#spoiler alert not very

[charmwasjess]

Still reading The Living Force. I'm actually much farther in now than when I took this pic over the weekend, before I got kicked out of the winery for throwing the book across the room--

No, no, I kid. In fact, there's lots to like about this book. Much of it is warm, funny, and full of Jedi details and lovingly crafted little scenes given to more obscure Council characters. Depa and Mace continue to shine.

I'm still... very much struggling with some aspects, some inconsistencies and contradictions that I can't tell are there on purpose to make a point in the narrative, or just unsuccessful writing. But I'll try to post an actual write up shortly when I'm officially finished.

[katsinspats]

I think my copy of the game is broken they've been doing this for 30 minutes

Crop of the Biolizard edit I did bc it makes me laugh:

[imaginaryprotagonist]

We as a society do not pop off enough about young Jackles playing a dude in a throuple with the original Dr Sexy, Mr Patrick Dempsey himself. Whose name in the movie is Cass! I mean, come on!

[warning-heckboop]

Hazel, Jasmine, and Winn find their plans to mend fences disrupted when they discover Anti-Fairy magic is evident in Dev's reoccurring nightmares.

So do you guys ever get so invested in a fake episode that you made up in your head that you make a fake title card and synopsis for it? No? Yeah, me neither.

[johnny-depplyloveyou]

When Gale uses the orb with Tav by his side during the final battle...

· We might still have a chance.

· It's been an honour.

· Do it, Gale.

😭😭😭

[hyakunana]

"Son, please— we're having a moment here."

[cod-dump]

Gaz: A moment of silence for Soap who has taken one for the team by dating Ghost so no one else would have to Gaz: Same for Ghost for dating Soap. Now they're both off the market and no longer anyone's, or more importantly, my problem

[huggywuggysuppy]

Notes on Scott’s Wild Life 3 POV

In summary: our gaslight king controlling the narrative as usual, what an icon.

Scott has very economical editing, having one of the shorter POVs, yet takes care to include several instances of being nice to Pearl (noticed this when he left in giving Pearl food, both at the beginning and when they were building the new castle together). However, he left out the session routine of chastising Impulse and Pearl for picking fights with Gem/Joel (seen in Pearl’s POV), only including warning a freshly yellow Pearl to not try to kill them.

Scott doesn’t die this episode. Notably, his main contributions to base building are simply moving materials from one chest to the other — a very safe activity when being pursued by a snail. Gem and Joel who also avoided snail death built in a wide open area, and the other no-snail-deaths generally forgoed building and dangerous activity altogether (although, RIP Lizzie for surviving mining only to be Skizz’d). All this to say: Scott wasn’t playing sweaty, he still took risks, but they were very small and calculated.

Scott doesn’t include a lot of the Spanners antagonizing GGGG. Partly because they failed and it’s not very interesting to just see Scott looking at the dirt for Mumbo and Grian digging, or warily watching Skizz from 15 blocks sway. But I also think he’s building a villain narrative for Pearl and Impulse and having other groups wrong GGGG would upset that balance. Though, this point is my most tinfoil hat theory.

Scott, Cleo, and Impulse half-heartedly warn Etho of an approaching creeper, sort of totally 100% causing his death. They all celebrate, Cleo and Impulse both breaking into delighted cackles, however Scott calls Impulse out on taking more glee from Etho’s death than the other two. He’s taking care to point out any villainous behavior in Impulse/Pearl, justifying his own negative behavior towards them and painting himself as a long suffering yet loyal teammate. He does this every season, and I eat it up every time — although he’s particularly negative towards Imp and Pearl compared to, say, Martyn.

Related, Scott is stressing how put together and connected GGGG is. He’s complimenting all of them and turning to the camera to gloat about how they’re not gonna fall apart. This session didn’t leave a lot of room for Impulse and Pearl to prove him wrong, but even then he’s doing the prep work to make it their fault if/when the divorce happens. This is made easier by his reputation as a good and loyal teammate combined with Impulse’s and especially Pearl’s fandom reputation as instigators. (And to an extent, yes, they are both consciously approaching WL with a “cause problems on purpose” mission.)

But I can’t ignore every time Scott badmouths their decisions to other people and denounces their actions as suspicious/villainous. That sort of behavior only makes him look better instead of strengthening his whole team: if he really believed in GGGG, he’d be lying on their behalf and definitely not calling them out for picking fights. Just as Cleo didn’t back up Pearl when she tried to poison Gem, Scott is actively making his teammates look worse. And I fear he might get away with it.

I love Smajor and watch his perspective as a fan! I think he intentionally plays “the social game” like this: partly to make it more interesting, and partly because he enjoys the chaos. And really, who doesn’t?

[blushedfemmes]

screamingggg i need every single butchfemme who’s ever loved jane austen or regency era period dramas to read “I Shall Never Fall in Love” by Hari Conner it’s a graphic novel feat. a queer romance and a transmasc MC and it’s extremely butchfemme and it’s so realistic to the time period and not sugarcoated at all and i literally just stayed up way later than i should have to finish it and oh my fucking god i need someone else to read this so i can scream about it with them. my fellow pride & prejudice femmes if you have ever daydreamed abt a butch darcy READ THIS BOOK I BEG

[diyasgarden]

goddess

"what am i, jesus?" "yeah"

(tashi duncan x f!reader)

The essay is crumpled by the time you reach Tashi. 

The infirmary is a small building; plain and tucked away between some trees at the far end of campus. Simultaneously inconspicuous and irrelevant. At best an after-thought, only identifiable from the words “health center” plastered across the front. 

It’s surprising you didn’t miss it, and you can’t help but feel indignant at the fact that this is where they brought her. But the feeling is quickly washed away with the growing sense of dread that gnaws at your chest. 

Abruptly, you’re hit with the idea that you’d walk in to not find her at all. That there would be no sign of her existence within those four walls. It’s illogical and unfounded, but the thought lingers as you force yourself to the door.

You have a faint memory of meeting Tashi. A blurry recollection of bumping into her at the dining hall and a vague outline of the conversation that followed. The only thing you actually remember are noticing her hands.

It wasn’t anything physical about them that drew your attention. You couldn’t care less about how they actually looked, you were captivated by her movement. Instinctive yet deliberate. As if every action was simultaneously spontaneous and methodical. A dichotomy that gave each motion an innate intensity. A power hidden in the folds of the universe, which only she could reach. 

You didn’t have to watch Tashi play to know she’s special, you just had to watch her hands. 

You knew that from that first moment alone. 

The rubber soles of your sneakers squeak against the tiles as you walk into the room, your breath coming out in short little pants from the run. Your hands flex against the papers in your hands, as a breath of relief slips out upon seeing her. 

Tashi sits on the cot, eyebrows knitted pensively with a frown staring at the brick wall in front of her. Her arms are crossed against her chest, heaving in a melancholic rhythm. For a moment you expect her to scream on the top of her lungs or burst out crying, but she remains stoic.

Her knee is wrapped in what looks to be yards of gauze that is blinding under the overhead fluorescent lights. It beckons your attention with its unsettling glow and you drift to it’s call, your vision flooded with white. 

In the periphery of your view you see a tan movement, followed by the noise of a soft shuffle. Your eyes instantly dart back up to Tashi to see that she is already looking at you, her eyes slightly red and swollen.

Your heart drops. 

You want to carve your knee from its socket with your bare hands and leave it beside her. Give it to her as a replacement. If you could, you’d do it. Maybe give her your whole leg if that is what she wanted. It’s not even a question.   

You told Tashi you’d be late earlier in the week, during one of your yoga sessions. An important part of her routine she roped you into. And while you had no real interest in yoga, you also had no interest in ever denying her. Struggling through asanas was unimportant.

“He said he wanted me to stay a bit after class to talk about my paper,” you explained, voice somewhat strained from holding your breath and hands slightly trembling from trying to keep yourself in downward dog. 

She came down onto the mat beside you, releasing the position into a sitting one. Her hands moved to your waist, gently coaxing you into the proper formation and you exhaled instantly at the contact. “He didn’t say about what?” she questioned absently, preoccupied with your pose.

Your professor had a tendency to be vague via email, one of those people who never truly started trusting the internet. As a result his emails were brief and unintentionally ominous. This one simply read: 

Hello,  Please stay after next class to talk about your mid-semester paper.  Sincerely,  Professor Thatcher

“Just that he wanted to talk about my paper” you responded as her hands moved away from your body, a sense of loss pooling in your stomach. “I’ll just be a bit late to your game,” you frowned, coming down onto your own mat to sit beside her. 

Tashi shrugged, as she moved her foot to rest on the opposite thigh. “You’ll come after?” she said, adjusting her other leg in the same way, settling into the lotus pose. 

“Of course,” you responded without thought, and caught her eyes flick up to yours with a half smirk on her lips before falling back to your lap. Her hands reach towards you and she begins to move your legs as well.

“What class is it again?” she asked, also contorting you into a lotus. A futile effort, although that doesn’t deter her. 

“Asian religions"

She hummed, getting you halfway into the pose. Her gaze pulled away from your lap back up to your face with the same half-smirk. “I swear you do more for this elective than any other class,” she remarks amused.

“Who realized religion is complex?” you sarcastically retorted, a smirk on your own lips now. She laughed in response and little wrinkles formed at the edge of her eyes, the sight turning your smirk into a soft smile. It dipped to a frown as soon as you remembered what the conversation was about in the first place.

You were flippant with routine. Always eager to skip a class and never the one to follow your parents to mass every weekend. But you were always consistent with her games. Routine was only mundane without her.

Tashi’s hand reached to push a lock of hair behind your ears. “It’s only one match,” she whispered looking into your mind. You took in a deep breath and met her gentle eyes, the disappointment morphing into a knot in your chest. The sense of dread lingered as she smiled softly. “How interesting can playing Pepperdine be anyway?” 

The dramatic irony isn’t lost on you, it’s just too tragic to acknowledge. 

You should have taken the knot in your chest as a premonition. 

Her hands tremble. A small, involuntary motion that makes you feel ill. 

You’re seated across from where Tashi is on the cot. You ache to be closer, but the only seat next to her is already occupied by Art. Somehow having wormed his way into a place he doesn’t deserve. 

Like always, his presence and proximity bother you, but there is also a small joy in the fact that it is only Art. Tashi had told you Patrick was visiting for the game, but at the moment was nowhere to be seen. You don’t ask about him either, not one to question small blessings.

Only the sound of breathing fills the poky space. Art is watching you, probably as vexed by your presence as you of his.

(Sometimes you wonder if all the Apostles quietly despised each other as well. You’d understand why.)

You don’t have to turn to already see the impassive expression on his face, so your eyes remain glued to Tashi’s hands. Watching the little erratic tremors as you bit back nausea. There is no fluidity to the uncontrolled movement. It’s just hollow. 

“What’d he say?” Tashi suddenly asks, breaking the unnerving silence. There is an inflection in her voice which is both bitter and pained, an aftertaste of the day’s events. There is nothing to indicate the tone is directed towards you, but you flinch anyway. 

“Huh?” you mumble, not having processed her words. 

“Your professor,” she starts with an exhale. “What’d he say about your paper?” 

Your eyes dart down to the wrinkled papers on your lap, thumb pressing down on one specific crinkle in the vain attempt to straighten it. It feels insignificant. The essay. The professor. Pointless to even think about, much less discuss. 

When you look back up, you see Tashi is looking at you with a desperate wide-eyed interest. She bites the inside of her cheek in unsettled anticipation and it dawns on you that she is trying to fill the room with something besides the obvious torment. Without much of a thought, you murmur “Something about nuance.” 

“Nuance?” she questions, a vain attempt to continue the conversation. 

You nod in response. The interaction is blurry, the moment charged with the desire to leave the game and the memory clouded with the panic of finding out about the injury once you did. But you remember him mentioning nuance. “He told me I needed to be more nuanced,” you repeat, with another small nod in her direction. 

“What was the paper on?” Art asks, also picking up on her need for a distraction. 

You swallow, pushing some hair back from your face, “the living goddesses of Nepal.” 

Kumari was the actual term. A connection between humanity and the divine was how Professor Thatcher described them. “An incarnation of the celestial for a few years,” he said in lecture, although you didn’t catch anything after that. Drifting off by then, your mind already thinking of someone else. 

You’re grateful that Art doesn’t probe on why you chose the topic. Although, you’re sure he would have understood.

You think anyone who knew Tashi would. 

You told her once. 

“You’re like god,” you whispered to her drunk in the living room of Kappa something, too drunk from whatever concoction made by the frat brothers for their Halloween party. You were dressed as a cat, fallen to the ground while dancing inebriated, and clinging onto the soft, white fabric of Tashi’s angel costume as she tried to help you stand. You looked up to her, blinded by the flashing lights of the room and her radiance, and whispered those three words like a prayer. 

She had no verbal response, just pulling you up with a small smile and soft laugh. Her hands moved from your arms to your cheeks, gently cupping your face and tilting it.

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

The infirmary has settled into another, heavier silence. There is no sound loud enough to fill the space. None of you try. 

Her hands still tremble. 

The paramedics arrive eventually, whisking Tashi off to a proper hospital for examination. You take the name of where she’s gone and walk to your dorm, using your essay as a stressball as you plan on how to visit her the next morning.

A wave of exhaustion hits you the minute you cross the threshold into the room, and you walk straight to the bed. The tiredness sinks into your bones when you sit down. The day's events smothering you at once as your fingers play with the corner of the page.

You look down at the shriveled papers in your hand and take your first proper look at it all night. Red pen scribbled all throughout, little notes on grammar and word choice, but at the heading in all caps is written WHAT ABOUT THE AFTER?

Oh right. That’s what he said.

“It’s an informative paper, just…” Professor Thatcher started when you went up to him after class. His voice trailed off as he debated the right word, finally deciding, “just a stale one.” 

“Stale?”

“You lack nuance,” he clarified, with a flick of his wrist, looking back down to the red marking on the paper.

Your eyes darted to the clock on the wall and then back to him. “I mean…how much nuance is there…” you said with a forced smile, a weak attempt at a joke to resolve the conversation and leave for the game.

If he noticed the attempt, he made no comment. “You don’t consider the after,” he remarks, looking back up to you. His eyes narrowed as you snuck another look at the clock. 

“The after?”

“Yes,” he reiterated. “The after.”

“What... after?” you asked, eyes flicking to the clock once again.

“Well you mention how they lose their status after puberty, but don’t actually talk about their life…sans godhood,” he explained, watching you carefully. Daring you to look back at the clock.

You weren’t present enough in the moment to process what he was saying, but felt the need to defend your work anyway. “Well..when you’re worshiped like that…i don’t think you can just let it go…it’s what everyone knows you for”

“Exactly.”

You waited for him to say more, but were only left with an awkward silence. Your eyes darted to the clock once more, and heard a scoff like noise from his direction. He pushed paper into your hands and with a hint of irritation said, “Just re-write it based on the feedback I wrote. Give it back to me next week.”

You left the next second without a second thought.

WHAT ABOUT THE AFTER?

The words are a taunt.

You put the paper down on the bedside table and let your exhaustion carry you to sleep.

The hospital is a bus-ride away from campus. You’re on it by the time the sun starts to rise, trying pointlessly to distract yourself with the sky’s pinkish hues. 

It’s a large hospital, but it doesn’t take much to find Tashi. You tell the lady at the front desk her name, and her face flashes with recognition. She points you in the direction to go and sends you off. 

Three minutes and an elevator ride later, you stand in front of her hospital room. You knock on the door out of courtesy, but quickly push yourself in, unable to handle the distance anymore. 

Tashi is laying on the hospital bed looking out the window. There are dark circles around her eyes and her lips a fine straight line. Her head shifts to acknowledge your presence, before she turns back to the window. 

You don’t move a muscle. 

Your mind goes back to when she kissed your forehead at the Halloween party. She spun you after that, dancing to the music with her in your arms. You clung onto her to keep yourself upright. 

If it wasn’t for her, you would have fallen. 

“They took a couple x-rays” she begins, finally breaking the trepid silence of the room with a low, solemn voice. She looks away from the window in your direction, without properly looking at you. 

You inhale apprehensively, swallowing slowly before you speak. “Yeah?” The question you can't bring yourself to ask lingers in the air.

She turns back to the window, watching the sun finally reaching its rightful place in the sky. Her eyes go distant and you wait for the words you fear. 

“They said I might not play again,” she whispers, eyes still on the sun. Her finger imperceptibly pulls at the sheet on the bed. Your focus is on the subtle motion, watching the way she pinches it between her thumb and index. “I might never play again,” she repeats, her voice louder as if properly hearing herself for the first time. Her brows furrow as she confronts the possibility, trying to reconcile it with everything she’s known.   

Her hands move to push back her hair in a swift, intuitive motion.

“It doesn’t change anything.” 

She lets out a shaky, humorless laugh, before turning to face you. This time your eyes lock and she gives you a small, sad smile. 

She knows what you mean. 

You both know it’s true.

authors note: about a month ago in the midst of Navaratri a frat boy ran into my friend's "Religions of Asia" class and rolled down the lecture hall as if acting out the "Jack and Jill" nursery rhyme. the incident was so off-putting to the professor he decided to turn the entire class virtual from that point on. as a result, my friend now plays his lecture videos while we eat together each Wednesday and this idea was conceived during one of those lunches (so thank you frat guy ig?). this is more experimental than anything else i've written, so i am very curious to know what you all think. i hope you enjoyed it, or at least understood what I was trying to say lol

art credit: taken from the French poster for Satyajit Ray’s Devi

[itspkuwu]

INSIDE OUT 2 SPOILER!!!!!!

I know it’s hard to tell here but I was in the movie theater (these aren’t my picture btw) and Fear had tears in his eyes when Joy was talking about feeling less…well… joy… as you grow up. And it honestly makes sense for him to be this upset about it because not being happy is actually a really reasonable fear. 🥺😢 Everything about this movie is genius istg

[lazylittledragon]

Feel free to ignore if this is intruding but I remember you posting about dealing with caffeine addiction and I hope you're doing ok <3 Addiction is really hard to deal with so I hope everything is going alright for you!

!! thank you for checking in <3333

i haven't cut it out completely (i really don't think i'd be able to) but i'm still doing much better, i've cut down from 6 shots per cup to only 2. i've also changed my sleep/eating habits so now i don't feel like i need the caffeine as much because i just don't feel as shit anymore.

it's been very nice :3

[shiftythrifting]

Submission from @yokimon

[vinxle]

my day be so fine and then boom i remember this ship im hyperfixating on is once again doomed yaoi

[lokh]

ive been thinking about this but. i think shuro understands laios' character pretty well, but he doesn't value his strengths or interests (monster knowledge). in the DVD extra where laios imagines what would have happened if they'd been on better terms, shuro STILL leaves because he thinks his chances are better with a trained crew (which....... is likely to be true but. look at how he ended up anyway lmao). meanwhile kabru recognises that while the party isnt particularly strong, the reason they get so far in the first place is BECAUSE of what laios knows about monsters. shuro seems aware that laios knows about monsters or has an interest in them, but views this as frivolous and a waste of time and doesn't seem to realise how much this knowledge carried them in the first place

[sunonwaxyleaves]

After hanging out with Sirius’ little brother for a few months now - sometimes the three of them but more and more just the two of them - James first realizes he’s in love with Regulus on a summer night with cheeks warm from sunburn and sweet red wine. They’re on an old leather couch at a party Sirius is throwing at the Potter’s beach house, and Regulus rests his head on James’ shoulder with a deep, heavy sigh. Absolutely plastered, he mutters in defeat, “I think I’m now ready to admit that I’ve probably missed my chance at becoming a mermaid.” James wants to laugh until his stomach cramps, wants to kiss him on his peeling lips and point out that Regulus turns 21 in just one week, what does he mean he’s willing to admit this now, but instead he shrugs lightly and rests his head on Regulus’. He says in that cocky voice of his that makes far too many people swoon, “You’d be the prettiest mermaid of them all” and Regulus would roll his eyes even though James couldn’t see, he’d bury his head further into James’ neck, and tell him “Yeah, James, obviously”.

And then a week would pass, the morning of Regulus’ 21st birthday, and he’d wake up before anyone else and sneak out of the house for his morning run. Sometimes on the really hot days, like the day of his 21st birthday, he’d cool off in the ocean before walking back to the house, the walk long enough to let the sun dry him a bit.

Except this time was different.

Regulus runs and jumps into the ocean, does a few slow strokes atop the rolling waves, then promptly begins to scream bloody murder in the blink of an eye; his legs have become so heavy it’s as if an overweight adult man is clinging to him. He twists and turns his body, lifts his cement legs up to see what the fuck is going on, freezes, starts drowning, then screams even as his mouth fills with saltwater.

Where his legs are supposed to be - where they used to be - there is now a beautiful emerald mermaid tail with scales that glitter tiny rainbows like the polish on his finger nails.

A mile away, the split second Regulus screams the first time, James wakes from a deep slumber with a gasp so sharp it throws him into a coughing fit. He drinks from the glass of water on his bedside table and grabs his phone before leaning back onto the fluffy pillows, pulling up his messages to text the birthday boy.

(7:02am) Happy birthday Reggie!!!! 21 WOOHOO!!!!!

(7:03am) Are u back from ur run?? Do u want blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?

(7:04am) Had the craziest dream last night. Need to tell u all about it over some Potter Pancakes(;

(7:26am) Reggie??

(7:38am) Sirius said u never came back from ur run is everything okay???

(7:41am) Ur freaking me out Reg can u pls respond

(7:55am) Wherever u are: STAY THERE

(7:55am) I’m coming to find u. Call me when u see these, pls pls please

(8:06am) Where the fuck are you, Regulus?????