#i don't even know what this is im sorry

[southernreaches]

i need help with vet bills (again).

hi. for those of you who remember, earlier this year i asked for donations to help me afford toos' vet bills, who we found out through your help had kidney failure, and again with your help we got her on medication for it. unfortunately it wasn't enough, and we lost her. and then shortly after, dexter began deteriorating, which we put down to his grief of losing toos - she kept him young, he followed her everywhere, he only played because of her, he only ate when she ate, etc. without her he just stopped. and then he started to have seizures and fits daily. we got him blood tests, but he was suffering so badly. we made the decision to put him down. i didn't ask for donations this time, because i was so deeply embarrassed to ask for help again. but we are still recovering financially from that, as well as the parts of toos bills that didn't get covered from donations. my mother hasn't worked for a very long time, she's disabled and very sick, and she receives PIP from the government that only covers her monthly medications that are not covered by the NHS. my father retired early to become her full time carer, and we are living off his pension. i am too disabled to work, but because my mother already receives PIP and i live with them, the government are resistent to giving me any help - so i have zero income, and rely entirely on my parents.

this is jenny. she's a 14 year old cairn terrier, who loves when we garden because she wants to help dig holes. she helped us bury dexter and toos, digging their graves for them with my dads help. she's an angel, and loves people so much she likes to escape under the fence and join other families for awhile. one time she got into someones back garden and asked to come in as they were eating lunch. she really hates flies, and will try to bite them out of the air (she has never succeeded but i believe she will one day). she will rub her face against you until you start stroking her, and will growl and even bark if you stop! we don't have the money to take jenny to the vets, for a checkup or for anything they may want to do. this has been an ongoing issue, but toos and dexter took priority, and it hasn't been a bother to her. she existed as normal for a long time, but that's since changed.

jenny has this lump in her mouth, it is larger than the picture shows, but she is a nightmare to force open her mouth since this got so big, i think it's uncomfortable or painful for her. she can't properly close her lips now, and it has pushed all her front teeth away, misshaping her mouth, and sometimes it bleeds profusely. eating has become difficult for her, she can't eat anything hard, and currently will only eat soft human foods like rice, scrambled egg chopped up so small she doesn't have to chew, and things like soups and gravy. she's lost a lot of weight, and i'm getting frightened. to add onto it, i've found lumps like this across her body. i've done as much research as i can, and i believe it to be an oral tumor, it fits, and it looks right, and it spreading across her body is called 'full staging'. and going by all i've read - they will want to remove them in surgery. according to my research, this will cost anywhere from £585 - £4,740 for just the lump in her mouth. that's not including any checkup/test costs, or the other lumps on her body.

she hasn't been to the vet yet, i don't have any secure goal or bills to share, just my assumptions and beliefs from researching myself online. my parents refuse to take her because we can't afford it. i want to save up money, have it in my bank, and show them that we can help her now, before it gets worse, or it's too late. as i said before, i don't have any income, so the only way i can do this is with help.

here's a link to my paypal.me

the icon is a little mouse, and the @ is rivellon

i struggled so badly posting the first post like this for toos. i felt so guilty and embarrassed and ashamed. but i have no choice again, i want to help jenny. i don't want her to suffer. and selfishly, i can't handle losing another dog so soon. this year has been waking nightmare, and i need your help to stop it getting even worse.

please reblog and share, even if you can't donate.

thank you for reading.

[koshercosplay]

Neil gaiman is a Zionist :(

this is so funny because if you google "neil gaiman zionist" nearly all of the links are to unsourced tumblr posts or responses to a single tweet from 2015 that just acknowledges Israel's existence

I see gaiman has once again committed the heinous crime of Being Jewish When Israel Is In The News

[yvisoul]

Different portrayals of Alexander and Elizabeth Hamilton.

names in this list.

[blueskittlesart]

*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?

tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.

[shakingparadigm]

what is the theory that ivan manipulated the event where till and mizi met the wagyein?

It's not a theory, actually! It's confirmed that Ivan orchestrated the whole event. The true reason as to why however is still unknown. The information provides more context to this scene, though:

During the earlier times of ALNST the most rational explanation for this scene was that Till ran after a flower crown (presumably Mizi's) and Ivan followed him in out of curiosity. Now we know that Ivan was conveniently just standing there because he was waiting.

Side note, I find it heartbreaking (and maybe a little funny, sorry) that Till most likely didn't notice Ivan in this scene. That's just like him, isn't it. Always too busy running after Mizi while Ivan trails behind, an ever-present shadow.

I'm not sure how Ivan manipulated the circumstances for both of them to end up there, but it is confirmed that everything was intentional. What strikes me most is how they describe this particular scene:

I can't copy down what they said word-for-word (Patreon info), but they described Ivan watching "creepily" as Till and Mizi are faced with danger. We know that Ivan was familiar with the Cerberus wagyein beforehand, enough to touch its teeth and even to rest himself inside its maw. To Ivan, the wagyein is not dangerous, but to Till and Mizi, it could be. Ivan prepared the wagyein, led them there, and watched "creepily" from afar as Till fell on his knees, seemingly injured.

The closest I can get to making sense of Ivan's "scheme" is that he wanted to see how other children would react in a dangerous situation. Ivan's always been an observer, after all, and he's learned to survive by copying the more "normal" behaviors of his peers. This situation occured when Ivan was still young and had not yet developed his more charming mask, so perhaps he staged this encounter to study a situational response, to learn and mimic the emotion of fear. And what better subjects for the experiment than two of the most expressive and reactive humans of their batch? It helps that he was already fixated on Till beforehand, too. I think Ivan became irreversibly obssessed after this incident, especially since it's framed as a turning point in Ivan's life, comparing Till to the stars.

This is just my attempt at an interpretation, though. It could very well be for another reason. He most likely chose Till and Mizi specifically for personal reasons, not just for reaction. I'm still not sure on the purpose behind the whole thing.

The team wanted to capture Ivan's "dark emotions" through the shot of his stalking, which could relate to his more sinister intentions. His gaze can be read in a few different ways, though. Curiosity, interest, fear, etc. Maybe that's why they decided to redraw the shot in ROUND 6.

I think this better sells the feeling they were trying to convey.

[possamble]

farcille postcanon characterization warmup that got way out of hand. beware, here be spoilers, dragoncock, and bottoming as an extreme sport.

~~~

Marcille has always loved Falin’s voice. Soft, high, airy and girlish—it was always as gentle as the rest of her, even in the midst of pitched combat. When things went to hell in a handbasket, it was always Falin’s whispery incantations that kept Marcille grounded as blood and monster guts sailed through the air. 

And that hasn’t changed. No amount of dragon could really change that, Marcille thinks. Yes, she she has moments when her voice becomes rough and ragged and guttural, mostly when she’s swinging her mace or her fists, or gritting her teeth through a monster claw stuck into her side. But maybe that urge to growl was always there, and she’s just finally able to voice it now. Marcille finds that she’s loud at times she would have been silent before—grunting with exertion when she would have grimaced quietly, singing some nonsense melody over a mundane task when she would have hummed it under her breath—and that’s a good thing.

But otherwise, nothing has changed. Falin’s voice is as delicate as ever, chiming in a lilting giggle behind a dainty gesture of her hand. Rustling like pages of well-loved books as she casts her protective wards, or ponders over how to cook a new monster, or murmurs right into Marcille’s ear while she…

Well. While she’s got Marcille bent over her own desk with her nightgown pooled at her ankles. Marcille’s not sure if it’s rude or considerate that she didn’t get a chance to dress herself before she had a girthy cock shoved up her cunt first thing in the morning. 

“Marcille,” Falin whispers, unfairly shaky as if she’s the one getting fucked within an inch of her life. She’s mouthing at Marcille’s neck, draped over her and pressing as close as possible in every way, gripping Marcille’s hands tight and keening like she’s found heaven between her legs. “Marcille, Marcille…” 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she gets to do that, that she gets to sound like that—with that sweet voice she’s always had, now making obscene little noises that are still whispery fine and almost ethereal coming from her mouth. These quiet, barely voiced sighs that puff against Marcille’s ear, the dulcet moans that thrum against her skin, and that demure little gasp when she thrusts a little harder and somehow finds even more space inside Marcille to bottom out in—

“Marcille…” she whimpers like she’s in pain, on the verge of tears, fingers tight between Marcille’s as they grip the edge of the rattling desk together. “You feel—so good, oh… You’re”—another moan buried just behind her ear—"so wet, so good…” 

It’s not like Marcille got the chance to be anything else right now, did she? Not when Falin fell upon her just as she was sorting through her documents, pressed against her back and already unfastening the clasps of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders. She was fully naked before she even got a playful good morning whispered into her ear—it’s a miracle she had the forethought to push her papers out of the way just before Falin had her wrapped around her finger in the most literal sense. 

Well. Fingers in the plural, really, since she always starts with two. Usually while pawing at Marcille’s tit with her other hand until her stupid knees give out and she ends up buckling over whatever surface is nearby—in this case, her desk, mercifully free of any uncapped inkwells at the moment. Now slathered with sweat that makes her tits slip and slide along the wooden varnish, of course, but otherwise non-disastrous. 

Hopefully her nightgown is catching most of the mess running down her thighs, or she’s going to have to make the most humiliating request to the castle staff about her carpets for the third time this month—

“Yes…!” Falin digs her heels in and fucks her even harder, taken with some kind of mindless momentum all of a sudden. “I love you,” she pants in that stupid—feathery, daisy-light tone that has no business being this sweet while she’s ravaging Marcille like this— “you’re perfect, you’re perfect—” 

Marcille’s going to die like this. This is how she’s going to go: Bleating like an animal with her cheek stuck to her desk with drool, eyes just permanently rolled back in her head, toes barely touching the floor as Falin keeps fucking her further onto the desk. She hasn’t said a single coherent word since her second orgasm however many minutes ago, just broken into an endless stream of guttural noises as her cunt slobbers and squelches around Falin’s cock almost as loudly as she’s wailing. 

“Marcille,” Falin keens, sounding like a bashful princess ravished to breathlessness—just something straight out of a high-minded erotica novel—all while hammering Marcille into the desk at a shallow, breakneck pace. “You feel—feel s–o good, you’re perfect, oh—oh, you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, I love you, I love you—” 

For the love of—fuck. Marcille can distantly hear herself scream, can feel the desk digging into her as she flails, her grasp on sanity getting thinner and thinner with each word that tumbles out of Falin’s mouth and shoots straight through her nerves. She’s—good god, she’s not usually this talkative. It’s almost always Marcille begging and blabbering about how much she wants Falin’s cock, how good it feels, how she wants it harder and faster and more, screaming and crying Falin’s name over and over—

But now, in the absence of Marcille’s pathetic yapping—after she’s already fucked the words out of Marcille so thoroughly—Falin’s taken it upon herself to murmur a stream of honeyed nonsense into her ear, her frail and gentle voice breaking with desperation—and fuck, it’s not fair.

“Yes, yes, oh—” Falin sobs into her neck. “I love it—I love it when you sound like this, I love you—you’re so good, so good for me, my Marcille—” 

No, no, no, she can’t do that, she can’t do that—she can’t say that, in that voice, while her cock is so deep in Marcille there’s hardly room for anything else, battering all her nerve endings and rearranging her so that there’s nothing left but her, Falin, Falin—

“Ah!” Falin cries out, like she’s the one getting reamed against her stupid fucking desk so hard she can barely breathe— “Yes, please, please—please say my name again!” 

Well. She can beg all she fucking wants, but it’s not going to be pretty and she has no one to blame but herself—it’s her fault Marcille can hardly speak, it’s her fault her name is only coming in rough wails with both syllables separated with heaving, crying breaths. Marcille gives it her all, scrapes whatever intelligence she has left to speak, and sounds like a dying animal in a way that can’t possibly be anything but hideous to listen to—

And still, Falin sobs, as if in utter ecstasy as she fucks Marcille so hard the desk starts scraping along the floor in harsh jumps. 

“Yes, yes—ah—” Her voice, not so whispery gentle now but still so melodious and clear, sounding out from deep in her chest— “I—love—you—” she weeps, punctuated by the hard slams of the desk against the floor as she drops the rapid pace in favor of mercilessly hard thrusts— “Beautiful—perfect—mine!” 

Then she finally, finally comes—not that it stops her, not with how she thrusts with every spurt. Like she’s not just satisfied with letting it spill out, like she needs to fuck it into Marcille with all her strength, once, twice, then one last time, stuffing her cunt absolutely full with searing heat—

And Marcille doesn’t even realize she’s coming until she’s unceremoniously ejected out the other side of the high, that telltale swoop of vertigo rushing through her veins. The orgasm doesn't even have the grace to let her go limp with afterglow, of course, and she’s left there convulsing and twitching like a drowning fish. With her jaw pressed to the desk, she can actually hear her teeth chatter from how hard she’s shaking, Falin’s warm weight on her be damned. 

(One day. One day, she’ll stop embarrassing herself like this—one day she’ll finish like a normal person during sex, instead of going off like a cheap firework every half hour and wringing an orgasm out of herself as soon as she feels Falin finish inside her, whether or not she even had one left in her to begin with.) 

“M-Marcille,” Falin stammers, her voice breathless but now shy and girlish again as she slowly untangles their hands. “Are you—are you okay?” 

The gall. To ask her that, when she’s nothing but a sweaty carcass slung over her desk, still twitching erratically. To be so gentle as she straightens up and kisses the back of her neck, tenderly brushing her hair to the side as she pulls out ever so slowly—

And still. Not. Slowly. Enough—apparently! Not with the sparks that explode in Marcille’s eyes again, utterly unclear if this is another orgasm or just a particularly brutal aftershock! She just goes squeaking and shaking and sliding off the desk onto her knees, hands clapped over her cunt like they’re going to protect her from the lightning racing up and down her spine. She doesn’t even know where she landed, really, convulsing and closing her thighs around her hand as cum and slick drools into her palms, falling forward and— and smacking her head against the edge of her desk.

“Oh!” Feathered arms clasp around her before she can slide past the wood with her sweaty forehead and land on her face. “Careful—are you okay?” 

The gall. The audacity. The—something, or whatever, fuck, Marcille doesn’t even care anymore. Her head throbs with an oncoming bruise, she can’t feel her legs, she can feel her pussy way too much, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen apart on the spot—

“Okay… let’s…” There’s some maneuvering going on, but hell if Marcille can actually tell what Falin’s doing. “Here, let’s take a bath—I’ll go draw some water.” 

Marcille whines, because no—she doesn’t know where she is, she just twists until her face finds feathers and buries herself there. She even manages to bring one cum-covered hand to grip at the quils, because this mess is Falin’s fault and if she doesn't like it then she can wash it off herself—but she’s not allowed to leave. 

A little chuckle under her breath—and it’s so fucking cute and girlish like she hasn’t just demolished a full grown woman to the brink of unconsciousness, but Marcille can’t even find it in herself to be mad. Falin can ask her whatever the hell she wants, do whatever the hell she wants, so long as she doesn’t let go. 

“I’m bringing you with me, I promise,” Falin whispers so tenderly, pressing a kiss to Marcille’s head. There’s arms tightening around her back and under her knees, and she feels herself being lifted. “I wouldn’t leave you like that…” 

Better not, Marcille grumbles to herself. Not sure if it made it past her mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Falin’s going to take responsibility for turning her morning into—into this, even if it means having to draw some bathwater with an elf clinging to her the entire time. She’s going to be the one to wash her off, bring her their missed breakfast, and tell everyone why she wasn’t there at the morning meeting—

Maybe not that last part. 

“I’m sorry,” she hears, in that soft and whispery tone she’s loved for so many years. That voice that didn’t change, even with everything that happened—everything that Marcille did to her, and it’s—

It would be so, incredibly stupid if she started crying out of nowhere. 

“Liar,” she whines, digging the indignant annoyance back up to pout like a spoiled brat. “You liked… every second…” 

Another giggle that so infuriatingly lovely. “I did.” The sound of a squeaky valve turning, then rushing water that slaps against stone. “Did you?” 

Marcille just grumbles again and clings even tighter. Falin just laughs a little louder and strokes her hair, too kind to demand an answer in so many words—or, perhaps, impishly content to let Marcille incriminate herself with her silence, as she so often does.

[pseudophan]

i'm so extremely irrationally annoyed by people not knowing what various terms mean and using them incorrectly like i feel like that's such an asshole thing to care about but oh my god stop

[sheepthatgobaa]

chat thoughts on my satan edit

[introspectivememories]

god i know i said i was tired of making eveerything sad but just imagine timber those first few months of reconnecting and they're both drunk on tim's boat, laying on the deck staring up at the stars and bear turns over to look at tim, his eyes are sad and wet, and he reaches out to touch tim's face as if to make sure tim is really there and not an illusion and tim whispers, "bear?" and bernard smiles a little brokenly and goes, "so how long do i have you for this time?"

[lost-in-fandoms]

would LOVE to hear about vampire daniel and maxy w sweet little bite marks up his thighs and throat

babe I will try to keep my brain under control for 5 seconds and write this for you because i love you (part 1)

cw: blood drinking, explicit sexual content

Max is always beautiful in Daniel's eyes. He's beautiful when he's wearing his helmet and race suit, he's beautiful in sweaty fireproofs and disheveled hair, he's beautiful in his suit and silly bow tie. He's beautiful when he's sitting at the kitchen counter, early morning light hitting his naked shoulders, sleepy eyes focused on the phone in front of him.

But Daniel does have a favorite. His favorite is Max like this, spread out under him, flushed and pliant, the most gorgeous noises spilling from his red lips. Daniel's teeth marks blooming on his skin.

He noses along the fuzzy hair on Max's thigh, feeling the muscle jump under his tongue.

"Be still, Maxy, be a good boy," he murmurs, words rolling off his tongue like they have physical weight, spilling between his fangs.

He's not even hungry right now, but he can never resist the pull of Max's blood, singing sweetly just behind the thin protection of his milky skin.

Max moans when Daniel bites, hips jumping off the bed, desperately seeking friction against nothing, hands twisting in the sheet. When Daniel looks up towards his face he can see tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.

He pulls off after just a sip, licking the bite closed, watching a bruise form almost immediately, joining the one just a little above it.

So, so beautiful.

"Daniel..." it comes out as a slurred groan, one of Max's hands flopping over to grab at his shoulder. Daniel pauses, carefully listening to his heart, afraid for a second of having taken too much, but Max's heart sounds as strong as always, if not a little frantic with desperation, and Daniel smiles, unbothered by the trail of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

He moves to the other thigh, presses a kiss close enough to Max's groin to make him shudder, fingers pressing into the muscle.

"Come like this, baby."

Max moans again, dick jumping, a dribble of precome adding to the small puddle already forming on his stomach. Daniel always loves making him come untouched, but he knows Max will need a little more stimulation than that, so he puts a finger in his own mouth.

When he takes it out to press it against Max's hole, his saliva is tinged pink.

He keeps his eyes on Max when he bites. On his face, shiny with tears and drool, on his lax, red mouth, on the way his muscles jump, abs contracting with a punched out moan.

When he presses the finger inside, he sucks a little harder, knows Max will feel the difference, knows the bruise will be even bigger. Blood fills his mouth, sweet and rich, just as pearly ropes of cum hit Max's stomach and chest, Max's cry of pleasure everything Daniel can hear over the wild rhythm of Max's heart.

He eases off gently, afterwards, closing the bite and carefully taking his finger out of Max.

"Good boy," he whispers, one hand finding Max's, the other keeping him still as he laps at Max's cum, tongue working over his trembling muscles.

When he looks up, Max is smiling down at him, eyes glazed over, looking as sated as Daniel feels.

[argetcross]

every time mortal zag has a problem

(x)

[p4nishers]

the fact that buck didn't start smiling or try to play it off as a joke when eddie asked if he was okay. bc with maddie and the others he felt like he had to be okay FOR them. like they were waiting for him to fall apart but he just couldn't allow himself that, because no matter how much he loves them, he can never be truly vulnerable with them without feeling like a burden. but with eddie, he doesn't have that. eddie is his safe place, the person who has seen him at his worst and let buck see him at his worst. so no, he didn't play dying off as a joke bc this was eddie and eddie never needed him to pretend to be alright, he only needed him to be there, alive and with eddie. that's the difference.

it really boils down to buck saying "you don't need to pretend with me" in s5. because they don't, they really don't have to pretend with each other and now that eddie is in a better place he can recognize that and apply it to their relationship as well.

[aroaceleovaldez]

in your most recent tyson post, you said something about leo being distinctly autistic-coded and I was wondering if you could elaborate on that? it sounds really interesting (sorry if you've already posted something on this, I couldn't find anything though)

Of course! I do have a specific tag for talking about Leo's autistic-coding/traits - [here], and [one for Nico as well].

The main aspects with Leo being autistic-coded actually have a lot to do with Nico being autistic-coded, because it's the comparisons between the two that most clearly indicate Leo is autistic-coded rather than it just being his ADHD or etc.

So with Nico being autistic-coded, it's very clear in the Titan's Curse that he's intended to be autistic. First, the first series has a repeating pattern of secondary characters being very distinctly neurodivergent-coded in different ways (Annabeth's adhd/dyslexia, Tyson's down syndrome-coding, Nico's autism-coding). With Nico's introduction, he's pretty stereotypically autistic and we're given a lot of descriptors about him that are notably not attributed to him being ADHD, like it would be for other demigod characters. He doesn't register social cues such as people getting annoyed at him, he's asking/making inappropriate or impolite questions/comments, he gets particularly upset about change (such as Bianca joining the Hunt) and generally gets emotional, and one of his most notable traits he's introduced with is the fact that he has a special interest (MythoMagic) - and we're shown that this special interest particularly colors how Nico navigates the world. While ADHD has hyperfixations, we don't really get much acknowledgement of hyperfixations with demigods usually - Annabeth gets a little, but most others don't and it's not nearly as focused-in on as Nico's is.

Then as the series continues we see these traits stick with him and him start to show or voice more traits that similarly indicate he's autistic: He regularly mentions how he doesn't understand living people and prefers the company of the dead (social issues). He has more notable stims than other demigods (twisting his ring, fiddling with bones, etc). He's indicated to have strong sensory preferences (usually wearing mostly black/aversion to bright colors, usually wearing layers/his coat, multiple times he's described as wearing loose/baggy clothing or clothes too big for him). He has specific comfort items (his ring, likely his jacket(s) as well). We later get even more information about his special interests (Mythomagic/mythology/history and an older interest in pirates - the latter he specifically notes likely heavily influenced his feelings towards Percy). He struggles with emotions and facial expressions and tone. He struggles particularly with ostracism and feeling like he doesn't fit in and has something distinctly different about him from the people around him (who notably, all have ADHD, which indicates it isn't the ADHD that's making him feel that way), and other characters regularly describe him as being off-putting because of his strange behaviors - again, different from specific ADHD traits they recognize. And that last point is kind of notable because we have Hazel and Bianca for comparison - we know people are off-put by both Nico and Hazel because of being children of Hades/Pluto and their powers/aura, but other characters get past that general feeling of discomfort way faster with Hazel. And even after characters get past the death stuff with Nico, there's a second thing that they aren't moving past that isn't a factor with Hazel (Nico's autism).

So that brings us to Leo - Leo is paralleled to Nico a lot. And there's some very specific traits about him that we know are autistic-coding because of how they're used with Nico: He similarly struggles with social cues/etc, and in a very similar parallel to Nico describes how he prefers the company of machines to people because machines make more sense to him. He has similar types of clothing/sensory preferences (again some stuff with layers but also - pockets! He likes having pockets and things to put stuff in! He's even introduced as having a jacket with lots of pockets), and he has a distinct special interest (machinery) that we specifically know heavily influences how he views and navigates the world (constantly comparing things to machinery, describing things with machinery metaphors/terminology, etc etc). He even describes his entire general worldview to Hazel and it's a machine metaphor. He also similarly struggles with ostracization like Nico does, the only difference being that Leo specifically puts on a persona to compensate for areas he knows he's lacking in and very explicitly describes it as a means to make people like him, because without it he normally struggles to fit in (He's masking!). We also see notes of characters describing that similar discomfort with Leo's behaviors that they do with Nico, except without the aura of death this time. And when we're in Leo's POVs we see a very stark difference between his masking and his actual personality/behaviors such as his internal dialogues or how he behaves when he's alone. Also, like Nico, he stims more than other demigods, though for Leo it's more attributed to his ADHD. Leo also, more often than most, similarly struggles with tone and reading the room, such as making misplaced jokes/comments or etc.

But yeah! It's really interesting. Also it's just a fun thing that ADHD/dyslexia and autism have comorbidity, so it makes sense that we see demigods who are also autistic. It's also really fun to look at how other characters are coded in the series, what coding looks like in the riordanverse specifically (usually it's tied into the mythological stuff - like Chiron being in a wheelchair but he's actually a centaur, Grover being introduced as having a muscular disease but he's actually a satyr, demigods having adhd/dyslexia, Tyson being coded as having down syndrome but he's a cyclops, etc etc - it's a lot of specific metaphor stuff that I've talked about a bit before), and to look at how characters are compared to one another.

[thekidsfromyestergay]

While I love all the jokes about Scotland gaining independence from the UK I do need you all to realise exactly how terrifying this is for trans people living in England. The government have proved time and time again that they don't care about the safety of trans people, but this in particular is an act of hatred so strong that they are using an unprecedented level of power just to prove it, and once they've done it once, they will do it again. And while Scotland may gain independence (as they should), things are only going to continue to get worse for people still forced to live under the UK government.

[scrappy-possum]

(good grief it been a while......)

anyway hi im not dead

heard it was a special bee's birthday (@realizinau )

so i opened ms paint and doodled this real fast

he put his knitting skillz to use and made a cute sweater :)

the next challange however is giving it to Bailee

[difeisheng]

your ex-lover remains dead.

in the dream, li lianhua smiles. in the dream, li lianhua stays, halting by the doors to di feisheng's inn room rather than becoming absence. in the dream, li lianhua wants (lets himself want), casting his robe to the floor and himself to the sheets for di feisheng to surge forth. ocean rushing to the sky's edge, seeking to devour it whole.

in the dream li lianhua is infinitely beautiful, infinitely tragic, ghost held back from the gentle night by di feisheng's hands on his waist and call it stubbornness, call it perseverance, but it is the same compelling that guided di feisheng through the jianghu until he found li lianhua again and now refuses to ever forget him for eternity. infinite, li lianhua is, a million rays of starlight called down from the heavens given blood and breath. under him, li lianhua gasps, arches, tears in his eyes like the moon rippling over water, and di feisheng understands why gods would create and destroy worlds for love.

in the dream, di feisheng finally wakes up.