#*interactions

[badassxbirdy]

How can it do that? How can it talk about Matt, about any of them, as if they’re nothing? As if they aren’t even people? Tyler is practically vibrating with rage, her fists balled up so tight that her nails dig deep into her palms. Deep enough to draw blood. Somehow it keeps getting worse with every word it says. Every word with that pleasure written all over his face.

The tapes. Yes, she’s seen them. Well, she hadn’t been able to gain access to all the footage, that asshole of a producer wasn’t fool enough to make that mistake, but she’s seen enough. More than she wanted to. Certainly more than she is willing to admit to Lance. Images she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to get out of her head.

Have you ever heard him beg?

Don’t hit it. Hitting it would just be hitting him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him, don’t hit him, don’t hit—

It’s just words. It’s all just words. Hot air. It doesn’t matter. Nothing it says matters. Nothing it says will change a damn thing. And yet it keeps managing to hit her buttons. Oh, she wants this thing dead. She wants this thing to hurt. Badly.

“Wow. I knew you were dumb, but a god level idiot is almost impressive.” The idiot god. That sparks recognition. It sounds... familiar. Why is that familiar?

“People suffering? Can’t say that’s ever been my cup of tea.” Such a liar. Still playing human, even as that far more hellish part of her fights to the surface, and those less human traits start to show. In particular, that violent side of her that she spends so much time pretending doesn’t exist. The part that had made all those people die screaming when the thing it called a beast had finally snapped. “But you suffering? Now that shit’s gonna be satisfying.” It’s so much easier to embrace it when she’s angry, when she can direct all that rage and hate at her enemy instead of at herself.

“It’d be a pretty one-sided conversation. Or did you miss the part where they’re all dead?” Just like you’re gonna be, the cambion almost adds, but then her eyes spot something that makes her stop in her tracks. Something… something isn’t quite right. Well, nothing about this is right, but more specifically right now something is different. The way it’s moving, the way Lance looks more… Lance.

It’s not enough for her to tell if he’s awake, if he’s actually back, but it’s enough for a flash of anxiety to break through that bubbling rage. Anxiety at the thought of Lance being able to hear her, and inadvertently learning about her ‘track record’. Anxiety at the thought of him knowing what she’s done, of him knowing that she was a god damn murderer. A murderer and a hypocrite.

"Pft. Certainly not mine" it snorts, with barely a hint of mild annoyance to its voice as it does so. As if Matt barely even mattered, had been a nuisance. Boring. A nonissue. Though all of that makes way for genuine excitement when she asked it the question.

Why him?

"You saw the tapes, didn't you?" it purred, utterly debauched by now as it took a good minute of silence, taking a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, even closing Lance's eyes for a moment as if reliving the memories. Cherishing it.

"That resolve. All that time spent. Tough to crack. Tough." It says it with such certainty. With such adoration. Such joy and pride. When it opens his eyes again they're wide, Eyes wide, radiating lunacy.

"More than anything, because he was the only one to ask me" it drops the bombshell, smiling sweetly. "Begged me, really. Have you ever heard him beg?" it snorts and huffs and shakes his head, winces. "Oof. Impossible to say no to. Which happens to be a nice bonus to get what we want now. Out here. Like this. Together" it explains, twirling her hair still. It only snorts, laughs and lets go when she calls it an idiot.

"The idiot god no less! Well. That's one of the names that seem to have stuck. Hm. I wonder why."

It notices it then. The way she starts smiling. The way she starts thinking. Picturing. Doesn't even have to invade her mind to figure just what it is that she is thinking about. Still, it bothers to ask her, or mock her, or none of the two.

"Satisfying, isn't it. Getting a good hit of other people's suffering. Even when it's still to come."

It clicks it tongue at her and winces with a fake theatricality to it, though that one doesn't do nearly enough to hide what is still simmering beneath - hatred. Seething hatred and disgust.

"You should share that list with me sometime. I'm dying to hear what they have to say" it replies with a hollow grin, only to withdraw at last, position the body it is possessing back on that bench. So he doesn't fall. Run into it. Doesn't hurt when he's bound to return. Soon.

"Unless you want to hit me with it right now. I bet he'd love to learn more about your track record, too."

Has the audacity to give her a wink, making the sight before her all the more grotesque. With Lance's breathing speeding up more and more and his body getting restless, now that he's on the brink of returning, the body language no longer matching its words, its actions at all. Yet Lance's eyes, its eyes still, are completely transfixed on her like an unblinking snake. As if daring her to. Tempting her to. Waiting.

[that-sweet-jester]

poor Sevika's been embarrassed ever since, yet still stuck around😔✊

[vader-anakin]

Andrew Garfield talks to Elmo about grief and the passing of his mother

[miggylol]

Surprise! Tumblr just got turned into an epic fantasy RPG, just like [your favorite appropriate media franchise]. And the Tumblr RPG's plot needs to have all of its characters covered, in roles both large and small.

That means that you are assigned to a stereotypical RPG role inside our new fantasy world. Spin this wheel to find out what you are now doing for a living.

[gongyussy]

good thing from jp twitter this week is queen of old man yaoi michiru sonoo discovering the term old man yaoi

update: somehow it got impossibly more wholesome

quick translation: お��えり: welcome home あ 終わった 終わった: ahhh, it's over! it's done! コーヒー? お茶?: coffee? tea? コ~ヒ~ ありがと: coffee, thank you~ ネクタイレア★★ ネクタイ取るレア★★★★: seeing him with a tie on, rarity level ★★, seeing him take a tie off, rarity level ★★★★ にあうな~: it suits him~

also please do follow: AraigumaSha: sensei's twitter account marureviere: maru, who does such valuable work highlighting bl manga for an international audience

[biowho]

My housemate's cat came into my room while my dictation was on...

[mearchy]

my favorite genre of fictional character is like "i am terrifying to almost everyone, i'm very good at killing, i can endure anything, i've become exceptionally good at playing into my reputation, and if you try to give me positive social interaction i will react with confusion and cower in a corner like an abused animal. and i may try to shoot you. but there is also a chance i may imprint on you like a feral dog receiving its first loving touch! good luck."

[rioblitzle]

working retail

[thats-slightly-raven]

[kidovna]

heartbreak

[badassxbirdy]

@normallyxstranger Because I have missed inflicting Tyler’s silliness on you and your muses:

“Mason! Check it out!” She’s standing with her hands on her hips and the smuggest of facial expressions as she shows off her new T-shirt, one that reads “CHEESE SL🧀T” in large yellow letters. And yes, an image of the cheese emoji is indeed printed in place of the U.

“Best shirt ever, or best shirt ever?”

[bamboo-muse]

Just reminder:

Fuck ICE

Death to Trump and his billionaire buddies

Always punch Nazis

[icarus-showmethemoon]

inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[sadclowncentral]

while i was trying to wade through the large amounts of people trying to leave the central subway station, everyone abruptly came to a halt in front of the subway turnstiles. two french girls had misunderstood the tap-out process, and one of them was now stuck behind the gate. as i was wracking my brain on how to explain the tap-in tap-out process of the milan metro to both of them with my rudimentary french while they both got increasingly upset at the closed gate between them, a young teenager suddenly pushed me to the side.

i was just about to give him my most scathing disgruntled glare when he took out his ticket and, after realizing they had no common language, started gesticulating wildly in front of the french girl left behind. he pointed at the ticket, then at her, and very seriously said: “on three, we go.” she nodded, and after he counted to three, holding up his fingers so there could be no confusion, they sprinted through the gate together, giggling profusely afterwards as if they had just pulled off the heist of the century,

it was just a small moment during the morning commute. but i realized then and there that the time i had spent trying to intellectualize the problem and wondering if my lack of language skills would be awkward the situation could have already been resolved. and that while i had been mad about being pushed aside, the teenager got it exactly right: no questions, no fear or shyness, just direct action to help where you can and rushing there to do so. i think about him every time now when i run to lift someone’s pram or ask a lost looking person if they need my help despite the fear of being rude. on three, we go.