perhaps the skull of the deceased. They knew of skeletons and death in one form or another.

Snort. A sniffer. This proves that sniffers existed at the same time as this ancient civilization, and that these people were in some form of contact with sniffers.

-~-~-

Remember that anything listed here was important enough to the society of ancient peoples to be immortalized in the art of their pottery. Each one of these has some sort of significance.

-~-~-

Taglist: @darubyprincxx @nightshadeowl @eagle-warri

[the1975attheirverybest]

Hello. Since Matty posted new song, he posted a photo from drive like I do account, fans are getting excited about it but I am late what is it about drive like i do? Matty created it ? I'm sorry I need someone to explain it to me 😩🖤🖤

hey babe!

Drive Like I Do is The 1975. It's a band and its members are Matty, Adam, Ross, and George. Here's a very brief over view of the main facts for any new fans.

Before The 1975 became The 1975, they started several bands that had different names (same primary lineup. same 4 boys). "The Slowdown," "Talkhouse," "Bigsleep," and "Drive Like I Do."

They made a lot of songs under the band name "Drive Like I Do." Check them out here.

DLID was mostly an emo-pop band, or, to be fair to them, "emo inspired." as you can probably imagine, they put their own spin on things, as always.

Several DLID songs became 1975 songs. Examples: Sex, Robbers, She Way Out, Chocolate, among others. Mostly the same songs but re-arranged/ re-produced. You can still find the originals online and compare between versions!

After The 1975 became recognized, a lot of fans went back and listened to their DLID songs and enjoyed them very much. Popular DLID songs include Penelope, Lost Boys, One Wish, and Wolves.

Fans expressed interest in an official release of these songs, or potentially even more/ newer DLID songs, and Matty has always promised he'd do it.

Matty often refers to DLID as a "separate project" from The 1975. That is, its aesthetic, artistic influence, the band's philosophy is slightly different, so it wouldn't make sense to just re-release the songs as 1975 songs. They did that with the only songs that they thought would still be compatible.

Over the years, Matty has hinted at having made newer DLID songs with a plan to release a 6-track EP.

In fact, there was a time a few years ago when he contemplated ending The 1975 after making a final "Music For Cars" record, and then potentially doing solo stuff and/or DLID stuff. (that changed shortly thereafter though.)

Of the 6 new DLID tracks that Matty mentioned releasing as an EP, one got reworked, and one was given to Bea (Beabadoobe) called "Pictures Of Us." So now there are 4 tracks. One of which is potentially called "Nice Sweater," that he once posted a snippet of online.

Every year, rumors re-surface that The 1975 is finally planning on doing a DLID record. It never happens, lmao. But we can dream.

It seems like this might be more legit than a rumor this time though...cuz he did just release something? who knows.

I hope this helps!

[disasterofastory]

Doll - Part 1 (Stucky x Reader)

Doll Part 1 - The beginning // Doll Masterlist Stucky x Reader Bodyguard AU  Warnings: none

Summary: You are full of surprises, and your new bodyguards don’t know what to think about you.

A/N: So, I changed a few things, and it means a new start. I’m sorry if somebody preferred the previous chapter, but I feel much better about this story. Well, I hope you will like it too.

The room is quiet. The only thing you can hear is the boiling of your blood. Your father's words still echo in your ear.

Bodyguards. Fucking bodyguards.

You don't even waste your time looking at them. Your eyes are on your father, who looks back at you waitingly. The pen in his hand clicks every few seconds. The annoying sound drives you crazy. Taking a deep breath, you turn your head away from him. You drag your attention to the bookshelf, reading the familiar titles again and again until you are sure you can speak without losing control over your emotions.

"I don't need them," you speak up after a while. Your voice is dry and stoic. Your expression is the same. "I already decided, Y/N," your father answers, leaning onto his elbows on his desk. The dark blue suit stretches on his shoulders. The grey in his hair gleams under the filtering lights through the window behind him. "You should have asked me," you grunt out, jaw clenched. "Not when you live under my roof," he says back, making you roll your eyes. Of course, he says that. "Then I don't know why I am here," you answer, tilting your head. Your eyes are on the books again. There is a family picture on one of the shelves about you and your parents in Disneyland. There is a Mickey Mouse hat on your head. "I wanted to introduce you to them," he replies, glancing at the men behind you for a second. "Well, you did," you tell him, standing up from your seat. "Can I go now?" "Y/N..." Your father starts, but you cut in. Your voice is sharp and impatient. No, you don't want to hear his excuses. "I don't care," you scoff. "I will go now."

You know what your new bodyguards may think of you. An ungrateful brat. A spoiled little girl with anger issues. You don't care about their thoughts. They wouldn't understand anyway.

You hear their steps as they follow you. You have to force yourself not to turn back to them with a glare because they follow your father's instructions.

You are not angry because of the new bodyguards. Or at least not entirely. You are fuming because your father always does this. He plays with the big bad wolves, not caring about the cost you have to pay for it. And it is always your freedom and free will.

You grew up like this, under your father's orders. You couldn't go to school because it wasn't safe. You couldn't make friends without your parents' permission, and you couldn't learn whatever the fuck you wanted to because it wasn't about business. And now you have bodyguards.

Fucking bodyguards.

While you make your way to your car, the men stay behind you. They look at each other every now and again with a tired expression. You are like the others; a spoiled brat with too much money.

"I will go get a coffee and go to work," you inform them, not even bothering to look back. "I will be back at noon." "Your father told us to go with you wherever you go." You scoff. "Then where are you going?" They stop at your question, frowning. They are tall and broad. "We will follow you," the brunette answers, pointing at the black car with his car keys. They look at you like you are the crazy one. "Yes," you scoff again. "Because it will be good for the environment." "We won't go with your car," Steve is the one who answers this time. He is blonde with a clean-shaven face and long eyelashes. His crystal blue eyes swap over your small car. They would look in it like the clowns in those miniature cars. Ridiculous. "Of course not," you roll your eyes, still following them to their black vehicle.

The way to your favorite coffee shop is quiet except for the feminine voice of the GPS. Bucky sits behind the wheel. He has messy brown hair with slight stubble, hiding his chiseled jaw. When the car stops in front of the coffee shop, you get out without a word and are ready to disappear behind the entrance door, but you freeze in the middle, letting an older lady in before you. "Thank you, dear," she says, smiling up at you warmly. She doesn't seem to notice the focused frown on your face. "Damn it," you whisper to yourself, letting the door close behind the lady as you turn back to the car. The men in the car are watching you, confused. What's your problem? You stop at the car's window, knocking on it impatiently until Steve rolls it down. "Do you want coffee?" You ask them. Your tone is harsh in contrast with your polite offer. You confuse them more and more with every minute. "A latte would be good for both of us," Steve replies after a glance at Bucky. His words are unsure as he looks back at you and your sullen expression. Without saying anything else, you disappear into the shop, buying the coffee and a few sandwiches. When you get back to the car, they still seem uncertain as they thank you for the drink. "Don't throw the cups away," you tell them. "They are reusable." The travel cups with the shop's logo look like small thermoses. "And where now?" Bucky asks, trying to move on. "To the dog shelter," you inform him. "It's on the other side of the city." Steve and Bucky look at each other again while you are busy with your own drink. "So, do you work at the shelter?" Steve asks, trying to stir a conversation to get to know you better. They had enough surprises for today. "Well, I get paid," you reply, shrugging. "But it's more symbolic." "We were informed you work for your father's business." "I help him out from time to time," you answer. "But I prefer the shelter."

Steve and Bucky have no idea what to do with you. Your behavior is annoying, but at the same time, you seem... kind. Your face and voice are rude, but you offer them coffee, and you work for almost nothing to help dogs.

"I hope it's okay if you get dirty," you tell them. There is a mocking edge in your words. "We need people to clean the kennels."

They let you have fun, thinking you make them uncomfortable, but in reality, helping animals seems like a good way to spend their time, even if they have to do it in suits. Cleaning is nowhere as bad as some things they had to do before.

You can hear the barks even before you see the shelter. The main building is almost at the entrance gate with kennels and fenced areas behind it. When you arrive, the owner is already waiting for you. "And you brought volunteers," she says happily, and you can't help but snicker. "Yes," you nod, hugging her. "They are the new volunteers. You will see them a lot from now on." There is a mocking glint in your eyes again as you turn to your bodyguards. "They are Steve and Bucky," you tell the woman at your side. "And she is Ellie. She owns the place." "We are always glad for the help," she says, already ordering the men around towering over her. Her gray hair is in a messy bun, and you are sure she is much older than it seems at first glance, but she never revealed her age. "And you can continue your work with Mikey, right?" She says, turning to you now. "Yes," you reply, nodding. "Will you be fine? Boys?" Bucky frown at your last words but nods anyway.

For the next few hours, you barely see your bodyguards while you are busy with the sandy brown mix in one of the fenced areas.

The boy, Mikey, was brought here a few months ago. His owners gave up on him, saying he was aggressive and untrained. You started working with him immediately, hoping that with some help, he is going to find a new family thanks to his young age.

"He is Mikey?" Bucky asks, stopping at the fence. He leans against it, watching the dog sitting at your legs. He took off his black suit, pulling the white shirt's sleeve up to his elbows. "Yes." "What's his story?" "His family gave up on him, saying he is aggressive." "He seems fine," he replies, shrugging. "He is," you nod. "He wasn't aggressive. He is just too bossy for his own good." The brunette chuckles at that. A smirk pulls on his pouty lips as he looks up at you from the dog. "Is he?" "Oh, just shut up," you scoff with furrowed brows when you understand his comment. "I bought sandwiches if you are hungry. Go and eat instead of tormenting me." He hums as an answer, but at least he leaves you alone.

While you are busy with the training, your bodyguards sit at the wall of the main building, watching you from the distance. "What do you think?" Bucky asks between two bites. "I have no idea," Steve snorts. "She is too bossy for her own good," Bucky answers, still watching you while the blonde nods in agreement. "We worked for people like her before." "No," the brunette shakes his head. "Not like her."

[saintmeghanmarkle]

One of the things that annoys me the most about the current Kate situation : The Meghan comparison by u/BlueBell_02

One of the things that annoys me the most about the current Kate situation : The Meghan comparison Kate is literaly being harrased worldwide for actually trying to be private about a health issue and photoshoped picture while H&M have done nothing but talked about their private lives for the past 4 years while simultaneusly claiming to have been harrased by the press because of racism, and somehow these situation are made to be similar by the Sugars.HOW can that be similar?They are trying so hard to still make Meghan a victim and trying to keep her relevant when nobody is talking about her now that they keep inserting her in narratives that have nothing to do with her, like the current medical situation of Kate. They are so vindictive that you can see them saying Kate deserves this bulling because she was racist and mean to Megahn ( for ...* check notes* not wanting to share her lipgloss with her ) so she isn't allowed to privacy or complaint because to them Meghan faced the same and nobody did anything for her because of racism.In the past the montecito duo have relesed multiple photosoped pictures ( and its true, some of them where made fun of) but nobody question the motives of such corrections, nobody said they were dead or beaten because they added hair on their heads or erased wrinkles. Why with Kate has to be a hidden dark secret, and not maybe that she didn't feel great phisicaly after the surgery so she altered it so it could look better? is it really so strange?If anything this controversy has proven a point that has been made in the past but conviniently ignored in order to push the "racist royals bullied Meghan" narrative: the palace can't really control social media or what people say or what the press publish worldwide.There have been so many things said about them lately, William has a misstress, is a beater husband, is holding kate captive, etc, so, is this so diferent to the level of speculation that a newbi royal suffered when she arrived to the Royal family? was it really for her race or because she was the hot new thing of that moment so it was more profitable to talk abour her? If Meghan was "being feed to the wolves" as she claimed, what about Kate now then?is the palace able to protect her? is she being treated diferently than Meghan now? honestly she has been treated far worse, and not only now, they have hacked her cellphone, taking pictures of her naked, published really horrible magazine coverts and nasty nicknames, she has been chased and also speculated about her body and yet the Sugars wants us to believe that she had a special treatment that Meghan didn't have because of her race.The press is savage and has been savage to everyone, so the hypocresy and absurd comparison are the thing that annoys me the most in the middle of the internet conspiracies, fueled by the terrible PR team of the Wales ( seriously guys, at least try to do your job) so I really hope she recovers soon and makes an apereance so this can be only remembered as an insane internet moment. post link: https://ift.tt/HcWzGgX author: BlueBell_02 submitted: March 14, 2024 at 03:51AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[jetblkhotelmirror]

frank stans, how are we feeling?

i dont want to start anything but i would like to here peoples input on this- so, if youre gonna comment, be nice to each other please lol

im assuming that even though i havent seen much on it, the people here know about the ls dunes issues and related frank issues, but, to give a very short summary- ls dunes released an ai music video and when fans (rightfully) voiced their concern about the ethical implications of this, they doubled down, got defensive, and ended up saying some really harsh, hurtful things to fans. additionally, they have allowed "ai bros" to take over their fanbase and effectively bully original fans out of online spaces using homophobic, transphobic, and misogynistic rhetoric. in the aftermath, frank made an antisemetic joke (seemingly accidentally) and fans tried to (very calmy and respectfully for the most part) inform him that it was offensive, but instead of simply apologizing and taking it down, or doing anything productive whatsoever, he got mad and started insulting fans and insisted that it was not antisemetic and that he had done nothing wrong/people couldnt "take a joke." i might be forgetting some things but, lastly, a friend and frequent photographer of ls dunes showed up to a party dressed as an ls dunes fan. his outfit consisted of a bright orange wig, and ls dunes beanie, fingerless skeleton gloves, and the ls dunes shirt with wolves on it that was designed by a fan. it was clearly an attempt to laugh at and make fun of fans, specifically girls and women in the fanbase, and, though it wasnt one of the band members wearing it, the fact that he felt that it was not only okay but also funny means that fans are likely a common , or at least not an uncommon, subject of jokes or ridicule in that circle. a lot of people are justifiably upset that a band who was initially so vocal about loving and supporting the fanbase that has loved and supported them for so many years would let this happen, especially after all of the shitty things that have done/allowed to be done to fans in the last few months

im 100% done with ls dunes at this point for a number of reasons (ai, the toxicity in the new fanbase, the bashing of the fans for expressing their concerns, this costume, etc), but im not sure how to feel about frank in all this. i know that he has had a part in all of the dunes shit, so im definitely not his number 1 fan anymore, but the other stuff like the doubling down on the antisemetic joke is still rubbing me the wrong way.

i am kind of having a hard time being objective about this because i have loved him and his music for so many years, so i was wondering if anyone here has any thoughts or input as to what theyre thinking about frank after this whole situation. i certainly dont think he is flawless, and i never have, but at this point, after everything that has happened, i feel uncomfortable continuing to "stan" him in the way that i have been, and i definitely dont feel comfortable going on as if nothing has happened. like.. ive had a frank profile picture since i got a twitter account, and same on here, but i changed it bc i dont want people to think i support some of the shit thats been going on, so i really dont know what to do here

thoughts, anyone?

[fiotrethewey]

headcanon game. character: leela :) questions: 🏳️‍⚧️, 🧸, 🪢 , 😺, 😬, 😭 please.

Send in a character or characters and an icon and I’ll give you…

🏳️‍⚧️ A gender headcanon

I think Leela is very comfortable with her gender, but I don’t think it occurs to her much to think about her own gender, or how other people’s gender expression matter. 

For example, if Andred had become a woman when regenerating, I don’t think that would have bothered her much, it’s his actions. If Romana’s next incarnation was male she would not treat them any differently either. If only to get used to their new appearance and voice - but know ultimately they are the same person. 

🧸 A headcanon about their childhood

Leela used to cook for her family and tribe, as she loves to cook for them. I picture massive bowls of stews with spices found in the wilds. She is also still to this day a fabulous cook, and those in the know appreciate her meals very much.

🪢 A headcanon about their family

Leela’s family was stubborn. A central family that, as part of the tribe, were seen as tools. She was raised to be a warrior, nothing more, and so was not able to learn what it was like to be a proper family. Something that she was able to learn more about in her travels with the Doctor, and later finding a family of her own on Gallifrey, as hectic as it was. There’s love there, and she knows it.

😺 An animal-related headcanon

Leela feels like a person who adores wolves, pack animals with a sense of fierce loyalty to each other. I’d give her a pet wolf.

😬 A headcanon about the worst thing they’ve done

Leela knows the worst thing she’s done is doubt any of her friends. Doubt results in indecision, and indecision can destroy lives. 

😭 A headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them.

Leela being bound to serve Gallifrey’s War Room is probably the worst thing that could happen to her. She’s unable to truly make her own decisions without extreme consequences, locked into a fate she cannot escape from. She’s been treated as lower than dirt - and even though that has changed over time and she has found respect and companionship - it is still not the same feeling of freedom and respect she had back in the days of Romana’s presidency.

[good-beans]

hi beans!!! I saw your tags on my poll and I have to ask... Murder Swap AU for milgram??? 👀👀👀👀

I am very intrigued and I don't know if you've mentioned it somewhere before but I'd love to learn more about it if that's okay!! 💜

(also random side note thank u for ur lovely comments about my ocs they make me smile so much awawaaa okay bye--)

Ahhh yes!! ☺️Thanks for asking wahh, I didn't realize people would be curious ;-; Unfortunately it's not any kind of fully fleshed out au story or anything, just something that I have one post about and personally bounce around in my head a lot. It's a fun character exercise for me, seeing what's core to a character, what's a core to a crime, and the similarities/differences between the prisoners. It was supposed to have fun art for it, but somebody keeps putting it off *gives myself a pointed look*

The original post is here, though this has nudged me to make some updates! With their new videos, I now know more to modify Shidou/Mahiru's. It was necessary because of the ages, but I wasn't satisfied with Kotoko's, so I gave her another one here. And Kazui/Haruka's changed now that I have a clearer idea of Kazui's crime. (I know Cat isn't out yet but when I wrote the first post I thought Kazui's murder had been neglect-based -- he left his wife in the path of danger and wasn't there to help because they'd drifted apart. Now that I've looked deeper into his story I see it's different...)

Doctor Mahiru is very much the same, except this time she did start her family with her boyfriend/now husband -- she has the older daughter and younger son she always dreamed of. They're like a picture out of a magazine, or her romance novels. The perfect happy family. And then the accident strikes, and she has sixteen days to make a choice to save one of them by sacrificing another. She was also taking organs from patients prior to this, but saw everything through her painfully optimistic lens. She was saving lives. She was the perfect mother, perfect wife, perfect doctor. It isn't until she does the same to her own family that she realizes what a horrible act she's been committing.

Shidou is deeply and madly in love with his girlfriend he met when moving to the city, but he still has a tendency for deception and distraction. (He mentions in one of his questions that his wife takes charge with a lot of the care at home and he relies on her) in the au, he'd be equally reliant on her but always painting things perfectly. He twists truths and hides mistakes to convince her everything is perfect, even though she's struggling with her own pain and seeing the cracks in their relationship. He hears her mention suicidal thoughts, but buries them -- and any trace of negativity -- with grand stretched truths of how perfect everything is. He ignores the signs until it's too late.

(Half the fun is the aesthetic swapping, but I realized that Shidou's also works if he was still a doctor lol. He's so caught up in monitoring her physical health every time she complains of struggling, but doesn't take into account her mental strain. He treats her like a patient, only looking at physical symptoms, misleading her and himself about the reality of her emotions)

So yeah, I originally needed Kotoko to swap with Yuno since the other girls are too young (and Mahiru was already taken). Still, it felt weird removing her drive for justice, especially seeing how Harrow/Deep Cover hints that she lives for this purpose alone. I realized she could be cool to swap with Shidou -- and she protects the weak by saving everyone no matter the cost. She believes in her heart that the ends justify the means every time. She will be the fang for those who can't advocate for themselves, that's justice to her. I've seen some theories about lost family members as the wolves in her mv, so it would be those people in her "pack" that she kills/saves to make her second guess her work.

Haruka always had trouble expressing his emotions. Though his parents weren't outright abusive, they didn't know how to deal with any neurodivergence in their children, and couldn't help him when he had trouble communicating. They force him to take up theater in school to help him open up, but it only makes him better at acting and hiding his true self. He's awkward and shy, but found that lying could save him from many unwanted circumstances. He constantly lies to his sister as he grows more distant from his family. She discovers the shocking truth to one of these, leading to an emotional confrontation. After so much time bottling himself up, hiding behind masks, the only way he manages to communicate is in an explosive way, and the accident ensues.

And okay, I said it jokingly at first, but I actually think it'd work if Es and Jackalope swapped. The knowledgeable voice of the project is calm and serious. Es remains mysterious, and tells us to take our duty very seriously. But of course we haven't 100% done that -- an anime's fandom is definitely better portrayed by the cheeky rabbit willing to make judgements for whatever personal reasons come to mind first

[halinski]

Question to be answered when you're awake: but autistic!Derek's response to Stiles' innate ability to understand the wolves and their... culture (???) and what that meant to Derek after only having that with Laura for the longest time? (And that Stiles understands Derek himself, that Stiles knows about Paige and never judges him for it, that Stiles knows when to let him breathe and when to push aaaaaa)

IT'S THE FACT THAT

Stiles doesn't just take it for granted that Derek killed Laura, or that werewolves are murderous beasts (or wolves for that matter). Yes, he reads up on it and confronts Scott about it, and yes he knows wolves haven't been in California for over 60 years, and he tries to learn everything he can about werewolves that's available to him as a mundane human.

He doesn't take his info as a black and white fact (derek = murder), potentially bc he learned better but also lets be real, he's what 16, going on 17, and he's already wise enough to see the bigger picture and give Derek the benefit of the doubt bc like... What sense does it make? He knows about the hale fire, he knows Laura is Derek's sister, why would Derek kill her? What motive would Derek have? What he's seen of Derek, the way Derek has acted toward them doesn't scream sibling murderer in his eyes, so Stiles walks straight up to him and PUSHES. He confronts aggressively and tries to make sense of it.

He's weaseling himself into everything. And Derek probably wonders why. Derek mostly just wants to get to Scott and Scott's just pushing him away but Stiles is the one who unblinkingly returns his gaze, who not only pushes back, but always will come running first. Stiles is the one looking for the right thing, for the just thing.

Which Derek doesn't understand why at first but realizes Stiles does it out of loyalty and preotection for his family. He consideres Scott his family so he will do literally anything to save Scott and protect Scott and see Scott thrive. Same as with his dad.

And that- that resonates a lot with wereolf packs in Derek's eyes and it makes him YEARN for family. It reminds him of how Laura fought for him probably. I imagine that Derek tried to hide from her, that he pulled back and fought with her, that he took on such guilt from the fire and insinuated to her that it was his fault. She probably never understood why because how could he ever bring himself to voice the cause of what killed her family and how he'd let it right in through the back door (in his mind). But she'd always fought back to stay at his side.

just like how stiles fought for Scott.

And he wonders probably what Stiles went through to be able to counter him with the same dry, slightly morbid sarcasm. To all of a sudden adopt Derek into his pack, he realizes after he wakes up to Stiles over him, slapping him awake for the second time. That here's another boy ready to fight tooth and bone, life and death at such a young. Not afraid of blood and pain. Soaking up knowledge as if his brain was as vast as the sea.

Yet he has some things Derek doesn't have, like the words like stars in the sky to fill the vast space, the energy and mobility to spark his hands into movement at any second, always ready, his facial expressions always communicating. He was the Day to his Night, yin to his yang, the ADHD to his Autism

[obriengf]

hi love! can i please request 12. safeguard with stiles? thank you so much!! <3

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (3/10)

SAFEGUARD : for one muse to save the other from being hit by a vehicle or from some other life-threatening event.

Warnings : blood, severe injury, character demise - not a happy ending (:

Hopelessness embraced you like a weighted blanket; ponderous despair that bolted you to the ground and ceased your movements. You could hardly tell how long you’ve been here, the room you're deteriorating within had remained the same shade of darkness, and the temperature only decreasing from the stale moisture that had also found it’s way into your lungs. Loneliness was easily accepted by now and you acceded it with open arms if it meant cutting yourself off from the pain you’ve been inflicted. You hurt, and you had hardly spoken to anyone - refusing to tell them just what makes your pack tick, what unites you all and congregates such power. 

Trapped. You were trapped. You were taken, and you were bound. You were held against your will and they tried to make you talk - they really did. But you never would. They realised that. And that’s what made you so damn expendable.

The deliria was a bittersweet welcome the moment it started to set in. You were unable to tell the difference between reality and whatever your mind was forcing you to see, and for the better, it was a good thing. Reality was much, much harsher than hearing the voices of your friends and picturing the smiles of your loved ones as they sat beside you and coaxed fake faith for rescue. You truly wanted to believe that everything would be okay - after all, you had imagined figures telling you that it would be, and you were desperate to cling to whatever optimism you could get your hands on.

You couldn’t help as your sappless head lulled against the cold brick wall when your capturs returned; the pain in your body settling in every muscle and bone as if they were now permanently scarred and the affliction was simply just a part of you. Although your mind was slipping, you could still determine that the unforgiving gazes over your deteriorating body belonged to those of supernatural identities. They weren’t just wolves, they were something else, and they were dangerous.

You hardly even flinched as one crouched before you, their self-proclaimed leader Virgil, his forearms perching upon his knees with hands clasped between you two. He wore a hardered expression and smelt faintly of woodchips and stale cigarettes - the only things you could properly register as your consciousness teetered. It was easy to see that from the moment you first met him, that his impatience had grown substantially and that he wore frustration like an extra limb. 

You shouldn’t have been left alone. The pack agreed to stay together, to have each other’s backs, to protect and be protected. It had been seen over hundreds of times in horror films - do not follow the strange sound. But you did, and you were isolated from your friends the moment your head was struck by a blunt object. The disorientation you felt when your eyes managed to drag themselves opened was more than astounding, and the headache had yet cleared. That was days ago. You were sure that the back of your head was still sporting a matted red look, and that the paleness of your skin only made your newly decorated bruises stand out even more. Virgil was proficient at pestering you for information but you didn’t dare break, electing to suffer instead of giving up your second family. They didn’t hesitate, however, to use infliction of pain to prove their distaste. 

You were a wreck; falling apart and plummeting slowly, but surely.

“I’m sure ya know just how rare True Alphas are.” The voice started, his tone low and gravelly alongside the absent-minded cracking of his knuckles. His darkened eyes were hard to miss, even through the curtain of his long lashes as he stared at you, hoping that his intimidation was enough to make you crack. His tongue darted out quickly to lap at his dried lips, “But what most people don’t know, is that they’re really only as strong as their pack. Your pack.” 

The scoff you offered him was dripping with disgust, and you were sure that your eyes even rolled back with all of the sarcasm you had the energy to muster, “Too bad you’re never gonna know what that’s truly like. It really is a shame.”

His chuckle was dry and irritant, only enhanced by the way his hands squeezed into fists and you winced at the thought of those fingers leaving behind purple splotches against your skin once again. Virgil tutted, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in annoyance, “There are wolves, a coyote, kitsune, banshee... but what are you?  Besides a pain in my ass.”

“An abominable snowman.” Your reply was instant, a cheeky channel from the boy that taught you sarcasm a little too well. Virgil’s eyebrow rose as he silently questioned whether you considered him as being that stupid, to which you just smiled, “But ya know, it’s more of a wintertime thing. Seasonal.”

It was quick when his palm struck your face; the impact provoking instant feeling of nausea to bubbling in your chest. The days without food or water wouldn’t be helping the situation. The smack was loud as it echoed off the brick walls, the dilapidated building you’re held up within only allowing the sound to travel alongside the whine that unwillingly slipped past your now bleeding lips. It was human reaction when your eyes squeezed shut and you pushed yourself back as far as you could against the wall, curling your body inward as your forced yourself not to release a defeated sob.

He was getting to you, and he could see it as you broke. But you still wouldn’t talk, no matter what hell you had to drag yourself through.

Virgil slurred ‘bitch’ under his breath as he regained full stance before allowing his booted foot to slam into your ribs, your wail finally escaping and reverberating around the open space. You wanted to tell him to just get it over and done with - just kill me now. But you couldn’t let him win that easily, not after everything you had been through over the years, and you wouldn’t back down without a good ol’ fight first. 

You didn’t expect to hear it; the loud bang down the hall, smashing glass, and howls of angry wolves. It was sudden and brash and made Virgil and his men jump as fear shone within their eyes. It felt too good to be true... am I just too far gone, or have they come for me? Will eyes flutter open and be met with a dark room once more, or will the supernatural A Team come bounding through that door and save the day? Salvation was only a lick away and it gave you a desired warmth in your stomach. 

Hastily, you were left alone in the room again. You wanted to scream out, to make yourself known, to be a waypoint to your rescuers - if it really was your rescuers. The moment you tried to voice out, your body coiled back, sharpness exploding in your ribs and forcing your head to thump. You could feel that headache again as it beat loudly, like a heart, like a reminder that your strength was dipping, like a final ounce of consciousness struggling to anchor itself. Maybe, it would be for the best if you closed your eyes and waited, if you let yourself slip just the tiniest bit, until the pain was gone. Just for a moment. 

Hopefulness wasn’t that far away; it was an overdue kiss to the forehead, the anticipated squeeze of a hand. You were beckoned awake by the familiarity of a gentle voice, the tone saturated in worry and despair as it rang with such urgency into your ears. You noticed his touch next as you attempted to squeeze his hands back, your eyelashes struggling to wake as they danced across your cheekbone. The boy brought warmth and satisfaction and you could cry on the spot just by knowing that Stiles Stilinski was with you and by your side, where he always belonged.

His voice shook as it tried to stay grounded, “Open your eyes for me, sweetheart, please. Let me see those pretty eyes... I need to see them, okay?” 

It was nearly impossible just to see him - the intensity of your exhaustion weighing down your eyelids, your body conflicted to follow your heart when it was just so damn destroyed. You could feel your shoulders squirm in the slightest as you pushed past a small cry, but it was the feeling of his hold as it cradled your cheek that was a trigger enough to finally look at your sweet boy. Stiles’ body relaxed immediately when his gaze could bore into yours; the golden whisky shade of his eyes briefly clouded by bubbled tears that collected on his lash line. He was beyond relieved to have you back, tempted to sacrifice the world just to have his love in his arms again.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He cooed, his thumb rubbing under your eye, careful to not aggravate the darkened circles made by sleep deprivation and bruising.

You could hardly speak as you throat tore from dryness, but you still smiled, whispering delicately, “You found me.”

“I wasn’t going to stop until I found you. These past few days... they’re some of the worst days of my life. I was going out of my freaking mind.” Stiles lent in to press another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he took in your presence and the alleviation your vitality left. His lengthy fingers left you to fiddle in the depths of his jeans, satisfied when he pulled out the swiss army pocket-knife that his dad gifted for his eighteenth birthday. His trusty sword, you always called it. He reached behind you to cut away at the zip ties that bound your hands together before breaking away the tie around your legs, a loud sigh eliciting from the relief that came with freedom.

You knew this wasn’t a mind trick - how could it be when you could feel the sprouting of regained life in your chest, how it offered hope and light and future. You could relish in this feeling forever, and you nearly did.

Nearly.

Familiar frigidity filled your space in the snap of fingers. One second Stiles was there, and then he was ripped away from you as your eyes fluttered open. His voice rang shrill as it called your name. You suddenly couldn’t hear the continuous battle with your friends beyond this room, you couldn't smell the mould and mildew that had surely found home in your lungs, you couldn’t feel the chill of the concrete floor as your nails ripped against it at the sight of Stiles being held back by two of Virgil’s men. You were only focused on your sweet boy.

“How sweet, teenage love.” The man of the hour spat against the shell of your ear, prompting uncomfortable shivers to travel down your spine. The growing emitting from his tone suggested that he was in wolf form, something you were accustomed to when it came to your Alpha and friends. Only this time, you could sense the red hot rage that was coursing through his veins and how a claw dragged with odd tenderness down your cheek, then your throat.

“Don’t you goddamn touch her.” Stiles squirmed, his human frame held back with each movement he made. Virgil threw his head back with a laugh, striding tall with intimidation as he made his way toward Stiles, standing beside him as they both faced your battered body.

Virgil hummed, finger tapping briefly against Stiles’ chest, “I can hear you, thump thump thump.” He gestured to his heart, claw pushing against him until he only just pierced the skin. The wolf chuckled again, “Just you wait until I have this bitch bleeding out on my floor. What a sight that’ll be.” 

Stiles tugged with all his strength, a groan ripping through his throat at the struggle. He was beyond angry now - absolutely seething at the promise of your demise, and he wasn’t going to have it. Your head shook at the thought of your love getting hurt, especially if it be anything like you. So you cleared your throat and spoke up, much to everyone’s surprise.

“I’ll tell you everything, if you let him go. Then you can do whatever you want with me.” 

This intrigued the wolf, his ears visually perking at your offer. He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, muscles swelling as his head tilted in curiosity. He didn’t expect you to break after these dragging days, and especially because of a silly human boy. Love makes people do crazy things. Virgil hummed, “Even with them all out there fighting for your life, you’d still give ‘em up, just for him? For love, of all damn things?” He sighed, digging his heel against the floor, “You really are a stupid girl.”

Stiles grunted, protesting against your sacrifice, “Don’t say anything, it’s not worth it. I’m not worth it!”

“You’re worth everything and more, Stiles! I’ve made my decision...” It pained you to tear your gaze away from your worried boyfriend, your focus hardening instantly as it landed back on the man with the cheshire smile, “Let him go, and I’m yours.”

Ulterior motives are often hard to spot. They’re so well trained to exist in plain sight, to become so apart of the story that the twist in the plot can’t be seen coming. So easily, they can shake and turn the things that you thought was going to happen - when suddenly, the path changes, and the new direction takes you more than just by surprise. That’s what happened when Virgil let Stiles go. 

The boy ran instantly toward you the moment his arms were broken free, and that hopefulness returned. That goddamn hopefulness that you never thought you would feel again until he found you in the first place. That goddamn hopefulness that glistened in your eyes and sang in your heart. That goddamn hopefulness that did embrace you like a hug, only made from warm touches and not weighted blankets. That goddamn hopefulness that was ripped away so goddamn fast that you never saw it coming.

Stiles never got to you, and your eyes widened when he stood frozen, only a few feet away. Golden hues that made your knees weak had suddenly lost their saturation, murkiness sitting in their wake. It made you travel your focus down as a hand protruded from Stiles’ torso - claws curling to form a fist before those familiar run-down converse shoes were lifted from the floor. His white shirt was stained red - like the apples you would share during Spring, or the colour of lipstick that was pressed to his cheek after your first date. Red were the roses that he gave you on your sixth-month anniversary, and the album you two couldn’t stop singing to every single day during that one Summer break. Red was the blood that now seeped from his lips and down his chin, a dribble that soon turned to much more. Stiles was painted red from head to toe, and it stopped you from breathing.

Virgil was kind enough to throw the body of your boyfriend by your feet before you crawled to him, wailing so incredibly loud that you missed the moment the door was kicked in. You dragged Stiles’ head to your lap and sat your hands on his cheeks, tears that had trailed down your face now mixing with those of his own as they fell. Hands trembled and your lip quivered, a mantra of ‘no no no’ spoken under your breath as you tried to process what was happening.

“Don’t do this, you can’t leave me. You can’t leave me, Stiles!” You were angry and sad and you wanted to scream until your throat burned. You wanted to shove your hand into the cavity of your chest and rip out your own heart - you wouldn’t be needing it if you didn’t have Stiles Stilinski to give your everything to. He tried saying your name, a reassuring sentiment, but the words were drowned by the bubbling of his blood and you completely broke. You shushed him, thumbs rubbing so gently against his skin, “I’m right here, okay? I love you. I love you so much.”

You didn’t notice when the howling ceased, when the battle stopped, when the room fell quiet, or when your friends won. You couldn’t hear the way their sobs started to harmonise with yours, nor did you see them fall to their knees over their dying friend. It wasn’t meant to end this way.

“H-here let... let me...” Scott’s voice was hoarse as he crouched next to you, his eyes slamming shut the second he saw the pool of red that you and Stiles were sitting within. Scott reached out for Stiles’ arm as an attempt to take the pain away, but nothing came. 

Stiles’ head lulled to the side as he coughed out blood, enough to allow him to get out a few words, “There’s no pain, Scotty. It’s just peace.”

You sniffled loudly as one hand dragged through his brown locks, pulling through the tangled mess. You sighed, sadness evident in your tone, “We’re all here with you. It’s okay. We’ll be okay.” 

For the last time, your sweet boy peered up to you, his lips curled in the smile that you fell in love with first. His eyes sparkled, offering adoration. 

Stiles Stilinski drew his final breath, “I love you.” 

[thesorcerersapprentice]

✦ C U C U F A T E ✦ CHARACTER PROFILE

Cucufate is Altaluna's (the protagonist) main ally in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Under the cut, you’ll find his complete profile! *I'll update this page as I come up with new details.

TAG LIST: (ask to be + or - ) @the-finch-address @achilleanmafia @fearofahumanplanet @winterninja-fr@avrablake​ @iced-ginger-tea​ @wildswrites​​ @tate-lin​ @outpost51 @d3mon-ology @hippiewrites @threeking @lexiklecksi

I D - CARD 

✦  Full Name: Cucufate or Cucuphas (I borrowed the name from the patron saint of petty thieves and kyphosis). Pronounced: "cook - ooo (as in "goo") - fa (as in "fa-la-la-la-la") - te (as in "telephone"). ✦  Age: Unknown ✦  Sex & Gender: Irrelevant, but I'm thinking male? ✦  Physical Description: Cucufate is a culpeo, a South American canid otherwise known as a Paramo Wolf or Andean Fox (although it bears a striking resemblance to the red fox, it's actually more closely related to wolves and coyotes). ✦ Occupation: One of Valeriano's Abandoned Projects.

INSPIRATION

✦ Socrates & Bartleby: (*I'm in the process of rewriting this section, as it isn't very clear. Thanks for your patience!) Cucufate is based on two figures: the ancient philosopher Socrates and Bartleby from the short story Bartleby, The Scrivener by Herman Melville. What I wanted to do with Cucufate was find a way to have an animal speak without necessarily resorting to a 'human' voice (a voice that furthers our aims, mimics and thus elevates our culture, clarifies and informs etc.). This is where Socrates and Bartleby enter the picture. They both provide a language model that subverts standard communication. For instance, despite being the primary character in Plato's Dialogues and one of the most famous philosophers of all time, Socrates makes no positive or prescriptive claims (thou shalt not blah, this is that etc.). Instead, he talks in (flattery &) questions, undermining any certainty his interlocutors might feel by prodding and probing their knowledge of x, y & z until they are forced to reveal their ignorance (this is known as Socratic irony). Socrates' speech is thus a kind of anti-speech. If it spotlights a topic, it does so only to reveal the immensity of the darkness that sustains it, its lack of substance. Indeed, whenever Socrates opens his mouth, he widens the abyss that will eventually swallow his interlocutor's thoughts and beliefs whole, and terminate the discussion (silence). Hence, Socratic dialogue successfully humiliates and confuses us. It strips us of that very human arrogance, our intellectual bravado, so that we too can become wise: so that we too can share in the wisdom of knowing that we don't know. Doesn't the natural world do the same? Isn't that precisely the horror of climate change? Bartleby, on the other hand, taps into the ambiguity of certain language formulas. His signature phrase "I would prefer not to," which he repeats whenever he's asked to do his job, expresses a hypothetical that... never seems to go anywhere? It's the Schrodinger's Cat of phrases, simultaneously dead and alive; he'd prefer not to, but... will he or won't he? Yes. The ambiguity, the inaction of it, dumfounds and incapacitates his employer. Bartleby's speech thus provides an example of a language that resists, confounds rather than clarifies, and complicates rather than simplifies. Like Socratic irony, Bartleby's masterful use of the conditional and modal auxiliary verb "would," disrupts the status quo. Because Cucufate's speech pattern draws from both of them, he becomes an effective helper to Altaluna; by engaging with her, he counteracts the temptation to think along the lines of a simplistic, "heroic" fascism (good vs. evil, light vs. darkness, us vs. them), and forces her instead to adopt a more nuanced stance, capable of aptly handing contradiction and ambiguity. (*Appropriated from this post).

✦ Cunning Intelligence in Greek Culture and Society by Marcel Detienne & Jean-Pierre Vernant: "When Oppian describes the cunning of the fishing frog squatting in the mud, motionless and invisible, he compares it to the fox: ‘The scheming fox (agkulómetis kerdō) devises a similar trick; as soon as it spots a flock of wild birds it lies down on its side, stretches out its agile limbs, closes its eyelids and shuts its mouth. To see it you would think that it was enjoying a deep sleep or even that it was really dead, so well does it hold its breath as it lies stretched out there, all the while turning over treacherous plots (aióla bouleúousa) in its mind. No sooner do the birds notice it than they swoop down on it in a flock and, as if in mockery, tear at its coat with their claws, but as soon as they are within reach of its teeth the fox reveals its cunning (dólos) and seizes them unexpectedly. The fox is a trap; when the right moment comes the dead creature becomes more alive than the living. [….] If the metis of the fox is immediately detectable in its skill at playing dead, it is dazzlingly apparent in this sudden reversal. In effect, the fox holds the secret of reversal which is the last word in craftiness." (pp. 35-36)

© 2023 The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. All rights reserved.

[thegreatobsesso]

HELLO I MISS YOU!! Tell me what Callie and Riley and everyone have been up to lately. I need my fix.

I... fffffcuking adore you. ☺️☺️☺️ I miss you too, I think about you and your OCs all the time and I mean to catch up on what you have been up to soon. I've been all over the place lately. 👻

Right now as of where I am in draft two, Callie is at Delaney, helping defeat magical racism and learning how nice it feels to be a part of a group and do good things. She's getting really close to figuring out how to actually belong somewhere and be authentic instead of playing a role she thinks people will find impressive.

Riley is somewhere else, helping the magical racists do terrible science experiments on magicians in the hopes that she can use the results to rid herself of her own magic. Meanwhile, she's also courting their enemies, the magic supremacists, to discover the key to longer life because the fucked up experiments she's doing might just kill her before she manages to discover the secrets she's looking for.

During this phase of the books they only interact twice, both times via the telephone. I'll share the first one because it's a personal favorite. :D

Adding my tag list because I never use it anymore and quite frankly, I don't know why.

@avrablake​ @adie-dee​ @dontjudgemeimawriter​ @ryorine​ @thelaughingstag​ @winterandwords​ @afoolandathief​ @asomeoneperson​ @cedar-west​ @diphthongsfordays​ @lowslore​ @poetinprose​ @cilly-the-writer​​​​​​​​ @harps-for-days

Callie POV

It wasn’t a big deal. It really, honestly wasn’t.

She dialed, and waited. One ring. Two rings. She wasn’t going to answer and hell, that was probably for the best. 

Three rings, four rings. And actually, this was fine, it was- 

“Hello?” 

Fuck, shit, fuck.

She sounded the same. Riley was on the other end of the line sounding the same, the same way she sounded in Callie’s head.

“Hi,” she managed. “It’s... Callie.” 

A pause. “Oh.” 

This was a mistake, a terrible mistake, what was she supposed to- 

“It’s been awhile. Why are you calling?” 

She swallowed the growl in the back of her throat. No need for niceties anyway, she didn’t call to chit-chat and she didn’t need to pretend otherwise, didn’t want to prolong this, so, fine. “I’m calling because I need your help,” she said. 

Silence on the other end of the line except for some distant clicking, metal on glass. “Do you?” 

Two syllables - how could someone inject so much infuriating presumption into two syllables? She could hear one of Riley's eyebrows go up, a perfect inverted V. 

"We do," she modified quickly. “The world's going to shit, and we're trying to..." 

Subvert the government? Fuck the police? How could she convey this without saying it outright? 

“Is this about SISA?” 

“Maybe,” she decided on. She couldn’t tell everything, not over the phone and not to a heartless, manipulative bitch who’d feed her own babies to the wolves. “We're trying to help, and we could use you." She bit her tongue. "Please,” she managed begrudgingly.

"Why me?" Riley asked evenly. “You call me out of the blue when I’m sure Simon Bennett could have a hundred scientists by his side in a second if he asked for them. You’re asking me. Why?” 

Ooh, she hadn’t figured it out - what a wonderful surprise. "Because it's about me," she said, a flutter of pleasure in her stomach at being out ahead for once. "And nobody knows more about how I work than you do." 

Silence, again - pornographically satisfying silence, and she wished so dearly she could see Riley's face, watch her try not to look interested. How strange, that they spent so little time together and still, Riley's micro-expressions were burned into her memory in merciless detail. Even now when she tried to picture Bennett, he came to her like a cartoon. Two-dimensional; heavy lines and exaggerated features. Riley was a living photograph. Why was that? 

“I’m actually intrigued,” she admitted, with an edge to her voice that almost made Callie believe it. “But I can’t.” 

"Why not?" 

"Because I've got a life of my own," Riley said simply. "And as helpful as you were to me in a single point in time, it doesn't revolve around you." 

Her cheeks caught fire. Tears welled up out of nowhere and she blinked furiously, gripping the phone hard enough to snap it in two. 

"Fine," she gulped. "Eat shit and die then, we’ll do it without you.” 

"Callie," Riley said, just as she was about to hang up and possibly throw the phone across the room. "How are you?" 

She misheard - must've. "What?"

"Are you okay?" 

Nothing could've pinned her to the spot quite like that simple question, with seemingly no ulterior motive to fuel it. Was she okay? 

“Y-yeah," she stammered, like a fucking idiot. "I guess so. Um. How are you?" 

A pause. "I'm alright,” Riley said. The sides of her face tingled. "Take care of yourself, Callie." 

The line went dead, but she sat there holding the phone anyway. 

One time at Bible camp, she jumped into a lake from twenty feet up without plugging her nose and she swore water shot straight up into her brain. She surfaced gagging and crying, water and snot streaming down her chin. It burned all the way through her skull, just like this. 

Yikes, Bennett sent across the bridge, even though he wouldn't have really said that word, it was just that sort of feeling, sympathetic surprise. That bad? 

She hung up the phone numbly. Fire-water, all the way up in her brain. 

what is wrong with me, she sent. She felt fucked up. She refused to qualify it any further. 

Bennett, on the other end of the bridge, was busy measuring his words with extraordinary caution. You wouldn’t be the first, he said carefully. 

She wiped at her eyes furiously. first to what. 

To... you know. Fall for somebody that’s bad for you. 

Screeching brakes. Spinning wheels. Her brain flipped off the side of the road. I HAVEN’T I DIDN’T I DON’T I’M NOT-

Okay, okay. Bennet backed away. We’ll figure this out without her, don’t worry. 

She wasn’t worried, not about that. For a hot second she wasn’t even worried about Grace anymore. She was really only worried about how utterly fucked she was and didn’t even know it until just now.

[chrenvs3000w24]

Natural, Musical

One of the cornerstones of walking through nature is the sound. Anyone who has ever been in nature before knows of the wind whistling in the trees, the birds calls in unison, and that of a river running between various sizes of rock. These sounds combine together to create an iconic collage that is recognizable to almost all. This is where music can be found in nature. They say that music holds some of the strongest memories in humans, and that holds true with environmental interpretations. However, every persons natural environment was different depending on where they grew up. While those in this class would all likely have similar environments to interpret, those from other countries may be completely different. My personal experience includes loon calls, fire crackling, and light waves hitting the shore of my families cottage home. The memory is so strong for me that I can experience it with all 5 senses years later. The smell of smoke, the feel of the sand, the vibrant embers from the fire. However the strongest is the sounds, because of this musical resemblance. I find that since music is just a tool of self expression, other parts of yourself can be perceived musically very easily.

This can be flipped the other way as well, where nature can be used in musical expressions. One of the sounds I left out of my experience up north were the songs my parents would play. Simply hearing the songs they would play their bring me back to hearing the same sounds as I always would. One of the bands they would play all the time was The Tragically Hip, and in the intro of Wheat Kings one of their most popular songs, you can hear that same loon call from on the lake. But the use of nature in music can be less distinct, where in my response to a previous post I mentioned nature samples being used in electronic music. Nature in music can also aid in telling the stories a song is trying to convey, where additional samples can help elicit settings and even lyrics mentioning nature. One example of both of these is in the song Search Party by Jane Remover, which conveys a person running away into a forest and portrays them losing themselves. It uses samples of birds calling, wolves howling and rivers running. It paints a picture of running in the woods through its lyrics, mentioning the feeling of the sun setting so quickly. These natural aspects of storytelling add to the realism of the song, and help to make the listening experience an enjoyable one. This is all for the purpose of invoking feelings in listeners, as Beck et al. (2018). These emotions make them memorable, and can add to the distribution of the message.

But the congregation of nature and music can be used as a more blatant tool, for informative and instructive reasons. Songs are used to teach youth through collective choir, such as songs about environmental science in the Critter Rock songbook program meant to teach children about caves and bats (Beck et al., 2018).

Overall, the use of nature in music and vice versa plays an integral role in how we create settings for the stories told, and can be used to make them far more memorable in the process.

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For A Better World. Sagamore Publishing.

[horizoneffect]

(dnd setting idea I had and couldn't not write an overview for)

"The afterworld is a big place. Well, the word "afterworld" is a misnomer. It's called the Beyond, and it's less one world, more a patchwork of worlds. Gods, powerful fey and fiends, unknowable eldritch beings, and all sorts of extraordinarily powerful entities have stitched together the vacuous reaches of the Beyond with demiplanes of their own making, populated by the souls of mortals who have passed on.

"It's a popular myth among the mortal sort that travel to the Beyond is instant, almost automatic, free from frustration, nuisance or pain. That couldn't be less true. When a mortal dies and its soul becomes untethered from its body, sure, sometimes it will automatically be whisked away to its proper afterlife. Some gods reward their true believers with chartered air-carriages to their private villas in the clouds. People who have made pacts with devils get pressed onto the black prison-ships of the lower planes and are made to swab the deck. But loose souls, souls who are unclaimed by any of the powers that be, get sent…

"to me. Me and my train, the Twilight Express. Any soul, any race, any final resting place. Anyone with a ticket, me and my crew'll take you to where you need to go. But not for free.

"When you mortals finally give up the ghost, death is but an instant, and then you'll find yourself in Nowhere, the City of Horizons. Loud and noisy, filled with the clamor of countless shopkeepers searching for souls to sell to. What are they selling, you ask? Tickets -- tickets to the afterlife. Their own precious little part of the afterlife, that is.

"Some of them will give you a ticket for free. I say don't listen to them -- it's a scam, unless you were really someone in life, and then everyone will be after your soul. Some will offer you a ticket to their afterlife if you promise to serve their god, or entertain their legions of souls, or work in their manor's kitchen, or accomplish some heroic task in one of the countless planes. You need a ticket to ride the train, though, and the merchants in Nowhere know. Picture the gleeful servant of some pit fiend, offering you passage to the Lava Pits of Czsnerzbeogh, if only you'll work for their master for twenty thousand years of eternity… But if they're offering a ticket, take it. Believe me. You don't want to be stuck in Nowhere without a ticket. The most hellish tortures are preferable to the unconscionable horrors the City of Horizons can unveil, horrors that make even me shudder… And you really don't want to be stuck in Nowhere after the train leaves… and it gets dark.

"Once you're on the train, though, watch your back. Regardless of destination, every soul gets the same ride. Scary as some of the particularly damned souls may be, don't panic: it's a really bad idea to cross our security. They're the finest forces in the infinity of the planes, making sure every soul only gets off where their ticket says they can, and keeping out the freeloaders and the riffraff. Out the window you'll be awed by the full grandeur of the Beyond: the breathtaking spires of the Green Palm Palaces, the bleak austerity of the Xulo Nara Lava Oceans, the quixotic unreality of the Thousand Lotus Fields… And between the afterworlds, the expanses of the Great Grey West, where lone fey rangers camp by lone fires, where packs of crest-wolves and fractal-horn deer stampede across the landscape… It'll make you feel alive again. So to speak.

"As soon as you make it to your stop on the Twilight Express, you'll get off, and then you get to enjoy your afterlife, whatever that may be. You might even be allowed to travel around the Beyond and explore other afterlives, or you can stay put and be content with a nice, quiet undeath. But things are always changing in the Beyond. We're always laying down new railways, paving into the west… There are those who wish to escape their assigned afterlife and wreak havoc across the planes… And there are those who wish to conquer the Beyond and the world of the mortal planes, along with those who wish to keep the Beyond ever wild…

"Don't be a stranger, mortal. Be courageous, be cautious, and always watch your back.

Talk to you soon.

- Death The Renowned Sir R. "Death" Nevermore Proprietor and Conductor of the Twilight Express

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

Saigoku,,,

Im assuming you meant both of them so !!

SHUICHI:

favorite thing about them: I really like how calm and sweet Shuichi is. He's my favourite of all 3 main protags for this reason, he has an air of calm introvertedness that Makoto and Hajime don't, which I find really relatable and endearing. least favorite thing about them: Every protag does it, but the little somewhat rude quips he can have about the other students in his head. Be nice to them!! Youre just as weird of a guy as they are favorite line: My freaking BLOG HEADER!!!! "We stand with one foot in fiction, and one foot in reality…" This struck such a strong chord in me when I played the ending of v3. Just thinking about this line makes my heart flutter.

brOTP: Shuichi and Rantaro should've had more time to hang out together. I think they would've really gotten along

OTP: OH MAN... It has to be saimota!!! Close contenders are saigoku and saimatsu! (holding myself back from naming 5 more ships)

nOTP: None that immediately come to mind??

random headcanon: Shuichi is trans, ace, and biromantic! He's one of the few V3 characters I have very specific queer headcanons about

unpopular opinion: Shuichi doesn't listen to punk rock or MCR or anything like that. He's not that kind of emo. To me, Shuichi is a VOCALOID emo!! Specifically early 2010s vocaloid emo. He's been listening to Rolling Girl, Lost One's Weeping, and Tokyo Teddy Bear on Repeat since he got trapped in the killing game

song i associate with them: (hilariously not vocaloid or emo) What's Wrong by Half•Alive

favorite picture of them: Probably any of the training ones!! Transmasc swag

GONTA:

favorite thing about them: His earnestness!! I love the way Gonta is genuine whenever he speaks, be it about the things he loves or feels passionate about or the things that upset him. least favorite thing about them: The whole... reptites..... backstory thing. In general I'm not the biggest fan of a decent amount of his FTEs. Thankfully if I don't look at it it can't see me. Gonta was raised by wolves <3 favorite line: Gonta has some great ones but two that are standing out to me right now that Occasionally get stuck in my head are "Smile like Gonta! :D" from the bonus event with Himiko or "You make mistakes a lot... A WHOLE lot..." From a backroute towards Miu ghdsjkfsd.

brOTP: GONTA AND RANTARO OH MY GOD!!! I think they would get along so well!! Back in ch1, during big group discussions, its usually Rantaro responding when Gonta speaks to begin with. I think Rantaro would love to help Gonta look/talk about bugs and Gonta's energy would be really refreshing to him.

OTP: GOKUMOTA. On a surface level they are both athletic with science talents, who are loud and passionate about what they love, but on a deeper level I think they could really help each other and be a shoulder for the other to lean on. Gonta is extremely self deprecating, and if he got close to him there's no way Kaito would let that stand. Gonta is also very expressive, so I think he could help Kaito learn that its okay to not be okay, and to express that to the ones who care about him.

(I also like saigoku!!)

nOTP: I already talked about not liking Kokichi and Gonta, Im also not really into Romantic Miu and Gonta or romantic Kiyo and Gonta, though thats to a lesser extent. Im pretty picky about Gonta ships

random headcanon: This is one I go back and forth on, but I do have the headcanon that Gonta Might have a little sister. Her name is Tsugiko and she was either extremely young or hadn't been born when he got lost.

unpopular opinion: Not really an unpopular opinion, just something random I guess? Lots of people draw Gonta with blue butterflies, which look very pretty, but I never understood why it was always the same type of blue butterfly. I think Orange matches his colour scheme a bit better, so I'm wondering if there's any symbolism I'm missing here

song i associate with them: The Room is Filled with People Who Love You by Foresight

favorite picture of them: Probably the bonus event with Himiko and Shuichi!! That one's very very cute

[harloqui]

My Shifting Experience

...it's long overdue for me to get into this, haha.

I shifted early last year, around March or so. I wasn't expecting to shift then, but I kinda flared a shift unknowingly and ended up halfway shifted. In the post before this I mentioned that I shift in another realm, instead of this one. This is half-true- where I shift is in another realm...but my body also reacts in this one. I get slower, I calm down and seek out a cool place to settle down. My body temperature increases (by a lot, I could appear slightly feverish to some people) and I start to understand my species a lot better, if I see them (like through video or pictures).

As the shift increases, I end up feeling more like my species, feeling the body of them (hunger, physical feelings, etc.) and I feel the urge to leave my body and just go wandering the other plane my body is in. I usually don't (I have stuff to take care of here) but the feeling is very tempting. First time I had to struggle to resist, but nowadays I can control it without issue.

I didn't fully shift that time, but I got very close (kinda chickened out tbh) and have gotten close since then, enough to know the general gist of how things go. I do hope to shift fully in the future, but that will involve a lot of planning on my end- I need to shift somewhere safe and comfortable for my animal side.

A lot of this shifting involved what I formerly considered to be "alterhumanity"-after shifting, I think it might simply be another aspect of the supernatural I'm connecting with, and thus is "supernaturality" instead of "alterhumanity". This is why I left the community, I don't feel as if my experiences really count as alterhumanity if I can also shift through them?

I'd still be a shifter regardless, but I think what I formerly called alterhumanity was a facet of this, instead of it being a separate part apart from the supernatural. Now, you're probably wondering how I differentiate this from other similar experiences? Here's my take on why I'm not experiencing anything else besides shifting: Therianthropy/Otherkinity: Most therians and otherkin identify as nonhuman beings, but don't travel to their homeworlds or experience it as anything other than a non-physical identity. For the therianthrope and otherkin shifting is a non-physical thing, and doesn't involve their physical body actually going through the process of shifting. Therianthropy and otherkinity also involves a bunch of extraneous experiences, such as species dysphoria and a longing to be in one's old form, whereas I never really experienced that? I like the idea of shifting, yes, but I don't long for it in the way therians and otherkin often claim to. Physical shifting: This isn't a full physical shift, so I don't count it as one. I do count it as some sort of "spiritual" shifting, since I go through the same process as regular shifters (shifting takes me several days, it can be exhausting, I do have to prepare beforehand, etc.) but at the end of the shift I end up elsewhere, in a new physical body instead of my old one. My old one is "asleep", my new one is awake and conscious.

Astral projection: Astral projection is not as chaotic as this sort of shift. Shifting for me takes a couple of days; I've never heard of an astral projector needing to take several days to shift, whereas that's a bare minimum for me to shift. When I astral project it takes less than a couple of hours, it's not a week-wide affair. I've also never heard of an astral projector needing to watch guard over their body. They usually feel fine leaving it, whereas I'm anxious about people moving my body without my express approval beforehand; while shifting I don't like to be moved.

What I am:

I think my shifter breed is actually that of the Scottish shifters mentioned in some myths. I've been doing research, and a lot of the myths seem to state that these shifters transformed into wolves whilst leaving their bodies behind. While their bodies were left behind, meat would appear in their mouths while hunting and if they got injured their human bodies would display the wounds. Most importantly, they could not be moved, or else they'd be unable to return to their human forms. That matches up with what I experience, down to the shifting and inability to move my body. I even want to go outside and leave my body in a safe place outside, so that nobody else finds me while I'm out roaming the world. (I don't have meat appearing in my mouth though, I haven't gotten that far yet 😅)

Alterhumanity being filtered through a spiritual shift makes sense to me. I'm not shifting in the same way a physical shifter might, so I'm not as limited with forms or bodies, and I can do almost anything with my alterhuman-identified body as I can with my shifter body.

Now, I'm not a Scottish shifter- I don't know enough about the Scots to feel comfortable claiming that label, nor do I personally know the breed I'm actually claiming, so I won't claim it despite the similarities in experiences. I am a shifter however, even if it's not quite physical in nature.

Hopefully that answers some people's questions about my shifting! And hopefully this makes sense- feel free to ask any questions about my experiences if you're confused, haha.

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Golden Rule (Matthew 7:1-12)

When someone asked Raphael how he made his wonderful pictures, he replied, "I dream dreams and I see visions - and then I paint my dreams and visions." The teachings of Christ, if reverently received, fill our mind with dreams and visions of spiritual beauty. But there is something we must do if we would receive from these teachings the good they are intended to impart - we must get them wrought into our own life.

The lesson on judging is not an easy one. We may as well confess that most of us are quite prone to the fault which is here reproved. Of course, the teaching is not that we should never have any opinions concerning the actions of others - we cannot avoid having judgments either of approval or disapproval. It is not understood either that we shall never express condemnation of the acts of others; we are required to censure men's evil courses. A little later in this same Sermon on the Mount, Jesus bids His disciples beware of false prophets which come in sheep's clothing, while in reality they are ravenous wolves. It is not an easy-going acceptance of all sorts of people and behavior, which is taught. What we are forbidden to do is to be censorious. Rather, we are to treat others - as we would have them treat us.

There are reasons enough why we should not judge others. One is that it is not our duty. We are not our neighbor's judge. He does not have to answer to us. God is his Master, and to Him he must give account.

Another reason is that God is patient with men's faults, and we represent God. If he bears with a man's shortcomings, surely we should do so, too. He is patient with people in their indifference to Him, in their disobedience, in their selfishness. Should we be more exacting with others than God is? Should we exercise severity - where He shows leniency?

Another reason we should not judge others is because we cannot do it fairly. We see but the surface of people's lives. We do not know what has been the cause of the disagreeable features, the faults, we see in them. Perhaps if we knew all - we would praise, where we now condemn. A young man was blamed by his fellow clerks for what they called his stinginess. He did not spend money as they did. They did not know that an invalid sister in another part of the country, shut away in her room, with none but her brother to care for her, received nearly all of his monthly salary!

Another reason for not judging others, is that we have faults of our own - which should make us silent about the failings of others. When we glibly condemn our neighbor's shortcomings, we assume that we ourselves are without shortcomings. But quite likely we have a beam in our own eye - at the very time we are pointing out to our brother the mote in his eye. A mote is a mere speck; a beam is a great log. The meaning is, that we make more of a little speck we see on another's life or in his conduct - than we make of a very large fault in ourselves. Our first business certainly is with ourselves. We shall not have to answer for our brother's faults - but we must answer for our own. It is not our business to look after his blots and blunders - but we must look after our own. We should be severe in dealing with our own faults - and then we will be able to help in curing the faults of others.

Another reason against judging, is that the law of love requires us to look charitably at the faults and sins of others. "Love covers a multitude of sins" (see 1 Peter 4:8). An artist placed his friend in the chair in such a position, that the blemish on one side of his face would not show in the picture. That is the way love prompts us to see our friends and neighbors, and show them to others - exhibiting the noble things in them - and throwing a veil over their defects .

Still another reason for not judging others, is that when we do, we are setting a standard for the judging of ourselves. "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others - you will be judged." If you criticize others - you must expect them to criticize you, and they will. Those who deal gently with the acts of others - may expect gentle treatment by others in return. People will give back to you - exactly what you give to them.

The Master has more to say here about prayer. The promise is very large. "Ask - and it shall be given you." Thus our Father throws wide open the doors of all His treasure houses! There seems to be nothing of all His vast possessions, which He is not ready to give His children for the asking. "All things are yours, and you are Christ's" (1 Corinthians 3:21-23). We need not try to trim down the promise, and yet we must read into it other teachings about prayer. Elsewhere we are taught that in all our praying we must say, "May Your will be done" (6:10). That is, we must submit all our requests to God's love and wisdom. We do not know what things will really be blessings to us. What would not be - our Father will withhold.

We get an important lesson here, too, on the manner of prayer, in the words "ask," "seek," "knock." They teach importunity and growing earnestness. Much that is called praying is not worthy of the name - is not praying at all. We have no burning desire, and there is neither importunity nor intensity in our asking. What did you pray for this morning? Do you even remember?

The Father-heart of God is unveiled in the words about bread and a stone; a fish and a serpent. It is far more likely to be the other way, however - what we ask would be a stone to us, would not be a blessing; and God, knowing what we really need, gives us a loaf instead of the stone we cried for! We know certainly that our Father is kinder to His children, than earthly parents are to theirs - as much kinder as His love and His ability to give is greater than the largest human love and ability. Yet we must emphasize the words "ask," "every one who asks ," etc. Some people never ask - and then wonder why they do not receive. Then, we must ask with the highest motives. "You ask, and receive not, because you ask amiss, that you may consume it upon your lusts" (James 4:3). Selfishness in prayer gets no answer. The Golden Rule, as it is called, is wonderfully comprehensive. It bids us to consider the interests of others, as well as of ourselves. It bids us to set our neighbor alongside of ourselves and think of him as having the same rights we have, and requiring from us the same fairness of treatment that we give to ourselves. It is in effect a practical way of putting the command, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18). It gives us a standard by which to test all our motives and all our conduct bearing on others. We are at once in thought to change places with the person toward who duty is to be determined, and ask: "If he were where I am - and I were where he is - how would I want him to treat me in this case?"

The application of this rule would instantly put a stop to all rash, hasty actions, for it commands us to consider our neighbor and question our own heart before doing anything. It would slay all selfishness, for it compels us to regard our neighbor's rights and interests in the matter, as precisely equal to our own. It leads us to honor others, for it puts us and them on the same platform, as equal before God, and to be equal, too, before our own eyes. The true application of this rule - would put a stop to all injustice and wrong, for none of us would do injustice or wrong to ourselves, and we are to treat our neighbor precisely as if he were ourselves. It would lead us to seek the highest good of all other men, even the lowliest and the humblest - for we surely would like all men to seek our good.

The thorough applying of the Golden Rule, would end all conflict between labor and management, for it would give the employer a deep, loving interest in the men he employs and lead him to think of their good in all ways. At the same time it would give to every employee a desire for the prosperity of his employer and an interest in his business. It would put an end to all quarreling and strife in families, in communities, among nations. The perfect working of this rule everywhere would make heaven, for the will of God would then be done on earth as it is in heaven!