#internet approval

[portmantofu]

Digital Nuance, Public Discourse, and Public Approval: The Steady Decline of "Having a Dialogue"

Being on the internet as someone who operates from a place of nuance and complexity as opposed to simplistic and impulsive knee-jerk reactions feels like being a masochist because there's so much you could say but it would take too long to write out and mostly fall on deaf ears.

It also doesn't help that although there are many people out there that are happy to have these complex discussions, you're much less likely to find people who are capable of doing so in a way that doesn't convey the idea that the only perspective they're open to is theirs.

This mentality is not just aggravating to deal with as someone who wants to contribute to these discussions, but actively drives people away from having them, which is incredibly counterintuitive given how much stress and importance is constantly placed on speaking on issues.

This, if anything, calls into question why stress is even placed on having discussions about any topic. If there's supposedly only one right view and thus solution to an issue, why even start a dialogue in the first place? To talk in circles? Unless, they're not that simple...

It's a rare occurrence, but my faith in humanity is slightly restored whenever I see what could've easily turned into a heated argument about a topic beautifully and amicably resolve itself with each party respecting each others views without attacking them.

Though, I feel like the concept of "ratioing" people is what holds us back from these occurrences happening. I can't help but feel that people on the internet are less concerned about actually defending their argument, and more about whether other people will back it up.

Saying this, I can already hear people defending ratioing because of how it supposedly "puts people in their place" and makes them feel shame for what is mostly agreed to be the morally or intellectually incorrect way of analyzing a topic.

Again though, why should the focus of having an opinion be attempting to "prove" that it's the so-called "right" one through public approval which is also nothing more than simply a larger group of people's opinions?

[braisedhoney]

so this is basically the whole space trip thing right.

[valorianknights]

I was listening to "They're Only Human" from Death Note the Musical while drawing these two and it surprisingly fits them well.

I told y'all I was gonna make a crackship.

P.S. Ngl I love how this turned out and I'm just realizing that this basically Charlastor with a different coat of paint 😂

Anybody got any ship name ideas for this?

[utilitycaster]

I really do wish AP show fandoms were like. better at finding the happy medium between "it is unconscionable to send cast members of actual play shows (or any shows) death threats or harass them on social media in any capacity, what the fuck is wrong with you" and "you do not need to treat the actual play show cast as granting us a priceless gift that, if even a whiff of criticism reaches them, will be taken away forever." Like they are aware that they are filming this game to be put on the internet and people will have thoughts, not all of which will be positive. You're allowed to say "I don't think this was well done and here's why" (or even omit the here's why, though I think that often sheds light); you just can't be like "and that's why I think everyone involved should be beaten with hammers."

[sir-adamus]

another dipshit post I've seen has reminded me of another thing i hate about RWB/Y being the acceptable target punching bag

people who do not and have never watched the show (and proudly proclaim that they never will), going "I've never watched the show but i watched an internet man do a three hour deep dive that i refuse to check is unbiased or accurate and i just feel so bad for anyone who does watch it, for a show that seems to skirt greatness and flubs it every time"

like fuck off you condescending cunt - you should've stopped at the admission that you don't know anything

[leafaske]

ITS YOU

YOU MADE THE BROSTER COMICS I SAW ON YOUTUBE LIKE 2 YRS AGO

HIIII HRU

IT'S ME

┏(-_-)┛ ┗(-_- )┓ ﾍ(￣ー￣)ﾉ (｢• ω •)｢ ₍₍ ◝( ・ ω・)◟ ⁾⁾

[womenaremypriority]

I can understand transmasc people who seem to mostly have an issue with simply being called women, tbh. I can perfectly understand why it would mostly be a linguistic issue for some. From a young age, I was jealous of men and aware they were considered less cool than women. This is even worse now because of the internet- I’ll show you one example.

Why is it gendered? Why are men the people who would understand this? This type of joke has always been on the internet, and it’s probably taken on a different form in the past ~5 years or so, but the assumption that the listener/reader is male and that men are the cool, fun sex are a constant. There are small pockets more oriented towards women but most isn’t. It’s always, always bothered me, and I can absolutely see some women just having better connotations with the word ‘man’ than ‘woman’.

Even though a part of you understands it’s misogyny, and it’s not a reflection of actual women, you eventually start to feel like it’s you that’s the problem. I truly feel like if I had kept going down the same route, I would have eventually identified as a trans man, and not nonbinary like I had a first. My brain started to interpret the anguish at seeing things like this and wanting to belong with men as proof I’ve always been one. Even if you have women you care about and don’t consciously think all women fit a certain mold, it still doesn’t feel right. This is made even worse by the trans community acting like ‘cis women’ is a boring thing to be. It sucks. I’m not going to deny that for some individuals sex dysphoria is very real, and not every one shares this experience, but this has existed in my life for a long time, and it felt very real to me at the time. So I do think for plenty of women, it’s not our female body, it’s not feminine clothing, it’s simply being referred to as a women.

[silvermoon424]

This is a prime example of how social media and internet clout-seeking has absolutely DESTROYED some people's sense of empathy. A famous TikToker had her newborn baby die of SIDS, and for some fucking reason people decided it would be a great time to cancel her for problematic stuff she'd said in the past. Someone crashed the baby's funeral to vlog it and shit on the mother.

I will say that I think some of the mother's past behavior warrants an apology, but I can't get over how ghoulish it is to drag someone whose baby just died. And how much of an actual fucking freak you'd have to be to vlog and try to get clout off of a baby's funeral. I'm the furthest thing from a luddite, but Jesus, social media has really set us back as a species.

[awkward-teabag]

Love (cannot emphasis how much sarcasm there is in that word) that an official Canadian government response to high cellphone rates is to switch carriers.

Switch it to what? We basically have three companies since one was allowed to eat the forth (with the government saying it wasn't anti-competition and the company eating the other pinky promising they wouldn't jack rates up). Even the smaller companies have to rent infrastructure from the Big Three so there's only so much they can do if that rent costs an arm and a leg.

And that's not touching on how many "small companies" are actually just subsidiaries of the Big Three. You may save $5 but you're still with Telus/Rogers/Bell.

Or that the actual small companies tend to have shit coverage because they don't have the infrastructure available to them and are prevented from getting it. Or their traffic is throttled in favour of the Big Three's customers. Or both.

Or that they're extremely regional thus aren't an option for a huge chunk of Canada's population.

We have no true options and the government has shown time and again that they're fine with monopolies, in multiple industries, and don't care when said monopolies jack up prices to make shareholders and the c-suite more money at the expense of everyone else. At most there will be a verbal slap on the wrist and a giftcard for $25 that people have to register for, for a decade and a half of price gouging.

It's not talked a whole lot about outside the country from what I've seen and heard but Canada is a country of monopolies. A handful of companies own nearly everything, every province has a family or two that owns a hell of a lot (Nova Scotia is basically owned by one family at this point), and our government ignores it. Even the branch that is supposed to be against monopolies is fine with mergers and takeovers in most cases.

Because, you know, the company said it totally wouldn't use consumers' lack of options to increase prices.

[ghostincorrectinternetedition]

Cirrus: Some creepy dude online asked me for a nude, so I sent him a really zoomed in picture of Gordon Ramsay’s forehead wrinkles and told them it was my cleavage. He then sent me a fapping video, and I’m dying laughing. I made this dude fap to Gordon Ramsay’s forehead!

[kineticpenguin]

This is just old Boomer advice and it’s kinda like saying “if you have to join a cult, join Scientology.”

The Air Force uses the exact same pay scale and benefits as every other branch. Troops living in condemned base housing isn’t just an Army thing, either. Also the PT thing isn’t even true like it was in the 1990s.

The fact that the Air Force enlisted are generally more likely to be technicians, medical and administrative personnel rather than combat arms will give you decent odds of not getting shot, but it will often not protect you from completely fucking up your physical and mental health through grueling shift work hours, the drinking culture, and subjecting you to the absolutely insane abuses of military hierarchy.

[mams-is-my-will-to-live]

I had a sudden urge to worship Xie Lian. Like make an altar and all that fun stuff

Heck I'll make one where I worship HuaLian. Why not? It isnt illegal.

[turnupswritessometimes]

A Toast to the Roman - Last Binding Series - Oneshot

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56529883

Summary: “Mr Ross.” Shit, Robin’s Baronet tone was out – that was how Alan knew he was in trouble. “Did you sell pornography to my sister on an ocean liner?”

“In my defence—” He used his best, most clipped voice. “Your sister bullied me into selling her all the pornography I was carrying. And, if I didn’t sell it to her, I believe the fair lady would have stolen it.”

(In which, Robin discovers Alan sold Maud his porn stash, everyone discovers the identity of the Roman and Alan discovers he's responsible for helping start all of their relationships.)

Word Count: 3,473

A Toast to the Roman

It happened on a lazy Sunday afternoon. A lazy Sunday afternoon of a bank holiday weekend. Naturally, the bank holiday meant Maud had been invited back to the Blyth estate from University – and where Maud Blyth went, Violet Debenham followed. Then, because Robin was Robin, he extended the invitation to Lord Hawthorn, to, “make it something of a party.”

And, where Lord Hawthorn went, Alan Ross seemed to follow.

“That had been my idea – a friendly party,” Robin had said, when they’d arrived. He wore that bright, Baronet smile that was impossible to resist. “A reunion, of the Final Contract Crew.”

Alan smiled back, blankly. “The what?”

“Ignore him,” Edwin appeared from further down the hallway, his arms full of books. “I’ve told him, we’re not calling ourselves that.”

“We need a team name,” Robin said. “Don’t you think?”

Alan weighed that up – figuring out who else would be solidly against the idea of a team name, who would be for it, and which side would be for fun to be with – when Jack said, “This isn’t Oxford, Blyth.”

Robin only laughed. He stepped aside, and welcomed them properly into his house. Alan was starting to feel more and more at ease on these estates, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Certainly didn’t like becoming accustomed to houses with their own grounds; changing for dinner; days without any plans to do real work. At least he still felt the same zeal to radicalise the staff. At least he would never tire of the way Jack looked at him when Alan did have the clothes to change to dinner: as though he wanted to rip them straight back off and kiss him completely senseless. It was the company – not just Jack, but all of them – that made Alan begrudgingly alright with the whole business. Because they were closer to him than simply friends now. It was like having a second family.

And it was a nice weekend – a good weekend – until Robin leant forward to move a pile of books from the coffee table in the lounge to make room for the chess set, and a purple pamphlet fell out.

There seemed, to Alan, a moment where time stopped, as everyone recognised it. (Purple, Alan thought almost hysterically, was not a very discreet colour.) They’d all been half-asleep in the sunshine drifting through the windows, lounging around, totally full of roast beef dinner with all the trimmings. Now, though, they were all awake. He took stock. Adelaide was (mercifully) in the garden. Maud sat in front of the armchair, legs folded under her, with an expression so carefully clueless it looped right round to guilty. Violet actually sat in the armchair, playing with Maud’s hair, an eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on her face. Entertained.

Both Edwin and Robin were sat on the sofa opposite Alan. Well, Robin was leant over, looking at the pamphlet as though it was a dog who’d slipped the leash and he was trying to catch it solely with his mind. Whilst Edwin was reclining, an elbow on the sofa, his fingers against his temples. He looked faintly sick.

Alan and Jack were on the other sofa. Not close – not practically on top of each other, the way Edwin and Robin always sat. Jack was a respectable distance away, though his arm was over the back of the sofa. If he twitched his hand, he could just graze the back of Alan’s neck – which he deliberately did now. His bad leg was outstretched, his cane against the end of the sofa. He looked impressively uncaring, but there was just a – quirk – to his mouth that showed his amusement.

Alan himself sat on the edge of the sofa, primed like a terrier, and he was desperately trying to school his expression into normalcy. He suspected he was succeeding as well as Maud. He felt nauseous. It was one thing to know that a lot of men had read his pamphlets; it was another thing entirely to come face to face with them – especially when he was good friends with them. Especially when he’d fought alongside them to save England’s magicians – England – the world?

“Ah,” Robin said. “That’s Win’s.”

Edwin’s usually colourless face flushed with pink. “Robin!”

“What?” Robin smiled, easily, and picked up the pamphlet. He still twisted it, to hide the title. “No one knows what it is.”

“Okay,” Alan said. He couldn’t help it. “Even if we all didn’t know what it is, that would only make us more suspicious.”

Jack’s pointer finger traced his neck, and he determinedly did not look at him. No doubt the bastard was smug and smirking. He hated him when he was like that.

“It truly is the guiltiest thing you could’ve said, Robin,” Violet added.

“In that case—” Edwin cleared his throat. “For the record, it’s not just mine.”

“Wait, no.” Now Robin stood, the books discarded, holding Alan’s fucking pornography aloft in one hand. “I can understand Hawthorn and Alan knowing about the Roman. I can even understand Violet. But I would like Maud to explain how she knows.”

Maud ducked her chin, smiling. It was the kind of smile that Alan suspected got her out of a lot of trouble growing up, and he could already see Robin start to relent.

“I happened to stumble upon his works, aboard the Lyric,” she said.

“How?” Robin pressed.

Maud, bless her, probably tried not to. But she couldn’t stop those bright green eyes from flicking to Alan. She might as well have pointed her finger and shouted.

Alan, knowing it was a show of guilt, still looked down. The back of his neck prickled, expecting a nudge from Jack. He didn’t, this time, not with Robin staring him down. It was not so much that their relationship was a secret, but they both seemed repelled by physical affection when other people were in the room. (Apart, of course, from longing looks and ‘accidental touches.’ Perhaps that was part of it.)

“Mr Ross.” Shit, Robin’s Baronet tone was out – that was how Alan knew he was in trouble. “Did you sell pornography to my sister on an ocean liner?”

Violet burst out laughing; Maud giggled; even Edwin hid a smirk behind his hand. Jack though, Jack watched Alan with those piercing blue eyes. He had one eyebrow ever so slightly raised, like a challenge.

Alan, though, wondered if it was a good time to bring up the fact that he’d betrayed them all to Edwin’s evil older brother, and made the whole Last Contract business a hell of a lot harder. Surely that would be a good distraction from selling a Baronet’s sister porn.

“In my defence—” He used his best, most clipped voice. “Your sister bullied me into selling her all the pornography I was carrying. And, if I didn’t sell it to her, I believe the fair lady would have stolen it.”

Maud cried, “That’s slanderous, Mr Ross!”

Robin, though, rolled his eyes, as though he wasn’t truly angry. “Maudie. You can’t bully people into selling you things.”

“In my defence—” Maud sat up, even straighter, her dark hair falling out of Violet’s grasp. It fell around her shoulders in a soft wave. “It made for the most amusing evening we had on that ship.”

“Oh, that’s very true,” Violet added, nudging Maud’s shoulder with her knee. Her smile was dazzling. “Who knew Lord Hawthorn would make such a good character in a Roman pamphlet?”

Robin’s eyebrows rose in interest, looking over them all. Even Edwin looked intrigued. They were both, no doubt, using their imagination, given their familiarity with the Roman’s work. Alan was regretting eating so many roasted parsnips, because they were surely going to be making a second appearance.  Even that would be preferable to them guessing at the intricacies of their relationship.

It didn’t help, of course, that Jack looked so calm about it all – so uncaring – so fucking smug, when he said, “Indeed.”

Alan wanted to bite him, like a cobra. Unfortunately, thinking about biting Jack; about pouncing on his neck and sinking his teeth in; also sent a sting of pleasure through him. Because, hell, when they were alone these days, they alternated between playing out the Roman’s greatest hits and coming up with the inspiration for the next one. Because hadn’t Jack been folded into each of those stories anyway? What was the point of pretending otherwise?

Robin, at least, seemed at a loss. He nodded. Took a breath. Tried, Alan thought, to still be the indulgent, carefree older brother he always was. He twisted the pamphlet in his hand, hitting it in his other palm. Eventually, he sat back down on the sofa. Edwin’s knee nudged his own, in support.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m not happy about it, but alright. That does explain my question. Thank you.”

Edwin rested his cheek on his knuckles, looking Alan over as though he wanted to study him. He decidedly did not like being the centre of attention in this way – it was even worse than being dressed in fine clothes and trotted out to dinner.

“I’m sorry, Robin,” he murmured, and tried to look suitably embarrassed. Really, his mind was thinking back to that night on the ship. Was placing bull horns on the sides of Jack Alston’s head. Would there be any way to convince him to play that part properly, one day? To hear him rumble ‘Cesare,’ in his ear, when he caught hold of him? When he lifted him bodily, as though he weighed nothing and had Alan completely at his mercy.

He had to shift, on the sofa.

Jack. Whose eyebrow raised a step further. Alan narrowed his eyes in reply.

“Allow me,” Jack said, in that low murmur. It was as much of a ‘please,’ as he could ever give. It was the fact that he asked at all, which cut through Alan’s core. The asshole wouldn’t give Alan’s secret away without his permission. Now that he thought about it, he did want to see their reaction.

He nodded.

“What?” Edwin asked, his tongue sharp and his eyes sharper.

Jack, bastard that he was, drew the moment out. Settled himself even further into the sofa, adjusting his leg again, and tilting his chin ever so slightly up in that lordly fashion.

“Books are best read by their authors,” Jack said. He pinched the back of Alan’s neck. Just enough to sting. He had to bite his tongue to stop from laughing. His cheeks bloomed with heat.

There was another moment. A long moment. Edwin looked faintly sick again, his face colourless, his eyes flicking from Alan to Jack. Robin had stopped moving entirely, a half-smile frozen on his face, as though he was expecting them to say it was all a joke. Maud, though, had her hands pressed to her mouth, and looked ecstatic. Violet had hold of Maud’s tresses again, and looked suitably impressed. It was as though Alan writing pornography earnt him more respect, in her eyes, than saving them all from crazy magicians.

Jack, though, Jack looked smug. His hand had stayed just against the back of Alan’s neck. It felt like a claim. Like he’d decided to undress Alan in front of the whole room, and, just like when Jack actually undressed him, it filled him with equal parts embarrassment and excitement. Because everyone in this room was somewhat acquainted with the Roman, and they knew what that implied. Weren’t just placing them both in one of those pamphlets, but confirming it for a fact.  

It should bother him more, that he’d exposed not only his own writing, but his own tastes. But, Maud had let slip too many details about her own love life to Alan – and Jack commiserated his pain from Violet’s chats – and from Robin and Edwin determinedly not looking at each other, he guessed they all had their own tastes. That, at least, meant none of them were alone.

“You don’t mean—” Robin started.

“You?” Edwin asked.

Alan grinned. He couldn’t help it. He opened his hands, his fingers splayed. It was different to admit it when he wasn’t teasing Jack Alston. (When he wasn’t trying to fuck Jack Alston.) It gave him a slight thrill, though, to have this knowledge over everyone. To know that even men like Robin, magicians like Edwin, read his work. And liked it.

From behind Maud’s hands came a delighted giggle. Her eyes shone like jewels. Alan looked at her. He couldn’t help it. He flicked his eyelid in a wink. She giggled more, ducking her chin.

Robin rubbed a hand over his face, laughing soundlessly, still seeming dazed. “But you’re—”

“Older than I look.” Alan leant back, into Jack’s hand. Felt his finger press against the bone of his neck. It sent warmth rushing down his back.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Jack said. Smug, and, if Alan wasn’t losing his mind, a little proud too. Jack Alston was proud of him. It shouldn’t make him feel like a dog with a bone.

Robin thumped back against the sofa. He still held the pamphlet, and he let it uncurl. Alan got a glimpse at the title; it was the latest. He was still a subscriber, then.

“Damn,” he said. His dark eyes roved over Alan again, and he felt his heart squirm. It was unfair how attractive Robin Blyth was. Doubly unfair that he was much too nice to be in any of Alan’s pamphlets. “You’re a skilled writer, Alan.”

Violet snorted. She finished tying off Maud’s plait. “Please – are you going to wax lyrical about his descriptive writing?”

“Well, it is descriptive.”

Edwin took a folded wooden chess set from the table, and tapped Robin’s leg with it in rebuke. Alan bit his tongue harder, a chill running down his spine by the fact that Jack’s hand was still on his collar.

“It might interest you to know, then,” Edwin said, casually, with just a single sly look at Alan. “That the Roman’s writings played somewhat of a role in Robin and I starting our relationship.”

He said it like a poker player placing a winning hand. It certainly felt like that. For a moment, Alan couldn’t breathe.

He supposed it made sense. After all, they’d all recognised the purple pamphlet here, didn’t they? It was a discreet way of asking if someone else was of a similar persuasion, and he was sure it happened a lot. But, still—

“Is there anyone here who is not in a relationship because of my bloody pornography?” he asked.

“That’s a fine discussion to be having.”

Saints alive, it was Adelaide. Back from the garden, and peering into the lounge. Alan wanted to shrivel up like a raisin on the spot, and never be heard from again, especially with the way she was looking at them all. Thank God for the Blyths, and their infectious laughter. It dissolved most of the awkwardness in the room.

Adelaide looked at them all. She shook her head, and said, deliberately, “I will be reading in my room, if anyone needs me.”

“I’m sorry you had to overhear that,” Robin spoke for the group.

She shook her head again, and disappeared. It left them all looking at each other like guilty children. At least Adelaide’s appearance had knocked some of the smug from Jack’s expression. Alan sat back a little, on the sofa, and felt another possessive graze of touch on the back of his neck. It had answered his question. At least Robin finally had the sense to put the pamphlet back between the books, and pile them up underneath the table, and Edwin had busied himself in setting up the chess board. As Alan watched him, he couldn’t help but wonder – just which of Edwin’s copies of his work were the most well-thumbed? Did he and Robin play them out, too?

Edwin glanced up at him. Alan looked away. He definitely shouldn’t let his mind wander there.

Evidently, it was playing on Violet’s mind too, because she said, “I, for one, am very glad we can all share these details about our sex lives.”

Alan winced; he saw Edwin shake his head, determinedly, where Robin outright groaned.

“No, thank you,” he said.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore,” Maud said, tugging her new plait over her shoulder.

“Maudie.” Robin looked at her.

Maud got his meaning. She wrinkled her noise. “Oh no, you’re right. Let’s not.”

“That’s hardly fair, when I have to listen to Miss Debenham regale me with her stories,” Jack said. He had that fake disgruntled tone, which showed he wasn’t actually cross.

“That’s what friends do, Lord Hawthorn.” Violet ruined her air of manners and dignity by sticking her tongue out.

Alan laughed. He couldn’t help it. The sick feeling had given way to heady one; he’d been met with acceptance; with almost too much eagerness. But it was a secret they were all in together – just like magic, Alan supposed. That was why he felt so giddy. It was so ridiculous. It was ridiculous that he was able to have this conversation at all.

Ridiculous, and yet – it was a secret he could never share with his family. A secret that he was oddly glad to share with this family. His other family. It made him feel confident – powerful – like he’d earnt his place here.

He didn’t want to read too much into what that meant.

“I certainly will be reading the Roman in a new light.” Edwin finished setting up the board. He made the first move, with white, and rested his elbows on his knees as he waited for an opponent.

It definitely wasn’t going to be Alan. The more he played of chess, the less he liked it. He resolutely sat back, trying not to look too much like a cat with the cream. He was giddy, now; giddier from Jack’s proud look and smug smirk. Jack was proud that he’d landed the Roman.

It was Jack who made the move against Edwin. They looked at each other, and Alan suspected it would be a tense match. He nudged Jack’s elbow with his own, when he moved forward. He got a glimmer of those blue eyes on him.

“I know I certainly will be.” That was Maud, also looking far too smug – far too happy about who she could imagine in those pamphlets, now.

“You shouldn’t be reading them at all,” Robin replied – as though he was the epitome of innocence.

“I’m a grown woman, Robin.”

The two glared at each other. Silently, Edwin leant forward to move another chess piece. Jack followed suit. They’d exchanged three moves each by the time Robin stood, clapping his hands on his knees as though that concluded the conversation. (Which meant he’d lost the argument to his sister, Alan noticed.)

“I do have questions, though,” Robin continued. He was heading to the cabinet, and thank fuck for that, because that was where the liquor was kept. Alan felt like a drink. He eyed the sparkling glasses, because it was the only safe thing to keep his eyes on.

“I will not be answering any questions about practicality,” Alan said.

Violet laughed again. Jack made a move that clearly lost him his bishop.

Robin was pouring drinks on the sideboard. His cheeks were actually a faint pink, as though he was embarrassed.

“That wasn’t…” He seemed to be pretending to be more occupied in getting each shot of brandy even. “I rather meant about – where your ideas originate.”

“No,” Alan said. “Not today. Certainly not whilst I’m sober enough to remember. Tihank you.”

Which, at least, got a chuckle out of Jack. Alan kicked his good ankle, and was pleased to see that he left a shoe mark on his Lordship’s trousers. He would not even look at Edwin – still soundly winning against Jack – because he was sure there would be some knowing there.

Robin looked suitably cowed and apologetic (for the time being), as he handed out the glasses. They really were fine things; crystal-clear glass with patterns cuts into them; the likes of which the Rossi family would likely never own.

He really did live in two worlds.

“Can we have a toast though?” Robin asked. Asked Alan, and actually waited for him to nod, cheeks still hot. He was rewarded with another of those bright, Blyth smiles. “Well then, a toast to the Roman – for how his…descriptive literature brought us all together.”

Brought them all together, indeed, Alan thought, as they raised their glasses in unison. The brandy glowed golden in the sunlight coming through the windows. It was warm, kicking Alan’s throat on the way down.

But he was smiling.

And that, he thought, was pretty fantastic.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: "Is it that fun?" Teruhashi wants to project into his mind. "Not being the center of attention?" It’s only then that she realizes while watching Saiki smile into his cup – the words “WINNER! You win one free coffee jelly!” printed across the bottom – there’s something to be found in the silence. OR: Across every iteration of their universe, Teruhashi Kokomi and Saiki Kusuo have a lot to learn from each other. Especially when she's a psychic fixated on attention and he's a perfect, pretty boy fixated on normalcy.

Author: galacticbestbuds

[unholyhymns]

actually, staff, can you tell me why you let a highschooler pay money to blaze a post tagged with a community about kids who have crushes on older adults, as if that's a good and safe thing to let a kid put forth to thousands of strangers

[catinc]

Anybody else been getting these lately? Below, while it has to be censored by me for some reason, is not able to be reported, and is a link to a porn phishing site with a slew of completely unrelated tags.

To spread awareness, I will do the same. To the people following these tags who find both my post as well as the topic annoying, I'm sorry. To the people who only find the topic annoying, I urge you to reblog to help gain awareness.