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izzy's playlists!
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Sade Olutola
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Claire Keane
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
One Nice Bug Per Day
Today's Document
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
Xuebing Du
RMH
wallacepolsom
tumblr dot com
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@ace-bug-trainer-cj
Finally posting more details about this, but I have been working on a novel series for quite some time now in the background and I had the honor of commissioning @princington to draw the main couple of my series. They came out so beautiful I just have to share this stunning work that inspires me to keep pushing and searching for a publisher.
Meet Avery Lorien and Naomi Mcloughlin, otherworldly detectives of Arlo City.
My ladies💚💛🖤
The local gremlin is on the prowl again ᵕ̈ I've been fighting art block and trying to do more art studies but I AM ALIVE.
happy pride and summer!
Oh this is so very light and soft I'm in love💚
The COLORS, the LIGHTING, its perfect.
pediatrician
The host turns his attention towards her, shuffling a set of cue cards in his hands, and the audience grows silent.
"Mira!" he says with a wide, unsettling smile — the one he always uses when he has some sort of dirt on celebrities — and she knows exactly where this question is headed. "You went to medical school?"
"Yes," she replies simply, arm draped on the back of the couch behind Zoey and Rumi. Mira stays relaxed, cool, nonchalant, like this is just any other question about their choreographies or their tour.
There's a few gasps from the audience, a coo here and there. A girl, probably in her late teens if her voice is anything to go by, lets out a dreamy sigh before saying "she's so cool" a little too loudly.
"Wow," the host says with fake awe, elongating the 'o' sound to make it sound really sincere. It's not, Mira can tell. She always can. "Who knew Huntr/x's very own Jeong Mira was a prodigy — ballet, medical school, and idol training. Impressive, right ladies and gentlemen?"
He looks out into the audience, giving them a wink as the light above them flashes the word 'Applause'.
"She really is," Rumi affirms confidently after the thundering sound of applause settles. "Mira has always shown that she's in a class of her own. Not to mention she's incredibly dedicated to everything she puts her mind to."
"Yeah!" Zoey chirps along, patting Mira's leg twice and letting her hand linger a little longer than is acceptable for public appearances. "It's always nice to have someone with medical knowledge around, too. Especially with how clumsy I am!"
That gets the audience to laugh and shift the attention away from Mira. Zoey's good at that — playing up the silly, clumsy act around an audience to take pressure away from Mira and Rumi when questions get too personal or hit nerves that are not meant to be seen. She excels at breaking the tension, at creating space for each of them to breathe when the walls feel like they're closing in.
More importantly — and much to Mira's delight — she's good at making hosts feel backed into a corner. Yes, Zoey is sweet to a fault, Mira loves that about her. Everyone loves that about her. But she knows how to weaponize it, too. She's well aware that no one would dare push back on the sweet maknae on national television or anywhere with an audience. So she uses it to her advantage when she feels someone has stepped too close or pushed too far.
Works like a charm, as expected. The host looks between all three of them, taking a deep breath and flipping through the cards in his hands before setting up the next question.
— ☆ —
"Medical school?" Zoey asks with amusement between gasped breaths, fingers tightening around Mira's hair.
Mira smiles, lips warm against Zoey's skin as she places a soothing kiss on the blooming hickey beneath them. "This time it's actually true."
Zoey's laugh, melodic and warm, fills the space around them. It's hypnotizing. Mira swears that it's Zoey's siren call, or at least it was for her. She would follow the sound of her laugh across the world if it meant she got to hear it every day for the rest of her life.
"Yeah?" Soft hands move to cradle Mira's face as Zoey brings her in for a kiss, sloppy and wanting. It tastes like love and devotion with a pinch of mirth. "Just like how you spent some time as a cook in a Singaporean hawker centre or how one summer you sailed across the Mediterranean or how you are the youngest wildlife photographer?"
It's Mira's turn to laugh this time, because of course Zoey has kept track of all of her bullshit answers to hosts throughout the years.
"No, this time it's actually true," she answers, meeting Zoey's eyes so that she knows that Mira is being sincere. "I graduated early and was accepted into medical school. Went to classes for about a week before Celine approached me."
"What were you going to specialize in?"
Mira hesitates for a moment, looking away from Zoey's questioning eyes. No one's ever asked her this before, not her parents or her friends, and for some reason it makes her feel vulnerable, seen.
"Pediatrics."
Zoey's thumbs caress her cheeks, the way they always do when Mira lets her in to some of her most guarded thoughts and secrets. "Of course," she says softly, placing a kiss on the bridge of Mira's nose.
"Plus," she clears her throat, searching for a way to stop her cheeks from heating further, "it pays to know anatomy."
"Yeah?" Zoey tilts her head to the side curiously, not catching on as fast as she normally does.
"You've never complained," Mira says with a lopsided smirk that earns her a lighthearted smack on the shoulder.
"Mira!"
Come get y'all ficlet juice
Awareness:
I am forced to know every part of my body.
Not everyone knows when an organ slips beneath your displaced rib.
To know the twisting pinch deep inside when you repair yourself.
I know intimately the paths of every nerve ending, when they burn and spark beneath my elastic skin.
I feel every heartbeat like a spear.
The ways parts connect.
The displacement of my bones.
The pop of joints, returning home.
Awareness, of every gear running my body.
Should probably have posted this last month for hypermobility/EDS awareness month, but here we are.
Touch me again and I'll kill you.
I don't care what anyone says I'm ready for this game, look at this BEAUTIFUL WARRIOR
I think the hot new trends for this summer should be reading comprehension and critical thinking skills
No one owes artists anything.
But existence is lonely and sometime you throw hours and hours of effort into a void, on the slim chance it will say something back.
Me screenshotting nice comments on my work for the bad depressive dips.
New chapter alert!
Chapter 23 of On the Development of Softness is live!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/69664101/chapters/226913166
A brief respite before things truly kick into overdrive for the girls.
Monroe - Regarde ! (LIVE) | France 🇫🇷 | Grand Final | Eurovision
Obsessed with this still actually.
Any entry that sounds like the intro to a boss battle in Expedition 33 or a FromSoft game is very highly regarded for me
Thoughts on: This Monster Wants To Eat Me
Reblogging this again to actually say, holy shit is this anime tragically beautiful.
I love the actual grotesque monster designs and the depiction of dissociative episodes using the ocean motif present throughout the entire series. I will definitely be reading the manga now. The visuals alone are reason enough to watch the anime. Don't even get me started on the music just ugh it's so good.
Even just these stills from the opening tell stories:
Cherry Blossoms: the fleeting nature of life.
Morning Glories: fragility of life, unrequited love and resilience.
Hydrangeas: color comes into play a lot more, pink ones associating with love and sincere emotions, often symbolizing a beating heart. Purple meaning pride and understanding. In Japan often the flower as a whole simply means sincere feelings and apology.
The themes of what makes a monster and the effects of survivors guilt were beautifully handled to a degree I hardly ever get to enjoy.
Truly a story you can sink your teeth into.
If any of my followers are as big a fan of Eldritch horror yuri as I am, I highly recommend This Monster Wants To Eat Me.
A bit of original flash fiction I wrote and felt like sharing inspired by this, I hope you all enjoy it.
Ghosts Aren't Real Anymore
I never believed in ghosts.
Didn't really see the point in wanting to. Why would I want to be haunted and saddled with excess energy from someone who's dead? Don't get me started on how absurd the science of ghost hunting is.
Then, I lost you.
After that, for a moment, even I started to believe in ghosts.
These glimpses of you lingered everywhere I looked, in all our places. When I missed you in the suffocating grasp of night, I'd end up watching your favorite movie in our empty bed instead of sleeping. And I swore, I could hear your wild, beautiful laugh beside me still. The sensation of you smacking me when "the best scene" came on and all 10 times linger dull beneath my skin.
All our go-to restaurants taste of you. They taste of your approving hum and boisterous charm that I have never been able to describe as anything other than disarming. You, who could love so loudly even strangers would giggle at us. The flavors we once indulged in now leave my stomach hollow for a taste I'll never know again.
Every route we've walked together holds onto your presence so deeply that your footprints still remain pressed in the sand. The local shopkeepers noticed your absence in the way one notices a dimmed light bulb. Your light does not brighten their stores any longer. Each one of them offered me condolences I never wanted to accept. Nobody has yet understood how it felt to hold that tiny jar in my hands. The funeral home claimed it was you. But I know better. There's is no fathomable reality in which such a small vessel could possibly contain all of you. Every atom you have ever touched and traveled through remembers you.
I remember you.
One of the neighbors complimented your flower beds out front. Accepting it on your behalf left a bitter taste in the back of my throat. I wasn't the one braving the blazing summer sky and hornets to nurture azaleas to full bloom. I've been trying my best to keep up with it, but my green thumb is more of a withered gray one. You deserve these compliments.
You should be here.
What used to be happy, quiet mornings together faded to aching silence and mourning. A lifetime of your smile, reduced to corrosive grief, devouring my rotting soul. A garden of flowers meant to signify our home, only provides me with blooms to lay on your proverbial grave now.
It's hard to remember the good, when all I can feel is the loss of any future joys. People keep calling me lucky to have known you. If I were truly lucky, I wouldn't know the debilitating gravity of losing you continually swallowing me whole. Even more so, the second grief when the last trace of your scent dissipated from what's left behind of you.
I still spend countless nights yearning for that smell.
And despite it all, I remain a lighthouse, cold and hollow, my light searching for yours in murky depths I cannot reach. I'm too cowardly for that.
I'd give anything to be haunted by you, somewhere other than my memory.
But I don't think ghosts are real anymore.
clarification question: Chapter 22 of Development is post-fic expansion, yes? to complete the Sending:
something something something
something something something
something something something
Correct! As of chapter 22 that is being caught up with the major revisions with chapter 23 to upload either later tonight or tomorrow!
Apologies for the late response I didn't get a notification about asks.
Thank you for utilizing all of the Sending spell, Laura Bailey would be proud.
This is a literal "Hammerhead" shark created by artist Matt Sanders.
The sculpture is made from 685 reclaimed steel hammer heads and weighs 500 lbs (about 227 kg). It took approximately 2,500 hours of work to weld together. Sanders even used sledgehammers for the eye sockets and ball-peen hammers for the eyes to give it a realistic look.
It was displayed at the Aquarium of the Pacific in California and remains one of the coolest examples of upcycled art out there.
@gabzilla-z
Literally my favorite fic rn, go read it!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/83984981
“Ghosts are real” I can see how you could believe that
“Ghosts aren’t real” it’s very fair and rational that you believe that
“Ghosts aren’t real anymore” I’m about to hear a poem or very sad story
“Ghosts aren’t real yet” the fuck are you going to do
