#I just am too tired to do it right now

[wheezecheese]

It's all J's fault. If she had just kept an eye on Cyn instead of locking her in the basement none of this would have happened. If J never felt the need to terrorize those she viewed as below her everything would have been fine. She deserved everything that happened afterwards. J is lucky she gets to rot in the core of Copper 9! She has nobody to blame but herself. She had every chance to help her fellow drones, but she sided with Cyn (out of selfishness and fear, unlike V.) like a coward.

[mossy-aro]

ultimately i think my insistence on aro positivity honestly is as much a political stance as a personal one.

when i say aro positivity is crucial and that i dislike doomer-ist posts that express sentiments like 'I hate being aro so much I wish I was dead instead’ it's not because I don’t think there can and should be a space for negativity and acknowledging self-hate, or the many ways being aromantic can really suck sometimes. i find that to be very important!

that being said. there is smth here about how self-hate posts are sometimes just arophobia that we inflict on ourselves. and when we put that out into the ether it (intentionally or not) can become arophobia that we inflict on other members of the community. i think there absolutely needs to be a place for negativity and the expression of anger and frustration and self loathing even - these are all good things to talk about because these are things that we experience. that being said, it can also be genuinely upsetting and triggering to people to have what is essentially arophobia shown to them and then have that be validated by other aspec people. your personal thoughts can affect your wider community on a level you may not anticipate. and i understand it i truly do! it took me so long to be able to recover from accepting being aroace - it threw my entire world off kilter and made me question everything about my place in the world.

but my insistence on aro joy and positivity is because ultimately i do believe that building is at the core essence of it all. that ultimately discussions and the purpose of community should be about construction, not destruction. and this is both a personal and a political stance. talking about how much you hate yourself and cultivating online discussions/spaces where negativity about aspec identity is the main and only theme is destructive - if that’s where we let the conversation end. these thoughts can and should be used as a vehicle to look for a path forward!

joy and positivity create a space where the focus can become on forging a path forward, on construction, on community building instead of tearing ourselves and others down with negative thoughts. it’s not productive or healthy when it stops at a place of negativity - it becomes actively destructive to the essence of community.

and i do think that this is especially poignant considering the fact that being any kind of queer, but especially aromantic (and/or asexual) means forging a path for yourself and making your own happiness where there is no obvious way forward. our communities exist mostly online (right now, anyway), there is little recognition of our existence in the real world, the effects of amatonormativity are both pervasive and actively dehumanising, and there are legal, economic and social structures in place actively making our lives more difficult. yes that all sucks! it’s good to acknowledge that. we need to in order to change it. but more importantly, that’s not the end. we are still here and our happiness, our future is for us to determine. even if we can’t change the laws or society, loving yourself and understanding aromanticism as a political identity (as well as personal), as a radical worldview, and as a protest against amatonormativity is essential for both community and personal well being. the personal is political.

tldr. i guess my point is that as a community, we should focus on building, improving, and nurturing ourselves and each other (construction) as opposed to destruction. we should recognise aromanticism and asexuality as political identities as well as personal ones and rely on community and self-love in the absence of anything else as a form of protest and political power. destruction (the recognition of everything that is wrong) is essential as a starting point - but where do we go from there? we rebuild.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[smalltimidbean]

Blast of Many Little Guys Upon You;

[turtleblogatlast]

Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.

[fisheito]

collab #2 with @xenole i was given a chibi yakumo and i.. i...... turned it into thiS

[moeblob]

TIL "Lay On Hands" is a paladin healing skill and I am blessed by this knowledge.

[kheprriverse]

Y’all thinking about an older Ares has RUINED me

[starbuck]

idk why people think that just because they’re good friends with someone means they should be in a relationship… like. i’m SORRY you like me more than all your other friends now… can’t it just be good that we’re good friends??????? why does that automatically mean that we have to be life partners??????????

[youngpettyqueen]

wrote something unbearably fluffy and I will be posting it on ao3 tomorrow but I wanted to do something a lil different and post it here. this is because I dont have the energy to do the format editing for ao3 rn but I want people to see it right now immediately

garashir, post-canon Cardassia, short and sweet, fluff that will rot your teeth out. enjoy <3

“Elim?” 

Gentle hands resting on his shoulders rouse Garak from a sleep he didn’t even realize he’d fallen into. He jerks awake with a rather undignified snort, more startled than he’d care to admit as he straightens himself up in his chair. Falling asleep at his desk… he really is getting sloppy.

Those hands squeeze his shoulders gently. He would know that touch anywhere.

“Only me, love,” Julian’s voice murmurs, soft and reassuring, “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Garak glances back over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the kink that’s developed in his neck from his awkward sleeping position. “You’ll have to forgive me, my dear,” He replies, offering Julian a tired smile, “I seem to have lost track of the time.”

He takes a moment to give Julian a quick once-over, his eyes heavy with sleep but no less sharp. He looks dishevelled, his hair a mess of loose curls and his jaw lined with a shadow of stubble. He doesn’t have any visible injuries, and his uniform is rumpled, but intact. So today was long, but likely not life-threatening. Good. He’d been worried, before he went and passed out.

Julian smiles back at him, a warm expression, though very tired. The lines under his eyes are deep. “I’ll forgive you, if you forgive me for being so late,” He offers, gently rubbing Garak’s shoulders, “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I was drafting requests for more medical equipment, and lost track of time myself.” He explains.

“How could I ever fault you for such a noble endeavour?” Garak asks, leaning back into Julian’s hands, which are doing wonders for what’s become a permanent stiffness in his shoulders, “I’m sure the staff appreciate your efforts.” His doctor has done marvellously, adapting to working in a Cardassian hospital. It took a couple of crisis situations before the rest of the staff finally took him seriously, but he’s managed to find a place for himself with minimal friction, as far as the hospital staff are concerned. Usually a Human would never have been accepted so quickly, but these are desperate times, and they can seldom afford to turn away such a capable pair of hands. 

“They’ll appreciate it when I actually get the equipment,” Julian replies. He works his thumbs into a knot at the base of Garak’s neck, and Garak all but melts against him, a pleased sound rumbling low in his chest, “Dare I ask what you’re doing with Kukalaka?” 

The question snaps Garak out of his pleased little trance. He glances back at his desk and finds that the bear is, in fact, sitting there, a needle still attached to thread hanging loose from his leg, which is half-sewn to his body. “Ah,” He says, now recalling what he was doing before sleep so unceremoniously claimed him, “Yes, that… well, I was rather hoping to surprise you with that tomorrow…” He hums, feeling a flash of annoyance at his plans being thwarted. 

Julian leans over his shoulder, examining his handiwork. “Oh, Elim…” He murmurs, like Garak has just handed him the world, “You wonderful, wonderful man. You really are too good to me.” He wraps his arms loosely around Garak’s neck, rests his weight against him as he presses his warm cheek to the side of his head.

It never ceases to amaze Garak, just how easy it is to make Julian’s day. The smallest acts have him behaving as if Garak has put the suns in the sky just for him. “Hardly,” He refutes, because he could never be too good for the man who reminds him days after day that good exists in this universe simply by existing, “You may have convinced the little ruffian’s mother that you weren’t upset over Kukalaka being torn asunder, but I know you far better than that. I may not understand the significance of the little fellow, but I would be remiss if I allowed him to remain in tatters when I could easily repair him.” He reasons, and it’s an awfully long way to say I hate to see you sad.

“That little ruffian was all of 3 years old,” Julian points out, a smile in his voice, “And teething, might I add, so understandably cranky. But… thank you,” A warm kiss is pressed to Garak’s cheek, an action that turns him into a puddle of bliss and affection, “I would tell you just how much it means to me, but I’m afraid I’m much too tired to adequately express myself.” He kisses Garak’s cheek again, and nuzzles against him.

Garak hums happily, reaching up to rest a hand on Julian’s arm. “Oh, I don’t know,” He muses, rubbing circles into Julian’s arm with his thumb, “I believe I could infer the depths of your gratitude from, say… more kisses.” He suggests, tilting his head so that he can flash Julian a cheeky grin. 

Julian snorts, buries his face in Garak’s neck as laughter shakes his slender shoulders. When he lifts his head again, he has the loveliest smile lines on his rosy-cheeked face, and the lines under his eyes don’t seem quite so deep anymore. 

“You’re incorrigible.” Julian tells him, earnestly and completely affectionate. 

“Yes,” Garak agrees, “And I do believe you love me for it.” 

“Oh, very much,” Julian agrees, leaning in till his nose taps against Garak’s, “It’s one of your most endearing traits.” 

Garak rubs their noses together, a gesture that is indescribably affectionate and also quite silly. “Tell me again about all those endearing traits of mine?” He requests.

“I’m far too tired for that,” Julian replies, his eyes flicking to Garak’s lips, “I think I’d much rather kiss you silly. Is that an acceptable substitute?” He asks. 

Garak doesn’t respond verbally, just angles his head and pushes up to capture Julian’s lips with his. Julian makes a happy little hum as he kisses him back, and his smile as he presses his lips to Garak’s again and again says more about his gratitude and his love than any string of words ever could. 

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

:)

Listen, if hori doesn’t put them in the final battle, I bloody well will lmao /lh

I have doodles to do, things to catch up on and asks to get to but my body decided to make me very suddenly ill (>:[) in the midst of some serious college stuff, so just have this for now <3

I want to see all of them feral, dishevelled and fighting, so I am playing with the blorbos like toy dolls :)

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[idontbrain]

Mugman, in their teen years: I think I like dressing up like a woman sometimes.

Cuphead: * staring blindfully into the sun *

Mugman: Any fucking thoughts?

Cuphead: And prayers. You're gonna need them.

-------------------

No, but he's right. I tried being a woman for like 14 years, hardest shit of my life, never again.

[pigeonclaw]

the amount of times I have potentially controversial opinions that I type up and then save in my drafts forever because I still feel them but am too shy and afraid to choose violence in any way

[grubus]

hii! just wondering when the next syonr time skip will occur and how long will it be?

Well, I keep hoping I'll reach it within 1-2 chapters, but every time I say that, I end up having to add onto another chapter because I needed to cover something I forgot about. So *shrug* I don't dare to make any promises. I feel like I'm jinxing myself every time I answer this question.

As for how long it will be? I would say about a year, so not immediately to the alliance conference, since that occurs when Binghe is 17, and BingYuan would be 16 after this next timeskip.

Though the time period will be pretty short in comparison before it skips ahead to the alliance conference again. That is the plan, anyway. I might end up skipping directly to the conference if I decide what I have in mind doesn't fit. I doubt it though! I look very much forward to what I have planned ^^

[nobodybetterlookatme]

I don't care if the texts are about what you're eating for dinner, I'll take all the crumbs I can get !!

LMAO yeah okay here you go. And upon reading them this morning it wasn't that funny so idk why I was laughing almost hysterically last night about it ahskalslal