#which kind of fits tbh

[misscammiedawn]

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

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

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

[ineed-to-sleep]

Some sketches I did to try to get a feel for what I want my Rook to look like 🤔

[weaverofink]

punk douxie redesign!!! i just think he should have had an undercut tbh

+ bonus doodle:

i feel like they for sure wouldn't let him wear his whole punk getup at his cafe job so i put him in a uniform. for fun.

[theaxolotlkween]

Silly little comic I made.

[solidwater05]

My take on the aspec flag!

[PT: My take on the aspec flag! /End PT]

[ID: A flag with 6 horizontal stripes, divided in four sections by a white compass rose in the middle of the flag. Each section has 3 stripes that form a gradient that gets darker towards the middle of the flag. Clockwise, the sections are in red, green, blue, and purple hues. /End ID]

The 'main' aspec flag only includes the ace and aro spectrums, and I didn't find any inclusive flag I liked, so I made my own. This flag focuses on the diversity of the a-spectrum.

Symbolism:

None of the colors have meaning on their own. The dark purple and dark green are taken from the most used flag, just a little fun fact.

The colors are separated in different sections because the a-spectrum is vast and individuals within it can have wildly different experiences while still being under the same umbrella.

But they're also grouped in gradients, because multiple different 'colors', or individuals, can still belong in the same space and have similar experiences!

The white compass rose is a tribute to the most used flag; it still represents how different individuals feel or don't feel attraction.

However, I also kept it white because for some, white is the absence of hue or saturation, representing a lack of attraction, and for others, it's what you get when you combine every color, representing wholeness even without 'traditional' colors.

[wonder-worker]

"Administratively, too, [...] queens were considered the legal lords of their landholdings. [...] Grants noted that the queen's officials had administrative autonomy without being subject to the king or anyone else, and evidence of the same assumption can be gleaned from court rolls that were recorded with headings indicating the lord of the manor whose court proceedings were being enrolled. As an example, some court rolls for the manor of Haveringatte-Bower specified that it was the court of [Margaret of Anjou] that was in session, while later rolls recorded Elizabeth Woodville as the lord of the manor court."

-Michele Seah, 'My Lady Queen, the Lord of the Manor': The Economic Roles of Late Medieval Queens", Parergon, Volume 37, Number 2, 2020.

[swordmaid]

anyway shri’iia’s epilogue outfit which is a mix of 1900s male stage costumes and also that one camp outfit mod. look at the ring hehe 🤭

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

Thinking once again about the very weird emotional reaction I had (am still having) re: Timothee Chalamet's performance in Dune Part 2. Because I came out of that theatre legit a little scared of that guy, which is not something I ever thought I'd be able to say -- he's very much not an intimidating person in most people's minds and if you'd told me what Part 2 was like before I knew anything about Dune I wouldn't have been able to believe it. But he's so good, and I think part of the reason he works so well in this new phase of Paul's character especially is because of that audience perception of him as an actor, because you go into it thinking "this shouldn't work" and then it does work, and that weird dissonance makes it work even more in a meta way. Paul as a character also isn't supposed to seem like he could be this crazy warrior cult leader, and then he is and people within the narrative believe it and it feels within the narrative like it isn't supposed to work, yet somehow does. The fact that it Feels Wrong is perfect because it's supposed to.

[mutalune]

my clone culture headcanon is that they have almost no traditional mandalorian ties, they picked up almost nothing culturally/linguistically from the mandalorian trainers, but the one thing they DID get were endearments/affectionate and-or comforting words/etc.

b/c 1) that was the only way the trainers could somewhat express affection for their favorites without getting dinged for being too attached to them since no one there actually spoke mando’a 2) kaminoans would be Unhappy if the clones expressed affection openly so secret language words were the only way to safely verbalize caring and loving, so they picked up on those few kind words VERY quickly

(The way I see it working is that the trainers had favorites, would occasionally say something like “chin up, hang in there, good job kiddo,” and said favorites picked up those terms without actually ever getting Direct Translations of what they mean. So they get the words and some context but have to jumble it together themselves and pronunciation and meaning change the further away it spreads from the original favorites - because all of this is spread in private, quietly, until it grows its own legs in different iterations with different battalions imho

like they know adding -‘ika to a name is affectionate and feels like a diminutive but they don’t know what it means exactly and sometimes plug it into names in grammatically odd ways, so instead of ��Trap’ika” you get “Trapper’ika” which sounds more like “Trapperka” when you’re talking fast.)

(i’m just a fan of gentle soft pet names and showing affection quietly and how love finds a way and how the clones can take what little scraps they were given and make it their own)

[kashilascorner]

Oh ok. I get now why a lot of people didn't vibe with the ending.

All and all: excellent manga, overall very good final act, too rushed final 2-3 chapters but weak and honestly mediocre epilogue, which makes the high of the ending kind of leave a bitter taste. I think Noda had a good steed and suddenly he had to finish and had to rush all. So the ending in the sense of the final arc was good but the ending proper (final couple chapters) + epilogue......... Not so much

[raiiny-bay]

i always forget how short marky is compared to everyone else.....

[impossible-rat-babies]

they look like ur cool friend’s dad who wears bead bracelets + sandals 24/7

[alienaiver]

not me realizing what caused my flare up and why it hasnt gotten better 😭😭

[orcelito]

I'm at the painful "confession" scene during the kage summit arc. It really is so emotional, but also... hm.

When I was younger, like 13 or so, I was a big Sakura and Naruto shipper. They were the first pairing I read fanfic for even. And in a way, I do still enjoy the two of them together... but it's moments like these that really drive home the fact that it Doesn't really work in canon. Not the way that it's set up.

As Sakura puts it, "Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke! That's all you think about!"

She's told that Naruto has feelings for her and decides to use it to convince him to stop going after Sasuke. She does love him, but not in the way she's trying to confess. The love they share is one of comradery, not necessarily romantic. The love of two people who have gone through such pain together, and who have leaned on each other throughout it all. And the fact that she's turning around and saying she loves him "simply like everyone else", now... it's trivializing. And the fact that she's trying to convince him of this, the fact that she thinks she Can convince him of this, is pretty hurtful. They've come a long way from when they were kids, Naruto the goofball vying for her attention while she yelled at him for being stupid. Sakura respects Naruto so much more than before, and Naruto respects her too. So the fact that she's still doing this... She's desperate, really. She thinks the promise he made to her to bring Sasuke home is what's driving him to let himself be hurt over and over and over again in the pursuit and protection of Sasuke.

But she's wrong.

That may be part of it, but it's only part. Naruto wants Sasuke back for himself, too. He let himself be beat up to avoid selling him out. He chases after him with single minded determination. Sasuke is his entire drive to get stronger, to catch up, to bring him home. Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke indeed.

As it is, Naruto knows she's lying to herself. And no matter what she says, he will keep going after Sasuke. Because that's just the person that Naruto is.

[randomwriteronline]

Pohatu liked the cold.

Pohatu liked the heat too, to some degree.

But he liked the cold better.

Pohatu didn't know if he liked him because he liked the cold, or if he liked the cold because he liked him.

It could have been both; he didn't know.

What Pohatu did know was that he very much did not like the dark.

It hadn't always been like that.

It hadn't always been that bad.

Pohatu could hardly remember much from before he had crashed on Okoto from the sky, but he was certain he hadn't always been so afraid of the dark. He was certain, at some point, to have liked it to some degree: to have gladly traversed it without fear or with greater purpose, and to have associated it at least in part with something friendly, someone nice.

But he could not remember that.

What he could remember was the pitch dark, and a trusted hand clamped around his own tight. Just Pohatu and him, in an endless abyss.

They had both been scared, of course. But they were together.

They would have made it through.

Then suddenly, after ages of wandering in the complete black, the hand had slipped away from Pohatu's grip, never to be found again; and he had cried out for him, over and over, telling him it wasn't the time for jokes like these, and that he thought he didn't like this kind of humor anyways. He had cried out a name he couldn't remember anymore until his voice had turned hoarse, and he had reached out everywhere in the darkness in the hopes of finding that cold palm again: nobody had ever answered.

When Pohatu had stopped calling for him, everything had been quiet.

Quiet, and not cold.

It had always been cold, while he was here.

Always a little bit cold, and it had comforted him.

But now it was only quiet.

Quiet, and not cold.

Pohatu had started being afraid that something, in the dark, had taken him.

Pohatu had started being afraid that something, in the dark, would have taken him too.

"What are you waiting for?" Tahu asked. Pohatu was standing at the entrance of the tunnel, turned towards the hole they'd fallen through instead of following Onua as he lumbered down their only way out. "Do you hear something? Someone following us?"

"Not yet. But I'm staying here," the Toa of Stone replied softly. "I'll cover your back. Keep threats from catching up to you."

"Alone?" his Earth brother's concerned question came from deeper into the darkness.

"You'd never make it like that," Gali argued: "We've managed to handle the obstacles in this city only by working together. Leaving you alone might turn into a death sentence."

"As it almost did for Lewa," Kopaka added. His piqued tone gained an indifferent shrug from the object of his disapproval.

Pohatu stood still: "I can handle it."

"You aren't scared of the dark, are you, now?" Lewa's voice creeped up on his shoulder like a Skull Spider; within it, he could hear a mischievous grin.

He turned around, growling: "Be quiet."

Had he had any less self control, the Toa of Jungle's laugh would have ended abruptly with a fist harder than stone against his teeth.

"He is!" the nimble fighter cackled, a palm over his mask's sockets as though he could not look at his brother without being overwhelmed by the hilarity of the situation: "He truly is scared! Gloomy, fearless Pohatu is scared! This is too much!"

Nowhere near as amused as him, Gali hit him over the head with the blunt end of her trident and almost sent him sprawling on the ground. When she turned towards the Toa of Stone, her eyes told him very clearly that she was not going to entertain any more arguments on whether or not he would be left to hold the defense on his own: "Come along now."

"I said-" Pohatu tried, calling upon every ounce of his stubborness.

"And I said," she stopped him immediately - eroding his futile attempt at imposing himself over her will like a raging river smooths the rocks of its bed into inoffensive pebbles - "That, just to avoid the unsavory possibility of a large swarm of who-knows-what catching you alone here and your heroic sacrifice to keep them at bay leaving us one Toa short, you'll come along now."

Her tone left no room for rebuttals.

With a sigh that sounded more like a growl, her brother turned and followed Onua into the bowels of his element.

"Don't worry," he heard the kind giant reassure him quietly: "We'll keep you safe."

Pohatu would have snarled something much more incredibly nasty at him despite being somewhat aware of his good intentions if he hadn't been so focused on how quickly the light behind them was disappearing the more they walked, and by the time he properly processed the mortifyingly gentle words they were too far along for him to think of any sort of retort amidst his building panic.

It was dark.

Very, very dark.

Almost as dark as back then.

Almost as dark as where he'd lost the hold on that hand.

Pohatu hoped he wasn't heaving loud enough for the others to hear.

If he had turned to look around he would have seen the weak lights of their eyes only barely, not even bright enough to make out anything past the sockets of their masks; but if he had, his own eyes would have given away that he'd moved his head to look somewhere that wasn't simply ahead, and the others would have had no doubts in regards to just how nervous and uneasy he felt at that moment, and he had already decided he had been humiliated enough today to last him the rest of his lifetime, however long that would have been.

So he stared forward, into the dark emptiness that could have stolen him away without a trace at any moment, trying not to breathe too hard, so tense he could have snapped in half.

He needed to think of something else.

Something, anything else.

He thought of him.

Maybe he was here.

Somewhere in the dark.

Maybe, if Pohatu remembered his name and called for him now, loud enough, he would have finally answered.

Maybe he would have rushed over and grabbed his hand, chastising him - where in the name of Jxqx Krf were you? Did you want to scare me like that time in Hl-Txef, while we were looking for your Exr? If you were trying to make me grieve you in front of Qroxdx Lkbtx again, I'm going to freeze you into a cube - taking him away from all of this, away, somewhere cold and comforting and familiar, and Pohatu would have laughed bitterly despite himself and would have screamed that he hadn't let go, you left me there, alone and scared and in the dark, and maybe he would have yelled that everything had been changing so fast and he'd been all he'd had left that was still at least a little solid to hang onto and when he'd left him there he'd been terrified, and if he had changed it had been to be more like him, because nothing used to seem to hurt him and if he'd been anything closer to how cold and steady and rigid he had been then he would have had to survive somehow, no matter what, and then they would have argued more because they had both been so scared and worried, and then they would have made up and they would have gone out in the sun and Pohatu would have seen his face again and remembered him properly.

Maybe something could have pretended to be him.

Maybek, like that, it could have lured him away into the dark.

A horrible choked sound echoed weakly through the tunnel.

By the time the Toa had grouped tighter together against the unseen threat, Pohatu realized it had come from his own mouth.

He did not mention that.

They waited a moment, each with their backs to those of the others; then somebody (he could not tell who, he was too mortified) said: "Let's go," and they all moved again, walking closer to each other. Just in case.

Maybe it was for the better, in the end, because Pohatu inexplicably felt a little more at ease.

It could not be because he was sorrounded by people who cared for his well-being: at least as far as he told himself, he would have rather they'd left him alone back there, because the thought of being coddled like this when he was meant to be a mighty warrior was shaming him all the way down to his bones.

No, he realized with genuine surprise as he wracked his brain to figure this mystery out. It was not the numbers, or the unity; it was the temperature.

It was... Cold.

A gentle cold.

Emitted like one might emit warmth.

From somewhere at his side, near his arm.

Unconsciously, he leaned further into the chill until he softly bumped into a shoulder.

He waited.

Nothing happened.

No cold palm grabbing his hand.

No cold voice chastising him for running off.

Pohatu kept walking, limb brushing against the cold arm at every step, eyes never turning towards it, breathing a little more normally, feeling a little less panicked.

Kopaka had no idea why the Toa of Stone was suddenly so close to him, and he wasn't sure if asking would have gotten himself snarled at or simply knocked out; but through their contact he felt the other's shoulders mellow slightly, heard his footsteps turn a little less stiff as he exhaled softly in what seemed to be relief; so, as he leaned slightly against him without being shoved off, he decided that if his brother needed this at the moment he would not have dreamed of taking it away from him.

His power was a shield, after all, was it not?

And a shield needs not to be asked: it simply protects.

[wolves-in-the-world]

tags on krakenartificer's post about a leverage au where nate enters the priesthood but ends up running cons for people who come to him for help anyway:

#now i need a crossover episode of catholic priest nate who's still running leverage style shenanigans #with father brown [via @trivalentlinks]

thank you for making me stare at the wall in fascination and horror about this crossover

they'd be occasional allies occasional confidantes they'd go behind each other's backs once or twice and only kinda regret it. This nate hasn't gone through the same loss as in canon, but that wouldn't make him a whole lot softer, so he'd be fundamentally irritated with father brown - his tested and unshakeable belief and his optimism about the human condition - and father brown would be generally concerned about everyone on nate's end, and nate not the least of it. They'd play chess together and be fairly well-matched. They'd visit each other's confessionals to check in.

we'd get some interesting acknowledgement of father brown's "I'm nice and simple and harmless" grift (which I could also call power negativity) which is only kind of a grift because he really is that nice and harmless beneath, except that he uses it to get information from people.

flambeau would be utterly thrilled and (playfully?) insulted not to be father brown's only criminal associate.

the leverage crew would be correctly suspicious of flambeau, I think, but sophie would greet him by name - possibly with a kiss to the cheek, possibly eyeing him like he's a viper in their midst - and reference some very improbable occasion when they were after the same prize. He mentions she was using a different name then; he doesn't say what it was. Bonus points if he also had his eye on the dagger in the Rashomon Job but had the flu / was unexpectedly in prison / had to attend a grandmother's funeral at the time.

I have this certainty in my mind that the leverage crew would be largely dismissive of sid's abilities and he'd kind of snort and roll his eyes about it - he's at worst a common criminal and very lower class, so he's used to being understimated - and surprise them with his connections or lock-picking or holding his own in a brawl or fixing an elderly car in the quickest dirtiest way imaginable. (Parker would decide she likes him then; the others would be reassured after seeing how gentle he is when talking with her.) He'd also nope out of leverage's business at a sensible time, because father brown's rubbed off on him and he doesn't actually want that kind of danger - unless the con's personal.

(I'm not sure whether to set this in leverage time or drag it back to father brown's 1950s so I'm settling for mashing the two together and pretending it's not an issue. See also: geography.)

… father brown would have I think one harrowing conversation with eliot where they mention their time in the military, the marks that killing people and losing people leaves on a person - father brown already does this in canon, tells someone it's unfair that they're mired in trauma and alcoholism when he found his faith through trauma instead, it floored me - and after brushing on repentance and god here, he wouldn't bring it up with eliot again. (I think father brown varies on this in canon, frankly, but he often respects that kind of boundary, and I think he'd recognise a wound so sore it should be left to heal however it can.)

(yes I'm playing with fictional priests like barbie dolls but no I'm not comfortable with the conversion aspects, so apologies and bear with me while I skate on past that.)

(he'd describe eliot as a good person, once, or as someone working very hard at it. Eliot would be on edge about that for the entire con, finding a little too much uneasy satisfaction in getting to knock people out and play the bad guy - play at the simpler stuff he used to do. Sophie might catch father brown for a word about it; father brown wouldn't be that clumsy again.)

I think father brown and nate would both talk bunty out of getting involved in a joint kembleford-leverage operation except in the most innocent way possible. The problem is she actually would make a good getaway driver, and she's thrilled with the idea, but she's already had some run-ins with the press and the law and can't risk another; luckily she's better used as a distraction elsewhere.

and I'm sorry to do this, but I think lady felicia's husband would be a mark or potential mark at one point. It would be fraught.

(the main reason I haven't recommended father brown's heist episode (s7e10), aside from not having a background on the politics in it, is that it shows lady felicia as a victim and pulls the heist on her behalf. The show largely convinced me to ignore the messy reality of her and her husband's inherited wealth, but that episode made me kinda uncomfortable - which is a shame, because seeing these characters pull a heist was fucking great.)

mrs mccarthy would be used against her will or knowledge as a distraction while someone's pockets are picked. She isn't told until afterwards, and then only half by accident. She is, of course, horrified. Father brown was absolutely the one to suggest it in planning, but flambeau slips in mid-apology to smoothly take the blame.

I could in fact go on and this is in fact a problem.

—

editing to continue:

I'm actually thinking that father brown might approach eliot from an ex-military angle and not a Religious Authority angle at all - eliot was raised protestant, after all, and it's an entirely different vibe. And I have to think eliot's guarded around father brown for the very fact that he's a priest and seems to mean it in a way that nate, I feel, wouldn't. So they may avoid the topic entirely, or as close to it as they can when brushing on, well, eliot's entire moral injury situation. Which is good news for me.

bunty would admire parker for being different and capable and getting up to exciting things, though would probably fail at any attempts at friendship until she thinks to ask what parker likes doing and ends up learning to pick pockets that evening. The second those two are around buildings tall enough to rappel down she's in danger. (The second parker can slip away at night she's giving the church a go; father brown gives her a look the night before and quietly warns her about the dodgy roof.)

mrs mccarthy decides fairly quickly that hardison is a very nice young man (his nana instincts are online and functional) even if he spends far too much time on the wretched computer. She's determined to feed him and half the time he's determined to find ways to politely refuse, though the strawberry scones are actually pretty good.

she's appalled by eliot's job, and fiercely territorial of her kitchen when he offers help, even just cleaning up, but once she's seen him get in the way of trouble she's absolutely catching his arm and half hiding behind him in any crisis real or perceived. (She still doesn't approve of him.)

lady felicia sees hardison and eliot as two very different kinds of novelties and does some talking to hardison about tech (mostly listening and marveling) and some quietly ogling both of them, and especially eliot once she's seen him fighting. (Eliot unfortunately turned on his charm when he realised she sort of expected it. She doesn't get to chat with charming southern gents all that often - it's very shallow, and she's not serious about it.)

thank goodness bunty's too young for eliot so I don't have to go there. He has to tuck her out of sight in a barn at some point when trouble's headed their way; when the mess is almost cleaned up and she's grabbed a rifle from somewhere to tell the the remaining goon to clear off, with every appearance of competence, eliot takes it from her and disarms it with a smear of blood under his nose and a slightly betrayed expression.

hardison and sid get along, aside from a little initial insecurity on the parker front, and get to bitch a bit about flambeau, who hardison mistrusts from the start.

flambeau... he admires parker, from a distance - professionally and not very effusively - but after he watches her work for a while he seems to realise who she was trained by, and tells her as much. He says he was too, for a very short time, and it's unclear if he'd gain anything from making it up. Says that he and archie had a difference of opinion - and has a way of saying it that implies there might have been fire involved.