#they're dumpster fires

[r0zzk1ll]

kind of a coincidence that geordi naturally has trouble with women and he was with aquiel that one time but she was never mentioned ever again (GEE I WONDER WHY), and data had a girlfriend but immediately lost her after trying too hard (GEE I W

kind of a coincidence that data hyperfixated on media with two characters that are basically gay for each other and then told geordi "can u be the watson to my sherlock please please please please p" and he went "ok!" and then they cosplay said characters like they AREN'T in a relationship like okaayyy

kind of a coincidence that geordi's the chief engineer and a total nerd and data is the most technologically built lifeform on the enterprise (and also a total nerd), so of course geordi is his doctor, and obviously there's sexual tension bc he's literally playing with his wires like come on

kind of a coincidence that data only really gets visibly nervous/worried whenever geordi is in danger ("i have no emotions mcgee when geordi is in trouble") and geordi is overly aggressive/tense whenever data's off on his own/something happens to him

KIND OF A COINCIDENCE THAT GEORDI'S SO-CALLED WIFE IS NEVER MENTIONED OR EVEN NAMED IN PICARD!!!!!! JUST A THOUGHT TO PUT OUT THERE

what isn't a coincidence though is that they're literally polar opposites in every way and made to be soulmates totally not homoerotic best friends

just look at how they fucking look at each other for example like good god merge your quarters already freaks

[darkfire359]

[rings-of-power-realm]

Happy birthday Robert Aramayo! 🥰💚🌸

[laurelwen]

Love Triangle

[Like Minds Masterpost - Humor]

[pastelaspirations]

Is your fanfic on ao3 or somewhere else?? I need to get to reading it lol

W e l l. U m. Okay. Like, I should have expected this. Especially with a certain TWO people going around, clamoring for people to read it. Am side-eying you, Moldiee and Anayz, h a r d-

So uh. Y e a h, it's on ao3. Linked here for your convenience. JUST. It's l o n g. It doesn't start out that way, it starts off short, but then just gets longer and l o n g e r and-

Let's just say you're going to be reading this for a while probably

[fictionadventurer]

The more I learn about Civil War politics, the more I'm convinced that Lincoln's most impressive and useful leadership trait was that he never let his pride get in the way of doing his job.

Other people in Lincoln's position would have come to Washington with something to prove. They'd have resented the insults and tried to disprove them. They'd have tried to seize power and credit, rejected help, spent a lot of time trying to reach a certain level of respect.

Lincoln's response to, "You're just a backwoods lawyer with no executive experience who makes too many dumb jokes," was pretty much always, "Yeah. And?" He had no interest in petty personal power plays. He had a country to run. There was a war on. It didn't matter what people thought of him so long as the job got done.

He was aware of his personal shortcomings and was always willing to accept advice and help from people who had more knowledge and experience in certain areas. He presided over a chaotic Cabinet full of abrasive personalities who thought they were better and smarter than him, but he kept working with them because they could get the job done. For example: Stanton was absolutely horrible to him when they were both working as lawyers. Just incredibly mean on a personal level. But when Lincoln needed someone to replace Cameron, he swallowed his pride and appointed Stanton as Secretary of War, where Stanton proceeded to be mean to everyone in the world, but he whipped that department into shape and kept it running efficiently through a very chaotic war. Pretty much no one except Lincoln would have been able to put up with that. He could put up with people who were personally difficult if they could do the job he needed them to do--which he was only able to do because his own ego didn't get in the way.

Lincoln's example is a prime demonstration of how humility isn't underrating yourself--it's being so secure in your own abilities and identity that you don't need to attack anyone or defend yourself to prove your worth. He knew his shortcomings, but he also knew his strengths. He was willing to give other people credit for successes and take blame upon himself for failures if it kept things running smoothly. He was secure enough in his own power that he could deal generously--but firmly--with people who tried to undermine him. In a city full of huge egos, in a profession that rewards puffed-up pride, that levelheaded humility is an extremely rare trait--which is what made it so impressive and effective.

[clownprince]

alright i was already intrigued by the premise of knight terrors: the joker but i'm SO fucking hyped now you're telling me rosenberg is elaborating on the divorce arc??? also dark workplace comedy is exactly where i hoped they'd go with this

[livetogether--diealone]

"not worthy people around" and it's every employee i maranello

[blackjackkent]

All right, today has been chaos to the max but finally getting to sit down quietly and what better way to chill out than to put Rakha through some more Horrors. ^_^

Last time, a bunch of stuff happened during a long rest that I didn't write about yet because I was finishing up a different post about the murder investigation, so time to get caught up on Rakha's Eventful Night.

This is the first night Rakha has spent since she learned the full truth of who and what she is, and as she's heading back into camp, she's already thinking ahead with dread to the new and more detailed nightmares that are surely waiting for her. She steels herself to suffer through the images of blood and death and terrible worship; she prepares to ask Jaheira and Wyll and Lae'zel to again keep watch over her...

...but before any of that comes to fruition, the camp is invaded by something that Rakha, for all her dread of the night, did not even consider expecting:

It's a surreal moment. One second Rakha and the others are gathering for the evening meal - a quiet affair tonight, as everyone is still a little leery of their new discoveries about Rakha, figuring out what if anything has changed - and the next the camp is flooded with pale azure light in a blinding flash that sends all of them up on their feet. And the next moment after that, a figure coalesces out of that blazing light - translucent but for the solidity of its glowing eyes.

"LAE'ZEL OF K'LIIR!" the figure bellows.

Rakha remembers that voice from the depths of the githyanki creche, the overwhelming presence that is Vlaakith the God-Queen. She also remembers how that voice played upon Lae'zel like a lute string, terrified her into submission, used her own faith against her, promised her an ascension that was ultimately proved - by the zaith'isk and by Voss - to be nothing more than agonizing death.

So at once, all the background rage that has been simmering at the back of Rakha's mind - at herself, at Bhaal, at the Absolutists, at fate - suddenly coalesces. Suddenly it has a target. With an instinct that will surprise her when she looks back on it later, she steps forward automatically, putting her shoulder ahead of Lae'zel, a subtle defensive gesture.

You will not touch her. Projection or no, goddess or no, I will rip out your throat.

But she doesn't speak. Lae'zel gets there first, and her voice is frightened but steady.

"Queen Vlaakith," she snaps. "Tsk'va!"

"You are Hshar'lak," the god-queen sneers. Her voice has quieted from an explosion to a distant rumble of thunder, and each syllable is ice cold. "And still you speak my name."

"I've seen the captive Orpheus with my own eyes, spoken to Jhe'stil Kith'rak Voss!" Lae'zel cries back. "You lied to us! Enslaved us!"

The scene is, in a sense, objectively ludicrous; the young gith howls up at the vision of divinity in front of her like a mouse threatening to tear down a mountain. But her eyes are narrowed with certainty and her shoulders are squared.

Rakha remembers the last time they faced down that vision of Vlaakith. She remembers the wide-eyed terror and devout obeisance in Lae'zel's face and voice, how she threatened to kill Rakha if they did not do as Vlaakith commanded. Much has changed since then. It has only been a few months, but Lae'zel is older, stronger.

Vlaakith sees it too - and it infuriates her.

"THE BETRAYER VOSS LIES!" she bellows; the sound bursts across them all like a shockwave. "I have only a moment, and you, hshar'lak, will listen. We are githyanki! We move mountains, we snuff out stars. WE SHAKE THE PLANES!" And indeed, it does feel as if the ground rocks under their feet in rhythm with the words. "The traitor Voss has lied to you! The Heretic Prince would shatter us in an instant. The Great Dominion, shrunk to the head of a pin!"

Narrator: Can this be true? Is the githyanki prince really a threat to his own people? Or simply a challenge to Vlaakith's rule?

Rakha remembers, deep in the blood-soaked and tattered remnants of her memory, the ritual murders she performed in tribute to her father. She remembers the blood on her knife and the taste of it on her tongue. Some of the targets - many of them, in fact - were innocents, and their deaths tasted the sweetest. But sometimes they were threats, people Bhaal had deemed too dangerous to his cult to be allowed to live - or sometimes, people who threatened even the god himself.

She remembers the fear-anger that accompanied those killings; those were not victory and satiety but the desperate satisfaction of removing a rival. And that, not calm authority, is what she hears in Vlaakith's voice.

If she seeks Orpheus's death, it is not for the good of her people, but for the good of herself.

"Return to the Astral Prism," the queen insists. "Slay Orpheus the pretender." A hairs-breadth pause, and then her face twists - it's an attempt at an ingratiating smile, but the expression is ugly and wrong on her face, sour with underlaid rage.

"Serve me," she says, "and I will ascend you. You will be no mere warrior, nor kith'rak. You will be Baht t'Vlaakith! Commander of Dragons, my only, my Chosen! A final chance - kneel before me, make your promise!"

Rakha already knows what she will see in Lae'zel's face before she looks - skin paled almost to white, eyes wide, a muscle in her cheek trembling. Baht t'Vlaakith - whatever it means in the githyanki tongue, it is clearly an honor, beyond anything Lae'zel in her old life might have even imagined.

Rakha scowls. A honor - and at the same time utterly meaningless, for Vlaakith has shown her hand. She is desperate, and Lae'zel has already slipped beyond her reach.

Narrator: Lae'zel's thoughts become yours. The sight of Orpheus looms over her mind; Voss's words echo within it. She means to forever turn her back on Vlaakith.

It has been a long time since Rakha's mind touched Lae'zel's. Ever since the business with the Emperor, Lae'zel has been deliberately closed off from her, hidden away in her own thoughts. But now she reaches out - and Rakha is startled to realize that in that contact is a request. A need for Rakha's support, perhaps even for her approval.

-----

Why should you reach out to me? Rakha asks bitterly along the connection. Broken thing that I am...

A flash of dark amusement. Are we not both broken? answers Lae'zel. That same bitterness tinges the thought. We both stand against gods that raised us. Why should I not seek your counsel?

A pause. I have hurt you, Rakha says. Many times, and all without meaning.

And yet I ask you still.

Rakha swallows. Something feels tight in her throat, a confused feeling of regret and hope. You have said you will stand with me. Steady me against Bhaal's power. I will do no less for you. Stand your ground.

-----

"I gave you my faith!" Lae'zel barks aloud. The connection between her and Rakha snaps, and Rakha opens her eyes to see her companion - her friend - facing down the goddess with an expression like granite. "And you called me traitor! I gave you my life, and you ordered your knights to hunt me! I have witnessed too much, and you have given me too little. Finally I can see!"

She glances, for the briefest of moments, in Rakha's direction, and Rakha nods. Yes.

Lae'zel's voice echoes across the camp. "Orpheus will live! And I will hear his creed! This is my word!"

Vlaakith's form swells upward, like an angered tiger rearing up for a swipe with claw and fang. "YOUR WORD IS NOTHING. YOU ARE NOTHING!" she thunders. "The kith'raki will bring you. I will tear your flesh from your bones and devour your skull's marrow while you beg for death! I will consume you! I will unmake you!"

And then she's gone, in another rolling burst of light. Silence falls across the camp.

Trembling violently, Lae'zel stalks away and disappears into her tent.

[lilflowerpot]

I’m so happy that you share my headcanon of Keith having a crush on James because honestly there was so much unresolved tension between them.

Also, can you please open your fruitful mind cave and please share some headcanons that you have of the two of them please? So i can sit here and giggle uncontrollably while staring at my phone🙃

[original]

I don't really have a whole lot in the way of concrete headcanons regarding Keith & James' past, it's more nebulous ~vibes~, but let me give it my best shot:

So first thing's first, they met upon starting middleschool at the ripe young age of 11 with that delightful hormonal cocktail and all the dysfunctional emotions it entails a-brewing.

Keith's dad had been dead some three years at this point, and his foster placements had gone up in flames enough times that he'd been recently, but rather permanently, placed in a local group home. That in mind, he's all but given up on making actual human connections because these things seem to just never quite work out for him; better that he give up trying altogether, and save himself the hurt, but then... there's James.

Keith's already snagged the desk by the window in the far back—the best spot, as far as he's concerned—and is as happy to ignore and be ignored by his classmates as they file in for sixth period physics, until- until he walks in, all loud laughs and cheeky smiles, with a gaggle of kids hanging off his every word and more effortless charisma than any pre-teen boy should ever really have the right to.

And then gunmetal eyes sort of slide across the room—like he knew he was being watched before Keith even realised he was watching—all lazy arrogance and stupid hair, and he's looking Keith up and down and raising an eyebrow and- Keith looks away, mouth drawn and shoulders tight. Kids like that like to fight kids like him, he knows, and he cannot afford to get chewed out on his first fucking day for god's sake.

But it's not just physics because why would it be, no, over the coming week Keith finds that James Griffin—and it's no surprise to learn he's from money with a name like that—shares at least half his classes, P.E. among them, which is where it truly beings.

"It" being their... rivalry, Keith supposes.

He's not even sure who started it, just as likely to be both of them as neither, but when they're put on opposing teams for a "friendly" game of football, what begins as Keith making the most of his natural dexterity—skirting around lumbering opponents, nimble as a cat—turns into Griffin hunting him and only him down across the pitch like a damn bloodhound. "That's the game kid" the coach tells him, as if, by the end of it, he hadn't been systematically cornered and corralled by the other team irrespective of whether or not he had the damn ball, entirely at Griffin's direction, "like it or lump it". Keith, still wheezing with ribs that protest every breath after a particularly rough tackle, finds himself quite particularly disinclined to lump it, and certainly doesn't like it one bit.

Definitely not.

So Griffin pushes, Keith pulls. Griffin hits, Keith kicks. Griffin scratches, Keith bites.

But it's not bullying, never that: Keith's known his fair share—a scruffy orphan with anger issues is an easy target, he supposes—and this simply isn't it. Griffin evens defends him, once, in the particularly chilly January of their first year when a meat-headed trio think it funny to soak Keith's shirt during gym and leave it out to freeze; without pause or hesitation, Griffin had quietly handled them with more snide diplomacy than Keith himself would ever wield, and though the details of that closing whisper-threat were known only to he who'd received it, the sudden pallor of face and contrition of manner had left quite the impression.

...As did the cozily lined sweater that James—with goosebumps rising on his arms and cheeks already pinking from the chill—had thrown into Keith's arms from across the changing room, citing the pinprick hole in the cuff as reason enough for him to have been planning to rid himself of it anyway.

They're not friends—how could they be? James is intelligent and popular and so annoyingly good at things he damn near makes an art out of breathing—but for the first time since he was orphaned, Keith finds himself with one singular constant that he can rely on to be infuriatingly charmingly stubbornly there: never shying from Keith's sharp edges nor being swayed by the cruel whispers that haunt him everywhere he goes, James is just... James. Disagreeable. Incomprehensible. Unwavering.

And maybe, just a little bit like Keith.

Oh, and I'm also inclined to believe that (both in this au and canon) that past altercation seen in s7ep01 where Keith goes "I can out-fly anyone in this building" and James fires back with "Oh yeah? Is that what mommy and daddy told you before-" [gets punched in the face] was a classic case of projection on James' part: he strikes me as a kid whose parents expect nothing less than perfection—not only that he could be the best, but that he should—so I think that Keith getting the group in trouble, coupled with James just outright projecting his own experiences, led to a cruel comment (and worse for the fact that I believe James didn't actually know Keith was an orphan until after this instance).

[clotpolesonly]

i have a very specific character Type™ and that type is big brothers who are honestly trying their best it's just that their best is really not very good

[octaviandoherty]

How's your relationship with your brother (Devlin)?

🖤anon

xtra close super bros + always have been

🌍 👨‍🚀🔫👈👨‍🚀

ain't that rite @devlindoherty ? 😆

[warpedpuppeteer]

How they can still save the bi Buck storyline and kill BT next season:

Have Buck think about that dinner conversation again and look at their interactions in a different light. Make Buck realize that he's fallen into the same pattern of dating someone who takes his trauma lightly or is only physically interested in him. Have him notice how uncomfortable or uninterested he's been in the actual relationship because it's slightly been coloured by the excitement and joy figuring out his sexuality gave him so he didn't realize he was ignoring the red flags. Buck having a realization that just because he's dating a different gender than he used to, doesn't mean that it's magically going to be better. Kill BT immediately with fire. ON screen because they really need to write Buck acknowledging all of this and actually move off the hamster wheel.

[pokemonruby]

people trying to insist that oras is as bad as bdsp that is CRAZY

[fadedflora]

it sucks to have to be scared to update the game, no matter the size of the update, because you have no idea if it's going to break your game or not (not to mention going through the process of updating your mods)

[interstellar-elf]

I just found out about some guy crashing a live report on Hurricane Helene screaming "Trump 2024, FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT" on the Weather Channel