#and i feel like cheering because YES DO IT

[weemietime]

It's because at the end of the day, these people are really xenophobic. Progressive antisemites like to think they aren't, but scratch under the surface and you'll see how they actually feel about indigenous peoples.

Native Americans, First Nations, Jews, Persians, Armenians, Uyghurs, and it goes on and on and on. Progressive antisemites aren't really progressive, it's just more Jerry Falwell moral purity bullshit with a rainbow coat of paint. He protested funerals of soldiers and booed at their grieving loved ones and jeered at HoMoSeXuAlS, too. They've even got their own version of Satanic Panic, with antisemitic canard right at the center in the form of this RAMCOA shit.

And if you're thinking hey, what do you mean, I couldn't be homophobic? consider that you are actively praising Hezbollah and Hamas, cheering for Nasrallah and Sinwar, two religious extremist fundamentalist terrorists who have said with their whole chest that gays should be put to death and have ordered them killed, if not outright killing them personally. I wouldn't be surprised if either of them had killed a gay person, lol.

If your only come back is "well Palestinians still don't deserve to be genocided" like, 1) I agree. Genocide is bad. Genocide isn't happening here, but innocent people are being killed and that's wrong. Hamas kills their own people, for the record. Islam Hijazi was shot 90 times. Those gunshot victims are people trying to flee their homes and being shot at because Hamas tells them not to leave their homes, they want them there as a shield.

And 2) we can fucking talk about this like adults and conclude that yes, war crimes are immoral and wrong and should never happen. The people who commit war crimes no matter who they are should be thrown in jail. But also, Hamas is not some bastion of resistance, their entire purpose as an organization for the last thirty years has been to destroy Israel. They're a puppet for Iran and they are very brazen about this, very open.

The only reason you can't hear it is because you're not progressive, you are a racist who is unable to take anything Arabs say at face value.

You know, for all the talk of how left wing antisemitism is or isn't like right wing antisemitism and some interesting points about how left wing antisemitism is more like right wing racism I just realized something: left wing antisemitism is a lot like right wing anti-leftism

They take words they don't know the meaning of (woke or socialism / zionism) and just use them to describe things they think are bad no matter if they apply

They pretend words minorities use to refer to majorities are slurs (cis / goy)

They claim (Soros / Hasbara) is paying people to post/protest

They are obsessed with the flag of the losing side of a war.

They take something everyone does (use a teleprompter / kill civilians) and pretend like it's something new and terrible that they would never do even though they do.

Refugees should go back where they came from

Denying history (The civil war wasn't about slavery / Jews lived in peace under Muslim rule)

I'm sure there's more...

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Do you think any of the OI characters could be convinced to put on a sexy nurse outfit, while taking care of their sick partner?

I am giggling! (I really tried not to just be like YES to all of them, but I am a weak, weak person.)

oscar isaac charcters x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Warnings: silliness, references to sexy times

Word Count: 465

_____________________________________

Steven: Giggles the whole time, and puts on a fantastically over the top accent to go with the new character he’s created. You have to kiss him to shut him up when he starts quoting Carry On, Doctor.

Marc: Will put on the outfit and make you take your medicine and go to sleep. “I’m taking care of you, so you feel better, why did you want something else?” Is a little shit about it until you beg him for kisses.

Jake: No sooner than the words are out of your mouth, he’s already scrambling to get changed. Nurse Lockley is here with medicine (his dick) and to take care of you (fuck your brains out if you’re up to it.) 

Nathan: Nathan ‘I’m not putting that fucking thing on’ Bateman. Getting all grumpy and muttering under his breath. The second you are out of the room though and (preferably) laying down, he’s knocking on the door in the most outrageous outfit you’ve ever seen and telling you he’s ‘been hired by Dr Bateman to take care of you’.

Anselm: You never have to even bring up the idea, because Anselm has already dressed up for you in a nurse’s outfit many times. (He has several for different occasions, but tends to prefer a custom made latex one that is skin tight and crotchless.) 

Cecil: Thinks the idea is hilarious and gets a little too into character. Tries to wear a pair of very high heels and you just about manage to convince him to take them off before he falls over and gives himself a concussion. 

Club!Blue: Doesn’t mind dressing up at all and is far too into it. (If a guard knocks on his office door, he will be answering it in full costume and with his cock out.)

Orderly!Blue: Please do not encourage this man. 

Jack: Has a disturbingly realistic outfit with blood stains that you do NOT want to ask where they came from. 

Santiago: Takes some convincing because it makes him feel a little self conscious, but he wants to try to not only cheer you up but also to get over some insecurities and he knows he’s safe with you.

Shimmer!Kane: Puts it on without a second thought, clothes are clothes, right? However he does like that it makes you happy. 

King John: Even though this is not historically time period accurate, I can’t help myself - he’s gonna fuck you in a plague doctor mask. I’m sorry.

Rydal: Will be a brat about it, because he wants you to spank him in the outfit.

Laurent: Starts going on about how he’s a ‘wet nurse’ and keeps shoving his boobs in your face.

Poe: As if this man doesn’t have 400 outfits on hand at all times.

_________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[carto0ncritter]

PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THIS PERSON.

I'm genuinely tired of HB/HH/Vivziepop stans putting words into my mouth.

"You literally hate everything about the show"

Fyi, I didn't hate the premise. I also don't hate: 1) The animation; 2) The voice acting; 3) The potential the show had, and hopefully still has, since it will apparently have at least four seasons.

But ever since HB went from being about the misadventures of assassins in Hell, into a romance drama between two characters who are clearly toxic for each other, that's when I started hating the plot. The third point you made is true, I do hate the plot, and I will continue to do so, unless all this focus on an abusive gay ship (Stolitz) shifts back to what got me and a lot of other people into the show in the first place. And no, I'm not going to stop being vocal about it just because someone else told me to. You're on the internet buddy, learn to accept the fact that not everyone will have the same opinions as you.

And that's really NOT something to get worked up about.

"Just stop watching it if you are this upset about all of this"

Maybe you should stop going into the critical tag if you know that what you're gonna find there will upset you. Just a thought.

And if you've come across my post by searching "blitzo" "moxxie" "millie" or "loona," all you had to do was read the very first sentence I wrote (having to do about my issues with the latest episode) and click off my post because clearly criticism of your beloved show triggers you. And no, I won't stop tagging the characters like this even if I have something negative to say about them. This perfectly explains as to why:

"You hate the main character"

Which one? If you mean Blitzø, then no. I don't hate him. I literally said it in the tags.

But if you mean Stolas, then yeah, I hate him. So what?

"You hate most of the characters in general"

If by most characters you mean Stolas, then yes, I do.

But uh... I don't hate any other character aside from maybe Loona? She's written so inconsistently. There's no real development when it comes to Loona. She acts like a huge bitch and a spoiled brat despite receiving love from her dad for five years straight. She is a grown ass woman who kicked Blitzø in the balls after telling Octavia that Stolas is "trying his best" when he clearly wasn't. She physically abused Blitzø just because he called her out RIGHTFULLY, remind me why she didn't beat the shit out of him again in the latest episode after Blitzø wanted her to overwork herself AND didn't pay her for a month?

Oh and there's also the time Loona cheered for Blitzø, tucked him in and called him dad. Why is she abusive towards him in the very next episode?

That's the inconsistency I'm talking about.

As for the other main characters:

I genuinely relate to Octavia. And I feel sorry for her. Enough said.

I don't care about Millie. It's too little too late for that.

I'm not sure how to feel about Moxxie. Where is his character arc even going? What is his character arc? Learning to stand up for himself for the millionth fucking time?

Stella is a wasted character whose only purpose is making Stolas seem "innocent." I hate what the writers did to her.

Also yes, I dislike Viv for reasons that are 100% valid and available to the public, so I'm not making stuff up.

[atlantis-just-drowned]

Oooooh interesting game!! Let's see

I genuinely believe my bedroom's decoration makes me super attractive. Like I have such amazing tastes. Have you seen the worms on my ceilings? They obviously mean I'm the best person alive.

My trench-coat. Yes absolutely. This shit makes me the sexiest man ever. I got it because a terrorist had the same. What's sexier than Jason Dean blowing up a school? Exactly. Nothing. (Please don't report me this is a musical reference THIS IS A MUSICAL REFERENCE)

My music tastes are immaculate and I will take zero criticism on this. Whoever listens to my 30 hours long playlist will instantly fall in love with me.

My personality. There are many good aspects to it such as: being protective, caring for my friends, and sending assholes cry elsewhere. I don't take shit. I will preserve my and my friends' peace no matter what.

Headmates mention? Absolutely, headmates mention. I love hating these guys /j. Amazing brain gremlins. They're rabid and bite on sight. Breaching containment on a daily basis. 10/10 to all of them they're doing an amazing job at keeping us alive. Everyone cheers them please.

Idk guys I just read 30k of p- raw feelings. I might not be in the right state of mind.

*pokes at you with a stick* Hey. Do something. @arsuns-ramblings @l7wj @ratnix @welcometothevoidmychild @sleepy-pile-of-ashe + whoever wants to join or something

Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers!!!

Ok? Uhh:

My Eyes

2. My intelligence

3. My style

4. My art

5. Music taste

@orchid-merryweather @iliveinyourfridge67

@samahs-chaotic-mess @whoisenver

@anime-nugg3t @jaydove-writes

@salty-and-spiraling @justaneedle

@steph-schuyler

I would tag @polskasroka but you asked this

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 73: Emily's Safehouse

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, conditioning, memories of abuse

October 1925

Emily woke up in bed -- a real bed for human beings, not a fuzzy little pet bed on the floor -- a sensation both frightening and strangely familiar. She wasn't allowed on the bed, unless her lady --

Her lady.

Her lady was dead.

The events of the previous night came rushing back to her as she lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling. One moment she'd been in the carriage, drunk and stupefied from her lady's aura, and in the next moment, Lady Jessica was dead and gone. She'd been pulled from the carriage and into a janky old car by a vampire hunter, leaving behind everything she'd known for a promise of freedom, or at least a promise of a hot meal and a place to stay.

Unease gnawed in her gut. Promises of help always came with strings attached. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she felt it deep inside. She'd have to pay for this charity somehow.

Emily tried to remember. Who had she been and what had she been doing before she had served a vampire? She knew somehow that she hadn't been serving a vampire for very long, so there must have been something that came before, but she couldn't remember any of it, a swirl of colors and scents and pains where the rest of her mind should be. Perhaps serving a vampire was the only thing she was truly good for, the thing she was meant to do.

She sat up in bed, trying in vain to drive the fuzziness from her mind. She didn't want it to be true, because if it were, then the hunter had just taken away the only thing that gave her life meaning.

There was a faint smell of eggs and toast in the air, and Emily's stomach growled, reminding her that there was no existential crisis that was worth missing out on food. She pulled herself out of bed, wearing the thick flannel nightgown that had been handed to her the night before, and pushed open the creaky wooden door.

The vampire hunter's home was an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, one with uneven floors and chipped paint and drafts in every window. It was nothing like the luxurious modern townhouse her lady had occupied, with every modern convenience including electricity. Still, Emily liked how familiar this place felt, how natural it was to keep her footsteps soft as she walked down the hall in borrowed slippers.

The kitchen was small but cheerful, done up in bright yellow and lime green. The hunter, Vivian, was tending to a skillet of eggs, while a young woman with red hair and a simple black coat sat at the kitchen table. The woman looked dazed, her eyelids at half-mast, as though she were fighting the urge to drop off to sleep.

"Good morning, Emily!" said Vivian. "Would you like some eggs? And did you sleep well?"

"I think so. And yes, I would like some eggs, please." She sat down at the table, nervously glancing at the other woman.

"Oh, this is Jenny, the thrall I took from Edgar. Jenny, this is Emily, a thrall I rescued last night."

"Pleased to meet you," said Jenny with a smile.

"You were a thrall, too?"

"Yes, for a very long time, until Vivian killed my master. She's helping me get accustomed to the human world again. I spent so long under my master's spell that it's…" She trailed off, sinking back into a daze, before collecting herself again. "It's difficult, after having spent years under a vampire's spell."

"Years…"

"Mmm…" Her eyelids were drooping again, and in a fluid motion, she fell to her knees, bowing her head to no one.

Vivian took the pan off the burner for a moment to shake her gently awake. Her eyes popped open and she sat back down on the chair, blushing. "Sorry, I still slip back under sometimes. Vivian is helping with that."

"You've been making great progress, considering how deep you were in vampire thrall," said Vivian, as she placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of Emily.

As Emily quickly ate her breakfast, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed herself, recalling how she had acted around her lady. Many nights, she'd accompany Lady Jessica to a club or social call, kneeling by her lady's chair, laying her head in her lady's lap, allowing her lady to pet her as though she were a beloved dog. Perhaps she had looked just as Jenny did, lost in a stupor as she mindlessly worshiped a vampire.

It hadn't always been this way, she was sure. How had they done this to her?

"I should be able to help you, too," said Vivian, sitting at the table. "How long were you with vampires? Do you remember?"

"I'm not sure," Emily said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I can't remember much of anything before my lady's -- the vampire's house. But she has been showing me off to everyone as her new thrall, still, so I don't think it's been that long. A couple of months, maybe."

"That's good, then, it'll be easier to recover if you weren't with her long. From what you've said, it sounds like you had your memories wiped. Did you go through the auction house?"

The mention of the auction house stirred up a particular image in her mind. She was standing on a stage under a spotlight, wearing an uncomfortable frilly dress and jeweled handcuffs, squinting to try and focus on the crowd in front of her, bidding. They were bidding on her, bidding more than she'd ever made in her life, and it was going so fast…

"Yes, I'm sure I went through the auction house."

Vivian nodded. "Do you know if you met a vampire named Lily?"

"Lily! Yes, I remember her well."

"She's the one who wiped your memories, then."

Emily didn't just remember Lily from the auction house, the vampire who put her to sleep so gently, who urged her to be quiet and docile and offer her blood. She also remembered Lily from nights at the Tiger's Eye. In fact, she had cozied up to Lily, shamelessly nuzzling her, feeling a deep need to be near her and to hear her voice, even though she was the one who had stolen Emily's life.

And all of the other little indignities bubbled up in her thoughts. Allowing the vampire to dress her up like a paper doll and walk her on a leash. Mindlessly accepting that she'd be discarded and sold again when her lady tired of her. Smiling dreamily as she offered up her neck to a bloodsucking monster. Oh, god, she'd let that vampire sink her fangs into her flesh and drink her blood so, so many times, and she'd been made to enjoy it.

"Emily, are you okay?"

She wiped at her hot tears. "I let them take my mind, didn't I?" she said, humiliated. "I let them take my blood, too. I don't even remember if I fought them, but either way, they won. They took my mind from me."

"You didn't let them do anything," said Vivian firmly. "Vampires are strong, incredibly so, and particularly some of the ones you've encountered. Their enthrallment abilities can be powerful, almost impossible to resist without magic. Even many hunters eventually fall and become a thrall themselves. It's not your fault that they did this to you."

Emily nodded, still lost in her deep rush of shame despite Vivian's words.

"But I have magic. I've been studying how to ward myself from vampires for a long time. And I know a ritual that can reverse enthrallment, if you're interested."

"Yes!" said Emily. "Yes, I want my memories back. I want to know who I was before all of this. There must be something I can go back to."

"If you're that eager, we can do the ritual right after breakfast, if you like. But I should warn you… not everyone who gets their memories back is happy about it," Vivian said. "It's just that vampires tend to prey on people who… don't have a lot of family, or people to notice if they go missing. A lot of thralls come from bad circumstances. Do you still want to try?"

She would be lying to herself if her heart didn't sink a bit, but she knew that her answer was still the same. "Yes. I think I want to know, even if it's awful. I don't want to feel like offering my blood to a vampire was the only thing I ever did in life."

"Then come with me."

Emily followed Vivian into a sort of parlor and up a spiral staircase that rattled with every step. They emerged in an attic that smelled of dust and mildew. Vivian lit a lantern, and then a number of candles on the floor, and Emily could see a chalk circle with strange symbols written in it. The floor was stained in some places with what looked like blood. She realized that she had been trusting the vampire hunter completely, even though she knew so little about her. Sure, she'd freed Emily from her fate as a thrall, but that didn't necessarily mean she was a safe person in every way.

"I'll need to spill some of my blood for this ritual. Don't worry, it won't harm you, apart from any harm you might get from the memories you've lost." The knife Vivian held had a blade as long as her hand that glinted in the candlelight. "All you need to do is kneel in the circle and close your eyes."

Emily shuddered, her vague memories of the auction house dancing through her mind. After all she'd been through, she really didn't want to be at someone else's mercy.

But she hardly had a choice. Without any memories or skills beyond being a vampire's pet, she didn't think she could survive on her own. She had no place to go, no friends or family that she remembered, and no job -- she was already at Vivian's mercy. Slowly, reluctantly, she knelt in the circle and held her eyes just barely closed.

"Perfect," said Vivian. "Now just try to relax, and whatever you feel, just go with it. Don't suppress it, or the ritual won't be as effective. You might feel awful as your mind returns, because one thing the vampires like to do is suppress your undesirable feelings so that you enjoy being their mindless slave. But you have to accept it, all right?"

"All right."

Emily knelt in the darkness, her knees growing sore, as Vivian began a low chant. With her eyes closed, she could hear Vivian walking around her, chanting, along with rustling noises. The scent of burning herbs joined the candle smoke.

"Hold still for a moment."

She could feel the pressure of Vivian's thumb on her forehead and cheeks, and it felt like she had smeared something on her. She chanted words in an unknown language into Emily's left ear, then her right.

Just as Emily was wondering when the ritual would start to have an effect, a wave of fear and shame and sadness swept her away. She thought she had been embarrassed before, but it was nothing like what she felt now, a deep horror at how she'd been captured and used, her mind stolen and bent and made to serve the monsters who had violated her. A choked sob escaped her throat, and she retched as she recalled what the feedings were like without the glowing haze of hypnosis surrounding them. The suppressed pain, the violence of the vampire's fangs, the smell of her own blood.

But she remembered. She remembered her family, the one she'd run from, thinking nothing could ever be worse. She remembered trying to scrape by with odd jobs and artwork, the dingy room she called home, the many nights she'd gone hungry. She remembered being tossed into a cell in the auction house, straining against the iron bars, not knowing what would happen to her.

"Emily." Vivian had stopped chanting. "You can open your eyes now. Are you okay?"

She didn't feel okay. She felt as though she'd experienced a lifetime's worth of trauma in the space of ten minutes. But at least she knew it was hers. At least she knew how hard she'd fought to make herself a real life, how much she struggled against the vampires before the fight had been taken out of her.

"I'll be okay," she said, mostly out of a hope that it would be true. "Thank you. Between this and saving me last night, I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"I don't expect you to pay me. I'm planning on ransacking your vampire's home tonight, and once I pawn most of it, there'll be money for both of us," she said. "But your former mistress was also known to be a real social butterfly, so if your memories are less foggy, I wouldn't mind if you paid me in information."

"What kind of information?"

"Mostly where I can find powerful vampires to kill."

"The Tiger's Eye," Emily said. "It's a club where all of the powerful vampires of the city go to drink and gossip. I think I can show you where it is."

"Oh, I appreciate that, but I already know about the Tiger's Eye. It's how I tracked your mistress. Unfortunately, even though I'm a real crackerjack of a hunter, I don't think I can take on an entire club's worth of vampires by myself. So as much as I'd like to, I can't raid their speakeasy. All I can do is track down the drunk ones once they leave."

"Oh, I see." Now that Emily could think more clearly about it, she would've dearly loved to see the entire place burned to the ground -- after every one of those poor thralls had been saved, of course. She could remember lounging on her lady's lap as Jessica drank from a woman covered in bite scars, who seemed to have barely any awareness of where she was, and bile rose in her throat again.

The Tiger's Eye -- there was something important she was supposed to remember --

"If you know of any individual vampires that would be good to track down… There's actually a few in particular --"

"Oliver!" That had been nagging at her. The thrall who had recognized her last night was Oliver, the unfortunate bookseller who had been her neighbor in the cells. He'd talk to her for hours, taking her mind off the sordid situation, and had ended up hypnotized out of his wits, eager to throw away his life for a vampire -- just as she had.

"Beg pardon? Is that the name of a vampire?"

"No, he's someone I met when I was in the auction house. He was sold to a vampire, of course, and my la-- Jessica said that he lived only a block away from us -- from her. Do you think you could rescue him, too?"

"A block away from Jessica, you say…" Vivian nodded slowly. "Yes, I think I can work with that, especially if you know anything about the vampire who bought him."

"I don't remember his name, but… he was fairly tall and thin, pale and with messy hair. And his voice… this may be a strange thing to recall, but his voice was like -- something you'd want to listen to for days, even if he only read the phone book."

"Hmm, that might be part of his enthrallment. I'll have to be careful," said Vivian. "I can't make any promises, but I think I could arrange a playdate with your friend Oliver and his master."

Previous > Masterlist

Next week: Fitz is put under the Maestro's control.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

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@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly

[amazingmsme]

Okay, image this, Ares being a smart mouth shit to Athena and Hephaestus, his older siblings, since he's the God of War and is very much egotistical.

Athena and Hephaestus wreck him at times to humble him a bit, sometimes just because he's having a sour attitude over something.

Athena is shown to be stronger than Ares, and if he overpower her, she'd probably be five steps ahead and have a way to turn the tables.

Hephaestus, being a blacksmith, is just already strong as hell, and he has the chain he used on Ares and Aphrodite. He can set up a tickle trap too

Also, I like the idea of Athena purposely going soft on tickle because she knows Ares can handle pain and a lot more rougher things, so her slowly tracing and wiggling her fingers on him would drive him literally insane (also because he probably hasn't got gentle touch in thousands of years he's been alive. Tocuhe-starved War God >:3)

KSGFRKBALCBSKS I’M HYPERVENTILATING FINALLY SOME ARES LOVE!!!!! Seriously, I love him so much & he is so severely misunderstood in media & really enjoy what we’ve seen of him in epic!

But he loves to piss off his older siblings & instigate petty quarrels between them, but it doesn’t always work out how he planned. He does have a bit of a superiority complex & acts like he’s invincible, & it’s exactly that kind of cocky behavior that gets him caught

You’d never expect it, but Ares is actually quite the talker when he wants to be. (He likes listening to himself) & it just so happens to annoy both of them, so why would he shut up? Athena & Hephaestus are constantly having to put him in his place & remind him who the baby brother is & it flusters pisses him off so bad!

If they notice he seems particularly upset, then they take a gentler approach, or at least try to. They’re all awkward af. Hephaestus gets uncharacteristically goofy when he tries to cheer up his siblings. Sure he starts out pretty sincere & asks why they’re upset, & if it’s not super heavy he’ll proceed with the plan. He asks if they can smile, & if they don’t or say they can’t he starts to act a lil sillier & asks if they’ll ever smile again. Ares knows this game by heart, but he always holds out til the last second, claiming that no, he really will never smile again, fuck off (he doesn’t mean it) & Hephaestus knows that he’s playing along, but doesn’t call him out on it. Instead he just tickles him until Ares assures him that yes he feels better & that is a real smile on his face, no he’s not faking it, you asshole!

If Athena notices that he’s upset, she just goes up to him & asks if he wants to spar. He always says yes, & it’s fairly common for them to still train together. But while fighting she’ll try to bring up fond memories from battles or training sessions. She waits until he’s in a bit of a better mood before completely switching tactics. She’ll wait until she has ahold of him or pinned him down & then yell “tickle fight!” & digs in before he even realizes what’s happening. She doesn’t care if she’s collateral damage, she just wants to have some fun like old times & take his mind off things. & she loves to bully him about it the whole time, so it’s a perfect excuse

Ares is a pretty even match with both of them, so he really does have to put up a fight if he wants a chance at escape. But if they’re working together? Yeah dude’s a goner

& you are SO right about light tickles being his weakness! Especially because when he thinks of tickling, he automatically thinks of the more rough, hysterical laughter kind rather than the light grazing, giggle your head off kind. & that lowkey makes him short circuit & go completely mad. He’s not used to any kind of soft touch, so he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He gets soooo squirmy & giggly, it’s definitely the easiest way to get him flustered

& ever since he’s been with Athena, he’s a lot less touch starved. So don’t worry about him, she made sure to make up for lost time & show him what he was missing

[waitineedaname]

POV!!

i decided to go with a rewrite of something i've already posted this time! here's binghe's pov for a snippet of the age reveal fic i posted on sqq's birthday

--

"How old will you be turning?" Luo Binghe asked curiously, tilting his head up from where he was snuggled into his husband's chest. He was still a little peeved to learn his husband's birthday was only four days away -- he would still put together the best celebration the three realms had ever seen, but he couldn't help but feel he could make it even better if he'd been given more time to prepare -- but at least this was an opportunity to learn more about the man he'd married.

Shen Qingqiu stared down at him, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. It was still such a gift to see his honest emotions on his face, in the privacy of their own home and softened by years of marriage. "Do you mean combined between my previous life and this one?"

Luo Binghe nodded. "Shizun must be very old and wise with the experience of two lives," he said, fluttering his eyelashes at him. There had been many things that thrilled him about learning the truth about who his husband was. One was the knowledge that Shen Qingqiu -- Shen Yuan -- had loved him before they even met, had been a fan of his and had been so outraged by his suffering that it brought him across worlds to fix it. Another was the reassurance that some of the things that had confused him about his Shizun's behavior could be blamed on the mysterious System that had brought him here in the first place, and he had never truly wanted to hurt him.

Most exciting of all, however, was the idea that with two lives under his belt, Shen Qingqiu might be even older than he'd previously assumed. Luo Binghe found the idea thrilling.

"I wouldn’t say that," Shen Qingqiu said with a humble laugh. He stroked Luo Binghe's back while he thought. "Let’s see… I was twenty when I first transmigrated, and then there were those five years when I was dead."

His words were chilling to Luo Binghe, and not just because of the reminder of those horrible five years. Only twenty? Then that meant...

"I suppose at this point, I’m only a year older than Binghe," Shen Qingqiu realized, cheerfully oblivious to the crisis he'd just thrust upon his husband.

"Only… a year older?" Luo Binghe repeated. This was unthinkable. This whole time, he'd been revelling in the knowledge that his husband was much older than him, only to learn that was a lie?

"Yes?" Shen Qingqiu sent him a strange look. His Shizun, for all that made him wonderful, was not always on the same page as he was.

"So Shizun… isn’t old and wise," Luo Binghe said. Even prior to learning about his husband's former identity, he'd enjoyed how much older Shen Qingqiu was. It was the subject of many of his hormonal teenage fantasies. His Shizun, his kind older teacher, so mature and experienced...

Shen Qingqiu frowned down at him, his brows pinching together. "Well, this body is likely in its forties at this point," he said, as if that made things any better. Only in its forties! When he first came to Qing Jing Peak, he'd been unable to guess Shen Qingqiu's age, obscured as it was by his cultivation. He could've been over a hundred for all Luo Binghe knew! Only to learn he hadn't been much older than thirty when Luo Binghe joined the peak, when Luo Binghe was now nearing thirty himself?! This couldn't possibly get worse.

Luo Binghe resisted the urge to pout. "But you complain about your old hips when we–"

Shen Qingqiu cut him off with a swift smack of his fan, which despite everything still sent a pleased little thrill through him. "Don’t say anything else! They are old hips! Not all of us are blessed with youthful demonic stamina!"

That, at least, cheered Luo Binghe up a little. As much as he valued Shen Qingqiu's cultivation, he did wish his body's age was more visible. His husband would look so dashing with gray hairs and smile lines... But at least his sore back and hips betrayed his body's age, and Binghe was always more than happy to massage those aches and pains away.

Luo Binghe wormed his arms around Shen Qingqiu's torso and gave him his most pleading expression. "Shizun, why don’t we celebrate your birthday as your forty-eighth? Twenty-eight sounds too strange." Luo Binghe himself would be turning twenty-eight in the winter, and the idea of celebrating the same age as his Shizun made him shudder.

"Okay?" Shen Qingqiu looked bewildered, though he'd subconsciously begun petting his back again as Luo Binghe snuggled closer. "You really don’t need to make a big deal out of my birthday, it’s nothing special."

Please. Everything about his husband was special. And they had over a decade of missed birthdays to catch up on! Luo Binghe would make it the best celebration the Demon Realm had ever seen. "This one is happy to dote on his middle-aged husband," he said, squeezing him around the middle.

"I’m not–"

Nope, Luo Binghe was not hearing it. "His middle-aged husband," he repeated firmly, hugging him even tighter. He continued clinging to him like that until Shen Qingqiu's flustered swatting grew more urgent.

"Alright, alright," Shen Qingqiu said, once he'd relented and let go. He was clearly flushed but made an attempt to conceal his blush behind his fan anyway. "Pass me another mooncake, will you?"

Luo Binghe happily sliced him another piece and fed it to him by hand, already drafting plans for his husband's fiftieth birthday in just a couple years.

[evilminji]

(Responding to notes) You. You get it. He is EXACTLY like a rodeo clown. In fact? He ENVIES rodeo clowns! At least THEY get cheering crowds and predictable opponents. Snacks. Snazzy outfits. Lucky bastards >:(

He? Gets boring, awful, "we take ourselves SO seriously and probably just murdered like... A LOT of innocent women and children to get you here" fuckin CULTISTS! Demons! Demon CULTISTS!!!

People trying to fuck with the balance of Life and Death. People trying to ENSLAVE the dead! Yes, ALL OF THEM. As in? The literally endless "everyone, from EVERY SENTIENT LIFEFORM, from EVERY REALITY, that has EVER existed and EVER WILL" Dead!

THAT. "THE DEAD".

Who the FUCK does that?! Do they have ANY idea of the SCALE they are talking? No! Of course not! They just want power! Are throwing out a nebulous "really really Big Number" like a CHILD!

Fuckers would EXPLODE. Take out GALAXIES. If they managed to access even a FRACTION of a fraction of the power they THINK they want! *smacks with newspapers* stupid! Mother! Fuckers! Playing around in nuclear silos, smashing all the buttons, because they have a vague idea that "nukes are strong, I wanna be strong!", like? What the FUCK!?

But? Ultimately? You can't stop stupid.

It's Free Will. Gods Given right. And that means, YES, even the dumbasses. Even the villians, scoundrels, and psychopaths. The choice to do RIGHT? Can only exsist if the choice to do WRONG exists. And somebody needs to be the guardian at the gate.

Luckily! Danny was BORN a Gate spirit. A protection spirit. This is LITERALLY what he was made to DO. He actually, no joke, gets STRONGER the greater the NEED for his protection and the more people who believe in him. Being a Superhero? Playing "King Phantom"? Oh he'll be kicking mother fuckers asses for MILLENNIA. He's gonna be an ANCIENT at this rate, easy.

Heck. Get Superman to stand next to him at a news conference, shake his hand, maybe smile and give him a hug? And BAM.

He'd probably GLOW IN THE DARK, as a HUMAN. Start looking vaguely ANGELIC. Since, you know, a certain part of how he looks IS a reflection of how his protected view him. These days, at least. *feels a tug* oh god damn it. AGAIN?!

I just thought of something?

What if... Ghost King? Is Danny's JOB.

Like, full on, haunted house scare actor type job. Because? NO BODY Rules The Zone. That was the FUCKING POINT, Pariah.

That was WHY he had to go in nappy time. The ZONE? Has a strict Anarchy ruling system. So sayth [REDACTED] (probably God? But you are not authorized to hold this knowledge). But! Will that STOP crazy lil dudes from trying to control the infinte between?

NOPE!

And it's getting to be a PROBLEM. JLA Dark is running themselves ragged, playing whack-a-mole. Heck, Morningstar! Had to step in! He does NOT want to have to BABYSIT this! Then Pariah yoinks this lil town, BLASTING everyone with a fuck ton of undeath radiation, and? Like?

REALLY?! You couldn't wait for their coffee to brew?!

So they come with magical hazmat. And.... wait a minute. *teen hero spotted noises*

A child!

A COMMIT TO THE BIT, FENTON child! Reveal? With competent Superhero supervision to make sure it goes well? More likely then you think! Have some tutoring. Get your grades back up. Let's ward that portal.

.....wanna play Ghost King? We'll pay you.

(Deal. Ember can help with the dramatic musical entrance music. They can do outfits. Pyrotechnics. It'll be a group project!)

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @babbling-babull

[lilithofpenandbook]

Okay but that scene in Snape's memories in DH?

The one where Dumbledore's telling him to go take the sword and he was like I Know and then Albus was like "what are you gonna do"

And Snape didn't explain

All he did was say "I have a plan"

That scene is so powerful to me

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.

[imgonnagetyoubacktv]

so sad for absolutely no reason

[thewhizzyhead]

I know the reunion concert was literally just 2 days ago but my bros my guys my dudes I miss WATT so so much and I really do want this show Actually Revived because I miss my cheerleaders, pma's stories and music are fucking great and I wanna hear more, watt has so much room for improvement, and I wanna see watt thrive aaaaaaaa

[memento-morri-writes]

This is far from my best work, but it's 1:30am, and I needed to get this down before I slept or lost my mind. So here, take a snippet of Rook seeing Zara again for the first time in 3 years.

Trying, and failing, to keep his voice from shaking, [Rook] said “Hello, Captain.” Mouth still open in surprise, [Zara] replied “Well, hello yourself.” The reality of what she was seeing seemed to hit her as she rounded the desk. “Rook, is that really you?” He nodded. “It’s me.” Zara ran towards him, stopping just short of touching him, and said “What did she do to you?” Rook’s heart stuttered and he had to brush his fingers together to confirm Sigmar’s ring was still in place. Could she possibly see through its illusion? But then he remembered what Lanny had said. She knew where you were. His throat clenched and he choked out “Two years.” A wave of grief swept across Zara’s face as she said “I’m so, so sorry.” Rook shook his head vigorously. “It’s not your fault.” Zara ignored him. “It is my fault. I failed you. As your captain, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed you.” Rook wanted to say something, to reassure her, but she pushed on. “She sent me letters, told me all the terrible things she was doing to you. I… I let you down.” Those words hit Rook with the force of a dozen cannonballs. Lanny had said that Zara knew Wolf had him, but knowing that Zara had been aware of what Wolf was doing to him… somehow that was more painful than any wound Wolf had ever inflicted. He barely managed to force his next words out around the lump in his throat. “Where were you?” And why didn’t you come? “She said she’d kill you if I came to get you. Or if I hired anyone to get you. You’re standing here because I stopped sailing.” 

(honorary one-time tag for @space-writes bc I remember you enjoyed my other bits about Rook and Zara.)

[3-carnivore-goats]

since i began to talk i couldnt make friends for the life of me. i was told i was too intense. okay then, it takes me years and it literally killed my will to live, but i dial it down.

still can't make connections. "you look uniterested, open up some more".

it's okay, it took me my entire developing years to craft that personality, but it's okay, i can learn to be more of an extrovert, if it's worth it.

it doesnt get better. huh. "well of course, have you ever considered you look desperate?"

oh fuck you im so tired of trying. nothing works im just not built for this. im so fucking tired. really. no human connection is worth this bullshit. im so worn out by mirroring other people's behavior i dont even know who i am god im so tired

[abyssembraced]

Making You the Patron Saint of Something

Patron Saint of Creation

Patron saint of explosions. Patron saint of More. Patron saint of something new entirely. Something unfamiliar, something you can't recognize. Was Frankenstein's monster an abomination or had his like just never been seen before? You're the patron saint of all those new, beautiful things. You're the patron saint of the monsters, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Patron Saint of Bones

Patron saint of frameworks. Of structures. Of solidity. Patron saint of things that break. Patron saint of things that are left behind. The bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest is gone? What do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? Who holds the bones?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagged by: @distrxst (thank you!)

Tagging: Back at it again with tagging Everyone <3 And again, if you have multiple rp blogs, absolutely feel free to do it for one other than the one I tagged!! @bladesfromthedark , @legalbrats , @tazmilyxfamily , @pri-rp , @hopeful-hugz , @quillheel , @musescfmusic , @interdimensional-ship