#but what's that they say? only hard things are worth trying?

[uncle-fruity]

Also, like... I get that there is a lot of anxiety about being seen as morally good & fighting for everyone at every turn, but! Crucially, the people who try to guilt trip you or judge you off your Tumblr presence don't fucking know you. They don't know what you do off Tumblr. They may not know any other social media that you DO use for your politics and heavy posting. And, tbh, at a certain level of offline activism & direct action, it is actively dangerous for you to be posting about what you do online, so a perceived lack of interest or dedication online does not necessarily translate to the efforts you put in to causes you care about.

Fact of the matter is, YOU are the only one who knows what you get up to. If it's not as much as you think you should be doing, that's for you to assess and change. If you feel like you're doing enough, or if you feel like taking on more responsibility in activism would overwhelm you or burn you out, that's okay! You know your limits better than anyone else. You get to set your priorities. And if you really want to help with social justice causes, you HAVE to take care of yourself. Anger, fear, and guilt are not sustainable motivations to drive a movement. You NEED places to relax and have fun and not think about how bleak things can get. You NEED to have places to retreat, enjoy yourself, and remind yourself that it's all worth fighting for.

I know this, because I'm in my 30s now. When I was in my early 20s, I was friends with a lot of folks who went hard during the Ferguson protests, and while many of them are still active in their activism, almost none of them are operating on the same level as they used to. All of them are burnt out & depressed. I spend a lot of my energy urging them to take care of their most basic needs. We also have a problem with a lot of older activists being too broken & traumatized to continue organizing. And part of the problem is people within the movement encouraging people to push past their limits until they have nothing left to give. Or just having no support systems in place to help people recover while actively judging people who need them & can't continue without them.

And, like, it's hard, because it's easy to start feeling like no one cares about the stuff you care about when you're out there trying to make change -- especially true if all your activism is online posting & raising awareness. It can feel like you're talking to a void or a brick wall. The idea that you are so stressed & strung out & never let yourself take a break from the harsh reality of the world while there are people who have the audacity to make time to enjoy their lives and put their efforts into other activities that aren't directly related to The Cause -- well, that's why a lot of people resort to guilt trips. I know I did, too, when I was younger and freshly angry. And I know that those guilt trips did nothing to convince anyone of anything. In fact, it was the constant guilt trips that made me retreat from those online groups. Where they might have had any and all skills I could offer, they instead made me feel like shit for doing what I could handle at the time. And even though I knew guilt tripping was a major manipulation & abuse tactic, I still resorted to it and, in doing so, I felt wrong. Like I betrayed some of my core values by trying to make people feel so bad that they would suddenly realize that they should be ashamed & join the movement headfirst. It just... doesn't work that way. A guilt trip will turn people off. If you want people to join a movement or be more active in a movement they are already part of, it is so much better to encourage them to come with you to organized events or give them something tangible to do that they can actually accomplish. And if you're just talking about posting online, well... that is not the most important thing to focus on, and is a really bad measure to judge someone's morality.

All that to say, a guilt trip is usually a manifestation of the desperation folks are feeling. It's not right to guilt trip folks, and if you're at that point that you feel like that's the only thing that will get people to change and care, then I'm sorry to say you are probably on the verge of your own burnout and you need to take a break. Please don't let people make you feel bad for not being angry or on your activism shit 24/7. And don't judge yourself harshly when you need to have boundaries online. The best tactic will always be community building and working with people & their various skills on their level. Compassion and encouragement go so much farther than guilt.

No matter what a post on tumblr tries to tell you, your moral and ethical stances will never be determined by what you reblog and what you scroll past. Don’t let manipulation tactics force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.

[stuniolvs]

tension

rafe cameron

summary.) the tension between you and Rafe becomes unbearable

warnings.) dry humping/cum in pants

The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in the distance, but it barely registered. You were focused on the space between you and Rafe Cameron. It was late, much too late for a conversation, or for anything that was supposed to be normal, but here you were, standing in the dim light of the Chateau, The clamber of the Pogues and some of Rafe's friends seeping from inside.

Rafe was leaning against the counter, a beer in hand, his posture relaxed in a way that belied the intensity in his eyes. He wasn’t saying much, he was just watching you and studying you like you were the only thing worth looking at in the room.

You had no idea how things had gotten this way, how the tension between you had turned from simple annoyance to something much more complicated. His presence in the room was electrifying, one look from him and your heart would start to race, your breath hitching for reasons you couldn’t explain.

"You're quiet tonight," you finally said, breaking the silence but only half-meaning it. It wasn’t like Rafe to be quiet. Usually, he had something to say, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

He smirked, and that smirk made your pulse spike in a way that unsettled you. "Maybe I’m just letting you catch up."

The challenge in his voice made something inside you tighten. You met his eyes, the space between you two feeling suddenly smaller, the air thick with something unspoken. It was the kind of tension that built without either of you acknowledging it—two people standing so close, but neither willing to make the first move. Not yet.

“I don’t need to catch up,” you replied, your voice steady, but you could feel the edge in it. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

Rafe stepped closer, just enough to close the gap between you two, but not enough to make the contact feel like anything more than a promise. His presence was overwhelming, his height and the way he loomed over you making it impossible to ignore him. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low, barely a whisper, but it held so much weight, so much meaning.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You couldn’t look away from his gaze, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that felt like it was pulling you under.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, Rafe,” you said, though the words felt flimsy, like you were saying them out of habit rather than belief. You didn’t know why, but every time you were near him, every time he looked at you like that, you lost track of your own thoughts. You wanted to fight it, to pull away, but there was something about him you couldn’t ignore.

Rafe didn’t say anything. He just took another step closer, his gaze never wavering, his jaw tight, the slight tension in his body obvious. You could feel the heat of him now, the warmth of his skin just a breath away.

“Maybe you don’t want to explain,” he murmured, his voice rough, like it had been waiting for this moment. “Maybe you just want to feel it.”

The way he said it, so certain, so knowing, made your heart race. It was like he was reading your mind like he knew exactly what was going through your head, even though you weren’t sure yourself.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. But your body didn’t listen. Every part of you was aware of him now—the slight edge of his breath, the smell of him, the sharpness of his gaze. You could almost feel the pull between you, the space between your bodies becoming charged with something raw and electric.

“I don’t…” You started, but the words caught in your throat. You wanted to say something, push him away, but your body betrayed you.

Rafe was too close now. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the power in the way he stood. There was a force to him that you couldn’t deny, couldn’t ignore. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something else—but before he could, you found yourself leaning forward, your lips crashing against his without thinking, without planning it.

The kiss was immediate, urgent, as though you both had been waiting for this moment to come. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into it, the other resting on your waist, pressing you closer to him. You felt wetness pool in your underwear. It was messy at first—hungry, desperate—but it was everything you had been holding back.

You were both breathing heavily now, the taste of him on your lips, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You could feel his pulse, feel the way he was responding to you, like you were both trying to figure out if this was something that was happening—or something that was about to happen.

Rafe pulled back, just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes still locked on yours, searching. “This what you wanted?” he asked, his voice low, like he was both questioning and daring you at the same time.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t think clearly, but you knew one thing for sure: you didn’t want him to pull away. Not yet. You nodded.

Rafe's lips found yours again, this time filled with even more hunger. The kiss was sloppy, you could feel Rafe’s hardness pressing against your stomach.

He grabs your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, never breaking the kiss, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He sits down on one of the raggedy wooden chairs near you guys, placing you on his lap. His hard cock now pressed right where you needed him most. He starts to slowly move your hips against his.

“Rafe!” you gasp, pulling away from the kiss. “What if they come out here?” you examine Rafe, his eyes glassy and lips swollen and red. “Let them.”

You gasp into his lips as he continues to move you against him. The added layers of clothing between you only add to the friction to your clit. “Feels good?” He mutters against your lips. You hum against him. He groans. “Always knew you were a slut.” His words make you moan into his mouth. “Fuck Rafe.” You whimper. You pull away from his lips fully. Tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Rafe starts kissing down your neck. He starts slowly thrusting his hips into yours adding to the pleasure pulsing through you.

“Fuck baby,” He groans “‘Gonna cum.” He mutters, quickening the pace of his thrusts. “Me too!” you moan. Rafe grabs my hair to use as leverage for his thrusts. You felt the knot snap in your stomach, releasing your orgasm into your panties. Rafe did the same. Our movements both slow as we ride out our orgasms. After we both catch our breaths Rafe places a soft kiss on my cheek “Fuck baby now I 'gotta change my pants” He chuckles tracing his hands along your waist.

[curtins]

SOLDIER, POET, KING — toji, suguru, satoru minors dni!

prologue. → medieval...bardcore...need i say more? thou art going back to middle earth with this one folks 😁

pairing. warrior!toji fushiguro x afab!reader / court advisor!suguru geto x afab!reader / emperor!gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. toji takes thee against a tree, geto's a munch, gojo's just kinda needy. doing it outdoors, getting eaten good on a lot of cushions, giving a massage?

word count. 4.5k song inspiration. soldier, poet, king — the oh hellos

a/n. listened to the bardcore cover of shakira's hips dont lie while writing. toji's is short tho idk why dont @ me

mp3. he will tear your city down (soldier) / he will slay you with his tongue (poet) / smeared with oil like david's boy (king)

TOJI FUSHIGURO — there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword.

you're not sure what initially possessed you to follow him into the dense woods outside the encampment, but you sure as hell don't regret it now, not with the rough bark of the tree pressed against your back, grounding you as one of toji's large hands find their home on the back of your neck. the light pressure has you entirely dizzy, but that could also be attributed to the rough drag of his thick cock against your inner walls, slam!

over and over, at a giddying pace that sends shivers down your spine, and stars dancing across your eyes. the scent of pine, earth, and your own dripping arousal fills the air, and you groan as you taste the saltiness of the warrior's skin and the sweetness of his tongue, stained from the ginger confections that soldiers usually shared around the camp to invigorate them through the long nights.

his lips are demanding, fiery even as they push harder against your own, and you shudder as you feel the scrape of a thin scar against your cheek as the world fades away.

the only sound being your quivering breath, and the filthy smack! of his pelvis against your legs, which have been unceremoniously spread against the tree, riding your skirts up and if toji were to step away, and leave you there, all would see the silver, glassy sheen that dripped from your puffy folds.

but you pull him closer, wrapping your own shaking arms around his broad shoulders, as you mewl for him to keep going.

"there! ah! it's so - so deep, toji!" you try to contain your voice to a whisper, desparately praying that his comrades nearby aren't alerted to the lewd sounds erupting from the two of you.

but he looks merely pleased, dangerous like this, and his green eyes are hazed over with lust, the feeling of your tight cunt felling such a powerful and feared commander, "yeah, shit - deeper then?"

and he's angling himself closer to you, so his fat, bulbous tip must be kissing your most sensitive spot, the rough, spongy patch that makes you squeal and sigh, and cry out as you thread your fingers through his choppy dark hair.

"hope you can keep up, fuck!" and toji fushiguro's eyes are gleaming, "i can go till dawn."

didn't the sun set not a mere hour ago?

SUGURU GETO— there will come a poet who's weapon is his word

suguru geto's name is woven into every conversation at court, from the grand feasts to the courtyards where soldiers train. his silver tongue is one of legend, so sharp that it can cut through the thickest of political games, twisting even the most steadfast men and women into submission.

it had been hard not to ignore the sheer gravity of his presence, tall with dark eyes like pools of liquid twilight, and raven hair that's fallen haphazardly out of his topknot as he had led you into his chambers, "i know you've been listening to the rumours, people say many things about me," and his pink lips curl up, "but none can truly capture the beauty of my work."

your tone is breathy under his touch, "and what exactly is your work, geto?"

he's laid you back against the plush cushions of the divan, where tapestries (worth a king's ransom) hang over the walls, and his lips are now ghosting over your neck, "call me suguru," and there he presses soft, shallow kisses, "the court is full of pawns, but it is my job to make them kings."

it's hard not to tremble when his lips are travelling further down, scattering marks over your collarbones, "and me?"

his eyes are now locked with yours, and the world around you seems to slow, "you, an esteemed lady of the court? i could make you a queen."

you can smell the faint scent of sandalwood mingling with the scent of your own heady ache, and it makes your heart race. his lips are teasing, gentle and intoxicating like a fine wine that leaves you craving more, as you let your hands travel under his dark robes and over smooth skin.

gradually, his kisses travel down, moving from your collarbone to the shadow between your breasts, courtesy of his hands making quick work of your gown, then trailing along your stomach, each kiss igniting a trail of warmth that leaves a hot syrup pooling between your legs.

"hngh - lower, suguru! keep going!" and you angle yourself so your legs are spread wide and he can slot his broad frame right between them, right where you need him.

but he is not one to be direct, ever, and he gives you a teasing smile as he ghosts his fingers across silk-sodden undergarments, "lower?" and now he's pressing the pads of his fingers across the fabric, leaving lightning shocks in their wake, "lower, like here?"

and his fingers have found home, drawing figure-eights over your throbbing bud as you arch your back up, "yes, fuck, right there!"

you're given not a second or more to breathe, or choose your next course of action before suguru geto is tearing the offending garments off, and away, tossing them far from the divan as you gape incredulously.

silvertongue. the mere epithet does not do justice to how his mouth is laving hot kisses at your core, where the tip of his tongue is prodding at your fluttering entrance, and up over your puffy clit, before hollowing out his cheeks to suck.

GOJO SATORU — there will come a ruler who's brow is laid with thorn

the throne room is vast like a frost-kissed sky, and it stretches beyond what the human eye can comprehend. and the floor beneath your silk slippers is a pale marble sheen, icy and smooth as each step of yours echoes softly, swallowed by the immense space around you, as if the room is holding its breath.

there's a slight smirk curling at the corners of the emperor's lips, his pale hair falling softly around his face like the cool winds of winter that he commands — as he lounges back on the throne carved from white stone that is so pure, it gleams like ice.

"ah, i was wondering when you would come," and his voice is smooth and low, like the calm before a storm that leaves the earth ravaged, "my sweet courtesan."

"it seems my lord missed me?" now you're on the steps of the throne, and you know that you are the only one, save for the emperor himself, who can make it this far without being blown to pieces or ripped apart by the winds.

you know that he favours you, keeps you as a prize above all others, summons you at the most arbitrary of times to please him, as he does to you.

it is a fearful thought, that gojo satoru would defy the laws of gods and elders to claim you as a partner - one who would sit the throne alongside him as an equal, perhaps one day, but not yet.

the realm need not pay the price in blood for that.

your fingers dip into the bowl of warm oil, the scent of live and rosemary filling the air with an earthy, calming aroma as gojo shrugs the heavy indigo robes off his thick shoulders. the oil is cool at first, but it warms on his skin, gliding effortlessly over gojo's flesh. and you press gently at first, the oil easing against his skin, leaving a faint sheen as you work through the tight knots along his neck.

you hear a soft groan escape his lips, deep and resonant, as your fingers work into the knots of his muscles.

"i must be the luckiest man in the empire," he teases, and his voice is low and playful, as he runs his tongue over his lips leaving a gloss over his petal-pink mouth that you want to capture with your own, "i fear i'm becoming too accustomed to your...delicate, mmph! ministrations."

you snort, digging the heel of your hand harder into the muscle, and another moan escapes him, deeper this time, and it ignites something primal within you.

as your hands travel lower, you find yourself leaning closer, so your mouth ghosts over the shell of his ear, radiating red and hot.

gojo glances back at you, and you can see that the ice-blue of his eyes has become glazed over with desire, "if you keep this up, i might forget that i'm supposed to be in control here."

you indulge yourself, running your hands now over the front of his chest, feeling the ba-dump! underneath his pectoral muscles as you glide your fingers across him, "just wait, my lord, i can be quite persuasive when the mood strikes," you flick a pink nipple, and watch as he shifts, "perhaps, we might even shift control."

before you know it, he closes the space between you, with a soft laugh, and your lips meet his, soft and tentative at first — deepening as he pulls you onto his lap, and you gasp as you feel the thick bulge underneath the woven fabric, skirting your hips against it for the most delicious friction.

still, the oil slicks your hands as you run them over as much skin that you can find, and it's messy, full of fervour, as he runs his hands now up your robes, and prods a slender finger right past your gaping, quivering entrance, the ring of muscle allowing him in easily, such was your own want.

"now this," he whispers, the slighest whimper falling through his voice, against your lips, "- is how a true emperor enjoys his courtesan."

[nightlyrequiem]

Basically when Valeria is getting questioned, she mocks Alejandro by bringing up the fact that right after she left the Mexican special forces, she took his girlfriend with her and made her into her wife. (A fem reader request with reader being the ex girlfriend of Alejandro who used to visit the base but ended up up getting charmed by Valeria and is now her wife.)

Oh I love this. Valeria would totally be able to steal his girl. She's just so suave

Might incorporate this idea into a future series. Or maybe just make a part two or something. I live for the drama tbh I want to write more of Alejandro being upset. I don't even hate his character but I've developed a dislike for him because people ship him with Valeria. That sounds a little pathetic though...

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Valeria and Alejandro Scuffle, TF141 Cameo, Reader Is Only mentioned

Under New Ownership

Phillip Graves keeps one firm hand on Valeria's shoulder as he leads her through Alejandro's base. So many memories flaring up at the familiar sights and smells. His touch is agitating her. Heavy, warm, masculine. She shrugs him off as she's sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair. The interrogation room is nothing more than a shipping container. The others join them. Men of Taskforce 141, and Alejandro and Rudolfo. Valeria regrets nothing. Not betraying and turning her back on her brothers in arms, and not all the damage she's done as El Sin Nombre. Valeria Garza is a woman with many achievements under her belt. Why should she apologize for being successful?

"Have a seat." The blond man says. He turns his attention to Alejandro, who is already glowering at her. "So, how do you two know each other?" He asks.

"Know is a strong word." Alejandro responds. Hatred frosting his voice. Just his voice is enough to alight Valeria's nerves with disgust.

"Strong words are important. Our word is our worth, right?" She taunts. using one of his past proverbs against him. That's all it takes to set him off. To send him storming towards her cursing in Spanish. The others are quick to intercept him. Grabbing ahold of him, like an out-of-control dog, Valeria thinks. Should put him down like one. She was always more of a cat person.

"Yeah? Yeah." Alejandro growls, pulling away and reigning in his temper. He turns back to Valeria, drowning her in his distaste. "Go on, tell them."

Valeria leans back and gets comfortable. As comfortable as a person can be while sitting on a hard chair surrounded by hostiles.

"We served together." She explains with boredom. Nothing but unimportant history. Files collecting dust in a backroom kind of history. "Same squads different units. You were the wild ones. Los Vaqueros." She sneers at him. "We had a common... interest."

Alejandro stiffens. It's barely enough to be perceived but Valeria perceives it nonetheless.

"What might that be?" Graves inquires. Raising a light brow. Valeria angles her head towards the man but keeps her gaze locked onto Alejandro's.

"We have... quite the similar taste in women." She remarks. Picturing your soft face. The angle of your eyebrows. The delicate lines of your lips. The column of your throat. Something once belonging to him now under her ownership.

You always used to visit the base. All soft angles and colours amongst the gray and violence. Valeria felt compelled by you the first time she saw you, a rare flower amidst the barren desert. Such a thing would wilt under Alejandro's possession. Valeria made haste in befriending you. An act she knew would grate on Alejandro, but she didn't care. He felt threatened by her.

"Don't bring her into this." Alejandro demands. Jabbing a thick, angry finger at her.

"This lovely little thing used to visit him every week." She continues anyway. "But he wasn't the only one she sought out. She always liked me better."

"Okay, enough of this." Price sighs. Trying to redirect the conversation. In due time. Alejandro scowls and breathes heavily like a bull.

"You poisoned her mind with lies." He says, voice cracking with hurt. "She's a good woman, she wouldn't have left if you hadn't fed her your bullshit about me."

Valeria laughs in his face. Mocking and cruel.

"I didn't have to do anything besides show her attention." She scoffs. "You were always so high-strung and busy because of work. You had something so beautiful within your grasp and you chose your little Vaqueros."

"Lying bitch." He barks. Taking an aggressive step forward. "Are you hurting her? Threatening her?" 

Valeria scowls at the accusation. She's wicked and vile but she'd never hurt you. Not even unintentionally like Alejandro has. "I haven't." She snaps. "She's at home - our home, probably curled up in bed. Maybe she's baking something." Valeria shrugs, putting on a show of casualty. "She loves to cook for me. After a long day I get to return home to a warm meal, not something you can relate to."

Rudolfo shakes his head. This isn't going where they want it to. Time is ticking, much like the three bombs she's sent to Chicago.

"I'm going to kill you." Alejandro promises. Eyes wide with anger. "After they've gotten their use out of you, I'm going to put a fucking bullet through your head, Valeria."

"Alejandro-"

"You're not a very good leader if you couldn't even keep your own girlfriend." Valeria sneers. Goading him on. She's not scared of him at all. She leans against her chair, lips curled into a smirk. "You weren't very good at leading in bed either." She coos. "You won't believe the sounds she makes, I have her screaming my name every fucking night-"

Faster than anyone can react Alejandro is on her. Not holding back as he punches her hard in the jaw. The force sends her and the chair toppling over. Blinding her with pain. Not enough for her to not fight back. She slams her fist into his nose, feeling a spray of blood and hearing a satisfying crunch. 

Valeria's blood is fizzing with adrenaline and excitement. Unfortunately, the fight is cut short as the two are pulled apart. Alejandro left struggling and yelling in the grips of Ghost and Rudolfo.

"You're over." Alejandro hisses viscerally. 'Do you hear me? I'm going to get you. I'm going to fucking get you."

Valeria can feel a bruise forming in her jaw. You'll ask what happened and kiss it better when you see it. Alejandro has no one to worry over his injuries but himself. Valeria wants to keep fighting until only one of them is left standing but that will have to come another day. She rubs her jaw. Another day.

"You hit like a pussy." She growls, angry and wound up. Valeria is forced back into the chair. The time for games is over. Valeria hands over the information they seek with as much contempt as she can produce in her five-foot-six body. A storm is steadily rumbling in the distance. Its growls audible through the walls. An omen of what's to come.

[tobiasdrake]

Episode 2 of Agatha All Along and the show remains a fantastic rewatch.

This exchange is hilarious in retrospect. Agatha tells Billy right up-front that the Witches' Road is fake. But he refuses to accept that answer and accuses her of trying to deflect him from his goal.

Originally, this scene came off like Billy showing his determination and persuading Agatha that he has what it takes to make this journey.

But in retrospect... Yeah, he just sounds like a naive teenager who thinks five seconds of Googling makes him an expert, mouthing off to the one person who actually knows how bullshit this is better than anyone because she wrote the fucking con.

He is not the hero of the piece. He is a child making mistakes.

Even after she's forced to play along and pretend like the Road is real, she still tries to warn Billy off of it. Because. Yeah. The legend has only one purpose: to kill witches and feed Agatha. Speaking of which.

This is it. This is what persuades Agatha that attempting the Road con is worth doing.

The camera lingers on the locket and Nicky's hair. Which is almost a red herring, as it leads us to believe that it's the locket that convinced her. It's not, though; the locket and Nicky are deeply connected to the Road, so this is still meaningful.

But it's those words: "You really think you can outrun them with no magic at all?" That's it. That's why Agatha chooses to "go on the Road". Billy made a solid point, and she could use a shot of magic before she flees the Salem Seven.

So. Sure. You win, Billy.

Let's go eat some witches.

In retrospect, this is the funniest line in the MCU. He has no idea. He has no idea how in over his head is, what he's participating, or about the numerous murders he's about to commit. XD

Holy fucking shit, no wonder Agatha began projecting Nicky onto Billy. This double-act to trick Jen into dying for the Witches' Road con is straight out of Agatha and Nicky's playbook.

This was their life together. If Nicky were alive today, this is what he and Agatha would be doing.

Alice has sharp instincts. She calls out the Witches' Road as a con and she is dead-on.

Billy corrects Agatha's use of that particular phrase but Agatha knows what she said. She is intends to smash these nuts, not crack them. This was a red flag that went straight over Billy's head.

"Hi, this is really awkward but everything's about to fall apart around me so I just. Need you to stand nearby and look like you're participating while I murder three people. Cool? Cool."

"I promise that as soon as this is done, I will leave you standing there shocked and horrified, surrounded by corpses, and bail faster than you can say 'Witness Testimony'! You should. Probably also leave at that point. Because. Y'know. Cops. Haha!"

An interesting detail that Agatha makes Billy leave the basement. She's trying really hard to pull the wool over his eyes. She wants to carry out this murder without him realizing what happened.

If everything went as planned, she was probably planning on scooting upstairs like "Sorry you missed it, everything happened so fast, but uh we did the Road thing and I got my mojo back so HOP IN THE CAR LET'S DRIVE".

She doesn't want him to see the true nature of the Witches' Road. This is a departure from how she acted with Nicky, who was fully aware of and complicit in the murders they carried out together... But also came to be bothered by them.

XD Don't worry about it, Sharon. It does not matter if you sing it correctly. The song does absolutely nothing.

Agatha suddenly gets fucking fierce as they near the end of the song. Just pure scowling malevolence. She gets aggressive, like she's preparing for a fight.

Which, of course, makes sense in retrospect. She is, in fact, preparing for a fight. Getting her game face on. Readying herself to get nasty and provoke the coven into letting her kill them as soon as the song is over.

This is her predator face. The prey is in sight and the hunt is on.

But this hunt doesn't go the way they typically do. Because she had to do it in a hurry. Lilia correctly points out how weird it is for Agatha to suddenly be slinging out accusations and insults like this when. Like.

The Road was her idea to begin with.

Lilia's like, "What are you doing, Agatha? This is your thing. This temper tantrum feels a little forced and performative."

I love how spooked Agatha looks when they open the doors. You can feel her going "What the fuck what the fuck what the ACTUAL FUCK"

She is so freaked out, she breaks character. Why are you so surprised, Agatha? I thought you'd done this before.

Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?

I think this is it. Right here is where she pieces together Billy's identity. She takes a quiet moment, still looking entirely WTF WTF WTF, to feel how real this space she's stepped into is. This space that shouldn't exist.

A few seconds spent just... contemplating the stairwell.

Then, when she finally begins to truly descend, it's with a smile on her face.

She's got it. She knows what this is. She's the only witch alive right now who can truly comprehend what this is.

Then, once she steps out onto "The Witches' Road" and takes in all of its splendor, she casts a knowing look back at Billy.

Billy thinks this exchange is about, "Yeah, I knew we could do it. Great work, team. We made it!"

But really, Agatha's expressing, "Holy shit, Wanda Jr., this is a hell of a thing you've assembled. Okay. Okay. I can work with this."

[tlbodine]

Tips for Talking to Conservative Friends & Family

In the wake of the election, with the holidays around the corner, some of you may be wondering how to deal with friends, family members, coworkers, etc. who voted for Trump and/or who espouse his policies.

This guide is by no means meant to be authoritative and won't work in every circumstance. I accept no responsibility for what happens if you use any scripts and it goes horribly awry. But I did want to share some of my personal experience in this vein, as someone with a great deal of conservative people in my life whom I generally love and respect and would like to maintain a civil relationship with (and, hopefully, bring them back to center if not my side). I've had decent luck with these strategies in the past.

First: Only engage if it is safe to do so.

Do not get into political discussions that might endanger your job, your living situation, your access to care, or your physical and emotional safety. However, do engage if you are able to do so safely and your doing so might help someone in a more vulnerable position. What the fuck is privilege for if not using it to protect people?

Second: Identify your goal.

Do you want to de-escalate a situation so someone can get out of immediate danger? Do you want to establish a boundary? Or do you want to actually attempt to convert someone over to your side? Each goal has different tactics. Be realistic with yourself about what you're going to accomplish. If you do not have a close relationship with the person, you are extremely unlikely to change their mind about anything, and it's frankly not worth the effort. Let someone who is close to them do that work. De-escalate, set a boundary if possible, and gtfo.

But if you do have a close relationship -- if this person generally likes and respects you -- then you might have a shot at challenging their views.

We're going to assume a scenario where you're dealing with people you know and who you can generally count on not to be immediately aggressive. Somebody else will be better-equipped to talk about strategies for dealing with protests and people on the street etc.

De-Escalation & Setting Boundaries

This is your first line of defense against family members acting shitty. If someone tries to start a debate, makes an off-color joke or comment, or is otherwise behaving inappropriately, try:

Let's not talk about this over dinner.

I don't think this is appropriate conversation right now.

That's an awful thing to say.

I don't understand that joke, can you explain why it's funny?

I'm sorry, I won't listen to any more of this (leave the room)

That's not okay.

What you want to do here is make an appeal to correct standards of behavior. You want them to feel ashamed for acting out of line. In order to make this work, it is essential that you:

Remain calm and keep an even, light-but-firm tone of voice. It needs to be clear that you're not joking around, but you also cannot sound upset. (Yes, this is really hard. I'm sorry.) Practice your very best "I'm not angry, just disappointed" tone for maximum effect. If you can manage it, eye contact and a neutral or even slightly concerned or sad expression will make it even better.

Avoid insulting or attacking them. Do not say things like, "Stop being an asshole" or "I can't believe you're acting like this" no matter how much you want to. Do not say "That's racist/sexist/ableist/homophobic." These types of replies, no matter how accurate, will make them defensive, and defensive people shut down and stop listening. If you come off as angry, that gives THEM permission to be angry right back. But if you come off as the normal one, them getting angry makes them look like a dick.

Do not laugh. Avoid the urge to chuckle nervously or joke it off. It WILL feel uncomfortable. It WILL be awkward as fuck. That's the point. They are misbehaving by violating a standard of appropriate behavior, and you are setting down a boundary. The awkwardness will fade and, frankly, they'll often start behaving better pretty much immediately.

Follow through on your consequences. If you say, "Dad, if you continue to bring up Trump, I will not call you anymore," you have to stick to it. Holding firm to your boundaries is HARD AS FUCK but if you don't do it then all you do is teach them that they can wear you down. Think of it like training a dog. Consistency is key.

You're not going to change anybody's closely-held beliefs with this strategy, but you WILL make a case for what is allowable around you. If you model this behavior, and encourage and embolden other people you know to do the same, you might be surprised. A lot of times, people's inappropriate behavior is a boundary-testing mechanism -- they tell the racist joke because they want to see if they can get away with it -- and if you shut them down, they often just...stop. Or at least retreat into their little hole to talk to fellow gremlins instead of you.

Challenging Views, Changing Minds

Okay. You actually want to engage them in conversation. You want to challenge their views and help them change their opinion. How do you do that?

Again, it's essential that you remain calm. If you can't have this discussion without getting heated, it's not the time to have the discussion. If they start to get heated, be prepared to de-escalate and walk away: "I cannot continue this conversation with you right now. Let's talk again some other time when we've cooled off."

But if you can keep calm, here is what actually works (sometimes):

Listen to them. No, really. Hear them out.

Help them feel heard by empathizing with them. Repeat back your understanding of what they said and how that must feel.

Remind them that for other people, THEY are feeling xyz emotion, too.

Ask them questions. Instead of telling them they're wrong, ask questions that will lead them to draw that conclusion themselves.

Make appeals to emotion rather than starting with facts and logic. You'll know what kind of emotion to draw on because you've been listening to them and empathizing. Hint: almost always, bigotry (at the personal level) is rooted in fear.

If this is going well, THEN you can start citing some sources, statistics, and facts.

Invite them to share THEIR sources with you.

Thank them for doing such a good job at being calm and discussing this with you, reaffirm your close relationship, and encourage them to come talk to you about this at any time. It's very possible that you are the only person they might feel safe bringing this stuff up to now and you want to keep that channel of communication open.

Very often (not always, or often), conservative-leaning individuals are people who lack the education or knowledge that left-leaning people do. They may be accustomed to being insulted, yelled at, and made to feel stupid. They are conditioned to believe that folks on the left are smug, holier-than-thou, stuck-up assholes. Whatever you can do to poke a hole in that perception will simultaneously make it easier to talk to them AND cause them to question that rhetoric the next time they encounter it.

This tactic won't always work. It probably won't work at all the first conversation. It's something you'll have to chip away at over time. But sometimes, it's worth it.

And if it's not? Well. As they say.

[legionofshaza]

The emissary's choice

Lucien week day 6 @lucienweekofficial

🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️🔱

Lucien strode through the streets of Velaris, his steps measured.The City of Starlight was aglow with twilight, its sky shimmering with colors of dusk. But tonight, none of it reached Lucien���s eyes. His mind was focused, braced for what was to come.

There was a time when Lucien had been welcome here—trusted, even. The emissary of the Night Court had earned a precarious respect. But now, after the wars, after the betrayals, he walked these streets with an invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders.

He felt their stares. He heard the whispers.

Lucien Vanserra. Traitor. Spy. Outsider.

It was a reputation he could not escape.

"He's no better than his father," someone had once spat behind his back. The words had cut deeper than a sword. The name Vanserra carried a legacy of cruelty, one Lucien had spent his entire life trying to distance himself from. And yet, here he was, in Velaris—no longer trusted, no longer the man they had once believed him to be. Tamlin's lackey, Beron’s son, unfit to be at Feyre’s court.

Despite everything he had done for this city, for his friends, his loyalty still hung in the balance.

Lucien halted at the edge of the Sidra, the river’s waters glittering like liquid starlight. For a long moment, he stared out at the view, letting the cool night air settle around him. He knew he had only one place left to go. The House of Wind stood tall and imposing above him, a reminder of where he belonged. If Feyre and Rhys still had a shred of belief in him, they were his last chance.

His thoughts scattered as a voice interrupted him. "I didn’t think you’d actually show up."

Lucien didn’t need to turn to recognize the voice. Cassian. His tone was neutral, but there was something simmering beneath it. It was as if Cassian, too, was weighing Lucien's worth in his mind.

"I gave my word," Lucien replied, keeping his eyes on the river. "And when I give my word, I keep it."

Cassian stepped closer, folding his arms as he stood beside him. “That’s what they say. But not everyone here believes that anymore.”

Lucien clenched his jaw. “Because of what happened with Tamlin?”

“Because of a lot of things.” Cassian’s hazel eyes flickered over him, sharp and assessing. “There’s a lot of history between you and this court. Some of it good. Some of it... less so.”

Lucien turned to meet his gaze, his copper eye gleaming in the fading light. “Do you think I betrayed them?”

Cassian’s stare was unreadable for a moment, but then he sighed. “It’s not about what I think. You know how this works, Lucien. Trust isn’t something that comes back easily once it’s broken.”

“And yet I never broke it.” Lucien’s voice was low, hard. “I did everything Feyre and Rhysand asked of me. I went back to the Spring Court, I dealt with Tamlin. I bled for this city—”

“And still, people question your loyalty,” Cassian cut him off, his tone quiet but firm. “Because they don’t know where you stand. You’ve got a foot in too many places. The Spring Court, the Autumn Court, now this... People don’t trust what they can’t define.”

Lucien’s shoulders tensed, the weight of his name—his reputation��pressing down like a vise. He had tried so hard to prove himself. But it seemed like no matter where he went, he was always the outsider.

“I don’t belong anywhere, do I?” Lucien said, his voice almost a whisper.

Cassian tilted his head, his eyes softening slightly. “That’s not true. You just haven’t decided where you belong yet.”

The words sank deep, but they didn’t soothe the ache in Lucien’s chest. He had been drifting for so long—between courts, between loyalties—that he wasn’t even sure who he was anymore.

“I don’t want to be my father’s son,” Lucien muttered. “And I don’t want to be Tamlin’s shadow.”

Cassian nodded, leaning against the railing as he looked out over the Sidra. “Then stop letting them define you. Make your own name, Lucien. Build a reputation that’s yours.”

Lucien felt something stir within him at Cassian’s words. The truth of it. For too long, he had allowed others to write his story—to cast him in roles that didn’t fit. But he wasn’t Beron’s cruel heir, nor was he the lost emissary of the Spring Court. He was more than that.

And it was time the world saw it.

“What if it’s too late?” Lucien asked, though he already knew the answer.

Cassian smiled slightly, the first hint of warmth in his expression. “It’s never too late. But you’ve got to earn it. Reputation isn’t built in a day, and it’s not restored with just words. It’s action.”

Lucien’s hand curled into a fist at his side. He had done enough watching, enough playing the part others expected of him. Now, it was time to act.

He turned to Cassian, his golden-red eye gleaming with new resolve. “Then I suppose I have work to do.”

Cassian clapped him on the shoulder, a grin breaking through the tension. “Good. Because I have a feeling we’ll need all the help we can get soon.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Is that a recruitment pitch, General?”

“Maybe,” Cassian said, his grin widening. “Velaris could use someone with your... talents.”

Lucien let out a dry chuckle. "We'll see. But don’t think I’m just going to be a soldier at your beck and call.”

Cassian laughed, stepping away as he started back toward the House of Wind. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just try not to burn down anything before you’ve built your new reputation.”

Lucien watched him go, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Perhaps his reputation wasn’t set in stone. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could be more than what the world saw.

As the last light of day faded from the sky, Lucien took a deep breath and followed Cassian up the path. His past may have shaped him, but it didn’t have to define him.

From this moment on, he would decide what Lucien Vanserra stood for. And he would make sure the world knew it.

📜End📜

[adhd-community]

i'm hyperverbal, and my partner is easily overwhelmed by too much talking. i have a hard time even processing a thought until i've said it out loud, though. if i don't talk myself through it, i just get stuck and say nothing. not to mention, i have a hard time deciding what's actually worth saying out loud until i've said it. how can i talk to my partner while,,, talking less?

It's all about finding ways to exist together that support both of your needs. I am reading that your partner has noted they find a lot of chat overwhelming and you tend to chat a lot and struggle to know when or how to stop/start (somehow I identify with both of these...).

The first two questions are:

What is it that your partner finds overwhelming? Too many thoughts verbalised too quickly? The noise? Trying to follow the conversation? Do the reasons change from time to time?

Why are you chatting? Are you looking for connection? Reassurance? Is it accidental? Do these reasons sometimes change?

Understanding yourself and each other can be REALLY helpful in these situations in order to work out what will meet both your needs.

Finally for some hypertalkitivity tips, some things that have helped me in the past with situations like these are:

Before launching into something you're thinking about, check in with the other person on whether they are up for a chat, or whether they would prefer a little quiet time. If they need quiet time, respect that (it's not a rejection, I promise) and find another outlet for your energy/thoughts.*

Make sure you and your partner are on the same page about why you're talking and what level of engagement is needed from them. I had this issue with a friend while travelling (I chat while packing and they were getting overwhelmed). We talked about it and I explained that when this happens I don't need (or expect) them to actually listen, at most it would be nice if they occasionally said "hmm good question" or "mmmm" so I didnt feel lonely or get distracted. This isn't something they need so they had thought I wanted them to deeply listen and answer questions each time and were understandably EXHAUSTED. This convo, and following "heads up, I'm doing the thing - let me know if you need quiet time" chats avoided a lot of potential tension!

If you are having trouble with impulsively talking, find something that tends to help you have "quiet time". For me this is listening to something through headphones that I dont need to pay too much attention to or actually "watch" but still find really enjoyable (e.g. podcasts or super-long game-plays (thank you Jacksepticeye amiright?)) For some reason this signals "no talking" to my brain and I can quietly focus in other things - find yours!

Take a few deep breaths and talk a little slower. When ADHDers are hypertalkative and REALLY into a thought, it can be... intense. Passion is wonderful but taking a second to recognise that your partner is probs also having several thoughts/their own experience and it will take them a second to adjust is always appreciated.

*Other possible outlets for your energy/thoughts!

Write it in a notebook

Type it out or speak it to an AI chatbot!

Call a friend or family member

Do something physical to reduce the mental restlessness (this can be exercise, or even just doing some dishes or gardening etc - just something that makes your brain feel less like it needs to work out everything in the world RIGHT NOW)

Try a guided meditation to slow your thoughts

In the end only you and your partner will be able to work out what's best for you both, but I hope this has helped!

Remember that just because they don't want to chat right now does NOT mean they don't want to hear your thoughts at all. It's likely they just need to recharge their social batteries so that they can have cute chats and fun times later.

X

[cele-ish]

I am so so glad someone's bringing this up!

While usually I am strong defender of Genshin's localisation, most of Mona's constellation lines were butchered. The Chinese version gives us this:

「雄狮」早早离群，但她会继续成长，直到能完全继承狮群的荣耀。

which roughly translates to:

The "male lion" left the group early, but she will continue to grow until she can fully inherit the glory of the lion group.

It's not about her being separated from her pack. It sounds like it's about Diluc leaving and throwing his responsibilities on Jean's shoulders. He was the leader of the pack, the Favonious prodigy and from what we've heard about him, he was most likely considered to be Varka's successor. Jean was not prepared to shoulder all that unexpectedly at the ripe age of 17 and she always has to live up to the legend of the knight that Diluc was - at least in her head.

He was to be the sword, she was to be the shield, as indicated through their c6 constellations. Now she has to carry both.

Add to that the fact that Jean carries the burden of guilt for what happened to Diluc and that the Knights harboured a traitor. She thinks it's up to her to make the Knights as an organisation worthy of Diluc's respect again, so that his tragedy does not repeat ever again.

It doesn't help that Varka seems to take Jean for granted and has no consideration for her capacity - and since she was raised in the belief that she's only worth what she's able to offer Mondstadt, she will not protect her boundaries.

He sounds extremely dismissive even when talking about Jean to her mother. He doesn't respect the effort Jean is putting in at all. it's just odd errands, haha.

Most people in Mondstadt only see her achievements and are completely oblivious to their cost. She's wearing herself thin because she believes she has to work twice as hard to barely match the expectations and make up for her "shortcomings". She wants to have a perfect schedule, as her mother intended for her, but no matter how much she adjusts it (she's on version XVII, mind you!) she can't match the unrealistic standard and keeps falling behind and sacrificing her wellbeing trying to chase it. I also think of her to be a girlie who buys all the fresh produce, makes a weekly meal plan just to lack the time and energy to actually cook so she ends up eating random 'girl dinner' stuff (or takeaway pizza!) while her groceries rot away and she feels bad about it.

I even see her relationship with Klee as a result of "someone's gotta do it" state of mind. She's not well suited to taking care of a child, she's so awkward with Klee and even snaps at Kaeya's joke that she could pose as Klee's mother during the Golden Apple Archipelago. Yet she recognises that this child, with very unpredictable pyro powers, left behind in the city by her mother, is in need of formal protection and parental figures, even if unconventional ones. She has no idea how to connect with Klee yet still she does the right thing, enrolls her into the KoF as means of protection and making sure she's sheltered and taken care of.

If I were to choose her theme song, I wouldn't hesitate and pick "Surface Pressure" from Encanto right away. "Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service"? Please, that's Jean right away.

Both Kaeya and Lisa see through Jean's mask of professionalism and poise. They always look after her, voice their concerns. Lisa after Weinlesefest says how she's disappointed with Varka, Kaeya during the first Archon Quest even straight up mentions how becoming Acting Grand Master "must have been hard on Jean" if you talk with him in her office. Both of them are willing to push their boundaries to help out Jean, staying up late and finishing up her overdue work.

Additionally, Kaeya is always quick to put people in their place and remind them of Jean's authority. He always, always is trying to help Jean relax, whether it is through TCG, throwing her a party (and even clearing out her tasks so that she can actually enjoy it), or going out for drinks in Simulanka. These lines were not anyhow pushing the plot yet they were added either way. That means all of this is important. Given how close he was to Diluc, only he would truly know first hand how hard it was (is?) to walk in his shoes. Both him (as the Cavalry Captain) and Jean have to face it and do the heavy lifting. It's a unique mutual understanding.

So, tldr, under all that reliability and elegance is a stressed out disaster girlie who always thinks she's not good enough so she overworks herself to compensate for it.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, now I am late to places but I regret nothing.

I love all the hints at Jean not coping that well with being Acting Grand Master, because to nearly everyone it seems like she is but she just kinda isn't. Like, obviously there's her story quest where she just collapses from overworking herself but there are all these other examples that show that homegirl is not alright.

Like Jean this is not a normal way to consume coffee. This seems a lot more like dependence than "coffee just makes me feel a bit more awake" or just liking the drink.

And like wdym she's completing random reviews at 3am because she got sick (probably from overworking) and then not allowing herself to buy a book. Like that's just sad.

Like bro Mona took one look at Jean's constellation and was like "girl you've had too much on your plate for FAR too long". And then probably realised how depressing that sounded and was like "idk she's like really strong thoughhhh, it's not all baddd"

Like even Kaeya's concerned bro. At least she's got him looking out for her though.

[transienturl]

cohost users: 20 thousand cohost subs: 3300

one in six cohost users is a subscriber (unbelievably high; awesome!). they're like a third of the way to breaking even.

tumblr users: 125 million tumblr ad-free subs: 28 thousand

one in five thousand tumblr users is a subscriber. they... don't release that level of info.

hmm. I guess I don't have any more interesting insight to first-order-approximate from these. cohost is, to my extremely limited understanding, like four people who take something like half market rate for being full time web developers and also doing a bunch of other jobs, and don't have moderation/safety costs (yay self-selected community!) or a phone app. the obvious question is how much you would have to scale that up to paint a realistic picture of what you would need to run a site with tumblr's scale and tumblr's quality and with the level of moderation it has now, let alone what people generally wish for, but I certainly can't. and I have no idea how much money tumblr brings in from ads besides "not nearly enough."

(for the record, I don't know a lot about cohost—or pillowfort—besides that cohost's jae is an excellent communicator and their financial posts on the staff blog there are a great read, and that both sites seem at a glance to Actually Work Now. nice!)

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Anyway I got notified that I'll be getting a nice $$ bonus from work today and I wish that I could celebrate with someone in a way that didn't just feel like obnoxious bragging. Like beyond the financial aspect, it's just nice to be recognized for good work and I actually feel... good?? about this job??

But it feels so silly to say I want to celebrate when I just got back from what felt like my first real vacation in a very long time and am doing cool comic con stuff this weekend and am scheduled for a new tattoo next weekend. I am already doing lots of things to try to make myself feel good! It feels selfish to want more!

But I guess even with all of that, there's just still a hunger for external validation from trusted sources. Will I ever grow out of wanting someone to be proud of me?

[medicinemane]

.

[honeysunchild]

It really hurts when it feels like a friend you considered family gives up on you and the relationship

Like, we could have talked about it, we could have found a solution together, we were each others family remember?! But instead you chose to just give up and cut me out

[orbmanson7]

:(

Very bad grade in therapy today

[seraphim-soulmate]

I guess part of the reason i take care of my grandma is because I want to know what to expect when I'm around that age. It's hard to imagine what that must be like and considering I share a lot of traits with my grandmother, I'd like to be as prepared as I can be. I'm not sure if I'm hoping I'll make it to that age or not. I'm not sure if life will give me that.

[amaraudermind]

Hi I might actually cry love is stored in the little tiny things thanks