#it would just be “you keep hurting other people and killing other people so now I have to do this to stop that from happening”

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

"your fear of men is completely and totally valid, and i understand."

Thanks for this very patronizing statement. We're valid? I despise the stupid baby talk that plagues this hellsite.

"but we are going to be living in a reality very soon where women and trans people will be targeted at the same time."

You all need to stop this right now. ENOUGH. "Trans" people not being able to lie about their sex and go in spaces they don't belong is NOT "being targeted". How DARE you compare such dumb bullshit to women losing our goddamn human rights. You call yourself a radfem, but all I see is another trans activist with rocks for brains.

"it's going to really break my heart if radfems allow Trump to hurt trans people and strip them of their rights."

I know you'll just plug your ears and scream LALALALA, but radical feminists didn't goddamn vote for Trump. And even if we did, we can't fucking control what he does. Nobody goddamn can!

"you can keep vouching for cis female only spaces"

Do not call us "cis".

"please don't let trans people lose their rights. don't side with Trump on that issue. we can disagree, but women cannot be happy about Trump stealing rights from trans people."

What rights would they lose? The right to lie about their sex on official documents? The right to enter and colonize spaces they don't belong in? The right to take resources from marginalized groups? The right to continue to violently threaten anyone who questions or criticizes them? The right to censor our speech and thought? The right to get cosmetic surgeries and hormone injections they don't need? What about the right to keep telling lesbians to take dick?

I don't give a single FUCK if they lose those "rights".

"women understand oppression completely, and we know what it is like for the leader of our country to despise us."

Yes, we do, and here you are, asking that we feel empathy for "trans" people, who have shown nothing but contempt for women.

"don't side with Trump on that issue."

A broken clock being right twice a day does not mean I am fully aligned with the clock. I am so fucking tired of this stupid "if you're not with us, you're against us" bullshit. GROW THE FUCKING HELL UP.

"can we have a truce?"

No, actually, we fucking can't. I will not make nice with those who despise my sex and those with my sexuality. I will not pursue peace with those who want to strip of women and gays of our spaces, language, rights, abuse, rape, and kill us (as your beloved "trans" people have been doing almost every fucking day since at least the 1960s). Fuck Trump, and fuck "trans" people.

"you can critique them but please don't be complicit in their lives being taken."

Fun fact: Using threats of suicide (because we all know that's what you're implying) to manipulate others is a textbook abuser tactic. I'm not responsible for anyone's mental health. I'm not yielding to "trans" people to keep them from killing themselves (which they aren't - there's no epidemic of "trans" suicides).

"women, please fight for trans people."

"even if we don't agree, we are in the same boat here."

We are not. We are nowhere near in the same goddamn boat. Women are in a canoe that's sinking into the goddamn sea while "trans" people are on a luxury yacht telling us we deserve to drown and acting like not being served the freshest shrimp cocktail is akin to genocide.

"we can disagree and still support each other. please.

Actually, we can't, and your beloved "trans" people made it that way by censoring, firing, and threatening any woman who mildly disagreed with them.

"trans people, i love you. i support you. i will fight for you. "

Women, I love you. I support you. I will fight for you against everyone who oppresses us, whether they're in a MAGA hat or a shitty wig.

"i am a radfem, but i am also a trans ally, because those things can coexist, even if it seems very unlikely."

No, they cannot. And you are NOT a radfem.

You may be a teenager, but I don't care. The ignorance of youth is not an excuse anymore. I'm beyond sick of you entitled little shits coming in here and lecturing women (because it's only ever women) on being "nice" to those who hurt us. You are not a peacemaker. You are not the cool headed party here. You are not fighting for the oppressed.

You have no life experience. No empathy. No awareness. Nothing. You don't know anything about anyone. You have no context, no idea what the hell you're talking about, so do everyone a favor and keep your fucking mouth shut.

You might not give a single fucking shit about other girls and women, but I do. Stop making things even worse for us.

okay radfems, those of you who are trans exclusive.

i know we disagree. i don't agree with your views of trans people. i know that trans people are valid and not our enemies. i understand you feel differently, and i understand why. your fear of men is completely and totally valid, and i understand. i know at this point that i won't change your minds about trans people, im not going to try to. trans people are not women's' enemies, but i understand your fear.

but we are going to be living in a reality very soon where women and trans people will be targeted at the same time. Trump will come for women and he will come for trans people. and it's going to really break my heart if radfems allow Trump to hurt trans people and strip them of their rights. women understand oppression completely, and we know what it is like for the leader of our country to despise us. trans people know that too. we will both have to deal with that in two months. and i'm just asking, please radfems, you can keep vouching for cis female only spaces, you can keep believing trans women are men and trans men are women, i know that i can't change that, but please don't let trans people lose their rights. don't side with Trump on that issue. we can disagree, but women cannot be happy about Trump stealing rights from trans people. women should not be supporting that. we can disagree about trans people, but please please please. can we have a truce? for four years, can there be a truce? it can be a halfway truce. you can dislike trans people but still believe they should have rights. you can critique them but please don't be complicit in their lives being taken. please.

trans people, please fight for women, and women, please fight for trans people. even if we don't agree, we are in the same boat here. we can disagree and still support each other. please.

trans people, i love you. i support you. i will fight for you. i am a radfem, but i am also a trans ally, because those things can coexist, even if it seems very unlikely. let's fight for each other. please

[vorchagirl]

ANGST PROMPT ❛ i don’t even recognize you anymore. ❜ for Rook x Ashur 👀

Thank you for the drabble request! I decided to write something for my Ashur x Rook x Lucanis fic The Dragon and the Crow. I hope you like it!

Demons

"Leave you with him? You can't be serious!" Ashur thundered angrily, his expression ferocious as glared at Lucanis. "Rook, he's possessed by a demon! Get out of the way so I can take care of him before he hurts you."

"What?! No!" Rook tried to shove them away from each other, but Ashur refused to move as he took hold of her arm. She shook him off, furious. "I'm not letting you attack each other. Stop this!"

The air between the two men was tense, and Ashur's magic seethed beneath his skin as Lucanis' hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger. One move was all it would take for him to throw up a shield and launch an attack at the other man. It would be fast. Instantaneous. The only question was who would be faster - The Viper or the Demon of Vyrantium. A crow or a snake.

The magic continued to build, burning along his nerve endings in a demand to be unleashed. He wouldn't let this Crow - this murderer - close to Rook. Lucanis watched him closely, as though reading his mind, and suddenly bared his teeth in a grin, his eyes flashing purple as he smirked, egging him on.

"Lucanis' condition is complicated," Rook snapped, refusing to move from between the two men. Ashur blinked as she shoved him back a step and then moved to stand with Lucanis. "Both of you need to back down, now!"

The Crow nodded his agreement, but didn't take his eyes off Ashur as he eased his hand away from his dagger and straightened, his body language still radiating aggression and potential violence as he allowed Rook to take his hands. He blinked, his eyes returning to normal as he dragged his gaze away from the other man and onto Rook. He let out a slow breath and the tension drained out of him.

"Thank you," he muttered quietly to her. "That could have become ... messy."

He has no idea how true that is, Ashur thought to himself.

"What are you doing here?" Rook made to step away as she spoke, but Lucanis kept hold of her hands.

The Crow drew in a slow breath, and Ashur saw him squeeze her hands. "I didn't like how we left things in Treviso. I know I said I needed time after what happened, but I was upset. Seeing my home blighted and so many people - friends - killed, I wasn't thinking clearly, and I lashed out. I don't want to lose you, mi corazon. You mean too much to me."

Jealousy twisted through Ashur as Rook - his Rook - made a small sobbing sound and threw herself into Lucanis' arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck while Lucanis opened his eyes and met Ashur's gaze, his expression smug as he tightened his arms around her as if to rub it in that she had chosen him.

It was too much.

"No!" Ashur strode forward, unwilling to let her throw her life away. Not now. Not when they had finally breached that gap between them. "Rook, get away from him! He's a monster."

She swore softly and pulled away from Lucanis, still keeping herself between them. "What is wrong with you, Ashur? I don't even recognise you anymore."

"Why? Because I don’t want to stand here and watch you throw your life away? Not this time. Not for a demon. Not when you were sobbing in my arms earlier because of him!"

Ashur saw Lucanis flinch at that, and he felt a primitive surge of pride. He hoped it hurt the bastard to know that Rook had run back to him the moment he hurt her. He hoped the knowledge stung and burned for him, just as it bothered Ashur to know that Rook was with another.

She paled slightly at the memory of their kiss but didn't back down. "Ashur, don't do this. Please."

Her soft little please hit him like a bucket of cold water, and he fell back a step, feeling like an absolute bastard as he realised how scared she was of losing the Crow. For better or worse, she loved him, and he was acting like a demon himself as he lashed out and tried to separate them. The surge of jealousy faded, replaced by shame.

No matter how much he wanted her back, this wasn’t the way to go about it.

"I'm sorry, Rook." He sighed and rubbed his eyes, something deep in his core aching with disappointment and loneliness. "You should go. Just ... be careful."

Ashur turned and strode from the room before she could reply. He didn't want to see the emotion in her eyes as he walked away. If she was relieved, it would break his heart, and if she were disappointed, he would falter ... and might not have the strength to walk away again.

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, ready for part 2?

Part 1 here!

Thank you all for the likes and the prompts (one is particularly juicy and will get explored next week).

Have a nice weekend everyone 💓

Now... Let's get to part 2.

Yes, part 3 is coming on Monday. I know I'm evil 😈

---

Pen watches Colin's face getting closer to her core. She calls him once, because she is not sure what is about to happen.

"I want to taste you, darling. I want to make you feel good."

She is surprised "is this something people do?" And she wants to be embarrassed at her own inexperience, but Colin doesn't allow her to feel awkward.

He just nods, a devastating handsome smile on his face as he flicks his tongue on her flesh, before kissing her.

Colin is kissing her on the secret spot she found sometimes last year as she was exploring herself (rules said she shouldn't, but why shouldn't she?) and she moan when she feels him suck it.

"You taste amazing, darling."

That 'darling' might kill her, but she is already addicted to it.

Colin has one hand on her stomach, to keep her still, and she has to touch him, so she moves her hand to cover his as the pleasure becomes more intense.

When she did explore herself she didnt make this sound that Colin is somehow coaxing out of her.

His other hand is now teasing her opening and soon the combination of his fingers inside her as his mouth devours her is proving to be so good that the only thing that Pen can do is to let herself feel everything.

Her release hits her as a hurricane and leave her with her legs trembling and a smug Colin who is cleaning himself from her arousal with his fingers.

Colin can't help but laugh a bit when Pen pulls him to kiss her again. She doesn't seems fazed by her taste, and when they finally oarted, he can see a small tear on her face.

"What's wrong, darling?"

She looks at him.

"Why are you calling me that?"

Oh. That.

Maybe that conversation should happen when they are both dressed and within boundaries dictated by propriety.

But then again, maybe some conversations are bound to happen when you're already naked - so you can strip Dow even more - he realizes he doesn't want to make love to Pen without making her know how much he loves her.

"I've realized something this night Pen, darling. I realized how much of a fool I was, looking around as something was missing, when it reality it was someone ho was missing. You."

Colin feels her gasp and her eyes gets teary again. He dries her tears before speaking again.

"And I know you ask me as a friend, but I can't have you without making you know how much you mean to me. I call you Darling, Pen, because I want you to be."

Somehow, Pen manages to cut him off.

"Are you asking to marry me before you deflower me?"

Colin thinks about what he just said.

"I suppose I am. Would you be my wife, Darling?"

Penelope have imagined how she would be asked to be marry to Colin Bridgerton at least hundreds of time.

She has a good imagination, and some were way more impossible than others, still reality is providing a far more impossible option. She had never imagined him asking and confessing his love like this.

Somehow, her love grows stronger because of it.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me this since I met you. Of course, Colin. I am yours. Always as been."

Now is Colin the one teary, and she could not be happier to be engaged (engaged!!) to such a sweet man.

She dries his tears, a mirror of the same he did for her, and she marvels at how easy it is to share this vulnerability with him.

They giggle, happiness overcomig lust for a couple of seconds, before their mouths are on each other again and now they both share this need to connect even deeper.

They both know it is time.

Colin caresses her cheek tenderly, and she is so happy this is about to happen with him.

"Don't make me wait, Colin. I want to be yours. I know you won't hurt me on purpose."

He nods and takes a couple of deep breaths.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs.Bridgerton."

Tbc

[ammyamarant]

Kamen Rider Gavv ep 1 thoughts

Just going to watch one episode right now because I need to finish Kabuto and I need to Know what Kabuto has up its sleeve. But, the tl;dr of Gavv: Cute show, I can see how traumatized this poor kid will get by the end

Gavv ep 1

okay so I’m already reminded of W. Wonder if there will be a mentor figure that dies like Soukichi does in the first fucking five minutes of W

oh neat doors. I’ve seen Labyrinth too.

jfc how old is this kid he looks baby

yeet out of a plane and the tinkly “oh this is the world mom is from” music lmao

lbr considering the environment you just escaped from and the way you were happy to be freefalling because you were where your mom is from, I think needing some food is understating it.

"what do you have? Do you eat it?" has the same energy as my "what is gender? do you eat it?" joke

WHAT IS YOUR BODY MADE OF

Karakida I want your jacket. Give

Ah you have no communication skills. Understood

"This isn't a monster case" "So what is it?" "Woman fucking killed her own husband and shh keep your fucking voice down"

"today's harvest" and it looks like bloody organs. Hey I've seen 12 Hour Shift too.

oh you've never been allowed actual food have you

oh goddamn it I can hear Apollo aiming the dodgeball already

my dude. you got a tummy ache then gave birth to something. human women would kill for that to be their normal gestation cycle.

mm, cgi is kinda……………………

"hey now I've been fed actual food and have real energy I can make minions" yeah I mean that makes sense. People get all kinds of bodily processes back once they've been properly fed. Usually takes a while for their body to recover but hey you ain't human so I get it

this kid is so sweet and kind giving obvious main character (yeah I know it's shouma) a place to stay and some sweets to eat.

oh right the street drugs WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT HENTAI ASS THING

oh it's just a mouth. Wicked teeth.

Shouma is such a sweetheart

Also ye, I can see why Shouma is enchanted by sweets if his mom never let him have any of the family drugs.

excuse me I need to figure out a way to get into this world and beat down this addict before he hurts this kid

Shouma I would like a full rundown of what you can do because was that super speed and running perpendicular on a vertical surface? My dude? Answers?

Mm, sick monster design

Yeah, the monster and the kid both being like "hey what the fuck" to Shouma is fucking hilarious.

oh fucking ow

your mom turned into a bloody organ thing. Are we sure this isn't just a horror movie?

I feel like these minion things showing up saying "eat gummy!" shouldn't feel as threatening as they do.

OH GOD THE CRYING EYES. I'M HOWLING

"oh with the other one" lmao

I wonder what this show is like on edibles because the bright colours are fun and I had a blast watching Ex-Aid baked. Tho I'd consider that a little too on the nose considering the street drug metaphor of those dark candies

little dudes go somewhere safe that isn't under the fighting feet!

oh interesting so if he gets a lot of battle damage he can repair it by using another minion. Very neat. Wish more "battle damage" was repairable that easily. Looking at you, 3rd Birthday.

oh calling both of them monsters and Shouma just taking it is heartbreaking.

I'm definitely feeling the difference between Takaiwa and whoever the suit actor for Gavv is, but it's more "huh, that's a different way of doing the stunts" than anything bad. I do miss Takaiwa but that's mostly because he's a fucking legend. This guy's doing great, tho.

did… they repurpose the build driver for this?

takaiwa usually stood upright, even for meek characters like Ryotaro, while it seems like this guy's default stance is hunched over. iiiiiiiiiiiiiinteresting. Says a lot about Shouma in this form

okay I was about to say this Rider Kick is lame, but nah, it's pretty good.

Shouma you are sunshine and joy wrapped in ptsd. That's not even a joke I know you're fucking riddled with ptsd from just your memories of your mother alone

Shouma you are not Eiji stop being a hobo

Cute show.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Hi!! I have a request for a little! Rio fic! It's a little bit angsty but can you write one where Rio regresses pretty small and just wants her mama, even though she's a ghostie now? Maybe it's after the scene where she tells Billy he may go and after he's gone, she just slips and wants her mama so bad.

Little!Rio - Alone

Regressuary day 2 !!

As you can probably expect this one is ANGSTY… please be careful reading <3

Tw: brief mention of suicide, in depth discussion of death (it’s like the whole thing)

Word count: 594

————————————

Since the beginning of time Rio had presided over earth. She’d experienced life and death and everything in between a trillion times and would go on to do so an infinite number of times more. She’d seen people laugh and cry, fall in and out of love, kill each other, kill themselves. She’d been the face of fear and the hand of death to every being that’d ever existed yet somehow nothing had hurt as much as this.

As Rio stood in the dark, windy, yard, accompanied only by the flowers bloomed by her own hand, she realised for the first time the finality of death. Agatha was gone. As the younger witch had requested she hadn’t seen Rio’s face as she crossed over, and Rio hadn’t seen hers in return. She’d spent the better half of her existence loving Agatha, and a fair bit of that watching her from a distance like a lost puppy. But now there was no one to love, no one to watch. No Mama. Just Rio.

It was fitting that death was the last one standing at the end of the road. She always was. Death couldn’t cry, couldn't feel such a pitiful human emotion as grief. But somehow she did, every death she’d played a role in since the beginning of time could not compete with the pain this one death forged in her soul. There was no one around anymore, no one to keep her mask up for.

Rio began to regress, her mind growing fuzzy to block out the pain burrowing in her chest. Why was it burning there? Death didn’t have a heart. She sunk to the ground, soft moss engulfing her skeletal knees. She dreamed of a forest far, far away. One with moss just as soft and flowers twice as bright. A home she’d once shared with Agatha, a cottage in the middle of isolation where she’d thought she could live for the rest of eternity, small and safe. At the beginning of time, Rio had thought death was home, that bringing a soul to her realm was bringing them home, but now Agatha was dead and Rio still ached to take her home. Not to the land of souls that were at peace or weeping, but to the little forest with a cottage where they could just be Mama and baby.

Rio wept, though no tears came from her darkened eyes, her chest heaved and her bones rattled. She erupted with choking sounds, strangulated sobs which ached for a comfort they would never again receive. Words slipped through her lips though they fell on deaf ears. Mama. Please, I’m sorry. I want to go home. I need you. But there was no one here, there never would be again.

She dropped her face down by her knees, pressing her forehead into the dirt and moss. Death saw and heard more prayers than any god, but Rio had no god to pray to. She cried to the ground, to the flowers. Allowing her muffled sobs to echo through the soil until she couldn’t tell what was hers anymore. Her words only grew further entangled, coming out wobbly and childlike. Mama. Mama. Mama.

What was there in the world if there wasn’t Mama?

The worst part of it all was that Rio knew Agatha was out there somewhere. That if she hadn’t taken her soul it meant that her Mama wasn’t truly gone. Just hiding from her as promised. Agatha wanted nothing more to do with Rio, but Rio still needed her Mama.

[k3nz1ekorn]

Real or Not Real

pairing: Jayvik (I literally haven't written anyone else)

Summary: In the infinite expanse of forever they need to hold it together. They only have each other now to keep themselves grounded to their new reality.

Author's note: Based on the one scene "real or not real" from the Hunger Games and the song "As the World Caves in" by Matt Maltese. Scene idea was from a tweet by @/yearnerjayce on twitter and the song was chosen for a prompt in my discord server's February writing challenge, 'songs that remind you of them' so I hope yall like it as much as I liked writing it! (Ao3 handle on profile)

Viktor had initially expected more pain. He and Jayce had destroyed themselves, at least he thought they had, and usually with destruction comes pain; some kind of sting or shock, an ache even. He almost wished it had been pain, truth be told. Wished it had been something other than whatever this was. Pain was familiar, expected, something sharp and authentic to him. It was something he could count on, something reliable even. Pain was like an old friend, it was to him as rain was to the sky, as grass was to fields, as the dirt under your fingernails, it was something he had just barely learned to live without. Familiarity came without hesitance, without uncertainty; undoubtedly, he thought, he much would have preferred the pain.

It wasn’t nothingness, not quite, but surrounding him was an infinite expanse of what he could only assume was the arcane. An ocean of stars and cosmos he’d never seen in life, be it in textbooks or with his own eyes; all beautiful and glittering, surrounding him like a blanket. It was surprisingly warm too, comforting even. All of this could of course only meant he was in a plane of reality he was not accustomed to. This was not earth, not their own galaxy, it wasn’t his familiar arcane realm of actuality as he’d had before. 

Before.

This place was nothing like before he’d died that first time, before he’d been fused with his own creation, before he’d been manipulated by it and let it control him. To let it contort his ideals and morals, the very foundation of his being. He had thought at the time he was merely helping, how could he not? 

That was all still before though. Before he’d been reborn, recrafted into something so unmistakable non-human he had been unsure if he had crossed the line of no return. Before he was manipulated into committing horrible, unthinkable atrocities, before he’d killed and slaughtered, led innocents to their death, let himself be taken advantage of and used to hurt everyone that he held dear to him. To hurt Jayce.

Jayce

Oh Jayce.

He was the constant Viktor had needed when they’d been spat out. His familiarity, his token of something reliable and sturdy, something from then.

Jayce had been there to calm him down when they’d been spat out here, when they’d realized they were still conscious, and more importantly; together. Jayce had talked him through the tears and calmed his racing thoughts to something a bit more bearable, something manageable. They weren’t gone though, far from it, however Jayce had always had a knack for knowing what to say to people. He knew exactly what to say to Viktor to placate him, keep him grounded; though he’s not sure that’s the right term to use for this scenario, what with the whole lack of ground part. 

He did feel grounded though, wrapped in Jayce’s tight embrace. It was just as much for Jayce as it was for him, the former had always been a touchy man. He was clingy at the best of times and downright desperate for human contact at the worst of them, and with the events that had taken place, quite recently he might remind himself, he was sure the other could use as much physical reassurance as he could possibly get. Since the only other person around seemed to be Viktor he supposed he’d have to make due, have to make himself enough. 

For Viktor the embrace was more to make sure neither of them floated away from the other. Logically he knew how to go about moving through the expanse around him, it was definitely similar to the one he’d grown accustomed to before with a few minor differences. It felt thicker, like he didn’t have as much control of his surroundings, and of course without the abundance of human conscious’ connected to it. He would not be over that one for a long while. Probably never in fact, he really couldn’t see himself getting over the literal mind control he’d subjected so many to, all in the name of ‘glorious evolution.’

He shuddered at the thought and felt the other man pull back a bit. He could feel his eyes on him, but he refused to turn his head up. He couldn’t face him yet.

“Viktor…” Jayce broke their silence and Viktor's eyes squeezed shut, “can we talk? It doesn’t have to be about…that…about all of this, but I…” Jayce let out a sigh and Viktor felt the hot air on his shoulder. 

Their bodies were still warm? Interesting. Obviously they were not alive, did not need to breathe, and yet their bodies were producing hot air. He’d have to study that further-

He was pulled from his thoughts as the other man spoke again, “I need to hear your voice. I just need to know you’re really here.” This was something Viktor understood. He’d felt it since coming to his senses, the need to make sure this wasn’t just his own imagination, that he and Jayce were both in fact there and still together. Despite this he was still cautious, and he had to choose his next words carefully. It was barely above a whisper when he finally replied.

“I wish I could ease your mind Jayce, however I do not know if I am really here. If I am me. If I even know myself enough to be able to tell for sure.” He didn’t want to be alarming, but it was the truth. A part of him had absolutely let himself do all those horrible things. He had to be responsible for what he did, because what was the alternative here? That he had no control? That he was merely a spectator in his own body and his decisions were not his own? The thought of this was somehow just barely worse than being complicit.

“I could tell you…I know who you are.” The words sounded so broken, breathless and desperate in a way Viktor could vividly remember from his speech right before all of this. They were also full of the same conviction, like they were an absolute fact and Jayce was begging him to understand.

There it was again, the unfamiliarity. The horrors of the unknown, of the unpredictable. Something that made him desperately wish for the pain again.

“And who am I Jayce? How do I know which parts of me are real and which are made up?” He could feel the way his hands balled up into fists on Jayce’s arms.

“Ask me.” 

Viktor sucked in a breath and let it out in a bark of bitter laughter, letting the words hang in the air. That was definitely Jayce, whether Viktor was really himself or not, this was Jayce. And he trusted Jayce.

“You hate the cold…real or not real?” His voice came out weak, almost a croak.

“Yeah. It’s real, V. You do too. You say it makes all your pain flare up, makes all your aches a whole lot worse. My mom made you special mittens to hold your cane though..to help.”

Viktor remembered the knitted red mittens Ximena had given him in the second year of their partnership. They were too big, cozy nonetheless, and he never went outside without them once the snow started to fall. He hummed at that before responding with a quick, “Thank you.” The silence overtook them again, just for a moment though before Jayce continued on.

“You’re a scientist.” A pause, “You’re an inventor, one of the best in fact. You like to sleep on the couch in the lab, even though you think I don’t know.”

If his heart could beat he’s sure it would have sped up at that.

“You take your coffee with the grounds still in it, your sweetmilk so hot it should really burn your tongue off. It somehow never does. You feed the group of strays by the greenhouse near the academy. You never accept physical contact when you’re upset.”

Viktor’s eyes shut and he let his hands unfurl over the other’s arms as he spoke.

“Jayce…” he said softly into his shoulder.

“You hate parties and public speaking. Not because you’re unable to do it or bad at it, but because you hate having to dumb everything down, make it palatable or sellable.” 

“Jayce.” This one was a bit firmer, a warning. It did nothing to deter Jayce however, his words coming out just as firm as before, and a bit faster.

“You’re stubborn, once you set your mind to something nobody can stop you or change your mind. You hate being wrong, hate failing. When a rune or equation fails you stay hunched over your notebook  until you can figure it out. It never takes you long though, because you’re brilliant.”

“Jayce-” Now he was frantic, it all felt like way too much all at once. None of it was surprising, but it was far too intimate. Too real.

“You overwork yourself, probably more than I knew. You don’t eat or take bathroom breaks when I’m not around sometimes, and when I am I have to remind you. You love being in water, say it helps take the pressure off your joints. You store half of your medication at the lab, in that locked drawer in the bathroom. I have a copy of the key on my keyring.” Jayce seemed to be pouring his heart and soul into his words. “You hate feeling weak.”

“Jayce please-” He pushed back to put space between them, to distance himself. He should have known Jayce wasn’t about to let him. The hands that had previously just been resting on his lower back now had a sturdy grip on him, one hand remained on his back and the other came up to his shoulder, to keep him from pulling back as Jayce knew he would try to do.

“You hate how your legs lock up when you sit for too long, you hate asking for help. You think you can fix all the world’s problems, I thought I could too,” Their eyes had locked at some point but Viktor couldn’t remember how long ago, “ but I meant what I said Viktor. All I want is my partner back.”

Jayce’s hand had come up to cup Viktor’s cheek, firm as if he thought he’d try to run away. He might have if the hand hadn’t been there.

“Jayce…I…” 

There was silence. The two stared at each other as Viktor’s lip trembled, as he brought his own hand up to wrap around Jayce’s wrist. They held each other’s gazes, something silent being communicated in their eyes. Something new and unexplored. It wasn’t scary this time.

“You love me. Real or not real Vik.”

Jayce was leaning in, slow enough to give Viktor time to reject him, to turn away and show he didn’t return or accept his feelings. He wouldn’t think of it, not again. Not ever again.

“Real. So very, very real.”

They were barely a whisper away so close their lips brushed when Viktor spoke. Jayce closed the gap and it was like the stars had exploded behind his eyes. The force had propelled them backwards a bit, toppling through the vast expanse, still clinging to one another as if they would disappear if they were to part. Viktor’s hand had made its way up into Jayce’s hair to pull the other impossibly closer to him. Their bodies pressed together and limbs tangled until there was no indication of where one started or stopped, until they were one being in this void they’d been dropped in, just two lovers in their own personal galaxy.

They poured their emotions into the kiss, every longing look, all the words left unsaid, every what if was there, building it, filling them with a fire and begging them to not let each other go. There was no need to part, to breathe, no need for air now in these forms; the reality of this just spurred them on, lips melding together perfectly as if they were always meant to be together, to be like this. 

Jayce pulled back and Viktor tried to follow, tried to keep their lips from parting, but the hand on his face held him back and kept him in place. There was barely enough room to see each other as Jayce spoke again.

“I love you too. I love you Viktor, everything about you. So so much-”

“I think I got that Jayce. I’m brilliant after all, you said so yourself.” He was teasing now, just a bit. How could he not? Jayce had always been fun to tease, and now he had the rest of this limitless existence to do so. To be with the man he loved.

A/N: written after an 8 hour shift, half an edible, in tears

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[mohntilyet]

DATV Spoilers Just in Case!) I’ve seen a head canon floating around that when solas puts a mage!Rook in the regret prison, it tranquilizes them. What do you think Viago’s reaction to this happening to a Crow!Rook would be?

i think there's a small terrible part of viago that instinctively thinks it was a bad investment/solution to send rook off with varric, since he's lost one of his best assassins. and then of course he hates that this is his first reaction because rook is more than that to him, but he's been conditioned by their lives to worry about his power and the mission first. and then i think he throws himself into trying to prove that he is a better man than that by finding a cure, without being obvious about it, even if his worry actually makes him messier and obvious. a similar outward reaction to what i've seen people headcanon about how he feels when he gets the news that rook is stuck in the fade trap in general (anger, determination, frustration, etc)

the idea of viago as a man who clings to "i rose to this rank for a reason, above the other crows. i'm a killer but with my poisons, i'm cleaner. i'm royalty. i'm better." is so beautiful to me. who he wants by his side/publically allies with is made more interesting to me for that reason. rook and teia make a very short list, so for him to lose either of them (especially to a fate worse than death. like i know there's a cure but i'm not sure if that's common knowledge and it has rammys bro) will inevitably cause a crash out the likes of which thedas may have never seen before <3

[quietwingsinthesky]

im just saying that a guy whose worldview is inflexibly based on the idea that the only two groups of people in the universe are the controlled and the ones who have the power to control them, and that there is no other way to exist, and who has done everything in his power to make sure he’s always in the latter group. i’m just saying that it’s possible this is not unrelated to. that time when he was used as a child by rassilon himself. its possible.

[yourflame]

It's probably for the best if Silver doesn't get close to Eggman LOL

[infizero]

why isgrian shipping the warden and the wither

[jackass-jones]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[daz4i]

bro i hate my country's politicians so much it's unreal

[ebitenpura]

I keep forgetting Eight is SIS a lot of the time because I could never decide if it was the right path for him or not and most of his interactions with Jonas were outright failures that only made him even more disinterested, but then Theron comes into the picture again. And of course that is a point of deliberation.

Theron feels a responsibility towards him after KOTXX for not realizing sooner that Eight was just following Lana's orders to an obedient T not out of his own personal desire or will, but the simple need to repay a life debt, a fact which escapes most of the Alliance and even Lana herself despite it directly opposing his usual behavior. As the kind of person who has to save those in front of him whether they like it or not, this guilts Theron immensely not only for being a part of the blind crowd but enabling a violent warmongering path for Eight that he realizes now may not have been Eight's wish after all, that he'd pegged him all wrong-- and worse, treated him like so.

Eight himself cares very little at this point whether Theron treats him favorably or not. He was here to be used, and he was used. It's the way he's always lived. For a time he might've had the small hope to understand Theron and Lana during SoR, but that faded very quickly come KOTXX. He lived the same way during Intelligence with the added benefit that he did care for those people as they cared for him, but it never removed the stain of the dirty business he'd permanently undertaken, only made it more acceptable as part of his life and not treated like dirty laundry the way the Alliance did.

Theron latches on to the small thought that they could've been different if he'd only tried to get to know Eight, and out of a desire to make things right in his mind, starts attempting to extend the proverbial olive branch even though it's an awkward and uncomfortable attempt that feels too little too late. He has to do something, and try as he might he's not the kind of guy who cuts people loose to stay out in the cold. And maybe part of that is residual guilt for not protecting the Sixth Line and Master Surro, his repeated failure to be responsible for those under his command. Eight is essentially his last chance to prove he can do right by others, even when they share no common ground or bond. It's the barren ground of their relationship that makes him want to try, even if he shouldn't be using him as his own redemption.

Somehow this results in Theron making it a personal point to be involved in Eight's life from them on after, SIS included: unofficially, he stays as his handler. He prides himself secretly on the notion that Eight seems to like Jonas even less than him, which is legendary given Eight's notoriously aloof attitude (but not much to brag about from an outside perspective) and the SIS more or less doesn't give a womp rat's ass whether Theron meddles as long as the ex-Imperial agent stays on a short leash, and that's.. fine with him. Theron wouldn't have asked regardless.

Still, he tries. Hopes at the very least he can keep the SIS' use of him to a bare minimum so what happened in the Alliance can never happen again, optimistic as that is. Checks on him often enough that it looks like they're officially assigned to one another, and even lets him go in and out of his own apartment as he pleases (Eight gets his own. as usual, he doesn't care for it much and it still makes Theron antsy that he'll come to it one day and find it completely abandoned, so this is fine).

Eight doesn't say much. Comments that the life is fine when asked, doesn't watch the holos but idly listens when he puts it on. Does his work and doesn't when he's off the clock. When asked about how he feels killing Imps, it makes Theron's blood run cold when Eight casually says that was his only job over there too.

Theron buys him some street food in an attempt to make something different. At the very least, Eight says it's better than rations.

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[pa-pa-plasma]

why do people forget that Danny canonically killed almost all of his clones & like. did not lose any sleep over it. "Danny would be so mad to find out [insert character here] was mean to clones!" no he wouldn't. he literally would not give a fuuuuck