My body is a collection of all the parts that came before! 🌱🌱🌱
[Image ID: A drawing of a trans masculine person, nude except for underwear. The figure has top surgery scars, and no head, the bottom of a jaw bone with plants growing from it floating above the neck. There are flowers, mushrooms, and stars surrounding the figure, and a bird flying to the left of the canvas. /. End ID]
7K notes
·
View notes
i wonder what it would be like if the whole choir miraculously came back. how do you cope from processing and accepting your death to living again?
they meet penny lamb on the 15th of september, each of them recognising the name from a hauntingly vivid dream they shared the night before.
but it wasn’t a dream. it couldn’t be. it was all real. they died. and they’re here again. what the fuck.
constance blackwood runs to her parents after school and hugs them. there’s nothing wrong with loving them, with being nice. sure, there’s so much more to her than that - her anger, her laugh, her pain, every part of her that makes her complicated and beautiful and worthwhile. but there’s nothing wrong with being the nicest girl in town. there’s nothing wrong with her. not for loving uranium, not for being a teenager, not for making mistakes.
penny lamb, upon talking to the five other teenagers, instantly recognises their conversation. she had a dream the night before, even though she wasn’t in uranium. even though she wasn’t a member of the choir. her elbows and neck aches every time she moved them, her head and forearms seemed as though they lacked blood. she was decapitated on the cyclone, once, but she never boarded it. they all knew her as jane doe, a forgotten name. now she was gifted this second chance, she would be remembered. by everyone, anyone. even if penny lamb was only remembered by herself, it would still be a victory. make a mark on people’s hearts, that would be her first goal. her second was don’t die by decapitation this time.
ricky potts is the most confused. he conceded, didn’t he? granted, that was when he believed only one would return. but still. his life was valuable, even though society looked down upon him. he’s still going to fantasise about zolar, sure, but he’s also going to be that zolarian prophet back on earth. he doesn’t know how much time he has left - none of the choir do - but he can always make a difference.
mischa bachinski has unlocked a new side of himself. rage and passion are twoo sides of the same coin, feeling so deeply for another that justice and care for them becomes your responsibility. but now, he allows himself to be selfish. be introspective. and not just to talia. he looks into himself, the boy he is, rather than being the man everyone expects him to become. he asks for help, for comfort, as he always tried to provide to the others in his life before the cyclone crash.
noel gruber realises the dull tragedy of his life. but even a dull tragedy has ecstasy within it. feelings of unrequited love. oppressed by the leading beliefs of his town for an unchanging part of his identity. a small town cliche. it took him a tragic death to realise the interest of his tragic life. he stops waiting. he starts writing, and continues living. and while the depravity and drama of post-war france is his ideal, maybe a bit of light to balance it out isn’t always the complete worst.
ocean o’connell rosenberg is an absolute fucking mess. if she keeps acting as she did with her second chance, what’s the lesson? that even when a person develops she reverts to her normal self in her original environment? that change is impossible? if she keeps building a life, working towards something, it could all come crashing down in a day. again. but if she stops caring, begins to act like her parents, well, that just shows that no one can break past their upbringing and genetics and no one should ever try. but then she looks out at the choir. her career, that’s fine, she can care about that, she can put work into it. effort for effort’s sake is not futile if the experience itself is enjoyable or helpful. that world, however, pales in comparison to the five people in front of her. caring for them, uplifting them rather than standing atop them, that’s what she wants to do. that’s what the world needs.
“i love you guys. i want to keep getting to know you.”
112 notes
·
View notes
i don’t know if maybe i’m tripping but does anyone else mask in that they like go along with other people’s jokes because i can tell when people are joking and i tend to adopt a more lighthearted/playful demeanor myself but i don’t always necessarily find what they’re saying funny, it’s more that i can recognize that they’re being playful so i adjust my behavior accordingly
and that might be why i struggle with deadpan humor so much like i understand sarcasm if it’s exaggerated but with deadpan humor i can never tell if the person is being sincere or not, like one time in high school my art teacher said to me “i hate you” as an example of deadpan humor because we were talking about this exact same thing and even though she was always kind to me and we never had any beef but to this day i still feel that lingering doubt in my mind because she said it so straight
and i’ve found that when im unmasking i just don’t find things “funny” like i normally would when i am masking which is what got me thinking about all this stuff because maybe its not that i found it funny, maybe its just that i felt pressure to reciprocate the behavior, maybe what i thought as “funny” was actually just my dopamine receptors popping off because a lot of humor calls upon pattern recognition and my brain loves pattern seeking
idk let me know if y’all have ever experienced this or if I’m just tweaking
4 notes
·
View notes
The letter in his hand might not make much sense if you don't have the context of the paragraphs my friends and I send back and forth to each other, but I saw an excuse to draw these two hugging and I took it
ID: [a drawing of Mr. Benedict and Number Two from The Mysterious Benedict Society. They are hugging. Number Two is turned away from the camera, only her back and hair is visible. Mr. Benedict is facing the camera. Most of him is covered by Number Two, aside from his arms wrapped around her and his head resting on her shoulder, revealing a part of his face. He has a letter in one hand.]
Uncoloured vers. under the cut
50 notes
·
View notes
FINALLY putting my oc art out here! i’m so proud of this piece, and please ask me about matthew (he’s stuck in a timeloop with his bf)
ID: a watercolour and ink painting of matthew, a midsize white trans man with long white hair and a flower tattoos. he is sitting on a wooden chest of drawers on top of a blanket, sleeping and clutching the fabric. he is wearing a partially unbuttoned white shirt, a red tie, red shorts, fishnet tights and a black ring. he has a peaceful expression and is blushing. several items are on the floor and chest of drawers: two books, a pair of glasses, a note, and two cushions. the wall is pale green with a window with green curtains and the carpet is pale yellow. there is a shelf on the wall by his head with a cat shaped clock and book on it, and on the wall on the right of his head there is a framed photo. [end ID]
30 notes
·
View notes