#no actual reason you have to read them back to back

[ultraericthered]

#i got to screen Wish before it released during a school trip and let me tell you something #even though we noticed the glaring problems with that movie immediately #i also noticed something i dont think many others did at that time #there was so much talent and potential being held back. if you read closely you can pick up on a cry for help from the creatives behind it #i want to elaborate but i think if you know. you know #and if you don't.. this post does a good job of shining a light on a small part of that cry for you #despite its many issues i think i still liked Wish. Not because i think it was a good movie but bc i think it could have been a great one had circumstances been different. #my heart goes out to those who put their souls and everything they had into that movie and others in similar situations #some of the creators had given a small talk before the screening and to me they seemed very emotional about it #i think what many people forget is that nobody can see a project's flaws better than the people who worked on it #but what they also see and you can't is everything more it was meant to be #please remember that the core of many issues in any project is that the people with the talent often do not have power to call the shots

Yes, all of that. And I find it ironic that the gifed scene is the one that got people saying "Hey, King Magnifico's not really much of a villain, he's got a good point! He's just upholding his part of a social contract with his citizenry and doing what he, as king, needs to do to protect their wishes but also protect Rosas by ruling out granting any wishes that might backfire and have dangerous repercussions for the kingdom and the lives of the people! Asha's just an ignorant spoiled brat for demanding anything more of him! Magnifico Did Nothing Wrong!" So when you take that position on what you're being shown by the story and not scratching the surface to look at what Magnifico is doing in-universe by not giving back the wishes he knows he will not grant and knows the people who gave them to him cannot remember and what the out-of-universe subtext of this is, you're siding with the Disney Corporate Executive Overlords. You're siding with Bob Iger's "they're not being realistic with their expectations" argument. You're siding with Chapek and Iger's practices done under excuses like "It doesn't fit the Disney brand", "mass appeal stories over personal ones", "people don't want to go and pay to see movies with girly princess titles", etc. You're siding with their practices of dumping content straight to streaming (or onto Disney+ not too long after they've hit theaters or TV) even when that actually limits profits that the actual creative teams can make from their own work, of tampering with the artists visions and how the finished product turns out and then punishing those artists if it doesn't turn out well, and of ignoring ideas for original creations in favor of contiunally milking their popular (and profitable) existing IPs. You're siding with people who make up an entire entity that say loudly to the faces of all those who put in the work, the skills, the talent, the passion and dedication to create art and content they feel people deserve to enjoy, in the forms they deserve to enjoy them "I decide what everyone deserves!"

Capitalism errodes into a force for human evil when the people at the top prove susceptible to three things in excess beyond mere greed and self-interest: unchecked power, irresponsibility, and indecency. King Magnifico is allegorical for that evil, with a bit of a communist dictator angle to him too since that's the end point of those exact same excesses and extremes for socialism. He's a major problematic fave for all kinds of reasons, but anyone who wants to tell me he's a good guy can kindly GTFO.

Wish (2023) dir. Fawn Veerasunthorn, Chris Buck

hey do you think the overworked creatives about to go on strike are trying to tell us something

article sources under the cut

Mattson, Kelcie. "How Disney Almost Killed 'Nimona.'" Collider, January 2 2024.

Earl, William. "Shelving Batgirl Was the Right Decision, Says New DC Studios Head Peter Safran: 'It Would Have Hurt DC.'" Variety, January 31 2023

Couch, Aaron. "Warner Bros. Reverses Course on 'Coyote vs. Acme' After Filmmakers Rebel." The Hollywood Reporter, November 13 2023.

Ridgely, Charlie. "Scoob! Sequel Director Revealed Film Was 'Very Close' to Completion Before HBO Max Cancellation." comicbook.com, August 2 2022.

Clark, Travis. "Staffers at the animation studio Blue Sky say it's 'heartbreaking' that Disney canceled its final movie, 'Nimona.'" Business Insider, February 18, 2021.

Harrison, Mark. "Why was the Batgirl movie cancelled?" Yahoo! Entertainment, January 31 2024.

Amidi, Amid. "Warner Bros. Shelves Fully-Completed 'Coyote Vs. Acme' For Tax Write-Off." Cartoon Brew, November 9 2023.

Lee, Alex. "Why Netflix keeps cancelling your favourite shows after two seasons." Wired UK, September 28 2020.

Tyrrell, Gary. "We All Knew It Was Coming." fleen.com, February 10 2021.

"Warner Bros. Reverses Course on ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ After Filmmakers Rebel." see: 3.

Bergeson, Samantha. "Warner Bros. Will Let 'Coyote Vs. Acme' Filmmakers Shop Movie to Other Distributors." IndieWire, November 13 2023.

Strapagiel, Lauren. "Disney's First Feature Animated Movie With Queer Leads May Never Be Released." BuzzfeedNews, February 24 2021.

"We All Knew It Was Coming." see: 9

@/scottderrickson. "I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio can and does shelve the creative work of hundreds of people for a fucking tax break." Twitter, 10 Nov. 2023, 4:52 p.m..

[just-a-ghost00]

Are they "spying" on you? Why?

I just felt called to do this reading very randomly. The theme is also very random. I just thought these pictures were just so adorable.

Group 1

Trust, Love, Surrender rx, Paradox & back of the deck Strength

They try not to. They try so hard. But they just can't resist the urge to check up on you. Watching you from afar is this person's guilty pleasure. Curiosity just gets the best of them. Even if they tell themselves "I should forget about group 1, I have other things to deal with", they constantly find themselves with their nose up in your business lmao Part of the reason why they stalk you is because this person feels a bit confused when it comes to you. They like you but paradoxically they kinda wish they didn't. This person has a hard time trusting others and opening their heart to people in general, especially romantically. They don't want to surrender to whatever may be going on between you but at the same time they just always feel called to come back to you. They just can't stay away from you no matter how hard they try, no matter the number of reasons they try to find to explain why they just should leave and never look back. They try resisting you so hard that it is painful to them. It just feels so unnatural to deny their feelings and attraction. But at the same time, this "love" doesn't make sense to them. I guess that they were surprised to meet you and didn't expect to get attached to you so quickly. And they may be viewing this attachment as a weakness for some reason. I just feel like this person is scared of being toyed with, being hurt and taken advantage of. Which is absolutely legitimate and understandable. Also, I'm getting that they check up on you because they want to see if you're in a similar state. If you too are also confused and feeling messed up ever since you met them. A part of them wants to be reassured and know whether they're alone in this situation or if you reciprocate the feeling. The truth is this person just adores you and somehow has a hard time coming to terms with that. I wonder why that is. Let's pull some tarot cards to get to the depth of this situation.

You got the ace of pentacles, White Numen, 3 of wands, 10 of cups, 2 of swords, Queen of cups.

They just have so many hopes and dreams for this connection that it scares them. Because they feel like it is too much too soon. They're not sure that they're allowed to have such thoughts of you. I feel like they're doubting their sanity in a way. Like "is it even healthy to think of group 1 this way when we don't know each other" kind of inner struggle. Because to this person you mean so much more than what they let on. Not only do they have feelings for you but they hope for a future with you. They want to take the connection to a higher level and see where this leads because they just feel so happy with you and safe. And it just feels like the right thing to do. However, maybe your attitude towards them lead them to believe that you may not be wanting the same thing. So they're puzzled. There's a dilemma going on here. "Should I keep hoping for more or should I just move on?" is what may be going through their mind. I also had the impression that there was another person playing a role in this indecision and confusion. Possibly another interest that they had in the past. And this person's energy is sometimes coming back in their bubble, which pushes this person to try to forget about you. But it's not as easy as they thought it would be. I feel like for others of you that third energy is actually distance. This person is scared of how living at a distance from one another could be impacting the connection. Like "yeah I like group 1 but what if that disappears with time since we don't see each other that much" kind of feeling. Also they may be scared that you end up picking someone else and when they do come in, it's too late for them. So that could also explain why they check up on you. They want to see if you found someone else. This spread also made me feel like this person puts you on a pedestal and feels like they're no match for you.

Group 2

The Weaver, Ask Body rx, Transmute, Shadow & back of the deck Pillar

I wanted to say no but the last two cards made me think otherwise. I feel like this person is not directly checking up on you but is getting information about you through their friends or through their intuition. Also, it could be that they don't actively seek out for you but even if they try not to check up on you, you just constantly appear on their feed or things just remind them of you. Similarily to group 1, I get the feeling of someone fighting the urge not to stalk. And this person is better at it than group 1's person. When they do check up on you, which I feel like doesn't happen very often, this person does their very best for you not to notice. So they could use fake accounts or apps that allow them to see your content without their name appearing in your notifications. I feel the reason why they act this way is because this person is trying to get their control back. It's like they had lost themselves in the connection and they feel like they have to heal from that. So they try to remain at a distance from you and try to keep the interactions at a minimal level. Cause they know that if they open the door, they'll just lose it. I feel like this person just wants to keep a hold on their desire for you. And rather than expressing their passion and pulling you in this spiral of lust, they would rather use this energy as a source of power and inspiration. I feel like they're trying to keep themselves busy and staying on the low. You may notice that this person is less active on their socials or if they do post, they're keeping things very surface level and kind of mysterious. Like they share stuff without sharing too much so it would be hard to really know what they're up to. I also picked up on the energy of someone releasing sexual tension through art or through their work. Or also through physical activity. This person may be hitting the gym more often. You may have noticed physical changes in their appearance. That's because they're trying to distract themselves from the effect you have on them. Since I pulled tarot cards for group 1, I will do the same for you as well.

You got White Numen, 8 of wands, Chariot rx, 9 of cups, Hierophant, ace of cups.

Boy I knew this spread was connected to group 1. If you hesitated between the two groups, you may want to check G1 then. This person got the feels but more importantly they got the hots for you, like really hots. This person is desparately fighting the urge to rush towards you and go down on you. There's so much that they want to say to you but they hold that back because they think you'll think they're crazy. This person daydreams about you 24/7. You're their wish fulfillment. You have everything that they dream of when it comes to their vision of what a partner should be like. This person definitely considers you commitment material and they just love you plain and simple. I have to mention that the 3 of cups is at the back of the deck. Just like in group 1, there's a third party energy here lurking in the shadows. This may be a past connection. But also, this could be that this person is trying to keep things friendly with you because they're just overwhelmed by how they feel towards you and it scares them. It's like they're trying to run away from their feelings and the way they do that is by drowning themselves in work, focusing on various activities at the time to make it look like they're not available for you. Again, I also get that friend group energy like this person's friends know you or something. Maybe they tell this person about how you're doing so that they don't have to feel guilty. Or actually, maybe their friends are trying to get this person to lower their guards down and actually give in to temptation when it comes to you. For some reason, I picked up on a friend saying stuff like "oh group 2 posted a picture, omg they're so beautiful" just to get this person to react. Maybe they even try to make them jealous by interacting with you. That feels a bit weird lmao but I feel like your person's friends are rooting for you and trying to get your person to talk to you. But this person is like "nah we're just friends, group 2 doesn't want me, it's better if we don't talk" and their friends are like "sure, who do you think you're kidding just go and talk to them dumbass".

Group 3

Manifest, Self Love, The Universe, Compassion & back of the deck Connect to heart

No, they are not stalking you. The reason for that is because this person is focused on their self growth, their health and their personal goals. They are doing their best to manifest their desired reality, thus they don't have much energy left to focus on you. This isn't to say that they do not like you. I feel like this person appreciates and values you but they just don't feel the need to check up on you and know every detail of what you're doing. I feel like this person has been through a lot lately and just needs to focus on themselves, to recharge their batteries and do what feels right for them. So they're just not up in your space and they mind their own business. This person is likely to be at a distance from you and you may not hear from them at all. Also I'm getting that this person feels connected to you spiritually so they feel like they don't have to stalk you because they already know deep down you're doing okay. They just intuitively know that you understand them and care about them just like they do. They also trust that you respect their privacy and need for space, so they're not worried and they just do their own thing in their little bubble. They may even have deleted their apps to avoid risking interacting with you. They just don't want to be distracted and they need the time and space to come back to their senses and to heal. I asked spirit for more details so I drew tarot cards just like I did for the previous groups.

You got 9 of cups, 4 of cups, knight of pentacles, 8 of cups, Star rx, White Numen.

This person is focused on their dreams and their emotional needs. They just felt disconnected from you and they didn't see any reason to keep going knowing that they weren't feeling it. So they pulled their energy back and poured it back into their own cup. This person has a lot of respect for you and is thankful for the time spent with you. However they just feel like they have to go their own way for the time being. They didn't see a purpose in trying to make the connection work when they didn't see anything come out of it. They thought it would be hurting you both for no reason. And this person didn't want to hurt you. Also they felt like there was no hope left for your connection and that they were called somewhere else. I'm also getting that their work is taking a lot of their attention and energy so this person just didn't have space for you in their life.

[kayawolfhorse]

As It Was | Read on AO3

—☾—

Desert nights, in the shadow of the sweltering hours of daylight, are improbably, intolerably cold.

Neither Scar nor Grian had anticipated the biting chill that rose with the moon over the sea of sand dunes, and their castle, for all its formidable glory, had not simply not been built to retain heat. Drafts of frigid air seep through glassless windows and the slats cut along the uppermost edge of the outer walls and drift across the tall rooms, coming to a rest against bare floors. The base’s design works beautifully against the sun’s relentless rays, but the night’s clever fingers find purchase all too easily between every brick and beam.

“I think you’ve straightened that barrel four times by now,” Scar comments from where he’s sitting upon wrinkled covers in front of the furnaces. The bed’s placement is temporary—they have actual bedrooms now, decidedly the most reasonable place for a bed to be, but in lieu of any real chairs in the kitchen, Scar’s willing to delay its relocation.

“It was crooked every time,” Grian answers, and adjusts it again. His sleeves are wound tightly around his wrists, colorful wings held firm to his back, and there’s hardly a plank out of place in the double row of barrels that line the walls. Scar’s reluctance to leave the warmest room in the castle is clearly shared.

They continue to swap idle chatter and half-hearted battle plans until Grian runs out of excuses to linger and they’re both stifling yawns after every word.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Grian says, and his words drag along like stubborn heels wedged in sand.

“Guess so.” Scar makes no move to get up, and Grian remains rooted in place. After a moment of mutual inaction, an idea sparks to gleaming life. “You know, we could just stay here.”

“Yeah, but I’m tired,” Grian says. “Need to sleep at some point, and it’s not getting any warmer.”

“Well, lucky for us both, then, there’s already a bed right here.”

Two ticks pass undisturbed.

“You want to—share?” Grian sputters. His wings splay out slightly, seemingly of their own accord; Grian’s quick to smooth them back down.

“No reason not to!” Scar says. “I’m cold; you’re cold. Pooling body heat would be a very economical move.”

Grian stares at him, and Scar can practically hear the gears churning in his brain before he decides, “We can make adjustments to the castle tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

“This is a one-night thing.”

“Sure, sure.”

Scar lays down with his head to the furnaces, scooching back until there’s a nice, Grian-sized spot next to him. Slowly, hesitantly, Grian kicks off his shoes and slides into bed.

The narrow mattress was certainly meant for a single body, and the wall is cold against Scar’s exposed shoulder, but at every point where his other side meets Grian’s is blissful warmth. He resists the urge to melt on the spot.

The space between them is a held breath; just enough tension strings along Grian’s frame to be palpable, and his hand is balled into a loose fist at his hip.

After a moment, when his fingers uncurl in a quiet exhale and start to reach instead of refrain, Scar turns towards him and snakes a careful arm around his waist. Grian huffs, but relaxes his stiff shoulders, which Scar takes as an invitation to draw him closer into himself.

“Dude, you’re like a teddy bear,” Scar says into Grian’s soft hair.

“And you’re a barnacle,” Grian grumbles, and shifts beneath Scar’s grip. Scar releases him, unsure if he’d gone too far, but all Grian does is tug Scar further into his space and tuck his head beneath Scar’s chin. Scar chooses to blame the heat that spreads across his cheekbones on the sudden temperature change. “You’d be warmer with a shirt, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Scar says. Grian mutters something unintelligible, but his argument evens out with his breath; in one last sigh, he’s asleep.

Scar pulls the blanket more securely over them both before returning his arm to its position around Grian. They’ve hugged before, of course—Scar enjoys showering his friends with physical affection, and Grian’s a very huggable guy! The only real contrast is between their usual verticality and how horizontal they lay now.

It shouldn’t feel different. It shouldn’t. It’s rather late to be picking apart how it does.

For all Scar hid from it, sleep finds him with swift assurance, and the darkness pulls him under.

—☾—

It’s been a few minutes since Scar had gasped awake on his final life, gear-less, enchanter-less, and utterly alone. The wind that blows across a lonely mountaintop beyond his hut’s walls is the only sound that dares fracture the silence suffocating him.

His stuff is still back at the Southlands, if there’s even anything left of it. Murmurs of white-hot phantom pain ghost across every part of his skin the lava had touched.

He should go get his stuff. He should gather his few bits of TNT and ignite a trail of ruin within the base of those who have taken so much from him. There should be anger crackling at his very marrow, urging him forwards, avenging his death.

Scar stares at a scuff mark left behind on the calcite floor, and doesn’t move for a long time.

Eventually, the rattle of the doorknob startles Scar up onto his feet and into his usual place behind the just-for-show register. No one has business here anymore—he’d run out of his most precious commodities to sell. His fingers tighten against the counter.

Grian’s near-shoved inside by a particularly inspired gust, and he grunts as he hauls the door shut behind him. Everything about him is mussed; the scarf around his neck, the breaths that fall rapid-fire from his lips, his wings. Scar’s immediate instinct is still to offer a preen. He doesn’t.

“Hello there,” Scar greets instead. What else is there to do? Maybe he can work in a scam before Grian leaves.

Grian’s gaze snaps to Scar’s face before the words are fully out of his mouth. It’s foolish, really: there should be mockery swirling within the amber of Grian’s eyes; teasing pity, or, if Scar’s lucky, fear, but all he can find in the pinch of Grian’s mouth and the furrow of his brow is concern.

“I brought your items,” Grian says, and holds a pair of diamond trousers aloft. “D’you have a place to put them?”

Scar steps back from the counter and gestures to its empty surface. As Grian dumps what meager gear had survived the lava onto it, Scar briefly entertains a fantasy in which he’d sent Grian to deposit the items in the mess of chests outside instead. He supposes he couldn’t have prevented any thievery, should it have arisen, if Grian was out of his sight, but somewhere deep within, Scar gets the feeling Grian agrees that he’s already taken enough.

The sound of leather against wood brings Scar back to the present. He glances down; a book whose cover is marked by Bdubs’ familiar looping handwriting lands next to his pickaxe. A second book bearing Joel’s signature is soon to join it. Contracts.

Scar looks sharply at Grian, who shrugs. “I didn’t see mine.”

“So that’s it, then,” Scar says, and something bitter coats his throat.

Grian empties his bag of a final unlit torch. “I came all the way out here, didn’t I? The contract’s still on.”

“Oh,” Scar says. He blinks. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Grian says. Uncertainty washes over his features in one second; it’s gone in the next. You wouldn’t happen to have tea, would you?”

Scar doesn’t, but from his inventory Grian produces not only a pouch of tea leaves but an entire kettle to prepare them in. He crouches before Scar’s tiny fireplace and fusses about setting water to boil while Scar uselessly rearranges things on the shelves that line the far wall. Against the brush of his fingers, a rack of crystals hanging from chords of string chime softly against each other, and Scar savors the sound; Grian, too, pauses to listen, and continues only when the twinkling has faded.

Long after the dregs of tea have cooled, it becomes apparent that Grian isn’t leaving, and Scar doesn’t understand why. Even his contract didn’t oblige him with this—the stipulations may protect Scar from Grian’s physical harm, and give demand for resources when he needs them, but they’re not really allies, not this time around.

Scar doesn’t know what to make of it. He certainly doesn’t know what to make of Grian’s tired eyes and empty hands as he sits on the floor beside Scar’s bed.

He holds his tongue for an admirably long time. Company is so few and far between, after all.

“What are you still doing here, G?” Scar asks.

Grian stares for a fierce, resolute moment at the floor before answering. He must’ve found the same scuff.

When he looks up, his mouth churns for a second before words start to come out of it. “It’s awfully cold out,” he says. “I figured I’d let the worst of it pass.”

Scar considers this. It really is quite frigid, and where the rest of the server is swathed in the honey-boughed trees of autumn, his mountain sees only the hardiest of evergreens. Dusk brings a fierce bite that threatens to close its jaws around any player foolish enough to traverse its snowy cliffs.

“It won’t get any better ‘til the sun comes out, I’m afraid,” Scar says lightly.

The thing is, Grian’s not lying. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth, either. He’s keeping something from Scar (when’s the last time he told Scar anything, anyway? Scar knows the answer) and Scar can’t figure out what.

Though, Scar supposes, full honesty is hardly a ware upon his own shelves. If things were different, if they stood on different ground and the air between them wasn’t filled with static, Scar would press harder.

He lets Grian keep his not-lie, free of charge.

“That’s alright,” Grian says. He removes the goggles perched in his hair and tilts his head back against the corner of the mattress behind him, closing his eyes. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

Scar gives himself exactly three seconds to breathe before he unclasps his cloak and leaves it on its hook by the door. He’ll have to dig his black one out of whatever chest it’s stashed in tomorrow to better drape over his last life. Carefully, he edges into bed, and once beneath the covers, gives Grian’s shoulder a gentle tug.

A single half-slitted eye flicks up to Scar’s outstretched arm.

“Just for tonight?” Scar asks. He thinks he might be pleading. “A one-night thing.”

Just when Scar’s about to take back his words and encase them in fake laughter, insisting he didn’t mean them, Grian shrugs out of his boots and crawls into bed, and easily curls around Scar.

His hand finds Scar’s own and squeezes, briefly, before letting go. It travels up the side of Scar’s neck—Scar shouldn’t trust this much, and Grian shouldn’t be this gentle—until his fingers twine around a strand of Scar’s hair.

“It’s getting long,” Grian says, and his eyes are far too pained. Scar wonders if he, too, is thinking about the nights they passed a pair of shears between them to trim each other’s unruly mess of hair before remembering that neither of them should care about that anymore.

“Haven’t had time to cut it,” Scar lies. The echo of what’s left unsaid is unbearably loud.

Grian fully retracts his hand; his countenance shutters with it. After a moment, he rests his arm over Scar’s waist. “A one-night thing,” he says, like it’s a reminder.

For all he can foolishly hope otherwise, Scar knows Grian means it. It’s a far cry from countless nights spent scheming in whispers on a single bed whose crevices always held pinches of sand, no matter how hard they shook out the covers. Tomorrow night, he will be alone again.

For the fleeting moments he has him, Scar holds Grian close and aches.

—☾—

There’s a second heartbeat intertwined around Scar’s own between his ribs, and it’s as familiar as a path trodden down by years of use; as foreign as the untouched grass of a new world’s spawn, and its owner lies across the room from him.

The sensation is odd: to share something only ever meant for one body feels like it should feel wrong, like it’s breaking a line of code within the Universe itself. Stranger still is to be so far away from his counterpart, when surely they’ve been melded as one. Every part of him yearns to reach across the expanse between their beds.

Grian’s heart drums out homesickness within his ears. Scar kind of hates it.

“Grian, did you move the diamonds somewhere?” Scar calls over his shoulder. With a collective distaste in organization, the pair of them make for a blight upon storage systems everywhere, but Scar could’ve sworn the few diamonds they had left were right here a day ago.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I moved them further in. Let me grab them.” Grian appears with an axe in hand, and pries up a few floorboards near the back wall to expose a hidden chest. He gestures to it. “Gathered up our iron and TNT supplies, too.”

“You never tell me anything,” Scar muses as he crouches down to grab enough diamonds for a pickaxe. When he looks up at Grian, he’s got a funny expression on his face, like he’s bitten into a melon that’s been left out in the sun for too long.

“I tell you plenty,” he says, and his tone edges into something defensive.

Scar examines a nail. “Didn’t tell me about the secret chest though, did’ja?”

“I was going to,” Grian says evenly. His pale knuckles are in the process of turning whiter around the handle of his axe.

“When?” Scar asks. “After you gathered all the courage you needed to share plans with your teammate? After I’d caught you with red enough hands that you had no choice?”

“No!” Grian must’ve noticed his tightening grip, and shoves the axe back onto his belt. “No, Scar, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it, I wonder? I don’t think you trust me, Grian.”

“I trust you plenty,” Grian dismisses. Liar. Something cracks beneath Scar’s eye. “It’s not like you tell me everything you get up to, anyway.”

“It was a bit of light arson, everything’s fine.” Scar waves a flippant hand. “I can make my own decisions and you should support me in them, as my soulmate.”

“Making enemies behind my back isn’t fine,” Grian says with a glare. “Not when both of our lives are at stake.”

“Sure, but I would’ve told you straight away,” Scar says. “It’s not my fault you heard about it through rumors before I could get to you. You clearly don’t feel the same about what you keep from me.”

“I just didn’t think it concerned you,” Grian mutters.

“Concerned me?” Scar exclaims. “They’re our resources! Why wouldn’t that concern me?”

“Cared. I didn’t think you cared,” Grian corrects himself. A nasty little thing worms its way into his tone as he says, “It doesn’t affect the pandas. What reason do you have to care?”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Scar spits out. “And let me tell you, you’ve done a crap job so far.”

“Oh, Scar, we haven’t been one for a long time,” Grian says, and his blade softens to barbs wrapped around Scar’s flesh. “Why start now?”

The wire tightens. Scar bleeds.

He doesn’t grace Grian with another word before storming out of the haphazard storage room. Grian can hide any chest he wants, Scar doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

Dread prickles along the nerves of Scar’s palms. The darkness before him is blinding; he can’t see, no matter how wide he tries to open his eyes. Weight presses down upon every limb, and he’s trapped, he’s vulnerable, and all around him, inky blackness roars—

“—Scar? Scar. C’mon, buddy.”

Scar bolts upright. It takes a moment before low torchlight burns into view, and the room around him sharpens. He holds a hand to his brow. It comes away sweaty.

“Scar.”

Right. Grian’s kneeling beside Scar’s bed, his red sweater a bloodstain in the dimness, and his hand hovers close to Scar’s arm. When Scar meets his gaze, his reach drops entirely.

“Yes?” Scar asks expectantly. He had avoided Grian for the rest of the day after their argument, and was asleep before Grian had returned to the base; this is the first they’ve spoken in hours.

“You were having a nightmare.” Grian says, and gestures to his own chest. Scar’s heartbeat had given him away.

“Oh.”

Uncomfortable silence falls between them. Scar fidgets with the blanket and vaguely debates what time it must be.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Grian says. His delivery is lacking, in Scar’s humble opinion, and at least some of that must show on his face, because Grian continues: “Really, I am. I should’ve told you straight away.”

“You should’ve trusted me straight away,” Scar adds. He’s been taken off-guard, admittedly. Grian’s always been the type to argue fast and apologize just as quickly afterwards, but this is the first time he’s said it here. Scar wouldn’t have expected it to come in the middle of the night, but Grian’s also never been one for general reason.

“I should’ve,” Grian agrees. “It’s pretty lousy to go behind your soulmate’s back like that; you deserved to have known.”

“Thank you,” Scar says, a bit stunned.

“We kind of suck at this whole soulbound business,” Grian says, with a humorless little laugh.

Scar shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

Grian’s forehead furrows and he scans Scar’s face before he nods once, slowly, decisively. “Yeah, we will.”

It’s too late in the night for truthfulness, and Scar’s edges are feeling rather raw, so instead of releasing the hundreds of words that threaten to tumble from the tip of his tongue, he extends an arm in invitation to Grian.

Grian doesn’t hesitate to haul himself forwards and settle his head upon Scar’s chest when they’re both properly laying down. Scar might cry. He buries his face in Grian’s hair.

“For what it’s worth,” Grian says, a final breath before sleep, “I’m glad to share a heart with you, as accident-prone as you sometimes are. I don’t think I’d want it to be anyone else.”

Scar squeezes him tighter. Grian hugs him back. The distance gaping between them doesn’t feel quite so insurmountable.

—☾—

“Hi Grian! I’m so sorry, but it had to happen. Thank you.”

Grian’s unblinking stare doesn’t waver. If Scar squints, he can almost convince himself he sees some semblance of life in the stiff form of his body through the water that cascades between them.

“No—this isn’t an apology session, he tells you your future,” Bdubs says, and the group crammed together in the little stone room erupts into giggles. Scar defends his position against their teasing through his own laughter.

Still chuckling, Scott says, “You know what, this can be whatever you want. For Scar, it can be a confessional, and for the rest of us it can be fortune telling.”

“Okay, hold on, one second.” Scar clears his throat and peers back through the waterfall. It’s almost easier to hold Grian’s eyes when he’s not behind them. Scar misses their spark. “I’m sorry that I baby-talked you so much, you were just so cute on your little llama. I’m so sorry that I killed you, but I had to. It was part of the moment, things happen. Thank you.”

Someone gives a short-winded clap.

Scar turns around with a flourish before straightening. “I feel better.”

“Lovely,” Bdubs says.

After the bit has run its course, Scar shuffles aboveground with everyone else and lags behind when they head for their respective bases. When the coast is clear, he doubles back to where Grian’s been left.

First he plugs the water, and in its absence, the room is shockingly still. He then drops into a crouch by the wall next to Grian, and unhooks his legs beneath him until he’s sat flat on the ground, leaning against the cool stone.

“I lied,” Scar says, staring into nothing. “I said I was sorry for killing you, but I’m not. Well, maybe I am. I’m sorry for not being more sorry.”

Will Grian be mad when he wakes? Surely he’d expected chaos upon leaving his unoccupied body on a server like this. It’d be, frankly, unreasonable not to. If anything, he’s lucky he’s not on red, or a shimmering spectator floating through the night!

Scar is briefly distracted by visions of a ghostly Grian wearing a leather jacket as solid as the moral world around him, like when one forgets to remove their armor after taking a potion of invisibility. He voices as much to the real Grian, and the faint echo that follows his own voice is his only response.

It feels wrong to let the stifling hush fall back into place, so Scar fills it.

He tells Grian about the Clockers, and how their tower is coming along. He recounts a funny encounter with Martyn and all of the spectacular ways Scar’s traps have failed. Joel had complimented Scar’s triple kill, Scar can’t help but gloat, and winces when he gets to the part where all three of the players who’d died were yellow.

“You’d be proud,” Scar says. “Almost a quad.” There is something undeniably warm and inexplicably aching in his chest.

“I miss you sometimes,” he confesses, “and it’s silly, because you’re right there in front of me. You’ve got your sunglasses and your bread bad bridge boys—however you say it—and it’s stupid to miss someone you can see, right?”

He tilts his head up and traces patterns in the ceiling. “I’m happy with Mom and Bdubs. I’m not sorry for burning your mansion down or maybe sort of poking around your chests. We both know how Double Life ended.”

From his pocket, Scar produces a bedroll, and he briefly shuffles around to place it where he’d been sitting and re-settle upon it. His legs were getting sore.

“We make a good team.” Sepia-toned kitchens and grey trouser pockets lined with TNT bleed into spiked fortresses and mildewed cities deep underground. “Or maybe we don’t.”

Scar sighs. “Silly of me, isn’t it?”

A stuttering cough jolts Scar from the hazy area between wakefulness and sleep. It takes him a moment to place where he is. There’s a crick in his neck from where he’d been awkwardly leaning it against the stone.

“Of all the places to be, I don’t think this is what I was expecting,” Grian says contemplatively to Scar’s right, his voice a little scratchy.

“Oh!” Scar says, startled. “Good… something, sleepyhead.”

“Scar? What are you doing here?” Grian asks. Scar watches as he clambers out of the hole he’d been put in on unsteady feet. “Actually, scratch that. Where is here?”

“Somewhere under Entertainment Mountain!” Scar frowns. “I think.”

“Right, okay.” Grian’s remarkably composed for someone in his position. “Getting back to my first point, are you a guard or something?”

“You were telling fortunes,” Scar says.

It’s astonishing how different Grian’s blank stare is now compared to his previous state. He shakes his head as if to clear it and says, “Actually, I’ve decided that I don’t want to know.

“You told Scott he’d soon come into a stack of diamonds and promised Bdubs a puppy,” Scar says, just to mess with him.

Grian snorts. “Sad to have missed it.” Something like relief floods through Scar.

“Fun times, fun times,” Scar says. “Off to your bread boys, then?”

“Are you off to your Clockers?” Grian asks. He nearly smirks with it.

“It is pretty late,” Scar says, and his own smile grows.

“The boys will definitely want more of an explanation than what I’m awake enough to give,” Grian agrees. He gestures to the space next to Scar, and asks, “That seat wouldn’t happen to be taken, would it?”

Though their teams will worry, though they’ll wake up tomorrow and join opposite sides once more, Grian’s legs tangle between Scar’s own and his breath puffs gently against the juncture of Scar’s neck. Scar’s fingers dig into the softness of Grian’s sweater. He’s glad Grian had left his jacket behind for taking off for… wherever he went.

“So, what was your fortune?” Grian asks, and Scar can feel the words against his skin. They dance as they fall from Grian’s lips, light and teasing.

“That I’m going to win Limited Life, of course,” Scar says with a grin.

Grian hums. “Guess we’ll see.”

—☾—

Twilight catches between each of the sunflowers’ petals that have not yet been shrouded in the shadow of the wall around Scar’s valley, a pretty contrast to the craters he’s been tripping over on the way home. He catches the edge of the nearest flower between his forefinger and thumb as he passes by and releases it before the petals can tear away.

The glow of his outpost is a beacon; once inside, Scar collapses against the door on weary bones. He’d been set on fire a couple times today, and none of it compares to the burn nipping at his feet now. Exhaustion barely begins to cover the shape of his lungs and every limb.

Scar’s moved to sitting on the counter’s edge with his boots removed when a knock sounds at his door. “Come in,” he calls without looking up.

“You’re in a sorry state, aren’t you.” Grian appears in front of Scar. He’s looking rather disheveled himself—his wings, in particular, are just as rumbled as the rolled-up cuffs of his sweater and the white undershirt that peeks out from his collar.

“Wow, rude,” Scar comments.

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” Grian says. “I came to check on you. Big day, yeah?”

Scar scoffs. “That stupid thing chased me for like—an hour!”

“And you made a valiant effort,” Grian says, and gives Scar’s shoulder a compassionately gentle pat. “I brought a golden apple over, if you need it.”

“Here at Trader Scar’s, stock is looking unfortunately low at this very second.” Scar waves a hand in the vague direction of the barrels on the wall. “Come back tomorrow.”

“At no cost.” The corner of Grian’s lip quirks up.

“Well, in that case…” Scar holds out a palm, and Grian passes him the apple. He takes a bite and savors its sweetness, ambrosia whose warmth runs over top of his wounds without truly mending them. The kindness of the gesture itself soaks deeper, and Scar’s determined to savor that, too.

Grian watches him for a moment. His gaze seems to skirt across every inch of Scar, never lingering on any specific part. “Got any other general ailments?”

“Can’t do much about them, now can we?” Scar shrugs.

“Sure, but I could at least clean them.” Grian’s tone is nonchalant, but his words, Scar knows, are anything but. This matters to him. The corners of Scar’s eyes crinkle.

The Wither—and the rest of the day’s shenanigans—had left a number of scrapes and bruises along Scar’s skin that turning in his task hadn’t fully healed. A dull sort of sting gnaws at the lines of Scar’s nerves, residue from the withering he hadn’t been able to dodge. His legs hurt and his head throbs and there’s a twinge in his shoulder from where Scar had collided with a wall at an odd angle.

His hands are in arguably the worst state of it all; bare to the earth Scar caught himself upon when he tripped, and tight around a bow when he dared to turn and shoot. He offers them up first to Grian, who takes them, one at a time, and cleans away the dirt and blood with invariable carefulness.

From his pocket Grian produces a roll of bandages, which he uses to wrap each of Scar’s palms. The rhythm is soothing, and Grian’s steady warmth is familiar. The pain ebs, if even just for a moment, in the wake of his touch.

“Anything else?” Grian asks after he releases Scar’s hands. Though he remains close enough for his breath to fan lightly across the tip of Scar’s nose, Scar mourns the loss of contact immediately.

“Nothing that can be wrapped, it seems,” Scar says. “You?”

“I’m pretty alright,” Grian says. “I feel like I could sleep an entire week, though.”

“Sleeping on wings looking like that?” Scar says conversationally. “They’ll be worse by morning.”

“Oh,” Grian says, sounding a little surprised. He tosses a half-glance over his shoulder. “They’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense!” Scar says. “I’d be a terrible host if I let a guest stay over in such discomfort.”

“Really, there’s no need,” Grian says, leveling Scar a look. Unfortunately for him, Scar’s thoroughly familiar with his tactics.

“You fixed me up,” Scar says, “it’s only fair if I do the same, right?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Grian says. “I didn’t come over for any deals.”

“Consider this to be on the house,” Scar says. Softer, he adds, “I want to. If you’ll have me.”

Grian’s quiet for a long moment. His wing twitches in seeming contemplation.

“Fair is fair,” he concedes soon after. “Want any help getting into bed?”

“Please.”

Scar wraps an arm over Grian’s shoulder, careful to avoid his wings, while Grian braces Scar across his back. Together they make their way into the outpost’s second room, where Scar’s bed is nestled amidst a pile of chests. Scar tugs off his poncho and tosses it onto the nearest surface, then settles onto the bed against the far wall. Grian perches on the edge in front of him and spreads out a wing.

They really are beautiful this time around, all earthy browns and creamy tans, speckled with spots of black that remind Scar of rich, dark soil. He runs gentle fingers through the nearest plumage, carding out debris and straightening feathers knocked out of place.

The repeated motions are comforting, like petting a cat (and gosh, does he miss Jellie, but he’d asked her once if she’d wanted to accompany him, and she’d meowed back with what he’s pretty sure meant no, thank you very much, death games would be terrible for my coat, and that was that), and after he finishes the section he’d been working on, he runs a flat hand over it appreciatively. Grian very generously allows about three seconds of this, punctuated by a slight shake of his shoulders and heavy sigh, before shrugging Scar off.

Moving on to the next part, Scar asks, “How’s life been with Etho and Cleo?”

Scar can see Grian’s slight smile where it raises part of his cheek. “It’s good. They’re weird, but, like, in a good way. Chill.”

“Sounds like them,” Scar says, and murmurs an apology when he plucks a broken feather. Grian hardly flinches, and Scar knows why it must be done, but he can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt every time. “So the Wither, it was your task?”

“Yep,” Grian says, popping the p. “Me and Etho’s, actually. We had to set up a boss fight between the Wither and warden. Definitely didn’t expect it to lock in so heavily on you, though. Sorry about that.”

“A task’s a task, right?” Scar says. “Thanks for saving me, back there.”

The rift Grian had pried open in the server’s code had left a gash without taking hearts; Scar has the ripped sleeve to prove it. Floating between worlds is hardly pleasant, however anchored he’d still technically been to Secret Life, and solid ground upon his return had been a relief. Even more immensely relieving was spotting the Wither on Scott’s tail instead of his own.

Scar doesn’t know why Grian did it. Though friendly enough, they aren’t teamed.

“It’s the least I could’ve done,” Grian answers, and releases his other wing from where he’d been preening it across his lap. “Are you about finished?”

“Almost.” All that’s left are the tiny feathers at the juncture of Grian’s wings and his back, sprouting from the open panel of his shirt. They’re not particularly out of place, but when Scar smooths them down, he’s rewarded with a shiver that reverberates down the length of Grian’s spine. Grian whacks Scar with a wing. “Hey! You’ll mess up my work.”

“Should’ve thought about that,” Grian says primly before he twists to face Scar and pulls his legs up onto the bed. “It’s nap time, anyway.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Scar says, and collapses sideways, pulling Grian down with him.

The outpost feels all that less lonesome when Grian’s tucked into Scar’s side beneath a blanket of feathers. Grian’s warmth is soothing against Scar’s pains, and for all the questions that still buzz behind his eyes, Grian’s presence puts Scar’s somnolent-syruped mind at something close to ease.

Grian traces slow patterns into Scar’s arm. Scar falls asleep trying to decipher what they could be.

—☾—

The footsteps that pad up the mountain long after Lizzie and Jimmy have passed out are a surprise. What little remains of the reputation board still smolders a mere few blocks away from Scar, and his yellow life sits fresh in his chest. He’d assumed their little arrangement had drawn to an explosive end.

“Come to take your revenge?” Scar asks the shadow over him. “It’s against the gentleman's code to kill a guy in his sleep.”

If Scar admits it to himself, he’s happy to see Grian. From nearly the first second Scar had made his bed, Grian had claimed half of it as his own, and Scar would be reluctant to give up his nightly company, with what ease they slot together in and how warm Grian is looped around him. Scar’s teammates have long given up their protest, but Lizzie declares a continual disregard of principle if Grian’s still around by the time she rises from her own slumber.

“I’m still mad at you,” Grian says, and though he can’t see it, Scar can hear his scowl. “Move over.”

Scar graciously complies, and Grian shoves beneath the blanket. He keeps his back towards Scar and his legs curled firmly away, a display that’d achieve more of an effect if his head wasn’t a breath away from Scar’s on the bed’s single pillow. His feathers are ticklish where they brush lightly against Scar.

“You’re about to fall off,” Scar observes.

“Shut up,” comes the grumbled reply. Grudgingly, Grian scoots all of an inch inwards. “It’s none of your business if I choose to sleep on the ground, anyway. It’d be more tolerable than your company.”

Grian would do no such thing, and they both know it. Still, Scar says, “But the thud, skip, and squawk would definitely disrupt my beauty sleep, so it’s really in my best interest to make sure you don’t go tumblin’.”

“I’ll go tumbling if I want to,” Grian answers, tilting his head to the sky to glare at Scar from the corner of his vision, “and it’d be your fault when I die from fall damage. Again.”

“We’re even!” Scar says. “That’s all in the past.”

“We are not even, and that was like, five hours ago!”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Scar challenges.

“That’s different,” Grian says, flat.

Scar pauses. He doesn’t want to antagonize Grian into actually leaving, not really. The steps to their dance have worn well into his soles, and the shape of his partner is familiar between his arms.

He’d missed Grian. For all of their posturing, twirling the line between enemy and friend, to have him by his side once more beneath the winking moon’s light is a gratifying reprieve.

“A truce, then,” Scar eventually says, “if we’re not even.”

“A truce,” Grian agrees. The anger in his voice has faded like lips pulled over once-bared teeth. Scar can’t quite make out what replaces it, but through the tiredness that seeps in along Grian’s edges, Scar’s fairly certain he’s not about to be bit.

“And friends?” Scar teasingly tries. He can envision the scrunch of Grian’s nose as clear as day when he huffs in reply.

“Not friends,” Grian says. “But beyond someone’s cheap shot, we’re not really enemies, are we?”

“Not if you don’t want to be,” Scar says. Something surges out with aching fingers from the cavity between his ribs where two hearts had once beat in tandem. It’s fun to rile Grian up, but what side he stands on hardly matters in stopping Scar, anyway. It’d be nice, he thinks, to not be enemies.

“Though you’re still dead to me,” Grian says, “we’ve had plenty of practice being enemies before. We can stay affably neutral here if you don’t go taking any more dirty kills.”

Scar shrugs and nods, but he can’t help his grin. “Gotta keep it fresh.”

Grian clicks his tongue in the same way he always does when they’ve reached the same conclusion. Scar’s sure that, if he’d been watching Grian instead of the stars above them, he would’ve caught Grian’s accompanying wink.

“Goodnight, Grian,” Scar says, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Scar.” Grian turns fully back onto his side. He scoots in another inch. The blanket undergoes a considerable amount of rearranging before it adequately covers them both.

After everything’s been sorted, Scar reaches out. Grian’s hand meets his own halfway across the mattress. Their linked fingers are awfully close to honesty, and a shared pillow is the nearest Scar’s ever been to trust.

A truce hums behind Scar’s eyelids, and he lets the darkness pull him under.

“And we’re best friends?”

“We’re best friends.”

The sun is shining and the morning feels ripe with opportunity when Scar wakes. Grian’s hold on Scar is fierce even in sleep, and Scar takes a moment to bask in it.

It’s all a bit hard to fully wrap his mind around. They’re allies again—no, better yet, friends. The sensation is apricity against frost-nipped fingers. It’s the light of a campfire and the jaunty melody of the song shared around it. It’s home.

After a tick or two—Grian’s never been one to let too much of the day’s beginning go to waste—Grian shifts and blinks the bleariness from his eyes. Scar’s chest feels impossibly aglow with fondness.

“Hi,” Grian says when he lifts his gaze to Scar’s face.

“Good morning,” Scar says, and, just to make sure: “Best friend?”

Grian snorts. “I meant it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

There’s a mace tucked away somewhere in his inventory, and a thousand things piled between them. Scar remembers sand, and wood, and stone; he remembers sleep-warm skin and linens as soft as a death game can afford beneath his fingertips.

Scar kisses Grian, once, just to feel his startled laugh against his own mouth. They rise in staggered tandem, and Grian pressed his lips to Scar’s temple before disappearing down the mountainside to rejoin his team.

Smiling, Scar stretches his shoulders with a satisfying crack, and goes off to find his own.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a photo of a sign in a school, which says "don't be a target: Bullies pick on people that they think are weak and quiet. Look the bully in the eye, use a strong voice and tell them you don't like what they are doing and to stop. Then walk away. Next time, the bully may choose somebody else to pick on."

On the sign, there is a simple drawing of a boy in a red shirt with a white number one in the centre, holding his pointer finger up. In front of the boy there is a "no" symbol, followed by the text "to bullying".]

[A Facebook post by Sophie Labelle, which says:

(capitalized) hoo boy. (End capitalization)

I know I should just toss this overstuffed suitcase straight into the nearest dumpster fire, but it'll be much more satisfying to unpack each item and throw it into roaring flames one by one.

That's a very long-winded way of saying "We're a bunch of social darwinists who don't want to do our jobs."

Does whoever created this monstrosity even know the definition of bullying? The bullies know you don't like what they're doing, that's why they're doing it, you dipshits.

The first rule of Survivor Club is that you never fucking turn your back to your abuser. The corollary to the first rule of Survivor Club is that you ESPECIALLY don't fucking turn your back to your abuser right after confronting them. It must be nice to be sheltered enough that you reached adulthood (and then some) without having to learn this.]

[There's a reason that bullies are gonna make life hell for the gender-ambiguous black kid who doesn't make eye contact, and there's a reason why said kid is likely to go quiet. It's because both parties know that school authorities won't lift a finger for an autistic kid, a child of color, or a gender nonconforming kid, let alone someone who's all three. They also know that the minute the victim stands up to their bullies in a way that actually fucking works well enough to get them to back down and go hide behind an adult, that adult will go into Zero Tolerance Mode and punish (only) the victim for being "just as bad."

This poster just feeds into the problem by presenting bullying as an inevitable part of education rather than a choice that humans of all ages can just not make or condone, tacitly or otherwise.

I get the impression that none of the alleged educators at this school ever actually read Lord of the Flies, because if they had, they'd know it was pretty clearly not supposed to be aspirational.]

[And let's not forget

7. If they were gonna give the reader a big "fuck you," they could've at least drawn the right finger.]

[A screenshot of the comments, which say:

Courtney McIntyre: I'm sorry "next time, the bully may choose somebody else to pick on" WHAT? Because THAT'S the correct outcome???

Garnet Shredder: Was just coming here to say this, should've included that on the list too haha

Joe Ricciardelli: No way to stop bullies so we won't try. Good luck kids, try to pass them off to another target.😁👍]

[kirbyluvr63]

need f1 fanfic recs

im SO fucking glad you asked!

im gonna give you some of my favs here and youll kinda notice a pattern, i guess! im about to expose my whole psyche in front of you.

first, one of my favorite ships is maxiel! but i particularly love anything that explores daniel's character specifically, so my first rec is an entry on Daniel Ricciardo's Internalized Homophobia Fic Fest!

heart's a mess by nunnit - just a great character study of internalized homophobia and trying to no-homo your way out of your own life until you lose the one guy you really loved. warning: there's a bittersweet ending! ships: Jenson Button/Daniel Ricciardo; Cyril Abiteboul/Daniel Ricciardo; Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen; Daniel Ricciardo/Blake Friend; Daniel Ricciardo/OMC

Montreal Bounds by ellipsis99 - this one has a happy ending! daniel's in a complicated relationship with a guy who has a girlfriend and max makes him reconsider a bunch of stuff. ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen; Daniel Ricciardo/Scotty James; (brief Max Verstappen/Pierre Gasly)

pale green things by yekoc - historical fiction set during the tulip fever where jos is a rich tulip trader that commissions daniel to paint a portrait of max for his fiancee. yekoc is a GREAT author, i recommend anything by them! ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

glory, from a high rise by yekoc - speaking of, another BANGER from yekoc. daniel works at a bar and max is a neurotic alcoholic office worker who's also horny as all hell. there's some commitment issues involved as well. it's perfect. ships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

honorable mentions:

a body wishes to be held and held by CamilleDuDemon

All We Knew of Home by LoveLeah

mon voisin by kitversuskat

now, my second favorite ship, my actual favorite drivers on the grid and the ones i cheer for: galex! <3

table in the back by crescenteluce - if you love miscommunication you'll love this one, the dialogue is so precise like you can clearly see how one would misinterpret what the other is saying and at the same time you get why the other person didn't even realize a misunderstanding happened aaaaaaarrrrgghhhh it's a bit infuriating too but so so good. ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

footnote in someone else's happiness by finedae - in this one george and alex kind of have a fucked up relationship... they break up so george can date women and fit in the box expected of him, but stays in touch with alex and alex has to, as the author put it themselves, keep things real. ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by prettyrotten - this ones also crazy good and revolves around miscommunication.. i guess this is my favorite trope for them for some reason. george humiliates himself to keep his relationship with alex who just decides how george feels and makes things shitty for everyone. must warn you that i almost cried with this one, very angsty, but with a happy ending! ships: George Russell/Alex Albon

honorable mentions:

take care of you (take care of me) by ginnydear

Strike a Pose by amphibiangeorgerussell

carry you home (orphan work)

another ship that i adore is charlos! their dynamic is very interesting to me... between them and between ferrari and also i just like carlos and want to study him under a microscope. can't wait to find out how his chemistry will play out with alex once they're teammates tbh

In for a penny, in for a pound by chiliconcarlos - this one's the quintessential charlos fic; a required reading, if you will. charles gets drunk and hires an escort to accompany him at a wedding so he doesn't show up alone in front of his ex. he thinks he hired a female escort, but then carlos shows up and... the rest is history. just a very very good fic. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

the same as all those men by almondmilkk - idk about you but i'm obsessed with cowboys and this is THE cowboy au... carlos has a lot of repressed feelings and internalized homophobia and charles just doesn't give a fuck anymore, it's glorious. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) by choripan - if you like catholic guilt, this one's for you! there's a lot of religious imagery in this one and it's just... chef's kiss. charles and carlos meet at an abandoned church while on vacation at mallorca with their respective families. ships: Carlos Sainz Jr/Charles Leclerc

honorable mentions:

semiotic study by linearity

says he's gonna teach me just what fast is by foggystars

can't sleep 'til I feel your touch by chiliconcarlos

and now.... for my most deranged ship: george and lance. "WTF??" you may ask, and i say "don't knock it till you try it!" think of it this way: george is stuck up and hates himself a little and lance is just there and doesn't give a fuck and is the pillowest of princesses. unfortunately few see the vision so there isn't much, but i can't recommend enough Lesson Learned by bottomtxt who's also one of my favorite fanartist here on tumblr and the one who opened my eyes to this AMAZING ship dynamic! finger trap by rivalism is my other recommendation for this criminally underrated ship!

and this is it! i hope you'll enjoy it

ps.: sorry for taking a while but as you can see i was taking this very seriously and i had some college stuff to get done at the same time etc etc... feel free to keep talking to be about it, tho :)

[solalunar-eclipse]

No-Way Mirror

Inspired by this fantastic comic and a conversation I had with the talented @sharpedgedfool.

TW: blood, minor punctures, brief mention of the sensation of blood being drawn (and of course blood drinking)

Also available to read on AO3!

(This was mostly written before my hiatus began, I just wanted to finish editing it in a semi-reasonable timeframe, ahaha.)

...

Shadow continued to smile wryly after his admission, allowing himself a faint laugh. “The best part is,” he continued, “I can’t even begin to imagine how a vampire would go unnoticed for any length of time. Their teeth are massive, surely anyone bitten by them would scream and get them caught almost immediately?”

What Sonic said next came as a bit of a surprise. “I could show you, if you want.”

Shadow glanced over in confusion, finding that same self-confident smirk still on Sonic’s face. “What?”

“I can show you what a vampire’s bite actually feels like.” he explained, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

Ah. That made more sense. Shadow rolled his eyes. Sonic was probably trying to goad him into a fight of some sort or another—or perhaps even being flirtatious. He did tend to match Rouge’s energy at times, though this was the first instance Shadow had noticed where he had done so without the bat being directly present.

Well, he had been at the party for a while anyway, and he was tired enough of socializing that he was willing to humor Sonic, for his own entertainment if nothing else.

He pushed off the wall, shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

The blue hedgehog’s eyes widened, and Shadow took a bit of pride in having thrown off his companion. “Really? I mean, heck yeah, man!” Sonic grinned, leading him towards the back of the house. This wasn’t his place, it was Amy’s, meaning both that Sonic probably knew it almost as well as his own and that Shadow was distinctly less willing to tear it up than he might have been if it were Sonic’s home.

Once they’d made their way down the hall and into a side room, Shadow raised a skeptical eyebrow at Sonic. “So, what’s this ‘vampire bite’ supposed to feel like, exactly?”

Instead of replying, Sonic took a deep breath, steadying himself—

—and then lunged.

Shadow was practically thrown backwards, only catching himself half upright on the desk that happened to be by the window. A sharp, pinching pain radiated from his neck, but it soon settled down into a duller yet persistent ache.

Had that moron actually gone and bitten him as a joke?!

For a fraction of a second, Shadow was prepared to tear into Sonic, both verbally and also physically if necessary, but then he noticed something else that left his limbs feeling oddly as if they’d been filled with lead.

The teeth currently buried in his neck were…very sharp. And, now that he was thinking about it, very long, especially for a hedgehog that hadn’t been genetically modified like him. Shadow had gotten his blood drawn enough times in his life to know what the sensation of blood leaving his body felt like, and he could also feel that in his veins.

Okay. New assessment of the situation. Sonic was, quite possibly, an actual vampire. Which meant that vampires were real. And Sonic was currently drinking his blood.

Shadow wasn’t really sure what to make of all this. He didn’t exactly want to try and rip two vampire fangs out of his neck—while he would heal fast enough that his health wouldn’t be a concern, it would hurt a hell of a lot worse than it currently did.

Thankfully, before he could think much farther than that, Sonic seemed to rouse himself slightly. He shifted a little, exhaled against Shadow’s neck (and wasn’t that a whole host of other things the hybrid would prefer to never unpack), and then slowly retracted his teeth.

Almost nervously, Sonic took a few steps backwards, his lips stained a green that would normally have been only a shade or two lighter than his eyes. Right now, though, his irises burned as crimson as Shadow’s. That was a little odd considering he hadn’t just consumed red blood, but Shadow had already been made quite pointedly aware that his knowledge about vampires was severely lacking.

“Um.” Sonic said, the picture of eloquence as always. “…I kinda expected you to throw me through a window by now.”

Shadow blinked. “Why?”

“I dunno, maybe ‘cause I just bit ya and drank your blood for a solid ten seconds?” Sonic shot back, but his raised quills made the comment seem less like a quip and more like an accusation. Accusing who, the hybrid hedgehog wasn’t sure.

“Honestly, I…just can’t find it in myself to be all that bothered,” Shadow said, still feeling a bit distant and bewildered.

Sonic frowned, stepping forward again to look more closely at Shadow. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t take enough for you to be dealing with blood loss, but you seem kinda out of it.”

Shadow looked away, paying a little more attention to how he was feeling for a moment. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.” he explained softly. “I was already beginning to feel a bit strained from the party, and this is…not bad, necessarily, just a lot to process on top of all that.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Sonic looked uncomfortable and guilty, and Shadow didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him that way.

“Here,” he offered, “why don’t you walk me home? That way I have more time to ask you some questions in a place that isn’t keeping either of us cooped up.” A place that isn’t keeping you from stretching your legs, Shadow didn’t say, but heavily implied.

A soft half-smile, so unlike his usual cocky smirks, spread across Sonic’s face. “That sounds great, honestly.”

The two of them left through the back door, each texting their friends to let them know that they were leaving early. Despite the fact that Sonic had a lot more people to message, he finished at about the same time as Shadow, given that he was rather less concerned about any minor spelling errors and tended to type much more quickly.

They walked in silence together for a little while, Shadow gratefully taking the time to process what had happened.

So, Sonic’s a vampire. What now?

…well, do I really even have to do anything? Sure, he drinks blood, but he has far too strict of a moral code to actually hurt anyone permanently. And he’s been a vampire this entire time, long before I knew, and there haven’t been any problems, so…I suppose this doesn’t really change much at all.

It seemed the silence was too good to last, though, because Sonic spoke up. “Hey, uh…sorry. About drinkin’ your blood a little, back there. I really figured you’d, like, punch me in the face or Chaos Blast me off or something.”

Shadow blinked, drawn suddenly out of his thoughts, and accidentally said the first thing that came to mind. “I honestly forgot I could do that.”

Sonic let out a laugh that was half genuine, half disbelieving. “You forgot? How’d you forget about the thing that literally only you can do?”

“I just did.” Shadow insisted, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. “And if you’re so sorry about it, then why didn’t you pull off as soon as you realized I wasn’t reacting?”

“I didn’t think I’d even get that far, really.” Sonic shrugged, and Shadow shot him a half-hearted glare.

“It wasn’t a date, Sonic, it was you biting my neck.” he retorted flatly.

The blue hero laughed again, this time a proper unrestrained cackle. “Aw, what, should I take you out to dinner next time first?”

Shadow nearly stopped walking, only just catching himself. “Maybe I ought to bite you ‘next time’, we’ll see how you like it.”

“Aw, c’mon, you wouldn’t bite lil’ old me, would you?” Sonic batted his eyelashes innocently, his fanged grin completely undercutting the image he was trying to portray.

Shadow had a feeling that Sonic was hoping to goad him into insisting that he would, so instead he tried a different tack, looking to throw the other off. “I suppose you’re right, given that I’m a vegetarian.” he said, adding a pointed, “unlike somebody currently present.”

Sonic abruptly started pouting, an expression Shadow didn’t often see on his face. “Hey, normally I’d just snag a few blood bags from the hospital! That’s at least better, right?”

“You what.” This time Shadow actually did stop walking.

The sharp tone of his voice alone had Sonic freezing mid-stride as well. “I mean, it—it’s not really that many! And I only take the ones that’re gonna expire, I swear!” He held his hands up defensively.

The hybrid let out a sigh. “Still, people might need those. Frankly, I’d rather have you bite me again than keep on raiding hospitals.”

Sonic’s uncharacteristic silence made Shadow hesitate. He looked at the vampire properly, only to see him wearing an expression that looked a little like someone had just smacked him with a live fish.

“You’d let me feed from you? Like, for real?” he asked, blinking and shaking his head as if to make sure he hadn’t just imagined Shadow’s words.

“I would.” Shadow insisted. “I can regenerate blood much more quickly than most people, so you might even be able to take more than you could from a hospital’s blood stores. It’s a win-win. You get a meal without the theft and uncertainty, and I get to know that you’re not stealing from hospitals anymore.”

Sonic stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer, before smiling more genuinely than he had throughout the entire rest of the night. “I’d—I’d honestly really appreciate that.” he said, rocking back on his heels.

Shadow nodded in agreement. “I’ll send you a message at some point to schedule a time, then, unless you get hungry soon. If so, you can text me—but don’t pretend to be hungry when you’re not!” he added quickly. “I’ll be able to figure it out if you do.”

“Cross my heart, I won’t!” Sonic said, doing the associated motion for bonus effect and adding a wink at the end. Clearly religious symbols (at least from human traditions) weren’t as good at dispelling vampires as they were made out to be.

“You’d better not.” Shadow scoffed lightly. “Now then, where—” he continued, looking around for a street sign, only to realize— “oh. This is my street.”

The vampire frowned unhappily. “Aw man, already?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again before long.”

It was almost comical how quickly Sonic perked up. “Hey, good point! I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round soon, Shads!”

He dashed off before Shadow could even begin the sentence “Don’t call me that,” which was heard only by the empty space around him.

Shadow let out a tired sigh, and walked the last few meters to the front door of the building where Rouge’s apartment was. The receptionist at the front desk gave him a slightly odd look, but he paid them no mind as he stepped into the elevator, allowing himself to lean against the back wall only once the doors were closed.

He shut his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t regret making that offer, not one bit, but if every subsequent vampire encounter was going to be as draining (pun not intended) as this one had been, he might need to schedule them even more carefully than he’d originally thought.

Once the elevator arrived at the correct floor, he shuffled over to the apartment door and unlocked it with practiced ease, stepping inside and instantly beginning to shed his costume. It was only once he’d removed his cape that he caught sight of himself in the mirror and did a double-take.

There was an acid-green stain on the right shoulder of his shirt, marring the pristine white material. Shadow stepped closer to the mirror and took a closer look. Indeed, there were two puncture holes in the shirt’s neck on that side, showing exactly what had caused the stain.

Sonic had probably gotten saliva on his nice shirt too, the idiot. Shadow huffed in mild irritation as he pulled it off, heading to his room to hide the damage. He would see if it was salvageable tomorrow.

If not, then it seemed that he would be insisting upon a suitable replacement from Sonic the moment that vampire scheduled his first feeding session.

~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I said it on my reblog of the original comic, but I’ll say it again here as well—if you liked this, then please check out Orion’s Fleetway and Shadow series! It’s very similar, very well-written, and much longer than this small piece.

[wisecura]

Shine

Yan-yuji x fem-idol reader

An:just a concept I was thinking about writing for soon. Let me know what you think. I prefer golden retriever type yanderes so here we go.

Warning: obsessive behavior, unhealthy behavior, stalking, please read at your own discretion

You met Yuji while on tour about a year ago.

You’ve met plenty of people. Hundreds if not thousands. From all walks of life. But that pink headed ball of pure admiration was definitely one that stood out. You could say with utmost certainty that Yuji Itadori was your most devout fan.

He showed up at every concert, purchased tons of your merch, went to almost every fan meet and greet. He was so consistent, you knew him my name at that point.

It was cute at first. That sparkling energy, those lovestruck puppy dog eyes, and that dopey smile he always gave you. Always energetic and happy to see you. Begging you to flash you killer pose he’d seen so often on stage.

It was like—from the second he met you—he was hooked. He just seemed to absolutely adore you. Knew all of your songs, followed every possible social media, and even led a few fan clubs.

After that year, he became much bolder. During your meet and greets he’d often ask for a picture, where he’d shyly pull you into a side hug—flashing a peace sign and bright smile. Now this wasn’t strange, it was something that was always offered in the meet n greet bundle.

Only now his hand seemed to cling on a little more tightly, not willing to let go quite as fast. You’d noticed his breathing picked up and his face flushing. And by the time he actually let go, you were almost a little red.

You’d shrugged it off—something you normally wouldn’t have done if it had been anyone else. Normally baring them from the next meet and greet just for safety sake. But you let it slide. After all, Yuji was a consistent face. Someone you were somewhat familiar with.

But you’d noticed you also started getting pages from the front desk of your pent house apartment more often. There’d been multiple visits from a hooded figure, loitering at the elevators. Trying—but failing to jam the button that lead straight to your floor. Thank fuck for key card access.

You’d been concerned, obviously. And what made it even scarier was the frequency of visits coupled with the lack of any actual resolution. They weren’t caught. Always slipping away just quick enough to miss the security guards.

And then the night came. First it was the knocks. Heavy. Loud. And frantic. You’d been too scared to open the door, immediately searching for your phone to call the police should you need to. Then making your way over to the intercom.

Before you could reach it, the knocks stopped.

This freaked you out enough to grab a kitchen knife—maybe dial the front desk. You’d barely reached the kitchen before you heard it.

Bam! Bam! BAM!

Your head spun around only to find someone’s foot through your front door. You, like any sane person, fucking panic—running to grab that knife before you didn’t have a chance.

You get there just in time to see that hooded figure standing at your kitchen entryway.

And who would you fucking guess, other than Yuji Itadori.

“Y-yuji?”

A huge grin spread across his face at your words. You’d remembered his name. A small pink blush crossed his cheeks. His eyes devoid of much else other than glassiness that reflected you. Damn near cold and dead.

That same lovesick grin he’d worn at every one of your meet and greets.

You couldn’t gauge his next moves, but you knew it wouldn’t be good. You kept your knife firmly in from of you, the only protection saving you from this lunatics psychotic break.

He looked ready to tackle you. And you weren’t sure you’d be able to take him. Something you normally wouldn’t pay attention to—wouldn’t have much reason to.

The dude was fucking built. At least twice as wide and a head whole taller than you.

And he started walking, slow—long strides.

“S-stay back!—“ you swing your knife—albeit a little clumsily. You definitely weren’t a fighter.

He stopped just out of your swinging distance, those same dead eyes staring down at you. His grin somewhat fading, an expression of worry—maybe confusion crossing his face.

“You don’t need to do that.” He makes a grab for your knife tats still latched in your trembling grip. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, cut it out—“

“Stay back!!”

“Hey cut it out—“ his grin falling completely, his expression growing more and more impatient by the second.

His hand shoots out grabbing your wrist with surprising strength. The knife falling between you two. And before you could think of even attempting to reach for it—he’d kicked it away.

“See? What were you thinking?” he muttered, tugging you into a crushing hug, his arms wrapping around you like a vice. His grip was desperate, clinging to you as if letting go would kill him. “Please, please don’t hate me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Let’s just go home. I’ll make everything better, I promise.”

You were trembling, frozen in his embrace, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like stones. You didn’t know what to say, what to do—every instinct screamed to run, but his arms refused to let you move.

All you could think was how much you wished you’d never met Yuji Itadori.

[fordtato]

I watched the new Ford vid and I wanted to share some thoughts I had on some of the points in your video. Before anything else, I want to say how much I absolutely fucking love everything you do and that, in my opinion, this video is especially spectacular. My intention here is to show my appreciation for your work by demonstrating how I’ve paid attention to it and thought about it, because I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t care, but I’m definitely not trying to criticize or anything. So, keeping that in mind, I’d like to add some thoughts to a couple points that I feel could’ve been expanded upon, even though the video was already five hours long.

First off, when it comes to the science fair thing, the only point where I do kind of blame Ford is that perpetual motion machines are physically impossible and also delicate. I just think he should’ve made something else and, at the very least, checked on it the morning of the fair and I actually think it’s a little ooc that he put all that effort into making it and was so invested in the fair but then didn’t bother to even look at it before the fair itself. There’s also never any recognition of the fact that something like a perpetual motion machine could literally stop at any point for any number of reasons that wouldn’t require external interference. I don’t think it’s a sin or moral failing like some of the other things people said on the topic of the science fair, but I do think there is some responsibility there on Ford’s end that doesn’t get discussed as much.

The second thing is that I just think that the Book of Bill is pretty openly interpretable in terms of whether it’s fully accurate and canon or not, since it’s made by such a flagrant liar. I respect and appreciate that you view the lost journal pages as canon material that, in universe, was written by Ford, but I also feel like it’s important to acknowledge that we don’t really know for sure one way or another unlike with Journal 3.

My next point is that, on the topic of Ford wanting his house back, it’s everything you said and I would add that Stan staying in the house would require their reconciliation. At the time Ford said that, they were actively in conflict with each other after being in separation for 30 years, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t want Stan to keep living with him given all the tension and unresolved resentment. Especially in tandem with the other things you pointed out, I think it makes complete sense that Ford wouldn’t want Stan to keep living there.

So then, when it comes to Ford being upset with Stan because of how Stan ignored all his warnings and opened the portal anyway, my biggest issue has always been Ford’s hypocrisy here. I can appreciate that, even though everything turned out alright, Stan’s choice to open the portal was objectively bad and Ford is valid for being upset, but he’s the one who ignored all the warnings when he summoned Bill in the first place. While I’d never blame him for being a victim of Bill’s abuse, I do 100% blame him for blowing past all the warnings and reading that incantation in the cave, and it’s hypocritical for him to be mad at Stan for doing the same thing.

Next is the “bumbling leech” quote, and my thought here is just that it makes sense for Ford to tell himself that as like a coping mechanism. When he and Stan were in separation, I imagine it would’ve been easier to tell himself stuff like that and try to believe it and try to stay mad to keep his distance, especially once he was on the other side of the portal. After all, keeping a grudge is easier than reconciliation, especially when you and the other person have no emotional intelligence and limited communication skills.

Lastly, when it comes to pathologizing, I think it’s potentially relevant that Stan and Ford are twins so stuff like autism that’s autistic would be a shared trait that both of them have. I just think it could be interesting to get into the genetic components of some of the different diagnoses that have been proposed for Ford, especially NPD since it does have a genetic factor. If people want to act like Ford is a villain because he potentially has NPD, then those same people have to accept that that would mean Stan does to and tbh I’d love to explore how a cluster b disorder like that could potentially make sense with Stan’s character as well. Maybe then we could actually have a nuanced discussion about such things the way you suggested instead of continuing to demonize these disorders, their symptoms, and the people who have them.

Anyway, sorry this was so long but I just wanted to share and I look forward to seeing what else you come out with in the future 🩷

Well, thank you for sharing, though I do think we disagree on a couple of things. As far as a perpetual motion machine being impossible, like, I think that's the point? Like, the idea is "this is an impossible thing, and Ford, being brilliant, figured it out." The idea of "blaming" a 17-year-old for his physics-defying incredible demonstration of a principle that breaks the laws of physics being... not earthquake stable? Or not sturdy enough to survive a punch on the table? I don't know, guys. Like. Lots of marvels of scientific accomplishment are delicate instruments. I think the logic there is faulty. The science fair project falling apart is not Ford's fault. It WAS stable, then something broke. You can't blame him for making an easy-to-break machine. I've seen this argument floating around a lot recently, and I will be honest, it really annoys me. Would it have been smart for him to check under the sheet that Stan put there to hide it? Yeah, maybe. But it feels silly to say that makes him partly "responsible." I dunno. It's all semantics at some point, and it barely makes a difference, but that isn't how I would describe it.

As far as the Lost Journal pages being written by a liar, I did address this in my ATOTS video, and did not repeat myself in the Ford Defense video, but to summarize : I acknowledge that Bill could have lied in these pages, but for the sake of easily having a discussion about it, I do treat it at face value, simply because it would be annoying to need to add that caveat after every point.

(I also am not a personal fan of the theory that it was forged by Bill, but that's a separate topic altogether. No comment beyond that.)

As far as Ford's "hypocrisy" in warning Stan, I think we have different opinions here as well. Like, Ford does not think that Stan ignoring warnings is wrong, but HIM ignoring warnings is okay. He thinks him ignoring the warnings is the biggest mistake of his life and he's deeply angry at himself. If I burned myself on the stove, and then told someone else not to touch the stove because it is hot, I am not being a hypocrite. I am someone who learned something was dangerous.

Even if we disagree here, however, I appreciate you watching, and you taking the time to share your thoughts with me.

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

important caveat: is the reason for which they changed their views and started doing better something that started them on the path to doing better, or is it something they only care about insofar as the specific thing that appealed to them is a factor, and once that's removed from the equation are they fine with continuing to do harm?

are they fine with fatshaming and misgendering people they don't like? do they treat being a knowledgeable, inclusive, generally decent ally--not just re: representation, but irl--as a novelty expansion pack for their blorbos, then lose interest when they move on to something else? do they do so for approval and to feel good about themselves, only to throw fits and backpedal when they realize that involves discomfort, work, or self-accountability? do they Learn About an Issue because their partner/close friend/etc falls into that group, only to go straight back to being a bigot after they break up (or whiplash harder into the bigotry out of spite, even)?

or do they take it as a wakeup call to be a better, more compassionate person? do they take the opportunity to make use of what they have, however it ended up in front of them? do they still use this kind of thing as a cue to examine whether there are other avenues of growth that they would do well to open themselves up to, instead of relying solely on that one?

i have an ex-friend who was deeply emotionally abusive, and whose abuse this dynamic featured prominently in. she gaslit me so thoroughly that it was frightening to read what i was saying in response to her--what i was accepting as truth--when i was looking back over things to unpack them after the fact. and as soon as i left her life, she swan dived straight into the queerphobia, racism,* radfem bullshit, and general nastiness she'd been just barely pretending to care about while she was friends with me.

and being friends with her saved me from what could easily have been a spiral into radfeminism, because she was aroace on the tail of ace discourse. it shook me right to my core when i realized one day that i'd hurt someone close to me, at a moment when she needed support, because of a radfem talking point i'd picked up. it turned my shit right around, and surprise surprise i continued to give a shit about being an ally to aspecs after we split ways and i realized how awful she was.

*(i am white, to clarify, but being a racist shithead was very much on her list of ~things you need to be patient with me about so i can become a better ally~ because i kept calling her on it lmao)

taking opportunities to grow regardless of what that gift horse's mouth looks like is so, so important, and it will take you far. just make sure you're actually growing instead of becoming a missing stair.

i do not care if someone learned compassion from a cartoon or a comic or an anime im just glad they're here with us now a better person fighting the good fight. should it have taken something so trivial? maybe not- but it's in the past! and this is the now! and if they're objectively better for it who cares

[batmanfruitloops]

I gotta know about the Drcrane au, is it only inspired by Frankenstein in the sense of reanimating/making a person from the dead or are there other elements?

Like does Jonathan hate Ed like Victor hates the creature after making him? If so that’s so tragic. :(

Or is it like one of the au’s where Victor loves his creature?

Does Jervis take the place of Clerval? Or does Ed take the place of Clerval?

Why does Jon create Ed? Did he know Ed before hand and reanimate him or did he create him fully from scratch? If he created him fully from scratch what was the reason?

LASTLY is Ed similar to the creature in being somewhat of a mess of parts or is Ed “perfect”? Basically what I’m asking is does Ed only have his head recognizable as Ed or? 

Sorry I know this a lot I just really love Frankenstein and wanted to know about the au.

@quackerzzz

I haven't actually read the book, so it's just based on bits and pieces of themes and concepts that I like about the story, as well as inspiration from Frankenstien-related media. Things like Tim Burton's Frankenweenie and Young Frankenstein but it's been a while since I've watched either movie. However, I was mostly inspired by seeing someone else make a Frankenstein au with Jonathan and Ed. Unfortunately, I never saved it or anything and I'm not sure if I could find the post again, especially since it was someone else drawing pictures for the person's au. If I do find it again, or if someone knows what post I'm talking about, I'd love to credit them. I'll leave a description of what I saw in the post at the end of this one in case someone recognizes the description.

Anyway, I'm fascinated by medicine and love all things biology, so I'm more fixated on that aspect of Frankenstein's story than the themes of human hubris. I'm just curious what would happen if you brought someone back to life in such a way? In the world of medicine now, we can technically bring people back to life with resuscitation. People can be dead for hours and be brought back. We can also reattach limbs and transplant organs. So like, conceptually, you could make a Frankenstein. So what better way to explore that idea than with the blorbos, they are my little Muppets to put into whatever situation I want.

Jonathan wouldn't create Ed for the same reason Victor creates the monster but it's still a similar theme. Jo would still be very interested in psychology but based on the time Frankenstein takes place, it wouldn't be an established discipline. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't even have a name to it yet. So he'd be trying to explore psychology and his peers wouldn't really understand what he was doing and look at him like a dog chasing his own tail. Psychology is notorious for not being taken seriously, even among academics. Since you can't really measure anything. So Jonathan would be pretty frustrated. Because of this, he'd become proficient in things like physiology and neurology. Knowing how the human body physically works, especially the brain can get him closer to unlocking the secrets of the mind.

So Jonathan creates Ed to further his understanding of the human body and its relation to the brain. He wouldn't be doing it for the sole purpose of bringing Ed back to life but would be curious if it's possible (maybe even subconsciously hoping it would happen, it would be nice to not be alone). He wants to see what the brain is capable of. It's mostly an intense version of using electricity to move the muscles of a frog. If the brain suddenly has power, what will it decide to do? Would it truly be alive?

Ed isn't someone Jonathan knew, he's pretty much made from scratch. He was Ed when he died but he is still Ed after he's reanimated, he just can't remember. His body was in pretty poor condition when he died (I'm not entirely set on the details), he at least had gotten ill and likely was mutilated in some way. Ed's body is essentially a base for Jonathan to work off of. He keeps his head and then other bits and pieces from there. Ed is an unclaimed cadaver when Jonathan goes looking for parts. Jonathan feels he's technically free to use those parts for his experiments. Ed is just what he needs.

Ed is perfect after he is reanimated in a medical sense. With minimal issues, his brain accepts everything that didn't originally belong to his body. The blood type is the same, it's in the correct place, and all the blood vessels and nerves are connected as they should be. It all acts as one body. Eventually, he'd look like a normal person with only the scars from the operation, but he'd look horrific before his body healed—like a walking piece of sad jerky.

Jonathan doesn't hate Ed but he's not really sure how to handle him at first. He didn't expect Ed to be fully alive and he wouldn't expect Ed to live very long. He'd be scared to get attached for this reason. So there's a lot of strain on their friendship at first. Jonathan hardly has positive interactions with anyone and still grew up in a horrible environment. So to be thrown into a situation where he suddenly has to care about someone is very stressful. Ed is also a very clingy and affectionate person so that makes it a billion times worse. They do still become best friends as they normally do, it just takes a lot more work than usual. Before then Jo does try his best to take care of Ed even if he's being distant.

Jervis I don't think would be an equivalent to Cerval. I didn't know about this character. Instead, he is a tailor/hatter. He knew Jonathan before Ed was created but is not friends with him yet, they are good acquaintances. Jervis is one of the few people Jonathan has had a positive experience with but he's still shy and has a hard time getting close to people. Jo appreciates Jervis a lot even if he's not close with him, Jervis actually treats him like a person and doesn't guak at him. Jo especially appreciates Jervis's kindness because he is a tailor. Jervis has to get so physically close to Jonathan to tailor his clothes properly and yet he makes no comments on Jonathan's appearance or demeanor and just makes friendly conversation. He's very happy to go see Jervis any time he needs his clothes mended or something (even though he could mend it himself;)). Jo is able to fully become friends with Jervis after Ed's creation and the Dork Squad is together yet again.

-Fluffy

(Post description I was talking about undercut)

There are two drawings I'm pretty sure, In the first one Jonathan is saying something along the lines of "I need to work so don't bother me" and Ed replies with "No problem" Then the next drawing is Jonathan sitting at a table with a pencil and Ed pushing him out of the way reaching for Jonathan's pencil and saying "my turn!" and there's an arrow pointing at Ed that says "learning to write."

[lets-try-some-writing]

I just read the entirety of your Action! Fic twice and I’m OBSESSED WITH IT. Orion is just so clueless and Elita took one look at him when he’s not playing the role and went ‘must protect’ I LOVE THEM

Im so excited for everyone to find out, especially Megs and Jazz and Ratchet, coz Alpha Trion has a shit ton of explaining to do. Like, obviously Optimus died and Alpha Trion kinda kidnapped Orion to replace him but why is he setting him up to die?? Why not just have one of the other kids take the throne? Has he read the book too? Is the book even actually a book? And wtf is happening with Codexa???

Well done author, you’ve successfully gotten this fic to live in my head rent free. Cant wait for the next chapter and (hopefully) more Oplita content

I'm so happy you love Action! So much! It really is my precious little brain child that got away with me that I am not too invested in to leave. I won't answer the questions you have because that will ruin the little surprises I have planned, but let's just say everything's going to come together [insert kronk meme].

Alpha Trion has his reasons, and he's not malicious. I will say that much. With that out of the way, do rest assured, there will be more Oplita because they are one of my fav ships of all time and I will go down with it through hell or high waters. I plan for them to get plenty of opportunities to be cute.

And just as a teensy weensy spoiler: One of the reasons Orion will fight so hard later in the fic is to get back to his wife. He is going to love her dearly.

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

There's a spectrum of behaviour. I have no problem with affiliate links as a general concept - it would be hypocritical if I did because I have an Amazon affiliate account. If I link to my books on Amazon, I'll use an affiliate link and maybe get a few extra pennies if someone decides to buy my book based on my post. If I see another author post about their books and include Amazon affiliate links, I have zero problems with that.

Similarly, if someone posts a genuine review with an affiliate link, I have no problems. Someone giving their honest opinion of a book because they've actually read and including an Amazon affiliate link doesn't bother me.

Then you get to the ones that are starting to be a bit sneaky.

There's a blog I've seen that posts stuff from Etsy. Every post is a couple of pictures of something cute and/or geeky with links back to the item listing and the seller's shop. They deliberately pick things that look like decent quality (as much as you can tell based on a couple of photos) from legitimate artists/small businesses so it seems like they do a reasonable job of curating what they post, and their blog description talks about wanting to promote small businesses. The posts themselves don't say that the links are affiliate links, but their blog description does. Technically they're on the wrong side of the legality line by not stating in each post that they're using affiliate links, but the posts aren't pretending to be anything other than ads for the things pictured. Slightly sneaky but I don't mind it too much. I'd prefer it if they were upfront and included an "affiliate link" tag or something, but I'm not going to call them out or block them or whatever.

Then you get the behaviour OP has been posting about, where people pretend to "find" a thing or edit posts so that something looks more popular, where they're being deliberately deceptive. No. Just a hard no.

"Just be honest and say it's an ad."

Agreed. Post your stuff with affiliate links. We've all got to eat and pay bills and whatever. But don't lie about it.

“Those stores aren’t scams, they sell on TikTok shop.”

TikTok shop. The shop where influencers routinely use affiliate links for drop shippers? That TikTok shop…

[applenicoshifts]

Why i'm permashifting

I'm not doing it right now, but i will in the future. I want to come back, and share some experiences to encourage shifters before I permashift fully. And you'd say why? I've got a few reasons. one of them, is that my boyfriend is also a shifter. And, he also has the same idea as me: He wants to permashift after a few normal shifts. We made a system to always shift to our wr together that ill explain below: We shift to our drs, but our safe word, just brings us to the waiting room. If we leave the waiting room by walking out of one of the doors, the time ratio is 'no matter how long it's been in the dr, only an hour has passed in the wr' so we get alone time while the other maybe is in his fifth battle in some magical world. Explained like that it makes no sense, and I know. But its actually a long thing we talked AND have seen some results on so farin our own ways. Anyway, going on with the main topic. Why do I want to permashift? While I like my life here, and permashifting means I'll always be able to come back if I wanted, life is unfair. My mom is unhealthy here, my dad is unhealthy here, and I am unhealthy here. My boyfriend is also unhealthy here. Im transgender, and honestly, knowing that I can just shift to a reality where my body is the one I always wanted? Why would I come back? I plan on shifting to various fantasy-related realities and coming back, maybe like that for a year cr wise, until I permashift to a better cr where I can do the same, but live the life I want. I wont have to go to school with my struggles and I wont have to WORK IT HERE to become a singer as I've always wanted. Scripting will be in my favour. While I believe in manifesting here and its working, there's still too many struggles. I love shifting. I love the possibilities it gives me. This alongside a story I read of someone saying this was not their cr, and that in their cr, their world was BASED on teaching shifting. The way they described their world was so vast and so ...different. There's no way I cannot live something like that. After all, we are made out of stars. plus, I'll be honest. I want to explore perspectives and lives that maybe if I did so here, i'd be hated. Why do YOU want to permashift? Im curious ^^

[leandra-kinard]

you could just not respond and keep the slurs to yourself. have you ever considered that? maybe a post by someone affected by the slur isn't the place to harp on why it's so hard for you to not be able to type it. you can have your opinions, you're grown and obviously not open to change. but consider respect and decorum when you decide to invalidate the feelings of marginalized people on their own fandom experiences. blocking is free, scrolling is free, be fucking decent.

Sigh. I am going to respond calmly to this one because it comes from a place of wanting to be supportive and understanding to other people's struggles.

However, I still disagree. Firstly, I've seen posts like these many times, and the logical fallacy in it has always rubbed me the wrong way. So I felt like I wanted to say something this time in the hopes of opening people's eyes to the logical fallacy. The assumption that I could do this on here was, admittedly, too optimistic.

Secondly, I understand not wanting to be faced with things that are uncomfortable to us, but that's not how the world works. And in many ways, that is good or at least neutral.

There are many things that make us - in our own personal contexts - uncomfortable, and the feelings as such are valid. But what is not - in my understanding of fairness and common sense - valid, is making your own problem (that is valid in your limited personal context) everyone else's problem.

I find that kind of behavior not only annoying and irrational but actually dangerous.

To elaborate on what dangers I am seeing in it in detail would go beyond the scope of this response, but to pick out one factor, it's dangerous because it creates the attitude and assumption that things are universally something because they are that thing to you.

That automatically creates injustices for people in wider and different contexts, and an atmosphere of anxiety and over-caution that is detrimental to human interaction.

We are all different, we all come from different social and cultural contexts. We have different personal and societal needs, different expressions of ourselves. To measure everything by one standard you automatically apply bigotry towards other standards.

This 'trend' to find offense in things and limit the ways in which we can communicate and express ourselves is so fucking detrimental to us as human beings. People preach for tolerance and acceptance but then are incapable of applying it to others when others' needs clash with one's own.

Example: the whole "queer is a slur" discourse. There are people who have VALID lived experiences with the word "queer" being used against them as a slur, often combined with physical violence; there are gay men who have been beaten up or even killed while being called that.

On the other hand, you have a mostly younger generation (but not solely) who have reclaimed the word and feel empowered by describing themselves as such; there are many neutral usages for the word as well, such as "queer theory" in academia.

So what do you do with that? Who gets to decide which side is right and which side is wrong?

If we were to apply the principle of who feels the strongest about it, who has known the most violence/discrimination in connection with the phrase, then we would HAVE to concede to the "queer is a slur" faction (and to the "ABO without dashes is a slur" faction). If there are just a dozen non-straight people out there who get literally (not over-used figuratively) triggered back to violent and abusive experiences when hearing/reading the word "queer", then we all have to stop using it, right?

Well. For some reason we (society/the LGBT+ community at large) have decided that no. We care more about the utility of the word queer in the contexts we have created than we care about the valid and lived experiences of those people. Because it HAS utility and means something positive to many people.

(Personally, I am very much in two minds about this issue and understand both positions.)

And this example is even different than the ABO one, because we are talking about "queer" with the same main meaning in the same language. It's not like "queer" means "wood shoe" in Swahili or is a company that makes knitting needles in Korea. "Queer" means the same thing, whether it's used as a slur or used as an empowering/neutral term to describe non-straight people.

Whereas ABO means a myriad of entirely different things in different languages, most of all as an acronym for completely innocuous things like the "American Board of Orthodontics" or my cited wind energy corporation. So there you even have a much more washed out and very much broadened variety of meaning and context.

So, then why is it we say "Fuck them older queers who have been hate-crimed and killed while being called this slur that we like to use to describe our identity" but don't apply it to ABO fanfiction where the meaning is completely removed from the meaning of the slur?

It's not only inconsistent, it's even going much further into the restrictive!

So no, I do not play along, I do not keep quiet, I do not simply accept it. Because it is IMPORTANT to remind people to THINK. To see context, see meaning, see intention. And to also understand that the world cannot be fair to everyone because every fairness to you is an unfairness to someone else.

We HAVE to be able to tolerate and understand that. Or else we have to succumb to tribalism and all stay in our small little niches where everyone thinks and speaks exactly like we do, and if you only fall one millimeter out of line, you have to find your own community, because you can't be part of ours anymore.

THAT is the danger in this way of thinking.

If we ban saying "abo fanfic", we have to ban saying "queer community", we have to ban Brits smoking "a fag", we have to ban Spanish speakers saying "libro (or other masculine noun) negro", and so on.

And we CANNOT do that because it creates more injustice than it initially strives to fight.

[championofthefade]

Thinking about Veilguard sometimes really makes me start picking it apart.

Yes, I did like it for what it is. But as someone who played the three games for the first time this year, I found it disheartening at times.

Long story short for those who rather not read my rambling: I liked Veilguard, but there are parts that just don't feel right and that everything we've done in Thedas the last three games were all for naught. (I'm yapping about my complaints, might make a more positive post later)

It's a mixed bag, really.

While I liked the gameplay, there are things that just don't rub me the right way.

The first immediate example is how the (only, in my opinion) major choice we are presented with is choosing Treviso and Minrathous. We have the choice to harden the other companions in spirit, but the only ones that actually are affected are Lucanis and Neve.

While I have done both paths, I can't say that one is a better choice over the other. Shadow Dragons are decimated if you choose Treviso, Treviso is blighted if you choose Minrathous. I think that it's fair that Lucanis doesn't want to romance Rook if you choose Minrathous, because he wants to save his city from dying. He trusted you to follow through, while Neve expects that you won't since she's a cynic. Which makes sense why she's willing to still romance you if you choose to save Treviso, although it'll be a bit more challenging to, because you were presented with an impossible choice. I don't mind that he ends up with Neve, even if the romance for all the companions kinda fall flat if you think about it too much.

Another thing is Taash. Their identity is important to their story, but having Rook (us the player) choose how to deal with their cultural crisis doesn't make sense and makes me not want to repeat those quests. Why is there no option to embrace both the Qun and being Rivani? Why am I the one choosing how Taash chooses to express themselves? Relating back to the city choices, Lucanis and Neve both choose their hardened options with Illario (getting jail) and Aelia (being given to the Threads). With Taash, the choices are a little less clear to me. I think we shouldn't be able to dictate one's cultural choices.

One of the worst choices that we have to make as Rook is Harding vs Davrin. Thinking about the amount of people who are saving Davrin just for Assan is actually crazy to me. I love Davrin, but he's reminding me of what happened to Wyll in BG3, and it's not a fun time. (I can barely pick up BG3 for various reasons and this is one of them.) I'm glad Bioware doesn't pander to the fans that are loud, because I don't have to worry about everyone's favorite white boy getting more content than the only black companion (saying this as a white person myself). I will always save Davrin because he is a compelling character even without Assan. I love the feather-brain but I feel like I want to know Davrin more than his mythical son.

I hate that we only got three world state choices, two of which don't really matter since it's more flavor text. It doesn't matter if we disbanded or merged into the Chantry, we don't see the consequences of those actions. It doesn't matter if your Inquisitor wants to Stop Solas at All Costs, because apparently they feel responsible for Solas being... Well, Solas. And our romances, outside of Solavellan, were reduced to a codex entry and sidelined.

Yes, Solas is important, and yes, I expected his romance to be given more light. I'm in the camp of people who feared that was going to be the case. And it was.

Yes, I agree that him getting a Good Ending with his vhenan is one of the better endings, but his friendship one and facing his fear of dying alone is also important. I liked playing a Rook that tricked him, I liked playing a Rook that chose to fight him as well. I'm glad we have at least those aspects that we can control.

As someone who has romanced Lucanis and Neve so far, I wish there were more little cutscenes, and not just for Lucanis. I'm just okay with how things are, even if they're a bit empty in comparison to what we could've had. That being said, I think that there's always room for improvement to have a more fulfilling resolution to the romance in the game the devs claimed was the most romantic. I wish there was more, I wish that there had been more to support that claim. I want to feel closer to these companions, and I am sure that I will as time goes on. But as it stands, for now after sitting with the game for nearly a month (11/29), I wish we had gotten more.

I would like to say that it really doesn't feel like the most romantic compared to the other three games. (Blackwall's "heart laid bare", Dorian's "you're dreadfully dull and I hate you", Josephine's letter of "let me make a promise to you here. I dream you will say yes", Zevran's "I'll storm the Black City for you, never doubt it", Anders' "ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart", just to name the few that feel more romantic than what we're sitting with for Veilguard romances. And one of them is a codex entry.)

I hate that we have to learn through missives that the South is gone, save for Skyhold. I hate that we had no power to help the South, and that the last three games were all for naught. It's upsetting to know that Ferelden is gone. RIP Orlais, you slayed too close to the sun. Kirkwall being empty is a scary thought, but it's gone too.

It makes me wonder where HOF is. Did they ever find a cure? Are they even alive? What about a Hawke that didn't get left in the Fade? You mean to tell me that they wouldn't be out there in the frontlines doing something? You mean to tell me that they're sitting on their asses?

Varric dying is something else entirely, but it's just gut wrenching that we don't even get to mourn him. A second playthrough was mindbogglingly eye-opening. Harding was mourning when you check on her in her little room. Neve reminisces about how Varric brought her onto the job and she wishes that she didn't take it. They were mourning while Rook probably looked like they were in the denial stage of grief. What killed me inside was the fact I caught it the first time when Bellara name dropped Varric like she didn't know he was there. That's when I started thinking maybe he was gone, but I didn't want to believe it. I had to step away from my computer when the reveal happened because I was devastated.

We don't get to see just how the team made the fake lyrium dagger, or how they even managed to find Rook in the first place. We don't get to see the love interest's reaction, only the aftermath where they are still registering that Rook is there. We don't even get an explanation on how those things were possible. To create a perfect lyrium replica and locate someone in the Fade? Knowing that we could've had a mission to save whoever was left in the Fade hurts. RIP to those left in the Fade.

The secret ending is just... Bewildering to say the least. What do you mean that there's an even bigger force that has been controlling the narrative from Across the Sea? What do you mean these incredibly well written villains had no agency in their choices and were being used to orchestrate whatever the hell the Executors wanted?

Again, what do you mean that all that we've been through in Thedas just doesn't matter anymore?

[welcometogrouchland]

Absolutely crushing revelation that she seems to get it from her gayass stupidass father

she's been eep-ing since day one. the eeper.

Secret Origins 80 Page Giant (1998) / Last Laugh #3