#it is really just... SO unremarkable (but not in a bad way) that i have no more remarks lol

[crehador]

brother crab's spring 2024 first impressions: re:monster

it's fine! like it is the most solidly Just Fine show i've seen in a very long time. i can't imagine it getting much better but i'm only here for satotaku so i'll be content as long as it doesn't get much worse lol

that's... pretty much it. nothing else to say. Just Fine

[waywardsalt]

:3

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

[postoctobrist]

Where should I be wearing masks? Frankly, putting them on feels insane and pointless now, and I’ve gotten pretty fucking close to believing that it IS, so I’ve tried to mitigate that by doing a bunch of weird rules lawyering around when and where I put it on

Oh man okay I’m going to get yelled at for this. So there’s this balance between minimising risk to yourself and others, and being able to live a live you enjoy and which doesn’t make you feel insane. The safest way to live is completely indoors away from everyone, but very few people like doing that unless they have to. We couldn’t stay locked down forever because it was an unsustainable change. Masks are very effective but people do not like wearing them or even seeing other people wearing them, really. Shit, I mean we can barely get people to wash their hands and that’s one of the most effective and least annoying public health interventions there is. So you can wear an N95 everywhere but I don’t think you’re going to succeed at normalising it, and people are going to stare at you etc.

Also, the risk side of the equation has changed (some people are very reluctant to acknowledge this!). Not for everyone, certainly, but covid is just endemic now, vaccinations have been very very effective, and we’re kind of back to playing the same dumb luck game we agree to play with every other transmissible illness. Is that great? Not really, but there’s only so much you can make people, including yourself, do. It also means that the consequences of transmission are, while still potentially very bad, materially not the same as the ‘freezer truck stacked full of dead bodies’ days of covid.

I think the most important situation to wear a mask in is if you know you’re ill or have just recently been ill. That does miss the bit where you’re most contagious, because you’re asymptomatic, but like I say, imperfect world. Anyway, if you have to go out and you’re coughing and sneezing all the time it’s worthwhile.

Also if you know you’re going to be in a situation where you know you’re going to be in close contact with more vulnerable people - hospital, care home - or it’s really crowded or has more recirculated air - subway, plane, etc.

And of course you should always wear one to a protest, to minimise covid transmission. Covid also hates it when you wear unremarkable clothing and cover any distinctive tattoos.

The main thing I want to get across is that it’s not the end of the world if you don’t wear a mask somewhere, whether you get sick or someone else gets sick or nobody does. One of the worst social phenomena to come out of the pandemic was this idea that blame is an effective public health tool. I simply don’t believe in morality at that scale and I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault that there happen to be weird microscopic copy machines floating around waiting to unthinkingly copy themselves all over the insides of someone’s lungs. It’s a good thing to wear a mask when you can, but it doesn’t make you a good person, or a bad one if you don’t.

You do have to keep washing your hands, though, I’m not giving up on that one.

[sitaraa--writes]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

[drdemonprince]

Re: autistic advice; i keep seeing people making fun of stuff like "are you in a place to hear bad news" or scripts like that. I grew up in an environment where it was common practice to just drop heavy subjects on people out of the blue, & I still find that intensely uncomfortable. But I've now had multiple people tell me that it makes them feel shitty when I ask, for example, "are you up for a dark subject?" & I don't really know how to square it away. I want to make sure that I'm not stepping on anyone's toes or making them feel ambushed or trapped, but apparently it makes some people feel like they're not allowed to have their feelings. I end up feeling pretty shitty about it, because like... it feels like either I have to be Rude (because it DOES feel rude to just drop a dark topic on someone) &/or risk having something shitty I can't deal with dropped in my lap, or else really upset people. I guess... is there a way to navigate this?

I would recommend being more specific.

People find phrases like "Are you in a place to hear something that might hurt you?" and "Are you up for a dark subject?" to be a bit presumptuous about what their emotional reactions will be or what they are capable of handling. It also can make what would have otherwise been a very unremarkable exchange become tinged with anticipatory anxiety.

When someone asks me a question like "are you up to hear something dark?" I might feel coddled and condescended to, rather than emotionally respected. Or if they ask me "are you prepared to hear something that might hurt you?" / "are you up for a serious conversation?" I think they're about to drop some serious emotional bomb on me, like that they're friend-dumping me for something horrible that I didn't realize I did. Then when it ends up being a meme they want to share or a question about a celebrity lawsuit or something i'm kind of pissed at the false alarm and the coddling that, rather than protecting me, made me feel worse.

In either case, rather than giving me time to emotionally prepare or interact when I am ready, these vague questions have introduced some kind signal of social or emotional threat. If anything, it increases the felt urgency to just have the damn conversation already and see what kind of monster is lurking behind the person's words. It makes me *less* likely to exercise control over when the conversation happens or when I see the upsetting thing.

So be specific. "Do you wanna see a disgusting meme?" "I want your opinion on something, but the question touches on sexual assault. Is that okay to talk about?" "I want to talk to you about a conflict I'm having with my other partner." "Can I ask you your opinion on this transphobia discourse?" Etc.

The more specific you can be about the subject and why you are asking about it, the more power you are giving the other person to actually decide what they want to engage with. When someone asks me if I am willing to discuss something dark, I really have no idea what to say. They're imposing their judgement of what is a dark or upsetting topic onto me, when really they have no idea what I might find triggering and what I might really enjoy getting to talk about.

Rather than trying to protect me from something I haven't even encountered yet, you gotta let me encounter it, and actually trust that I will take care of myself. If I don't want to talk about sexual assault I won't, if I don't want to look at gross imagery I'll say no, if hearing one more bad thing about your other partner is going to make my jealousy fume, I am responsible for handling that. You're not responsible for my emotions.

It's good to notice which subjects your friends are especially sensitive to and what big triggers they have so that you can be considerate. My friends know I cant look at lots of blood flowing out of someone for instance and dont send me visuals/fics that feature, say, wrists being slit or blood being drawn. But if they forgot, I'd understand and just look away and squeal oh no i cant look at that get it away. And that would be fine. They are not responsible for my reactions to things.

[sparrowlucero]

what's the strange aeons opinion you disagree with?

(just to clarify: this was a lighthearted jab, i dont really care and this explanation is just for posterity. except for the clown thing. fix that) There was a recent strange aeons video that reiterated what I see as kind of poor tumblr takes on Steven Moffat's work, specifically that he 1) only writes cheap shock value without meaningful stories to make himself look clever, 2) that his work is "for men like him, who wanted to watch strong male characters who are always right save the day and ogle at some hot women along the way", and 3) that he habitually queerbaited because he didn't know how to respond to a female fanbase (1) I talked a bit why I disagree with this here; basically, I just think it was one of those things where a subset of a fandom would interpret the work as being deliberately vindictive (Ex. "We have issues with this show, so it must be because the writer is making it bad on purpose to spite us. Only a very arrogant person would do that, so it is now reasonable to see everything in this show through the lens of that ego." etc etc), and it got to the point where the actual themes and motifs of the shows would be entirely unremarked upon or outright dismissed (and it was even a bit of a tumblr faux pas to attempt to engage with them at all) in favor of trying to dissect how and why each episode and character was bad/hostile towards the audience. Because these takes were so popular and widely accepted then, they're often treated as the most objective and nuanced take now. I could get into why I disagree further in regards to the actual content of the shows, but to put it simply, I just think he's a good writer who did some really thoughtful and thematically engaging work for reasons other than, you know, trying to make himself look smart and not wanting girls to watch doctor who. (1) (I didn't really go into this in that previous post but I think it's really weird how people treat the co showrunner, Mark Gatiss, a gay man who wrote a lot of what people attribute to Moffat as a straight man queerbaiting female fans, as a non entity in this conversation. I'm not a big fan of Gatiss but, like, I don't know, give him some agency in his own art here)

[meyerlansky]

i'm very 👀 about what bucky's family situation looks like, actually. historically, his dad died in nov '42, so he's only six months out from it at the start of the show, but it never really comes up—he doesn't flinch or offer anything back when gale talks about his dad, which... maybe he had a good relationship with his dad, so he doesn't have anything to offer. but he doesn't look at gale like he's surprised at cleven sr being a bad dad the way i'd expect a character with a fairly happy, uneventful home life to react to "my dad left me sleeping on benches"-level bad parenting. and if he DID have a shitty relationship with his dad, that's the perfect moment to empathize and bond over it. but he doesn't take it.

and then we get the revelation that he doesn't get any letters in the stalag. obviously he's not getting romantic letters, but one of the other guys mentions a letter he got is from his mom, with equivalent relief and comfort to gale's reaction to marge's letters. in so doing the show establishes that letters from family presumably count for the conversation the bucks have wrt having someone to get letters from. bucky's mom is still around. why doesn't he at least get letters from her? he's got two sisters, historically—one's three years older and the other's six years younger. both ages that wouldn't exactly hinder sending letters to your POW brother. but nothing.

initially i was gonna say i have trouble believing that bucky—who wears every emotion he has plain on his face, who's so stupidly easy to read that everyone thinks they know exactly what's going on with him in every scene, and who has a hugely visible downward spiral when his preferred options for coping with STUPENDOUS AND COMPOUNDING traumas are taken away from him—either:

has so solidly processed his dad's recent death inside six months that he doesn't need to externalize any reaction to it, or

is somehow better at keeping the details of how he feels about his family close to his chest than he is about basically every other feeling he's ever had

and it's still possible that his relationship with his family is simply unremarkable and there's nothing deeper to it. or that he had a bad relationship with his dad, but not any worse than your average "my dad and i didn't get along great" kind of deal, not cleven-level bad. but... i dunno, man, i have trouble buying THAT, more than i have trouble buying that the situation is deeper than bucky lets show.

his MOTHER doesn't even write to him. and we don't find this out until he's been stalag'd for over a year. so he... does actually keep it pretty close to his chest. more importantly, he keeps it close to his chest when it's something he could use to strengthen his relationship with gale. that doesn't really fit with the read of bucky as an open book looking for anything he can get from gale. like... it doesn't fit with that read of him at all.

it feels way more likely to me that there's Bad Shit there, and that that Bad Shit extends beyond bucky's relationship with his dad, into his relationship with his mom and even into coloring his relationship with his now-adult sisters. something like being kicked out, or disowned, or bucky deliberately going no-contact. and that's interesting on its own—what could he possibly have done to lose his entire family like that? my personal guess is he got caught with a boy and got kicked out over it, but it could be hetero slutting around too; it could be the drinking or the gambling or not going to school or his parents just fucking suck absolute ass, or any number of things that aren't Picturesque Rural Wisconsin Family appropriate

but also. i'm really fascinated by the sense of... isolation, i guess? that this confers on him as a character. he's such a loud, eye-catching presence In The Moment, and i wonder how long it takes the people around him to realize that he only seems to exist In The Moment, and doesn't have a past he's anchored in enough to discuss it even with the people he's closest to.

like how long does it take gale to realize he's spilled his guts about his dad to bucky, in a way that very clearly carries some level of "i'm letting you see something no one else has seen" feeling with it... and he got nothing back of equivalent weight wrt bucky's family, not just in that conversation but at any point that we see on screen? months? years? does gale EVER realize bucky's hidden/neglected to share his past even after gale's given bucky his?

[beemovieerotica]

trying to find like 1 buddhist temple near me to go to and braved reddit to find commentary on different sects and it's such a cesspool of both completely unaware hypocrisy and "all religion bad" shit.

the way americans talk about modern buddhism is like "it's such a cult...they require membership dues...and they get political sometimes...and the leaders are really charismatic speakers" as if. as if every community center doesn't have rent to pay. and makes commentary on society at large. and the people they choose to speak are probably good speakers. every christian church in america also does all these things. like if these are the requirements for a cult then every religion also does this and so of course the other half of the reddit comments go "and THIS is why all religions are cults!!"

I feel like I have a pretty good radar for cult behavior after matrix bullet dodging at least 2 in college and these people online are specifically talking about the sect my grandparents & extended family are in. and it's weird because the complaints are primarily philosophical in nature, like "they communicate with the spirit realm!!" and idk how to emphasize to people that it doesn't strictly matter how weird you think a belief system is, that's not what makes something a cult. it's whether or not the cult subsumes the person's life, isolates them from non-participants, forces an emotional dependency, deifies and makes unimpeachable a still-living leader, and/or requires an ever-escalating financial stake. the average evangelical church ticks off most boxes in this list, the temples they're talking about don't do any of these things, they have esoteric takes that at best will get an eyebrow raise in conversation.

like it's not terribly surprising that american ex-christians are put off by the idea of people connecting with their ancestors and deceased loved ones because of its contradiction with both atheism and the christian afterlife - and I wouldn't lump it in with spirit medium grifters since people are literally not being paid for this service. it's just really odd sifting through all of the commentary because I absolutely agree that any religious group can turn into a cult, I don't think buddhism is immune to that at all, I don't think any belief system is at its core immune to becoming an isolating force in someone's life - but it's just wild seeing these sects being but through a Good Religion purity test that no christian church would pass just based on the surface level strangeness of their beliefs versus the actual identifiers of what a cult looks like.

but anyway that's a long tangent. the temple that I'm looking at is not part of that sect but a different one, it's the only one within reasonable driving distance with an up-to-date calendar of events and responsive staff, and I'm feeling very cunty right now and I'm seeing that is has had concerns raised about it in the past of being "too political" "too fast-growing" "too aggressive in recruiting" and I simply love placing myself in circumstances and then telling everyone about the drama I find. that is worth jotting down. I'm going to record all my experiences and report back, and if I do end up in a cult, y'all will be the first to know - and if it's an unremarkable place with a normal staff, you will also know. I would preemptively rate my cult susceptibility a 3 out of 10 - but looking at this temple I'm going to say it's a 2 out of 10 because everyone there is white and I'm put off by overly-enthusiastic white people.

[inexplicifics]

Hi. I was rereading the fashion asks about using monster parts, and thinking about the conversations about Witcher armor Cahir had in Flung to Catch a Star, and the two between them got me thinking.

Cahir's mental commentary about the value of wyvern leather suggests that wearing monster-derived materials is already a thing of high status, but at the same time nobody has remarked on the Witchers' leather armor. Presumably this means that the finished product doesn't look much different from ordinary leather the way the Witchers work it. Meanwhile, any noble who was able to afford such a material would want everyone to know what they were wearing and display it accordingly.

So most such fashion would come in two main flavors, practical and aesthetic. One group valuing the material for its useful properties, and the other for the difficulty of acquiring it. (Until such time that the Witchers have the time to spare to start getting fancy about the things they make.)

That dual purpose makes me think that the White Wolf could make some very interesting statements with diplomatic gifts. Who gets something ostentatious and purely decorative? Who is given an object that is not only impressive but also more useful because of the properties of the material? Who goes home in an unremarkable leather vest that offers as much protection as metal armor…

In other words: Who is getting an expensive gift just because it would be a bad idea to upset them? Who is an actual ally they really do want to help or protect? And who do they want to support, without drawing attention to it with an obvious mark of favour from the Witchers court. If only their true allies know enough to tell what is useful as well as decorative it could form an interesting layer of subtext. (One that may have already been started with Milena's special hairpins.)

*chinhands*

Where's that "You, keep talking" gif?

I'm not sure I have anything useful to add here but damn is this some good worldbuilding fuel. Thank you.

[lucky-lucky-duck]

Snapshot: Life as a Vagastrom Student

I love Leo, but I love to argue with him in my head like we're rival mean girls in an early 00's movie when I'm freaking out about finals even more. Then this was born. Tada ⋄

Gender Neutral Ghoul Student!Reader with Alan, Leo, and Sho. Relationships written ambiguously.

Slight warning for language? It's not really that bad.

⋄Explaining internet culture to Alan⋄

You don't bother to repress your sigh as the blank look forms on your captain's face. "They called you a boomer, man. It means you're old. Which is, like, factually inaccurate, considering there's a vampire on campus." A small frown tugs at the edges of your mouth, "It's also mean. Who said that to you?"

A hand lands on your head in a clear a show show of thanks, and the achingly gentle nature of the touch is completely unwarranted for the situation. "Doesn't matter. Thanks."

Warmth radiates from your cheeks, and you duck your face away as you respond at Alan's retreating back, "No worries, dude... Remind me to show you Urban Dictionary some time."

⋄ Communicating with Leo via passive aggressive Tiktok trends ⋄

"I'm passing the phone to the worst candidate for vice-captain, who ate my fucking oreo's without replacing them." The faux cheer in your voice is a stark contrast to the primal rage in your eyes when your gaze meets the man across from you. You're pretty sure this trend is supposed to be done in separate rooms, but it's not like that matters when Leo and his stigma are involved. Plus, this feels like a much better way to drive home the point.

A sly, wicked smile slides up the sides of Leo's lips, and you don't have time to feel regret before the words leave his mouth like daggers with ruthless precision, "I'm passing the phone to a No-Name NPC who is so unremarkable that the faculty evaluators actually forgot they existed."

A pregnant pause fills the common area. Even some of the general students have paused, the hustle and bustle of the garage doing nothing to stop the growing tension. "Hey, so, why are you always such a cun--"

⋄ Tasting all Sho's newest recipes ⋄

"What do you think?"

The taste hits your tongue in an explosion of different sensations. The crispiness of the tortilla blends wonderfully with the different spices and garnishes. If you didn't know that this is Sho's first attempt at both street tacos and using the anomalous mystery meat from the student store, you wouldn't have guessed. "It's great."

"Just great? That's all you've got to say?"

“It is great,” you bristle defensively and lean down to take another large bite.

“I legitimately invited you here to give feedback,” Sho snipes back, grimacing at the bits of food that drop from your mouth as you speak with your mouth full.

“Yeah, and I told you it’s great?” You decidedly ignore the thick judgemental edge in the man's tone as you finish off the last bit of your meal and hold your plate out for another. “No notes.”

The next taco is placed onto your plate, and Sho's eye-roll is fully audible, despite him turning back to the stove. “Just be quiet and eat.”

[butmakeitgayblog]

It's not talked about a lot in the fandom but I love how high pitched Lexa's voice is. I know Alycia tried her damned hardest to make it low and intimidating but damn that's the best it can do 😳 she looked hot af as Big Bad HedaTM but the moment she spoke on screen with her unmistakable "oh yeah that's Alycia" voice......... I was a GONER. Like the video of "not everyone, not you" you just posted?? Like somehow I never remember exactly how feminine she sounds when I'm reading fanfics 😂

Because Alycia quite literally was the perfect little delicate bean to play that role 😩

Not to get off subject but like, that's part of why I'd never want a spinoff. No one can play this character but Alycia. No one.

Because I feel like Alycia understood the assignment. In a way a lot of other actors probably wouldn't have, imo. She didn't strain to be something she wasn't or try to add a bunch of vibrato and bass to her voice, because that wasn't the kind of person Lexa was. She could do it to a degree, we see it in the scene when they believe Gus has been poisoned and she commands "No Skaiperson leaves this room!" But even then, filled with anger and fear of losing a confidant and father figure in her life... she still sounds like a young woman who is also just a pissed off leader. Alycia didn't strain to make it gravelier or darker. Because her power in that character doesn't come from false pretenses. She doesn't overtly or heavy handedly try and masculinize herself to convey strength. While I don't think there's anything wrong with that approach by any means, it just isn't always necessary.

And I know there is an argument to be made about them feminizing her even further in s3 for various sexist reasons, I do. But I still appreciated the overall performance and portrayal for what it was because despite all of the show's flaws (which were numerous 😒), letting a powerful woman figure be thoughtlessly and unremarkably feminine while also being a bad bitch just isn't something we see a lot imo. Usually if they're feminine, they're shrinking violets who are just shy and dainty and reserved. Stronger figures tend to be more masculine. More solid. More rigid. Deeper voices. Less feelings.

Lexa, however, was really none of those things when you truly look at her, despite the fact that she was unquestionably a larger than life presence on screen. She beat the shit of men twice her size and stood toe-to-toe with her enemies, commanded armies and led 12 warring nations under her iron fist leadership, she lost everyone she ever cared about and had her heart broken more times than she could count and still she dared to let herself fall in love again. Lexa was strong and she was vulnerable, she was lethal and she loved deeply. She was timeless and just a young woman trying her best to be a leader. Lexa was so many things all at once, and I appreciate the fact that Alycia didn't really bog it down with trying to convey her as something she wasn't.

And she did it all with that sweet dainty voice and her post apocalypse contacts and also impeccable eyeliner 💅

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I would really like to know how and why some of my fellow Brits have absorbed the whole "if none of us were any different (language/culture/identity) we would all understand each other better and it would be great" like my bro has said before that he thinks it would be better if only one language exists (I don't think he cares which one) I'm just ?????????? But we can try to understand each other without being the same?????

It's a dominant culture thing. A well-meaning, left-leaning one, but a dominant culture thing. This is a view held by people who don't feel any particular connection to their own culture or language, because it's dominant - it's 'default' and therefore universal and unremarkable.

This means they can't relate to the idea of belonging to your own cultural unit/sub-group. BUT:

It also goes hand in hand with being well-meaning, and left-leaning. They come from a dominant culture - meaning, one that gets imposed on others a lot, which they don't like. So they reject the notion of borders and nationhood and that, because to them, that's a negative, right wing, oppressive concept. It's in the name of nationalism that all the oppression happens; so nations are bad, right? Drawing divisions is bad, right? Dividing ourselves rather than all getting along is bad, right?

(Most famous example of this, by the way, is the song "Imagine". John Lennon was, for all his many and varied flaws, a well-intentioned man, who fell in love with an Asian woman and got subsequently FLOODED with racist abuse for it (as did Yoko Ono). He wrote "Imagine" partly as a response to that. No religion, no borders, no nations... no divisions to hate each other over. Just harmony and love.)

Seems nice, doesn't it?

But it ignores what everyone in a non-dominant culture knows and understands - that there's a difference between division and diversity, and that a single centralised authority ruling over all is Bad, Actually. People's needs go unnoticed. If you belong to a marginalised outgroup of some form, nationalism can have a great many positive benefits, because it's defending your culture and right to exist and giving you a voice that is otherwise lost. Why should we have a single homogenous culture? It'll never happen, regardless - that's not how humans work. Culture is literally the shared set of norms and values in a group. That will always adapt and change wherever there's a mass of people. And that is a good thing, because different perspectives are a good thing.

In fact, with regards to language, I always think a three-tier structure is what we need. I'm actually not against the concept of a lingua Franca, be it Esperanto or anything else. It would indeed be highly useful to have a global language for communication. But specifically for global communication - within a nation/cultural group/etc, you have the one(s) that's native to you and helps define you as a people, and then at a local level you have your dialect that unites you as neighbours. To me, for a healthy society, you need all three of those. (I have similar thoughts about currencies and economies but that is irrelevant here.)

Anyway, those are my personal thoughts, obvs

[scoobysnakz]

Hard Luck

It’s hard finding love when your sole reason to live is your daughter, but when her best friends dad is annoyingly attractive and might have something to do with your rent randomly getting paid, who can blame you for being a little curious?

||* mentions of masturbation (m receiving)

Chap i

The crisp autumn air carries a sense of nostalgia, which surprises you. It has been a while since you've experienced autumn in this way, but nostalgia is supposed to be a pleasant feeling, right?

Your daughter's small, chubby fingers firmly grip your hand as you playfully swing your arm out of her reach. You can't help but laugh at her adorable pout when you pull your hand away.

"I'm just teasing you," you say with a wide grin, extending your hand for her to take. "Stop being a grouch and hold my hand, RayRay!"

Her scowl quickly turns into a cheesy grin as she latches onto your hand. The sound of her pencil case and notebook thumping matches the rhythm of her skipping, and her glittery, purple sequin backpack bounces on her back.

Raya, or RayRay as you playfully call her, is your best friend. It's a bit sad, you know, but you've never really had time for friends. Ever since her dad left, she's been the only person in your life, aside from colleagues and your parents. And it's not so bad. She has adapted to your lifestyle, developed a sense of humor—her sarcasm is surprisingly on point for a nine-year-old.

The journey from your rundown apartment to her school isn't long, but it's far enough for the houses to transform from shabby boxes with crooked slate tiles to fancy condos with gleaming windows. It always amazes you how a few turns can take you to an area where people don't even know the meaning of a food bank.

You can tell by appearances alone that you don't fit in. The navy blue cable-knit sweater and boyfriend jeans, dirtied with mud stains, don't exactly scream, “I can afford more than one vacation a year!"

On the other hand, Raya always looks pristine. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but you'd rather wear nothing than have your daughter look as unkempt as you. Ensuring she has enough clean, stain-free clothes is your number one priority.

As you round a corner, narrowly missing a puddle that Raya "only wanted to look at" and not jump in, her disappointed expression gives her away.

Parents bustle around, urgently trying to retrieve their kids from the playground. It's nearly impossible to spot her teacher amidst the crowd of what seems like millions of moms, dressed in thick white scarves and thigh-high brown boots.

And then you hear it—a loud screech that, under different circumstances, would signify fear instead of the original joy it was intended for. "RAYYYY!" an excited girl squeals from the opposite end of the playground. Her dark brown hair is scraped back into a painfully tight ponytail as she races toward your daughter.

The two girls jump up and down gleefully, holding each other closely. It's a nice seeing her not alone.

You're so engrossed in watching your daughter giggle with her friend that you fail to notice the tall man standing next to you. What catches your attention first is his cologne—it's expensive.

The scent of thick oak is overpowering on its own, but it's tempered by the most unremarkable shower gel known to man.

"They're cute, aren't they?" he asks, causing you to turn your head and face him. You bite your lower lip for a moment, trying to figure out who this guy is. "Yeah... they are," you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Your words come out ruder than you intended, but you can't be bothered to fix your manners when a surprisingly attractive man is staring at your daughter, enjoying her time with another child. If you weren't genuinely confused about his identity, you might have reacted more strongly. Instead, you stand there, arms folded and brow furrowed.

"I'm... sorry, I'm Gabi's dad," he explains, his tone surprisingly apologetic.

That's her name.

"I'm Raya's dad," you reply, nodding toward the two girls. Hearing who he is instantly eases your fear that he might be something worse than just a father.

An awkward silence ensues as the man continues to study your appearance, seemingly taking you in. With a soft laugh, he smiles at you—a warm and irritatingly charismatic smile. "You don't look like a dad," he grins.

You open your mouth to give him a sharp, quick-witted retort, but your expression falters when you realize your mistake. Refusing to let this stranger have the upper hand in your first interaction, you smirk at him. "What do you mean?" you ask, poking your tongue past your lips to swipe across your teeth.

He instantly catches on to your smirk, and to be honest, it's endearing. "Because you don't look likea typical dad," he responds, matching your quickness. The same mischievous grin is plastered on both of your faces as you engage in a playful stare-down.

This morning, when you hastily applied expired mascara and cheap lip balm while trying to wake up Raya, you never expected to encounter such an annoyingly funny and undeniably attractive man—by your standards, at least.

With high cheekbones, thick eyebrows, and broad shoulders, anyone would take a second look at him.

The loud peal of the school bell interrupts your scrutinizing gaze, drawing your attention back to your daughter. You quickly give her a kiss on the cheek, and she instinctively wipes it away while giving you a glare, before you push her towards the school entrance.

The man—whose name you still don't know, aside from being Gabi's father—does the same, but his daughter doesn't wipe away the kiss.

"When I asked who you were, I was hoping for a name," you mutter, mostly to yourself, but hoping he hears it too.

"Miguel," he responds, his voice lacking the warmth he had when his daughter was present.

"I'm..." you begin to introduce yourself, but he cuts you off, his voice now tinged with cockiness.

"I know who you are," he says, raising an eyebrow. Your scoff makes it clear how creepy he sounds. "Gabi talks about Raya a lot, and with you being her mother, it's only natural."

You narrow your eyes at Miguel, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. Raya is your world, and beyond that, you've kept everything else tightly guarded. It's a defense mechanism, a way to shield yourself from potential hurt or judgment.

"What exactly does Gabi say about Raya?" you ask, your voice tinged with caution. You're not sure if you should be flattered or concerned that your daughter is a topic of conversation between Miguel and his daughter.

Miguel chuckles, seemingly amused by your response. "She just talks about how funny and cool Raya is," he replies. "They've become good friends at school. Gabi is always excited to see her."

There's feel a sense of relief that washes over you. It's comforting to know that Raya has found a friend who appreciates her for who she is.

“Well I need to go,” you say while motioning over to the school gates. “Work and stuff.”

He nods his head, expression just as nonchalant as it was moments ago.

***

After dropping off Raya at school, and a brief yet intriguing conversation with Miguel, you head back home. It's considerably warmer now than it was before; sun poking out of the clouds, shining down onto the leaf-littered pavement. The odd car whizzes past and it's all you can do to jump away in time before it splashes you in murky brown liquid.

Fortunately for you, you don't have to leave for work until ten so you get some time to yourself. As soon as you unlock the door to your apartment, it took longer than you'd like to admit as you forgot which way to turn the key, you flop down onto the worn-in sofa. It creaks beneath you- a sign that you need to get a new one.

If you had the money, you would. God, if you had the money you’d move out of this shitty apartment and into… anywhere else. Maybe a house on the coast would be nice, or one of those fancy condos by Raya’s school. Either way, you want out.

You feel your eyes grow heavy, the temptation to allow yourself a few moments of sleep all too good. With a low groan, you pull yourself up off the sofa and drag your feet over to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee.

You open the jar only to find a minuscule amount granules left- six to be exact. All you want is that burst of energy and yet you are denied it. “Fuck me,” you grumble under your breath.

***

Even though it was a painfully short moment between the two of you, Miguel decides you are tolerable. Okay, maybe you’re more than tolerable, he'll settle for bearable as he's feeling especially nice today. You’re funny, well that might be a bit dramatic since he hasn’t even had a proper conversation with you, but you made him laugh- internally that is.

But right now he needs to push you, the nice lady with a pretty smile and even prettier face, out of his mind. He has to focus on this paperwork that's been sitting on his desk for God knows how long.

Begrudgingly, he picks up his pen with a sigh and starts scrawling his signature on the limitless reams of paper. It's all nonsense about him signing off on random projects, and safety procedures and- those sweet lips.

Something about you is intoxicating. Even when he was skimming through the infinite amount of universes, you didn't seem that special. Yes, there were the odd facts that caught his attention but everything else just seemed… dull. So why now, after not even a full five minutes of your company, can't he get you out of his head?

At first, he assumes it's because you’re oddly charismatic but that's not it. You weren't even trying, you just didn't want him to pull a fast one on you. Maybe, just maybe, he underestimated your personality and being around you as a real person and not some fact file actually made you likeable- no, bareable.

Double checking his office door is closed and the blind is pulled down over the frosted glass before sliding back into his chair. “LYLA,” he calls out, words muffled by his head in his hands.

There’s a small glitch next to him that quickly turns into a digitalized woman. “You called?” LYLA asks, hands on her hips.

Fuck he feels guilty but maybe seeing that cocky smirk on your face will ease the culpability he’s feeling. “You… you know what I want and I don’t want teasing or anything about it, just do it, ‘kay?” Miguel’s voice is gruff, full of an annoyance he doesn’t even know he’s feeling.

“Why would I tease you about wanting to innocently look at something?” she drawls with a smirk.

He shoots her a look, an unamused one at that. Giggling childishly, LYLA pulls up a screen full of writing. Miguel’s eyes flicker back and forth trying to find something until he catches a glimpse of your name.

He swipes and flicks the blue pixels a few times before your socials are pulled up. It’s nothing much, just your Twitter, Facebook and a surprising amount of Instagram accounts. That, makes him laugh. He can tell exactly which ones are the accounts you use for stalking people and which ones are for actually posting things.

There are mostly pictures of you and Raya together on days out but there are a few of you on nights out nights out alone. He immediately notices you never post anything with friends and it’s oddly comforting because it’s not just drunk girls with smeared eyeliner that’s missing from your pictures. It’s a boyfriend as well.

Not that he wants to fill that missing gap in your selfies, he's just feeling a little lonely cooped up in his office. He's in this universe for Gabi and no one else, not the lady with a pretty smile.

Just as he’s about to zoom in on a picture that shows an alluring amount of your cleavage, LYLA cuts him off. “I like her smile,” she says while getting up a different picture. This time it’s one of you and Raya in last year's Halloween costumes. Pirates. That’s the two of you had dressed up as.

You’d drawn a black beard on her face, Raya’s outfit cute with the oversized black and white striped shirt meanwhile you… A tight black and red corset pushes your chest in a way that makes something inside Miguel stir.

He shouldn't be looking at you like this- it's wrong and perverse. The two of you only met today and yet he's salivating over a picture of you in a Halloween costume. Yet he can't stop himself from allowing his body to react to the way you look.

That feeling slips down from his chest to his gut until it eventually reaches his crotch. You look so pretty like that, cheeks appled and eyes wide as you pull a stupid face with your daughter. The picture is innocent enough in its own right but seeing you in something ever so slightly revealing makes his brain malfunction.

He bets could make you prettier, more gorgeous than ever if you let him. His cum painting your perfectly plump lips and his hands gripping bruises into your supple flesh.

[alkalische]

so for the past 4 months i've been brainrotting about theresis on twitter priv because nobody fucking gets him as a character actually.

anyone who says that he isn't very interesting is WRONG. he's actually very fascinating but in a way that's low key and easy to write off

to start off, something that's very important to theresis's characterisation is the fact that he's implied to be apparently very adherent to sarkaz tradition. to 'not fuck around with the dead'- this can be seen in manfred's conversation with the cluster.

it's explicitly expressed here:

except from Ch 11:

"Just one Sarkaz, no army, no servants. He rose from his throne, laid down the authority that he had never truly cared for, and walked here."

i LOVE the description of him here- when he appears in the story for the first time, NOBODY realises until it's too late.

His ONE goal was to PERSONALLY kill amiya and just eliminate the threat- no fanfare, no monologung, straight down to business.

He's not even particularly sneaky it's just that he's just such a regular ass dude that people just don't realise he's there

"laid down the authority he never truly cared for."

In the lore book, it's actually stated that theresis never bothered to declare himself king after the death of theresa, and made no effort in searching for the new sarkaz king.

for power isn't what he was after. his goal wasn't to be king, it was for a way to execute his plans, because the one thing he ACTUALLY cares about is the future of the sarkaz.

also:

i love how the text explicitly says that even his sword is rather unremarkable. he got to this point with his sheer tactical acumen and his pure skill with his sword

something that's really interesting is actually how he's described as a 'sword wielding guard', and theresa a 'royal dressmaker', before theresa was king- and he's even DRESSED like a guard.

He's very specifically still dressed like a sarkaz General, (uniform + red cape, shares this with Manfred) and an utterly unremarkable one.

the lore book also describes Theresis also being eligible to be chosen for the crown, but he willingly gave it up to continue his role as theresa's sword- and it describes him 'severing the horns of the sarkaz that refused to follow the orders of a dressmaker.'

i think that to him, he did care about theresa, but she was his king first and his sister second. what she meant to him wasn't just 'family', it was what she represented, her role.

Which was why despite his adherence to Sarkaz tradition, he was reluctantly willing to to let the confessarius bring her back, if it serves to advance his goals.

The biggest point is that he literally doenst give a FUCK about anything that isn't important to the future of the sarkaz. He's the scale of 'for the greater good' cranked up to the max.

His plan is deeply fucked up, but the core premise of it is that it must be done- and the craziest part of his plan, compared to theresa's, is that it might actually work to remove the shackles of the sarkaz from their oppressors.

genuinely so sick and tired of people reducing him down to 'villan who is hot' or 'generic fantasy bad guy' THATS THE MOST BORING INTERPRETATION you could POSSIBLY have for him.

[decepti-thots]

while i'm talking about Whirl, one thing i've been meaning to talk about for ages just in a 'i am aware some people may not actually know this, and it hardly gets mentioned in fandom' is that Whirl in Interiors talking about briefly trying to change his name when he was a flight instructor at the flight academy is a reference to a passage in Bullets, which is in retrospect very obviously him:

Jetstream had taught him to recognize his inherent worthlessness. In front of the other cadets he'd always been supportive, but in private he would berate him for showing off and for getting ideas above his station. “You think you're something special?” he used to say. “You think you’re better than the rest, better than me, just because you can turn a few tricks? On a good day - on your best day - I’d say you were unremarkable.” Rotorstorm’s only response to Jetstream’s verbal abuse was to make jokes. If you can make light of the situation, he'd think, it can’t be as bad as it seems. Over time, Jetstream’s verbal abuse... evolved. On one occasion, Rotorstorm was pushed against a wall. On another, he was punched to the floor. Before long, he was on the receiving end of sustained and entirely unprovoked beatings. The worst day of Rotorstorm’s life - worse than the day war was declared; worse than the day of the Simanzi Massacre - was the day the IAA installed a Cryogenic Regeneration Chamber. He couldn't remember what he’d done to deserve that night's battering, but as he lay on the floor of the aircraft hangar, his torso freshly pummeled, his spinal strut bent at a right angle and his face reduced to a shallow bowl of oil and splinters, he saw something he would never forget: Jetstream was standing over him, fists clenched and head cocked, coolly appraising his options. And the look of exhilaration on his face as he wondered where to place the next punch had been terrifying. Rotorstorm had passed out before Jetstream had finished shoveling him into the CR Chamber, and had woken up the next day without a single scratch on his body. Jetstream had left overnight; he moved to a training facility in another province and later changed his name. Since then, Rotorstorm had seen him only once: he'd been sitting in the front row when Rotorstorm had been awarded the Novic Medal for Outstanding Valor, and he’d been clapping and cheering more loudly than anyone else.

and this is a really fascinating thing to consider for me because if you just describe the whole thing briefly in the abstract, it's gonna likely sound like one of two things:

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, and it worked for a time but ultimately he couldn't and went back to his old life

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, but he couldn't and was just as much of an aggro wildcard as ever so gave up

but this is... kind of not either of those, including the last one? whirl IS acting like the violent, bitter, unpredictable asshole we come to meet in MTMTE and know he was during the war, to an extent, but he's also clearly succesfully keeping up something of a facade of really inhabiting that 'not Whirl, nope, i'm a Normal Flight Instructor' in public. it's only to rotorstorm he's not, seemingly. (and even then, the way rotorstorm describes him here is... really cold and deliberate in a way that feels kind of different to what we see later.)

obviously it's. i mean it's SO deeply unpleasant, very effectively communicated in terms of how awful and traumatising that kind of thing is btw a+ but also Jesus Fucking Christ, but it also suggests to me a very specific experience Whirl is having in this period of his life that isn't quite either of those obvious choices. pokes at it. god. what the fuck is going through your head you terrible helicopter you.