#and then people will be like ‘oh my GOD right its awful how all christians are horrible people right?

[anipwrites]

Mild vent no one will care about but it does make me kinda uncomfortable how many people will use ‘Christian’ or ‘Christianity’ as basically another way to say like ‘oh this person’s a horrible person, they’re racist, sexist, homophobic cult members, and in order for the world to improve the Christian religion can’t exist anymore and the Christian God can never be worshipped or else those ~Toxic Christians~ will doom society forever’

Like

I know when people say that they aren’t pointing at ~me specifically~ but it still feels kinda shitty yknow?

[violetpurpleviolet]

Supernatural , Season 6, Episode 7

Family Matters

Sam doesn't sleep , at all , not since he got back

"It never occurred to you there's something off about that?"

Oooh Dean's really pissed (Understandable)

IF HE CANT FEEL HOW IS HE FEELING PAIN? (its physical?)

"Its his soul , its gone"

Aw, because he's soulless, he can't care that he is soulless. This is so saaaaad. When does he get his soul back? Does it take the entire season? I don't want a whole season of soulless Sam :(. I miss soulful Sam.

Is Samuel also soulless? or does he have his soul because he wasn't trapped in a pit meant to hold Lucifer?

Have I mentioned that I don't like Samuel? Idk i just don’t like how he treats Dean. I get all hunters have trust issues, but idk this feels like some weird hatred. See, I trust Dean's instincts, he usually gets the trust stuff right more often than Sam. Sam's a cutie patootie (doesn't know who to trust, like me).

See, putting Dean in the back, when he knows Dean is a good hunter? Man, these damn hunters and their trust issues. Also, Samuel IS hiding something ( the phone call?).

I hate it when the brothers lie to each other. (but that's just siblings for you).

YAYAYAYA Sam and Dean are working together again. Brings joy to my heart.

Christian gives me the creeps. Also I just in general don't like people who are dicks to the brothers.

The alpha vamp actor looks really familiar. Also, before I started posting in the earlier seasons, I saw 3 actors from Once Upon A Time (Does anyone else watch that series?)

"Not heaven, not hell" "Legoland?"

Purgatory? Why does he want to find where purgatory is? I'm starting to think that the Alpha vamp wanted to be caught? Is he so powerful?

CROWLEY?

Oh, so that's why Christian was being such a bitch? Crowley is such a mastermind, though. Is Crowley the one who pulled them up? Oh, he's Lucifer 2.0, basically. (But I feel he's smarter because he doesn't underestimate Sam and Dean that much?) Also, he doesn't do the whole fate, god, raze the world stuff. Which was a big thing for Lucifer.

"What did he offer you? Girls, Money, Hair?"

Ah, Sam really was about to pull the trigger on Grandaddy. And Dean just unflinchingly puts his gun down. He knew soulless Sam would do that. Man they should have kept Crowley’s bones, but Bobby... hmm.

"You with me Dean?"

[morgana-ren]

Hi i had an idea that popped into my head, because I (vaguley) remember that the game talks about a sacrifice in the forest lake someone did (me thinks its the church who sac'd someone) and they may have became the ivory wraith.

So you think the town is cursed, maybe something that amplifies lust or 'sins' because of it?

Oh, something is definitely wrong with the town. Something dastardly and dark happened and is currently happening, though I'm not sure of the extent that the lore goes into it.

The Ivory Wraith actually has a very interesting backstory, if you manage to get them to show you.

To make it quick, it seems like they were some kind of priest or priestess for an early facet of the Faith in ancient times, and they along with others of their ward were kidnapped by some dark, esoteric order and sacrificed in some blasphemous ritual involving monsters and tentacles and some heinous offences to God or whatever.

I don't know if their spirit was corrupted or perhaps consumed by some eldritch lord, but either way, the Ivory Wraith is trapped beneath the ruins of the lake, able to wander the town, seemingly only caring for two things: Its own rare offspring, which it can impregnate the player with, and the lovely ivory necklace that dangles gracefully from its pale neck.

Now lets take a look at the faith.

On the outside, it seems relatively benign, seemingly modeled after modern day Catholicism. Strict and unforgiving, to be sure, but basically just a mirrored image of what we know the more stern sects of Christianity to be.

But take a deeper look. The prayer room, where devout priests are known to go into fits of hysterics and speak in tongues, hallucinating for hours on end as the prayer becomes so intense and somehow, virginity stays intact even after the most defiling of carnal acts. The dark ritual that can take place to an unsuspecting and unconscious player should they pass out at the lake. The fact even the priests and nuns aren't immune to your charms, and will often try to have their way with you against your will and you are expected to be fine with it.

The fact that the church will whore you out against your will if your purity is weighed and found wanting during your chastity exam.

These are the good guys.

Now the town itself, something is very, very blatantly wrong.

On the outside, it's a seemingly normal little town. A little costal paradise that is surprisingly self-sufficient for a small-town community. A lovely little haven cut off from the rest of the world--

For a reason.

It's meta-implied that this town is wrong, and it knows that it's wrong. The people in charge make an active effort to keep their affairs secret from the outside world. There's this lovely facade of a normal society, but the rotting, seedy underbelly is the world's worst kept secret.

If you tell any outsiders what is happening, they don't believe you. It sounds so absurd and so outlandish that they just outright think you're a mentally unwell, attention seeking person. The 'innocence' and 'awareness' bar allude to the fact that people who don't indulge themselves in the darker parts of life in the town are purposefully kept in the dark, so much so that it just flies right over their heads, or they just accept what is happening as normal.

Sirris, for example. They very much love their child. Do you think they would ever raise their child here if they had any true idea of how bad things are here? Chances are that they think this is just life, or they're so kept in the dark about the truth of it that they don't understand what they're subjecting Syndey to.

The people who are unofficially in charge of the town, such as Remy, Quinn, Bailey, and to an extent, Leighton, all have a direct hand in the worst aspects of it. The underground brothel, the underground farm, the asylum, etc.

Every person that heads one of these awful facilities also just so happens to be the only person in charge of such affairs. Harper and the hospital, Remy and his farm, Leighton and his school, Bailey and his orphanage, and so on.

There's a titload of supernatural references here that certainly come into play. The moors, Blackwolf, all the hallucinogens that run rampant, the tentacles, the blood moon-- it all fits together somehow.

We don't have all the pieces quite yet, and your character is gaslit and made to feel crazy if they start to put them together.

Something very, very wrong is happening, and it all fits hand in hand somehow.

[missdrummond]

Album 77 Initial Reactions

*SPOILERS*

????? Of course Renee said no??? She is not a woman of faith she would be a terrible choice for this project????

Like defending someone else's beliefs is the kind of thing I would do for fun but I acknowledge that most people wouldn't want/be good at doing that. Including you Mr. Whittaker. Imagine if one of the kids came up to you and said they needed help on a paper which demonstrates how evolution is compatible with Christianity or that evolution disproves Christianity. You know perfectly well you wouldn't help them.

I don't like this new portrait gallery it's just imagination station and it's lost it's charm.

So, the sciencentist is referring to the beginning of Romans and I'd just like to point out that Paul is talking about Judaism as well as Christianity since they hadn't properly separated at that point.

I like the faith and science are compatible argument. However the claim that Christianity "invented" science is a gross simplification. Yes, Christains founded a lot of old universities. You know who else did? Muslims. Which would actually support the faith and science compatibility argument as well but we're not going to talk about that are we?

Also how does any of this help Camila the assignment was for how faith is BETTER than science. Which is an awful assignment but the AiO world is so strange I'll believe it. I mean I technically don't actually know what goes on in public schools maybe this kind of objectionable nonsense happens all the time. (It doesn't)

This misses the entire point of the portrait gallery.

Huh, didn't know God not being IN the universe was this widespread a doctrine. Cool.

That was actually a nice speech there Mr. Whittaker. *polite applause*

No, Galileo's problem wasn't that he contradicted the Bible (that is also a part of it) it was that he contradicted a specific Church doctrine and metaphor about Jesus. Actually I should fact check myself, I can't remember reading that from a reliable source so I probably just heard it somewhere my apologies to myself if I'm wrong.

Funny if I remember right exiling people is frequently what you did to heretics. Isn't that what happened after the council of Nicea?(Which I know is an unrelated event its just the first exiling I thought of) Renée's point still stands regardless of how well he's been treated.

Are you.... Tousen doing a bad italian accent?

Oh no. This is about evolution again.

Ok they made it subtle. And yeah this story most definitely sounds more like the kind of thing that was happening in this era. Would have been a good opportunity to point out that even pre reformation "the church" wasn't one entity with completely unanimous beliefs because if everyone hated his theory then there wouldn't be controversy really.

No! This wasn't a portrait gallery episode.

I need to read up on Galileo.

Bouns reaction:

First not everyone is here because the Mona Lisa is captivating. But I'm just bitter because I want people to talk about other paintings.

Second you can't destroy the painting then say why do people like it. That's like saying tell me why people like cake but you only get four, eggs, sugar, etc.

Third Renee loves math if she doesn't start going off about the golden rectangle or something I'm going to be sad.

She didn't that's a bummer. Like I know art theories are not full proof methodological tools for making good art, however it would be logical for someone in Renee's position to try and argue that perspective.

Ultimately I give this episode a thumbs up 👍 overall I like that the episode exists.

[goingsparebutwithprecision]

Fic writer interview

Thanking @sinni-ok-sessi for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3? 13

What's your total AO3 word count? 50455 - holy shit, a whole nanowrimo!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sleeping Arrangements (Good Omens) Habitual (Good Omens) Project New Hope (MCU) Passing the Time (Star Trek:DS9) With Friends Like These (Star Wars, The Mandalorian)

I think I kind of already knew about the top 3, but I would not have called the last two. Nice to see With Friends LIke These doing well, that was so much fun to write but I never felt like it found its audience, y'know

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Mostly not, alas - it feels very awkward to just repeatedly say Thanks <3, however genuinely and enthusiastically I would mean that! I want emoji reacts to AO3 comments, that's about the level I'm at. That being said, I'll try to make the effort if someone's written me an essay, because it's so cool to get that and I've had some really fun conversations that way

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I don't really do angsty endings. I've been known to write angsty fic, but I'm usually ending on an upswing...Story-Wise is probably the closest, being as how it's heavily implied that everybody involved is dead, and also Bilbo walks away at the end, but even that to me is more bittersweet than angsty.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Not Story-Wise, and probably not Lethe. But with the rest I don't know that there's much between them. The ship ones tend to end with a get-together, the dealing-with-shit ones tend to end on a found family gathering, and the funny ones end on punchlines; they're all happy but no stand-outs, if that makes sense.

Do you write crossovers? Write? Sure. Plan out intricately and in great detail? Absolutely. Finish? Never in my life. I tend to have the idea for a lot of crossovers too, but very few of those ever get started. Off the top of my head, the current list includes a Star Trek AOS/Disney's Atlantis fusion, thousands of words of BBC Merlin is happening in Starfleet now, a few incoherent sentences of post-Burial Mounds Wei Wuxian having absorbed all of its ghosts a la Matthew Swift of Blue Electric Angels fame, three scenes of Person of Interest and Castle, several pages of Phryne Fisher and Diana Prince are besties - ohhhhh, and my beloved "Oh Good, My Sith Found the Chainsaw" Star Wars/Lilo and Stitch nonsense, which is the only one of these I have any intention of finishing.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not as far as I remember. The closes I ever got was someone commenting on Project New Hope in a very "trying to start a fight about MCU Civil War" way, but claiming they agreed with my opinion on it despite MCU Civil War very much not happening in that universe. Very odd.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not really? The closest I've gotten in anything published is the blowjob letter in And With It My Constant Mind, which is more of an extended sext, and the ending of Untitled #3...the theme seems to be Cyrano De Bergerac and blowjobs, so make of that what you will.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Involves too much unfortunate-ordeal-of-being-known, I'm afraid. I'm in awe of people who do this though, the process mystifies me.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I am invoking my god-given bisexual right not to choose. I cannot do it. Simply impossible. Cyrano/Christian/Roxane of Cyrano de Bergerac fame is probably a front-runner though.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Lin Chen's Hanahaki Research Project - I was having a lot of fun with character voices and style, and it was challenging me as a writer in interesting ways, but I think it needs more research and investment and full Nirvana in Fire rewatches than I'm ever going to commit to.

What are your writing strengths? Comedy, yearning, and sentences that sound good when you read them aloud.

What are your writing weaknesses? Actually finishing things and comedy (I contain multitudes)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Absolutely do not have the confidence to do that, thank you and good night.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? By published work, the MCU, unpublished I was not immune to Supernatural

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Was not expecting this to be the trickiest one to answer, what the heck. Ummm. Idk. I get more enthused by specific ideas than by specific fandoms, I think - if I actively want to write for something it's because I've been Seized By An Idea(TM), Taken Hostage By An Idea, Had My Whole Brain Rewritten To Think Constantly About This Idea, rather than like abstractly, huh, it would be fun to write something for X

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I-love-all-of-my-children-equally.gif. No, that's a cop-out. Um. Usually I think whatever I've written most recently gets the most affection, so With Friends Like These is bang at the top. And With It My Constant Mind I suspect is going to have the most longevity at the top of my list, I was living with that one for years and I'm really really proud of how it turned out.

Right, no pressure tagging @starkey @missfangirll @july-19th-club @ereborne and any other writerly folks lurking out there who are interested :D

[infiniteglitterfall]

I am mind-boggled and in awe right now at how social media just. Went flash like lightning and /flaps hands vaguely/ Just with the. Just like

First it was like 2004 and I was on a listserv I'd started for genderqueers, and on another for multiples. (Which I'd only found out existed because of someone I'd met on the genderqueer one.) I was out to everyone as genderqueer, and out to a select few as multiple.

I blogged about both, on LiveJournal. I knew lots of people who were one or both, because listservs. But it was still a time where most people didn't know what either one was.

Where I had to be prepared to explain either thing to people if I wanted to bring it up. (And I'd often start with, "do you know what _____ is" just to see where we stood.) Where I was often the one to explain them to people just so that I could gently (?) bring them to the realization that these labels applied to them.

And then life happened, I guess? Listservs fell apart. People migrated to social media. I was very focused on recovering from abuse and its effects, and that community largely took the place of the queer/trans/plural ones for me for a while.

I swear to god I turned my back for like five minutes. Or five years. It feels like both.

Then I realized that I could either get on Tumblr, or have virtually no idea what Kids These Days were saying and doing ever again. I chose Tumblr.

Basically, I rejoined the public instead of hanging out solely with people I knew.

And somehow, the world?? was now?? a place where all of these things were common knowledge? Where they were now mostly called being "nonbinary" (oh, we have a word we can say in front of the straights now?) and "plural"? (smart move; searching for "multiples" always used to turn up a lot of stuff from people who'd had twins.)

A world where it seemed like most people were queer and/or trans?? Where people talked openly about being plural???

I thought that was all there was to it.

But fast-forward eight years or so.

Now, people have been talking openly about their experiences for long enough that more than a third of Gen Z is in the quiltbag.

People have been talking about their experiences for long enough that when I had to do a custody hearing a few months ago, the judge took time first to make sure she had all of our pronouns right: they, he, and gem. And to find out whether we each wanted Mr, Ms, or Mx.

People have been talking about their experiences, publicly, in a manner that is widely accessible, for long enough that a friend of mine - who is 10 years younger - just had a realization about giving answers they would never normally give to a partner's questions, rapidly connected all the dots, and went, "well, looks like I'm plural."

I had been thinking about letting them know that a new mutual friend, who I met in that long-ago listserv, was plural.

But oopsie-doodles! I no longer need to. Because they're both nonbinary. And they both went to a trans zine workshop together today.

The newer friend shared a link to this very post in our group chat. And casually goes, "We just found out that we are all plural here"!

I feel like, BOOM. I just FAST-FORWARDED from "nobody knows what this is and you have to gently introduce the idea" to "it's general knowledge and people can figure it out easily on their own, without a lot of stigma!"

And while I type this? My six-year-old is in the other room, happily explaining to our (also nonbinary) housemate that the main character in his new special interest, Billie Bust Up, is nonbinary.

Also: this is why the Christian Nationalists, who are trying the genocide again, are going to lose.

They've already lost. They are so incredibly far behind the times that their entire plan is pretty much hopeless.

Gender & Multiplicity: A Primer On The Intersection of Transness & DID REDAC FourOFour Spring 2023

Keep reading

[heariam]

Alright, World. I'm going to do it. I never thought I would do it but... here I am doing it.

I am going to get metaphorically butt ass naked.

I love nothing more than to appear picture perfect to the world and you'll probably never catch me slip in public. I hold my head high with confidence, dress nice, use my please and thank you's, and am the first one to ask about your life and how you are doing but as soon as the conversation turns over to me you won't get much more than "I'm doing great." or "I'm so tired but God is so good even through the valleys." But you definitely won't hear a thing or get a glimpse about what those valleys look.

You see, I've learned that you can never let anyone get too, too close... That's because as soon as I let off a little too much I am met with rejection and judgment. And honestly that's okay. I'll leave the comfortable stories for the people that want to stay comfortable. But I do have a lot to say and a story to tell. I would very much like to invite anyone who doesn't mind the mess, raw imperfections, awful sense of humor, into my wild story, life and mind.

So... a bit of a warning and so that you get more of an understanding of what I am trying to say: My grammar is going to suck (in case you haven't already noticed), my mind will spaz, I WILL digress, I'm a bit insane (only a bit), and I am not holding back any of this mess.

WELCOME.

I am trying to recall the thoughts I was having earlier today that brought me here in the first place. Let's see... I came home from the big city where I dropped the kids off at their dad's house for the day and made the decision to come home to my quiet little bungalow in a little rural neighborhood far outside the city. The plan was to sleep the rest of the day. Which of course didn't happen. I got home, plopped on the bed, snuggled my blanket and got to thinking about my new boyfriend if you know what I'm saying... after my fun a sunk deep into the quiet of my empty home, enjoying the misty and gloomy day when my mind started to wander into my past as well as recalling the conversation I had the night before.

What was that about...? Oh, yea. Past psychical and psychological abuse, drug addiction, crazy ex's, demons and the time I took 5 grams of magic mushrooms, met the Lord and my entire life flipped upside down.

Okay, that's a good start to a couple of different stories that I will have to leave for future posts.

Earlier when these thoughts first occurred, I thought to myself "I need to get myself some coffee then head to the library. There's so much that needs to be aired out and stories to tell." I had this perfectly dramatic, inspirational story put together in my head. Of course, as soon pulled into the library parking lot my mind drew a blank, so this is what I've got for today. I am sitting here letting my empty caffeinated brain do its thing.

I am wondering how it is going to go tagging these posts considering I am a Christian, but I am not coming to this site to post any lies or fluff about my life. I did not find God by having a perfect cookie cutter life. I was a mess then and will admit that I am still, in fact, a mess. Though, I can definitely say I am in a better place in my life and on the right track. I am trying my absolute best here but in the words of Kendrick Lamar "I am a sinner who's probably going to sin again." and I am more than sure there are plenty of others who can relate or even if you can't, want to understand things from different perspectives.

My prayer is that this blog is inspiring and brings hope and wisdom to all. Believers and non-believers. That being said there is no doubt that I will say some unhinged stuff and my walk with Christ is never perfect. But I am always willing to admit my mistakes and continue to move forward on the narrow path. Either way, I am excited to see where this goes and to share this all with you.

[severeballoonknot]

The Easter bunny

“Daddy, who’s the Easter bunny and what is his connection to the Abrahamic religion system?”

Ronald, the husband, the father, the warrior, gazed down gently at little Michael, his youngest son. His deep voice that overwhelmed the boys ears with hope and wonder spoke. “Let me tell you a story, son. Do you remember the story of the manger? Of our lord Jesus Christ?” Michael nodded excitedly. He had always loved that story. “Well, there’s something I’ve never told you before about that story. A detail I left out. But today, my boy, you’re finally old enough to learn about Mary’s second son. You see, after Jesus was killed, Mary decided it was best for her youngest to run away and to take up a new identity. He lived for a very long time and changed a lot of lives. Lives like yours, Michael. Thankfully he stayed hidden for centuries before he was tragically cut short by an evil man named Pleurisy. Pleurisy was jealous of the man and his strengths. His godlike ability to pull light from the sky and control it as if a part of his own hand made him feel powerless, and when a man feels powerless he can do horrible things. This man was a very large public figure, so his death was covered up as to not cause country-wide outrage.” The other 4 of the sliver fox’s children had gathered around his feet in a circle, listening intently and staring up at him in awe of the story. Ronald had always had such a way of painting pictures with his words. The sights he spoke into existence as simply as tying a knot seemed the gather in towards his towering form and softly floated and buzzed around the seven heads in the room. “well, the man died long after his family and had no one to guide him to heaven to be amongst the others of God’s children. So, he lay waiting in his casket for that very special day that his older brother would rise to join him in the afterlife, and one day, that day came. On easter morning, the man had leapt into the stars, leaving his body and his life behind. Now, children. The Easter bunny. Which one wanted to hear about him? You? The adopted one, right?” Michael spoke again with visible tears on his face “I’m adopted?” They stared at each other for a moment “ Yeah… Anyway, a rabbit priest, a priestly rabbit came hopping along a few years later with quite an intent for disruption. He dug a burrow into the thick mound of dirt he had claimed as his own only to meet something hard. ‘Metal? Cement?’ He thought. Wood. The rabbit has dug so far down that he had reached the man’s casket. And being a curious rabbit, he climbed inside to see if the man had been a practicing Christian. No cross was found around the neck of the picked clean bone he found there. The rabbit was disappointed. It was getting cold out and so he climbed inside of the forms ribcage, hoping he wouldn’t mind the company. The days turned into nights until the rabbit had realized it had become Easter yet again. As the skeleton began to move on its own it pulled the animal out from inside it by the ear and asked it what it had been doing in there. The rabbit assured him that he meant no harm and that he was just very cold. They made a deal that since the man couldn’t come down to earth all year, that the rabbit could keep his remains safe and dedicate his life to spreading his message. They both agreed and they shook on it. It was a beautiful spring day when the rabbit decided to bring the skeleton outside and disguised it inside costume of himself. He egged people houses and he told people to ‘suck it!!’ And all was well in America. And that man, oh how he smiles down upon all of you kids, I just know it.” “Really? How would you know?” Ronald Reagan glanced up at his husband Benjamin Franklin Christ and tucked a strand of his long, silver hair behind his ear. Their smiles two halves of the same ring. “Oh, I know.”

[mokutone]

I came up with another Tenzo HC that I think you'll like. We all know Tenzo likes reading about architecture, but what if he's also really into flowers and their meanings. So like Petunias are supposed to represent anger or being angry at someone. And then what if... Since ANBU just emotionally stunts our poor Shinobi, what if the way he learns to best communicate is by handing people the relevant flowers to express his feelings.

And we all love that HC of him growing flowers, what if the relevant flowers pop up because he associates that feeling with that flower? Like when it's a really really intense feeling, they just start growing.

Also, i know i share my HC with you a lot but i just feel like you always appreciate them <3

its so funny that u mention this bc just a day or two before i recieved it i was writing yamato and felt compelled to have him use a little flower symbolism! I didn't have him growing any flowers tho, just...ominously looming symbolism clinging onto a heavy thought.

i think this can be a really interesting HC to play with, especially when we consider how nebulous "flower language" is—like, for example the red spider lily has, apparently, the meaning of "elope with me" over here in the US, but in japan, the red spider lily is heavily associated with death, lovers separating, etc-you will see it in anime very often, i remember there was one i watched as a kid (hellgirl, i think?) that had them Everywhere and very ominously

and then there's cases where the flower is Supposed to have a meaning, but bc of how its practically used it has a different or even sometimes contradictory meaning,

for example the lily, in christian spaces the white lily is generally supposed to be indicative of innocence—which is probably why its used at so many funerals (symbolizing god washing out the sins after death and making the soul innocent once more, or something) but the fact that its used at so many funerals means that most people i know, when they see a lily, don't think "aw, how sweet..." we tend to go "oh god. the funeral flower." some even can't stand the smell of it

one of my friends gifted me a piece of jasmine incense he had got once for the same reason, that was a Strongly Funereal smell for him, but it was not for me.

then, there's also the individual meanings that flowers hold for people—

this is jewelweed, one of the most important flowers to me personally! it's native to most swampy, moist areas of the USA, it grows very fast, and tall, and spreads really quickly.

when i was a kid, we'd call this stuff "poppers" on account of how when you touch the green, dangling seed-pods, they would pop! like literally, they would explode, launching their seeds everywhere! here's a video of that.

I'm told that in the language of flowers In General, they represent motherly love, but to me, because of how i played with them as a kid, they will always specifically represent childish joy and wonder, as well as a certain amount of resilience due to how quickly and how well they take over an area (say hello to one of the few plants that can take on the invasive garlic mustard!)

this all to say, the associations between meanings and plants could be something that's really fun to play with—some of his meanings could be gathered from books, some of them could be gathered from the cultural knowledge he has access to, and more still could be developed from his own personal experiences with plants.

i'm not sure where i fall on how much yamato would internalize flower language...or i guess even what kind of flowers hed care about? i see him as somebody who tries to be, first and foremost, practical...

flower language is very poetic and mysterious, but there's practicality in mystery too—he's a ninja, after all, (and, ur right, given Anbu he seems to be a fairly repressed ninja at that) using symbols in order to communicate certain feelings could be very practical, if there are things that are difficult to say...

the only thing is that the person receiving the flowers from him would have to also know what they meant, in order for this to be practical...or there'd have to be a shared understanding of things related to the flowers.

anyway! ur right i did appreciate this, ty for sharing it

[weirdmageddon]

thought of more. thanks to everyone who said I Get Them

DAVESPRITE: wait so you can actually hear my heart JADE: derp yes dave i have already said that DAVESPRITE: thats a bit romantic to be honest JADE: oh JADE: wow..... o.o JADE: i didnt know you felt that way DAVESPRITE: yeah i didnt either DAVESPRITE: why the fuck did i say that JADE: heh.... DAVESPRITE: i know pretty much everything about this game but i still cant answer the question why sprites continue to be physiological entities when the kernel is drawn to deceased things DAVESPRITE: remember a few weeks ago i couldnt stop molting JADE: YES :| DAVESPRITE: like whats the point of that DAVESPRITE: thats the real ultimate riddle JADE: a second chance at life? DAVESPRITE: i mean my prototype components are half dead and half living DAVESPRITE: i dont think my bird half wouldve given a fuck about this though DAVESPRITE: this is likely coming from the dave half JADE: i see JADE: our purpose was to create a new universe right? DAVESPRITE: yeah it still is JADE: do you think this means when we beat the game and enter the new universe we created, youll come with us? JADE: maybe thats why sprites are living! DAVESPRITE: do you want spoilers JADE: yes!!!! DAVESPRITE: the answer is yes sprites can enter a created universe DAVESPRITE: and thank god for that because the other option of being trapped in this game for eternity and not being able to enjoy the fruits of the labor of the people youre guiding would be pretty fuckin cruel and unusual JADE: i cant imagine how awful that would be @_@ DAVESPRITE: all i know is that i know about game constructs and the game constructs themselves DAVESPRITE: questions like whether sprites can get down and dirty and reproduce or the purpose of being biologically alive not to reproduce but to be the second banana informant about quests is up in the air but i think it would be something stupid DAVESPRITE: it doesnt mean i cant feel love though JADE: of course youre still a person JADE: and you dont have to mate or be capable of it to care about the people you love JADE: thats pretty obvious! DAVESPRITE: yeah JADE: yaaaawn DAVESPRITE: oh hell is it attack of the zs o'clock JADE: mhm... i might go to sleep DAVESPRITE: christ what else is new DAVESPRITE: nah thats cool DAVESPRITE: sweet dreams jade

then

JADE: ........ JADE: boof DAVESPRITE: did you just boof at me JADE: yes DAVESPRITE: was it a contented boof JADE: yes DAVESPRITE: alright

DAVESPRITE: yeah even i cant answer what drugs are doing on your planet JOHN: but from what i can tell, the salamanders don’t have any laws on possession of mushrooms. JOHN: my dad’s car got a parking ticket though. DAVESPRITE: that would make sense DAVESPRITE: its probably like the staple commodity keeping their econony afloat DAVESPRITE: i bet you right now stocks for salamander shrooms is way up on lohacse DAVESPRITE: this is going to have financial implications and we will bear witness to consort burgernomics except at fraymotif shops DAVESPRITE: you gotta think of this from their perspective DAVESPRITE: were essentially greek gods to these guys except prophecized DAVESPRITE: so really its more like theyre a bunch of christians and were all the second coming of christ or whatever DAVESPRITE: imagine jesus buying your villages cultivated mushrooms and sharing it with his jesus clones DAVESPRITE: the four of us are influencers to a bunch of colorful amphibians JOHN: yeah, i sort of got that impression when i went through the first gate and found a salamander village.

i wrote davesprite and jade dialogue while i was cozy level stoned last night lol i think i characterized them good

inspired by looking at pictures of davesprite while high and this art i saw yesterday

we never got to see what they got up to i think this is how it would go roughly

DAVESPRITE: you know being fused with a bird is kinda strange DAVESPRITE: theres all kinds of mad shit going through a crows head DAVESPRITE: like id pick a fight with a motherfucker any day of the week for a peanut DAVESPRITE: but i think the best possible consequence is the feathers JADE: theyre soooo soft!!! DAVESPRITE: yeah DAVESPRITE: shits like the stuffing to your favorite pillow DAVESPRITE: down as soft as a bird babys bottom JADE: heheh DAVESPRITE: here comes harley parking her arms round the back JADE: beep beep beep beep JADE: mission jade arms landing is successful........we have TOUCH DOWN DAVESPRITE: copy that shoosh position locked and loaded JADE: whoa dave :o DAVESPRITE: what JADE: there is a clicking sound coming from your chest! DAVESPRITE: oh uh DAVESPRITE: bird things i guess DAVESPRITE: dunno im not in control of that it sort of just happens JADE: happy bird noises!! wow thats so cute JADE: my doggy ears are very sensitive :p JADE: i can hear your heartbeat too by the way DAVESPRITE: damn it JADE: its super cozy DAVESPRITE: oh well thats a relief

JOHN: oh, dude. JADE: hi john!!! DAVESPRITE: what DAVESPRITE: cant a birdboy and a doggirl get their snuggle on DAVESPRITE: is there something so wrong with that DAVESPRITE: aside from the fact we may have fulfilled our mutual dreams of becoming furries in the most unprecedented ways possible JADE: theres nothing wrong with it!!!!! it is awesome JOHN: bluhh, no there isn’t. i was just wondering if you’ve seen the remote. DAVESPRITE: oh DAVESPRITE: cant help you there buddy DAVESPRITE: lost in snugglesville unfortunately DAVESPRITE: well not unfortunately for me JADE: :D <3 JOHN: that i can see! DAVESPRITE: front gates to this enchanted place are locked DAVESPRITE: no escape is possible until jade falls sound asleep to the crazy array of instrumentation under my wicked plumage DAVESPRITE: on account of being half feathery little bastard DAVESPRITE: but if its any consolation it isnt under my ass because id feel it if it was JOHN: i’ll check back later then. well, you guys enjoy! JADE: thanks john! DAVESPRITE: peace egbert

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[sakura-83]

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 7: Wherever You Are Is My Home

⚠️WARNING!!!⚠️ this episode not only talks about suicidal thoughts but also a character trying to commit such acts, of you are sensitive to this I suggest you just skip this post or at least skip #75-77

1. Anne calling it comforting that no two snowflakes are alike, as well as calling snow a sign of gods forgiveness as he blankets the dead world in a beautiful frost

2. Josie gossiping about her while she’s RIGHT THERE

3. Her and moody just talking

4. “And I love Christmas, don’t you?” “I don’t know, but I plan to.” “Did you not have Christmas at the orphanage?” “There wasn’t much to it really. I’m not sure why Father Christmas wasn’t able to stop there, maybe the matron scared him off.”

5. “Do you at least know if they’re going to keep you?” “Keep me!?”

6. Anne trying to sing with the others but the other voices quickly fading out as she panics and rushes home

7. “They’re not going to send you back, you’re in the Bible and everything!”

8. Marilla has every right to be angry that Matthew rushed their home without even discussing it

9. “I knew you’d lose your head-“ “Oh, I oughta smack yours right off your shoulders!”

10. Matthew is prone to heart attacks, the very same thing causing his death in the books

11. “He’s had an episode of the heart” just a funny way to say heart attack, sort of long winded

12. Marilla not understanding the complex math because she had to leave school when she was young

13. Anne helping her with it because she’s top of her class

14. “Not keeping you? You’re a Cuthbert, for better or for worse! No getting out of it now.”

15. The awful bank not relenting on the payback schedule despite the fact that Matthew cannot work. Corporations are cruel and ungiving despite the human struggles and needs of its clients and it hurts. I know the bank invested that money and they need it back but Matthew was indisposed by a tragic event and to not only not extent but to SHORTEN the payback schedule is just unfeeling

16. Marilla putting out an ad to the mainland to take in borders

17. The terrifying idea that you must sell everything you have in order to survive

18. Marilla being desperate yet still too prideful to accept charity

19. The fact that it not only effects the family but also Jerry, as they can’t afford to pay him. It puts him out of a job and lowers his families income

20. A reoccurring theme I love in this show is the idea that the characters will give up their belongings, no matter how sentimental, in the name of family. Matthew selling his dead brothers watch, Marilla selling her grandmothers brooch, Anne selling the dress of her dreams, all because no matter how important these items are, they are just things. That family is more important, so even though it pains you to have to give those things up, you do it in the name of love for others

21. “Theyre just things.”

22. Anne feeling sorrow and yet being excited to stay at aunt Josephine’s

23. Despite being told she can keep the dress, Anne insists on selling it back because it’s a family effort

24. Anne being exited for a solo adventure and then getting stuck with jerry

25. Jerry has to be there to get money Anne his family is hungry :(

26. “I don’t actually need your help.” “When’s the last time you drove a sleigh? Auctioned a horse? Let’s go.”

27. Diana giving her things to sell as well

28. Jerry knows how to drive a sleigh?????

29. “It’s not so bad to ask for help sometimes, y’know?” “If I needed help I would say so.” “No you wouldn’t.” “Yes, I would.” “Wouldn’t.” “Would! Times infinity.” “What???”

30. Jerry singing in French

31. “No singing. I mean it. I’m serious, Jerry! This is an important journey! I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BEAR HANDS!”

32. Jerry grinning as she gets madder

33. Anne bring mystified by the dress shop

34. “I’m here to return a dress.” Is something wrong with it?” “Not a thing.” “Do you not like it?” “It is my very favorite thing that I have ever possessed in life. But I need to return it to help my family.” “You’re Anne, Matthew’s Anne!” “I am! How nice it is to hear it said that way.”

35. Anne being upbeat until Jeannie asks what’s wrong and then ask just breaks down

36. Poor Jerry waiting outside in the snow for her

37. Either Matthew spent some much money on Anne’s dress or Jeannie gave her extra, or both

38. “Did Matthew really spend this much?..” “You’re worth a lot to him.”

39. “I hate to say goodbye…” “😏 I won’t be so long~” “To the HORSE, Jerry. Why are you so annoying.”

40. “You’re a good horse Birdie, try to remember that. Someone will be very lucky to have you.”

41. Birdie really is a beautiful horse though

42. Anne’s little “my parents are spies” act she uses on the pawn broker

43. The pawn broker is so understandable rude because of his profession, it makes him equally annoying and funny

44. “What a piece of work you are.”

45. Anne is so good at making up stories on the spot

46. “If you can’t afford it I completely understand.”

47. I love how snide remarks of “being a good Christian” are frequent and effective insults in the 1800’s

48. Poor Jerry doesn’t just get beaten up and robbed, he gets brutally beaten by two grown men and there’s nothing he can do despite that being… his last paycheck. That was the last income he was going to give his family and he’s so ashamed of himself that he keeps apologizing for it despite most of the money being his. He apologizes to Anne, to Matthew, it bothers him for months to come

49. Gilbert’s back!!

50. “Still seems unreal. Even though I just sold all our… everything.”

51. “He’s a good man.” “I love him with all my heart. I don’t know what if do if…”

52. Them arguing over not arguing

53. Anne apologizing

54. “Anyway…” “Anyway..”

55. I genuinely didn’t realize that the men who beat up Jerry are the same men that took in borders at green gables, I got the same face blindness as Jerry himself

56. “I’ve missed you.” “Yeah?” “At school, theres.. no one to compete with.” “”You want to spell out a few words for old times sake?” “How about… truce?”

57. Jerry thinking Gilbert was going to hurt Anne and take her money and immediately jumping in to stop him despite swaying on his feet

58. When Anne asks him if he’s okay he immediately starts apologizing about the money

59. “I don’t like the city.”

60. “Just take care of yourself, and come home someday.”

61. Anne and Gilbert staring at each other quietly

62. “This is a palace, not a house.”

63. Jerry assuming that they’ll make him sleep in the stable instead of inside the massive house

64. “I’ll look after belle.”

65. “This city is rife with ruffians!”

66. Aunt Josephine insisting on helping

67. Matthew lamenting his own life, talking of how his life insurance will give them a sizable sum and how he drags them down despite them needing him

68. “Anne loves you, you have to remember that.” “But her future…” “Which do you think she would choose, this house or you?”

69. Jerry bring terrified to stay in a room by himself because he’s always had his family around him

70. Anne making room for him only for him to sleep upside down

71. “Don’t worry, I don’t kick like my sisters.” “Yeah, you’d better not.”

72. “Everything will be alright. It’ll be alright..”

73. Aunt Josephine helping by paying for Jerry to work at Green Gables, as well as giving Anne books

74. “We’ve been together all these years, thick or thin, so don’t think I’ll put up with you slipping away now. Anne will be home today, and she’ll be very happy to see you.”

75. Matthew trying to kill himself because the life insurance would pay off the debt he caused

76. Jeannie happening to show up and find Matthew with the gun just in time as he tries to hide what he’s almost done from her, realizing what he’s done

77. The way they stress how his passing would effect Anne the most because of what they mean to each other, that she will suffer without him despite what he’s trying to do

78. “Don’t ever get old…” “Too late for that.”

79. “You would’ve left us that way!? Left me?..”

80. “Give it back. I won’t take charity.” “But.. love isn’t charity.” “I won’t take it.” “Nay I ask why not?” “We will not be pitied! I don’t want people thinking we can’t fend for ourselves.” “Well at the moment we can’t, and I’d sure give my last bit of strength or my last dollar to help a friend. Then I know that friend would feel grateful and loved above all else. And I do. I feel very grateful to have such a dear friend as Miss Barry. Sometimes you just have to let people love you Marilla.”

81. Anne selling her cleaning services to make steady income

82. “We’re rich, aren’t we Matthew?”

83. Jerry carving a star for the Christmas tree!!!!!!

84. Anne’s friends coming to sing carols at their house

85. Anne helping Matthew walk outside

86. Not Nate :(

87. Nathaniel, the bane of my existence

[side-sidecast]

it is 8pm. my gangly, freshly in highschool, fifteen-year-old brother knocks on my door. what is it, i say?

do you have a cross?

like-- like a christian one?

... maybe...

now. we are pretty good buddies. i want to aid him in whatever this strange mission might be. well, what do you need it for, i ask?

... i want to dress as jesus for halloween...

and you might be thinking about right now that jesus isn't a very scary costume idea. it's not. here's the deal:

i live in eastern europe where halloween isn't really a huge shebang.

but my brother and i go to an english-heavy school that makes an effort to let kids have fun on the last day before autumn break.

our halloween is on the 27th of October

effectively, it's halloween without the scares or the candy, and teachers get to give lessons while staring down snow-white, patrick bateman, and jesus (appearently).

we laugh at the idea of jesus in the classroom. and i say to him: you... do know that jesus didn't walk around with a hand-held crucifix, right? for obvious reasons?

i guess... man, they would never recognise me without it though...

we sit in silence and contemplate the loss of plan-jesus-christ. we do that for about two seconds, while i come up with a slightly morbid idea to save the day.

we don't need a hand-held cross. we need a bigger one.

one big enough to carry on his back.

we immediately run to our mother with this hilarious idea, who proceeds to tell us that christ means a lot to certain people and that dressing as him at all would be insensitive and rude. my brother and i insist that the humor of the costume would be the "punching up" kind, and that there is nothing else more perfect for him to be, since he looks like if sleazy j crawled out of a renaissance painting and got a clean shave.

whatever, our mother says, it's your school. do whatever you want, i don't care.

now, i'm sure most of you know that no word in that sentence is loyal to its dictionary meaning. basically, my mother just told my brother:

if you do that i will not call you my son again <3

so it seems that plan-jesus-christ is a no-go, afterall.

I propose that he could be moses--who was at least as cool as christ, except he didn't die--i mean he did, but at the respectable age of 120, and in a way that didn't upset so many people for so long.

however, my brother is INSISTENT on wearing a white sheet. our father and I take turns brainstorming, and one after the other he vetoes:

classic ghost costume

rákóczi ferenc

obi van kenobi

anakin

and many more

it all seems lost. he is debating not even going in on the day of halloween-lite. this grade of high-schoolers are a hair's width away from never witnessing the comedical genius of my brother. that is until he says:

do we have a white cloth with red stripes on it?

...why? we ask.

oh, i'll just dress up as An Arab.

now.

i'm sure the exact same line of thought ran through my head, my mother's head, and my father's head. it went so.

we are all white.

oh my god, there has never been a geopolitically worse time to dress as "an arab".

how do we explain this to him.

should we explain it to him? in depth?

he is fifteen. his brain development is being stunted by his gang of likewise fifteen year old boys who share a single braincell the moment they get in a discord call.

peer review is the only kind of research that matters to him, because he is suffering from the notorious curse of being fifteen.

if he experiences heavy pushback on this, there is nothing that can stop him from dressing up as his idea of "an arab", going to school in that, and probably making awful jokes.

ALL WHILE SHARING A NAME WITH US

no, um, i don't think that would be good, all three of us say.

okay, i guess...

suddenly, our mother is a lot more accepting towards the idea of her youngest son dressing as the big j man, son of god, now that she knows the fight is between him, and the idea of "an arab" conjured in a fifteen year old's mind. in fact, she is suddenly rather supportive of plan-jesus-christ, something she has never been in her fifty years of life.

my brother wraps a white sheet around himself, ties a sash with a red scarf, grabs a loaf of bread and a wine glass, and suddenly JC is standing in my doorway.

to sum it up, tonight is the story of how, through many tribulations,

somehow,

miraculously,

almost unbelievably so,

a mildly problematic and inaccurate costume of oily josh is the shield that protects the family name from the shitstorm that would be my brother roaming the school halls dressed in sandals, a white sheet, and a red-striped kitchen-rug over his head.

such a funny thing just happened but plain text isnt worthy of conveying it. i need to Format this

[simonalkenmayer]

I really think the perspective regarding forgiveness needs to change because for example whenever someone hears that I don’t talk to my dad because he’s not a nice person they always go “well you should try forgiving him so you feel better” and like who says I’m not ALREADY feeling better I don’t think about him or what he’s done, I don’t try and get revenge and I also don’t forgive him, I just ignore him and let him be.

It’s incredible how people’s first reaction to you being mad at someone is them telling you to do that, it’s kinda sad.

And another example, some people don’t even WANT your forgiveness because they see nothing wrong with what they did. My grandma had an abusive father and once he got so sick they thought he was gonna die, she saw he was trying to say something and she thought he wanted to say sorry for his ways and told him she forgives him. He then got better and was able to speak again and the first thing he said was that (with a little less awful words) “I don’t need you to forgive me for anything I have never done anything wrong you stupid girl”

Don’t give others forgiveness.

I quite agree.

Look, let’s trace this back. Now I’m only willing to go so far, because there’s no point in tracing such a complex idea back through the times when humans were simple. I know a great deal about Christianity, unfortunately, and absolution or forgiveness are a huge part of it. That notion has been brow beaten into people for centuries. But in other cultures? It’s not treated the same way. It’s tied to the notion of charity and godliness. We can dispute the nitty gritty of it all but because my interest in thought has to do with how ideas spread, I’m going to think of a religion as an organism, and the culture it smacks into as a survival landscape.

An idea cannot sink into a culture that actively kills it, unless the idea is adapted. For example, you cannot sell shoes to people with steel feet, unless you make heat resistant shoes and show them they can now walk on lava. Colorful, I know, but try to follow me. A religion cannot excuse its systemic abuse and subjugation of people unless it preaches forgiveness, and to do this it cannot come out and simply say “we are the church and our ideas are toxic but you have to forgive us”. No. That wouldn’t work because people would see the chest. “Oh right, your god who tells you it’s alright to oppress people says we should accept it. Sure Jan.” Instead, people who like the religion and want to use it for power, will build into it, the idea of forgiving each other as a means of building a more perfect relationship with the god who forgives them. Everyone wants to know that when they’ve wronged someone there’s a way to fix it. That’s a basic desire, a weakness the faith can adapt to exploit. It says lots of things thay seem fine, because they play to that desire. “Of course I should forgive, so that I too, am forgiven!” But behind that is also “Don’t die with a blemish, or you risk damnation.” And then what happens when abuse occurs? Oppression? Bigotry? You are made to feel guilty if you refuse to forgive. You’re not compliant anymore, so you are shunned. The people who haven’t abused you, but who tell you to forgive, have their own vested interest in that system being in place. More often than not they are someone who feels they need forgiving, and so forgiveness ought to be taught as a standard. This indicates they want something, and aren’t thinking about what the victim needs.

When I am abused, I handle it the way that makes me feel better. Not the way that makes my abuser feel better. And that way is to cut them out swiftly and cleanly, and never seek them out again. Nothing will undo what was done, not apologies, not forgiveness, not anything. But there is one sure way to arrange it so that the same thing doesn’t happen again.

So yes, I quite agree with you.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

the sky’s open wide, i’m running with the wolves - chapter 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, background Remy, background c!Thomas Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Platonic/brotherly Virgil with Logan and the Creativitwins; platonic/parental Patton & Virgil; platonic/brotherly Logan and the Creativitwins with each other; platonic/parental Janus with Logan and the Creativitwins; background endgame Moceit.  Warnings: Probably some language; references to Christianity; non-graphic violence.  Word count: 1570 Notes: Wolfwalkers (2020) AU! You don’t need to have seen the movie to enjoy this, though. 

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My writing masterpost

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Summary: When Patton is charged with hunting down the wolves in the woods, he believes he is protecting his young son Virgil. But Virgil is afraid to watch his father vanish into the woods, and sneaks after him. When Virgil runs into three wolf cubs who hold the secrets of the forest, he has to make a choice: obey the rules he’s known all his life? Or try to help the three shapeshifting boys find their missing father—even though Virgil's always been taught that the only safe wolf is a dead one? As Virgil explores the wonderful world his new friends show him, and uncovers the lies his town is built on, he may be too late to realize that his choices will cost him more than he ever bargained for.

Chapter 1

Remy would never have particularly considered himself a God-fearing man. Oh, he said his prayers and went to church, of course, but it was more a comfortable habit woven into the fabric of his life than something he devoted much thought to. Even at nineteen, he preferred to occupy his day-to-day thoughts with such matters as the tending of his sheep, the comfort of a nice dry pair of woolen socks, the avoidance of wolves, and, most of all, the brewing of a good cup of tea.

Remy was good at his job. He tended his sheep; he stayed well away from the woods. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with the woods. Stay away from their territory, and keep up the deal of old, and always be safe. He had never put much thought into this, either; it was much more important, in Remy’s eyes, to consider the fine taste that a brew steeped just right could carry.

He never expected his thoughtless respect for the woods to pay off.

The first time Remy saw a Wolfwalker, he was twenty-five years old and had started to wonder if he even believed they were real. But after that day, he never doubted again.

After all, how else could one explain the way the huge, snarling gray wolf, poised to deliver a killing bite to one of Remy’s finest sheep, had heard that commanding howl come from the woods, and put its tail between its legs and run back home in response?

Remy had watched the wolf run, standing frozen in fear and shock—and then he’d seen the Wolfwalker. A tall, tremendous wolf standing at the edge of the treeline, easily twice the size of the largest man, with dark gray fur and eyes gleaming yellow, a jagged scar running down one side of its face. Lean and powerful. Remy instinctively knew this was no ordinary wolf.

Remy had never considered himself a God-fearing man, but staring at the Wolfwalker and the way it commanded the pack of ordinary wolves surrounding it, he thought to himself that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little harder.

“Thank you,” he croaked out when the Wolfwalker turned its eyes on him. “Thank you, m’lord—bless ye—I’ll never cross your territory, you may be sure of that—thank you for protecting my sheep—” He barely even knew what he was saying, babbling out his thoughts in more than a little healthy terror.

He wasn’t quite sure if the way the Wolfwalker bowed its head was a nod of acknowledgement, but the next moment, the Wolfwalker was leaping away, the pack of wolves trailing in its wake. And not a single sheep of Remy’s had been harmed.

Remy didn’t see the Wolfwalker often; over the next decade or so, he crossed paths with—him? Remy somehow got the feeling it was a him—perhaps half a dozen times. Every time he came away filled with awe and fear and a renewed sense that though the Wolfwalker was terrifying and fearsome, Remy would far rather live under his odd protection than whatever farce could be provided by all these guards the new Lord Protector kept bringing around.

Before he knew it, Remy was nearly thirty-seven and his appreciation of a good cup of tea had only strengthened over the years. He went to church and said his prayers with gusto, and every night he glanced out to the woods and gave a little nod of respect. For the Wolfwalker and, these last few years, the little cubs that followed in his wake.

As long as the people kept themselves to themselves and stayed out of the woods, Remy knew there was nothing to fear from the wolves.

***

“I don’t want you to go!” Logan clung to Janus’s wrist, digging his heels into the ground and trying to physically hold him back.

Janus lifted his powerful arm and picked the near-teen right up off the ground with almost no effort at all. “This is terribly grown-up of you,” he informed his eldest son dryly.

“There are too many humans,” Logan insisted, dangling from Janus’s arm, the little claws of his hands pricking at Janus’s skin. “You said only the forest was safe!”

Janus drew a long breath. “And that has been true for time immemorial. But things have changed. I like it no more than you do. But I need you to stay here and look after your brothers, you understand me, Logan? I will find us a new forest, a safer one, without any humans who want to cut and burn the trees or trap us with iron. And then I will come back and get you three, and we will go there.”

“But this forest is ours!” Logan protested. “No other forest will be ours like this one is.”

“Logan,” Janus said, and his voice bore an undercurrent of a warning snarl now, “I am doing what I must to protect my cubs.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that they couldn’t stay here. Not with the way the humans kept getting bolder and bolder and venturing deeper into the woods. Between Logan’s poor eyesight and the twins’ recklessness, and the way all three of them were only cubs and couldn’t defend themselves well yet, Janus was getting twitchier and twitchier by the day.

Logan stilled, an unhappy look on his face. “Can I come with you, at least? I can help! I’m very good at figuring things out! We could find a new forest together!”

“No,” Janus responded at once, his heart rate quickening at the idea. “I don’t—” He broke off and reconsidered what he was about to say. “I need you to look after the twins,” he said at last, striving to keep his voice casual.

Not casual enough. Logan stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. “You think you might not come back!” he accused.

Janus refrained from speaking the curse he wanted to let out. Logan had always been far too observant. “Of course I’ll come back,” he lied through his teeth, running a comforting hand through Logan’s tangled hair. “I only want to make sure the way is safe for my little ones first.”

Logan had spoken the truth a moment ago: there were too many humans these days. Janus wasn’t sure it was possible to safely venture past the borders of the forest anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere left to take his little ones.

He wasn’t sure he would survive this search.

But it wasn’t like there were any other options left at this point. “Logan,” Janus said, kneeling down and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He focused on making his voice honey-sweet and sincere. “I’m going to keep you safe, you understand? I would never abandon you. You are in charge of keeping your brothers safe until I return, but I will be back in a month or two.” Janus held the little boy’s brown eyes and tried not to think of humans with their traps and spears and guns and the way that once Janus left the forest he would have nowhere to hide.

“I will come back,” Janus told Logan, and he put his whole heart into his lie. “I promise.”

***

“I don’t want to move to some stupid village.” Virgil kicked his feet against the edge of the wagon petulantly, poking a piece of straw through the bars of his kestrel Thomas’s cage.

Patton sighed and reached back to ruffle his son’s hair, not taking his eyes from the winding dirt road. “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have a better life there. The Lord Protector offers a handsome salary to Hunters who can bring down wolves. They say the town is terrorized day and night, and they need to rid the forest of these pests so they can safely harvest the wood and expand the borders of the town.”

“But I hate when you go hunting!” Virgil crawled up to the driver’s seat beside Patton and clung to his arm. “I’m always so scared you’ll get eaten up! Or step in a trap! Or fall off a cliff! Or drown! Or—”

“Hey, there. Hey, now.” Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, child. Breathe for me.” He murmured soothingly for a few minutes. “Now, come on, tell me: who taught you to draw a bow and arrow?”

“You,” Virgil mumbled.

“Good lad. And who taught you to track?”

“You did.”

“And what do you think? Am I a good Hunter? Haven’t I always kept you safe as can be?”

“Yes, but—”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted, gentle but firm.

Virgil fidgeted for a moment. “It only has to go bad once, and you’d never come home again!”

“It’s a good thing I’d never do that, then,” Patton said, chucking Virgil under the chin and chuckling. “I mean, I have a sturdy little lad to look after, I must always make sure I hasten home to him at the end of the day.” He drew Virgil close and gave him a protective, reassuring hug. “Nothing’s going to get your Papa. I promise. I will always protect you, Virgil, you hear me? And today, the best way to protect you is to find ourselves a new home out here. We’ll make do, never you worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time!”

--

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): 

@theimprobabledreamersworld @private-snippers @fivehargreeves05 

[cto10121]

I normally like to write published fanfic from classics because I like new takes in stories or different POVs... But god I detest how Wide Sargasso Sea has completely fucked with people's perspective of Jane Eyre and make it all about how Betha was the misunderstood Woke Queen and that Bronte was apparently racist. I remember thinking the same when the discourse was harder a couple of years ago and then I went around writing my own Byronic heroes and thought: Nah, Rochester was fine.

I tried reading that book but I got bored of it after a couple of chapters, it felt so slow and never ending. Ironically, the original Jane Eyre... Wrote nearly 200 years ago, felt more modern than the prose of that book.

It was assigned reading for my Modernist Fiction course, which was frankly laughable since the whole novel is completely unintelligible without reading or at least knowing what happens in Jane Eyre, which was not assigned (fortunately I had read Jane Eyre by then, but I still cringe in pity for the other students). It was a forgettable experience of essentially bad writing—two-dimensional characters, no development, piss-poor voice (Rochester’s POV was indistinguishable from Antoinette/Bertha’s), a poetic style without the substance, no proper realization of its themes (colonialism, women’s autonomy, etc.) the works. Even the connection with Jane Eyre was weak; I’ve read fanfics more true to the canon and lore of the original works than WSS. And yes, Charlotte Brontë’s prose was much better and more accessible than Rhys. (I’ve also heard that Brontë-is-racist thing—something about Bertha’s description in the attic? I really haven’t read the book in a long while, so I can’t say if the criticism is valid).

But I won’t lie, I personally have many, many problems with Jane Eyre—the way the narrative can’t decide whether it wanted to be a Bildungsroman or a Beauty-and-the-Beast modern retelling and ended up being half and half, the heavily Christian morality that just drags Jane’s character down, Jane overall awful seesawing between meek little 19th century proper young lady and “I am no bird; no net ensnares me” proto feminism, Rochester beginning as one of the few believable characters in this thing and yet doing weird OOC shit like disguising himself as a gypsy (?) to find out whether Jane likes him, and of course the whole Bertha debacle. But Rochester’s treatment of Bertha ain’t it—actually, he was more than generous with her, even risking his own life to try and save her (!!!) and the fact that he raised Adèle even though he was not entirely sure he was hers is commendation enough. Yes, it is a little pat, Brontë making sure that the love interest’s dick behavior is justified, but I have no problem with the writing on that regard. Guy is fundamentally fine, he just has awful social graces.

My problem actually lies in Jane leaving Rochester. I haven’t even heard anyone critique that plot point, but to me it’s always been such an awful, conventional decision; it drags the rest of the book down into milquetoast Gothic melodrama. Especially since Jane just acted so rashly, without even planning her departure, and almost lost her life because of it. I honestly don’t see why she couldn’t have just accepted being Rochester’s mistress. She would have been in the same position as if she were really married and she could have helped Rochester with Bertha. If she were so worried about her reputation or Rochester growing tired and casting her off, then marriage would have been far worse, because that was practically forever. It’s pure 19th century chopped logic, and it ruins the realistic Dickens-esque social realism of the first half and even in the Rochester section. And that awful Jane-hears-Rochester’s-voice-conveniently-as-St.-John-proposes magic realism never fails to make me laugh/stew in bitter frustration. Homegirl had no problem leaving Rochester on a dime and only now she hears his voice??? Twilight did it better, even freakin’ Shadow and Bone set up the tether thing better. Also, way to undo Jane’s supposedly feminist/strong principled decision of leaving Rochester and being true to her ideals/honor/independence blah blah blah. If you’re just going to have her end up with the guy, then what was the point of the whole Diana and St. John plotline? (Oh, yeah, that’s right, the secret windfall by the dead uncle so now Jane is rich and also Diana et al. are her cousins!!! Smh).

So yeah. Jane Eyre. It’s readable, and it does have its strong points—the Beauty and the Beast elements of the love story are done well and the first half with a feral young Jane is great in its gritty social realism, but I can’t really take it seriously. Wide Sargasso Sea is stale try-hard lit fic for the critical theory crowd, though, and should not have been canonized to begin with.