thesenesx
thesenesx
Steph | she/her | Illustrator | Writer | Australia | working on many wips when im not thinking about my blorbos | Links to other cool stuff
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finally home to use my orb
fucking hell this happens every time i try to use my orb
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(SOUND IS CRUCIAL) this video is has murdered me dead the music the editing the way information is slowly revealed about the two of them the plot twist the breaking bad images. WILLIAM WILLIAM WILLIAM. all over minecraft parkour someone help im seizing
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Love playing a wild magic sorcerer and romancing Gale. They're both annoying.
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the idea that restrooms, locker rooms, etc need to be single-sex spaces in order for women to be safe is patriarchy's way of signalling to men & boys that society doesn't expect them to behave themselves around women. it is directly antifeminist. it would be antifeminist even if trans people did not exist. a feminist society would demand that women should be safe in all spaces even when there are men there.
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its important to do this every time a museum or school thinks this is a good idea
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I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3
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SKIN DEEP chapter 1
Like this? This one is actually a published book that you can buy! Or request at your library :) Links here!
Please check out my Patreon too
Louison left the river for the fourth time of her life on a hot August day. She pulled herself from the waves to the sandy shore alone, with no one to witness the beginning of her journey. Her siblings had broken the ancient traditions by refusing to accompany her to land. They were terrified of what would wait for her there. She didn’t share their worry. Louison knew the world of men well, and she would manage on her own. But then, it wasn’t as if she had much choice.
Far away, beyond the rocks that bordered the little sandy beach, she could see the menacing bell tower of St. Adalbert Sur Mer piercing the sky. The small church’s metal roof gleamed like a lighthouse under the heavy sun, a pinprick of light presiding over a quiet village with a dark secret.
That secret was the reason that Louison was here. Three times over the summer, the naked, lifeless body of one of her siblings had been found in the river. Naked, and cradled in cement. It was a crime that no one could discover, aside from those who lived in the waves. For the St. Lawrence’s clans, this meant war. To steal a pelt was one thing; but to throw the skinned bodies of Selkies back in the water to be found by their families? That was just unimaginably cruel.
Three times already, Louison had been sent to land to investigate the disappearance of a sibling. She was her clan’s emissary, like her mother and grandmother before her. This time, however, the problem at hand was much worse than a missing selkie, trapped by a human out of cruelty disguised as love. There was no one to save and no sibling to reunite with their family. Louison, for the first time in her life, had to solve a murder.
She was afraid, of course. But she couldn’t let fear take hold of her. The clan’s matriarch herself had assigned her this mission, and Louison was determined to see it through. She would find out who was responsible for this and drag them into the waves. Sedna could decide their fate.
Taking advantage of the high tide, she slid forward onto the smooth pebbles of the beach. The day was warm, but there was no one in sight. Humans, following strange customs, usually disappeared from the shores towards the end of summer, when their offspring returned to the learning places that they called schools.
Once she’d left the water, the transformation took her. Her body stretched, her almost three hundred pounds of bone and flesh splitting into perfectly plump arms and legs. It was never pleasant, but she endured the shift stoically.
From as far back as their history could recall, the transformation had always been a group ritual. That day, under the uncaring glare of the sun, Louison had only herself. She used her sharp claws to tear at her chest, slashing awkwardly at the fur on her ribs until she could grab a handful and rip it off. The pale, damp skin of her new breasts rose towards the sky as she heaved under the morning light. With salt on her lips and the sun in her eyes, she struggled out of her pelt with as much grace as a salmon stuck in a fishing net. For Louison, every second spent in the open was a second too long. She knew that on this beach, she was a target. Someone could spot her at any moment. Had she had the choice, she would have preferred to land at Selkie’s Cove, a small shallow bay surrounded by rocks a few kilometres from St. Adalbert Sur Mer. She could have hidden in any of the caves dotting the cliffs there, and would have had all the time in the world to shift into human form.
Unfortunately, it was the very place where her sisters had last been seen alive. Selkie’s Cove was definitely somewhere where her investigation would take her, but not before she could put on some clothes and establish her cover in town.
Louison rolled onto her knees and looked around her warily. There was no one in sight. She got her feet under her, her legs trembling with the effort needed to stand after months spent in the river. Louison, unlike other selkies, practised walking often. She knew what movements to make and how to shift her weight from one foot to the other, even when she was rusty.
It was her mother that had insisted on this training. She used to warn her about growing slow, about spending too long on the beach after leaving the water. It was dangerous. Keeping that danger in mind, Louison picked up her fur pelt and folded it carefully under her arm.
The wind coming from the river made her shiver despite the warmth of the sun on her naked skin. To the east, a line of pebbles separated the beach from the bike path. She started painstakingly walking towards it. Her steps gradually grew more sure on the wet sand and large rocks until she had a decent stride going. At the bend of the path, where the sand gave way to yellowing grass, stood a small wooden structure. It was nothing more than the municipal employee’s shed, and yet Louison knew that she would find what she was looking for inside of it. Old Gustave had worked all his life to keep the beach clean and welcoming. Although it had never been part of his official functions, he had also gotten into the habit of keeping clothes and other useful things inside his shed. Especially after his wedding to the beautiful and tragic Armande.
Louison had liked Armande. Her mother had investigated her disappearance from the clan, once. It was one of the only times when it had had a happy ending for everyone involved. Of course, Armande hadn’t lived long on land. That just wasn’t where their specie thrived. But she had been happy here, and that is what mattered. Gustave had never taken her pelt — nor touched it, as far as she knew.
Few humans respected the Great Taboo. For that, the clan gave him their tentative trust.
The shed wasn’t locked. Louison pushed the door with effort, the old hinges covered by layers of rust and salt. The place was full with tools, machines, and who knew what else, all carefully kept on high metal shelves. In a corner, behind an abandoned lawn mower, was a plastic bin on which someone had painted “lost & found”. Louison had a moment of fondness for Gustave. There were piles of clothes inside, all of them carefully folded and apparently sorted by sizes. A couple of shoes and boots were also lined up under a work bench nearby. Behind the clothes bin was an old metal locker. Upon inspection, a padlock and its key had been left inside.
Louison placed her pelt on the highest shelf with reverence. She hastened to shut the door before she could change her mind. The sharp snap of the padlock locking was at once reassuring and terrifying. She gnashed her teeth and forced herself to walk away from the locker, back towards the bin. She had to find something to wear that would support the cover that she and her siblings had come up with.
August was the perfect month to move into St. Adalbert Sur Mer. Every fall, dozens of students that attended CEGEP in the neighbouring town came here to find cheap apartments. They filled the village with new faces. There wouldn’t be a better moment to slip in unnoticed. Louison, with her large honest eyes and round face, figured that she could pose as a student of marine biology, which would give her the perfect cover to carry out her investigation.
She pulled out a few plaid shirts and some pants from the bin, then chose a sturdy-looking pair of boots. All of the clothes were visibly second-hand, but that would only serve to help sell her “poor student” image. She pushed aside everything that was too brightly coloured or had a different cut than she recognized. Fashion had doubtlessly changed a lot since the last time that she’d come on land, and she hoped that she wasn’t making a mistake with her choices.
She didn’t want to have to come back to the shed to pick something else. Too many selkies on land made the mistake of visiting the place where they had stashed their pelts too often. It wasn’t subtle, and increased the chances that someone would follow them there. Better not to take that risk.
Lastly, Louison went to the work bench and started to check the drawers. She hoped that Gustave’s generosity would have extended to leaving her some money, just enough so that she could find a place to sleep while on land. With a serial killer on the loose, the last thing she wanted was to have to return to the river every night and risk being noticed.
Fortunately, the park ranger was a generous man. A few bills had been slipped under a flower pot, as well as the flyer for the local youth hostel. She bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to show her gratefulness to the old man. Louison picked a pair of scissors from the tools on a shelf nearby and cut a lock of her dark hair, which she tucked under the flower pot where the money had been. He would know what it meant; the clan now owned him a debt.
And the clan took its debts very seriously.
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fandom tumblr was another casualty of streaming services. we used to be on here posting about the episodes that were coming out weekly and posting gifs and writing insane shit about the tv shows we liked. now a new season of a show will drop and we’ll talk about it for a week. two weeks tops. and then that show will leave collectively conscious for 1+ year till the next season drops. there’s a reason succession sundays was a blast on here
we used to have real television
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just found fanfic written on clay tablets in cuneiform and then the pictures were uploaded to ao3 the good omens fandom is insane
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mimic hunter inspired by the eshay I saw on the train with a taped up wheelie bin
where was he going? why did he have a wheelie bin? why was he wearing two caps on his shoulders like pauldrons??
#dnd#art#fantasy#eshay#dungeons and dragons#mimic#monster#illustration#australia#snagcore#d&d#character design
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you don’t understand how hard it is to take a selfie when you’re ugly
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"I can smell what’s under those bandages, wizard. You’re all rot and ruin." - Auntie Ethel
I wanted to incorporate some of Gale's original design and lores. So, I added some infection to his skin and bandages. I wanted to show the netherese orb visibly rotting him from the inside.
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I dont want to sound like an elitist but the people who write tv shows arent doing a good job
#the writers are fighting for their lives#if theyre lucky enough to get staffed in a writers room itll only last a few weeks nowadays instead of a few months#but thats if there is a writers room and not just one guy writing his “vision” alone#and theyre not going to be staffed on a long running show because most shows get cancelled after one or two seasons#so theyre all on freelance contracts#so yea how can they write good shows under these conditions?
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