#if you have any other phrases that made you think they must be easier to understand in russian

[sonntam]

I don't think I've seen a write-up on various fairy-tale and Russian sayings references in the English translation, so I'd like to make one.

"Puddles make poor drinks" and "Gorkhon water will turn you into livestock": what's up with that?

There is a fairytale about a big sister and the little brother. They walk for a long time and the brother is very thirsty. His big sister keeps telling him to keep going and not to drink from the puddles, like a goat. Eventually the little brother drinks from the puddle.

And promptly turns into a goat.

Rest of the fairytale is about the big sister returning the little brother to his original form.

So, this is where the talks about puddles and water turning you into livestock is about.

The Akela joke did not work at all in the translation.

It comes from Mowgli, which is well known due to the USSR cartoon. In the book (and in the cartoon) the elderly wolf leader Akela misses during a hunt... after which he promptly is deposed as a leader of the pack. Mowgli loses his protection and this is a Big Deal.

So whenever a boss in real life makes a silly mistake (say, throwing a paperball into the bin and missing) everyone thinks it's very funny to say "Akela missed!" implying that they will get a new boss now and the current one will get deposed for this mistake.

Here "Akela never misses" means that Khan being at risk of infection and coming into the nutshell does not diminish his importance at all and his dogheads are just as loyal as before, happily delivering loot to him.

There is a saying: "Better a sparrow in hand, than a stork in the sky."

It means that you should treasure what you have, instead of preferring that which you can't get (so easily).

Lara Ravel references that she can't be happy with the little she has. She wants to help others and for this she needs more.

"Maybe I could be useful to you" is a classic thing that various animals say to people in fairytales, once they are caught and plead for their lives.

I think, this is a popular trope in English fairytales as well, but the phrasing here is lifted directly from fairytales in Russian, so pointing it out either way.

"Everyone's shirt is closer to their skin" is a well known Russian saying.

It means that your happiness and comfort is always more important to you than the comfort of other people. Hence: your shirt is closer to your skin, so you care about it more.

"Silence implies assent" is another popular saying (it even rhymes in Russian).

If someone proposes a course of action and no one speaks out against it or for it, then people usually say "silence is a sign of assent" and consider the matter settled. (Or, more often, people then suddenly say that they disagree and you get a more lively and productive conversation.)

I can't find another screenshot, but Dankovsky says something similar about "I wore down seven pairs of shoes getting to this town".

It obviously could be taken as a factual statement, but most likely it's a reference to fairytales.

In a lot of fairytales the protagonist will be given on a long journey seven pairs of iron boots. Once all of them break, the hero has reached his destination.

Same here: it's a fairytale way of saying that you had a long and arduous journey (or in Capella's case, ran around the whole town for years).

"I'll just peek with one eye" is another popular Russian phrase.

"Can I look?"

"No"

"How about if I look with just one eye?"

Obviously, it's nonsense, but it's a typical thing to say if you REALLY want to look at something, so you just say "pleeeease, I will just look only a little".

[dripdropdown555]

The Bimbo Bounce (I’m back)

Alliteration is a useful hypnotic tool. It gives sentences a bit of extra potency, makes mantras easier to remember, and improves the lifespan of a suggestion pretty considerably. That's the operating theory, anyway. Shall we explore?

Bounce for me; that's simple enough to start things off.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

The phrase sticks, somehow, even though it sounds a little silly. Something seems to make it linger in your head. It has a unique feel to it, a quality you can't quite put your finger on. The syllables seem to echo: bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

But how does a bubbly brain behave? Like a bubble, as you'd expect, with something creating a volume of empty space inside while thoughts slide smoothly across the expanding surface, oily and slick. At first, it feels like your thoughts have more area across which to spread. Your thoughts shift slightly, glistening and growing ever more thin. At least, until the bubble pops.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

And burst it must. Bubbles are ephemeral entities, aren't they? It's alright; you'll scarcely notice. When the bubble pops, your thoughts that are currently floating on the surface will splash to the floor. The empty space inside will rush rapidly outward, turning you into a bit of an airhead. Seems fitting, doesn't it?

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink

Bounce, and pop.

You'll feel the splash like a sudden surge of lust and arousal coursing through your body. The rush of air inside your head might cause you to get light-headed, so you'll spread your legs to steady yourself. Of course that's what you're doing, isn't it? Steadying yourself, not putting yourself on display. Right.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Burst bubbly brains blew pink

Bimbos brainlessly bounce.

As you begin to bounce to a silent rhythm, it occurs to you that some bubbles have a kaleidoscopic sheen when you look at them, but others have a very solid color within. Your brain-bubble was bubblegum pink, now that you think about it.

Well, as much as you can presently think about anything. That pop did more than just fill your head with empty air. You can feel your intelligence leaking into the space around you, escaping...your absent brain can't contain it any longer.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

If your brain was still intact, you might think to stop bouncing so you'd be better able to think. But your brain exploded in a flash of pink and wet, and now you're as blank as a bouncing bimbo should be. You're able to understand my words out of some remnant of intuition, but if you pause to try and think them through, everything just goes pink and pops again.

Blank bimbos bounce brainlessly

That seems sensible enough, especially since bouncing feels pretty good. The splash of wet pink thoughts from the pop made your body more sensitive, perhaps by providing you with better things on which to focus. You certainly feel blank, and you are bouncing. Are you a bimbo, though?

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

A side effect of the bubbly brain from before is that you're finding all of this pretty amusing. Certain bits of sentences make you want to giggle and smile, even when you can barely understand them. Might've let too much of your intelligence leak away, but it's all just so silly, isn't it?

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

If you were a bimbo, would you be able to tell? Would you find the situation you're in far more amusing than you should? Would your body be becoming progressively more sensitive as your empty head adjusts to having no thoughts to contain and feeds all that focus to your hungry nerves? Would the bouncing be this arousing all by itself?

That depends primarily on what sort of bimbo you've become, but the answer should be clear by now. Each bounce produces a wave of pleasure, each wave pushes more of the remnants of your brains into the air. The less brains left in your head, the more you smile and giggle. The giggles produce flashes of pink that remind you how very silly and simple this is. All you did was bounce.

Bouncing blank bubbly bimbos are brainwashed

Bounces can take all sorts of forms. You can bounce bits of your body with your hands, bounce up and down in a chair, bounce with the aid of the springs below the bed...all to the same end. Everything is turning pink and wet and silly for you.

This leaves you with only two options: You could let yourself settle, riding the high of the blank bubbly brainwashed bimbo until your brain somewhat reluctantly returns to your head. I won't stop you, you'd simply wake after a few minutes of coming back down.

Or the blank bouncing brainwashed bimbo could shift the energy from bouncing just a little and satisfy that lust your body is feeling. The only real hazard is that your head is already full of air, and cumming your brains out when they've already mostly evaporated could leave you pretty dumb before it's all said and done.

But you've already made a choice, or it's already been made for you. My words could be passing by almost invisibly as the bouncing subsides, or you may already be excitedly picking a toy to bounce on or a rhythm to use while you stroke yourself senseless.

Either way, everything will fade into a yummy pink haze before much longer. I wonder how much bimbo brain you'd need to bounce away before the condition became a bit stuck...

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly

Bubbly brains are bound to burst

Burst bubbly brains blow pink bubbles

Blank brainless bimbos bounce

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

Blank bouncing bimbos are brainwashed

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

Go on, up and down, bouncing yourself all brainless and bubbly. You'll drift awake awhile after you've finished following my instructions.

Do let me know how silly, brainless, or dumb you felt...if you are comfortable expressing it, of course.

(Editors Note: I used to be @slowlymyavenue but tumblr shadow banned me so I have restarted - please follow and reblog here)

[satyricplotter]

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened.  for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.               

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films?  he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of  a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else.  in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

[a-confused-spoon]

Jinx's haircut: how Powder and Ekko's story comes full circle

Hi! So, it appears Jinx will be cutting her hair short in season 2 (which is cool as fuck), and I’ve been seeing a lot of discussion on it, so I wanted to share my two cents 😊

I might refer to Jinx and Powder as if they are different ideantities, but I'm aware that's not how that works; it's just an easier way to express myself. Also english isn't my first language, so apologies for any possible wiritng mistake (this is a bit of a mess 😅)

* deep breath in *

As it has already been pointed out, this choice must have a deeper reason other than esthetic (I've been seeing the phrase "hair holds memories" used a lot), and what's even more interesting is that her new look resembles a lot how she used to look like as a kid; a bit bizarre, given how the entirety of season 1 showed us how Powder and Jinx's coexistence only brings the girl pain. As a matter of fact, the finale makes it clear to us that even she sees these two sides of herself as mutually exclusive.

So why and how exactly would this happen now?

What I keep going back to is the idea that maybe, just maybe, this has to do with her possibly "taking the lead" in Zaun; whether she actively becomes a leader or if she just "leads by example" (therefore passively), it doesn't change the fact that for better or worse she will be depicted as a leading revolutionary figure.

And fair enough: she singlehandedly killed half of the Council, the people who hold decisional power and have contributed to the misery on the other side of the river. After Vender's failed attempt on the bridge and Silco's focus on his own business dealings with Piltover among everything else he did, Jinx's attack on the city - something she does to ultimately solidify her identity as Jinx - opens a door that the Undercity was waiting to be opened for decades.

Here's the thing:

Being Jinx doesn't just mean acting on unbridled rage and being a menace to society; it means being feared by most, if not all, with the only possible exceptions being those who also accepted their inner monster. To put it in Singed's words, "If you take this path, they will despise you".

Being Jinx fundamentally implies loneliness.

Silco was consistently reminding her this: "I am your family; everyone else betrays us" / "Everyone betrays us Jinx! Vander! Her! They will never understand, it's only us".

In the official clip 'Enemy of my enemy' we find out that he only saw her cry twice, the two scenes we also witness as an audience, meaning he didn't see her cry once during the timeskip, and I'm sure it's safe to say that she most definitely did cry a lot given how she goes from episode 3 Powder (scared, couldn't grasp the concept of killing someone, heartbroken by the nickname jinx) to episode 4 Powder (a beast, kills in cold blood, has taken Jinx as her actual name)... it must've been an ugly transition, and it definitely didn't happen overnight; if Silco, who was the closest person she had all that time, didn't see it, then I think it speaks a lot on how alone Jinx really was in her darkest times.

For all the love he had for her, he reinforced this idea of isolation as an unescapable consequence of the right path, and I think this is also reflected in the lair that (supposedly) he found for her, especially when you compare it to the Firelights’ one:

The Firelights (this is important for later) are all about community and sharing joy as well as struggle and pain; they live in a place of healing, filled with life, without a roof so the sunlight can reach them during the day, and at nights living bugs that shine a light of their own fill up the hideout.

Jinx's place is diametrically opposed to this: it’s dark and looks cold, it's completely made of metal, the roof’s blocking any natural light and it hangs above an abyss with no bottom to be seen; the only company she consistently has are the puppets of her dead brothers and the only living thing that knows his way in is the only one that can understand, the only one she can rely on - aka Silco himself.

However, as Jinx herself knows, this may have worked for him, but it wasn't working for her for the longest time: she never stopped yearning for affection, love, friendship- that part of her never really went away; it was only being suppressed, suffocated, maybe unintentionally, and I strongly believe that it only worsen her trauma, and it's one of the things that made her spiral so bad into her depression, to the point of hallucinating.

I think that Silco's line in the baptism scene is particularly relevant here: "You need to let Powder die, so the fear of pain will no longer control you", where the fear of pain would refer to the fear of being on her own, of always failing and disappointing others, of being weak and never satisfying the desires, expectations, hopes that Powder carried within her to be “a valuable member of the team”.

If she lets Powder die (which again, she does in the final episode of season 1), this is no longer a problem: if she doesn't do teams, because teams don't want a jinx to begin with, that fear can't get to her; if she's a solo player, a self-sufficient loose cannon, she won't need to rely on anyone but herself because she's strong on her own and does not need the support of others.

If her power lays in the monster she is, the one everyone condemns her for being, then that childhood wish of hers just isn't a realistic option.

...but then this happens.

We know from the teaser trailer that in the operation Caitlyn's leading, 'finding Jinx' and 'neutralize any agent still loyal to Silco' are separate objectives. Which makes sense, since as far as they know Silco was the leader of a group of people, and now that he's gone Jinx is an individual under her own agency and her own agency alone. If initially she fights by herself, for herself because she can and fuck Piltover, then it all falls in line with what I stated so far.

But then we hear Sevika, who has hated Jinx's guts and who Jinx has hated back since day one, telling her to get the people together, to unite the Undercity as one because she can do that. Mind you, the girl has lived in Zaun all her life, she knows damn well that the end of Piltover is something the entire Undercity has been waiting for (“Imagine what the whole of the Lances could do!” from episode 2); yet despite this she needs to be openly told what is going on, that she’s not sizing the opportunity she’s created. She isn't, cause... her? Leading? A group of people? No. Not after the last time she tried to help, and most importantly, not after everything she learned under Silco.

Jinx can't fathom the idea of herself as a part of a part of a team. How can she? She literally just came to terms with isolation as ever present- and now, for some reason, the people of the city, who always either ran away from her or wanted her gone, are dying their hair blue in her image, trusting her, following her, painting murals of her as the bringer of revolution.

She isn't taking power forcibly like Silco did; she's just doing her thing, her Jinx thing, and Zaun, on its own, is choosing her as the leading figure.

Imagine how frustrating it must be for Jinx to look back and realize that Silco, her father- who has loved her, forgiven her, raised her, called her perfect, defended her, was there for her, saved her, guided her- was wrong, and put her in a condition of never ending existential pain when she could’ve had it differently the entire time; imagine how confusing it must be for her to look back and realize that it never mattered whether or not others understood her, 'cause she wasn't as unlovable or unforgivable as she thought herself to be in the first place, that Silco and Vi were never her only options.

Imagine how painful it must be for her to look back and realize that for all this time she could’ve had friends and be accepted and be trusted and rely on others because she never HAD to be alone.

...keeping this in mind, let's talk about Ekko and the missing flashback from episode 7 for a moment.

Admittedly we don’t have a lot of information, other than it took place not too long after the events of episode 3 (then again, to be fair, we don’t know a lot about their relationship as enemies as well: it’s all between the lines; I surely have my own opinions of how they feel about each other being on the enemy side, but I don’t believe it’s super relevant here). What’s for sure about this flashback is that it was a defining moment in both Ekko and Powder’s journey, especially for the latter. Someone surely died, and it 100% was Powder’s fault. It could be both the result of her very first crisis or her first intentional murder; in both cases it results in her deciding for herself to align with Silco as opposed to her best friend.

The way I like to see it is that, since the trauma was still very fresh, she might have been too scared of the idea of fighting alongside others after what happened last time, and she pushed herself to kill someone on purpose just to push Ekko away and prove a point (Silco’s point). I love the idea of the tragic irony of Ekko being the one person Powder managed to really save, and Powder being the one person Ekko couldn’t.

Personal headcanons aside though, the last part is the most important one here: Ekko couldn’t save Powder from Silco, and by extension everything he represents.

I’d like to point out that one of the most tragic aspects of the two becoming enemies (to me) is that, throughout those years, they reciprocally were the only living person the other shared a past with (well, Vi too, but she was in prison the entire time).

Silco not only takes over by force, he also marks as his all the places of said past: the Last Drop, Vi and Powder’s house… one line that always stuck with me from episode 7 is when Ekko tells Vi “All that’s left is Jinx, and she belongs to Silco”.

Not with Silco; to Silco. As if she too a piece of the past he turned into his property.

It’s like he understands that while yes, Powder made the decision by herself, that she wants to stay with Silco, he also knows that the man is the one to blame for... well, all of it; the kid was there when Silco showed up unprovoked at Benzo’s place, he knows things went downhill from there.

Ekko knows that he is the bigger problem and the bigger enemy. Even Vi, without knowing a thing about the past few years, can tell Silco put some shit into her sister’s head; Ekko can probably guess the same, difference being that Ekko has the responsibility of keeping other people safe, and he can’t risk it all for someone that, while possibly manipulated, ultimately isn’t collaborative. Ekko can’t jeopardize all he’s built and done for his former best friend, no matter how much it hurts him to be her enemy.

Back to season 2.

Like the entire fandom has already pointed out, there’s a 99.9% chance there will be an alliance between them and Jinx, especially when looking at Ekko’s new outfit.

Of course, this will not be immediate: my guess is that while Jinx works alone at the very start Ekko will be with Heimerdinger and following the arrest of the Firelights we see in the trailer maybe there’s a split. And even after Jinx takes charge so to speak, and possibly frees them, among others, from Stillwater, it’s possible there will be (and there should be) stages in the alliance: initial distrust, potential fight within the community- like yeah, let’s not forget what Jinx did to these people.

Even if they do go ahead with it, it is probably out of necessity more than anything else, with not one but two military forces against the whole of the Underground. It’s not like they’d be the most ecstatic faction about it, and the same goes for Ekko, which is why the new look will probably come in later.

But exactly like he could see Powder for a brief second on the bridge clearly enough for him to stop himself from beating her, he will, most definitely, see her again through Jinx's inner turmoil... that, and she also can’t keep her shit together when it comes to what she's feeling, the girl really is an open book.

And yeah, the situation would be pretty emotionally disorienting: she's being as Jinx as ever, but people like her now, which is something she used to want as Powder, who is supposed to be dead, and they're willingly following her like they willingly followed Vander and there's murals of her with him, though she's pursuing what aligns more with Silco's dream, but also turns out Silco was wrong about Powder, who might still be alive deep down- the whole thing is a big big mess.

Despite everything that I said about him, it’s not like Jinx would start to resent Silco. She could never, not after his last words to her. They mean the world to her, he means too much to her, and let’s not forget she probably hear his voice now too, along Mylo’s and Claggor’s; it might even be a calming voice to her, one she’s happy to hear even if she knows he’s not real… which makes it all worse and more painful to deal with.

In this scene from the trailer, it seems like Ekko’s talking to her (some have pointed out the blue hair out of focus). Since this is still the look in season, at this point in time Ekko (and the rest of the Firelights) are not truly committed to this alliance with Jinx, and vice versa, Jinx is still figuring out how to deal with all this unexpected appreciation.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about Jinx’s way of dealing with inner conflicts, especially ones that deal with the memories of the past, is that it often leads to disaster. This is a bit of a long shot, but what if the reason Ekko’s so beat up Is because she unintentionally sabotaged one of their own attacks on Piltover? Or perhaps they were caught up in a tough situation because of something she did or didn’t do? My point is that if he really is talking with her while in this condition, she probably is in a similar one.

Regardless, they are on the same side, and they are having a conversation. This is very likely the first time they reach out for each other since the day she chose to not go with him.

And I think it’s believable that of all the people she now has beside her, she’d talk to Ekko: he has this leader stuff already figured out. He has and still is taking care of people and keeping them safe better than she ever will, and on top of that, he still is the only one in Zaun (again, aside from Vi) who has known her since before she was Jinx, and he spared her on the bridge. He’s the perfect person to open up to.

And, get this, not only Ekko understands the pressure of taking the lead: he knows what it means to look back at someone you were fond of and feeling the pain of being wronged by them. He knows what it’s like to look back at old memories of someone you trusted and wonder if all those moments together really were what you thought they were, he knows what it’s like to wish it could all go back like it was, just so that candid version of them you have in your mind can still be true, present and untainted by the ugliness that now ruins all those precious moments.

He knows, 'cause he went through it with her... and now he can finally reach her.

Ekko may have not been able to save her from Silco then, but he can save her from Silco now.

And since he has built a community that grieved together, went through pain and joy together, he simply does what he’s always done with the Firelights. Sharing.

He tells with her what has worked for him: “Sometimes, taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind”- in the Franch dub he says “leaving a part of oneself behind”- meaning it doesn’t have to be all or nothing: she has the power to choose what to kiss goodbye and what can stay…

…and then she cuts her hair.

I think it’s important to note how these two moments are very similar in setting. I kid you not, the first time I watched the trailer I was convinced this was a scene where Jinx was burning Silco’s body after she killed him- which frankly could still be the case. I’ve also seen discussions being made for the little girl we see in the trailer being burned here, or Sevika, but I don’t think it’s either. Jinx is completely desensitized to death, even when Silco died her makeup isn’t this ruined. My guess is that this is something much deeper:

Jinx never properly grieved the past. Ever. So, maybe, she’s burning the part of herself she’s leaving behind. The hair she cut.

The hair Silco used to braid for her.

These two scenes parallel each other because “nothing ever stays dead”, but Silco must stay dead, for her own sake. For her own happiness: she is leaving him behind for good.

Only after this moment we get the new look for Ekko: he can work with this new Jinx, the one that now knows she can work within a team, even to the point of committing to the outfit (lol).

If in season 1 Jinx accepted her identity as it was defined by Silco, in season 2 she's re-inventing it under her own conditions: she gets to choose what "being Jinx" may or may not include. And it will always include a little bit of Powder.

Thanks for reading! 💚💙

[is-the-thing-actually-jewish]

I don't think self-sacrifice and martyrdom are jewish values? especially the latter.

This guy was quoting Isaiah and something about rather sacrificing oneself rather than spilling blood

Answer: Not Jewish (except when it is, because we weren’t given much of a choice).

Without knowing what the quote from Isaiah was or what the guy’s actual point was, we cannot be certain, but in general, the Jewish attitude towards self-sacrifice and martyrdom is “we’d rather stay alive, please and thank you.” Unfortunately, because… gestures broadly at two millennia of violent antisemitism, enslavement, forced conversion, inquisition, pogroms, blood libels, genocide, etc. ... Jews have not been given that option.

Jewish law as far back as the Talmud has made it abundantly clear that the value of pikuach nefesh, the preserving of a human life, is so important that you are not merely allowed but actively required to break almost every other law if a life is at stake. The Talmud lists three exceptions to this rule:

You are not permitted to commit murder to save your own life. Note: This does NOT mean you cannot kill the person threatening you, which the Talmud would classify as killing but not murder. But if a sociopath says “I will kill you unless you kill that innocent dude over there,” Jewish law says you should let them kill you.

You are not permitted to commit sexual violence or otherwise break the laws of sexual morality (adultery, incest, bestiality, etc.)

You are not permitted to publicly renounce Judaism in such a way that it might a) encourage other Jews to convert and therefore b) encourage violent antisemites to continue threatening Jews to convert or die.

So, it is possible that the guy in question was referencing Point 1, but the particular phrasing does seem suspect. We do not valorize martyrdom, nor do we encourage self-sacrifice— overwhelmingly, throughout centuries where this was not remotely a theoretical question, Jews have come down on the side of “do what you must to live another day” (with some exceptions, such as at the Massacre of York). There have been far too many people eager to slaughter Jews that we do not feel any need to make it easier for them by not resisting. Given the prevalence of Christian missionaries misusing Isaiah in particular in their missionizing efforts combined with the stark contrast between Christian martyr-worship and Jewish life-preserving, it is reasonable to be highly suspicious of claims that guy was making about Jewish principles and values.

All that said, it doesn’t feel right to give an unqualified “martyrdom is not Jewish” answer because we do have martyrs (or, in the traditional Hebrew, those “murdered for the sake of the Holy Name,” those who chose death over renunciation as per point 3 above), and we would never dishonor their memories by disavowing them.

And so too do we have traditions about martyrs, since it has been a relevant topic throughout Jewish history as much as we would prefer things to be otherwise. Those traditions are about grief, anger, and memory, emphasizing the tragedy and horror of the events rather than presenting any kind of aspirational model. Arguably the clearest example of this is in the “Eleh Ezkerah” (“These I Remember”) section of the Yom Kippur liturgy, also known as “The Martyrology.” Traditionally, this text details the torture and death of ten rabbis at the hands of the Romans, interspersed with the refrain, “these I remember and my soul weeps in sorrow.” Over the centuries, this has also become a space on the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, when the most Jews are gathered together in prayer, to memorialize and grieve for more recent events of Jews being murdered for being Jewish. Services I have attended have included references to or stories of the Inquisition, blood libel, pograms, and the Holocaust. The first Yom Kippur after the Tree of Life shooting, my synagogue read the names of all those murdered there with some information about their lives, which I found both devastating and powerful. Similarly, I am sure that as we approach the first Yom Kippur since October 7, many rabbis are preparing Eleh Ezkerah inserts in memory of the lives taken by Hamas. It is an intense part of an intense day.

Aside from Eleh Ezkerah, there are other ways in which martyrs are recognized and remembered in our liturgy and tradition. There is a version of the prayer for the dead (“E-l Maleh Rachamim/God Overflowing with Mercy”) recited at various points in the year, including at festivals, funerals, and on the anniversary of a death, specifically for remembering martyrs. (It’s actually more historically accurate to say that the E-l Maleh Rachamim for martyrs is the original, as it was written for the victims of the Crusades and the Chmielnicki massacres, and the more recognizable version used in Ashkenazi communities is derivative of that one, with the specific language about murder removed.) There is a long tradition of remembering all victims of antisemitic violence on Tisha b’Av, the anniversary of the destruction of the first and second temples as well as a date associated with many other devastating moments in Jewish history, including the defeat of the Jewish rebels against the Romans at Betar, the expulsion from Spain, and the start of the killing at the Treblinka death camp. We also have Yom HaShoa specifically for remembering and grieving those killed in the Holocaust. In the Middle Ages, there was a tradition of establishing a public fast following news of a blood libel or pogrom nearby as a ritual of communal grief. When we mention someone who has died, it’s traditional to add “may their memory be for a blessing” after their name, but when we’re mentioning a martyr, instead we say “may God avenge their blood.” In all these ways, we hold the memory of our martyrs close— not as a model or an ideal, but as an anchor for our most fervent prayer: Never again.

[dripdowndrop]

The Bimbo Bounce

Alliteration is a useful hypnotic tool. It gives sentences a bit of extra potency, makes mantras easier to remember, and improves the lifespan of a suggestion pretty considerably. That's the operating theory, anyway. Shall we explore?

Bounce for me; that's simple enough to start things off.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

The phrase sticks, somehow, even though it sounds a little silly. Something seems to make it linger in your head. It has a unique feel to it, a quality you can't quite put your finger on. The syllables seem to echo: bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

But how does a bubbly brain behave? Like a bubble, as you'd expect, with something creating a volume of empty space inside while thoughts slide smoothly across the expanding surface, oily and slick. At first, it feels like your thoughts have more area across which to spread. Your thoughts shift slightly, glistening and growing ever more thin. At least, until the bubble pops.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

And burst it must. Bubbles are ephemeral entities, aren't they? It's alright; you'll scarcely notice. When the bubble pops, your thoughts that are currently floating on the surface will splash to the floor. The empty space inside will rush rapidly outward, turning you into a bit of an airhead. Seems fitting, doesn't it?

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink

Bounce, and pop.

You'll feel the splash like a sudden surge of lust and arousal coursing through your body. The rush of air inside your head might cause you to get light-headed, so you'll spread your legs to steady yourself. Of course that's what you're doing, isn't it? Steadying yourself, not putting yourself on display. Right.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Burst bubbly brains blow pink

Bimbos brainlessly bounce.

As you begin to bounce to a silent rhythm, it occurs to you that some bubbles have a kaleidoscopic sheen when you look at them, but others have a very solid color within. Your brain-bubble was bubblegum pink, now that you think about it.

Well, as much as you can presently think about anything. That pop did more than just fill your head with empty air. You can feel your intelligence leaking into the space around you, escaping...your absent brain can't contain it any longer.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

If your brain was still intact, you might think to stop bouncing so you'd be better able to think. But your brain exploded in a flash of pink and wet, and now you're as blank as a bouncing bimbo should be. You're able to understand my words out of some remnant of intuition, but if you pause to try and think them through, everything just goes pink and pops again.

Blank bimbos bounce brainlessly

That seems sensible enough, especially since bouncing feels pretty good. The splash of wet pink thoughts from the pop made your body more sensitive, perhaps by providing you with better things on which to focus. You certainly feel blank, and you are bouncing. Are you a bimbo, though?

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

A side effect of the bubbly brain from before is that you're finding all of this pretty amusing. Certain bits of sentences make you want to giggle and smile, even when you can barely understand them. Might've let too much of your intelligence leak away, but it's all just so silly, isn't it?

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

If you were a bimbo, would you be able to tell? Would you find the situation you're in far more amusing than you should? Would your body be becoming progressively more sensitive as your empty head adjusts to having no thoughts to contain and feeds all that focus to your hungry nerves? Would the bouncing be this arousing all by itself?

That depends primarily on what sort of bimbo you've become, but the answer should be clear by now. Each bounce produces a wave of pleasure, each wave pushes more of the remnants of your brains into the air. The less brains left in your head, the more you smile and giggle. The giggles produce flashes of pink that remind you how very silly and simple this is. All you did was bounce.

Bouncing blank bubbly bimbos are brainwashed

Bounces can take all sorts of forms. You can bounce bits of your body with your hands, bounce up and down in a chair, bounce with the aid of the springs below the bed...all to the same end. Everything is turning pink and wet and silly for you.

This leaves you with only two options: You could let yourself settle, riding the high of the blank bubbly brainwashed bimbo until your brain somewhat reluctantly returns to your head. I won't stop you, you'd simply wake after a few minutes of coming back down.

Or the blank bouncing brainwashed bimbo could shift the energy from bouncing just a little and satisfy that lust your body is feeling. The only real hazard is that your head is already full of air, and cumming your brains out when they've already mostly evaporated could leave you pretty dumb before it's all said and done.

But you've already made a choice, or it's already been made for you. My words could be passing by almost invisibly as the bouncing subsides, or you may already be excitedly picking a toy to bounce on or a rhythm to use while you stroke yourself senseless.

Either way, everything will fade into a yummy pink haze before much longer. I wonder how much bimbo brain you'd need to bounce away before the condition became a bit stuck...

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly

Bubbly brains are bound to burst

Burst bubbly brains blow pink bubbles

Blank brainless bimbos bounce

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

Blank bouncing bimbos are brainwashed

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

Go on, up and down, bouncing yourself all brainless and bubbly. You'll drift awake awhile after you've finished following my instructions.

Do let me know how silly, brainless, or dumb you felt...if you are comfortable expressing it, of course. Reblog, like and enjoy

[partmathpartmagic]

"Give me six months"

This is a chapter from a longer fic that you can find here. It's a letter from Astarion, written over the course of six months immediately following the defeat of the Absolute. The premise is that you two are taking some time apart after the main events of the game so he can figure his shit out a bit. I love his friendship ending because he's so happy and proud of himself, but I wish it were possible to have that and the romance as well, so this is me making that happen.

Darling,

It’s been 3 days since you saved the world. I can hear you objecting to my phrasing, so let me rephrase: it’s been 3 days since I saved the world and you were also there. Better, my dear?

This is very irksome, you know. I thought I’d make it more than 3 days without being so desperate to talk to you that I write a bunch of sentimental words down for all the world to see. And even worse, it would’ve been far less than 3 days if I’d been able to find any parchment in this godsforsaken city (we could have just let it burn, darling, no one would blame us!).

Frankly, I’m rather upset with you. Yes, I’m actually making up my mind right now. You don’t deserve a letter from me, you’re too lovely and too brilliant and too beautiful and you make it impossible to live without you.

I’ve decided to help out the spawn in the underdark. There. That’s all you’re getting from me.

______________

Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I apologize.

That’s something I’m working on doing more of, apologizing. I am getting quite a lot of practice, spending every day with people I seduced for… I’d rather not write his name, actually. But you know. People I seduced in order for him to turn and torture and starve and imprison them for a century or two.

As such, I am becoming an expert at apologizing for things no one could ever really apologize for.

If I was in a better mood I’d make a joke about how I’m spending time with thousands of my exes and you should be jealous. You’ll just have to imagine how hilarious it would be, and then pretend it’s not funny even though you’re smiling, and then roll your eyes at me like you always do. I even miss your exasperation. That’s… horrible. This is horrible.

I know it was my idea to go off and figure things out on my own but I’m beginning to suspect I’m the stupidest elf to ever live.

I can’t tell anymore if I’m being funny when I talk or if I’m just being mean. Is that how other people feel about me, that I’m mean? I think it probably is. Maybe I don’t want to be mean. That doesn’t sound right. I think I’m okay with being mean, I just want to be doing it on purpose.

You’re always so kind, but you have your meaner moments, don’t you? Gods, you’re so terrible with children. The things I’ve seen you say to them. They all think you’re dreadful. That’s something at least.

You see, I find it easier to bear your absence if I pretend your presence isn’t the best feeling in the world and everything you do isn’t perfect. I’m never able to pretend for very long, but I get a good couple minutes each day where I convince myself I’m scandalized by how you talk to children and not completely enchanted by it, and I miss you just slightly less.

_______________

It has been one month since we saved the world. I miss the sun almost as much as I miss you.

My siblings have actually made quite a bit of progress with the spawn. They’re talking about starting a school for the younger ones. It’s very strange. I hope they don’t become good people or we’ll have nothing to talk about anymore.

I had a chat with Sebastian this afternoon, which was also strange. He said, “it must be difficult seeing our faces day and night. Torturing yourself isn’t going to change anything for us. You’ve apologized; you might as well go figure out your next move.”

I think he’s just sick of seeing me and wants me to leave, but he found a kind way to say it.

But he’s not wrong to assume I have no plan after this. I might head above ground tonight and explore the city a bit, see if anything inspires me. I haven’t breathed spore-free air in what feels like years.

I think I could be okay with not having the sun if I had you. Having neither seems… unfair.

I suppose I deserve a bit of unfair.

_______________

2 months. Some very strange things have happened.

Firstly, I did take that walk. I very purposely avoided the part of the city where I heard you had settled, and then of course wound up walking right past a house that apparently belongs to your sister. I thought she was you for a moment and my heart stopped. Metaphorically, anyway.

I don’t love how much it destroyed me looking through a window and seeing someone I thought was you holding a child and kissing a spouse. Which is to say that it completely destroyed me even as it made me happy seeing you apparently happy.

I’m adding this experience to my list of reasons why forming attachments with other people is actually a bad idea and never worth it. I also have a list of reasons why attachments are good and worth it every time, which has only ever consisted of one item, which is your name. The good list wins every time, a fact which has also made its way to the bad list. No one person should have that much power!

If I’m not allowed to ascend, you’re not allowed to make me love you. It’s just as bad. You're drunk with power, darling, and it's time someone called you out on it.

Gods, you’ve completely distracted me from my point. Anyway, after I finally remembered that 2 months would not have been long enough for you to grow and birth and raise a toddler, and after I looked into the window once more and realized your sister does not actually look much like you at all, and also after I looked at the mailbox and saw your second name with a different first name, I pieced things together. Not quickly enough to keep your family from noticing the crazed vampire staring in their window, I’m sorry to say. Do give them my regards.

But after that, I ran into someone I recognized from the palace. One of the butlers, I think, or a general thrall. He was so excited to see me that he stopped me in the middle of the street and started calling me “Master” and babbling about having the carpets cleaned, so I said “strange man, what the hells are you talking about??” And he told me I was the most senior spawn still living and as such… have inherited the estate.

Now, I know this is difficult to believe given my refined manners and, well, my hair, but I’ve never actually owned a palace before. Much less one where I was trapped and tortured for a couple centuries. It’s a complicated situation. Everything is still very much in the air, but I wanted to tell you, and this is how I tell you things now. I will update you once I have an update.

_______________

I adopted a cat. I ran into Halsin on one of his supply runs into the city and he had His Majesty from Last Light with him. Apparently His Majesty had been picking fights with children (and more power to him, I’m sure you’d say), and I remembered his regal little face and volunteered to take him in without a second thought.

We are still… feeling each other out. But I gave him his own room in the estate, which I think he appreciated. The cat, I mean. Halsin doesn’t get a room.

I also do not have a room in the estate, as I am unwilling to set foot inside the building until it has been completely gutted and cleaned and the dungeons walled off permanently. Strangely enough, our old friend Barcus sent me a great team of his people to handle the renovations. Demolitions, as you can imagine, have been smooth, if a bit too enthusiastic. The gnomes have also been very nice about the whole vampire thing and willing to work nights whenever I need to be there to make decisions.

On a related note, I’ve added another item to the long list of crimes Cazador committed: laying carpeting over completely gorgeous vintage wood flooring! Murder and torture is bad, but that’s a whole other level. Thank the gods we got that criminal off the streets.

(Did you notice I wrote his name out? And then made a little joke? I think I’m rather proud of myself for that)

For the first time I’m glad we’re spending this time apart, because truly all I can talk about is tiles and paint samples and upholstery and you’d probably stake me within a couple days of being in my presence and it would be absolutely justified.

I ache for you.

_______________

3 months.

I have been thinking about my lists. I think, perhaps, it’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, making them the sole positive attachment in your life.

I say this because I’ve been spending time with His Majesty to help him acclimate, and a gnome worker commented the other day that I’m the only living creature this cat will tolerate. It made me so sad, thinking of this lovely, affectionate cat who is only ever lovely and affectionate with me. Everyone else’s experience with him will always be negative. I’ll be the only one who’s sad when he dies, and people won’t even be sympathetic to me because they’ll think, well, he wasn’t very nice anyway, good riddance.

It seems like we at least owe it to our loved ones not to leave them alone with their grief when we die.

And no, my love, I did not see the parallels to any vampire with which we are acquainted, at least not until Halsin came by to check on him on his way out of town and I gave him this whole monologue. And then he just sort of stood there looking at me until he very gently hinted that perhaps there are other people who would be willing to love the cat “if he’d just show them his belly instead of his claws.”

At that point I just thought he was hitting on me, but after he explained a little further I finally got what he was trying to say.

Which is how I ended up wine drunk with Halsin last night. We have… a surprising amount of things in common. It was disconcerting.

He also offered me some sort of mysterious substance from his pipe which I politely declined, and it was only after this that he told me a friend of his had smoked it just the night before and it had sent them into a panic attack. So if Halsin ever offers you his pipe, darling, just say no. Given your already nervous constitution, and I say this with love, you’d be absolutely fucked.

Speaking of drunk! You may be wondering how I’ve been keeping myself fed. Some of the Sharess employees have picked up on the increased demand from all these newly-free vampires and have started offering blood drinking as a service, but I’m hesitant to drink from another humanoid. My siblings think I’m being a stick in the mud, but I’ve heard them talking about people they’ve tasted and none of them sound anywhere close to the experience of drinking from you. I feel as if I’ve only ever tasted the most exquisitely aged brandy and I’m being offered tiefling wine as a replacement. I just think it would break my heart.

That said, non-vermin animals have offered a surprising range of flavors. I’ve found I’m partial to owlbears. Something about the risk makes them taste better, I think. Sort of earthy and vegetal? Not bad. In the alcohol metaphor this would be something akin to a local brew. Still a downgrade, but different enough that it doesn’t sting as much.

My good list has 3 names now, by the way: you, Halsin (this was a wine decision, but I’m allowing it for now), and His Majesty.

_______________

4 months? I think?

Listen darling, I’ll just get this out of the way: I’ve had many glasses of brandy. What’s that you say? How many is many? I stopped counting at six, my dear!

You know sometimes I think, absence is absence makes the heart grow fonder. And then I think of you, my blossom, my peach, my absolute tadpole (workshopping that one but i like it), and I think, well fuck. Maybe I’m making it up, maybe she’s not as wonderful as I remember?

And so I thik of all your worst qualities, and I concentrate so hard on them, and my love, my petal, my sweet corn, do you know what happens then? I can’t even think of any

OH wait, that’s not true. That thing when you talk and you have a bubble in your throat that you haven’t swallowed and your voice comes out weird and it makes me want to set myself on fire

Also you’re so hard on yourself, it drives me up an absolute wall. I just want to grab your shoulders and shake you and yell “be nice to my girlfriend”

And then grab other things and shake them…?

I’m far too drunk to be seductive, but just imagine me saying some absolutely filthy things in your ear right now in that voice you like. YOU KNOW THE ONE. Gods, I can’t wait to use it on you again.

I just waaaaant. I want you here so bad all the time.

I want your smell and your touch and your skin and your everything everywhere on me and around me

And… in me? Cheeky, darling. I’m not saying no, but now’s hardly the time

Love and like and cherish and worship and want, a.

_______________

No one has ever felt this ill before and no one ever will again.

I refuse on principle to take back anything I wrote last night, but let’s all agree to forget the corn thing, shall we?

And that cheeky bit at the end–really very unbecoming of you to take advantage of an incapacitated elf like that. Again, I’m not saying no, just. The timing really makes me think less of you, love.

_______________

To be honest, darling, I’m running out of things to say. Six months is a month away and I’m trying so hard not to just watch the clock all day (well, all night).

Has this time been worth it? Nothing is worth this, but if I put aside the heartache, it’s been amazing. I truly never thought I’d be able to become… whoever it is I’ve become.

When the tadpole happened, I saw hope for the first time. I thought I’d finally have control over my life if I had control over the tadpole. If I had control over everything. I honestly never saw another way.

It’s a testament to you that you saw all of this coming from the beginning. You looked at me, this open wound oozing hurt and fear and anger, and you saw a person. You thought I was funny (admit it) and clever, and worth getting to know.

You gave me the space to say no to you, and loved me regardless.

I don’t think I’m nearly as powerful without you, darling. But over these months I’ve accomplished things I’m proud of all on my own, which is fairly unprecedented.

I’m beside myself with excitement to see you again, to give you a tour of this place. You’ll like what I did in the bedroom. And that’s not even a line, I genuinely think you’ll appreciate the color palette! It reminds me of you.

And maybe if you like it we can engage in some mutual appreciation, if you know what I mean.

I don't, but maybe you do. My pickup lines have gone all to shit without you, my muse.

My good list has several names on it now. Yours is still at the top. But you're not the sole thing keeping me afloat anymore. I thought that would make me feel distant from you in some way. I never realized it would give me even more space to appreciate you for who you are instead of what you provide.

Knowing I don’t need you gives me more room to want you, I think.

Anyway, I’m not sure I have another one of these installments in me. Thank you for reading this far, if you have. The version of you who is sitting at your kitchen table reading this (that’s a guess but wouldn’t it be funny if it was right?) has been my companion for all these months, and I cherish her as I cherish every other version of you.

A.

_______________

Sending this today.

I want to be clear, I don’t expect anything. I didn’t ask you to wait around pining for me for all this time, and I wouldn’t have wanted that anyway.

So if you’ve moved on, if you’re happier where you are, if getting this letter ruins your day–it’s alright. I will miss you, maybe forever, but I have friends and a new line of work and a handsome son (to be clear I’m referring to His Majesty, I didn’t give birth since the last time I wrote). All of these things will keep me afloat.

However, if your heart and your life still have room for me, and if you think I would improve them with my presence, I will be overjoyed to share all of these things with you.

I want to meet your sister and hear you try to make conversation with her toddler. I want to show you everything I’ve done to update the estate, and I want you to make it feel like home just by being there. I want to hear all of your thoughts on Jaheira and Nine-Fingers and speculate on their love life.

I want it all, and I want it all with you.

See you soon, my love.

[thegingerwrites]

Thinking about her… (obikin Ella Enchanted au, I just rewatched it last night)

I think the fic itself starts off after Maul attacks Mandalore and Obi-Wan goes to stop him. He fails as a result of his “gift”—Maul tells him to stand and watch as he kills Satine. Obi-Wan returns to the Temple distraught and he begs Yoda for the chance to leave the frontlines to go off and find a way to break his curse. Yoda decides to do him one better.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, hardly looking up from his travel preparations. The idea is unthinkable. Anakin cannot be here.

“I’m coming with you. Master Yoda approved it and everything.” Anakin sets himself down in the pilot’s seat like he has any idea where they’re going.

They are not going anywhere.  This must some kind of mistake.

“And did Master Yoda tell you anything about what this mission entailed?” Obi-Wan asks, feeling a headache coming on, a tension welling up behind his eyes. Master Yoda is the only one who can tell Anakin anything about what Obi-Wan is setting off to do. He took that choice away from Obi-Wan long ago.

“He said you were on a voyage of self-discovery, one with very real consequences for turning the tide of the war. He said it would likely start with finding your family on Stewjon and expand outward from there.” Obi-Wan allows himself to relax a little. Nothing too specific from Yoda then. Nothing that suggested anything about the nature of Obi-Wan’s problem.

Anakin pauses, biting the inside of his cheek before adding one more thing. “He also said that you would never be able to believe in yourself as a Jedi until you made this trip. That you didn’t trust yourself. And Master, if I didn’t want to come with you before he said that, there was nothing that could have stopped me once I heard it.”

Obi-Wan shuts his eyes tight as though to will Anakin away with the power of his thoughts. Because Yoda isn’t wrong. Obi-Wan has never phrased it quite so succinctly to himself before but that is ultimately what pushed him to go. He cannot help the people he loves until he breaks free of this curse. He cannot become the Jedi others believe him to be while beholden to his gift.

“I didn’t ask Master Yoda for permission to come on this mission with you,” Anakin continues. “If I had known what you were doing, I would have snuck on board without going through either of you. But he sought me out and asked me to accompany you and now I know there is no better place for me to be.”

“Surely that should be something for me to decide.”

“You are the greatest Jedi—the greatest man I have ever known. Everything I know about becoming either one comes from you. If there is anything I can do to return the favor, to show you what I know to be true, I am going to do it.”

There is something almost refreshing about Anakin’s refusal to yield. Normally, when Obi-Wan is forced to do something he does not want to do, it is because someone has ordered him and he can’t work his way around it in time. But Anakin hasn’t given him a command; he could technically leave him behind or relegate him to the sidelines or toss him out an airlock. Instead, Obi-Wan has a choice to make.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says at last, coming around to sit down in the cockpit beside Anakin. “Fine, you may join me. But you must do as I say and you cannot ask me any questions about what we are doing. I will not answer. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan meets Anakin’s eyes over the flight controls. He sighs before allowing himself the smallest of smiles.

For the first time since his decision to embark on this mission, for the first time since Mandalore—perhaps even since this whole blasted war began—Obi-Wan allows himself to feel something like hope.

There is a chance, however small, that Anakin might be a real asset to this endeavor. The company at least, being able to share the weight of something that has plagued him all his life even if he still cannot speak of it, might make this journey easier to bear.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin checks the calculations for their jump to hyperspace and completes the takeoff procedures Obi-Wan began. For a moment, Obi-Wan thinks they will simply settle into the familiar rhythms of a joint mission, that the conversation is over now and they can put the uncomfortable intimacy of it behind them.

But as Obi-Wan waits to speak with space traffic control to receive their flight clearance and Anakin sees to the rest of their preparations, he adds one parting note to their conversation, his voice low and serious to protect the tender and exposed intimacy of the confession.

“I am here for you, Master. Always.”

[catacombbee]

theory time. spoilers for sbg new episode 74

does anyone actually fucking trust Maverick rn? im so fr i don't trust him one BIT.

Alex i trust. Alex seems like he has good intentions (especially with him telling Aiden he wasnt supposed to tell them) but how much could he really help? it doesn't feel like he's very high up the totem pole yk. maybe we'll have like a- Alex sticking his neck out to help/save the kids somehow and dies for it, perhaps on accident

but anyway I DONT FUCKING TRUST MAVERICK AND YOURE DUMB IF YOU DO im kidding. im kidding you're not dumb. im kidding you're amazing and go drink your water rn pls

i have SO MANY THOUGHTS ON

1. the fact he's trying to get the kids to trust him

2. the fact that he went to BEN first of all people

starting with no. 1, i think he wants something. he so CLEARLY wants something. i don't TRUST THIS MAN he may be HOT but he is UP TO SMTH!!! what i don't know is what he wants from the kids. getting them on his side and trusting him feels like a way of getting more information out of them, and what could he possibly be digging for if not more information on the phantom realm?

Alex was asking Ashlyn about the fact that they all asked for ASL books at the same time and thus must have some way of communicating. i think they must know it has to do with the phantom realm (though they don't know that it's an entire separate dimension i think) and Maverick wants to know more about how they're communicating. with the promise that he will protect them from the rest of the government, which i think might just entail "keeping you for ourselves"

and how does he get the kids to trust them? making himself seem like a good option, and separating himself from "those who put them here." the government. the bad part of the government. and how does he do that?

well that's where we come to no. 2

they have cameras. they can watch the kids and how they're acting. in fact, they've been watching the kids for a while now. if i were to pick anyone to try and talk to to get on my side having observed them from a distance, maybe id pick Taylor or Logan. the others are stubborn or unpredictable in their own ways.

So why Ben?

Maverick is trying to draw several comparisons in Ben's mind, especially with using language like the above and like this:

What Maverick is trying to connect in Ben's mind is this:

The authority = The government that locked them up here

The government =/ Maverick and his people

He's trying to get into Ben's mind and say "Hey. We want the same thing you want: to get rid of this place." The way he calls them a bunch of pigs ALMOST makes me hesitate on thinking he's being insincere, but on the other hand would that phrasing not resonate with a jaded teenage boy who's been in trouble before?

Maverick went to Ben because he saw a way in through Ben. Even though Ben is violent and stubborn (right now. and towards the staff), he recognizes that he can use Ben's past as a way of leveraging himself to a higher status in Ben's mind. Besides, if he can get one of the more stubborn kids to crack first, he's got a much easier way in with the others.

Furthermore, this will lead to more observation. He must know the kids are communicating somehow, he just doesn't know how exactly yet. This part isn't Ben specific, but by talking to one of them, he then gives himself the opportunity to watch the rest more closely for any mention of things he's said to Ben. Evidence that they have some way of talking. A way of figuring out how they're doing so.

Maverick is using Ben's past to manipulate him into trusting him.

and im pissed off abt that

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY. A GA-

anyway though i just wanted to rant about this episode and how it made me feel cus im upset and i want to hug Ben. if you don't like my theory and/or have a different one please please reblog and yap about it (nicely) i LOVELOVELOVE hearing different opinions on headcanons and theories and such. OR BUILD ON MY THEORY! i like yapping pls yap to me okay bye

also ty @arcaneafterhours for giving me screenshots cus i can't screenshot. ilu

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi, I am currently slowly writing a story about Danny Fenton being a mall Grinch in gotham and later fighting a Batman rouge (think mall Santa only the Grinch instead). I got a few chapters up and some art.

Do you got any advice on writing? I would love to hear it.

Also I really enjoy seeing you on Tumblr all the time,it has made my day happier many a time.

I hope you have a good year despite your haters.

DANNY AS THE GRINCH!? That's honestly so perfect. Please send me the link I love to see Danny just decking people with all his "I hate Christmas" energy.

Thank you for reading all my random dabbles. I really enjoy seeing people react to them. And no worries, I'm used to people hating. My HP and HP blog fics have been getting a lot of messages. Some people just have a lot of free time.

As for advice,

I always pick a character and write their POVS because I like exploring a character's narrative compared to what the audience knows.

You must know the character's mindset to write how they react to things. Know their backgrounds, likes, dislikes, habits, pet peeves, and favorite foods.

Knowing what the character would "see" first is also important. Like when describing settings. Most people (not all I know) do not spend three hours counting the grass stands or how many buildings are on the street, but they will usually spot one thing first - maybe the sunset looks really nice? A group of kids is playing, and screaming to the side? maybe they smell something good?- and their mind launches on to that before noticing other details.

Sprinkle into how they interact with the world makes them see real and more three-dimensional. Show not tell is one of my favorite methods to get that across.

For Example Tim,

He grew up wealthy but neglected. He is externally book smart and even has a good grasp of street smart, but emotionally intelligent, he's not the best.

To tell would be something like:

"Tim is a great CEO. Despite being young he can run a business great, can keep up with the Batman and can even find the time to date."

To show would be something like:

"Tim prides himself in organizing his schedule for a well balance work and private life. His duties as CEO were easier to manage due to his training as Drake Heir. He knew how to smile, charm, and persuade the upper crust of Gotham long before he was running on roofs with Bruce."

Both work well for any situation but showing lets people know why the character is the way they are without making it sound like a list of facts.

I hope this makes sense.

Oh also here are some really reference I like to go back to

Words to say instead of said

body languages phrases

How to build romantic relationships

[honeygrahambitch]

Summary: Hannibal knows that the only way to have Will all to himself is to give him an unsolicited hand with the cases at the FBI even if that involves a few lies.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Hannibal had never considered himself a vigilante. Killing the rude does not make you a vigilante. However, going behind the police's back and killing the people who commit crimes, does unfortunately make you a vigilante.

And Hannibal had never intended to become one, yet the circumstances had brought him there.

Summer had always made the number of crimes skyrocket. Tattlecrime.com and Will's very little free time reflected the way things were going. Or not going.

*

"Wait." Hannibal interrupted Will. "Last time you were telling me about the bodies who are all missing an eye. You are now talking about the case with the truck driver or the one with the church lady?"

Will sighed and rubbed his face with the palm of his hands as if he was trying to make sense of it too. "None of those, actually. A new one. A delivery man most likely."

"And you are working on all these cases?"

"That's because I am the best. Jack's words, not mine. And if doesn't motivate me then he says his other favorite line."

"You are saving lives." Hannibal quoted him. "I know you are the best but it's completely unrelated to the meaning Jack assigns to that. You are the best outside work, not only when you hunt serial killers."

"I am clearly not the best at that either since I ended up being committed to one."

"You almost said "relationship". It's better than the last time when you phrased it as... "the thing you and I have". "Committed" implies commitment."

"I see the bodies in the forensics lab more than I see you. If anything, I'm in a relationship with them." Will said trying to change the subject by acting as if he was casual about it.

"Take some days off and spend more time with me then. Be committed." Hannibal said, more straight-forward than Will had expected.

"Once I am done with these cases, I will."

"I have heard about this before."

"I promise."

"Another commitment."

"I have to go back." Will said as his phone started to buzz on the coffee table. "It would be really helpful if the Ripper stayed put at least."

"The Ripper is feeling neglected and has to take it out on someone."

"Jack will have a stroke if a new body drops. Then I will also have a stroke because of the amount of coffee I will be consuming."

"You're already having enough caffeine." Hannibal commented.

"Did I tap my foot all along?" Will wondered if it was because of the caffeine or because of the discussion related to their relationship. He knew that Hannibal was probably questioning that too.

"Yes, darling, you did. Come later for dinner."

"Can't. But I will call you on my way home. And please stay put."

*

So that was in short the reason why Hannibal was now not staying put. The Ripper however was. He would find the killers, he would leave their bodies somewhere for the FBI to find them and he would have to stop himself from taking any souvenirs with himself.

If Will was struggling with the idea of being in a relationship, the last thing he wanted was for Will to feel invaded at work by his 'help'. He would have to be subtle and leave nothing that could make him trace the crimes to him. Easier said than done.

A few glances over the case files and listening to Will's ideas were good starting points. And what if that meant a few sleepless nights? The quicker these pigs died, the quicker Will would be only his.

*

"This body is our truck driver." Jack repeated for the third time as he was staring at the fresh corpses. "And this is our delivery guy. Someone is going after our killers."

"Pro bono." Will said loudly, earning a stern look from Jack.

"We can thank the church lady for that." Jimmy said. "We found a footprint. It's hers."

"Let me get this right. The church lady who is currently hiding from us is suddenly a vigilante?"

"She must be thinking she is doing God's work. Punishing the bad people." Brian concluded.

"Did other bodies drop?"

Will was trying to push away the hunch he was having. Someone who had access to the case files was Hannibal. The footprint from the church lady? If he caught her then he was just using her hand for convenience. Was it what was going on or was he trying to convince himself that Hannibal was not upset with him? These bodies did not have the Ripper's signature but Will couldn't just ignore the coincidences.

His mind was not exactly there. Hannibal had not replied to his texts the whole day which was very much unlike him. And he had very scarcely texted him back in all the other days.

"Will? No comments?"

"I need to ask Hannibal."

*

On his way to Hannibal's place he made sure to get a fancy bottle of wine. He could spend the night with him. He could ask about the bodies. He was not skipping work, he was still thinking about the cases and making sure Hannibal was not being overdramatic. Since when was he so concerned with what Hannibal was feeling?

What he did not expect was the fact that Hannibal was not home. He waited in his car for hours until it was completely dark. Hannibal's parking spot remained empty.

After a few attempts of calling him, he gave up. At least he had the spare keys to his house.

[bambifornia]

more swindle headcanons because he won't leave my brain and i'm tired of him

crazy good at math. he's able to calculate the price/cost of something within seconds. the only reason he's not a mathematician/accountant or anything like that is because swindle wouldn't do well with those jobs. swindle likes moving on his pedes, not sitting behind a desk

extremely well-versed in politics. but not because he's very political or anything; swindle just likes knowing where and when the next intergalactic war is raging so he can profit off it. it helps to keep up with the news

workaholic. though this trait is less notable to see in him than say, someone like optimus (mostly because swindle takes great care not to let his exhaustion be shown. his image MUST be perserved, after all)

used to keep a diary in which he noted anything interesting he found on the planets he traded with. he was actually semi-organized with it, and even included some crude doodles of the organics he ran into. he stopped journaling once the war broke out, though, and hasn't journaled since due to fear of his diary being used as blackmail

answers questions like a politician. if u want a straight answer from swindle then good fucking luck LMAO. he doesn't like to go into detail about his past. it's all old news, anyway

he's a Beyonce fan. i feel it in my bones

puts effort into his image. granted his image got fucked over ever since he defected to the decepticons LMAO but the point is that swindle tries to make himself look better than he actually is.

surprisingly open-minded. he has to be. if he were to be openly xenophobic to the multitude of alien races he trades with, then his business would tank. besides, he's actually pretty curious about other worlds besides his own (ex; how he mentioned he spied on the human villains in the SUV episode, and thought their whole get-up was "exciting")

he hates hates HATES the cold. if he HAS to do business in a cold planet, he will bitch and complain about it the entire time except when he's in the negotiating room

when he was a young bot, swindle was pretty open book. that's not to say he didn't LIE back then, it just so happened that swindle was created with a super expressive faceplate, and you could always tell what swindle thought based on whatever look he was giving you. this got him into some...issues (dw he learned how to keep a poker face later on)

not the jealous type (how can he be jealous when he's the most wanted bachelor on cybertron?) but on the rare occasion that he IS, he gets real quiet. probably sulks to himself in a corner while sipping on some energon. if confronted, he'll brush it off but don't you doubt it for one second; he is PISSED

says he doesn't have any regrets or moral dilemmas about his job, but that's only half of the truth. swindle takes care not to give himself enough time to think about the past. it makes living easier that way. and swindle is a creature who seeks comfort, even if it inconveniences everybody else around him. don't try to call him out on this bad habit of his; he will huff and excuse himself by claiming you'd do the same thing too if you were in his shoes (or pedes?)

he does not like keeping living things in his subspace. he's made the mistake of storing a organic he thought was cute when he was younger, and it ended up with a trip to med-bay (surprisingly, organics don't like being in strange voids filled with nothing but weapons)

fantastic at detecting scams. he doesn't have a mod for it or anything, he just KNOWS

has a """"healthy"""" amount of paranoia. he claims he's just looking out for himself, given the kind of business he's in, but there's times where the paranoia really fucks with his health

really likes sprinkling those "infomercial phrases" into his daily speech. he thinks it makes him sound suave. thought he sometimes fucks up with the delivery and he just gives up mid-way lmao ("guard the prisoners...orrr loot the ship? it's a no process-...or? er? err..." - a direct quote from decepticon air)

he's mostly self-aware. the only thing he isn't honest about to himself is his own emotions

whenever he feels stupid stuff like "fear" or "stress" or (shudder) "remorse" he takes a look at his bank account. it helps him, in a weird way. because yes, he's an outlaw, and yes, he's technically gambling his and everyone else's life, and YES, there's days where he winds up battered and broken, barely an inch away from death, but...at least his efforts aren't for nought. they're adding up to something; with every corpse, swindle's wallet gets fatter. and with all that money in his servos, swindle might be able to buy himself the one thing cybertron can't offer him: peace

^ swindle thinks he deserves this. he delusionally believes he deserves peace and riches more than anybot

[yellow-dejavu]

- Paradise is free of pain and sorrow. Everything we've ever done is forgotten there. Any pain that we've ever felt is erased. And all the dead live.

I find it curious how the belief in paradise affects some of the characters, so I want to make a little speculation about how I think it might have worked. Franziska, Magnus and Agnes were part of Sic Mundus, but it is really unclear how they see it. So I will mainly focus on Noah, Elisabeth and Silja, who are known to really believe in paradise.

When Noah and Elisabeth meet, he shares his belief in paradise with her. Then they are separated by the disappearance of their daughter, and Silja as a child is brought to Elisabeth. Elisabeth shares her belief in paradise with Silja. The way I think it might play out is that Elisabeth knew this child who had just lost her mother, and she wanted to comfort this little girl by sharing something that had given her comfort since she was a little girl. I also think that Elisabeth was specifically told to form Sic Mundus in the post-apocalyptic era and protect the plant.

So Silja was raised in a cult until 1888, where she continued her life and died with an earlier version of the same cult. Her husband was part of the cult since his late teens until his death, and their kids were raised in a cult. There is little or no information about the family of Bartosz, Silja, Hanno and Agnes. So I have some assumptions about their family dynamics. Silja named her son Hanno after her late mother Hannah. Hanno was very young when his mother died. So I think the way she may have introduced Hanno to paradise is as a bedtime story. I mean Silja gave her son something from her mother, which is his name, so I think it would make sense if she gave her son something from the other parental figure she had in her life, which is Elisabeth. Something that gave her comfort in hard times and now she could share with her little boy in better times.

I also think I could connect this with Bartosz death. What if Bartosz wanted to keep this image of a "perfect paradise" as a way for his child to remember Silja?

It would be even easier to manipulate a little cult boy into thinking that betraying his father is an act of love. Adam believed in paradise, but not in the same way. His version wasn't as optimistic; their version was easier to manipulate and use in his favor. Sic Mundus can make Noah believe that his father's detachment from the prophecy is forgetting his mother's memory, and he knows that his father is clearly in pain. Bartosz has lost his faith, but Noah can still free him from all that pain and take him to Paradise. Noah must save his father by killing him.

If he thought something like that, it made me think of the phrase Noah repeated more than once, "he also said we'd become friends before you betray me". Noah always knew that he would be betrayed, but he didn't imagine that his baby would be stolen by his own baby and the mother who was also her baby's daughter, all ordered by Adam. I think Noah always taught that Adam would kill him. Maybe he would lose his faith like his father and Adam would betray him. He would save him by killing him like Noah did with his father. Jonas would do it because he loves Noah and it would free him from all his pain. Adam is his savior.

After the experiments failed and Charlotte's birth was difficult, Noah didn't feel his faith was as strong. He was hopeless. But they're going to make it, they're going to fulfill the prophecy. Noah will have to travel and teach a younger version of himself. He has never seen a much older version of himself, so it could mean that his time is near. But could paradise ever be as sweet and real as what he's building with his family? it doesn't matter how he feels, he just wants Elisabeth to keep her hope, and he would give her the strength he doesn't have for himself.

[gingerlegacy07]

Thank you @morelikeravenbore for the tag! I love answering these kind of questions and I loved reading through your answers!

I know I'm hardly known here on Tumblr, but that's fine. For those of my followers who are interested and because I find it fun to do, here are my answers to the following questions!

How many works do you have on AO3? I have 21 works. Most of them are oneshots or oneshot collections, but I also have a trilogy and a currently ongoing chaptered story.

What's your total AO3 word count? Uhh.. *checks* 429.608. Most of them are from the trilogy.

What fandoms do you write for? On AO3 I only write for the Hogwarts Legacy fandom. A long time ago I wrote for the f(x)/EXO/SHINee fandom on Asianfanfics, but I have deleted that account.

Top five fics by kudos? Oh, I'll have to look that up.. hm, alright:

1. In the Shadow of Sixth year (97)

2. In the Shadow of Seventh year (68)

3. A Naughty Collection - Hogwarts Legacy (48)

4. Sense of Touch (44)

5. In the Shadow of Summer (43)

Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to respond to every comment, but I must admit sometimes I'm not able to respond right away and I might forget to, but I think I have responded to nearly every comment on AO3. I live for comments and am always happy when someone took their time to write one.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't like angsty endings, but "Happier" does have an angsty/unhappy ending. Together with "You look Happier". Both are oneshots I wrote to the song "Happier" by Olivia Rodrigo and "Happier" by Ed Sheeran respectively.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hm.. considering all that happens in my trilogy, I'd say "In the Shadow of Seventh year", which is the final part, ends the happiest.

Do you get hate on fics? Not really. Only on one, but I still think that must've been a troll. They hated Poppy, yet commented on a oneshot that was Poppy centric (literally her and Ominis were the only characters in it). Other than that, no. Not that I am aware of at least.

Do you write smut? Yes. Though I don't write it in my chaptered stories. At most I'll have it heavily implied or some non-explicit foreplay. For my trilogy I made two seperate oneshots to write the smut. That way I leave the choice to the reader if they want to read that or not. It's not needed for the plot anyway.

Craziest crossover? None.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know. It's despicable some people actually do that.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not for this fandom, but back in the day on Asianfanfics a couple of my oneshots were translated in Vietnamese and Tagalog.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but if someone would want to, I'd be open for it.

All time favorite ship? Ominis x Poppy or Poppinis. When I first heard Poppy tell us about her family my immediate thought was like: I wonder what Ominis would think of that? And somehow that got me into shipping them and now I'm obsessed in love with them as a couple. And fun fact: it was my shipping them that got me into writing again after not having done so in over 8 years.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a lot of ideas, but only few of those I have started on. I tend to delete WIP's that I don't want to finish and the ones I do want to finish, I'll make sure to finish lol.

What are your writing strengths? Good question! But I think I'm good with writing certain emotions/feelings to the point the reader gains empathy for the character... other than that I really don't know. I try to be consistent with updates, do my research (to an extent) and try not to make any continuation errors.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I am totally fine with that (though I probably will never write it myself), as long as the correct phrasing is used and that the reader understands (or at least gets an idea) of what is being said.

But I do think it reads easier when the writer uses Italics to underline when a character speaks another language.

First fandom you wrote in? F(x) (Kpop group) back in 2012.

Favorite fic you've written? Definitely my trilogy "Shadows of Love" that consists of Part 1 "In the Shadows of Sixth year", Part 2 "In the Shadows of Summer" and Part 3 "In the Shadows of Seventh year".

The first part was my very first chaptered fic and the fact that I didn't only finish it, but wrote two more parts (25 chapters for the 1st part, 7 chapters for the 2nd and 45 chapters for the 3rd) and two smut oneshots accompanying it has been a major achievement for me and it really is my baby.

Special shoutout for my friends on Discord who supported and inspired me to continue! As well as all the readers (silent or not) who made me want to keep powering through! I love all of you!

Thank you for whoever it was that made up these questions! I had a great time thinking about them and answering! As well as look through the stats of my works haha.

Np tags for @writingannyred @mspegasus17 @sallowslove and @zetadraconis11

[loversfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed safiyah adeyemi walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who she is ? they kind of look like ayo edebiri and i could be wrong but i think that they might be twenty - nine years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last fifteen years. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of angela moore from boy meets world. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at sunny shores high school as an english teacher. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the salubrious of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty stoic at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty practical to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that two bedroom apartment beside me over in mango bay. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

STATS:

full name : safiyah adeyemi nickname(s) : saf, safi birthplace : richmond, virginia date of birth : 07 / 01 / 1995 parentage : enofe adeyemi sibling(s) : n / a ! children : dominic adeyemi-lomax relationship status : single gender identity : cis woman ( she/her ) sexual orientation : bisexual faceclaim : ayo edebiri

BACKGROUND: ( tw: mentions of pregnancy )

growing up a in a single parent household as a military brat was not easy for a young safiyah. ending up with just her dad at two months, the phrase "it takes a village" meant a lot to the adeyemi duo.

enofe adeyemi needed a lot of help once safiyah's mother left the picture. he was able to get some time off upon receiving her, and it was spent bonding and learning everything he could about being a single dad. lots of calling his own mom and befriending anyone on base with kids.

safiyah had so many villages growing up, it was almost hard to keep up. moving every two years made it hard for her to develop and keep any friendships. even the ones on base were hard to keep and maintain, because they almost never moved at the same time, or to the same place.

one thing that helps her find peace is books. she would spend evenings reading with her dad or even over the phone with her grandma. it was something her and her dad worked with on frequently. she was learning her letters by age 3, and was able to read the classic site words by age 5.

while her real life was frequently changing, it was easy for her to get lost in the lives of jack and annie from the magic tree house series.

she became a bit of a recluse as she grew older in elementary school and even into middle school. she found herself reading during recess and lunch instead of socializing, because it was easier to just keep up with the worlds she was interested in than to try and make another set of friends that would soon become a distant memory.

it's on her thirteenth birthday that her dad promises he's going to finish his time in the marines. he wants to get them all situated in time for her to start high school. he knows that's when grades start to matter, and while she'd never particularly struggled in school, he could only imagine how hard it would be to try and transfer credits and start life all over during such important years.

he makes good on his promise by the summer of her fourteenth birthday. he's officially retired, and he thinks a beach town is the best place for the two of them to go. she's skeptical at first-- she's not quite sure how to actually settle down. however, once school starts, it doesn't take long for her to knock her own walls over. she couldn't be a recluse forever, and life was going to suck if she was.

she graduates in good standing and heads off to the university of florida where she gets her degree in english & language arts, with a minor in creative writing. in both high school and college, she had fallen in love with all the classics. shakespeare, lord of the flies, the iliad, etc. she also adored writing just about anything. fiction, poetry, short stories... she was the jack of all trades.

she comes back and works different jobs. barista, server, all while she spends some time writing. she doesn't really have a lot to do, and she's kind of enjoying just slowing down and taking things one day at a time.

she does that for a year, while she works on getting her teaching certification. it doesn't take long for her to find a place at sunny shores high school, where she starts the following fall.

safiyah has never been a believer of fate-- not until she's twenty-four with a car that needs work, and who else is the mechanic other than her high school sweetheart-- someone she hadn't seen since she was fifteen.

overwhelmed with a motion, the two fell back into a whirlwind romance. they're not as careful as they should be, and she gets pregnant after just a year reunited. she's scared out of her mind, but with his support and encouragement, she thinks she can really do this.

of course, the confidence comes in waves. with no mother to look up to, and a grandma she spent more time with over the phone than in person, she was really stressing herself out. however, once her son was born, she seemed to understand exactly what everyone was talking about. she just became a mom.

however, being a parent is hard. something her and her baby's dad find out quite soon. it's more taking turns working than an actual relationship. they're attentive to the baby, but not to each other. they find it best to part ways and co-parent as best they can.

still, three years into his life, she questions how she is and what she's doing, never sure if it's the right thing or if it's going to mess him up forever. co-parenting is going well, and their son seems happy, and that's all that matters for now.

PERSONALITY:

a little awkward at first, but opens up pretty quickly

fiercely loyal to those she loves, and will stick up for them if she needs to

currently trying to remember who she is outside of being a mom, now that her son is a little bit older and a little bit more independent.

classic quirky english teacher..... what can i say.....

©

[letstalktea]

Wandering Thoughts

Prompt: Not everyone has secondary genders but those that who do are considered less than human

Summary: An indifferent omega is thrown into the stocks and used as a breeding fodder by the public.

Content: omega!afab!PC, Noncon, Emotionless sex, PC is done with this shit, public use, just another day in rapenshire

Word Count: 0.8k

The endocrine system started at the hypothalamus, which was that small bulbous section of the brain. It was a series of hormones that helped regulate certain organs like the thyroid, adrenal glands, testicle, ovaries – 

No wait. Were those even considered organs? Were those the things the endocrine system helped regulate or were they part of the system itself? Was there a difference? All of the information was turned around in his head. At this rate, he was going to fail Sirris’ make-up exam. It's not like he could check their textbook for the answer or study at the moment either. He was too busy trying to ignore all the people who were lined up to ruin his asshole.

The current guy was clearly almost finished given how frantically he was thrusting his hips while screaming at them to ‘get pregnant’; a fitting phrase to climax to and the entire reason they had been placed in stocks to begin with, but he was on birth control. Even if the entire purpose of him being used like a public cum dumpster by whoever got the itch to get their dick wet was to try and knock them up, it wouldn't be happening on this cycle. If Bailey did one thing right, it was making sure the brats under her care didn't birth even more brats under her roof. Sure, she could charge extra rent for housing an extra baby or two, but she made more money on the ones who could sell their holes and it came with slightly less crying.

He sighed as he stared out at all the people watching him like an animal in a cage. Some pointed, others snickered, and some were clearly debating jumping in the line. He didn't care. What was one or two more people reminding him that he wasn't considered human and was only an oddity at best?

At least he had it easier than what they put the alpha through. He just had to stand there and let people fuck and come inside of him until they were satisfied. Alpha actually had to be the ones coming and he knew there was no way they could do that without resting, especially since they apparently produced way more come than usual. They probably made themselves sick having to keep up with it all.That wasn't even mentioning the knots they had to deal with that kept them bound in place. At least his rapists could move on after they blew their load.

It sucked either way. There were so few alpha and omega in existence that people treated them more as spectacles than as human beings. He just happened to be unlucky enough to have someone notice that his ass got wet on its own when they were molesting him on the bus ride home and turned him in. 

Fuck that rapist freak.

And fuck the ones currently plowing him too.

They could all go to hell.

Warm come splashed in his ass and he felt gross. If he hadn't lost count somewhere along the way, that was the seventh time today someone had flooded his ass. They didn't even want to think about how much of a mess they must have looked like back there considering no one had bothered to scrape and clean them out even once. Were these fuckers using everyone else’s jizz as lube or something? Fucking freaks.

As the person inside of them pulled out, they tried not to groan at how their asshole stung. If he made any noise, he knew these freaks who wanted to knock up a boy would take it as some kind of compliment to their non-existent sexual prowess. So, instead, they bore the pain as the next person in line shoved something else inside of them.

“Hey,” he spoke up as the person started to thrust, “would you at least mind giving me a reach around? I haven't gotten to come once yet because y'all have been ignoring my dick like it's gonna bite you. Help a guy out, won't ya?”

Their answer was to slap him across the ass.

“Shut up, whore!” He bit his tongue to stop the surprised yell crawling up the back of his throat as they continued to berate him. “Omega freaks like you should be able to come with just your assholes.”

And they also probably believed in the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter bunny if they bought into that hogwash. They also probably couldn't find the clit if it was pointed out to them on a map.

Whatever.

At least he could focus on reviewing the content for class in his head if he didn't have to bother with actually feeling good. All he had to worry about was how much longer they planned to keep him on display for everyone else’s amusement before Bailey came to bail out her cash cow and exploit him for expensive, private use rather than free public entertainment. That, and how much cum he was going to have to scrape out of his ass after this ordeal.

Maybe Robin would help him crawl into the bath after they finally let him out and he could go home. Then they could both play games until they passed out. Or maybe Robin would let him rest in their lap if he was too sore to move on his own.

Yeah. That sounded nice.