#& i'm so sorry for that

[glitchingfluffster]

I started watching nigejouzu

[mugiwara-lucy]

this is back from in july when I was having an actual breakdown over the election

....pretty this fucker is psy op looking back on it

I know we've had our differences in regards to OP but please, please, please do NOT kill yourself IF Trump wins.

Just vote blue and spread the word and try to get your local community irl to vote for Kamala and spread the word since Third Parties can NOT win this time.

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 15

wow. wowie wow wow. this section got me up to a little over 19,500 K. that's fucking INSANE homie!!!

this section took me a while to work out bc i knew what points i wanted to hit but not the order I wanted to do them in, so I had to break some stuff apart and rearrange it. hopefully this makes sense? this sections got a weird energy to it and i'm not sure why. but we are in the home stretch of this fic guys!!!! maybe like 3 or 4 more chapters max and then it is FINISHED, which is so crazy to me

alsoooo enjoy some bonus content!! aka me singing a lil bit of epic iii in honor of this absolutely insane milestone

HEY GANG IT'S FRESH FOOD: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @waters-and-the-wilde @gwenlena

@demonic-panini @the-private-eye @one-joe-spoopy

Voices singing in harmonies, orbiting in perfect rhythm, chasing like the sun and moon across the sky, echoed in the deafening silence of Hadestown.

The workers had stopped showing up a few days ago. Wouldn’t pick up their pickaxes or lay a hand on their wheelbarrows. Slowly, the factories ground to a halt. The furnaces died down. The wall stopped being built. And for the first time in a long, long time, the workers didn’t care.

They took beatings from the executives with a smile and a song on their lips, a song that spoke of unity in the face of loss with a melody that grew like creeping thyme through the town. It had been a while since Peter had heard Juno’s voice, but he knew. Even from this distance, he knew it was him. His strong, clear voice helixing through the air with another voice that he assumed must have been Ben’s. And the world stopped its ceaseless grind and listened.

And from his gilded cage in Slip’s office, Peter watched with no small amount of pride as his beloved husband brought the hell of Hadestown to a screeching halt.

Slip stormed back and forth in his office. Nureyev had been up here for…. Well, he wasn’t quite sure, but his best guess was a week. Slip had taken him up here after his executives had beaten Juno and left him for dead. Something about how he didn’t want him associating with those kinds of people anymore. 

Nureyev knew that was bullshit. There was something else at play here, something he saw as clearly as if the sun were shining down through the rock overhead.

Slip was afraid of Juno. 

He could see it with every furious step and angry huff. An undercurrent of fear laced his every move. Juno had crossed some sort of line, broken some sort of spell that Slip was afraid might never be put back into place. He was getting more erratic and scattered as the days went by. And for some reason that Nureyev couldn’t quite explain, a well of dread was beginning to bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

After all, it’s the scared animals that are the most dangerous.

“Godsdammit all, why won’t they work anymore?” Slip snarled, steps heavy but quick as he paced across the room.

Nureyev turned his gaze coolly away from the window. “Don’t know. Maybe they realized the lies and bullshit you’ve been feeding them!”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll leave you right where I left your precious husband.”

“Oh, I don’t know, he seems to be doing quite well for himself so far, considering he’s brought your whole town to a standstill.”

Slip stopped pacing like a frustrated predator and stared at Nureyev. Nureyev wasn’t scared. He’d already lost so much to this man he could barely remember. What was losing a little more? He stared right back, almost daring Slip to make a move.

“What else did you expect, Slip? You lie to these people for years, force them to work for nothing, keep them away from their homes and families, and expect they’ll be happy? That they’ll listen when you speak? That they’ll care about you and your opinions?” His motions were jerky with a deep set anger and hurt that was starting to burn hotter than the heart of the Hadestown furnaces.

Slip’s jaw was beginning to tremble, but in rage or fear or pain, Nureyev couldn’t tell.

Go on. Tell him. Tell him what he needs to hear.

“How long did you think they’d put up with this before they turned on you? How long do you think they’d wait for you to change?”

How long did he think you’d wait for him, little songbird?

“They’ll put up with it for as long as I am in charge of this town.”

Nureyev sighed deeply. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What is there to get, Petya? That these people don’t comprehend the logic of a business?” 

Slip threw his arms open wide. Even now, even with all his power and might and control, he still looked like what he had been the last time Peter had ever really known him: a small, scared kid.

“They’re going to destroy everything I’ve ever worked for. Everything I ever built for you. And all because of that husband of yours and his fucking music.” 

“Everything you built….for me?”

Slip sighed, and his expression softened slightly. “Of course. I made this town for you. I was going to show you all of its wonders. But you never came to find me, like you said you would. Remember?”

Peter couldn’t. Not at first, anyway. But slowly and surely, a memory began to creep back into his consciousness. 

He was young. Couldn’t have been more than 12 or 13. The last of summer was still in the air. Slip had just finished telling him the old Story of Hades and Persephone, a story the two of them shared like their stolen food and blankets. Peter had cracked some kind of joke, something about the two gods in the story being a perfect pair because one could kill you and the other could dispose of your remains, and he and Slip were howling with laughter.

When the laughing had died down, Slip turned to Peter, suddenly serious. “Petya, can you promise me something?”

“Of course, my love, anything.”

“If one of us dies before the other… can we send a message to them from Hades? So the one that’s still living knows to go get them?”

“Slip, don’t talk like that. No one is going to die!”

“I know, I know, but…. Just in case, you know? If I die, I’ll send you a sign. A huge sign. I’ll…. I’ll get rid of the spring altogether! I’ll keep Persephone locked up in the underworld until you come to find me!”

That sent them both into another peal of unstoppable laughter.

And then the memory faded away, and Nureyev was left standing in the office, facing a man he had known so well decades ago, but didn’t know anymore.

“I should have brought you down here sooner, you know,” Slip said, chewing on his lip. “I thought, if I can take Persephone’s reincarnation and keep him down here, and change the world above, he will notice and come for me. Surely, if I just hold out a little longer, if I just let the winter go a little longer, let him starve a little longer, he’ll remember the promise he made to me. He’ll come to find me. But no.

“Instead, you moved on. Grew up. Got a respectable job. Even got married! All while you left me to fester down here. But it’s okay, my love. I don’t blame you. No. It’s all that Juno Steel’s fault.”

Nureyev suddenly realized his mouth and throat had gone bone dry, and a slightly manic gleam had entered Slip’s eyes.

“He stole you away from me. He’s what’s keeping us apart. You know, I should have killed him when I had the chance. Maybe I can still kill him now. You wouldn’t happen to know which of my workers he’s associating with, would you, Petya, dear? Maybe I could hurt them too.”

Peter’s whole body went rigid with fear. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He could barely make his hands shape the words. The sudden adrenaline rush made him shiver. He could barely imagine the pain Juno felt when he woke up and discovered his lover was gone. He couldn’t imagine having to go through the same pain.

Slip just looked back at him, face calm and still and eyes shining as he slid into the chair behind his desk, and Nureyev knew. If he made one false move, Juno would suffer the consequences. He swallowed hard.

An executive rapped on the door. “The leader is here to discuss negotiations, my associate.”

Slip’s eyes never left Nureyev’s face. “Of course. Bring them in. You might want to stay for this, Petya. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”

Nureyev didn’t move a muscle.

A moment later, Juno stumbled through the door, an executive hot on his heels, and Peter couldn’t decide if he should let out the breath he was holding or grab his lover by the shoulders and sprint out of the room. Maybe both.

Once Juno regained his balance, he glanced around the room until his eye rested on Peter, and a soft, relieved smile inched onto his face.

“Hey, babe, what’s going on? Where have you been?” he said gently, taking a few steps in Peter’s direction. 

Peter wanted so badly to run to him, to kiss him, to leave town and never look back. But Slip’s threat had been genuine. He knew that. He stayed where he was, silently willing Juno to read the room and get the hell out.

“Mr. Steel. I will kindly ask you to keep your conversation directed to me, seeing as I am your host here.”

The smile fell from Juno’s face, and a mix of determination, fear, and hope appeared in its place. Simultaneously, a wave of dread crashed over Peter like a tsunami. Gods above, he wanted to throw up.

Juno bowed his head slightly in a greeting. “Slip.”

Slip bowed his head in response. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“What the hell do you mean by shutting down my whole town, Mr. Steel? I knew you were a troublesome one, but I never knew you had the guts to take it this far.”

“Oh, this isn’t my doing. It’s theirs,” Juno said simply, pointing out the window to the gathered crowd of workers partying in the street. “They decided they’ve had enough of being treated this way, so they decided to stop showing up. I had almost nothing to do with it.”

Slip leaned forward over his desk. “But you are the one who taught them that song, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“That still makes you an accomplice. You gave them the song that they unified around, and that would be considered a crime down here. And now that I’ve got you in my office, right in front of me, well…. I suppose it only makes sense that I punish you. I suppose you’ve been told how we punish those who step out of line down here?”

Juno’s jaw was set. He nodded. Peter wanted to scream.

Slip stood. “Very well then. Do you have any last words before we dispose of you?”

And suddenly, Juno looked very calm. Calm and careful, but still living up to his last name, with features set like quenched metal.

It took a moment, but Peter realized knew that look. He knew it very well. He knew it from all the nights of playing cards with Buddy or figuring out how to stack a new shipment of crates or watching him discover a new piece of the never ending puzzle that was his song.

That look meant that Juno had a plan.

The smallest spark of hope ignited in Peter’s gut.

And then Juno opened his mouth, and began to sing the song of spring.

[dark-giver]

Safi: Hey, Iz, did you know that the letter ‘f’ in orphan....

Iseult: SaFI, nO

Safi:...stands for family.

Iseult: stop with that or...

Safi: or what, you're going to tell my parents?

Iseult: SAFI, I'LL KILL YOU

Safi: FINE, I'LL SEE MY PARENTS SOONER THEN

Iseult: UGHHHHH

Ok, Safi is the queen of the orphan jokes from now on

[climbingthefloors]

obsessed with this baby hippo from thailand's khao khew zoo.. she has been so utterly betrayed by the world

[rioblitzle]

working retail

[kiryuing]

[potofsoup]

Oh look, it seems like there's a Republican-led movement to purge voter rolls in the lead-up to the election! It's almost as if your vote matters and they don't want you to vote! Anyway, I whipped up a quick map (based on this) that shows when the voter registration deadline is in each state. There are a few deadlines coming up in the next week or so.

If you live in a state that regularly purges voter rolls for infrequent voters (the orange ones in the first map), or if you moved recently, it's good to check if you're still registered to vote.

Vote.org makes it super easy to check your registration: https://www.vote.org/am-i-registered-to-vote/

Just put in your address and DOB and they'll tell you whether you're registered. (And they give you a quick link to register online if it turns out that you're not! Only the 9 states in white on my map don't have online registration, and for those they provide instructions on how to do it via mail or in person.) If you want an extra verification, find your state's election website and double-check there.

So yeah, give yourself peace of mind -- do a quick check. :)

[yourfavecharacterisqueer]

hypothetical scenario for you all: the real king arthur returns. you meet him and you welcome him into your home. what is the first thing you do with him? keep in mind, this is a man from the 500s (he died in 542), and you are from the 21st century (2024).

[honnojis]

bunch of dandadan stuff i've drawn/pixeled lately! figured i'd compile it all in one post rather than posting all of them separate lmao

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

Wyll is so fucking funny and no amount of acknowledgement about this could ever be enough. He's literally walking around being so casually hilarious completely under-the-radar. He calls Halsin a "thick hunk of an elf". He once accidently implied that he was fucking an ogre instead of killing it and then proceeded to absolutely stumble his way through explaining. He gets excited by Lae'zel talking about carnal pleasures. He canonically tells his pessimistic thoughts to shut the hell up. He volunteers to babysit Shadowheart's hypothetical werewolf babies as long as she gets him gloves. He tries to give Gale a hero moniker like his own. He jokes that his father, the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate, can't spell. He calls Astarion "Mister Fangs". He makes up storybook chapter names for his own fucking adventures. As a child he got chased by the Flaming Fist for stealing fruit, nearly drowned trying to find mermaids in the harbor, and almost successfully broke into the Counting House. He reads monster erotica, and is not ashamed to tell you about it. He ranks eating pudding among life's greatest moments. He will, without shame and completely unprompted, meow at you. He is 24 years old.

[thorinds]

1000 Books You May Have Actually Read

[shayneysides]

hobie: kill yourself

pavitr: WHAT THE HELL BRO WHAT DID I DO

original format from @ha-youwish in this post!

[oh-snapperss]

they'll fund a genocide and let their poor regions be destroyed. don't fucking forgive them for that.

my hometown is completely gone from what pictures i can find of it, i have not heard from my family (including aunts, uncles, parents, one sibling, and a grandparent), and the infrastructure in the mountain communities is wiped out. i cannot stress how catastrophic this is, or how difficult it will be for these communities to build back. i am angry, and scared, and heartbroken by everything that's happened.

and our government is spending it's money to fund a genocide.

free palestine, and don't be complicit. realize that this is not something happening that doesn't affect you--although it shouldn't take this to care about the deaths of thousands of people anyway.

[podcastwizard]

this will not be a bridgerton blog but for the foreseeable future i will not be thinking about anything other than bridgerton

(original post @romanceyourdemons)

[girpgorp]

decided my fetal kwamis deserved a little lore