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pigdemonart · 9 months

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Preparing myself to try and post my submas and bowuigi stuff on other platforms ……..

#tumblr has ALLLL my stuff always #so i neglect everything else lmfao #Im using insta more but i cant stand being there for more than 5 mins a time #its so ad-ridden there good christ #also their formatting………-wretches-

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rhythmmortis · 2 years

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mutuals please sit down we are watching bbs

#kingdom hearts #kh #terra #ventus #aqua #kh bbs #flashing tw #order i tagged it in is the order theyre in which is what i believe is the correct order to play it in #it's also kinda fun to watch them all at the same time (even if there is a slight desync)#EDIT : real sorry it looks like some people have a version of the post that has fucked up formatting!! don't know what caused that but sorr #SECOND EDIT : stop fucking reblogging this wretched post #(< this is a joke by the way if i didnt actually want it reblogged i would turn off rbs. it is still wretched though)

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crimsongrimoire · 2 years

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happened to see this and i still can't believe people think this way for real. but then again they're all like 13 and don't really have any business on half that site anyway.

#crow.txt #not writing #bruuuuhhhhhh #i still cant genuinely believe this is a thought people have idk #that one other post about the ao3 Algorithm #surprisingly there was a world before those wretched things #i sure dont fucking want it to have one. i dont even read basically at all anymore but it would be to literally everyones detriment #nobody wins here. esp with klk. on one hand yeah more eyes on stuff. on the other #you will complain if you dont see something you like and make it the authors problem #which is The Issue. you mfs would be even more mindless about it. im ALREADY shocked when people just straight up #dont read tags at all Period. and then are upset when they get something they didnt expect or sign up for #hell even including ratings. like my brother in christ its there for a reason? its a different story if what you werent expecting #straight up wasnt tagged at all #but like...... idk. to be fair none of these people have made it the authors problem afaik. but. either way.#not to say i havent complained to friends who are also spiteful angry bitches about things i hate being in my line of sight #coughing. when i still lurked the blzblue tag. threw in the towel and never looked back. so good for my health.#but at least i was a spiteful bitch and refused to give anything by those authors the time of day ever like even if i gotorbidly curious #i will Not be contributing to your stats in any way form or fashion <3 #honestly didnt even know hate reading was a concept. if i dont vibe with too much of a fic ill just bail. not worth wasting the energy.#not even for like huge reasons just like. formatting. things too ooc. certsin pet peeves. thog dont caare

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trendywaifus · 8 months

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Heeyyy, could you perhaps do some late night headcanons with the fontaine girls (particularly with chloride) where the character cant sleep? Doesn’t necessarily have to be nsfw

ofc, sweets. also, don’t mind me, i’m experimenting with the formatting here. just trying sum. ( omg i realized half way you said hcs, awwww fawkkk, i’m so sorry, my brain is not braining today)

↳ it’s hard to do these things alone

gn! reader | sfw | angsty/fluff

↳ featuring — furina, navia, clorinde, mona

mona’s part pretty short and sweet. i decided against more angst! clorinde’s midly nsfw. not proofread.

furina bites down on her bottom lip in agony, she turns her back towards your sleeping form, hoping you don’t wake up to her pathetic breakdown. she curls herself into a ball, hot tears fills her vision. the dreadful feeling of her heart gradually breaking into two because of the wretched prophecy haunting the corners of her mind deprives her of the desire to rest peacefully with you tonight.

is there anything she could possibly do to stop such an inevitable phenomenon? is she fit to save her people’s fate, your fate? she’s the hydro archon for goodness sake! of course not superior than her previous ancestor but she’s trying her best! but, is trying all she could do because it’s inevitable or she’s merely a cowardly god hidden in plain sight amongst her people? whichever it is, the responsibility and risk of maintaining a doomed nation is far too great to begin with—it was as though the weight of the ocean is on her shoulders. furina wants out but she doesn’t want to abandon her people and break their trust.

confused and frustrated, a broken sob left her lips; her body trembles. “ why me? “ furina forces out and repeats it over and over again like a broken record, desperately hoping celestia answers her.

but they never did. instead, arms wraps themselves around her shaking frame and pulled her closer to their front. it was you who silently answered. you grasp her bawled fist and gently pried it open with your fingers. you intertwine your hand with hers and squeezed it. furina sobs harder at the fact that you’ve heard her cries of despair and came to her aid. “ i-i did n-not mean to w-wake you, — i-i was— “

you hushed her and nuzzled your face into her unruly pale blue curls. touched by your warmth, her sobs eventually died down into soft snivels. furina tightly grips your hand, afraid that you’ll disappear.

some of the cracks etched in furina’s heart healed and the shattered shards of her bruised self-esteem are carefully pieced back together by you for another day.

with a frustrated sigh, navia peels herself from your arms and sits upright against the headboard. she couldn’t sleep and how could she? tonight is the anniversary night of her father’s death. her mind was plagued with negative thoughts and unwanted memories from the past she desperately wished she could change. “ all i want is rest, i don’t want to go through this right now. not tonight. “ navia mutters bitterly, pushing back blond strands of hair that hung over her eyes.

navia sighs once more, this time shaky as she hunches over and places her palms over her tired eyes. it was way too late to visit her father’s grave and it’s not like she wants to wake you up to comfort her like a distressed damsel—that wouldn’t feel right to her. she shouldn’t trouble you, she already did enough of that today. tears of frustration wells up in her eyes, she sniffs. maybe a nice walk will help while she sorts out her mind.

she gently takes the covers off of her body and slides her legs off the mattress. before she can get up, her wrist was caught in a gentle yet firm grip. “ mon coeur, where are you going? “ you sleepily asked. navia straightens her back, having no intention of turning around to meet your eyes as there’s a chance that you’ll see the fresh tears on her face. she clears her throat, “ i am. .going to go on a walk. th-that is all, mon amour. “

navia hoped that you didn’t catch her slip up and if you did, she wishes you don’t address it. she bit the inside of her cheek as she felt your gaze on her back. after a moment, the sheets rustled and she feels your arm around her waist. you use your other hand to brush her beautiful long blond hair to the side to kiss at her nape tenderly. each kiss you pressed against her skin made her chest tighten with a indescribable feeling that made her want to bawl her eyes out.

please let me go. i don’t want to unravel in front of you.

she thought, lips pursed in a tight line. “ come back to me when you’re ready, navia. i’ll be here waiting for you. “ you finally said, pressing one final kiss against her nape and let her go.

tears silently flowing down her cheeks, she nods. navia gets up, walks to the door and pauses.

she inhales and exhales to gather herself before saying, “ thank y-you for understanding, (name). “

the door opens and closes behind her.

the duelist stares blankly at the beige ceiling, mind heavy with unspoken woes she tucked away behind locked lips. “ you’ve been staring at that ceiling for a minute. can’t sleep, clorinde? “ you asked worriedly, touching her cheek with the back of your hand. she turns her head, her lilac eyes meets yours. “ i. .am afraid i can’t, mon/ma chéri/e. “ she whispers.

“ why? “

clorinde pauses.

“ i do not know. “ she lies(?), the melancholic dip in her voice causes you to frown. clorinde believes that her personal matters should not interfere with her relationship with you. however, she also knows that not being honest with you about how she feels could cause a rift between you two.

“ but, “ she faces her body towards yours and cups your cheek. her eyes softens, devotion evident in them. “even if i cannot sleep, being by your side is enough. i am grateful to spend my night with you.” with that, clorinde locks her lips with yours passionately. she tasted like expensive wine you could only get on a special occasion; addictive and rare. “ me too. “ you breathed, ghosting your hand over her bare hip.

your tongue swipes over her peach lips, asking for entrance. she gladly opens up and her tongue brushes past yours as it enters your warm cavern. heated touches and kisses quickly ignites the desire bubbling in your belly. “ j’ai envie de toi. . “ she mutters against your lips, before gracefully rolling herself on top of you. you chuckled, resting your hands on her stomach,

“ then what are you waiting for ma chérie? “

“ mona, stay in bed! your astrology stuff can wait! “

you whine, tightening your arms around her waist as she tries to squirm her way out of your hold. “ unhand me! i simply want to check to see if everything’s in place before i lay my head—“

“ we both know if you get up out of this bed, you won’t come back in! “

knowing that you’re right, she huffs, her body relaxing in your arms. if mona’s restless, she would literally run around the home to make sure everything is in the right spot and untouched then proceed to sit at her desk to “ study “.

a moment of silence fills the room.

.

“ mona? “

“ what is it? “

“ i never heard you speak french before. since you’re basically from fontaine, are you naturally fluent in french? you have quite the sexy accent. ”

“ ugh, obviously. i see no need to use it since i am not in— wait right this second, sexy?! must you really use that crude word to describe my manner of speech?!”she squeaks, her cheeks and ears bright red.

“ um. .yes? i’m being honest, mona. i heard that french is one of the most romantic languages in teyvat. perhaps you can try and speak some french to me while you— “

“ e-enough of your blabbering, i’m going to bed! “

j’ai envie de toi = i want you ( intimately )

mon coeur = my heart

#furina x reader #navia x reader #clorinde x reader #mona x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin women x reader #genshin women

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areislol · 1 year

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"gonna hold you, gonna kiss you in my arms"

ft— anyone

warning — major character death, angst with no comfort (?) kinda rushed

a/n— im too lazy to add anything so here is this plain format :) i felt like writing angst so here this is, i should be studying right now </3 i also forgot to eat dinner

wordcount. 748

can you imagine the gut wrenching pain of knowing that you are about to take your last breath in your lover's arms?

can you imagine the ache in your heart as you feel the life slipping away from you, the unbearable pain of leaving behind the one you love the most in the world. this is not how you imagined the way your life would be ending, but fate has brought you to this moment, and there is nothing you can do but surrender to it?

as you look into your lover's eyes, you see the agony and desperation in their gaze. they are holding on to you tightly, as if they were trying to keep you from leaving this world if they just hold on hard enough. thinking that if they held onto you tightly, the cruel gods wouldn't take you, the universe wouldn't take you. but you know that it's time to let go.

your lover's face becomes a blur as tears cloud your vision. you try to speak, but the words won't come out. the pain in your chest intensifies, and you know that your time is running out. you feel a sense of regret for all the things you didn't do and all the words left unsaid. you wish you could go back and make things right, but it's too late now.

and in your final moments, you think about all the things you wished you could have done differently. you wish you had told your lover how much they meant to you more often, but now.. it's too late.

your lover's arms are the only thing that brings you comfort in your final moments. the warmth of their embrace and the sound of their voice soothe your soul yet hurts you so much, their cracking voice, the way they're hyperventilating, the way their whole body is shaking, the way they look at you with such.. scared and confused eyes. you feel safe and loved. But as much as their presence helps ease the pain, it also magnifies it. the thought of leaving them behind is too much to bear.

at first, they're screaming, wailing, begging for you to stay awake, begging the gods to not take you away from him. their hot and angry tears dropping onto your clothes, their tears seeping into your clothes, forming wet splotches.

but as your breathing becomes shallow and ragged, your lover leans in closer to you, some what accepting the fate, whispering words of comfort and love. you can feel their tears falling on your face as they hold you tighter, not wanting to let go. but eventually, they have to accept that it's time to say goodbye.

as you feel your life slipping away, you cling onto your lover's arm with all your strength, hoping that it will somehow prolong your existence. the world around you fades away, and all you can hear is the sound of your own labored breathing and the faint voices of your lover. in that moment, all the trivial things that used to matter to you suddenly become insignificant, and all that you care about is the person holding you.

you close your eyes and take one last deep breath, knowing that your lover will be there until the very end. you feel the coldness creeping into your body, and the darkness closing in around you.

your last breath leaves your body, and your lover feels your heart stop beating against their chest, their world comes crashing down, their eyes wide and dull, confused about what had just happened, did you.. really go? they are left alone with their grief, holding on to the memory of the person they loved most in this cruel and wretched world.

the pain of losing someone so dear to you is gut-wrenching, and it will take time for them to heal. but even in death, your love for them lives on. they will always carry a piece of you with them, and they will never forget the way it felt to hold you in their arms as you passed from this world to the next.

and all you can do is hope that your love for them will live on after you're gone. you could only wish that they find someone better than you, someone who they will live their life to the fullest with, but you have an aching feeling that... they will never. with you gone, there is nothing to look for.

i made myself cry. guilty.

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animentality · 5 months

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if you have ever gone really really really thoroughly through moonrise towers looking for every single readable scrap of paper. you can find this sequence of letters between gortash and ketheric that i havent seen anyone talk about but if i have the order right its REALLY funny to me. kicking myself cause i can’t find the screenshots at the moment but it’s like

the first one (in ketheric’s room) is gortash writing to ketheric very formally and commandingly in proper letter format telling him to retrieve the artefact and not to fail in doing so. and it’s super overbearing lol

the second one is a copy of ketheric’s reply (near z’rell’s desk i think) wherein he tells gortash that his “tone” in the previous letter is “inappropriate” lmao. and to not order him around like that because he doesn’t answer to him or bane and also he’s working on it.

the third one is gortash’s reply to that i believe (one of the alcoves on the roof where the first round of ketheric’s fight is) and it takes the form of a small unformatted informal thing that goes something like “k- just a note to say i can’t believe the artefact is still missing! i hear even the githyanki are after it!!! i sure hope you find it soon! -g” with exclamation points and everything and it just comes off as the most sarcastic patronising thing bsgshsgs

and so this, plus the way he kicks you in the shin at the morphic pool, and then the way he petulantly shoves you and yoinks the netherstones (at such a critical moment too) because the brain is pissing him off. AND all the intentionally hurtful things he goes out of his way to say to karlach even when she’s so supposedly beneath him. it has all brought me to the conclusion that, for all his posturing, gortash genuinely has the emotional maturity of a grape and it makes for a very very funny dichotomy to his character

(but also kind of sad. because he kind of still the little kid his parents sold out to the devil all those years ago. he never grew up he just learned how to puff up his self esteem with hot air and it takes so little to cut through the performative sophistication)

Anon...

why did you have to hurt me this way?

I have seen all of those notes, actually, but I never thought anything of them...

But you're right.

Gortash is fundamentally a child tyrant... a miserable little wretch, who was an abused slave for most of his childhood, and who swore he'd never let anyone treat him like that again.

And then he swore HE'D be the slaver and the bully.

But maybe that was because he never had the opportunity to grow to his full potential.

And the parts of him that were able to grow, grew wrong.

He was twisted up and gnarled inside like a plant forced to grow through the bars of a small cage.

My poor Gortie.

Evil boy. Tragic boy.

The pettiness is funny but god now I'll think of it as sad too.

#enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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tiny-smallest · 2 years

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things I Did Not Expect from Journey To The West, a summary by an lmk fan whose wife is reading and sharing EVERYTHING:

Wukong is basically baby in the beginning? Like my god he’s just so excited and eager to learn??

The jokes about ‘ANOTHER MOUNTAIN’ and ‘ANOTHER RIVER’ Were Not Exaggerating

it really is a monster of the week format, which is neat; I wonder if this novel is where that trope started

Wukong is incredibly polite... most of the time

there is actually some basis in the book for things I saw circulating in fandom which is kind of cool

there is also some basis in the book for things I assumed were made tf up, like Wukong being a hero to the people of mortal realm as told in Macaque’s shadowplay backstory (found in the Slow Cart Kingdom chapter, where The Gold Star Of Venus tells the captive monks that Wukong is “a person of vast kindness” who “will avenge injustices, assist the oppressed, and comfort widows and orphans”

Wukong doesn’t dispute this, either, which means he’s actually done it

Wujing is very quiet at first, but slowly starts coming out of his shell and is kind of sassy sometimes! I love it but I wish he had more screentime? more time in his head?

the author really did just forget the horse is a dragon I wish that bro did anything at all

Bajie is... surprisingly awful for awhile, and in ways I can maybe see are supposed to be him acting out because of the whole ‘let me force you on this trial on pain of something probably worse’ thing, but it’s frustrating the novel doesn’t give him the same depth it gives Wukong by giving us more insight to his thoughts

speaking of which I’ll be honest, when I first poked into the lmk fandom and saw people who had ready jttw there, I was expecting their accounts of Wukong and a lot of the awful shit that happens to him to be exaggerated some because he’s their favorite and sometimes you just quietly inflate the facts to make your favorite less problematic c’mon we’ve all done it but- no.

Holy shit, they were not kidding this monkey really does just get put through so much shit.

The BOOK takes MULTIPLE instances to DIRECTLY SAY he’s in tears, and not the ‘noble, poetic’ kind of tears that a lot of old epics give to their heroes (minus maybe the Flowerfruit Mountain revelation in the WBS chapter) but like- very real tears.

He has a few instances where he’s a bully and he steals some shit but none of that warranted what happened to him, there’s the MOUNTAIN AND THE FUCKING CIRCLET, there’s him taking blow after blow for Tripitaka (sometimes kind of rightfully, since there’s a couple instances so far where it’s his fault the situation exists at all), there’s him being set on fire and drowned and Bajie constantly turning Tripitaka against him in the beginning, Wukong is constantly saving them all from danger after they do something he told them not to or walked up to someone he told them was a demon, and like at least two or three times Tripitaka promises they’ll listen next time, or thanks him, and then PROCEEDS TO NOT DO THAT, there’s the fact that Tripitaka uses the circlet WAY too many times, and in situations where nobody’s life is in danger, there’s the fact that Tripitaka always resorts to name-calling when he’s angry with Wukong, there’s multiple references to Wukong looking sick and starved, there’s watching in real time as he internalizes the idea that he’s ugly and scary and his only worth is what he can do for other people- holy shit this monkey has trauma, and he really, honestly doesn’t deserve it compared to what he’s actually done.

like no seriously I don’t have all the time in the world to hunt all these quotes down but here’s one that happens when Wukong tries to prevent them from discovering a demon who had disguised himself as an innocent human child in trouble: "You wretched ape! How villainous you are! You don't have the tiniest bit of kindness in you! Every thought of yours is bent on making mischief and working violence! I told you that it was a human voice calling for help, but you have to spend countless words to claim it was a monster. Look! Isn't that a person hanging on the tree?" Seeing how the master was putting the blame on him and also the form before his face, the Great Sage lowered his head and dared not reply, for there was nothing he could do at the moment and he was afraid that his master would recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. He had little choice, in fact, but to permit the Tang Monk to approach the tree.

like bruh that one made me straight up feel murder as an emotion

(also ‘Wukong isn’t the main character’ MY ASS)

in that same vein Book Tripitaka is just... so unlikable

like I see there was a definite attempt at making him interesting- it’s clear that some of his reactions are borne from the trauma of what happened to him right at the start of his journey, and it’s intriguing to me that as the novel goes on he outright regrets ever agreeing to this quest- much different than most characters on A Hero’s Journey, and especially given that he’s a monk on a religious mission

also worth noting that it seems the gods almost deliberately set it up so that he and Wukong would have instant friction

but my god the way he treats Wukong when Bajie is infinitely more trouble and disrespectful is just... infuriating; he’s downright vicious to him

I did not expect to hate Kuan-Yin so much but I super do fuck her

what happens to Red Boy is so very fucking DISTURBING FUCK KUAN-YIN

also fuck Erlang

THERE’S JUST A CASUAL GENOCIDE? OF FLOWERFRUIT MOUNTAIN? THAT’S LARGELY GLOSSED OVER AFTER WUKONG FIXES THE ISLAND AND KILLS THE HUNTERS?? LIKE BRUH THAT’S PRIME ANGST MATERIAL CAN WE MAYBE DIG INTO THAT A BIT MORE??

certain chapters I saw hyped up really are Actually That Good, including the White Bone Spirit chapter, the Slow Cart Kingdom chapter, the Red Boy chapter, and the (very bizarre) Macaque chapter

it probably wasn’t the author’s intention but Tripitaka comes off as super aroace

on that same note, Wukong says a thing or two that gives a range from which to pick your favorite personal headcanon; mine is demi

Bajie keeps losing it over women but also knows what Wukong’s ass looks like which is bruh okay

the tiger slaughtering I saw referenced really does happen just immediately after Wukong is freed, and then Wukong makes that skirt just... part of his outfit forever

Wukong really does utterly adore his monkeys it’s so cute

the Macaque chapter is indeed weird, but very good; also super cool to see what might be fiction’s first instance of the evil doppelganger trope

that part where the three disciples sneak into a daoist temple to eat all their food and hang out? is really cute, and I wish we had more moments building up to that kind of development in their relationships

but interestingly, we DO see developments that happen as a RESULT of this chapter!

Bajie is way less trouble, for one thing, making more jokes with the others and causing far fewer headaches

and Wujing is more talkative! as well as sassy!

as for Wukong, when Tripitaka starts panicking over obstacles in their way, he starts saying “we’ve got this” and “you have the three of us” instead of “you’ve got me” and “I can handle this.”

Wukong is disturbingly So Ready to show off how unkillable he is and I’m glad the lmk fandom has agreed this is a self-harm behavior because YIKES

the amount of times Tripitaka falls off his horse or experiences his soul yeeting itself from his body is both relatable considering the circumstances, and really frustrating

Wukong seems to agree actually because most of the time he’s surprisingly kind and cheerful when assuring Tripitaka but every now and again he snaps and says or does something mean

Wukong and Tripitaka’s relationship is by far the most explored one at this point (just finished the Macaque chapter) and somehow there is still wasted material THERE’S MORE YOU CAN DIG INTO BOOK PLEASE

the fact that Wukong and Macaque fight like feral cats to each location in that chapter remains hilarious and is especially funny without the lmk context (of which we still have none)

so much of this book explains so much about lmk Wukong but like we still need to know exactly how much of the book they’re making canon to their universe skjfnslkdjfnsdf

#lego monkie kid #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #lmk tripitaka #journey to the west #sun wukong #tripitaka #most of this is about wukong and i am not sorry

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cozymoko · 7 months

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Since requests are open, would you be willing to write something for Mizuki (Kamisama Kiss) with a goddess darling that one day just disappeared like Mikage did on Tomoe?

Welcome back, btw❣️

WHY MUST YOU LEAVE ME?

Note: Hey! I'd actually be more than willing to write this. Also, I'm happy to be back. ♡

—sorry this is so short. I'll edit it later.

Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Mizuki from "Kamisama Kiss"

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, unhealthy dependency

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀「お嬢様、どうして僕を置いていったの?」

The whole thing felt like a fever dream. A painful dream — fueled by his desire for your return. Mizuki had served you for years on end, and not once has his loyalty wavered. Oh dear, he could never imagine a day that it would. After all the effort the poor thing’s put into ridding you of all those pests, who so foolishly tried to take his place; how could he ever betray you?

Many say that hate is a strong word. And perhas it is, for a familiar especially. Even after your abandonment, Mizuki could not harbor such feelings towards you. He held you far too dear. He poured his heart and soul into your entire being, simply to please you. If not for you, he'd have no purpose in this wretched world. How unfortunate.

Your shrine felt like an eternal home. Seeing how the poor thing could hardly find the courage to travel even s few inches past it's garden. As it was the last thing he had that reminded him of you.

The silk of your kimonos felt cold against his skin without your warmth to adorn them. Your scent remained rich in it's fabric, as though you had worn it mere days ago. His nose was buried deep within its silks, swallowing it's tantalizing scent. If you were here to see it, you'd surely scold him.

“Lady [Name],” He breathed into its fine silks. “I miss you so very much.”

Nanami had found him, moping around at the entrance of a beautifully kept shrine. You'd never even guess that its been vacant for nearly a decade. Reality began to weigh in on him like a heavy stream — you weren't coming back.

His light had dimmed significantly, though he tried to hide it. And somehow, the poor thing mustered up a large grin to the teenage girl. Mizuki appreciated her generosity, truly. The familiar even tried to pursue the Land God in hopes of mending the hole in his heart. However, thoughts of you consumed his every being.

Mizuki wouldn't miss an opportunity to brag about his otherworldly mistress. You were absolute perfection and nothin less. But even so, not even his feeble words could convey his utter admiration with your being. It almost felt shameful to speak of you to such lowly creatures who would never have a chance at experiencing your presence — your kindness.

Then again, he's not complaining~! (Too much)

The harder he tried to forget you, the louder his heart wailed. Thoughts of you had clouded his head, day after day and he could do nothing about it. No woman nor man interested him. Prizes and jewels were feeble to say the least. Even his new mistress, Nanami, could not hold his attention for more than a moment.

A gentle breeze tousled his pale strands. It was soothing, much like the hand you had once caressed him with.Though, even then, it lacked your tenderness. Nights like these were frequent. Days filled with longing and sorrow.

But who's to say he won't look for you? It's very likely that he would. This is the same lovestruck fool whom you had at your beck and call for decades on end, or perhaps even a century. His new job as the Land God's loyal familiar does little to determine him from his real goal: Finding you.

#—🍁#x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x y/n #yandere hedacanons #kamisama hajimemashita headcanons #kamisama kiss headcanons #kamisama kiss #kamisama hajimemashita

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peacocks-pantomime · 7 days

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In an empty theatre, teardrops echo like the sound of applause.

All I do is lay down a bet~ It’s out of my control if my opponent decides to lay down their life, isn’t it?

After the chaos, not much was left of Sigonia-IV, yet there were two malnourished children-- Kakavasha and his Big Sis, nearly perishing from the elements on the ruined planet.

One day, there was finally salvation in the form of a light-- a light, and a beautiful woman dressed in elegant clothing peering down at them under a wide-brimmed hat.

She told them that they would be safe, that they could trust her-- and what other option did they have? She looked so different, and seemed so kind compared to the others that have mistreated them... Big Sis had been willing to give her a chance.

And so, Kakavasha was whisked away to another world, offered clean clothes and a room of his own. He fell asleep immediately, curling up on the soft carpet of the floor.

When he awoke, his Big Sis wasn't there. But they said she would be. They told him she would be. So he wanders through the strange building against his better judgement.

It wasn't long before he heard muffled words coming from the ajar door of a bright room. He snuck over to peek into the room and he saw people dressed in simplistic black clothing, taking notes on some sort of devices and huddled around a bed.

And on the bed lay the body of his dead sister. But those people would never acknowledge her as such; to them she was only an experiment. One of the last Sigonians of the Avgin race, a miraculous discovery. And they weren't going to tell him. They were going to hide it from him.

Blinded by the emotions swirling around inside of him, Kakavasha threw himself through the doorway, grabbing the first sharp tool in sight, and ended the lives of all the professionals in that wretched room one by one.

He'd cried the whole time. He couldn't identify the emotion the tears stemmed from-- whether from sadness at the loss of his sister, or from the rage burning bright-- but as the boy stood there, he dropped his weapon, wrapping his arms around himself in horror...

He didn't feel guilty for what he'd done.

That sort of control-- the ability to watch the life of another mortal slip away between his fingers and know that he was the cause...

It was empowering.

Notes from the moderator:

~ Mod also runs the @aventurine-official rp account, so the format is her own and is not plagiarized :)

~ Art (2nd top picture and pfp) and concept credit goes to @darlix747! Their original post is here

~ This Aventurine exists in the same universe as @the-truth-of-nothingness

A famous musical artist and actor, known for masking his true self.

Roams around Penacony but travels the cosmos to perform

Is quite sadistic and will bet others on their life-- resulting in their death, because he never loses.

Longs to destroy the IPC as vengeance for the lies and betrayal from which his sister suffered

The glistening teardrop hanging around his neck allows him to mesmerize others with a glance, if he so wishes-- the glow of his eyes is interconnected

(I might add more details later, or link a headcanon post!)

Guidelines:

~ Keep the asks sfw if you please, suggestive is okay!

~ No random links in asks unless they are links to other Tumblr posts (if they are there, please specify what they are)

~ Be kind, please. Any hateful comments related but not limited to racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism and transphobia will not be tolerated here and you may be blocked.

~ All ships (age-appropriate) are welcome. (I personally believe Aventurine is gay as hell, so he will have a noticeable interest in men versus women).

~ Try to avoid sending DMs to the mod unless you are another mod

~ Anons are more than welcome here! You may have a personalized tag and everything :)

List of current anon signoffs here

Key (if applicable):

" " : for dialogue

* * : for movements

( ) : ooc

Tags:

#ace of spades ♠️ : Art reblogs

#the flip of a coin 🪙 : Random thoughts and calm moments

#trump card 🃏 : Asks from anons and others

#life on the line 🎲 : Interactions with Honkai Star Rail blogs

#melancholy theatre 🎭 : Interactions with other members of the Masked Fools

#dear doctor 🍷 : Interactions with / mentions of the Veritas Ratio in his universe

Masterlist post of Honkai Star Rail-official blogs linked here

#intro post #pinned post #oc #hsr oc #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #masked fools #hsr rp

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ranticore · 2 months

Text

Forward by the Author [Qedivar's research, prologue]

My friends, this biography almost killed me. At the conclusion of my thesis work and the culmination of months of dangerous study, I write to you now from my bower at an undisclosed location, where I currently rest with three broken limbs and more than a few shattered nerves.

Effete shortwing academics such as myself are not particularly known for venturing across the water to West, where land is so rare as to be the continent’s most precious resource. But this continent was where our ancestors first arrived to this world—and yes, it is now unequivocal truth that we are not natives to our planet, as I was first to discover at the ruins of Atom on that wretched continent.

The coarse facts have been spread throughout Intun and East at large, ferried by news-mongers who have yet to finish my associated published paper. They will soon realise that they have missed the most fascinating details of our history. Naysayers have already decried me a heretic and I regret to agree with them, but it is true that my findings are heretical. Is that necessarily a bad thing? I say that a little bit of heresy might vastly improve the quality of our lives and understanding of the world at large.

A martyr, however, I am not. For this reason I do not attach my name to this record. Shortwings being as we are – all quite alike and common as muck – I am confident in my ability to remain anonymous to my readers while still revealing enough to prove myself a credible source. You will need to take rather a lot on faith, when you read this. You will need to suspend your disbelief that we are aliens on Siren. And you will need to accept that every one of us is a product of intentional design – not by some god, and not by so-called ‘evolutionary theory’, but by the ancient first settlers at Atom.

I will write a detailed account of my explorations another time, when I have healed from their rigours. I felt it more important to release the results of my study first, rather than let it become a vanity project with myself its hero. Instead I will preface each chapter with a description of the relevant source texts, including where and in what condition they were found.

On to the source texts themselves. I have created this biography to provide an introduction to the first Sirenian, Ishmael. The phocids of the Southern Spiral know Ishmael as offspring of the moon of the same name, and the ruler of the high tide. The inhabitants of Odr’s Sleep in the far North take a less literal interpretation of Ishmael’s moon and consider him a common ancestor. Harpies in my home Spire know him less, though–without revealing too much of my own bower–we have a mythological figure of the same name; Ishmael, who arrives to punish the crime of hubris.

It was a great surprise to me to find that Ishmael was a real person, and indeed that he was the first person born on this planet. Others arrived, yes, but he took his first breath here, before anyone else. My phocid companion was remarkably unsurprised by the discovery, and could even provide a little local Spiral folklore to illustrate the stories told of Ishmael’s life, which I will include as footnotes in the relevant chapters.

My source texts are extremely varied. Some describe Ishmael from the point of view of those who settled in Atom. Some are his own writings. Some are even a format which projects moving images onto walls, which I will also describe in a coming paper to be published. The technologies many visored longwings preserve sit in rot and ruin in Atom, proving, once and for all, that it was a society more advanced than our own. For the purpose of this introduction and my prefaces, I will refer to this as Precursor society, though in the source text they did not refer to themselves as anything but ‘settlers’ or ‘colonists’.

In those ruins, my party and I discovered things which we still have no words to describe. As a result, many of my interpretations are direct and untranslated, in the hopes that later, with greater understanding, we might return to the source and make more accurate interpretations. Many of these concepts were considered so commonplace to Precursor life that no one bothered making concrete definitions for the benefit of the scholars who might once hope to study them. Precursor society stems largely from a place called ‘Earth’ which we surmise to be the Precursors’ location of origin.

From this, we move on to the most puzzling concept of all. The concept of Humans. I took it to be a clan name at first, given the texts’ referral to Ishmael, a type of proto-phocid unique at Atom, as Human when the other people in the records did not very much resemble Ishmael at all. But Humans were in fact a species. Humans were bipedal and lacked feathers, though their faces will be familiar to any modern Sirenian, because they resemble our own. Once I succeeded in translating the scientific notes surrounding Ishmael, all became clear, and it was this shocking truth which forces me to write under a pen name.

Every modern Sirenian is a Human. We descend from the first-born Sirenians, who were designed – by techniques as purposeful as an artist’s brushstrokes – to occupy the particular range of morphologies which we now inhabit.

Precursor Humans arrived here, to this world, and knew their bodies were poorly adapted to survive here, lacking mechanisms of flight or aquatic mobility and being unable to breathe our air, or eat any of the foods we take for granted. So they engineered those mechanisms to develop in other Humans, which were birthed and raised at Atom in its prime in a series of successive generations, the last of which will likely be my most controversial uncovering. The engineered Humans – Sirenians like you and I – were not privileged members of Atom. In fact, we were a sort of labour underclass to them, who would brave the sea and sky of Siren outside Atom’s bubble where the Precursor Humans could not venture.

Ishmael was the first of this underclass, and was originally intended as merely a first concept, a rough draft of what phocids and selkies would become. He was a fascinating person who I believe is deserving of the great length of this biography and worthy of being the first introduction to the lives of Precursors that many modern Sirenians will experience. Where at all possible I have avoided editorialising Ishmael’s life, instead presenting it as it happened. We find not a revolutionary hero or an icon of tidal vengeance but a person born into a state of great confusion and neglect. He was a Human like his peers but was treated as inherently lesser, hardly a person at all, and he did not conform to expectations of graceful victimhood.

Welcome to the beginning of the world.

#setting: siren #there ya go. some prose for u

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bonefall · 1 year

Text

Speckletail's Bulldozer

[Wherein Speckletail gets a much cooler death]

The elders simply being left behind in TNP doesn't sit right with me. Add this with my quest to eliminate as many unceremonious offscreen deaths as possible, and we're going to get extra scenes of (hopefully) memorable battles and incidents.

Speckletail is getting a sendoff in early TNP with a real bang.

(also; most of the scenes I write will likely look like this! As I’ve mentioned, I can’t focus long enough to write full prose. I hope you guys enjoy this format though)

Scene notes

-Before the incident, there is a gentle moment where Speckletail is watching Whitepaw, commenting on how much she's grown

-She looks a lot like Snowkit

-Speckle also notices that Sorreltail and Brackenfur are fond of each other

-Sitting next to Goldenflower and Thornclaw, she mentions how much family she's surrounded by. If only Bramble and Tawny were here.

-Thornclaw: "meemaw do you hear boss music?”

-Cloudtail and his patrol come crashing into camp, shouting that they have to leave NOW, a monster has veered off the Thunderpath and is eating the trees

-CHAOS, the cats are scrambling, screaming, trying to gather up the terrified kits and sick elders. It dawns on Speckletail that there’s no time to run.

-”Thornclaw! To me!“

-Speckle and her grandson bolt out of the camp towards the crashing noises, Thornclaw tries to shout something but she can’t hear him over the roar

-The monster is unlike any she’s ever seen before. It’s a golden monstrosity, larger than life, reeking like death, with a single massive, extended paw that leaves a smooth slug-trail of destruction in its wake. A twoleg is sitting on top of its back.

-Speckletail realizes it’s another type of horrible dog. A twoleg’s bloodthirsty pet, just like the ones they let loose on the forest, just like the one that killed one grandchild and mauled another

-She screeches and barrels towards it, Thornclaw hot on her heels. They leap onto the thick fold of skin stretched over its crawling legs, and leap again at the twoleg riding the beast

-Muffled sounds of Speckletail violence

-As Speckletail earns the PG-13 rating in the foreground, Thornclaw is looking at all the buttons and contraptions, not understanding how it tells the monster where to go. He pushes a big lever with a CLUNK

-The monster reverses course, reeling on its legs, heading right for the old river ravine

-The twoleg yanks Speckletail off, leaping out of the monster and tumbling to safety

-It’s going to go down

-Planting her claws on the seat, turning her back on Thornclaw, she smashes him with a fierce back-paw buck. He’s kicked clean out of the doomed beast

-Thornclaw lands hard on the ground, bruised but safe, rising just in time to see Speckletail’s proud expression, pulled down as the golden monster lurches to the side and crashes down the ravine.

-Thornclaw remembers this death as the bravest thing a warrior has ever done.

-When ThunderClan retrieves her body later, her fur is slicked with the prismatic blood of the monster.

-One person tries to lick her clean (probably Brightheart), but gives up as the foul liquid immediately makes them wretch, spitting the liquid out.

-Mothwing, now a POV character training in ThunderClan because of Mudfur’s early death, remembers this. Especially how Brightheart feels sick a few minutes later.

-Cinderpelt remarks that her fur shines like a rainbow, wonders if that’s what StarClan makes them out of.

-The Clan agrees that to be buried in the blood of such a fierce foe is what she would have wanted. They simply smooth her fur out with their paws, forgoing the usual herbs so she can carry the smell of a vanquished monster to StarClan.

-Whitepaw, terrified, grief-stricken, and looking for comfort, suggests that maybe the twolegs will leave them alone now

-Unfortunately, this is what prompts the twolegs to bring in the cat-catchers. ThunderClan sees it as them trying to take revenge for killing their monster.

-BloodClan will probably explain that the twolegs think they’re acting with kindness, but it doesn’t really matter to the Clan cats that there’s a difference between exterminators and animal rehabbers.

#Speckletail #Speckletail's Bulldozer #Scene #Warrior Cats writing #Bonefall Rewrite #Thornclaw #CW violence #Violence #CW car accident #car accident #Bonefall TNP

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sleeplesssmoll · 5 months

Text

Schneider Snippets from the Atlas

Vertin’s responses to the narrator are in italics. Let me know if I missed anything. This is a long post and it looked nicer in my Google Docs. If anyone has suggestions on how to format this into a way that's easier to read, I am all ears. Spoilers for Ch 2 & 3. My dumb little notes are in purple and are not part of the main text.

The Opportunist and the Sticky Gum

Source: 2-1 Wretched Brats

Now those little brats are knocked out. You Notice that old gum is sticking to the bottom of their shoes, like crushed leeches.

What happened to the gum?

Tragedy. A sympathetic encounter. It has fulfilled its mission cautiously and conscientiously. But clearly no one cares.

I dare say it's the most popular mint gum now. When the Chicagoans lost their rights to get drunk, they could only turn to this nasty upstart stuff. The sales champion is the bubble gum near Wrigley Field. The old gum from the kid's soles also comes from there.

Some gravel mixed into the squeezed gum base. The off-white sand. The synthetic waxed elastic fiber. In the South Bank, there is only one place where such a politically symbolic floor is laid–St. Pavlov Foundation.

It's very lively here in the square, just like every day in the past. Speculators, who advocate mankind supremacy, are trying to get the attention of the Foundation through demonstrations. They are on the same side as the Foundation, but the Foundation has no intention to treat these protestors as allies they want. They even sent a little girl to go through the motions as a perfunctory response. (this “little girl” is Sonetto.)

Little girls? An excellent topic. (Vertin, this is not how we behave.)

Yes. Yes. No one will ignore them. They are honey colored. They are the morning sun in California. They are the dazzling spot on the doe that you'll never catch. For those hypocritical politicians the little girls are the delicacies that they would drool over (ew). Luckily, this little girl is not one of their prey. She is nervous but not panicked. She doesn't seem to be good at dealing with these slick politicians. The mission capsule of the Foundation grew hot in her tightly clutched fist.

And on the other side of the square, another little girl in a black suit is looking gloomily over here. She stood by the Foundation's air outlet, the best place for her. The position is too marginal to be marginalized. That's the best portrayal of the second generation immigrants in the 20th century. (This is Schneider.)

Who is the girl in the black suit?

She's someone you will know in the future. Now she shudders and shivers like a cricket desperate for shelter. She's looking for an eave or piece of rubble in the Storm.

Her figure might be frail, but her eyes are filled with cold anger. Maybe she had been rejected just now or even insulted. She walked up to the square center with a firm step, like a warrior.

This snippet in the beginning foreshadows so much of the story it's insane looking back.

From One Castle to Another

Source: 2-9 Security Carnival

Mrs. Greco puts down the phone. She is now as calm as any Italian mother you've ever met. You know, they're usually making a yummy pie before they pull out their guns.

There are enough people in black outside, enough to prevent any eavesdropping or violent conflict.

Mrs. Greco glanced blandly over the one, two, three, four ... nine, ten, eleven children in front of her. This is a big family, and it has grown bigger and

bigger over the past few years because of Schneider.

Who are they?

They're Schneider's sisters. It's hard for the Grecos to tell them apart. But Schneider is different. She was born in an earthquake, all covered in blood, and didn't let out her first cry until two hours later. It wasn't until she was one year old that her father noticed that she had never been baptized.

The Grecos are not good at dealing with gang affairs. They can't even figure out when their daughter has grown-- grown into the backbone of the whole family.

When Schneider took out 500 dollars from her pocket and put them on the table, they were completely shocked, and that's just the beginning. Schneider... Schneider, the youngest daughter they seldom cared about. It's impossible to keep every child well-fed. Schneider could not even get a piece of bread in the Eucharist.

But a good daughter would not let anyone worry about her. She sat on the bench outside the church and hummed. She found a way out for herself. She walked to the underground market, fascinated by what she saw ...She announced her "new identity" one day.

What "new identity"?

The identity you know now. In the process, she lost something old but gained something new, no matter if she wished for it or not.

"Now," Mrs. Greco said, "we live, or we die. If Schneider comes back safely tonight... we will leave when the moon rises. The doors are closing in front of us, one after another. But the benevolent Maria will give us the ultimate shelter. My children, remember today forever." Her words speak for her status. But Mrs. Greco's eyes never moved away from that small Madonna on the table. The hem of her clothes were soaked in tears. 4 p.m. A family is determined to start a new journey.

Unnamed Poem

Source: 2-13 Rattenfanger (This is the chapter where the “eave or the rubble” line comes from)

Surrounded by imposing barriers, Epics never sing of those about to die. Look up, keep looking up, A broken tile is the only shelter in the tempest. People always knew how they took the wrong path, So they regret the unregrettable nights, laugh at the laughable fools. At the bottom of the cliff, a river always flows.

An Unpopular Children's Song 😭

Source: 3-3 Green Oranges Who killed the Snowy Dove? I, said the cricket. With my heart and musket I killed the Snowy Dove. Who saw her die? I, said the owner of the suitcase, With my vision and sight, I saw her die. Who dug her grave? I, said the cricket. With my pick and spade, I dug her grave. Who'll make her shroud? I, said the owner of the suitcase, With my little suitcase, I'll make her shroud.

Long Night Trip (I left out the first bit since its the Narrator being…himself. The man loves to hear himself talk.)

Source: 3-8 Popular Literature

Trust me, you won't regret listening to this story.

Fine. Let's start the bullshit.

I will never be offended by your humor. Okay. The past is waiting for us to look back. It's winter in the early 20th century. The gloomy rain never stops. The square on West Jackson Avenue is alive with people. There is an Italian Renaissance-styled basilica. You rarely see so many people get together without making a sound. This is a black requiem mass. The priest is chanting the requiem, and the people mark a cross on their chests.

He must be respectable.

"He was a father. He dedicated to a sinner of ... Lord shall give him eternal peace." A woman in a black robe turns to you and whispers. She turns back. Explaining this makes her unpleased. More and more people are queuing for the funeral. The square is alive with chants here and there. The Grecos are among them. They're covered by the dark cloud of long- handled umbrellas. Soon, their voices are replaced by whimpers. You can hardly tell whether they are pleased or sorrowful. But you can't find Schneider. (This part in purple was written like that in the Atlas. Its clunky as heck. Idk what they were trying to say.)

Where is she?

Look in the direction of Mr. Greco's broken left palm. Yes. Look from the bandage-wrapped end at his cuff. 3390 feet away from the crowd, in the shadow of the church, stands the girl you want to see. She is pale and thin, as if she has just recovered from a serious, long illness. But her fist clenches, her eyes burn, and her figure is an open defiance of the ubiquitous chants. You don't know why she looks so-so furious. Is she... what, 11 years old? And the mass is about to usher in the ultimate climax. It rains heavier. The priest opens his arms to embrace the sky, "The Lord be with you."

"And also with you." Schneider responds in a voice that could hardly be heard. She puts her hand on her heart. This is the first time she responds to the Lord. And it will be the last.

#reverse 1999 #reverse1999 lore #schneider #long post

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indignantlemur · 4 months

Note

Hey :) watching the Canada nationals today and it struck me: andorians would probably love figure skating?? Thoughts?

I've had some thoughts about this myself, actually! Thanks for the ask!

When I look at Andorians as I've written them and consider how they would view various activities, ideas, etc, I go through three questions which I feel would have informed their historical mindset:

(1) Does it contribute to the safety and prosperity of the Clan or the Empire?

Historically, Andorians couldn't afford to waste much in the way of time, energy, or resources. This had a huge impact on their attitudes towards anything deemed frivolous or reckless or wasteful, which is much more severe than the average Human might expect; if it doesn't serve the Clan or the Emperor, then it's not important enough to waste resources on. That sort of ingrained thinking is slow to change. In fact, it's really only been in recent centuries, starting just after the Unification of Andoria, that their cultivation of the arts and leisurely pursuits has really taken off. They experienced a wild renaissance period shortly after the Unification, during which resource-intensive but culturally vital accomplishments were made and traditional artforms were refined and popularized on a much wider scale than ever before.

This new peace brought about by the formation of the Federation has set the stage for a second renaissance, though what this new era will bring to Andoria and its people is yet unknown.

(2) Does it burn more resources than it earns?

Rapid metabolism, life in high energy-cost environments, and resource scarcity do not do the Andorians any favours. Historically, the Clans had to be very choosy about where they invested time, food, materials, and people. Anything that didn't help to provide for the Clan was dismissed as fanciful at best, and a dangerous waste of resources at worst. Life.in recent centuries has been much less harsh, allowing for a great deal of leeway where none existed before, but old attitudes linger nonetheless.

(3) Does it fulfill some cultural or religious need which might make it exempt from the previous two requirements?

Historically, calculated expenditures of valuable resources were made to boost morale, to strengthen bonds between families, and to create a sense of community. Festivals, rites, fêtes, you name it. If it could keep the populace happy, the Clans would find a way to make it happen. For the longest time, these events were the sole exceptions to the first two points - and for good reason. Even the most wretched of peoples need more than the bare minimum to thrive. Andorians are no different than anyone else in that regard.

So: figure skating. Let's take a look at it.

On the one hand, I feel like Andorians would be excellent at figure skating between their inherent strength and balance (their antennae being integral to their sense of balance, our course), and Andorians are certainly well known in canon lore for being big on the arts. Post-Unification Andorians place a huge emphasis on art and culture, which bodes well for the adoption of figure skating as an art form.

On the other hand, however, figure skating is a huge energy sink in a culture that has a significant stigma against wasting precious resources. Andorians are most suited for short, brutal bursts of activity as a result of their average metabolic rate. Developing in a resource scarce environment as they did, this shaped the Andorian view on acceptable activities and pastimes. Sustained activity, such as marathons, would be done when necessary (and certainly Imperial Guardsmen would have to meet a bare minimum endurance requirement to qualify for field assignments) but otherwise not pursued recreationally on a large scale.

Consider also that a number of Andorian-origin sports developed as a replacement for their ancient raids and battles. Post-Unification, sports and displays of martial prowess were an outlet for a people with a great deal of natural aggression and nowhere to direct it. Eventually, as time passed and the old ways of constant warfare lost their hold on Andorians as a whole, competitions of skill became as much about prestige and honour as cooperation and unity.

Looking at the question from that perspective, I could see a number of winter sports being popular with Andorians - cross-country skiing, sledding, ice climbing, even speed skating. I suppose it would come down to a question of whether or not figure skating would be considered a sport in their eyes versus an artform based on dancing.

Based on how I've written Andorians, I think they'd initially dismiss figure skating as Human nonsense based on their own cultural mores, but perhaps would gradually warm up to the idea over the decades until younger generations embraced it. It might start as a novelty for rebellious teens, or maybe as a niche hobby for a select few that would eventually gain traction with the wider populace. Certainly, by the time we hit the TNG-era, it might be fully adopted and embraced as a pastime amongst Andorians.

...I think that was all mostly coherent and sensible. Feel free to ask follow up questions! ❄️🇨🇦⛸️

#star trek #emigre by indignantlemur #andorian #andorians #headcanon #Andorians and figure skating

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deducter · 9 months

Text

Suicide or not? (experiment results)

This, dear readers, is the moment you've been eagerly anticipating: the results of the experiment. The path to the answer I've obtained, a curious journey devised by my own inquisitive mind.

Let me begin by explaining the purpose behind it all, followed by the details of the journey and the ultimate revelation.

So, what was the underlying objective of this experiment, and where did it originate? The rubber experiment was crafted to determine, when all that remains is a mere rubber, whether it was a case of suicide or murder. You might wonder, how is such a determination possible?

By discerning whether the deceased was right-handed or left-handed (or, in the most challenging scenario, ambidextrous, much like myself).

It all commenced when I found myself plagued by the wretched state of boredom; Then, a question arose within me.

Initially, I believed it might be achievable simply by observing rubbers. Thus, I embarked upon collecting data. I 'borrowed' numerous rubbers from my fellow students, meticulously examining each one. Alas, no answer presented itself through such means. You see, it all hinged on how one scrutinizes the rubber, on the perspective (angle) from which it is observed.

And so, I delved into my knowledge of chemistry, conducting a modest research to identify the appropriate substance for examining the rubbers. Initially, I experimented with the talc powder I possessed, acquired from a fingerprint identifier kit.

Alas, the talc powder proved ineffective in my pursuit. Undeterred, I intensified my research, delving deeper into my reservoir of knowledge and scouring through various books and trusted articles.

With perseverance, I managed to narrow down the options to two potential substances. The first contender was Lugol's iodine, while the second was low-sulphur graphite powder.

So, armed with all the necessary materials and a collection of rubber covers, I embarked on my quest. Initially, I had grand aspirations of conducting these experiments within the confines of our humble kitchen. However, alas, it soon became apparent that such a choice would be far from environmentally friendly. Let us conveniently overlook the certain wrath that would befall me if I were to proceed, courtesy of my mother.

I was fortunate enough to discover a lab that would serve as the ideal setting for my experiments, a stroke of luck that ranks among the finest moments in my endeavours. From this point forward, with the newfound laboratory at my disposal, I shall be posting a series of intriguing experiments.

Accompanied by my colleague, I ventured into the lab to commence the iodine experiment.

In its unaltered state, the experiment dictated the amalgamation of potassium iodide (KI) with copper(II) sulfate (CuSO4), resulting in the formation of iodine molecules (I2). However, as Lugol's iodine already encompasses iodine molecules, I deemed it unnecessary to follow that particular course. Iodine, known for its volatility, possesses a proclivity for evading solution boundaries with ease. Nevertheless, an ample array of surfaces exists upon which iodine molecules readily affix themselves.

One notable exemplar is fats, for iodine exhibits exceptional solubility within them. Considering that fingerprints predominantly consist of fats, even the meagre traces of fatty substances present on our fingertips possess the capacity to harbour a sufficient quantity of iodine molecules. Consequently, these otherwise imperceptible fingerprints transmute into a distinctive hue of dark brown, rendering them conspicuously visible.

Alas, it didn’t work. Failing is not the thing I just accept, and I had to find out why it happened. I actually expected this because rubber covers are made out of polyethylene. It is a type of thermoplastic polymer – and that thing, ruined the whole experiment. But I also did the experiment with a plain white paper, and it worked, as you can observe in this low-quality photo.

In the midst of my investigation, I turned to my final recourse: the enigmatic graphite powder. Its application yielded captivating outcomes. As you can discern, the fingerprint loops have become discernible, and their inclination provides vital clues. From the tilt of these loops, I can deduce that the rubber in question was wielded by a right-handed individual. Curiously, though, this rubber belongs to me, and I am, in fact, ambidextrous. Nevertheless, it is evident that it has predominantly been employed by my right hand, the hand that I write with most of the time.

As you can see, the loops are tilted to the side that I showed with the little red arrow. By that, I identified that I held it with my right hand.

You can’t deny the beauty of this experiment. So go on and try it.

-ND

#deduction #tumblr #deducter #deduce #deductive reasoning #science of deduction #tumblrpost #finally

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astrobub · 2 years

Text

I’ll Always Wait for You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (also some Cindy x Peter)

Warnings: Some slight angst, a lil bit of co-dependency (it’s very slight of you read into it but not heavily described)

A/N: wrote this on the train and immediately posted on my phone so this is not proofed and I’m sorry for any typos. just something short and brief I did. Also the formatting of weird because I posted on my phone so I’m super sorry for that :(

It feels weird to see Peter with someone else.

For as long as you could remember it had always been Peter and Y/n. You had known each other practically since diapers seeing as May and your mom were close.

And in all those years of getting to know each other’s crooks and crannies you had never pictured Peter with a girlfriend. Had never imagined him looking at someone else when you were there.

It felt wretched to watch him fall in love with some girl the two of you hardly knew but you couldn’t say why.

Cindy was a lovely girl. She was smart, pretty, and kind, all the basic adjectives that people look for in partners. Cindy was strong willed and had a way of making everyone in the room agree with her. It was never in a malicious way but rather a sense of right and wrong.

Y/n couldn’t understand why she didn’t like Cindy. Why did you feel that Peter would be better suited off with someone else?

It was one of those days where Cindy was crashing the pair's lunch and Peter was all preoccupied with Cindy and her new hairdo.

You could feel your eyes squinting at the pair with jealousy ? No, why would you be jealous? You certainly didn’t want a boyfriend. At least you didn’t think so. Now thinking about it you had never really thought about having a significant other. You had Peter, what else was there to think about?

That night after your midnight call with Peter you stayed up and came up with a mental list of what you want in a partner.

They would have to be smart of course. How else would they be able to understand the complex conversations Peter and you had? Obviously understanding because you were aware of the complications of having a boy best friend. You wouldn’t stand for any internalized misogyny taken outwardly on you. Caring is a big one. Like the one time Peter helped a mean lady cross the street who afterwards hit him with her cane. He still smiled and wished her well and Y/n thinks she’d just about fall in love with anyone who was that kind.

While coming up with this mental list Y/n paused on the thoughts. You thought about how you could fall in love with any person who was like Peter essentially.

Holy shit you were in love with Peter.

Now this revelation ruined your night and the following morning because you had to avoid Peter.

How are you meant to confront your best friend who had a girlfriend that you’re in love with him?

Simple you don’t.

Peter tracks you down at the end of the day and immediately corners you. At that moment you think you may explode. He has this look on his face full of adoration, love, and worriedness. Like you’re the most important person in the world. But you’re not. Cindy is. And so this harsh reality brings you back down to earth where life is cruel. You push past him saying nothing is wrong and that you have to get home. At this he grabs your arm turning you to face him and you melt. He has a pained look on his face as if your truth can stop him from his internal mourning.

You soften and fall into his touch as if you two were in a silent limbo. As you put your hand to his face he closes his eyes and leans into your warmth.

You look at him with so much love and he would never know. It pains you to think he isn’t yours to love. With that you whisper,

“I’m sorry….I love you”

and lean up a bit to kiss him on his cheek. His eyes flutter open and he is on the verge of tears. A few have fallen past your eyes and you smile. A pained broken smile but a smile nonetheless. He takes a gulp and right as he is about to speak when you hear Cindy calling his name out.

She’s his and he’s hers. Your smile tightens and you leave his grasp as he reaches out for you once more you leave the building and Peter thinks he may die. He’s lost you and isn’t sure anything other than you can console his grief.

The following weeks are uncomfortable. Peter is still with Cindy and while you knew the pair wouldn’t break up because of your silly feelings, a part of you hoped, dreamed he would be yours again.

You no longer sit with the pair but every once and a while look up from your current spot to feel eyes on you. Peter has a distant look while Cindy talks to him. Unaware their relationship has completely shifted. He glances at her and does a nod to indicate he is listening to her. You know his mind is elsewhere and you can’t help but feel guilty for ruining your friendship as well as his relationship.

Although you two haven’t spoken in over a month you feel just as in love with him as the day you realized. In a pathetic way you think you could love him forever with the same intensity.

The following week Peter shows up unannounced. Your mom is glad to see him and asks how May is. His response is brief before begging to know if you’re home.

When he comes into your room he is met with your tear stained face and his lip quivers. He knows he is the cause of your pain and he wants to rip his own heart out and beg you to accept it to stop your tears. Neither of you speak. Staring at each other with such intensity and so much emotion there aren’t words to put to it. He speaks first with a simple,

“We broke up.”

Your first reaction is to wrap your arms around him and sooth his back. You feel him crying into your shoulder and you allow him to go through his sadness. He cries for what feels like hours but in reality was only the length of a sitcom run. When he looks up at you from your chest with red puffy eyes he leans up and catches your lips in his own.

You feel escatic he’s finally yours. As you both pour years of loss into the kiss you pull away gasping. You don’t want him like this. You don’t want to be his rebound. You want him at his best first before you can accept his worst.

You tell him this of course and his puppy dog eyes come out faster than you’d like. He begs and grovels at your feet saying you’re all I want.

And while this is everything you want to hear it is not how you want to hear it.

“Peter I love you. I love you so much the past month was agony to be away from you but I can’t be your second choice. I won’t be. I deserve better than that and you know it,” and while you choke on your breath after speaking your truth he grabs your face in his large palms and forces you to look at him in his eyes. They show so much adoration for you and you feel as if you may take your words back but you know you must stay strong. Love mustn’t allow you to change your morals.

“I love you Y/n and I’ll wait as long as you need but I need you to know I only have eyes for you. I’ve only loved you and I only will. I’m your 100% and the reason why I came over here was because I had to let you know. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. The day you kissed me changed my life forever and opened up a new emotion I’d never felt before. When you left I wanted to die. I couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting and I’m sorry it took me to long to end this with her I just hadn’t properly come to my feelings yet but I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you because I love you,” and the way he speaks brings warmth and tightness to your chest. You kiss him once more and part with your forehead resting on his.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

#Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker fluff #Peter Parker angst #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker fanfic #Peter Parker fan fiction #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #Spider-Man imagine #Spider-Man fluff #Spider-Man x reader #Spider-Man angst #spider man fanfiction

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hydrangea-bindery · 1 year

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MISERY LOVES ITS COMPANY • @mademoisellebianx

“Back in the bedroom, I told you the story of the mongoose and the snake. Ring any bells? (…) What d'ya think? How can those two wretched animals co-exist in one burrow?”

After a series of unfortunate events, Clancy Jarvis decides to accept a cameraman job offer for his friend's ghost-hunting docuseries. However, this decision proves to be the worst one he's ever made when he and his new colleagues find themselves venturing into the Bakers' haunted mansion in Dulvey, Louisiana. He soon becomes the sole survivor of the group and is then turned into an unwilling captive of the crazy family that lived there. Clancy is determined to survive whatever horrors he is forced to face but little did he know that he's piqued the curiosity and interest of a genius sociopath hell-bent on keeping him there with him.

Here it is!!!! This is the big one that I’ve been planning out in the back of my mind since I first heard of bookbinding. I originally formatted this out ages ago as the first bind I wanted to do, before deciding that I didn’t have the skills nor experience (or a color printer😅) to this give work the proper treatment it deserved, but now I’m able to give you the double whammy of the Mongoose and Snake Editions to match our two main characters, Clancy and Lucas. Please, please, please go check this out, it was an absolute joy to beta this fic and go give the incredible Bianx some love! She was kind enough to put up with my horrible end of year schedule and my slow ass editing towards the end of this fic, so please go give her all the compliments she deserves!! You can also see all the amazing art she commissioned that made its way into this binding on her page too! Also, check out the incredible @zhalfirin who’s Brelik poems binding was the inspiration for this cover. And don’t worry, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled Disco bindings in no time😆✌🏻

#my bindings #bookbinding #hydrangea-bindery #ficbinding #fanbinding #fanfiction binding #bookbinder #resident evil 7 #resident evil #resident evil biohazard #clancy jarvis #lucas baker #clancy x Lucas

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