justnerdystuffs

[justnerdystuffs]

Endlessly diabolical how you can't say words like rape and suicide uncensored without either being criticised by idiots or punished by conglomerates.

[justnerdystuffs]

I feel so bad for the annoying women at work. Like I actually feel sick when we’re interacting and I feel the annoyance occurring in my brain like she really doesn’t mean to be this way and she just doesn’t want to feel alone or rejected. you can tell she’s experienced being an outsider everywhere she goes it’s only a matter of time. And it’s not cool chic or edgy but in the ugliest most desperate and dehumanizing way. They always start hopeful. they want to connect and they go searching for someone receptive to her so she can find her people but everyone turns away from her slowly and u hear it in her voice. It’s happening again. she starts hesitating to speak and when she does you hear a shaky child ending every sentence like it’s a question. Testing the waters to know if she’s wrong for even trying. And then I realize I took her smile for granted now that it’s gone.. I have to make it up to her I can’t let something like this continue. Life is so hard for people everywhere, so building a tolerance for being irritated is nothing in comparison especially if the reward is less pain and loneliness in the world I will always be the bestie you have my word

[justnerdystuffs]

[justnerdystuffs]

[justnerdystuffs]

This whole thing about scanning your face to prove tour age is making me remember, in 2018 while out in paris we got our wallet stolen during a particularly busy night at a lesbian bar. It was very late and with no money to buy metro tickets we were effectively stranded, but some people helped us and we ended up staying the night at a really sweet older man's place. His face was deeply scarred and he was missing an eye. We chatted on our way and he told me about his life, probably to help calm me down. He explained he had been stuck in a house fire 20 years ago and had had multiple rounds of facial reconstruction and a skin graft, but there's only so much surgery can do so he just learned to live with it. I remember he said he liked the queer bars because they're the only place people don't really stare at him.

At some point I took out my phone, and at the time I was using face unlock. This prompted him to tell me all the ways this technology doesn't work on him. How his phone selfie camera doesn't focus right because it's not a detecting a face. How he had to update his ID the old fashioned way, because the website kept rejecting his photos. And how it was becoming more and more common, and how it was making his life way harder.

This was 7 years ago, and now whenever I see this sort of technology I think of how that guy can't use it. And how house fires are pretty common, and how anything from being born this way to a skin condition to heavy tattooing can probably cause the same issue. Can these people get age verified ? Will they just lose access to all social media, which are increasingly necessary in society, if this becomes the norm ? These are people who are already driven out of public spaces due to how they look, and they're getting pushed out online too all in the interest of companies wanting more money.

[justnerdystuffs]

“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”

We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”

[justnerdystuffs]

I wish there were a better way to talk about some hot button issues without pushing the hot button.

[justnerdystuffs]

I'm sending this to my friend after she left me on read about it two previous times:

[justnerdystuffs]

Even Weird Al has had that™ experience with Tony Hawk

[justnerdystuffs]

thank you guys for playing blogs with me

[justnerdystuffs]

The Crown and Crows ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x GN!Reader

Summary: After a chaotic start to your wedding day, you and Nikolai find solace in each other at night. It’s a real shame the Crows know where your honeymoon suite is (ft. fluff prompt 2 ‘I think we might be soulmates’).

Warnings: Alcohol, tipsy!Nina, the tiniest allusion to sexual content, marriage.

Navigation | Prompt List | Requested

You were supposed to be ready an hour ago. It wouldn’t be a problem if the seamstress hadn’t vanished, if your veil hadn’t caught fire on a nearby candle, and if your future husband hadn’t somehow escaped his wing of the palace, bribing the guards with whispers about ‘true love’ and ‘emotional emergencies’.

So now, in the middle of what should be one of the most important days in Ravkan history, you’re hiding in the palace kitchens, barefoot, wearing half a wedding outfit and an expression somewhere between awe and panic.

And Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, hero of war, walking disaster of a man, is crouched beside you, holding a stolen pastry and smiling the morning hasn’t been a disaster.

“You know,” Nikolai says around a mouthful of cherry tart, “for a wedding planned by no less than fourteen noble committees, three Tailors, and a military strategist, this has gone surprisingly off-script.”

You raise a brow, reaching for the second tart he offers. “Is this your idea of crisis control?”

“My idea of crisis control,” he says, wiping powdered sugar from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, “is reminding you that we’re getting married in an hour, and I’d marry you even if you were wearing a potato sack and a bird’s nest for a hat.”

You hum, leaning your shoulder against his. “That can be arranged.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he says with mock seriousness. “I’ll rework the entire royal wardrobe. We’ll be legends.”

You take a bite of the tart, sweet and sharp. “We already are.”

Nikolai is quiet for a moment, which is rare, rare enough that you turn to look at him. His expression has shifted, just slightly. Still soft, still bright, but heavier around the edges.

“You okay?” you ask.

“I should be asking you that. You’re the one marrying into a circus.”

You roll your eyes. “You are the circus.”

“And you, my dear, are the fool who fell for the ringmaster.”

“I fell for the clown who snuck into my quarters during wartime just to leave notes in my boots.”

“I maintain that was deeply romantic.”

“You spelled my name wrong.”

“Once!” Nikolai grins, the mischief returning, but there’s something else underneath it now, something quieter. He leans his head back against the cool stone wall, the pastry forgotten in his hand. “Do you think we’re insane?”

“I think we’re in love.”

“Same thing.”

You glance down at your bare feet, the white silk of your skirt pooling like spilled milk around you. “Do you ever wonder if we’re actually ready for all of this?”

Nikolai shifts, brushing his bare knee against yours. “Every day.”

You look at him, startled, and he gives you that rare, unguarded look, one he only shows you when it’s just the two of you and no kingdom to save.

“I worry I’ll mess it up,” Nikolai says simply. “That I’ll be too much. Or not enough. That I won’t know how to be your husband and a king at the same time.”

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “You don’t have to be perfect.”

“I know. You’ve seen me fall off enough balconies to confirm that.”

You snort. “Once. And you were pushed.”

“Still counts.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels like a breath between heartbeats. Then Nikolai says, almost shyly, “I think we might be soulmates.”

You blink. “What?”

He squeezes your hand. “I do. I’ve thought about it, and I keep coming back to the same thing. You calm the storm. You match the madness. And I love you in ways that terrify me.”

Your throat goes dry. “Nikolai…”

“And if that’s not what soulmates are, then the word doesn’t mean anything.” He doesn’t say it like a joke, but rather like a vow.

You swallow hard, blinking back something suspiciously close to tears. “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me when I have a face full of makeup”

“Don’t need it anyway, cry it off,” Nikolai says easily. “You’ve wrecked me. I’m returning the favour, darling.”

You rest your forehead against his, heart pounding. “You really think we’ll be okay?”

“I think we’ll be brilliant, assured Nikolai, pressing a kiss to your brow. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in a sun-drenched hallway just off the grand ballroom, hastily repaired veil pinned into your hair, shoes finally on your feet, and an undeniable hint of anxiety thudding in your chest.

The doors are closed. The ceremony waits on the other side. Somewhere in the crowd are generals and ambassadors and saints-only-know how many noble relatives. Yet, all you can think about is the fact that Nikolai is just beyond that arch, waiting with his heart in his hands.

Genya adjusts your collar with deft fingers. “There. Perfect.”

“I look like a marshmallow.”

“A very noble, very radiant marshmallow.”

Zoya appears in the doorway, arms crossed and expression unreadable as always. “He’s ready.”

“Does he look nervous?”

“Not in the slightest,” Zoya lies. “He only checked his hair six times and recited your entire courtship to a potted plant.”

You laugh, breathless and grateful. Zoya softens a little, stepping forward. “You’ve got him, you know. All of him. Even the messy bits. He’s all yours.”

“The messy bits are the best parts.”

“Disgusting. Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll get smug.”

You lift your chin, eyes burning. “I’m ready.”

The doors creak open. Trumpets rise. And the world becomes light.

Later, after the vows and the cheers and the golden rings now warm on your fingers, after the speeches and the fireworks and the endless congratulations, you finally find a moment of quiet in the royal gardens, the moon high above and the scent of roses curling through the air.

Nikolai’s jacket is slung over his shoulder, his crown a little crooked, his eyes still fixed on you like you’re the only miracle that’s ever mattered.

“You survived,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Barely. I had to talk to five different dukes about our hypothetical children.”

“I heard. I think there’s a countess already planning their wardrobe.”

You lean into Nikolai, watching the stars. “Today didn’t go as planned.”

“No,” he says. “It went better.”

You tilt your head, smiling. “You sure?”

Nikolai nods. “Because at the end of it, I’m still here. You’re still here. And we’re married.”

You exhale, leaning into his chest. “I’m scared, a little.”

“Me too.”

“But, I think we might be soulmates.”

He stiffens, just slightly, then pulls you closer, a hand cradling the back of your head. “Say that again.”

You smile into his collar. “We might be soulmates.”

“I knew it.”

And just like that, with the world quiet and the crown heavy on both your heads, Nikolai Lantsov holds you like you’re both survivors and newly born. Like you’re everything he’s ever fought for. Like he can finally rest. Because you are. And he can.

The wedding night is, against all odds, perfect. The palace staff had outdone themselves: silk sheets, candlelight, champagne chilling in a crystal bucket, and a late-night feast waiting on a silver tray. You and Nikolai barely made it to the room before the crown was forgotten entirely, the whole kingdom melting away until it was just breath, hands, and hearts.

There had been laughter and reverence, and something unspeakably tender about watching him undo the buttons of your wedding outfit with the kind of careful devotion usually reserved for saints. Now, wrapped in one of Nikolai’s undershirts and nothing else, you’re curled up beside him in bed, your legs tangled together, the only light coming from the fire. He’s tracing slow circles on your shoulder, voice low and warm.

“On a scale from one to ten,” he says sleepily, “how royal was our wedding night?”

“Ten. At least. I’ve never seen that much caviar in one room.”

He hums. “And the rest of it?”

You press your lips to the edge of his jaw. “Twelve.”

Nikolai smiles like he’s won something. The silence that follows is content, broken only by the crackle of the fire, until there’s a knock. A very loud knock. You and Nikolai freeze. You glance at the clock. It’s nearly two in the morning. Another knock. This one accompanied by a muffled voice.

“Hellooo?” Jesper’s voice. “We’re here to kidnap the happy couple.”

Nikolai groans, dragging a pillow over his face. “No.”

“Come on,” Jesper calls. “We brought snacks.”

You sit up, grabbing the sheet to cover yourself. “Is that Nina giggling?”

“She’s definitely tipsy,” Nikolai mutters, squinting at the door. “Which means she’s likely brought cake and terrible ideas.”

Kaz’s voice cuts through next, dry and unimpressed, “If you don’t open this door in the next ten seconds, I will pick the lock.”

“Of course he will,” Nikolai sighs. “Our first night as husband and wife and it’s being held hostage by a bunch of fools.”

You press a kiss to his shoulder. “Well. You did invite them to the wedding.”

“I didn’t think they’d take that as an invitation to break into the honeymoon suite.”

From the other side of the door, Wylan’s voice chimes in, sheepish and too cheerful. “We baked something?”

“I’m calling the guard,” Nikolai mumbles.

You rise, slipping into a robe, stifling a laugh. “No you’re not. You love them.”

“I tolerate them. For the sake of diplomacy and chaos prevention.”

“You let Jesper do your toast.”

“Because he threatened to duel my uncle otherwise.”

The knock comes again, followed by Nina’s unmistakable sing-song, “We brought wine!”

You turn the handle. “Gods help us.”

The door swings open, and all six members of Ketterdam’s most infamous crew stumble in like it’s a tavern and not the royal honeymoon suite.

Jesper leads the charge, a wrapped cake box in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. “I know it’s late, but we couldn’t just not crash your wedding night!”

“We could have,” Kaz says, deadpan. “I was outvoted.”

“You weren’t even in the room,” Wylan points out, holding what appears to be a bouquet of fireworks.

Nina bounds in next, throws her arms around you, and whispers, “You look radiant. Is this the post-marriage glow? Is it from love or from Nikolai?”

“Both,” you whisper back, grinning.

Meanwhile, Nikolai is still in bed, half-buried under pillows, watching the invasion unfold with the bleak horror of a man who knows resistance is futile.

“In case anyone was wondering,” he says, “this is, officially, the least relaxing consummation aftermath in the history of Ravka.”

Jesper sits at the foot of the bed, unbothered. “Nonsense. This is historic. Legendary. We’re part of your royal love story now.”

“I don’t remember giving you that right.”

Jesper points at the crown on the table. “We helped you keep that crown. You owe us at least one inappropriate entrance.”

Nikolai sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if anyone touches the cake before I do, I’m kicking all of you out personally.”

Nina flops onto the rug, pouring wine into teacups she found somewhere. “To the happy couple and to uninterrupted sleep someday!”

You sit beside Nikolai again, his arm pulling you instinctively against him, even as he glowers at the chaos spilling into your suite.

Kaz eyes the fire. “This place is too nice. Where’s the mildew? The rats?”

Jesper waves him off. “Not everything has to be Ketterdam-chic. This is romance.”

Nikolai glances at you, his hand brushing your thigh under the blanket. “Well. There was romance.”

You smile, cupping his jaw. “And there will be again.”

Jesper dramatically shields his eyes. “Please, I’m far too fragile for royal flirting.”

You laugh into Nikolai’s shoulder. “You broke into our bedroom.”

“To be fair,” Wylan adds, “we did bring cake.”

“Which I’m now confiscating,” Nikolai says, finally sitting up and snatching the box. “As king and as someone who has earned a slice after surviving the Ravkan elite’s matchmaking committee.”

Jesper grins. “We’re proud of you, pal.”

Kaz is already eyeing the door. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Nina raises her teacup. “Ten minutes and one toast.”

Everyone quiets, the teasing settling into something warm.

Nina rises, her eyes glossy and proud. “To two people who somehow found love in the middle of war, politics, and palace drama. To the most ridiculous, stubborn, clever pair I know.”

Jesper jumps in. “To soulmates who never stood a chance but won anyway.”

You meet Nikolai’s gaze, your chest full of champagne and affection and the unmistakable sense that you’re exactly where you belong.

He lifts his cup. “To this wild, improbable family.”

The toast echoes. Cups clink. And for a moment, your wedding night becomes something even more magical than candlelight and silk sheets. It becomes real, messy, loud, full of laughter and chaos and love.

And when the Crows finally leave, after finishing the wine and setting off one firework out the balcony window, Nikolai pulls you back into bed, curling around you with a sigh.

“They’ll never let us live this down,” he mutters.

“No,” you whisper, grinning into his neck. “But neither will we.”

He presses a kiss to your hair.

“My love,” he says, smug and quiet.

“My husband.”

And this time, the night stays quiet. Mostly. Somewhere, a leftover firework explodes. Jesper’s voice drifts up from the courtyard, distant and unmistakably pleased, “Worth it!”.

[justnerdystuffs]

it’s necessary to fight back against adult content bans obviously because it leads to queer bans, but also, you cannot forget that we must fight back against these bans because adults have the right to make and enjoy adult content. no credit card company has the right to censor what we look at. yes, this includes the “problematic kinks” and stuff you think is gross and bad. just as we deserve to be openly queer online, we deserve to enjoy adult content without fear of total censorship, and it’s absurd how few places there are to do that online nowadays

[justnerdystuffs]

fanfic writers will go "anyone gonna explore the kinda fucked up or emotionally impactful implications of this minor canon detail?" and then not wait for an answer.

[justnerdystuffs]

‘capitalism works’ factoid actually untrue. the 62 people who own half the world’s wealth are outliers and should be eaten.

[justnerdystuffs]

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