#they're treated are more or less the same

[andhumanslovedstories]

The critical care unit is where the sickest people in the hospital go. Those patients need a nurse completely dedicated to them, and the unit needs to keep "code beds" open in case a patient in a different part of the hospital urgently needs a higher level of care. That means critical care is always under pressure to decompress (i.e. to turf their less sick patients somewhere else so they can take even sicker patients.)

In the last weeks before we went on strike, I was floated repeatedly to the critical care unit to take care of boarders. That's what we call medsurg patients who have graduated from critical care but don't yet have a bed on a medsurg floor. Personally, I hate floating to critical care. On the floor, you would (ideally) never get a patient assignment of three patients who were critical care status an hour ago. That's going to be a very heavy assignment. But that's how many I can take when I'm helping out in critical care. And it's dangerous. It's SO dangerous. The scariest shifts I've had have been with patients who should be in critical care but aren't. People with massive strokes, or GI bleeds, or respiratory failure, that are technically able to be downgraded because if you say they're less acute, you can give more of them to the same nurse.

Last June, Oregon passed a law mandating certain nurse to patient ratios on units. While critical care is ideally a one to one ratio, medsurg (where I work, which is the general hospital population that isn't maternity, emergency, maternity, or behavioral health--so, almost everyone) has more patients per nurse. This is good and makes sense! Most people in the hospital do not need dedicated one-on-one care with someone outside their door. As a night-time medsurg nurse, I expect to take four patients a night.

And by the way? There are a lot of medsurg nurses in America who would KILL for four patients a night. I know some nurses reading this are like "four??? are you kidding me?????" Night shift nurses in states with less protections can average seven or eight patients a night. I've seen some go as high as twelve. When I have five patients, I feel like I'm running like crazy. I truly cannot understand how I could possibly give good care to more people than that.

What this means in an understaffed hospital is that patients who should be critical care get classified as medsurg instead, so instead of needing another nurse to treat another ICU patient, you can give that patient to a medsurg nurse instead. This is so common. I'm in float pool which means I work in almost twenty different units in the hospital. I have seen this happen on every single unit. Critical care patients become medsurg patients. Medsurg patients become observation class. Whatever it takes to maintain the legally mandated ratios without actually increasing staffing.

One of the major things ONA (the Oregon Nursing Association) is striking for protection against decisions like this that put patients and their caregivers at increased risk so that the hospital can save money. Even when laws are put in place protecting workers and patients, companies will work as hard as they can to circumvent those requirements. It's not enough to get legislation passed. We need the power to enforce that legislation. And baby, there is power in a union.

[bigidiotenergytm]

I love your Hades! I would love to hug this man so bad

Also, what did Hades think having 108 souls to be responsible over?

souls are souls, no more or no less than what the other gods have given him.

but this is a good excuse to explain how hades treats "bad" souls.

he reads these scrolls to remember all their names, their stories, but when a soul enters his domain, he feels the same as it and vice-versa. mortal souls are incredibly easy for hades to read. he has to know what they're feeling to maintain calmness in the river.

so, when there are souls who cause a disturbance, "bad", traumatized, what-have-you, hades makes sure to pay extra attention to these souls to ensure that their final resting place is peaceful.

sometimes it's not as easy.

but a soul is never too far gone for hades.

they only have eternity, after all.

(oh gay ass suitors by @messymoonmad btw btw)

[dorabellingham]

Overprotect

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader

summary: when you are in the last months of pregnancy and he is being super protective and worried about everything

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You sighed heavily, sinking on the sofa in the living room with an exhausted expression. The eighth month of pregnancy was being cruel - your back hurt all the time, the heat seemed unbearable and finding a comfortable sleeping position was practically impossible. To make matters worse, Jude was more overprotective than ever.

-Darling, do you need anything? His voice echoed from the kitchen, worried as always.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to convince yourself that answering "no" would be enough for him to stop treating you as if you were made of glass. But the truth was that you really needed something.

—Water, please.

You asked, defeated.

In less than a minute, Jude was already at the room with a glass in his hand.

-Here, babe.

He said, handing over the glass and sitting next to him on the couch.

You took a sip and sighed, feeling a little relief in your dry throat. Jude, on the other hand, didn't seem satisfied.

-Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to do a massage? Or maybe a hot shower? Or...

-Jude. -You raised a hand, interrupting the flood of suggestions. -I'm pregnant, not sick.

He sighed, clearly trying to control himself.

-I know. But it's just that... I hate to see you uncomfortable and not being able to do anything.

You looked at him, your expression softening.

-You already do a lot, babe. You take care of me more than I could ask for.

He smiled small, but still looked restless. Then, without warning, he got up and took a cushion, fixing it behind your back.

-Better?

You laughed, shaking your head.

-Yes, better.

He didn't stop there. He took another cushion and put it on her lap, helping you to better accommodate your belly.

-And now?

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave that you were loving his care.

-Now it's perfect, Mr. Bellingham.

Jude settled on the couch, passing an arm around your shoulders and letting the other hand rest on your belly.

-You're already almost nine months... -He murmured, sliding his fingers lightly over the skin of your belly. -There's so little time for our baby to arrive.

You felt your heart tighten when you saw the sparkle in his eyes. Jude was so excited to be a father, so ready. He talked about the baby every day, touched your belly as if it were your greatest treasure and looked at you with a mixture of love and gratitude that made you feel like the most special person in the world.

-Are you ready to be a father?

You asked softly.

He looked at you, surprised by the question.

-I don't think I'll ever feel ready, you know? But I want to. I want more than anything else.

Your gaze softened, and you ran your fingers through his jaw, feeling the thin beard that began to grow there.

-You're going to be an amazing father, Jude.

He smiled, lightly squeezing you waist.

-And you're going to be the best mother in the world, darling.

You opened your mouth to answer, but a hook on your back made you shrink.

-Oh...

Jude was on alert at the same time.

-What was it, Y/n?! Are you feeling something?!

You let out a frustrated moan.

-My back. They're killing me.

He didn't waste time.

-Come here. Sit on your side.

—Jude...

-C'mon, babe, sit here!

He insisted softly, already getting ready on the couch so that you could settle down there.

You, knowing that arguing would be useless, straightened up on your side, feeling his warm and firm hand begin to massage your back firmly, but without hurting you.

-Better now?

He asked, while his fingers worked to relieve the tension.

You closed your eyes, relaxing against his touch.

-Very much.

Jude smiled satisfied, continuing the movements while watching his wife surrender to relief.

-Do you have any idea how much I love you?

He murmured against your ear.

You smiled, your eyes still closed.

-I Have. And I have no idea how much you spoil me.

He laughed, gently kissing the back of your neck.

-I'll always pamper you. You and our baby.

You sighed, feeling safe in his arms. The eighth month of pregnancy could be difficult, but with Jude by your side, everything seemed a little easier.

[prettybugsinbandages]

Idk how to tag anything properly but this is angst, little comfort and dark themes!! Please don't read if you're in a bad place currently because it might just make you feel worse!!

When they all arrived in Twisted Wonderland, the reactions varied wildly; Irritation, indifference, curiosity, empathy, pity, disgust, admiration. All directed towards them—The Yuus. Not you. You didn't even seem to exist.

You aren't important. At least not enough to be a protagonist in this story all seven of them are living in.

The realization that you're alone in this world seems to hit like ice cold water dumped over your head and the chill of it creeps into your heart, freezing your veins and arteries.

You arrived the same way they did: Another world, no magic, the black carriage ride that would've seemed like a lifetime opportunity. But you aren't like the Yuus. You can't muster the determination and resolve they have to push through this unfamiliar terrain without much of a reaction. In fact, you cannot even begin to understand why none of them are upset about this.

Why? You find yourself asking over and over again and the question echoes relentlessly in your mind. Why aren't they grieving everything they've lost? Because you can't seem to stop thinking about it—Everything you've ever amounted to is gone. All your relationships, achievements, successes and lessons. Everything you've built is gone like a dream. Erased in an instant.

Hundreds—no—thousands of eyes stare at all of you. You don't have time to think about how beautiful they are. You've been stripped bare and raw of everything that ever made you you. You've been killed without ever physically dying.

As you struggle to adjust into this unfamiliar world, you can't help but admire others you share Ramshackle with. They're strong and determined, truly remarkable individuals. Charismatic and brave, they seem like the type of fictional characters the fanbase would adore—praised for the grit and unyielding stubbornness they display valiantly. Even the other students of magic descent respect them.

Sometimes you lie awake in your room—rundown and shabby, but improving. Together you're slowly transforming the dorm into something livable, maybe even inviting. During moments like these you find deep appreciation within yourself for the other seven that arrived with you. In vulnerable moments like this, they aren't companions; they're a lifeline.

Then there's you—a playground rock next to shining gems on pedestals. They reassure you that you're important. But nobody outside these croaking walls seems to believe that. The frustration builds sometimes, a tight knot in your chest just twisting and turning, and inevitably only knotting more. Curled up on the creaky floor, clutching your hair while staring wide-eyed at a single spot as if that floorboard specifically caused all of this. Tears don't seem to come; instead, you sit there, taking deep, shuddering breaths, lost in a sea of thoughts that you're drowning in.

Why? Why are you treated like a Ramshackle ghost—or even less? You all share the same origin, the same story of loss and these faux "New beginnings", so what makes you so different, so unappealing that nobody seems to want to spare more time than polite? Is it because of the fear that grips your heart? Its clutch is tight and cold, holding you to this new world full of threats hidden behind the guise of beautiful and new magic you didn't have back home.

The mesmerizing people that wield such pretty magic can control bodies while leaving consciousness intact—or the opposite. The idea of someone with malicious intent having that power over you is a chilling nightmare. You cannot simply compete for your own safety.

The inhabitants of Twisted Wonderland are simply stronger. Not just the fae, mers, or beastpeople, but even the humans. Their bodies are resilient, able to shrug off low-level magic that would leave you bloody or bruised.

At times you wonder why exactly nobody seems to care enough to remember you and there are moments when you find yourself gazing in the mirror, only met with an unfamiliar face. The reflection you're met with isn't quite yours—it's something darker, something hollow. A shadow, endless and consuming, its eyes locking with yours with an unnerving intensity. That smile, twisted in ways that were once pretty, no longer feels like it belongs on your face.

It's almost as you though you're looking at an echo of yourself, a distorted version that somehow feels both foreign and familiar, comforting in its familiarity but unsettling in its wrongness.

You blink, and the reflection moves. Just a slight shift, a creeping inch closer to the glass, closer than where you stand in reality. Your heart leaps into your throat, panic surging through you as you back away, tearing yourself from the bathroom and your own gaze. You slam the door behind you, leaning against its cold, worn surface. But even as the chill presses against your skin, it does nothing to calm the racing of your heart. The sleep deprivation is wearing you thin, and the hallucinations are becoming harder to ignore, more frequent, more real.

Ace's eyes narrow as you attempt to make small talk in the Ramshackle kitchen. He's friends with all the Yuus and quite close with them all. Deuce lingers somewhere nearby and you can hear his footsteps clomping around as he chases Grim. A soundtrack you've grown familiar with over time.

"—so yeah. He totally shrugged us off. Said we weren't 'big kid' enough to know what was going on." Ace rants, throwing his arms up in exasperation before running a hand through shaggy locks, his scarlet eyes met your own briefly before he continued rambling about something that had happened today in physed. His words swirl around you, filled with the day's energy, yet never fully reaching.

You always liked when the Adeuce duo visited. They were really only here for the others and you knew it, of course. If you remain in your room when they visit, neither boy will seek you out. They only included you in their escapades when you're right there—an afterthought. It felt cruel, like an unspoken rule of polite indifference. Nobody hated you, you just weren't important.

Deuce poked his face into the room, offering a polite wave as he rummaged through the fridge for a snack before leaning against the counter as he watched you make lunch. His expression is thoughtful and only vaguely curious.

"You don't really do anything, do you?" The words slipped out like a quiet curiosity that cut deeper than he likely intended. It's not a jab, just a question. Maybe that makes it hurt more. You felt like a rarely regarded lamp in a corner, the bulb long burned out, the shade dusty and untouched, and a soft light no longer emit from it.

You awkwardly muster a smile and try to respond—to list a reason you're worth more attention than you receive, but your voice falters. Before you can say a word, Grim streaks across the table, scattering papers and bunching up the cheap cloth. One paw hits Ace in the face and Deuce barely manages to avoid a fall with the creature darting between his legs.

Both boys shoot up, laughter and curses ringing out through the dorm as they chase Grim out of the room. You're left in the quiet, the emptiness settling over you like dust—suffocating and dull. The buzz of the kitchen light hums in the silence, a low, monotonous sound that only seems to heighten the irritation building inside. It's the kind of anger that feels pointless, but it consumes you anyway, making you feel unbearably stagnant.

Your eyes are locked on the tiles beneath your feet, the stark off-whiteness almost glaring under the dim light. You stare so intensely that your eyes begin to sting, but you can't bring yourself to look away. Something feels off, something is off.

And then, it hits you. Your oldest companion—the one constant presence you could always count on—has abandoned you. Your shadow is gone. For a fleeting moment, you feel exposed, like the absence of it leaves you vulnerable. You almost want to reach out, to search for it, but there's nothing there. The realization leaves you with a cold, sinking feeling, and the silence suddenly feels oppressive.

Your gaze pulls away from the tiles, heart racing, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling. Turning back to the counter, you expect to regain a semblance of calm. But as you do, something catches your eye—your shadow is cast strangely, distorted in a way you don't recall. Paranoia gnaws at you, the question unanswered. Was it always like this? You couldn't even remember.

Before you could process it any further, you hear Yuuken's voice, calling you from down the hall, asking for help with the renovations.

Engaging with anyone here was an uphill battle—woundingly difficult. The conversations seem one sided, his interest always fleeting as if there's nothing about you that's all that interesting. You're invisible. Once again, feeling like a ghost, a nameless background character in a story you were pasted into, into a story that you weren't even supposed to be dragged into.

What cuts deeper like a blade into the fat layer is the reality that you're not just standing idle. You're there in the overblots, fighting every battle as if you were qualified despite being dastardly unfit for this work. Fighting just as fiercely for people who don't even dare to acknowledge your existence for longer than necessary. You've pulled people to safety, pushed others out of the way of dangerous attacks and when it's all over you're tending to the injured, soothing the boy whose overblotted until he comes to. Yet when he wakes his eyes are darting for someone else.

All you want—all you need—is a simple acknowledgement. A thanks.

Yuu is injured but so are you. "What about me?" The words slip out before you can stop them

"What about you?" He repeats as his eyes rake over your crumpled form; battered and broken.

His voice is distant, edged with a vague obligation of care or pity. "You're hurt. Staff and paramedics will be here soon. Stay put." You would've felt your heart swell to feel any sort of acknowledgement and being withdrawn from your lonely bubble but he goes ahead and says that to everyone else and the hope sputters out and fades away. Are you merely another faceless voice in the crowd?

But he's beside Yuuka and her friends, thanking them tending to the others, offering words of comfort and appreciation and a hot surge of jealousy envelops you for only a fleeting moment before it cools almost immediately. It's not Yuu's fault. She's stumbling over words, eyes darting between you and him, desperately trying to redirect all the praise.

"They helped a lot too. Don't worry about me. Please—they took a lot of hits for the team—" her voice is rushed, earnest. She sees you. She knows.

But you're numb. The words wash over you, leaving you staring blankly. Your focus sharpens as you watch him, the indifference cutting deeper than any wound from battle.

It's not Yuu's fault, you think, the realization like a blade. And it's not mine either.

Your eyes harden, the simmering negativity solidifying into something darker—hatred for this world and its unforgiving, selective gaze.

The Blot's words wrapped around you like velvet, warm and inviting. Each word a whisper, and just beyond your comprehension. It spoke in a language too rich, too layered for you to fully grasp, yet you found yourself managing a nod and agreeing to flowery promises barely understood.

Home seems too far now, a vague dream you once had a long time ago that's memories grow dim within your worn mind. Crowley's so-called "research" moves at a snail's pace, each reassurance vague and hollow with no weight behind it. They have housewardens, heirs, socialites, all silently pining to have them by their side in the end. The others have people who want them here.

When graduation comes, you know you'll be alone. No citizenship, no comforting embrace after a long day, no government papers to properly own a home, and no magic to shield you.

A higher education was beyond your reach without the proper credentials. You could aim for a trade but no reputable company would hire a ghost in the system without insurance. Shadier paths were on the table for you but you didn't want to hurt innocent people and you weren't ready to die. Not yet.

"You promise?" The words rasped from your throat, a fragile plea to the pitch-black figure—it smiles.

Snowflakes gathered on your broken body, frostbite gnawed at your fingertips and toes. The cold seeped deep, pressing kisses to your very bone marrow. The results of the accident are chilling, your body numb and your mind blocking the pain out.

"You'd accept even if I won't, darling." It purred, voice dripping with amusement and leaning over your mangled body. Once again you looked like broken porcelain. Doll carnage—too pretty to die in its eyes.

"You're going to die in that stupid uniform." It reminds with a melodious laugh escaping it, crouching so unseen eyes met yours and the empty gaze felt cold like a harpoon through your skull.

A response doesn't form just yet, instead your words linger on time quickly slipping away. "You'll make me live?"

"You make it sound like a punishment."

"It could be."

Its grin only widened. "I'll make you thrive—I'll sponsor you. Only to test magicless bodies, of course. You're soaked with hatred, my dove—enough to feed me for centuries and I just might be able to use all that to give you some fancy powers," The Blot chimed and waves it's hands around with a lighthearted laugh as if you're not mangled and dying right now.

You muster a nod and your vision is blurring quickly, adrenaline settling in as your blood pumped quickly to get you up, away from the charming danger you'd shake hands with if your body was capable of movement.

"I've waited too long.." It murmured softly, a hint of cruel reverence sends a shiver runs down your spine as the Blot's presence looms closer, its hands—tender, almost too tender—brush away strands of hair from your face, as if trying to soothe the tension there. Your body trembles under the weight of its touch, that impossible softness juxtaposed with the suffocating darkness that clings to it. The Blot's dark hands reach for you, wrapping around your shoulder and back to prop you up, not in malice but in something more unsettling, as though its cradling you like something fragile, something it fears may break at the breeze.

It laughs, a low, melodious sound, "Even a worm will turn," it murmurs under its breath, the words curling into your mind, buzzing like static. You can't focus on anything other than the overwhelming presence of it, the heat of its breath a nearly welcome sensation against the stinging snow, slowly burying you.

It'd been a few days since the accident—now you walk the halls, your feet knowing the path subconsciously as your eyes linger on the jewelry again, the weight of it palpable on your finger. The design is intricate, just as you'd always admired—luxurious without tipping over into excess, a perfect balance of elegance. But it's the stone at its center that pulls at you, black as the void. It swallows light, reflecting nothing but its own cold depth, as if it has its own consciousness. You feel it almost stare back at you.

A scoff slips past your lips, quiet but bitter. On your left ring finger... really? The symbolism is unmistakable, painfully so. The left ring finger—a spot traditionally reserved for unions of love, a mark that binds two hearts together. But for you, it's a symbol of something far more suffocating. This ring doesn't speak of affection or choice. It speaks of a contract. A binding agreement you were coerced into on the brink of death.

You'd like to think that in a normal situation you would've denied it but a voice in the back of your consciousness rejects that. You know you would have taken the deal.

Yuuta's voice comes from behind, cutting through the weight of your thoughts. You don't flinch, but his sudden presence forces you back into reality. His usual smile is present, though there's something different in his eyes today—a worry you can't quite ignore.

"Hey! You walk fast-" He pants, falling into step beside you. "Doing anything for lunch? Me and the others are... honestly really worried about you. Ever since you came back a few days ago from that night-blizzard-walk.. you've been off." His voice drops slightly as he tilts his head to try and meet your gaze.

It's hard to resist his pleading look. Yuuta has a way of being both persistent and comforting, and something about him makes you swallow your usual refusal. You nod, even though you'd planned to stay alone, to work through your thoughts—thoughts about the Blot, the contract, and the strange shift in the world since you'd returned.

Sighing inwardly, you follow him to the familiar table. As you lower yourself onto the bench, your thoughts stills scattered, the sound of something unpleasant catches you off guard—a soft, squishy noise. You frown, reaching down to find a purple whoopie cushion beneath you.

Before you can say anything, Ace's laughter rings out, easily cutting through the table's chatter. "I told you it'd work! They're always in their own world, seriously."

Epel's high-five to Ace is audible, and you can almost feel their amusement. Deuce, on the other hand, shoots Ace a disapproving look. "A whoopie cushion? What are you, twelve?"

Ace chuckles, standing and grabbing the whoopie cushion from your hands before glancing back at the others, a mischievous grin still present on his face. "Firstly, I saw you laugh too, and hey, what can I say? I'm a guy who appreciates the classics." His crimson eyes flick to you, and before you can even process it, he taps the cushion gently on your head a few times. "Real spacey lately, huh?"

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you freeze. Spacey. They're speaking first. They're acknowledging you first. After everything, after how invisible you've felt... now they decide to reach out?

Anger grows in your chest but you quickly suppress it. Your fingers instinctively brush the blot ring on your finger, feeling its cold weight. Thrive. The Blot's promise. The smile and soft words is the only thing you can offer right now, even if it feels a little too forced, too foreign on your face.

"Have I been?" You ask, the words coming out light and easygoing. "It's difficult to sleep in a rickety, haunted dorm. You and the others should sleepover more. I like the background noise."

It wasn't a full lie. You did feel less lonely when they visited, but the feeling only increased tenfold when you could hear everyone downstairs while you remained forgotten in your room. Still, you left the invitation open.

Just you wait. You thought, your smile dimming as Ace returned to his spot and the conversation flowed, your earlier anxieties and insecurities nulled by the ring thanks to the contract.

You'll ease yourself into their lives, each thread slipping through the spaces between them, invisible but vital. Not just the ones at the table, but everyone you've fought for, the ones who've forgotten you, the ones who've never seen you or bothered to try. You'll become a part of them so intertwined that they'll find it impossible to live without seeing you in every aspect of their days and nights.

In time, you'll make sure of it. You'll be everywhere—in their laughter, in their sorrows, in the smallest moments, the ones they think they can forget. They'll breathe you in without even realizing, and soon, every part of their lives will have a thread of you running through it. You'll be their lifeline.

srry if its not the cute, comforting lovestory you were expecting lol

I'm sorta leaving it on an open end here to keep you all guessing ig lol. I can probably write separate minifics or whatever for this au I made or drabbles or maybe even a second chapter if anyone wants.

I wrote this in November and am posting it now so that was my procrastination ig

I've been sitting on this idea with no motivation to write it for probably two years so spare with me if it doesn't make sense or it's no good.

First time writing for tumblr and I haven't written outside of my notes app in a long time lol

[suzukiblu]

Day three of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Nothing even happened to him. Nobody touched him or anything, he just–he didn’t do anything he didn’t decide to do or want to do or–or–

He didn’t want Robin to yank his hair. Or to lie to him about the stupid condoms. 

. . . he didn’t really even wanna suck him off, really, but Robin had refused to settle for a handjob and, like, it wasn’t like they’d had the time to argue about it, so . . . so that’d been . . . 

Nobody touched him, though. Or, like–made him do . . . anything. He, like–it was his stupid idea to get Robin off and try to work on the puzzle with his TTK at the same time and, like . . . and . . . 

Tana’s nice to him. She likes him. She–and doesn’t Superman fucking know how few people have actually, like–have actually ever, like– 

People don’t just like him. Especially not–especially not just for being him. 

And definitely not enough to just be fucking nice to him. 

Robin sure as fuck wasn’t nice to him, drugged off his fucking rocker or not. Not like Tana is. So she’s not like that. He knows she’s not like that. She likes him. Just ‘cuz sometimes they have problems, that’s not–everybody’s relationship has problems! Who the hell’s relationship doesn’t have problems? Fuck, Superman is literally screwing Lois Lane behind her literal husband’s back and everyone in the whole goddamn world knows it except said husband, apparently, so like–so why does Superman get to judge who he messes around with? At least Tana’s not fucking married or whatever! 

She’ll take him back again, and he’ll be better, and he won’t disappoint her or piss her off anymore, and–and it’ll be better. It’ll work this time; work for good this time. 

She’s good to him. So he can–he can be good for her. He knows he can. 

He has to be, because she's–because she's the only one who ever even would be nice to him. 

And fucking Superman still won't even let go of his fucking arm. 

“Kid, just–please just talk to me,” Superman says. Superboy has literally never cared less about talking to anyone in his life. He pries apart the computer monitor and pulls all the fiddly little bits of it apart and strips the walls of all their gear in just–just a wave, and less an instant, all-over thing. Taking it apart piece by piece is–better. Just–better. 

He doesn't really know why he's thinking that, just . . . 

“We do need to talk, yes,” Batman says in that same bullshit neutral trap-voice, and Superboy doesn't even look at him; just twists the interior locking mechanisms of his stupid utility belt into a knot. Let the asshole have to cut it off later. He picks a bunch of random other locks in the cave and knots them up just as bad. A couple alarms go off. He really doesn't give a fuck. 

It's stupid. Something–something a kid would do. 

Well, they're the assholes trying to treat him like one, so that's on fucking them, isn't it. And they’re the assholes who aren’t actually talking to him, so why the fuck would he stick around to talk to them? It’s not talking, when all they’re goddamn doing is deciding they know more about his life than he does. He barely even sees Superman most of the time, and he definitely never sees fucking Batman. Neither of them know anything about HIS FUCKING LIFE! 

Superman doesn’t even bother remembering any of the shit he says to him anyway, apparently.

[tubbytarchia]

I think the reason the women of the life series get categorized as "the braincell" is because they are often better at surviving and being careful. Maybe you do have a point but they are also just less likely to die to stupidity than most other members.

For example in the impossible minecraft series all 3 of the women have far less deaths than the men. I think it's a pretty good visualisation, even if it's not from the life series itself. It's still the same people playing and making decisions.

(I wanna reiterate that I have nothing against just headcanoning siblings in a vacuum. For example I am partial to Nosy Neighbors headcanoned as siblings, because Pearl isn't usually put up on a "big sister" pedestal to take care of BigB, and I can absolutely see how their LimL dynamic could be interpreted as sibling-like)

Yes, they're absolutely competent, but why do they get the mother and big sister labelling because of that fact alone? Plenty of others, eg Scott and Grian, perform very well most times, but you don't see them being labelled dads. In fact, I have seen both of them be credited for other characters' success (which I disagree with but I digress) without any dad or big brother labelling. Eg in 3L Jimmy's and Scar's case, Scott and Grian respectively are often treated as the breadwinners, and I do wonder whether fandom's labelling would've been different if Jimmy and Scott weren't canonical husbands and Scarian wasn't as prominent of a ship

When it comes to the male characters, the dad label is applied to those who have been perceived as acting fatherly on the Life series or on HC, like Impulse. Whether or not you agree with that, what about the women makes them caretakers? Just because they're good at the game? Was Pearl taking care of the Mounders in a way that sets her apart from them? Is she a caretaker because she survived the longest? Is Lizzie the caretaker in WL because she's coupled with Jimmy and Scar who the fandom seems to believe need protection and are incompetent otherwise? Did that make her become a caretaker? Cleo I can understand somewhat on the surface level of them literally being a mom in LimL (same with Lizzie although I personally don't headcanon seablings outside of ESMP1)

Yes, the women perform better in general, so I can understand them being labelled the braincells to some degree, but again, it reads much more like trying to find less incriminating terms to put them into stereotypical motherly and sisterly caretaker roles, and I just don't see anything of the sort from the series to convey that such dynamics are present. When every other teamup expectation post I see labels only the women as competent and their teammates as being at their care, I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to take away from that. This stereotyping, especially when it takes prevalence over actual character, is very misogynistic, and, imo it's also misogynistic idolization applying such a stereotype because of competency when in many areas, Pearl for example, can't be described with the blanket terms of "sane" or "wise", let alone the "best" or "most competent", although she's certainly good at the game and very smart. I don't know if I'm alone in just not understanding what about any of the women outside of Cleo's caricature of a role in LimL convey motherly or sisterly characteristics, or in not perceiving them as the objective best players with the best mindsets etc (I don't see any player in that way)

[pastorfutureletthembe]

I love YINGDU as it is

I don't think I'll read these interviews everyone is talking about :/ I thought hard about it, I've read the general points of it, but I don't think reading them will make me enjoy YINGDU more. Quite the opposite actually.

Me: thank you but no thank you. Later maybe. Love you, still.

I don't understand why they had to get interviewed to clear things up. By why, I mean, this situation is fucked up and I don't get how things got like this in this industry.

First. Can't the fans just wait and see? We're grownups, stop treating us like children who cried to get a lollipop. We'll still be here next year. Trust your fanbase.

Second... in what kind of world were the animators under pressure to the point they created plot holes and new timelines by accident? I'm extrapolating but, for real, how fucked up is it that they decided to rush a show that popular for the sake of airing it early? I'm sorry, was the money we spend on merch every few weeks not enough? I'm just mad at the production, honestly. Because they made a big mistake.

They're rushing in like bulls in a china shop. The character PVs were a mistake as well. They should have been released after YINGDU, to manage our expectations on characters that were yet to be introduced. I used to think it was an actual teaser, a window on how Lu Guang saw them or what they will become because of Lu Guang's meddling with the timeline. Now, I'm starting to think they needed strong marketing to get people's attention.

The whole thing makes my viewer experience less than optimal. So I'll keep writing meta but I won't take these interviews into account. 🧩Meta is for fun🧩, mere interpretation, only fanon, and that's okay. Meta is gamble. Meta is character study and theories on plot twists.

✨And that's okay✨

We're not suppose to write season 3 in advance. So it makes sense to me to keep having fun on what the show and the official content bring us. But as far as I'm concerned, the interviews didn't happen. It's not denial, just-

When I was studying cinema in university, my teacher once told me a very harsh truth: if you have to explain the sequence you filmed, then you didn't film it right. Sadly, in this context, production limitations were at fault but the lasting impression is the same.

Do you realize how insane it is that a creative team has to spell their work out to their fans? How humiliating it must be? There's revealing easter egg, teasing next season, spilling spoilers on accident, and then there is whatever that was. I feel for the creators and animators who worked themselves to exhaustion to bring something as beautiful as YINGDU to life. Because this season? It isn't perfect and it's inconsistent and different but no one can call it ugly. I would lick my screen because the image does look tasty lmao. My heart bleeds for all the people involved in this season.

Meta is trying to understand and noticing easter eggs, honouring the writers and animators' work X

Of course, that's only my stand on the topic. I might take different directions in my interpretation than others, that's all. Aaaaaand? Yes. That's okay 🥰

As an artist myself, I feel like the situation is kind of disappointing for the people who worked on YINGDU. That's why I'll take the canon as it is. I don't want to mourn what could be or should have been. I want to enjoy what is.

Meta is diving in the depth of symbolism X

As a fan, I get that we're happy with every nugget of information on what's coming next. The lore in Link Click is still blurry and while I honestly want to believe it is an artistic choice and will stay under control, I can't help but fear it's the result of bad writing. But. What if it is? Meh, I'm still here, enjoying myself. Because I love this show as it is, I see the flaws and the beauty in it. I'll be there.

Meta is love and each of us expresses it differently X

[love-and-monsters]

intrigued by the concept of "harem manager", please tell me more!

Okay, so the idea comes about from looking at species that have harems in real life- specifically ones that have female mimics. The idea is that while an alpha male looks significantly different from females and will drive off other males from mating with them, a beta male looks much more similar to the females. They just kind of insert themselves into the harem and mate with the females (and sometimes the alpha males!) surreptitiously.

My thought was, as the species evolved and moved toward intelligence, it would be harder and harder for the beta males to actually trick the alpha males. As language and communication evolved, there would be a lot more social knowledge about who's in what group, and I just don't think it would be feasible for beta males to fly under the radar forever. Instead, these beta males would make themselves useful to the alpha to avoid getting kicked out.

In the way distant past, beta males would sort of appoint themselves as harem keepers. They would be the ones to make sure the ladies in the harem were taken care of, groomed, fed, and made comfortable. They would also sometimes act as spokesmen for their alpha, talking him up to entice other ladies into the harem. In return, they would be allowed to have children of their own, though typically less often than the alpha. This reproductive strategy ended up allowing alphas to have larger harems, maintain larger swathes of territory, and successfully raise more children, and allowed the beta males to live relatively protected lives with guaranteed children in the future.

In more modern society, beta males (known typically as gynomorphs) are appointed to larger harems as harem managers. Their role is pretty much the same as it was in the past- ensure the happiness and harmony of the harem. Sort out fights, ensure everyone is treated fairly, and make sure the ladies of the harem are kept comfortable. A harem manager often acts as something of a combo between a head servant (in wealthy families, it's his job to manage the servants who interact with the harem, in less wealthy families he might take on the role of a servant himself) and counselor. If any of the ladies in the harem have an issue, they're encouraged to go to him first, so see if he can sort it out.

The gender breakdown is about 60% female, 30% male, and 10% gynomorph, so not every harem has a manager. Gynomorphs as individuals tend to have a lot of individual social mobility (even someone born to a poor family will often live a generally good life, since wealthier people have larger harems and more often need a manager, so any halfway competent gynomorph will often get snapped up into one of these families) but they had no ability to socially move their families. In the specific society I've created, gynomorphs don't take on family names and just take the family name of whatever harem they manage, so they can't elevate family statuses.

Gynomorphs who don't have harems often struggle. They tend toward hospitality positions, since it's considered 'appropriate,' but most of those who take those positions tend to have harems and work on the side to make extra money for their families. The issue is that gynomorphs who don't have harems are seen as either incompetent (they screwed up their job bad enough to get fired, something that's hard to do unless you REALLY fucked up due to the relative rarity of gynomorphs) or deviant (they aren't in a harem so they don't want a harem position, which is typically seen as selfish at best or perverted at worst, if they're engaging in romantic relationships).

Whether or not gynomorphs and males of the same harem are related varies society by society. They often aren't, though it's not uncommon for cousins to be paired up as teenagers in wealthier families. Some societies consider it unusual but not worth remarking on if the gynomorph and male of a harem are siblings. Other societies consider it basically the same as incest.

I could talk more on the physical differences between gynomorphs and males, but I think this is long enough. People can ask if they want more details in that realm! Anyway, I'm just into the dynamics at play here. I think it's cool.

[sinnettini]

I mean no offense, but I think your problem is that you take everything too personally...

hi, well, you know... while i don't particularly appreciate you saying this to me on anon, i do agree

[uncanny-tranny]

The leftism/anticapitalism leaving people's bodies the zeptosecond you imply that disabled people who aren't "productive" still matter in society and need to be treated like intrinsic equals who have a place in this world:

[azathothweirdo]

I like, wish Western aoex fans would take some time and research about how religion is in Japan. Especially how christianity is viewed and practiced there. Because it's a very different thing both culturally and base level than how things go in the west. Shintoism and Buddhism is an incredibly big part of Japan's culture, but it's not in the same way as how Christianity and other western religions are for the USA or other countries.

I mean it's cool to see people want to do things, but I don't think they realize that it's going to be a very different interpretation. I personally don't even think Shiro raised the twins christian. There's nothing in canon other than they grew up in the monastery to imply it. It felt more to me they started the place to have a good cover for the twins than it actually being a legit thing.

Heck it even looked like Shiro took the boys to shrines for new years. That's kind of a important part of Japanese culture and a big tradition. I personally don't think a catholic priest raising two kids would be taking them to a Shinto Shrine to do the New Years tradition.

It's also funny whenever this comes up because no one mentions Yukio in this. It's always Rin lol

[spywhitney]

How I sleep knowing I'll never trust anyone that hates Sydney but worships Richie:

[sforzesco]

‘Is there a point to any of this or do you just want to see how much more I can take?’ snaps Crassus. ‘Oh, I knew there was still some bite left in you,’ says Cethegus, thrilled. Cethegus teaches Crassus the art of politics and the ways of business. Sulla is not a fan.

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

Crassus, Catilina, and the Vestal Virgins, Ronald Syme

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[isthereintruthnobeauty1968]

thinking about saavik again orz