protruding collarbones

anonymous asked:

Yeah, the maturity and the way he has the discussion after the scene is great. It's really cool to see Bioware pushing for the more varied LI paths and reactions. All of he characters in Andromeda are so interesting to learn and have on a team, especially watching their interactions with each other as well. However the Angora body structure, was interesting but kind of weird to me. I mean obv he's a Ailen but the over protruding collarbone like structure on the chest was unsettling.

I guess I can see that. Personally, I don’t find it displeasing, aesthetically speaking. While there is kind of a  protruding quality to the chest/shoulder blades that’s very alien compared to our own bodies, I don’t find it off-putting. I think the designers did an interesting job with breaking down different elements of the human form and reshaping them into a slightly different framework. It’s alien, but also still somewhat familiar and relatable. 

(Using the concept art because I don’t have a screenshot handy on this computer.)

But hey, it’s perfectly alright if it’s just not your cup of tea.

Roommate:  Man, you’re drinking some dirty water.

Me:  Not water….is male tears LOL

*the ceiling fan detaches and falls on me*

Me, on the ground with a twisted neck and a collarbone protruding from my skin:  ouch!  this is unfortunate! 

you are breaking your neck to look back
is it easier to ignore
how your spine is turning itself
into something not human
you are part collarbone protruding
bad shoulder out of place..

I don’t think there is anything back there 
inside a day that is not today 
inside a body younger than your current self
walking farther away from your future
 that can heal this kind of deformity
touch you like it did the first time
and the first time and the first time

it will never be the first time again…

—  T.L.R
“Party girls don’t get hurt.” - Sia, Chandelier

Reena posing for my camera with a bottle
in her mouth, the dirtiest thing I’d ever heard J say
still ringing in my ears. Outside: music, the moon
hanging low over our faces, girls smelling of tequila,
knees bruised from the things they’d done to the boys
on the other side of the house. There’s spit in my hair,
or maybe vomit; someone’s hand on my elbow
to steady themselves. On the porch a haze
of smoke surrounds the girls who clutch off-brand
cigarettes between neat, painted nails. Their laughter
like gold wire, like the punchline after the joke.
They’re all thinking about their next haircut,
their protruding collarbones. How their legs look
in the late summer heat. When they'll have to get up
in the morning and walk ten blocks back
the other way, through ghettos and men whistling
on every street corner. When they stare heavy-lidded
into reflections of themselves through store-front
windows and say please god let us be real.
—  Kristina Haynes, “Party Girls”