I am currently writing a large Hermitcraft fanfic titled โCrushed and Aching, I Keep Goingโ or CAAIKG. This fic will be posted over time both here and on AO3 by soup_wizard.
Here is a link to the AO3 fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59858947/chapters/152699971
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Post Information Under the Cut!
This is my main account where I will talk about my interests, hobbies, daily life, or other related topics.
I am an artist and writer, so I may post my thoughts and pieces on here. Any visual art will likely include a signature of โMagical Soupโ.
I am disabled - diagnosed with ADHD, ASD, & OCD.
These are all serious issues that cause daily symptoms, I may mention or discuss those on this account.
Tags:
#evil hour = chatting; tag I use when I actually write something instead of just reblog
#I love my moots = mutual interactions
#asks = asks I recieve and respond to
#asks kinda = asks I sent that were answered by someone else
#my art = my art, simple as that
#CAAIKG or #C&AIKG = anything related to my longfic Crushed and Aching, I Keep Going
#I only reblog canon facts = reblogged posts that I Really vibe with related to my fandoms
#silly hour = like evil hour but silly, I am being silly
#meow = when I meow at my moots or my moots meow at me :3
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DNI: NSFW accounts or NSFW reblog accounts, anti-agere, ableism, anti-LGBTQ+, general bigotry, -13 or 27+ in age.
These are DNI images that may be at the end of my posts. This is made by Sunimals.
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My soul demanded a short and fluffy Pearl and Apo preening fic after the first session.
----
"Your wings are looking rough." Pearl says, calling over to Apo. They've set up inside the bridge towers for the most part, but Pearl sticks to the center. She wanders the structure restlessly, craving being out and under the night sky. It's nice, cool and comfortable and allowing her to stay hidden. Nothing like the horrible revealing light of day.
Apo makes a choked sound (a laugh maybe), turning over in her bed uncomfortably. Her wings are sticking up from under the blanket, smushed half under her back. Their dark feathers are fluffed up and crooked.
"I'm not used to them yet, okay? I've only had them for like, three days." Apo tries to tuck them in further but doesn't quite manage. Small tips of dark mauve peak out of the covers.
"Turn around, I'll fix it." Pearl offers. "I've been fixing up these things myself. They might be smaller but the principle is the same."
To emphasize her point, Pearl flutters the two wings attached to the side of her head. It's odd, flexing a muscle that she didn't have before. She vaguely remembers being a child and knowing a boy who could wiggle his ears. She mimics his odd jaw flexing and finds it works similarly.
Apo sends her a long look, searching her face for some sign of mocking or dishonesty. Finding none, she sighs, sitting up and spreading her wings out to their full size. They're massive, longer across than she is tall and weighing probably 40 pounds on their own. They're coated with layers upon layers of deep dark purple, almost black. From a distance it's hard to make out the distinct shape of her feathers, but up close it's easy to see how much of a mess they are. They sit sideways and twisted in every direction, primaries uncomfortably pinched under secondaries where they overlap, coverts mashed together, scapulars matted with sweat.
"Woah, how does that not itch?" Pearl asks. She settles onto the bed, sitting criss cross behind Apo.
Apo hunches over, crossing her arms over her chest and curling in on herself. Her nails dig into her arms. Having a person behind her back feels wrong. Feels terrifying. How can she trust Pearl? She's seen what Pearl can do, she could kill her. Apo knows she shouldn't be vulnerable with anyone, not anymore. Not after what they did to her. Not after how they turned on her and killed her. But by the muses, Pearl is right.
"They do. They itch pretty badly, actually." She admits. Pearl gives a small dark chuckle. It's a little scary, but Apo's come to realize over the past few days that Pearl just laughs a lot, at most things. It's honestly starting to get a bit comforting, as much as she doesn't want to admit it. At least she knows Pearl is on her side. For now at least.
She's still tensed up when long fingers dip into her plumage. Apo jumps and Pearl puts a hand on her shoulder.
"Sorry. I'm starting now." The apology sits oddly on Pearl's tongue. She's scary on purpose, this is a game of death. But right now she's just trying to help out her ally. She can afford to be a little nicer, just this once.
Pearl gets back to work, starting by running hand through the wings, looking for feathers that are about to fall out. She places them in a careful pile off to the side so Apo can gather them herself. Apo appreciates the gesture. Now that she knows what they can do from Owen, she doesn't want anyone but her allies to get their hands on them. Apo picks one of the bunch and fidgets with it, careful not break it.
Next comes straightening out what she can. Pearl deftly twists and turns them back into place, smoothing out and untangling layers of soft keratin. By the time she's done, they're a shining canvas that reminds her of her beloved night sky during dusk. Apo sighs in relief as the itch subsides now that everything is in its proper place.
"Thank you." She turns to face Pearl, who's grinning widely (though less like a predator animal than she had been earlier).
"Any time, can't have the name sake of the team getting messed up can we?" Pearl holds up her own feather, kept tucked inside one of her bracers for safe keeping. "You might need a bath for the ones closer to your back, just so you know."
"Yeah yeah. I'll go for a swim later. Right now we should probably sleep."
"Right, yeah." Pearl shifts uncomfortably. She really should at least try to sleep so she can set up her bed network. But it just feels so nice to be out in the dark. She doesn't want to miss a second of it. Still, she gets up from Apo's bed and heads back to her own.
"Sweet dreams, Pearl." Apo calls, tucking herself back under her blankets.
"I'll take that as a promise, champion of Morpheus." Pearl replies, lying on top of her blankets, hands tucked together over her stomach. Just a few more minutes.
I think cis women should be allowed to get top surgery even if its not for a medical reason like breast reduction or cancer. I think they should be able to get it even if they're completely cisgender. Some women are just sick of dealing with them and would be much much happier never needing to wear a bra again
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look, i work at a morgue, i get to see every day how withered and small bodies can get when someone was sick. itโs awful. do you know how bone-thin a leg can get. or how a stomach really looks beneath the ribs when itโs wasted away. the way peopleโs eyes and cheeks press in to their skull like theyโre clinging on for dear life. they died like that, and you want to try and sell me a lie, a pill, a miracle cure thatโll make me live in that state? thatโll make my friends look like that, my family, the people i love? to see corpses in them?
this job makes me appreciate all the more bodies lived in and well-loved. please eat that second serving. please give yourself treats as much as you want. life is not long enough to suffer through it. youโll be plenty skinny when youโre dead.
Beef isnโt very loud about his regression. Very few know that heโs even a little in the first place!
Being a big tough farmer doesnโt help either. He grew up with this idea that he shouldnโt ask for help until he is on deathโs doorstep. This has led to many bottled up emotions, and they come out one way or another.
Sometimes itโs mild, where heโs only a teen and can hide it well around the others. But other timesโฆ letโs just say, he crashes and burns.
I sat behind the same girl in class all year and I was painfully jealous of her beautiful curly hair and I assumed she had just figured out some hair routine I didn't know, or had more time in the mornings than me, or was somehow more disciplined or just lucky. And then my friend talked to her one day and found out she gets 500$ perms and highlights 3 times a year. The answer was literally just money. The same friend found out that most of our classmates who I thought were just naturally smarter than me went to private highschools that cost 25k a year.
This is all a metaphor to say that there will be times when you feel like other people understand something that you don't, or have some ability that you don't, or are better than you in some way because they've accomplished something you can't. And it's going to turn out that they're just rich and they spent thousands of dollars to make that happen. You are not bad, you are not broken, the system is just fucked.
Don't leave your friends and even acquaintances to go to the hospital alone. If they don't have someone already going with them and don't explicitly tell you they don't want you there, go to advocate for them. Outcomes for sick people change dramatically when they have someone else there to observe doctors (making them know they can't get away with negligence) and note symptoms from an outside perspective.
Going to the hospital is scary and even someone totally unprepared to be a medical advocate or physical support will be better than nothing, purely from their presence. You can grab food, be there with your phone to search if theirs dies, go in search of a doctor, distract them from pain or discomfort... go with them.
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just a friendly reminder that people who say โyou are only safe with x demographic of peopleโ are actively manipulating you and likely attempting to indoctrinate you into some form of ideology. transfems โ there are so many things coming for you that are not painful. please turn away from those who seek to convince you that your only inevitability is hurt. friendly reminder that people who want you to be safe and happy will not spend their time convincing you and other people like you that safe places for you do not exist. friendly reminder that hyper-vigilance isnโt preparation. friendly reminder that there is softness for you. please, donโt let the dark consume you. I am so sorry for all the pain. you never deserved it. that is not your fate. it is not what you were meant for. there is so much more. I swear
[id: tumblr tags reading; #do not let people define you by your suffering #do not let people convince you you can only exist through a lens of suffering #a sense of self can't be built on a foundation of oppression bc you'll see threats to that power structure as threats to your identity /.end id]
i will never stop being angry about how short attention spans are demonized. my sixth grade math teacher one time told us (my class) about how bad tiktok was because it wired us to love instant gratification (and how liking instant gratification/struggling with delayed gratification were bad things). people online are constantly using "attention span of a goldfish" and "ipad kid"(which has become synonymous with "brainrot tiktok subway surfers video idiot child) as insults, especially towards young gen z/gen alpha. having a short attention span is synonymous with being stupid (which both isnt true in the first place and frankly shouldnt matter because intelligence isnt tied to morality or kindness but insults on intelligence are a whole other can of worms). people constantly go on about how teens are so addicted to their phones and put the responsibility on the teens in question to be better people who don't want to use their phones when bored or whatever. boredom is simultaneously treated like a necessary part of everyday life that you need to overcome unassisted or else you are a failure with a dopamine addiction yet also like a symptom of withdrawal that only happens to disgusting dopamine addicts and therefore is deserved. ive come across many "attention span reset" videos online and while they probably help some people they feel soooo condescending to me (the ones ive seen have a person going on in the softest "talking to a scared animal" voice while talking about focusing on the art they're doing like this is a hypnotherapy session). executive dysfunction (in general but especially the sort where you're doing something you enjoy instead of the task that feels impossible) is just called "procrastination" and procrastination is just used as another word for "being a lazy asshole". being fidgety or having a hard time being still for long is treated like a mildly annoying quirk at best and an action deserving of not just ridicule but punishment at worst. in kids and teens, an inability to focus on schoolwork or chores is punished again and again until the parent decides that there's nothing for the child/teen to do except for the work or chore. adhd/add are constantly labeled as excuses and laziness and an unwillingness to try until you're a full grown adult getting a diagnosis and being told "i dont know why this went under the radar for so long". not only do people with adhd/add feel like failures for not being able to live up to the standards of the society we're in, but we're constantly treated like and punished for being failures by oftentimes even harsher standards and told that our symptoms are actually just symptoms of being a stupid fucking idiot dickhead asshole incapable of anything good in the world. and im so, so fucking sick of it.
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