#but they would all make each other worse actually

[scartale-an-undertale-au]

So... I see this a decade after i decided to simply... Stop instigating conversations because i felt like im simply burdening others with my presence and that they actually felt annoyed having to hear from me and wished i wouldnt send messages.

The thing is that none of them ever approached me afterwards. When we saw each other after a while we would be ecstatic but there was a wall between us already and i dont know if its simply life going on and us being very different than back then, or that they truly didnt see me the same as i saw them (as my besties).

One time i met one of them (this one specifically was my best friend from first grade until twelve basically) on the street and i see that she's married and walking with her husband. Turns out the wedding was that sunday and i wasnt even notified of it happening or of the engagement. I wasnt mad about not being invited, but i was hurt for not even being notified! She then turned to her husband and said that im a friend of her from high school.

Its been a decade from high school so i can see why she said that, but that hurt me so badly that the moment i waved them goodbye and they disappeared around a corner, i collapsed and just sobbed. I was so heartbroken. It seemed that i was the only one who still thought of her as my old school's bestie or had thought of including her in any future milestones simply because she was so important to me.

So i dont know how i feel about this post. I understand where you guys are coming from and its in good intentions, but the main issue is that many kids who become the sole instigators were never shown that they can be vulnerable in front of their friends about this matter. It felt like its your duty and how you contribute to the group. And when it became harder and harder, the friends never questioned why you pulled away or asked for your wellbeing. It turned into a situation when you feel more like a nuisance than a leader.

Fortunately, i have now friends who instigate so much more than me and i keep telling them how i appreciate it and apologise for how terrible i am at texting back and that its never because i dont want them to text me. Its simply because texting or answering messages had become so hard for me and so mentally taxing i sometimes shut down when i see messages i need to reply to.

So rambling aside, as much as i appreciate your sentiment, i think a different approach would be helpful.

My approach (which is not better or worse, just a different approach) is to get comfortable with a 'friends for one day' reality. I go so many times to so many places and meet so many amazing people, we always say we'll contact one another and keep in touch and then never contact one another again, and that's alright.

You have to be comfortable with being friends without focusing on the 'keeping the friendship going' let people come and go. Those who truly want to stick around will stick around, and they usually have a much deeper connection with you that isnt dependant on who instigates the conversations.

My friends are those that mostly text in memes and reels since we dont see each other often. And i do the same in return. Its easier and relays so much more. We have proper conversations here and there, but our actual interactions happen physically. And they instigate meetups much more than i do and i always make sure that they know that i appreciate it. One of my friends and i also have some differences in opinions, so we have some long discussions.

I also have a friend who i dont text to at all but invites me to shabbat meals once in a while and i come over and its like no time had passed. I invite her back for bbq or shabbat as well, but thats also once in a blue moon.

Another friend is across the ocean so its mostly photos and small comments and talks about our lives and since the war began, she keeps checking if im alive and well.

Another friend is also across the ocean and we mostly speak about our realities of being jews or squeal over her precious daughter or make plans for when she finally comes to Israel.

So my friends arent part of one group but many branches of different aspects of my life. I would say i have around seven/eight of them that arent my current co workers (work friendship is also temporary and i accept that fully and enjoy our time together) and im truly blessed because i had let go of the desperate need to keep my friends together.

So please dont call us a bitch for not willing to talk about it. And we're certainly not mini community leaders, we're just people who are friends with those that never cared about reaching out first or affirming our friendship in any kind of way. Its not fair to put the expectations of reaching out onto the one who constantly did that. Friends who truly want to keep up a friendship will attempt to do so when they see that the other side isnt as present as previously.

Sorry im all over the place, im on my phone and its harder to articulate on it

every now and then the internet decides it should revamp the ole “stop texting first and see how many friends you lose” when in reality you could literally just communicate that u feel bad that ur the only one texting first

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

If you are online a lot, especially in spaces or bubbles where people often share their experiences „for awareness“, you may feel like it’s your obligation to share your own life experiences as well. 

This can be a subconscious thing. You would likely never sign your name on „Every gay person who had a traumatic encounter with a homophobic person needs to make a TikTok about it or else they fail their community“ or „If you’re disabled and trans you need to post about your specific struggles or else you don’t even care about visibility for your own communities“. But you may come across people who did make a video or post about their struggles - and feel some guilt or shame when you realize you experienced the same but don’t talk about it. You may feel like they’re using their voice to do something and you just sit around. Or alternatively, you may see those things and feel „inspired“ to share your own story, so you rush to do it.. and later on you realize you actually didn’t feel inspired, you just felt uncomfortable. You didn’t actually want to share your story with strangers and you kinda feel worse now, but you had to do it for awareness, right?

If you relate to any of that, here’s some things I want you to know: 

You don’t owe anyone a list of all labels you identify with. You don’t owe anybody a list of your medical diagnoses. You don’t owe anyone a list of all traumatic events in your life. Asking you for that would be considered wildly inappropriate in almost all circumstances offline… so it definitely can’t be the measure for how „good“ or „brave“ you are online, either. 

Most people who share their stories online don’t really only do it for awareness. They also do it because they want to receive sympathy, comfort, praise, the feeling of community, the unbiased confirmation that what happened to them was wrong etc… or even just the relief of getting it out of their system. And there’s nothing wrong with that! We are all human beings who need each other. But it may take some pressure of you to remember that those posts are not always some selfless, heroic deed purely done for activism. 

Sharing your story online doesn’t necessarily do that much. Don’t get me wrong, it can be really brave and it can definitely start conversations! I don’t mean to discredit anyone who decides to share something deeply personal. But: not every post gets viral or reaches anyone besides the people who already agree with it. So if you don’t really want to talk about being bullied in school, you certainly don’t need to feel like you have to. Who says that it would be YOUR post, out of all the posts about bullying, that’d end up super viral and start some big conversation about bullying and end up in the news? Maybe it’d just get 15 likes and two bot comments. No need to feel guilty on missing out on that. 

Talking about a traumatic experience can bring relief and that’s valid.. but it can also be counterproductive to your healing process. Sharing it „for awareness“ will not be worth it if it makes you feel overwhelmed, unlocks memories you’re not ready to confront in detail, comes with the risk of putting you into a depression spiral, re-traumatizes you by bringing back feelings you felt in that situation etc. Put your healing first. 

People can be real mean, especially when they can hide behind the anonymity the internet offers. Sharing something vulnerable can spread awareness but it can also make you a target of hate, ridicule, disbelief and bullying. This is especially important to consider if it’s something you’re still struggling with or healing from. Not wanting to get mean comments is a valid reason to not share something. Again: Put your healing first. 

You know all that and still want to share your story? All the more power to you! My point here is not to silence your voice. If you WANT to share your story, it can be a really great thing to do. 

I just want to remind you that you should only do it if you truly want to. Never do it out of pressure or obligation - there is none. Your story is yours. You have the right and power to keep it or share it as you wish. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[artistsfuneral]

a/b/o, but for once the story is actually about the beta

big no progrom pack with Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Gweld and Gardis and Aubry and Clovis

with Lambert still being the youngest of their pack, a beta (thank fuck) who they all say matches really nicely with their scent

Lambert, fresh out of presentation (still changed his body, still felt weird and intrusive and absolutely exhausting, even without it ending in a heat or rut) just goes with it - surely they know what they're talking about

so Lambert is pack. he sits with them, eats with them, trains with them and shares a den (not his bed, he needs his own bed) with them

and nobody really explains anything to him? do they just assume that he knows what to do?? have Gweld and Gardis instinctively know what to do once they presented as omegas? then, why doesn't he know what to do??

why does it feel so wrong?

cue Lambert, during his pack's heat cycle, feeling more like a handmaiden than a pack member. when Gweld and Gardis care for their omegas, they're rewarded with bright smiles and soft kisses, when Lambert does he gets a 'good job'? when Gweld and Gardis care for their alphas, they're hugged and scented and when Lambert does he gets a pat on the shoulder?

do they even want him there?

it feels obvious that they do not. so after their cycle is over he walks out on them (hates that his instincts won't let him leave while they're still at it, while he still can work for them) and doesn't look back

two years later he finds himself in Tretogor of all places, chewing through a stale piece of bread that seriously has seen better days but was half off at the market, while watching a newly mated alpha omega pair making eyes at each other

and he just- he feels his pack bond breaking and he cries, silent tears running down his face while he eats a piece of bread that suddenly tastes so much worse

Meanwhile Madison is grappling with the fact that not every issues can be settled by committee

meanwhile six other witchers are going absolutely nuts over the fact that they feel the bond to their youngest, sweetest, grumpiest pack member fading away

this is how things went from their perspective:

they're litter mates, close knit and seemingly perfectly balanced: two alphas, two omegas, two betas

and then - decades later - they scent a new pack mate and it's that one guy, only surviver of his cohort, half-feral, spicey, grumpy Lambert

he doesn't really fit a beta's usually calm, softspoken demeanor, but they don't care, because he fits their pack so well, they never knew how much they needed him until they met Lambert

immune to their omegas' charm and their alphas' dominance, Lambert does what Gweld and Aubry would never be bold enough to do

he openly berates them when they're being stupid, always saying out loud what he thinks, doesn't cower in front of the alphas and neither is too soft with their omegas

but

but he never initiates anything that could be interpreted as more than just friendly, sleeps in his own bed, doesn't seem to like prolonged contact and not once has asked for anything during their heat cycle

they just assumed Lambert wasn't interested. because he's always so up front with everything else, surely he'd just say something, right?

wrong. and they realize that as soon as he vanishes right after they calm down from their latest cycle - "I thought he just stepped out for a moment, what do you mean he's gone?!"

and for two years he doesn't return to Kaer Morhen and the pack grows morw and more worried

and then they feel their bond to him fail

and all hell breaks loose

[hrizantemy]

me when i hear people defend feyre attacking the lady of autumn by saying she didn’t mean to/beron was her intended target: … how … how is that better?

like okay we all hate beron but he’s still a high lord, still someone you invited to form an alliance/negotiate with diplomatically. in a court where you are a guest might i add. you are a child they all saw practically naked two days ago, now playing house with a man (sorry, male) who willingly or otherwise tormented them for the better part of half a century .. because he gave you a pretty crown? how does one expect these old ass fae to not be condescending or reluctant? i’d have asked her to let the adults do the talking if she was piping in every two seconds telling me what to think and how to act.

the high lords’ meeting is my roman empire because it’s one of those instances where you have to let your jaw hit the floor because in what world - except one where sjm expects everyone to love her blorbo’s for all their correct opinions and positions - did any of that work?? with no consequences?? in fact they’re rewarded for their behaviour: tarquin rescinds the blood rubies, everyone’s chiming in about how they knew rhysand was the good guy all along, no one cares about the high lord who is why they’re all free rn (okay feyre broke the curse — tamlin’s curse. tamlin killed amarantha. he is why rhysand is free to rewrite history and the others have a future) i’m surprised there wasn’t a scene where the lady of autumn apologises to feyre for being in the way of her attack smh

This is one of the reasons I cannot like Feyre. The justification that she “didn’t mean to” attack the Lady of Autumn or that “Beron was her intended target” makes absolutely no sense and, frankly, makes the situation worse. How is it any better that her recklessness and inability to control her powers led to an innocent woman nearly being killed? The Lady of Autumn was already a victim of Beron’s abuse and violence, and Feyre—who should, of all people, understand the trauma of being hurt or manipulated by powerful individuals—just becomes another threat to her. How is that defensible in any way?

Even if Beron was her intended target, that doesn’t excuse the collateral damage of almost killing someone who was completely uninvolved in the fight. Feyre’s powers are vast, yes, but she constantly wields them with this mix of entitlement and carelessness that makes her more of a liability than a hero. It’s one thing to make mistakes; it’s another to make catastrophic ones and have people excuse them as if the consequences don’t matter.

And let’s be real—Feyre is never held accountable for these actions. The narrative either brushes it off or turns it into another moment for someone to coddle her and tell her how amazing she is. Meanwhile, the Lady of Autumn is left to fend for herself, as usual, trapped in her abusive marriage, and probably now terrified of Feyre as well. The complete lack of responsibility Feyre takes—or is made to take—for her actions is one of the biggest reasons I can’t root for her. She’s not a savior; she’s a wrecking ball with a savior complex.

The entire High Lords meeting was, without question, a complete disaster. It was supposed to be this grand gathering where the courts would come together to ally against Hybern, but instead, it devolved into petty squabbles, veiled insults, and outright hostility. Rhysand, for all his posturing as the most “progressive” High Lord, walked into the meeting with an attitude so smug it practically dared the others to disagree with him. Tamlin, true to form, took the bait and immediately turned the whole thing into a personal grievance fest. Beron was his usual insufferable self, Helion was flirting, and everyone else seemed more interested in holding grudges than actually saving the world.

Nobody trusted anyone, and honestly, who could blame them? These are the same people who’ve been at each other’s throats for centuries, and now they’re supposed to just shake hands and work together? Rhysand’s attempts at diplomacy mostly amounted to thinly veiled threats, Feyre’s speeches did little to inspire confidence, and Amren just sat there looking like she wanted to kill someone. It was all spiraling into chaos.

And then came Nesta.

Nesta, who was barely even acknowledged as part of the delegation. Nesta, who didn’t care about politics, alliances, or playing nice. Nesta, who was so angry, so filled with righteous fury, that her words cut through the nonsense like a blade. When she stood up and spoke about what Hybern had done, about what they would do if the High Lords didn’t put aside their differences and act, she commanded the room. She didn’t appeal to their egos or try to manipulate them; she just told the truth in the most raw, unflinching way possible.

Her speech wasn’t about Rhysand’s court, or Tamlin’s grudges, or Beron’s smug indifference. It was about the people who would suffer and die if they didn’t unite. It was about the horrors she had witnessed and endured. It was about the cost of their pride and their inaction. And for the first time in the entire meeting, there was silence.

That speech was the turning point. It was the reason the High Lords agreed to set aside their centuries of animosity and work together. Not because of Feyre’s attempts to “inspire” them, not because of Rhysand’s threats, but because Nesta Archeron reminded them of what was at stake.

And here’s the kicker: even after she was the one who secured the alliances they needed, the credit still went elsewhere. Feyre, Rhysand, and their crew walked away looking like the saviors, while Nesta was left on the sidelines again. The meeting may have been a mess, but Nesta was the only reason it wasn’t an outright failure.

Bonus mention: My man Thesan was the only unproblematic one at that entire meeting. He showed up, minding his own business, probably thinking, “I am a healer, not a referee for this soap opera.” While everyone else was busy airing centuries of dirty laundry, Thesan was out here like, “So… about that war threatening all our lives?”

He didn’t come for the drama, didn’t throw unnecessary shade, and managed to keep his court from looking like an absolute circus. Honestly, if I were him, I would’ve been this close to kicking the entire Night Court delegation out.

If anyone deserved to walk out of that meeting with dignity, it was Thesan. The man probably, sat down with a glass of wine after, and said, “Never again.”

[aphrodyx]

We’re all we have

supernatural oneshot: Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester x y/n (mainly Dean)

tw//: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, self-hate, victim-blaming, and mentions of being unlovable

synopsis: you’ve been waiting for your brothers to come back from their hunting trip, however, you and Dean get in an argument. It makes you question his thoughts about you and your place in the family.

fem! reader x sam winchester, fem! reader x dean winchester, family au, some angst, and some foul language

an: sorry if this is shit, i just luv my bbs 🙁

It’s been a while, too long even. It’s been over a week since Sam and Dean went on their hunt in Valentine, Nebraska. It was suppose to be only a nest of vampires. Seven? Eight? Maybe nine? They could take them easily, so why is it taking them forever to return my calls. One last time, I swear if he doesn’t answer…

Pang! Pang! Pang!

“Open up y/n!” Dean’s voice muffled through the metal.

Seriously? Now they come what the hell. I rush to the door to open it.

“Hey! Hey! How’s my favorite girl doing?” Dean walks in shuffling around me, down the stairs to the table.

“Dude c’mon— hey y /n… how are you” Sam stopping in his tracks to acknowledge me with a soft smile.

“I’m angry and you know that, what the hell Sam!” I turn haltingly and follow Dean.

I pace around Dean, angrily waiting for an explanation. They were gone for seven full days with zero contact, and it’s not like we had an argument. Over 70 messages sent and 50 missed calls, I thought of the worse. They could have been dead in a ditch or heads ripped off; why didn’t they call me, text me, sent cass, absolutely anything to me to make sure they were still alive.

“Dean, I need answers right now!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry okay… I should’ve texted you. We’re alright, see?” Dean spins in a 360, showing himself injure-free.

“No! I’m sick a tired of these excuses, you’ve been so distant. You’re so quick to go from one hunt to another, your not slowing down at all. Im worried about you. You’re not eating good or sleep properly, and when was the last time you took a shower. Seriously?

“Y/n…” Dean starts getting frustrated walking up to her.

“Y/n…” Sam interferes, trying to calm her down.

“No! fucking talk to me! What’s the matter with you!” I slam my fist down on the table.

“My dad is dead! Do you know what’s that like? To have your father taken away from you and not even knowing who did it!” He slams his fist down, kicking a chair away.

“Dean, calm down please. Yelling at each other isn’t going to mend our problem right now” Sam puts his hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

“I lost him too, you know? He was like my dad too Dean?” I say up in his face.

“He wasn’t your dad though, as much as you think he was” He pushes around y/n and storms off to his room.

I stand there. Zero thoughts flooding my mind. Am I angry? Upset? I don’t even know. I know we aren’t actually siblings and I know John wasn’t my real dad, but… he took care of me. He took me in when no one else would, fed me, gave me a roof over my head, and a family: sam and dean. Why would he say that to me… did he really not consider me as his sister… as his family? I sniffle a bit, crouching down on the floor.

“Y/n…” sam says quietly, sitting down with me on the floor. “You know Dean didn’t mean that.. John was your dad too. He was a dad to all of us, you know… he takes grief harder than the rest of us”

Sniffle… Sniffle… Sniffle

“Still, I don’t know… that felt different” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “He’s never raised his voice up at me… I never wanted anything less for him.”

“I know… me too… it’s just been a rough couple of weeks, he’s been sleeping terribly and drinking a whole lot more than usual” Sam rubs his face with his hands.

“It’s my fault though… I should’ve returned your calls and texts. I know you mean the best for both of us; I’ll be honest, it’s been rough for me too. I just… I don’t know ive kept my phone on silent and just didn’t want to deal with anyone… even you.”

Hearing sam confess his true feelings felt like a demon blade right through my chest. He didn’t want to talk to me either. All this time, they’ve been grieving. Maybe I didn’t truly understand, John did raise them all their lives. Their mom died when Dean was just four years old and sam at six months. I don’t know anything about how they feel. They’re broken and lost. A piece of them has been shattered and they can never get that back.

“Im sorry Sam. Im so sorry, ive been so selfish and I wasn’t caring about you guys at all and I-“

“No. Stop, you are the most caring, loving, kind-spirited person I know and I love you so so much. Dean is just… We’re just… We have a hard time regulating our emotions especially right now. If we give ourselves the chance to sit down properly, we’re going to lose our minds.” Sam exhales fast, holding his thoughts in for so long.

“It’s not you, I swear. But he shouldn’t have done that to you, it was fucked up and he knows it. I promise he will come around and apologize, you know he’s stubborn so it might take a couple of days, hours if you’re lucky, but knowing Dean… were pretty lucky all the time., right?” Sam chuckles, glancing at y/n’s glossy eyes. “Please stop crying, it hurts me a lot more than it does for you to see you like this.”

“I know… I’m okay...”

I had doubts, I know Sam says Dean said that out of frustration but I don’t know. I’ll give him some time though, I know he looked up to his dad for everything. He cared so much for him in deep admiration and devotion. Just like how I feel about Sam and Dean. I push myself off the floor, dried tears smudged on my cheeks.

“Rest now, you’ve had a long day, and there should be Chinese take out in the kitchen” I hug Sam: rubbing his hands up and down, letting him know I’ll be alright.

—————— ————time skip———————————

I lay down on my bed with music blasting in my headphones, listening to “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas; Dean’s favorite song. He told me anytime I’m upset, mad, happy, or confused I can always play this song and I’ll know what to do. I gave him space for a couple of hours and now I can’t fall asleep. I hate being in any grey area with Dean, he took care of me after John was gone on hunts as well. He was always there for Sam and I.

I hear a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in” I sit up, taking off my headphones to see who’s about to walk into my room.

“Hey… can we talk?” Dean says leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, what’s up” I scoot over making room for the both us on my twin xl bed.

“Y/n… Im so so sorry for how I acted with you today, I was a complete fucking jerk and I didn’t mean anything I said.” Dean spits out disappointingly. “John— dad. You lost him too, not just me nor Sam. You. You lost the only man who ever cared for you, loved you, knew you”

“Dean—“

“No. Let me continue. Dad was in your life for fifteen years. Fifteen! What right did I have to say that he wasn’t your dad either? I knew you since I was twelve, sammy was seven. We grew up together. We’re always and will be family. How the fuck could I say that to you?” Dean covers his face in his hands in shame.

“Y/n, ive been so selfish, I should’ve stopped what I was doing after dad died and just been there for you, for sammy. He’s been trying to stop me from going on all these hunts, but I won’t listen. I never listen. That’s my problem, im such an idiot.”

“Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it at all. Ive been in my head and these aren’t excuses but it’s just been so hard. It’s just always been so hard, and now dad gone just feels like my breaking point. I should’ve replied back to your calls and texts, Ive just been so angry and I just needed to kill. I needed to get out all these thoughts, and the voices out. I couldn’t stand a second staying in the bunker.” Dean’s softly sobbing now uncontrollably.

“Dean… I know… I just know how close you were with dad, I should’ve considered what would happen-“

“No, you shouldn’t consider anything. Im the oldest, I shouldve been there for you, and not the other way around. It’s just been so suffocating lately. I can’t breathe, I can’t walk, I can’t eat, for life doesn’t feel real anymore.”

I scoot closer to Dean, picking up his head.

“Don’t talk like that, we’re here still: sam, cass, and me. Your family is still here and we care so much for you. We are so loved Dean, please see that. I know it’s hard right now but going through this alone, and isolating yourself? That isn’t the way to go, we will get through this together. Like we always do. Family sticks together, Winchesters forever”

Dean’s glossy eyes reaches y/n’s; he reaches out, grasping to the sides of head, and brings it closer to him. Kissing the middle of her forehead, he says, “I never deserved you.”

“I never deserved you; I never knew I’d get loved like this ever again from people. Until John came, and told me it’s okay to come home with him. He told me he’d protect and care for me. But within all that, I never knew I would get two amazing brothers along the way.”

Dean rests his forehead against y/n’s. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it. Dean has always been this hard core man from the outside, but truly he’s just a hurt child. He always has been. It hasn’t been easy for him: losing his mom, being forced into the family business, surviving each hunt, and caring for sam. I could never blame his behavior now, he just hasn’t had the time to heal. He needs to heal, but he can’t.

“I love you a lot Dean, I hope you know that. I truly do.” I kiss the side of his head.

“I know you do, I love you a lot too y/n, you’re my little sister. Forgive me please.”

“I forgive you… but no more hunts, at least for now, we need to all take time and grieve, and spend some time together. No hunting business, no demon or angel business, just family. We can even go see Jodie for a few days?”

“Thank you y/n, seriously. Thank you for forgiving me because I don’t think I would have been able to sleep tonight if you didn’t. And yeah whatever you want to do: a family trip! Seeing Jodie will be amazing, little trip into the forest to the cabin.” Dean smiles facing y/n while pushing her hair out of her face.

“Perfect! We’ll tell Sam in the morning, it’s almost three a.m. we should probably try to sleep now.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he gets up and walks towards the door. Turning around abruptly, he says “thank you again, sweetheart. I know I let my emotions get the best of me, but I’ll try. I’ll try because I don’t want to make you feel like you don’t belong in this family. I could never let myself live again if I said that to you again.”

“I know Dean, trust me I do. Im glad we talked, dad wouldn’t have wanted this between us would he now?”

“No, he wouldn’t. He’s probably calling me an asshole for saying that to you, Im definitely on his bad side right now.”

“He knows we’re struggling, he won’t blame you and neither will I.”

Dean chuckles, smiling to the ceiling. I can still see how broken he feels inside, but it won’t go away in one night. It’ll take time and im willingly to help him out, im willing to help them both out.

“Goodnight y/n” Dean whispers

“Goodnight Dean” I whisper back.

[greatbridge]

My versions of Relativity Scalene & Euclid :]

(Second drawing is the more recent one)

For my version of Relativity Falls, I really liked the ideas that people put out about scalene and Euclid, so I sort of took that concept and ran with it. Here are some Thoughts I had, if u wanna use em for ur own rf versions then go wild!!! Just tell me that you’re using them because I love to see other people’s interpretations of this au :)

I really liked the idea that someone else had of them sort of being physically “together” in a sense (this, where they are back-to-back(made by @fungalscrungle)). the idea of them being so codependent they actually sort of became “one” was really interesting, but I messed with it a but more and ended up with them both shaped in a way that they can “snap” together like magnets. They are actually two separate entities, but they are joined at the hip in the most literal sense to the point that they are constantly at each other’s side.

They both have little pieces of one another, which I decided were the Euclidean version of wedding rings. Idk it seemed fitting for Bill’s parents to “carry a piece of the other wherever they go” but literal. He’d probably think it’s romantic to have a piece of your partner’s body at all times, and… these are his parents.

Scalene is the one on the left, she’s the “mother��, and Euclid is the one on the right, he’s the “father”. Considering their dimension has 14 billion different genders, I like to think that they decided to emulate the 1950’s “nuclear family” stereotype to seem “friendlier” to humans

Actually their whole vibe really revolves around that stereotype. They really REALLY give off 1950’s nuclear family suburban white couple vibes in the way they talk, like “hey honey! How about we mentally torture this human today?” “I thought you’d never ask, pumpkin!” Because those always seem threatening to me. It’s the sanitization, the perfection, the blank smiles that show just a bit too much teeth. The “perfection” to the point of inhumanity, you know?

And that sort is is the opposite of what gravity falls embodies, isn’t it? Like being ur authentic weird self vs. being a perfect version of you that hides anything different

Euclid is more methodic and calm, meanwhile Scalene is sweet, but it’s a cover for a lot of the same manic instability that bill had, LIKE THE 50’S HOUSEWIFE STEREOTYPE.

Their dynamic can essentially be summed up as “She kills ppl, he hides the bodies.” True love💖

When they possess someone, maybe since there’s two of them doing it at the same time, the person’s brain starts to overheat or get damaged, since there’s not enough space for them.

In relation to Dipper, I absolutely ADORE the idea that @amissamidstthemist had (here). LIKE YES!!!! They WOULD have a sort of “parental bond” with Dipper! That is SO PEAK!

They would like baby him and praise him and Euclid would ruffle his hair and Scalene would call him affectionate names.

Not only do they tap into his loneliness when it comes to that, but they also tap into his paranoia, make him believe everybody else is out to get him. He can only rely on them. “TRUST NO ONE!” (This actually is them just making a trait dipper already has worse, but one day I think i’ll touch on that)

For their backstory, I don’t know if anyone else has thought of this(someone probably has tbh) but for me they probably tried to see the stars for their son and because of that destroyed their dimension and their son with it(ow.)

BECAUSE OF THIS, they actually begin to get attached to Dipper, because he reminds them of their son, and constantly compare him to their son.

They treat Dipper a bit like the Other Mother treated Coraline.

OKAY I THINK THAT’S ALL. UH. ENJOY I GUESS LMAO

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Imagine Two-Bit learning from Marcia how to have healthy coping mechanisms and not drink to make his problems go away.

Because before meeting Marcia, Two-Bit drank to solve most of his problems. Because he was such an anxious person, but he grew up being told that whatever he was worried about wasn’t important (by his dad). So, he turns to drinking because it lets him forget and it makes him less focused on his fears. And he can’t be focused on his fears because other people have it worse (his mindset). He can’t be focused on his problems because he has to lighten the mood with the gang, which includes three kids who just lost their parents, a kid whose parents are at each others throats so often and when they’re not they’re at his throat, a kid with no actual family, and a kid whose dad is ready to throw him out or hit him at any moment. So he needs to be the one to lighten the mood and bring laughter into their gang. He can’t be upset.

But then he meets Marcia. Marcia, who doesn’t judge him for being nervous or worried about something he thinks is stupid. Marcia, who lets him talk about anything and everything. Even if it’s something that isn’t happy or upbeat. She lets him be himself. So, he stops drinking as much. Partially because he knows it upsets her and she doesn’t like alcohol, but also because he doesn’t need it as much. Because if he’s nervous, he can go to her and her arms are open and waiting. And eventually, he kinda just stops all together. And when that happens, suddenly a lot more of the rocky relationships in his life start getting better. Suddenly, his sister is much more willing to spend time with him because she’s less scared that he’s going to become a deadbeat drunk. Suddenly, his mom is gentler and isn’t worried that her little boy is turning into something he shouldn’t be and she doesn’t want him to be. And Marcia was the reason. And so Marcia is welcomed in to the Mathews family with open arms. And it wasn’t easy to get Two-Bit to slow down or stop. But Marcia worked with him every step of the way to show him he didn’t need to hide behind a drunk facade to be liked. She reassured him that his friends, family, and her would still love him, even if he wasn’t always ok with being the comedic relief. She taught him to come to her if he was feeling nervous, instead of turning to a bottle. She showed him how she coped with anxiety and offered him other options. She showed him the ways that she felt better and he started picking them up.

Just Marcia teaching Two-Bit how to cope and accept love regardless of whether or not he was helping others feel better. Because sometimes, he couldn’t always be helping everyone else, sometimes, he needed help himself.

[jainydoe]

Misdirection, Ch. 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Dinner at Bar Vorgoth.

She’s somewhat shocked she’s arrived first. The afternoon had been spent listening to Classical FM, Nevarra’s Very Best All-Classical Station. She’d write down the names of the artists they played, Brahms, Chopin, Schubert, her voice lilting up and up a class or two and exaggerated as she practiced her Oh, I would simply Adore another glass, thank you, Jeeves. Neve laughed into her hair and finished placing little diamond pins, small and powder blue. Making her hair look magicked and wistful. Like a fairy dream. Rook snorted. 

“This guy knows what I’m like, now, you know. That I’m no lady. Just a fucking carwreck. Not even serious enough to get promoted to trainwreck, but hey, I’m working on it.” 

“All the more reason to give him whiplash.”

Neve’s closet was suited to her and her only, but a satin number and some gold adornments might tickle his fancy, they figured. They’d made an event of it. Rook would describe him, his strangeness, his vaguely familiar yet saran wrapped tone, down to the shoes, the way his presentation was a mix of bruised earth, ripe fruit and the dazzle in the rough, and together, they crafted Rook: Serpentine She-Devil. Rook: Angel of Death. Rook: The Smiling, Beguiling Wildling. Rook: Emmrich Devourer. Each its own box-office hit. 

Neve was a chronic gumshoe who hated cars, which meant having to take the tube to the part of town Rook never visited. Tonight, she’d deign to stalk its corners. Grace them all with her laugh and textured history. Her embellishment of monotony. Seduce them with her unflinching youth. Maybe it was in her head, but the air was colder here. The nighttime - a more familiar companion. Whatever, she didn’t need a coat. Coats were for suckers. She hoped her nipples were hard in a cute way and not sleazy as she looked up at the entrance to the place. It was a hotel. Jesus, alright. They hadn’t discussed sex. And, frankly, she was a little surprised he’d be so, well, quick about it? Nonetheless, she smoothed a hand over her hair, lifted her chin, You’re posh, you’re posh, you’re posh, you’re posh, and saw on the right hand side of the lobby was a restaurant. She approached. Goddamn, if these heels were any louder I’d kill myself. 

“Hi, uh,” Wrong. Incorrect. Try again. “Hello. I’m meeting someone for dinner.” 

The hostess, are they called hostesses at places like this, had a molasses stare, slow and thick and too uninterested to focus. As if saying obviously you’re here for dinner, genius. What’s this look like, the barn you hoofed from? “Name.”

Fuck. Reservations are under last names. She didn’t know his last name. Maybe it was on his profile? But she didn’t wanna check and it’s probably an alias, anyway, and this lady’s just staring and she’s so skinny and Rook’s wasting her time, there’s no one behind her but she’s, like, actively making her shift worse, so she shrugs, lifts a hand as if to say fuck if I know, bitch but instead says, “Emmrich?” She guesses it came across in a way that’s bored and unimpressed because when she says his name, the hostess straightens. She actually smiles, eyes widening. It’s fucking off-putting. 

“Ah, right this way, miss.”

Miss. Right. Okay.

They glide through the seating, tables littered with suits and gowns who don’t look her way, purely enraptured with each other. She sees a girl, blonde and grinning, just about ready to eat her date. And the way he looks at her. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was someone he paid for, too. But to him, it’s a deal. He’s managed to secure the world and she only costs a small fortune. She feeds a bite of something decadent onto his tongue, and wraps her lips around the spoon to lap up whatever crumbs he’s left for her. It feels wrong to watch them. This foreplay. This exchange. But she’s studying, so actually it’s perfectly fine and she should honor the fact she’s rubbing elbows with the greats. Rook tries to memorize everything about her in the seconds it takes for the hostess to guide her to an elevator. 

“There’s a second floor?”

“For our elite guests.”

It’s a covered patio with a single table at the center, something nouveau-medieval about it. Maybe it’s the lighting, or the fact it runs long and decorated. She wants to order but figures a guy like this will wanna order for her. Hell, he’d probably have a better handle on what she should be drinking, anyway. Maybe she’ll discover new signatures tonight. New favorites. New desires.

She should’ve brought a fucking coat.

“Manfred, please, I implore you.” He takes his round, pale face in his hands, squishing his cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. “Enough with the Cocomelon.” His laugh was more of a wheeze, fingers grabbing at Emmrich’s ears in the way that meant it was time for Papa to make him fly. Like the elephant from that movie. The one that can fly. You know it. Dingo. “Yes, yes, Dingo Daddy will help you fly.” He lifted Manfred onto his shoulders, arms tucked tight under his chin as they descended the stairs. “Let us explore, Manfred! Perhaps the two of us can find that blasted babysitter.” He hoped murmuring to himself would keep his sentiments private. A fruitless endeavor when the boy was around. Emmrich could hear his little bl bl bl-s as he tried sounding out the words. At least it’ll be enough to distract him. He’s running behind schedule and it’s ages before the doorbell rings. 

“I’m so sorry, Professor, my car ran out of gas and I had to fill it and I had this paper I needed to finish reading for a friend and-”

“Bellara, stop,” he raises his hand, and for a moment, allows her to feel the weight of his importance. “How many times do I have to remind you to call me Emmrich? Should we begin a swear jar?”

She laughs, clearly shaken. Good. He’s late and Manfred snuck into the snack pantry before dinner. This means running through the living room, iPad videos on full volume as he crafts impromptu … creations. He doesn’t mention it, out of spite, but wishes her luck, nonetheless. He’d been hesitant to hire an old student to babysit, but Bellara simply adored Manfred. Freddie. And Manfred’s taken to her. Pretends her hair, its signature bun, is a crystal ball where he can predict futures yet to be metabolized. He’s utterly enraptured by her gadgets, and over the months, has come to expect that she shares some new gizmo, some electric marvel, each time she visits, his eyes shining by how truly wonderful Princess Bell’s world can be. And as their night comes to its end,  he, inevitably, curls against her chest, dozes off with his thumb in his mouth and snores, gently, like a fresh pup. Late at night, Emmrich cries. Goes over the case files of his spoiled relationship with Johanna, as if hoping to figure out how he could’ve made her stay for their son. If she could’ve been the mother he needed. Maybe if she’d gotten to share something with him, had him fall asleep in her arms, instead, perhaps if he saw limitless futures in her, she’d have stuck around. She might not have raised him into a good man, but at least she’d have raised him, at all. Maybe that would’ve been enough. Instead of a husk, a shell, an idea of a man playing house and trying not to snuff out Manfred’s zest for life too soon. Instead, he’ll kill Rook. Buy her prime and, in exchange, offer a hollow but beautiful future. One where she can mourn the loss of her girlhood in a penthouse. Sob away the memories of him taking every bit of her, but in a clawfoot tub with lavender bubbles and a glass of bubbly on permanent standby. He knows she must be miserable, already. Recognized that bite all street rats, like him, can’t shrug off. At least he can make her miserably rich. Like those purse dogs hanging by a thread, snarling, ready to strike at the closest sign of a warm hand. 

He’s five minutes late and sweating when he strides into Bar Vorgoth, smile prepped for Patrice. They exchange no words as she takes him to his lady in waiting. The elevator thrums. 

“Your,” she pauses, and he can see her nerves spike as she realizes her near blunder, “party, has already arrived.”

“Surprising.”

That makes her laugh. He gives her a grin that says thanks for the discretion, I’ll tip well for it and steels his shoulders for his entrance. You’re fine. You’re calm. You’re loaded. You’re 

The doors open and she turns, quickly, flicking a cigarette over the balcony and waving away the very present evidence of smoke. Like a teenager caught sneaking her mom’s Virginia Slims. Cute.

“I’m sure you’ll forgive me for being late.” Yeah, good going, rub it in that she was tardy last time. No matter the fact she was literally saving her best friends from starving in the woods. What’s your excuse, old man? Life Alert take too long to show up?

She lets her head fall to the side, peering up at him through her lashes. Her makeup is glittery and soft in a way he’s seen on the television, nowadays. A modern woman. Electric. 

“And I’m sure you’ll understand if I need a quick cry before we eat. Maybe I should smash a plate, or something.” 

It’s nice that she’s having fun. That they can joke. This is a good sign. They’re already laughing things off. And it’s not at each other. Not a battle. There was always a little part of him burned and stung with. You know who. His fondest memory is when she’d tackled him in the marbled corridor of the department, exam waving in his face. “I beat you, I beat you, I beat you, Volkarin! Eat it up! Suck it, chump! You fucking peacock! What grade did you get, again?”

“An A.”

“An A MINUS! HA! Idiot! Say it! Say you’re an idiot!”

“I’m an idiot.” 

“I KNOW! HA!”

The jokes stopped being funny when she got let go from the Bureau’s interview process. Turns out, grades don’t matter more than passing your psych evals. 

Johanna was an elevator. Thrumming up and up and up until she suddenly became a surprise canon and shot you out like cheap, homemade ammo. Left her gunpowder residue on your cheeks and lit you on fire, everywhere. 

There’s a part of her, Rook, that feels familiar in that way. Like she’s a live wire ready to shock him numb and zap him into comatose. It frightens him. It makes him want to curl into his sheets and keep crying. Put on something soapy and swear off women for good. But then he pictures her legs straddling him, burrowing under the sheets as she kisses his tears away and laughs, asking if he wants to stop being a baby and take Manfred out for something sweet. 

He’s too busy imagining a future with her, taking pleasure in the fear it sparks, that he doesn’t notice until they’re seated that she’s freezing. Don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down don’t

“Would you like my coat? Or scarf?”

She straightens her shoulders, smile tight-lipped and jaw pulled taught. “That, that would be lovely, yes, thank you.” 

It swallows her and drowns him in ooey-gooey lust. It’s been five minutes, Try to act like you’ve done this before. You’re Volkarin. The one who banged their Criminology professor and ran from her husband stark naked into the night. The guy who threw the best parties, ragers, bacchanals, saddled the hottest men in class and had the stamina to show for it. Stop acting like this is primary school and Rook is the girl with the prettiest hair. Though, to be fair, it is quite pretty. Very charming in the moonlight. She’s almost vampiric in the way she glows under the barest allowance of a twilight gleam. The night has claimed her its own. It almost makes him jealous. The stars oughtta hide their fires, already. Jesus. 

His coat isn’t scratchy or cool to the touch. It’s warm. It’s inviting. She’s embarrassed by the fact she almost nuzzles against its lapels, covering herself in him. This is the nicest thing she has ever worn and it’s as white-hot shameful as it is a simmering power. But then she remembers this is probably a little hot to watch, too, and lets herself stretch into it, arms wrapping across her chest like it’s the only thing keeping her from complete nudity. “I love your coat.”

“Thank you. A cosmic aubergine suits you.” Aubergine. Aubergine. Cos-mic Au-ber-gine. The tick of the tone up then three hops down, its own, sweet hopscotch. “It’s my belief a couple should,” he’s pink, “get to know one another.” Couple? “Where are you from?”

“Here and there.”

“What do you do for work?” “This and that.” He narrows his eyes, nodding. “Well, clearly, right now I’m taking a sabbatical from saving the world to indulge in more pleasurable pursuits.”

“And what’s your idea of pleasure?”

What’s his idea of pleasure? Mahjong? Feeding birds? Nevermind, it’s paying impressionable young women to gorge on decadent food and answer inane questions on their personal lives that will be forgotten before the evening ends. Perhaps if she were rolling in it, she’d find some sick draw to it, too. “Accompanying handsome men to rooftop dinners.”

“Then it’s something you do often?” It’s probably a trick of the light, the way his eyes harden, prudish and girlish. It’s familiar. She throws him a bone.

“No.” She stares at the table between them, scratches a nail down the tablecloth. “Not as much as I hope to, anyway.”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you see yourself entertaining any other,” he raises an eyebrow, “handsome men in the near future?” 

She wants to be angry at this unexpected possessiveness. What does he know? Maybe she’s got loads of messages from old-timers and midlife freaks. Maybe she’s considering hiring a personal assistant to manage her calendar and send out dainty envelopes with polaroids and sticky lipstick kisses. Xoxo, your Rook.

But somewhere dark and untouched, she’s flattered. That they’ve spent maybe an hour together and he’s already wanting to brand her. Stamp his initials on her neck and ass just in case she planned on wandering into any nearby pastures. She’s sweet on him. Maybe there’s something to this guy. Something even more familiar than a guarded sense of self. Something pathetic and desperate. Doleful and grotesque. Penurious and suppliant and craven. Wretched. She’s practiced this smile for the past two hours, the left corner of her mouth drawing up with a fishing line, predatory and cruel in its enchantment. “Now why would I do that when I’ve got you?”

She takes note of the way he crosses his legs but sets his sight. Like this whole time, they’ve just been setting the board, and now she’s played pawn to E4. He’s as en-garde as he is impressed. She feels like a minx. 

“Good.”

Dinner is served and this character she’s worn becomes faded and frayed. He doesn’t mind. She enjoys holding her glass of wine, lifting her shoulder, taking in everything around them. It gives him the chance to take in her. Far more reserved than she’s let on. Maybe not as experienced, but a quick study. She’s got stories that outshine his. He asks her what she did before signing up for the site and she flattens her hands against the table, buzzed and buzzing with energy, “Okay, so get this-” He finds himself swallowing down gulps of air to fuel his laughter, “Forgive me, you got corralled into signing up for a fight club? Not only that, but did nothing to prepare. And then they put you up to bat with the most formidable challenger available?”

She shrugs, as if this story is one of hundreds. He bets that’s true. “What can I say, ain’t no rest for the wicked.” He hopes he won't be just one of her stories. Knows it's inevitable, but hopes anyway. She asks what he does to afford such a high society lady as herself. “Let me guess, you’re, um, wait, I got this, I’m good at this, okay, so,” she places her fingers on her temples and scrunches her nose, “Banker.” He chuckles, low and satisfied. She turns her head, staring harder. “Nah, no way. You’re too interesting to be a banker.”

“What makes you say that?”

She shakes her head, stabs a fork into her lamb and points at him. “Look at the way you dress. You’ve got on, like, what is that, a bolo?”

He places his hand over his collar. “It’s vintage.”

“My point, exactly. And this coat, I mean, way too cool for someone who's devoted their life to numbers.”

He supposes that’s true. Takes a small pride in being thought of as hip. With it. Swankified and fresh. Do the kids still say fresh? He won’t ask. “So then what’s your guess?”

She leans back, chin up. Comfortable. He takes great pride in it. “I don’t know, yet. But I will.”

When dessert arrives, she’s so focused on the display of it, the flaming glory of one’s first Baked Alaska, that he lets himself take in the sweetness of her sincerity. The truth of her joy. And his eyes melt down the way his coat has parted, making room for her chest, her full belly, fabric creasing into every bit of her like something poured. She takes a spoonful, practically salivating, and he can see her almost offer him a bite. Something switches. Her eyes shift from giving to taking. She devours the cream and merengue and cake, cheshire and aggressive. His throat is dry. “I have one more surprise this evening.”

Her eyes widen. “For me?”

“Just you.” He passes her a card key. “The beds are divine and the bathtubs are small oceans.” He hopes he isn’t being too forward. This is just a kindness. He’s a patron. A sponsor. A friend. It must be a trick of the light, the way her eyes are just. Well. Disappointed. 

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.”

He swells and puffs up and is downright giddy as he feeds off her excitement. She practically dashes to the lobby elevator, flashes her key at the bellhop and whispers in his ear Penthouse, please!

He catches her eye before the doors close, and in a shock to them both, she blows him a kiss. Followed by a wink. She hold up her hand, mimicking a phone, mouths out a CALL ME and, at that, disappears. The world is a haze and life but a dream on the drive home. He’s electric. He’s a sparked canon. He almost gives Bellara a kiss on the forehead when he gets home, wants to jump up onto the kitchen counter and shout I HAD A DATE THAT ENDED DECENTLY WELL AND I THINK WE ACTUALLY GET ALONG AS PEOPLE, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!

He waves her goodbye and almost shuts the door, when something familiar lodges in his throat. That’s Rook’s car. 

They know each other. 

Good thing those stars hid their fires. 

[polydamnory]

Oh it's gonna be BAD.

TW for obsessive, unhealthy and controlling relationships, stockholm syndrome, power abuse, mental/verbal abuse, all that fun stuff

Let's ignore everything in Cataclysm for now (minus Angel being dead RIP)

Damien is pulling everything he did with Angel and more with Freelancer and Vin, especially Vin. And by more I mean worse. He's keeping him and Freelancer close by, and probably has their magic muted pretty much around the clock. Definitely has Huxley guarding/keeping an eye on them, even if that's the last thing he wants to be doing (at least at first). He's not letting what happened with his last consort happen again. Of the two of them only Freelancer is allowed the "freedom" to leave, but only if they're with Lasko, and even that's rare because of how distracted he gets at work with them near. It can't be known to the public that the King Imperial has allowed a demon to live, let alone share his bed. Huxley and Lasko have more freedom because basically their whole lives have been dedicated to the Imperium, they have nothing to prove.

Lasko is weird about Damien in a similar way he is to Freelancer, but to a lesser degree. His mother was human born and that's not nothing to him, but him being the King of the giant cult that he views as basically saving his life definitely helps. I'm flip flopping on whether or not he would basically worship Damien for it or if they'd have a sort of rivalry dynamic due to them both being in positions of power, even if Damien outranks him. Maybe both. He probably still doesn't hold the highest opinion of Huxley though. Based on the established dynamic he has with him, I think the most I can see for those two is like they love each other but they also really hate each other. Lasko probably treats him in a very condescending manner, thinking his supposed stupidity and lack of power over him in anything other than physical strength is cute in a weird way, and belittles him in a very saccharine manner. Huxley knows this and it infuriates him, but what can he do? He's nothing but an Enforcer, and as much as he hates him, he can't stay away from him, even outside the context of his job. The moments when he is being kind to him, even when they are mocking, always seem to outweigh the times where he isn't, when he's talking down to him and making their power imbalance clear in the most hurtful ways possible. We already know how he feels about FL, and I think it's through his weird obsession with them that he starts to "like" Vin. Maybe he realized isolating them wasn't working and figured the best way to keep their relationship from progressing while also getting closer to FL was through personally supervised visits. Spending more time with both of them made him grow to tolerate him, then more. That being said he has a very similar viewpoint of him that he does of Huxley - he likes having power over him which has in turn endeared him to him, but it's still not healthy. In some big ways it's actually worse than with Huxley on account of Vin being a demon, and at that an incubus. But I don't have the mind to totally delve into that dumpster fire right now.

Vin and Freelancer are the last of the group to "come around", and only do so because of stockholm syndrome. It was bad enough when Lasko was just creepy towards FL, but now he's weird towards both of them and they can no longer get any alone time. They had plans of trying to escape, but somehow they've caught the attention of both an Enforcer and the King Imperium?! Worst yet, said King has now taken them into his home and hardly ever lets them interact with anyone other than himself and eventually Lasko and Huxley, sometimes even separating the two of them too when they act out too much. And Huxley, despite initially being cruel and rude to them (albeit he is no longer allowed to physically hurt them like before) even as their guard, has also seemed to come around to them in his own twisted way. There's no chance of escape now. So their brains do the only thing it thinks can make this better - trick them into thinking they're okay with this. That these people holding them hostage genuinely love and care about them, and that they love and care about them back. Better than rotting away in misery.

"poly damn this, poly damn that"

poly IMP damn

how would that work yall

[ratatatastic]

there has to be something about the way they made the marrieds swap partners to test the sanctity of their marriage before the public and THEY BOTH FAILED TREMENDOUSLY

"me and bark (delighted tittering little school girl giggles as he reminisces on the one who got away)"

"OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT MISSILE!!! two best looking guys on the team! (slobbering in his mouth)"

[forbiddentaako]

more monochrome practice I suppose

[mytragedyperson]

Honestly, all I really need to make me ship is this exchange courtesy of the English dub during dead apple when Atsushi finds Dazai at Oda's grave.

Atsushi: was this person someone you'd been in love with?

Dazai: if it had been a woman, I would've died with her.

You know when people are trying to show something is actually gay and they say 'if this was a guy and a girl everyone would ship it' ? to me, this is that, only it's one half of the ship saying it.

I've shipped things for worse reasons, both in a morally they make each other worse way, and in a they were never even on screen together way, and in a I read one good fic about them way

literally how is Odazai not more popular.

Dazai's entire life basically revolves around Oda! And BEAST exists! TF!

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[drysauce]

me talking to my flatmate yesterday: "hey i saw you've been using my frying pan quite often, you can use it but could you please wash it right after that? because lately every time i want to use it it's lying dirty with dried food that i can't clean right away :(" to which she was like yeah sure sorry

and right now i come back from uni and want to make myself dinner and you can probably guess the state of my frying pan

[birchbow]

the lanky wiry danger beanpole GHB headcanon and the fat beefy bara GHB headcanon should make out. it would fix me

[fromchaostocosmos]

I grew up hearing about intermarriage would lead to the death of the Jewish people.

I don't agree with that with thought process.

I understand how that thought process came about which is from a place of fear and that fear is valid.

That is where is stops for me. There is nothing wrong with validated the root emotion it is how one acts on those emotions that is what is key. If one acts on that emotion in way that hurts others then that is not okay.

The fear is valid and I understand how this, wrongful, conclusion is made. The problem is the wrongful conclusion is hurtful and not actually helpful.

Through out Jewish history intermarriage did not mean a coming together of in mutual understanding and respect of each other traditions and cultures. Rather it meant the Jewish person no longer being Jewish and converting to something else, often by force and usually Christianity or Islam.

Then any children of such marriage having no ties to to Judaism, the culture, and the community.

So this was seen as a death of sorts.

Now as I've discussed before as to why Judaism switched from being passed by either parent to the Rabbis decreeing it would be passed by the mother: to a make a very long story short it was done for 2 major reasons.

{It first started as a way to protect mother and child in the cases of where a women was raped and chose to keep the child because it was very common for Jewish women to be raped, especially during the Roman Occupation, by our occupiers and colonizers. It was a way to say you and your child are still a part of us.

The second came from as we were taken further and further away from the our Homeland and thus more scattered it became harder and harder to keep track of people's family trees and it got even worse when due to pogroms and expulsions families got split apart. So while records of who a father might can get lost, it is much easier to keep track of who was pregnant and when thus fully solidifying Judaism is passed via the mother.}

But we live in time we record keeping and lineage tracking is very different then it used to be and where thanks to technology we can find this information and keep it safe.

There is no reason for us to have this be the rule anymore. It should go back to Judaism is passed by either parent in the eyes of Rabbinical Law.

So there this additional fear that that if the Jewish son has children with someone who is not Jewish then the grandchildren will not be Jewish and thus there is that feeling of like an ending of this Jewish line.

Right so as said very valid emotions. But what often ends up happening is that they will push the son on the relationship and the feels it is toxic and cut off the parents and then the grandchildren have nothing to with the Jewish side of the family all of which was preventable.

Also intermarriage today has a different meaning and understanding then what it used. In a healthy relationship there will equal respect for the Jewish partner's Judaism and all that it entails.

So in truth it is not a death.

Sadly some don't know or understand this because they never get educated any differently and I can speak from the perspective because it took me a while to get over that mindset of intermarriage=death. I had to learn and also seeing what real life actual intermarried couples looked made a huge difference.

Because the only other place I heard or saw intermarried couples other the fear I had instilled in me was movies and tv shows. And those just reinforced that fear because all those movies and tv shows that Jewish partner was that hardly Jewish, but drop in xmas special type of deal or have their Jewishness and Judaism played for laugh type of thing that Hollywood loves to do.

So hearing about and seeing real life intermarried couples and just how normal and regular, which I know is weird thing write sorry, they were was a massive deal for me. Hearing the Jewish partner talk about still being very Jewish and very involved in their community and if they have children their children being a part of it was huge.

Which is why my concern is more along the lines of do you make each other happy, do you bring out the best in each other, are you good to each other, do you respect each other, for when people are in a relationship (if I know them otherwise it is not my business) then anything else.

I saw a mutual talk about how some jews are weird towards intermarriage and I want to discuss it.

I am firmly of the belief, that it is fine for jews to marry non jews. It would be weird if I wasn't as my parents are an intermarriage.

Like firstly, it is weird as fuck to want to control who someone marries who fucks. As long as everything is legal and consensual, it is no one's business bar the people involved.

Secondly, it simply isn't really that possible for everyone???? Like some of us live in countries with small jewish communities.

I, a lesbian, only know of 3 other Sapphic jews. Am I supposed to just marry one of them, regardless of if I'm attracted to them and they're attracted to me? If I don't like any of them, or none of them like me, am I supposed to just stay single forever?

what am i supposed to do? Go on a lesbian pilgrimage around the world to find a jewish girlfriend?????

(Honestly as a concept that does fuck, but it should be a choice not something I have to do).

Also like, a jew is a jew is a jew. It doesn't matter if you have one non Jewish parent. Your jewishness does not get fucking disintegrated upon birth if you have one non Jewish parent.