#i still feel directionless rn

[aloyssobek]

oh boy i think i've given myself an existential crisis

[areyouokaypanda]

It took me a year and a half, but yesterday I finished episode 141 of campaign two. And now? Feelings.

[blossoms-phan]

my school keeps sending me emails about the fall semester and classes starting and yada yada and it’s such a cruel reminder that I’m technically done and don’t have another fall semester to get ready for

[steviescrystals]

i seriously need to get a new job and start making money again asap bc i cannot keep living at home much longer it’s driving me insane

(wrote an entire essay in the tags without meaning to oops)

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles - part IV: the inbetween (hot spring bath)

(~5,5 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

-- a piece of warmth in a cold wasteland (a piece of hope in a nightmare) --

It takes some time, to slowly patch up the wounds on their souls and bury the incessant fears. Scar and Grian have each other, and they aren’t letting go. Not this time. Not again. Never. (Unless we get our hands on this au which, oh, we have. Funny thing—)

It’s now the midst of winter, and they huddle from shelter to shelter, clothes wet from snow, progress slow as they have to constantly try and cover their marks. The food is scarce, and they’re using every trick Juni taught them in late autumn to stay safe and not starve. (The thought feels bittersweet, but they don’t linger on it.)

And one day, the sun disappears. [This will be the eclipse bonus ramble, dw about it rn <3]

In the aftermath, they’re both feeling destabilised and unsafe. Grian in particular grows to feel like even more of a liability, becoming quiet and withdrawn. Terrified Scar’d leave him, despite feeling like maybe it'd be for the best if he did. (Best for Scar, that is.)

Scar does his best to divert Grian’s attention from bleak thoughts. He talks about hope, and possibilities, and—most importantly—future. He remembers that one time [in a bonus fic we never finished kjxnb bUT ONE DAY] when Grian mentioned wanting a treehouse. Wanting a permanent place. Somewhere to stretch his wings. Somewhere to be.

He tells him, softly, that come spring, once the trees are less barren, they can try building one. They will do it! Scar will build as many as it takes. Each better than the last!

And one day, they’ll get far enough. And they’ll build one that’ll last. And they’ll be able to stretch their wings, free.

Grian isn’t sure how much he believes that. But he wants to. He wants to.

They wander through the lands, seemingly directionless. The winter is harsh. The violet is bright against the whiteness of the snow and the dark brown of the bare trees. Still, with stolen cloaks, they do their best with the circumstances, never feeling warm or relaxed.

That is, until they stumble upon something rare.

They find a cave that is warm and, curious and seeking shelter, they go in. 

Inside, they find a large cavern with the ceiling caved in, sunlight pooling from the hole down onto a steaming surface of… a hot spring.

Scar gets immensely excited and, without hesitating, dives right in. The warmth is blissful, melting away all the aches and coaxing frost out of his bones. It’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m never getting out of here. You’re gonna have to drag me out. I am willingly turning myself into a raisin.”

Grian, unlike Scar, hesitates. His wings are still dirtied and full of debris, never preened, never touched. Kept dishevelled and dull to try to hide their desirable sheen. Flaring up with discomfort and aches, muscles tense and never stretched, in an attempt to turn them into something that’d be less of a beacon.

Getting them wet would mean washing off months of that effort. (Months of held-in suffering.)

And Grian wants to sink under the water and feel its warmth, relax into it just like Scar does, but he can’t. He can’t get through that mental block. So he just crouches on the side, sad and torn and wistful.

Scar tries to coax him in by assuring Grian they have enough time to dry them (he doesn’t use the word wings). But drying them isn’t the problem. The problem is making them bright again.

Scar doesn’t quite understand what is holding Grian back, but he tries to offer him ways to sidestep it without tacking a name to it. He holds out his hands and opts for goofiness, asking if Grian is shy, promising he’ll close his eyes, as if it was a simple act of undressing that was the problem. He’s trying to offer a simpler anxiety to latch onto, one more easily dealt with.

And despite the anxiety, Grian laughs a little at his antics. It’s barely a laugh, strained around the edges, but the fondness rings so clear through it.

But Scar’s suggestion doesn’t solve Grian’s problem, and Grian is wholly unwilling to name it and put attention to it—to the hopeless way he feels about the weight settled on his back. 

Scar is stubborn and determined, trying to read Grian without pushing too much. He wades to a more shallow part of the pool and softly—and still so very lightheartedly—points out that Grian could take a dip there, feel the warmth, “And only half of you gets turned to raisins.” Endlessly aware of what they’re not saying, words tucked between the lines: Your wings don’t have to get wet.

 Grian eyes the side Scar pointed out with enough suspicion, as if he expected the ground there to be playing a trick on him, in fact not solid at all. Slowly, he uncurls and shuffles over to peer at it, taut yet curious, unsure yet hopeful.

It’s timid, at first. The undressing, the reach for water. But as soon as his skin meets the warmth, yearning shoots through him and he can’t stop himself.

The water splashes in his rush to get in, something that delights Scar immeasurably.

And it’s quickly clear the water is only going to incite him to give in further, setting alight a craving for more. To keep sinking, to submerge all of his body, to melt against its warmth and let it make him stop aching. 

Unable to resist but still unwilling to get his wings wet, he ends up opting to slump himself over Scar’s shoulders, letting most of him dip into the enciting warmth of the water.  

The effect is instant: the warm water eases the hidden pains and tension right off, making Grian huff in relief as his hold on Scar turns lax, trusting Scar to keep him safe. It’s only Grian’s back that keeps some semblance of tension, wings held up above the water line even as the rest of him helplessly melts into it.

And Scar has to ask. Inevitably, the issue cannot be skirted around anymore. “Why don’t you want them wet…?”

Grian’s breath hitches, and just like that, all the tension and anxiety is back. Just like that, he’s pushing away, back upright into the shallow water, and then further, splashing as he goes, until he’s perched at the edge of the pool, safely out of its depths.

Arms wrapped around himself and shivering, Grian tries to breathe through the reminder of everything that’s wrong, everything that he doesn’t want fixed—can’t have fixed—attention pinned to his feathers that he reslots against his spine, dry and as small as possible. 

But there's no sidestepping this anymore.

It’s only when he admits, words miserable and broken, muffled into his palms and edging a sob, that washing the wings would turn them into more of a beacon, that Scar truly starts to understand this.

It was always only implied and never spoken—the topic of feathers always carefully avoided to sidestep the panic lurking just beneath those words—now broken and brought up to the surface for the first time since Grian's freak out on that very first day so long ago. 

It slots together in Scar’s mind now: It’s not just trauma and fear keeping Grian from allowing anyone (including himself) to touch his wings; it’s his unwillingness to brighten what he believes is to be a spotlight that’s made a home on his back. It explains weeks and weeks of unpreened, tucked back wings hidden uncomfortably under the cloak Scar gave him the day they found each other. What Scar thought was a deep-rooted anxiety born from the time they spent apart actually goes much, much deeper. The fear is a constant in Grian’s mind.

Scar pauses, taking the new pieces to the puzzle he’s been offered and pressing them into place, considering the proper approach. “Grian,” he tries again, voice soft. “One little soak isn’t going to make a difference.” (He wishes it would. He wishes Grian would wash them out properly, let them shine like they did before. He’d fight off the whole server if he had to in order to see that once more.) 

Something desperate in Grian is latching onto Scar’s words. He’s begging himself to listen, to give in, to let go, to succumb. He sniffles, dropping his hands a little bit, looking over at Scar, silent plea written into his eyes. Please. Please please please. 

He wants Scar to win him over. To convince him. To yank this tight knot of anxiety and let him breathe.

With a sigh, Scar continues. “We don’t have to wash them, just…” He hates going along with any part of this, but he’s not about to change Grian’s mind so easily. He has to bargain. “... One hour. One hour where you don’t worry so dang much. Just relax, forget everything else. Let me—” He doubts his word choice for a moment, but commits to it, considering them appropriate. “Let me watch your back.”

There’s a pause. And then, from his curled-up position, Grian asks: “One hour?” It’s small, a word just shy of crumbling to dust. He wants this. He needs this. He needs Scar to sway him here. But he can’t just give in. So he asks for more. He asks Scar to promise that this won’t cause anything bad. 

"Nothing bad," Scar assures immediately, even if he doesn't truly have the power to promise that. He'll make it true. He's determined to. "I'll make sure of it. And you just relax."

The words bounce around in Grian’s head.

Nothing bad. I’ll make sure of it.

He sniffles, wrangling the ever-present constraints of anxiety, and then, ever so slowly, he uncurls. His hands drop from his face and his glistening eyes find Scar’s, locking onto them as if Scar was his life raft. “Okay.” 

He isn’t sure he knows how to relax, not where his wings are concerned, but he’s been tense and scared for so long, he’s so tired, so greedy for the idea of it. And if Scar can somehow will it into existence, Grian will do his best to give himself over to him.

It’s slow. Every move hesitant and unsure, every Scar’s word soft and reassuring. He tells Grian it’s just the two of them here. He leads him, step by timid step.

Grian ends up draped over him again, arms wrapped around Scar's shoulders, trying to stifle his fears into his hold of him as they tentatively make progress into the warmth that begs Grian to surrender completely.

Grian’s coherency is slipping from his grasp as the warm water and the security of Scar’s presence take over. He hasn’t allowed himself to relax in so impossibly long, only ever forced by the circumstances. (Feeling faint, being wounded, dizziness pulling him to his knees—) This is different. This is so very different, and he finds himself simultaneously nuzzling against Scar and entirely letting go, his grip growing weak as Scar holds him with his back above water.

Grian’s wings falter and droop the littlest bit. He barely notices it. They’re hovering so, so very close above the waterline.

He hums, and they dip further, and—

He twitches, startled at the sensation of water against his feathers. Running on nothing but well-trained instinct, his wings flap, frantically splashing water.

Scar pulls Grian a little closer, keeping his hands firm and tight so he doesn’t drop him altogether. “Hey, hey, hey it’s okay. I’ve still got you.” He slides one leg out a little wider to maintain balance, continuing to mumble soft shushes. “The water won’t hurt ya, G.”

Grian pulls himself tight against Scar, his wing movements calming somewhat at Scar’s reassurance. They’re left treacherously hovering over the water again, unsure, as Grian buries his face in Scar’s neck, eyes tightly shut. He’s tense again, back at square one, and even the warmth of the water isn’t working enough to lull him out of it.

But Scar says the water won’t hurt him.

He knows that, right? He’s— The water won’t hurt him, it’s just the consequences he’s meant to be afraid of. But Scar already promised those will be okay.

Grian knows Scar doesn’t have the power to promise that.

Still, he tries to wrangle both the rational and irrational parts of his fear.

He breathes heavily, pressed close to Scar, and he whimpers a quiet, very unbrave sounding word: “Down?”

“Yeah?” Scar asks, a little unsure. “Do you— want me to let you down?” He doesn’t move his hands yet.

Feeling the steadiness of Scar's hands, Grian is sure that there won't be anything unexpected; not unless he agrees, nods, gives consent. But his head is so messy, not knowing how to communicate, and he's not sure he won't misstep.

"The wings?" Grian asks, and it's not much more coherent than the original question.

“The—“ Scar tuts his tongue, remembering to take the time to think. He glances over at Grian’s wings, something he very purposely tries not to do typically, but with Grian’s head tucked against his collarbone, he looks them over, curious. “Yeah, yes— you can let them down, G.” A small reassuring press of his fingertips. “Really.”

Grian takes a breath at the encouragement; it's damp and hot, water and scar's skin heating him up, both working on stealing all the tension out of him.

Gingerly and with a tinge of fearfullness, grian relents.

He lets his wings drop.

Tentatively, the feathers meet water. Calmer, this time. Expecting it. 

Grian’s hold on Scar doesn't exactly tense up, but his fingers curl, feebly looking for a tidbit of purchase, something to hold onto as his wings spread and sprawl, rippling the water, floating atop it, and— And it's so warm and it feels so good to stretch them, to let them be without force and without pressure and—

There's a half-sob, something small and all too relaxed and relieved, as looseness floods through Grian. His fingers uncurl and he sags further against Scar, whimpering quietly without any real distress. 

Scar can’t help the bright, genuine grin that spreads across his face at this success, even despite the small sobbing sounds—because he knows, he knows it’s from overwhelming relief. He had half a mind to cry when he first stepped foot in the water, so he can only imagine how Grian feels right now. “Shhh, good, good,” Scar coos, pressing a soft kiss into Grian’s hair. “Still got you.”

Grian makes a jumble of incoherent sounds at Scar's praise, melting further into the warmth. His eyes are closed and his muscles loosen bit by bit, aches stolen from them. He's not working to support any of his weight anymore, surrendering it all to Scar and to the water. He doesn't even register his wings fully; they float, and it makes them feel numb and nonexistent in the best of ways. 

Loose feathers and dirt drift across the surface, the spot near Grian growing murkier.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Scar whispers, not wanting to disturb Grian’s moment of bliss here. He eyes the spot where the water darkens from the dirt and debris coming free from Grian’s wings, trying not to let it affect his mood, tug at his heart. 

He wishes he could rake his fingers through the feathers and dislodge all the uncomfortable things that poke and prod at Grian on a daily basis. We wants to hold him closer and take care of him, wash all the troubles away, but—

Baby steps, he reminds himself. 

Grian's mind is hazy, all of him melting into the warmth bit by bit. (He doesn't remember the last time he was warm.) He feels engulfed and cradled, held and supported, and it makes him want to drift off. He's melting further into it, eyes closed and mind pleasantly dazed. He thinks he might just stay here forever. (The insides of his wings are warm warm warm; the water gently bobs them, the muscles loosening after months of being stiff and taut.)

It reminds Grian of what it feels like to be comfortable. (He isn't sure he can quite grasp it; the feeling seems too big for his comprehension.) He lets out a long, reverberating hum, almost purr-like, sinking further into the water. His eyes are still closed. He's secure in the knowledge that Scar's still here, he's got him. everything is okay.

Everything is more than okay.

"'m gonna live like a raisin," he says as a vague threat, or a promise, or— or something. Something mildly delirious. He's never getting out of this lake. It's too nice. He's going to stay here and submerge himself in bliss and escapism.

“Yes!” Scar croaks out amidst some airy laughter. “Join me in the raisin life, Grian!” 

Scar's laughter echoes around Grian, setting bright, joyful sparks behind grian's ribcage. He could listen to that sound forever.

While keeping his arms in place, supporting Grian so that he doesn’t sink entirely, Scar ducks his face back underwater and blows some bubbles, loving the feeling of having semi-clean skin for the first time in far too long.

Grian hears the bubbles. Curiosity gets him to crack one eye open, only to see it's just Scar being silly. Unbridled, a laughter spills from him and— He's laughed before, sure. Here and there, they’ve had their moments. But never before has his laughter felt so light in this world. Unburdened.

Scar’s ears flick attentively and he pokes his head back out to share a grin— practically beaming at Grian due to the delightful sound. It’s a genuine Grian giggle and Scar is loving it. It rings like victory, dancing across the air. Scar feels like he’s won a tiny battle. (And it’s a much-needed win at that.) 

“Seriously,” Scar says, smile still pressing at the edges of his cheeks. “Dunk your head in— it feels amazing.”

The idea doesn't seem as daunting as before. Encouraged by Scar's delighted grin, Grian can't help but wish to oblige.

His wings flutter a little, and then he's tilting himself, taking a breath. No more warning is given before he fully submerges his head.

The water rushes around him, muffling the world instantly. It's warm all around him.

Just like Scar before, Grian also brings his arms to rub at his hair, reveling in the feeling until he needs to come up for air. He pushes his now-wet hair out of his face and blinks, before he settles with twinkling eyes set on scar, a wild grin on his lips. "I did it!" And he finds that he wants to do it again.

“Isn’t our hair disgusting?” Scar says, laughing and smiling like that’s somehow a good thing. 

"It’s sooo gross," Grian agrees with a laugh. He drifts closer, reaching out to run his fingers into Scar's wet hair and rub at his scalp, wanting him to feel nice.

Scar makes an approving, happy hum and leans into the touch. “And you’d touch the gross hair? Wow, you must like me or something. How embarrassing,” Scar croons, grinning with all his teeth as he pesters Grian.

A growling noise rolls out of grian, but it sounds wrong, soft and unthreatening. He grins right back, and he moves closer, gaze flicking to Scar's lips. "Yeah. I guess I do like you. Or something." And then he presses on Scar, pouncing to use his own weight to push Scar under water. "But you should really wash them some more," he notes playfully with a laugh.

Scar barks out a half-yelp half-laugh as he’s submerged, bubbles rising to the surface until the noise escapes the watery prison when he comes back up. ”Wow,” Scar grumbles, absolutely no bite to his bark. “And here I was being so nice.”

Completely unphased by Scar's grumble, Grian cackles. And then he leans forward, hands settling on the sides of Scar's jaw as both of them drip water. 

Grian's eyes close and he kisses Scar.

“Oh,” Scar’s mouth barely forms the words before he’s pressing closer, greedily kissing back. There’s a bit of whiplash from going from being dunked under to being kissed, but it’s a pleasant sort of ride, the kind of dizzying back and forth he would have always expected from Grian. Part of the reason he was always so drawn in.

Bouncing lightly in the water, Grian breaks the kiss only to press a laugh against the corner of Scar's mouth. He's holding onto him, fingers finding their way back into Scar's wet hair. His feathers trail ripples behind him. "Do you want to help me wash my hair?" he ends up asking, sounding so very hopeful and impulsive, eyes alight as he peers up to meet Scar's gaze.

“Yes!” Scar exclaims, instant. Because he really does want to. 

Grian's expression brightens and softens simultaneously at Scar's quick agreement. Eager excitement settles abuzz under his skin, oddly fitting alongside the newfound looseness of his muscles. 

Scar removes one of his supporting hands first, testing if Grian isn’t still melting into the water too much to handle it without them.

Grian shifts to readjust, to carry his own weight and stay floating. He gives Scar a small nod. "Floating raisin-in-training," he reassures, wildness tipping into an almost timid grin.

Scar snickers, highly amused by the continued bit. "I'm very impressed with the raisin's progress," he teases as he removes his other hand, allowing Grian to wade freely. "I wish we had soap. I still don't understand how to make soap." It's a mournful statement, but Scar manages to keep his tone light, as if it's a joke and not a genuine problem. He opens both palms and wiggles his fingers in a goofy invitation, letting Grian lead the way on how he wants to do this.

Grian doesn't, in fact, know how to do this. He just knows he wants Scar's fingers rub at his scalp and brush through his hair and he wants it all to be nice and good. (He wonders if his hair will be fluffy when it dries. Fluffy hair and somewhat clean skin. A luxury.) (He wonders how will Scar look at him, then.) "Should I... turn my back to you?" he wonders.

But turning his back carries many things with it. (Namely his wings.)

Scar’s eyes flick to the sprawled out feathers—a lightning-fast glance, trying not to be noticed—before he hums in thought. He doesn’t want Grian to have to reel his wings back in. He likes that Grian is finally relaxing them like this, having them splayed out without care. 

So instead, he tries to say that this is good. That he likes facing Grian and looking at him. He steals a kiss, quick and gentle, drawing Grian’s attention away from any implications turning around might have.

Grian lets Scar's affection easily distract him; for once, he's not hyper-aware and hyper-vigilant about his wings, and so the warning thought dissipates before it even has a chance to form properly, everything in him instead paying attention to Scar's adoration and the promise of getting his hair washed. He giggles quietly into the kiss at Scar's exclamations. "Alright. All yours." 

Scar’s heart swells at all yours, the words satisfying something small yet primal deep inside his chest. 

But as it turns out, Grian floating in the water on his belly really isn’t a position suitable for hair washing. They fumble, Scar trying to throw out some pointless, dead-end suggestions, staying lighthearted even as it’s becoming clear that there’s no way around this.

Grian hums, glancing at his wings—the top feathers are still dry, as his wings float the inner-side down. The seeping warmth from the water keeps them relaxed and feeling good, and Grian doesn't even realise he's considering them without the usually instant flare up of anxiety.

"Let me try something," he murmurs, an edge of experimental pensiveness to his tone. He pushes himself away from Scar, using him solely for momentum, so he wouldn't have to wade to get more space. He spins, water rippling, feathers gliding across it.

He doesn't make enough space. His primaries almost brush against Scar.

Scar flinches back to avoid the wings, shocked by the casual nature in which Grian is currently treating them. He’s relieved, certainly, but slightly nervous as well. “You better not be trying to escape, you have a good fifty-some minutes of relaxation left, mister.”

Grian glances over his shoulder, chuckling at him, but doesn't deign to answer. He's climbing to the shallower part again; his wings are heavy, dragging him down as he fights them and flaps them around, sending droplets through the air. He curls them, bringing them forward, and with a squinted focus, slowly lowers them back down.

The water turns murky again in an instant, as the backs of grian's wings hit water. He almost slips off the perch of the platform as a wave of weakness rushes through him at how good the warm water feels on those spots. His eyes flutter shut without him intending for it, and a groan leaves his throat.

And then he's slipping off the edge back into the depths, this time purposefully. his wings are spread around him, messy and wet and wide, and—

He semi-floats on his back, his hair now dipped in water. It feels so insanely relaxing—a word he was forgetting even exists; he lets out a dazed hum, eyes still closed, temporarily forgetting his mission is to get back to scar.

Scar chuckles quietly to himself, trying to shield the sound with the back of his hand. He’s able to ignore the distress the muddied water caused him last time, too enthralled by the wide span of Grian’s wings, which he hasn’t seen in so long. 

 Even dirtied and drenched in water, they’re beautiful.

“Should I leave you alone with the water for a bit—?” Scar teases after another moment of admiring Grian. “Would hate to interrupt.” 

Despite saying that, his hands itch to touch. They twitch and he hides them underwater, remaining patient.

"Mmmm." Grian lets the water gently push him around, and he keeps his eyes closed for a while, staying silent after Scar's question. But then he remembers: he's going to get his hair washed. Scar's fingers are going to press and rub against his scalp and—

"Please do interrupt," he begs, dark eyes dazedly finding Scar.

“If you insist,” Scar says like he’s not equally as antsy. He approaches with caution, careful to wade between any scattered feathers, then wiggles his fingers on either side of Grian’s head. “Any requests? Gentle? Deep tissue massage? Kisses or no kisses?” He hovers over Grian’s head as he asks, grinning.

Grian peers up at Scar, upside-down, and even though he appreciates Scar’s silliness and him offering choices, decision-making feels a bit overwhelming right now. 

And yet as soon as he catches sight of Scar, he can’t help but tilt his head more, desiring more closeness. His hair submerges, obliging towards the task at hand, but there’s far more than that in the simple gesture: Grian’s throat is bare (so is the rest of him, to be fair) (exposed wings included), and there’s something eager about the way his lips fall slightly apart. “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Without hesitation, Scar leans down, smiling. “Oh excellent, that was my recommendation anyway!” He plants a kiss on Grian’s forehead to start, just a taste of what he’s offering, then threads his fingers into Grian’s flowing hair underwater, keeping his touch tentative for the time being.

Grian hums, both at the kiss and at the touch, a sound that reverbs in his throat. His wings spread a little more. He’s feeling pleasant and pleased, edging that state of melting into everything.

Scar starts by running his fingers through Grian’s hair, mapping out the territory and smoothing out his locks to make it easier for the proper cleaning. 

Helpless to stop it, Grian finds his eyes falling shut again. Everything's so pleasant and lulling, he can almost imagine falling asleep here. (He's certainly tired enough for it, the dark bruising under his eyes speaking volumes about that.) He wants Scar to keep touching him, to keep brushing his fingers through his hair, to— to be here, in this, with him.

“Good?” Scar checks even though he knows the answer, his fingers still gentle; he wants to hear Grian say it, confirm that this is happening, that this moment is real amidst this server of hostility and cruelty.

“Good,” Grian purrs mindlessly.

Scar slowly adds more pressure, lightly scratching at Grian's scalp for maximum effect, trying to provide as much relief as he can. 

Grian lets out little noises—sleep-laced, groggy little things—as he melts against every Scar's touch. He wants to tell him how really, really good it feels, but he can't find coherent enough words, nor make his vocal cords work. He just floats, in more ways than one. "'m sleep," he murmurs, as a warning. 

He wants to look up at Scar, but his eyelids are heavy, his body gently bobbing in water that keeps him warm and relaxed. Scar continues effortlessly lacing his fingers through curls and working small bundles of hair through his fingertips to loosen any pesky dirt that's made home there, finding almost as much pleasure in this little routine as Grian does.

"Gosh, making it my job to keep you from drowning?" Scar scolds lightheartedly with absolutely no disdain. Truthfully, the wings might be working as enough of a feather floatie for Grian anyway, but Scar doesn't mind making up for where they slack. 

"Mmmmhm," Grian confirms. His muscles are so lax. He forgot this was even possible. He hasn't felt pleasantly sleepy in so long—so many horrible dreams and endless fears and never-ending tension. This hot spring is tempting him to succumb to everything it offers, and Scar's hands are breaking the last of his resistance. "Won't let me..." he trails off, meaning to say won't let me drown. The sentense stays broken, sinking out of Grian's reach. "Trust," he murmurs, barely audible, word slurred with sleep.

Scar's about to ask who won't let him sleep, but understands that's not what's being said after he continues listening. He smiles. "Of course not," he confirms, lightly scratching behind Grian's earwings, a spot he himself took great relief from.

The scratch behind Grian's earwings sends something in him skittering and haywire in the best of ways. He chirps through the haze of sleep, unable to catch himself. His earwings flutter against the water, sending a small spray of droplets around them, but they settle back down quickly enough, limp like the rest of him. A drawn-out coo is coaxed from Grian's throat as he blindly tilts his head further into it, chasing the pleasant touch. 

There's no tension to Grian’s expression, no fear marring the space between his brows.

It feels like a dream, if this world ever knew such a thing as good dreams.

Scar chews at his lip, swallowing down all the comments we wants to make about how adorable Grian is all relaxed and bird-brained. He's not so sure Grian is sleepy enough to resist groaning and quipping back at that, so he resists, wanting him to continue drifting. 

He directs his fingertips over Grian's temple and to the top of his forehead, grazing his nails over the skin as gently as he can and massaging into the base of his hair. And he lingers. Keeps rubbing circles and tracing across Grian's hairline, taking his fine time as if he intended to clean each individual strand.

The way Scar is touching him would make Grian go positively insane if it wouldn't turn him into an incoherent puddle first. He hums, quiet, the sound barely there, edging dreamy delirium under Scar's attentive guidance. 

He really does feel himself drifting, sleep latching on and consciousness waning. The combination of stacked-up tiredness and the wholly complete relaxation are taking him over and, before he even fully realises what's happening, he's completely limp, breath evening out. 

He dips a little in the water, but stays mostly afloat anyway. Scar preemptively lifts one knee to catch Grian if his body starts to dip too far underwater, but he seems steady enough for the time being. 

Content with his successful attempt to get Grian to relax, Scar goes for softer motions, just enough to keep the flow of pleasant sensations going without doing anything that could wake his sleeping bird. 

After a minute or so, Scar sneaks a proper glance at Grian’s splayed out wings, how they fill the water around them with dirt and smaller pieces of debris. He has to resist plucking a twig from a close-by cluster of feathers, praying the water will do it for him. He settles for what he can do for now, not willing to abuse the trust Grian is offering him here by pushing his luck.

He hums a soothing, soft melody as he works, filling the space as he gets Grian’s hair clean, hoping to keep the avian’s sleep relaxed and nice. Without nightmares, for once. Warm and safe and spoiled. 

Such strange concept for this world.

And yet even those things can exist here.

Scar watches his sleeping bird and he thinks that maybe there’s hope for them still after all.

[2ofusweremadeofangelsdust]

Diary - 06/09/24

53.9kg!!

Though to be honest I don’t feel like I’m making fast enough progress. I’m gonna get out of the house and walk to the library tomorrow so that I can skip breakfast and lunch. I’m directly on track according to MyNetDiary but I feel like I’m losing much slower than I was last time despite me exercising much more now.

All I want to do tomorrow is grind out the TEFL course because I really don’t want to be pulling all nighters over a qualification that I don’t even need but I also don’t want to be wasting money. And if I get time I need to finish my anthology, I’m finally up to the poem I’ve bought it to read (it’s a collection of Wordsworth’s poems).

I’m still feeling directionless because I’m pretty much just waiting for results day and waiting for weight loss to happen and I have absolutely nothing to do to fill the time. I feel like nothing is guaranteed right now and it’s killing me because I love being productive over the summer but now I can’t shake the feeling that I haven’t made an important grade… times are tough rn :(

[thorarms]

Thor is banished, stripped of his powers, and forced to live in Midgard for many years. What kind of life do you think Thor would built on Earth?

Aaaaaa this is such a fun question!!

Short answer is im not so sure lol

Longer more rambling answer full of personal headcanons under the cut :)

I mean, i presume this is after loki visits thor on earth and lies to him about frigga forbidding him from returning. Im also working under the assumption that thor doesnt actually hear from anyone from his old life again, because adding them in doesnt really feel in the spirit of the question imo.

Short term we know from canon that he feels directionless and initially focuses his energy on helping jane with her research. Thors a smart guy, and could probably help jane fill in some of the blanks in her research before she has observational evidence of like, asgard existing.

I think initally he would crash with jane, and would look into getting his own place, probably in new mexico because he's started making connections there.

Personally i headcanon that thors lightning powers manifest as a sixth sense, in that he would be able to sense electricity around him (kind of like how some sharks do with ampullae of lorenzini). So i reckon that losing that specific sense would initally be really hard to adjust to, but he would adjust.

*note. This is about where i searched "what is there to do in new mexico" because all i know about the place are it's in a thor movie and the roswell thing happened there also i kinda wanna go hiking and stargazing in new mexico now*

Honestly i think that, early on at least, thor would spend a lot of free time stargazing, partly from homesickness and partly bc apparently new mexicos an amazing place to do that. I think he would spend most nights looking up at the stars wondering if his loved ones are looking down at him.

He would probably initally make ends meet doing some sort of manual labour, maybe something with horses. He might not have asgardian strength anymore but hes still a pretty big guy. He could probably still tame a wild horse if he really wanted to (i dont know how strong you have to be to do that).

In terms of like, long term life goals, im not entirely sure. Thors entire life up to this point was about assuming the throne, and now he has to not only let the past 1000 years ago, he has to build an entire new life from the ground up. I think what would be especially challenging is the lack of time (assuming he's been turned mortal and only has like 50-60 years left). I think that realisation would force him to look inwards and figure out what he really wants in life.

To me, thor at his core is a good man. He likes helping people. He needs that sense of purpose. I think he would end up building quite a charitable life for himself. Maybe he moves, maybe he stays in new mexico, truly i have no idea. But i think at the core of his life is the need to do honest, meaningful work that benefits people.

I hope you find this an interesting answer! It feels like such a ramble of ideas (truly my brain is not working today i cant organise my ideas for shit rn). This was really fun to think about i spent a lot of time in work thinking about this, tysm for asking this!! :)

[kaphyr]

Making Shigaraki Make Sense

Is anyone else confused by the “character” Shigaraki not his disjointed philosophy or whatever? I literally don’t get what’s going on as a writer. He’s confusing and I have no idea how to write him into a fic - and honestly, there are barely any Shigaraki-centric fics I like out there. 

(If you have any thoughts on Shigaraki’s character or recs for Shigaraki-centric fics (preferably ShigarakixIzuku) do leave them in the comments/DM me :D )

However! I found a solution - basically, I stopped being lazy and actually did the thing I normally do when writing a book: a Character Sheet!

Essentially, the way that I understand Shigaraki (by which I mean I don’t) didn’t gel with the story I was making or the relationships I was building, so, I figured I would build him from the ground up!

Which meant research. Ew.

First things first, I kept his physical description though I gave him scars where he got shot during the USJ arc. But since I don’t know what exactly he’s got going on with his skin, I thought I might explain it as a mixture of conditions: being extra dry (Catching UFOs by mrjengablock - which I just started reading - talks about how that might be helping him have direct contact with objects without oils/sweat getting in the way), stress-induced eczema, and a very mild dust allergy (lol). Also, I’m not leaving him like that just because! I’m doing that to show how little he cares for appearances (based on societal expectations) as well as not caring about the pain or even thinking that’s just how his life has to be for him.

Enter Izuku!

Izuku helps him take care of himself, buying him eczema cream, washing and styling his hair, and getting him petroleum jelly (which I assume would be the least painful and least likely to react badly with his cuts). This is how I can show that Shigaraki can compromise and does consider Izuku’s opinion and shit. 

Second: Shigaraki’s personality.

I basically used what was on the BNHA wiki but added that he cares about Izuku and that he gets less irritable as time goes on. He also feels proud when Izuku says/does things that go against the hero status quo. He also changes from believing in chaos for the sake of chaos and being directionless under AFO (seeing as in my fic AFO is dead).

Third: Shigaraki’s relationships

I did a lot of changes here, the most notable one being his relationship with Izuku. As Izuku didn’t go to UA, they didn’t meet until Izuku was 20 and they had a couple of one-night-stands that devolved into the mess of a labelless thing they have rn. Think open relationship with someone you’re constantly arguing with but would die for. 

Since LoV isn’t exactly a thing, rn, Shigaraki only has close contact with Dabi and Kurogiri. He still has a master/servant relationship with Kurogiri - actually, it is more pronounced here than in canon because AFO is dead so Shigaraki is his only boss. Dabi hangs around the bar and still works with him as muscle, tech guy, and a friend. He split up with Toga on good terms (this will become relevant later in my fic). He’ll meet Spinner online and they’ll bond over gaming. I think I’ll have him radicalize Spinner. We’ll see. As for AFO, he slowly realizes how AFO was just using him, moulding him.

Fourth: Shigaraki’s past.

It’s the same, lol. Except I’m pushing the USJ and training in the mountains arc to Katsuki’s last year in UA. Additionally, AFO and OFA die after his kidnapping.

Fifth: Shigaraki’s political ideology.

BNHA is inherently highly political and I don’t know why I’m surprised it’s such a letdown when it tries not to be. Honestly, some of my biggest gripes are right here. It’s trying to make Shigaraki an “anarchist” the way that the West colloquially understands them to be. (He wants to end society as it is and believes “the strong should live, the weak should die, and I am strong”.) Which. I can’t explain how much I find that annoying. In canon, he’s just an annoying manchild who can’t even take his thoughts to their logical conclusion. Dude, if you hate the fact that you were overlooked in a world where there are heroes and you suffered greatly, what do you think will happen to all the children in the world if you destroy it!?!!?!!

Anyways.

I’m not saying it’s unrealistic to make him this destructive while also making his grievances and actions clash - but it does make him stupid. Or willfully ignorant. And I don’t think he should be. He’s strong, he’s charismatic (in his own ways) and he already has a bunch of negative qualities (stubbornness, bad temper, etc.); he doesn’t need this.

So, instead, I’m making him start off with the same ideology except it’s going to get refined with AFO no longer controlling him and Izuku being in his life. I don’t wanna spoil too much but I’m thinking terrorism/stochastic terrorisim, using social media, (political) tailing (i.e. using other political movements to build your own), espionage, etc. All of it to expose how the hero system is corrupt, corrupted, and unnecessary and to find other ways for people to live the life they want to live no matter their quirk. Basically telling a story where you can imagine that he sees himself as the hero of his own story instead of an unthinking villain.

Would love to hear anyone’s thoughts on this. BTW, I found Lots of Thoughts about MHA by  sarehptar (Tumblr post version) to be a great resource when I was just staring to think about my BNHA fic: The Long Defeat.

[shira-hoe-shi]

A Mutual 'Oh Fuck.'

Kidlawlu magic!genderbend WIP

I started working on this when I had a surprise two hours free at work and needed somewhere to channel all of my directionless energy.

This is strictly a WIP. I'm not saying I'm not going to write more of this, but it feels a little too happy for what I'm looking to write rn?

But! I still thought someone might like it and I wanted to share bc I'm always looking for constructive feedback to become stronger writer :) + I'm really struggling with how to turn an idea into a finished piece.

The details are irrelevant—who poured the last round of drinks, who started the inevitable dick measuring contest, who pissed off the island’s resident mystic.

What matters right now is the jackhammer working to ram its way out of Kid’s skull. He feels like shit. The inside of his mouth is dry and he realizes with a grimace, wiping the back of one arm against his face, that the corners of his mouth are crusted over. Pushing himself up to his elbows, Kid sucks in a deep breath, curling the air at the back of his throat in an attempt to dislodge a night’s worth of mucus from his sinuses. He spits haphazardly to the side, not even sparing a glance to where the warm splat makes contact.

Sitting up completely, Kid buries his face in his hands, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets, dislodging sleep and bringing himself fully into the realm of the living. It’s bright as fuck. His chest hurts; his chest feels fucking heavy.

He stretches his arms high over his head with a pop before snapping his neck from side to side with the swift cracks. Joints settled, Kid lets a hand fall to his bare chest to idly check for damage. Had he gotten into a fight? Finally given that twink bastard Trafalgar Law something to really be goomy about; maybe a goose egg or a split lip on that shitty smirking face.

Kid’s fingers prod intently. His skin is tender. It’s soft? His frown deepens, eyes snapping fully awake and down.

Does he have fucking tits?

Kid is scrambling to his feet and he doesn’t scream, but there’s a high pitched wheeze that slips out of him that feels dangerously close. He doesn’t make it to his feet, legs tangling and suddenly he’s falling ass over tin cups before meeting the wall with a hard thud.

And it gets worse. So much worse. Because Kid didn’t trip over a mess of blankets or a pile of discarded laundry. No, he has one ankle hooked under none other than Trafalgar Law who’s now snapping awake and jostling a similarly entwined Straw hat Luffy with him.

Law’s staring at him and he’s staring back, a mutual oh fuck dawning across their faces in an instant.

Law is still, well, Law, but softer somehow. The hard lines of his chin dulled, lips full and swollen despite the tightness of the sneer they’re pulled into, and—oh shit—shirt ruffled and unbuttoned, allowing one pert breast to peek through. Small. Maybe a handful, not Kid’s hand to be sure because that dude is massive, but… the tendrils of his tattoo dip and bend to their body’s new curves, swirling snuggly against one taut, brown nipple.

Maybe his eyes linger a second too long, maybe his mouth falls a millimeter too wide, but Law is growling and wrenching the two sides of his shirt together.

“Eustass-ya,” his voice like gravel through clenched teeth, “what the fuck did you do?”

Indignant. In an instant.

[... something something “Me!? You creepy bastard you’re the one who likes playing with body parts y’sick fuck”]

[..something something Luffy’s eyes are still heavy with sleep and though he’s sat up enough to take in the room, if there’s something amiss, he certainly hasn’t realized it yet.]

[Kid has huge tits; Luffy looks almost exactly the same lmao]

[bigskydreaming]

Have you had any Nightwing related ideas for writing?

I love your ideas, and Reading them just makes my day and it's been a while since I read one of yours 🤔

So

Use this to put whatever you have in mind if you want I guess hajsjajsj

Not much at the moment, though I'd like to. Just give me a prompt or ask me about a fic I've talked about though and I can def expound on that. Its just I have so many of the latter I never have a singular jump back in point unless prompted, and I do very little thinking on just....new Dick Grayson content or meta rn just because I'm literally....not taking in much content TO spring board off of or inspire me to go in other directions.

My love for the character hasn't gone anywhere at all, I just have no interest in any of the canon content they're putting out for him these days and its been ages since I read DG fanfic regularly. My own takes are just too specific and different from the majority of fandom and like with Teen Wolf before it, it reached the point where I stepped away from reading fic not because I necessarily WANTED to - that desire to see fic fill the gaps and expand on unexplored territory canon leaves us with is very much still there - its just....too often I was just running headfirst into stuff that bothers me just as much as canon and it wasn't good for me to just keep getting worked up in various forms of HE WOULDN'T FUCKING SAY THAT.

ahsflhflakhflkahfalk

I know there's definitely still writers out there who are producing the kind of DG content I like, but between the above and my real life issues I kinda ended up going cold turkey when stopping reading Dick Grayson fics regularly and so now I'm in that Limbo where its like I have thoughts like....backed up and can definitely engage with content I like when and where I find it, I'm just.....a little directionless at the moment, fandom-wise, and not super eager to jump aimlessly back into stuff that I stepped away from for a reason, if any of that makes sense? (The key word there is aimlessly though. Its not that I don't want to jump back in, its just wanting to do it in a way that doesn't run me right into a wall of fics that are going to piss me off right off the bat).

But like, I miss talking about Dick Grayson and other fave blorbos too, lolol, so its not a lack of want so much as just.....y'know how sometimes you have a lighter you have to flick repeatedly before it catches properly and actually ignites? LOL. That's kinda how I feel lately, and I keep like, ending up spinning my wheels and clicking that lighter over and over without actually hitting that ignition point, after which I can usually count on my usual momentum kicking in and taking over. Its just....getting the spark to catch again, basically.

Pointing me in a specific direction, while not a guarantee, is definitely preferable over just spinning my wheels though!

[majachee]

*poked you with a stick* what's your lore

OOOUUUUUGGGGH 👁👁

Buckle up because this is a wip and a half and also I HAVE A FAIR AMOUNT DOWM ALREADY

In this world, pantheons co-exist, usually peacefully. They watch over their followers and the regions they occupy. It loosely mirrors our own world, but with a heavy mythological spin and a different history. Galileo is spinning in his grave rn cuz im using mythology rules for the sun and moon.

Worship is important to a god's livelihood, yes, but only in terms of giving them a more personal connection to the mortal realms and helping them fulfil a purpose. They will not keel over and die if they are no longer worshipped or believed in, but they will often feel alienated and directionless for a while before finding a new purpose - typically staying and keeping control of the natural world with the other nature gods of Earth (ie: the sun gods and moon gods still tend to the sun and moon), tending to the underworlds/afterlifes, taking care of the mythical beasts of the region, etc. If the god has no connections to nature or underworld, they can stick around and help, wander the world and explore other regions, help out other pantheons, etc.

A pantheon no longer being worshipped is considered a "fallen" pantheon - while some of the godly families do stick together, others separate, like the Hellenistic pantheon. A pantheon no longer being worshipped is seen as a natural part of a religion's life-cycle. Humans change and make new discoveries every day, so of course their spirituality will change over the centuries. That doesn't mean it isn't feared by some of the gods, especially those who are egotistical and driven by the worship. Like the stories involving death and escaping its hold, there are gods who have tried and failed to prevent the dwindling spirituality of the populace.

A lack of worship does not dissuade the strings of fate. If a prophecy was not fulfilled while the pantheon was being worshipped, it will still come into play at a later date - at least, that's the theory.

Fate is seen as absolute by most, but by a specific few fate is seen as something that can be toyed with, and is fickle and always-changing in nature.

The story begins with a world out of balance; Ra has disappeared from the sky midday, the collection of underworlds are being ravaged and disrupted, Fimbulwinter has started in Midgard despite Baldr being alive and well, along other unnerving anomalies worldwide. It's up to our collection of literary heroes to traverse the mortal and celestial realms, meet with gods new and old, and find out what's happening! And hopefully fix it! Hopefully.... and hopefully not before making things worse. Staring at Wukong who's one of the main characters rn. Still deciding on the other guys I want him to team up with (besides the obvious JttW gang cuz of course Tripitaka sticks around)

There is a group of gods who are suspected to be behind some of these anomalies: the leaders being the grief-stricken Boreas, the veangeful Loki, and a mysterious traveller with an uncanny appearance and a silver tongue. They hold no sympathy towards the ruling figureheads of the pantheons, having been hurt and betrayed by those they considered comrades. These antagonists have emotionally manipulated several misfit/outcasted deities and mythical beings into joining them against the gods and Macaque is one of them.

So that's where he fits in. He was miraculously saved from certain death by the other two celestial primates, but their taunting and spiteful words pushed him away right into the antagonists' open arms, being used as nothing short of a disposable tool for distruction.

Others include Hypnos, Liber, Orcus, Mordred, Atë, and. Several others that i'm still deciding on/doing research for.

So yeah, not only do the heroes of the story have to figure out why the world is going wack, screw around with fate a bit, but also gotta face emotionally manipulative and manipulated assholes. Redemption arcs included.

Still planning out all the arcs of the story itself, I have the first third of the story drafted out and I do plan on making art in the future exploring certain concepts.

I like toying with fate in stories, that myth of Freyr originally surviving Ragnarok only to change his fate to DYING BRUTUALLY cuz he gave away his sword for a girlboss who doesnt like him and was way out of his league INSPIRED ME. Man decided to die by Surtr for a woman who won't call him back, for a queen who gave him a fake phone number at a bar, a girlboss who owns like 20 different guns and won't hesitate to Kill. Men.

That myth awoke something feral within me, i'm sorry.

And if these seem greco-roman and norse specific so far, that's because I spent the most time studying those and i'm still studying other mythos and religions for inspo.

[slow-button-off]

Some more Binotto thoughts:

I am an engineer, he is an engineer so there is a sense of solidarity in general. Also, because if you as an engineer ever had to talk to management with no idea about the technical side you just feel for each other. (I kid you not one time an ex-boss walked past my desk, looked at my monitor and asked me what code I was working on. And then I had to break it to him that I was looking at a table of analysis results. Dark background =/= code)

Binotto is not blameless, and he has made mistakes and he probably isn't the perfect person for the job. But getting rid of him won't magically solve all problems. And thinking that now everything will be perfect immediately is imo a fallacy.

Things might get better in the long term future because maybe the new person will have different weaknesses that will work different. But for the short term future, I wouldn't say it's looking too bright.

Ferrari have a history of doing this. what has it been? 4/5 TPs in the same time frame that Toto and Horner have been at Merc and RB. Clearly there are bigger issues than the TP. And yes maybe Binotto wasn't the person to fix them but a new person coming in doesn't make that any more likely.

Ferrari has massive issues regardless of who the TP is.

They are also super reliant on their name and thinking that it being Ferrari will be enough to get the big names. Which it clearly isn't. They were shopping the role around for a year now and still have no real candidates because they all say no.

They asked Horner! I get that if you don't try you don't know but why on earth would he leave RB for the dysfunctional mess that is Ferrari?

You want to know why Vasseur is the only one that has shown interest so far? It's because he knows he'll be out of a job at least by 2024.

They all talk, they all watch and see what's going on in the other teams and who in their right mind really feels like going to Ferrari rn when they already have a good thing going?

So the replacement, while it has to be a big and convincing name most likely will not be that and it'll be underwhelming.

The other thing is as well that Binotto has engineers that really like him. That might just follow him, especially if the replacement isn't super convincing. And that brain drain can become another issue.

I get that there is a sense of panic about Charles and his contract and the future. And I get that they feel like they have to do something.

But this directionless whatever that is going on right now, that will most likely not lead to anything next year because it'll take at least a year for the new guy to identify and sort out the issue, really isn't helping that issue imho.

It might all be good for the long term future but for 2023 it's looking grim.

[elviratheepic]

Idk if I'll stick with this, but I've been in hospital for over a week now and I can feel my brain turning to mush, so I'm thinking it might be good to post like a journal thingy here. I can just throw my thoughts to the void and if anyone feels like throwing any thoughts back at me, maybe I'll reminded what human interaction is lol

And who knows, maybe some bits and pieces of my experiences rn might be handy to someone who ends up seeing it. This is a weird time for me, maybe someone else around here's having, has had or will have some similar weird times and we'll have made a little connection even if we don't speak :)

I mentioned it briefly in a post on my art blog, but to flesh it out a bit, I've been generally run down and really quite unwell like all summer and now into autumn. Been back and forth to the doctor, told I have chest infections, possible asthma, etc. I get booked in for an xray and then something looks weird so a ct scan, still thinking it's pneumonia with some odd symptoms, then a couple days later I get a call from my doctor telling me i am going to the hospital asap, there's a bunch of fluid in my chest that should not be there and also they need to check for lymphoma. I've never been to hospital for more than an orthodontist appointment and while not as surprised as I could be expected to be by the thought of cancer due to having had a weird anxiety fixation thing on the idea for a while (fun coincidence), it was still a bit of an ordeal lol. This was 10 days ago and I have not been home since. I've been coping pretty well considering the wild lack of control I feel over literally anything rn. The steroids they've got me on rn while I wait for further treatment have me feeling better than I have in a long while, and mentally the worst I've been dealing with is some fairly mild dissociation. Just kind of taking things as they come for now, rolling with things as best I can especially while so many things are kind of a bit up in the air and subject to change.

But I mean drama aside, the current diagnosis for me is pretty good. The cancer as it appears right now is treatable and has a pretty great cure rate. It's a "primary mediastinal large B-cell lymphoma" according to the leaflet I've got. It's high grade, so fast acting and aggressive but that actually makes these easier to get rid of than low grade slower working ones. It's hanging out next to my heart so that's the reason I've had all these bullshit symptoms in my chest cuz it's just been fuckin shit up in there and irritating its roommates. They've got me booked in for a pet scan day after tomorrow cuz the scanner was having issues so they couldn't get me in sooner, then the plan is to start chemotherapy the next day. Which will be an experience. The treatment plan we've basically already decided is 6 21-day cycles of chemo where I'll be in hospital for about 5 days getting monitored and adjusted treatment, then going home for the rest and coming back to start the cycle again. It's not going to be the most fun and easy experience of my life but tbh I've done hard things before and I know I'm capable of doing this. Not that this kind of thing can ever really come at a "good" time, but I think that personally I'm pretty lucky this came along at the point in my life it did. I've been able to spend the last couple years basically building myself back up from feeling entirely lost, shattered and directionless after a pretty traumatic attempt at university durring covid lockdowns. I'm maybe lacking in some life experience people my age tend to have, but ultimately I have confidence, strength and self-awareness now that I do not take for granted. Basically I got the chance to reinforce my foundations in unkowing preparation for this whole thing. Honestly, I'm kind of just curious who I'll be on the other side of this experience - wherever that may be.

My main concern has been my siblings. I'm the oldest of 3 and we're all very close, spend a lot of time together and are at the core of eachothers' support systems. One of them's got college stress and deadlines, the other's out of school with anxiety issues rn, and my instinct is to be there as a support. And of course they would be supporting me too, it's not all give, they're amazing at being there for me too especially while I've been unwell (I love them so so much and I'm proud of everything they do can you tell lol). But while they have been visiting when they can, we don't get so much time together rn with me being in hospital and I feel like it's hard to get a gauge on how things really are with eachother at the moment which is rough with there being so much change going on rn. I know we'll figure things out, but I can't help worrying about them a bit, I feel like it's kind of my job lol

Oof can you tell it's getting late and my brain's going sleepy ramble mode? Idk if I'm even making much sense but hey

The ward I've been moved to for this is good. It's a cancer ward for teens and young adults with a common room area funded by the teenage cancer trust. There's guitars, a ps4, craft supplies and free snacks. It feels so weird that like that space is for me to use, like I'm kinda tresspassing on something for people who need it more than I do. But the ward's fairly quiet and not so busy at the moment, so when my siblings and briefly my friend came to visit me today, we basically had free reign of the space without having to disturb anyone. I feel more comfortable in there than I did, and I think it's a good space for my siblings to be when they come visit. I'm really greatful they get to use it with me - even if I feel kind of like others deserve the space more (ik im being silly), seeing them get good use and some fun out of it today was good and reassuring. It's reassuring to hear people talking about there being support systems for siblings too should they need them. Especially when it feels like I can't look out for them so much in the ways I normally would.

But yeah, I think that's about all that's in my brain for right now. I'll look back on this tomorrow and realise none of this actually made any sense lol

But yeah basically got thrown a bit of a curveball lately as life tends to do, but there's answers now where there wasn't before, and the path ahead's starting to make itself visible. It sucks, but I've been worse. I'm not just saying that for the sake of offsetting the fact that it sucks, I'm just taking the the little wins where i can cuz I know that's gotten me through plenty rough and sucky times before.

Some little wins:

Woke up to magpies outside the window this morning. One came right up to the glass to say hi, but I couldn't snap a picture in time lol <3

My friend brought me a rainbow sensory slug companion, and I made a pipecleaner creature named Spigley while my siblings were here. They are friends and will be my chemo companions :)

(Idk if that's a mouth or a moustache but i think it suits him either way)

[1300dshawty]

writing a personal statement for a university application rn and being forced to confront, head on, just how directionless my life really feels right now. and it has felt like this for maybe 2 years now. i just want a sense of confidence in my true self. who exactly i am. not just what i look like. i’m not entirely sure who i want to be rn or even in the near future. i don’t know what tamyra wants to do for the rest of their life. i thought i did. i thought i found a home when i found film. i thought that would be what would drive me for the rest of my life. and in some ways it definitely still is. i feel myself pulling teeth to justify this dream. it feels so much worse because it feels like i’m giving up before i even try. i’m so exhausted, of the mental strain of feeling unworthy.

and as most things go i no longer know where this is going. i’m grateful to be here nonetheless. it’s all a part of the journey i guess.

note: decided to with statement about music/film pr.

[gayspock]

🤨? bsg

like i feel like im getting more + more frustrated... bc whilst i am measuring my own expectations, and furthermore i dont EXPECT a show to align fully with my own perspectives, tht can only go so far like... i feel like everything rn is just confused about exactly what the hell theyre trying to explore here + theyre just doin whatever the fuck

like it feels directionless but not intentionally so. which it COULD be given what theyve done but i just.. god idk man. i feel like theres just so many good CONCEPTS that are floated in this show and theres tensions but so few get fully developed and more and more of the time its getting all over the place. and so theres these epic points of convergence - wherein they have done the legwork, and they know wtf is up - where the show is REALLYYY freaking good as all the disparate parts come together.... but as it goes on and theyre getting more and more infrequent and im like ok... like

like again going back to what i said abt whastever the fuck. like again i think so much of it is the lack of respect the show has for the civvies + the cylons. it put a lot of work into the fleet itself and the subtlies within it but everyone else gets half arsed or patronised and its insane, and so when you wanna incorporate those essential elements back in everything is sloppyyyyyyy.

like absolutely NOTHING!!!!!1 NOTHING!!!! on the civilian side is unreasonable but the show is so desperate sometimes to prove that it is. its so funny. and you can absolutely do a nuanced take on it- and they have done really good examples before, or have gotten close to it. bc so true sometimes what the "majority" wants isnt always best, and is swayed very much by emotion - and thats GREAT you can do a lot of commentary there on the politics of that. like i think whilst it was imperfect, gaius' election arc is a good example bc yes he won by doing exactly that, and, i think the reason why i like that arc was bc it was the emphasis on gaius being manipulative rather than everyone being stupid and unreasonable (even though there was some of that i mean the "blame" was on him). BUT you still have to concede and you cant just..... rig a fucking election and take away ppls choice, force them to do whatever the fuck you want because yes. that is authoritarianism and like OTHER EPISODES like dirty hands show very well that these grand sweeping choices made by the president/military have such ill-effects on the everyday ppl that they dont even care about or see AND ITS LIKE YEAH THAT

BUT THEN ITS LIKE. RN. IS IT FUCKING AT ALL RIDICULOUS THAT PPL WOULD WANT TO OVERTHROW ROSLIN AND ADAMA? REALLY? like- its always ZAREK again bc hes depicted as some slimy extremist, and dont get me wrong i dont doubt sure he could have some ulterior motive, but he is a construct, he was written in that way, etc. so its just like.... SO TELLING that hes the villain when literally everything he WANTS is a) reasonable but also b) against the status quo established like... HE ISNT FUCKING WRONG. HE WASNT BEFORE, EITHER!!!! like roslin is not fit to be president from an objective pov. even if her visions are ultimately "correct" at this point in the show fucking... SEE HOW THAT LOOKS TO LITERALLY EVERYBODY ELSE IN THE HUMAN RACE. THEM STRONGARMING EVERYBODY INTO THEIR OWN DECISIONS, REPEATEDLY REFUSING TO LISTEN TO ANY OF "THE PEOPLE" TO DO WHAT THEY THINK IS RIGHT AND LEVERAGING THE MILITARY, ETC. TO GET THAT... LIKE HUH AND HEY ?

AND THATS THE THING THAT MAKES IT FRUSTRATING ALL THE MORE BC. this would be such a good fucking plot if they COMMITTED TO IT properly and just had more fucking teeth about it. quit fucking presenting zarek as some cartoonish slimeball; put more fucking criticism ONTO adama and roslin. stop saying "oh adama is so anti-authoritarian" and fucking put your pussy into showing that or showing his actual internal struggle with it. like for REAL for real- something that lasts more than 2 seconds. quit being so all over the place and FOCUS.

AND WHILE YOURE AT IT OH MY GOD IM SOMAD ABOUT EVERYTHING THEYVE DONE WITH THE CYLONS AT THIS POINT. LIKE IM NOT. because its as equally half arsed at this point and its just so... NOTHINGGGG .... you kept HALF ARSING the cylons before and i thought it was just mystery and intrigue but you girlies just clearly dont care enough and now ugh fuckiNG GOD its so flimsy bc ... its not my favourite route, but i am okay-ish if you did wanna try the fucking attempt at using them to be like ohoh arbitrary differences keeping us divided shtick and do the whole ah yes minority allergory thing from hereon if its done right but youve been so fucking LAZY with them and so im just feeling. my hackles every time you try some shit th- WHATEEVERRRR RANT OVERRRR IM TIRED TODAY WE ARENT DOING TI

[mandoposting]

the thing with that repeated Moment they used of young boba on kamino - where he runs to the window to see jango leaving - it just left me wanting more. cause the second time they showed it, it was longer in the beginning! so i was hoping theyd do something like play that same moment once every episode, but making it longer each time, working up to some significant reveal about someone who was in the room with him/watching from outside/anything!!! it would be a nice joining element between each episode and makes for a really intriguing micronarrative to follow!

but alas, just nostalgia bait for prequels fans 😔 its me. im prequel fans. i fell for the bait.