#but some aspects are kinda… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

turtleblogatlast · 3 months

Text

Leo frowns at his phone.

Or more specifically, at the test on his phone.

Around him, he hears the sound of his brothers tapping their own devices, much faster than he is. Looking up just makes Leo feel worse about his own progress - or lack-thereof.

Mikey’s the fastest, speeding through the test like nobody’s business. He’d been the one to make them all do this stupid test in the first place, so it makes sense that he’s having a blast.

Raph’s slower than Mikey is, but he’s still clearly answering the questions at a steady pace. Sometimes he looks unsure, but he powers through anyway.

Donnie often looks frustrated, which relieves Leo somewhat because at least someone is struggling like him. But that “struggle” isn’t nearly as big as his own, considering that Donnie is answering about as fast as Raph is.

Leo turns his gaze back down to his own test. He’s still near the beginning, he thinks.

He’d put the same answer for the past seven questions - the middle of the road answer, neither a “yes” or a “no.” Then, whenever he does come across one that is more one direction than the other, he second guesses himself and restarts the test!

Sure, there are a few he could definitely give a yes or a no to, but…never the “strongly agree” or “strongly disagree” that the test seemed to want from him.

He eyes his twin sitting nearby, the softshell absorbed in the test. Maybe Leo should copy what Donnie put for some of these…

“DONE!” Mikey’s shout makes Leo freeze in place just as he started to lean over.

“What?” Donnie squawks, “No way you’re already finished, you must’ve been cheating!”

“It’s a personality test, Dee!” Mikey stuck his tongue out, “You can’t cheat at those!”

…

Leo settles back into his seat.

Ignoring Donnie’s mutterings about how it was “just because it’s not an academic test” that he didn’t finish first, Raph smiles encouragingly at Mikey.

“Hey, good job! So what’d you get, Mike?”

Mikey looks back down at his test, reading aloud, “Says that I got the “Campaigner”!”

“What’s that mean?” Leo asks, his phone screen going dark.

“Apparently, I’m an “enthusiastic, creative, and sociable free-spirit”.” Mikey reads, smiling at them, “You think it fits?”

“Oh, to a T, bro!” Leo laughs, giving Mikey a thumbs up, making Mikey’s smile grow larger.

Inside, Leo was feeling a lot more mixed about this. He has no idea how Mikey knew himself so well. Maybe Donnie was right and Mikey did cheat, because how could he answer those questions so easily?

Leo’s phone burns in his hand. He keeps it locked.

“Wow, that really is you.” Raph says, his eyes flitting back and forth between his own test and Mikey, “Do you think it fits?”

“I guess? It’s fun to see at least!” Mikey shrugs with a grin.

“Hold on, I think…” Raph makes a noise of satisfaction, “Okay, done!”

“Sigh, now I’m relegated to the straggler group.” Donnie grumbles, his thumbs moving faster as he tries rushing through the questions.

“Ooh, what’d you get Raph?” Mikey asks, practically bouncing in curiosity.

“Says, uh…I got something called the “Consul”?” He squints his eyes to read more, “Uh, “caring, social, and community-minded.””

“Sounds about right to me.” Leo nods. Can’t be more “community-minded” than being a hero.

“Yeah, no one’s more caring than you, Raphie!” Mikey says, moving to lean across Raph’s shell.

“You do put the community in mind, that’s for sure.” Donnie states, not looking up.

Raph chuckles, a bit embarrassed, “Aw, thanks. It’s just some test, but it feels kinda good to hear that.”

Just a test. Right.

Leo unlocks his screen.

The test stares back at him.

Right. Okay. He can do this. He can.

The screen ends up going dark again.

Frustration builds up in Leo. Was he even halfway done with the test? At this rate, soon even Donnie will-

“FINISHED.”

Leo unlocks his phone.

“What’d you get, DonTon?” Leo asks as his thumb taps the top right of the screen.

Donnie puffs up proudly, a self sure grin on his face, “I got the result “Logician” which states that I, obviously, am an “innovative inventor with a thirst for knowledge.” Truly could not have described me better, if I do say so myself.”

“It is pretty accurate.” Raph agrees with a nod, “Even calls you an inventor, so extra accurate.”

“Super accurate.” Mikey jumps in, eyes shining.

“Yes, yes, almost like reading my own character synopsis.” Donnie’s grin had not dwindled since the word “innovative” had left his mouth.

Leo just nods along, eyes on his own screen as he skims the words. “Yeah, kinda creepy how close it got. Could have called you a nerd for extra accuracy, though.”

Donnie turns to him, eyes narrowing, “Have you even finished your test? I can think of a few words that’d describe you fairly well.”

“Test-y, huh?”

Before Donnie can strangle Leo, Raph cuts in.

“Ok, ok, calm it down, guys.” He rolls his eyes before turning to Leo. “But really, you’re not done yet?”

“Leo’s taking this self reflection seriously.” Mikey sports a faux intellectual expression as he gives a jokingly serious nod. “Maybe we all should’ve taken our time.”

“Says the one who sped through the whole thing in a record time.” Donnie mutters.

Leo waves them all off, “Nah, I finished it ages ago.”

He grins when Donnie immediately shoots him a suspicious glare. “Oh, you did, did you? Then what could you have possibly gotten, Nardo?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Leo clears his throat, “Neon Leon just so happens to be an “Entertainer.””

“Ah. That confirms it. This test is meaningless.” Donnie drones.

“Hey-“

“What’s an Entertainer like?” Mikey asks with a tilt of his head, still hanging off of Raph’s shell.

“Glad you asked, Miguel!” Leo exclaims, “It says that “life is never boring” around yours truly~”

He emphasizes this “result” of his by waving his phone with said “result” on screen.

It’s just an image he found of his chosen personality result, but they don’t need to know that.

Raph nods slowly, “Well, I guess that’s true…”

“”Never boring” is one way to put it.” Donnie hums.

“You are pretty fun, Leo!” Mikey says emphatically, because he’s great like that.

“Thank you, thank you, life of the party, right here.” Leo grins, pointing both thumbs at himself.

He’s careful not to go too overboard with it, or else it might tip someone off.

Not that it…really matters. It’s just a test. Like Raph said.

As the topic around him shifts to something else, jumping away from this brief activity as fast as any other among them, Leo finds himself unlocking his phone and pulling up the test again.

Unanswered questions stare at him. He knows what answers Lou Jitsu would pick. He knows what answers Jupiter Jim would pick. Hell, he knows exactly what answers his brothers would pick.

He doesn’t know what answers Leonardo would pick.

Leo stares at the test for a second longer, before he exits the site and throws himself into the conversation happening around him.

It’s just a stupid test, nothing to worry about.

Just a test…

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt headcanons #rise leo #could not ignore this idea that hit my brain haha #if you disagree with me on what personality types I gave the boys that’s fine tbh #picked mbti since it was the first one I thought of but again it like most of these tests isn’t super worth putting stock into #these tests are kinda dumb anyway but they’re fun to take #for some #anyway I love thinking about Leo struggling with his sense of identity #and in turn struggling with what is a persona and what is HIM #how much is a mask how much is built from taking traits from others how much is real how much is fake #even he doesn’t know #protagonist is probably a good choice for leo but I’m also tied to him secretly being the introverted type as well so #bit more of an ambivert maybe #he’s got aspects of a lot of them hence the difficulty answering questions #well most of his difficulty comes from an uncertainty of who he really is #again what is him and what is his mask #or masks #what even is his true self if his self is someone he’s never bothered to meet #a lot of the little details of his personality - the parts of him that we see peek out throughout the series and often on his own -#- they align with personality types that you would never think of when looking at him and his masks at face value #that’s not to say it’s all masks - he’s a goofy guy at his core - but he’s more than he lets on and we’re made privy to that in subtle ways #though fr protagonist is prob Leo’s most likely result

610 notes · View notes

starrrbakerrr · 4 months

Text

Peeta has said many charming things, but this line always has me giggling and kicking my feet. I don’t understand how Katniss was so strong.

Suzanne really decided to create the perfect man: he can bake and paint, he’s charming but not cocky, and is really kind and caring only to then strip and distort his entire personality, thanks suzanne.

I kinda hate how they changed this in the movie. Even in the paragraphs before this they had this flirty banter that was so so good. The movies erased or changed nearly all of their banter though.

But, anyway - Peeta Mellark is the blueprint that no other book boyfriend has lived up to.

#he is so cute like ahsgsidbakdhwidgwkxo #sweetest kindest baby boy #peeta mellark #everlark #the hunger games #catching fire #katniss everdeen #text #josh and jennifer are amazing actors and have great chemistry #and it shows #but writing wise ive always felt conflicted about how everlark is portrayed #and how peeta is written…#i watch the movies and think they’re great but when i read the books i realize how disappointing they are in some aspects #i see the books and movies as separate entities kinda

489 notes · View notes

onesidedradiostatic · 28 days

Note

My worthless Radiostatic headcanon is that Vox met Alastor because he was new to hell and captivated by the pretty redhead at the bar swigging gin and was flabbergasted that nobody was asking him to dance. He was also equally oblivious to everybody else at the joint shitting their pants as this absolute NOBODY approached the Radio Demon for a dance. And Alastor who was bemused by his ignorance and idiocy can still admire someones moxxie and agreed to dance. And listen, this is mostly because with all these great shipper tag names I can't help but call their past partnership "electro-swing." So yes they danced to something like this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3hjodKJTRs. Suffice to say Vox was enamored and Alastor was surprisingly amused and it was the start of both of them chasing that high.

HAHAHA I like this, there's like so many different ways to imagine their first meeting, and like imagine this being like. okay you know how he probably couldn't openly like men in life but once he landed in hell he realises it doesn't matter anymore (depends on if you interpret him believing himself to be straight(tm) and closeted prior or he already knew but just couldn't act on it openly), so he's freshly landed, walks into a bar and just walks up to the first cute guy he sees cause he no longer has to hide it LMAO. he gets what he wants (the dance) for NOW, but of course, getting what he wants doesn't last forever, and he was kinda doomed from the start when he made a beeline to making moves on the aroace guy.

also part of me is going like. this is the 1950s. electro-swing didn't exist then. (just roll with it anyways. just roll with it anyways. just roll with it anyways.)

youtube

^^(link in ask)

#ask #osrs.txt #also what is this like miraculous ladybug now where we need multiple names to indicate different dynamics of the same 2 characters kSLLLHSD #NOT MEANT TO MOCK just funny to me #(the separation of one-sided is kinda cause it has a large following in itself separate from the mutual ship #their past friendship is more of a given regardless of however you see it considering that aspect was probably canon at some point)#radiostatic #staticradio #onewaybroadcast #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor

149 notes · View notes

annabelle--cane · 4 months

Text

a lot of my first thoughts about martin's characterization back when I first listened were about how he experienced the process of transition into adulthood in a weird out of joint manner, and I want to try and bring that back into the way I think about him. if he dropped out of school at 17 to become his family's breadwinner, then it stands to reason that he'd probably been filling a lot of the "head of household" roles since his early teens, but always in service to and under the direction of a parent that hated him. assuming that he got his institute job within, say, a year of dropping out, and he had to move to london on his own, being able to do all that as a teenager and not just implode (especially with no emotional support) is a significant feat, but it was all based on lies. all of his coworkers would have thought he was 4-6 years older than he was, and he could manage it, but only by making them think he was an incompetent young adult instead of an actually very capable teen. he went straight from being a kid with no time for being a kid to being an adult who was never taught how to be an adult. I think that does something to a person's ability to evaluate their own skills and importance.

#tma #marina marvels at life #I know some people don't really like ajn's take that for the first few seasons he's emotionally an 18 y/o and I get why #but it does kinda make sense. that's the age where he would have had to start lying about nearly every aspect of his life.#hard to have healthy social development when you can't even tell your peers your real birthday

293 notes · View notes

cryptiduni · 10 months

Text

ok ok, listen. I am gonna be straight with you. I am not a Patholic nerd and I really like the game. it has one of the most extraordinary stories/lore, plus its gloomy aesthetic is just my shit. but as a local Khalkh Mongolian, I very much dislike the herb bride designs. they have no inspiration from the cultures they are supposed to vaguely resemble, like literally nothing. i am a visual type of person and love it, ADORE it when shit is pretty to look at, it's in my blood. instead they opted for looking like straight-up savage unevolved cartoon cavewomen with skimpy outfits and foliage in their hair for good measure.

they look so out of place here, which you could argue its intentional but cmonnn???

here’s my take on how they could have looked like or at least what kind of things the devs missed out on:

—and their hair should have been braided in many different styles? all three of the major inspirations for the kin doesn’t like loose hair, if we are speaking traditionally. i really like these thin braids:

yeah, i get Orkhon economy is in shambles so no jewelry and colorful clothes but at least cover their boobage?? idk just slap on thin deel + belt and then just rough it up? make decorations out of wood?? and beads out of bones without just dangling them?? just because shit is desperate doesn't mean we gotta lose our dignity too?

edit: This post’s main point is not about restricting the nudity or the creative liberty i am only saying they should have approached this aspect from a different perspective with a native eyes on the IPL development team. It may have came off that way because i used the word boobage huh?

#everything doesn’t have to be accurate but keep your shit AUTHENTIC #do not ‘umm actually’ me unless you are a local or studied altaic cultures #deepening my lore perspective is ok too. but do not be a snob w/ me #dancing so hard that your clothes fall off is kinda bullshit excuse but ok fine. it's an interesting idea. initially #yeah herb brides get empathtic moments but we do agree this is a fetishization of poc women to a degree right? like a sexualized caricature #one of them straight up die for a open your heart joke lol wtf #and if you are gonna sexualize something at least DO IT RIGHT #there’s much so cool shit you coulda done here but nooOO savage east-asians are apparently the hip thing to do ugh #but handling of the colonialization aspect is horrible #you google traditional clothes on our culture almost every single one of those women and they will have a hairdo and a deel+belt #p.s. we don't worship bulls #or an evil entity #our religion is tengri or buddhism. some of us are monotheist too #random trivia: the pronoun “I/me” is not written “be”. it's “BI”#random trivia: unmarried woman/girl is called a sewger #pathologic #pathologic 2 #мор утопия #мор утопия 2 #herb brides #flintstones looking ass #god i am so gay for all these women above (except the herb bride hell nah)#makes the 4 hours i spent on this so worth it #if I had a nickel every time if slav games i liked had an anti-asian undertones #I’d have two which is not a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice #mongol #tibet #buryat #mongolia #buryatia

419 notes · View notes

regret-evatorful · 1 month

Text

goodmorning

#side rant that’s KINDA related #obviously ur allowed to let stuff make u feel however u want who cares but like #i wish so many people wouldn’t feel remorse for unpleasant bc of the update like the way i see it is thats the point #ur not Meant to feel bad for her i feel like the whole aspect of her being something inherently wrong and unnatural that causes some sort-#of primal discomfort for everything around her isnt appreciated enough. like yknow how cool that is as a concept #idk she’s one of my fav characters and to me she’s just. a creep. and she’s like this INTENTIONALLY she likes seeing others afraid #i think apart from infected my fav interaction is with poob. the way they say stop looking at me like that or something #and it implies unpleasant is looking all sad to try and guilt poob into letting her back into their party. i LOVE that.#thats absolute peak unpleasant and ilove her #rant over thank u #regretevator #unpleasant gradient #regretevator unpleasant #regretevator jeremy #odieart

94 notes · View notes

atesomerocks · 2 years

Text

i think abt him being an art major an abnormal amount

#phoenix wright #ace attorney #fanart #digital art #aesthetic #uhhh hi hi #i told myself like 6 times i wont finish this #still not the happiest in some aspects but! thats the fun of training urself to draw scenes better #also this is kinda a no DL-6 au??#bc idk i think abt that a lot too.#just. phoenix and miles being happie. i want the blorbos to be happy #my art #clown does art

2K notes · View notes

shorlinesorrows · 2 months

Text

don’t mind me I’m just busy having Feelings over the scene in the Moon Knight tv series where Marc meets the avatars/gods for the first time.

words can’t describe how distressed I got when Harrow showed up and started speaking, dripping poison into the words “he is unwell” with a tint of false concern, just the right amount condescension, and a spoonful of pity

thinking about how from that moment Marc (and the whole system) was disregarded as unreliable despite the fact that the situation had nothing to do with their DID. thinking about how the avatars and their gods stopped listening to him.

thinking about how the moment someone is neurodivergent, or disabled, or different in any way that isn’t palatable, that’s “scary”, they stop being worth listening to

not a person, just something to disregard, lock away, or pity.

And how Harrow got away with it, how he was able to frame himself as the caring “good guy” for revealing this incredibly personal piece of information to a group of people who had no business knowing it, effectively silencing someone who desperately needed to speak. For his own gain.

#Disclaimer: I do not have DID and I’m neurodivergent in a particularly “palatable” way #As in my stuff is much more destigmatized #This scene just hit me really hard #And it kinda makes me tear up in rage but maybe that’s just me and I’m overreacting or something #Idk I’ve just felt this as a young trans person too especially when someone overlaps different aspects of my identity #and I’ve seen it used on some close friends as well #moon knight #ableism #< tagging to be safe #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight thoughts #Mentioned ableism

103 notes · View notes

kaladinkholins · 3 months

Text

guys cmon. be ffr please. akemi did Not love taigen. the only reason why she was desperate to search for him to the point of putting herself in danger is because she didn't want to get married to an abusive man (which she believed at the time that takayoshi was). when seki tried to dissuade her from running off, her reason was not "but i love taigen and wanna be with him 🥺" it was because she refused to be controlled and have her autonomy taken from her; she literally says "i won't be locked away in edo married to a stranger." and when seki still tries to argue that getting married to the heir of the shogun would be better than getting caught by brigands, she then says "that kind of man"—referring to takayoshi—"treats women like animals. they say he's a tyrant." and when seki chuckles and says "what man isn't?" her response is "you." she doesn't even talk about taigen. she is using him as much as he was using her. they both see—or, well, saw—each other as means to an end. for taigen he saw that marrying into the tokunobu clan would elevate his status and wealth. for akemi she wanted the right to choose who she married, and she wanted that person to be someone kind. that's it! neither of them loved each other. but since they were courting of course they acted sweet to each other, and they do still care for one another, especially due to their romantic history. but let's be real! akemi is a boss bitch who dropped taigen and forgot all about his ass as soon as she saw takayoshi was a nice guy. because duh? not only is takayoshi a better lover (it's implied their lovemaking lasted a long time) but he's also kinder towards her and presents her with an opportunity to claim power and freedom, which she would not have if she had married taigen, as she would have still been stuck under her father's thumb. so literally why should she settle for taigen's stupid ass! she may be a little naive at times but she's still incredibly intelligent. she would not do something stupid for the sake of "love." you know who would though? taigen.

#blue eye samurai #wank.mp3 #kinda?#fandom.rtf #shut up haydar #like out of the 4 main characters #akemi is the brains (the mental aspect)#she mainly uses reason and rhetoric. that's why she's so good at persuasion and manipulation.#ringo is the soul (spiritual aspect)#ringo serves as the show's moral compass and gets mizu to follow her morality #taigen is the heart (emotional aspect)#taigen will always impulsively follow his feelings (he's so brash for this reason. if he feels angry he will act on it etc)#mizu is the body (physical aspect)#mizu suppresses her emotions. her reason. and her morals. she only lets her skills and primal instincts guide her.#that's why she's almost super human sometimes #but anyway yeah #akemi? is a strong-willed self-empowered woman! she is not some damsel. she is intelligent though somewhat naive #please do not mischaracterise her cuz she is a boss bitch! she is a queen a cuntress a baddie #also on that note. the nature of taigen and akemi's rship is one of the reasons why im not keen on a polycule ending #like please explore it in fanfic and fandom! i personally just dont want it canon. i just dont see it working!#like literally i dont even think taigen found her attractive...#i mean he did obv find her very beautiful as everyone does. but did yall SEE his face when she propositioned him?#no desire in that man's eyes. he is GAY! his sexuality is men + mizu. he is a raging and bitchy bisexual!

126 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 8 months

Text

a mess of holy things 1 also on ao3 // next cw: implied religious trauma/abuse

It feels weird to be in this room.

It’s so… empty.

Not that Steve’s room at his parents’ house back home is full. His walls were always void of photos and art and everything people on TV had, still are now that he’s gone, always covered in that wallpaper his mother picked when he was eleven. He was never allowed to talk badly about it, not that he would have had he been granted permission. But these walls don’t have wallpaper on them. They’re bare, white, empty.

He stares at them when his parents leave.

He sits on the edge of his bed, which is smaller than his bed back home, and naked except for the two blue suitcases he brought with him, and he looks across the room. At the bare wall. He doesn’t really feel the urge to cover it with anything, but it still feels sort of unnerving to look at. Like there’s something wrong with it.

But Steve doesn’t think the walls are what his father is worried about with him living here for college.

He’d had to listen to him for weeks after getting the acceptance letter in the mail. The school is popular for its business course, which of course is the reason Steve applied in the first place, despite his indifference when it comes to business, but it’s in the city. Steve had never been to a city before today.

It’s noisier than it is back home, he thinks as he turns to look out his window. From where he’s sitting he can only see the tops of trees; he got lucky in that his room faces away from the other dorm buildings around his, and he takes a moment to watch the leaves blow in the wind for a moment. He can hear voices from downstairs, muffled but still audible. It sounds like they’re arguing, but Steve can’t tell if they are or not; he had the same issue back home when he could hear his parents’ voices from his room upstairs. Though they were usually arguing when he cracked his door open.

He can hear cars from outside, a motorcycle revving, a distant siren that fades after a few moments. Some laughter that somehow feels more distant than anything else.

He stands after another second, crossing the small distance to his desk that’s in front of the window, setting his hands on the chair as he leans over it to look outside. He’s on the third floor. When he leans over farther he can see some people gathered in a circle in the grass. One is laying on his back, his hands on his belly as he laughs, and as Steve watches, a girl next to him reaches over to smack his leg. One boy in the group is smoking a cigarette. Steve looks away.

There’s a corkboard on the other side of the bed, next to some shelving. Steve looks at it, listening to the boy laugh. He doesn’t think he has anything to put on it, but maybe he can get a calendar or something.

It feels so quiet in here. Even with the noises outside.

But he’s never minded the silence.

He unpacks slowly. He does the cardboard boxes first. There isn’t much, just some old textbooks from his father, textbooks he used when he went to business school. Steve tried to tell him that they probably use different textbooks now, especially considering he goes to a different school than the one his father went to, but he insisted these books are the best, so Steve stayed quiet. He doesn’t like to argue, especially with his father. The books are padded with his bedding, which he tosses onto one of the suitcases while he unpacks, as he stacks the books on one of the shelves next to his desk.

His winter clothes go into the wardrobe, his towel and soaps into the bathroom, and when he finds his paper and post-it notes and stationary, he makes a note to buy toilet paper and a bathmat. He knew he’d forget some things.

When he unpacks the suitcases, he does so slowly. He won’t admit it to himself, but it kind of feels like he’s procrastinating as he does it, like he doesn’t want to get to it.

He knows what he’s looking for, what he’s avoiding. It’s in the second suitcase, carefully wrapped in one of his favorite sweaters, and when he spots the red knit, he pauses, standing up straight and just looking for a moment.

He unpacks everything around it. It’s hot in his room when he finishes, and he’s sweating through the shirt he’s wearing. He opens his window and plugs in the fan his father packed for him before he pauses and cracks open the window above his desk. The group of people has left, probably because the sun is going down now, but he can still smell the cigarette smoke lingering in the air. But he can’t tell if it’s just his mind providing the smell because he knows it was there or not.

That’s happened before, him smelling or hearing things that he knows aren’t really there. Lingering cigarette smoke or weed smoke, the remnants of secular music that rattle around in his head like it’s empty except for echoing drum beats. It’s frustrating. He doesn’t want to hear the music, or smell those smells, and he knows he’s not supposed to. He’s caught himself humming along to songs that he doesn’t even know more times than he can count, and every time he just lets his head fall. He recites prayers that tend to take the place of the music.

His suitcase is empty except for the sweater. He supposes he should just finish so he can make his bed.

He kneels on the mattress, reaching over into the suitcase to pull it out, holding it with both hands like it might break even though he’s had it for as long as he can remember, and he knows that it won’t shatter to pieces in his hands. He still kind of feels like his hands have that ability. To break anything.

Especially something like this.

He unwraps the crucifix, and he doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath. The cross is wood. Jesus is gold. Steve doesn’t think it’s real gold, but it’s gleaming at him nonetheless. He drops the sweater on the bed again, and with a shaking hand, he sets the crucifix on one of the shelves next to his desk. It’s up high, looking down at the rest of the room in judgement.

Steve looks away, exhaling.

He puts the sweater in his wardrobe, folded carefully so he doesn’t stretch the yarn. And then he makes his bed. It’s hard to get the corners of the mattress right because of how the room is laid out, but he manages it, and when he’s done, he takes a shower. He’s grateful to his parents for paying for him to have his own bathroom, grateful that he doesn’t have to wait for showers to be available or risk having to talk to people in the hallways.

He thinks that might be part of why they paid for it. They, meaning his father specifically. He makes the decisions. Steve’s mom just agrees and stays quiet.

His dad doesn’t like the idea of Steve being in the city.

Not because of the noise, or the trash, or because it’s something that’s foreign to Steve, somewhere that he doesn’t feel particularly, entirely safe, but because of the people that Steve is surrounded by. In his words, heathens and hippies, chain-smokers and Satanists. Steve had to very carefully tell him that he’s responsible for who he spends time with, and he’s always been conscious of his friends’ mindsets and focuses and goals. Which is the truth. His only friends from home he met in church as a child.

Though met may be generous; their mothers had been friends and they had been stuck together in the playroom when they were small, but as soon as they were old enough to sit still, even when they didn’t want to, they were separated to sit with their families. But they were all Steve knew, so they stayed together in school, even when Steve decided he didn’t really like them that much. Which is why he’s kind of glad he’s here in the city; it’s so much less likely that he’ll run into a familiar face, someone he went to school with. He feels just inches closer to escaping.

Escaping.

He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

He shouldn’t be thinking about leaving home. He shouldn’t be happy about being here in this empty room instead of in his parents’ house.

It’s highlighted in his copy of the Bible, the one he got when he was ten that he’s kept on his bedside for almost a decade. It’s highlighted in yellow. Important.

Ephesians 6:1-3.

1 aChildren, bobey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. 2 aHonour thy father and mother; (which is the first commandment with promise;) 3 That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.

It’s hard sometimes. But he tries. And he likes to think that that’s enough for now.

He doesn’t have anything to eat. His parents didn’t get anything for him on the way to his dorm, and then they left right after helping him move everything into his room and lecturing him about being mindful of who he’s friends with. So he just takes a shower and says his nighttime prayer, and he goes to bed.

His room isn’t as dark as his room at his parents’ house. There are lights outside, lining the sidewalk his room overlooks, and they peer through the windows when he pulls them shut. He stares at the ceiling. He kind of wishes there was something to see on it instead of white paint. But when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s facing the sky full of stars.

He manages to drift off after a while, but he wakes up around midnight to the smell of weed. He wrinkles his nose, blinking his eyes open and squinting as his eyes adjust to the darkness. He rolls over, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks across the room to his open window, and he sighs heavily. His limbs are sore as he gets up heavily. He’s pretty sure he has a bruise or two on his legs but carrying in the boxes.

He’s still squinting as he leans over his desk to look out the window. There’s another group of people where the others had been earlier, and of course Steve would get stuck with the room right above a popular smoking spot. There are fewer people in this group than there had been in the other, but two of them are smoking, watching a third as she spins at the center of their little circle. Her skirt fans around her legs, and another person starts clapping. The girl giggles and sits back down heavily, reaching for her friend’s cigarette. Steve watches for another moment before he pulls his window shut. He moves his fan closer to his bed.

It’s not that it’s particularly weird to not have friends.

But he doesn’t speak at all without anyone he knows around, and his throat starts to feel weird after about a week. He didn’t realize how little he spoke when he wasn’t with his friends. He knew he didn’t talk much at home, but that’s… different.

It’s not necessarily that he wasn’t allowed to talk at home. He just wasn’t supposed to. He didn’t have to.

And now he doesn’t have to because there’s no one to hear him. Attendance is taken in the form of a sheet of paper by the door, every student’s name typed out neatly, waiting for a signature next to it, and Steve isn’t to volunteer answers when his professors pose questions to the class. He listens quietly. Takes notes.

He supposes he’s avoiding the others’ eyes after a while. He doesn’t know why; it’s like he’s scared that they’ll look into him, that they’ll find something he doesn’t want them to. A few of them offer friendly smiles, polite waves, and Steve reciprocates, but in a way that lets them know he won’t be joining them, or making conversation, or any of the things normal people do. Steve doesn’t really think he counts as a normal person. His parents would say that he isn’t like the others, because he’s enlightened, because he’s saved.

But he’s starting to wonder if that’s exactly what it is, just… Maybe not in the way his parents think.

He doesn’t know if he feels lonely. If he knows what it feels like to be lonely. It’s an odd feeling, this uncertainty, but he doesn’t think it’s a bad feeling. The solitude is nice sometimes. The quiet. But he does wonder if this is what his life is going to be like from now on, so quiet and slow and…

Boring.

It’s boring.

He’ll barely admit it to himself, but he’s bored in his dorm room. Bored of the white walls and plain blankets, of his textbooks and his professors’ droning voices. Bored of the same breakfast every morning (eggs and toast, a cup of black coffee), of the same walk to his lectures (past the other dorm building and two lecture halls, through a pathway that cuts across a park that’s spotted with benches and trash cans). Bored of his degree. Already.

He doesn’t tell his parents all of this during their weekly phone calls, of course. His voice is rough as he speaks to them, but they don’t question it. Of course they don’t. Steve doesn’t think they even notice. Their calls are always filled with the same conversations:

My classes are going well.

Everything is turned in on time.

I have an essay due in a few weeks.

The outline is already done.

My hallway has been quiet.

My professors seem nice.

I haven’t made any friends.

I’ve been focussing on my schoolwork.

Friends aren’t my priority right now.

They let it slide. As long as he’s passing his classes, as long as he’s praying. They don’t ask if he’s been to church since he started college. (He hasn’t. He doesn’t know if he wants to, even though he knows where the church is in the city, even though he knows what times services start and end. He practically has the schedule memorized.)

And he’s bored.

Bored.

The library in the city is better than the one on campus in Steve’s opinion.

It’s a bit noisier with the city outside, with cars and trucks and motorcycles, sirens and construction and shouting, but it’s not just students there, which Steve thinks is what he likes. On campus, every room is filled with people his age, people he should know how to talk to, people he should be spending time with and chatting with and becoming friends with, and there’s this pressure on his chest the whole time. Like he’s doing something wrong as he’s looking through his textbooks and analyzing his notes.

In the city, there are a few people that Steve would recognize as students at his college, but there are also children carrying picturebooks, whispering loudly to their parents, and teenagers doing their homework, and elderly people looking through shelves of books, and Steve somehow feels less lonely here.

He starts going to the public library a few weeks into the school year on a whim; at first it was just to see what the library was like, just to get out of his dorm room and finally explore a little after so much boredom, but it’s become a common thing for him. It’s nice to see the city, even if there’s a sense of wrongness that follows him around as he looks at the other people. At the women in their short skirts, at the couples making out against the walls of buildings. All the people his parents would scoff at and turn toward Steve to give him a lecture because they can’t give it to the person they’re actually judging.

But for some reason, Steve likes seeing these people. He doesn’t know if it’s a sense of adventure that he gets in seeing these people and not hearing a whole spiel about how they’ll end up in Hell and how God is watching them, and oh, may God lead them to the light, despite the fact that they tend to look pretty happy with themselves as and where they are. There aren’t as many of these people in the library (save for the couple Steve saw making out behind a bookshelf; he managed to get away before they noticed him there.), but he still likes it there. There are so many more people in this public library than the one in his hometown, but it’s still just as quiet.

There are more study rooms in this library than the one back home. There’s one on the second floor that Steve likes: it’s small and sort of tucked away into a corner, the door creaky and a little hard to push open. The table is wobbly the same way his desks were in high school, and there are old doodles on it, some in ink or smudged graphite, others carved into the wood and smoothed down over time.

Every time Steve reaches for the door, he says a little prayer that there’s no one inside, and so far, he hasn’t walked in on anybody. He always anticipates it, stepping inside and making wide-eyed eye contact with a stranger, mumbling an apology in his rough, barely-used voice before he leaves and never comes back just because he can’t handle it. But maybe his prayers are working. Or maybe he’s just lucky.

He thinks he’s just lucky.

He’s also lucky that no one has come in while he’s working. Maybe because it’s so tucked away, hidden in some bookshelves, nobody really sees it.

The quiet city sounds are even quieter when he’s in this room, the vehicles and sirens and loud laughter all muffled behind the walls, and the sounds of his studying seem unusually loud in turn, the scratching of his pencil, the turning of his pages, and soft thuds of the table leg tapping the ground as he works, wobbling back and forth and back and forth. He likes it here. It might be his favorite place that he’s found since he started college, quiet and peaceful and away from it all.

He hears a truck pass outside as he turns the page in his textbook. It’s a second-hand book, one he bought after reading the supply list for one of his classes, and some of the lines are already marked, highlighted in a fading yellow or circled with smudged pencil. He ignores the annotations at first, copying down the text that he thinks is important, and then he goes back to see what the book’s previous owners thought was important. He hesitates, then writes it all down too.

He startles when the door opens abruptly, jumping and looking up, his hand fumbling with his pen. He drops it as a man enters the room, carrying a backpack. He’s got long hair that seems to obstruct his vision until he tosses his head, flicking his hair out of the way, and he closes the door behind himself, letting out a breath before he looks up and his eyes meet Steve’s.

“Jesus Christ—”

Steve’s eyes widen as he watches the man startle, turning to hide his face as he presses a ring-clad hand to his chest.

“Sorry,” the man says breathily, flinging his hair away again. “Shit. Uh.” He takes another breath, awkwardly running a hand through his hair, pushing it back, facing Steve. It’s longer than Steve’s ever seen on a man, past his shoulders and wavy, frizzy like it should be curly. There are bits of metal on his face, piercings in places Steve’s never seen: on the bridge of his nose between his eyes, on his eyebrows, his mouth. “There usually isn’t, uhm, anyone in here.”

“Oh,” Steve says finally, blinking at him. His eyes flick up and down the man’s body, scanning the angel on his t-shirt, patches and pins on his denim jacket, the rips in his jeans. He’s never seen anyone dressed like this before, so… dark. Even his boots are intimidating. The rings on his fingers look heavy, and Steve has to tear his eyes away from them.

“I’m just… I’m just studying,” he says finally. “If you… wanna share.”

“Okay,” the man says, and he’s smiling awkwardly now. He has a nice smile. It digs lines into his cheeks and makes his eyes squint, but Steve can still see how dark and shiny they are. Like a deer’s.

He watches the man sit at the other end of the table, watches him set his bag on the ground and pull some books out of it to set them on the table. Steve glances at the books and stops, staring. Atop one book that's plain brown, untitled, the spine bare, are a few colorful ones, reading Dungeons & Dragons above various illustrations of monsters. Steve feels the man glance over at him, and he looks away sharply, back down at his textbook and notebook.

It’s suddenly too quiet, even though there’s more noise than there was a minute ago. Steve listens to him rifle through his bag and glances out of the corner of his eye to watch him pull a pen out of the biggest pocket.

Steve looks away again. Finishes the sentence he’d been writing when the man came in. Turns the page of his textbook and tries to read the next paragraph.

It’s not a minute later that he looks up at the man again. He’s sitting funnily. One leg brought up onto his chair, arm around it, his cheek almost resting on his knee. The rip in his jeans shows his skin under it, and he looks even paler against the dark fabric. He’s writing in the brown book, and Steve’s eyes skim down to his hands. He’s right-handed, and his nails are painted black. The polish is chipping.

Steve looks back and forth between him and his notebook, glancing and staring, noticing something new every time he looks. There’s a tattoo covering the back of his hand. It looks like some kind of flower.

When he leans back in his seat, looking down at his book, he lifts a hand to his mouth and nibbles at his nail for a moment before he grimaces and lowers his hand. When he lowers his hand, Steve can see the tattoo that’s covering his neck and throat; it’s a bat, its wings outstretched, its mouth in some grotesque expression. Steve looks away.

He feels nervous, somehow.

The man seems nice enough. He smiled at Steve. Apologized for his reaction. He’s being quiet, respectful of their shared space. Keeping all of his things on his side of the table.

But the angel on his t-shirt has a skull instead of a face. He’s wearing at least three necklaces, silver chains and one with a charm that Steve can’t quite identify. There are tattoos on his fingers, partially hidden under his heavy rings that click every time he does something with his hands. The patches on his jacket have symbols on them that would prompt Steve’s parents into prayer.

And Steve isn’t sure how to feel about him.

He knows he isn’t supposed to like him.

But it feels odd to dislike someone because of their hair, their clothes, the art on their skin.

And he has a nice smile.

Steve faces his notebook but can’t tear his eyes away from the man. He watches him write, glancing back and forth between the colorful Dungeons & Dragons books and his brown notebook, watches him twist one of his rings around his finger, watches his lips twist as he thinks. It’s a while that Steve sits here, watching and staring, looking at his tattoos, at his piercings, at his hair (which he keeps re-tucking behind his ear).

“I can feel you looking at me,” the man says finally, and Steve drops his pen, his face flushing with heat.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, eyes wide, but the man just smiles at his notebook, scribbling something down before he looks up at Steve again. And Steve can see his piercings clearly now, two through both of his eyebrows, one through the bridge of his nose, one on either side of his bottom lip. They’re silver studs, and they gleam in the sunlight coming in through the window.

“‘S okay,” he says lightly, gently, smiling. “I get it a lot.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they look at each other, and Steve feels oddly self-conscious as the man’s eyes flick over him, like he’s analysing the shirt Steve is wearing, the way his hair is pushed back. But the man’s smile doesn’t waver, even as he leans over his notebook and gestures to Steve with a jerk of his chin.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Uhm.” Steve finally looks away, glances down at where his handwriting has lifted up off the lines of his notebook, distracted. “…Business management and administration.”

“Sounds exciting,” the man says dryly, and Steve just shakes his head, which prompts a laugh from him. “I’m assuming you go to college here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says awkwardly, crossing his arms over the table. “I’m a freshman.”

“How are you liking it?”

“Uh,” Steve says again. “…I like it.”

He just raises an eyebrow like he’s amused, silently promoting Steve, like he’s poking him in the side.

“It’s kinda lonely,” Steve says with a light shrug.

“You don’t have friends?”

“I…” He shrugs again. “I’m not… very social, I guess. I had friends in high school, but I think…” He hesitates, oddly unfamiliar with the sound of his voice after being silent for so long, but the man looks so patient, listening closely like he actually wants to hear what Steve has to say. “I think I didn’t really like them that much,” he says finally. “I took a gap year after grad and they all left for college and it was like I… I could breathe without them.”

He shrugs again, but the man is just smiling now. Like he gets it. He has a really nice smile. Steve looks at it, at the way his piercings shift slightly as his lips curve.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve blinks. Looks back into his eyes. (They’re so dark.)

“Sorry,” he says, cheeks flushing with heat again. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

The man’s smile turns sly, and he sets his chin on his palm, resting his elbow on the table.

“Never seen a freak?” he says smoothly.

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use,” Steve says hesitantly. The man laughs brightly, almost childishly, and Steve can’t suppress his own smile.

“What’s, uhm. What’s Slayer?” Steve asks, glancing at the man’s shirt, watching him lean back to look at his own chest like he’s forgotten what he’s wearing.

“It’s a band,” he says. “One of my favorites.”

“What kind of music is it?” Steve asks curiously, and he doesn’t think he'd never be talking this much if it were anyone else, but the man’s eyes are trained on him so kindly. Steve knows he should be avoiding him at all costs, but he seems sweet in a way that Steve can’t really describe.

“Metal,” the man says lightly.

Steve looks at him blankly, and he starts to smile again, pressing his lips together.

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

“I don’t listen to music.”

“At all?”

Steve shakes his head, squeezing his upper arm.

“My father says media distracts the soul from its righteous duties.”

He looks up at him nervously, because that’s such a weird thing to say, isn’t it? But the man’s eyes are sparkling at him, and he’s still smiling.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look righteous.”

“You don’t.”

A laugh bursts out of him, and Steve finally cracks a smile, tilting his head at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he says finally, still beaming at Steve.

And then they fall quiet, just looking at each other. Like they’re both studying each other, taking note of what’s different. His long frizzy curls, Steve’s carefully tamed hair. His painted, chipped nails, Steve’s bare ones that he’s never really thought twice about. His worn t-shirt and patched jacket and Steve’s collared shirt that’s tucked into his pants.

“I, uhm…” the man finally says, hesitating, tapping a finger on the table lightly. “I live really close to here, if you wanna give Slayer a listen.”

Steve blinks, taken aback by the invitation, but before he can respond, the man gestures to Steve’s books.

“Unless you’re too busy with business management.”

Steve flips his notebook shut silently. The man laughs brightly.

“Sure,” Steve says, surprising himself. His parents would kill him.

But it feels kind of exciting, putting his books in his bag as the man does the same, still smiling. Steve thinks he must smile a lot.

permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg <3 holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie <3 (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ buy me a coffee ♡

#and so it begins #lmk if you want to be added or removed from either taglist!!#some aspects of this fic might be kinda heavy so its no problem at all if you want to be removed :)#very very excited about this fic tho im so stoked #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #a mess of holy things

145 notes · View notes

kagrenacs · 6 months

Text

I don't have perfectly coherent thoughts about this at the moment, but I feel these panels really encapsulate that period of after transitioning where everything has changed and you have nowhere really to go, either through loss of relationships or that 'now what?' feeling of achieving the one goal you've put in a lot of effort to achieve.

#kill six billion demons #ksbd spoilers #ksbd is still a (presumably) cis person writing a trans storyline and it shows in some parts #But overall it's pretty decent and I'm glad this aspect of being trans is discussed #Not just an instant transition where everyone accepts you despite earlier beliefs #**MOSTLY. she did kinda instantly transition

96 notes · View notes

ganondoodle · 4 months

Text

some random ideas for the totk rewritten project

krog (korok) seeds

i think i found a way to include krog seeds even if i reintroduced bags for expanding your inventory- what if the krog seeds are redeemed for the amiibo sets and maybe a few new things? that way you are not forced to engage with krog puzzles if you are tired of them and its not essential either, you can choose what armor set you want instead of being "surpised" by the same link hat three times in a row for fighting your way through the depths (like i was lol)

considering im rewriting the krog forest to be like a minidungeon with a unique miniboss and boss AND you start the quest for restoring the master sword there i think that this is acceptable

what if one of the expensive rewards was a krog armor set that includes the mask from the botw DLC but adds two more pieces, its effect could be to turn invisible as the krogs are to most people; considering how they are not invisible to everyone it could still work with important NPCs still seeing you AND you could run through monster camps without them chasing you if you just want to get through without you attacking them- since its expensive you gotta gather alot of krog seeds to buy it meaning it wouldnt make encounters much easier bc you have to fight alot of monsters before being able to afford it anyway and the effect is removed once you attack an enemy .... or maybe once you are spotted you can stand still and the effect restores itself nhfkjdnkjfdk

food + storage

to raise the difficulty a little i thought about bringing bottles back, they are physical items this time with a limited number and are able to store medicine and soup that has no expiration date; personally i like cooking tho so i want to keep it, maybe with the effect of being a bit more limited in number and, while not spoiling completely, it loses some of its effectiveness over time

how you use them im not yet sure, either the same way in inventory (which i think i will go for since i dont want to change it that drastically and with the added balance of limitation i think that is still fine) or on some kind of item wheel you can set yourself like in skyward sword

there are bags you can find as bigger items that will expand your weapon, shield or bow inventory slots, perhaps a small bag gives you one and a big one two slots- it would be a bigger and different reward for exploring or quests and fills the spot for inventory expansion

theres a chest in links house (i thought maybe links house is still links but they built onto it so zelda has a place to stay as well, like a bigger/double house) that can hold armor sets if you dont want to keep carrying all of them around but dont want to sell them either

repairable weapons through zelda

weapons still break but are full weapons again, i found the excuse of them all being useless now through the cataclysm ... somehow for some reason a pretty blatant way for forcing you to fuse stuff bc its literally the only viable thing to do, but i like the idea of inventing new weapons with materials; to balance it out and give you an incentive to help out your friends i figured that at first weapons still break, but in each region is a smith that can teach zelda (who is your companion in this rewrite) how to repair weapons of a certain type (zora, spear, goron, two handed, rito, bows, gerudo, one handed-- perhaps it is a longer quest of idk .. bringing certain weapons to those smith or similar) which she can do anywhere outside combat;

how broken the weapon is determines how much extra material she may need to do it- im still working on it but i got the idea of the status of the weapon being symbolized in three stages, fine, damaged and broken; damaged is the one that needs less material to fix up, broken costs more- a broken one might still occupy an inventory slot but is unusable or very very bad damage wise, you can throw it away either manually or when you try to pick up a new one you can choose if you want to swap it out (just like they did with stuff from chests in totk .. idk why they didnt add that to in game weapons lying on the ground too) or choose to keep it and repair it once you are out of combat

arrow types

i dont like the menuing in totk for the arrows ... it was one of the most frustrating things to deal with (especialyl bc it sorted your inventory too??? when you used the sorting in the quick menu???) so i wanted to change that a little, havign to go into the quick menu everytime for each arrow i find tedious too, so;

there are more arrow types but they are craftable with arrows and materials, you can craft them in bulk out of combat (the typical types from botw -fire,eletric,ice,bombs- but then add those confusion ones, wind, the cloudy shroom thingy, poison .. perhaps a few more if i can think of more but not too mayn to not clutter it again)

enigma stones function

i wanted to change how enigma stones function somewhat, they dont "enhance" the ability of the champion/sage (i still wanna call them chmapions bc thats what they areeeee) it allows them to link an ability of theirs to link without the orginal champion having to be present or dead, the stones come in set of two each and function somewhat like a magic communication between the player and the champion, once you obtain the second piece its embedded into links shiekah arm prosthetic (also something of my rewrite) and allow him to call upon their ability at will through a second selection wheel

ranch ruins

the ranch ruins i wanted to be rebuild (bc thats cool and i thought restoration was a theme? lol) and maybe you help rebuild it proper and as thanks you can put your horses there to roam around all at once when not taken out to ride, not a big gameplay thing but a neat quest with a rebuilding thing of a building we havent seen in its prime and a neat addition of letting you see all your horsies at once :)

(totk rewritten project)

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rewrites totk #kinda random ideas thrown around but i kinda like this direction #makign it all a little more streamlined while not removing too much of its core #also adressing some issues from botw #while also giving them a little more substance #ngl im actualyl thinking of omitting the building aspect as a whole ........#its impressive for sure but i dont know if this kind of game is truly the best place for that #i hoenstly think all those ideas are both really cool- work well and would have been doable with that time and money nintendo got #i dont want to be too proud of myself though so im open for constructive feedback on what you think about this #(´。＿。｀)

74 notes · View notes