#that’s not even a thousand a month

[malachitezmeyka]

Apparently whenever my mental health takes a huge fucking nose dive down the gutter I automatically default to the last fandom I was into pre-2020 in search of comfort

Which actually turned out to be the worst idea ever this time around because the “How do you write like you’re running out of time” segment of Non-Stop cuts way too deep given my current… issues

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

[tallykale]

a bit of my postcanon vision

i heart people arguing

[cassowarywary]

[Start ID: 10 photos of a bound book of the I am in Eskew transcripts. Photos 1 through 4 show the casing with and without a dust jacket. The dust jacket is marbled silver and white with the title written on it in black ink, and the casing is black leather with vertical insets of the same silver and white paper, grey book cloth, and red book cloth. Photos 5 through 10 show the inside: the red and black marbled endpapers, the silver and white decoration paper, the title page with an illustration of a bird turning into a city, a translucent vellum page before Chapter Zero: Initiation, the beginning of Chapter 15: Crossroads which displays the red binding, and a closeup of a page from episode 20: Cruelty. /End ID]

I have always had plans to, once I finished the titlecard art pieces, print them with their corresponding transcripts for myself. Then I decided that I wanted to add the lineart pieces. Then I realized that the transcripts were not fully accurate, so I went through and transcribed corrections to match the audio. Then I decided that I wanted to go back and redo a couple of the titlecard pieces, etc, etc. This printed version ended up not including any art-- I don’t have access to a printer which can handle that--but I wanted a physical copy which I could annotate. As a result, this thing is huge. It’s easily twice the size of any book I’ve bound before, and the cut edges are a bit wonky, but I’m still really happy with it. 

[theskydoesgreatthingsnow]

Donald trump saying illegal immigrants kill “hundreds of thousands of people a year” when there are only around 20,000 homicide deaths a year in the entire U.S. should be enough to have him driven out of politics. It’s insanity that it isn’t.

It’s insanity that the media isn’t hammering the hell out of him for that alone. It’s not just extreme fearmongering, it’s not just exaggeration, it’s not just pure lies, its not just scapegoating and paranoia, its not just hate for the vulnerable, it’s blatant, violent distain for common sense. Any news outlet worth its salt should treat that as if it is the immediate and humiliating end of his campaign.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[merp-blerp]

Hamilton will be 10 years old next year…

[salsa-di-pomodoro]

Has anyone ever thought of the possibility of people in hisui getting a magazine from AFTER ingo and akari go home with either or both of them on it. Like they've already left and lo and behold in the tail end of the entire mess a magazine appears with one of them on the cover looking fresh stunning and most importantly happy. If it were Ingo i feel like he'd be all dressed up goth on the cover of like Vogue or something lmao (i don't think he wouldn't get famous if he wasn't already after coming home. Theyd want the publicity+cool extint Pokémon on the cover). If it were akari shed probably be like posing all badass like the badass teenager she is, scars in full view (she's a survivor!!!!!!). Inside is a little tidibit of their life after coming home. It would be both funny as hell to see them react to how they are in their element and like connect the dots for their strange behaviors AND bring closure to the people they left in hisui. They may never know this but the people in the past do

If anyone uses this idea tag me i may or may not read it but i want to know if you liked it enough to do something with it. I'll probably just keep daydreaming to myself about it lol

Edit: btw there's a whole section talking about everyone's battle prowess and the battle subway for the funnies. Just so you know

[braceletofteeth]

depicted: the calmest most patient fandom out there

[incorrectinfinity]

I saw someone say that the Gun Goddess would be akin to this America's 9/11 and I simultaneously do and do not agree with this take.

It isn't 9/11 because it is so much worse.

When the bullet was shot it was not just shot directly to Japan, it was shout through the US.

This means that possible hundreds of thousands to millions of people could've died. It is so much worse than 9/11, it's an international tragedy unlike anything else.

Also I just wanna mention this here but...

This panel.

I presume that this is the, uh, "shell" from the bullet fired from the God Goddess' shot. It's a trigger finger.

Is this her ammunition? How much does one bullet aquate to in fingers? HOW FUCKED IS POCHITA????

[evan-buck]

SUCCESSION 4x04 Honeymoon States (X)

[ongreenergrasses]

Annie and Finnick for the like and dislike game? 👁👁

i really like the way Annie presents herself. yes she speaks you know. twice. but the first time, she thanks Peeta and treats him like a normal person that did a kind thing for her, which is something he’s definitely not getting from anyone else in that moment, and the second time, she doesn’t have any problem kind of going for the throat and throwing Finnick’s name around in a way that she thinks will strengthen her point and her credibility. it shows she’s smart, she’s calculated, and she’s also probably pretty eloquent when she’s not under massive amounts of stress.

this is kind of a cop out but a) she’s in like six sentences and b) I really like her so something i dislike about her? i don’t like her ending at all. i don’t think Finnick should have lived, but i also really dislike that it was just widow mother done, it kind of feels like ok well Finnick’s dead but at least he’s got a kid! and already Annie’s spent the entire series as just. Finnick’s. so it’d be nice if she wasn’t just the mother of his child in the end. she’s a very minor character and it’s a silly gripe but yknow

i think the thing I like most about Finnick is how ridiculous he is. he has absolutely no problem being over the top and making a fool of himself and yes it’s partially an act, but then we find out in Thirteen once Annie’s back that he still is naturally pretty funny. and i think it’s cool that despite all of That he manages to have a good sense of humor and try and bring that to some really terrible situations

something i don’t love about Finnick is how he just refuses to tell Annie anything about the rebellion. like brother you are shooting yourself in the foot there. obviously she was going to get picked up the second the arena blew out and his overprotectiveness means that she had no idea that was going to happen, so she had no time to even try to run or protect herself. he also ended up showing that he doesn’t trust her, kind of infantilizing her, and as a result probably massively fucking up his relationship. it says a lot about how he sees her and that’s that she can’t take care of herself so he has to do it for her, and that’s a pretty ugly way to look at your partner honestly

character asks

[deoidesign]

I can't wait for this to come back!!! >>> when is this coming back?

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Since we didn’t get a proper HenBuck scene about him discovering his bisexuality, I think we all deserve a nice scene post-BT breakup where the two of them talk about how much of an ass T is. Buck trying to apologize because he didn’t see it sooner, but Hen’s just keeps saying he got there in the end and that’s what matters. HenBuck are always adorable, I must have more of the sibling energy from them!!!

And it’s actually so criminal that we didn’t get a scene with the two of them talking about Buck coming out (although I’ll forgive it if it’s because Hen couldn’t bring herself to support a relationship between her surrogate little brother and That Man, and she didn’t want to lie to Buck, especially about his first queer relationship). I don’t think Hen would want to interfere in anyone’s relationship, but especially a relationship that is a new beginning for Buck and his identity. She’s a lil nosy, but she also cares so much about her people, and the fact that we don’t have a scene where she explicitly tells Buck that she’s proud/happy for him discovering more about himself is so loud, especially given that she’s the only other canonical queer member of the 118 firefam. She would just trust that Buck could figure things out on his own - after all, she’s the one who’s believed in him probably the longest at the 118. That’s her little brother, guys, I refuse to believe that the Henren scene in the hospital was the most reaction we’ll get from Hen about Buck’s newfound bisexuality.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Do y'all think when Peeta came back from the Capitol he was partially looking at Katniss in the manner he was when he saw her in such a disheveled state after the war partially because after an intense amount of therapy and prepping to live as her neighbor again, he was just standing there like "I was scared of THIS??"

[autisticrosewilson]

thank u so much for defending Willis and Cathy. this fandom is so unbelievably stupid to think that Willis and Cathy are evil for bad retcons yet ignore the decades of Bruce abusing Jason. ur doing the lords work. thank u so much

Cathy and Willis are the loves of my life and it's absolutely diabolical what DC did to them, and the ridiculous stereotypes that this fandom continues to perpetuate really piss me off. Were they perfect parents? There's no such thing, especially living in a poverty in a place known for its oppressive systems and corruption. The tragedy of the Todd's, and Jason's character thesis, is that the love was there and it didn't change anything. There were too many forces against it but the love was there and that's important.

What has Bruce done for Jason besides actively make his life worse. Like yeah thanks for taking him in but you also basically made his position in your house synonymous with being Robin which directly led to his death and you've been nothing but terrible to him since so it basically cancels out. What's like, three years of financial security while experiencing insane amounts of trauma (Did anyone else read Batman: The Cult, Bruce is always talking about Jason being unstable but look at the fucking missions he was taking this 13-15 year old on) to literally the rest of his life after. You can argue it's better than homelessness, and I'd be inclined to agree with you if the version of homelessness that he often is portrayed in had any resemblance to what homelessness actually looks like in lots of cases.

And I know I know suspension of disbelief for the medium but I don't think that should be applied to things that are very easily researched. Like insanely easy to just Google. It's just laziness at that point and I'm not going to suspend my disbelief for a complete lack of effort. Suspension of disbelief only works for magic and gods and sci-fi fantasy nonsense, not something actual people experience that you are all more than capable of looking into before you write a stupid headcanon about Jason's time on the streets that tells me exactly what tax bracket you grew up in.