armor form

Reminder to those enraged and engaged in this fight: Activism cannot be your singular focus; you can burn out, you will burn out, and you will burn out F A S T. Don’t feel guilty if you start to feel overwhelmed. Don’t feel guilty if you need to turn off the news, get off social media, or stop talking about the current political climate. It’s exhausting. Take a little time every day to decompress! Do something fun, make sure you have a hobby. Read tarot cards, knit or crochet things to donate, work out, read read read, make art (god, please, make some art, that’s gonna be one of the first things to go). It’s exhausting, fighting for your rights and liberties. It’s not going to stop being exhausting. But if we quit because we can’t keep up, we’re tired, we’re overwhelmed, then they win. And we can’t let them win, because this is just the start. So take a break. A little bit, every day. Treat yourself well and then get right back into the fray. Take care of yourself while fighting for your neighbor who might not be able to.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the boy fed to wolves. he bleeds out the last of his innocence and forms an armor out of scar tissue. they bite and he lets them. his youth is first to be devoured. his character. his soul. they bite and he bites back. there is only so much time he can spend with wild animals before becoming one.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the twisted fairytale. a dragon in a tower. he breathes fire onto stone walls; his wings beat the ceiling. trapped. obedient. he builds a tower for his heart and locks it away. people watch as he grows destructive under their eyes. they dont free him. no one wants to save a monster anyway.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the one that got away. hes getting better at letting go, better at being alone. he wants less where you need more. curly shepard; or the one that’ll never belong to anyone but himself.

CURLY SHEPARD; or welcome to the shadows. he bends and breaks and takes blame for someone else’s mistakes. stay quiet. fight. stay behind the wolf that holds his childhood in its stomach. he’ll never be more than his last name; he grins when it sends shivers down the peoples spines.

CURLY SHEPARD; or reckless. act now think later. the war with himself has left battle scars down his body. his blood runs wild. unpredictable. be wary of the beast sitting behind big blue eyes. theres nothing more dangerous than a beautiful boy with a dagger tongue.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the one people know. he lives for the fight and you count the scars on his knuckles. destructive. hot-tempered. he howls with laughter because for once, he feels the wild blood in his body. youve got a clean soul for him and he tears into it like a wolf. the dragon inside of him shrinks away.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the bad boy. hes got an evil grin and pretty eyes and a touch that can tear you down. bloody knuckles caress your cheek and you start the fall. hard. fast. its a rush and its terrifying but hes got you by the hand. he gives you what other boys cant. you ignite your bones just to keep the fire alive. when theres nothing left of you, and the fire is gone, so is he.

CURLY SHEPARD; or charles. he thinks of his mother and closes his eyes. thinks of his father and the man he was supposed to be. his skin feels too big. the name he was given is not who he is. who he has become. so he ditches it and goes by something else. less personal. less him. the old him collects cobwebs as the new one collects scars. this isnt who he should be. that thought is nothing but a strange comfort.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the boy who tried. hes sweating and hes tired but he keeps fighting. it was what he was raised to do. his knuckles throb against someone else’s skin and his heart beats loudly in his chest. his blood has run cold. hes knocked to the ground and for the first time, he cant pick himself back up. for the millionth time, no one else tries to.

CURLY SHEPARD; or the fall. he burns the tower hes been locked in and jumps toward the sun. its stupid. reckless. wild. he grins. thats who he is.

2

since i’ve recently become JoJo trash, here’s the inevitable crossover.

Alphonse would be ace at fighting with Hamon, but of course his Stand would be his armor form. it’d probly be something strong but short-range, like Star Platinum/The World. call it “Soulless Armor” or something. 

Ed’s stand would be something non-humanoid and energy-based, appearing on his body like Joseph’s Hermit Purple. it turns his limbs into mechanical automail which can then be manipulated into forms like blades and stuff. call it “Fullmetal Heart” or something.

Since you guys seemed so interested I guess I’ll start from the very beginning. I am the humble dungeon master of a bunch of idiots.

I gave my players all the freedom they wanted as long as they stuck to 5th edition and as a result we have a chaotic evil changling that is in the form of a chaotic good rabbit folk called Logo Brown pelt, a wizard oni with a 0 armor class in the form of a human called Watunuka (Watu for short) and an animated armor warrior named Mürel. All of these fuckers are stupid I can’t take it.

Here’s some blah background: Three people that have never met each other before take the trial to become members of the elite monster fighting force known as the Dead Man’s Walk (DMW is what I call it) they start off in a huge obsidian room where they are separated into groups and those three just so happen to get grouped together. They enter a portal and poof they’re in a big room also made of obsidian but this one at least has a giant wooden door. This is exactly where the antics begin.

So it starts and they’re in their obsidian room and here’s what happens:

Logo: What’s on the weapon rack? (The weapon rack I put an armored cloak on for Watu to take)

Me: Just a cloak that is much too big for you

Logo: I take it

Watu: Wait! No, I wanted that!

Me: Roll to see who takes it

Logo:*proceeds to roll way better than Watu*

Me: Logo takes the cloak

They seem docile asking about what the room is made out of and then Logo

Logo: I want to punch through the floor.

Me: You remember when I told you it was made out of obsidian?

Logo: Yeah

Me: You’d have to roll pretty high

Logo: okay *fucking crits*

Me: Fine, okay, you punch straight through the floor. Alrighty then. You take five pounds of obsidian.

Logo: I do it again

Me: What? No, there is no way you can do that again

Logo: *Does it again and again and again*

Me: Just stop…just why?

Logo: Somethings weird, that riddle thing said something about passing through illusions.

Logo with perfect deduction skills decides to set the door on fire. A huge ass wooden door. Everyone’s panicking cause Logo just set fire to the room so Watu is like “Let me use ray of frost and crit” and freezes the door. Logo sets the room back on fire to melt the door and it’s a huge mess.

There is only one good thing to come out of this, Watu picks up ash and shoves into his pocket, now he has pocket sand. He’s also has dancing lights as a cantrip, the person who plays him is a big Jojo fan and his stand came to life. POCKET SAND!

Okay....

This is a Skull.
It has no skin. 
Its body is covered in a layer of parasites.  

It can control the parasites, to create clothing and armor.

Here, the parasites are piling together to form armor. 

The armor is fully formed. 

It looks like plastic and cloth, but it’s actually parasites. 

Therefore, the Skulls are not actually wearing clothing or armor, it is all parasites.

This is Quiet. 

Like the skulls, Quiet has no skin. 

She is covered in a layer of parasites. 

Like the Skulls, Quiet can control her parasites to form skin and clothing. 

Ergo, Quiet is not wearing ANY clothing. She is butt naked and covered in parasites. 

Her gloves? Parasites
Her bra? Parasites
Her underwear?
Just a mass of parasites esconced in her skinless buttcrack

She takes off her tights and unbuttons her bra straps for show…. those are not real clothes. They are parasites. 

Her bra never rides up. She never gets wedgies from her panties. The holes on her stockings never get bigger.  

 Those are not real clothes. They are parasites.

Wildcard Witch’s Chant for Increasing Confidence 💫

Using your own energy signature, trace on the ground a pentacle, sigil, or other mark that you feel brings you strength. If you’d like, call on a guide, deity, or spirit that you know has a familiarity with strength and confidence.

Unless you prefer silence, turn on a soundtrack or song that is inspiring to you. Light a favorite candle and stand on your traced mark. Hold your candle with both hands, breathing in and out with the flickering flame, repeating these words however many times you need to:

“I know my heart, I know my power

My courage grows with every hour

My armor is formed by flaws and faults

I’ll only dance to my own waltz.”

Feel your back straighten, your shoulders level, and your chin rise. Feel the power coursing through you as you repeat these words. Imagine your flame growing stronger with you, turning into a blazing bonfire that surrounds you. 💫

Tantra

When you are open and aware, the body feels like an activity, not an object. Remove for a moment the misleading sense of sight, and the body is clearly not a “thing” at all but a living, dynamic field, an incessantly shifting subtle substance of some sort. The actual sensation of Life is that of an effervescent organic movement, sometimes subtle, sometimes vigorous, but always already in the midst of vibration and transformation and exchange. There is nothing solid about this feeling.

Therefore, understand that your feelings of denseness and solidity are actually a combination of your unremitting anxiety, chronic contraction and runaway cognitive activity. Regardless of its particular form of manifestation, be it as a denseness or dullness or emptiness or tightening—it is all a form of armoring, an unconscious, physically-manifesting defense against What Is. It is Primal Fear perpetuated into a sort of static solidity. It is a familiar tension, and actually part of the cognitive (egoic) identity, the defense mechanism that is the actual kernel of the personality. But it is first and foremost an impediment in the flow of Life–Prana, Holy Spirit, Essence, Buddha Nature, Bioenergy, call it what you will. And it absolutely must be understood–experienced–as such if you are to be free.

Forget the machinations of the mind. Close your eyes and try to breathe and relax. Then find these contractions within yourself. Extend the “fingers of your mind” throughout the full expanse of your own internal environment, and become aware of every tension, every cramp and dullness and void within your own present sense of yourself.  Discover the one that draws (or repels!) you the most right now, in this very moment, and pursue it like a lover. Touch it with a gentle, compassionate but persistent curiosity. Investigate it softly but steadily until it dissolves. Reclaim it, then, as what it actually is: congealed energy, a frozen fragment of force, a splintered off aspect of yourself, of your own Essence, and therefore a psychosomatically solidified “piece” of Life itself.

All of this must be seen and felt and experienced and understood and dissolved and re-digested, constantly, over and over again until it loses its apparent solidity and then its momentum, and it dissolves back into the Ocean of Light it arose from.

Do this until only the incessant dynamism of stillness remains.

Emptiness is Fullness in motion, no more, no less, and not-two.


~The Mystical Lion

You’ve married an I C A R U S;
I.) His eyes are bred from the sun
and you love the weight of his words,
forming gold armor around your body
and shielding away the night that
crept like an unwanted thief,
prepared to carve a hole in your shadow
and readying your fall into the abyss.
II.) Legs and arms flailing in plain air,
anticipating the graceless fall
into the arms of the ocean
which devours each strand of gold
from your skin and dragging you
into helplessness, a loveless flight
into a grave of suffocating tides. 
III.) The sun hands you with
a shield with reflections
of your lover’s face in the blind light,
a yellow sky flooded with fires
blooming from destructive hurricanes,
carrying hubris in the form of his
broken wings.
—  I PUT MYSELF BACK INTO THE NARRATIVE, [p.v.]
5

It’s been two years since i made this cosplay and it was my first armor.

I had problems with the paint (no more spray, i promise), the fucking thing took ages to dry, the armor lost its form and it was nearly impossible to wear. My movement was limited, so damn limited that Legault had to feed me and it was embarrassing as fuck.

I have like… 2 or 3 pictures because i was so damn tired (you can see it).

I want to fix this cosplay, repaint the whole armor, add the neck piece and… Gods i don’t know.

Anyway, i am happy to have this cosplay in my closet because i love Heath so damn much… 

Adding some casual Heath/Legault because reasons.

Legault-> @luckybrago

Heath-> @abbyorkie (just in case)

tempestus-scions  asked:

+++388th Scion formation to 932nd siege army command+++ "Commander, Tempestor Radley, reporting a mission success on the Knightly House Casbane. They have agreed to send three Imperial Knights to your side under the condition that the siege army supports them in rebuilding their other Knights in whatever way they can. The Knights are headed your way now. Contact is Herald Runea Valst as group leader. Squad is redirecting to support operation 'Firestorm', Radley out."

As the message is received, the 3rd company Captain takes up a data slate and takes down the message for the Colonel, who is currently organizing the assault.

As soon as the Captain finishes taking down the message, he moves out side the bunker to the sight of armor and line Korps forming up, with the Colonel at the front of the whole formation standing atop her StormHammer directing the masses. The Captain climbs to the top of the massive war machine, and gives a salute, then offers the data slate.

“Colonel, you’ve received a message from the 388th Tempestus Scion formation.”

The Colonel Turns her attention to the Captain, and take up the data slate, slowly going over the message.

“Hmm, you don’t say. Perhaps we have more luck then we thought. Return to your duty Captain.”

“Ma’am.”

“Support in rebuilding their Knights eh. Perhaps we’ll need to recruit some Mechanicus, to our cause.”

(Good job guys! Knight, send me your starter whenever your ready.) 

Exposure Therapy

Sorry for the radio silence that lasted ages you guys. I am alive and I return with fic! Bluepulse fic! I’ve been itching to write them since I started reading the first Blue Beetle run with Jaime and the Impulse comics. This is my take on what would’ve happened if Bart got shot in the knee in the show like he was in the comics.

AO3

Bluepulse

Rating: T

Summary: 

“Last week, you freaked out because of me. You were sitting close by watching us train, and when the armor formed the canon, you flipped.”

Though flipped might not have been the right word. Flipped would’ve meant flailing and screaming. Bart sort of did the opposite. At first at least. And it’s amazing how it got the same reaction or possibly worse out of Jaime. He felt the same immediate stab of fear when Cassie had flown over from when she was dodging projectiles from Tigress and asked “Bart, what’s wrong?” that he would’ve felt if Bart had fallen off the bench he was sitting on and screamed at the top of his lungs. He felt the same, bone deep rush of cold dread when he looked over to see Bart staring straight ahead, pale as a sheet and trembling slightly.

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