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#but the muse does as the muse wishes

ride-a-dromedary · 5 months

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Alright, the jack in the box is wound, and the coherence is coming to me. Halsin and the dryad, I was talking about his response if the PC indicates that he is most comfortable after a supper large enough to induce hibernation:

"Mindless gorging...? No, that is not right. I did not realize you thought that of me."

And why this keeps catching in my mind is not necessarily what he says, but how he says it (so I am commending Dave Jones' voice acting here). The rest of Halsin's responses to incorrect answers are generally even toned and corrective; firm, usually, but not inherently overly emotional. Much like a teacher correcting a student. But this one...he sounds genuinely surprised and taken aback that the PC would even suggest that. The "no, that is not right" is even firmer on its heels. And the last part...the last part, his voice is smaller. Less forward. I would not go so far as to suggest hurt, but it is approaching that territory. It comes so fast after his firm no, that it almost sounds like something that slipped by accident. Like something that was meant to be muttered under the breath, but it slipped from him because the surprise was so organic.

Alone, it doesn't mean too much. It's a slight offense to an obviously nonfactual statement. And that's likely all it is. I'm about to read too deep into this, I am aware.

But combined with the other things spread throughout Halsin's dialogue, particularly the implication that he is otherwise used to people making commentary on his physical appearance or the physicality of his being, it suggests an extra layer of hurt. An extra layer of: "I did not expect this from you, of all people." Not quite a betrayal, but approaching one.

What makes it particularly catching, is that one of the things you are able to wrench (and I say wrench because getting Halsin to share mundane personal details about himself is a production - and it makes *sense* it's a production if a. We keep in mind that Halsin himself doesn't seem all too sure who he is beyond his preoccupation - which elves are prone to but Halsin also just has...a lot on his plate that have evidently stunted his identity formation - to the point where he even claims he was forgetting who he was, and b. If he is used to questions concerning himself and his experience leading into questions regarding his sex life or his physical activities, see: the companion banter with Wyll and Karlach, he likely...doesn't really keep ready details about himself personally on tap anymore. He's so unused to people being interested in Halsin, that he's taken aback when they are. It becomes the "In the moment, I forget everything and anything I like to do for fun" mentality - no one really cares about what I like to do anyway - if you will. He even goes so far as to joking that the PC may be a doppelganger because *why else would they want to know these things*) out of Halsin when you ask him about himself is that he has a sweet tooth. That he likes honey, and people find that amusing. He chuckles, but his face falls, evidently prepping for the PC to make a similar comment (and he attempts to beat you to the joke about that, though a PC can still call that "on the nose" to which he responds that there is little point in denying oneself if it doesn't hurt anybody - indulging isn't a bad thing). If the PC instead chooses that he should pay little attention to what others think, he gives that infamous: "sometimes I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt" line. Which implies - regardless of whether he verbalizes it or not - things in this thread hurt his feelings. Comments or assumptions about his body and his person hurt his feelings. He won't say it, but they do. The PC is likely aware of this by this point in the relationship.

Halsin does not otherwise bring up eating or food to any level of significance or directness - the sweet tooth comment was the only time (you could assume outside of canon interactions that they've had other conversations between them and that perhaps this was brought up, but we are going to base this solely in what Halsin reveals in canon). He brings up hibernation, but specifically the sleeping part of it. Nothing else.

So, the PC then potentially goes ahead and makes an assumption of him during the dryad. How'd they arrive at this conclusion, as it obviously surprises Halsin that they did? It reads, very much, that the PC is making this assumption based on the comment about his sweet tooth, his comment on indulgence, and his physicality (note: the ha ha bear and hibernation thing almost seems like an afterthought - Halsin latches *very* quickly onto the "mindless gorging" part). All things that he has shown very evident discomfort (which is ironic because the question is when he feels most comfortable) or hesitance towards (he claims there is nothing wrong with indulgence, but never seems to indulge himself beyond sex, if that. Gee, what does that remind you of?)

Halsin entrusted this individual with this information, as frivolous as it was, potentially revealed that it hurts his feelings when people make assumptions of him, and this individual then went used that information and made the assuming connection: "So, this is a big man. He said he liked sugar, so he must like to eat and indulge. It must be his favourite thing to do because look at him." I am going to essentially ignore everything else I could have possibly heard, and make a bear hibernation joke that has nothing to do with sleeping being a comfort, but emphasize the eating part.

So, yeah, he's a little taken aback - incredulous, you might say. A little hurt. Resigned, almost. Because at that point, you can make a very logical assumption that Halsin came to a very quick snap realization that perhaps this person was not so different from the others as he thought. That it always eventually comes back to that. What else was he expecting? When has it ever been any different for him?

#BG3 Musing #Halsin Posting #does this make sense i don't think it does but it's like...jumping from a - z based on assumption and you know what they say about that #note: this isn't actually this deep i am just making it this deep - also yes i'm aware it probably means none of this #i have a degree in bullshit #but this is also why halsin should have had a legitimate bear like build of a body #i understand why he didn't - but this is *verbatim* what fat individuals receive as assumptions on their person #*all the time* that oh you must overindulge yourself you must eat a lot you must you MUST #and in that thread of thought of halsin's relationship with his body #there's also something to say when halsin says 'my ears are all yours...any part of me is yours should you wish it'#because he *begins* by offering his sympathy and understanding...but follows it up with 'but if i am more valuable to you in this way #then that's fine too - i'm used to that'#almost parallels (inadvertently) astarion's:#'i think i'll enjoy having halsin around not for his wit or wisdom he'll just make an excellent shield if we're attacked'#he's self aware #and in regards to how halsin sees his body as a separate entity - a. body dysmorphia and b. i don't think he truly does #halsin claims he sees his body as a vessel to serve nature and wrinkles his nose at vanity - but i feel there is enough old hurt in him #that this can never be true of him even is he so desperately wishes it was #does he have a level of confidence in himself? obviously he does - but it is marred - it's an exchange #there's always going to be that little voice in the back

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kikizoshi · 9 months

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Seeing how many eyes Ludwig has in his beastly form, I really like the headcanon that he was one of the few Hunters who reached a high insight without going insane. Like, on top of trying not to be overtaken by the cursed blood, he also at some point began to see things which shouldn't exist, horrible creatures that would shatter any sane mind.

And yet, through all of this, he clung to his tiny ray of light, stayed strong for his fellow Hunters, fighting alongside them for the sake of his people. Of course, we all know how his story eventually ended, but I find it lovely that even in his final moments, Ludwig remembered fellow Hunters, and hoped their fates to be far kinder than his.

#I also wonder what his 'ray of light' was #the way he talked about it sounded like he eventually learned what it was #'I didn't want to know what it was. Really I didn't.' (proceeds to make the most wretched pained sounds imaginable)#but Ludwig wouldn't let himself succumb until the very end. until all that could be lost was long gone #I wonder if that truth is what makes Hunters go mad in the first place #perhaps the way he learned what it was also had something to do with the insight he gained?#he does refer to moonlight at the end but idk if he could've seen the Moon Presence or not #...one day I'll finish The Paleblood Hunt #...#this is all based on nothing btw #just musings on a fantastic game #(God I wish they'd port it to PC already)#(I want to play it for myself so badly)#bloodborne #ludwig the holy blade #bloodborne ludwig #bloodborne theory #ludwig the accursed

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ruinpowder · 5 months

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man what’s up with my coworkers offering to get each other food in front of me without asking me if i want anything….like it just seems really rude? i wouldn’t be comfortable doing that

#helen's musings #seems like everyone’s always making plans without me #i don’t know if i did something that makes people want to avoid me or if it’s because i’m a clerk and not an la #really wish i lived closer to my actual friends this making friends with people you work with thing does not seem to be working

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mauvesockss · 1 year

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I was cringing a little at the idea of a RAD Bouquet Baby. I just couldn't imagine Rilla or Arum scaling back their work enough in order to be parents... But then I realised that Damien is in a good position to take on the role of a more full-time caregiver. Yay three parenting adults!

The only thing giving me pause now is that I really can't see Rilla being pregnant. It's a hugely energy and time intensive process that, as I've said above, I couldn't imagine her choosing over her work.

We can assume that she has a secret (both her and Arum being shifty when confronted with keeping secrets) and, in this thought experiment, the secret is Impending Parenthood but -- unless the Petrichorous deigned to leave them a germinating seed or egg that only Rilla is aware of -- I don't really see any way around [Arum voice] mammalian gestation.

If this is the way the podcast is going, I'll be really interested to see how the storyline plays out!

#text #the penumbra podcast #the second citadel #rad bouquet #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #damien the pious #its nothing Confirmed tho so like... nothing to really worry about. mere musings! that is all!#i do think D would make a good parent and I'd be interested in seeing how they subvert A's whole 'human purpose is reproduction' pep talk #but yea D's storyline does seem to be moving in the direction of being a stay at home dad fjfkdkfm #i just wish R could also be a Dad(non gestating parent) instead of like. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ you've got the only uterus!#why do i feel like my more interesting points have been made in the tags... fndmdm #socks post

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the-kipsabian · 5 months

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i love vikingo, i really really do, but this match with black taurus really shows the biggest flaw in his style which is being so flashy with all the jumps and flips that theres so much setting up and waiting to get everything working properly and when something doesnt go perfectly its immediately killing the flow of the match

at least he can recover it really well but also oof

#when you fuck up the same spot twice in a row yeah it shows and it hurts ough #hes still so fucking good. i just wish it flowed smoother than it does cause that would make this absolutely phenomenal #wrestling musing

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pompomexpress · 8 months

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"How I wish someone would handle me the way that Dan Heng boy handles his spear~"

#//caelus too but in a 'i wish dh would handle me the way he does his spear'#//jokes aside the way he does in that short was amazinggg #ic;;open #muse;;sampo

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protect-namine · 28 days

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(kisa route) in a way, sissia vs gashadokuro really is as much a competition between kisa and chui as it is between present neji and past neji, and all of the things kisa, chui, and neji represent. quartz vs amber, transformation/collaboration vs raw talent, reaching for visions yet to be realized vs perfecting a vision. the "gear" and "gods and mortals" metaphors

the irony of chui "I'll die for theater, literally and figuratively" tanakamigi existing while neji is writing a play where the lead also "dies for theater", but chui and sissia are coming at it from completely different directions

like, to me, this is neji's finale as much as it is kisa's. quartz exists the way it does because neji transferred there and reshaped the class to make up for tsuki's absence. all of the plays they perform are a product of neji absorbing everyone around him, but every play is also a reflection of neji's thoughts on his classmates and his growth as a character and artist

just look at I Am Death and how his writing progressed to central nation of sissia. neji wrote takihime because he wanted chui to have hope that there is someone out there who can match his talents, that he wouldn't be lonely on the stage. but neji himself didn't really believe (at the time) that such a person exists. while he meant well, it's kind of a mean thing to write for chui, who is the kind of artist who will try to perfect the script over and over, always searching for takihime

sissia, on the other hand, was written for kisa. neji wrote all the things necessary to kisa, which includes having "warm and welcoming friends"

if chui met quartz!neji instead of amber!neji, he might have gotten a kinder script, one where gashadokuro doesn't get summoned by a takihime that acts as his mirror, but one where he is brought down to earth and warmly humanized by the people around him

all this is made all the more poignant during the scene when kisa saw chui practicing at the himehiko shrine and the player can make the choice for kisa to see chui as just another seventeen year old boy, reaching for his dreams like she is. in many ways, neji and kisa are probably the only people in univeil who take the time to see chui as just another fellow artist, human and growing and changing, while the rest of them (amber, univeil, tamasaka) are basically elevating him to god/demon status and distance themselves from ever connecting with him

#mine musings #liveblogging jj #i'm sorry this will NOT be the last time i talk about the nejichui situation #i kinda wish we could've gotten neji's thoughts on the bad ending #if kisa transferred to amber and became takihime like. what does neji think of that???#because in kisa's route he tells her that she has her own story and chui has his but also like. he acknowledges that #the takihime he wrote was always missing an actor and that actor has arrived and that's kisa #and he cares about both of them so likeeeeeeee #i don't know. neji also probably doesn't know. he's blind to his own emotions #jack jeanne

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illithilit · 2 months

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I have a metric fuckton of quiz results in my drafts and I want them out. So this is my solution to not wanting to spam the dash

Tagged by: @dracourge ; @mindfoster ; @loomsred

Mourndax

Love feels like.... Fear

the tap of a nervous foot against the floor. those butterflies in the pit of your stomach. a dry throat. heavy limbs. you want them so badly that it hurts, but fear keeps you frozen to the floor; what ifs and hypotheticals run rampant through your head. it's a chain around your neck, love, and it's your choice to let it choke you or break it.

How do you view love? Violent

harsh words and cold glares. painful in the way that your heart burns but can never seem to seek for something better. it is the way you would walk through glass to see a smile, or claw at your own arms just to satisfy another, give and never take for the guilt that comes with wanting is suffocating. emotionally draining and a forever ache that you can't escape.

What kind of love are you? Love as a flaw.

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

What tragic character from Ancient Greek literature are you? Cassandra.

you are cassandra from the trojan women by euripides and agamemnon by aeschylus. people have tried to silence you one too many times, but you are resilient. your own dignity and agency have always come first, but at a great cost. you know yourself and your inner strength, but that won't ever stop you from feeling completely alone in the world. sometimes simply enduring the pain won't be enough, no matter how hard you want it to be. above all, you must never lose your unwavering hope in mankind, even as the world forsakes you. it is what keeps you human.

Let me assign you an affection language. A knife called grief.

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

What colour does your love feel like? Deep staining crimson.

Ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. Your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. It's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. It rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. Sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. Your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. And you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. Atlas holding up the world, how are you? Is your love still flowing? Is your heart still open? Still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? Still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? Because I see them, I read them, I love them and you, you, you, you. Clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. Spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. Make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. Maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

What kind of hot are you? Rockstar hot.

you're wanted. by crowds of people. a heart-throb, who people hang posters of in their room and tell their friends is "so dreamy." you may not even be a celebrity, you could just be the star of your school. but what you and rockstars have in common is that your entire routine is very well-rehearsed, and you know exactly the right words, the right looks, to draw people's attention. you're a performance, you're an act, a hyperbolized version of a human being that others can get lost in. it's so easy for people to crush on you because they don't realize they don't know anything about you. you're an archetype, a character for others to project onto, and damn if it isn't a fun role to play.

What flavor is your soul? Salt.

ah little kraken, bold are you. restless sailor, dauntless fighter, lower your sword, let me see your shield. ah, of course, they are but the same object. oh wave-tossed ruffian, lend me some of your mettle would you? you have been struck by the sharpest of spears yet you still stand here proudly. but off your guard, elsewhere of the battlefield, you will find your spirit can parch others. your words are but weapons crafted from your soul. little lion, sheathe your claws, or the ones you love the most will suffer. you do not have to be strong all the time love, there's nothing wrong with being soft. vulnerability is not weakness, and if it were, what's wrong with that? strength is not always your greatest tool, your heart is good. put down excalibur, and use your words. you'll find they will carry you much farther. not everything in life is a battle.

How do you need to be touched? Cautiously.

your teeth are bared, as they have been, your jaw aching for so long as growls slip free. you always have to defend yourself. you lash out in fear. you need someone who does not shrink back... a hand falling slowly to your shoulder, however briefly, in a reminder that you do not have to lunge. there is no danger here, now.

What colour are you coded as? Pink coded.

pink, the color of femininity, believing in yourself, and embracing the side of you that you used to reject. you aren't someone who likes to hide, but you do all the time. you don't like yourself nearly as much as you may present, one way or another. you think of yourself as a hollow castaway of someone's little matryoshka doll, or worse, something broken and thrown away. you want to believe that there's more to life, to you, than this broken frame of something you have long forgotten the name of... but what are you supposed to do, after all this time?

Grazilaxx

Love feels like.... Everything

nothing matters but this. not you. not them. this moment, this love that you've built, that is what matters. it is all that there is. you will do anything to keep it this way; no matter what line you have to cross, who you have to step over. the ends justify the means, after all; and for you, this is everything. they are everything.

How do you view love? Isolating.

intense, silent, overwhelming. you have so much to give but it is too much to share. nobody every reciprocates the way you do. makes you feel alien, unwanted. so you keep it and and watch others, hoping one day that could be you too.

What kind of love are you? Love as a religion.

Devotion, that is the name of your love. Your love is an act of worship. Your love is like witnessing the birth of Venus, like seeing the sun come alive, or the stars fall. When you love, it is because you have found God in a lover. You have found the meaning of life itself in the heart of the one you adore. They are everything to you; they are your Maker, and you are their lamb, their flock, their first and holiest worshipper. When you fall in love, it is as a baptism. You are born anew, made a believer in the divinity of the one you love most. Being loved by you is an ascension; it is holy and golden. It is all-consuming, and all-faithful, loyal as the dog. You will never, ever bite back.

What tragic character from Ancient Greek literature are you? Medea.

you are medea from from the argonautica by apollonius and medea by euripides. you are ambitious, ruthless, and unforgiving in getting what you want, and unapologetic in your self-preservation. the truth is, you have let your romantic ideals get the better of you before, and time and time again you have had to relearn how to build up those walls and thorns that guard it. the only person who can protect you is yourself, and you have learned that the hard way. sometimes stoking that fire of hate and anger in your heart hurts more than whatever you're fighting against.

Let me assign you an affection language. A story that ends in blood.

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

What colour does your love feel like? Warm burnt orange.

Riding off into the sunset, the hope of a happy ending, the bitter after taste that still in it's own way smells kinda great. Your love is all bitter hopefulness, all about a broken heart that refuses to quit, all about the unshakable knowledge that a burning fire has a great comforting warm and a soft glowing light, all about the way when the sun comes down there's a beautiful starry night. It's stubbornness, it's the refusal to give up, the clutching of broken shards despite the searing pain and being adamant that dammit you can still make a beautiful stained glass window out of it. Yours is a screaming heart, a pleading love, a bitter and almost belligerent hopefulness that things will still work out even if you have to roll up your sleeves and make them. And god, aren't you tired? Isn't your heart heavy? Is all your hard work worth it? Don't you just want to curl up and let it be? Let the fire turn to ashes and the sky turn dark and let love die down and watch people leave? But you don't, do you? You're the bravest out of all of us, so you pick up the pieces and you keep going, you keep believing and you keep your heart full of hope because some day. Some day you know you'll get it. You keep riding off into the sunset and you keep filling my heart with hope as you go because god, how do I wish you finally get it too.

What kind of hot are you? Math tutor hot.

you're really not here for romance, at all. but whenever you actually interact with people, they're smitten with you. you might be usually overlooked, but for some reason whenever you're helping a peer who likely wasn't responsible enough to study like you told them to before the session, they're always paying rapt attention. you roll your eyes and lecture them whenever they seem distracted, staring at you or the floor instead of the textbook. but it's the moments where you raise an eyebrow, half impressed, and give them a quiet "good work" that makes you such a successful tutor. your praise is hard to come by, and people are certainly going to work to hear it again.

What flavor is your soul? Lavendar.

oh moon child, restless sleeper, tell me what it's like to dream? you float along the margins of reality, picking up the pieces of fallen memories to sculpt into your own realm. you are searching, but your tongue is quiet, quiet, quiet. open your mouth and sing my dear, silence only does you good for so long. and here you planted roots in the darkness, where not even the moon can reach your leaves. there is such a thing as being too practical, for you sail your ship on perpetually calm waters, and never have you spotted land. your mind has wings, uncage them! allow yourself to dream, you are not too far gone. there is no such thing! trust in yourself dear.

How do you need to be touched? Gently.

you need to be held as though you're going to break. you need someone to trace your scars like cracks in a wall, crumbling. their touch is almost painful; you've been without it for too long, without someone to hold you. but, you cannot bring yourself to pull away.

What colour are you coded as? Blue coded.

blue, a study in wisdom, belief, and knowing when enough is enough. you know yourself best, but you know the way the world works even more. you've been wandering in this world a little too long, and maybe that's the problem. you're a wanderer, a vagabond, an oracle, and a prophet all the same. who are you when the curtain call drops the last encore on you? do you dance behind the scenes for a job well done or are you already planning your next show? take a breather, for a moment. enjoy what you've done, enjoy what you have, enjoy the world that you've been wandering for so long. this world is so much better when you realize that some of it is worth living for.

Blurg

How do you view love? Soft.

love that is welcoming, one that encompasses you in its warmth. the feeling of a warm mug after a cold day. familiar huffs of laughter respond in the air as you lean on each other for balance. the feeling of falling on a soft bed of clouds on a nice sunny day. of waves lapping at sand on a beach

What kind of love are you? Love as a threshold.

Your love does not ask for much. Your love does not take. Your love is free, and unquestioned, and here for wherever needs it. When you fall in love, it is as gentle as a breath in the night. It is quiet, and it is effortless. It is tender. If your love was a house, it would readily welcome all who come through. If your love was a hearth, it would warm the hands of whoever stopped by, whether for a day, a month, a year, or forever. When you fall for someone, it is without strings, without conditions, without need. You love for the sake of loving, for the sake of caring for those who need it. You love with a giver’s heart and a giver’s hands and are made so much stronger for it. Being loved by you is to always feel at home. Your love may not always be well-received by those unprepared to linger, but it is unforgettable all the same.

What tragic character from Ancient Greek literature are you? Patroclus.

you are patroclus, from the iliad by homer, doomed by fate to be stuck in a love story that has no place on the battlefield. although you always have the best intentions, you have to realize you cannot save everyone. your unwavering loyalty means you often lose yourself in the process of putting others first. take a deep breath, remember who you are, and that you are deserving of the same love you try to put out. you are kind, you are strong, and you give and you give but it is never enough to protect those you love. in the end, it's not even enough to protect yourself.

What colour does your love feel like? Bright sunny yellow.

Sweet tasting popsicles, summer dresses and shielding your eyes from the sun. Your love is the excitement of something brewing, something growing. It's the almost childish bubbling giggles of something new, but with the potential to stay. It's wide smiles, blinding sunny light and warm bodies that gravitate to one another. It's the the softness, the willingness, the slight holding of breaths in a crucial "what if" moment. It's the impatience too. The bouncing on tiptoes to see further than your eyes can reach, the holding out for a future that never seems to come even though you're ready, you're so so so ready. It's the constant feeling of warm sand beneath your feet, holding out for the crashing waves. And still you wait, dry and impatient and with burnt soles of feet. Your love is sour candy, enjoying it as your nose scrunches up from the aftertaste of it. It's hands that grab and take hold, that reach and ask them to stay and hope and beg and wait. It's bubbling excitement sure, but it's also demanding, focused, driven. It's love like a plan, with a path and route and a clear destination. And you bonce on your tiptoes, and burning, waiting for the soothing water, the crashing waves, you hold onto the melting popsicle, you wait and wait and wait. It's tiring almost as much as it's lazer focused ambition, deeply rooted desire and the unrelenting hope that it will work, that it will come. And it does, I promise it does. The waves crash, the beach floods and the pain passes, the water cool and soothing and you can let yourself fall in, sinking, sinking. And it's good, it's perfect, what you were hoping and more, holding and embracing you and welcoming you into the stillness you always knew you were reaching for.

What kind of hot are you? Bob the builder hot.

i am not saying bob the builder is hot, im just saying you have the hotness of a handyman. you're humble, down to earth, and exist with an easy confidence that takes peoples breath away. you always seem to know exactly what you are doing. you may still be stuck in your hometown, but you have quite the reputation. you do get a lot of business, after all. people around here sure tend to break things an awful lot, and they always call you, listening through the phone reciever with a light blush and bated breath, for your inevitable "I'll help you."

What flavor is your soul? Rosemary.

ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. the time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. you've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. but kindness without limits is self destruction. oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. you wish to please everyone, to protect them all. but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. protect yourself too. you know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. be a friend. your loved ones will not forsake you for not being perseus slaying all their demons. you have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. you know that right? be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

How do you need to be touched? Fervently.

you crave a hug that cracks your ribs... the feeling of your wandering soul being crushed back into the bones that can't seem to hold it. you need a hand gripping yours so tightly you almost fear it may leave a bruise, a reminder that you are here. and that you are not alone.

What colour are you coded as? Yellow coded.

yellow, a study in wildfires, honeycombs, and summer rain. everyone sees you smiling and laughing, happy in all the ways but the way that you know is true to you. everyone believes that nothing bad could happen to you, that you live life so freely that you'd never miss a beat, even if something bad DID happen to happen around or to you. but you're as miserable as the rest of them. you might be warm and gentle, when you need to be, but at the end of the day, you have long since accepted that fire is like you: best to be admired but never touched.

Orianna

Love feels like.... Lightning

you feel like you're on top of the world. like you've been struck by lightning -- you hope that they feel the same. it's all electricity, those metaphorical sparks; all adrenaline and the rush you get when you're near them. they're magnetic, they have some sort of pull over you, and you live off of the high they give you. watch it; lightning never strikes the same place twice.

What kind of love are you? Love as a performance.

Your love is a masquerade, a dance, a work of art. You love with a veil across your face, unable to allow anyone to see the real you. Can that be considered love, you wonder? As a performer, you have all your lines prepared, and you know exactly what to say and when to say it. You’re charismatic and bold, seductive and hypnotic. Your love is a snake’s melody, the siren song of the sea. Your love is enchanting. Your love is melodic. Your love is afraid and fearful and longing. You ache to tear the veil off, you ache to cast poetry aside for the sake of something real and gritty. You’re terrified of the very thought. Being loved by you is to be loved by an artist; it is to be a muse. It reflects others beautifully, but never, ever yourself. Not really. Not truly.

Let me assign you an affection language. Violent devotion.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

What colour does your love feel like? Cold stark gold.

Fireworks, borrowed lighters and sparklers against a dark backdrop, yours is a love that burns stark and bright. It's scary though, like things that burn always tend to be, but for you it isn't the thrill of the open flames that gives pause and a slight stomach drop of terror, but rather the time when the flames go out, the sparkler ends and the night is cold and dark once again. Fireworks, borrowed lighters, a striken match, your love burns bright and fast and then maybe it passes, maybe the feeling dies out and you're left in the cold once again. And that's the feeling isn't it? Of being bored and waiting for someone to light you up again? To be fair, you do know you don't need it, but then again we don't often crave the things we need. And you crave and yearn and burn in the wait, restless in the knowledge that at some point someone will pass and rub you the right way, that some day you'll light up the night sky bright yet again. There's comfort in the darkness and solace in the predictable loneliness of the in between, but your heart still squirms inside you, waiting and willing and begging to burn up again. Your love might not be comfort, it's not one for the sick days, but then again, there's a reason why everyone waits for the shining lights in the sky during holidays.

What kind of hot are you? Pink panther hot.

you're a modern queen. you sit to the side of the dance floor and drink out of martini glasses, a perfect vantage point to look over your court. you like to see the way people's eyes linger on you, hoping you'll see them, that they'll gain your approval. you are offered drinks by many overeager servants throughout the night. when you finally join the ball, the sea of people parts just for you, and you hear the nervous titters of the crowd who are so captivated by what you'll do next.

What flavor is your soul? Honey.

"sugared mel e lingua serpentis." sugared honey from a serpent's tongue. oh dearest, look how you gleam. how the sunlight dances off your shoulders, how the heavens shine across your wingtips. but you are hollow, hollow, hollow. even the taste of nectar can choke a man. sometimes the sweetest flowers hide the sharpest poison. you lie to yourself, the worst lie of all. you needn't be so obsessed with perfect. the greatest beauty lies in our faults. do you think the moon apologizes for their mara? no, their craters add to their glow. my dear, breathe. you are not an island, breathe, before the honey drowns you. you wish to be lovely, you long to be loved. but did aphrodite trade her powers for perfection? she did not. you can be beautiful, and also whole. be whole above anything else dear. a heart of diamonds is worth nothing if inchor oozes from it. inward. look within and question how well do you know yourself? little petal are you trying to be a god? why? can a god bloom from sullen soil? no. you are whole as you are.

#the moral of the story is I will gut you if I need to; I will carve my way out with only my teeth // Mourndax headcanon.#''you just don't know when to quit do you?'' call me a slow learner but I don't like giving in to tyrants // Blurg headcanon.#I am more powerful than I am damaged and I will rise from any abyss you try to drown me in // Grazilaxx headcanon.#we who wield power adorn ourselves with flowers to hide the sting of our thorns // Orianna headcanon.#Is this a lot to read? yes #do I care? no #does it tell you a lot about these fuckers' respective personalities? surprisingly yes actually #some of these quizzes in particular read them to absolute filth and I'm living for it #also............. and you'll know who you are if you read this..........#tfw Blurg happens to share his flavor of hotness with a mutual's Gortash muse [X-Files theme]#easily the highlight of my night at home #also ALSO tho #that hotness quiz in particular is cursed af #don't you be talking to me about bob the fucking builder hotness or pink goddamn panther hotness #saying ''I'm not saying bob the builder is hot'' in the first sentence does NOT absolve you op #I wish to study your brain

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taralen · 5 months

Text

Thanksgiving (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)

But no happy. Not for me. I wish it upon others, though.

Happy Thanksgiving! ɓuᴉʌᴉɓsʞuɐɥꓕ ʎddɐH

With that said... This month has been awful. The loss of my frog is just the tip of the iceberg. I have tendonitis in my right wrist (and down to my mid-upper arm), meaning that drawing and writing (t̸h̸e̸ o̸n̸l̸y̸ t̸h̸i̸n̸g̸s̸ I̸'̸m̸ g̸o̸o̸d̸ f̸o̸r̸) are very painful to do at the moment. I've been icing it, but it still hurts. The pain makes me want to scream. Why me? Why now, when I got so much @#$%, I need to get done? I have clients waiting on me, and now I get this crap.

͐͋ɨ͋͐ţ hµяţ$ $๏ ƒµ̥͒c̥͒̈́̾k̾̈́͐͋ɨ͋͐ñǥ β͛ą͛ď W̵͍͐̈Ỏ͔̓͘R̮͂͂͡S̙̍̓́Ț̶ͧ̋ ̮ͭͮ́P̖ͩ͜A̹͗́́I̦ͯ̐͢N̝̒̊̕ ̶͓̍̈́Ī͔͂͘'̛̤ͫ͗V͙̈́Ȩ̖̾ ̧̪ͫE͊ͤ͏̞V̂҉̳Ȩ̭ͮȐ̠̉͘ ̹̚͝F̧̜ͣͧE̩̿͐͘L̸͔͑T̴͍ͩ ̥͑͠I̘ͫ̄͠N͕̑̔͜ ̴͙͊M̷̘̆Y̏ͭ͏͇ ̘ͤ́W̢̝ͦ̐Ȓ̴͕I̶͚̎Sͫͬ͏̦T̤͐͟ I also got into a heated argument with my mother about our housing situation, and I have no other family to turn to since they all live far away. I know for sure that even if I cook delicious stuff for dinner tonight, she won't eat any of it because it's vegetarian. Yes, because according to her, a meal is not complete without a form of meat. I'm sorry, but if I'm the only one who cooks in the house, it's kind of silly to complain, right? Haha! ^^; My culinary choices are far from the biggest issue I have with her. My mental instability is ignored by my family in general. That cocktail of meds? Who cares! The hallucinations? Probably nothing! Manic breakdowns? You're just being dramatic!Jus t 𝘀̝͒͝𝗵͚͖ͥͯ́𝘂͚̘͌͞𝘁͛ͧ͏ͅ ͉̺ͫ͜𝘂͕̜͂͂͟𝗽̲̯̿͞ ̻ͪ͡𝗮͋͏̺̝𝗻̴̜̄ͬ𝗱̙̞̾͝ ͖̘͗̕𝗱̯̓͑͜𝗼͒̊҉̣ ̷̲̾̍𝘄̺ͫ͢𝗵͉̱ͧ͡𝗮̹ͮ͑̕𝘁̹̐́ ̛͖ͧ𝘄̗͗͆̕𝗲̗ͫ͘ ̣̄̈́͝𝘁̸̰̲͋𝗲̘̖͋ͣ̀𝗹̿̀ͅ𝗹̝͛͟ ͈ͨ͗̕𝘆̶̯͑̚𝗼̲ͤ͆͢𝘂̰̗̍̚͘ ̱̙ͧͪ͡𝘁̧̺ͮ͛𝗼̡͉̊.̢̜͊ͮ

I stayed up ALL NIGHT cleaning a shelf. Yes, a single shelf. It's got stuff on it, so I just cleaned all of that too. All my friends were asleep, and my wrist hurt too much to play video games, so I said, "HA, what's something else I can do to feel productive?" and looked up at the top shelf above my desk and thought, "Yeah, I'll clean that." The next thing I knew, it was 4 am, and my blood sugar dropped so low that I felt nauseating hunger. I ate a burrito slowly and nearly threw up in the process. The only reprieve I got was holding my black cat and listening to her purr for about 20 minutes, maybe half an hour. I don't know! I wasn't paying attention to the clock.

See? Total sane thing to do! TOTALLY ñ¤ȑɱåȽ. HAHA! I know for sure I'm GONNA BE LAUGHED AT, so I'm here to LAUGH AT MYSELF. HA HA H AH AH AH AH AH AH AHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA （;ﾟ ;艸;ﾟ;）

#musings #vent #mental instability #rant #I'm not even manic just really REALLY upset #I wish I could cut this damn wrist open and see wtf is going on with it. Why does it hurt so much?!#I'm sorry #this is why I've been pretty inactive when it comes to art.#I hope I can recover sooner.#I'm not pitying myself. I haven't lost all hope.#I'm just extremely exhausted and frustrated with my life as of late. I can't catch a damn break.

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