#i just want to show the irony of all of these statements

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

“My therapist told me that, according to psychology, girls who often stay up til 3 am for no reason actually show a trauma response. You lacked a loving mother figure in childhood, so you deprive yourself of sleep because you weren’t taught to love yourself.” 

I came across that piece of info on social media recently, and I’d like to offer an addition: 

My therapist told me that, according to psychology, you can make up random things and pass them off as scientific… if you just put enough meaningless phrases in front of it. 

You probably caught the irony here. In fact, “according to psychology” and “my therapist told me” are completely meaningless phrases in my statement here! They make it seem like I’m presenting a scientific fact, but there’s no substance behind them. I’m just telling you my own thought. 

I did it on purpose and wanted you to catch it, but it can be more tricky to spot out there in the wild (or, well, on social media) - because intuitively, that quote up there sounds pretty trustworthy, doesn’t it? We are taught to look for a source and it conveniently provides one for us: psychology. Psychology says this, so it’s legit! 

But phrases like “according to psychology”, “my therapist says” or even “studies say” may only pose as sources. Let’s look into it a bit closer: 

“According to psychology” - Psychology is not really a source that can be quoted like that. Psychology is an immense field of study that covers lots of different areas (biological psychology, neuroscience, social psychology, behavioral psychology etc.), so who or what exactly is being cited here? A specific expert? A specific study? A specific book? 

“My therapist said” - in which context? Therapists usually give advice that’s tailored to the patient’s individual situation which likely looks different to yours (since no two people lead the exact same life), so how do you know this specific piece of information is also applicable to your situation (let alone applicable to everyone)?

The next one is especially tricky:

“Studies say” - studies can be a great source, but which study are we talking about? Who did the study? How was it done? How many people participated in it? Are the results generalizable in the way the post claims? (And before all that: is there even any specific study being cited at all here, or is this just a fully meaningless claim?) 

While we are on the topic of generalization: obviously I’m not trying to make some blanket statement that everyone who ever uses these phrases is a liar with evil intentions. Sometimes we just use simple phrases for complex concepts to make them more accessible or easily digestible, and that’s fine. 

And just as importantly, sometimes we are just human and make some thinking mistakes (such as “this connection my therapist made about MY childhood and MY behavior in adulthood must be applicable to everyone who shows that behavior. Making that connection helped me, so surely I’m helping others by posting about it!”) without any bad intentions. 

I’m just encouraging you to critically think about the information you read or share online - even beyond the basic “is there a source” check. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[dollarbils]

i think, therefore i am | b.e.

billie eilish x guitarist-fem!reader

context. billie has a crush on her guitarist

warnings. smut, fingering, flirting, angst kinda, not proof read

request masterlist

the beat dropped and she glanced towards you, to make sure you were watching her, like she always did. she’d interact with you as you strummed the guitar, trying to focus on plucking the strings instead of her fingers running across your jaw. in front of thousands of people. you loathed her for it, she’d do it every time and ignore you afterwards, no longer giving you the attention she’s so happily willing to give when it’s for entertainment.

after the show you were headed to the bathroom, needing to refresh yourself with some water. you hadn’t expected to see her there, in the bathroom fixing herself up too. you ignored her, assuming she’d ignore you in return. but this time, she didn’t.

“you were incredible tonight.” she complimented, you were taken aback completely, never having had a positive interaction with her.

“thank you?” you were hesitant to say much more but she eyed you as if she expected you to continue. “so were you.” you added before turning the tap on to splash your face with some water.

“well don’t seem so surprised. you know you’re my favorite from the band.” you laughed at this, she really wasn’t good at expressing it if what she said was the truth.

“that’s funny, this is the first time we’ve talked.” she took offense to this for some reason.

“well you could’ve talked to me.” she shrugged her shoulders, leaning an arm on the sink.

“true.” you admitted, lowering your face again to rinse your face with the face wash you’d brought, removing your makeup as you did. her hands replaced the one in your hair helping you avoid the water.

“thanks.” you said as you dried your face with a towel. her hand tucked your hair behind your ears delicately, the soft action weirding you out slightly.

“i got you.” she winked, lowering the lids of her eyes when she stood back to look at you fully. she didn’t say anything and you mistook the silence as awkward.

“you’re not a huge talker are you?” she questioned, rhetorical however.

“depends on the person.” she raised her eyebrows, smiling at the slight shade.

“damn, next time just tell me your not interested from the get go.” she turned picking up her stuff and you felt a tinge of regret.

“what do you mean?” you asked and she turned back.

“hm?” you thought she might act like she hadn’t said anything but she searched your expression for something more.

“well, you haven’t really expressed interest. how was i supposed to know?” she seemed shocked.

“i haven’t expressed interest? i practically grind on you at all the shows.” she rested a hand on her hip.

“yeah, but it’s for entertainment purposes.” you sounded unsure, and she caught sight of the sliver of doubt in the statement.

“yeah? it doesn’t have to be.” she came closer to you, paralysing you with her words. her lips gravitated towards yours before she spoke again.

“it depends on you. what do you want, cause i think i know, but i need to hear it from you.” she whispered on your lips and her breath rendered them warmer.

“you don’t know what i want.” she saw this as a challenge and her hands rested on her hips, pulling you in.

“i know you want this.” her hands now moved across you neck as you let her explore your body, despite your rejecting words.

“you think you’re so tough.” you replied, the insult bouncing off her, not having had the intended effect.

“I think, therefore I am.” she quoted, the irony of what had transpired hitting you where it hurt. but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as your subconscious reaction to her fingertips on your waist.

“fuck.” you breathed before you kissed her. she smirked into the kiss, as cocky as ever. it destroyed your own pride.

“you taste good baby.” she said once her tongue left yours.

“yeah?” you kissed her cheek, moving lower to her jaw. her hands played with the waistband of your sweats, pulling them low so that your underwear was peaking through. she fiddled with your panties as she took your face to kiss you again. you both grew more desperate, hotter and passionate. she spun you around so that your ass was against her hips, and you were leaning against the cold sink. you looked at her through the mirror and she caressed your ass, pulling your sweatpants down.

“tell me what you want.” she demanded and you closed your eyes in frustration, the moment so heated you lost sight of your common sense.

“you, please just get me off billie.” it was the first time you’d addressed her and she pulled her lip with her teeth. her fingers travelled past your underwear quickly, gasping mockingly at your wetness.

“billie.” it was a warning, telling her you didn’t want to be teased. she obeyed and dipped her fingers in as you gripped the sink. she pushed you harder against the ceramic, her fingers just as rough inside of you. her free hand came up to your covered breast as she urged you to arch your back.

“don’t you look pretty?” she wiped the fog on the mirror, created by your heavy breaths and bold moans. her fingers were relentless, but her hand was soft against your ass. she moved back to your tits, this time under your shirt. she bit her lip when she felt them, trying to hold back, not wanting to make a mess of your clothes in case someone decided to come in.

“you look so sexy when you play the guitar. so concentrated but so confident too.” she rambled on, the words not fully settling in your brain since you were occupied with the feeling of her fingers.

“mhm.” you mumbled carelessly. her lips were all over your neck, leaving traces of lipgloss around the bruises.

“if i could, i would’ve taken you right on that stage.” her filthy words brought you closer to your release, and she knew exactly what she was doing when you clenched on her fingers.

“god you’re hot when you come.” she commented as you tried to slow your heartbeat. you chuckled as her fingers left you and you turned around to face her, the sink leaving a mark on your lower hips.

“we can do this again, i don’t mind.” your words were flirtatious and she smiled.

“finally you’ve grown some balls.” you hit her shoulder playfully and she pulled you into her, pecking your lips softly.

[standingstart]

BRO AKSHDGAH WHAT

I legit thought this was satire until I opened the note and saw OP was serious and not just mocking the anti maxxers. Like can you be anymore daft?

"He doesn't care while Seb can name every WDC in order" ok and? Max can name them until like 1978, which is better than everyone on the grid beside Seb. Or did you conveniently forget that? Was Lewis even doing that game? And Kimi purposely messed up his own championship year to stop playing. So what's your point bestie?

"He looks bored while Lewis cried recieving Senna's helmet" Wow different people show emotions differently what a concept. It's almost like Max wasn't molded from infancy into a machine. And also, emotions doesn't mean tears necessarily. Watch how his eyes sparkle when he's proud of his team and how he hugs his friends or how he embraces Horner like his life depends on it at every race. That's also emotion fyi.

"He says well done while Pierre broke his voice for p3" again, ok and? Was Lewis breaking his voice everytime he won a race from 2014 to 2021? Don't think so. He expected it. As he should have back then. Because he was the best. And it's fine.

"He talks about returning to his cat while Jenson wants to party" Explain the relevance here. BREAKING NEWS: Local Man Wants to Relax Instead of Doing Coke on a Yatch. Where is the World Going? lmao. lol. touch grass xx

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter One

masterlist

the sound of feet slammed against the floor. a yell tearing the air. the city lights flashed around their eyes as they held their head in their hands. the body lunging forward with as much force mustered.

his breaths were shaky as he fell to the ground. his body trying to compose itself as he rushed away from where the KDF were attacking the kaiju. the kaiju he could not defeat. this wasn't his first time running away from the fight.

he didn't even want to be there. he just wanted to play baseball, but this is what he gets for coming back to japan to help his father. his father that wasn't even there, that lectured him, that left him and his mother alone. he hated this.

he knew it was wrong of him to run from the scene but he couldn't avoid it. he held his left arm that now stung with pain, running to his motorbike that sat hidden in the dark. 

"ken, the KDF seem to be using excessive force. shall i plot a course back to the battle?" the voice of mina rang through his ears. his eyes following drones that flew by him. "you know what, imma punch out for the night. let the KDF handle it." his smirk that graced his sharp features quickly morphed into a frown as a call from his dad showed on the inside of his helmet.

"right on time, here comes the guilt trip." he sighed. "he's already left 10 messages." mina's robotic voices spoke out as calls of his dad flashed on his screen. "nope! no thanks, i've had my butt kicked enough tonight. please silence all calls, mina. i need some me time." he said focusing on the road ahead of him.

"after your interview with miss wakita, of course." mina briefly mentioned. his figure shot up quickly while still riding. "wait! with the same lady from the press conference?" "yes ken, the same lady from the press conference. and your an hour late." he could only shift down, but looked up and sped up his bike, zooming past cars as he switched lanes like nothing.

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"i heard you're really good at avoiding hard questions." ami's voice spoke up in the dim lighted room, as kenji only slurped at the noodles in front of him. "mmm! these noodles are killer. want some?" the irony of the situation being him avoiding the statement. "i'm okay. thanks. mind if i record?" her soft voice spoke up as she lifted up phone in front of her.

"mm do your thing." he said, uncaring of the situation. "so you've had an impressive career." she started off. "gold glove. silver slugger. tea?" he spoke up picking up the kettle near him as she dismissed his offer with a wave of her hand. "and yet you've never won a championship." she responded back.

he could only put down the kettle and let out a breathy chuckle. "wow. right for the throat." "it's just an observation." she said calmly. "'just an observation.' sure. you know, there are lots of great players who never won titles." his voice laced with defense as her words. "yes. and some say you're better than all of them."

"some?" he could only chuckle while pulling his cup away from his lips. "you have seen me play, right?" he said leaning in tauntingly. it wasn't hard to deny the cockiness that came with his words. his pride was biggest feature besides the skills he boasted about.

"420 batting average. 624 stolen bases." ami responded sitting confidently, her hand lifting in the air, "but?" kenji inquired as he stretched out the word. "but personal stats don't win championships." "so my ego is holding me back?" he assumed as he poured rhetorical sauce from a cup into his noodles, all while aggravated.

"i didn't say that. and to be honest, i'm not here to discuss stats." her voice was loud, laced with confidence but slight annoyance at his behavior. "then why are we discussing stats?" "because players are more comfortable talking about stats then themselves." she remarked back.

"hey i'm happy to talk about me." "great! because i want to know why. why you avoid most interviews, why you keep your teammates at a distance, and why you left a city that loves you to..." her strong tone slowly went quiet as she saw what the man in front of her was doing.

"you know, your supposed to dip your noodles in the sauce." he could only look at her, his eyes peering out from his sunglasses. "i like doing things my way." he could only tauntingly pour the sauce into the noodles. "okay, let's remind. earlier, i asked about your mother."

the interview slowly passed by as he could only zone out from the questions being asked. he felt himself disassociate from the conversation, his whole body on autopilot till the moment he was back home. it was the one place he could relax and get away from those that pestered him.

he could only stand in the holographic life size park that mina loaded onto the room as his body moved forward, swinging his bat as it slammed against the ball. he could only watch as it shot back into the sky at his force. "yeah! that's what i'm talking about!" he yelled excited. it was short lived as pain erupted from his shoulder, reaching out to hold it from the pain.

the robotic sphere known as mina flew down, scanning his body. "ken, it appears that you have sprained your rotator cuff during the battle." the hologram of the park faded away, resulting back into the usual metal room. he walked away as she trailed behind him through the doors. "yup, that's what i get for saving lives."

"ken, it is your duty to save lives." mina said as she hovered behind him. "yeah well i prefer to save my arm and leave the kaijus to the KDF." he said as he walked towards a long couch. "you know what happens when you leave it to the KDF." he could only chuck mockingly as he sat down.

"yeah. i have a double-double, a chocolate shake, and a good nights sleep. now stop trying to be my mother." he said staring mina down. "i am as i was programmed." he only looked down after, tapping his foot against the bottom of his couch.

a cabinet popped out, almost a cooler, showing drinks inside that rolled around. he could only scoff in shock, looking up surprised. "coconut water?!? mina, did you throw my fancy fizzy drinks?" he interrogated.

"healthy choices, healthy body." he could only sigh as he opened a can of coconut water. he took a sip only to clear his throat in disgust. "mmm, taste just like a fart." he said annoyed. "ken, i wonder if you might consider taking a break."

"from drinking farts?" "from baseball." kenji could only look up at mina in shock. "give up the one thing that puts a smile on my face? sorry. no. tv please." mina listened to his command, the tv turning on in response.

the screen showcased the scene from where he had fought the kaiju from above. "more destruction today as the KDF and ultraman battles neronga. as one witness told us..." the news reporters voice quieted down as the news now showed an older lady.

"i love ultraman. always have. he's done so much good in the past." "thank you citizen." kenji told the tv as he rained the coconut water in a cheer. the older lady began to talk. "but he's been gone for months. and now that he's back, it's like he doesn't really care. i mean look at this."

kenji could only sit and stare. "i didn't even want this gig. and now everybody's coming at me." he said getting ready to turn off the tv. until something caught his ear. "but it wasn't all bad. i thought the situation was a lost cause when ultraman bolted from the scene. until someone else came in."

kenji could only stop in shock, confused at what she was referencing. "they came out of nowhere, helping to stop neronga. i don't know who it was but they were just as big as ultraman himself. thank you new hero, thank you."

he stared at the tv as it displayed scenes of someone fighting neronga. 'who was this? where were they this entire time?' another metal hero ran towards neronga, slamming into the kaijus body as they wrestled them down. grabbing its horn, they pushed it down, the kaiju roaring out as a laser shot from its mouth.

the new person summoned a shield as they jumped away from the attack. they could only crouch down in response, jumping into the air, only to land on its back. they grabbed their horn once again, small cracks showing from the force of the heroes grip.

wrapping their arms around its torso, they lifted neronga up. kenji could only watch as they flipped them over with intense strength, body slamming neronga to an already destroyed building, knocking them unconscious. the hero could only stand up proudly, only to jump away from the cameras.

the footage ended there as he stared in disbelief. "who is that? where the fuck did they come from mina?!" he yelled as he turned the tv off, his hands raking through his hair. as far as he knew, he was the only hero here. the only person that had this duty passed down to since his fathers injury. right?

mina could only stare at his face of shock, examining the situation. "ken, please calm down. letting your emotions react this way will cause you to undergo stress, affecting your strained shoulder."

he could only huff out intense breaths, slowly calming down as he moved to sit back down on his couch. 'what was that? why am i barely hearing about them now? why did they only show up after i left the scene? do they work for the KDF?' his head produced question after question, trying to think of what could have been happening.

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soft footsteps walked up stairs till they stopped in front of a door. the source of the noise raised their hand, knocking on the door there times. the door opened slightly, leaving a small crack open. the person behind the door took notice of who knocked. quickly the door opened, shushing them inside the room. "good job on finishing your task (y/n), i am proud of the progress you have made."

they could only smile softly at the praise, giving them a bow as a sign of their gratitude. "thank you professor sato. i could not have come this far if it was not for your help." the pair sat down, slowly getting lost in new tactics that they could use for the next battle.

[solar-wing]

⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇

⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship

⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.

⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻

Clark just didn’t get it.

Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.

Clark very much would beg to differ.

“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?

“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.

“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”

Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.

Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.

“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”

“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”

That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.

“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.

“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.

“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.

Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.

Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.

They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.

He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.

“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.

‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.

They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.

“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.

“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.

“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.

“Lois, what’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.

“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”

“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.

Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.

“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”

Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”

Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”

Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.

“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.

“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.

“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.

After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.

Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.

“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.

“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.

Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.

“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.

Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.

“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”

Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.

“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.

“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.

Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting

since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"

Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.

It wasn't fair.

The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.

He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.

Only Superman, not Batman.

Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.

"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.

"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."

"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.

"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"

Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.

"What's going on?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.

"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.

"I'm not exactly sure..."

Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.

"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.

"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."

Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.

"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.

"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.

'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.

As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.

"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.

One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.

"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.

"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.

"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.

"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.

He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.

Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."

"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.

Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.

"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.

As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."

Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.

"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.

As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."

"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.

"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.

The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

...

Nah.

"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."

Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.

Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.

"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.

"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.

As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.

"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.

"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.

Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."

As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.

'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.

Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."

"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.

"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."

"Anarchists?"

"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."

"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"

"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."

Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.

"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.

"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.

"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.

"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."

"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."

Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."

"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."

"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.

Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.

"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.

"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.

Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.

"Likewise," Clark replied.

Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.

Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.

"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"

Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.

"What?"

"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.

"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"

Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"

"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."

"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."

"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.

"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.

"You what?"

"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.

"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.

"Promise?" Clark asked.

Y/N chuckled, "I promise."

"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."

Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.

"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.

It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.

"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.

"First?"

"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"

He definitely doesn't.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[dippedinmelancholy]

It might be wild, but I kind of hate that the only way Maas knows how to show women as claiming their sexuality and being “strong” is having them prance around in promiscuous clothing.

We see this with Mor, Feyre, and then Nesta. It’s not a character trait, it’s a statement that anything seen as rigid, conservative or modest makes you weak.

Feyre’s would be wedding dress to Tamlin is not bad because it’s hideous, but because it’s the traditional style of “princess” ballroom dresses. She suddenly enjoys dresses when they’re all skimpy and revealing, despite her having never enjoyed dresses before. Worse, Rhysand dresses her like a harlot, exactly as he did under the mountain, branding her in front of god knows how many eyes.

Mor’s style and statement of her clothing could be beautiful, except once again, it’s only used to show that if you value a more conservative style, you are too closed off, bitchy, and without value.

Both of these could be written as character TRAITS, that women can be as conservative or promiscuous as they want because it is THEIR BODY, except Nesta is shamed for both. She is shamed for her conservatism with her own body, and then shamed for her promiscuousness. She is used and put on display by the Night Court, who she allows to fuck her put under a microscope. She is only accepted by them when she wears the clothing they want her to wear, when she fucks who they want her to fuck.

Idk, I thought there was some beauty in the initial representation of Nesta. That a woman who is conservative in how she dresses, who fights with her words rather than blades, could claim just as power in her own sexuality as Mor or Feyre dressed in sheer fabrics.

And the worst irony is Mor widely fucks whoever she wants, often very blantantly under everyone’s gaze but specifically Azriel’s, drinks wine in almost every scene - and yet no one shames her for it. No one calls her an embarrassment. No one locks her in a house with Azriel because he wants her so badly.

Nesta deserves better.

Women can be just as proud of their sexuality in a conservative dress as a sheer one.

There’s power in simply being a woman, not only putting your flesh on display.

Nesta never should have been forced to conform to a lifestyle that is so opposite to everything she had ever wanted in life.

#pronesta #ic-critical #acotar #nestadeservedbetter #silverflamesbutcherednessian #everywomandeservestofeelpowerful

[izvmimi]

cw: minors dni. smut. finger sucking. fem!reader. oral (female and male receiving). penetration.

even if neither of you can recall this, "so... uh... you swallow fingers?" was the first thing you ever said to yuuji itadori, the day you met him at jujutsu tech.

the irony of that statement, is that nearly a decade later, you're easily the one with the oral fixation. pulling away from a passionate kiss, yuuji smiles at you, face turned upward and eyes closed, lips still slightly parted and glossy. for a moment he watches without moving or acting, soft brown eyes really taking in the sight of your wanting mouth, your body on all fours over him, the fullness of your breasts in skimpy lingerie. catlike and hungry.

most importantly, all his, despite all of your efforts to suppress your feelings for years until he successfully took possession of your heart. careful to take good care of it, he indulges your whims, just like now, where he lets his thumb pass over your lower lip - your eyes open, and you let your lips part to take a thick finger in. tongue swirling around the tip, you suck and take in more of him, settling yourself onto his lap properly, the front of your pelvis pressing on the growing part of his body as you straddle him.

"so cute, aren't you?" he asks. your eyelashes bat at him, and you take his wrist and forearm with two hands, making a show of taking up more of his fingers in your mouth. he chuckles, moving his free hand, his left to pull down on his boxers, and the warm thickness is posed against your pelvis. he slaps it against your lower belly again and the soft thwack sound it makes on contact makes you clench, and him bite his lip.

"got something better for you to suck than my fingers." your eyes sparkle and you grin at him too, letting go of his fingers with a soft pop.

"mm, don't mind if i do," you say in a soft voice, nodding again emphatically. you reposition yourself, dipping low to take the tip in your mouth too, and he groans as he leans back, dizzied from the sensation of your wet tongue laving over the blush-darkened cockhead, the playful suction on his tip. his fingers twist around blankets as he steadies himself, unable to help a whine as you force yourself down, taking all of his considerable length and girth in your throat.

"fuck... don't stop, baby," he groans, bucking his hips slowly into your hips, his fingers twisting in your hair. he won't dare to push you down further against him, unless you ask him to be rough, so you swallow him down at you own pace, bobbing up and down in time with the slow thrusts of his hips. your jaw might as well unhinge when it comes to him, you want him to feel good, you love when he cries out and whines.

fuck, fuck, fuck... slowly you move as he struggles to get the wherewithal to think, until he gasps, cumming hot and copiously into your throat. you gulp him all down, greedy and practiced, looking up, and taking a deep breath only to be met with him pressing his lips to your immediately, his tongue lapping up any remnants of himself in your mouth. sticky strings of saliva and semen connect between your mouths when you part again, and you're flipped over quickly.

he whispers, a quick "your turn", before diving headfirst into your thighs, and by now you've fallen back into overstuffed pillows, your body soft and flushed. you cry out as his tongue laves against and between you folds, your thighs tightening around your neck. you hold on to him desperately, screaming his name as he licks and thrusts into your center with his tongue, taking in all your cream in his mouth. more, more, it's never enough, he can't get enough of you, he can't think of anything but pleasing you. tears of pleasure squeeze from the corners of your eyes as your head tilts back and you cum all in his mouth, body clenching around nothing yet. he pulls back, grinning, slick all over his face, messy as he is.

"taste so sweet, baby," he reminds you, grinning. you're just as sweet for him as you're sweet on him, and you feel so so sweet to him when he slips inside, nestling deep in your insides. you consume him totally, pressing tight around him, he groans as forces his way even further into your tight hole, he makes space the same way he barges his way into your heart.

[dreamchasernina]

Someone sent this to me and it’s obviously aimed at my post and they have me blocked (which is fine it she hadn’t blocked me I would’ve blocked her), but if you’re going to address me, you might as well let me see it so I can debunk your dumbass statements. Now, I’m not looking for confrontation, that’s why I always tag my posts properly but you and your friends tracked my post to lash out at me for addressing the hate you’ve been spewing for years now. And the notes on that post prove how much this fandom is fed up with your nonsense. There’s a reason everyone says ZK shippers are the worst part of the fandom. You know you can ship your pairing without constantly mischaracterizing other characters, right?

The irony is just unbelievable because you don’t even understand that I made that post as a response to your friends who keep saying Katara deserved better than ending up with Aang. Which is the problem you are addressing in your post! Why is what Katara deserves tied to a boy she ends up with? It doesn’t. You’re the one who’s been saying that for years! And I’m not making this stuff up, it’s literally all over your blog. Saying how Katara was done dirty because she ended up with Aang. Mind you, her ending up with Aang does not take away any of her accomplishments throughout the show.

So you don’t like the pairing and you’d like to imagine her with someone else, go at it. But don’t sit here and tell me that Katara was disrespected in her ending because she ended up with someone you didn’t want for her and call it “feminism”. I don’t get how you like Katara as a character and everything she represents for 3 seasons but the last 30 seconds of the show make you so mad you sit here and tell me I’m a misogynist because I believe Katara ended up with someone she actually wanted to be with. The show presents Katara as a strong willed, badass, fights-for-what-she-believes-in character. Throughout the 3 seasons Katara did what she felt was right, what she wanted to do, going against people who tried to steer her away from her goals…and me believing she is in charge of her own destiny is misogynistic? No you’re right, you telling me Katara had zero agency and was forced into a relationship or stayed in a relationship she was miserable in makes a lot of sense for the character that was presented to you in the show.

You’re the feminist here, obviously, because if a woman steers away from YOUR idea of a “good female character”, then she was suddenly “done dirty”. Because a woman who chooses to have 3 children was obviously forced into it. A woman who doesn’t fight at 80 years old is obviously not well written. A woman who, throughout 61 episode did whatever the fuck she felt was right, but chose to be with the guy YOU think was wrong for her, “deserved better”. That’s what you’ve been saying for years and that what I’m addressing in my OG post. Katara’s worth is not tied to a man she ends up with!!!

And I don’t even like Bryke, I have a lot of problems with them. But I hate that you’re disguising your hate for a pairing as “feminism”, because it’s not. It’s the complete opposite of that. Because feminism is supporting a woman’s right to choose whatever she wants to do. But if she’s choosing something YOU don’t agree with you’re crucifying her! You see the irony here?? I beg some of you to look up the definition for feminism because it’s been a while.

[dtfpeta]

Domesticity with Price...

(a/n: yes I want to make my lover a home cooked meal. yes I want him to wrap his arms around me while I cook. also I was this close to putting nsfw but I may just make a part two)

tags: husband!price, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k __________

Price who comes home to his doting wife standing in front of the stove. A roaring pot of boiling water being salted by your delicate hands which form a harsh pinch on the granules before releasing them into the porcelain dish.

He watches from the door as you slowly canter your hips, humming along to the soft melody of Al Green from your distant record player. His cheeks contort with a smile when he hears your abysmal attempt to recall the lyrics. Startling you out of your unaware serenade when his hands catch in the fabric of your dress to wrap around your waist.

"Smells good." He comments regarding the dish. His face is buried in the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of garlic, rosemary, and other spices that coat the house in its aroma. Your own fragrance of vanilla overwhelms his senses as he sighs into the crook of your neck.

"It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that..." You chastise, knowing the irony that lies in your statement being as stealth is not something your husband is unaccustomed to. "Could've burned myself." You add, half-heartedly scolding and rolling your eyes as his arms tighten their purchase on your hips.

On the stove lies a pot boiling with its now added component of rigatoni. To its side is a sizzling pan that has been providing the house with its encapsulating smell. John eyes the skillet. The melted butter works to caramelize the now translucent onions coated in sparse flakes of red pepper and rosemary. A wooden spatula wielded in your hand stirs the minced garlic cloves, doing your best to prevent their quick to burn nature.

Price loves your cooking and you love to cook for him. Seeing as his face melts into bliss when he tastes what magic you have cast on something as simple as a chicken pot pie. Or the way his eyes bulge when you reveal that a dish he has been scarfing down like a starved dog over the past several months contains mushrooms.

Ever since that day, he has not once argued about an ingredient in your cooking. Even as he eyes the tomato sauce being added to the pan, knowing he is going to suffer a severe case of heartburn but almost welcoming it, as he knows it will accompany an array of flavors he will be holding up his plate for more of.

"M'sorry love." He relishes. "Been looking forward to this all day. N' watching you from the door just made me miss ya' even more."

You scoff at his cheesy comment, placing your left hand to rest on his forearm that is draped around you as your right stirs at the still hard noodles.

You lay your utensil down and lean back into his embrace. Closing your eyes as you feel your bodies link together like a puzzle. One piece being a head taller than the other, but fitting together nonetheless. You sway with your husband to the tempo of the song playing in the background. His body is warm against your back, being stripped of his tactical gear and left in a black cotton shirt tucked into the waist of his same toned cargo pants, the legs of which are folded above his combat boots.

"How was work?" You ask, eyes still closed and body entangled in him. He regards your question with a low hum, feet lightly stepping side to side.

"Hm, the usual. Told some of the boys we could treat em' to dinner sometime. Be nice to get together, maybe show you off a lil'?"

He lightly pinches at your sides while pulling you closer to him. The scruff of his beard dances against your skin as he attacks your neck in quickly scattered kisses.

"John!" You laugh while attempting to distance yourself from his assault. Only to be swiftly turned around where you find his blue eyes smiling fondly at you. The warm tinted light from a nearby lamp casts soft shadows on the crows feet that crinkle near his eyes. The edges of his smile lines sharpening the more he beams at you.

There's not a place on Earth he would rather be.

For the longest, he distanced himself from love. Only finding that unachievable compromises would be asked of him, and due to his work, he was never able to fulfill those wishes. It only put a strain on his and his partners' relationship. He learned to deal with the lack of intimate companionship over the years. Just having the bond of his brothers in arms till he would return to his empty flat and scrounge up whatever microwaveable dish hadn't gone freezer burnt or remnants of leftovers left in his barren refrigerator. Until he met someone he could incorporate into the unpredictable schedule of his life.

The first time you cooked for him he was floored. Joking about how he'd have to hire you as his personal chef and saying how he could only dream of coming home to this every week. You had brought the ingredients to his apartment, insisting that you would treat him to a hot meal if he helped you, which he gladly agreed to. He stood slicing carrots and celery while you stirred a pot of chicken stock, placing sprigs of thyme and bay leaves into the broth as the chicken roasted in the oven, soon to be shredded and added to the pot. Said pot being three times bigger than your head.

"You trying to feed the whole squadron?" He'd teased. To which you only responded with a light snicker, knowing that in making such a large portion would provide him with leftovers for the rest of the week-and then some.

Several years later you now stood in your shared home, a simple wedding band adorning the both of you two's hands. Price's socks litter the shared space until you have to reprimand him to pick them up. Him responding with his own accusations of how you frequently leave your bra on the couch as well as your adversity to keep your hair ties in one place. What can you say, it's just more convenient when they're around the house.

The two of you's cleaning habits aren't the only thing that could use work though. The decorations are an obvious clash of one person who enhances the space with homely, comforting pieces, and another who has a hard time letting go of secondhand artifacts. And after Price's constant defense of his 'live laugh love' banner hanging on the wall of the kitchen, you began to give in to the cliché relic.

A more than familiar tune begins to play from the record player.

"Oh my God" Price's teeth shine through his grin as he picks up on the melody as well. It's the song you shared your first dance together to.

His coordinated hands move to your hips, your own responding by wrapping around his neck. You gaze up at him. The quickening of your heart makes its frequent appearance as he looks down at you. The butterflies you feel every time you look at him have yet to diminish their strength over the years. Even as you heard stories of the dreaded period following the honeymoon phase where couples do nothing but bicker, your heart remained the same.

The only thing you can focus on is his hickory-toned voice humming to the lyrics of the track. The vibration rumbles through his chest, making its way to your ear resting upon him. He sways with your body against his until you are replicating the dance from that night. Since that night he has always made it apparent you were his first priority. He protects and serves you, as you have brought a peace to his life he didn't think was possible.

"Y'know on my way home," he began "saw this woman with her kid. Maybe 5 years old. He was sitting on a bench while she was on the ground tying his shoe. He was swinging his leg, reading some comic book to her. Poor lasses feet barely touched the ground!" He lets out a breathy laugh before pausing for a moment. "Just got me thinking."

"About?"

"Bein' a dad." He stated, kissing the temple of your face. "Making you a mum."

You smiled into his chest. John knew you wanted kids, and he did too. The time just never found itself convenient. And even now there are uncertainties, but the knowledge you have that John would be an excellent father left you planting seedlings of the idea in his head when you had the chance. Passing by a pair of cute baby shoes in the store. The ring of adolescent laughter when you'd visit the aquarium. Or even a dress you would buy, waiting for your husband to compliment it before mentioning the garment worked as a maternity piece too.

Something had been pulling at his paternal strings lately, however. He yearned to fill the house with the both of your makings. Leaving your marks in its foundation. Whether that be with the rug you both haggled for at the flea market. The broken spring of your living room couch, product of an intense wrestling match between you two. (In which both parties were considered victorious by the end.) Or the poolhouse-toned blue paint that made its acquaintance on the crown molding of your bedroom wall. (Also caused by some spout of play fighting or whatever attempt Price had to get his hands on you.)

You leaned back to search his face, only finding a look of great fondness pulling at his features. Your palms came to cradle the sides of his face before a smile stretched on your own.

"Yeah. I think I'd like that." You brought his lips to yours, embracing him in a tender touch as you laughed into the kiss. Your hold on one another tightened. Knowing that Price was ready to take such a giant step now made you giddy as you imagined him holding his future child, playing make-believe with them, and cleaning up their bumps and bruises from playing in the yard.

"Can't believe you're saying yes to a baby before a dog, John." You both laughed before you turned your head at the smell of burnt garlic.

"Shit!" You quickly grabbed a wooden spoon to stir at the red mixture before turning the stove off.

"Don't tell me you lost your touch already, sweetheart?"

"You were distracting me." You declare, pointing your spatula at the towering man. "Just get the bowls from the cabinet and set the table, yeah?"

"Of course, hun." He mocked.

You glared a burning look into the back of his before he did as instructed, your temper cooling as you poured the pot of soft noodles into a strainer.

You and John were able to turn a house into your home. Soon the floor and walls would be sheathed in memories of your family. One of the first being your dinner of a burnt tomato rigatoni pasta.

[utilitycaster]

what are those 5 things? 👀

Seeing people start admit that maybe Imogen and Laudna did in fact pressure Fearne excessively hard to take the shard. I think it's good Fearne took it in the end, but yeah they really made it difficult for her to express her doubts and that was shitty of them. I got extensive hate for saying that at the time from people who are literally saying the same thing now. It's very funny.

The (entirely valid) complaints I've seen that people care more about imo/dna as a ship than Laudna as a character and are making her book solely about the fact that Imogen will show up in it. I pointed out this exact same problem occurring while Laudna was dead, almost two years ago.

Caleb considering leaving the Nein means they aren't really bonded. Imogen considering leaving Bells Hells means she's so perfect and caring and selfless and noble and good. Anyway yeah sure I definitely believe that if Imogen were a man played by Liam everyone would definitely be totally uncritical and love everything she did. (This is also a layered one, given how Twitter has been bashing Orym nonstop for over a year).

I know it's been a month and I've said this repeatedly so this is a bit tacky but I'm still riding the absolute Irony High of people being like "STOP TALKING ABOUT HUBRIS STOP TALKING ABOUT HUBRIS anyway of COURSE Bells Hells would NEVER see the gods as a messed up family, just like them" and then jump cut to Laudna literally saying that. It's just genuinely so funny that people mad at everyone calling Aeor full of hubris proceeded to get their wax wings straight up vaporized at the top of episode 102.

People calling imo/dna the bestest most organic most slow-burn sapphic ship ever (it's not even the longest slow-burn f/f ship on Critical Role; even if you're stupid enough to count the two years we know virtually nothing about just for the purposes of padding out the time to eliminate Beauyasha on a technicality - nevermind that slowburn is about the length of the story itself and not the length of time the characters have known each other, since it's obvious that if someone said 'here's Jane and Kate, they've known each other for 300 years, now they are kissing' this would not be a satisfying slowburn unless like, you went back and filled in the 300 years - Kimallura STILL wins) but as someone who received a decent amount of harassment for saying it wasn't very interesting and as such kept tabs on the people engaging in that harassment...they've been dropping like flies. If it's the best sapphic ship ever and it's canon and you're in the top 5 ships for the show of all time on ao3 and Delilah's gone and they're going to get their cottage, funny how a good chunk of the shippers haven't even managed to stay interested in CR. Also why are half the people who HAVE kept up like hmmmm what if I threw Fearne or Ashton in there. Like believe me, I support a poly hells situation, but uh. quite a tumble for what people used to call the Beating Heart Of The Campaign (TM).

Bonus! This is below a cut because it has spoilers for next week's Re-Slayer's Take that's only out for Beacon subscribers but

we see Devexian, and he meets Frog (an aeormaton PC) and his overall statement on Aeor is "it created us to serve, and we fought for our autonomy. It was both a beautiful and terrible place. Anyway the past is past, what's important is that we as aeormatons take our chance to live now, and my personal goal is not just to bring back as many aeormatons as I can, but learn how to make more aeormatons." He is completely uninterested, at least in 839 PD, in any sort of action against the gods. Like, I think he regrets the fall of Aeor because a lot of Aeormatons and knowledge died in it but he literally is like "your life is defined by your own choices, not your designation at the time of Aeor." The actual survivors of the fall of Aeor are like anyway, we want acceptance, autonomy, and the means to control our own production in modern day Exandria. Ludinus whomst.

[nectardaddy]

aftermath - higuruma hiromi

cw: blood, death, homicide, manga spoilers (I mean, if you know who tf he is you're fine tbh), language

notes: established relationship, gender neutral, inspired by if I killed someone for you by alec benjamin (was gonna put the song in but I refuse to put the gigantic eyesore that tumblr auto gives me and idk how to fix it)

synopsis: how should one react when their lover shows up on their doorstep covered in blood?

part two

You didn't mean for your breath to hitch in your throat so violently, creating an audible gasp from the air that lodged itself. Your fingers gripping the edge of your opened door with a grasp so desperate your hand already began to ache. Nails digging into the hard wood as you tried to decipher the pressing image before you.

"Hiromi-" you choked out. Voice wavering as his presence alone was enough to make your knees buckle. Dark, unwavering eyes boring into you. Seemingly nothing within them but a glimmer of something primal, macabre, and- desperate. You weren't a stranger to the unyielding looks, always transfixed on something well beyond his reach, but this was different. A look of a monster, and his attire following suit.

He was usually a well dressed, dapper man. But as he stood upon your doorstep, your opinion flipped instantaneously. A ruffled, crumbled suit jacket littered with dark blotches around the cuff, his white shirt underneath being the tell tale sign of what the mysterious blots were. A stark contrast, red on white, staining the previously ironed shirt right down to the threads. Cheeks splattered with the same red, a large spill just under his eye, like he had tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe his face. "What have you done?" You whispered, speaking softly as if it would untangle you from seeing him so heinous.

"Can I come in?" A gruff, almost uncaring, voice in comparison to your own. You didn't know why you hurriedly nodded, why you shifted out of the way for him to enter your home, why you thought letting this man back into your home was a good idea. It was against your better judgment, but you wracked your brain about the thought of 'there has to be a good reason.' This was the man you loved after all, not a cold hearted killer, or so you came to believe.

Hearing the door click shut and the lock engage, his eyes scanned his surroundings before returning to you. Tired eyes once again looking into you, almost trying to see through you with the intensity of it. "I killed them," he said bluntly, without regard and without further context. His words made your shoulders slump, your body creating shivers as his words hit you so profoundly.

"Who?" Was all you managed to ask, the word escaping your lips so quietly you hoped he would be able to hear it at all. Not asking why, not asking where or when. Who.

"The retrial was today," he said simply. It was all you needed, an impactful statement to which your eyes widened and your mouth opened. Quickly shutting it as no words were found on the tip of your tongue, your throat suddenly dry at the revelation, you could only stare. Looking over him to find any sort of answer, your eyes stopping at the collar of his suit jacket. There once was a small sunflower pin on the lapel, one you had gifted him years ago to replace the former. It was gone. It came off. Could the man you love really be so violent? So much so his beloved pin was ripped from him in the heat of the moment?

You couldn't say what had possessed you to step closer to the man, your lover, the murderer. Each step becoming easier as you neared him, stopping just before him and looking up. So close you could smell the gruesome, irony twinge mingling with the scent of his cologne. It made you nauseous, wanting nothing more than to spill your guts right then and there. But you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look upon the man who had sworn he'd love you to the end of his days. "Are you alright?"

A man of his situation might have said no, should have said no. "I've never felt better," he answered honestly. Looking down at you with a ghost of a smile, a mind fraying image now engraved in your psyche. Your fingers reached for his shoulders, letting out a shaky breath as your hands came in contact with him. It was damp.

"Oh my god," you spoke, forcing yourself to close your eyes at the sensation. You feared to lift your hands to what you would see on your palms, subconsciously pushing down the thoughts to the deepest part of your mind. "Oh my fucking god," you repeated, unable to form a single coherent thought as you couldn't stop yourself from circling back to the feeling.

But the hand, drenched in the same crimson, that gently touched your cheek made your eyes snap open and you inhaled sharply. There was blood on his hands, staining his fingers in sin so much so it was under his nails. That blood was now on you, ripping your stomach right out of your body as you wanted to heave. Desperately searching his features for any sort of answer, but only coming to the same conclusion.

The man you loved killed two people - and liked it.

oh I'm definitely making a part 2 are you kidding??? I wrote this shit in an hour that's a new fucking record for me

[maxwell-grant]

(VENTURE BROS FINALE SPOILERS)

There's this thing I keep thinking back to in The Venture Bros, that is the way everyone talks about Jonas Venture. The early myth of Jonas Venture, the great man and hero beloved by everyone who has been succeeded by a less-than-great failure of a son, is eventually twisted around with the gradual reveal of Jonas as a horrible man who did horrible things to his son that made him the way he is, and with every subsequent appearence unveiling more and more about the depths of depravity Jonas was actively capable of. We get to see how much Jonas is responsible for many of the issues all the characters find themselves envolved in, how much can be traced back to him, and we see things he's done that even appalled the rest of the old Team Venture who seemed mostly fine with all the other things he was doing. Rusty even gets a couple of moments of catharsis where he's shown to be making progress in having moved past his dad.

But the way people talk about Jonas Venture never changes. There is no reckoning for anyone other than maybe Rusty. Jonas Venture is the biggest and most successful and influential character even after his death, and his perception at large never remotely changes. He is the biggest monster, and so he has the best public image out of everyone. All the little monsters are just playing in his pool, and even all the other not-monsters will cover for him and praise him no matter what he did, no matter how many people he killed, no matter how many children's lives he ruined or how much destruction he left everywhere he went.

When we're introduced to Professor Victor von Helping, the kindest and most helpful person Dean's ever had in his life, he expresses open admiration for Jonas as an inspiration for getting into science, something he will explain to Dean was what saved him and allowed him to take control of his life from his horrible father, and this is directly after the Morpho saga that had shown us Jonas at his absolute worst. And the thing is, we're not meant to think less of Von Helping for it. He is not malicious, he doesn't worship science or Jonas for any nefarious or ignorant reason, he just knows what everyone does: that Jonas Venture was a great scientist who changed the world and has been succeeded by a not very impressive son.

Ben, who personally assisted Jonas in the cloning process and who knows what else and now lives in a graveyard of hundreds of people whose deaths he directly attributes to both Rusty and Jonas, is still about as benevolent as a super scientist can really be in the setting, and in the movie he helps cap off the show with a message to Hank Venture that he delivers based on what Jonas passed onto him. He attributes "Blood doesn't make a family; love does", a closing statement on the show, as heartfelt wisdom from Hank's granddad. It's not played for irony. We can debate whether it's meant to have some or the degree to which that statement can be read as malicious coming from Jonas or someone who was that closely affiliated with him, but none of that even really matters in that moment of Hank's closure and Ben being able to provide some with what he claims to be Jonas' teachings.

None of this takes away from all the horrible things Jonas did. None of this is meant to be any kind of redemption for him or his legacy. His legacy may be complicated, but Jonas Venture was not a complicated man. Complications and moral dillemmas are things he invented for the little people around him to deal with, whether they fought for the Guild or the OSI, or they are little Ventures scurrying in his shadow. Moral greyness was just a thing for chumps to be concerned about while Jonas ruled the world unimpeded from doing whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted.

Usually when shows have this big, massive force behind so many unfolding events and characters and traumas, there's a degree to which their comeuppance involves some kind of larger reckoning. They get exposed for who they are, their legacy crumbles, their great deeds are rendered lesser, they are given ignoble fates or some kind of retributive punishment, society can rest easier with the great evil exposed and defeated, and the audience can rest easier knowing that, if some great evil like this was made public and exposed, we'd do something about it. We'd so something about it on a scale that matters and stops it from happening again.

We need to believe that's what happens because we can't, and maybe we must never, accept that it doesn't work that way, that all around us are monuments and reminders that celebrate the monstrosities of our forefathers and their grip on our current lives, even when everything they've done and continue doing is public record, even when you tell someone about it and they still keep doing it, and everyone around you gives them a pass to do it so long as it (and by "it", they mean you) doesn't bother them.

And it's not like none of those things happened with Jonas, he did get a deserving comeuppance of sorts in the Morpho trilogy. But nobody really cared. Nobody that mattered cared. Only Rusty cares, and Rusty doesn't matter. Certainly not as much as his dad matters. Jonas gets the approval of the world and all the accolades and statues that follow, and he gets to crush his children forever under the weight of his legacy because of that. All they can do is try and survive past him, and even that is enough of a struggle.

But even with all of that, even with Ben's gentle and comforting parting words being another reminder that history exonerates Jonas for everything he's done while looking down on those he victimized, I find myself thinking of the fact that the last we ever see of Jonas' image is that accursed statue finally being toppled off it's pedestal, and the entire cast banding together to rescue The Monarch, his other son and victim, from it. They may not even like him (and for good reasons), but they don't let the invincible grip of his father take him to the grave. It takes them all to push back Jonas, but they push him back nonetheless, and Monarch lives another day.

It's not what the movie ends on, it's more of a funny moment than anything. It's just I was going to end this ramble pessimistically, until I remembered this frame. The true final word on him.

May we all survive the Jonas Ventures of our lives and push those fuckers back into the trash where they belong.

[levyfiles]

i feel like if they just said straight up that they don't want to be youtubers cause they're "better than that" - which honestly feels like the subtext here - it would have been better than this disingenuous sentimental nonsense followed by an ask for money, the phrasing of which made it sound like we should feel guilty for consuming their art for free till now

OK, I have said this a few times but this is going to be my last time saying this on tumblr.

Youtube is a platform once built for users in 2006; the idea was for those locked out of the industry to have an opportunity to share their creations. As time went on, the very moment that content started to be funded by sponsors, the platform changed. Decades later, the platform--and believe me when I say this--is controlled by sponsors and ads. A lot of people don't realise this because we all have our ad-block on. We work tirelessly not to have to consume media peddled to us with agendas and propaganda; we pay for software so we don't get it.

We accepted Youtube charging some of us monthly so we don't see ads, so we can enjoy the platform more comfortably. If you're in your early-to late 30s then you know that Youtube crafted a whole lot of our experience online but it has not gone without changes. The ad breaks are now populated with sponsors with a big list of prerequisites and we sit there and guffaw through a straight 40 seconds of a creator peddling fast-fashion, cheap drinks with poison in them, platforms that sell $1 items off the backs of slave labour, and knives that don't even work just so we can sit back and pretend we'd rise to the occasion when an opportunity to practice socialism presents itself.

Well, here's the bad news. Socialism does not mean you sit back and get everything handed to you. That is literally right-wing propaganda. Socialism is every one taking a piece of what they have to crowd-source the things we want. It is letting artists be artists to create things that do not contribute to consumerism/corporate culture.

In the end, the internet has shown me that all these LARPING children believing in the future where shit gets handed to them off the backs of other people's hard work will open their greedy maws and scream slurs, insults, and backhanded statements at any creator who seizes control of the thing they've produced. You don't want to see artists grow; you want creators/artists strapped to the capitalism hamster wheel while they create the same trendy crap that sponsors tell you that you want until they burn out and retire.

The saddest thing of all is the irony of you calling that video sentimental nonsense when it shows you the story; it tells you that they all got started the way most of our favourite youtubers started but then Buzzfeed happened which may have opened some doors for them but if Ryan didn't fight tooth and nail, we would have had a Netflix show with some non descript white guy hosting it because that's the vision Buzzfeed saw. It's what so many of you see when you want the thing you like, that you watch them work tirelessly to make, to be free forever.

Of course they're too good for Youtube. Youtube is trash now and you're going to start to notice that very quickly now.

[a0random0gal]

Soo today I made the terrible mistake to look for hotd art on pinterest, and came across a... particular comment that genuinely led me to question my faith in humanity.

Oh boy

Where do I even begin with this?

I thought team black was at least cool with Hel cause she's literally the most innocent character in the show (except for the kids obviously) but apparently some blacks have beef with her too now.

Cool, just great.

Haelena had the opportunity to go with her kids to Nyra.

I'm sorry but why? Why would she want to betray her family, her actual family? Rhaenyra never gave a flying fuck about her growing up, they have never even talked on screen! Why, why would she dump her siblings and her parents to join the cause of the woman who's side wants the people she loves killed? It makes no sense whatsoever. The blacks really don't understand that not everyone on Planetos loves Nyra like them and it shows.

Also if she really tried to betray her family for Nyra, I think Aegon, Ali and Aemond would have noticed Dreamfyre leaving King's Landing to go to Dragonstone and would have gone after her on Sunfyre and Vhagar.

And even if she somehow made it there, what do you think was going to happen? Rhaenyra was just going to welcome them with open arms as if she wasn't married to her "usurper"?

Best case scenario Nyra pretends to welcome them in and then Daemon sends his men to strangle Jaehaerys and Maelor as they sleep to get rid of Aegon's possible heirs.

I mean hell in the books Rhae put a fucking bounty on her 2 year old nephew's head that lead to his brutal death and they think she would just allow them to switch sides? Man these people really do not know how the game of thrones works.

She wanted to be queen

When? When has it ever been stated that Hel wants to be queen? When did we ever get a dialogue where she talked about how she couldn't wait for Aegon to inherit so she could replace her mom as queen?

Never

Haelena spends most of her time on screen making prophecies of the future, playing with bugs and dancing with Jace, when has her ambition for the crown been portrayed?

When have we seen any hint of her desire for power? Wtf

We're all dumb and sick bla bla...

Honestly after all this trash I've had to debunk being called names doesn't even phase me lmao. Go ahead, insulting others is always your last resort when you don't know how to admit that you're wrong.

We are blinded by the outside beauty of the characters and don't pay attention to who they really are

Ohhh the sweet sweet irony of this statement .

Team broccoli doesn't acknowledge their rapist usurper, their war criminal prince and their whore queen Alicunt! They're so nasty!

But Isn't Daemon suuper hot? God he is such an obedient malewife, Rhaenyra couldn't have chosen better! He's not a pedo guys I swear, the young silver haired virgins' ages were never confirmed, maybe they were at least eighteen! And he totally didn't pursue Nettles sexually, she was most likely his daughter!

What a joke

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

I really don’t think we should be treating morality as a linear thing in ASOIAF because what often happens is that we start to stray from the actual conversations that we need to be having regarding the depths of making a moral choice and even the circumstances involved. To try and blankly paint any one character as the “most morally good” isn’t really taking us anywhere. And it certainly isn’t helpful when people in this fandom want to try and prove that characters are “grey” but not moral (what does that even mean??) because they did one “bad” thing. If ASOIAF stans were to have their way, then:

Jon is not a morally good person because he threatened Gilly

Dany cannot be considered to be compassionate because she sanctioned torture against the wine seller’s daughters

Arya cant be good because she has killed people

and so on, and so on….

But this is such a draining, and oft times frustrating, conversation to have because you see just how shallow the above listed examples are? Readers are listing only singular instances across a narrative that spans thousand and thousands of pages, and there’s absolutely no context involved. Why did Jon threaten Gilly? Why did Dany resort to torture and at one point did she do it? Who did Arya kill and why? And why do those singular instances negate everything else in their arcs?

What usually happens when we have the 12847647282th unnecessary conversation about who is the “most good” character in ASOIAF is that we start getting blanket statements with no elaboration. And the only people ever considered are Ned, Brienne, and Davos, and sometimes the children like Shireen or Tommen. Mind you, Ned and Davos are not perfect or without their own faults either; much has been said about Ned’s abilities as a father and it’s implied that Davos was not entirely faithful to his wife. And based on her current arc, Brienne will surely have to make morally tough choices regarding oaths and knightly honor. Plus theres the irony of including literal children when they have not been put in situations where they actually have to make morally difficult choices and live with the consequences.

ASOIAF shows us that people who are capable of incredible kindness and compassion are also capable of doing unpleasant things.

Jon threatened Gilly….because he was trying to save another child whom he believed to be at risk of human sacrifice(!!) and was stuck between a rock and a hard place. But why does that singular instance negate the fact that his arc has been about him standing up for the “lesser than”? Why does that negate the fact that he stood up for Sam against a superior when there was nothing to gain for him? Why does it negate the fact that he went out of his way to equip Arya in a way that society would have deemed inappropriate? Why does it negate the fact that he dedicated the entirety of his time as Lord Commander to fight an institution that had upheld racism/xenophobia for millennia? Why should we filter out all those moments of kindness, compassion, and deep empathy that Jon has even without him thinking?

Dany sanctioned torture….but she was trying to solve the murder of an innocent victim AND this brought her no joy. But why does that negate the fact that when she gained unimaginable power, she could’ve high tailed to Westeros to use it to her benefit and become queen, but instead chose to stay in Essos where she has no personal responsibility just so she could fight the institutional evil that is slavery? Why does it negate Dany who went to personally treat plague victims at great risk to herself?

Arya has killed some….but it’s in self defense or in defense of others who are disenfranchised. But why does this negate that she is one of the few people in the series how goes out of her way to show kindness and friendship to those who are not as economically or politically advantaged as she is (e.g., Mycah)? Why does it negate that she took fellow slaves under her protection when she herself had little power to fight for her own survival at Harrenhall? Why does it negate that when she saw those caged soldiers whom she was angry with for their actions, instead of leaving them to die instead offered them the only kindness she could at the moment: a drink of water?

Trying to have arguments about morality but stripping everything down to ‘x character did y bad thing (regardless of context) and that’s why they can’t be good’ is, to be blunt, ridiculous. And it isn’t a particularly interesting way to engage with the text. Character journeys, especially well written ones, are rarely ever in a straight line. There’s amazing highs and terrible lows. GRRM gives us so many characters like Jon, Dany, Arya, Sansa, Ned, etc. who even in their lows, have gleams of compassion and exceptional kindness. It doesn’t do anyone any good to filter those moments out to make the books more digestible; and I’m being a little generous here, because so many readers have a very shallow level of engagement with the series and it shows in conversation. And we also shouldn’t pit these characters unfairly against those who have never been in similarly difficult situations that required them to make hard choices. Because when we do, we start to completely miss the point all together.

[thelingodingo]

Examples of Haikyuu Characters Using Formal Speech for Sarcasm (慇懃無礼)

You may have heard that there is no such thing as sarcasm/irony in Japanese, which is true if you're thinking about it from an English perspective. But a form of sarcasm/humour in Japanese that I really enjoy is polite rudeness. Basically, it's when one uses excessively formal language towards someone they usually would not. It can be seen in English to an extent as well, for example, if your friend is being overdramatic over something you did you might say, "oh my! I can see that my gracious friend is outrageously offended by my ludicrous statement! I humbly apologize for my crudeness and beg you for forgiveness!!!!!!" It's very obvious that you are being sarcastic towards your friend by overly formalizing your words like that.

There happens to be a good amount of examples used in Haikyuu of this polite rudeness which I wanted to share with you all since it's not something that's really translated in the subtitles.

Tsukishima: theres a handful of times throughout the show (especially in season 1) where Tsukishima uses formal speech in relation to Kageyama whenever his King of the Court attitude appears. It's very clear that Tsukki is using formal speech to make fun of the "King". This is something thats pretty much conveyed in the subtitles tho.

Hinata: like Tsukki, Hinata also uses formalities towards Kageyama to poke fun at him, such as when he calls him "Kageyama-kun".

Bokuto: in the scene where Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi are talking to Tsukishima, Kuroo mentions that Bokuto is within the top 5 spikers in the country to which Akaashi adds on how Bokuto isn't in the top 3. In response, Bokuto says "Don't raise me up just to let me get knocked down" (subtitles), he says it in formal Japanese which adds on a sense of humour for the audience.

Miya Twins: an obvious scene is when they are fighting and Osamu sarcastically says in formal speech, "Does wittle Atsumu-kun never make a mistake?!" (subtitles). Theres a couple more examples of the twins using polite rudeness against each other throughout the Karasuno Inarizaki match as well, you just gotta listen for it.

Suna: Atsumu says, "I'm not gonna let them just keep picking up my attacks" and Suna replies, "I'm the one that actually attacked, though". He says the sentence formally in a sarcastic way since obviously it really is him that's actually doing the attacks.

I'm sure theres more examples but those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head.