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shark vs the universe
Cosimo Galluzzi
Xuebing Du
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cherry valley forever
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pixel skylines
Jules of Nature
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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@mindxthief
❝ you scare those of us with 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓼 to keep. ❞
Ayesha Schreiber, ᴄᴏᴅᴇɴᴀᴍᴇ: 𝓜𝓷𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓬. a little bit superhero, a little bit supernatural.
semi-selective, indie fandomless OC written by Cam (she/her, 30s). canons, fandomless, crossovers, AUs, p much everything welcome. est. 2013, revived 2025.
ʙʟᴏɢʀᴏʟʟ: ☆ the mindthief (you are here) ✗ the warlock ✗ the free spirit ✗ the living library ✗
✗ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ ✗ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ✗ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ✗ ᴀꜱᴋ ✗ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ/ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ ✗ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ✗
His eyes sought a focal point, finally choosing a spot on the back of the couch. A small stain. Blood, most likely. From when, Dylan couldn't remember. It didn't matter. He fixed his dark, tear-blurred eyes on it and refused to look away. As such, he didn't see Ayesha's reaction.
But he felt it.
Her aura spiked, jabbing and sharp. Something like fear, like terror. It was enough alarm that Dylan turned his face back to her. He fixed his eyes on her aura, watching its jagged edges stab at him. Was it fear of him? Something he said that finally drove the point home that he was well and truly a soulless monster? Or could it be fear for him? He hoped for the latter, even if he had no words to define it or understand it. Anything was better than the former.
Ayesha spoke again, but he didn't catch the words right away. His gaze was fixed firmly on her aura, unwilling, unable to look away. The word grief drew his eyes back to hers. Grief was an awful, complex emotion to experience, even second-hand. Taking that from someone, letting it burn out while he struggled with the sadness, the guilt, the absolute despair was horrible and traumatic. And to think such a memory had been the first Ayesha ever took. Dylan would've laughed humorlessly at the awfulness of that, but only thought that's a rough way t'start.
Nothing like having your soul ripped out—figuratively or literally—in any circumstance. And Dylan would know; he'd experienced both.
When her gloved hand took his and lightly squeezed, he seized on it with a firm grip. The warmth of her aura washed over him and in an instant, he understood. He knew why it had surged, why her concern grew stronger.
Wordlessly, Dylan took her hand in his and lifted it. He pressed his lips against the back of it, keeping it against his mouth for several seconds before lowering it. He rubbed his thumb against the back of Ayesha's gloved hand a couple times before he withdrew his. His eyes slid from her aura back to her face. He met her eyes.
"You didn't know I was soulless, did you?" Dylan's voice didn't rise more than a whisper. He often assumed others would simply know. A true monster, after all, shouldn't have a soul. And a monster he was, all the way down to his very foundation.
The woman he killed tonight must've certainly thought so, in that last moment of life, before he greedily took her soul to fill the place where his should be.
"Makes sense now, doesn't it?"
Dylan's gaze flicked away from Ayesha's, fixed resolutely on the couch for a little while as she spoke. And when he did turn back, he didn't look quite at her. Was he watching her aura? Watching Them as They crept back closer? Hard to say.
She was afraid he'd pull his hand away from hers, but no: Dylan squeezed Ayesha's hand back, lifted it to press a kiss to the back. (Even with the glove in the way, and even in this sad, somber situation, that gesture sent a little thrill through her.) And then...
You didn't know I was soulless, did you?
"I didn't," she confirmed, and that was all she could say for a moment. Before she'd met Dylan she hadn't thought much about souls as real, tangible things, but if you'd asked her what a person without one would be like... well, she'd have told you soulless seemed like it would be a flat and gray and lifeless sort of state. But Dylan... he was none of those things. Sly and teasing sometimes, sweet and sincere other times, but always present, animated. Full of life.
And she wasn't sure exactly how to get that notion from her brain to her mouth. How to tell him that.
"Just... never really occurred to me that you would be. You don't seem soulless at all," was what she managed, and she couldn't help but feel a little stupid saying it. How would you even know, beyond best guesses?
"I guess it logistically makes sense," she conceded, "the soul-sickness, the how and why of it." A foreign soul trying to burrow into the place yours used to be, an invasive species, a rejecting transplant. "But no, this all doesn't make sense. This shouldn't... I mean... it isn't fair, that it has to be like this for you."
☆☆☆☆ name moodboard: order for “ayasha” | ♫ now playing: a walk by yerin baek
Black indie animated projects that you should check out!
I thought I’d share the ones i’ve seen and link the channels in light of recent events. beating myself up for not having done this sooner tbh
Wheels and Roses - roller derby & magical girls!
The Three Tomes - a vampire love story
DizzyCat - slice of life adventures of 2 cat siblings
Crocodile Dance - a thriller combining myth and Afrofuturism
Furious and Fat Cat - comedy about 2 childhood friends who reunite as roommates
The Ebony Witch - disney/don bluth inspired fantasy series
I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl - yall probably know this one but I’m putting it here anyway
Please reblog with any that I missed!
edit: check the comments for more recs as well!
[[sorry for being a little scarce around here recently. doing all right, just been a little too fried to make replies happen. gonna see what I can get knocked out today and tomorrow, though, and hopefully get back into the swing of things a little. hope the weekend’s treating you all well!]]
rb to tell ur mutuals ur fond of them
what flower used in Victorian flower language are you?
dandelion — "I would not have you otherwise." You are the mom friend, your bag is full of everything for any possible situation every time you leave your house. Your friends know they can talk to you and that you will accept them and love them for who they are, not some idea of how you think they should be. You have amazing taste in food and are constantly baking things and gifting them to others. At some point, you tried some style of journaling, and it’s about a 50/50 chance that you kept up with it. Your ideal home smells of comfort foods and has tons of windows so that it’s always filled with natural light. Everyone you care about gets a key to your door and blanket permission to stop by anytime. Part of the reason you care so much for others is because you think you’re broken and are trying to make up for it. You are not broken, and you are not whole. You are a person, and people are messy and complicated. There’s no need to chase after a redemption arc, you are trying so hard and that’s all that matters. Take some of the grace you offer to others and apply it to yourself.
tagged by: stole it tagging: you!
“It’s a special kind of ache isn’t it? To be the one who remembers everything.”
Under the stars ⋆⭒˚.⋆
@normallyxstranger
Reblog if your muse is Bisexual
Other pride-flag bubbles for your muses: [LGTBQA+] [Ace] [Aro] [Panromantic/-sexual] [Grey-Asexual] [Demi-Asexual] [Gay] [Lesbian] [Transgender] [Intersex] [Agender] [Genderfluid] [Nonbinary]
a tale as old as time with @southern-belle-outcasts's Nilza (accepting):
Being a new parent was usually stressful, Ayesha knew. Being a new parent because the universe had dropped an eight-month-old into your lap with zero time to prepare was stressful-stressful.
Her and Nilza's unexpected little bundle of joy was sleeping soundly for the moment, and in the relative quiet Ayesha was reading again. She'd always been a bit of a bookworm, but this felt like more of a necessity than a hobby: hunched over her laptop for every bit of spare time lately, combing through all the parenting advice she could get her hands on.
The way she saw it, they were starting out seventeen-ish months behind the curve compared to a couple (uh. were they a couple?) who'd had a whole pregnancy plus first-eight-months to get with the program. And Ayesha felt even further behind than that, when she'd resigned herself years ago to never having kids. Why spend time learning how to care for a baby when you were definitely never going to have one?
And then the universe said joke's on you. So here she was trying to knowledge-is-power her way through this. That could work. Right?
The way Nilza seemed to see it, at least right now, was that it was time to go the hell to bed:
❝ now we invite you to relax. ❞
"Who's we?" Ayesha asked, glancing up. Nilza looked about as tired as Ayesha felt (and it was really unfair that she still looked that beautiful exhausted). That was babies for you. "'Cause it looks like Saphira's having a pretty good time taking over my bed.
"Seriously, it's okay, I can turn in in a little bit. Just lemme finish this article... and hey, if he wakes up again, I'll be up to take care of him, yeah?"
What defined a good rest? Dylan found himself wondering.
He sat up when he found her still there. A small part of him had expected her to leave. The fact she hadn't gave him a relief he hadn't thought to feel. For a few seconds, he could only stare at her. Then the words came, followed by a small laugh,
"Yeah. S'pose so. The memory was..." But Dylan faltered, trying to find words to describe it. "Nice." That was a poor offering, but it had been nice. Soft, warm. "M'sorry I can't be more eloquent 'bout it. The driftin' off bit—easing into sleep. I liked that." He paused, blinked a few times. "Thank you for givin' it t'me."
Silence fell for several beats as Dylan studied Ayesha, looking beyond her aura to her face, her eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
"You didn't say it'd hurt you." If he had known that, he may not have agreed. He certainly didn't like it, that much he did know.
A little laugh bubbled up out of Ayesha's throat, echoing Dylan's. "Hey, it's okay... I know it can be a little weird to put into words," she told him. "But I'm really glad you liked it."
Really, really glad, both for him and for herself. After years and years, she could actually, finally say that she'd been able to do something good with this power.
And all of a sudden, Dylan's demeanor shifted, a little more subdued. He was quiet for a moment, then... You didn't say it'd hurt you.
"Hurt me?" Had he seen or felt that in her aura, too? "I'll be fine," she was quick to reassure him, "I promise. It's just... any time I pull a memory out of my own head to give to somebody else, I kind of feel it. Like an actual pull in my brain. Leaves a little headache behind after. I don't know why it happens, honestly — people don't ever seem to feel anything when I take their memories. Maybe it's just... having the power and being more aware of it?" She shrugged; it really was just a best guess.
"But anyway," she went on, "it's not too bad. Headaches happen, right? And I think they're worth it if I can help. If you want to do this again sometime, I mean."
And then, a thought. As usual, she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but no turtleneck today: just a regular collar she could pull down a bit. So she did, enough to reveal some of the scar tissue streaked across her right collarbone and shoulder. "Promise you, in the grand scheme of things I've been hurt way worse."
"What are we?" @ Martin
"Do you think I'm moving too fast? I just feel a kinship with you..."
Kinship was an interesting way to put that. Did Martin only mean that figuratively, that they could relate with their respective powers-that-maybe-make-me-a-monster status? Or did he mean it more literally, all of that but leaning on the kin part, familiar and familial? (Possible, wasn't it? She and her best friend had always considered each other the sister the other never had, after all.)
Ayesha liked Martin a lot — he felt like such a kind soul underneath the sadness and hurt, sweet smiles and good hugs even if he didn't act like he was used to the latter. And she'd maybe idly imagined what it might be like to do more than hug him if her powers weren't in the way, but if that was all he felt, if he just wanted to be friends, she'd respect that.
Then again, he'd asked about moving too fast. Which wasn't really a thing you'd ask about just being friends, was it?
"No, I don't think that at all," she told him with a slight shake of her head. With a small smile. "But I'm kind of the same, like you and I kind of... get each other. Yeah? However fast you want to move or not, though... I'm happy to take it at whatever pace you want. Just happy to be moving with you, if I'm being honest."
sorry i moaned when you told me you were proud of me it will happen again
