#ANY OTHER STALL

[ratatatastic]

building a collection...

[nightmarearian]

We need posiedon in Ithacan Naga AU!!

Poseidon: ... so, like, What are you?

Ody, munching on a fish: ... 𓆟

Ody, shrugging: (idk)

Posiedon: ... What Do You mean you don't know?

Poseidon, gripping Ody in his hand: what are you??

-

this is basically their dynamic after they make general peace with each other.

tbh riiight after Ogygia/Calypso & finding it all out? I feel like the rush after Charybdis would mean there'd be scales & feathers on Ody, but feel like Poseidon would be too focused on the Get In the Water deal and shit to care.

Afterwards when naga Ody goes into the Ithacan seas and he eventually notices does he start to ask questions and shit and also still be sorta intensely aggro, which is what leads to: 1. Athena noticing and arguing with Poseidon 2. The ruckus and shit (being that Poseidon & Athena's arguements don't usually escalate this much) getting the other gods attention and 3. Forcing an agreement-truce thing that basically amounts to (between Ody & Poseidon) don't [intentionally] bother, kill, harm, make suffer, etc., each other.

and then eventually eventually Poseidon can reluctantly admit that this weird feathered-winged-sea-snake-human monster interests him and he wants to know what the fuck it is (even if he'd rather do without the feathers & wings) and Ody & Poseidon properly make peace or smth.

[starlightseraph]

comrades, don’t kill yourselves.

i know that shit fucking sucks. all of it.

think of all the people in seemingly hopeless situations around the world and throughout history. all the people for whom the world is or was literally ending. all the people who stared down the barrel of a gun or watched as a bomb fell to the ground and who still chose to have hope.

so many people have been in far worse situations or had more immediate tangible threats breathing down their necks.

i’m not saying this to mean that you don’t matter, that your struggle is insignificant.

i only mean that if hope persisted then, hope can persist now. many times before has someone hoped against all hope, fought against all odds, and won.

think of the children who dug through the rubble in hiroshima, in iraq, in korea snd vietnam, and all those who are doing the same in gaza right now. who braved gas and bombs and guns to walk to school in ireland. somewhere in their hearts was a flicker of unlikely hope, one that kept them trying, kept them from falling to the ground silently. we’re not anywhere near that. if they can have even the tiniest amount of hope, then so can you.

the election of one alt-right lunatic over a centre-right genocide funder is not the end of the world. as in, the world will literally keep spinning, the human race will keep existing, and someone somewhere will always be good and worthy of fighting for betterment and even one person like that is cause enough to keep hope alive.

yes, this may bring disasters for women, for queer people, and for the material conditions of many, many within the united states. if only for the abject shameless incoherence of it all.

but there is good. somewhere, in someone. there is hope, as there has always been, from the beginning of time, through plagues that wiped out villages so thoroughly that no one was left to bury the dead, through wars and evil that seemed all encompassing and never-ending.

if you live in the imperial core, i promise that this isn’t the end, and it isn’t as course-of-history altering as you might think. in the aforementioned far worse conditions, which were largely created by the united states itself, people organise, they protest, they laugh. the turn of america ever farther right would have continued regardless of who won. if you truly want change, you cannot achieve it within the us framework. you cannot imagine that voting would save you. it won’t. it may stall, but that’s about it.

the world still spins. human hearts continue beating. we continue to fight and to struggle against a system that made these our only choices, for a revolution, for a better world. it is always possible.

[techno-rat]

Im always thinking about the tubbo execution t.b.h.

coz like it sucked for EVERYONE but schlatt and wilbur, who orchestrated it. Techno realized his allies didn’t give a shit about him. Tubbo was killed traumatically. Tommy watched his best friend be murdered by a man who he thought was his ally. The crowd is various levels of shocked depending on their allegiance

[salvadorbonaparte]

Would you mind sharing your views on backpacking? 👀

Take all of this with a grain of salt because I'm mostly just bothered by backpacking content on Instagram.

I think the concept is fine. I'd actually like to do some backpacking some time.

But backpacking content, as well as most overland* content, always has a really weird vibe. It almost feels like cosplaying poverty if you know what I mean??

It's almost always young people from the so called "West" and almost always they're somewhere in South or Southeast Asia. The most popular backpacking destinations I'm seeing at the moment are Bali (exclusively that part of Indonesia for some reason), Thailand, Vietnam and Sri Lanka. The algorithm has recently also started showing me content from Pakistan, India and Afghanistan.

Since flights to these destinations are usually quite expensive, and many of these people stay abroad long enough that they might need a visa and that accommodation and food would also add up, it can be safely assumed these people have a certain amount of financial stability. Some of them are full time influencers too.

And while travelling with a backpack instead of a suitcase makes sense, and while you want to have an "authentic" experience, the vibe on those videos is often sooooo weird.

They're always like "I just spent 45h standing in a cramped bus without AC because it was only $1. I'm sleeping on the floor of this abandoned building that costs me $4 a night. I only carry 2 t-shirts with me, can't find a laundromat and I'm travelling for 3 months. Yesterday I got scammed and got food poisoning."

And I'm like why are you doing this? Is it really more "authentic" just because it's a foreign country? You can find the same uncomfortable situations and people who live like that all the time in your home country, but when you're abroad it's cool and authentic and #humbling #eatpraylove. Meanwhile there's also people in that same country you're backpacking through who, like, have a comparable standard of living you're used to. Your holiday doesn't have to be luxury resorts but it also doesn't have to be absolutely god awful.

And of course there's also the factor of adrenaline and stepping out of your comfort zone but with these videos it seems like they're almost glamorising having an awful time in an "exotic" country because that's what it's supposed to be like? I guess?

Idk I feel like I should get the opinion of someone living in one of those backpacking hotspots to make sure I'm not just getting annoyed at nothing but I think the vibe is off.

*overland content as in "travelling from XY to YZ without flying - Day 420" type videos. They're often interesting and I follow some of those people and I actually have some ideas for cool overland or long distance train trips but some of the accounts also have a weird vibe. Most of the ones I saw were men and they're like hitchhiking through some desert somewhere and I'm like oh this would feel so unsafe to me as someone perceived female. And obviously they also make lots of content where you know they have lots money because they've been travelling for several months but it has that same fake low budget backpacker vibe.

I hope this makes sense. I'm not sure it does.

[tracle0]

I think I have enough money to see my partner again next year!!!!!!!!

[sysig]

Guess who :3c (Patreon)

[sasster]

Made It Out Alive

So there I was, on the train ride home from class, and I thought.. Man. I’m gonna write something really indulgent. Hope you guys like it as much as I do! [Doc] —

Turning from the stove to the counter, with a knife and cutting board in hand, Lopard comes face to face with a jade blooded nuisance who smiles back at him from his seated position upon it.

The orange blood rolls his eyes.

“Get your ass off of my counter if you want to keep it.” He warns, waving the knife in the air for emphasis.

“Two problems with that, chief,” the nuisance starts, despite jumping off the counter with an ‘oof’ when his feet hit the ground. “S’not your counter and that’s a stupid threat.”

Once again Lopard rolls his eyes, but happy that there would no longer be an ass where he plans to chop vegetables, he carries on his prepwork.

“I’m sure Areios doesn’t want your ass on his counter either. Make yourself useful and—”

Before the command even leaves his mouth, Demuye is already behind him setting some pots to boil and pulling seasonings from cabinets.

“Yeah, yeah, on it boss man.” He says with a smile he doesn’t bother fighting.

Just as the pair are getting into the groove of cooking together, the owner of the hive paces his way into the kitchen with large, frantic steps that would shake the foundation of a less secure building, worrying the front of his shirt between two very anxious hands. Lopard barely gets to open his mouth before his much smaller “babysitter” comes toddling in behind him, on legs much too short to keep up with the exaggerated gait of the behemoth.

Thuein pauses to catch his breath, resting both hands on his thighs as he heaves.

“Running a marathon?” Demuye questions with ill-contained humor, only to receive a sharp look from the therapist in response.

Areios paces his way to the far end of the kitchen and stares at the undecorated stone for several seconds as silence overtakes the kitchen. His three guests exchange worried glances with each other.

Slowly, unable to be serious for too long, Demuye raises a hand and presses his index finger to the tip of his nose.

Thuein copies the motion.

For the third time in such a short stretch, Lopard finds himself rolling his eyes.

“Alright big guy,” He says as he wipes his hands clean on a dish towel. “What’s eating at you so bad that our best and brightest can’t help you keep it together?”

Truthfully, his annoyance with Demuye and Thuein doesn’t last long. It is barely a fizzle before it dies out on its own, really. As the oldest of this portion of their inner circle, he’d been used to wrangling everyone in for some time now. A part of him thrives on it, if he had to be honest with himself.

Areios lets his shoulders slump forward, too prideful maybe to face his friends as he speaks. “Do you think he’s actually going to come?” He finally asks, after his own silence becomes too much for even him to stand.

Once again the three exchange looks that the behemoth can’t see. Demuye seems annoyed at the notion, indicated by him sucking his teeth, Thuein only frowns, and Lopard lets out a resigned sigh.

“I don’t think he’d lie about something like that.”

Areios inhales sharply and exhales in a way that suggests he wishes, right now at least, that he was smaller than he is.

“What if he gets here and realizes he hates me as much as--”

“Ah,” Lopard interjects, holding up a hand that the other party cannot see but heeds regardless. “I’m not entertaining that sort of talk. He’s going to come and we’re going to have a great time. Just like we always do.”

The orange blood crosses the kitchen and pats Areios on the back.

“I’d beat his ass otherwise.” He offers and gets a laugh out of the purple blood.

“Imagine the emotional toll that’d take on you.”

“Smashing those guys is like second nature to me. Now get out before I put the pair of you to work.”

Demuye emphasizes Lopard’s point by slamming a pot onto the counter and Areios laughs again, putting up both hands, as he and Thuein leave the way they came.

Thuein mouths a ‘thank you’ to Lopard on the way out.

“We really don’t pay you enough.” Bemoans a more than humored Demuye, shaking his head, while Lopard returns to his post.

“Yeah, I’ll have to garnish it from somewhere.”

“If you touch my check, and I mean this so seriously, I’ll skin you.”

—

Later the hive is alive with chatter, the way it used to be when Areios housed most or all of the current guests in their respective times of need. The intoxicating bouquet of Lopard’s cooking carries from the kitchen to the large front room that most of the trolls occupied.

His chest swells with pride each time someone so much as compliments the smell of the goods. It is nice knowing that his hard work is appreciated, after all. Soon the smell will be overshadowed by someone else's, probably Achina’s, baking skills. But for now, the pride was all his.

Lopard plops, exhausted, on a couch between the host and a violet blooded sailor who the pair have not seen in countless sweeps, waving a three fingers hand around as he exposits what’d happened to him in those sweeps.

“It hasn’t been all that crazy,” Velrum concludes, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner that suggests he was merely describing a shopping trip and not a literal odyssey. “I was on the sea. That’s where I came from, so it wasn’t awful.” He lets his good fin flair for emphasis.

Lanaen, seated in a chair across from them, scoffs.

“Were your more stuck-up personality traits concussed out of you, then?”

“Quite possibly. And yours?”

“Oh, no. He’s still very much a dick.” Lopard chimes in before Lanaen can defend himself, and the four of them enjoy a good laugh at the fuchsia’s expense.

It has always been too long since the last time they gathered everyone together like this and the hive itself is practically a flutter with it’s own life.

Lopard chances a glance to a corner of the living room occupied by Zurven, of all people, signing away in a conversation with Isnons who appears to have turned off his hearing aid for the evening.

Each of the pair jumped at the chance when they heard that the other would definitely be in attendance, masterful trickery executed by Thuein and Achina, who were convinced neither would come otherwise.

From what he can make out from his bout of eavesdropping Isnons just wrote his first book and Zurven’s gotta get his hands on it.

He smiles to himself, satisfied that he would not have to field any angry partners  for a botched night out. He hardly notices when Velrum and Lanaen leave the room, absorbed in yet another conversation.

This one possibly about the former’s missing fingers.

“See, we’re having fun.” Lopard nudges a shoulder up against Areios as he speaks. “Regardless.”

“Yeah. It’s always nice having everyone back together. Makes the hive feel less lonely.”

“I think that’s called empty nest syndrome.”

“Look at me, your sad mama bird.”

Lopard only laughs and nudges him again.

Very suddenly, Holoth appears in their space, beaming despite the way sleepiness decorates her features.

“Does that mean I can call you mommy?” She inquires, brightly.

“Please don’t.”

“C’mon guys, I brought something you need to see.” She quickly pivots, seizing Areios by the arm and giving him a tug that actually pulls him to his feet.

Nonplussed, he follows her lead with Lopard bringing up the rear.

Holoth leads the two of them outside, away from the excitement of the hive and closer to the cliff that overlooks the sea. It does not take long for Lopard to recognize the form of a troll pacing back and forth at the end of it, but he is certain that Areios cannot make it out, what with his deteriorating eyesight and all.

He turns his surprise on Holoth who only winks back at him. Then she trudges forward with the giant in tow until he and the pacing figure stop short, staring at each other.

Briefly, Lopard thinks that it was very wise of her to not bring him inside for this reunion. He would never tell her the thought, lest everyone have to reckon with her ego for the foreseeable future.

She gives Areios a shove and he continues the rest of the way on his own, where he and the newcomer continue to stare at each other in stunned silence.

What must be running through their heads right now?

“Areios, I’m so sorry I--”

The full apology dies in the doctor’s throat when  Areios, unable to contain himself, wraps him up in his arms and crushes him into his chest.

“I missed you so much, Aelium.”

[hinadori-chan]

okay but to all the earring wearers out there imagine you and keigo wearing each others pairs sometimes

like, you in his little red princess cuts and him wearing your favorite pair

[samuraisharkie]

god it’s insane how quickly most Americans forget about the rest of the world when voting season comes in. People that were going to either abstain or vote third party are transforming into “but project 2025 vote blue no matter who” criers because ultimately the rest of the world and their current bloodshed means nothing to them. It’s like they don’t even register it’s happening under the people they’re claiming have a “clear difference in goals” (they don’t. they’d do project 2025 too if it netted them the most money and voters. and for most of the world democrats have already done most things in that list and are still doing it.) just fuck everyone else, every man for himself, right?

[darklight-owl]

Fucking shit I hate Watchog bro I hate that pokemon so much I can't fucking deal with this what kind of sadistic fuck at GameFreak thought it was a good idea to give that ugly bastard hypnosis confuse ray and super fang i swear to whatever unloving god allowed this thing to be created if it puts my entire team to sleep one more time I am going to go primeapeshit I am actually going to lose it fuck Watchog I hope every single Watchog that ever lived goes to PokéHell no matter what if the word "hate" was written on every single neuron in my body it would not compare to one billionth of the hatred I have for this pokémon

[halalgirlmeg]

Everytime I see authors talking about getting their book published in three years I'm like welp! Time to retire

[itstheheebiejeebies]

As good as the finale was I am still left in serious want for more storyline for the Tuskegee Airmen because wow they really got a quarter of an episode in ep8 and maybe 3 lines in this ep and we're supposed to be good?

We really should have had scenes with them across more episodes, and gotten at least a fraction of their story because the way they were shown really showed almost nothing

[passerinesoncaffeine]

I'm actually going to gnaw my own hand off.

[mariocki]

Fat Man on a Beach (HTV, 1974)

"I'm going to read some more poems now. Erm. It may be that if you want to go and have a cup of tea, this would be a good time. I know that's what you masses are like. The mention of poetry and off you go."

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

nobody. is entitled. to any information. about anybody else's life.

it doesn't matter if they were your child/grandchild, sibling, cousin, best friend, casual acquaintance, whatever.

if somebody wants to keep the information about their life private, they have that right.

and the one putting someone "in the middle" about it all? are the people asking for information, not the person asking for it to be withheld.