#like that’s my two pence anyways

[drmsofanabsolution]

like when tommy’s mum was going through a divorce why was she just arguing with dream stans on twitter if it was a serious time in her life?? why waste time on twitter arguing with people who disagree with your son (which you don’t exactly know the full story about probably) when you’re going through something like that??

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[obaewankenope]

American to English translation for fic

So I read and write fanfic, as do lots of others, and I've noticed that when it comes to British shows or movies, Americanisms or American terms crop up often. It's mostly because most don't know we have specific terms for things in the UK, and I've seen references here and there before, but I've decided to write one of my own. Feel free to add to it tho! I'm gonna put it up on Ao3 too and any additions, I'll reference the tumblr and link them on Ao3 too.

AO3 link is here!!

Anyway, here we go I guess.

Some Americanisms to English-isms

Gas = fuel/petrol/diesel (we tend to specify the type of fuel the vehicle uses, diesel vehicle or petrol vehicle for example)

Gas station = petrol/fuel station

Gas court = petrol/fuel court, or sometimes forecourt (not often with this one tho)

License plate = registration plate/reg

Diner = cafe

Fast-food = takeaway (this is sort of interchangeable. McDonald's is called fast food, a meal from a pizza place that delivers is takeaway)

Motel = hotel

Side-note: We tend to use specific named hotel chains like Premier Inn (or Prem-Inn for short) or Holiday Inn or Travelodge. We also have Britannia Hotels and several others. If the fic is based in a specific place, local hotels or famous ones may be better options. For example, in Liverpool, we have The Shankly or Adelphi.

Cab = taxi or black hac for a specific type of taxi.

Side-note: These are what you see in BBC Sherlock, for example, and are a UK staple. They're less popular or common-place nowadays but there are dedicated taxi companies that use them. There's on in my town that operates until 4pm each day. They are also usually more expensive than a car taxi but they have oodles of space and you can have a pram/buggy kept upright rather than folded-down in them which is brilliant.

Cop = police officer

Side note: more informal, colloquial terms include "copper", "the fuzz", "tit-head" (because of the nipple hat okay, just look up the hat, it's hilarious), "bobby", "rozzer" (pronounced r-o-z-er not Row-zer), and "the bill" (there's an actual show called this btw. It can be a good reference for anyone writing crime fic in UK). There's more but those are the most common. Older terms do include "peelers" and "old bill".

Second side-note: the police have a whole host of terms, colloquial and slang that can be a great thing to include in fic, which I'll link a glossary of here. It's not all UK centric but cross-country policing is a thing so that may just be a boon imho. Also the short-hand acroynmns used are useful so here's a link to the Metropolitan Police glossary of those too!

Patrolman = constable or police constable

Antenna = aerial or TV aerial

Fall (season) = autumn

Bill = banknote or specifically "tenner", "fiver", "twenny" (not "twenty"). We don't have single banknotes like a dollar bill. We have pound coins

Dimes, nickels, etc = pound coin, two-pound coin, fifty-pence, penny, two-pence, five-pence, ten-pence, twenty-pence (link here about the coin currency)

Drug store = chemist or pharmacy

Optometrist = optician

Primary care physician = GP (general practitioner) here's a link about UK medical terms for doctors etc

Side-note: here's a link about medical terminologies etc between American and UK

Social security number = national insurance number

Liquor store = off-license or, specifically, Bargain Booze™

Liquor = spirits (usually)

Store = shop

Target, Walmart, etc = honestly, it's probably gonna be Tesco, ASDA, Morrisons, ALDI or Lidl

Superstore = supermarket

Shopping cart = shopping trolley or just "trolley"

Yard-sale = car-boot/car-bootie/car-boot sale

Attorney = barrister or solicitor (solicitors you go to for legal help, barristers tend to be involved in actual court matters, like a the Crown Prosecution Service), here's a link that explains it better

Janitor = caretaker

French-fries = chips (although McDonald's French-fries are just that, French-fries)

Intersection = crossroad

Highway/freeway = motorway

Interstate = usually an A-road or a motorway, we don't really have interstates here)

Overpass = flyover

Turnpike = toll motorway

Windshield = windscreen

Trunk of a car = boot or car boot

Hood of a car = bonnet or car bonnet

Truck = lorry

Sedan = saloon car

Blowout = puncture or flat tyre

Pavement = road

Sidewalk = path

Subway = underground (like the London Underground)

Drapes = curtains (though we do use "drapes" we tend to say "curtains" more)

Pacifier = dummy or "dodo" or "dodi"

Diaper = nappie or a pull-up (if its like underwear for toddlers)

Baby crib = baby cot (though we do use "crib", we tend to say "cot" more)

Baby carriage/pushchair/stroller = pram or buggy (more specific type tho, here's a link about the differences)

Trash/garbage can = bin, dustbin, rubbish bin

Garbage/trash collector = binman/binmen

Mail = post

Mailman = postman

Mailbox = postbox

The movies = cinema or pictures

Movie = film (less common nowadays with influence of Americanisms but I still use "film" and a lot of people my age and older do too (25+)

First floor = ground floor okay, it's the ground floor because it's on ground level

Sneakers = unless they're Converse, it's probably just "trainers"

Baggage = luggage

Purse (as in the bag) = handbag, or "purse" but that tends to be the thing you put your money and cards in then put in your handbag

Vacuum cleaner = hoover or a specific brand like Henry Hoover™, which you'll find we tend to just call Henry (though I have a John Lewis hoover I got from George, ASDA that I've named 'George' and yes, I do say "I need to use George in a bit to hoover" regularly)

Sweater = jumper or, if it buttons up it's a cardigan or cardi

Closet = wardrobe

Elevator = lift

Call collect = reverse charges

Schools = we have primary/infants (11yrs)and secondary/high school (11-16yo) with some high schools have sixth-form college (16-18yo) or actual independent colleges for the same ages

College = university

Semester = term

Vacation = holiday

Kindergarten = nursey/reception

Flashlight = torch

Wrench = spanner

Backyard = garden

Cookie = biscuits

Chips = crisps (like Walkers™ or Lays™ in the States)

Pants = trousers

Cottoncandy = candyfloss

Dude = bloke/fella/mate

John Doe = John Smith

Exhausted (tired) = knackered

Cell phone = mobile

Cell data = mobile data/4G/5G

Bathroom/restroom = loo/toilet (informal term "bog")

Thanks = cheers

Soccer = football

Y'all = "you lot"

Fuck off/hit the road/go away = bugger off

Some slang phrases too

Bits and bobs = stuff, usually random

Take the mick/mickey = making fun of someone or over-exaggerating

Bob's your uncle = there you go, basically

Bog standard = typical, run of the mill kind of deal

Gutted = feel upset, disappointed

Dull as dishwater = basically really, really fuckin boring

Chinwag = basically "shooting the breeze" or just having a talk/chat

.

If you have any others that you think of or want added, reblog and add em! Tags too if you'd prefer but reblogs would be easier ☺️

[bunny-jpeg]

i've had a horrid idea in my head, don't look at me! (maid!reader feat. soap & ghost)

so basically

you get hired through the cleaning service that you work for, to help keep a house outside the city nice and clean. you are a bit confused why whoever hired you needed a maid who lived over two hours away. but, you were assured that it would be worth it and shuffled off.

you thankfully only had two go twice a week, mondays and wednesdays with your day off in the middle. the pay was above standard, pictures of the home were shown, along with profiles of the owners.

simon riley and john mactavish. they were army men who wouldn't be at the house as much as most customers. which was a relief. this was not however the case, as the more you spent coming over the house to clean, the more they seemed to be around.

the blond one with the face scars was simon and the burnette with the mohawk and the scottish accent was johnny (he made you call im johnny). it would taken several months before they made the first move.

it started with johnny brushing up against your backside while he was in nothing but pajama pants. his erection against you.

then the snowstorm happened. you were about the go home, determined to drive when the snow came down in heaps. the snowflakes were almost as big as a two pence coin.

you ended up staying, and johnny brought out the whisky! he told you it was the good stuff from the highlands as he served you a healthy glass. it still burned like a bastard when it went down, the disgusted face you made caused the other two men to laugh. when you tried to use the bathroom you heard simon's voice ring out, "oh, there she goes!". as the snow hit the ground outside, you got drunk with your customers.

which then resulted in coy kisses, followed by loud fucking in simon's room. it had the bigger bed but it didn't matter because your hands and knees ached by the of the night. as did the back of your throat (you couldn't talk the morning after) and your pussy (you sat in weird positions to ease the pain for a week after).

simon and johnny were bullies to you sexually. you were twisted like a pretzel as both men just fucked you without abandon. you were left gasping and it didn't help that it turned you on too! you were such a bad maid, but it was hard to believe yourself when both men grumbled your praises as they moved you once more to get at just the right angle.

you tried to give the appearance of keeping it professional, but when you ended up back at work your boss told you that simon and john needed more help before their deployment, so she had moved your customers to other maids.

your priority was to help those men anyway you could! "they're serving our country! they need as much as they can before they leave once more!"

it wouldn't take long before you pretty much moved your life into their home. when you called the resign from your job at the maid agency, johnny was between your legs while you were sitting on the kitchen counter. your free hand was in his mohawk, yanking on the strands. he had spent all morning encouraging you to quit your job, which mean being laid out behind you with his hand down the front of your panties. his calloused fingers rubbing your clit until you were practically yelping from the overstimulation!

one night when you were "helping them" simon was gone for several hours and came back with boxes of your stuff. everything was put in neatly, when you tried to ask why he simply said, "you can't be wearing our civvies forever." (as if the two men weren't going to buy you clothes or anything else you needed). but it was nice to have some stuff with you. you never asked how he got into the apartment though.

sometimes the boys will still play maid with you. johnny liked it when he got to push up the skirt of the maid's dress you were wearing and simon liked when he got to tear the garter under the skirt right off. johnny's cock was soon balls deep in your while simon licked your clit.

paycheck wasn't necessary anymore, not while you were living with them full time. living in the city was nice, you would always cherish your time in it! but it was a lot nicer being sandwiched between two burly men who would capture the sun and the moon and serve it to you on a silver platter. <3

[creativesplat]

A doodle of Link and Mipha defeating a Lynel from @only-by-the-stars wonderful fic Song of a Champion!

So this battle was beautifully fluid and the description of the two working perfectly in sync was just breathtaking. I decided to try and illustrate the scene, and I really enjoyed it, (it gave me an awesome excuse to read the scene very carefully and with an eye to the visual which I only really do if I'm going to draw it, and its always so fun to do)!

I couldn't get this image of Link parrying to open a space for Mipha to attack out of my brain because of the fluidity with which they both fought together just felt like that probably happened. I don't know about you, but I just saw them fighting as though they were in a dance, even though Mipha is so firm on her lack of ability and Link's superior skill, I bet he was entranced by her too!

Link's outfit is the stripped back version of the Soldier's Armour Set from BoTW, as though he took off the particularly intense or cumbersome pieces before coming to meet with Mipha, which I thought might be a good nod both his desire for familiarity with Mipha and to Mipha's concern for his safety and frustration with perceived arrogance. He's not even properly equipped and yet he says he can and will fight this Lynel alone.

on Mipha's end, I decided to go for a yellow glow, to not only pin her as the most key character in this scene - she is the central protagonist after all - but also to show that she is actually 100 years in the future, and this is her sinking back into the past, in her memory.

In the beautiful way only-by-the-stars creates a story, I fell into this memory description as well, and I love the conflict and emotion in this, so yeah, just a little note on the writing, but honest to goodness, give this a read!

Other composition ideas:

the original idea was to have something a little more like this:

with a more fluid attack from Mipha and I think overall this would have served the scene better now that I've finished 😅, but I also wanted the impression that it was Mipha's memory, you're seeing this through her eyes, so having her facing away from you connects you more I think, it feels more like she's witnessing it if its from her perspective.

so this, from Mipha's perspective, whilst a little less easy to understand visually, would have given the whole thing the fluidity I wanted the piece to have originally.

Anyway that's my two pence, and I hope you go and read Star's fic!

[bacony-cakes]

Corpulent, medal-covered president of a brutal dictatorship: I need to get the name of my nation on the dirty western pig internet. Soldiers! March in exact unison along this road from my coastal presidential palace to the revolutionary square in the middle of Carlos Juan Raul Hector Diego de la Cavallería Escribano Rodríguez City, which i named in honor of myself! We will surely be on the lips of weird right-wing virgin incels across the continental United States! I, of course, will be sitting in my Cavalleríamobile, in the middle of your formation, pinning more medals to my chest and smoking like the houses of my political rivals, as i have done every time in this parade for the last thirty two years.

Honest Dan, the former used car salesman: I am very glad that the government of the Free Democratic Republic of Embargostan has granted me an official blood diamond-encrusted commendation plaque of my recently completed exact replica of the Broughton suspension bridge right here on this road between President Diego de la Cavallería's three million square foot palace and the centre of the only major city on the island. I'm almost certain it will last a very long time and carry many people safely over this deep river, even if it only cost me fifteen pence and a cheese sandwich to buy the materials for it. In fact, it was shockingly easy to get permits to do this, like some outiside force was wanting me to do it, even. But so what, anyway?

Special operations unit consisting entirely of anthropomorphic shark women: (incredibly hornily) do you hear the marching coming closer yet

[monsteroftheweekpodcast]

Hey Chris and Jeremy ! This is my first ever ask on Tumblr and the second time I've written into a podcast.

I'm very late to the party but I'm enjoying it nonetheless (this is about the pod in general, but also Supernatural). Still His Kingdom Keeps was recommended to me towards the end of last year when I'd literally just started my own Merlin rewatch ! Feeling quite alone during my first year of uni the Merlin rewatch was necessary, and it was great to meet and get to know you guys !! As someone who is a sad nerd, I really enjoyed your company (although I was quite horrified when you revealed how old you both were in one ep lol. The thought of me (a 20 year old girl) laughing her tits off at home alone to two middle(?) aged American men, really weirded me out. You'll be glad to hear that my friends all disagreed with this), because I must always create parasocial relationships with my fave podcast hosts :)

Anyway, I got to the end of SHKK and couldn't really part ways with you guys, and obvs heard you mention the Supernatural pod, so thought I'd hop on over to that. I've never seen any of Supernatural, but being in fandom I knew of Destiel. As I type this, I'm listening to ep.30 which is part way through season 4, so I'm making moves ! I don't know if I'll end up listening to all the episodes (a lot of people on Tumblr say to stop watching at the end of season 5, so I suppose I could stop there ?) but so far I'm enjoying it so much. I also don't think I'll ever actually watch the show because I'm a pussy and don't like gore/horror etc.

But I just wanted to send a message to let you know how much of a positive effect on people (you've heard it before, and no one will read this, but I wanted to put my two pence in !). It's stupid how much joy you bring and how much love I have for you. And who knows, maybe I'll get round to Non Human Biologies, even though again, I've never seen X-Files.

I never know how to end these...

Oh, I will also say, I adore the outtakes (kinda wish more pods I listen to did this !) even though AGAIN I know nothing about video games, anime/manga. I just like hearing you guys chat :)

Thanks for helping to make a dull girl's, dull life a bit brighter <3

Much love, Molly xx (she/her, 20, from UK)

Alright so first off, Chris isn't middle aged. Or at least he wasn't when we started (since then I've stolen all his youth).

Second: there's SO MUCH good Supernatural after S5 don't listen to the haters.

Finally, thank you SO MUCH for the kind words. It means so much to Chris and I when we get messages like this. Its still WILD to me that our dumb podcast about hunks (they're ALL about hunks) can have such an effect on people. We love you so much!!!! AHHHHHHH

[my-castles-crumbling]

I think we just went on a date? Maybe?

I’m a little confuffled to be honest. Also, is confuffled not a word? For some reason i really thought it was. Doesn’t matter though, the point is, I think me and Daisy might’ve just gone on a date. 

Oh yeah, it’s Purple anon btw.

So it’s like 11:30pm where I am now, and I spent the latter part of the afternoon and then the evening with her and now i’m lying in bed something just hit me.

We hang out a lot. Last year, when I came out to my parents, it got awkward. I got mad they didn’t accept me and they got mad that I was doing this to them when they’ve been so perfect to me, and so I decided not to go with them on our family holiday. I thought a bit of space would do us good. 

Usually, when we go on a family holiday my dad takes me to arcades. No matter how old you are, you should always love an arcade. But I haven’t been to one in a while, since I skipped out on the holiday and it felt dumb to travel to somewhere just for an arcade. 

Anyway, i’ve been stressed with revision and last week Daisy had asked me to make sure i was free this evening for something she had planned she wanted to do with me. That’s not uncommon of course. So today, at 4, we left our place and she took me to this park we love to go to. She used to try and feed the ducks here, but she took me once and I told her off for feeding them bread. I bought her duck food and now every four months or so we go out and feed the ducks. 

(I made enemies with this swan though- it’s a long story).

So, we fed the ducks and then she dragged me on this train, kinda far, to this city. Where she’d found an arcade. An arcade with all the games I love playing. (A mix of old fashioned arcade games like pac-man, skill games like mini-basketball, and childish two-pence machines- gotta have them all). 

I had the best night. It was amazing. 

(I won a bunch of tickets and got her this cute bear she’d been eying since we walked in… she blushed and got all cute). 

And then after we’d been there a while she took me to this restaurant i’ve been craving recently (it’s a chain and the one near us closed down recently, I must’ve mentioned missing it). 

The funny thing is I don’t even remember telling her I missed the arcade. That I really wanted something to calm me down at the moment, and that I wanted something silly like an arcade. 

It didn’t occur to me until I got in the shower once we were home, like an hour ago, and thought about the day. Not only did she notice all the things I missed, and tried (and succeeded) to make me this lovely day to cheer me up, but… it wasn’t exactly like we usually do things. 

Maybe i’m reading too much into it, it’s probably dumb to think she’d be into me anyway. It’s just, I like to think i’m observant (I got A and her partner together- and they were being STUPID- also the fact that she actually wrote you? Sneak, didn’t even tell me she had some old tumblr account) and I thought it felt different than usual.

But it’s stupid. It was weird cause I had the most fun i’ve had in a while and I felt really at ease, in a way I haven’t really when it comes to things to do with my parents lately. 

I know you said i’m “going to have to face their lack of acceptance for me at some point” and knowing A she probably told you my family are assholes or something, and you’re probably both right. 

Logically I know the way they’re treating me isn’t right. But I don’t know what the right way for me to treat them is? 

They’re still my support system. I still call my mum when i’m sad and my dad when i’ve broken something. And if I blow up on them now, they might not come back. I don’t know if i’m ready to be… alone. 

At least in that regard. 

But I don’t know, since i’ve been talking about it recently. With you, and A. It’s made me look out for it I guess. Have you seen heartstopper before? You know when Charlie and Nick have cute little moments and the little artsy flowers and leaf’s flow around them, and there’s little sparks in the air, it was like that.

Except maybe it was only like that for me. Maybe she didn’t feel anything at all. 

And my aunt, my mum told her about me when I came out to my parents. My mum basically just told the whole family. I thought she’d be cool since she’s a lot more modern than my parents. But she said to me i’d fuck up all my friendships and ruin my future if I jumped to conclusions and got crushes on my friends. Her husband, my uncle, he said it was assault, to view them like that. 

I don’t even think I view them like anything, you know, given i’m demi I barely even think about sex with people, so I guess it says something about where his head goes. 

And no matter how many times I have this conversation with people, they always end it saying they know only a man will fall in love with me and me with him and eventually I will “do it right”. 

I don’t know if I have a James Potter in me to channel, to be honest. But A, she always tells me that my doubts come from people whose opinions I know are wrong, so I should try and remember her words when i’m freaking out. Given she’s always right and all (at least that’s what she claims). 

So I don’t know, is it weird if I ask Daisy if it was a date? A very small part of me thinks it was supposed to be and I missed the memo. 

And if that’s the case then I really kinda suck.

ALSO DID I MENTION SHE HELD MY HAND!!!

I can hide my emotions damn well but the one thing I cannot hide is my blush, it’s very annoying. We were walking from the arcade and chatting about how much fun it was, she was picking a name for that bear I won her, and she laced our fingers together. 

SEE! Date behaviour right? Plus, the restaurant was quiet and she seemed happy and kinda nervous the whole time.

But what if i’m wrong? She’s a touchy person, maybe she just wanted contact. 

She’ll be so weirded out if I ask and then i’m wrong and it’ll be like- like my parents are right and i’m the weird one, like they say I am, bothering my friends and pressuring them. 

I don’t know. God I feel like i’m just shoving a bunch of shit on you now. It shouldn’t feel like this, because writing about Daisy, it’s easy, she’s beautiful and funny and adorable and literally the kindest person I know, but as soon as I try and explain how i’m feeling, my parents come up and then i’m suddenly being weird.

I guess that says something huh? Shit, maybe I need therapy. 

Ugh, who has the time though? “Therapy is for the weak hearted” - a quote courtesy of my parents. Though then again i’m not supposed to listening to them, am I? Damn, it’s like living on a seesaw in my mind or something, always going back and forth.

(also i’m totally half way thru a breakdown cause i just spent like 3 min searching up the word jigsaw again and again cause it felt wrong… before I remembered they’re called seesaws… so yeah)

AHHHHH the update I've been waiting for! Okay.

Hahaha yeah, A wrote to me. We're conspiring to get you together with Daisy :D

As far as your family....family is hard. I think it's possible for them to love you AND be homophobic assholes. I think it's possible for you to have had a great childhood AND not be supported now. But I just feel like you need to work on accepting that they're not as perfect as they seem, because if you don't, you might miss out on an opportunity to be with Daisy.

Okay, I need you to read this so carefully. If this wasn't a date, I need to seriously reevaluate so many things in my own life. Because YES this was a date.

Ask her. Ask her if it was a date!!! Please!!

(Also therapy=good. Ignore what your parents said.)

[willpowers]

Not to kh on main but like leaisa parent trap au

Roxas and xion are twins who meet at summer camp and after becoming friends share about their families and each have one half of a torn in half picture in which they realize the dad's that adopted them used to be married

The two of them and the rest of the homies (hayner pence and olette) try to devise a plan to get their parents back together

They end up donning costumes and swapping places and go to each other's homes (Roxas goes to isas house and xion goes to axels)

They're found out basically immediately cause it's just cheap wigs and clothes swap but they both stick to their guns about trying to hook them back together

Both of them snoop and find that Isa and lea both kept all the mementos of their marriage and end up snooping more to find out they only broke up cause of some stupid miscommunication I'll work out eventually

Anyways Roxas gets sus cause Isa is hanging around xemnas a whole awful lot and calls xion like "it's Def con one we might have a stupid step-dad in the mix get axel here stat" and so xion levels with axel and convinces him to go on a plane and Go Get His Man

They all convene and axel is yelling at Isa ("I knew you had shit taste when yoy married me but really?? Xemnas? Our shitty old boss??")

It's revealed that Isa is just getting a promotion at work and it was totally not what any of them think and he sits down his plucky family and yells at them for pulling this move and grounds them and the kids go upstairs dejected thinking this is the last they'll see each other

But anyways Roxas didn't properly put back the shoebox Isa has of axel stuff and they end up having a heart to heart and getting back together

They decide to punk the kids and have Roxas pack his bags and plan to leave but then axels like "chill dude were only going back to pack our shit were coming back in like a week"

Anyways I broke post limit yesterday so you guys have to deal with my nonsense TODAY

[wamtorical]

January 1898

Jemima wasn't nervous for school. She knew her mother worried for her wellbeing, but the world was about to become a lot more interesting and Jemima couldn't wait to meet more children her age. She'd already introduced herself to Minnie and Walter Reed, children of family friend and practically second aunt, Alma. They were nice, but slightly too co-dependant on each other; they were twins, after all. It was enough to make her feel left out.

The youngest of the Miller household next door was poor old Leonard Miller. Only a single year older, Leonard harnessed a very peculiar physical attribute - much like herself - in the form of what her mother called a 'lazy eye'. When Jemima heard about this, she was eager to meet the boy but to her disappointment, he did not return her wishes. She later found out Leonard despised going outside and letting anyone but his siblings see him, which Jemima couldn't understand whatsoever, but respected it nontheless. She would see him at school anyways. Other than them and Leonard's slightly older sister, Samantha, that was about it when it came to Jemima's friendships. She had two younger brothers to keep her entertained, after all.

Actually being there was a lot more daunting than she'd thought. Unfamiliar faces surrounded the building, all early and eager to learn - or rather making friends, as Jemima herself wasn't too excited to study anyhow. Not everyone was there, so she assured herself that the only reason the place was stacked with boys at the current time was because all the other girls had yet to arrive. And then she heard a voice calling after her.

"Hey, look!"

"Are you a burn victim?" the blonde boy sneered. Jemima had come to the realisation that this was, most likely, what her mother had feared most.

"N-no ..." She mumbled in response.

"That's enough, Luke! You promised mother you'd behave!" the brunette (and seemingly his brother) next to him said, rising to her defense.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"That's obscene!" shouted the girl in the pink dress from across the grounds. Whilst Jemima had her supporters, the sheer amount of giggles that came out of Luke's remark didn't go unheard.

Just as he was about to talk back and undoubtedly throw another insult at her, Ms. Allenborgh - their full-time teacher - appeared from what seemed like thin air. Or maybe everyone was just too distracted to notice her arrival.

"Will someone be so kind as to inform me what's going on here?" Ms. Allenborgh asked, raising her voice so to announce her presence. That got him to shut up.

~~

Cedric (as she'd soon learn was his name) offered to sit next to her, and after he'd come to her defense Jemima found it hard to say no. He seemed a nice boy, anyways.

"I'm terribly sorry about my brother. He's always causing mischief - I hope you weren't too effected by his words."

She stayed silent and pondered to herself, asking the same question. It came out of nowhere, that was for sure, but something inside Jemima churned uncomfortably. She couldn't let this stupid, ignorant boy get to her. In fact, it was embarassing to think that while he stood and ridiculed her, she did nothing. No; Jemima Pence would not let this boy hurt her feelings, and he would not ruin her first day of school. Not on her or anyones watch.

📜 next / previous / first

[apilgrimpassingby]

I remember seeing on one of those misogynistic "trad male" blogs I rail against in the pinned post (I'm not reposting it because I don't want this stuff on my blog, and anyway the original account is now deactivated, but you can find it on @flawlesslyfeminine should you want to). Basically, it was saying that what men want in a woman is for her to be (his words, not mine) "dumb, pretty and submissive."

I shouldn't have to explain why that's insulting to women, but I want to share my two pence on why I'm insulted by it as a man.

Taking those things in reverse order: submissive? To a certain extent, and (mostly) not in a sexual way, yes. Pretty? Like most men, I'd be lying to say I didn't appreciate it. Dumb? Absolutely not.

Wanting to lead someone does not mean you want a doormat. I want a wife who can intelligently input on decisions. And I want an intellectual duelling partner; someone who can hold an opinion and defend it with evidence and reasoning. I don't want to fight over anything important, but I certainly want to do logical duelling, and my life partner had better be someone who can do that.

So, conclusion, pseudo-trad misogyny is just bad all around.

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

okay so, having now seen furiosa: a mad max saga opening night and having Ruminated on my thoughts, I am going to give my two-pence on the movie even though nobody asked or wanted it - you're getting it anyway!

but before going into the full thing, I actually re-watched fury road today, bc I just wanted to contrast it now that we know furiosa's full story that lead her to her trek in fury road, and I just had mad max on the brain (and also I love that movie).

spoilers under the cut below!!

first, I already knew before seeing the prequel, that that scene in fury road where furiosa breaks down after learning about what happened to 'the green place,' was going to now hit 2x as hard once we learn what really happened the moment she was ripped away, and...yeah, it's super painful to watch. it was already a very emotional scene, but now having known how much pain and struggle it costed her, how many times furiosa desperately made her bet to get back home and fell short - you can really feel her grief

funnily enough though, I was shocked to find myself tearing up not during that scene, but when furiosa was reunited with the last of the many mothers. having just watched her ripped away so unfairly as a defenseless child, her whole world destroyed and clinging onto this dream of one day, getting to embrace her family - you can't help it!! I started tearing up when the other woman rushed to furiosa, embracing her with the gentle touch of their foreheads, 'this is our furiosa' 😭 like..she did it!! she made it home!!! - also, I learned in the credits - that woman was actually the same little girl, valkyrie, in furiosa who was her friend!!! that girl saw her friend get snatched and pulled away from their home, and then finally, both grown, they reuinite! I just thought that was sweet

what max says to her about hope in the scene after they find the mothers, 'if you can't fix what's broken..you'll go insane.' - my mind immediately jumped to dementus. we get this glimpse that he once had a wife and child(ren) he loved, that were either taken from him or killed, and he tells furiosa in their stand-off more or less how that destroyed him mentally, further plunging him into this hateful madman who acts so cruelly to others. he couldn't 'fix' it by getting them back ('I want them back!!' 'I can't!!'), the one thing he loved that kept him sane, and so he lost his humanity.

I saw a post of someone saying how ricktus's death (immortan joe's son) is 10x more satisfying after having seen what he (nearly) did to child furiosa...abso-fucking-lutely (though, I think with that in mind, furiosa should've gotten a part in it..)

also, max & and furiosa's dynamic after knowing about her & jack...the parallels! the parallels!! their gradual bond of trust, how fluidly they work together to kill/fight the enemies of the citadel akin to her and jack vs. dementus and gang, etc.

this saga, of course, is about hope and redemption, alluded to in both fury road and the prequel. in fury road, max says (I think in his opening monologue) how he was once strived to be a 'righteous warrior', who could do good and help others. later, when one of the wives finds the warboy nux, he's distraught bc he thinks his chances for greatness are gone, but then she tells him that maybe, he's destined for something greater - and that would be, of course, later sacrificing himself to save her and the rest by crashing the rig into the war party. in furiosa, jack says how his parents were valiant warriors, and how he hopes one day, he could be the same - also, later, fulfilling that by sacrificing himself so that furiosa might escape dementus and the destroyed gastown. it's just such an amazing string of parallels - all three men, looking to do something great, and then, through furiosa, they're given that chance and achieve something good even amongst the destruction!! but it's only bc of furiosa, this harbinger of hope, that they do so - she's the tie between them all, the embodiment of that goodness!!! it's! just! so! good!!!

honestly there's probably way more parallels out there I'm sure ppl will bring up, but those were the things that struck me. now, onto my actual thoughts on the prequel.

--I'll start by saying I was unbelievably excited to see this movie. I'm annoyed though, bc despite knowing about it and wanting to see it once it was released, I literally only learned it was coming out a week before the release date. straight up, the press for it was so poor, not once did I hear about it before the trailer randomly crossed my feed one day - and considering how popular fury road is, I find that bizarre (but, I'll bet you a good couple bucks, that the press/hype was deliberately poor bc of the movie company execs, due to this being a female lead film 😠) - but it did mean I didn't have to wait too long, and that I did watch the trailer about 13 times on my own accord until then..

--having read the reviews, I do agree, it is a bit slower then fury road - but, that's really only bc it's a character story instead. fury road takes places in the current time of the film and the actions that follow, whereas the prequel is specifically about furiosa, so it's honed less to the action and more about a certain character, in my opinion. but it's just as good for a character story! it does an excellent job of unfolding furiosa's journey, and really, if you're gunna compare everything in the franchise to fury road, it's never gunna live up. that said, there's still excellent action and real nail-biting moments.

--I will say though, that I found it almost...darker, then fury road? fury road is definitely intense and there's of course violence, but it never openly tips into anything past pg-13; the darkness that is there, is more or less touched upon by the narrative (like, we can get a sense of what must've happened to the wives (ie assault) and why they escaped once we see how immortan joe regards them as property, the suffering furiosa must've went through by the pure vitriol look she gives him when their cars are side-by-side and later, 'remember me?' before killing him (my favourite scene)). but it's never explicit - furiosa is. from the torture of her mother, to that scene right after the max cameo when he drops furiosa off at the citedel's underground where I literally had to cover my eyes and ask my friend to say when it was done..there's an overtone of darkness that gives to the tragedy of furiosa, this child molded from pain (not to mention, again, that scene of ricktus and her as a child which to me, was the most nerve-wracking moment). fury road gives you a glimpse, but furiosa doesn't hold back.

--chris hemsworth, meanwhile, made an excellent villain. not just as an actor, but dementus as a character was fantastic. he's got lots of great lines and brings in a lot of humor - he's both deranged and erratic, while also clever and simultaneously childish, and mostly, cruel. he's wonderfully dynamic. bringing in a backstory of losing his wife/child was a great added piece to his story (I love a good backstory), and the way he takes the loss of his kid and tried to mold it around furiosa, tries to fill that empty piece inside, was a great choice in terms of their dynamic. it made him more then just a mad-man who stole a child for yuks - he had a deeper desire to tote furiosa around, almost as a security blanket in the same way the teddy bear also acts as one. his final monologue was great - the ramblings of a hateful man, but it was, in the end, what got furiosa to see past vengeance, and become better - to choose hope, and not destruction.

--anya taylor-joy did a great job I thought - while I wish furiosa had more lines, she made up for it in just the facial expressions and how full they were, really giving us a glimpse of what furiosa was feeling. even still, it would've been nice to have known what was going on in her head, or even hear her talk about her past - the green place, and then dementus, are the pure driving force of her character, yet she doesn't ever mention or grapple with her grief around these things, simply stays silent (except for the final confrontation with dementus). I would've loved maybe, if she had confided in jack, or maybe even one of the wives, to give more depth to her feelings.

--I also wish furiosa could've bonded with someone else besides jack, or at least before him. it would've been nice for to have had at least one ally, or, I dunno, a friend? like that war boy who had dwarfism - she seemed almost sad, when realizing after the battle that he was dead. instead, she's alone, but a fellow misfit friend could've been nice.

--speaking of jack, loved him! thought he was great! it's unfortunate his part was so short, would've loved delve into his background (also, I'm as gay as they come, but he's like..an objectively Good Looking Man, so well done all around).

--I was really nervous, for how they were gunna do the romance. I was against it initially, bc the great thing about fury road, was that romance was not at all forced into the narrative - you can read that between max & furiosa if you want, but for one of the very, very few times when a woman and man team up, romance wasn't forcefully wedged in, and instead they could be respected allies. so I was skeptical - and then I totally fell for them. they were so sweet! the two actors had great chemistry - their bond was just so soft. the way, after they crash and are caught by dementus, furiosa, who can barely stand, gently leans herself into jack's shoulder, sweetly muttering to each other as he leans his forehead back against hers, like 😩😩 it was so lovely, and so tragic. you could really feel the respect and care they had for each other; it was so organic, bc jack genuinely wanted to help furiosa. he respected her and asked nothing of her - he was a purely good man, and through that, furiosa was able to open up to him and trust him. it's the great curse of the mad max universe though - no romance can escape it's claws, same with how nux and one of the wives were torn apart. in my heart of hearts though, there lives a little AU fic where dementus doesn't catch them, and they make their way back to the green place and live happily ever after with a kid perhaps, and maybe, furiosa and him go back to later rescue the wives (they say, like they're not thinking of already writing that very fic...).

--one more thing about furiosa I wanted to mention, if I can call back to earlier saying how she becomes a beacon of hope for the various men that enter her life (and the women too, when you think of the wives..) - that, despite all this horror handed to her, at the very end of the rope, she gives into her hero's heart. time over, we see, even as the destruction of the wasteland chips away at her, furiosa can never quite betray her heart. she runs back to her mother even after being pushed to leave, she goes back for jack despite having the perfect escape to finally make it back home, and in the end, takes all her hurt and anger wrapped up in dementus, and turns it and him into something that can bring good into the world. it's about choosing good, above all!! a hero's heart, even in the darkest of worlds!!!

--the trailer really emphases the green place, but we only see it for like...a couple minutes? I was looking forward to more lore about it, maybe seeing some of it's inhabitants like the mothers. but furiosa is taken immediately and then her mother starts her hunt after her, and that's it. kinda a bummer.

--there's a couple inconsistencies here and there - like, when furiosa is first brought to where the wives are kept, there's gotta be about 20 women in there, roughly. but then, as she becomes a young adult, we see at the very end her approach the 5 wives from fury road (I was expecting a call-back, so loved that) and it looks like there's only them there - what happened to the rest of the women??? did they all die in childbirth?? also, when furiosa runs away and hides herself as a warboy/mechanic, how did no one know she was gone?? it seems odd, since immortan joe specifically picked her out and probably has a mental line-up of all his 'treasures', you'd think he'd notice. or how, later on, the new 'imperior' with jack looks oddly similar to that young girl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

--also, I wanna know how furiosa got away with being the only female imperior - you'd think immortan joe might snag her away instead to be a wife bc she's young and viable, or that she'd be either dismissed or preyed upon by his sons/the other men. maybe because she was partnered with jack it was easier, but that was kinda confusing.

--final thing, bc this post is already too long - my last gripe is mainly about furiosa's dynamic with immortan joe. in furiosa, her revenge is purely motivated towards dementus, but then, switching to fury road, she now holds contempt and anger towards the warlord. part of what I wanted to see in the film, was her past with immortan joe; we didn't know initially how furiosa got to the citadel, but my interpretation, was always that possibly (because she was branded with the logo on her neck) she was brought on as a wife, inevitably abused by him, and then something happened where she was no longer useful as a wife (maybe an accident that cost her her arm) but was still useful as a tool. but, immortan joe isn't really looked at in the prequel; he's here and there, but doesn't show any particular cruelty or act towards furiosa that I was expecting. that vitriol she shows in fury road, and of course, 'remember me?', makes you think there was something there to fuel furiosa's revenge. instead, nothing really occurs between them - of course, furiosa is brought on to breed him children and then is expected to do his every bidding in getting supplies, so, I think we're supposte to assume that she has seen how cruel he is up close, and so acts against him. still, I was expecting something deeper there.

all in all, I loved it and had a great time. fury road will always be one of my favourites, but this is a great addition. fury road is great on all fronts; a fascinating world, great characters, amazing action, a well-made and clearly cared for story, but the thing I love most - is that it's about hope. it's about choosing, every day, despite the horrors around you, to get up and hope for something better. to do something better, even at your own cost. it's about hope and what we mean to each other when we extend it. and I just love that so much

go see furiosa! support it! it's a great time!

[the-firebird69]

I've never heard so much crap come out of morons in my life and really it's just crap there's nothing to you people you're sitting here bothering us and you're bothering him and we can just kind of ignore you and you said the same thing. They have agents who watch that stuff and get rid of you but really you are a name little piece of s*** hey Trump aren't you you want to be yourself Billy Hicks when you're f****** everything up it's really actually quite humorous cuz he's seen you doing westboro and I see you just sit there and insist on doing something that's truly county I didn't see you sit there doing something counterproductive and insist on it and saw you get wrecked. They doing the same thing and they're going to get wrecked and we really insist on it. We're moving on to some other stuff now he's telling people this guy doesn't know how to build stuff and he's in the office asking them questions they have a list of questions he was asking he said they're basics basic things on how procedure is and things like that he kept on asking it's because he can't remember cuz he's a loser and he told him one day could you shut up and do your own work I have stuff to do and I said no you work for me and tell me how it works it was ridiculous one day Aaron hodgson came into his office said I want you to leave him alone you keep bothering me the same way you want to ask all these questions over and over just put them in your computer and he says no I can't do it that way he says why not since when I read it doesn't make sense everybody's a post office started getting mad so you're doing s*** like that all the time with other people it's because you're very stupid and so they started to push him around when he was asking questions to start hitting him. Now these two are miraculously stupid is Billy Doreen Billy Hicks and that's his son Dave and him and he is a ridiculous person and he's been killed plenty of times and he is Stephen Hawking and he has to know anything and there's a huge number of people who are trying to get rid of him he knows a piece of trash and tonight they're trying to kill him and started threatening here and they start to attack him. And he is an animal and people are actually seeking his people now and it's bja and others and they don't want him here and his force is getting attacked at sea and they can hear him saying dumb s*** the whole time and his uncle saying you know we're having trouble anyway send you this f****** a****** they could have worse. They're getting hit and they're getting hit a lot and they're going down pretty soon they'll be out and it will be the trumps they're going to try to get their stuff out of their stashes and caches and then notice that they're too close to the columns as a matter of fact people are raiding it all the time and he doesn't know. There's going to be a change coming up and these morons will be gone. And really they're calling each other names already but a lot of people deserve to be called moron because they made mistakes that have led to this and Trump and pence made huge mistakes huge huge mistakes in front of the world and it got warlock killed and significant numbers and it's happening now results of other asinine stuff and lazy stuff and big mouth stuff. This is what you get for what you were doing attacking yourselves and you attacked the pseudo empire in 9/11 and they're figuring out that you targeted them. And they figured out that it was for the money and the stuff and they're going after you and you went after forgien minority warlocks too and they have the living poor because of you. Foreigners have seen a definite attitude problem and you keep telling them you're going to take over and you're telling it to us so we're taking your territory and everything below and everything that you left and we are bringing devices to that you left behind and you had played rigged the place with and we are detonating them in your areas.

Thor Freya

Olympus

She'll take a moment for things to start happening in the battlefield right now the land forces are engaged on the spaceships are engaged and the ocean blockade is engaged and they are pummeling you morlock

Hera

[detectiveapparatiagreen]

Chapter 1: The Hesperides

My best friend (@ozarkgobbler) is editing this and she caught a lot of really stupid mistakes, so thank you for not letting make an idiot of myself on the internet!!! Anyway, this is the next chapter of my thingy. I'd love to hear what you want/don't want to happen, or if you think the main character is annoying or not. Thanks for reading!

Note: I did some editing, so now instead of being a dodgy place, the Hesperides is more swanky and uptight. I think it fits better, so just know I changed it from the original.

..............................................................................................................................

I remember watching Sweeny Todd once and thinking to myself: if this isn't peak Tim Burton. Black and white and goth all over. But, standing at the entrance to the park, I see he's not too far off about London. It's pretty bleak. The cobblestone streets are caked with filth, and mice are rampant. Now, would I say it's a hole in the world like a great black pit? I mean, that's pretty harsh.

What's weirding me out is the clothes, more than anything. Those who are out and about this early are dressed to the nines, it seems, with stiff collars and petticoats and bonnets. No skinny jeans or sweatpants? Not even that one white guy wearing jorts no matter the weather? Suspicious. Street lamps line the sidewalk, with actual candles inside of them (although they must have been put out by now, since none are burning). A horse-drawn carriage comes across into view, trotting down the street. Weird, is it like a tourist-y taxi service? There's a boy, probably early teens, standing on the corner with a jacket reading a newspaper and smoking from a pipe. I approach him casually.

"Heya, what'cha doing?" I try to keep my language calm. I don't want to freak the kid out, being a stranger approaching him, but he is actually smoking. Are his parents around here somewhere? He looks up and sets the paper down, taking the pipe from his mouth.

"A paper's two pence," he remarks enthusiastically, holding out his hand. Oh buddy, when was the last time you washed your hands? Dirt is caked under his fingernails and in the lines of his hands. It takes a second for my mind to get over the hygiene and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Did you say two pence?" I think that's like… two pennies or something, in UK currency. There's no way a newspaper costs so little.

"Yes ma'am. Bes' paper in London," he asserts like it was a line he's said many times before.

"Cool. Do your parent's know you're smoking? That stuff's bad for you," I mention, trying to put on my adult voice and get back to the matter at hand. I don't think it works, as the kid scrunches up his nose like I said something stupid.

"Wha'cha mean? You batty or somethin' lady? Get lost or buy a paper!" he exclaims, putting the pipe back in his mouth and crossing his arms as he sits on the stack of papers, eyeing me with an annoyed glare.

"Look, I don't want to get you in trouble, but smoking is very dangerous," I attempt again, and the kid shakes his head in disbelief.

"You my mum or somethin'?"

I am not getting chewed out by a pre-teen right now. "Look bub, all I'm saying is that when you're thirty five and have the fuckin' black lung and ten different types of cancer, don't go crying and wishing someone would've told you that smoking is bad for your health."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, and I sigh in reply. Where do kids get the audacity to talk to grown-ups with all the sass? I would've never done this as a child. "Anyway, can you tell me where I am?"

"Mayfair, are you daft?" He asks like it's obvious.

"No, I'm just lost," I explain.

"Two pence for directions."

"I don't have British money."

At this he looks at first with mild disgust, then an odd curiosity. "American money, then?"

"Yeah."

"Lemme see."

"Hell no," I reply, holding my purse away from him. "I don't trust gremlins that smoke."

He stands up and tries to reach for my purse. I reach around him and grab a paper while he jumps, pulling my satchel behind my back so he can't reach it. "Hey, me paper!"

"I'll give it back, this is important," I correct, raising my eyebrows to say, 'Bet you wish I was nicer again, huh? Nah, that ship sailed. I look at the date: April 24th, 1884. Bullshit. "Hey, what's up with this?"

"Wot do ya mean?" He snatches the paper away from me.

"I mean why does the year say 1884? Is it a weird typo or something?"

"Lady, you are batty, It is 1884!" he states like it's obvious, and I mean…

Okay, so, the cobblestone streets, the paper being suspiciously cheap, the fancy dress clothes, the carriage. It makes sense that it would be 1884. However, logically, there's no fucking way. I mean, I'm still a little fuzzy on… pretty much everything, but that has to be at least a century before I was even born. There's no way this is like a holiday or something where the entirety of the capital of England pretends they're back in the 1800's, so…

Yeah, I got nothing. I pretty much just have to play along until I figure out what the hell is going on. I need to blend in until I find Doctor-Fucking Who or Marty McFly. Stop with the pop culture references, you're annoying me. Okay, humor is my coping mechanism, firstly, and secondly, you are my inner monologue, so we're the same person. Yeah, but now you sound crazy.

I shake my head to get rid of the intrusive thoughts and look around. Smog above the rooftops that blend into the cumulonimbus clouds, the smell of stale pee wafting around but getting stronger when facing towards the houses, and then in the street there's a pile of horse dung just sitting there that I didn't notice before. Rubbing my eyes to give my brain a moment to process it, I turn back to the newspaper boy. If I give him one of my pennies, will that fuck up the timeline? What choice do I have? I mean, I could not buy a paper, but I need to know what the H is going on.

"Can I borrow that for a minute if I let you see an American penny?"

"The paper?" The boy clarifies, and I nod. The wheels in his head turn as he mulls over my proposition. "Fine."

Snapping open my coin purse, I dig around for a penny, and hand it to him. He ogles it and I pick up the newspaper. The headlines are mostly political (but not comprehensible from an outsider's view— what is a Tori?) and some information about horse races. I flip the page and blink at what I read:

Wanted: Assistant Detective

Pay: £ 5 per case basis

Qualifications: Good planner, quick study, hearty conversationalist, dry humor.

If Interested: Seek Madea Thorne at The Hesperides

"What's the Hespierides?" I ask, sounding out the word.

"A pub near here," the boy explains. There's a special place in hell for whoever decided to name a bar something that hard to say. Imagine saying it drunk. It sounds kind of promising though. I look back to the newsie, who's stares at the penny then looks to me with a disenchanted face. "'S just a coin, innit?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I agree, and hold my hand back for it. He returns it and grabs the paper, tucking it under his arm. "Do you know where the Hesperides is?"

"It's that way—" he turns and points down the street, then cocks his head to the side. "Then you go thattaway—"

"Can you take me there?"

"You daft?" He turns back to me. "I can't leave the papers!"

"No need to be rude, young man," I scold, and he scrunches up his mouth. "What street do I turn on?"

"Regent street. You be careful, miss."

"Why's that?"

"The Hesperides is a swanky place, it is. I wouldn't be surprised if you got thrown out, if you take my meaning."

"Oh, great," I sigh. I mean, there's not much else I can do at this point, right? Maybe I look bad, but if I'm meeting someone there for a job then we could at least go somewhere else. Being with a detective, maybe they've seen something strange or have a theory as to what's going on. As far as my options go:

Get a job as a detective's assistant, which seems pretty cool. See if I can glean anything weird around London in terms of time-travelers.

See a doctor and talk about how I think I'm from the future, get sent to an insane asylum, and get lobotomized.

Go to the police and talk about how I think I'm from the future, get sent to an insane asylum, and get lobotomized.

…?

Go to Iceland and become a goat? There it is again, using humor as a coping mechanism.  Shut up

Seems pretty straight-forward. I hold out my hand to the kid for a fist bump and he seems confused. I clench my other hand and show him what to do. "It's an American thing, like this."

He punches the air in front of him with excitement, and I properly fist bump him. "There you go, attaboy."

He smiles, then looks down at the pipe he was smoking.

"You seem like a bright kid, I think it would be a shame if you got hurt later on in life because you made poor decisions now. You should stop smoking," I encourage, readjusting my satchel. He shrugs.

"Nah, what do you know anyway?" He argues. Does this kid like me or not? Like, we shared a fist bump, dude.

"Alright, little man, but I warned you." I say ominously, widening my eyes dramatically for effect. He rolls his eyes and I smile a little bit. Although he's a pesky squirt, he gives off pretty good little brother vibes. "What street am I turning on again?"

"Regent!" He replies, then scrunches up his nose. "You know, you never paid for the directions."

"Next time I see you I'll let you hold a quarter," I promise, winking slyly as I carry on. The boy looks unimpressed.

"You's a batty lady and a cheapskate!" He calls after me.

"Watch your mouth before I call your mother," I threaten, which presumably does the trick as he doesn't say anything back. I head down the street and listen as a clock chimes somewhere in the distance, yet resonates with all the matter around me. Dong! One, I count, trying to find the sign for 'Regent Street', but not seeing one yet. Dong! Two, I just need to walk a little while longer. My feet ache from my trek in the forest. I'm beginning to notice bug bites on my arms and the backs of my shins. Dong! Three. The guy at the park said it was five thirty earlier, so it's probably around six, right? Dong! Four. A black bird caws and flies down from one of the rooftops, landing down on the sidewalk and hopping over to one of the buildings. Dong! Five. It pecks at a couple blades of grass in between the stones of the road. Upon finding nothing, it begins to take flight again. Dong! That's six.

The sign for Regent Street is a simple pole on the side of the road with a wooden slate on it in the shape of an arrow pointing left and right. Another horse-and-buggy comes into view and I wave to the driver, unsure which way to turn.

"Care for a ride, miss? Just a quid if it's not too far," he explains, slowing the horse down. My feet are killing me, but I still have no usable money.

"No, thank you. Can you tell me which way the…" Fuck, I forgot the name of the place. "It sounds kinda Greek, starts with an H. Hesperides?"

"Aye, ma'am. The Hesperides is just down thattaway—" he points to my left, "Though, looking the way you do, I doubt you would have much business there."

"I'm just meeting someone!," I explain. Geez, this must be a pretty high-end place. I doubt a bar is going to be open so soon, I think as I reach the adjacent sidewalk, but continue along anyway. I could just wait outside. Does the UK have laws against loitering? A couple people exit through the buildings lining the road, two women and a man all from different doors, but only a couple moments apart from each other. One of the women in a gray dress shakes out an umbrella and then uses it as a cane to help her get down the steps as well as grabbing the bannister and creeping down slowly. The man holds the door open impatiently, then a little scottish terrier trots out happily. I can't help but smile at how cute the little guy is, hopping down the steps of his house and then waiting for his owner to lock the door behind him. It seems like the houses and the stores are mixed in together, with little apartments smushed between store signs for hats or deli meats.

The Hesperides, on the other hand, is a stand alone building with a wide window at the front, showing a wide array of tables and booths, and a liquor bar on the right hand side. Oddly enough, there's patrons inside, I count four of them. Two men at the counter, talking to the waiter about something, and then a couple sitting in a booth. Either they serve breakfast here, or they're alcoholics. I enter cautiously and the bartender nods in a greeting. I force a smile, though I'm sure it comes off as timid, and head over to the counter.

"What can I get you?" He asks when he walks to meet me. His accent is different from the man at the park; more posh.

"I'm actually looking for someone. Madea Thorne? She posted a wanted ad in the paper."

"Ah, looking for a little bit of adventure?" He winked, then leaned away from the counter. "She's a regular here. I'll give her a call and tell you're waiting."

"Thank you," I express, and he nods and walks over to the wall where an old timey telephone is attached. He picks up the receiver and I can't help but smile at the memory of home phones attached to the wall back in my time. Oh no, I'm going to be one of those old people that goes 'Back in my day…' aren't I? I try to act normal, but I doubt I can. My clothes are covered in grime, I have no usable money, I have no idea how I got to the country, let alone this time period. But, getting a job seems like a stable start. I'll have time to freak out and scream into a pillow when I have a roof over my head.

When the bartender comes back he pours a drink and sets it on the counter in front of me. "I don't have any money, I'm sorry," I explain.

"You look like you need it," he replies, and nods to the glass. I take it and smell, my face contorting wildly at the sharp odor of ethanol. "Not a big drinker?"

"Not at six o'clock in the morning," I defend, but down the drink anyway. It tastes awful, honestly, like drinking nail polish remover. Still, I'm not in a position to turn away hospitality.

"That's a girl!" He encourages when I set the glass down wincing. "There's a bathroom in the back, you can clean yourself up."

He walks away then with one of the bottles and heads over to another customer, refilling their glass and chatting lightly. I get up and head over to "the back", I guess, and find a swanky hallway with an organized stockroom and a clean bathroom. Dang, even the toilets look nice. Color me impressed I close the door and turn to the mirror.

Holy shit I look awful. There's scratches and dried mud on my face, my white blouse is soggy and stained, and my skirt is nearly ripped to shreds at the bottom. My hair has three or four twigs and leaves tangled in, and is frayed out. If I had spent a whole night headbanging to Aerosmith I wouldn't have this much frizz and chaos.

I approach the sink and begin to wash my face. All the grime sticks to my face at first, but with resilience and determination I manage to get my face looking semi-normal again. The clothes are a lost cause, but there's no help for that now. I wash my arms in case I scraped against any poison ivy or something dangerous, and sigh. Still look like shit. Thanks, you too. Same person, dumbass.

I finally am able to dry myself off with the raggedy towels in the bathroom, and stare at myself in the mirror. I've seen my face many times before, every day, but today something feels different. Not look different, I still have all the same physical attributes, but it feels like a different person is living underneath my skin. And that's called body dysmorphia. I literally traveled back in time over a hundred years. I think that might be it. Maybe a little body dysmorphia. Ugh, fine… maybe a little.

Exiting the bathroom I head back to the front of the bar, and the bartender makes eye contact and points to one of the booths. I see the back of a woman with short hair in the booth, facing away from me.

There's Madea. Time to not fuck this up.

[blueengland]

Ok, I'll bite. What's wrong with Hunter?

If you're a fan of Hunter (for his character as is in the show, or for his design) don't read, or do. Not like this'll stop you anyways.

My main problem with Hunter is that he sucks up all the screentime doing nothing except twiddling his thumbs and moping. It's a TV show, there's meant to be entertainment, or story, or any kind of substance, but Hunter's character is a shallow as a kid's pool.

Hunter's character is basically just non-existant. He's like cardboard. All he is is angst. The times I enjoyed his presence where when he was being a rival to Luz when she rescued the palismen and that other time too.

Hunter's design is also increadibly bland too. He's just another angsty white boy who takes up all the screentime for nothing.

Another thing, Hunter was entirely unneeded and a huge lump of wasted potential and screentime in the season which constantly wasted it's screentime and dragged it's feet all the way to the conclusion.

In the second special of S3 I was really glad everyone was having fun being back in their home, and Hunter here dragged the mood down for everyone.

I do not hate anyone for liking him for any reason. I hate him for being a huge pile of mope in a show filled with mope and wasting more of the time that could've been spent developing other characters who needed and deserved it more, like Gus.

Hunter had potential, but unfortunately the potential was wasted. Everything about him is bland as a piece of wood with a frowny face drawn on it.

If you do have some reasons for liking Hunter other than his potential I'd love to hear, but that's been my two pence. See ya.