#which is. admittedly. a very high goal

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[girlgenius1111]

might just love you 'til the end

post... that match. a bit of angst, mostly fluff. alexia is not pleased after her performance against chelsea. you aren't quite sure what she needs from you. you decide to give her space, but that isn't really what she needs. alexia tells you... eventually.

-------

It was a long day, a tiring and difficult match, and Alexia probably would have resorted to one of her coping mechanisms, if she hadn’t missed that last shot on goal. It seemed to take something out of her, and even from your place sitting on the bench, you could see how angry she was acting. Underneath that, though, you could tell that she was really just disappointed in herself. 

Watching her blink back tears as she made her way around the pitch was almost too much for you. You wanted nothing more than to grab her hand, pull her into the tunnel, and hug her until she wasn’t sad anymore. You knew better than to try to comfort her now, though. Alexia hated nothing more than seeming weak, especially in front of the team. Anything she needed or wanted from you would have to wait until you both got home. And even then, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sometimes she’d just shut down after a bad game, go to sleep, and wake up with a new passion the next morning. Sometimes she’d shut down, but her fury at herself would linger for days. Very rarely did she talk about it. Only when she really reached her breaking point, which was admittedly a lot harder to reach than other people’s were, would she let you make her feel better.  

It wasn’t necessarily a healthy array of options that she normally went with, but you couldn’t argue that it didn’t work. It worked for Alexia, and that was what was important. Even if giving her space until she asked for something else hurt, you knew it was what she needed. 

She acted pretty much how you expected her to as you both made your way into the locker room and headed for the showers. The blonde gave you nothing more than a high five and a weak smile, before she launched herself into her post match routine. You did the same, icing various parts of your body that hurt after a rather physical game. You kept your eyes on your girlfriend, though, watching the hollow way she brushed through her hair and the mechanical way she laced up her shoes. You were done before her, sitting in your locker looking at your phone, trying to figure out how bad the social media situation was going to be for her, when her white nikes appeared in front of you. You looked up at her with a smile, though it fell slightly when you took in the completely emotionless look on her face. She’d shut down, then, like you’d expected her to. You knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it easier that she wouldn’t let you help.

“¿Lista?” She asked roughly, not meeting your eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” You replied, getting to your feet, grabbing your bag, and giving Mapi a reassuring look from where she sat waiting for Ingrid to be ready to go. You knew your girlfriend’s best friend worried about her, and that she had tried to talk to her after the match, but it hadn’t really gone anywhere. You were surprised when, as soon as you were out of the locker room and had walked a ways down the hall, Alexia dropped her bag to the ground and pulled you into a tight hug. 

You returned the hug, sighing into her shoulder, feeling her bury her face in your slightly damp hair. The hug was for you, you could tell. To make you feel better, even when Alexia wouldn’t allow you to do anything to make her feel better. She held herself a bit tensely, and when she pulled away, her eyes searched yours, her worry clear on her face. 

“Te amo,” she whispered, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “I am proud of you, always.” 

“I love you, Ale,” you replied, a thousand more words on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to tell her you were proud of her, too, that it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t need to deal with today all by herself, but you knew she wouldn’t accept it right now. Instead, you grabbed her hand in yours and squeezed tightly. 

The captain kept her hand in yours as you both walked to her car, and though you expected her to pull away from the contact, you were glad that she was letting herself have something to make herself feel better. The car ride home was silent, and you predicted the rest of the night to be the same.

------

You knew to let Alexia deal with it how she dealt with it, but you did put your foot down on a couple things. When she headed right for the couch, going to put the match replay on the TV and take notes, you shook your head, taking the remote out of her hand. 

“Not tonight. It won’t make you feel better.” 

“I have to watch,” she argued, but you cut her off. 

“You can watch tomorrow. Tonight we are going to watch a movie, order dinner, and go to bed early.” 

“Amor,” Alexia sighed, her brow furrowed, no doubt thinking about how she could convince you to let her do this. 

You switched tactics, knowing there was one sure way to get your girlfriend to agree with you. “Please? For me? I don’t want to watch that again right now.” 

The blonde softened, nodding her head at you. Satisfied, you flopped down on the couch next to her, grabbing her arm and draping it over your shoulder. 

Alexia smiled despite herself, leaving a soft kiss on the top of your head. She was still practically silent as you picked out a movie, but she pulled you close to her, slipping her hand up the front of your shirt and  running her thumb back and forth across your skin. 

Even if she was only letting this happen because she thought she was comforting you, it was still better than nothing. Better than the rare occasions that she’d sleep on the couch, almost as a punishment for herself when she didn’t perform the way she thought she should’ve. The blonde had gotten better since getting together with you, mostly because you pointed out the inconsistencies in how she treated you after a rough game, and how she treated herself. Some rough days sent her spiraling back to her bad habits, though, and you were glad you could pull her away from those, at least for today.

-------

“Cariño,” Alexia whispered, jostling you slightly. “Let’s go to bed, vale?” 

“Hmm?” You mumbled, barely opening your eyes. “‘M not asleep.” 

“Oh, sure. You are just watching the movie with your eyes closed?” 

“Sí,” you sighed, turning against her slightly until your head was laid on her chest. It vibrated under you as she laughed, and the sound woke you a bit more, glad to hear something even remotely joyful come out of your girlfriend’s mouth. 

“Venga, amor, it is time for bed.” She insisted, gently sitting up and easing you into an upright position. You pouted at her, wishing the smile on her face would reach her eyes. When it didn’t, you rose from the couch, grabbing Alexia’s hand, and pulling her towards the bedroom. 

You both made quick work of your nighttime routines, and you were glad to slide into the bed, undeniably exhausted from the physically and emotionally draining day. Alexia slipped in next to you, though she didn’t really get comfortable; she remained halfway sat up, staring at the ceiling above her. You tucked yourself into her side, burrowing under the covers until you were surrounded by soft fabric and Alexia’s sweatshirt. She seemed wide awake, and you laced your fingers with her, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the back. 

“Sleep, baby. You need rest. Everything will feel better in the morning.” Alexia nodded mechanically, giving you a half smile that you didn’t buy for a second, before her eyes fluttered shut. “I love you. You’re my favorite person.” You whispered. 

She opened her eyes again at your words, softening slightly. She turned on her side and pulled you into her chest, wrapping you up tightly in her arms. “Te amo, mi niña, eres perfecta.” She whispered. 

-------

You fell asleep easily. Alexia, evidently, had not. You realized this when you rolled over in the middle of the night, seeking out your girlfriend to curl up against, and only felt cold sheets next to you. 

It woke you up, and you opened your eyes, in your sleepy haze worried Alexia had gotten sick or something. You looked around the room, and towards the bathroom, but no lights were on. You sat up in the bed, forcing yourself to wake up more. Once you had thought about it for a minute, you had a sneaking suspicion about where your girlfriend had disappeared to in the middle of the night. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, checking Alexia’s location, and sure enough, her little profile picture was at a park a few blocks away. It had a football pitch, and Alexia sometimes slipped away there when she wanted to clear her head, but not deal with seeing people she knew at the Barça training ground. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, even though you had half a mind to call Ale’s mom and get Eli to deal with her, knowing she could scold her daughter much more effectively than you could. It was the middle of the night, though, and you knew that Alexia may need a softer approach. You weren’t really sure what headspace she’d be in when you found her, and it was at this thought that you began to move faster, pulling on joggers and a shirt, and rushing down the stairs. You could visualize what she’d be doing, taking shot after shot on goal, but you couldn’t figure out how she’d be acting. Upset, or sad, or angry, or still completely blank. You grabbed your car keys, not really wanting to waste a second longer than possible by walking to where Alexia was, although it wasn’t far. 

It only took a few minutes to arrive, and you pulled into the parking lot with your attention completely fixed on the figure across the park, running down the pitch with a ball at her feet. As you got closer, you took in how exhausted Alexia looked, as if she’d been at this for hours.

“Ale?” You called, finally arriving at the pitch and trying to get your girlfriend’s attention from the sidelines. She didn’t look over at you, too caught up in her own thoughts, trying to angle her shot in just right. 

You moved closer, and finally she saw you, just out of the corner of her eye. She stopped what she was doing, turning to face you. “Amor?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her question. “Really? You’re asking me what I’m doing here?” Your girlfriend had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “It’s the middle of the night, Alexia. What are you doing?”

“I could not fall asleep.” Alexia told you, walking over to you, her ball abandoned behind her. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You asked, brushing a few pieces of flyaway hair off her forehead. She melted into your touch, her body slouching down towards you, giving you even more of an idea of how exhausted she was. 

“I wanted you to rest.” She said quietly, and it was a perfectly believable explanation, but for some reason you had a feeling that there was more to it than that. You fixed her with a look, raising one eyebrow. The blonde sighed again, grabbing your hand in hers. “Can we go home?” 

“Only if you promise to talk to me when we get there. Otherwise I’ll make you stand in goal while I shoot.” You teased, happy to see a small smile on your girlfriend’s completely drained face. 

“Promise.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze as you both began to walk towards the park exit. 

-------

You sent Alexia to shower upon arriving home, sitting on the couch until she was done, absolutely sure that if you got back in bed, you’d instantly fall back asleep. Alexia very timidly walked out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, all bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants even though it was rather warm out. 

Alexia looked weirdly nervous as she sat down next to you, her eyes everywhere but on yours. She reached for your hand very hesitantly, relaxing slightly when you intertwined your fingers with hers easily. 

“What’s wrong, Ale?” You asked. 

“I am sorry about today. Really sorry, amor.” 

You opened your mouth, prepared to tell her that you forgave her for sneaking away in the middle of the night instead of waking you up, but you stopped when you looked at her closer, and found tears in her eyes. Something about the way she’d phrased it, too, that she was sorry about ‘today,’ didn’t sit right with you. 

“What are you sorry about?” You asked, frowning when Alexia chewed on her lower lip instead of answering. 

“I disappointed you today.” She said finally. 

“Alexia,” you rushed to contradict her, but she cut you off. 

“No, I know I did. I am sorry, I will do better, mi amor, I promise.” 

“Love, you did not disappoint me.” You insisted, cradling your girlfriend’s cheek and wiping away a stray tear. She shrugged, like she didn’t believe you. “You could never disappoint me, Alexia, especially not by missing a shot. Why do you think that?” 

Her eyes flicked up to yours, finding only sincerity there, as she took a deep breath, and spoke. “I told you I was proud of you.” Alexia mumbled, her cheeks flushing. “You did not say it back. And you normally give me a hug after matches in the locker room, but you did not, not until I hugged you.” 

You were sure you felt your heart crack in two. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” You said, reaching to pull her into a hug. She shrugged out of your grasp, though, and you were furious with yourself in that moment. 

“You do not need to be sorry, I understand.” She said, albeit rather miserably, looking so angry and upset with herself, when she really should have been directing that at you. 

“No, Alexia, look at me.” You insisted, gently tilting her head to look at you. She was barely holding back tears, her lip wavering sadly. “Oh, my love. I didn’t say it back because I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. You never listen after rough games, I was trying to let you have your feelings for the night, and then try to make you feel better tomorrow. I didn’t think you’d want comfort, Alexia, not today. I am so proud of you, Alexia. Every day, I am proud of you, especially today. You did everything you could do, I know that. It just wasn’t our day. Estoy tan orgullosa de ti.” You emphasized. 

Alexia nodded slowly, but you could tell she didn’t fully believe you. 

“Would you ever be disappointed with me for missing a shot?” You asked, slightly amused when the blonde whipped her head up to look at you, a frown set on her features. 

“No. Never.” Alexia said quickly, appalled at even the idea.

You smiled at her sadly. “Can you not imagine that I feel the same way about you, Ale? That I love you just as much as you love me? 

Your girlfriend swallowed roughly, reaching to pull you into her lap, and into a hug. You let her manhandle you the way she wanted, wrapping your arms around her and kissing the side of her head repeatedly once she grabbed on to you. 

“It is hard to believe sometimes. It is… too good to be true. That you love me like I love you. I do not always feel like I deserve it. Especially when I am grumpy all day after we lose, and I sneak out of our bed, and make you come find me in the middle of the night.” Alexia said, her voice dripping with insecurity. 

You pulled back just slightly, pressing your forehead to Alexia’s, threading your fingers through her hair. “You always deserve it. Always, Alexia. And I would get out of bed in the middle of the night to come find you every day if you needed me too. I’d get on a plane in the middle of the night and fly halfway across the world to find you, if that’s what you needed.” You whispered, leaning forward to press your lips to Alexia’s. 

She kissed you back, hard, trying to tell you how much everything you’d said meant to her. 

“I’d rather not, but I’d do it.” You mumbled against her mouth, feeling her smile against your own lips. 

“Okay.” She said finally, and it was clear to you that she believed you a bit more now, and that she’d believe you even more tomorrow. “I will keep my fleeing of the country to a minimum.” 

You laughed. “Good. Because I want to go to bed.” 

Alexia nodded enthusiastically, rising up off the couch with you held securely in her arms. “Me too.” 

She carried you towards the bedroom, already physically more relaxed than she’d been all day. 

“If you set an alarm for the morning, I will make you sleep at the park tomorrow night.” You told her, letting out a rather undignified squeak when she gently threw you down on the bed. 

She smiled at you mischievously, her bad day completely forgotten. How could she think about her performance when you were so perfect, and so pretty, and she was so tired.

“No alarm.” She promised, turning her light off and collapsing onto the bed next to you. It had been a mistake, not waking you up before. Because when you pulled her into you and began to scratch lightly at her back, she went completely limp, and she knew you were all she needed to fall asleep. Alexia didn’t need to practice her shots until her legs were numb. She just needed to lay her head on your chest and hear your heartbeat in her ear, and she’d remember that everything would be okay. 

------

hope you enjoyed :)

[cuppajj]

You know, I just really, really want to say this. You are an exceptionally talented artist. I was genuinely surprised when you answered that one ask a while ago, saying you're self-taught. Because I truly, legitimately believed you were an art student or something lol. I'm honestly blown away by the fact that you're self-taught. That you figured all of this out all by yourself. Both your Cookie Run stuff and your original work. You should be proud, because I know it must've taken you a lot of time and hard work to get to where you are today. I both admire you greatly and envy you terribly (the latter stings a little to say, but it's true haha). I wish I could do what you can. You make it all look so easy... I wish I could say I'm your equal, but I'm far from it and I'm not sure how long it'll take for me to get there, or if I'll ever get there at all. But seeing what you're able to accomplish now is really rather inspiring. If you can do it, then maybe I can, too. Someday. Somehow. If only it could be today, though haha

Sorry if I sound weird or mushy, I've actually wanted to say this to you for a while now. I sincerely hope you find pride and joy in your art because you deserve to. Your drawings, your animations, even your writing. You're a jack of all trades haha. You're a very talented, creative, fun and hardworking person. And I wish you all the joy and success in the world, all the time. You've got something really great going here, keep it up for as long as you're able and willing to

Aww Merchant, that’s so sweet of you!!

I don’t often think of how far I’ve come mostly all by myself, let alone the message it can carry.. admittedly one of my biggest artist flaws is acknowledging my accomplishments haha, so this message really means a lot!

If I could give any advice for you:

Believe me when I felt like my art style was stagnating for the longest time, but I’ve come to learn that in just four years I’ve gone from having okay-but-mid art to making some pieces that impress the worst critic in myself!! And really the only thing that changed was my mindset. I stopped wanting to make high quality stuff every time and instead focused on the gradual grind. Commitment is what makes or breaks an artist.

And sadly, art is not easy. You’re going to hate how your art looks. You’re going to be envious of other artists. You’re going to compare yourself. I was like that once, still have those moments today. But the secret to truly feeling like your art is yours is to acknowledge that you’re constantly improving. Don’t call yourself an equal (or a superior or inferior) to anyone, because that implies there’s an established objective tier of artists with you below people you’re inspired by. Every artist has their own flow, their own starting point, their own ways of growing, which makes comparison unfair and more unhealthy than you think!

I’ve seen your redraw of Pepper Jack and Celestial Cheese, and your art has changed a lot within a year for the better. I think that’s a sign! The only difference between you and me is I started before you. But, that’s neither a right or a wrong thing, just a fact that has no effect on you.

I think the only goal an artist should have is learning to appreciate the art they make. I’m still reaching for that myself, and someday you’ll get there if you try! Just be less hard on yourself. Acknowledge where you are and where you were. And most importantly, keep at it! You might be surprised how much can change in another year

[fligniuz]

misbehaving

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ your plan to piss off your cute tutor backfires in the best way possible.

part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; unprotected (PLS practice safe sex); jealousy; brat taming; choking; some painplay; undernegotiated scene (all consensual!!)

notes : i could NOT find a cute little picture that fit for this one i’m sorry💔

You’ve been bad.

Which is weird to say, because you aren’t doing anything particularly naughty, or morally dubious, or criminal, for that matter. You’re doing homework. Math homework.

And what’s so bad about math homework?

Well, it would be different if you were working alone, or maybe with a friend of yours. It would be different if you weren’t in the library with a boy from your math class, who you proposed doing said homework with not even an hour ago. You don’t know this boy. Not well, anyway. His math skills are…mediocre at best, and the same could be said for just about every other aspect of him. His name is something simple, unremarkable—starts with a J, you think—and you don’t care to relearn it, because this boy is simply a decoy, a prop in your plan.

Right. Your plan.

You have a bit of a problem lately: your tutor, Luigi, has been quite busy with something. You have no idea what. You never do, because he doesn’t like to talk about himself, but you know that something has been keeping his time occupied because you haven’t seen him in a few weeks and when he does respond to your texts, he’s apologetic but short, dry, unengaged. It's driving you mad. You’re bored. He’s probably tinkering with computers or doing whatever it is people do in fraternities and you’re bored out of your mind, having to fend for yourself in mathematical and sexual proclivities. It’s not just your raging attraction to him that makes this problematic for you; in fact, if he weren’t so damn busy, you’d probably be doing your homework with him instead. But he is, so here you are, armed with your decoy and one goal only: to make your crush tutor jealous.

Does he even care enough about you to respond to petty tricks like this?

He had tried to talk to you before you made it to the library, and you had admittedly forgotten about your response. Looking at your drawn-out and seemingly unproductive conversation makes your skin feel hot, now:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Where you at

library

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : What doing?

hw

with [REDACTED] from math

There are two new messages from Luigi, ones you haven’t seen, sent about forty minutes ago while you were knee deep in your studies:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : What

Who???

One question mark would be plenty worth an eyebrow raise, but three implies something much stronger, something tinged with what may very well be actual anger. You can’t decide if you think that’s a good or bad thing.

Your decoy is packing his things beside you, your work finished for the day. Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest, like this library is only big enough for the two of you to crowd inside; the uncertainty of trying to push Luigi’s buttons makes you feel claustrophobic, and so, so wrong, but you’re chasing the high as you stand up to grab your backpack and thank Mr. J or whatever his name is for his help. It’s not very sincere—you know that at least a few of your answers are definitely wrong. The price you pay for dick.

Hugging your cardigan to you, you make your way off campus and start the walk to your apartment. The night is bustling with activity, as to be expected in a college town, but aside from your fluttering heart you have no fear, no back-burner thoughts of drunk dudes cornering you or shifty old guys trying to offer you a ride home. All you can think of is what Luigi is planning on doing about your disrespect.

Inside your dorm complex it’s much warmer. The elevator ride up to your floor is silent, aside from the sound of your own exhales. Tension builds in you and wraps up like a ball of rubber bands, threatening to snap, pull you apart. You’ve never seen Luigi mad before. You almost wonder if he has it in him; but that thought doesn’t last for long, because it’s quickly shot down by the rush of memories you have of him, active, protective, quick on his feet. Not violent in the slightest, but you imagine that he has soft spots deep inside him, ones that rupture at the slightest provocation. You’ve caught him at the gym a few times. Shirtless. Sweating. All meat and bones. He could easily throw you any which way if he wanted to.

When you round the corner of the hall you hear footsteps rushing behind you, then directly beside you, a hand grabbing your arm.

You don’t even need to turn your head to know who it is.

“Is your roommate home?” Luigi asks.

You are suddenly walking much faster with his guidance, and you have to be mindful of where you place your feet with each step so that you don’t trip over yourself. Should she be? Right now you’ll have the apartment to yourself—she works a night shift after her classes—but with the tone of Luigi’s voice and his firm grip on your arm you worry that you just might have triggered something serious in him, something animalistic.

Swallowing thickly, you answer, “no.”

“Good,” he rumbles. Then, matter-of-factly: “Because you’re going to lead us to your dorm, and then you and I are going to have a little talk.”

So, it’s official: you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. You expected some sternness, maybe a bit of a talking to, but overall nothing more than the almost overwhelming sweetness Luigi was known for. Right now it doesn’t seem like he wants to do much talking, or much sweetness, for that matter, and the thought of what’s in store for you has you anticipating bruises on your hips and an aching core.

The door is barely open before he’s ushering you inside and backing you against the nearest wall.

“I got your text,” he starts, “and I saw you. With—with fucking what’s-his-face from math.”

You resist the urge to grin. There is so much genuine jealousy in his words, jealousy over a pawn, a desperate volunteer you picked at random just to get his eyes back on you. Nobody. He’s jealous over nobody. You weren’t thinking he’d be cool as a cucumber, obviously, but to be this angry over a guy that both of you hardly know is a reaction that has you second-guessing every moment you’ve spent with him. Was he really this crazy over you?

“Yeah?” you scoff for effect. “What’s-his-face from math was helping me. With math. Big deal.”

And then he does something that makes your insides turn to slush. Luigi pauses, and you can see his tongue poking his cheek in frustration, his eyes trained on your face, his hands on his hips. It’s a look you’ve never seen on him before and you love it, every little detail, the way his brows furrow, the way those pretty lashes flutter. You feel like a kid getting caught with your hand right in the cookie jar. Maybe you shouldn’t have messed with him; maybe it was a bad idea to provoke him like this, hit him where it hurts, get him riled up over some aimless homework you did with another boy just to get his attention. But it would be a big, fat, horrendous lie to say that you don’t like where this is going. That you aren’t already slick between your legs thinking about what he might do to you when he’s this agitated.

Before you can open your mouth to speak again he has you pinned to the wall, towering over you just slightly. His hand is on your neck. He isn’t choking you, not even close, but there is just enough pressure against your throat to have your stomach in knots.

“What the fuck is this?” Luigi grits, low and rough. Dark. “Do you think it’s funny to just play me like that? Fuck with my feelings like it’s nothing?”

You gulp and crumble into yourself. When he talks to you like you’re in trouble you can’t help but feel small, weak, pliable, a bit like you would let him do just about anything he wanted to your body as long as he keeps his eyes on you. Helpless. Like prey.

The hand on your throat comes to seize your chin, hard. “I asked you a question, baby.”

To think that he’s probably only using just half of his strength stirs excitement deep in your belly.

“I didn’t realize it meant that much to you,” you squeak. It’s not completely a lie. This side of Luigi is new, a little scary, but unexpectedly titillating.

“Oh, you didn’t realize?” He is grabbing your face now, between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, holding your head straight so that you can’t look away from him and your lips push into a little pout. His knee juts between your legs. “Really? You didn’t realize it meant that much?”

“No, sir, I didn’t—”

The moment the word sir leaves your mouth he’s slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His hand gripping your ass knocks all the air straight from your lungs.

“You just have to be a fucking brat,” he grumbles. “Which one is your room?”

You offer a pathetic point at your door, accompanied by an even more pathetic whimper so that he can look in your direction. What can you say? It’s hard to think straight when he pulls out the B Word so casually.

Following your directions, Luigi carries you into your bedroom, closing and locking the door and then tossing you—carefully!—onto your bed. He has your arms pinned above your head in an instant and his other hand begins to make quick work of getting your pants down. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly hear him speaking to you:

“Do you think this is how you should get a guy’s attention? Huh?” His voice is all warm in your ears, like marshmallows roasting over crackling fire. Your legs are spread wide and he is slotted perfectly between them. “All you had to do was just ask, baby. How fucking hard is that?”

A shadow of a grin teases your lips. “Clearly, it worked, didn’t it?”

He smacks your cunt through your panties and leans down close to you, smirking at your gasp. “You’ve got a smart fuckin’ mouth,” Luigi chides. “Keep running it and see where it gets you.”

He knows exactly what your intentions are. He has you figured out, had you figured out the moment you sent him that text, probably, despite your best efforts. You should have never underestimated your own tutor. Your shirt is swiftly pulled up and over your breasts, so that he can take one in his hand, growl at your lack of a bra, squeeze you, twist a nipple between his fingers. You want to run your hands through his hair but he still has your arms held above your head, and he can feel your wrists straining feebly, wanting desperately to hold him. I’m sorry, you want to say, I’m sorry, Gi, really, I didn’t mean it, but it would be useless, because you know that this won’t be over until he’s made his point, until you’re made very sure of the fact that he will accept absolutely none of this vindictive bratty shit.

And then he lets go of your hands momentarily to pull off his shirt, and you make the mistake of reaching for his pants. Luigi instantly has you pinned to your bed again, this time holding you down with both arms. You almost wish one of them was free so he could grab your face again, taunt you, make you feel all weak and stupid.

“Stay still,” he spits. He collects your wrists in one hand again and moves the other to the button of his jeans. “Someone ought to teach you some fucking manners, don’t you think? Teach you how to ask for what you want properly?”

Oh, you’ve never needed a lesson in behavior more than you do right this minute. “Yes, yes,” you agree, nodding absently.

“Yeah?” Luigi has his pants and his boxers down all at once and when you feel his hand sliding into your underwear it takes all of your resolve to swallow your mewl. “Oh, you’re so wet. Dirty fuckin’ girl. You know, I think I should just—”

Before you can blink he’s flipping you over, guiding you to pose exactly how he wants you, on your hands and knees with your legs spread and your back arching up towards him. You feel like a ragdoll, pulled this way and that, and you fucking love it, this untamed, beast-like side of him that just throws you around his court like a tennis ball.

“—There we go.”

Swiftly, Luigi pulls your panties down your thighs, tugs off your cardigan, and delivers a restrained spank to your ass. He comes up behind you and moves to do something that makes you heart sink and your cunt pulse: his right arm wraps around your face and hooks underneath your chin, bicep looping around your neck as he pulls you upward, against his chest. Holy shit. He has you in a fucking chokehold. Not enough to actually block oxygen from your brain, but enough that you can feel his muscles flexing, pressure tight on your throat.

“And how about this?” Luigi asks, deep and hot like lava in your ear. “Is this okay?”

The yes that leaves you is pained and broken, but your sticky, wet pussy tells him an entirely different story, one that reassures him as he pushes his cock inside of you.

Without any prep the stretch of him burns, but in the best way possible; after all, this was exactly what you wanted, him splitting you open and claiming every inch of depth inside of you. Yes, you should’ve known that this is exactly what you signed up for. You wanted to make him mad, make him itch for you, so badly that even the thought of you just doing math with any other guy has him wanting to put people in chokeholds, apparently—but right now, with Luigi working his dick inside of you, trapping you from air, whispering pure and utter filth into your ear, you aren’t regretful—certainly not—but you’re bracing yourself.

“Not so sassy now, huh?” he mocks. He warned you that running your mouth might earn you something special, but you certainly weren’t expecting this. You can only grunt in response.

He smiles. “Yeah, hard to talk when I’ve got you like this, isn’t it? Figures. Only time you’re ever quiet is when I’m giving this pussy some attention.”

Unreal. Absolutely unfair. You want to kiss his perfect mouth for saying all the words you wanted to hear him say to you, in that raspy, fucked-out voice that makes you whine like a bitch in heat. But it would be useless to try, because Luigi’s tight grip on you makes it impossible to move even your hips. His, though, pump with quick succession, snapping into you, ruining your cunt.

“That’s it,” he groans. You’ve sucked the mercy right out of him. He is fucking you relentlessly, forcing sounds out of you that he’ll be turning over in his brain for future reference. He learns something new about you every time you’re together, especially so right now.

“I love—fuck—” you’re trying hard to tell him that you agree, this is it, exactly how you imagined it, but with his arm tight around your neck and his cock brushing a certain spot that makes your toes curl it becomes increasingly difficult to express your satisfaction in anything other than lewd, incomprehensible noise. “I love the way you make me take it, sir.”

Luigi growls. “I’m just taking what’s mine.” If his other hand weren’t holding your head in place he would be playing with your clit, but the chokehold prevents that, so instead he pounds into you harder and chants into your ear, “mine, mine, all fucking mine.”

And then it starts to feel like just too much, because he’s panting and moaning and you want just the sound of this and him fucking you hard on repeat every day for the rest of your life. That would prove to be quite difficult, though—having to hear him nonstop would mean having to think about him all the time, too, even in the most innocuous moments, and there’s no way you could bear all of that at once. You can hardly handle it right now.

Suddenly, he starts to slow, and he releases you from his hold but before you can complain he rasps, “do you want to come?”. He already knows the answer to that question, so when you whimper he pulls out and follows it with: “Then get on your knees.”

And you do, faster than you ever have before, kneeling on the floor in front of your bed with him standing above you. Your cunt is still burning with need but Luigi comes close, stroking himself, his cock just mere centimeters from your face. “Open your mouth,” he breathes, and you lurch forward, holding onto his thighs and looking up at him as he guides his dick between your lips.

Fuck. He loves that you can take a hint. Knowing he’s close you start a steady rhythm, hollowing your cheeks around him, moving quickly and putting effort into each back-and-forth of your head. You can taste yourself on him. Luigi is groaning above you, speaking like he has to empty every thought that enters his mind: “oh, baby, yes” and “just like that” and “ohhhh fuck…”

You take him as deep in your throat as you can. He almost can’t stand to look at you as you’re sucking him, can hardly take your face and your mouth at the same time, but before he can come he catches a glimpse of you; he has your hair held back in both of his hands, your pretty doe eyes filled with tears, looking up at him through fluttering lashes. Rough carpet burns against your knees. You know that there will be bruises later, probably all over you, blatant proof of the feral and purely human attraction between the both of you—proof of his hands all over you, marking his territory, staking his claim. He thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

Luigi hisses, warns you that he’s coming, and when he lets your hair go and grabs your face with both hands he’s spilling into your mouth, warm and bitter. “Swallow,” he’s telling you, “swallow f’ me,” and you try to tame your gag reflex as you obey his demands, his cock still rammed in your throat. You whimper around him and the noise he makes is fucking obscene.

And then he tilts your chin up, pries your mouth open with his thumb so that you can stick your tongue out and show him that not a drop of him remains. He flashes you an absolutely dangerous grin. “Atta girl. C’mere.”

He helps you up onto the bed and guides you to lay onto your back with one big hand, smoothing over your stomach and tracing down your pelvis to your drooling cunt. Those long, skilled fingers dip into your slick and spread you, caressing, exploring. You’re sensitive after such a brutal pounding and each time he brushes against your clit you jolt with delight; he giggles at you, like he’s amused by the way his own body can break you.

“Sweet girl,” Luigi breathes, and you look into his eyes, look at his angel face as he stares down at you with adoration. You’re happy that he lets you move your hands, now, because you can hold him against your palm, trace his sideburns with your thumb, study the nearly symmetrical moles on each of his cheeks. He is so beautiful. You hardly know where to contain these feelings you hold for him.

Two fingers are probing your pussy, dipping inside, and your keen is louder than you intend it to be. He knows just where to look, instantly finding your sweet spot. He’s perfect. “Gi, fuck.”

“Baby, ‘m sorry I made you feel lonely.” You love how his voice sounds right now, dark and dripping with sugar, spice, and everything nice. “I get too focused, you know how I am. I missed you. Missed this pretty pussy.”

Inside your cunt Luigi is massaging your G-spot, his other hand gliding down your stomach, thumb meeting your clit and starting a gentle pattern of quick, circular motions. You already feel close watching both of his hands pleasuring you. Sharp nails fly up to dig into his broad shoulder, the back of your head burrowing into your pillow.

“You like that?” he leans down to kiss your nose, then your mouth. “Are you almost there, pretty girl? Gonna come all over my fingers?”

You nod incessantly.

He grins, white teeth flashing at you; he looks wolfish with his sharp canines and focused eyes. “Yeah? Let me see it, baby. Give it to me.”

And then you’re there, falling over the edge into his arms, squeezing his fingers like a vice and sobbing underneath him. Luigi helps you ride it out, still rubbing your clit and sending sparks through you, whispering sweet nothings that you don’t fully process as you come down from your climax. The inside of your thighs are slick and your room smells like sex and sweat.

“Are you mad at me?” Luigi asks from beside you after a while, eyes anxious.

You blink. “What? No, Gi. No. Why would I be mad?”

“I kinda left you hanging for a while,” he confesses, still clearly regretful of his bad habits of perfectionism and something that might be better described by a formal diagnosis in some edition of the DSM but you’re far too preoccupied and frankly under-qualified to name it right now. “I wasn’t trying to, and I meant to let you know, or tell you something, anyway, but different things kept coming up and I had to—”

Threading your fingers through his curls, you bring him close and kiss him, effectively shutting him up. You were never really mad. You aren’t now, anyway. Not when he’s this cute and so obviously concerned with you.

“I’m not mad,” you repeat. “It’s okay, Luigi.”

It’s a bit too dark to tell, but you think you can see his face flush pink, and he smiles at you, his dimple prominent under your palm. Then, he looks downward, towards your tits, towards his hand holding your waist, and his smile gets wider, its innocence from before missing.

“Can I make it up to you?”

^ dividers by cafekitsune

[idiopath-fic-smile]

I was also going to prompt for IDOAG 😂 Maybe adult E/C/R and a holiday?

ooh, after writing such a bummer piece, i'm happy to bring in a more positive note!

(to review, this ficlet is out of gratitude for my pilot of a musical audio drama about a rock band that secretly solves monster-related problems reaching 40% of its funding goal. we're actually at over 50% right now and I currently have one additional prompt in the wings, but hold onto any additional prompts and with luck, we'll get to 60% soon!)

On Saturday, March first, Enjolras wakes up to find the bed empty on both sides, but the smell of vanilla and cinnamon are wafting through the air, so he pushes down his disappointment and heads for the kitchen. Combeferre is scrambling eggs and Grantaire is standing at the griddle, intent with what looks to be a squeeze bottle of pancake batter.

“Happy Casimir Pulaski Day!” Grantaire sing-songs.

“What,” says Enjolras, his voice creaky with sleep. He delivers a kiss on the cheek to each of his boyfriends and takes a second to smile at their cooking aprons. Bahorel had them printed up special last year; instead of “His” and “Hers,” they read “His” and “Also His.” (Hanging on the hook by the closet door is a third apron: “Also Also His.”)

“Casimir Pulaski,” says Combeferre, trailing the spatula through the pan. Of the three of them, Combeferre makes the best scrambled eggs, in that he has the most patience for cooking them at a low temperature and applying slow but comprehensive stirring. “He was a Polish general in the Revolutionary War?”

Enjolras pours himself a cup of coffee. “I know who Casimir Pulaski is,” he says. “He’s the one who got involved in a failed plot to kidnap the pro-Russian king, which made the French army so uneasy, they wouldn’t let him serve with them, and then he met Ben Franklin and decided to fight for the revolution instead.”

Grantaire laughs. “Congratulations, you officially have way more info about him than I do. I just knew he was a cavalry guy in the war.”

“He’s an interesting figure,” says Enjolras with a shrug. “He showed up before he had permission from Congress to actually join the army, and then when George Washington realized one flank of his forces was collapsing, Pulaski offered to lead the countercharge. Some historians think he saved George Washington’s life.”

“Well, I hope Congress gave him permission after that,” says Grantaire, most of his attention still on the griddle.

“They did,” Combeferre confirms. He pulls the pan off the stove and onto a waiting hot pad.

“And today is Casimir Pulaski Day,” says Enjolras. “Which is a holiday now?”

“Oh, Enjolras, it’s almost like you didn’t grow up in Illinois or Wisconsin,” says Grantaire.

Enjolras takes a long sip of coffee, puzzles this out. “States with a high Polish population,” he says at last.

“Yep!” Grantaire carefully flips the pancakes, which are clearly a deliberate, non-circular shape, featuring some sort of design piped in with batter.

“Admittedly, I mostly know him from the title of a very sad Sufjan Stevens song,” Combeferre adds, “and the subsequent Wikipedia crawl.”

“The Polish population in this room is zero,” says Enjolras. “Why are we sanctifying—?”

“Things are so bleak,” says Combeferre, “they’re so bleak, all the time, and we were thinking we should do more to enjoy the things we can.”

Enjolras nods. The political situation is worsening seemingly every day, but it’s still a privilege to have spent two decades with his incredible partners.

“And if that means making horse-shaped pancakes to honor a guy who tried to kidnap a king, even better,” Grantaire finishes. Enjolras peers around Grantaire’s shoulder, and sure enough, the pancakes each form the image of a horse’s head turned three-quarters towards the viewer. They’re absurdly detailed. The horses have eyelashes. “Even if it means we have to put up with Combeferre’s puns.”

Combeferre reaches past Enjolras for his own coffee. “As if wordplay is my mane attribute,” he says. “You can accuse me ‘til you’re horse, I would never deliberately stirrup that kind of trouble.”

Grantaire holds up a third coffee cup, and they clink their mugs in a toast.

“To Casimir Pulaski Day,” says Enjolras.

[embrosegraves]

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕋𝕠 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤

(request) Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr "What are you doing?" "Giving you affection." "Disgusting...do it more"

Warnings: None I think?? I did most of the Spanish translations all by myself!

You lived with the goal of trying and experiencing as many new things as possible. Which is how you found yourself in a triad relationship with the only two Spanish drivers on the Formula One grid. You never thought that you’d ever get into a situation like this. At first when both drivers approached you and made their intentions known, admittedly you had taken a while to think about it. You had weighed the pros and cons, thought for hours on end and even questioned how you used to identify with relationships before eventually accepting their advancements. 

It was a new thing for you. You had only ever been in a monogamous relationship before meeting the two Spaniards. Thankfully, the relationship was also a new experience for Carlos and Fernando. You remember asking them if they were in this relationship as each other’s boyfriend or just as your boyfriend, which had made them think a fair bit about what they wanted. Eventually they figured out that there was no harm in being each other’s boyfriend as well.

Growing up, your parents showed you plenty of affection and love. However that had mostly been verbal praise or a high-five. The only time either of your parents had given you a hug was when you were upset. They usually didn’t give you hugs or kisses unless for special occasions and as you grew older those rare affections became even more sparse. So it startled you every time Carlos would come up and kiss you randomly or when Fernando would tuck you under his arm as you walked beside him. 

One night, early on in the relationship, you had been prepping some veggies for dinner when the front door had opened. You listened as two sets of footsteps entered the house and knew that both Carlos and Fernando had finally finished their duties for the day. Finishing the veggies you moved to put the kettle on so that you could make yourself a tea. 

“¿Té o café?” You called out to them, grateful for having learnt some Spanish in school. They both walked into the kitchen, Carlos grabbing two plastic cups while Fernando went to the fridge to grab the jug of cold water. [Tea or coffee?]

“Ninguno para mi gracias.” Carlos said. [None for me, thanks.]

“Fern? ¿Cualquier cosa por ti?” [Anything for you?]

“Un café sería estupendo.” Fernando replied as he set the jug of water in front of Carlos before going around and placing a kiss on your cheek. Your whole body froze the moment you felt Fernando’s lips make contact with your cheek. [A coffee would be great.]

Seeing you react that way made Fernando chuckle. In turn, his chuckles made Carlos look over to the both of you. He saw how you weren’t moving and how Fernando was now leaning on the counter next to you. It didn’t take him very long to figure out what had occurred. Carlos hesitated for barely a second before he convinced himself that it was the only logical thing to do. 

You could feel how close Fernando was leaning towards you. You could hear him chuckling. You were acutely aware of the skin on skin contact he was maintaining, his hand resting on the small of your back underneath the oversized shirt you were wearing. You almost jumped when you felt Carlos come and take the coffee mugs from your hands and place them on the counter. You knew he made damn sure that his hands brushed yours as he did so. 

Once Carlos had made sure the mugs were safely away from the counter edge, he grabbed your hips and turned you so that you were facing him. His hands made their way up your body, lovingly caressing every curve and dip in their path, until finally they came to rest on either side of your face. Fernando had caught on pretty quickly, if the way he pressed his body to your back said anything. With Carlos in front of you, gently caressing your face, and Fernando behind you rubbing soothing circles on your hips and love handles, you were absolutely sure that you were as red as the Ferrari that Carlos drove. 

You tried to open your mouth so that you could speak, but before you could even think of the words you wanted to say, Carlos had dipped his head and gently pressed his lips to yours. Apparently Fernando didn’t want to be left out of the kissing because no sooner had Carlos lent in, Fernando attached his own lips to the junction between your shoulder and neck. 

“Wha- What are you both doing?” You managed to breathe out between kisses. The onslaught of touch was almost overwhelming. 

“You looked like you needed some affection, Querida.” Carlos whispered, his hot breath danced across your ear. 

“Would you like us to stop?” Fernando had barely lifted his lips from your shoulder, but you heard him anyway. 

“Yes- No- I-” You were conflicted. On the one hand, you were nowhere near used to the amount of love they were showing. On the other hand, however, Fernando and Carlos made you feel like you were dreaming.

“It’s alright, Amor. We can slow down.” Fernando had finally lifted his head, only to rest his chin on the top of your head. “We go at your pace, Dulce Niña.” [Sweet Girl]

“I need a little space, please.” You managed to whisper. The moment they loosened their grip on you, you moved to the corner closest to where they were. You wanted to be in your own space but you didn’t want to be far from them, in case they felt offended or guilty. 

You took a few moments to yourself, thinking over how to explain to them just how unused to affection you were. It wasn’t their fault that they grew up in a culture where casual displays of affection between lovers was so common. Just like it wasn’t your fault that you grew up never witnessing or experiencing casual affection at all. Part of your mind was going insane, telling you that they would think differently of you for not having the same experience. No matter what you told yourself, you just couldn’t get rid of that nagging little voice. 

“Are you alright, Mi Amor?” Carlos looked at you with worry. He thought what they did was a harmless bit of fun. He wasn’t expecting you to act as you had. Fernando wasn’t any better. He looked just as worried, though slightly more concerned. 

“I’m okay.” You said, taking a deep breath. “I just- I need to get used to it.” 

“Used to what?” Fernando spoke softly, as if trying his best to not spook you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. “The affection.” 

Your voice was so quiet you honestly didn’t expect for either of them to hear you. You almost wished they didn’t, but luck was not on your side. 

“What do you mean you’re not used to affection?” Again, Fernando spoke. Holding his arm out slightly as if to stop Carlos from moving towards you. You were thankful that he did so because you weren’t sure you could handle being surrounded by a pair of arms at the moment. 

“I never got a lot growing up and the only boyfriend I ever had didn’t last long enough to get more physically affectionate.” You whispered.

“Does it make you uncomfortable when we kiss you?” Carlos looked almost like a wounded puppy. He never ever wanted for you to be uncomfortable in this relationship. If you said the word, he would happily never kiss you again. Okay maybe not ‘happily’ but he would do it nonetheless. 

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, Carlitos. I’m just not used to getting kisses all the time. I think I just need to ease myself into it.” 

By now you had moved to sit on the floor. It was always something you did when your feelings or thoughts got too overwhelming for you. Just sitting on the floor was already making you feel better. It didn’t take very long at all for both Fernando and Carlos to also sit down on the floor. They didn’t want to push you to talk about something that you were potentially very private about. If you wanted to tell them, then you would do it when you were ready. 

The three of you had sat on the floor for the rest of the night, quietly talking to each other about how to go forward. You told them as best you could about how the amount of romantic affection made you feel. Carlos had suggested dealing with it by pretending to be teenagers in their first relationship as a joke, but Fernando had decided that it was the best way to go about navigating the new influx of affection. 

As childish as the idea was, you were grateful that they wanted to help you overcome the unfamiliarity that you had receiving affection. You loved that they were determined to make sure you were comfortable in the relationship. 

You were broken out of your reminiscing when you felt kisses on both your cheeks. 

“Where is your mind today, Hermosa?” Carlos’ voice came from your left. 

“Must be somewhere special if she didn’t hear us walk into the kitchen.” To your right was Fernando, with a cheeky grin on his face. 

You turned around so that you could look at the two of them. “I was thinking about when we were sitting on the floor a few years ago. Talking about being teenagers in love.” 

Both of your boys were smiling at you. Carlos was holding your hand and Fernando had a hand on yours and Carlos’ waists. 

“We’ve come so far, no?” Carlos said softly. “We have grown in ourselves and our relationship. We’re no longer teenagers anymore.” 

Fernando pinched Carlos’ waist gently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m still a teenager, Corazón.” 

“Alright you two,” you laughed. “wash your hands. You’re gonna help me with dinner.”

They both saluted you and spoke in almost perfect unison. “¡Sí Señorita!”

I feel so bad for how long this took me to write lmao but at the same time, I'm glad I took as long as I did because I'm finally happy enough with it to post

likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[tethered-heartstrings]

Something i could never understand is...why do people want Jack to die???

Jack is an obstacle plenty of times and is sort of flippant about Will's state of mind in the beginning, but in all fairness he was trying to stop a MURDERER and I could see how he would value saving lives over Will's health. (Not saying it was right of him, but I get it. And Alana does rightfully chew him out to a point.)

Its clear he just assumes that Will not wanting to be involved im the mass murders is a natrual response to seeing all of that stuff, Jack has no idea that Will and Hannibal are having murder husband fantasy dates until the later seasons. Which in all fairness, he has a right to be concerned about lol

People villainize Jack for a lot of reasons, and only want to see the bad in him. People hate him because he's a cop (okay, so is Will, and everyone else on the team for that matter but only seems to apply to Jack?), because he didn't take care of Will's mental instability/deterioration (as if Will isn't a grown man who should/could stand up for himself and admit to Jack when he isn't doing well), because he was "too dumb to see Will was Very Obviously Ill" (as if we the audience don't get special privileges on what happens behind closed doors and Jack is just supposed to read minds), because he was a criminal investigator "too dumb to not see it was Hannibal all along" (as if Hannibal didn't manipulate literally everyone in his vicinity to make himself look normal and stable and safe and trustworthy), because he "doesn't care about Will" (as if this wasn't literal manipulation Hannibal whispered to Will during his mental breakdown to drive a wedge between him and Jack), because he isn't perfect and he isn't allowed to be flawed, and tbh a big factor of it is racism. and many more reasons.

Of course Jack has flaws, that's what being a human being is. Everyone on the show has faults, but people focus and amplify only the characters they don't like. Hannibal, and to be honest Will also, are literally right there in the same frame and are horrible people, who have done so much worse than Jack. But people don't want to be critical of their faves. Hannibal fans often also have like, main character specific lens so only their favorites are talked about highly and everyone else is dragged through the mud (Jack, Alana, even Abigail) and are not allowed to be seen as a multifaceted character. (admittedly, the women on the show are very poorly written which can contribute to this for the female characters of the show but I digress)

Jack genuinely wants to do something good, he wants to save lives, and he wants to so badly he can get horseblinders on and focus too much on the end goal and not on the path itself. That isn't evil though. He does care about Will, and in a very dad-like way he wants what is best for him but it isn't entirely through Will's lens ir his best interest. He trusted that Will would talk to him, and Will didn't. Like sure he hinted the job wasn't good for him and it was affecting him but that isn't specifically saying "hey Jack, I have headaches that won't go away, I can't sleep, I am sleepwalking, I am losing time, I am scared. Help me." Yeah, looking at horribly mutilated bodies all day isn't good for anyone. He tried to get Will genuine help, by setting him up with a well-renowned psychiatrist per someone else's recommendation. He tried, but Hannibal didn't do his job. He lied to Jack saying Will was fine, rubberstamped him sane. What is Jack supposed to do? Call him a liar? A well respected professional in the field? Be real. And to your point, again, Will never said how bad he actually was, so it makes sense Jack is doing his job and prioritizing saving lives.

Jack also didn't want to believe Will was guilty. The evidence was piled so high against him they eclipsed the sun. Jack is smart, his entire job is finding evidence to lead to a conclusion. He can't just suddenly turn a blind eye because it's Will. Jack was willing to risk his career to help him, a career that took decades and immense hard work to achieve. He then trusted Will and Will betrayed him. He wanted to trust in him until the very end. People get mad at Jack for not trusting Will but then call him dumb for trusting him later like lol what the fuck do you want?

Jack also knows when he messed up. He lives with the guilt of Miriam going missing forever, he knows he fucked up and makes it a point not to make that mistake again. He isn't careless. He cares for the people he works with. You could see it in his face how devastated he was when Beverly died, when Will was arrested. Even thinking about Miriam. There is a tenderness in him being the one to take off Will's mask and straight jacket, as an act of humanizing Will and saying "I trust you".

Jack is also a good husband who loved his wife. Yes, his job kept him away from home a lot, but Bella isn't dumb and she knew what his job entailed. He took care of her as best as he could. He wanted to do anything to support her after her cancer diagnosis, he was always in her corner. Of course he wanted her to do chemotherapy, of course he didn't want her to die. He didn't want to lose the love of his life and traverse the world alone, his most trusted and longtime support system gone. He broke the law to smoke weed with her and join her, and be a part of her care and comfort. And in the end, he did the hardest thing by letting her go so she wasn't in pain anymore. It wasn't passive, it wasn't that she died and he just watched. He pushed the plunger to give her peace. He is a human being capable of compassion and love and care.

People forget we have the audience view, so we see Hannibal being manipulative and murdering, and we see Will wake up from nightmares covered in sweat and sleepwalking. But the characters in the show aren't us! They only see what is in front of them or told to them. And they act like if they weren't in the same shoes they wouldn't do the exact same stuff.

To put it shortly, Jack is a complex and flawed character, as is literally everyone on the show and people in real life. He genuinely tries his best and wants to do good things in the world. He is sooo far from the worst character on the show (I argue he might be the most morally stable and centered) but is made out to be the worst person ever, when he isn't. He doesn't deserve to die, and he doesn't deserve to be murdered. He deserves a nice, peaceful, retirement (or vacation, not sure he could stay away tbh especially now that Bella has died) and to be left the fuck alone.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Role call. Who on Tumblr was politically active during the Free Tibet years?

I'm going to establish this post as an anchor space to have a conversation about the Lessons we learned from Free Tibet and how we may or may not be effectively applying those lessons to our work around Free Palestine as a current socio-political banner.

If you were alive, aware, and involved during Free Tibet's groundswell into and out of the public eye, your stories, reflections, and thoughts are welcome. This goes doubly for perspectives within the movement such as the experience of seeking and obtaining allyship/solidarity from the international community as some living in or with family in Tibet, ground work in organizing the dustribution of funds, resources, or resistance, publicity and public awareness/consciousness, etc.

I'll start. I was (admittedly) young when this was happening, but already had been engaged and involved for a year or two in politics more broadly. I had been working with the UUA youth programming on a variety of community initiatives when a delegate of ministers traveled to meet with the Dalai Lama and several Tibetan activist communities both in their home mountains and abroad in exile. They've done this quite a few times over the years, before and since this particular delegation. One of the ministers who worked with us attended. He was gone for 18months sabbatical/spiritual and social development work on the trip, and when he came back, he led the district's interfaith activist groups through dozens of trainings and salon conversations to help us understand what he'd learned and what he wanted US to learn.

He came away with [and invited us to come away with] a few major foundations

1) any act of imperialism or colonization is a cause for profound and expansive grief. In fact the grief itself was part of the point because until we see the suffering of every person on earth as a violation of and offense to the humanity of EVERY person on earth, we will struggle to hold ourselves accountable for our own complicity.

2) complicity can be coerced, and that is always the accountability of the coercive authority structure, not the accountability of the individuals being coerced. This is not mutually exclusive with the need to repair the harm done to a community following coerced complicity as a form of reintegration into the healing process of a fractured social order.

3) we needed to operate with two paths of possibility - diasporic and indigenous. Ultimately, the preservation of a people, their culture, their humanity, their communities, is a complex one with very few guarantees. Every effort should be made to answer the intracommunal calls to action that are being made so as to ensure that on the micro/mezzo level (individuals, families, and small regional communities in particular) people are able to self-direct towards a diasporic-mobile preservation path or an indigenous-remaining preservation path as best suits their needs in the moment, and that a diasporic-return path is being established and maintained as effectively as possible (erosion of this path should be considered a warning sign of high risk actions being taken against the indigenous-remaining [coerced/autonomous] population). The goal, this minister explained, was always to preserve access to autonomy on both the individual and communal level, and that sometimes this would look like things we didn't understand or didn't want to understand as victory. As long as it came with the community in need at the helm, it was our job to wrestle with that possibility proactively rather than risk imposing our own needs-assessment on them. [Disclaimer: this came in the wake of concerns around the possible death of the Dalai Lama's reincarnation and heir being selected/identified by an imperial assembly rather than by the existing Tibetan process of identification, and specifically in the wake of the Dalai Lama's statements that all, even his own role, must one day end which had incited many difficult conversations around the world]

4) resistance was both an imperative and an active tense verb, meaning that any of us engaged in resistance needed to be in real conversation with others about it or we were NOT in fact resisting anything

5) slogans are catchy, but they can't be all you have. It is too easy to say the same words as others while acting against them, both intentionally and unintentionally.

I really was present in the tail end of this work's public prominence, and while I have done my best to stay aware since my initial exposure, I lack some of the necessary current reflections on the experience from various people and perspectives. Others who were engaged and involved, especially if it has remained in your primary focus of activism, what were your lessons so to speak and how have you grown or developed your approaches in response?

[thetinyreviews]

TGCF characters as zodiac signs

I base everything on my astrology knowledge and descriptions of the sun signs are from Labyrinthos.

Xie Lian - Sagittarius

The Sagittarius zodiac sign often gains the reputation of the philosopher among their fellow zodiac signs. They do have a great ability to focus, but this may be surprising since many of them love exploring and wandering the world, tasting all the pleasures of life. From an early age, they must learn how to channel their energy or else they risk stretching themselves out too thin going in too many directions. They often are hasty individuals and lack patience. When they encounter failure they can sometimes make a sudden comeback, much to the surprise of others. While they are loyal friends, they may find it hard to commit as this can run counter to their desire for freedom and expansion.

Hua Cheng - Capricorn

Those born under the Capricorn zodiac sign are talented at applying their keen intelligence and ambition to practical matters. Stability and order are important to them — and this makes them good organizers. Their goals are often lofty, and they achieve them slowly — but purposefully, and systematically. They are gifted with a sharp intuition, although they can be rather secretive about what they perceive. They are patient with themselves — they have confidence that they can accomplish all their goals if they follow their step-by-step plan. They are responsible people that often take the heavy burden of others — whether willingly, or just because they are so capable. However, they find it difficult to share their own troubles and can struggle with depression if they don’t learn how to express their feelings.

But he definitely has a Venus in Cancer.

Mu Qing - Scorpio

Feng Xin - Aries

Pei Ming - Libra

The zodiac sign Libra thrives when their needs of balance, justice, and stability are met. They are charming creatures that somehow always surround themselves with a sense of beauty and harmony. Admittedly, some of them can go to extremes searching that harmony — which can make their situations unreasonable or unhealthy. Their ruling planet is Venus meaning that Libras are nurturing, caring and they can make great defenders of the downtrodden. Sometimes, they can be shy if they find difficulties in coming out of their shell and letting their guard down. Despite their more introverted side they still love a good debate.

with Leo rising

Those born under the Gemini zodiac sign enjoy socialising and love surrounding themselves with people. They are ruled by the planet Mercury, and so they are never happier than when they are sharing their ideas and communicating with the people around them. They enjoy chit-chat and tend to have expression and communication very high on their list of priorities. Sometimes their love for sharing themselves with others, and their never-ending list of ideas can make them seem nervous, excited and sometimes even manic.

Yin Yu - Taurus

Unfortunately, those born under the Scorpio zodiac sign are often misunderstood. They are quite bold, with intense personalities and feelings that hide underneath their cool exterior. They are capable people that can compete great and massive projects with control and confidence. Their intensity when approaching a situation means that they can surmount almost all obstacles if they can truly put their mind to the task. Many Scorpios have an unshakable focus when they need to call on it. However, they are often secretive, seeming withdrawn and uninterested, when they are actually keenly observing.

Those born under the Aries zodiac sign often have an exciting and enthusiastic energy. They often seek new and challenging adventures that can push their limits. They are driven, ambitious and curious, and Aries tend to have a strong sense of justice. They love competition, in all its forms. They are generally quite optimistic, and they love being placed in leadership positions.

Shi Qingxuan - Gemini

The Pisces zodiac sign are the dreamers and mystics of the zodiac — but you may never know it. Many of them have extremely vivid inner lives — filled with fantasy, magic and wonder. They may find it hard to express that inner life, meaning that many of them are introverts. They are honest, compassionate, and trustworthy but they can sometimes take it too far and be rather gullible. Because of that they can be taken advantage of. Beneath their quiet exterior, Pisces has an intense determination, which helps them transcend any obstacles that come their way.

Quan Yizhen - Pisces

People born under the Taurus zodiac sign are often incredibly dedicated, reliable and dependable. Above all things, they value their sense of security and stability. After Aries brings its fiery energy, it is Taurus that lays down the foundations and follow through. They tend to be rather stubborn and dislike change. When they settle with a routine that they like, it can take much effort to get them to change.

[suzukiblu]

comfort w tim please? (i just want some fluff dkjshekdb 😂)

Well, this excerpt isn't Tim comfort, but hopefully counts for Tim fluff?

Context: pre-identity reveal/identity porn/idiots to lovers TimKon.

"Sounds like supervillain talk, dude," Kon says. Tim resolves to dial back on that at this point in his career. He's laying groundwork, yes, but subtlety is still the wiser course of action.

"You say that like you've never socialized with a supervillain before," he says dryly.

"Well, usually ones who wear a bit less," Kon replies, grinning wickedly at him.

"So you're telling me I should invest in a crop top before I try to take over the world and remake it in my own image?" Tim asks still more dryly as he raises an eyebrow at him with a little smirk, and Kon laughs and steps in a little closer, giving him a not very subtle up-and-down with his eyes.

"Only if you're trying to recruit me for your evil plans," he says, grin turning sharp. Tim wants to lick his teeth. "So I dunno, what are your feelings on Daisy Dukes?"

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not actually that much of an exhibitionist so at this point we're just describing my ideal costume updates for you," Tim informs him.

"Oh yeah?" Kon asks with another laugh even as he visibly preens at the suggestion. Tim is all for that, personally. Both the preening and the theoretical updates, in fact. And, a little more weirdly, just the idea of having anything to do with what Kon might ever decide to wear.

Yeah, that's probably a later thought, Tim decides. Like, a private-time kind of later thought.

"You're solar-powered, aren't you?" he says reasonably. "Showing a bit more skin can't hurt."

"I wonder if Superman would buy that excuse," Kon says musingly.

"Power Girl exists," Tim says still more reasonably. "And Supergirl wears a miniskirt, last I checked."

"Valid," Kon says, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression and tapping the side of his jaw. "Maybe I'll put in some cutouts and go for a lower neckline, tell the big guy he's making the rest of us look like prudes. What do you think, bikini or high-cut bottoms?"

"I don't know the difference," Tim lies, desperately trying not to overheat and die at that question and every single accompanying mental image that his useless brain has so helpfully decided to supply. "You'll have to provide examples."

"Will I now," Kon says, grinning all over again and pointedly cocking a hip. "What, pretty boy, you want a fashion show?"

"Well I did want to be a photographer when I was a kid," Tim says, although it was definitely never that kind of photography he had in mind. Kon laughs again and shifts in even closer, though, so it's worth it. Tim is mortified, but also undeniably into just . . . all of this, really, just everything about this conversation. Robin can't flirt with Superboy, but, well . . .

He's taking advantage a little, he can admit, but it's still just . . . nice.

He's wanted to flirt with Kon for way too long, at this point. Indulging in a little bit of it isn't the worst thing he could do.

And again, it's Kon, so it's not like it's serious or anything. The guy won't even remember this conversation tomorrow, much less anything about Tim Drake.

. . . admittedly that'd be counterproductive to Tim's long-term goals here, but still. He's willing to take his time on this. There's a plan. It has steps. Layers. Processes.

"I like you, man," Kon says with a wider grin, which is in absolutely no way whatsoever in the plan. "You're funny."

It occurs to Tim, almost disbelievingly, that he might've . . . made a good impression on Kon? Somehow?

Well that's weird.

[greenerteacups]

What did you think about Katara and Aang ending up together? Did you ship them or Zutara?

Also, if you watched The Legend of Korra, what did you think of that show’s treatment of Katara’s character?

My beloved friend in Christ, look me in the eye and tell me you don't know what I shipped when I watched that show. Look at me. You know. You know damn well.

AS FOR KATARA IN KORRA for me the key part of accepting her character shift in the second series is that she's supposed to be like 90. I don't know anybody who doesn't seriously chill out when they're 90. She's pretty much at the end of her life. Her husband's dead, her brother's dead, Toph fucked off to live in the swamp, Suki has been erased from the collective consciousness a la Spiderman, and ninety-something Zuko is off somewhere riding around the country on a DRAGON in full ceremonial garb, doing recon missions for the new avatar and hunting terrorists. (That last one is awesome, and I have no notes. That boy's doing what he's meant to. I still think they should kiss. But that's not a writing critique, that's just what my heart feels is true and good.)

More generally, the sequel series doesn't give us much of the passion or lovable high-handedness she had in the original, but she was also a teenager. I have to give the writing space to bend and stretch around a 70-year time jump, and that leeway includes the possibility that Katara majorly chills out once her home is no longer under imperial occupation and she's not regularly enlisted in armed combat to defend the fantasy Buddha. Or she just got it out of her system and tapped out around 30 to have kids and live luxuriously off whatever gratitude-annuities she gets from Every Nation In The World. I like to imagine she had some adventures in her 20's and 30's leading the reconstruction effort in the Earth Kingdom, made a reasonable contribution to the waterbending academies in Republic City, decided that she could leave the rest to Sokka and Toph, and went home to enjoy life at home in peacetime. It's not the most dramatic or glamorous life, but I never get the idea that Katara wants either of those things. I think girl did her part, got her happy ending, and decided to stay there. Frodo sailing West at the end of the book? Couldn't be her! The Shire was saved, but not for you? Nope! Not here! Not Katara! She can go back to the Shire, thank you very much! She freed her homeland from a century-long imperial occupation, and she's going to march her ass home and enjoy it, thank you! Fighting the Red Lotus? Leave a voicemail. She's out teaching all the girls in the village to throw ice spears the size of a pike. She will Catch You Guys Later.

I've heard complaints that it feels like Katara didn't have any role in the post-imperial reconstruction process, and while she maybe doesn't found an institution or get a formal position of power, I think the real complaint is that we don't know enough about her to say. All the other Gaang members have a Thing that sort of represents what their goals and values were after the end of the first series. Zuko was Fire Lord (and got a sickass fucking dragon), Toph started the Republic City police (admittedly unexpected Lawful Toph Moment), Sokka becomes a city councilor for R.C. and then Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, Aang refounds the Air Nomads and also is the Avatar for the next 70 years. Which are visible and lasting marks of impact that make it easy to imagine how the others spent their time. That doesn't mean Katara didn't spend her time doing worthwhile and productive things, but we don't see them. We do know that she got bloodbending outlawed in the United Republic, and she became a "master waterbender" who's called in to consult on Korra's development both in her capacity as a martial arts expert and in a broader strategic/political way as one of the premier living experts on what it takes to be the Avatar. We don't see her much, but we do get the idea that she has plenty of respect from the people who matter.

It makes me a little sad she's not included in some of the stories we hear about the postwar Gaang exploits, like Toph and Sokka's work in Republic City, or early clashes with the Red Lotus. She's the best waterbender in the world and you guys saved the world together as teenagers; it feels like she should've been riding shotgun on some of these missions. But I try to make peace with it on the grounds that if she's not out there hunting down terrorists, it's because she's tired, goddammit. She took down a dictatorship at 15. She's been ass-whooping fascists for longer than most characters in the show have been alive. Katara is too cool of a character for any lack of detail to make me think she wasn't doing stone cold shit well into her fifties.

[heliza24]

In which I try to figure out Armand:

My brain has been ticking away thinking about Armand ever since episode 2.1. I have been fascinated and irritated by Armand in the off-season, so to speak, because I love Daniel and relate to him so much, and I know Armand is going to be very important to him. But we were given so little of Armand last season it has just felt impossible to get a grip on what his deal is. I am admittedly not a book reader, but I also feel like these feelings are still justified because the show version of Armand is so different than the book, in circumstance at least. So he’s the character I’m most interested in this season.

We still didn’t get a lot of him in ep 1, but I’ve been thinking about him and synthesizing some of the stuff that people have been saying about him in interviews, especially about his relationship to control. I’m specifically thinking about Hannah describing him as “Louis’s creature” and saying that he’ll do whatever Louis wants, and that this is part of their sexual dynamic as well. I think this makes sense with what we’ve seen in the trailers; it seems like Louis is the more sexually dominant one between them. So Armand is happy to be more of a sub in the bedroom and in their original flirtations. Maybe in their earlier dynamic as a couple too, we’ll have to see. Meanwhile, he’s in the background, arranging scenery, pulling strings, trying to do everything he can to hold onto Louis and keep him at least passingly happy. This, by the way, perfectly meshes with his role as director at the theatre. Never in the limelight, but always in control. (The stage management school of sexuality, if you will.). I think that emphasis on control probably becomes more pronounced as the years go on, and Louis is sitting in his grief for Claudia and more of their initial spark dies. But it also perfectly explains the Rashid act. Armand is comfortable playing a servant role. He’s comfortable observing from just off stage. He’s comfortable doing those things if it means ultimately having a better grasp on the way the scene unfolds.

For his part I think Louis is probably drawn to the way Armand seamlessly irons out the bumps in his life. The penthouse is a cage, but Louis is his own jailer; Armand isn’t the one keeping him there. There’s probably an interesting comparison to be made against Lestat here. Lestat revels in melodrama and high emotions, while Armand is intent on maintaining a facade of calm stability. It makes sense to me that Louis would have leaned into this facade, even if he knew it was partially a falsehood, after losing Claudia. I think this is true even around Claudia’s death. It was easier for Louis to forget and forgive whatever part Armand played in it, and allow Real Rashid to hide those diary pages away, than to really reckon with Claudia’s death.

I think Louis requested the interview as part of his general goal to narrativize and soften his own memories and grief, and Armand acquiesced in order to keep Louis. The original goal of the interview was for Louis to convince himself he really had killed Lestat, literally and maybe emotionally too. I think it’s possible that Lestat is back in the picture somehow and the interview is Louis’s last ditch effort to convince himself not to return to his maker. But then of course the whole thing goes off the rails and Louis ends up facing down his true memories for the first time in years. It makes sense that when put in an uncomfortable situation- watching Louis talk about Lestat- Armand would default to his old role of manipulating things from the wings of the metaphorical penthouse stage. Him stepping into the interview is a big departure from that, and shows how effectively Daniel has rattled him.

So how this plays against Daniel is interesting. Armand is putting on a big show about how he and Louis were able to manipulate Daniel in San Francisco. But I wonder how true that ever really was. I imagine even in San Francisco, Daniel represented a completely opposite dynamic to Armand’s relationship with Louis, which would have hooked Armand’s attention. If Louis appeared in control on the surface, but relied on Armand’s ability to arrange the periphery of his life, Daniel would have appeared to be easily (and perhaps happily) dominated, but resistant to Armand’s larger attempts to control his life. Obviously I don’t know exactly how they’ll play out a 1970s devil’s minion scenario. But I imagine that Daniel’s addiction, and Armand’s misguided attempts to protect him from it, will play a role in whatever kind of break up and memory erasure ensues. Whether it was the addiction or his personality or something else, there was some element of Daniel that was too wild for Armand to tame. He threw him back into the pond, all memories of being snared on the fishing line erased. And it’s entirely possible that Armand feels this loss of control very deeply. As heartbreak and loss, but also as a scary moment when his grip on the love that he needs in his life faltered. It’s possible that the break up with Daniel made him even more determined to control outcomes with Louis. And it’s also possible that the pain that he felt when he originally lost Daniel is causing him to revise and edit his own memories of his relationship with Daniel. If Daniel broke Armand’s heart, it would be a lot easier to remember him as a silly boy Armand manipulated in tandem with Louis than someone Armand actually found fascinating. Admitting otherwise means admitting his own weakness. So memory becomes the monster, again, even if you are the one controlling the vampire amnesia.

For what it’s worth, I currently think that Louis doesn’t know about Armand’s past with Daniel. I don’t think Louis would be as vulnerable with Daniel if he knew. And that would point to Armand once again subtly manipulating and managing Louis, completely hiding his connection to this mortal from him.

Regardless, I don’t doubt that Daniel was less fearsome in San Francisco than he is now in Dubai. (The show’s insistence that an elderly disabled man is just as powerful in his own way as an immortal vampire is perfection, and it makes me want to kiss all the writers on the mouth). He’s even less controllable by Armand than he once was (if he ever was), and he’s intent on finding out Armand’s truth, and the truth of their connection. I was really struck by Assad saying in an interview that the thing that Armand wants most is acceptance. He craves love and acceptance, but is terrified to show his real self and be vulnerable. Thats why he’s continuing to play stage manager to Louis’s love. But Daniel is coming for his true self in Dubai whether Armand wants it or not. And I imagine that is both extremely confronting but also ultimately attractive to Armand.

I deeply hope we get to see Daniel crack Armand’s sense of control. I hope we get to see Armand being vulnerable to Daniel and Daniel being receptive to that. I also hope we get to see Daniel facing down Armand as the source of his trauma (because being stalked, bitten, and then having your memories forcibly repressed is trauma, even if Daniel was attracted to Armand through it). I hope we get to see the way that trauma and fear and desire and love intermingle. And I also hope that when Daniel breaks Armand’s sense of control and sees his true self, he still likes what he sees. Because I would like Armand to get that acceptance from someone, even when his worst tendencies are laid bare.

(Oh, and while I’m making predictions- I’m not worried about 70s Devils Minion not happening, or them interacting in the 70s but it not turning into some form of romance. There is simply no better way to add stakes to the Dubai iterations of the characters than to give them this hidden history, and Rolin has talked extensively about needing to bring Daniel into the story in a personal way and crank up the conflict happening in Dubai. The penthouse is no longer just a framing device, but a site of active conflict and growth, and the only way you do that is exploring past and future DM dynamics. In ep 1 it’s still mainly acting as a frame, but I’m really excited to see its importance grow over the season).

Armand is such an intriguing mystery, but if I’m right about some of this stuff I actually relate quite strongly to him too. (I am reminded of a Brennan Lee Mulligan quote, where he describes characters you love/play as being garages attached to your actual personality of a house, and sometimes some piece of writing or improv shoots a sniper rifle perfectly through the garage door into the house and hits you in the heart)

@bluedalahorse warned me that this is how you really get stuck on a ship, when you see pieces of yourself in both characters, and I do fear that she is right.

So we’re really in it now, is what I’m saying. Send me your Armand thoughts, I want all of them. I will be counting down the days until episode 5 and obsessing until it airs. I’ll check back in on this meta later, I guess, to see how correct or incorrect I was.

[animatedjen]

Out of curiosity, what is your favorite planet to explore out of all the Jedi games? Also, I know it’s a little early, but happy holidays!

Happy holidays! 🎄 Ooh this is tricky. The art direction and environment design in Fallen Order is more memorable to me, but the movement mechanics and level design feel stronger in Survivor.

For actual gameplay exploration, my favorite planet is probably Koboh: it's huge, filled with different unique biomes, and has secrets to discover around every corner. It changes with the game's story, as new roaming enemies appear (to fight you or each other!) while new friends gather at Pyloon's. There's also a great sense of verticality, from the skybound Observatory to the Phon'Qi Caverns to the half-sunken Lucrehulk. Its High Republic roots give the planet some history and mystery, though I'd say Jedha does that even better (really love the Sanctuary Temple!) And the planet's circular layout, two types of mounts, and fast travel make it easy to find your way back to familiar territory. I spent a lot of my first playthrough just roaming the different regions and finding surprise boss fights or hidden chests tucked away in yet another cavern.

Fallen Order is intentionally emptier, with big cavernous spaces and environments that echo their former glory. Focusing on the Zeffo means we explore vaults and tombs, spaces where the mystical side of the Force is put front and center. The planets Zeffo, Dathomir, and Bogano all have big focal points that drive the story (and our exploration) towards a specific goal - but the level layouts are winding and it's easy to get lost/stuck, especially without a fast travel mechanic. Still, the stylized color and lighting gives each location their own distinct visual identities and I think they're overall more impactful to look at, even if more challenging to explore.

There's a very (very) good chance Tanalorr will feature prominently in Jedi 3, and I'm hoping it could become the best of both worlds. Maybe an upgradable skiff to travel between islands, or improved jump abilities to ascend tall mountains. Contrasting the "lived-in" areas of Hidden Path refugees against the frozen-in-time High Republic buildings and any secrets left behind by the Nihil or other ancient groups. Maybe something even older lurking in the bowels of this nexus in the Force.

Until then, we'll keep exploring our other Jedi planets :) Admittedly these days I'm more focused on in-game photo/video projects than gameplay, which would be a completely different ranking: Bracca, Jedha, and Coruscant would go way up on the list. But these are adventure games first and Cal dress-up simulator second, soooooooooooo

[akutasoda]

Helloo! Can I request kurapika, Feitan and chrollo angst hcs with a reader who’s a traitor? Like they were only with them to gather information and potentially kill them

snakes and spiders

synopsis - they never thought that someone could betray them like this

includes - kurapika, chrollo, feitan

warnings - gn!reader, angst, mentions of blood/murder, wc - 898

kurapika ★↷

↪the phantom troupe weren't entirely unwise to the fact that someone from the kurta clan had slipped the net. originally they did think nothing of it but when someone that fits a similar description surfaces in the hunter exams, they became suspicious.

↪they knew that if he was a survivor, he probably would have clue on who belonged to the troupe and so they hired an outsider. you're job was simple - gain kurapika's trust to keep an eye on him and if he got too close to the truth, kill him.

↪you figured that the best starting point was to join the hunter exams and build from there. you quickly gained the trust of a few of his associates and eventually they introduced you to your target who was none the wiser to your intentions.

↪you managed to build up a friendship with kurapika that extended outside of the hunter exams. you kept in contact and eventually he started telling you about his goals and what kind of missions he was heading on - all of which was swiftly delivered back to your employer.

↪however you weren't made aware of the fact that two of kurapika's companions, gon and killua, had seen you with chrollo. it was an oversight that you ignored but now kurapika knew. no amount of excuses could get you out of the situation and so you owned up.

↪kurapika was absolutely shattered. he would never of guessed someone as genuine as you would turn out to be a big lie, to his sworn enemy no less. he could never forgive you and he now lumped you in the same category as the phatom troupe themselves.

chrollo lucifer ★↷

↪chrollo took great pride in the fact that the phantom troupe was as successful as it was. he would never admit it but he did view them as somewhat of a family and therefore he would ensure they were safe.

↪so when a stranger shows direct interest in joining, he becomes suspicious. admittedly he was impressed with the skillset you possessed and could agree that it would benefit the troupe substantially but he needed to know you wouldn't betray the troupe.

↪you knew very well that chrollo was searching for a sign that you weren't right for the troupe but you would make sure he wouldn't find one. afterall, how else could you get close enough to kill him? eventually and very begrudgingly, you had been accepted into the phantom troupe.

↪it took a long time for the other spiders to even begin accepting the idea that you could be trusted. missions and meetings with other spiders became crucial in gaining enough trust that they would stop suspecting you for having other intentions.

↪and no matter how long it took, you pressed on long enough to the point that chrollo willingly started accepting you as a proper member to the troupe. even longer for him to value you the same as the rest of the spiders but once he got there, he realised how valuable and loyal you were to the group.

↪or atleast he thought so. he thought he'd be angry, furious even but even now as your knife became plunged deep into his chest he could only feel overwhelmed by sadness and hurt.

feitan portor ★↷

↪the phantom troupe had quite the high bounty over their head when it came to people looking for contracts and such. obviously, the more physical infiltration missiond became higher payed but you settled for a lower information retrieval job.

↪squeezing information out of a the leader himself certainly would be a tricky mission and so you opted your sights onto a different member of the troupe, specifically feitan. the de facto leader in the absence of their main leader.

↪it was still quite the challenge but much more manageable than chrollo. although maybe it did look a bit suspicious when the brand new member to the troupe actrd much more friendly to feitan than the rest from the get go.

↪you knew very well that it would take a long time to gain the trust of anyone, let alone enough for them to start talking about the information you needed to complete your missions. so you were prepared to play the long game and do so by any means necessary.

↪feitan himself was normally quite reserved unless needed not but after a very long time, you managed to get him to be slightly more friendly toward you than the restt of the spiders were. he was rather suspicious of you for quite a while but eventually that would start to dissipate.

↪in it's olace, he would start to trust you more and more - evident by the fact that he became more willing to go on missions with you and the fact that he became quite a bit more talkative than usual.

↪feitan had begun to see you as more of a friend than a coworker, very quickly however it seemed like his trust became misplaced. nobody could tell but he was absolutely seething and he swore that when the troupe caught you, you would suffer more pain than he had ever inflicted in anyone yet.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

Some mechanics and world-building for my werewolfverse too long to be included in And Then There Was One:

-The bite infects everyone with a magical passenger, the wolf. The wolf and human are both sharing the body but the wolf can override human actions when humans break the rules. Werewolves never kill fellow werewolves. The wolf finds harming people to be repugnant.

-Werewolves only kill humans in self-defense, either by accident or because they got cornered by too many humans to avoid non-lethal violence. (Admittedly, the humans would disagree with their definition of self-defense because from the human perspective it's not self-defense if the werewolf was trying to bite you first.) Werewolves prefer biting as a method to bring enemies down instead of killing them.

-One of the side effects of the werewolf bite is that in the period between bite and the first transformation, people regress and become docile/obedient around fully grown werewolves. This means that bite victims are extremely susceptible to brainwashing during the change. It's sort of like being erased down to a childlike level and then going through childhood again, with all the programming that society gives you in childhood about what is right/wrong/normal. And the new childhood overwrites the first one in terms of perceptions of normal. This creates the high rate of Transhuman Treachery.

-The brainwashing goes a level deeper because the wolves are influencing the minds of their hosts, and the wolves really really want to bite everyone and take over the world.

-If the biting victims are able to escape the pack before they transform, then they can avoid the brainwashing. However, they are still susceptible to the inner wolf's urge to bite people, which grows stronger the more they care about someone. The pack rejects the existence of strays and hunts them down. They have ways of forcing strays into the pack, but I won't discuss that in this post because of spoilers. There is only one werewolf pack and the pack wants to keep it that way.

-Werewolves can communicate telepathically and make decisions by group consensus. It's a direct democracy (aka policies are decided by majority vote, not legislators.) Pack leaders are not the people who make decisions, they are the people in charge of executing the will of the pack. Thus the werewolf concept of leadership is different and pack leaders will be seen fighting in the front lines instead of staying safe like human leaders.

-Unity is the big advantage of the werewolves. The werewolves don't have internal conflict like humans because goals get made as a pack, and even if some people disagree, once the pack has made a decision everyone sticks together.

-Werewolf society is very utopian. They are able to conquer human issues of poverty because everyone in werewolf society shares resources. The bite cures mental illness and addiction, thus eliminating some causes of poverty that humans find so difficult to overcome. Werewolves treat each other better, because they all have a sense that everyone is family. The urge to help each other also combats the "free rider" problem that human society has where one person just doesn't want to contribute.

-In rare cases, some humans are so vile and evil that the inner wolf rejects them. Then the bite causes them to sicken and die instead. I will note that this is not a moral judgement so much as a pragmatic one. If someone has committed horrible crimes in the past but can be made a productive member of werewolf society with some brainwashing and restraining rules, then they will survive the bite. But if someone has such a strong desire to harm others that the wolf would need to be in control all the time to stop them, then they are considered irredeemable.

-Historically there have been a lot of volunteers to become werewolves. It cures all illness! A society where everyone has an upper middle class lifestyle! Werewolves downplay the brainwashing aspect because they know that would scare people off, though some have noticed. At the start of Kazuo's story, the werewolves have taken over about half the world and have reached a tipping point where they know they are stronger than humanity and are revealing their claws.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, it’s been an extended minute since I’ve posted some tunes by Colourmusic. Although I have admittedly displayed plenty of audio samples from this group in the past, I’ve never put too much focus on their very artsy music videos. Their batshit videos are actually what got me hooked into their sound in the first place, and seeing as how I’ve got hundreds of new pornbots followers these days, I figured it was high time to give my audience one more, and perhaps one last taste of their brand of literal synesthesia. For those of you who have never heard of Colourmusic, this is an extremely rare indie group based out of Oklahoma that prides itself on giving its lucky listeners an audio-visual experience. Just above is their video for You For Leaving Me from their 2011 album My _____ Is Pink. If you’d like more details and another very vivid melodic experience, scroll on down for more of the same.

Over a decade ago as I was sampling random music from Pandora, I became transfixed on one band in particular that was more original and more fun to listen to than all the rest. As I began to dig deeper into what they were all about, I fell in love with their entire mission statement; to dedicate EP’s and full albums to specific hues of the visible light spectrum. To simplify, each of their albums is dedicated to one individual color, which the band tries to match the sounds and feelings of. As far as I know, no other act out there had even attempted a concept so specific and bold, and the more you listen to their work the more you begin to understand how aggressively they attempted to tackle this lofty goal with conviction. Since I’ve discovered their music, I’ve asked real-life synesthetes (people who can interpret sounds as colors) both online and offline about Colourmusic. The consensus is that although there are certainly other colors that are always present in their tunes, they manage to do a pretty damn good job of nailing, controlling or appropriately representing their chosen hue. They started off with red and yellow EP’s that were merged into an orange album, then they took a righteous stab at the colors pink, purple and blue. Overall, their catalog is a completely genre-defying sound drenched in bits and pieces of gospel, psychedelic, acid pop, Oklahoma-style dance rock, and even R&B. My two favorite albums out of their collected works were their pink and purple albums. And speaking of their purple album, just below is a lush little ditty called Horse Race from their 2014 album May You Marry Rich. As their musical production has died down to a UTI trickle over the last few years this may be the final time I post anything by them. So, smash play, enjoy and check out their astonishing catalog for yourself.

A few years ago, it made me smile from ear to ear when I posted some material from their pink album and some random synesthete from Tumblr commented that, “Their music tastes like citrus!” Interactions like that are why I post music to Tumblr in the first place, folks! Image source: Colourmusic music, videos, stats, and photos | Last.fm