#colonial hangover

[depressedhangrybitch]

The worst consequence of Colonial hangover

Or

In other words

✨️One of the many unwanted gifts Britishers saddled us with✨️

Random rant, but what is it with us desi people and having pale skin ? Kya mtlb uska rang "saaf" hai? By this you are automatically implying ke doosre skin tones "gande" hain.

It's soo deep rooted ke even people with dark skin tones use that phrase, indirectly criticising their own skin tones without noticing.

All these celebs we love suddenly become lighter after getting fame : kajol, sonam bajwa, bipasha etc. Why do we still look up to them ?

As someone who has a lighter skin tone, I'm so hurt by seeing all this happening to my friends with darker skin tones, I can't even imagine how painful it must be for them.

[hussyknee]

Current Sri Lankan social media meltdown: a bunch of white Russian immigrants had decided to have a "white only party" in Unawatuna, in the year of the colonizer lord 2024. Mfers are consequently "in a state of shock" from the "aggressive attacks" by furious locals. In hindsight, the shitheads have realized that having an apartheid party in a sovereign Asian country would bring a "negative vibe". Apparently "none of them came up with the idea of possible discrimination much less racism!!!" and they just (I shit you not) missed other white people. Like, this was prompted by the fact that they couldn't find any other white people...at raves...in Unawatuna. I'd ask whether they were looking under rocks, but there would be unwashed racist Europeans under those at fucking Una even in the off-season.

It's all very entertaining. Even some other Russians are mad at them because some have married Lankans and have half-brown kids. Along with their second or third butthurt non-apology, they just posted saying their entire team packed up and left the country because they got slammed with so many "malicious and insulting messages" and calls and "everything from accusations to direct threats".

This result has united Lankan bros everywhere, from 4chan to twitter to Reddit, like they just personally avenged the 1815 fall of the Kandyan Kingdom. I can only assume this means nobody's bottom lines were harmed by the scandal. As a country, we love kicking people out, but we hate to watch them go.

[sirjo-esque]

Thinking about how my old history teacher once said the British took Bangla from the Bengalis and honestly he was so right

[moonstruckme]

you did the james x hufflepuff prank story so good. BUT i think what would be so iconic is the reverse. IF a slytherin reader got tired of james and the gang's shenanigans against the slytherins and decides to get revenge which maybe goes a bit wrong?? i live for a little enemies to lovers haha!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: alcohol, spiked drinks

James Potter x slytherin!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’d thought the only downside of your prank was that you wouldn’t get to see it happen. The best you could hope for was an overheard conversation in class about how the marauders had gotten drunk on the firewhiskey Sirius kept stored under his bed and had somehow ended up naked in the forbidden forest trying to befriend the faeries or something like that. 

You certainly hadn’t expected James Potter to come knocking at the door to the Slytherin common room at nearly one in the morning. 

Your scowl is immediate upon seeing him, more instinct than anything, but you're surprised that he almost matches it. James’ eyes are fierce, his hair in disarray and his lips downturned. He’s breathing hard like he’s run all the way here. 

You raise a brow. “Can I help you?”

“One—” he pants. “One of you tampered with our alcohol. I need—need to know who.” He starts to push the door open, but you stop it with your foot. “Let me in.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” you say coolly, though you’re more than a little alarmed by the grim set of the Gryffindor captain’s features. You don’t know James very well, but you’ve seen enough of him over the years to know that his geniality is usually unshakeable. Has a taste of his own medicine really gotten him this riled? “What’s happened to your alcohol, Potter, and why do you assume someone in Slytherin is responsible?” 

James huffs. “I don’t know what’s happened to my alcohol. All I know is that I’ve got fifth-years in the common room flapping their arms and saying they’re going to join a dragon colony, and I need to know if there’s an antidote to give them.” He seems to anger with every word. His eyes narrow on you, and you never would have thought to find James Potter intimidating, but you’re something close to intimidated now. Your stomach does a little flip. “And when an entire party of Gryffindors gets roofied the night before our quidditch match with Slytherin, I’m bound to make some assumptions.” 

“Take me to them.”

“What?”

“I might be able to help,” you say, forcing your shoulders back and your chin up a notch. “I’m good at potions, and it could take forever to track down the person who drugged your alcohol. Let me try to figure it out.” 

James shakes his head at you, straightening his glasses. “I don’t have time to mess around.” 

“I can tell.” You slide out of the opening in the door, shutting it behind you before James can think to dash through. “But I think I’m your best shot.” You start towards the Gryffindor rooms, hoping he’ll follow. 

He does, jogging to catch up to your brisk strides. You don’t like the idea of wasting time any more than James does. Your prank was supposed to be contained, a little joke to get back at the small group of Gryffindor boys for their endless volley of pranks against your house. You were supposed to have the gratification of knowing you’d made fools of the marauders for one night, not roofie an entire party of innocent students. Well, Gryffindors. But still. 

“How did you not end up drugged?” you ask as you walk. 

“Quidditch match tomorrow,” James replies simply. “I didn’t want a hangover. Not,” he adds, “that I’ve ever had a hangover. I’m Head Boy; any drinking that happens in Gryffindor house is, of course, without my knowledge or participation.” 

You have to bite back a small smile. “Of course.” 

He murmurs the password to the fat lady as you approach, and you ignore the judgemental look she passes over your green robes as she swings aside, begrudgingly allowing you entry. 

Your guilt increases tenfold at the scene in the common room. 

Lily Evans has posted herself by the door, turning back students vying for exit. There is indeed a group of fifth-years waving their arms about and looking out the windows as if they’d take to the skies, and half of the Gryffindor quidditch team looks to be trying to start a match indoors. 

James takes your hand when you linger too long by the entryway, tugging you through the crowd. You stop at a small table, where the empty bottle of firewhisky sits next to a giant bowl where they’ve apparently mixed it with coca cola or something. You lean down over the bowl, sniffing cautiously like you imagine you would if you didn’t know what it was. Thankfully, one ingredient has left a scent. 

“Scurvy grass,” you say to James, straightening. “It’s the main ingredient in befuddlement draught.” 

“S’exactly what I said,” Remus Lupin comments from the couch, seemingly speaking to a pillow he’s got in his lap. “We’ve all got scurvy.”

James ignores his friend, raising his eyebrows at you. “That was quick. Is there an antidote?” 

You frown, letting the very real regret you’re feeling show in your expression. “None that I know of,” you reply. “It’s like alcohol, it just fades with time.” 

James looks around the room worriedly. “How much time?”

You shake your head. “Not likely soon enough. Your best bet is getting everyone to bed. They’ll sleep it off.” 

James takes a deep breath. “Alright, I can do that. Evans!” he calls, getting the Head Girl’s attention. “We’re to put them to bed.” 

Lily nods, gathering a few girls from around her and herding them upstairs. James heads for the fifth-years, blabbering something about how dragons need rest to keep their fire hot. You don’t think that’s true, but the students start moving nonetheless, James keeping them going with words of encouragement each time they try to turn back. 

“Could you just stay by the door?” he asks you as he follows them upstairs. “Make sure nobody leaves.” 

You nod, posting yourself by the entryway and telling anyone that comes close to go to bed. Your persuasive skills aren’t up to par with James or Lily’s, but eventually they get everyone to their rooms, and James is the only one who comes back down the stairs. 

He rubs harshly at his eyes, disrupting his glasses, and begins to clean up the mess of the party. You join him, gathering discarded cups and setting up a pile of left items (shoes and wands and even a pair of pants) by the fireplace. 

“If you’re still worried about the match,” you say after awhile, “everyone should be fine by tomorrow morning. The effects of befuddlement draught don’t usually last for more than a few hours, and sleeping will help.” 

“You seem somewhat of an expert on befuddlement draught,” James says lightly.

You flush, bending to pick up another cup. “It was on the OWLs. I studied hard.” 

He hums noncommittally. “Well, I appreciate you coming to help clean up your own mess.” 

You look at him, an inquiry as to what he could possibly mean already forming on your tongue, but the look on James’ face stops you. He knows. “It was only supposed to be you,” you say. “It was Black’s firewhiskey, I thought it would just be him, you, and maybe Lupin drinking it. I didn’t think you would share.” 

James actually laughs at that. “Yes, sharing! How ridiculous of us.” 

You huff, despising him for the shame twisting in your gut. “I’m just trying to tell you that it wasn’t my intention to spike the drinks of all of Gryffindor.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Maybe if you didn’t distribute your alcohol, these things wouldn’t happen.” 

James crosses his arms. “As I’ve said, I would personally never distribute alcohol or endorse underage drinking. But it seems that, whatever may or may not have happened tonight involved a series of unfortunate accidents, which could have been avoided if several parties had been more responsible.” 

You bristle at the veiled scolding. Frankly, James implicating himself as partially responsible for the night’s events doesn’t do much to alleviate your guilt either. He’s gone soft on you, the panic that had fueled his earlier breach in character worn away, and he’s back to his lighthearted, irritatingly nice self. 

You can’t look at it, and you roll your eyes as you turn away, tossing the last cup into the trash bin on your way to the door. “See you at the match tomorrow, Potter.” 

You can practically feel the warmth of his smile at your back. “See you there. And I’ll be keeping an eye on my drinks in the future, so don’t get it in your head to try it again!”

Oh, James can rest easy. You won’t.

[inbabylontheywept]

"Yeah, sure, and I shit thermite. Be serious."

So. Maybe, he’d gone a little overboard after work that day. He’d admit that. Drinking the sad away wasn’t the most mature way to handle things, but when you got a letter from your dad saying-

Well saying that, you know, maybe it was okay to have a beer or two. In theory. In practice, that meant that two-beers-deep Earl had to somehow have enough willpower to say “naw, I don’t wanna become three-beers-deep Earl,” and then three-beers-deep Earl’s gotta say no to four-beers-deep Earl, and it’s just a bit of a shitshow from there.

Pardon the french.

At least he wasn’t on the clock. The worst thing that should’ve happened to him was waking up tomorrow with a fatass headache and upset friends. Instead, he was in the hospital, surrounded by men with guns, osmotically absorbing the most surreal conversation of his life.

“We’d heard that humans had remarkable healing abilities but this is incredible. Anyone else here would be dead, he’s just showing some signs of esophageal irritation.”

“We got any idea of the culprit?”

“We’re looking over security footage but the culprit must be some kind of ghost. We’ve gone over the security footage at least twenty times, nobody can spot a thing.”

Earl couldn’t help it. He spoke.

“What are you talking about?”

The detective and the doctor jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What the shit-

The doc’s hand went over the detective's mouth, cutting off the oath just a hair too late. The duo looked after each other, before the detective gestured for the doctor to go first.

“I… don’t have very much experience with humans. We thought it’d be a couple of days at least before you woke up. How are you feeling?”

Earl coughed a few times.

“Throat’s raw, head’s pounding, and would kill for anything fried in grease. Pretty standard hangover.”

The detective cut in at that.

“Eh, except for the part where someone poisoned you.”

Earl shrugged.

“Must not have been very good poison.”

The lawman didn't laugh.

“Hydrochloric acid mixed with potassium salts? You can bet your pink ass it’s a good poison. Anyone else here would be dying from a hole in their gut. You been making enemies on the station, colony-boy?”

Earl’s smart alec remark froze as his one semester of biology 101 clawed its way to the front of his brain.

“Oh.”

The detective clicked his pen, ready to start taking notes, even as Earl waved him off.

“No crime here doc, my stomach makes that stuff naturally.”

The doctor blinked even as the detective rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I shit thermite. Be serious pal, there’s someone here out to get you.”

Earl held his gaze, and after a few moments, the detective’s annoyed face transformed into numb confusion.

“...Hot damn, you aren’t joking. You’re telling me you can spew concentrated acid on a whim?”

The question hit a little close to him, and Earl felt his ears burn.

“Eh… not… on a whim. More like, after six or seven beers.”

The doctor grabbed a pad and began filling out forms of his own.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to make sure you don’t do that then. You can’t just go around creating chemical waste every time you get sad. I’m going to have to get in contact with IT, set up some kind of cut off point with the cantina for you.”

Someone down the hall must’ve sanitized something because the odor of strong alcohol wafted into the room. It was all Earl could do to not empty his stomach a second time.

“Aye. That’s fair.”

[herebecritters]

I’ve got a ton of lore writings in the works and there’s a lot of little terms used by treefolk and by the trio. So here’s a handy guide in case anyone needs it.

THIS IS A LIVING DOCUMENT. There are sure to be edits and additions as time goes on.

Timeline

Dino-Sore Days

Period of time at the End of the Cretaceous Period before the meteor hit and the Death Curse began.

First Civilization

Period of time directly after the Meteor Strike and the Isles were formed. Cities built around the new Gods. Ends in extermination.

300 Year Colony

Period of time 66 million years after First Civilizations eradication. Years 1698 to 1998. Ends in extermination.

Current Era

Modern HTF as we know it.

Common knowledge

(Terms that most treefolks on the Isles will be familiar with)

The Isles: Also known as “The Isles of Da-rí-šè”, is a lush, multi-biomed cluster of islands hidden in the middle of the ocean and encompassed by a 66million year old Immortality Curse.

Critters/Treefolk: Sentient inhabitants of the world. Anthromorphic animals. Or “People” for lack of a better term.

Simple Beasts: Animals and creatures that live in the world who are not anthropomorphic characters. Pets, wildlife, ect.

Death Curse: The never ending loop of dying and regeneration experienced only within The Isles.

Blacking out: The sensation of losing consciousness and being unable to recall the specification of one’s own death on the Isles.

Death Hangover: The feeling one experiences when waking up alive after a death. Feelings of mental haze, disassociation, and a slight queasiness. Like you woke from a nightmare that you know you had but can’t seem to recall the details of it.

the Outside world/the real world/back home: No official word for this but many Treefolk tend to refer to the world and and their old life outside the Isles from time to time. As distant and far away as it now may seem to them…

Perma’d: the state of being dead without revival. Permanently dead.

Trio Terms

(Terms used among the trio or during the time of First Civilization and before.)

Holidays

(Holidays Celebrated during the First Civilization Era and still regarded by the Trio in private)

Day of Two Suns: New Year for the Critters of the First Civilization. Anniversary and Celebration of the day that the chixulub meteor hit the earth and ended the reign of the “Titans”. Transition from Spring into Summer.

Festival of Shedding: Summer into Autumn harvest festival and feast.

Nesting Day: Preparation of Autumn to Winter. Preparing the nest of Ki for the colder months.

Festival of Frogs: Winter into Spring festival when the frogs come out of hibernation.

Union: Solar Eclipse celebration

Bleeding Night: Lunar Eclipse Ritual to revive Theia from death with a chosen sacrifice.

Theology and Myths

Theia: The moon; deity of the Night and watcher of the small folk and critters.

Sâmâs: The Sun; deity of the Day

Ki: The Earth; Child of Theia and Sâmâs, asleep in the core of the planet.

Alagtila: The Idol of Life

Alagkana: The Idol of Misfortune

Alagumuna: The Idol of Blood

Dingirtila: Formal Title for the God of Life

Dingirkana: Formal Title for the God of Misfortune

Dingirumuna: Formal Title for the God of Blood

Egalkana: Temple of Misfortune

Egaltila: Temple of Life

Egalumuna: Temple of Blood

Mushhush: The name of Nergals monster form

Umamumurgu: Ancient beast of Rage and Fire sent by Sâmâs to protect the children of Theia from the Titans.

The World of the Curse

The Blood: Concentrated Suffering in the form of blood. Gives the idols their power.

The Wells: Underground rivers and lakes where the Blood is held. How full they are determines the amount of power the idols have.

Burrows: Series of tunnels deep below the Isles leading to the wells and to the Trios private chambers.

Hibernation: State of stasis where the trio can go long periods of time of inactivity to conserve Blood.

Ludari: “The Eternal People” The term used to describe the people who lived during the First Civilization before the Rebellion.

Lukurra: “Outsiders” Those who are not one of the three Idols. This term replaced Ludari after the rebellion.

Titans: The dinosaurs, pterosaurs, plesiosaurs, mosasaurs and other giant reptiles that went extinct after the meteorite hit.

Bonus

[youremyheaven]

minimalist pastel indian brides make me sick, GIRL WHYYYY, we literally have the best handloom, best fabrics, best weaving, traditional garments, etc in the worlddddd don't let boring elitist western gaze convince u that u need to wear a dusty ass curtain cloth to ur wedding to be "elegant" or "sophisticated" ,,, pls examine😠🤢🤮😡 why this trend reeks of colonial hangover and classism ,, since when did we have to pretend to adhere to western notions of simplicity,,, it's our culture to go all out,,, WEAR THAT RED OR ELSE 🔪🔪🔪🔪

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

A while back @fuccerito did an absolutely AMAZING comic and I was so inspired I wrote it out as a chaptered fic! They were also kind enough to let me post it!

For the summary: Many less than harmonious pairs of bots, both Autobot and Decepticons, awaken to find themselves unexpected contestants on "Bang for Your Buck", a Quintesson game show where love and making it is the only way to win! Stuck in boxes with no weapons or hope of escape, the stakes become even higher when their hosts offer the Omega Key to the winning pair. Can any of them out aside their differences long enough to endure the increasingly erotic challenges? Read this or the original comic by fuccerito on their Twitter to find out!

Chapter One: Introduction

"Ugh... What...?" Thundercracker moaned as he came to, the entire world spinning around him whilst he tried to lift his helm. Blinking the blur from his optics, he sat up in a daze and found himself in a room unlike any Cybertronian dwelling he'd ever seen, his helm pounding as if he'd downed enough engex to give a Titan a hangover. 

"Where the hell am I?" he asked out loud, trying to feel a bit less dizzy as he looked around for an explanation. Finding quite literally nothing, not even a window along the spotless white walls, he was left thoroughly confused. A room without doors? What the fuck? he vented to himself, having no clear route for attempting an escape. Blinking to clear some of the sleep from his optics, he briefly considered trying to smash his way out before a second voice startled him fully awake.

"Ugh..." 

"Bumblebee?!" he shouted as he beheld the scout rising from the floor. Looking just as haggard as he felt, Bee winced at his booming volume, covering his audials and making an expression of deep annoyance.

"That is so loud..." he whined, not even looking as Thundercracker swung his weapon mounted around for an attack. To his surprise, horror, and mild embarrassment, the Seeker found his arm utterly rid of a gun, not that Bumblebee even bothered to see him as a threat. Squinting around at the lack of windows and doors and appearing just as frustrated as the other mech had felt, the Scout looked ready to make a sarcastic quip before an electric buzz startled them both.

In the blink of an optic, a holographic screen appeared before them, glowing bright with oversaturated colors and a flamboyantly dressed Quintesson beaming into a microphone. 

"Welcome, friends from Cybertron! I bet you're wondering where you are right now!" the alien cracked with a snap of his tentacles, triggering one of the more obviously fake laugh tracks across the galaxy. Both bots exchanged a mutual expression of disbelief and wondered if it was possible to share the same fever dream, only for the background music to swell and confirm everything they were seeing was happening.

"Well, buckle in. You're the lucky bots selected for our prestigious game show - I'm your host; Emceeus!" the charismatic alien announced with a wink and a flourish of the microphone. At the lack of cheers from his captives, the nonplussed host continued, smiling with a level of charm few would have thought possible with so many rows of teeth. Bumblebee briefly started wondering if he might be able to smash his way out as Thundercracker doubled down on the same thought.

"You may notice I am a Quintesson - fear not!" Emceeus assured them, speaking more softly as he closed his eyes in time to a series of tender, mood setting images flowing across the screen. Flowers, hearts, and space puppies played in perfect time to sappy music. "We here are not like our violent brethren - we are a peaceful rogue colony..."

To the gathered bots horror, the screen shifted to a lovely but extremely explicit clip of two bots making passionate love, their campy moans compelling the captive's optics to find the most interesting possible things on the floor.

"And we love love!" the Quintesson announced sweetly over the audio of the mechs going at it, tentacles waving showily before a few space pot leaves made a cameo on the screen. A small addendum acknowledged them as the pre-recorded audience awwed over his words to preserve the mood. " ...And space weed. "

"As for the issue of why you're here, it seemed you were having a battle of sorts in our sector of space - so nasty, it destroyed the comet where we were hosting auditions!" the Quintesson continued over footage of said conflict, which allowed the bots to finally recall what they'd been doing before their unexpected casting. The recorded audience gasped in fake awe as the respective sides maintained fire on one another, filling the void of space with brilliant flashes of cannon fire that beautifully illuminated the aforementioned asteroid... before careless fire from both sides smashed it to pieces. Bumblebee and Thundercracker exchanged a look of guilt and concern before the host clapped his tentacles together with delight.

"What a show of passion! We just had to cast you!" he declared to a repeat of the applause effect from before, absolutely beaming into the camera to the brief relief of the captives. Smashing someone's comet usually got you way worse punishment than a forced game show recruitment.

Elsewhere, perhaps not too far away in a completely identical cell, Starscream and Soundwave glared at a hologram of the same broadcast. 

"...what show?!" Starscream continued to complain, something he'd been doing since the moment he'd woken up. Hands on his hips, the Seeker had already demanded to speak to the alien's manager to no avail, compelling Soundwave to stand in pained silence as their host finally appeared to acknowledge them. 

"You're on; "Bang for Your Buck!" - a show where contestants can show us their love to win a fantastic prize! Our audience will give you a prompt, and you will be given two cycles to complete it! Tap out, and you'll be out of the running!" he explained cheerily, bringing up a diagram to better explain. Three sequential images displayed a pair of contestants getting a prompt to kiss, carrying out the act, then celebrating their victory. The true ramifications of what was being proposed started to dawn on the captive participants, and a wide variety of mostly negative looks were exchanged amongst an intense flurry of even more negative emotions. "You'll see your first prompts appear in s-"

"Excuse me." Bumblebee interrupted as he held up a servo, voice broadcasting out to all the other contestants for the sake of the plot. With strength disproportionate to his size, he addressed their captors with a thoroughly disapproving glare. "What's the prize?"

"That little thing you were all fighting over - the Omega Key!" Emceeus answered just as eagerly, gesturing to a stock photo of the aforementioned artifact. Seemingly oblivious to how displeased his contestants were to be there, the host was equally nonplussed when they all stood up in a panic at his mention of the key, collective attentions now fully engaged.

"What about-" a single bot spoke up before being interrupted by a final sweetening of the deal.

"And five million Shanix!"

"Dope." came the mostly satisfied reply. 

"You'll see your first prompts on your screen!" the host announced as the fake audience cheered, disappearing from view to leave a loading screen. Every bot was left to await their fate for what felt like a purposefully cruel length of time, the annoying suspenseful music making every second drag on like five. In their tiny but not necessarily claustrophobic room, Bumblebee and Thundercracker got their first prompt at the same time as the others, the flowy text scrolling almost mockingly onto the screen.

Hold Hands!

Somehow, the chaste prompt was more embarrassing than the most erotic of acts could have ever been. Both bots flushed bright pink, turning to each other with an expression of hopeless despair mixed with embarrassment. It was abundantly clear there would be no escape; without weapons or anything resembling a weak point in the structure around them, they had few reasons not to comply. With those reasons consisting of nothing but schoolgirl levels of bashful self consciousness, they both more or less came to the same conclusion after powering through their reservations. Neither would forsake their duty for fear of cooties.

This is so ridiculous, but I guess I need to get that key... Bumblebee thought to himself, raising a hand as he faced the other mech. Thundercracker didn't look any more pleased with the situation, but he at least appeared willing to cooperate, albeit with the same level of hesitation. The Seeker gulped and flexed his digits.

Shit. I guess this is happening. This is straight out of one of my favorite fanfics... he thought in a rush, able to clearly recall multiple bookmarked fics with the exact same premise. When he'd read those, however, he had been imagining anything but Bumblebee. Not that he found the scout ugly or anything, he just typically didn't fantasize about bots with Autobot insignias... Considering what was at stake, he swiftly set about convincing himself to face the challenge, as overwhelming as it may have been.

"Well, if..." Bumblebee started, turning to face the floor as he shuffled forward and started to offer his hand. Following the lead, Thundercracker began blindly groping for the other mech, nodding along as they both continued to avert their optics while convincing themselves. 

"If it's for the Omega Key...?" he added with open uncertainty, stepping backwards and blushing that much harder as they got closer. If this succeeded there would still be a battle for the prize, but at least it would be back in Cybertronian control. For the good of their species, he needed to persevere. 

"...We all need to get it." Bumblebee continued as he squeezed his optics shut and turned away entirely, blushing so fiercely he was sure his face would be combusting at any moment. He was halfway certain he'd hit his head during the battle and would wake up at any moment, the absurdity of it all feeling more like a concussion dream than anything with any basis in reality. The warmth steadily approaching his outstretched digits challenged that theory.

"Yeah." Thundercracker covered his closed optics as their hands finally touched, arms held nearly straight to keep as much distance between the two of them as physically possible. Barely able to nod, he summoned all the courage remaining in his spark and did what needed to be done. Their hands came together with a burst of pure embarrassment that was mirrored by their fellow contestants, though most of the aforementioned bots were feeling far more murderous than bashful. 

Mere feet away, a mercifully soundproofed room was still trembling from the raw outrage within, its display screen buzzing a most infuriating prompt to the furious occupants. 

Kiss with Tongue

There were few bots who would have taken the idea well in regards to their greatest nemesis, but Megatron was uniquely incensed, his rage so overpowering it could have warped time and space had the Quintessons not used their technology to bolster it just in case.

" WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT?! " the Decepticon leader roared, optics and veins bulging as the mech at his side expressed his equal rage with significantly more decorum.  

"This is heinous to ask of enemies!" Optimus agreed, stressing the final word to remind their captors and himself that he had NO interest in Megatron. Their feelings to one another consisted of nothing but hatred mixed with an acceptable amount of respect for the other's physical prowess... nothing else, not in the slightest. Megatron made to shatter the screen just before the cameras shifted most conveniently to the next room over, his explosive rage making it clear he had much more yelling to do before they could hope to enter the competition for real. 

" GIVE ME THE OMEGA KEY, I DEMAND- "

In the next room over, a mech who would have given any number of things to be napping at that moment was glaring at his own screen, the bags beneath his optics almost as deep as his dissatisfaction with his assigned partner. Said partner was looking mischievous and delighted, his lips curling up for a fang accented grin as he secured a hold on Ratchet's shoulder. The older mech could almost feel Drift's optics staring a hole in the most sensitive region of his neck. Worse, the buzzing screen seemed to mock him with the simplicity of its request. 

Bite

Oh, Primus... he thought with an internal sigh, utterly done even before they'd had a chance to begin. How had he ended up with the only mech that managed to be as hot as he was infuriating?

Back in the room where Starscream and Soundwave miraculously hadn't murdered one another, the two were tapping into their competitive nature to tackle their embarrassing but mostly manageable prompt. 

Wing Massage

"Ow! You're doing it wrong!" Starscream hissed as Soundwave roughly handled the Seeker's wings in what could only be called the loosest approximation of a massage. It looked as ridiculous as it felt, but both mechs soldiered on, the former grumbling as the latter doubled down.

"Soundwave: simply giving Starscream what he deserves." he said tensely, motivating himself with thoughts of all the revenge he'd enjoy once they were free. Putting on a good show was a humiliating but simple enough challenge, and he was fully confident there'd be no character development of any kind along the way, not from himself or any of the cast. They'd all just have to double down for a thoroughly unsexy time...

[mrhaitch]

Hello Mr.Haitch!!

I hope you and your family are doing well ^^

So my questions for you are—

1) Would you consider yourself a picky eater?

2) Thoughts on the debate around pineapples on pizza. Do you like/dislike Hawaiian pizza? Also mint chocolate ice-cream yay or nay?

3) If you could eat only one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?

4) Can you give me a lesser known food related fun fact?

5) Do you like Indian food? (Also I’ll add a little rant)— As an Indian, it peeves me a bit, whenever people reduce Indian food to only Naan, Tandoori chicken, Biryani, and Butter chicken.

India has such a vast variety of food. With each state having its own cuisine. The food which the western world is more familiar with, hails from different states. Like butter chicken is from Delhi, tandoori is from Punjab and Biryani (originally from Iran, brought to India by the Mughals) is typically from Hyderabad.

Also, India has a vast variety of vegetarian food. As far as I know, India is the only country with a vegetarian menu for McDonald’s

Okay. My rant here is done!

I hope you have a great rest of the day!

And thank you in advance for answering my silly questions ^^

1. Nope, I'm a fairly opportunistic eater when not at home. Otherwise I've got a fairly loose regimen that I follow.

2. I'm fairly neutral - I'll eat it if it's there but I won't seek it out. Mint chocolate has never been to my taste but I wouldn't deprive someone else of it.

3. This changes often, but probably salted pistachios.

4. Button mushrooms are incredibly toxic, but only at high concentrations. Unless you eat your bodyweight in mushrooms you're absolutely fine.

5. I'm hesitant to answer, in light of your comments, but not because I disagree. It's a colonial hangover where cuisines from other cultures are imported, bastardised, and then the bastardised version becomes the standard. I love what we call Indian food in the UK: lamb Rogan Josh with saag aloo is my standard. We also cook it a little, particularly keema muttar. I still use the same Madhur Jeffrey recipe my mum used, but even that's likely to have been altered for western palates.

[bongboyblog]

both are foreign to the average non-hindustani speaker. why suffer twice? or is the colonial hangover not gone yet? won't that make GoI just another suppressive regime minus the delusion that minority has a say in the workings of this country (which very clearly they don't) :)

Bharat or India, the name doesn't matter. our nation's 'democratic' constitution has always hid pro-colonial agendas in it. I ask, are we really independent? are we really naïve enough enough to believe a common language or culture based on the majority ethnic composition will bring unity in this nation?? (hello? Sri Lankan civil war, Bangladesh liberation war, political instability in Myanmar...) you guys really think it works? is our shared South Asian history not a proof enough to satisfy the Indians' dogmatic mindsets?

also, how does it make us any different from China or Pakistan? we just put a gold cover over an ethnolinguistic genocide and tell the world how proud we are.

over 700 languages (minus the dialects) and we chose a newly created bastard of a tongue, with negligible prior literature, devised and popularised by a British gentleman in Calcutta 'cause they couldn't bother to respect our diversity. And they talk of history lol

[mybeingthere]

Moffat Takadiwa (b. 1983, Karoi) lives and works in Harare, Zimbabwe. Part of the post-independence generation of artists in Zimbabwe, Takadiwa has exhibited extensively across major institutions in Zimbabwe as well as internationally. Takadiwa also was a founder of Mbare Art Space in Harare where he plays a part in mentoring the growing artist community.

He speaks about his recent exhibition “Vestiges of Colonialism" in the National Gallery of Zimbabwe, Harare (Summer 2023).

“Vestiges of Colonialism" is about the urgent need to eliminate the remnants of colonialism in Africa and cure the continent from its colonial hangover. It has never been so important as it is now. Current African democracies only survive through the leftovers of colonial dispensation and the crumbs of our ugly history. When our economies are patched together with remnants from those days, we often overlook the west’s lasting overbearing influence over independent Africa. The recycled materials that make-up my artworks symbolize, in part, the transfer of power from Europe and how their detritus swallowed our landscape and handicapped our initial attempts at self-rule. My practice attempts to use this detritus and the ashes of our past to fertilize a brighter future. In one piece, I even burned the some furniture from the Rhodesian administration to grow a rose garden.”

Moffat Takadiwa

[ninja-muse]

As you might know if you saw my review the other day, my December felt very slumpy even though I read a lot of good books. I suspect this is because of book hangovers and working a busy Christmas retail season. (I also didn't write much because I kept coming home too wiped to think.)

But it was a good month! I managed to get to a couple new releases that I really wanted to, and I knocked a lot of books off my physical TBR because none of my ARCs looking interesting. I did have a DNF again, though, of a book that I was really hoping would be great. Isn't that always the way?

I also had two rereads! One because sometimes when you're at a loss to read, you pick up Pratchett, and one because I'd promised myself I'd get to it this year and dash it, I was going to! Weirdos of the Universe, Unite! was one of the most seminal books of my childhood, and it wasn't until I reread it that I realized just how much it was. I saw a lot of my personal attitude to life in Maddy, it was probably my first true urban fantasy even though there's a whole act on a spaceship, Baba Yaga is there as a very cranky but practical sort of witch…

As for my book haul, I just want to say that it was Christmas and I didn't actually buy anything? My parents came through with some really oddball picks, as I'd expected, my sister gifted me one of her favourite reads of the year, and friends helped feed my T. Kingfisher addiction. (More on that in my yearly wrap-up.)

But the book I'm most excited to have gotten is Hogfather, and not because of the pretty cover though that's a bonus. It is, in fact, the most astounding misprint I've ever seen and I couldn't pass up a chance at a free copy. I mean, how many times do you find a beloved book in which the entire thing is bound backwards?! Thank goodness the publisher didn't want it back, is all I'm saying.

And that's probably about it! I have no idea what book I'm going to start 2024 with, because I sort of read 200+ pages of Persepolis Rising last night so I could knock it off my list and now I'm recovering from the binge.

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

A Power Unbound - Freya Marske

Jack, Alan, and their friends must find a hidden artifact and foil a plot. This would go better if Jack and Alan got along.

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (gay, bi man), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay, bi woman, lesbian, genderfluid) 🏳️‍🌈 author

All the Hidden Paths - Foz Meadows

Velasin and Caethari are still feeling out their relationship when they’re summoned to the capital and almost immediately find themselves targeted again..

7.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (mlm), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (mlm), mute secondary character, cast of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 author warning: anxiety, aftermath of trauma, dubious consent

Last Chance to See - Douglas Adams with Mark Carwadine

A bumbling science fiction author travels the world in search of endangered animals.

7/10

Illuminations - T. Kingfisher

Rosa wants to help her artist-magician family, but instead she accidentally releases a creature bent on destroying them!

8/10

Lovecraft Country - Matt Ruff

Two Chicago families in the 1950s become caught up in a world of cults, ghosts, monsters, and magical danger. Fortunately, they’ve had lots of practice at mistrusting white folks.

7.5/10

primarily Black cast

warning: depicts Jim Crow-era racism, including slurs; also abusive family dynamics

Persepolis Rising - James S.A. Corey

Thirty years on, the system has achieved a new normal. So of course one of the colony planets decides it’s time to shake things up.

7.5/10

very racially diverse cast

Remarkably Bright Creatures - Shelby Van Pelt

A cleaner at an aquarium mourns her losses. A young California man seeks his absentee father. The resident octopus tries to bring them together.

7.5/10

Jamaican secondary character, Korean-American secondary character

Ragnarok - A.S. Byatt

A child in wartime discovers Norse mythology, and the ways myths and the world reflect each other.

7.5/10

warning: animal cruelty and injury

While Idaho Slept - J. Reuben Appelman

Four students are murdered in a single night, and what came before and after.

7/10

warning: violent murders

Monstress, Volume 3 - Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (illustrator)

Maika finds temporary refuge from the people chasing her, but the local leaders want a favour in return.

7/10

one-armed protagonist, cast of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic), Taiwanese-American author and Japanese-American illustrator

Reread

Weirdos of the Universe, Unite! - Pamela F. Service

Mandy and Owen get assigned a mythology paper, but then the characters they pick start coming to life and insisting they have a great purpose.

Black secondary character, Indigenous secondary character, Chinese secondary character

warning: somewhat lazy depictions of Indigenous and Chinese people

The Unadulterated Cat - Terry Pratchett with Gray Jolliffe (illustrator)

A humourous celebration of all things cat.

DNF

The Undetectables - Courtney Smyth

Someone’s committing Occult murders and a crack team of Occult investigators has been called in. Or, they’re totally going to be the crack team someday, at least.

main character with fibromyalgia, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian), fat secondary character, Chinese-British secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

Currently reading:

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories

major disabled character

warning: racism, colonialism

Stats

Monthly total: 11+1 Yearly total: 128/140 Queer books: 2 Authors of colour: 1 Books by women: 6 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 0 Off the TBR shelves: 7 Rereads: 2 Books hauled: 8 ARCs acquired: 2 ARCs unhauled: 2 DNFs: 1

January February March April May June July August September October November

[hussyknee]

Still thinking about that anon yesterday in my inbox yelling "YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR ALL POC!!" Nah fam, the other six billion of us had a vote at the General Melanin Assembly and passed a resolution, sorry you missed it.

[fromoblitushq]

PLOT DROP 02 ( PT. 2 )

The sun starts to rise and it is a new beginning, a new month. You have made it through Halloween night, hopefully with just a hangover from the party that made the night pass by. Now all you have to do is survive to the next party in a year, should be easy, right?

TW: Death

As everyone starts to filter out of Colony House and make their way back to their own beds, you notice that someone is missing. Someone who wasn't at the party at all. Emerson Khalil never made it to Colony House last night. How odd- she never missed a chance to party. As you walk pass the town center, you see her body sitting there as if she was positioned that way. Did the monsters do this? Has she been here all night? Or did this happen in the chaos of everyone trying to make it to Colony House before the sun went down?

Maybe the monsters just preferred to play tricks on Halloween this year.

OOC: You are now free to either post starters related to after the event, continue your event threads as you so wish, or make self paras in regards to those effected by Halloween night and what you saw in the morning.

[royal-confessions]

“Most of the royal families in India are boot lickers of Britishers and many european like French Portuguese especially the jaipur royal family , India already suffered aloy due to dynastic politics, cannot think of these useless Rich royals who played helping hand in looting ,plundering and famine in India ,thankgod we dont have this drama and more than that slowly but steady nation is coming out of colonial hangover” - Submitted by Anonymous

[blvckqwz]

2. When Icarus Fell

“Eve.” “...” “Eve!” Evelyn groaned in pain, opening her eyes to look at the person who dared trying to wake her up. This felt like one of those bad hangovers, only a thousand times worse. “Eve!” the voice said again. Evelyn turned her head around, not being able to find the source of that voice, letting out a frustrated groan. “Evelyn don’t do that, you were sedated.” Another voice sternly spoke. “What?” she finally replied, her throat feeling sore like she slept a thousand years. 

She finally recognized the voices, they were coming from behind her seat. She turned around, cursing herself for not listening to the voice. “Jaha? Griffin?” She said, not believing that her two old best friends were on the same ship as her. This would be just as awkward as she anticipated. 

“Yeah… long time no see uh?” Wells said with a sad smile. She had missed him while in prison, and even if he came now and then to say hello during the first months, he stopped after a while, probably bored by the girl's monotonous responses. 

Clarke instead was just staring blankly at her with an expression that Evelyn couldn’t quite read, which was strange since she was pretty observant. “What are you doing here?” Clarke finally said, giving her a suspicious look. She never came to see her when Evelyn got locked up. 

Evelyn stayed quiet for a bit. They wouldn’t understand , she thought. They already saw me knocking off a guard, they don’t need any more reason to think I’m a total basket case.“Stealing medicines…” she finally replied, keeping her eyes low. While Wells looked like he believed her and sent her a reassuring smile, Clarke was looking even more suspicious than before, her face still a mask of indifference. 

That girl wasn’t dumb, Evelyn thought with a sigh. “And you? Why are you here?” She asked, trying to change the subject. “Wells got arrested for attacking a guard and… well I think you already know why I am here…” Clarke said and glanced at Wells, who looked embarrassed. Obviously she knew why Clarke got locked up: she knew the Ark’s secret, just like her and Wells, by what she heard. She also heard that Wells turned her father in for the same reason, and judging by the embarrassed look Wells had on his face it must be true. 

But she didn’t have much information since she was locked up three years ago. When she first saw Wells on the ship, she thought that she was going insane. There was more possibility that all the time locked up drove her to madness then the Chancellor's son being part of the delinquents.

Evelyn was so focused on thinking why Wells turned in Clarke’s father to notice that the two were now fighting. When she realized she turned away embarrassed and tried to comprehend what was happening. 

They were really going to the ground. 

Just as she turned back she realized a boy was staring at her. A boy who was definitely too old to be on that ship . She recognized his jacket as a guard one, even if it was too worn to be his. 

Only then she realized that he was talking to her but it was too late.

“Are you deaf by any chance?” He asked as he clicked his tongue in an annoyed way. “What?” “I asked you a question like three times but you didn’t reply” He explained shrugging. What a rude person she thought. “Oh sorry.” Evelyn replied shortly, glad that she was still high. “What was the question?” She asked then. “I asked if you were Marcus Kane’s daughter.” Oh of course, now not only was she known as a raging psychopath but people already started to recognize her as another raging psychopath’s daughter, she contemplated. 

Being Kane’s daughter wasn’t exactly a good thing,especially in a ship full of delinquents who hated him. The people on the Phoenix hated him because he didn’t privilege them like many others seemed to do, the people on the Walden and on the Colony hated him for locking their kids up and floating their friends.

Fantastic .

“You are a guard, aren’t you?” She retorted. He looked worried for a second, then nodded. What a strange group of people she thought. “Then you know who I am.” she concluded.

The boy gave her a strange look before nodding and focussing his attention back to the wall in front of him.

“So, since I think it’s obvious you’re not one of us, how did you get in there?” Evelyn asked. She had a weird feeling about him, even though she tried to brush it off since she didn't like anyone who talked to her. 

He sent her a look full of what could only be described as pure terror before replying under his breath “None of your business.” 

She just shrugged and turned her back at him. She wasn’t really willing to make friends or to talk. She was just going to mind her own business and let the more ambitious ones do all the work. 

Just as she turned around again she heard the little screen in front of her turning on, playing a speech given by the chancellor Jaha. “Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now…” he started saying. She closed her eyes, not really caring about what he was saying. But she didn't miss the worried look on the guard's face when he saw Jaha. 

Weird . 

She was almost falling asleep as she was already exhausted. She needed whatever they shoved in her neck to wear down before hitting the ground if she didn’t want to look completely out of her mind. Which she already did.

But just when she started relaxing she heard a loud crash, followed by someone’s scream. The screen abruptly shut off and she started panicking again. 

At this speed they were going to crash. 

She wanted to be a pilot, when she was still a child and everything was still possible. People found it weird that the daughter of one of the most important beings on the Ark chose such a job. Pilots came from the Walden, sometimes from the Colony. Never from the Phoenix. 

You had to be little to squeeze yourself in those cubicles, and she was one of the few people who weren’t malnourished on the Ark. It was a dangerous job, pilots often blew up in the atmosphere because of some malfunction, or ended up without a limb.

But Evelyn had the habit of not giving a fuck, and signed up for it as soon as she was old enough to. She never finished her studies, but she was going to die on a rocket ship anyway. 

Quite ironic. Quite sad. 

Evelyn gripped her harness so hard that her knuckles turned white, and was glad that whoever put her on that seat was careful enough to buckle her safety belt. At least she wouldn’t be catapulted from what was now becoming a burning oven dropping from the sky.

Small pieces of burning metal rained on her and the rest of the passengers as the ship was quite literally exploding. Evelyn let go of the harness and brought up her arms around her head, covering it from the hits as tears of pain came to her eyes as the little pieces impaled the skin of her neck and arms. 

Sparks started to fly and the lights went off. The propulsor started to roar almost loud enough to cover the screams of terror coming from the delinquents as they fell from the sky. Her metal seat started to burn, and she felt the urge to take off her jacket, but she knew that if she did the skin would end up raw in a few seconds from either the boiling seat of the splinters flying around.

We entered the atmosphere, we were going to die , she thought. 

The only thing she could think about was that old story she had read when she was still on the Phoenix, about a boy falling from the sun. His father had given him a pair of wings to free himself but he flew too close to the sun and they melted.

Icarus.

She indeed felt like Icarus, who came too close to the object of his desire and was now plummering to his death. Evelyn never liked the Greeks too much, but at that moment she wished that she did, so that she could remember what happened to the guy.

She could probably figure out the answer for herself. 

She looked out from the porthole at the green and light blue colors flashing in front of her, roaring flames around the window, before she closed her eyes for what she thought would be the last time, preparing herself for the fatal crash. 

The roaring sound became a piercing screech and a wave of pain ran through Evelyn’s body as her scream joined the others’, the ship shaking so hard that a few delinquents were ripped from their seats and thrown against the walls. 

But the fatal crash didn’t come. Well, there was a crash, but it wasn’t fatal. 

At least not for her. 

A pair of guys were lying on the floor unconsciously, a few delinquents peering over to check on them. 

Were they dead?

The ship was deadly silent and the air smelled like fried metal and blood, a smell that made Evelyn’s stomach turn in disgust. Everyone was glued to their seats, afraid that if they moved they would discover some injuries. 

The girl moved her fingers and her feets, then her arms and leg, trying to find if there was a broken bone. There wasn’t. She checked her arms for any injury and touched the back of her neck to see if there were some splinters stuck in it.

When she realized that she was overall fine, even though her neck hurt like a bitch, she tried to take her harness off as quick as her shaking hand permitted and headed to the lower level with buckling knees. She didn’t spare a glance to the two corpses below her feet.

“Just back it up!” She heard “the guard” yell and weirdly everyone listened to him. Evelyn didn’t understand what the problem was and why didn’t he just open the goddamn door but then she saw Clarke making her way down to the boy. 

“Stop!” She yelled, “The air could be toxic.”

“Just what we needed.” Evelyn mumbled, causing a boy behind her to laugh. She turned around to look at him. He seemed ok, beside the goggles he had on his head. 

“I’m Jasper, Jasper Jordan.” He said “And this is Monty Green.” He continued, looking at the boy beside him. The other guy seemed okay too, maybe a little less crazy than the first one.

“Evelyn, nice to meet you.” She replied, purposefully not saying her last name. 

Then she turned back to look at Clarke and the boy discussing if the door should be opened or not. Evelyn shook her head in disapproval. If the air was toxic they were already dead, so they could just get it over with and open the door.

“Bellamy?” A pretty girl said with wide eyes. 

She looked familiar, Evelyn thought. 

Then it clicked. That was Octavia Blake, the girl who got hidden under the floor for 16 years. That meant that the boy was her brother. Of course now it made sense to Evelyn why he was on that ship. 

“Oh my god, look how big you are.” Bellamy said.

She felt bad for them, maybe even a little jealous since she knew that no one would risk their life for her like Bellamy did for Octavia. Maybe it was better this way she thought, since she was damn sure she wouldn't risk anything for nobody. 

If there was one thing that she learnt from her father was to put herself first, if she wanted to survive. She looked away, wanting to give them their privacy, but clearly not everyone agreed with her.

“Where’s your wristband?” Clarke asked Bellamy. 

“Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year.” Octavia spat, clearly annoyed by Clarke's interruption.

Silence fell on the ship as everyone looked confused.

“No one has a brother!” a boy shouted. 

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden under the floor!” another girl replied.

Octavia looked furious, as she was ready to attack all of them, but Bellamy caught her. “Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” he said to her. 

“Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.”

A smile formed on the girl’s face as she glanced one last time at her brother before advancing towards the door, Bellamy working on its opening.

That was it. The moment that Evelyn both feared and was waiting for. 

Bellamy opened the door and colors surrounded them. 

The first thing that caught Evelyn’s eyes was the colors, a deep blue and green surrounding them, much different from the gray and black they were used to. 

The sky was blue, the trees and grass bright green. It looked like a painting. The air was full of smells that Evelyn couldn’t comprehend. Some delinquents were holding their breath, afraid that the air could be toxic.

Octavia took a step out the ship, then another.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!” The yell filled the air as she jumped out the dropship, everyone running towards the exit, excited to be there. 

Evelyn started to look around once she stepped out of the ship. She shielded her eyes with her arm, not familiar with the sunlight. A smile of pure joy formed on her face. 

At first she could only see the colors, not the shapes. Flashes of green and blue surrounded her as she spun around, taking in as much as she could. The trees were so much taller than she expected, and the sky looked endless. Her head was spinning and she took a big breath like it was the first time she ever breathed.

It looked like they landed on a circle shaped glade with a wood around it. The sky was deep blue, the grass was green and thick. It looked like a dream.

“Wow.” She heard Wells whisper behind her.

“Yeah I know.” The girl replied breathlessly.

It seemed like this time Icarus lived. 

For now at least.