Victor Nikiforov is forgetful as all get out. He doesn’t remember his own birthday half the time, and when people ask him how old he is, he has to count backwards using his fingers.
But he knows the names of all the dogs he encounters in Hasetsu.
“Aki!” he says to the storeowner’s dog, as he bikes past on his way to the Ice Castle. Aki is a terrier mutt, small and a determined barker. “Good morning, Aki!” Which store owner? Damned if he knows. He’s been introduced a few times. Aki’s person. Victor is fairly certain he has two eyes and a face?
“Hi, Masa,” he says at lunch. Masa is the dog that lives somewhat near the castle. Masa is a shiba inu, and really likes tuna onigiri. He can detect the sound of a bento being opened from half a mile away; it never takes him more than a minute to materialize in the middle of Victor’s lunch. He sits two feet from Makkachin, giving Victor soulful sad eyes as he goes through the bento that Yuuri’s mother has made for him. Victor is no idiot–Makkachin has taught him well that a dog that knows how to make “I’m a poor neglected dog that never gets fed” eyes is almost certainly a dog who has a devoted human who is a sucker for sad dog eyes. But Victor is also a sucker for sad dog eyes.
Hiroko Katsuki has started adding extra onigiri, just for Masa. (“No salt,” she explained to him. She’s a good egg.)
Yori plays with Makkachin in the afternoons when Yuuri is cross-training. Yori is a brown dog with three white paws, not to be confused with Toshi, who is a slightly browner dog with two white paws and one yellow paw. Toshi lives closer to the onsen, anyway.
“Which dog is that?” Yuuri asks, as they’re walking home. Victor sees a flash out of the corner of his eye before the dog disappears. It’s enough. “Kouta. You can tell by the freckles on the paws. Riku has the same coloring but no freckles.”
“Who does Kouta belong to?” Yuuri asks.
Someone, Victor is sure. He’s been introduced a time or five. Some human…with two eyes, probably a face? He’s not really sure.
“Kouta’s owner,” Victor finally says.
He doesn’t know why Yuuri is cracking up. Why would he waste precious brain space on human names when there are so many dogs to remember?
this started out as me wanting to draw him in suspenders again (does anyone remember that? LOL), but he looks either like he’s in a secret agent or serial killer AU and well i hope it’s the former bc the latter sounds messy
life out of balance : cristobal tapia de veer
journey of the sorcerer : eagles
who are you : the who i’m gonna win : rob cantor meditative chaos :
cristobal tapia de veer
face to the sun :
kiss the sky : shawn lee’s ping pong orchestra
saint claude : christine and the queens
deserted skies : s u r v i v e
Monty supposes he should feel grateful to be on the Ark.
It was easier to feel that way before. Before getting sent down to the ground. Before, when all he knew was the space station’s dull grey walls, the muted thud of the aluminium floors under his feet.
But after a year of greenery and fresh air and the lightly salted wind on his face, the Ark just seems like one big, endless nothing.
He’s tasted of the Earth and its simple riches, and, honestly? Bloodthirsty Grounders and black rain aside, nothing quite compares.
But at least… at least he has his friends. The only thing that makes getting out of bed worth it, really. Raven’s razor sharp wit, keeping everyone on their toes. Emori’s quiet confidence, encouraging everyone to keep going. Murphy’s lazy drawl, instilling a peculiar but welcome sense of normality amidst the slow toil of reconstructing their lives.
Harper. The soothing sound of her voice, like a balm to his unsteady nerves. The gentle caress of her hand against his. Her smile.
And all of them… they have Bellamy.
At first, Monty had been worried. He knows he’s not the only one, either. He’d seen them when the death wave had hit, once Bellamy had closed that door. Murphy carefully keeping tabs on Bellamy all throughout their short journey to the Ark, slitted eyes narrowed and focused. Raven shooting him concerned glances, even as she’d furiously worked the controls. Even Emori, who’s arguably spent the least time with the group… she was about as close to tears as Monty’s ever seen her.
Ten minutes. That was all it had taken. Bellamy was gone for ten minutes. Raven had gone to find him, and when she’d returned without him, her face sombre but blank, Monty had prepared himself to assume the worst.
But then Bellamy strode back in the room, shoulders back and jaw set with determination, instantly firing off demands for systems reports and lists of things to be done. It had been all Monty could do just to keep up with him, as they set about making the Ark liveable again.
He hasn’t slowed down since, either. He’s on the move all the time, checking on progress updates, taking on menial labour tasks without hesitation, stopping to check on Monty’s hands, Raven’s leg, Emori, and even Echo. (They’re adjusting. Emori quicker than Echo — her eyes bright and an inquisitive question always on her lips — but it’s still a good sign.)
But sometimes, when things are quiet… he disappears.
The romantic and epic versions of the farewell theme from the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them soundtrack, edited together from the tracks ‘A Close Friend’, ‘Newt Says Goodbye to Tina’ and ‘Newt Releases the Thunderbird’.
Warfstache knew him when he was still the Author and when there were but a few
Egos, but they both know that the Author and the Host are not the same person.
The Host feels… bad that Wilford lost a friend the day that the Host lost his
eyes, but there’s nothing he can do about that now, can he?
Google and the Host are cordial. They get along because they
have to and because Google is the quietest of the other Egos, which the Host
appreciates. But they are not friends.
Dr. Iplier continually offers to change the Host’s bandages
since the Host himself never changes them enough, but the Host is very
particular about such things. He refuses to let the others see him without his
bandages, no matter what.
The others Bim, Silver, Ed, and especially the more obscure
Egos are scared stiff of him. When he enters a room, they leave. When he walks
down the hall, they switch to the other side, thinking that he won’t notice.
But the Host notices everything.
Only Dark will approach him outside of the meeting room. His deep, sultry voice is always buzzing in the Host’s ears with promises of fame
and fortune and… happiness. Something the Host has not felt for a long, long
The Host was just beginning to give into those softly
whispered words, to the gentle touches on his shoulders, and
Dark’s promises of a brighter future when Amy Nelson walked into his library.
“Amy Nelson steps out of the elevator and looks around with
wide eyes at the darkened library surrounding her. She smells dust and old
wood, and her ears detect the sound of the Host quietly narrating from his
She spoke softly to him, marveling at his extensive
collection of books, and though he couldn’t see her physically, his abilities
allowed him to sense the brightness of her smile, as golden as her hair. He
couldn’t believe that someone so beautiful both in and out would not cringe
away from him in his current state.
Amy visited almost daily, and she always wore that same
golden smile. She brought him books in Braille she thought he might enjoy, his
favorite brand of coffee that he was too scared to go out and buy for himself,
and she always lit up his previously darkened days.
Everyone noticed the differences, the lightness to his step
and the way he even—was that a smile on the Host’s face? Everyone, including
Dark. He didn’t like that his Host was slipping out of his reach, that anyone
was interfering with Dark’s effort to have the Host securely within his power.
So, Amy became a threat; Amy became a target.
The Host found them together one day. Dark was leaning over
Amy, using every bit of extra height to loom over her like a vulture eyeing a carcass
on the side of the road. But his voice was sickly sweet, his words were feather
soft and promising. And Amy looked dazzled.
It made the Host’s stomach turn, and he stumbled over his
own feet, giving away his position to the other Ego. Dark’s head whipped in the
Host’s direction, but the Host began murmuring, “Dark appears greatly disturbed
by the Host’s presence in the hallway. Dark thinks that Amy is a problem that
must be fixed by whatever means necessary, but the Host feels the need to remind
Dark that Mark would be very upset if anything were to happen to his love. And Mark is still more powerful than his Egos, for the time being.”
Dark’s gray aura grew in his frustration. His shell began to crack and glitch, and Amy blinked
like she was waking up from a dream—or a nightmare. But Dark withdrew, sweeping
away with his shoulders squared, past the Host and down the hallway but not
before casting a burning glare at the other Ego.
Amy blinked a few more times before looking around as though
she were confused, as though she didn’t know how close she’d come…
“When Amy Nelson saw the Host, her face lit up with joy. She
strode over to him, and the Host was happy because… because she was his friend.”
You finished up the rest of
your shopping. After buying dog food, a cheap toy, a leash and a dog bed for
her, nearly $100 was spent on her. You hated spending money out of your budget
but this was necessary. If you had a dog, you would wish someone would take
good care of it.
When you got home, she began
to jump up and down. You took the toy you purchased out of the bag, removed the
price tag and threw the toy so she could run and catch it.
After going back and forth
with the toy for a while, you headed to the kitchen and grabbed some spare
paper bowls you had. You placed two on the ground near the dishwasher in hope
that she wouldn’t come to close to other parts of the kitchen. It was awfully
quiet in your apartment so you connected your phone to your speakers and played
some music. As you began to clean around the kitchen, Almond lied down next to
your couch and fell asleep within a few seconds.
You filled one of the bowls
with dog food and the other with water. Almond was still asleep, so you headed
to your room to change into something comfortable quickly.
So, in lieu of what happened in “Punished”, I think I should probably let you guys know what I think will happen to Tyrian. Y’know, since his childish, poetic, and psychopathic nature has made him the best character to grace Volume 4 with his presence.
No, I do not think that Tyrian is going to die. Will Salem be angry? Yes. Will Salem punish him? Yes. Will the others make fun of him for it? Hell yes. After all, he will return empty-handed, disgraced, and crippled, and he’s given away information about Salem herself. But will she kill him? No. Why? Because he’s the best soldier she’s got.
Let me explain. Sure, Cinder is the Fall Maiden, and Neo (if she’s still alive) has some mad agility skills, but Tyrian is on a whole new level when it comes to fighting. From what we’ve seen, Tyrian almost never stops moving. He’s light on his feet, his balance is incredible, and from what I’ve seen he’s as agile as Qrow. Now this is all well and good, but there’s one thing that sets Tyrian apart from other really good fighters, and it’s not the venom in his tail. He’s insanely good at fighting (pun intended)…but he’s blind.
Okay, probably not completely. But I read that scorpions’ eyes work a lot differently than ours do, and that some of them even use vibrations in the ground to “see.” So his other senses are vastly enhanced because of that. You can see several things that point to this:
Look at his eyes. Usually RT uses eyes like these to portray very strong emotions (ex: Weiss concentrating when summoning the Knight, Ruby when attacking Roman, Qrow when telling Ruby and the others to stay back, etc). But they’re never made as small as Tyrian’s. There are two reasons for this: either he’s on a constant maniacal high (which is very possible) or there is something physically off about them.
During the legendary Qrow vs Tyrian fight, there is a moment when Tyrian uses his tail to wrench Qrow’s weapon out of his hand and lodge it in a wall, leaving Qrow defenseless. Or so Tyrian thought, because before he can do anything else, he gets several fists to the face (fists adorned with metal rings, might I add) and he doesn’t even try to defend himself in any way. He couldn’t hear them coming.
After Qrow punches and kicks Tyrian back a few feet, Tyrian allows Qrow to just waltz over and get his weapon from the wall. Notice Tyrian’s position at that time: his hand was on the ground and he made a noise of frustration. He was trying to feel the vibrations in the ground but couldn’t because Qrow was out of his range.
But when Qrow lays his hand on his weapon, there’s a small metal sound and Tyrian looks up, grinning triumphantly, as if to say “Found you!”
If Tyrian is especially good at detecting things through metal sounds, then that could explain why he was so good at deflecting Qrow’s weapon and Ruby’s bullets. Also his “oh sh*t” face when Qrow’s weapon half transformed to get itself out of the wall.
Tyrian falls right through a roof when he lands on a wooden rafter that was obviously broken.
So basically, Tyrian is like RWBY’s version of Toph. Let’s stop and think about that for a while, hm?
But what impressed me even more was that Qrow was able to figure it out, because I didn’t realize it until after I rewatched this fight several times. I think he made the connection when Tyrian easily dispatched Ren and Nora when they ran in to help. That’s why he told them not to come closer (it also could have been because he didn’t want them to get caught up in his bad-luck space).
I mean, seriously. They couldn’t even touch him. And he didn’t even try.
So yeah, back to the point. Tyrian’s not dying anytime soon. I fully support the theory that Salem will give him a Death Stalker stinger to replace his old one. Josh Grelle, the voice actor behind Tyrian, claims that there’s one final scene that Tyrian’s in (in Volume 4) that will bring with it a whole new level to Tyrian’s insanity.
And he will hopefully be back in Volume 5 for some more crazy fun times.
Prompt alert: Lucifer getting used to flying again and ends up taking Chloe for a flight
“Wait,” Ella says. “Are you serious? He has wings? Wingy-wings?”
“Yeah.” Chloe rubs the bridge of her nose. “I know I sound a little cracked, but… I kind of figured that you were the only person I could talk to who might get it.”
“Aw, man. That is so sweet. But.” Ella is not going to be distracted. “He has, you know – ” She does an improvised Funky Chicken in the middle of the forensics lab. “Can he fly? Because I’m sorry, that would be awesome.”
Chloe eyes her narrowly. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”
“Why not?” Ella shrugs. “I’ve always known there was something different about him. Weird. I mean, not weird – well, yes, weird, a lot weird, but more than just that. Him being an angel, I can’t say I’m all that shocked, you know? It’s not like it’s something that I think can’t happen. I believe in a book where it happens a lot. Hey, has he announced anything? Like the two of you are meant to be and having a miracle baby?”
Chloe’s look turns cold. “No.”
“Darn.” Ella sighs. “Anyway. Wow. I have so many questions. I’m not gonna ask them, because he’ll do that thing where he spooks and runs away like a startled turtle. If turtles ran, but you know what I mean. Is he here?”
“Yeah. In the break room.” At the other woman’s look of barely restrained curiosity, Chloe sighs and decides that since the cat, or rather the angel, is out of the bag, they might as well at least allow Ella a chance to peek. Not that Lucifer is going to be strutting around the station with his wings (or any other part of him, hopefully) hanging out, but still. “Fine. Come on.”
They leave Ella’s lab and start down the corridor to the break room. Just before they enter, however, they hear a familiar voice complaining, “Lucifer, did you eat my pudding again?”
“I did not.”
“It was right there!” Trust Dan’s dessert-related tribulations to be ongoing. “Look, I might not mind letting you have it if you asked, but you can’t just grab it and – ”
“Fine, if it’s that big of a deal, I’ll just fly down to the corner store and act as your personal messenger angel, shall I? More of Gabby’s gig than mine, but if you insist – ”
“Lucifer, can you not say crazy shit for two seconds and just – how’d you fly, anyway – ”
“Oh for goodness’ sake, Daniel! WITH THESE!”
There is a rush of air, a whoosh, a sudden light that does not come from the dismal fluorescents, and papers swirl off down the hall in a miniature cyclone. Chloe stops, stares, and then rushes forward, Ella on her heels, to wrench the door open and find Dan flattened across the far wall looking as if he is about to have a heart attack. This is understandable, due to the fact that Lucifer is standing with wings unfolded, bursting from the back of his usual smart suit jacket, tips almost touching the workplace safety poster on one wall and the coffee machine on the other. At the sight of her, he folds them tidily against his shoulders and smiles brightly. “Ah! Detective!”
So as promised a couple of weeks ago, @tacmc and I have been working on a Nessian collab. As of right now, it is only two parts, but it could end up with more if there is request for it! There’s nothing we enjoy more than getting to work with our best friend.
Part 1 can be found HERE, in Nesta’s POV, from my ultra-talented bff, @tacmc.
I don’t follow @scriptautistic, but I do follow @scriptshrink, and that latter has reblogged posts from scriptAutistic so that I can see them. So, Script Shrink, thank you for that.
Disclaimer: this is all stuff that I thought and experienced. Not everything I believed at the time was true, or nice, or pleasant, and for all I know there may still be incorrect information in here (sorry about that), but it is honest.
I was diagnosed with Asperger’s back when it was a diagnosis, some time in high school I think. I never looked up much information on it. I didn’t look up info on Tourette’s or ADHD either. I didn’t want to feel like there was anything wrong with me, so I avoided it as much as possible.
The first time I went to university (long story, not relevant here) I met someone who’d also been diagnosed with Asperger’s. I loved being around him – looking back, I can tell that I loved him, even if I hadn’t yet understood that it was in a non-romantic way – but sometimes I felt bad, when I compared myself to him. He had lots of friends. I had him, and whoever wasn’t telling me to shut up at the moment. He had a roommate that he got along with, and lived comfortably with the other people in his residence. I’d known from prior experience that having a roommate would be a Bad Idea for me, and I ended up getting kicked out of the townhouse-style residence after less than a month. We had the same diagnosis, so what was wrong with me, I would wonder, that he could function so well with others, and I couldn’t?
Skip ahead a few years. I hadn’t seen him in a while (and still haven’t) because of unrelated reasons. I was at a different university, studying linguistics, and took out a copy of the DSM-V from the library for the lulz. I ended up finding out that Asperger’s was no longer a separate diagnosis because one of the qualifiers had been “no difficulties with language” and pragmatics was a part of language. From my linguistics courses, I knew what pragmatics was: knowing when and in what manner to speak, among other things, which is something I definitely have problems with.
Skip forward a bit. Due to different unrelated reasons, someone was looking at potential alternate living accommodations for me, and mentioned a group home for people with autism. I had an automatic hell no I’m not disabled reaction (despite that I receive Disability from the provincial government), and my second reaction was that it was a bad idea to gather people together whose shared feature was problems with social interaction. The person looked it up anyways, and said that I wouldn’t be a candidate for that place anyways because I was too high-functioning. I mentally looked at my life, and how much of a mess it was, and assumed that anyone who functioned at a lower level than me, would be completely helpless, and also a bunch of other things that I’m not going to put here, but they’re all derogatory.
Skip forward to a few weeks or months ago. I saw posts on my dash about autism. I had never even heard of some of those terms, but what they described sounded very familiar. I started to gradually accept it, not as a brokenness, but as a difference. I think the most important information was that there is no such thing as “high-functioning” or “low-functioning” autism, just a bunch of different elements – like under categories of social interaction, sensory processing, executive function, meltdowns – that are at different levels for everyone with autism, which can be more or less problematic, depending on the person and their situation.
There are two things I found particularly reassuring, odd as they may seem. The first is that clumsiness (or whatever the technical name is) is common among people with autism. Now, my mother has a type of “hell if we know” nervous system disorder, and has gone from walking with two canes (when I was little) to being in a wheelchair full-time. Whenever I would drop my keys or trip over my own feet, sometimes I wondered if I’d inherited that from her as well, along with my nose shape and skin that sunburns stupidly easy. But now, I don’t think I have to worry about that.
The second thing is hypersensitivity to sound. I can hear people talking across the apartment, and what they’re talking about, and pick up quieter sounds than others; but I can barely understand what someone’s saying if there’s a lot of background noise. I did a paper on auditory neuropathy once, so I know there’s more to “hearing impairment” than just detectable sound threshold, so I’d been worried about that. Now my hearing hasn’t been formally tested lately, but there’s a likely non-clinical explanation for my problems with background noise, which is quite a relief.
In conclusion, I’ve learned more about a part of myself from just seeing scriptAutistic’s reblogged posts, in the past few months, than all the years previous. Thanks for that.
Polly Nelson, Ted Bundy’s defense attorney, claimed that when Bundy first called her he came off as insecure. Nelson immediately painted a mental picture of Bundy as a gratuitous and humble person, and thus was quite surprised when the killer began rattling off various demands. Despite having been wrong about him once, Nelson still found it hard to believe that he could have killed anyone when she met him face to face. “This dangerous man was not detectable by sight or sound. But it was not because Ted exuded charm- he was too obviously disingenuous to be truly charming. It was not because Ted was such a ‘diabolical genius’ that he could fool you – believe me, he was not that smart. The real reason you could look at Ted Bundy straight in the face – even with full knowledge of what he had done – and not see a single sign of his guilt, was that he truly believed he was not guilty.”