#they got so many things wrong here

[ultrakeencollectionbreadfan]

This is Hauptmann Deutschland, a patriotic hero from Germany. Now, the real question is, why on earth would such a character exist in the first place? Back in the 90s, when he was created, Germany was probably one of the least patriotic countries on the planet. Even today, they still aren't this showy most of the time. They don't often sing the national anthem in schools, and the German flag is usually only flown on government buildings. I highly doubt that Germany would dress someone up in it, even now (unless it was someone from AfD). "Captain Europe", "Captain Continent", or even "Captain NATO" would probably make more sense than this.

[aroaceleovaldez]

HoO is so funny to me when you actually think about the ages of all the characters. Octavian is 18. Percy and Annabeth are 16, almost 17. Reyna is presumably 16. Frank just turned 16, Jason’s about to turn 16. Leo and Piper are like 15. Hazel’s like 14 and a half, and Nico is 13.

The Death Sibs are both the youngest and oldest on the Argo II. Octavian is a college freshman getting into petty drama with a bunch of high schoolers. He gets told to shut up at one point by a random 8th grader. Everyone is scared of the 8th grader. We Sent A 13 Year Old To Superhell and he came back weirder, Just Like Middle School. TLH was just three high school sophomores being sent to do a task and it going Exactly Like You’d Expect. Percy’s the only demigod on the ship who can legally drive (though Reyna gets her drivers license at some point before TOA). What Is Happening.

[3-aem]

i really need stsg taking care of each other like so bad.

i do think suguru would be 10X better at it than gojo. He’d make gojo broth or smth when he’s sick and keep him hydrated, vs gojo would probably bring him like a 12 pack of sunny d equivalent and say he needs his vitamins.

[louroth]

"It takes guts to grow up like you did-- thousands of years simmering beneath every kind of oppression man could think of."

"With the sky kissing the crown of my head, knighting me with space to roam and the bravery to explore it [...] Big, open fields of barley and rivers like slivers of silver, marbling my veins."

"And yet you prefer...?" "After all that life?" a breath, a laugh, caught between teeth. "Something cultivated by your own will-- the work, the dread, the sought resolution-- it is far grander than the possibility, the dream of it."

art by @fooltofancy (just. fantastic. look at them. !!!!)

[multicolour-ink]

Do you think Mario and Luigi make "twin jokes" to each other?

Something like:

I'm only shorter because Luigi sat on me in the womb!

Well I'm only skinnier because YOU stole all the nutrients!

[ploverpaw]

Okay I'll speak a thought

It's hard for me to take 'does Curlfeather deserve to go to The Dark Forest' seriously because I believe the dark forest is an inherently flawed system no cat really deserves to go to

It's hammered in that it's an entirely horrible place to exist in, and there's no incentive or opportunities for cats to change their ways, learn better, or get help if a lack of it contributed to their actions already. And even when they do manage to do so, there's still no hope for them. They're still stuck in Cat Hell, surrounded !!for eternity!! by the unmonitored violence of the other df cats.

The only cat who got close as far as I know was Juniperclaw, who has to serve Starclan in a tunnel forever without ever being allowed to join them.

Seemingly, the only way for these cats to really change their situation from there is by breaking through on their own, usually through the use of violence, so I'm Not surprised the great battle [OOTS] came about.

Not to mention if we go off what we learned of Snowtuft in TBC, they don't even remember what they did to be in the dark forest after enough time has passed, so at that point it seems exceedingly cruel.

Of course these cats, including Curlfeather, deserve to face consequences for their actions, but the dark forest seems like a pointless way of just causing more pain for the sake of it. And it's the same punishment regardless of the crime, while we know many cats who arguably do things of the same severity are allowed into Starclan just fine

I could say so much more I have so many thoughts but I don't want this to get too long

look at this

[spacedlexi]

i forgot how weird people get sometimes when you add minnie to clemvi situations :/

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

“So this is your College,” she says, without turning around. They haven’t spoken in—well, long enough to forget just how solid his presence feels, but not so long that she doesn’t recognize his step. He still stomps like a mammoth and drags his feet. Worse in the snow, always.

He comes to stand beside her, a professional distance from his shoulder to hers. “Impressed?”

It’s certainly meant to be impressive, at least—the stonework polished, gleaming; the towers academically tall. He’s had banners put up in too many places with a symbol she doesn’t doubt he designed himself. Waste of runework to shield that much delicate embroidery from the elements; they’ll be moved indoors well before Frostfall, she thinks to herself. “I noticed the statue.” He preens, the way his chest puffs out visible out the corner of her eye. Twitching a smirk, she says, “Funny you didn’t have it made of yourself, though.”

“Of course it’s—”

“Fellow they got to do it instead is obviously much too handsome.”

He splutters, tugs in irritation on one thick braid of his moustache. “You don’t have anything meaningful to say?”

“Hm.” She feigns deep contemplation. “What did you leave out of this one?”

“I didn’t leave anything out. If you’re here just to insult me, Ulfsild—”

“Someone’s got to remind you that you’re only a man while you’re signing your byline in titles, Archmage,” she says, light as the flakes freezing on her eyelashes. She breathes slow into her palms, curls the warmer air around her face to melt them again. Her fingers twinge. “And no one else seems particularly keen on doing the job. Kitchen?”

“It’s got a kitchen. You don’t like the title?”

“Makes you sound like a pompous ass, which is accurate, but I hadn’t thought you wanted everyone to know. Living quarters?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Library?” When he doesn’t answer, she barks a laugh, incredulous, and turns to look at him at last. He’s staring very pointedly at the central building and not at her. “Did you not put a goddamned library in your school, Shal?”

“There are plenty of shelves. Why would anyone borrow a book when they can just keep it for future reference—”

“You are going to kill me,” she says cheerfully. “I’ll laugh myself to death one day when you forget something important in your grand old quest to pluck down the stars. Watch, you’ll go to show off how easily you stride from here to Hammerfell in a single step, ready to revolutionize magical travel, and you’ll leave behind your own head because you didn’t think to cast down instead of up.”

“At least I’d have done it. More than some can say.” He’s silent for a moment, snow dusting his beard. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d oiled it just recently. He never did it this early in the week, though.

But. Well. Routines change just as well as people do, she supposes. She spells off the ache in her knuckles—comes back quicker than she’d like, these days—and shakes out her hands. Folds her arms and studies him. She needs to see his face for this part. “I read your piece on integrating runework during construction.”

He has the audacity to not so much as twitch a greying whisker at this. “Found it riveting enough to come discuss in person, did you? Nostalgic for old times?”

“I want my notes back.”

“You took,” he says evenly, “all your things already. Thirty years ago, you’ll recall.”

“You just happened, then, to remember exactly how I explicated the energy renewal process in layered stone—”

“Evidently, yes. Believe it or not, Ulfie, you do leave an impression.” His voice is dry. He flicks her an amused look, crosses his arms in perfect mirror of hers. “I’ll make a footnote in the reprint if it’s rankled you so much.”

“Footnote! You used my diagrams, Shal. From—” She shifts her jaw, finding it tight. She still spits sparks when she says the name, and the familiar static tingle in her teeth feels a warning. Instead, she takes a breath. “At least spell indeko right, you old fool. There’s no c.”

“What? Yes there is.”

“There’s not.”

“I’m not having this argument again.” He starts for the iron gate. “Come inside if you’re done and we can talk about anything else.”

She puts out a hand. He stops abruptly at the lock of the gate yanking into place with a horrible metal sound. “That’ll rust if you aren’t careful,” she says with a nod. “You really don’t ever learn, do you?”

He tips his head back, staring bleakly at the sky. “Let go of the gate.”

“Give me—whatever you kept. I told you I don’t want you using my notes. You put it at the wrong stage anyway, and I hope it was only in the paper and not in the construction here—though if you’re just going to give this one away to the first devil to dangle a promise in your face then maybe it doesn’t matter so much whether it stands or falls—”

“Let go of the gate,” he turns; “you’re going to break something.”

“Like you can’t put it together again,” she snaps.

“You know what I meant.”

Her hands are shaking. She doesn’t let go. “Swallow all the stars you want, Shalidor, but don’t pretend you’re here with the rest of us on the ground.”

“You don’t have to be on the ground. If you weren’t so damn myopic—” He cuts himself off, lifts a hand to sever her grip with a twist of his middle finger and his thumb, leaves her hands burning and claw-curled, rigid. The way he’s looking at her has her swallowing sparks again, running her tongue over her teeth. “Come inside. Stay here and do something great instead of theorizing yourself to death. Or at least let someone look at your hands. Is it worse?”

She huffs out a breath at a spasm in her palm. Stands up straighter. “You know we can’t work together.”

“You don’t even want to try?”

“No, Shal.” Shaking out her hands and tucking them into her sleeves, she closes her eyes for a moment. “I hope this one works out, I do. You don’t need me for that.”

He laughs. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t think so.” Gesturing to the gate, he says, “You’re welcome to search my rooms if you like. You won’t find anything in your hand, though, I promise.”

She doesn’t put much stock in his promises. Exhaustion presses at her shoulders: too much, again. She ought to go. Come back when she’s not dragging threads of magicka, fraying at every edge. But that would give him time to rearrange, so she shifts her jaw instead, makes her voice light. “Haven’t even seen the grounds and you’re inviting me up to your rooms.”

His eyebrows lift. “If you like.”

“Is the tall strapping statue model up there?” His face contorts—and despite herself, she feels her mouth pull into a grin.

[kenjirose]

Wonderful, my parents fucking hate me I guess

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

I don't really go here, but all the members in The Amazing Digital Circus are in a polyamorous relationship methinks

[emeraldblonde]

I tried to mod something and the good news is, it didn't crash the game. 🥳 The bad news is, not what I was looking for lmao.

Like, don't get me wrong. I've seen way worse (the stuff of nightmares) on a modding channel I've been teaching myself this stuff lately, so. It's not like I completely fucked this thing up or anything like that.

It's just... I still gotta ask though.

What went wrong here?

[neptunym]

throws this at you as a sign that i'm alive and immediately runs away

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[phneltwrites]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers. Spread the self-love~ 🫶🏻

💚

it's tempting to pick the long fics because they took the most work and have the most Stuff in them (themes, narrative experimentation, whatever) so i want to think a little more widely about the stuff i've written.

Bad Thing Twice (Not Me, Todd/Black). Ohh I love Not Me so much. What a fantastic show about a group of people taking down the biggest billionaire in Thailand. The main romance is great, the gang is fantastic, it's beautiful to watch... and then right at the end the most perfect best friends to enemies ship appears. otp of two guys who keep trying to kill each other over ideological differences but can't because they love each other so much. So then I wrote 64k to take that friends to enemies and add on a ...to lovers. One of my faves because I got to get into some themes that I love, like how and when to compromise, what to do when the love is real but the situation is hard. Also because I don't see anything glamorous or admirable in being rich and I wanted to wallow a bit in how much money fucks things up.

Say All That You're Feeling (MDZS, wlw wangxian). lesbians!! Genuinely the process for writing this was just coming up with a big list of all the things that I thought would be hot. lwj woodworking. wwx making leather bracelets and then playing with the leather bracelet on lwj's wrist. But then ALSO this fic is about comphet. Stage 2 comphet. Stage 1 is 'is it possible to like girls???' Stage 2 is learning to be ok with experiencing attraction. It's scary to be horny! It's vulnerable. And there's so much baggage around unwanted attraction and being predatory but like. it's beautiful and fun. We all know a useless lesbian who is like 'idk if that was a date or just friends' and I'm always like WELL did YOU say if it was one or the other?? and they never do. Useless. But also we've all been there so this is like, a fond and generous read on that situation (i hope)

Retrieved from Impossibility (Leverage, Eliot/Parker/Hardison). Possibly the most Me fic I've ever written. Android Eliot desperately clinging to his humanity, Parker's fierce sense of what's okay and not, and Hardison being so smart and caring and also into robots. I love books about cognition and humanity and agency and I also am very weak to a trope about heisting a person so they can be free, so.

Falling Til Four in the Morning (MDZS, wangxian). I sure do love a hyperspecific AU. Like this, technically, is a coffee shop AU, however it's set in the 90s and wwx aspires to dotcom and lwj works in radio. I researched so much for this fic and nothing makes me feel better than people in the comments say it captured the vibe of the era. In case anyone reading this has read that fic and wondered: wwx disassociated himself from the Jiangs because he was doing AIDS activism and it was communicated to him that he was shaming them.

Standing in Sharpening Wind (Game of Thrones, Jon/Tormund). A fave cause I think the setting comes through clearly, which is always something I'm working on. I feel cold in the spaces in the sentences. I can't believe I never had any fic writing inclination for this show until the end of S8 pissed me off SO bad. Not even the point of this fic but Brienne/Sansa forever I can't believe that show fucked me so bad. uhh anyway yeah north of the wall vibes, some culture clash stuff, Tormund pining like an idiot, lots of fun for me to write

[thestarsarecool]

Q: Did you listen to Paul McCartney's 'Ram' album?

LENNON: Of course I did. The first time I heard it I thought it was awful, and then the second time, ahem, I fixed the record player a bit and it sounded better. I enjoyed a couple like 'My Dog It's Got Three Legs' or something, and the intro to 'Uncle Albert.' I can't stand the second track from the... well I mean, it doesn't matter anyway. In general I think the other album he did was better in a way. At least there were some songs on it. I don't like all this dribblin' pop-opera jazz. I like pop records that are pop records.

Q: Is there a song on your album 'Imagine' that refers to Paul... lines about a pretty face and the sound of Muzak?

LENNON: (smiling) Er, there's a song which COULD be a statement about Paul. It could be interpreted that way. But then, it could be about an old chick I'd known.

John Lennon in Hit Parader, February 1972

[themyscirah]

But look at us Luke, we're the ones left alone, holding some rich monster's pain. All of existence, built on his violence. All of space-time, humming to life with a single inviolate rule. Give the hero something to punch.