Finally decided to color a sketch of Alcor the Dreambender from @transcendence-au I did months ago. I swear, this AU has so many nice stories and characters, it’s amazing!
I heard it was sormik week??? not following any themes but I perpetually thirst for tall epileo
“All I’m saying is it’s utter bullshit that makes no sense is all.” Vin slumped as he walked, arms crossed, his long neck lowered to put his head just off the floor.
They were walking with the flood of students out of the school. The hallway, although not narrow per se, wasn’t quite wide enough for the mass of students trying to navigate it at the end of the day. If you wanted to go against the flow it was generally easiest to just wait a few minutes in your class for everyone to pass.
“Have you tried asking your teacher?”
“Right, like I’m going to talk to that asshole.”
“From what I understand it’s – oh excuse me, I didn’t see you there.” She dodged out of the way of someone standing in the middle of the hall.
“Why, hello,” they said. “Just the people I was hoping to see.”
The hallway around them was suddenly strangely barren. It wasn’t completely empty. but the crowd around them was thin, and people seemed to be clumping up even more densely around the edges of the hallway than before.
“Oh, hey dude,” Vin said.
“Oh. It’s you,” Renee said.
“What?” asked Alcor. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
All it means when people say “you’re speaking from a place of privilege” is that you’re likely to underestimate how bad the problem is by default because you are never personally exposed to that problem. It’s not a moral judgement of how difficult your life is.
Lemme put it this way. As a right handed person how often have y’all noticed the lack of left handed desks? Right handed accommodated controllers? Where a computer mouse is naturally placed? Not very often I assume. You won’t notice the everyday inconveniences in a world that is MADE FOR YOU.
(there is something to be said about being induced and not having to live out fifty ‘woman in labor’ cliches is one of them).
The woman has her hair done in a million tiny braids and is wearing a sweater emblazoned with a massive explosion and the words “READY TO POP!”. She’s not walking so much as she is waddling with purpose, and looks, for lack of a better term, like a big grape stuck through a toothpick. Her face is painted- literally- in red glitter paint.
(“It’s my battle face!”)
The man next to her is somehow even more noticeable. A few months ago, that wouldn’t have been the case; usually it was the laugh beat of ‘tall guy short girl’ before looking back at Mabel.
Even now there was no real reason to stare at the man, not when the woman next to him had started letting out Xena yells. Yes he was rather tall, and crowned with an impressive mass of curly red hair. But he is dressed rather plain in comparison to his wife- black jeans, a long black collared shirt, with black boots and belt. Nothing out of the ordinary, no reason for people to conspicuously get as far out of the way from the couple as humanly possible, and yet-
(a weight on the air, like a great and terrible storm is rolling in, and eyes in a blue that is not usually human standard, and above all, the force of will that keeps everything in check…)
They check in, Stan and Dipper following behind them carrying bags of fast food- even though both Mabel and Henry had explained that this was only going to be three or four hours as opposed to nine or twelve.
Dipper has brought his Switcheroo, his laptop, and four books. Stan has a pack of cards.
Henry looks at Mabel, who shrugs. Three hours is a long time after all.
small boob privilege is so real like…. bralettes… underboob tattoos… going braless?? not looking hyper sexual at all times ???? running comfortably? i could go on
Today I discovered this writer’s tactic to face her fear of rejection and failure, and it’s honestly very inspiring?! This kinda rewired my brain and I feel everyone should read and think about it.
backup 