Help why is Rarity me 😭She's so me, I was dating sweet and funny guys but secretly super into the buff wrestler build men and is in line with my realization that my attraction to hunks also extended to women. I was at an amusement park and struggled with the lowering the bar at the roller coaster so this hunky female attendant pushed it down for me so easily, forearm so firm, smelled so nice and gave a dimpled smile and I couldn't think about anything else the whole day
When the hot and nice smelling cowboy lady working at the roller coaster makes you question your entire life
(Very cute story, anon! I'm sure Rarity and many more women could relate!)
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I’ve mentioned this elsewhere but it feels relevant again in light of the most recent episode. Something that’s really fascinating to me about Orym’s grief in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief is that his is the youngest/most fresh and because of that tends to be the most volatile when it is triggered (aside from FCG, who was two and obviously The Most volatile when triggered.)
As in: prior to the attack on Zephrah, Orym was leading a normal, happy, casual life! with family who loved him and still do! Grief was something that was inflicted upon him via Ludinus’ machinations, whereas with characters like Imogen or Ashton, grief has been the background tapestry of their entire lives. And I think that shows in how the rest of them are largely able to, if not see past completely (Imogen/Laudna/Chetney) then at least temper/direct their vitriol or grief (Ashton/Fearne/Chetney again) to where it is most effective. (There is a glaring reason, for example, that Imogen scolded Orym for the way he reacted to Liliana and not Ashton. Because Ashton’s anger was directed in a way that was ultimately protective of Imogen—most effective—and Orym’s was founded solely in his personal grief.)
He wants Imogen to have her mom and he wants Lilliana to be salvageable for Imogen because he loves Imogen. But his love for the people in his present actively and consistently tend to conflict with the love he has for the people in his past. They are in a constant battle and Orym—he cannot fathom losing either of them.
(Or, to that point, recognize that allowing empathy to take root in him for the enemy isn't losing one of them.)
It is deeply poignant, then, that Orym’s grief is symbolized by both a sword and shield. It is something he wields as a blade when he feels his philosophy being threatened by certain conversational threads (as he believes it is one of the only things he has left of Will and Derrig, and is therefore desperately clinging onto with both bloody hands even if it makes him, occasionally, a hypocrite), but also something he can use in defense of the people he presently loves—if that provocative, blade-grief side of him does not push them—or himself—away first.
(it won’t—he is as loved by the hells as he loves them. he just needs to—as laudna so beautifully said—say and hear it more often.)
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man the thing about beauty standards and being ugly and being pretty and being insecure is that ultimately you do just kinda have to Decide that youre pretty. like ultimately thats how you become pretty, or hot, or sexy. you have to just Decide that you Are. you have to recognize that its made up, its arbitrary, its subjective, and that people might disagree with you about it, and as much as you are able, you need to completely and utterly disregard their opinions on your appearance, and decide that youre pretty now. and THEN.
you need to find beauty in "ugly". you need to recognize that ugly is made up, that its arbitrary, that its subjective, and you need to be able to find the beauty in it all. and this means you cant bodyshame people. you cant body shame shitty celebs or politicians. you need to base your criticisms on the substance of their character and misdeeds and unhinged horrific opinions and not give a shit about what they look like. you cant go calling people ugly for being shitty. you cant go calling people ugly for looking A Way You Dont Like.
and then if you wanna really galaxy brain this shit you start using ugly as endearment. OBVIOUSLY do not fucking call other human beings ugly. that shit is far too loaded, its just Rude. Dont call specific features of people or even characters ugly cos thats also too loaded. as a term it has baggage. but you can see the ugly in tacky, loud, garish clothing, and it can be Good. you can see the ugly in a distinctive, horrible tiny car from the 90s, and it can be good. you can see the ugly in animals that have evolved to look the way they do, without a single thought of what humans find appealing. you can see the beauty and the freedom in "Ugliness". you can break out of this shit altogether and feel nothing but disdain for anyone who stoops to insulting your appearance if they disagree with you about shit. you can get completely out of the cave of these beauty standards. you can find it so freeing to revel.in letting yourself be ugly. in recognizing that the way you look and exist might be ugly to some people, and youre out of the cave enough to simply recognize. thats just your opinion and it doesnt matter. didnt ask.
you can look at ppl arguing about the correct amount of skincare products to use daily, the Correct Amount of makeup, and whether or not its radical to conform to beauty standards or defy them and argue about is it really conforming if visible makeup pisses men off, and you can say, well I dont care about any of that, I recognize the societal pressures of flawless skin and all that but you see,
I just want to look like a silly little clown :o3
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hiihiii i love the way u write shidou smmmm so if ur requests r still open id like something with shidou + lies <3
Hellooo thank you!! Shidou zoomed his way into my favorites and I really enjoy writing him, haha! Here's a bit of him hanging with the smoking group T1
The problem with lying, Shidou had found, is that you end up fooling everyone involved. If you spend time trying to deceive someone, the people close to you will also believe it. If you continue, it will affect all those in proximity. And, if you do it for long enough, you’ll start to deceive yourself.
Shidou had certainly lost track of his lies for a while. Right before it had all come crashing down around him, he’d almost believed all the beautiful tales of hope and health he’d been spreading. He’d almost seen the world as the place he’d been describing.
And then the truth hit him; it crushed him. Seeing all the blood on his hands, he’d tried to swear the whole thing off in what little time he had left in this life. But, like his other habits, it was a difficult one to break.
He exhaled smoke into the room, listening to Mikoto go on about the busy days of his office job. Shidou was concerned how he still spoke about everything as if he’d be heading right back after all this.
He wanted nothing more than to sit him down for an examination. There were several reasons he may not remember his crime -- it was most likely the emotional shock, but Shidou couldn’t rule out the possibility of a head injury, an illness, a seizure, a stroke, or even it being a side effect of whatever drugs Milgram must have given the prisoners when bringing them here. It took everything in him to let Mikoto be. After all, no one was going to request help from a “killer doctor,” and he didn’t have any of his usual equipment.
So he just stood and smoked in silence.
“What about you?” Kazui asked. “My line of work definitely stressed me out, too. But I don’t think I’ve seen you bat an eye at anything since coming here.” He nudged Shidou. “Are you just as cool under pressure as those movie doctors?”
Shidou’s lips angled to a smile. “I suppose so. Though, I believe they look calm because they’re meant to appear perfectly competent. I’m calm so that patients don’t realize I am imperfect.”
Was that all he was, when he killed those people? Just ‘imperfect’?
Seeing the way Mikoto’s eyebrows shot up, he clarified, “I’m very competent, mind you. But no doctor is perfect. Many patients will panic if you show even the slightest sign of doubt.”
He teased, “so you just lie to everyone all day? Damn, remind me to watch out the next time I go in for a checkup.”
“No, it isn’t like that.” Wasn’t it?
The other two continued the conversation, but Shidou grew quiet. Was that something else he’d started to believe? Another thing he’d convinced himself was normal when, in fact, it was very, very wrong?
“I get that. Confidence is really important when dealing with dangerous situations.”
“Heh, I’ve definitely put up a bit of an act around here for some of the younger prisoners. I think it’s been helping, they seem calmer from when this all started.”
That’s right -- his goal was always to help, to calm. He watched Mikoto rub his temple absently, and knew another headache was approaching and knew what to do for it. He’d helped Haruka get over a cold the past week. He and Kotoko had discussed nutrition tips the other day. He was still doing good. The smile that he put up for the others was still doing good.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve got a professional around here.” Kazui gestured his cigarette to Shidou, snapping him away from his thoughts. “Nothing against the guard, but it’s nice to have someone like you who can help me look out for everyone.”
“Yeah, feel better about being here already!” Mikoto slung an arm around him. The boy's expression showed he was trying to appear in on some joke. “So, doc, you think that all of us are getting out of this crazy place in one piece?”
Shidou wanted to warn him the situation was more serious than he knew. Milgram was not a big joke. He was not a man to be trusted. He was not a man to be forgiven.
But old habits die hard.
“Oh, I'm sure of it.”
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