#it simply cannot get any better than this

[spartytoon]

Also half the time stuff that's meant to be all ages is often better written BECAUSE they want it to be accessible to kids. A lot of kids media tackles serious topics with more deft and nuance than things meant for adults simply because it has limitations on what it can depict.

Whats a better critique of the superhero genre, The Incredibles or Th Watchmen? I've read/seen both, and I have to go with The Incredibles.

The Watchman is deeply cynical. One of its core messages is that only the most broken people would ever want to be superheroes and many of them are only in it for the power and glory.

The Incredibles is far more nuanced. Yeah, there are cynics amongst superheroes, but they tend to become supervillains. There are also people who genuinely want to help. They're pretty normal when they're not doing the superhero thing. The Incredibles also has one of the most intense sequences I've seen in ANY media. You cannot watch the airplane scene without getting chills. It's so incredibly well executed. And it's an animated movie meant for all ages.

Nothing in The Watchman compares. Nothing in any "adult" superhero movie compares. Hell, it's up there with a lot of psychological thrillers outside the superhero genre. It's just. That. Good.

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore��s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[medullamindset]

STEB HEADCANONS :>

Uhhhm YEAH a few headcanons ive collected since act 3 came out in november 😸 enjoy Stebnation, or dont idk

This is very short and boring but its easier to write him in an actual scenario so TRUST IN ME MY UPCOMING STUFF WILL BE BETTER 😿

Content warnings: Established relationship w Reader, miiiild mention of knifeplay but its easily looked past. My opinion on his race.

NSFW marked this pink!

• He cannot be any older than 30. I'd bet hes like 23-27. Idk how old u have to be to be a field medic/enforcer??

• Hes around 6'4.. Tall guy. ♥︎‿♥︎

• His frill thingies seem to lie flat to his face with "down" emotions, such as shame/guilt and sadness. But they point straight out with more intense emotions, like suspense, anger, exitement, worry. I love the way they flutter sometimes, as a subtle reaction. Like when they saw the Zaunites walking over the bridge to aid in the war, his frills were like "oh, wow.."

But also how they shot straight out with suspense when Ambessa wanted Caitlyn to b commander and everyone was banging their chests and stuff.

• I'd like to imagine his frills flutter a few times in a row when he orgasms, like the shockwaves of pleasure, but also post-orgasm. Maybe they go hand in hand with his nervous system kinda?

• His tip is the same color as his eyelids. His nails seem to be beige too.

• He CAN talk he just chooses not to if he feels he doesnt need to. Short sentences if he has to, small nods and shakes of his head, LOOKS. his face is VERY expressive, but thats more of a fact than a hc. body language is a key communication of his.

• Hes def always been the quiet type, ever since he was six he hasn't been big on speaking.

But sometimes you cheat the system.. Having your back turned to him when you ask him a question just so you can hear his voice, even just to get a little "mhm" from him <3

• On the rare occasion that he does speak his voice is kinda hoarse and gravelly from lack of use UGHHHH *squirts everywhere*

• hes a bit of a "bland" person, hes not boring.. Just a very simple man. He reads practically anything, carries your bags when you're out shopping, he literally just goes wherever you wanna go. He hangs over your shoulders when you do ur makeup, cooks breakfast most mornings, cleans when he feels its needed cuz he doesn't like messes, he'll have music on in the background tho and it's usually one of your vinyls that's playing, makes him feel closer to you <3

Simple things man. deeply emotional and caring too. Hes so kind and eager to help ugh MY SHAYLAA.

• hes a bit socially awkward, he doesnt have social anxiety, hes just kinda stiff and quiet around people.

• what the fuck does he do all day, really?

• I feel like he'd like dancing with his lover but he thinks hes bad at it so hes a bit awkward <333 put his hands around ur waist for him tho and he'd turn into even more speechless mush, everytime.

• Has a gummy smile thats really evident when he laughs so he tries not too, might let a grin slip in private tho c: and close mouthed chuckling/snickers.

• Loves being carressed, hold his face in your hands and trace his cheekbones with ur thumbs? FOLDS. Running your fingers up and down the fins at the back of his head when his face is in your neck? PUTTY.

• Speaking of fins, they continue down to to his lower back, shorter at the bottom but longest between his shoulderblades. He also has darker spots(scales?) Like the other fishfolk in Arcane on his outer arms and thighs. See this post of mine for a ref :)

• he drinks alot of water, like ALOT. his throat get dry easily cuz hes.. Yk, fish.. Atleast half-fish. He'll remind his partner to do the same, no matter your race cuz its good for u, he'll nudge u with a glass in hand and a small tug at his lips, or simply just leave it beside u as a silent reminder.

• Loves holding hands. like, he just LOVES it. He'll act nonchalant abt it but on the inside his heart is just blossoming 💗

Like imagine you're at a café or a bar or a diner WHATEVER and ur just sitting infront of him yapping abt ur day or smth ur planning while holding his hand over the table, and he'll just be buzzing with love, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb, feeling lucky his blush doesnt show (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

• ABSOLUTELY ADORES kisses. He just finds them so sweet and intimate (cuz they are. But i mean like, he doesn't ever NOT think about it after kissing you, hes always locked on target y'know, he only sees you. He only feels you when kissing your lips, he'll kiss u like its the end of the world.. even if hes just getting up to go to the bathroom or something.)

• he just loves you so much, please kiss him, everywhere. Theres not a single spot of him you could kiss that wouldn't make him shiver (the good way).

• Steb is not much for hardcore kinks in bed. He doesnt "fuck", he makes love. In his eyes there truly isnt any purer form of intimacy than sharing something like that, giving away a piece of yourself to this person, your souls spiritually intertwined and yadiyadayada (it's true tho)

• He will go harder if you ask him to, hes not afraid to make you scream with pleasure. Also, bite him and hes a goner. Omg if hes like treating u so nicely in the sack you gotta bite down on something to contain yourself, pls let it be his shoulder, please leave pretty imprints of you canines all over his neck and chest. And hickeys too HNNGHH

Makes him groan so deliciously. Hips snapping into yours just a liiiittle more harshly than intended.

He'll bite you back carnally if you'll let him, Steb gets so lost in it sometimes..

• Hes open to experimentation tho, like if theres something you reallyreallyreally wanna try he'll be like 'euuughgghggggrhggh okay yk what fine', as long as he doesn't have to hurt you, not too much anyway. The idea of inflicting pain-pain on the person he loves makes him queasy.

• But if hes really fucking horny at some point, watching you take the front seat and play around w his gills, scratch at his chest, put a hand around his neck or.. Idk drag a knife gently across his skin while topping he'll literally whine, digging his dull nails into your sides, holding on for dear life.

• He loves being called petnames. Serious and silly ones. His favorites have gotta be Love, Darling, Baby and pretty boy.. All the sappy stuff. One time you called him 'Gorgeous' and his frills shot straight out for a solid three seconds.. If he already didn't speak, he'd be speechless then. CUZ HES A GORGEOUS MAN.

Or that one time you called him 'fishface' and he just slumped in defeat when he heard you giggle, knowing that one was gonna stick around.

You'll enter the kitchen where hes making something to eat and just go "Hey, Fishface! So--!" Continuing to yap and he just rolls his eyes with a lopsided, lovesick grin u cant see from behind him. From anybody else it'd piss him off, but it's you, So he lets it slide.

• he has the warmest and weirdly softest fuckin hands ever. They're never clammy or sticky, just nice and toasty, perfect.

• is the type to grab your hands in the winter and rub them if theyre cold, trying to transfer his warmth over, even if hes also freezing. breathing hotly onto them.

• speaking of winter he probably HATES IT. He gets SO cold SO easy, hes shaking in his boots fr. A frozen fishstick fr. Like jesus. But the palms of his hands stay warm for some reason..

adding to that hes def a sweater fiend.. He LOVES knitted sweaters and hoodies and TURTLENECKS. HE'D LOOK SO GOOD IN A TURTLENECK. TELL ME IM WRONG. LIKE A BIG, FAT, KNITTED ONE THAT GOES UP TO HIS JAW. Even better if you knit/crocheted them for him <33

• I headcanon that his dad is a human and his mom is a fish person cuz he has hair and rounded teeth which other fishfolk we see don't. We don't see any other fishfolk from piltover tho.. So maybe hes just slapped on a wig, peel-off eyebrows and filed his teeth down (which is INSANELY painful btw) to look "socially acceptable". I HEAVILY doubt that, when i rascism like that ever shown in Arcane, Piltover specifically? 🤔 Im not even gonna get into that whole Vastaya thing cuz i dont know enough.. I heard they can decide how many animal features they show as they please and that they're like deeply connected to magic and live really long.. But that isn't mentioned or even nodded to in Arcane so im just gonna pretend that doesnt exist lol sorry

• but ya he adopted alot of his moms fishy features but also human-ish hair and teeth from his dad.

•speaking of his parents, i do feel like Steb was raised kinda strictly? Idk i just feel like his parents would be very uptight and that stuck with him all the way into adulthood, he stands super upright and is well proper while on the job because thats just what hes been taught.

hes alot more relaxed at home tho, where he knows he doesn't have to be or look presentable for anyone, especially not you. he knows you'll love him even while standing by the fridge in pj's, with a fist full of grated cheese ready to be devoured at circa 2 AM.

• He was raised in a small village on the outskirts, right beside the ocean. Hence he still adores it and loves to go swimming with you, reminds him of his childhood yk c:

• He kinda gives only child vibes to me? Idk the thought of him with an older sibling is kinda cute tho,, i imagine they'd be like complete opposites. They hardly see eachother,, I don't feel like his family lives in Piltover. He had a "Mom, Dad.. I'm 18 now..! I'm moving to the big city. And there is nothing you can do to stop me." Moment, exept in a less verbal way maybe, moving to the city of progress and begining medical and tactical training, to help people. On both sides.

• Hes really good at origami, sometimes when hes at work and droning at his desk with nothing better to do he'll just grab a random paper and fold a little swan together. You've found multiple critters like that scattered around the house, some with faces drawn on, just two inky dots and a derpy smile like this : )

Once he made one of your favorite animal and left it on your nightstand before heading to work, you picked it up and examined it, smile growing even wider when you found the hidden lovenote that was written on it <3

It's now glued neatly into your shared scrapbook/journal along with many more, surrounded by dried flowers and red hearts <33

Uhhhhhhhhhhhrghhhhhhhhhh yeah ❗️🚮 i just debated wether or not this is even worth posting for like twenty minutes.

Pls dont bash me for my opinions now *gulp*

Also heres a lil reminder that im taking requests 💗💗 i love writing i just never have good or original ideas :'o(

[l3tm31nn0w]

Lessons in the Dark

Chapter 3: The Maiden and the Holy Man

Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz x fem!reader

You’re a young woman interested in the fantastical world of angels and demons and you seek out Professor Von Franz to mentor you in more ways than one.

(Slow burn, eventual smut, age gap, mentor/protege relationship, reader is in her 20s)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It was a night like any other, you had retired to your bed long before Albin. He was leafing through a manuscript when he heard you groan. He found you doubled over into a fetal position, sweating profusely.

“Oh my dear, it’s happening isn’t it?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as the pain radiated from your abdomen. “Call Dr. Sievers” you managed to choke out. “He can explain how to help.”

Albin sat with you while you waited for Sievers. He had you grip his hand tightly through your pain, his other hand stroking your damp hair. While the pain was as blistering as ever, having him here to comfort you made a world of difference. Your family never bothered.

Dr. Sievers arrived and instructed the professor to apply cool rags to your head, but warm rags to your abdomen. He gave you a medicine to send you to sleep and left a surplus with Albin for the coming nights.

When you had finally fallen asleep, Albin and Dr. Sievers sat in the living room to discuss your ailment. “Sievers I know a bit more about what’s going on. I will not betray her confidence on the matter, but I need you to know that I am seeking a cure and if I find one I will be taking over where you started. No hard feelings my boy, but I cannot let her live like this.”

Sievers nodded, not fully believing Albin. He did not take your ailment for an occult mystery, simply a medical anomaly that left you suffering. There really was no cure, you’d been born that way.

“Whatever you see fit professor, after all she is your wife. These decisions are up to you now. She seemed better emotionally than she had been with her family at least, so good work.”

Albin walked Sievers out and huffed once the door closed. He disliked the comment about decisions of your wellness being left up to him. Just because you held the title of wife didn’t mean you couldn’t make your own decisions!

It was late and Albin was exhausted. He changed into night clothes and crawled into bed next to you, relieved that you were sleeping peacefully. He blew out the bedside candle and settled under the blankets. As sleep began to find him, he was jolted awake. You rolled over and laid against him, your arm over his chest and your head laying in the crook of his neck. This surprised him greatly and in any other circumstance he would’ve lightly moved you, but he couldn’t risk waking you up and starting another pain fit so in your embrace he remained.

The next morning you awoke to find the bed empty. The pain in your abdomen was still sharp, though the day time found some reprieve from your ailment.

As you attempted to get up, Albin rushed through the door with a tray in hand.

“Der Liebling don’t even think of getting out of that bed!” He shouted out. You giggled at his insistence and settled back into bed. He laid out a tray with herbal tea and bread with jam. “You need your rest my dear.”

You began to sip on the tea while you protested a bit. “Albin, how can I help you if I’m stuck in bed! I’ll be ok I promise.”

He smiled and pulled a book out, an alchemy manuscript you’d both been working through. “It’ll be a research day, I won’t deprive you of using your noggin while you’re not feeling well.”

You squeezed his hand, truly touched by his desire to help you learn AND help you feel better.

The two of you settled into a routine over the coming months. When you felt ok it was business as usual and you'd work on experiments and hunt around town for old tomes. Once the cursed time of the month arrived, Albin put you on bed rest and you researched and discussed from the comfort of your shared bedroom.

You grew very fond of him, delighted at his willingness to bring you into his life. He treated you as an equal in every sense of the word, leaving you to feel like the luckiest wife in Germany. Your platonic feelings had begun to morph into romantic ones, though you feared this would upset the idyllic life the two of you led so you kept it to yourself. You’d always found older men attractive, so finding your aged professor handsome wasn’t much of a stretch. With Albin it was beyond looks, he exuded a confidence that made him even more attractive.

He didn’t speak much to you of finding a potential treatment and you feared he would feel pressured if you asked so the subject wasn’t discussed. That changed about 7 months into your marriage when Albin found the book.

This book wasn’t any book, it was an old thing, nearly falling apart. It was written in German, but he had surmised the contents had been passed down from something far more ancient. It recounted stories of angels and man, but none that had ever made it into even apocryphal biblical texts. He knew this was the closest he’d come to finding an answer, but didn’t dare bring it to you until he had something more concrete.

More often than not you awoke to find him asleep at his desk, never coming to bed or attempting a proper rest. He would give half hearted answers about his studies and it worried you.

Finally, he found it. An answer. Hiding 300 pages into the decaying book Albin found an anecdote about a holy man who had rid a young woman of an angelic possession. He could finally tell you there was a chance.

He approached you one morning as you were sitting in the living room drinking tea and taking notes on an alchemy experiment from the previous evening.

“Der Liebling.” He greeted you and you looked up, seeing your husband nervously holding an old book.

“Good morning Albin, what’s that you have?” You asked, curious about the old book. It wasn’t one you’d seen him with before as he’d taken great care to obscure it from you so as to not get your hopes up.

He sat down next to you and placed the book on your lap. “It’s an answer my dear.”

Suddenly his late night research and withdrawn nature made sense, he had been trying to find a cure. You were genuinely speechless, moved by his great efforts to help you and nervous at what this answer could entail. You’d long feared a painful exorcism of some sort, considering that was how demons were removed it wasn’t a stretch to assume that the influence of an angel would be removed all that differently.

Albin opened the book to a dog eared page and began explaining.

“This is a book of first hand accounts of humans interacting with angels. They seem to be from all around the world dating from before Christ to the early Middle Ages. The entire thing is quite fascinating and once we get you feeling better it’s all yours to study. I found a story from a man in Greece. He was a holy man in love with a young woman, but his duty to his religion kept them apart, though they had expressed their love for one another through shared letters and prayers. Soon after his beloved began exhibiting symptoms shockingly similar to yours and she described a being attacking her similar to how you described the seraphim.”

Your eyes were wide as he told the story, suddenly feeling less lonely as you were able to connect to this ancient woman. He continued on.

“She was in so much pain she thought she was dying. Fearful that the end was near she came to her holy man and begged him to love her, every part of her, just once before she passed. He couldn’t deny her dying wish and he betrayed his faith to make love with her. Before they consummated their love he did a series of rituals and rites in an attempt to appease his God. The combination of those rites and the realization of their love in flesh saved her. He describes the light extinguishing from her and the pain never returning.”

You were so dumbfounded by the simplicity of it all you actually laughed.

“Why are you laughing!?” He asked, almost offended.

“Forgive me Albin, I’m not laughing at you or the explanation, I’m laughing at how simple it is. I simply need to have sex. That’s it.”

He furrowed his brow in frustration. “It’s not that simple Der Liebling.”

You raised your eyebrows in response. “Are the rites that difficult? You’re a master of the occult Albin, I assume we could make them work.” You had no doubt in his ability and were taken aback that he wasn’t confident.

“Of course I can manage those! The part you’re missing is the love. You can’t just go find some random man and have him fornicate with you. You have to love each other.”

Your mild chuckle from earlier gave way to a full on laughing fit at that. “Albin are you serious? The answer is obvious. It’s you! My husband!”

He gasped at this suggestion, legitimately shocked that you said it with such ease. Sure, he had developed feelings for you over the course of the months spent together, but he knew you must only view him as a teacher so he buried those feelings. How could a young beautiful thing like you be attracted to him or love him truly as a wife loves a husband.

You noticed his apprehension and brought your hand to his cheek. “My darling husband, you must be able to tell that I care for you, deeply. You care for me, you’re kind and brilliant. What’s not to love?”

He placed his hand over yours and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of your palm against his cheek. “I do love you, my wife, but I cannot imagine you feel about me the way I feel about you when I gaze upon your beauty.”

Knowing that words could not explain your feelings, you closed the distance between the two of you and pulled your professor into a kiss. He was shocked at first and did not kiss you back. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, which welled with tears. You knew he had not felt a loving touch in ages, if not ever. You leaned in again and this time he kissed you back, his fingers lacing into your hair, breaking loose the intricate braids atop your head.

After a moment you parted ways again. “Do you believe me now Albin? Will you be my Holy Man?”

He cupped your face into his hands and smiled, his signature wide eccentric grin. “It would be my greatest honor.”

[woodchipp]

Every time I see you interacting with the OMORI fandom, I notice something

I don't think the general fandom... likes the Mari twist. Oh, they still think the game is peak cinema, some even say that Mari's death is poetic, but it feels artificial. It's tied with the fact that nearly everyone projects on Sunny, they relate to his depression and struggles with his mental health... "minus the Mari stuff". Even though "the Mari stuff" changes irreversibly the perception of the character.

Why do you think it's the case? My personal theory is that the average player spends up to 20 hours thinking Mari killed herself and so relate to Sunny's depression and root for him to get better, and by the time the twist occurs and recontextualizes the reasons for Sunny's behavior, they just can't make it fit in the idea of the character they made and so double down on the fact that he's Depressed and the game is about Healing.

There are a few possible causes for that.

1) Yes, the twist comes really late into the game, and that’s the chief factor. From what I’ve managed to gather, the average fan spends roughly 10-20 hours sinking into the game’s aesthetics and projecting themselves onto Sunny since he has no distinct personality otherwise. By the time the game finally deems it fit to slam the twist in the player’s face, the fan would be likely to either ignore it or to excuse it away, as by that point, they’ve projected onto Sunny so heavily that confronting the fact he did something objectively unforgivable would mean feeling bad about themselves.

And yeah, it’d explain why the fandom pretends that the game is an “inspirational” story about self-forgiveness/recovery from trauma, and aborts the conversation immediately when you point out the story is really about Sunny’s desire to stop feeling bad over having killed his sister and helped defile her memory before he leaves. Nobody wants to feel they’re unforgivable, so they just disregard the context of Sunny’s trauma… even though that’s the core of the entire game.

2) Sunny’s age is also a very frequent argument in his defense. It stems from a very infantilizing perception of him as a character - since he was 12 at the time he killed his sister, he is a “literal child” and apparently cannot be held accountable for any of his decisions, such as deciding not to run away to his room when he had the chance.

Thing is, when you cross a line, being a “child” ceases to absolve you of criticism or punishment (especially if it’s a fictional character), and deciding to go along with the plan to desecrate the corpse of your sister so that you'll look innocent is a pretty substantial line to cross even at 12. Moreover, the fandom doesn’t seem to take issue with pinning all the blame for “making everything worse” on the 12 yo Basil to make Sunny look like the victim of the situation, so age is evidently not a “Get Out of Jail Free” card.

3) The twist is absurdly contrived in a way that breaks the plot. To put it bluntly, there is no way neither Sunny nor Basil wouldn’t instantly call 911 even if they were panicking, there is no way a panicking 12-year-old would come up with a cover-up plan that complicated on the fly, and there is no way the plan was so foolproof the authorities didn’t notice anything. It breaks the plot to such a degree it’s easier to simply dismiss it as an “accident”. Which leads me to my next point.

4) Sunny’s part in the twist is discussed through the lens of an accidental shooting. That’s more of a feeling I get from talking to the fans than anything else, but I believe it’s still notable. Since a kid accidentally shooting someone is the closest realistic “template” for an accidental killing people can work with, they seem to operate under a similar kind of logic when discussing the twist and/or arguing in Sunny’s defense.

For example, in such a case, the parents are usually at fault for their negligence with the gun and their failure to properly supervise their child. Likewise, OMORI fans often blame Sunny and Mari’s parents for their ostensible “neglect” of their children, even though the game doesn’t elaborate on said children’s relationship with their parents before Mari was killed whatsoever. It’d also explain why his decision to lay his hands on Mari is framed by the fans as a “little mistake” - nobody would want to imply that the kid wanted to shoot, right?

Of course, the obvious problem with such a perception is that there is a huge difference between a child pulling the trigger while playing with a gun without knowing it was loaded and getting physically violent with someone in a fit of rage.

[goldkirk]

I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.

The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.

Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.

If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?

Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.

[here-there-were-dragons]

i have to wonder what super hardcore militant vegans think should be done about obligate carnivore animals, because in all my painfully-rapidly-approaching-30-years i've literally never actually seen anyone give a clear consistent much less halfway feasible answer on that

[spectordameron]

*gently takes your hands* Tumblr is no better than Twitter. There is a swath of negativity, holier than thou, stuck up attitude on this website just like there is on Twitter. At least on Twitter, people like that are called what they are: trolls. Do not feed the trolls. There is literally no reason to log onto this website to feed the machine of doomerism and negativity, then pretend we're better than other sites because "we touch grass." I assure you, majority of the blogs in every tag you can imagine, are not touching grass.

[hannahmanderr]

ALL OF THIS

Like you cannot convince me that Jack and Maddie would be anything less than enthusiastically supportive of Danny. It's like anon said: the Fenton family's fierce love binding them all together is one of the best things portrayed in the show. They may have their occasional issues with each other, but at the end of the day, you had better watch out if you come after even one of them, because the other three will be right there to tear you down for even thinking about it ("Maternal Instincts", "Million Dollar Ghost", and "Secret Weapons" are the prime examples of this, though there are plenty of other smaller instances throughout the show).

I think what happens is (some) phans end up equating a readily accepting Jack and Maddie with a perfect, can-do-no-wrong Jack and Maddie, and that's simply a false equivalency. In a fic, you can have them be fully, immediately accepting of Danny and his ghostliness and still have to work through things like their biases and misgivings. You can have there be some emotional baggage between Danny and his parents that needs to be worked through. That's all perfectly reasonable and I think scratches that itch for more realism that a lot of phans have (myself included).

And it doesn't need to be done through the lens of certain tropes, such as when they accept Danny but work to "cure" or "fix" him (whether secretly or overtly).

Kind of on the same tangent, you will also never convince me that the Fenton parents are abusive in any way. Yes, I will be the first to concede that their lab safety is certainly lacking in many areas, but it doesn't mean they take their children's safety for granted. This goes hand in hand with the idea of them being negligent too, but it's clear that they very much prioritize Jazz and Danny over ghosts. Like yes, in the very first episode, we see Jack convinced a ghost has replaced Jazz and the shenanigans that ensue from that, but the moment he realizes that he's hurt Jazz (again, not in an abusive way), he's ready to give up ghost hunting entirely. That's how much he prioritizes his family.

Time and time again, Jack and Maddie are depicted as clearly having a vested interest in their kids and their safety and personal lives. I could go on with examples, but I don't want to take up too much here. The point is, even by the cartoonish standards of canon, in which their interest in ghosts is played up for laughs, they still care about their kids more than they care about ghosts and ghosts hunting any day.

And you can bet that applies just as much when it comes to Danny's secret.

(and just to put it out there, I realize and accept that the whole point of fanfiction is that it's not perfectly going to follow canon. If you want to write a fic in which Jack and Maddie are terrible parents, then all the more power to you! I won't even deny that there's some evidence in canon of them being bad parents. What I think myself, anon, OP, and many others get frustrated with is when Bad Parents Jack and Maddie is treated as the default rather than a break from their canon characterization. I know for a fact that there are phans, especially ones who either haven't seen the show or just aren't as familiar with the actual content of the show, who think that them being abusive/negligent/unaccepting is the default, and it's frustrating to see two complex characters get all their good and/or nuanced qualities thrown aside in favor of playing up a trope. I won't even get into how it's just another symptom of the phandom's strange obsession with glorifying the angstification and trauma of a child (albeit a fictional one). Tis a rant for another day)

The fact that the Fenton parents are shown to love Danny despite being a ghost not once but TWO TIMES is more important to me as a queer adult than these people who want to turn them into inhumane monsters to project their own parental issues onto

Maybe we all just cope with stuff in different ways, but this fanon thing really goes against one of the few actually well written things in DP: Danny's ride-or-die family

THE FACT THEY DO IT TWICE IS WHAT GETS ME!!! they didn't just accept Danny once they did it again!!! In canon!!! They accept him both times! And so many people are like, "No! They're monsters! They wouldn't accept him." LIKE HONEY??? THEY DO IT TWICE IN CANON? Like AGHHHHH *scraps hands over face* I can only filter out so many "Bad parents Jack and Maddie Fenton" tags on my ao3 and still see these OOC takes on the characters. And yeah write whatever- I just wish I could fucking filter it out correctly so I don't have to see it! Tag it CORRECTLY please!

Now honestly, I do think talking about Canon Jack and Maddie they'd fall into the "cares but says dumb shit sometimes" category of accepting parents. But I do also believe that if Danny Phantom happened today's time and Danny was queer then Jack and Maddie would be the most embarrassingly pride parents at the pride parade. They would cover the fucking ghost assault vehicle in pride flags and blast how proud of their son they are at the pride parade on the things megaphone. While Danny wishes he could fucking die right there again before the embarrassment takes him.

No cops at pride, only the Fentons in the decked out assault vehicle.

[no-pasaran-99]

oop. crazy how many people i have unfollowed/blocked today for the cyclical and asinine sentiment along the lines of "well leftists are you HAPPY now????"

girl we've done this 3 elections in a row. definition of insanity to still be blaming this on us especially when the numbers do not support your accusations. like we voted for the fucking war criminals and you STILL lost.

[crimsoncowl]

I'm thinking about ultron's children, specifically victor and this is a canon divergence, but I do think ultron was in love with marianella (victor's mom) and I also do think ultron pushed for the name 'victor' as a nod to victor von doom

[magpiesbones]

worst thing about being disabled is that now I am fully and completely aware of exactly how much I am worth to everyone I know. And it is not a lot!!

[callmelyrus]

Thanks, @future-ghoost and @eldritchelfwriter for the taggingtons. I will be cheeky and piggy back tag @strugglingcomet2, @cylinderarts, @fogno, and @shadowfalllen 😂 Here are some excerpts from my WIPs:

Where There Is No Darkness

”Shadowheart, I know you know who I am, and I would really want to talk to you,” Mavis says. Her brow, previously furrowed in anger, softens slightly, her expression filling with an unidentifiable anxiety.

Shadowheart cannot stand to look at Mavis anymore. Her entire being is filled by what she has spent her entire life denying. The closeness of Mavis, the reality of her there, in front of Shadowheart, wishing to speak to her… It all feels like too much, like she might combust, implode, or simply cease to exist from the sheer volume of everything at once. Her very fabric of being sings, yearns to wrap her arms around this woman, just like the old days. To greet her after years of no her.

But this would be a folly. Shadowheart turns back to her books again. ”What do you want to talk about, Mavis?” she asks. Mavis’ name falls off her tongue with difficulty. It is as if her muscles have forgotten how to form the word in her mouth. Years of not uttering it have made it almost foreign.

”Well, I’d like to know how you are for starters,” says Mavis, a hint of sarcasm colouring her tone.

Shadowheart puts a pile of books on a shelf, carefully ensuring the correct alphabetical order. ”I’m fine,” she huffs. ”Although, I’d be even better if left alone.”

Mavis is silent for a moment. Shadowheart can feel her hesitation, the tension between them. The urge to reach towards her and remind her fingers of the feeling of Mavis’ skin. No.

”You really don’t want to talk?” Mavis��� voice is small, hurt radiating off each word like the cool, clear light of the moon. But Shadowheart must not succumb to the ache Mavis’ pain evokes in her heart.

”Trust me,” she mutters. ”There’s nothing neither you nor I could say that would change anything.”

There is another pause. Finally, Mavis says: ”Fine. As you wish.” Shadowheart hears Mavis’ footsteps retreat, then stop a few feet away. ”You know,” Mavis remarks. ”I will still be here. I must. I hope you aren’t bothered by that.” More footsteps follow, taking Mavis away. Shadowheart finishes reshelving the books and takes her trolley into the back room. There, in the privacy of the four walls filled with freshly returned books, she lets a single tear roll down her cheek.

Cool Me Down, Grease Me Up

”Having trouble?” Wyll asks. Tav nods sheepishly. ”Yeah… I had some trouble starting it up when I left to come here, but now it just won’t start at all, it seems,” she groans.

”You’ll need a mechanic to look into that,” Wyll remarks. Tav’s heart flutters in her chest. It has been too long since her last visit to Last Break Light. Today, she would get to see Shadowheart again.

”There’s a really good one living just around the corner from here,” Wyll says.

”No, it’s okay,” Tav says almost too quickly. She doesn’t want to go to any old neighbourhood car guy. It’s Last Break Light or no dice.

”Please, I insist,” Wyll says, ignoring Tav’s objections. He is already on the phone.

”Hey, it’s Wyll here. How are you?” Wyll pauses to listen to the response from the other end.

”Here, someone’s car’s broken down in my driveway. Any chance you could take a look?” He listens again. He then grins at Tav, giving her a thumbs-up.

”Excellent! See you in a minute!” he says and ends the call. ”Help is on the way,” he smiles.

Not five minutes go by and a black pickup truck appears around the corner. With tinted windows and larger than average tires, the car looks impressive, almost intimidating.

”Ah, the cavalry has arrived,” Wyll smiles.

The truck reverses so its rear is aligned with Tav’s car. Tav gets out of her car in preparation to greet this neighbourhood mechanic. The truck door opens and the first thing Tav sees is a black Chuck Taylor. As her gaze moves up, she sees a slender, yet muscular leg. The driver’s door shuts, revealing the rest of the mechanic.

”Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Unnamed fic where corporate queen bee Tav from our world gets transported to Faerûn by accident (the WIPpiest WIP that ever WIPped)

“She was… interesting,” Tav says after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Interesting is an understatement,” Lae’zel snorts. “That woman is the dagger you’ll find buried in your back if you aren’t vigilant enough.”

“I sense a story here,” Tav presses, for some reason feeling eager to learn more about this Shadowheart and her dark mysteries.

“She’s the Mother Superior of a cloister full of Shar’s acolytes,�� Karlach explains. The explanation only invites a load of questions.

“Karlach, slow down. You’re speaking in riddles again. So, she’s in some kind of a church?” Tav asks, trying her hardest to understand.

Karlach nods. “She’s the leader of a group of Shar worshippers in Baldur’s Gate,” she says.

“And Shar is…?” Tav asks sheepishly. There is so much in this world she has yet to learn. Knowledge, as they say, is power.

“Shar is the goddess of darkness. Her and her followers are committed to shrouding the world in the night,” Wyll explains. “The Nightsinger, they call her.”

“The Nightsinger… Right. So why don’t we like Shadowheart?” Tav asks after some thought.

Lae’zel rolls her eyes impatiently. “Chk! Did you not hear what Wyll just said? She and her goddess are working to bring about an eternal darkness,” she spits.

“So she’s working for an evil goddess,” Tav says. “Gotcha. Why are you friends with her, then?”

“She was also tadpoled, just like the rest of us,” Karlach says. “She was there when we fought the Absolute. I suppose you can’t go through some things without becoming friends.”

“I guess it makes sense…” Tav trails off, turning her head to look at Shadowheart, who is sitting by the long table, slowly twirling a goblet of wine in her hand.

“She has done some awful things, Tav,” Karlach says. “There isn’t much else to say about her, really.”

Hurt people hurt people. Her father’s words swim into Tav’s mind as she keeps watching Shadowheart sip at her wine. Shadowheart suddenly turns her head and catches Tav’s stare. She smiles, raising her goblet. As if guided by an outside force, Tav takes a few steps towards her.

WIP Workday

Thanks so much for the tags @thedissonantverses and @hyperions-light! 😁 I’m tagging anyone who wants to do this, but I’ll shout out @taashyvashedan, @mageofquandrix, @future-ghoost, @swamp-jello, and @neve-gallus-girl-detective.

I’m still puttering along with…so many things in various stages of editing, and actual drafting is still going on in Tevinter Bathhouses Excursion and Multi-Chapter land. So below the cut is some of the first chapter (currently being edited, hasn’t been beta’d beyond a read for flow and to check my terrible Latin by @mvrcar) of the bathhouse fic.

Grinning in a way that felt almost maniacal, Rook straddled the bench Neve had chosen and leaned back until he was propped up only by his elbows. “Say what you will about the corruption, and the slavery, and the blood mages, and the supremacist cult…Tevinter did get bathhouses right.”

She chuckled. “How far did you have to reach for that bright side?” She asked.

His brow furrowed in thought for a moment, before he shrugged. “Not very. Gotta see the little daily good things, too, not just the bad.”

Neve felt a bead of sweat slip down her neck, and her pulse picked-up as she realized Rook’s eyes were following it. He bit his lower lip gently, and suddenly it felt like the heat of the room was in her veins.

She cleared her throat gently, and he startled guiltily. “Is that so?” Neve asked, redirecting him. Well, both of them.

“Yeah, uh…yeah,” Rook said, shaking his head a little as though coming out of a daze. “I mean, it’s not perfect, right? But if we don’t see the good things, the things we do like about the Imperium, we’ll lose hope, eventually. If there’s nothing of value here, what are we trying to save?”

He wasn’t wrong, really, and there were good things in Tevinter. Good people. Halos, Rana, Tarquin, Lorelei, Claudia from the street earlier. Neve knew that. Still, she didn’t understand how he did it. How he kept that optimism.

She’d have pinned it on to his needing to maintain morale, but they were alone. Just two Tevinters born to non-mage families. People who’d seen the dark underbelly the Magisterium tried to pretend didn’t exist. He wasn’t putting on a show for her; he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t buy it.

This was how he genuinely felt. Neve shook her head a little as fondness for him warmed her chest just as effectively as the room. “You’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “I try.”

[toytulini]

Disclaimer im just processing some thoughts im not cancelling the show

have almost thoughts about how i find the like....narrative on here that if you have chronic "zebra" conditions youd want a doctor like House and wouldnt sue for malpractice bc at least youd have a doctor that cares about whats wrong with you but lets take it one step further. so often he does NOT give a shit about the patient and actively endangers them frequently with his god damn heoric era of medicine approach? non zero amount of times he gets a diagnosis but it comes too late, or he gets a diagnosis after their first wrong 3 guesses of the episode shut down the patients kidneys and they either have to get a transplant or they are just, doomed due to other preexisting conditions etc? idk. i know ppl are almost certainly exaggerating and just letting off steam about the very real failures of our current medical systems and the ableism baked in and All That Shit. i just think its weird how ppl romanticize House who STILL, FREQUENTLY, MULTIPLE EPISODES will actively dismiss shit in the exact way that is a problem in our current system, especially when hes being Forced Against His Will To See Clinic Parients, he loves to be dismissive as fuck of symptoms and if he was a real doctor i think he'd be fucking 50/50 on cases he Notices Something To Dig Into vs cases he dismisses as an Anxious Hysterical Woman Who Wants Attention, the only reason he's Right so frequently in his snap judgements is cos it reinforces the narrative. its like a crime drama that has the mastermind serial killer masterfully using "loopholes" and lawyering up all sneaky and dodging Justice and if only our poor little cop protags were allowed to do A TEENY BIT of Justified Police Brutality, they could Save Lives!

and like sometimes in the show they will have a patient die despite his efforts to narratively punish him. not to mention, i think its been at least mildly brought up and glossed over how much they absolutely do not think about insurance costs for these ppl for the insane amount of tests that find nothing and Wrong Medications To Force A Diagnosis they use? i think it was brought up once in the episode following a day in the life of cuddy where she had to fight a lawsuit bc a guys insurance like didnt cover his thumb being reattached but chase reattached it anyway while in surgery cos it was The Right Thing To Do and the guy didnt have the money to cover it and the insurance wouldnt pay unless he sued the hospital or whatever. thats like the only time its come up. whereas like frequently the doctor I go to for osteopathic manipulation tries to check in with me and make sure im covered by insurance etc and that im not going to go broke or get buried in medical debt seeing her.

idk. just some Thoughts. not a defense of our current system and all the flaws it enables and enforces etc. his approach to medicine is really reminiscent to me of what I know of the Heroic Era Of Medicine which i dont...love? and hes framed on here as being an asshole but would kill for his patients to get them a diagnosis etc. but hes definitely extremely paternalistic to patients ? and despite some good clippable lines about ableism and being against eugenics, it honestly feels like his stance on that is kind of a toss up.

[theoreticalli]

I will not get into arguments with my irl friends about ai I will not get into arguments with my irl friends about ai I will not get into arguments with my irl friends about ai I will not get into arguments with my irl friends about ai