#q word mention

[lgbtqtext]

[royalarchivist]

Mike: Feliz Aniversário– What's yours, Richarlyson, how about yours?

Richarlyson: SO OK mine is a bit...dangerou

Phil: Yours is a bit dangerous?

Fit: Dangerous? How does–

Phil: [Grabs his mic and speaks directly into it] Is it- is it– Richarlyson, did you make not safe for wọrk art? 🤨

Richarlyson: cause I didn't mad it pixelart 0_0

Phil: Ok, Jesus Christ. [Laughs] I was like– "Uh oh. There is man– man-chest flexing." [Laughs and slaps his desk] I'm like, imagining- imagining Pac like, flexing and his shirt explodes, and he's like, sweat-drip– [Laughs] Why else would it be dangerous??? [Laughs] What, is he gonna fckin' blow up the wall?

Context: Everyone was making art to give Pac for his birthday! 🥳🎉

[ Complete Transcript ↓ ]

—

Mike: Feliz Aniversário– What's yours, Richarlyson, how about yours?

Richarlyson: SO OK mine is a bit...dangerou

Phil: Yours is a bit dangerous?

Fit: Dangerous? How does–

Phil: [Grabs his mic and speaks directly into it] Is it- is it– Richarlyson, did you make not safe for wọrk art?

Richarlyson: cause I didn't mad it pixelart 0_0

Phil: [Reads his sign and laughs] Ok– "'Cause I didn't make it pixel art" Ok, Jesus Christ. [Laughs] I was like– "Uh oh. There is man– man-chest flexing." [Laughs and slaps his desk] I'm like, imagining- imagining Pac like, flexing and his shirt explodes, and he's like, sweat-drip– [Laughs] Why else would it be dangerous??? [Laughs] What, is he gonna fckin' blow up the wall?

Phil: Oh, he's gotta upload it. I forgot he did it in photoshop.

Mike: Yeah yeah. Because a safe Richarlyson's canvas thing is–

[Richarlyson places his art on the wall]

Phil: WHOA!!!

Mike: Whoaaaa! So good!

Fit: Whoaaaaaa– Wow!

Phil: That's so cool, what the fck! Dude...

Mike: You made that like, really really fast!

Fit: Yeah, that's really good.

Mike: Ohh, that's so cute, Richas!

Phil: [Blows a raspberry in disbelief]

Fit: Damn, I should just go home at this point! [Chuckles]

[Richarlyson punches Fit and shakes his head]

Mike: [Laughs] Me too, let's all go home!

Phil: Yeah, everyone pack up your sht, let's leave, see you later! [Laughs, then 180's and goes back inside the house]

Mike: So cute...

Phil: Well done Richarlyson, that's fckin' sick. Good stuff, good stuff.

Fit: Yeah, that was awesome Richarlyson. Looks great.

[puthyflapps]

Three seasons of Gen Q and they couldn’t touch this 4 min scene

[q-writes]

- an oath, moving. q-writes

[pusangkambing]

Saw a tweet annoyed the hell out of me but for the love of god qjaiden isnt leaving or "closing the book" on bobby fields. Girl says she's going to start lying but apparently now is the time to take her words at face value

SHE.IS.LYING.

She's been lying to herself for a much longer time than she has been lying to other people. No she's not over bobby fields, no shes not over bobby's death, she lied to qBaghs about it because Baghera is one of the only people that knows about it. She is lying to qbaghera because she's afraid she might become suspicious too. She has no plans on leaving. Literally a day before she said Bobby fields would be her main base but she would need a different house because she cant keep saying she doesnt have one when people ask.

She has not moved on, she has never ever allowed herself to fully processed her grief. Think back to when she first showed bobby fields to qroier, constantly telling him that they can be like how they used to, that, there, they can never be sad. That they can keep living that memory of bobby forever. Go back when she first showed it to qfoolish. Leo was so concerned about it because she too clocked in how qjaiden never ever lets herselft get sad ever. She asks her tia if she's okay with a sign, qjaiden reads and quietly tells her "yes. im fine" then breaks the sign herself. She, as far as i know, has never broken a sign from the eggs ever until then, but the fact that she broke the sign herself speaks volumes of how much she's repressing her emotions. She is bottling up all her grief over bobby, never truly letting them out so she can forever cling to only happy memories of her dead son. Think back to when she first showed qcellbit, when cellbit asked her where she got the flowers (the cyan ones, bobby's flowers), she immediately changed the subject, never fully answering his question. She does not let herself think of the day when Bobby died, she refuses to touch it, she understands that he's dead but she can never confront the memory of when he actually died, and with the way shes going, it doesnt look like she ever will.

So no she has not moved on, she is not closing the book, the thorns of the roses of bobby fields cling to her very being, the vines wrapping themselves around her heart. When she speaks to others about moving on,

She.Is.Lying.

[devilshills]

I am sometimes just contemplating life and reminiscing about the way I diverge from some of my kintypes

like

1. Vel going “burn it like the witches who wore it” . ma’am , I’m the witch

2. Lute being homophobic . I am one of the queerest people you will ever meet . not even my hair is straight in this life . ( plus I identify as Vaggie , which clashes with kinfirming Lute )

3. Blitz using the r-slur . I wouldn’t actually say that . /srs

[lgbtqtext]

Requested by nonbinaryavrage

[outofangband]

@searchingforserendipity25 asked me and I’ve had a few others ask if I thought Morwen had particular knowledge of elven lore or healing and if this contributed to her being called a witch and here are my thoughts about this!

Edit from July 2024 when this was posted; I originally wrote this in summer 2023, it got lost when my q got messed up and I forgot about it until now when it was posted. Anyways I haven’t yet had the chance to review this yet so it’s possible I will return to edit or revise. I did go through to fix or add links though

My short answer: yes and no

Morwen does have knowledge of elf lore from her people! It says so in chapter one of the Narn! She wasn’t particularly interested in sharing it immediately before the Nírnaeth because it contradicted Húrin’s and she didn’t want to make him less optimistic (which shows how much she loves and knows him I think! Morwen doesn’t tend to spare people’s feelings like that…). I don’t think she was particularly interested in elven lore or wisdom but she probably had some! She was not a wisewoman in the way that Andreth was however I do imagine she held a vast knowledge of her peoples lore and history,

Not least because she is acutely aware that the knowledge that information that dies with her might die forever

I think she probably had some informal knowledge of healing! No exact evidence but Morwen survives the Bragollach and the long journey to Hithlum as well as Niënor’s birth with very little resources! And the years in the wild after her second encounter with Glaurung. I think she’s very resourceful and learns quickly.

it would make sense if she had some skills in this because Niënor almost certainly suffered routine childhood illnesses and injuries and it was probably impossible to seek anyone else’s help both practically, because Morwen hates seeking help and because it would have been too dangerous and could get whoever helped them hurt. On that note Morwen detests being reliant on other people so I think that she might learn those skills for that reason too.

I especially think about this with regards to Niënor’s birth. I talked about it here and I plan to discuss it more!!

I have my many thoughts about her and herblore, though this is partly because botany and ethnobotany are incredibly important subjects to me…one of my very first Morwen posts I believe was about her giving herbs to Aerin which I’ve returned to too many times; It’s also a topic that’s very important to me…)

Even among the people of Hithlum, Morwen’s practices and customs are possibly seen as strange to some because they’re Bëorian! Most people don’t view them as strange in a bad way, (though some do), just different

I also think that Morwen tends to be superstitious in some ways but pretty dismissive of non Bëorian superstitions which I’m sure is frustrating to some people (though obviously does not mean she deserves to be accused of witchcraft!!)

Basically while I think Morwen’s skills, customs, and knowledge, do contribute to the accusations it is definitely in combination and indeed secondary to her personality and demeanor and the fact that she’s presumed widowed. people sometimes view non married women and/or widows as more unruly as I talked about here!

As always I am sourcing Fearless Wives and Frightened Shrews: The Construction of the Witch in Early Modern Germany by Sigrid Brauner

[fictionkinfessions]

I can't handle being in the fandom I'm from. I have memories that don't portray "source" and common fan interpretations. For context, one of my "sources" has "me" flirt openly with another who gets slapped the label of being "my parental figure" when he was 3 years older than me in some source information about him and "I". It's so frustrating because I drew porn and got attacked for making "incest". Of what? Two queer men in a cult and get forced to call each other brother? I wasn't raised by him. I raised myself, even in "source". Let me draw my partner and I and don't call me a freak for drawing what YOU think is incest.

- A. Skywalker Fictive who read source by writers and was shown his sourceself is flirting with someone people claim is his "brother" or "father" in grossly queerphobic ways

x

[pencildragons]

something something the way gideon goes from being (rightfully) resentful of being ninth and being kept against her will + 'chipped and named' and generally (again. rightfully) perceiving her surname as a symbol of the 9th's ownership over her above anything else. to then in the very end reclaiming it for herself, because to her above the ninth is harrow and being ninth has always fundamentally been about her connection with harrow, and also simultaneously she spites harrow and the ninth just as much as she did in the beginning because she cannot keep her promise and return to the place of her abuse without the singular person who actually (now) cares about her being there.

Nav was a Niner name, but Gideon didn't know where she'd been born.

ch1

She was Gideon Nav, and Nav was a Niner name. She took the whole putrid, quiet, filth-strewn madness of the place, and she opened her doors to it. WHAM- WHAM- WHAM. The structure bowed and creaked. Big chunks were falling away no, letting in wide splotches of sunlight. She felt movement behind her, but she was faster. "For the Ninth!" said Gideon. And she fell forward, right onto the iron spikes.

chapter 36

anyway tamsyn muir. when i fucking get you tamsyn muir.

[ephemeralwonder]

And it goes like this.

You stare at the ceiling, Hot tears dripping down your face, And you wonder what it will take For someone to care.

You find yourself wishing For a terrible illness, Despite knowing how wrong that is, Just to have a reason to feel this way.

You consider what it could be like, To live in the world of your favorite tragedy, So you could have millions of fans Understanding the curses you face.

You wonder if things can ever be different, Because you’ve always felt this way, And no matter how many years pass, Nothing changes.

You still lie in your bed, Staring at the ceiling for hours, Wondering about impossibilities, And that is your tragedy.

[ectafoole]

Babe wake up new worst take about the word 'queer' just dropped

[palatteflags]

Robert Zussman from COD:WWII based Queer moodboard~ ^^ For an anon~ Hope you like the look!

Want one? Send an ask! -mod Jay

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Hot take that isn’t actually a hot take so much as it is a joke: EddieAna is all Ravi’s fault because he said the q word and started off the “Jinx” shift of insanity

[nocinovae]

I have many feelings on the situation around abuse and power dynamics and assault that are coming to light at the moment. For the most part I feel that other peoples rage and statements are worded better. Though I had some thoughts and as someone who enjoyed psychoanalyzing fictional characters I have some realizations about c!Wilbur that I think some people will appreciate. Other than that Support and Listen to Victim. Don’t Put Streamers on Pedestals.

I hate how much I and so many people loved c!Wilbur for being a morally flawed traumatized mentally ill character.

The type of villain to enjoy in media but in a “I like them as a bad person. They fill the role they were written for very well.”

We took them as a “this is a bad person to enjoy through media” character. He showed the experience of how trauma and mental illness can effect relationship and morals.

I felt like I could take him as a caricature, an exaggerated form of many of my own insecurities and dark parts of myself.

BUT NO All c!Wilbur was was a self insert character of the writer’s desire for control and power over the people around him. Same with any of his other “characters” that we all thought were meant to be satire dark comedy of disgusting men in the world.

And he let us all believe this. It’s ironic the way he literally had his self insert pity oc kill himself after not having his apology accepted for all the harm he caused. How he was so distraught with having to actually work for redeeming himself more than just his words that his actions that he thought would resolved that was killing himself for a second time.

All the nuance and grey area I loved saw in c!Wilbur has been destroyed with the truth we all now see in William Gold. And that goes for so all of his artwork.

At least with this new lense on the artist we can take another view of his art and see deeper into the truth of What a Disgusting Piece of Shit this man is.

[sealrock]

send STRAINED for a scene from my muse's past in which they interact with someone they have a difficult relationship with

ask meme

cw: discussions of death & religion

(ty for the ask @oneiroy!)

"D'you think She's listenin'?" A low voice came from her right. It was midafternoon, a time dedicated to meditation and spiritual nourishment, not childish whispering. Tauvane usually spends her rest period alone in the empty chapel, but the task to monitor the recovery of one poor soul her Sisters had saved fell squarely into her lap. Tauvane didn't falter in her prayers, however. She kept her head bowed, her eyes closed. The muted words flowed from her mouth like water from a spout. She knew the Halonian prayers better than anyone, for it had been ingrained in her mind since she was old enough to talk. "Ya have to wonder if the ice queen up above gives a fig about Her flock if all She does is plug Her ears."

Her eyebrow twitched, a sign of slight irritation. Tauvane rolled the rosary between her fingers, clasping the beads tighter. She heard a petulant sigh and shuffling, followed by a sharp wince. Tauvane let out an exasperated sigh before turning to face her fidgety companion. Pelleas scowled in discomfort as he massaged his lower back. Perhaps the stone pews were too uncomfortable for his battered body, but this was the first time Pelleas had been allowed outside his cell after five moons of confinement.

The spear of a fellow knight impaled his abdomen in the chaos of the ambush. Instead of wisecracking, Pelleas should thank the Fury for aiming the polearm slightly to the right so it would not sever his spine. Tauvane felt a slight twinge of pity for the man, nonetheless—slight.

"Come, you must return to your quarters for another healing session."

"Oh, joy, more manhandling," came a deadpanned response. Tauvane let the comment slide as she helped Pelleas into his wheelchair since he still couldn't walk a few fulms before growing exhausted. Tauvane noted how the muscles atrophied during his time bedridden, meaning he would have to rebuild strength in his legs to support his tall frame. Pelleas, usually cheeky enough to playfully fake aches and pains to get a rise out of his caretaker, was not up to it today. Exhaustion painted Pelleas' features and aged him considerably, his one good eye sunken and dark.

She wheeled him down cold, unassuming hallways and into the snow-covered cloister, making a note to go faster at risk of Pelleas catching sick. Tauvane made no effort to speak to her fellow Swordsisters who passed her by, for they would not turn their gazes to her and her charge. For all concerned, Pelleas was invisible, something to look past.

While not outright forbidden, it was rare for the Order of Saint Jehanne to take in male outsiders, but they wouldn't stay long. The vow of chastity was an unbreakable oath every Swordsister took to heart, but temptation lurked around every corner. To have a man housed underneath their roof for so long was a test sent from the Fury; would Her subjects endure this trial or be swayed by earthly cravings? Pelleas knew not the way of the Swordsisters, and he was as ignorant as a newborn. But even newborns need to be taught much like Tauvane had been.

The warmth from the fireplace kept away the chill from Pelleas' stone walls, his back exposed as he lay on his belly in bed. Tauvane's knowledge in conjury wouldn't be a cure-all, but it helped the man's pains during these long winter months. The tingle of aether weaving through Tauvane's hands set Pelleas' taut muscles underneath the ragged scar tissue at ease, and a sigh of relief broke the silence. Tauvane gave no outward reaction. She continued to provide aid as any good shepherd would do to their flock. But a flock of karakul can't speak.

"I can't stand the church."

Her fingers twitched. Tauvane lifted her gaze to rest on the back of Pelleas' blond head, his face obscured by his cool pillow. His words came out muffled, but the lingering contempt was plain.

"Does that include me, Ser Pelleas? I am but a cog in the greater design."

A mirthless snort came as a response.

"You're a cog, yeah. But not a well-oiled one."

"Why is that?"

Tauvane's neutral response elicited Pelleas to twist onto his back to stare at her. His green eye burned with resentment.

"Look at me, look at yourself. We risk our lives day in and day out for the blasted church filled with sniveling whoresons, fighting this war with no end. We are cogs in a machine, but there's no one operating the machinery. But that's besides the point I'm tryna make: why doesn't Halone send down Her bloody spears and kill the raving lot of snakes already? Why should I have to do all the hard work?"

Tauvane pinched her brows together; she didn't like the tone of voice Pelleas took. He would usually incite Tauvane with innocuous statements of blasphemy that would lead to ecclesiastical debate, but Tauvane never realized Pelleas held such resentment in his heart.

"I suggest you keep your voice down ere any judgment come upon you," she earned a scoff, "but to answer your question: yes, Halone could end the war with one fell swoop. But you and I, as Her congregation, are Her earthly soldiers tasked with preserving the land, and we must continue to show Her our unbending loyalty and spirit to fight. To suffer is to be closer to the Fury, and for you to suggest indolence is inaccurate and borderline heretical. We cannot rely on Halone to solve all of what ails us, for we would not be able to grow. You must have faith in Her, as She does you."

Tauvane's response was automatic and well-rehearsed, but it sounded halfhearted in her ears. Pelleas said nothing, but he didn't seem happy with the answer. Tauvane sighed and licked the dryness off her lips, sitting at the soldier's bedside for what felt like hours, the crackling fire acting like a ticking timepiece.

"I know it's difficult to grasp for someone lapsed in his faith, and you have indeed suffered great loss in your life to warrant your frustrations, but She loves even all wayward souls under Her domain. Volume eleven of the Seventy-two Articles of Halonic Polity says: 'Of the Fury's love all men will receive, and by the balance of Her spear will all be set free.'"

"Is that what you truly believe?"

Her response came a few seconds late, "Of course."

Pelleas worked himself into a sitting position, his good eye meeting Tauvane's steely gaze. He leaned in towards Tauvane's hidden ear, the scent reminiscent of petrichor filling her nose, and whispered:

"Don't kid yourself."

Tauvane recoiled, "Excuse me?"

"Admit it. You're just as bitter as I am. We're supposed to be Halone's children, but look at us: a filthy Brumerat with no future and a sinful halfling. She abandoned us. We got no seat at Her table. I know that line all too well, it's been smacked into me head since I was a child scrounging for food after me folks froze. We're all equal under Halone, yet the wolves at Her gates dressed in fine silks and gold keep me away. For people like me in the Brume, Halone couldn't give a rat's arse about us. If suffering is close to godliness, the whole of the Brume would be saints. If I spent my whole life in solitude like you, constantly praying, singing, and whipping myself, would that earn me a ticket into the Halls? Would I be good enough then?"

It was Tauvane's turn to say nothing. Her gaze wavered—she couldn't bear to look at Pelleas' intense expression any longer.

"You could say I've lapsed in my faith, but I have a hell of a good reason to. You didn't have to watch your parents hopelessly pray for safety in a blizzard, only to wake up the next morning and find them frozen stiff in each other's arms, or spend the rest of your life praying for relief only to be ignored. And what did the holy bitch do to stop it? Absolutely nothing. I spent half of my years screaming for a reason why She couldn't extend Her grace unto me, I have done nothing wrong to be forsaken. You never had to struggle like I did, you've been kept safe and secure in your castle walls here all your life. A privileged life in the bosom of the Fury. So forgive me if my faith calls for the sacrifice of what little I have left, but you don't know me. I'm not a mindless karakul being led off the ledge by the holy book like the rest of you. Call me a heretic if that makes you feel better."

Pelleas was calm as he spoke, but Tauvane could feel the undercurrent of rage in him, evident in how his shoulders hunched over and the low growl in his voice. She dropped her eyes down to her lap and picked at her cuticles in shame. Pelleas was right; she didn't know him at all... But it goes both ways.

"Forgive me for overstepping my bounds, I mean no offense. However, I must make it clear that I am not privileged. Yes, I am a halfling, but I am as much of a sinner to the Fury as anyone else. I was not blessed with a warm and happy home—far from it. My earliest memories are of the confines of my mother's living quarters amongst the servants of my father's house... his lawful wedded wife couldn't bear my presence. I wasn't wanted, I'm a karakul with no shepherd. I was born in the sin of my mother and shaped by my father's iniquity. Contrary to what you may think, I have no place anywhere, not even within the Order."

Pelleas straightened his posture and narrowed his eye, watching Tauvane coolly unpeel the layers of her troubled past like one would do an artichoke. The whole while, Tauvane kept her eyes on the miniature painting of Saint Jehanne hung on the back wall, her patron's humility reflected in the faded watercolors. She detached herself from the current conversation as to not show emotion, she was speaking as is Pelleas wasn't just a few ilms beside her.

"I was like you once. I prayed until my knees bled for salvation, I beat myself raw with reeds for confirmation that She loved me. The church teaches us that Halone loves Her people, so surely She would have boundless adoration for a helpless innocent who did not ask to be born, not if no one else would grant me the feeling of attachment. I have no friends here, they all believe me damned. I prayed for Halone to answer my calls and tell me that I was not a sinner, I have suffered many times for Her. But because of my wretchedness, I would have to endure a thousand hardships before She'll take notice." Tauvane gave a wry smile. 

"As said in volume forty-one, the Parable of the Lost Karakul: "'Which of you men, if you had one hundred karakul, and lost one of them, wouldn't leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that was lost, until he found it? When he has found it, he carries it on his shoulders, rejoicing. When he comes home, he calls together his friends, his family, and his neighbors, saying; 'Lo, rejoice with me, for I have found my karakul which was lost!' I tell you that even so there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, than over ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance.'" I read that passage every night before I went to sleep as a girl. I saw myself as that lost karakul, and Halone as the good shepherd who carried me home. I awaited the day where She would extend Her hand and wrest me from my suffering... that day hasn't come yet."

Tauvane drew in a deep breath, "My devotion to Halone is absolute, I was raised by the Order to honor Her. But my relationship with Her is strained, like a daughter towards her mother. Is it because of my birth that She refuses me? Does life not yet born pass Her keen judgment? For all my life, I have been told of my sin, about how much I need to repent. The price is a hefty sum, and I have already paid half of my life to the balance owed. But how much is enough?"

Silence hung over them for seconds, minutes, hours. The air felt thick, the walls closer than usual. Tauvane felt like she was being buried alive. In truth, only a few minutes passed. Tauvane returned to her senses to find Pelleas propped against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed with a serious countenance. She blinked once, then twice.

"My apologies, I fear I got too ahead of myself. What I said to you is confidential—do not say a word of this to anyone."

The dour look was soon replaced with a playful smirk stretching across his lips, "I would not think it, my fair lady."

Tauvane felt the irritation rise in her throat. She started to say something but quickly clamped her mouth shut. All she could do was shake her head at the snicker she received.

"Enough idle talk. The hour grows late, and I must return to my duties."

"Leaving so soon?" Pelleas pouted, "We were just beginning to bond over our shared disgust for organized religion."

"I'll bring you your supper in a moment. Good day, Ser Pelleas."

Tauvane ignored his last comment in favor of leaving the room, her stride unbroken as she closed the heavy door behind her. In that short moment in the emptiness of the hallway, she allowed herself to double over as it felt like the air had been forced out of her chest. The words that fell out of her mouth began to sink in.

I didn't mean any of that. O 'lone, the almighty heritor of ice, please forgive your humble servant, nothing I said was true.

Tauvane repeated that like a mantra. Why did she do that? To let herself grow so vulnerable to an outsider, a man with loose morals, it settled like a rock in her stomach. Pelleas' soul may not be saved in his final hours, but Tauvane would not be easily swayed.

She let Pelleas know her weak points, and he exploited them to his advantage to spread heretical ideals. Yes. That's the story she'll tell to the Reverend Mother if word gets out about their conversation. Tauvane let go of the doubt in her heart a long time ago through ardent prayer, she's above that now. She knows the Fury would not lead her astray; She loves even a poor sinner like Tauvane unconditionally.

She does.

She doesn't.

Tauvane shook her head as if to rid herself of the niggling worm in the back of her head, a worm that tells only lies. She'll have to show penance for her lack of faith later, a proper mea culpa. The scabbed scars on her back began to itch in protest, but she ignored it.