#now i am inflicting it on you

[argetcross]

Keres hit Astarion for 4 Bludgeoning Damage.

[lizardkingeliot]

it's still blowing my mind that i thought we'd be getting something close to cartoon villain lestat at the trial and instead we got... this weeping broken thing who can't help but stop in the middle of it all to give louis a genuine, heartfelt apology for the monstrous thing he did to him. who refused to go along with the narrative that he didn't think he would be hurting louis when he did it. whose shame and love are overwhelming him in equal measure and to such a degree that he can't perform. he can barely stand...

and it actually feels like... the closest thing we've gotten to ~real~ lestat so far in this show? even though it's still just a memory, louis is remembering the sincerity of him even if he claims he wasn't moved by it. he's sitting there and he's...

he's remembering. even as he circles right back around to the narrative that lestat was only there because he wanted them dead. it was just more lestat insanity, of course. a moment of realness in the middle of his revenge to meant disorient, nothing more. with armand being ever-helpful and chiming in to confirm that lestat is the one who does this. lestat is the one who wants to leave you with no sense of what is or what is not. yes. that's right. it's LESTAT...

but louis is almost there. louis is remembering...

[xxplastic-cubexx]

was watching apocalypse with my brother and once the cerebro scene popped up he was like 'charles has a helmet like erik, only instead of keeping people out, he tries to reach out and connect with others' like guys i need to bash him with a rock

[kidvoodoo]

Käshweek24 Day 6: Comfort

Thank you @hotcat37 for hosting Käshweek! This has been a lot of fun!

(Drabble under the cut ✌️tw for description of panic attack)

Jere doesn’t even remember how it got this bad.

He’s been here before, the same spinning room with the same walls closing in on him. He was here in a hospital bed as the doctor explained a life-altering surgery, but he was high on medication so the room only pulsed and shook, not the ceiling threatening to collapse on him like right now.

But the screaming is the same, like a rush of noise and sensation only he can hear, a thousand voices and shrieking sirens and metal scraping. Above him, the lights turn to muzzle flash and bolts of lightning.

He can’t remember how he got here.

He was flying, where did he fly too? Somewhere too far away from comfort and home. He’s in an airport. The language on the automated announcements is foreign to him. He’s not in Finland.

Someone is saying his name. Not Käärijä, if Käärijä were here right now he wouldn’t be dying like this. He wouldn’t have frozen stock still in the middle of an airport with people around him. Käärijä would have walked right through the curtain of anxiety and shame. Käärijä doesn’t get panic attacks.

But Jere does.

And Jere is all alone in his head with no one to pull him out of the whirlwind of fear that threatens to swallow him whole right now.

He had a therapist say the panic attacks don’t always have an easy to understand trigger, that sometimes it’s from anxiety or fear, from anger or even excitement. Sometimes the air is too sharp and the lights are too hot and all the noise turns into tidal waves. Overstimulation, the doctor said.

Käärijä thrives in the storm of color and sound, Jere drowns.

But someone is saying Jere’s name again and it’s a clear and crisp sound that easily slices through the screaming, crushing walls.

His paralysis is broken when his knees crash to the ground. A moment of sharp pain snaps his vision focused again. He sees a tall man with pale skin and long brown hair approaching, Jere’s name comes out of his lips.

Jere’s breath and vision are swallowed by the panic and his body seizes. He is dying.

He is dying in an airport in front of strangers all alone. His mind can’t even begin to comprehend how he must look to the unsuspecting public right now.

He is dying.

Someone is calling his name again.

Jere doesn’t think he has the strength, there is a rushing in his ears that makes it hard to move but he tries. He tries to force his eyes to see past the explosion of color and light and find the person saying his name.

His eyes lock on a face in the storm. A pale man with long brown hair and worried looking eyes. The voice he hears comes out of the man’s mouth. He knows that voice.

He’s heard it laugh and shout and sing. Heard it groan from satisfaction and whisper filthy things in his ear at night. He’s heard it say his name before like a prayer, a secret and a spell, soft and sacred just for him.

Tommy.

Jere tries hard again, he tries so hard to find sensations outside of his head but it’s hard. He opens his own mouth to try and tell Tommy but the sound that comes out is a breathless whimper. That’s right, he still can’t breathe.

He’s going to die in front of Tommy and in front of strangers in an airport from a panic attack. What a way to go.

Tommy says his name again and this time there are other words too. Jere tries really, really hard to hear them but it’s hard. It’s too difficult and he’s so embarrassed he can’t understand Tommy, he tries to apologize but it’s a choked gargle of words that make no sense.

Tommy’s hand moves then, slow and deliberate. Jere watches it from behind the smokescreen of light and color.

And with a gentle touch of his hand on Jere’s cheek, there is a break in the storm.

Jere’s vision clears first and he’s looking into Tommy’s familiar eyes, the worried look is gone and only calmness remains. Tommy always had a knack for composing himself. It was a game sometimes for them, see how Jere could get him to lose control.

But now Jere is grateful the control is there in Tommy’s eyes, he can see it’s safe there. It’s going to help.

And just like that, the sensations of reality come crashing back into him.

Where once his body was being shaken apart and floating away, he’s slammed back into it so jarringly he lurches forward, only Tommy’s arms catching him keeps him from face planting into the ground. The pounding in his ears is his own heartbeat, the stinging on his skin is cold sweat, his muscles are seized and aching, his knees hurt from falling, the sound around him is his own panicked breathing.

Tommy holds him gentle and comforting, commanding him softly to count back from ten.

He does so shakily in Finnish, the familiarity of his mother tongue grounds him further, he can hear Tommy counting with him in English. They count back from ten several times. At one point they reach zero together and Jere’s vision is clear again. They are no longer in the airport.

“Where-“

“Someplace safe and private.” Tommy whispers back. He must have pulled them off to a secluded spot. Safe.

Safe. Quiet.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” Jere hears gently against his ear. “You’re okay, just breathe for me.”

And so he does. How could he refuse when Tommy says his name so sweetly? He lays there in Tommy’s arms and breathes, his heart slowly returning to normal rhythm and his blood cooling and calming.

The color storm is gone, everything is slightly blurry and he realizes he’s crying and the tears in his eyes are warping his vision. He shudders and Tommy holds him firm.

Tommy tells him they are staying in here as long as they need too, that there is nothing to worry about, Tommy can take care of it. All Jere needs to do is breathe. He can do that.

The panic is gone and Jere feels hollowed out afterwards. It’s a fugue state that happens and he doesn’t remember much of what happened before. But it doesn’t matter right now. Right now Tommy is holding him and whispering sweet nothings into his hair and Jere can’t remember the last time the storm subsided with something like a happy ending.

Jere closes his eyes and soft colors fill the darkness behind his eyelids. The screams are a distant memory fading to the quiet calm, he buries his face into Tommy’s neck.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

Summary: A game of guessing goes right in every way for you and Din, your kind of friend, sort of boss.

A/N: Day 1 of my fic advent calendar and my first Din Djarin fic on here! Credits to my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie for co-creating the reader character and for our long conversations about her and Din. Keep checking the advent calendar Masterlist for more fics dropping this month. And leave me a little comment to encourage me to keep the fics going 💜💜💜

“Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” he lied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral even though he was surprised that she knew he was scowling. Lucky guess, he told himself. But how many lucky guesses could one person have about his facial expressions?

“You so were!” She insisted, sinking further back into the novelty ‘chair’ she bought on their last stop. It was a sphere half filled with tiny soft particles that molded itself to the user’s shape. She slouched on it as she continued watching one of her holodramas, something with a murder or speeders (or both) at the heart of the story.

“I was not.”

“If you say so, Din Can,” she said, using her nickname for him. He chuckled reflexively, unable to control his responses to her. Thankfully, his helmet filtered the sound out, saving him the embarrassment of finding humor in the humiliating nickname. He smiled, glad she didn’t know just how many times she’d made him laugh whether by mocking him or making clever remarks in general.

“I do say so.”

She was beautiful. Taking up the creed meant hiding one’s own face from others. To hide what would serve as the basis of others’ first impression of you so that your valor and your character would serve as your defining features. Vanity was not something he was raised with. Yet he knew beauty when it stared him in the eye and called him Din Can everyday. Or Tin Djarin. Buckethead when he really pissed her off.

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

Blood rushed to his cheek when he thought of the last time she did that. She’d gotten very comfortable around him in the months they’d been crew mates. All her initial jitters and jumpiness around him had gone and been replaced with her stubbornness, strange sense of humour, and a level of confidence she didn’t have with him before.

He had to chase her down to even get her to accept the job he was offering her as a travelling mechanic. He’d never heard of one before. And she was quite frightened of him after the kind of interaction they had at Peli’s shop. But he needed a mechanic on board. With the kid in his hands now, it became hard to juggle a failing ship with hunting bounties and caring for a mischievous kid who waited for the moment he took his eyes off him to cause chaos.

It helped to have a mechanic on board at all times. She was wonderful and came approved by Peli. Over time, she became more than his mechanic. A friend, he would be brave enough to say. If he were braver with women, he would say that he’s caught her sneaking glances at him. That he felt her twinkling eyes rove over his armor every now and then. Sometimes he was confident of it. At others, he convinced himself that his mind was clouded by his desire for her. By his desire for her to desire him too.

The matter of his expressions came up once again later after dinner.

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

He grunted, turning away from her to focus on the controls. They were on hyperspeed. There was nothing he needed to do with the controls. But to come face to face with her when she told him exactly what he did underneath his helmet was…too much.

“Heyy! Let’s play a game?” She asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Play with Grogu.”

“He’s asleep. And this is not a game for little potatoes.”

He chuckled softly at the nickname and looked up at her again, awaiting her proposal. “What would that be?” He asked.

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

“Dank farrik! I missed when you used to be quiet. Just listen to me. I’ll guess what your face looks like under your helmet and if I get it right, you should take a sip of your drink. And if I get it wrong, I take a sip. Let’s do it with the Silver Elixir,” she said, getting up from her seat to fetch the bottle from their liquor cabinet they kept locked to keep away from wandering little womp rats.

She returned with the bottle, two glasses and straws. They’d recently taken to drinking together. She bought him a straw a begged him to join her, using her sweet eyes and her adorable pout to convince him. She said she only had drinks with friends and that drinking alone on the razor crest made her feel lonely.

He gave in to her, just like he gave in to their little green crewmate.

She didn’t need to use a straw, of course. Yet she did. When he asked, she said it was so that he didn’t feel lonely drinking through a straw like a kid. Even in her insults, she managed to be sweet.

“Start guessing,” he said impatiently as she sat next to him and looked intently at their glasses to see if they were filled equally.

“Sure, sure… You have dark hair,” she said, passing his drink to him. “Dark brown.”

“A little too obvious, isn’t it?” He asked, knowing she had definitely seen his hair in the trash after he gave himself haircuts and shaved his facial hair.

“Drink up, old man!” She said, lips wide in a grin as she knew already that she was right.

He snorted, but followed through, taking a sip of the strong liquor. “Alright. Next.”

“You have….big green ears.”

“Wrong,” he huffed, smiling nevertheless at her sense of humour.

“Damn it! I should’ve known they wouldn’t fit inside the helmet,” she said, taking a sip. She was smiling too, and unlike his, it was out in the open and as bright as the stars around them.

“Those were two descriptors. Big and green. Take one more sip,” he argued. He didn’t particularly want to get her drunk, but he liked how adorable she was when intoxicated. One of their drinking sessions ended with her snuggling up to him because she couldn’t find the kid to snuggle like a children’s stuffed animal.

“What? No! It was one guess, so it’s one sip.”

“Again, you guessed the size and color of my ears and they were both wrong. Take a sip.”

She rolled her eyes, but complained, taking another sip. She leaned close and narrowed her eyes at him, as though focusing on his helmet would reveal what was underneath. He smiled unconsciously, taking in the beauty of her from up close. The light in her eyes, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was in deep thought, lips that impressed him with the wittiest remarks… Lips he wanted desperately to pull to his, to devour and make moan his name.

“No moustache.”

“Hmmm….” He hummed, thinking of how he could sort the point for this. He *did* have a moustache, but that was only now. There were times when he shaved it off completely. “It’s complicated. I have a moustache now, but I change it quite frequently. So, half a sip.”

“If I have to take half a sip, so should you.”

“No, I don’t,” he scoffed at her warped logic. Here he was, being nice and giving her some credit even though she was wrong. But she was trying to take advantage of it.

“Yeah you should. If I’m taking half a sip because I was half right and half wrong, you should also take a sip because you’re half right and half wrong.”

“No. That’s not how it works. I have facial hair now, which means you are wrong. I should’ve made you take a full sip, but I decided to make a concession because I am sometimes fully shaven.”

“Dank Farrik! You’re such a lightweight. Just say you can’t handle your liquor and I’ll let you go,” she taunted, a smirk plying at her lips.

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor much better than you can. Here,” he said, drinking the strong undiluted alcohol like it was water in a few big sips. He slammed the glass against the control panel surface and shrugged. “See, I’m good. You are the one who gets drunk after one portion of the Silver Elixir and terrorizes the kid.”

She gasped, as though he made a much bigger accusation. “I don’t terrorize the kid! I just give him extra cuddles and kisses. He enjoys them very much. It’s called affection, Tin Can. Ever heard of it?”

He tilted his head at her in the way that sometimes made her swallow audibly. “So you think that because of my way of life, I have never experienced affection?”

She opened and closed her mouth quickly, as though her mind and lips were in disagreement about whether or not what they were about to say was appropriate. He smiled under his helmet, proud of himself for stumping her. She talked a lot. Since he was a quiet man, everyone else was talkative in comparison. But she was the voice he heard the most as they lived together on the Razor Crest and their other occupant communicated mostly in coos and squeals.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Say what. Since the drinking thing was already disproportionate anyway because I’m not guessing your features and I can handle my liquor much better than you do….lets change the rules.” He took a deep breath, afraid of the consequences of his words but unable to miss this opportunity. “For each correct guess you make, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, the things she did without even knowing! He thought he could die from the anticipation of hearing her next guess. Would she guess something ridiculous like big green ears to make sure she doesn’t have to kiss him? Or would she make a very obviously correct guess?

“You have…” she trailed in a softer voice, looking at him almost coyly. “…pink lips.”

Not the most obvious guess. Not all humans had pink lips. And he could easily not be human. He didn’t remember telling her he was… But if she was going for something for a higher likelihood of being correct… Kriff he hoped she was. “Do you want me to turn the lights off or blindfold you?” He asked, conveying indirectly that she was right.

“Wh-whaaat? Why?” She sputtered, looking at him with those pretty eyes, vulnerability brimming in her expressions.

Did he get the wrong idea? Maybe her obvious guesses weren’t because she wanted to be right so she could kiss him… Maybe it was just the product of her usual playful nature.

“Because I will have to take my helmet off when I kiss you,” he proceeded to say, even as his heart beat faster with the anxiety of how this could go. They were adults. It it was a misunderstanding, he would simply get over it and do his best to not make it awkward between them. “And you cannot see me.”

“I…” she trailed off before letting out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Again. Not known for my humor,” he said, letting a smile seep into his words. She was so kriffing adorable, looking all nervous like a blurrg stuck in a doorway. “You don’t have to, of course. I can give you something else. Ten credits, perhaps?”

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

“Then tell me, my dear mechanic. Lights out or blindfold?”

“Lights out.”

Pity. He was hoping to see her pretty face when he kissed her. Not moving from where he was, he pressed the buttons on the control panel, turning all the lights out. In the pitch black of outer space, he could see nothing. Perfect.

“What can you see?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Nothing,” she said, in her voice so low and soft that it was swallowed up by the darkness. What entity wouldn’t want to swallow up something his pretty mechanic put out? Every word she said, every touch of her fingers against the trees and rocks and flowers. If he were air, he would luxuriate in her scent. If he were water, he would caress her skin and play with her hair as he cleansed her. If he were fire, he would creep into her skin, warm her up when she needed. But he was nothing but man. So, he would have to satisfy himself with a kiss from her lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked as he stepped forward to her.

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

There was silent for a moment before she said, “Yes. Kiss me.”

Needing nothing else, he took his helmet off and placed it carefully on his seat. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breaths grew labored. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

In all his years, he had never kissed anyone. It was not part of the culture of his people what with the metal barriers that kept them from it. He remembered the sweet kisses on his forehead and cheeks from before he took the creed. But that was not what his heart desired. He wanted the kind of thing she watched on her holopad, all the holodramas with characters who showed their desire through an intense kiss that left their partner speechless.

He reached forward and found her hand. She gasped softly, the quietness of the ship letting him in on her soft sounds. He caressed up her arm, enjoying the slight tremble of her skin beneath the tips of his fingers. He stopped at her neck and allowed himself to cradle it in his hand. He felt her lean closer and he reciprocated, taking the final step. He tilted his head to his right feeling that she tilted to her right.

As he closed the gap between them, he felt her warm breath on his skin. He swallowed, his lips parting from how nervous he was. What if he was no good? What if he didn’t have good breath? What if he’s such a bad kisser that she— he gasped softly as she pressed her lips against his. In an instant, she quietened the sounds his head. The fast beating of his heart, he realized was now from the effect of proximity to her more than his insecurities.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and wrapped her other arm around his waist. He let out a shaky breath at the intimacy of their contact and let his other hand trail down her back. She pressed herself closer against his beskar clad chest, making him wish he had the forethought to toss that bit of his armor too. He wanted to feel her. Every bit of her that she was offering up to him like she truly believed he was deserving.

Her lips were soft, just as he’d dreamt them to be. He’d never kissed before. It was an act saved for married couples in the covert, as only your spouse could see you with your helmet off. He had married friends who waxed poetry about the magic of kissing. How they felt like nothing and nobody mattered other than your partner. How it turned you into putty in their hands. He thought it was exaggerated… Until now.

He cupped her cheek, her face fitting in his hand and making him feel a new sense of protectiveness towards her. He’d protected her before, sure, but this felt different. This was something to do with a need to be gentle with her. To cherish her and treasure her. She licked his lips and he parted them instinctively, letting her tongue between his lips. He shuddered as her fingers threaded through his hair. He whimpered and pulled her closer to himself in the moment of vulnerability, using her as a crutch to support him. He’d never been touched like that before…

Her fingers explored his hair and he allowed himself to relax in his arms, even letting himself give her comforting caresses of her back. He felt her melt into his arms as their kiss deepened. She tasted of the silver elixir first, but when they were both a little along the way, he began to taste something that was distinctly her. Something sweet, mixing with the fragrance of her citrusy perfume to further dull his senses.

It was soft, but electrifying. He poured his passions into the kiss, exploring her with his tongue and luxuriating in the sweet little whimpers she let out. The technicalities stopped mattering. He was here, holding the girl he’d been pining for, lips connected as the unlikely result of a stupid game. That moment was all that mattered and her sounds of satisfaction told him that he wasn’t doing so bad after all.

She pulled back in a while and they let out the breaths they’d be holding. She let out a laugh and he smiled, comforted by her job. He didn’t even know he’d been holding his breath. He’d forgetting the necessity for breathing as he found her lips.

“You have…a big nose,” she said, confusing him.

“Huh?” He asked, his mind still clouded from her kiss.

“I get another kiss if I’m right, Dim Djarin,” she teased, pointing to his obliviousness when it came to things of this nature.

“Right,” he said, grinning as he kissed her again. He needed to play games with her more often.

[dragonroar64]

so I see y'all are really liking the headcanons huh

okay so I haven't finished pvpciv yet so I'll stick with parkciv so I don't accidentally make any headcanons that are either directly confirmed or contradicted sooooo here's another angsty ass parkciv headcanon woohoo

so. do y'all think parkciv Evbo would've had scars? from almost missing jumps, or from forgetting to take a bone out of the food, or any number of things. because I do. but because he's god now, do you think that those scars went away when he ascended to godhood? Did he looks himself in the mirror after the fact and have to deal with the fact that he's indisputably no longer who he was before that final race, and even if the scars hurt to get they were a part of him that he now knows is gone? Did he try to put them back with his new powers and find he couldn't? or maybe through some other method?

just some thoughts :]

[crimeronan]

have been spending my morning playing with this picrew, since it works GREAT for fantasy vibes

i started out like "i.... wonder what portraits and propaganda images of AU luz look like." because she has her whole ~*~titan-foretold savior~*~ mythos to contend with and also the very feminine very delicate image she had when belos was alive. as if anybody won't notice her constantly tripping over her feet and ruining her clothes

so making an image of the idealized all-knowing all-seeing titan-favored empress left me with this:

and then i was like WOW. I HATE THAT MORE THAN I'VE HATED LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE I'VE EVER MADE FOR THIS AU.

i hate it So Fucking Much you guys. Oh God.

so. i also made a real AU luz.

to ward off ^That Thing.

oh my god that's so much better. hi baby. please don't ever let anybody paint you.

[jennyfromthebes]

moon colony bloodbath is also on spotify now!! it's not in the normal place on the artist page though, it's listed under "appears on". or you can just use the search bar to search for it like a normal person probably.

[somethingsomethingstarward]

the only thing straight about aventurine is that he is straight up not having a good time

[livejournallegacy]

Tony Hawk's American Wasteland (2005) 12. Ever Fallen in Love - Thursday "Every so often it's good to get back in touch with one of the reasons that you play music, and obviously we play music because we love music. And [Buzzcocks is] one of the bands that we really love."

[goth-automaton]

WIP game

@kiyopa Thanks for the tag! 💜

Rules: make a new post and share 1-2 sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context - let your followers guess!

“And there he is, the best host in the world!” Sora narrated over one of them, pointing the camera at Riku. The teen was standing behind a kitchen table full of various snacks, while holding a tray of muffins in his hands.

No pressure tags go to: @interstellarvacuumcleaner @overheaven (I almost tagged your Twitter @ lol) @jettiebettie @lnights @tymniemniej @lightningzombie @thetentaclecommander @randomnobodyandfriends @punk-gremlin and whoever feels like joining! 💜

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I spent way too much time on what is essentially a shitpost...

But anyways. Post-Meursault road trip AU because it's funny to me and I couldn't rest until I drew this. (Read right to left.)

Basically, Sigma gets the information needed to stop Fukuchi but Fyodor escapes with the help of Hohol. Cat thief is alive and the four of them escape the prison and have to chase after Fyodor, leading to an impromptu road trip none of them want. Along the way, they pick up Adam to help with tracking him down.

Chuuya speaks to everyone else but is very adamant about not talking to or responding to Dazai at all - giving him the cold shoulder, basically. Dazai can't decide if he is more insulted that Chuuya isn't talking to him or that he's resisting his attempts at goading him through sheer determination. Adam is concerned at how tired Chuuya is and keeps making occasional offers to drive but he knows Chuuya's driving because he needs a distraction. Sigma is terrified someone is going to snap and he's going to get caught in the crossfire. Cat girl is having the time of her life.

(If you can't read my shoddy handwriting, here's the dialogue:

Thief: "Did you know that even with seatbelts, people die all the time in car crashes?"

Thief: "I thought that was interesting."

Adam: "Master Chuuya, if you are getting too tired, I would be happy to switch -"

Chuuya: "Nah, 'm good."

Adam, musing to himself: "The majority of accidents are caused by human error. If human drivers were replaced by androids, the roads would be safer."

Adam: "By which I mean the latest autonomous models, like myself. Those 'self-driving AI' are a disgrace."

Dazai, muttering after flicking a crumpled paper: "Chuuya, pay attention to me.")

@single-use-ship-of-theseus You get it!!!

[alethiometry]

basim mentoring hytham and feeling something akin to fatherly pride at how far he's come in acv last chapter

hytham either stating or implying that basim is somewhat of a distant/hands-off/aloof mentor

the implication that basim may have very intentionally given hytham this space to grow and come into his own as a result of having a much more controlling mentor in roshan and not wanting to embody that type of leadership in his own mentees

not that roshan was necessarily in the wrong (god forbid women get a little micromanage-y at times 🙄 smh) but at the end of the day what is parenting if not doing your best to steer the next generation away from the traumas you experienced in your own growth and development, even if it means that sometimes you might overcorrect a little too hard in the opposite direction

[the-paris-of-people]

The past couple days online have been... interesting. I consider myself a leftist, think capitalism is corrupt, and think that it needs to be seriously reformed/overthrown. I admit that while I've thrown around phrases and terms like "burn it all down" and "the revolution needs to come" out of frustration without actually thinking about what a revolution entails: excellent organization, unity, and strategy to defeat the United States, the world's largest military superpower which has inflicted political and social destabilization across the majority of countries around the world. There also needs to be superb infrastructure and community to support the disabled, elderly, and poor populations who rely on government assistance and programs, healthcare, and accommodations while this so-called revolution rages on.

All I've received from the far leftist movement are lectures from condescending intellectuals who rattle off academic citations regarding ideological theory rather than practical, tangible steps to advocate for change in our local and regional communities. I have not seen one of them actually discuss conversations they've had with their friends, family, or Americans about what they want to see reflected for the future of the country. I have not seen one of them discussed how destructive, detrimental and traumatic a Trump presidency was for social prejudice and morale in the United States. I understand that for many marginalized groups they've been living in a facist state for centuries so the possibility Project 2025 doesn't galvanize them to see the two parties differently, but I don't think it is fair to white leftists falsely equivocate the election of both parties for the entire American population at all??? Or like at least specify the issues you're referring to in which you view both parties as the same????? Literally one TikTok creator who I used to follow talked about how true leftists are so much better than liberals because they aren't waiting for a presidential candidate to save the world NOW due to the accelerated apocalypse due to climate change but when asked how to change the world they suggest sharing ideas of your future utopia with other leftist groups. How the fuck is sitting around talking about living in a walkable community is great considered "saving the world now"? How are you going to dismantle and restructure American infrastructure to create these communities? How are you going to remove existing racial and social tensions to create a community where everyone lives happily side by side? Do people not consider reality at all?????

And is it not wrong for people to have a fucking sliver of optimism and hope at incremental change that's achieved within the corrupt bipartisan system of American politics, even if they know it's propaganda??? Is it wrong for people to have a singular fucking moment of relief in feeling like their values, beliefs, and lives will be better protected and THEY can advocate for change better??? Is it wrong when there's a couple months until the most pressing election in recent history for people to make the choice they feel will reduce the most amount of harm???

[lostxmelody]

4/5.... what do you mean my last chapter was in june?

ah, sorry, sorry for the wait. here's chapter four, we're almost done! please enjoy. its the same length as the last chapter which, in case you forgot, was 40k. i have no words left to spare

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]