#these are supposed to be references for myself

[cokrouch]

oooo yay

1/ therian and otherkin, idk actually know much about anything else or their prolly would be more....but im just not very knowledgeable i suppose(very open to learning tho)

2/ Theriotypes: Black wolfdog, Dear, Rabbit, Crow, Barn owl, Black cat, Rhinoceros beetle, Fly, Cockroach

Paleotype: Therizinosaurus

Otherkin: Angelkin, Robotkin, Vampirekin, Zombiekin, Ghostkin, Skeletonkin, Cryptidkin, Creaturekin, Sirenkin

3/ i dont think so but when i get distressed or feel cornered i feel like a prey animal which makes sense i suppose. i also sometimes when im sitting on the edge of my bed and close my eyes i sometimes get little like memories(not visual but like i just know that its smth thats happened) of sitting at the foot of a throne, wings tucked neatly behind my back/over my face(the ones on my head) and im dressed in silk and gold and its just...nice i want to go back but alas i cannot(whenever im in the car and look at the sky and see the sun rays filtering through the clouds all i can really think is "i should be up there")

4/ its pretty ever present so yk

5/ most people are nice, i dont get into discourse cuz it makes me a lil sad cuz like...idk its someone elses life i dont think its a big deal unless its spreading misinformation or harming someone/something

6/ uhhhh prolly gotta go with 2 of my friends being therians too so i can chat with them about it sometimes(i keep it to myself most of the time idk im just like that) being referred to as my therio/kin/paleotype. the fact that most of my clothes are black and one of my more frequently noticeable types have black fur(maybe thats why im more comfortable in blacks/browns/greens huh...) the fact that i have a lot of like cat/dog/owl/prey/etc mannerisms

7/ sometimes mainly cuz i dont have fangs/sharp teeth or a tail and i have skin...and organs...and no wings...only 2 eyes the list just goes on but its not like dysphoria it doesnt cause me distress but yk id rather have all that stuff cuz it would cause more euphoria does that makes sense?

8/ stay away from discourse and if smth doesnt fit thats alright, been there done that, it isnt the end of the world, promise /gen /pos

9/ yes, i want some. the only gear i have is a half finished crow mask it just needs elastic and some feather/painted details but i dont have anything so i gotta wait a bit(i have a wip yarn tail...but i dont like the way the yarn feels even tho it kinda feels like course fur)

10/ no....i do not sadly

11/ you know the gist, anyone can answer and i thing i'll tag....hm...@neowanderseternally /nf ofc

If you are an alter/nonhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[solarstranger]

a/n. been seeing a lot of pregnancy/baby fever fics these days and while i'm all for the father versions of our blorbos and breeding kinks (lmfao), i'm someone who just can't see myself becoming a mother for multiple reasons. reposting this drabble from april for my girls who feel the same way. hope y'all enjoy this! (1.6k)

c.w. slightly heavy themes, references to abortion.

this wasn’t supposed to happen.

sneaking another glance at the stick in your right hand, it takes every ounce of the little energy you have left after what has been an arduous day at work to stay upright on your cold, bare feet.

it’s ridiculous—you know that—but you still find yourself blinking once, then twice, as if doing so as deliberately as you could would make the tauntingly faint yet present second line disappear before your eyes.

you tamp down the panic—or bile, you don’t fucking know—that’s rising to your throat, while your gaze remains fixed on the pregnancy test.

which reminds you.

you’re shaking.

why are you shaking?

…right, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

jesus. is this the pregnancy already at work? the brain fog that they say plagues a good percentage of women carrying a—fuck, you can’t even say it—fetus?

whatever answer was lying in the deep recesses of your brain doesn’t get to see the light of day, because your head snaps up in attention when you hear the telltale turning of the keys at your front door.

shit.

frantic, your eyes dart around the bathroom, before ultimately landing on the boxes containing the three different brands of pregnancy tests you hastily bought from the drugstore on the way home. you grab for them in record time, stuffing them behind the rolls of tissues on the shelves above the toilet. it’s not the perfect hiding spot, but it’s good enough—at least until you muster up the courage to tell katsuki the truth.

katsuki.

god. what’s he going to say?

“babe?”

—aside from that.

“over here!” you barely manage to call out, shoving the stick into your pocket.

the faint sound of footsteps grows from a subtle pattering to loud thuds as the man approaches, and you find yourself waiting with bated breath—one that you release not so inconspicuously the second he emerges by the door, a perplexed expression decorating his sharp features.

“what’re you doing here?” he asks, voice gruff, although he doesn’t wait for a response before pulling you in for a hug. despite your fried nerves, you find yourself relaxing in his arms as the heady smell of the body wash he keeps at the agency fills your lungs.

“had to pee,” you answer—half-truthfully—against his chest, keeping your body plastered against his firm yet warm frame. and, for a brief moment, you forget the predicament you were just in—safe and content in his presence—

right up until you feel a hand slide down to caress your side, and despite yourself, you stiffen.

you don’t have to look up to know bakugou’s frowning.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his tone riddled with hurt but mostly caution. it pains you to hear him like this—you promised yourself you’d make him feel as secure with you as you are with him—but you still refuse to meet his gaze.

and when you don’t respond nor move: “look at me.”

now, you were never the kind to deny him of anything—even if you wanted to at times—so you do.

excruciatingly slowly, but you do.

suddenly, you’re thankful bakugou’s gripping onto your waist, because you’re certain you’d collapse from the sheer intensity of his stare if he wasn't. you try to smile in an attempt to reassure him, but your mouth only wobbles awkwardly as tears start to well in the corners of your eyes, causing bakugou’s frown to deepen even further.

“baby,” he mumbles—coaxes—the softness juxtaposing against his earlier sternness. your eyes flutter closed for a moment as a scarred hand shoots up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before returning to where it’s taken residence at your hips.

you take a shuddering breath.

you don’t know what takes over you, but what you end up blurting is—

“promise me you won’t get mad.”

at that, bakugou’s eyebrows furrow. “the fuck?”

—which, if anyone can believe it, is a valid response.

because sure, bakugou’s been frustrated with you, sometimes even exasperated—although that rarely ever happens—but never mad. he once said he couldn’t find it in him to direct any of his anger toward you, and he’s never said anything truer.

and you know that, which is why you don’t know why you even said that thing just now. but you have no idea how else to preface what you’re about to tell him, let alone soften the blow.

when something tells you he’s not even going to take it as a blow…

“remember when i asked you to buy me some painkillers to prepare for my period?”

“…yeah?”

you gulp, fisting his shirt. “that was over three weeks ago.”

the crease in his forehead doesn’t let up. “okay?”

sighing, you close your eyes.

fuck it.

there’s no turning back from this one.

“y/n, what are you trying to—”

“i still haven’t had it,” you cut in. and when bakugou only blinks at you, seemingly shell-shocked, you finally say it.

“i’m pregnant.”

realistically, it must have only been around a minute that passed with neither of you uttering a word, but the silence that ensues feels like an eternity, as a whirlwind of emotions dances across bakugou’s face—emotions that you don’t even dare try to pinpoint.

it takes him another beat to seemingly gather his thoughts together, before clearing his throat that you think has gone dry in flat-out surprise. his gaze then darts down to your stomach, and you have to stop yourself from reflexively touching it, even as he looks back up at you.

and when he does speak up, the first thing he says is—

“are you sure?”

to that, you only nod reluctantly, gingerly taking out the stick from your pocket for him to see. you pass it to him, continuing as he examines the red lines. “i took three. all different brands.”

“and each one came out…?”

“positive, yeah.”

you watch him as he nods—more to himself than at you—before placing the device carefully on the sink. you can practically see the gears in his head turning as he straightens up to face you, expression betraying how hard he’s thinking about this.

and fuck if this ends up biting you in the ass, but damn it—you need to know.

so you ask.

“w-what—” you start, pausing to cough, and bakugou’s quick to lean in and rub soothing circles at your back. you wave him off with a grateful look a moment later, to which he takes in stride as he steps back, gazing at you expectantly.

“i was just gonna ask,” you rasp hastily, fighting the tightening sensation at your throat. “what are you thinking right now?”

“about—”

“about this,” you supply, rubbing your stomach absentmindedly. “us. pregnant.”

bakugou hesitates. “i’m thinking about how you are—”

“i’m not asking about me. i’m asking about you.”

there.

you said it.

and you don’t know where else to chalk it up aside from his general acuity, but it only takes a second for the plain bewilderment that etched itself across bakugou’s face to morph into palpable realization. you stare at him as he sits in the implications of your question, and even more so as he struggles to find the right words to say.

finally, and after what feels like ages, bakugou settles with five simple words:

“you know what i think.”

and with those words comes an avalanche-like weight crashing on your shoulders, and before he can continue, you beat him to it. say the two things that instantly flooded your mind the instant you felt a wave of unfounded nausea earlier this morning.

one: “i’m not ready, kats.”

and, two: “i don’t think i’ll ever be ready.”

to your un-surprise and chagrin, bakugou merely nods and takes your hands in his, as if he’s been expecting this. “that’s okay, babe.”

“no, it’s not,” you argue, although you don’t wrangle away from his grip. you need to make the most of the contact you’re blessed enough to have right now, especially given what you’re about to say.

shaking your head, you let your eyes droop to your entangled hands. “it’s not too late, kats,” you whisper, “i’ll understand if you want to break u—”

“don’t.”

“but—”

“don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” bakugou growls.

you look up, and it takes everything within you to not break down at the sight of your boyfriend’s face.

“i told you,” he begins, his hold on you tightening, “you know what i think. but i want what you want. and—”

“but your dream of—”

“—and, there’s nothing i want more than to be with you.”

and at that, you can’t help it—you whimper as the tears you’ve been desperately holding finally stream down your face, and you don’t resist—letting yourself get scooped up in bakugou’s arms and into a crushing embrace.

“…i’m sorry,” you mumble into his shirt after a few beats of comforting silence, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your torso.

“there’s nothing to be sorry for,” bakugou mouths against your head.

“i wanted to be everything you could ask for,” you admit quietly.

shamefully.

and you know it’s going to take some time—some time to come to terms with falling short, with not meeting important expectations, especially with the person you love.

but then bakugou says something under his breath, and somehow, you get the feeling that everything’s going to be okay.

“you already are, baby,” you feel him smile. “you already are.”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[hikarimiyanaga]

I thought it was me?

Fuck me. I'm in love with Rumi already.

VOICES ARE MY FUCKING WEAKNESS.

Okay. MY FIRST CRUSH HAD A VOICE THAT MADE ME WEAK IN THE KNEES.

Okay. Take this angsty one shot. Because I need to hurt myself apparently.

You freeze in your tracks as you hear their conversation.

"Who? Y/N? She's just an assistant." Rumi finishes it with a chuckle and you quickly hide yourself behind the walls.

Assistant. Right.

So all her promises. All her laughs. All the kisses. All the nights spent together in her bed.

All of those were nothing.

Assistant. That's what you are.

You should've just stayed in your lane.

Should've never confessed.

Should've never fell.

You can't help the big tears as you clutch your heart.

Your heart hurts so much.

You feel your whole world break down.

"Right. I need to quit." You take a deep breath and you look at your phone.

The picture of you and Rumi where she kissed your cheek when it was supposed to be a simple selfie.

You feel your heart clench in itself again.

'This sucks.' You think as you make your way out of the penthouse.

'This fucking sucks.' You chant to yourself as you make your way to the lobby. You take a deep breath and call your boss.

"Bobby? We need to talk."

-

You were collecting your stuff in the penthouse and you groan.

"Why the hell did I leave so many of my stuff here?"

You stack another box and groan.

"In my next job, I'm fucking getting a duffel bag."

You finish getting everything after fifteen minutes and look at the four boxes.

"Two trips it is." You decide and so you carry two boxes down to your car.

You put the boxes in your trunk and hum as you check the Livestream.

You picked this time because you knew the girls would be out.

No tears. No pain. No sadness. No regret.

No one would stop you from leaving at all. Even Bobby was informed already and although he protested it at first. You debated him for hours until he reluctantly agreed that you make your sneaky way out.

Out of their lives.

The thought makes you freeze.

Right.

No more late night bursts of inspirations with Zoey.

No more analyzation of choreographies with Mira.

You weren't just going to lose Rumi.

You were going to lose everything.

But still. Knowing that she only still sees you as nothing but an assistant makes you weak in your knees.

You were patient. A saint, really. After all, she had promised for years that she'll reveal to the public that you were hers but she never did.

And you were okay with that.

Because you know deep inside that Rumi was not someone who you can reach.

Huntr/x is god level status among the groups. Tops all the groups. All the time.

You ride the elevator up to the penthouse again. Not knowing that while you froze up. The Livestream had ended abruptly because Bobby can't keep a secret.

-

You were about to pick up the other two boxes when you were dragged by Mira.

"What- why are you here already!?" She doesn't answer but her grip on your wrist tightens. She makes you sit on the couch and you look at her.

"I left on my bike. Zoey and Rumi are on their way."

"What? Why?"

"Because you were leaving! I asked Bobby why you weren't there and he-" Mira can't stop her tears. Her voice went from angry to sad.

"Why are you leaving?" You panic as she cries.

"Mira! It's not your fault at all, okay? You guys did nothing wrong." She grabs your collar.

"Then why!? Y/N, you fit in well with us. You always supported us from the start so why- why are you just leaving us when we're at the top!?" You feel your heart clench.

"I-"

"Did Zoey make you stay late at night? You know you have your own room here-"

"No- I-"

"Did Bobby skimp out on your bonus? I can give you a thousand percent bonus if you want to-"

"Mira! Stop!" You shout and she freezes as your tears are just flowing.

Mira has never seen you cry. You were their rock. Always calm. Always there. She even jokingly refers to you as the true delinquent of the group.

"Please. Let me leave. I can't- I can't live like this anymore."

"You- have you hated us?"

"No! Never! I just-" you sob as you clutch your chest. Your heart hurts so much. It hurts too much. Everything is collapsing before you. Your heart that was given away is utterly destroyed and in pieces. And now you were about to leave your best friends too.

"Please. Just let me leave. I need to go. I can't- my heart can't take anymore, okay?" You sob. "It hurts so much. So fucking much."

"What? I-I don't understand." You chuckle at that.

"How can you? Please let me go. I can't see her. I don't want to get hurt anymore. Okay?"

"Who-"

"Rumi."

"Your girlfriend?"

"No. My boss. I'm just her assistant, after all."

Rumi and Zoey freeze at the door as they hear you.

"Rumi?" Zoey questions her and Rumi can only stare at you.

You heard her that day. Fuck.

"I- Juni doesn't know and I had to-"

"This is why I told you to stop fucking around and announce it!" Mira shouts at her and you snap.

"STOP!" The trio looks at you and you look at them with such calm eyes that they instinctively took a step back.

"I'm leaving. Don't fight."

"Wait-" Rumi tries to hold your wrist but you slap it away.

"I'm done." You say with a cold tone and she felt her heart die.

You were done. With everything.

With her promises that never came true.

With her vague flirtations with men.

With her excuses.

With her inaction.

You were done.

Eight years that they climbed to the top.

Eight years since you fell.

Five years since you confessed. Five years of her promises. And now you were just tired.

Done.

You calmly take the boxes by the door and look at the trio. Rumi was crying silently as she looked at you.

"Good luck on the idol awards this year." You say and get out of the penthouse.

-

You take the final box out of your trunk and get inside your house.

You take your phone out and see everyone's art for today's Livestream and the new fandom that emerged.

#RumiJuni

You block every number that had to with them. Even Bobby.

It was time to move on. It was time to choose yourself.

No more vague promises.

You wanted a relationship where you were announced and showed off.

A love that can proudly say that you were theirs.

Theirs to love.

Theirs to keep.

Why would your love need to be hidden?

"Finally." You say as you sit on your own comfortable couch.

-

A/N:

QODBHSVEHS

How's the pain? Doable?

*Insert evil laugh*

I wrote this an hour after watching it.

THE ROMANCE NEVER HAPPENED. SHUT UP.

[catboybiologist]

Very small comment on the discourse here, which I don't normally interact with whatever, because I think of myself as too uneducated on the topic. (although, I evidently am not, seeing some of the shit people say)

Do people seriously use "TMA" and "TME" in place of transfem and transmasc? Seriously? I suppose I'd fall under the prior, presuming I do know what that term means, but, I am decidedly not transfem, or transmasc. (some odd combination of both, or perhapse neither, depending on how you define things, but that's besides the point)

They're not one to one replacements to transfemme and transmasc, but people do slap them in bios and stuff. TME also refers to all cis people in addition to transmascs but I've never seen a cis person use it. I dislike the categorization a LOT for many reasons that I often poorly articulate but yeah.

[crazedbluette]

Skeletons (and Guns) in the Closet

A John Wick x Ex-Assassin Male Reader

Summary: You and John have built a quiet life together—peaceful, normal… but neither of you is what you pretend to be. When John accidentally uncovers your past, you both learn something surprising: you’re not alone in the shadows you left behind. And maybe, finally, you can stop running from who you are.

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence, trauma references, identity concealment, emotional suppression, past abuse, brief mentions of blood, dissociation, mild language, implied mental health struggles, slight smut near the end

A/N at the end! Not beta read, we die like John Wick. Y/N not used, Readers downstairs area isn't mentioned.

The apartment smelled like fresh espresso and rain. Jazz murmured softly from the record player. You could hear the gentle click of John’s mug being placed on the windowsill, followed by the slow rustle of his sleeve as he leaned into the light.

It was raining again.

Of course it was. Your favorite mornings were always rainy ones. The world outside slowed down, wrapped in soft grey fog. Everything in here felt warm by comparison—lit by amber light and the kind of quiet only found between people who understood silence wasn’t absence.

John moved like he was born in it. The kind of quiet that came from knowing violence intimately, and choosing—again and again—not to live in it anymore.

At least, that’s what you believed. What you hoped.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe it was the way he kissed you good morning without a word, or how he always made enough coffee for two even before you’d moved in.

You weren’t supposed to fall for anyone. You’d built your life out of lies—fake names, burner phones, dead drops and distance. You had killed for nations and corporations alike, walked away from it all, and told yourself you could start fresh.

You told yourself that this life with him was real.

But neither of you were what you appeared to be.

You came home late. Wet from the rain, grocery bag slung over your shoulder, fingers aching with the cold.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

You noticed the change before you even stepped fully inside. Something in the air—off-kilter. Still.

And then you saw it.

The bookshelf.

Slightly ajar. Just wide enough for someone to see what was behind it.

Your heart stopped.

You dropped the bag without thinking. Apples spilled across the hardwood as you stepped forward, already knowing what you’d find.

There he stood.

John.

Back turned to you, eyes fixed on the wall-mounted arsenal that had been hidden behind a lifetime’s worth of literature. Weapons. Files. A few currencies, a few names. Everything that made you who you once were—laid bare.

He didn’t speak right away. He reached for a knife, turned it in his hands. The handle was black and polished, inlaid with a symbol only three men in the world would recognize.

He turned it over slowly. “You know,” he said, voice calm, “you really should’ve changed your dead drop codes. 4-1-6-9-Theta is old-school.”

You swallowed, hard. "You know what that is?" You asked, unsure if you even want to know the answer to your question.

He turned then. His expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even surprised. It was… knowing. Tired.

“I used to use that cipher myself. A long time ago.”

You stared at him. “You’re not… who I thought you were.”

He let out a breath through his nose. “Neither are you.”

You sat across from him on the couch, your secrets heavy between you. The weapons closet was closed again, but the damage had been done. The truth wasn’t going back behind a lock.

John had poured you both whiskey. His hand didn’t shake. Yours did.

“I used to be known as the Ghost,” you said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “Some parts of Europe… Casablanca, Istanbul—they still talk about me like I’m a myth.”

He said nothing, just watched you.

“I got out five years ago. Faked a body, disappeared. Told myself I’d never go back.” You looked at him. “Told myself I could be normal.”

John sipped his drink. “And I’m the Baba Yaga. Or what’s left of him.”

Your blood ran cold.

“I heard stories about you,” you said. “I didn’t believe most of them.”

“They’re probably all true,” he murmured. “But I’m not that man anymore.”

A long pause.

You turned your glass in your hands. “How did we not see it? In each other?”

“I think we did,” John said, finally. “We just didn’t want to.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was relief.

You’d spent months learning John’s routines. The way he folded his shirts with military precision. The way his voice dropped when he asked if you’d eaten. The way he always positioned himself between you and the door in public spaces.

He noticed your tells, too. The way you scanned exits. How you never sat with your back to a room. The tremble in your fingers when you slept too light, dreamed too deep.

You had both known. Somewhere, in your bones, you had known.

But knowing didn’t make what you had any less real.

John leaned toward you, setting his glass down. “I never lied to you. I just… didn’t want to go back to that world.”

“Neither did I.”

He reached for your hand.

You let him take it.

“I’m tired,” he whispered. “Aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened. “All the time.”

His fingers brushed your knuckles. “Then let’s stop running. Together.”

You exhaled slowly. “I don’t even know what that looks like.”

John offered a rare, soft smile. “Let’s find out.”

That night, you didn’t make love like men who were trying to forget something.

You made love like men who had found something.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frenzied. It was slow, reverent—hands mapping scars like old stories. Lips tracing collarbones, fingertips ghosting over hipbones. You moaned into his mouth, breathless, as he held you like you were something rare and fragile.

You whispered each other’s names like prayers.

And when you were both lying there—skin to skin, hearts pounding—you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Peace.

John kissed your shoulder. “You’re safe.”

You rolled to face him. “With you… yeah.”

In the morning, sunlight slipped in through the blinds in soft ribbons.

You padded into the kitchen, shirtless and groggy, and found him reorganizing your weapons closet—again.

“You alphabetized my sidearms,” you said flatly.

He didn’t turn. “Your trigger springs were stored next to your .22 ammo. That’s chaos.”

You sipped your coffee. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

He turned to look at you, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I know.”

You walked up, wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rested your chin on his shoulder.

“No more secrets?”

He covered your hand with his own. “Never again.”

You stood there in silence, two killers with your arms around each other, surrounded by hidden weapons and half-eaten pancakes and sunlight.

For the first time in years, the world didn’t feel like a battlefield.

It felt like home.

A/N: "Pierre this isn't Whisking Hearts Chapter 1" GUYS, I KNOW. It's already finished, I'm just having it proofread by a friend before publishing! This isn’t my best work but I was rewatching the John Wick franchise and I was reminded how 🔥 Keanu Reeves is. I was literally writing this while watching lmao. But have this while waiting for WH Chap 1! Graphic and Divider are below!

Graphic

Divider

Please reblog and comment if you liked it! It helps keep me motivated!

[crystallizedday]

So since I’m a loser who can’t beat the secret bosses

I thought I could make some use out of my save files by getting the pipis in chapter 3 & recording the noises it makes for myself (since I’ve only ever seen the Vinesauce clip showcasing it, & I dunno if anyone else has done this)

Since Tumblr is stinky & won’t let me post clips separately, have this compilation of a few key things I found while recording lil Eggie’s “tweeting.”

Considering pipis are a reference to the Pokémon “bad egg” glitch, I’m not surprised by the choice of sound.

What I AM surprised about is the pitch shifts it (or I guess she) does, almost like her tone itself is shifting.

I dunno if the tweeting noise is SUPPOSED to get distorted when entering a new room, but either way, it definitely gives off the feeling that this pipis is not exactly

SUPPOSED to be

Which

Ya know

Is the whole point OWMWOSMOWMDODXKO

Additionally, I was shocked to hear the tweeting stop once the player enters specific locations. Is it cause the S rank & the parental lock rooms lead to endgame areas? Is it cause the poor thing doesn’t like being reminded of her traumatized dads?

I dunno.

I also wanted to see if anything were to happen if I brought the lil thing back to the room we got her from.

There’s nothing of interest aside from the lack of music, so sampling the noises is a lot easier to do in this room (assuming I don’t just… mute the music for the entire game, but why would I do that? >:/)

Also also

As I was trying to fiddle with my laptop’s recording set up (cause it wasn’t recording audio at first)

I SWEAR I heard the lil thing make a sound similar to Spamton’s “Hey Every” jingle, but I couldn’t get the audio for it.

So

Uh

If any of you have the time

& the lack of sanity

Please fact check my buffoonery.

I’d love to know if the lil pipis just

HAS Spamton’s jingle.

That would be so cute…

[noimnotdeadyet]

me slowly grinning at our audience

thats hell youre walking into/ref

(welcome to any and all to our YANQINGYANQINGYANQING chain :3)

YES WE NEED MOOORREEEE im convincing myself its short to make room for FUTURE CONTENT HES GOTTA BE A REOCCURING CHAR RIGHT? RIGHT??

LUOCHA IS IMPORTANT

SUSHANG IS REOCCURING

Yanqing was important for the Wardance... will the 3 be built uo next Xianzhou quest? o.o

I FUCJING HOPE SO DAMMIT HOYOOOOO

YDEEEE analysises are so fun and Yanqing is SO DAMN MYSTERIOUS in a more subtle way than chars other chars cuz like, yeah hes the youngest Cloud Knight Lieutenant and the General's Retainer, classic child soldier prodigy whos guardian is a higher ranking official

but theres also the finer details from interacting with him... the rain text story about how his "earliest" memory was training. in humans, earliest memories are usually from about 2-4. this implies he was being trained as a toddler, unless there are exceptions about his memory that would change the timeline like if he had amnesia like March and thus his earliest memory comes in later in life but if so why?

OH SOEAKING KF MARCH THE 6 PHASED ICE THEORY ISTG THE WARDANCE CUTSCENE BASICALLY CONFIRMING THERE IS SMTH ODD ABOUT YANQING'S ICE?

oh not to mention i was once talking to my friend about how Yanqing's character stories dont give much info about his background and he was like rlly? thats weird, most stories usually give more details about their past like Boothill's childhood and his daughter and losing his planet and becoming a cyborg that hates the IPC. but Yanqing's... well, its mostly about his achievements and his aspirations, his accomplishments and his hopes for the future than his past. even checked other Xianzhou chars like Jing Yuan, Fu Xuan, Sushang to check but, yeah we get some events of their past. Yanqing? a training session and then how there were questions about him being the General's apprentice. hes a lot less obviously mysterious since he acts pretty normal compared to the fishy and suspicious like Sampo and Kafka, and his past is never refered to in story like Rappa or Feixiao. hes kinda... blank.

(also they expect me to not question why his parents arent confirmed dead? mystery fate in the annals? they have a Divination Commission, but nobody found anything? very, very sus.)

i can go on and on bc THATS HOW MANY CRUMBS HOYO GAVE US ON HIM. THATS HOW MANY OPEN ENDS HE HAS, AINT NO WAU HOYO CAN JUST IGNKRE EM RIGHT?

Jing Yuan... take care of your kid

if you dont, someone will do it for you and then probably smack you for it

(me. and everyone else. i will gather the Yanqing Protection Squad for it)

i imagine Trailblazer & March definitely like dressing everyone up, fuck yeah. reminds me of a Yanli fic i read once where Yanqing lost a bet so Yunli & March got to dress him up and then Yunli had her "OH NO HES HOT" moment cuz wait why does he actually look good? wtf?? they were supposed to make him ugly???

hehehe power of cuteness >:)

why take turns when they can all cuddle together? <:3 CUDDLE PILE

fuck it mandatory Astral Express cuddle parties where everyone crashes in the biggest room and they have a sleepover that ends in everyone huddled together happy the end NO ONE CAN PROVE ME WRONG

sneak peek of a tentative timeline for my erudition yanqing fic!! ughh ive only got like 3 chapters of the mainfic done and i need to post the prequel before i can post the mainfic & for this one im trying to get the whole fic written before starting to post, instead of like swmtbb where i write as i post. UGHH I HATE THIS KID

in case you're wondering why swmtbb updates so slow... its bc of 1. writers block and 2. this fuckign thing but i prommy its worth it i love this fic

[vivid-bad-brainrot]

(My) biblically accurate vivid bad squad

[waterghostype]

ocean blue how do you do

[independent-fics]

Countdown to LEVERAGE: REDEMPTION Season 3 ↳ Alec Hardison Appreciation -> A Favorite Quote

S01EP01 The Too Many Rembrandts Job

Bonus Moment:

[rose-in-a-fisted-glove]

When talking about English pronouns in an English conversation in an English speaking context, a non-gendered "they" is entirely in common usage and is commonly understood to be singular. It has been in use in the vernacular for decades now and was recently added to multiple professional writing guides as a singular non-gendered third person pronoun. As examples,

"What time is the plumber coming?"

"They're coming at 3pm"

Or

"Where is the delivery person?"

"They aren't supposed to get here for another 10 minutes"

Or

"What time is Suzy off work?"

"They get off at 3pm"

So, by referring to Gd in the singular, it would be understood that the "they" referring to Gd is also singular. Same as the "they" referring to Suzy or the plumber or the delivery person would all be understood to be singular.

For the part about the English "they" versus Hebrew he/she, I do think an argument could be made, just one that you wouldn't agree with. I go with the "avoiding pronouns" route myself, I was just saying I could see the pathway for that argument to be put forth.

I'm a Jew myself but asking for others opinions.

So like I use they/it pronouns for HaShem generally. Just because it matches with my idea of G-d as not being humanoid and therefore not being attached to any specific genders and generally being more of a force of nature than personal.

But I grew up in a household that was much more cultural than religious. So I don't know how religious Jews feel about this. Am I insulting HaShem by using the wrong pronouns? Am I like misgendering god? That seems extremely mean.

.

[beargregor]

wait i'm curious, what makes you say that gregor doesn't like everyone else (if i read that post right)? just curious since i've never seen anyone else say that

i don't necessarily think gregor dislikes everyone else at lcb but i do think that gregor is an incredibly petty person that isn't nearly as close to the rest of the sinners and even outright dislikes some of them cough cough rodya cough cough which a lot of people just Refuse to see because he's as much of a doormat as he is. there's several examples i could get into to try and prove my point however i'll just focus on what i personally think to be the biggest ones.

additionally, this is going to be kind of long, so i'm adding a read more. read more! read it. sorry for being so wordy. i have several diseases.

Pt1. gregor is the type to try and get along at least decently with everyone, especially if he gets a good first impression from them.

this is less a point in favor of gregor's distance w/ the rest of the sinners and more just a contributing factor to it. once again there's several examples i could point to here but i think the most in your face one happened in canto I with yuri, as several people have pointed out. even before gregor comes clean about growing attached to her as quickly as he did because she reminds him of his sister, we get this interaction.

i'll go ahead and make the disclaimer now that i don't necessarily think gregor is the most reliable of narrators, especially when it comes to his feelings and interactions with most people, but from the way he acts when the topic of yuri comes up (and the way we still see him act even all the way up to c7, nearly a whole year after yuri's death) i don't see reason to question his sentiment here. gregor immediately got that aya and yuri were close, potentially even taking note of their traded belts, and went out of his way to get something nice for yuri despite hardly knowing her.

i feel like a lot of people have forgotten as much, especially since it's been so long since c1, but gregor actually spent a good bit of season 1 doing the exact same thing with the other sinners! gregor reads a connection between him and ishmael pretty quickly despite getting off to a rocky start

mostly because gregor can tell that ishmael is pretty sardonic in a very similar way to him. there's been multiple instances where ishmael and gregor have essentially expressed the same sentiment at different moments, most notably gregor's little argument after ishmael got shot with a decay ampule in c4

and ishmael's response to pilot talking about self-sacrifice in c5

i could go ahead and pull up more examples, but in general pm has gone out of their way to show us that gregor and ishmael are pretty similar, so it makes sense for gregor to assume that they're friends, right?

this will be pushpin 1. keep note of this for Later.

ishmael's only the first sinner we see gregor trying to do this with in s1, we also see him try it out with heathcliff, sinclair, and ryoushuu

he's tried to get along with charon, being one of very few sinners that we've seen actually try to establish a connection with her at all

even rodya, despite my insistence that gregor doesn't like her nearly as much as the fandom thinks he does

all of these seem pretty fine and dandy, right? sure it frequently leans towards self-degradation, micromanaging, and commiseration, but gregor can at least be pretty chummy with most of the sinners, can't he?

Pt2. hell's chicken was more than just comic relief guys please

i'm fully aware that this is quite the hot take, but i think hell's chicken deserves a lot more credit for character writing than the fandom gives it. hell's chicken gave us foreshadowing for several events, such as the donqui bloodfiend reveal

heathcliff's distortion in c6 (as well as hong lu's highly speculated distortion at some point in the future)

and ryoushuu and sinclair's continued connection by making him the odd one out on her team

which, hey! that implies something about gregor's odd one out, don quixote, too, doesn't it? yes. yes it does. that's pushpin 2. keep note of that for later.

speaking of pushpins, hey! that's pushpin 1!

splitting into teams is one of the major events in hell's chicken, and most of the sinner's choices are either motivated by very little, backhanded, or motivated primarily by not wanting to be on the opposite leader's side. i didn't include all of the picks, just because i feel like including most of them already gets this across, but i think gregor took one major thing from this: most of the sinners, when push comes to shove, will only side with gregor when they refuse to or can't take his opponent's side.

now, don't get me wrong, i'm fully aware that this is primarily intended to be comedic relief, but when gregor is being described as having his trust broken by ishmael or nearly crying because no one on his team properly sided with him for him, i feel like it's pretty fair to read into this.

something that i think is pretty important to remember in conjunction with this is that we know that gregor is the type to hold a grudge, both from his general attitude towards the G corp soldiers in c1 as well as his continued distaste for vergilius

even beyond the splitting into teams of hell's chicken, the sinners have given gregor plenty of reasons to feel bitter. i feel like this is something people have noticed but haven't really put a finger on, but it's kind of wild just how often the rest of the sinners make gregor the butt of the joke

and sure, we could argue that a fair few of these aren't really made with any ill intent. quite a bit of it could have been meant as harmless teasing, but with gregor being more sensitive than most, it coming from nearly all sides, and as often as it does? yeah, i think he's prone to taking it a bit personally.

Pt3. yes i do still think gregor was the third most important character in canto VII you guys gotta hear me out okay

of course, all of this leads up to the bit of the story i highlighted, doesn't it? c7? i totally get why people haven't really picked up on all the gregor things i did in it, seeing as they were mostly not *directly* said about him or by him.

personally, i think that gregor's distaste for talking about himself on any serious level and thus leading to him getting sort of "sidelined" narratively (which i take issue with that claim, but still. it's effective for getting what i mean across atm) is supposed to lead players to take a deeper look at the times gregor gets held up to other characters and compare and contrast what's being said about them by the matchup. as i showed earlier with his immediate latching onto ishmael, i think this is something gregor himself is at least partially aware of too.

so, that begs the question, who was gregor compared to in canto VII that makes me think it's one of the most critical pieces in understanding his character?

really, i'd like to avoid getting too lost in the analysis of this canto specifically, since i'd like to do a proper post about this later, but i figure i can bury the lede a little before doing it properly.

c7 features several characters being made to perform in sansón's play, acting out the relevant backstory for this segment of the plot. a lot of these characters have rather direct, degrading reasons for playing the roles they do.

outis, a character with an inflated ego who wants her journey to have a purpose, is made to play an aimlessly wandering villager with a single line.

hong lu and ryoushuu, two characters for whom families and the expectations placed upon them are likely going to play a major role, are made to play bloodfiends.

rodya, a character who resents her lot in life and is constantly shown to be eager to leave her destitution behind her and become someone special, is made to play a helpless villager that's too poor to even offer any money to the hero that saves her.

heathcliff, a character that has spent most of his life getting dehumanized by comparing him to beastly animals, is made to play a literal bear whose sole purpose in the plot is to get beat up and then quickly left by the wayside.

sinclair, a character that has two opposed parties essentially treating him as a macguffin to procure for their side, is made to play the character who was arguably the catalyst for this entire canto, not to mention playing a decently major role in ruina.

our star don quixote is made to play her father, the first kindred, but there's someone by their side the entire time, isn't there? don quixote's dear, steadfastly loyal companion. a character which don quixote has tasked themself with getting to come out of their shell?

hello again, pushpin 2.

gregor has been made to play our unreachable star, sancho. someone had to, of course. you can't really tell a story without it's main character, now can you?

now, i should once again give a disclaimer. i am not trying to say that i think adapting what happens to donqui/sancho in c7 to gregor is the road pm is going to take here, not only would that toe a bit past the line of foreshadowing, but it'd also just amount to rehashing that plotline again, which i don't think would make for a particularly exciting story.

what i DO think is that we can take a lot of the things that are said to either directly be the case for sancho and use them to inform how we see gregor.

and god, does playing sancho have some fucking implications for our favorite ossan archetype.

starting off, the earliest moment we get to see of sancho is quite literally her just waiting for death to take her in a pile of ashes.

which, i should remind everyone, is actually pretty damn close to what happens to gregor's literary counterpart at the end of the metamorphosis. gregor samsa experiences one final breaking point that pushes him over the edge and makes him decide to just wait for starvation to take him.

gregor and sancho both consider themselves to no longer be human, something which sancho goes out of her way to highlight repeatedly throughout the canto and gregor is quick to get defensive on her behalf for when outis starts really tearing into her

sancho spends quite a lot of this story denying herself the joys of community and friendship, despite knowing that, even with the rest of the sinners frequently making jokes at her expense and outright insulting her, they were things that she desperately craved.

and, while this is getting into my "outis is a red herring meant to distract us from gregor's eventual betrayal" theorizing, i also think it's worth noting for this discussion that sancho's fellow kindreds, her family, all seem to be under the impression that she dislikes them and ultimately her departure was an act of betrayal

and that, despite gregor being one of LCB's resident mood makers and attempted conflict de-escalators, one of the sinners that's most prone to making appeals to the bonds they've all forged together, only him and faust remained silent during everyone's speech

so yeah, i think there's quite a lot of little details and hints building up to the reveal that gregor's not quite as fond of everyone as he presents himself to be. i do think a lot of this ultimately comes down to gregor getting in the way of his own happiness, similarly to donqui, particularly because he's been frequently portrayed as something of a self fulfilling prophecy, especially by giving him as many christ allegories as they have by way of priest and garden of thorns. gregor is convinced that the rest of the sinners don't like him because he's not convinced anyone could like him, so he convinces himself that he hates them because why should he care if someone that he hates hates him too?

a lot of this ultimately ties back to my personal interpretation of what happens in the metamorphosis as well as my own theories regarding all the times gregor has made weird callbacks and references to lobcorp and ruina, but yeah. i think about this guy and his deeper characterization a fairly normal amount, i think.

to end this off i'll highlight one of my favorite little "gregor is fucking seething and trying so hard to keep it cool" moments, in the credits CG for c7 we see rodya teasing him by drawing a little horse on his window and actively pointing and laughing at it, which gregor really doesn't seem all too pleased about.

i personally think this ties into the other cruel part of sansón forcing gregor to play rocinante, which is the more literal "he's actually just straight up playing rocinante" side of things. gregor was quite literally made to play something less than human, less than even animal really, as he was reduced to nothing more than the shoes don quixote wore as she got to play the leading role. sansón directly makes jokes about gregor being nothing more than shoes in the play twice, which adds to this reading, i think.

this, imo, really plays into the adaptation of the metamorphosis! i've seen a lot of readings for the book that posit that, despite being the protagonist, gregor samsa can't really be considered the main character due to nearly everything he experiences in it being used to further his family's character development at his expense, which i think fits nicely with limbus gregor seemingly having the most said about him through indirect means by holding him up to other characters. also it's rodya carelessly making fun of His Big Major Insecurities™ again like she did in c1 which i always find fun. rodya i love you but god you're the worst.

[rockytye79]

@mari-lair I just realized I always draw Teru awestruck while Aka is just being his pretty self shksksks

Anyway, another TeruAka from Your Clock Is Ticking!!

[erinwantstowrite]

Ooh what job are you getting? Still in the vet area?

Good luck!

i was thinking about sticking around for vet stuff!! i don't have a license or anything but i'm pretty good at office work and my boss at animal control swore i would be loved at these other places (apparently i'm good with handling rude people, but i think that's because half the time i don't even notice they're being rude lol. + i can handle that sometimes an animal would be better off being put down :( even if it makes me sad, quality of life is better than quantity). but !! </3 no one is hiring around here </3</3</3 broke my heart fr

i might end up working for the city? can't really say what it is but it seems my speed even if it'll be more fast paced. i had an interview with a a few people who are reps for the city and THAT was nerve-racking. at least i knew a whole bunch of them already

[honorhearted]

Benjamin hummed in agreement. "I certainly can't deny the bravery of being a sailor, but don't tell that to Brewster. He doesn't need any encouragement to be bold." Chuckling, his smile only faded at Anthea's tale. It was a terrifying thought, thinking of this young woman, helpless and beholden to the sea.

"A friend of ours nearly drowned during boyhood," he softly allowed. "By the mercy of God, we were able to get to him in time... And by that same mercy, it seems you were spared, as well." Fidgeting, he ran his thumbs along the brim of his hat. "I'm so very glad."

In reference to his voyage, Anthea said, "I can't imagine dwelling within a ship for months, rocking on those waves with no real way of knowing for certain if you'll ever see the safety of the shore."

"I was more dismayed by barely seeing any womenfolk," Benjamin admitted, feeling no need to lie. "I spent more than enough time around bawdy men during my stint in the war, so these days, I much prefer the refinement of gentle company...and a large 'case and point' is your musical accomplishment."

The way Anthea spoke of music, it was almost like poetry. Benjamin found himself mirroring her smile, charmed by the idea of music being one's breath and soul. "Perhaps you should host a recital of sorts," he suggested. "I would love to hear you sing...or perhaps, we can even sing together, if you don't mind a man who's a touch tone deaf joining in."

To not only sing, but be gifted with multiple instruments was quite the feat indeed, and Benjamin smiled at her rising passion.

"On occasion, I even compose my own music," she confessed. "I'm afraid I'm not as skilled as Bach or Mozart, but I do it for my own amusement."

"We already have a Bach and Mozart, so why would I ever wish for you to be otherwise?" Benjamin challenged. "That's quite impressive...if you don't mind my saying so, of course."

While Esther kept herself at a respectable distance, Anthea displayed a hint of mischief as she giggled, her eyes shining as she whispered about dalliances.

The pun startled Benjamin, and he laughed, a faint pink flooding his face. "I'm afraid my only dalliances have been with a good book," he quipped. "Wartime never allowed much time for fraternizing with the fairer sex...though the other officers and myself certainly attended balls, if only for the sake of boosting morale."

Following her through the door, they trekked a short distance through the manor before eggressing into the garden, the greenery instantly proving to be a visual delight.

"It's remarkable," he commended, looking down at Anthea with a smile. "Back where I'm from, we don't have such lovely things...though God's creation rivals anything of a material nature. Perhaps that's why I've always enjoyed gardening." Waving a hand, he amended, "Or rather, watching the act. When I was very small, my mother tended to her roses while we would read scripture together, so I often helped her."

Anthea's smile warmed. "As my guest, I'll let you decide. Shall we venture further out, or stick to the garden for now? I have no preference, but I have enough energy to do anything you wish".

"Oh..." Benjamin hated making any decision without significant prior knowledge, though judging by the look on her face, there fortunately was no wrong answer. "I suppose that depends," he replied, matching her smile with one of his own. "If you think I should meet these neighbors of yours, then I certainly don't mind...but if you'd rather we remain more reclusive today, I'm wholly content to stay here in the garden."

"I can't say I'm nearly as attached to the ocean as he is, and most especially after sailing a couple months to get here, but it certainly brings a type of homesickness. I'm from a small, seaside hamlet."

"Your friend, Mr. Brewster, is rather brave. I have bathed in the ocean a few times, but the tide pulled me a fair way out during one venture. It was to my great fortune I remembered to swim diagonally towards the shore, or I wouldn't be here right now. A character in a story I read had done so, and I confirmed it with one of the sailors I encountered before that last excursion".

Here, Anthea gave Benjamin a look of sympathy. "I can't imagine dwelling within a ship for months, rocking on those waves with no real way of knowing for certain if you'll ever see the safety of the shore. I have heard people take on temporary sickness and various illnesses on such voyages, as well as bear witness to storms rivaling the Titans. I am overjoyed you survived the trip and came to us". Her lips quirked in a soft smile.

"Do you sing, or perhaps play an instrument? Though as accomplished as you are, I imagine it's both."

Anthea's smile broadened, though she did look away briefly, indicating a slight case of bashfulness. "I do indeed do both, Mr. Tallmadge. Music is time and emotion. It is breath and soul. It is movement and expression. I thrive within it, as it does within me. I enjoy singing, as well as playing the pianoforte. I've played the piano since I was a young girl, but the clarinet is my specialty. As soon as I saw one, I had to have it and learn it inside and out".

As she went on, her posture straightened up to her full height, shoulders back and chin rising with pride and passion. "On occasion, I even compose my own music. I'm afraid I'm not as skilled as Bach or Mozart, but I do it for my own amusement. You may hear me hum, sing, or play a tune at any hour of the day or night, where permitted".

"So long as it's not an imposition, I'll be glad to both dilly and dally," he quipped. Nodding to Anthea, he added, "And thank you. I believe this is my first true extension of acquaintance in town."

Anthea giggled and her voice dropped to just above a whisper, lest her maid hear as she came to meet them. "Oh, I assure you I plan to dilly in excess, but Esther will be keeping the dallying from becoming a dalliance". Anthea couldn't help herself. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she jested, glancing at him with lashes fluttering, trying to both tease him and gauge his reaction. It was best he know what to expect from her, before accepting the position. She could be a bit of a flirt, despite not taking on any suitors for a long period of time now.

As Esther joined them about six feet back, Anthea gestured with a sweep of her arm for Ben to come with her through a door leading into another room. This room was smaller and contained the family's pianoforte, a few cozy chairs and small tables, a plethora of paintings and decor, as well as a set of double doors that opened straight out into the garden.

The garden was spacious, but had a few cobbled areas encircled by groups of flowering plants to form small gathering areas, where one could sit at a table with companions and chat. It also had a miniature pond containing fish, and several well-kept hedge trees lining the edges of the garden, as if to contain it. The morning sun had risen high enough to dwarf the trees' shadows cast across the grass and the many cobblestone pathways that wove throughout the immediate grounds.

Anthea stepped out onto the main pathway, taking a deep breath and relishing in the fresh air and sunlight. She may not always be fond of leaving her home to face groups of people, but she did enjoy the peace of being outdoors. Her gaze fell on Ben and she flashed him a warm smile. "As my guest, I'll let you decide. Shall we venture further out, or stick to the garden for now? I have no preference, but I have enough energy to do anything you wish".

She'd had a filling breakfast and the excitement of her new friendship buzzed through her chest in a rush. "If we do venture out, perhaps I can acquaint you with our neighbors, the Watsons. They're lovely people, and they care for rules and etiquette about as much as I do". Which was to say, only enough to be respectful of others, without being nitpicky.

[romidoes]

boooooyfriiiiieeeeendsss (husbands) you love a fool who knows just how to get under your skin