#which are not going to fit here in the tags

[talisidekick]

Someone tagged this with the following and I actually want to talk about this:

This isn't the first response like this. I've had comments, asks, tags like this one, reblogs, and even comments on other platforms where this has spread to that bring up racism and xenophobia. Whether thats accusing me of being racist or hating immigrants (despite coming from a family if immigrants) or just pointing out, like this person did, the inherent xenophobic attitude the world has for my pharmacist to want to change his first name to an English sounding name. And it gets worse, I was given an English name at birth because my mother wanted me to "have a name that fit in". They weren't English, my last name was German, my great-grandmother who was a pillar in the family used German and Norweigan words mixed in her English that carried into my life and still does to this day. And because I wasn't "English", I still got picked on at school to the point I filtered out the german/norweigan in my vocabulary and learned to mimick accents to remove any germanic lilt I had in my speech.

Point being, I made this post recognizing the inherent xenophobia present. That's one of the reasons I told my pharmacist he didn't need to do that for my sake. I kind of suspected he wasn't just being kind. The way he said it had intent. The next time I saw him, nametag out, proud, it was touching to see the name I was given to protect me from xenophobia going to protect someone else, but also a bit bitter that I know part of the reason for wanting to find an English name was the pressure to blend in and sidestep a LOT of bullshit.

My name now is Germanic, my middle name Italian, my last name Ukrainian, and my nickname I use everywhere to make peoples lives easier is Talia or Tali <- To which I've learned "Tali" is a common short-hand/nickname or name for some in the middle-east (I didn't know, I just mashed up my middle name with my childhood nickname 'T' to get it so my friends would have an easier time transitioning over to my new name and it stuck. I just recently found out from a co-worker who just got back from a trip to the middle east and asked me about it). I'm no longer side-stepping the bullshit, I have noticed a difference in treatment. If people don't know me, and haven't seen me, like when it's over the phone or in email, it takes much longer and I have to be more precise with my wording. In fact, I've noticed it a bit when in person too. Next to my English named co-workers, I am treated by some like I know less and I'm scruitinized a bit more. Now obviously if I was a woman of colour and not off-white canvas, this would be 10-times worse in ways I'm not qualified or experienced to explain or get into. I'll leave that to someone WITH that kind of experience to get into.

I've never mentioned whether my pharmacist is a coloured man or not, and I never will. It's not that it "doesn't matter", every aspect of that man shapes his existence and experience of this life. I'm just not clarifying because the moment I do, I know some of you are going to solely focus on his race and miss the nuance of everything this post is about. It's about transgender positivity, discrimination, humour, and the kind-hearted actions of an incredible man in his journey of immigration. By leaving him faceless, every one of you brings something of yourself to this post. Be it simple joy, or further commentary.

The person who tagged this post is one of many who've accurately pointed out one underlying truth about this post. Not everyone is treated equally in society. This happened in Canada. Do you begin to understand the depths this post goes to with all that I've said here? With what you now know about me? Because I think some of you should now re-read the post again.

A while back my pharmacist saw my deadname on my profile and accidentially called it out, he corrected and deleted my deadname from the system so only my preferred name shows up now. There was a crowd of people behind me, so as he hands over the pills he apologized, in equal tone and volume as when he called my deadname and lied saying it's been a long day and he didn't mean to call out -his own- name. I quietly told him it was fine and he didn't need to do that for my sake.

His response: "No, it's my name now."

I went to the pharmacist yesterday, his nametag is my deadname. He informed me he's immigrating and in the process he's changed his first name to my deadname to have an English sounding name. That's why he's now able to get a reprint of his nametag to be my deadname. And repeated, with the intense seriousness of someone who is going to die on this hill: "It's mine now. Not yours. I'm taking." His tone indicated that decision is final.

Bro literally deadnamed me once, and has committed to flat out stealing my deadname. It's his now. Legally. Officially. I over heard his co-workers call him by the name.

[pricegouge]

shovel talk

it's not even six in the morning and yet the shovel grates across the walkway, grit of pebbles beneath its steel edge scraping and catching. it balks in unsteady hands, tries again with another drawn out rasp before meeting the wall of the bank. trembling as it rises, it spills a portion its spare load back across the pavers before being tipped meticulously atop the mountain of snow that runs parallel the walk. she lets the shovel fall carelessly ahead of her and grits her teeth, rises an inch and scoots forward minutely, dragging the cheap lawn chair she's been perched on along by a hand shoved between her knees, gripping the seat. it scrapes just as much as the shovel, heavy with implication. she's not even wearing a proper jacket, just a flannel over a zip up hoodie, the wool weave of her button up already beaded with melted snow.

she looks ornery and mulish, but so are you and you can't just keep walking past.

clear blue eyes turn on you when you call to her, ask if you can help. her hands might shake but her gaze is level, taking you in from head to toe before scooting herself along another inch. "shouldn't be doin' that," she advises, voice croaky in her old age.

"neither should you," you counter, nodding at her makeshift mobility aid. it teeters when she turns to chuckle at you, though she hides it in a cough. stubborn old bat, you can already tell.

"anyway my son will be here soon."

pursing your lips, you look the walk over properly. the poor woman's already done over half of it - how late is the son exactly? but you don't comment on it, step closer when her shovel catches on a shelf of ice instead. "give it here, please," you offer rather diplomatically. she frowns apprehensively but does as told, shuffling her seat back a smidge to give you room to work. it takes a couple tries but you catch the bottom edge of the ice, ply it back and huck it over the bank easily enough. it thunks as it sinks through the snow, a real ice breaker.

"and here i'd pegged you for some soft, sweet thing," she laughs, sheepish.

"must've loosened it for me," you shrug, and turn to finish the walk while she's distracted, laughing herself into a minor coughing fit. "should you go inside?" you offer, unsure if it's a good suggestion seeing as that would leave some strange woman alone on her front lawn.

thankfully she just waves you off as she calms herself down, heavy breaths clouding around her like the smoke that's probably catching up to her. "can't. gotta take credit for your work when my son gets here."

"oh, i see how it is," you snark, and purposefully leave a good quarter inch on the paver, a base level that will freeze solid soon enough and create another sheet of ice for her to struggle with in the future.

she just eyes you, thin eyebrow pulled low on a once-heavy brow. she may be old and frail but it's a sort of sternness that doesn't dull with age and you can only smile to yourself as you fix it. no wonder her son still comes by to help. "he running late?" you ask conversationally, nod up the path where she's already done most of the work by way of explanation when she hmm's at you.

"oh, no. he'll be two hours early, probably. which is why i'm out here three hours early. a woman's got to have her pride, after all."

you nod along as if that's reasonable. "well what's he gonna do when he gets here, then?"

"fix my water heater," she gripes. "say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

it earns an unladylike snort from you, but you don't think she's the type to mind. "'fraid not."

the stoop is easy enough, just a quick swipe to clean the steps. you note the name above the door with some interest, a misplaced desire to keep tags on her, come back and check maybe. "got any salt, mrs. price?"

she motions you toward the open garage behind her but sticks a hand out for help as you pass. her grip is surprisingly strong on your forearm, the fingers of her other hand digging into your tricep almost cruelly when she uses you to drag herself up. you snatch the lawn chair up before she can even try it, nod toward the garage questioningly.

"next to the overhead, please," she agrees, and you find the bucket of salt right beside it, an empty coffee can already filled and ready for dispensing. when you emerge from the garage, there's a truck parked out front.

"give me that," mrs. price hisses and you jump to find her so close, already snatching the can from your fingers. old bat can still move.

the driver's door creaks when it closes. you can only see the top of a blue beanie from over the roof of it but mrs. price doesn't wait to see him before hollering at her son. "i thought you wouldn't be here until nine!?"

tall and burly with his mother's same stern brow, price junior rounds the corner of his truck and frowns between the two of you."and i thought you didn't like when other people shoveled for you," he counters before tacking on a quick hi pet towards you.

"hi -."

"who's shoveled for me?" she demands, motioning up the walk with another spray of salt. "did this all on my own."

he hums as he comes closer, boots crunching over the thin dusting of snow that still coats the driveway. you sincerely hope mrs. price didn't shovel all that, but judging by the banks that line the drive you suspect a service was likely hired. why they couldn't take an extra two minutes to clear an old lady's walkway you'd never know. you think maybe the son is wondering the same, the way he's inspecting the short stretch critically, but when he opens his mouth it's not at all meant to insult the snow removal service. "you're losing your touch, woman."

you're unsure who's more offended, yourself or his mother. "what's wrong with it?" you blurt, unheeding of the way mrs. price elbows you again.

"i've done a fine job," she supplies, trying to save face.

he just tilts his head at her patronizingly, rocks up onto his toes to appear unnecessarily bigger. "you've forgotten we're expecting more snowfall soon. you'll want to widen the walk to push the banks back, make it easier to shovel out the next storm."

this ass. "well if you'd wanted it done right, you should have shown up on time," you huff, unreasonably defensive of the quick job you'd done.

he's still got that insufferable expression on when he turns to you, but you think you see an edge of something playful glimmering in his clear blue eyes, that same expression his mother had worn when she'd asked if you could perhaps also take his job fixing her water heater. "'on time' would be hours from now," he reminds you. "would you have had this all fixed by then?"

the worst part is, calling him out on the insult would mean admitting you'd done it, and you're suddenly very aligned with this man's mother re: his versus her pride. instead you turn his own words back on him, leaning close to your new friend to ask her if she's going to take that.

she chuckles. "oh, don't mind him. john here's just scared because he knows his job is at risk."

you watch john frown between the two of you, the furrow between his brows deepening in a way which brings you too much pleasure. part of you wants to stay, keep carving away at his pride, but you're now running late for work and you still have a few blocks to walk. "well, it was lovely to meet you, mrs. price," you say with an overly formal shake of her hand.

"pleasure doing business," she agrees with a wry smile. "see you again bright and early next snow storm."

john doesn't budge to let you pass, instead squints down at you in open assessment. you note his cheeks are rosy with the cold and you briefly hope he gets stuck outside fixing the damn walk, cold wind stinging the chapped apples of cheeks which his ridiculous beard doesn't quite cover. they scrunch up when he affects a smile, lend a sort of disarmingly childish quality to the patronizing tone he still can't quite drop. it just pisses you off even more. "didn't actually catch your name," he prompts, gloved hand extended, as if attempting to continue the ruse.

"that's because i didn't give it," you chirp in your best customer service voice. you brush past him when he can only blink in confusion, the contrast between your words and your tone evidently too much for him to process so early in the morning.

"she usually pays me with breakfast if you want to stick around!" he calls after you, far too late to start acting sweet.

you nearly slip in your haste to spin around and fix him with an overly saccharine smile. "oh, i already ate. got here at five," you lie, just to watch his face crumble into genuine concern.

behind him, his mother's thin mouth twists into a cheshire grin and you stumble away before she can solidify any real plans.

too bad she's just as stubborn and ornery as you.

too bad john's worse than both of you.

[mikibwrites]

Fuck it Friday

It's 4:13AM and I just wrote a scene in a wip I haven't touched in over a year, so that's something! Here's a gift for those who continuously tag me every week in wip games, you don't know how much I appreciate you, even when I'm having such horrible writer's block. This is from my TrueBlood AU, in which I am attempting to rewrite each episode of LS, except it takes place in the TB universe. It's slow going bc of the changes I have to make BUT it still lives in my head all the time. So here's something a little sad and angsty, but maybe hopeful? This is from 1x08, so you have context, but obviously things are different ;) It's a long one, too. An entire scene, 1k! So there's more under the cut :)

Hours later, his father had gone home exasperated and TK couldn’t find it in himself to care. The sweet nurse was back. This time, for some reason, he clocked her name badge: Traci. 

Traci didn’t pay him any mind as she grabbed the chart off the end of Carlos’ bed, checked his heart rate, oxygen saturation, all the monitors and lines connected to his body. She pulled out a penlight and carefully, so very gently, raised his eyelids to shine the beam into his pupils. TK knew she’d find no reaction, but he also knew it was another thing to check off a list, just in case. 

Traci went through the entire checklist in silence, not acknowledging TK at all, which was odd. She usually had a kind smile for him, even if it reminded him of his father’s—a little exasperated. But this time she ignored him entirely as she went about her duties. He wondered if he’d annoyed her enough that her kind demeanor—her customer service face, he almost snorted to himself—had fallen by the wayside when he was the only one present in the room. He’d become furniture, which was fitting, since he felt like he’d solidified in place. He hadn’t moved a single muscle in hours, not even needing to breathe to put on a good show for anyone. 

Finally, Traci hooked the chart back on the end of the bed, but instead of leaving the room without a word as TK expected her to do, she turned and looked right at him.

For a moment, her eyes were hard, determined, but it seemed like this sweet woman was incapable of harshness because they softened after only a moment, looking at him with something like pity. It didn’t even raise his hackles like it normally would. He had no strength left to care what she thought of him.

“Listen,” she began softly, still standing a few feet away from. “I don’t know much about vampire health, but I do know about the bleeds. You need to sleep soon, or feed, or you’ll die.”

“I’m already dead,” was TK’s rote answer. She sighed, and he could tell she was slightly annoyed at him but didn’t want to show it. 

“I can bring you a bag from the—”

“No.” He almost winced at his harsh tone, his nature creeping out of him a bit, snarling. 

She didn’t question why he wouldn’t take a blood bag from their supply, just moved on. He was oddly thankful amidst his melancholy. 

“Then let me find you a light-tight room for a couple of hours. Please, you need to rest. Do you think, when he wakes up, he’ll want to see you like this? Not taking care of yourself?” TK could applaud her tactic, appealing to his very obvious care for the man in the hospital bed, but he had an answer for that too. 

“To be honest, he probably won’t want to see me anyway. It’s not like we’re anything serious.”

She raised a very skeptical eyebrow at him. He couldn’t blame her. He was purposefully slowly killing himself holding vigil for a man he’d pushed away at every slight show of something deeper between them. He probably should have taken this as a sign from the universe that he should cut ties with Carlos for good, that being around TK wasn’t safe for him. The worst part was, what happened had nothing to do with the supernatural at all; it was just Carlos’ job and it’s random, merciless dangers that landed them here. But TK couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a sign from the universe anyway. 

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word on that. Please, let me find you somewhere to rest, and you can come back in a couple of hours.” Her face was all sympathy, almost pleading.

“Why do you care what happens to me, anyway?” I’m a monster from your nightmares, he doesn���t say out loud, a qualifier that isn’t needed but true all the same. 

“I’m a nurse. Caring about people is in the job description,” she says with a casual shrug. 

“I’m not people.” It’s a true statement, full stop.

“See, I don’t believe that. I think everyone, good or bad, living or dead, has a right to health and happiness. And right now, I care about his health and your health and also my own sanity, so I can’t watch this anymore without doing something about it. Also, I’m pretty sure I could take you right now, in the state you’re in, so don’t try me again. I’ll be back in a moment.”

With that, she breezed out of the room and TK was left floundering. She was right, though; she could probably bully him into any position she chose right now, given how much his body had deteriorated without rest or blood. He felt like he’d melt into the floor soon. 

When she returned less than ten minutes later, she practically did just that. She threw a heavy blanket over him and grabbed his wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. “Can you stand?”

“Maybe,” he said honestly. 

He let her help him from the chair, unsteady on his feet and leaning on her more than he would like to admit. 

“There’s no windows between here and where we’re going, but I brought the blanket just in case. Come on, we’re even staying on this floor. But if you sass me one more time, I’m putting you down in the morgue.”

That almost startled a laugh out of him, more an exhalation of air than anything else. 

The room she brought him to had two small cots and a row of five lockers. A break room of sorts. What he really needed was to go to ground, an enclosed space near the surface of the earth would rest him properly, but if this was the best he was getting it was more than he deserved. She didn’t turn the light on when they entered, which he was grateful for. The harsh lights of the hospital were already getting to him, another thing he didn’t want to admit, but she seemed to instinctively know how to handle his needs in the moment. 

She guided him over to a cot and helped him sit. He was nearly instantly horizontal, like a felled tree, but he was grateful when his head hit a pillow and not something hard like the cot’s frame. He lost track of the passage of time while she tucked him in like a sweet mother, taking care with him like he was someone worth caring about. Like he was human. 

“Sleep, and I promise I’ll come wake you myself if there are any changes, okay?”

He looked at her wryly with all the strength he had left, his body already drifting into a state of altered consciousness. “You’d wake a sleeping vampire? You have a death wish?”

She scoffed at him with a smirk. “Did we not just establish that I could totally take you?”

He wanted to laugh at her, wanted to come back with something snarky but also menacing, but he was already out.

Tagging some Tarlos mutuals @herefortarlos @guardian-angle22 @bonheur-cafe @carlos-tk @paperstorm @basilsunrise @rmd-writes @lemonlyman-dotcom @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @firstprince-history-huh and also specifically thanking @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses and @strandnreyes for tagging me in other wip games :)

[nemainofthewater]

Part 2 of tag propaganda under the cut

Other

#li lun from fangs of fortune to me#polls by @baek1nho

#voted other#i nominate zhang qiling from dmbj#he has a huge plot-relevant tattoo and he CAN and WILL lose his hoodie to show it off#at any given opportunity#never heard of a t-shirt#he's running around in a hoodie for convenient ripping-off#dmbj by @fixaidea

#if we're talking about tits out attitude (not necessarily full shirt off) then hei xiazi from dmbj by @blackines

#大梦归离#fangs of fortune#zhao yuanzhou#li lun#hou minghao#yanan#i know coming from me who made a whole post about ZYZ's slutty demon nightwear but i gotta give this to li lun when talking about fangs#cdrama#poll by @unfriendlycoelacanth

#I only know 2 of these and they’re skinny dudes with nothing to write home about#so I also choose this guys slutty emporor#the possibility of a show was always there which fits the definition better imo#polls#cdrama by @auroramagpie

#i was going to say#how the heck is mo ran not an option???#he is the tits out guy by @retronation

#polls#dmbj#hei xiazi#he's basically horny raccoon furry art is all i'm saying by @foxofninetales

#i had been scrolling down waiting for hei xiazi to pop up here#thank you for the contribution because HE IS THE ONLY ONE FOR ME by @chancellorxofxtrash

#god bless the costume department and the neckline that progressed southwards throughout the series#and also god bless chen chuhe's tits#dmbj#hei xiazi by @psychic-waffles

#His neckline was afraid of his sunglasses and crept further and further down every scene#his cleavage was visible from areal shots#dmbj#hei xiazi by @epicwalrus

#yay someone added hei xiazi!#I was surprised not to see him as an option#and then chose xiaoge myself because he IS topless more often#but maybe I can still change my vote?#because while zhang qiling is topless more often he isn't really doing it for the Aesthetic#(the drama might be doing it for that reason but I don't think he himself as a character is)#meanwhile xiazi is absolutely doing it for the Aesthetic#so I'd like to change my in-the-tags vote to hei xiazi after all#polls by @rainvillage-trio

#Hei Xiazi in Reunion/TLTR by @lei-nuo

#the one true choice: hei xiazi by @secretproblemsihave

#gong shangjue#my journey to you#bath scene#cheng lei#cdrama#bts by @notacatdown

#XIAZI <3 by @patronsaintofdemons

Whether full shirt off or with a cleavage low enough to tantalise, these characters are causing nosebleeds right, left, and centre

Write-ins, propaganda, and images are welcome!

ÉDIT - that moment when you see the typo in the poll options just after posting but you can’t edit a poll 😭

[runawaymun]

Heads Up Seven Up

I was tagged by @that-angry-noldo to share the last seven lines I wrote in my WIP! Thank you for the summons!

From To Partake:

He had let his anger get the better of him. He realizes that now, like a cold shock to his spine, here in the dark alone. He had overreacted. That is why he is so angry. He is not angry at Elrond, not really. Ereinion is angry with himself.  He does not know how he will be able to stand facing Elrond tomorrow.

And from Beneath a Boundless Sky

He meant to broach the idea to Istiel, so she could put the question to her people. To our people, Elrond fiercely reminded himself.  My people.  Sometimes he wondered if it had been a mistake to refuse to take on any mantle of formal leadership for the remnants of Doriath. He only had not wished to tempt them to name him king — a title Elrond neither wanted nor felt that he deserved — with his Ñoldorin braids and his Fëanorian accent and his ignorance to his own childhood customs. He knew that it was hardly his fault, but there had been plenty of others who were better qualified than he was to lead the Doriathrim. Istiel had been their second choice, and Elrond’s first. 

I think most people have already played by now, but just in case I am tagging @raointean @thesolarangel and @greyjedijaneite and whomever else has not played yet but would like to!

[aurieeeeeenyx]

oh yeah also jayvik are extremely orpheus and eurydice coded i don't make the rules

[velvetwyrme]

Forgive me i do not know much about jazzprowl,,, who are pterrorgal20 and bugboi 😔😔😔

(Is pterrorgal Prowl’s pterodactyl Green?? But then who is bugboi…. I am not sure 😔)

yes!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ur spot on for both 🥹!!! ahrdjfkkengkebgkebfk,,

Green (Prowls pterodactyl/pet flyt) -> pterrorgal20 (Felicity Greene)

Bob (Sunstreakers insecticon) -> bugboi (Bob)

completely useless detail but i did reference/colourdrop this panel specifically LMAO

if u look closely theres also. one more person i hinted at, whos name i was even less subtle with but the placement i WAS subtle with so ill just say outright:

Buster (Thundercracker's dog) is also there EHTJFHRKFJ and she has a silly pic of TC as her pfp LMAO,,

also ur so so valid agrjflfbdkdbfkf,,, im being incredibly biased and self indulgent so it is. a particular niche for sure LMAO. im glad you're enjoying it regardless though :]c!!!

[daeyumi]

Hero 💠💎🗡️

[Linktober 2022 Day 17: Link]

[tagarilaghost]

This is exactly how I remember Darkrai's fight at Dark Crater in PMD: Explorers.

(Bless the Snapcube fan-dub)

[misscammiedawn]

Megatron, Soundwave and Shockwave are a stable polycule centered around Megatron's cruelty and ego. It balances. It works.

Then this god damn nerd called Starscream manages to join the polycule and everything goes to hell.

What I'm saying is that this is the plot of Mean Girls and Megatron is Regina George.

[imerian]

My (very old) loscar brooch (?) that i just now made doodles for

More pictures under cut

[marvey-sideblog]

Law firm Specter Ross represent gay club in Seattle

[wundrousarts]

Something I’ve noticed for awhile is that I often get comments from people about how they are surprised how I always come up with theories and try to guess what might happen and they “could never do that” themselves. I want to say: yes you can! There’s honestly a shortage of Nevermoor theories and ideas and speculation and etc and I want to see MORE!!!

Want to talk about how Morrigan’s mom is actually secretly alive? How the Scholar Mistresses are a Wundrous Act? Do you think the Tempus Divinity looks like an owl, or do you think Weaving and Ruination would be met together? Or have you ever thought about how this one line, from Chapter 19 of Nevermoor, about Betram Crow actually means he was a Cursed Child? Whatever it is you want to talk about: GO FOR IT!!!

I personally find it very fun to go sort of “English class mode” and look at the text in front of me and think about what different things might mean and analyze it and even overthink it to an unnecessary (but fun!) amount. But that’s just me and how I like to approach things! You don’t need to make long posts and quote specific lines if that isn’t your style. The big thing to remember is that so much can happen in the next six books, so throw any idea out there! You never know what twists and turns will be thrown at us. I think it’s fun to share these ideas and discuss with other people— sure, maybe there’s just something you missed when reading, but perhaps some new ideas spawn might from it. Some speculation could even serve as inspiration for fics!

There are some theories and thoughts that I’ve posted that have been “debunked” when I reread a book, or when someone pointed out something, or even just when something had a real-world basis that I as an American didn’t catch. But it was still fun to think about it all, and there’s some bits and pieces that I see as notable and worth considering. I think most of the Silverborn Masterpost is going to be “wrong”, but if just 1% of it is “correct”, even indirectly, I will take that as a win. I know it feels like during the hiatus everyone’s talked about everything, but I hope that the incoming communal reread (fingers crossed) and obviously Silverborn brings some speculation back to the fandom because I want to discusssssss!

[iridescentis]

i have more song related wild life mental illness to offer this evening it seems

i have less evidence for this but trust me on this one. daffodil by florence and the machine is so wl treebark and i am so Normal about it trust

it feels like ren's reaction to martyn's death and martyn as a zombie and im gonna be sick because of Them oughhhh

[spookygibberish]

Made a faintly insane list of of every animated movie I have good enough memories of to feel confident ranking, although some of them I would probably move around if I saw them more recently....

[certifiedcoffeeaddict]

hey