#and yet...

[femmefaggot]

this episode made us physically ill

[jewreallythinkthat]

For those who missed it, a Jewish man was threatened with arrest in London this weekend for being "openly Jewish" (that's a quote form the policeman who stopped him) while being near a pro-palestinian protest. He was then abused and harassed by protestors. The policeman said that the man's presence could lead to a "breach of the peace"

The police proceeded to release the most victim blamey apology I've ever seen - one so bad that they then had to withdraw it and issue a second apology

The original apology talks about a "new trend of those opposed to the main protests appearing alongside the route to express their views", and "knowing their presence is provocative".

The guy the police stopped was literally walking in London post shul. Not on a counter demonstration, not on a free the hostages demo, or a pro Israel demo. He was just there, and wearing a kippah.

Like I'm sorry but saying Jews being obviously Jewish is causing a breach of the peace when near a pro-palestinian protest makes it very clear that the police know that these are not actually peaceful.

I'm sure a huge number of people on these demos are not actually antisemites and have no intention to harm Jews, however herd mentality can make even the most reasonable person into a bigot, and frankly if people are afraid to stand against the antisemites, it shows that they now how dangerous the people around them are - so WHY are they still there?

[bloodfreak-boyking]

why did we need sam's reaction to his brother kissing cassie? unless...🤔 no, i shan't say

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Dear Eclipse (me agen)

Just thinking back but isn't even safe to b asking questions?

Cause last time, an anony hit Moon on the head with a stick. & trapped in a jar

Sun nearly mauled someone.

& a whole bunch of us summoned yo- op.

Nvm that last one. =×="

"Muhahahaha!

Yes, yes! I do recall that~ All because Moony was left helpless and unable to fend for himself~

The feeling of my eldest brother's rage was like that of embers surging through my veins, I get gooseflesh thinking about it. Quite intriguing that he had been pushed that far~

Sunny always had commendable patience. But I will pass on a piece of advice:

You are all sorely mistaken if you think my anger is the one to fear~"

[doodleisdead]

ART BLOCK DEFEATED!!!!

↓↓↓↓Bubbleless below ↓↓↓↓

[magentamoonbeam]

"I should have thought,” said Fanny, after a pause of recollection and exertion, “that every woman must have felt the possibility of a man’s not being approved, not being loved by some one of her sex at least, let him be ever so generally agreeable. Let him have all the perfections in the world, I think it ought not to be set down as certain that a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen to like himself."

Fanny Price, Mansfield Park

[catbirthdays]

they HAD to give Sidon a girlfriend because this is the gayest shit ive ever seen. bitch gets down on one knee, takes your hand, and gives you a ring with a VOW. like. HELLO.

[cvntdracvla]

"do you wanna lick my boots? or chop my hands off? is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight?"

[trans-yllz]

so many otherwise good wei wuxian posts ruined by op thinking that he thinks he's bad/struggles with his goodness

[bloodanna]

I think my favourite thing about the DJ Qualls/Ty Olsson engagement announcement/reactions is the way they have been obviously and openly in a relationship for years and yet I have literally never seen any of the tweets or interview answers all y'all are screencaping and posting until now. XD

[nadas-dirthalen]

if bioware's job application portal goes up tomorrow and they have an opening for some kind of QA that just knows the lore and checks it, whaddya think the chances are that "hello yes i wrote 30k words of theorycrafting in 7 days" work as a line on a resume, hmm

[hauntedhotel]

Okay so in the immediate aftermath I was actually ready to start chewing my fingers off but with time to reflect - it very definitely feels like the start of the third act of a story, y'know? Like the part where it seems like everything at the lowest point and there's no way it's ever going to be okay, end of The Empire Strikes Back kind of situation, so I'm holding out hope for a season 3 with a happy ending.

In the meantime I'm jumping on the bandwagon of the coffee thing being suspicious. It was given an absurdly significant amount of attention and framing if it was just a meaningless gesture, and given how we saw what ingesting human poisons does to angels/demons (with Crowley and the laudanum) I think it's probably likely Aziraphale wasn't entirely himself when he left for Heaven.

However, I do think it's important to consider that from an audience bias perspective we're throwing things at Aziraphale cause we know Heaven is full of shit and we can see Crowley's heart breaking in real time, but it isn't that simple for Aziraphale. He's a guardian, a defender, he genuinely thinks being in a position of authority in Heaven is the best way to protect everything he loves - Earth, humanity and Crowley.

And Crowley, emotionally, is at a different point than Aziraphale (further along a journey, say, he goes too fast). He's already been kicked out of Heaven and made some level of peace with the idea that he doesn't belong in Hell - the idea of being unmoored from his "family" is old news to him. And Hell is awful, but they never pretend otherwise. Aziraphale is trying to leave a toxic family that's constantly telling him they're the good guys, that everything they do is for his own good, for the good of humanity. It's like a cult, almost, in that he can know logically everything they've done and everything he stands to lose by leaving Crowley behind, but that kind of guilt and brainwashing and fear and programming doesn't get washed away that easily.

It's frustrating, as being at the low point of a story often is, but I don't think it's OOC, I don't think it's bad storytelling and I definitely don't think it makes Aziraphale as a character unworthy of sympathy.

[egophiliac]

YEA RIDE KAMENS ART IM CRYING.. is there a rider you want to appear in the game? i'm personally praying for kiva 😭

YEAH! :D I'm having a lot of fun anticipating the reveals (and being extremely wrong about most of them) but I am also unironically extremely excited for this game! it is the kind of buckwild adaptation that we both need and deserve (and also I kind of adore all the characters already).

we're never getting a Fourze but. I desperately want a Fourze. 😭 Kiva would also be EXCELLENT, the vampire motif would work SO well with these designs! (not to mention the whole stained-glass theming in general...Kiva had some really beautiful designs going on, just LOOK at Saga --)

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 20 - Enlightened

The rogue has questions.

On AO3.

She’s choking. Not on something; this is a desperate, strangled sound, likely because the intruders are above her. The one holding the rope Astarion knifes first. The man—smells of cave and something like dust and that odd, almost leather his struggling leader is now wearing—gasps as the blade punches through a lung.

His gasp turns to a gurgle as Astarion’s other dagger finds his throat and opens it down to the bone.

Before that one can fall, he’s on the second. Leaves one knife still stick in the first man’s ribcage. His fingers find a flailing arm. He drives his left dagger up, under that arm, to puncture a vein and rip into a second pair of lungs as well. And then, because this is likely some form of thinking creature and he can still scent that maddening woman, Astarion wrenches this one close and bites hard on the neck.

His target sputters something, but then hot blood spurts to the back of Astarion’s throat. His unseeing eyes roll back and he loses himself a moment. Some time later, glutted and gasping, and he finds himself crouched over the warm but dead target.

“Darling?” he says.

She coughs and retches. Has been doing that a while, he realizes.

Hers is the only heart beating. He gives the closes body a swift pat down, finds the length of slim, silken rope leading to the edge of a small crevasse. They must have snared her.

He scrabbles down. Lands in a loose rockslide next to her. She’s on her knees, still making awful sounds. Being noosed will do that, even to someone who doesn’t need to breathe.

He finds her pack, wrenches it open, and digs around until he finds smooth glass. He’s not sure what kind of potions she has, exactly. He certainly hadn’t been the first person brought to that half-mad little shit with the knife. Gods know what she looted as he lay healing.

“Drink,” he says, using the simplest verb form (which makes it rather a rude command).

She reaches out and taps one of the bottles in his grasp. Tries to take it. But he doesn’t let her. Dangling from the neck hurts like the hells. And even being undead, that sort of thing revives dim instincts of living that overrule things like thoughts.

He uncorks what he assumes she was clever enough to choose, a healing potion, and hands it over. As he thought, her hands shake so hard she nearly drops it. Has to take small, careful sips, making unhappy noises as she swallows.

So as soon as she finishes that, he says, “Which one Chondathan?”

He almost expects her to argue. Save them for some “true” emergency or some such nonsense. But she is a practical sort (when she’s not infiltrating a fish cult trying to murder him, only hours after seeing a memory of his abandoning her to her death). And they need to talk.

She downs that one slowly at first, before gulping the rest.

“Jesus fuck,” she says and only half of that translates (her people swear so charmingly).

“What happened?” he says as she picks herself up.

“Dunno. Got my water, was heading back. Then it was like walking into a spider web, but face first, and then the web turned into a fucking noose.”

He finds said noose on the ground. Smooth and cool and well made. Feels almost like…silk.

And a horrible thought occurs to him.

The man said something as Astarion drained him. Gurgled, actually. And his blood had smelled similar to that lingering on the carnage field they’d discovered. Plus, he’s gotten a feel of the man’s armor as he tore that throat out, and it felt exactly like the strange leather he’d altered for his hardy leader.

“Darling,” he says. “Those elves you found. The dead ones you looted. What did they look like?”

“Elves,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Pointy ears, pale hair. Them statues was maybe a couple inches shorter’n us?”

“I meant what color were they?”

She pauses. Then, slowly, “Y’know, that kinda question has some real nasty implications where I’m from.”

Which makes absolutely no sense, so he flails a hand about to speed her along.

She sighs. “I really hope this ain’t a race thing. They was kinda purple, I think? Gray-ish?”

He was right to be exasperated. “And you didn’t think to mention that part?”

“Karlach is red. Lae’zel is green. I bet you was eggshell pale even when you did have a pulse.”

He was, actually. With a silver undertone, even.

“There aren’t any purple elves, darling. Not out on the surface, anyway.”

He has the distinct impression she stares at him, flat and unamused. “And I’d know that how?”

She’s from a different plane and can’t even tell the difference between a gnome and a halfling (even he struggles now and then—at least the taller races have the good graces to have more pronounced distinguishing features; one isn’t going to mistake a human for an elf).

He rubs a hand over his face. It feels wet. Why…right. He’s not a terribly fastidious eater in battle.

“Take us up there, then,” he says.

So she does. She’s moving faster than before. He wonders if the healing potion did anything for whatever symptoms she’s having. The blood scent only thickens, though. And then he wonders if she took anything after she insisted he feed from her, because they lose blood during all of this, and if she was traipsing about with blood loss of top of all that…

But that makes him feel bizarre again, and he has to redirect his thoughts.

“Do these ones look like those others?” he says after they make their way over to his kills. It’d be easier if she just let him use her eyes, but after what he let slip last time…and her feeble, human sight is horrifying. She’s spent her entire life running about half-blinded, the poor thing.

She shifts. Scuffs a boot against the ground. And he knows she’s going to say—

“Yeah?”

“Gods below,” he mutters. And fine, yes, she wouldn’t have known the difference. And fine, yes, he should have wondered which was more likely: a band of sun elves prancing about the Underdark, or his companion not recognizing, “Those are called drow, darling.”

“The fuck’s a drow?”

“That’s a long answer, but the simple version is a group of dark elves who live in the Underdark.”

“…so a type of elf.”

“I wouldn’t ever say that to any other elf you meet. They’ll take it as a rather serious insult.”

She makes a low sound. It’s usually accompanied by an eye roll, her throwing up her hands, or some version of I hate this realm.

“Do I wanna know why, or is this gonna be another stupid racism?”

The last word translates…oddly. He’ll think about that later.

“They’ve a reputation,” he says. “Mostly for abject cruelty, manipulation, scheming, and murdering. That sort of thing. It’s rare to come across one that doesn’t at least try to stab you in the back once or twice.”

“Is that a generalization? Cause generalizations fall into ‘stupid racism’ more often than not.”

He nudges the nearest body with his foot. It flops. Then he kneels down to trace the chest plate down to the clasps on the side and get to work freeing it. “I’ve only met a handful myself, and every one of them tried to kill me. Even when I was at my most charming.”

Next the shoulder clasp. This is the one he drained. He’d noticed they were of similar height and build, which was unusual for a drow, but oh. A chance to wear drow armor? He’ll not pass that up. It’s a literal tragedy he doesn’t have the sight to admire himself in it.

“I notice you said ‘other elves,’” his intrepid leader says. She has a talent for wringing her words utterly dry. “I take it that don’t mean you?”

The last shoulder unbuckles like it’s been waiting for him. Astarion tugs the armor free of the now-cooling corpse. Yes, this is going to fit him beautifully. “A people known for murder and backstabbing? Darling, I’d be flattered.”

“Shouldn’t even be surprised,” she mutters.

Still. They’ve run into two groups of drow down here. Which means that this must be a highly trafficked area. And for all he admires the deep elves, they hold a historical hatred for his kind. And they’d likely kill his leader sooner than speak to her.

“I suggest you grab anything you can and we get well clear of here,” he says. “Best be long gone before any others turn up.”

[stizzysupremacy]

Thinking about Izzy singing La Vie En Rose, a song also sung by Audrey Hepburn in the movie 'Sabrina', where the main character is taught things she needs to know to impress/win the heart of the man she admires,

only for her and the man teaching her these things to fall for each other instead.

I'm not saying stizzy... but i sure am implying...