#physically overwhelmed

[june-again]

why do i like music so much

[dwuerch-blog]

Thank God for His Presence

We made it home to Austin from Puerto Vallarta at 11 pm last night. We were supposed to have arrived at 6 pm but our flight was cancelled. We were on standby for the next flight but that flight could only take one of us. We turned the offer down. Finally, we were put on a 9 pm flight that made it to Austin by 10:15 pm. We waited for our luggage, but it didn’t show up with us. And, because it was…

[diurnalvl]

seven years ago, vox was happy. almost.

1 / 2 / ?

[shima-draws]

Normally Sanji is the most put together person between him and Luffy. He’s probably the most put together person on the entire crew besides Robin. Meanwhile Luffy is a walking disaster, chaos is naturally drawn to him and he’s ALWAYS getting into trouble. When it comes to their actual romantic relationship tho. It’s COMPLETELY flipped lmao

Luffy will walk out on deck with his hair slightly tousled and his vest a bit askew but that’s normal for him. He looks smug as hell but that’s also normal for him. Nobody bats an eye. Then Sanji comes tumbling out of the galley. Shirt untucked and buttoned up the wrong way, hair thoroughly ruffled, clothes rumpled, looking utterly fucking disheveled. His nose is bleeding, he’s stumbling like he’s drunk and his neck is covered in hickies. Everyone on deck proceeds to lose their goddamn MINDS

[crazymecjc]

shuake week day 2 - new game plus

plus, bonus!

[39oa]

OSCAR PIASTRI in McLaren Unboxed | 2023 British GP

I have a few more friends now, after qualifying third. So… double thumbs up.

[merakiui]

ALIEN SCARAMOUCHE WITH OVIPOSITION MERA ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 I need more, what would he look like, what are his motivations... Omg... Maybe some kidnapping going on...some experiments on humans...him studying how humans reproduce and if his race can use them... Aaaa my mind is going crazy with ideas, please do share yours too! <3

What if he doesn’t have a form of his own (something that sort of ties into canon Scaramouche’s obsession with wanting a heart and a purpose)? And maybe he’s more like a shadowy mass that can take the form of anything so long as he’s encountered said thing (i.e. made contact with it? Or maybe he has to kill the original in order to take its form? Or it’s something like a reflection where if you happen to look at him long enough he’ll have a good enough idea of how to replicate your form from staring and analyzing it.) and since he’s so dedicated to having a form that really fits, that truly feels like him, he’s continued to adapt and evolve as the years pass throughout every planet in the solar system.

Perhaps he does have a few features of his own, but maybe they’re sort of scattered?? Or they aren’t really features his species is known to have? He’s like a mixture of various things he’s observed over the time he’s spent on your planet in an effort to shape himself into something beyond the formless shadow he’s lived as for so long. Like a patchwork copycat composed of so many different parts because he’s desperately trying to understand all of these things. It’s like his version of trying on clothes and new fashion styles. So maybe he has horns or maybe cat ears because he’s seen so many stray cats and they’ve always fascinated him for some unexplainable reason (maybe in order to have these features he’s had to ingest part of the living thing he wants to replicate??? Just something a little extra horrifying for our beloved alien mouchey. <3) And maybe the only thing he has from the one who created him (Ei) is the same piercing stare in a pair of brilliantly colored eyes she graciously bestowed upon him.

Maybe Scaramouche can’t understand human emotion in the usual sense that other humans might, so he assigns flavors to these unusual feelings. When he hurts the things he likes or is interested in (cats, the human he stole his current appearance from (i.e. Kabukimono; let’s pretend they’re two separate individuals hehe), and even other gentle things or creatures who are completely innocent), the taste in his mouth is sour or bitter or so very intolerable. I think over time he hardens himself and learns to live with the foul flavors he often encounters when he attempts to blend in with humans and utterly fails because he can never replicate their emotions as well as he can copy behaviors or appearances. He starts his journey so curious and sweetly innocent, albeit murderous and eerie, and he tries so hard to learn and be good and explore the world with the eyes his mother gifted him and yet he always finds himself hurting. He hates it. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible, and he has never truly felt before. This is new.

When Scaramouche is captured by Dottore, a human scientist who is a little too dedicated to the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, he finally tastes the cruelty of humankind—learns of the lengths they’ll go to in the name of scientific breakthroughs. The researchers run dozens of tests on him. He can’t feel external or internal pain from wounds or injuries; he’s sturdy, birthed from a substance foreign to humans, intended to survive the harshest conditions. But Scaramouche feels pain—the emotional kind. He’s never felt fear; he’s what humans would call an apex predator. He’s strong. He’s never needed to feel fear, and so he doesn’t fear the unknown. He isn’t scared of the sharp tools, of the peculiar creatures he’s shown in hopes that he might replicate them and their features, nor does he fear the trajectory of this new life. The concept of ethical practices means nothing to him even though he’s aware he’s a lab rat, a grotesque curiosity that doctors poke and prod at. He reacts to everything in unique, defensive ways. He impaled a doctor through the throat with a strange shadowy spike. It moved as though it were liquid, yet it struck very solidly, sharply, deadly efficient. Dottore likens its movements and behaviors to that of an octopus’s tentacle; Scaramouche is unsure of this comparison. This is merely a shadow of something he has observed—a reflection. A cheap copy. He has never been original.

You’re the first human he meets who isn’t adorned in sterile white. No lab coat, no gloves, no goggles, no protective gear. Just clothes. Normal clothes. The both of you are separated by indestructible glass, placed in two very white rooms, and you can see one another so clearly. Scaramouche hates the purity of white because he knows that when he’s forced into a white backdrop he’s meant to stain it red. And lately he doesn’t want to break things that are undeserving of it. Perhaps he’s feeling too much. Perhaps he ought to tear these human feelings out and go back to the blank, shadowy slate he once was. How he intends to accomplish that, he has no idea.

He’s uninterested in you at first. You’re a human. He’s seen humans. He interacts with them daily. He’s killed plenty. But you spend nights in that white room and he watches you sleep. He tries to sleep in the same way you do; he has no need for sleep. He regulates his energy differently. He tries to breathe like you. He blinks at the same times you blink—or he comes awfully close. He tries to copy your movements and mannerisms. One night he presses himself to the glass and takes your form and watches you, counting every rise and fall of your chest as you lie so comfortably on the very uncomfortable cot. With hands that mirror yours, he pokes at these human features. He fits one hand in the other and pretends he’s holding your actual hand. There is no warmth, though. Humans are warm; Scaramouche is not. He’s frigid. His home planet is gloomy and cold and desolate. He thinks humans are lucky for cyclical days—for being in close proximity to the sun. There is no sunshine where he hails from. He likes the way the sun feels on him. It used to burn terribly when he first arrived on this planet. Now it’s like a hug—a hug that still singes, but a hug nonetheless. He’s never known what a hug is, but he thinks this is what it must feel like—like the burning warmth of a sun.

Scaramouche feels true, raw, animalistic, paralyzing fear when you’re taken out of the room after two weeks and replaced with a new human. You’re gone. Replaced. Are you dead? Did he kill you? Did he stare too long? He’s distraught, overcome with a horrifying emotion that has him curled and trembling in the corner of his white room (a cage if he’s ever known one). Why aren’t you here? And why is he so…restless? He can’t call it fear because he doesn’t know that word. But oh he’s scared. He’s so scared. You were the first human to smile at him, to put your hand on the glass where his rested, to sit close to the glass and eat meals alongside him. You were like the stray cats he’s interacted with: kind, soft, gentle, sweet. He’s so scared he loses the ability to remain in his human skin, and he practically melts into a shadow, clinging to the corner like glue or slime. He’s empty and alone. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible.

The humans that follow are terrified of him. Either that or they’re disgusted, baffled, cautious. He hates every one of them, so much so that he’s tried to break through the glass numerous times to dispose of them. Weeks pass; he’s forgetting your features. There are no mirrors here, so he must rely on the reflections shown in the glass. Some days he thinks he looks just like you; other days he’s certain he’s a monstrosity—a sloppily stitched version of you. The you he saw did not have pointed fangs or curling horns. He hates his reflection because it isn’t you. Most importantly, he hates that the humans he’s forced to look at are protected by this thick layer of glass. If it wasn’t so indestructible, he’d tear through every human nuisance until he reaches you.

Scaramouche is not sure how many months pass, but you return. And when you do the fear ebbs away. He feels…happy? Is that the right term? He’s pleased to see you, and for the first time in a while he returns to his human appearance—to the one he took from a young man many centuries ago. You’re back. You’re here. He’s so happy. He detaches himself from his corner and he tries to smile in the way you do. And, though it’s awkward and strange and sharp-toothed, you smile right back.

Dottore decides then that you are to be the next subject in this experiment. He’s observed Scaramouche’s reactions to you and compared them to reactions to the other humans and found that you are the best suited to this role. If anything, the alien couldn’t have picked a better specimen to adore. You’re helpless and so naïve. You need the money; it’s why you allowed yourself to live in that room for a few weeks. You were paid handsomely for it. He’ll pay you beyond handsomely if you agree to what’s next. And, really, when you’re in between a predator’s jaws do you really have much of a choice?

Scaramouche needs a human match, and the scientists need to study more than just the social biology of an alien. They promise you he won’t hurt you, and if he does it’s all right. They’re kind enough to respect the wishes of the dead. You must let Dottore know if you’d prefer a burial or a cremation. There’s nothing special in this distinction; it’s just a precautionary measure. You’ll agree to participate in this experiment whether or not you want to.

Your new home is the white room that faces Scaramouche, and after some more time and observations to ensure you won’t be killed the moment you step foot in his space the glass barrier will be lifted. Dottore wonders how Scaramouche’s kind mates and reproduces.

There’s only one way to find out.

[sergle]

Hey Sergle, how does one learn how to draw? Like, I am in my 20s, can barely draw a stick figure, and feel overwhelmed whenever I try to look up tutorials. Do you have any advice on how to start?

my Unprofessional advice on how to start in earnest, is to do it the way little kids do when they start learning to draw! which is to not approach it as learning at all. sitting down and scribbling out whatever comes to mind, reading a book or watching a movie and trying to copy the way the characters are drawn. draw a page full of cats. do it while you watch tv. doing all that w/o the Grown Up impulse to be embarrassed that you're new at a skill.

[goldheartedsky]

This might be a controversial opinion but a lot of tumblr would be a lot more normal about shit if y’all actually started having sex

[amygdalae]

I was so obsessed with skyrim when I was 12 I actively try to block out some of the memories because im so embarrassed by how I acted

[uncanny-tranny]

It's a scary time for so many trans people, and I really want to push for everybody to not feel guilty for not wanting to always combat the horrific state of transphobia. You aren't required to be an activist, you aren't "giving up" by trying to live as comfortably as possible. This especially goes for trans kids who don't deserve to have their childhoods ripped away from them to be subjected to transphobia because of their activism.

Trans people: do what you can to survive - to thrive. Your existance is resistance.

[priyemma]

Priya is so blinded by her focus on the game that she shows little to no empathy for Emma feeling betrayed (after being lied to!) because she thinks it’s for the good of the game. Literally forcing her to answer and not showing any guilt or remorse. This isn’t Priya hate btw it’s angst because ugh! I love her! And she was wrong!

[mochiwrites]

being so honest I don’t understand how people can expect you to be doing things constantly every single day. I’m supposed to be on summer break but my university expects me to send in 80 sources for my senior thesis by next week

the very thought of doing school work right now makes me want to cry. I can’t even open a blank document and start writing for my own fics. I can’t even engage in my own hobby right now because I’m so mentally exhausted. how can you expect me to do thesis work? I’ve hardly had a break since finals

my personal life has been an ongoing shitshow since last summer. and has only gotten worse in recent months. how can you expect someone to function in society when you throw one thing after another at them?

I’m so tired and done. but I have no choice other than pushing through it because that’s what’s expected of me! that’s exhausting

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

If you're writing a radiobelle fic and not putting in direct parallels between the way Alastor treats Charlie and how Val treats Angel then what are you even doing

[angelpuns]

Me: time to sit down and do so much drawing

My body: I actually am gonna do the thing where it feels like you're having an anxiety attack for no reason and also like you ran a marathon but you're just sitting okay?

Me: bro no

[sugarsweetvirgo]

💚Eve's Biology Fun Facts💚