#why do you think i stopped posting about it entirely

[cancerian]

The only “dense motherfucker” is one that believes it is women that must do so (make men feel comfortable) for men. You live in a society highly governed by your fellow males, if anyone is making you feel “bad” or “sad” it is because of the rules and laws created by your fellow males. Why should women who have been oppressed and subjugated for years, and are still subjugated by a different name care for your hurt that is caused by other men.

The biggest threat to women is men, the biggest threat to men is other men. At these your big ages, you would think that half a braincell would have formed by now. There is nothing that men will do now that they have not already done in the past. This is why women’s history and their experiences with the men they loved is very important for young girls to know. That way they don’t fall into the trap of “if you show them love, they will change and be kind.” Stop trying to put women in dangerous situations under the guise of loving all humans.

You have to be small minded to think women treat all men the same, your kind needs their ego stroked. Which is why women/girls are required to say “but not all men” when discussing things that disproportionately affect them. No one owes you love, but as humans we owe each other some sense of respect. So, you must respect women’s decisions to interact with you how they feel safest doing. The same way women have learned to respect that not all men are going to respect them. Only a dense pig would think that women do not understand the concept of viewing others as humans. In fact, time and time again it is women that are viewed as less than human by the same group you’re forcing them to care for.

As women (regardless of age), and especially as black women (moving away from the POC bs) you should prioritize your safety, you are not mother Theresa (even she was proven to be a fraud) and should focus on your own wellbeing. Don’t let an idiot calling you “dense” put you in situations many never come out of alive. As someone who has a male in her life that would do anything to see her happy and accomplished (and vice versa), I don’t go around with rose colored glasses trying to change anyone’s opinions because they chose to adopt an ideology that demonizes the living experiences of others. If being called “brother” is the only way you feel welcomed, then you need to rethink your entire life. Once you’re above 25, I implore that you try using at the very least 1/3 of your brain. I know using even half would probably cause a headache, so for now let’s aim to use 1/3.

Also you bring up the fact that men disproportionately hold more seats of power, so maybe direct your sadness to the people actively causing it. Which is the men in power not caring about the broke men (any man not in power). “It won’t pan out great for anyone who is not a male” because this is what males have done throughout history (I know you used man, but I used male for a specific reason and no I’m not a terf, but I don’t care about being called that). What a pathetic thing to say, especially if you’re not the man in power. This is an issue that egotistical idiots have (not calling you an idiot, but it is what it is), claiming men created this and that, when your ancestors are not the men that created it. Stop claiming power you personally don’t have. Stop claiming other men’s hard work as your own, especially when they put in the work to actually be productive members of society.

To the original twitter post, my dude you sound very stupid and seem like the kind that spends more time watching videos than actually reading on your countries history. The win was predictable, not because “men are becoming more right wing” but because this has been a common theme in America. These people are influenced by certain kind of media because deep down they already hold these beliefs, which is why they accept them. Men don’t genuinely want to see equality, hence why when they notice any group they view less than getting more rights they retaliate. The election result only tells us the reality of America as it pertains to race and sex (even more so when we look at the outcome of certain women’s voting history). So, the replies need to stop trying to make women take the blame for actions caused by other men. We should all aim to grow up.

To all the women/girls out there, avoid men that always want to be coddled and victimized. Most importantly find ways to protect yourselves, utilize the 2nd amendment given to you not by all men, but by the men that actually wrote it in. Protect yourselves by all means, and don’t be made to feel guilty for opting for safety over danger and stress.

Edit: have come to the conclusion after reading a substantial number of replies, Tumblr has a significant number of idiots who think they are smart. As a collective, we should all go touch grass.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[muffinsin]

i just read this post

https://www.tumblr.com/muffinsin/739024633405308928/anon-here-my-fav-is-bela-though-i-totally-get

about gp! dimi sisters giving reader just the tip and i loved it!!! so if it’s okay and if not already done, could you do one for donna if you write gp for her?

i love all your stuff btw!

Absolutely, hon!🙇‍♀️ Some more Donna in our lives never hurts XP! Other parts here

Let’s get into it!🙌

Masterlists

With a flushed face and a racing heart you look up at her, finding her dark eye at last. She’s hovering just mere inches above you, her breasts pushing down against you, her eye set on you, her thighs brushing against you and her cock- no, only her tip- pushed into you.

You squirm, helpless to do anything else due to the ribbons tying your wrists together. Already, you regret your actions, wishing you had been good instead. Now, you pay the price, all your pleads and whimpers falling onto deaf ears. You want- no, need her. Need all of her.

Alas, your punishment for today is obvious, clear as day to you, and so bittersweet.

You whine, your eyes wide. “Please, my love”, you plead.

“Please, just a little more, my love! I’ll be good now! Just…just a little more, a little…a little more!”, you whine, squirming to try and get her deeper inside. Stopping this abruptly, you gasp when she grabs your hips, her grip strong, her strong, skilled fingers pressing into your flesh.

“Now, Tesoro, I thought you said you’d be good this morning already…”, she coos, her voice low and seductive, enough to make your head spin.

Using her free hand she reaches down, and you can only whine as she begins to jerk herself off, thrusting her hand and occasionally sliding her fingers across her balls. And still, it’s only her tip that she grants you.

Feeling utterly edged and sensitive, you cry and squirm, little pleas slipping from your lips like water from a waterfall.

“Please, my love!”

“I’m sorry, Fiore!”

“Please, just a little bit! Just halfway in, my love!”

“I’ve learned my lesson!”, you insist, flushing when she laughs lowly and merely jerks herself off a little faster.

“Oh…tesoro, mi fai divertire”

You begin to feel more and more flustered, your body held down and in place, your arms restrained, her tip just barely inside of you. Still, you feel precum drool from her, feel how warm and wet she is. You drool, thinking of how she could just push herself inside fully at any time.

Alas, she isn’t, she doesn’t, and she won’t. Not until she feels you have learned your lesson. And you know, Donna is unfortunately, at least in this instance, very, very patient.

You gasp when she leans down, her tongue trailing along your neck, her hair tickling your skin gently.

“I have told you what would happen when you don’t behave, Tesoro”, she whispers, scolding playfully. Yes, she has. Punishment- but she never clarified it would be this, this..this agony! You can only squirm and try to roll your hips to no avail. You’re sure, you could cum instantly if she just pushed herself inside already!

“This isn’t…fair!”, you whine, feeling so terribly needy. Before this, you thought edging was the worst thing she could do, or denying you an orgasm all together. This is worse: this way, you don’t even feel her inside properly, can barely feel her head push and pulse inside of you, drooling precum inside.

She chuckles, the sound low and breathless, a sign she’s getting closer to an orgasm, too.

“Would you like me to pull out entirely, love?”, she asks, then, her voice a little lighter. Oh, she’s teasing you, and you’re helpless in the face of her dominance. You quickly shake your head, begging her not to. You don’t know why, but you just can’t bear to lose the tip, too, you desperately need more of her.

“Please…my love…I need it…!”, you plead instead, trying a different approach.

You gasp when her hand trails up to your neck, then, whereas the other works faster between her own legs, pulling moans and grunts from her.

“Then tell me how bad you need it, my doll”, she coos, arousal pooling in her dark eye.

Oh, and you do.

You moan, you plead, you whine and whimper all about just how bad you want it, how bad you need it.

You squirm and cry out for her, spread your legs, so utterly eager to accept more of her inside. But Donna, teasing as she is, merely continues jerking herself off for a painful while longer.

A little more, a little more.

More moans and grunts come from her that have your body heat up and tingle in anticipation.

You want it.

You need it.

And then,

you get it.

When she pushes herself inside, only to cum, it’s almost beautifully overwhelming. You moan and shriek, crying out for her, rolling your hips, eager to receive all of her. She fills you perfectly, paints your insides white and slick.

And then, just before you get your pleasure, you feel her pull out to the tip again.

“Beg again, little one”

[hoshinasblade]

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

[gorillawithautism]

the autism in me can't tell if you're trying to be snarky about it or if you're genuinely asking so if this backfires on me i'll just block and move on but i'll try to act like you were being genuine and not just giving sass to a palestinian for no good reason :)

olly (a palestinian) made a post is discussing the fact their culture is just that: a culture. it is rich and it's meaningful. it's nuanced and diverse. however, olly has also noticed that some people who aren't palestinian take this culture and flatten it. they appropriate it. they wear it like a costume. using aspects of the culture to signal in a two dimensional way that they are Morally Upright by (theoretically) Supporting Palestinians. however, it's impossible to tell how much someone truly supports palestinian liberation and decolonization from just a garment of clothing or something similar. that means that these people are not doing anything substantial for the cause by appropriating the culture in this way. they oversimplify and misrepresent it. and this behavior ultimately harms palestinians. because olly is palestinian, they know exactly how much this hurts them, their people, and their liberation.

now that i've so kindly explained what cultural appropriation and virtue signalling are, we can move on to how your responses were unhelpful at best, and actively antagonistic at worst! :) isn't that exciting <3

you posted "No. Stop this. When a culture is on the receiving end of a genocide, that is not the time to stop and consider the purity of your intentions. Of course it is important, but wouldn't you agree that celebrating any shred of Palestinian culture is what is important right now? Liberals love making perfect the enemy of good. Get out of your head and do whatever you can. This isn't the time for this kind of nonsense."

in the first two sentences, you commanded them to stop. you positioned yourself as more powerful and more knowledgeable than olly. this established two things right off the bat: that you do not know anything at all about olly and that you believe yourself to know better than them despite this. in the third sentence, you act as though it is unquestionably impossible for nonpalestinian antizionists to truly have pure intentions when engaging palestinian culture, community, and liberation. there are people out there who listen to palestinians when they speak. there are people out there who believe that being kind to palestinians is just as important as ending their genocide. there are people out there who know that just because the nature of genocide dehumanizes its victims, that does not mean we must also treat them as though kindness is not a priority. in the fourth sentence, you pose a question. a question that acknowledges that kindness and sensitivity is important in one breath but then acts unkind to olly in the next. you act as though "celebrating any shred of palestinian culture" is a service, regardless of whether that celebration is a respectful one or not. you act as though respect is not important, despite starting the question itself with "of course it is important" which tells me that you don't really believe that yourself. respectfully engaging with palestinians as though they are real people living real lives with real families and real cultural history is clearly not as important to you as being a Good Person who (theoretically) Supports Palestinians. that is exactly the sort of virtue signalling discussed above, both in olly's original post and when i (a nonpalestinian white person) re-explained it. perhaps some part of you realized that olly's target audience was people like yourself. or perhaps you missed that entirely because you weren't willing to try listening to them. either way that's kinda embarrassing ngl. i can see why you might get defensive instead of doing any amount of self reflection. finally, we come to the last bit of your initial reblog. honestly it's not that important to discuss bc i think i mostly covered everything but i do want to point out that it's kinda funny that you called olly a liberal. and you said that they are making "an enemy of good." who's the "good" in this? is it supposed to be you? are you the good guy here? is being disrespectful to palestinians on the internet something that good guys do?

anyway hopefulaly you now see that there was not a single person saying anything about "hesitation and inaction" since i was so gracious to do an analysis of olly's post :) one that you should have done yourself :) and next time, if that analysis is something that's difficult for you, i recommend asking questions instead of immediately jumping to being a dick. as long as you're cordial about it, i'm sure people won't mind explaining a couple things

palestinian culture isn't something for you to "consume". buying as many "palestinian themed" things as possible isn't being an ally. please focus on real life decolonization rather than being a performative ally. pay attention whether you are actually appreciating the culture or just consuming it for your own self interest and gain.

[hannahssimblr]

Winter. 

When did this happen? Was I looking away for long enough for the season to change without my notice? I haven’t spent enough time here watching time, from this old velvet seat by the window that overlooks brutalist blocks, each building identical to the next. These utilitarian slabs might stand like this, grey cubes jutting from the asphalt, for five hundred years. I’m here for five months now. Thoroughly settled, used to this place, this apartment with the tarry flavour of cigarettes clinging to the furniture the landlady never took away. 

Jonas says she’s strange, this woman who has left all of her old things for us to live around. Her lamps, with sun-faded shades, her record collection, the chenille bedspreads stuffed into a closet, and the ancient television I replaced the day after I landed. I’ve never met her. Sometimes, I slip a dusty bottle from her wine rack in the cellar and serve it to my friends at dinner. Surely, by the time she ever notices, I’ll be long gone.

Through the vignette of condensation, the snow drifts, white flecks, across the beam of the streetlights. Kreuzberg is quiet. Sunday. 

I refocus my eyes to look into my face, a mirror reflection in the black window. I look older, perhaps, than in the photographs Jen posted to me in September, the ones from the summer, where the light is hazy and our noses are sun blushed, from that time that feels like another lifetime already, or like fiction. At Christmas, I returned to Ireland, and it rained for two weeks without stopping, and it felt something more like reality.

My grandmother told me that my hair was straggly, and she’s right. It’s been too long since I’ve cut it, but the ends of my hair spent the summer with me. Even though my skin cells have replaced themselves, the parts of my hair touching the collar of my coat and curling around my ears hold the memories that the rest of me is slowly losing. 

I haven’t stayed in touch with my friends from there as much as I would have liked. These days are busy, with friends, with college. I draw and paint more than I ever have, lashing out piece after piece, sketchbook after sketchbook, building a tower upon the desk in my cold little bedroom, though the women in my pieces don’t have green eyes anymore. Now, I choose blue.

The door buzzes, and I stand to answer it. 

My finger on the button, “Yeah?”

“Hurry! Open up, it’s fucking cold.”

I buzz her in, then stand waiting by the open door as she ascends the stairway. Three floors. I hear her the whole way, the snap of boot heels against tile. There’s an elevator in her building, and I feel acutely guilty about my building’s lack of one, despite being entirely powerless to do anything about it, as I am an art student, not an engineer, and was not yet actually born during its construction. 

She appears on the landing, shivering, with snowflakes clinging to her hair, and sitting on the structured shoulders of her trench coat. 

“Ugh, oh God, those stairs. I hate them.” She says. She unzips her boot and tosses onto the pile of shoes next to the door, and I notice immediately that she’s barefoot, toes balanced on the tiles like a ballerina. 

“You didn’t wear socks?”

She’s not wearing tights either. Her long, pale legs poke, completely exposed beneath the beige gabardine. 

“Did you take the U-Bahn like this? It must be five below zero.”

Her second boot hits the tile with a clatter, and she backs me into my apartment. As the door clicks shut, she pulls on the tie of her coat.

She’s wearing nothing but black lingerie. 

“Ah,” I am enlightened. This now makes perfect sense to me, in much the same way it does to her. Astrid has a way of bringing me around to her way of thinking. 

This was actually an excellent idea. 

“I was bored,” she says, which makes sense too. She is always bored. This is why she does what she’s seen people do in films. It’s a way to keep herself entertained. An unwelcome thought flashes into my mind, as I wonder if she has done this specific thing for previous boyfriends. I hop off that path. With Astrid, it is important to dwell only upon the present. Anything before this, now, me, us, is nothing worth worrying about. 

I slip my hands under her coat, onto the soft, downy velvet of her skin. 

“Nice and warm,” she murmurs. 

“Astrid, you shouldn’t have gone out like this.”

“It was only thirty minutes.”

“I know, but,” Her hands are freezing between mine as I heat them with my breath. “It’s too cold.” I’ll have to give her something of mine to wear when she goes home, but begin to worry that nothing is clean. I have been avoiding taking my dirty clothes to the basement since I flew back in ten days ago, too cowardly to face the seizing cold of the communal laundry room and that ever present leak in the ceiling surely turned to an icicle by now. 

These are not sexy thoughts. 

It’s like she can tell just by looking at me. “The point is, you will heat me up,” she says, a bit slowly, like I’m thick.

I don’t want to be the guy that lacks spontaneity. That would make me anxious. She pulls her hands from mine and pouts at me, as though at a little dog. “Look at you, you’re so nice.”

It’s not intended as a compliment, and I understand I should be doing something a bit wilder, like, I don’t know, taking my own clothes off already. Why on earth haven’t I started to do that?

Ah, because I am nice. 

“Okay, fuck your hands then. They can freeze.” Often, jokes are a mistake around Astrid. She rarely laughs at them. In fact, she rarely smiles at all, and only indulges us when she feels like doing it. It’s never to be polite. She knows her own mind. I’m obsessed with her. 

I’m obsessed to an ever greater extent now, because, once again, she’s not laughing. She’s not trying to please me. It’s me, always, trying to please her instead. I tug on her coat and it pools to the floor, then I kiss her. 

“God, I love you.” 

I murmur it, the truth. 

I knew it the third or fourth night we spent together, in November, as the last stubborn leaves clung to the branches. She wasn’t like anybody I had ever met before. She reminded me of nobody, and that was the point. 

I felt it, that weakness, my molten insides, and the deep fear of it in the early hours of one morning as she lay on the sheets with moonlight spilling across her back. She has a tattoo between her shoulder blades of a heart pierced by three daggers. She says it’s from a tarot card, and she was younger and stupider when she got it. That night, as she slept, I uncovered some kind of symbolism in it that moved me, but in the morning light I had forgotten all the profound thoughts I’d come up with except one: That I loved her. It surprised me. I ignored the tiny pang of sadness I felt, like mourning for a part of my life that was already long gone. It was useless to miss it.

I chose Astrid instead. 

I choose her now, love her in the same way I kiss her and touch her and fuck her, by doing what she wants me to do. It’s not a submissive situation. I’m not into that stuff. I am a man clocking in and doing as he's asked, thoroughly, diligently, excelling at his job. Eager to please. Employee of the month.

“Will you put your hand on my throat?” She breathes. Beneath me, her hands claw the bedsheets. 

Yes, I think. That would be nice. 

I am interested to discover that I like it too. I don’t think the other girls I’ve slept with would have let me try the things that Astrid does. They couldn’t picture themselves doing it, I’m sure, and neither could I. Back then I didn’t think about sex the way I do now, but Berlin has been bringing it out in me. 

She comes first. That’s mandatory. Then afterwards, when I have, and thoughts return to my brain, I’ll lay here, haunted by the years I didn’t know about this golden rule, and all the time that I thought I was good at sex but wasn’t. Dwelling on the disappointment I brought upon women and girls will make me spiral a bit, I’ll feel it rising, but I’ll feel better when I fuck Astrid again, in some new, fascinating position, and she’ll tell me I’m pretty good, in fact.

She’ll be loud enough about it that Klaus from downstairs may complain, and point out that such volume levels are forbidden on Sundays. He’ll threaten to raise it with the building management, so I’ll bring up the fact I know it was he who put cat food containers in the recycling bin. Neither of us will do anything, and the cycle will repeat until one of us moves or dies.

“Klaus is a miserable, jealous old fool,” Astrid says. “He probably doesn’t have sex, so he’s furious at people who do. I think it’s basic psychology.”

“He lives with his wife, you know.”

“Oh, that doesn’t mean he’s having sex. Married people don’t do it. Or at least hardly ever. That’s why I’ll never be tied down like that.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You think Mr and Mrs Klaus are fucking like rabbits down there?”

I scrunch up my face. “I’ve never heard them. Maybe they do it very quietly while I’m out of the apartment.”

“They never do. I bet they hate one another. Surely they sleep in separate rooms and only speak when they have to.” Astrid invents this story with glee. She is describing what is to her an indisputable fact of life. Her parents, and her mother’s relationship with her stepfather, too. I think she believed these things about marriage before meeting me, but the confirmation that my parents are the same has solidified it. 

“I don’t like to think about things in such a black and white way,” I say, and hold my palm against hers. Her fingers are long and slender. “Just because a lot of marriages are bad, doesn’t mean they’re all doomed. I believe some people are happy.”

“Trapped,” she whispers. “Like canaries in a cage. Maybe they don’t know any better.”

“If I was married, it’d be because I loved that person completely. I wouldn’t do it unless I was sure, and if I loved someone that much, I think I’d still have sex all the time. I can’t really picture that changing. When would I ever not be doing it, you know?”

She hums gently. “So you would never join a monastery.”

“Ugh.”

“And if you married me, you’d want me like this forever?”

This isn’t a serious question about marriage. That would be ridiculous. This is a test for me to pass, and am about to, with flying colours.  

“Yeah, you’re so appealing in every way. I can’t imagine not being completely crazy about you forever.”

“You definitely wouldn’t get over me if I left you.”

“Nah, probably not. In my grief, I might even refuse to sign the divorce papers or some shit.”

She nods, satisfied, and rests her head on my chest. It slots nicely beneath my chin. “I want to go to sleep,” she says.

“Alright, me too.”

I switch off the light and listen to the pitter patter of the snow on the window, drifting slowly away with it.

Astrid shifts, restless. 

“Tomorrow, I have a lecture at eight.”

“Unlucky.”

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Ah, yeah, probably because of the lingerie stunt.”

A pout. “It was a gift for you.”

“And I loved it. I can find you something to wear.”

“To my class? Your clothes? I’ll look ridiculous. Can you get me a taxi to my house so I can change?”

“Yeah, of course. If you wear my clothes in the taxi.”

“I won’t be naked under my coat in front of a strange man, Jude.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll arrange a taxi, then.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She adjusts her position again, and the subtle contact of our bodies sets off a chain of sensation. I rake my nails lightly over her back, and she shudders. 

“You’re so pretty,” I say. “Did you know that?” I know she does, but I like the smug way she always says yes. 

“It’s okay if I leave my underwear here?”

“If you want to, yeah. Why? Do you think I wanted to carry it around in my pocket or something?”

“So you can wash it for me.”

“Yeah,” I press my lips to the back of her hand. “I’ve been meaning to go to the laundry basement for too long now. I’ll just add them to the pile.”

“No, you need to hand-wash them. They’re made of lace.”

“Oh right. So like, in the sink, or something.”

“I thought you might have known that.”

“Nah, see, in Dublin, we had a cleaner who washed all of my lace underwear for me.”

“Mm…”

“... That was a joke about the lace underwear. We did actually have a cleaner, though.”

“You’ll take care of it? They were quite expensive. It’s not as though I have a lot of that kind, so if it got ruined…”

“I will.”

She slips a hand into my hair and seeks my lips in the dark. She kisses me with such affection that I melt into her. “I love you, Jude. Thank you.”

“I love you too.”

A low chuckle as I bite her earlobe. “You really would never be a monk, would you?”

“Oh, my God. The thought makes me sick.”

I roll over her, and we give Klaus one more thing to complain about.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠 - 3

a/n: forgot to post this on here my bad 🫣 saw someone ask about a taglist for this story— let me know if you wanna be added to that :)

“You just had to pick somewhere in town for dinner? You know how the traffic is on the weekend.” JJ grumbled as they finally pulled into the parking lot of a new restaurant in town.

“I only picked it because last time we went out you not so subtly mentioned wanting to try a new place. Plus you didn’t even have to drive. Now come on, our reservation is for 8 and we’re cutting it a little close.” Emily answered as the women both exited the car.

They made it into the restaurant and were almost instantly seated. Emily pulled JJ’s seat out for her in an act of chivalry that had always been there since they’d met and they both settled to look over their menus. As the two women decided on a bottle of wine they missed the younger woman seated just three tables away from them. Y/n sat with a grimace as she listened to her date drone on about her work life and ab routine.

This was her first date in the DC area and she was starting to regret letting Grayson talk her into this. She’d been single for a while and if Susan was any indication of the DC dating pool, she’d be single for way longer. She’d matched with Susan on a dating app and they talked for a few days before setting up this date. Susan was beautiful, no doubt, but that seemed to be the only thing she had going for her. She’d basically spent the entire evening talking about herself and it was not looking good. She’d been in the city for about a month and a half and all Grayson could talk about was her needing to get laid. As she sat and listened to the older blonde drone on, she was really trying to decide how important an orgasm was to her right now.

“It really has been such a tough year at the firm though. They’d really be lost without me.” As the words left Susan’s mouth and Y/n fought an eye-roll, the waitress serving the other table turned and bumped into the woman’s back.

The teen turned around with an apology on her lips, but the disgust on Susan’s face was clear as day. She grumbled out a response but turned to Y/n to complain. “I can’t believe they’d just hire anyone here. I think she dented my hair, I’m gonna go fix this mess in the bathroom.” Susan left the table and Y/n sighed. She was not worth the hassle. She pulled her phone out to shoot a text to Grayson.

y/n: this is the worst date i’ve been on… like ever

gray: oh it can’t be that bad. She was so hot.

y/n: well that’s all she’s got going for her. she’s in the bathroom right now fixing her hair because a waitress barely touched her.

gray: oh that is not hot… this is disappointing. you know you wouldn’t even be on this date had you already made a move on your sexy fbi neighbors.

y/n: gray get serious. they’re literally married to each other??? why would i make a move on either of them?

gray: well you and i both know you don’t just want to sleep with one of them. if you had it your way, you’d be sandwiched between both of them. which i think you could be, if you weren’t such a pussy.

Y/n huffed an exasperated laugh as she readied her fingers to reply. What she didn’t expect was to hear her name floating over her shoulder. She turned around in confusion and was even more surprised to see JJ leaning back in her chair with a smile. “JJ? Oh, Hi!” the younger woman responded hoping the low light was hiding the blush coloring her cheeks. She watched as the older woman got up from her table and came to lean against her chair.

“Hi sweetheart, what are you doing here? Are you alone?” JJ asked curiously. She chose to ignore the term of endearment that slipped from her lips, of course.

“Uh no. I’m actually on a date right now.” Y/n said gesturing to the other glass of wine across from her.

JJ’s eyes widened a bit in surprise and she couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming the restaurant for the potential date. Coming up with no leads she brought her eyes back to Y/n, “Oh really? And how is that going?”

Y/n looked around before whispering to the older blonde, “Terrible.”

JJ laughed cheekily as she gazed at the younger woman’s pout. Y/n shook her head in exasperation before grabbing the glass of wine she’d been nursing for the whole night. “I really hope this isn’t an indicator of how dating in DC is going to be for me. Where’s Emily?”

“Awe, they can’t be that bad, can they? She’s gone to the bathroom.” JJ said looking over her shoulder and seeing the brunette heading over to her. “Oh, here she is.”

“Jen, what are you– oh. Hi Y/n, what are you doing here?” Emily asked in shock allowing her hand to settle at JJ’s waist.

“She’s on a bad date. What took you so long?” JJ wondered as she rested her hand on Y/n’s shoulder unconsciously stroking the bare skin in comfort.

“Oh, that sucks. I got stuck waiting for this god-awful woman to finish fluffing her hair at the sinks. She was complaining about the incompetent staff knocking her coiffed hair out of place. God, I hate people like that.” At the older woman’s explanation, the younger of the three downed the rest of her wine with a grimace and sigh.

“Oh my god, is she your date?” JJ asked giddily.

“Unfortunately. She’s spent the entire evening talking about her law firm and ab routine, and then this happened. Now I must suffer through this evening and think of a way to ghost her.” Y/n whined.

“How did you end up with someone like that?” Emily wondered aloud.

“She didn’t seem like this when we matched. I’ve honestly been so shocked all evening. Trust, there won’t be any more dates after this.”

“Oh poor baby,” JJ started when she spotted a huffy blonde making her way over. “Looks like she’s coming back. We’ll be over there, just cough really loud or something if you need to be saved.” JJ winked, linking her hands with Emily’s and going back over to their table after Y/n nodded in understanding.

Once back at their table, both women couldn’t help but stare. “Well one thing for sure, she’s into women. And we seem to fit her type.” JJ smirked as she watched the younger woman nod along while her date rambled.

“And I’ll drink to that!” Emily grinned and she and JJ clinked their glasses together. Eyes still trained on their beautiful neighbor.

[therealestsophia]

Jealousy Hidden Behind Masksִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

hiya🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ this is my first tumblr post— this is also posted on ao3. howeveerrr I am aware Ghost and König are not in the same team ive been playing this game since I was younger, so think of it as an au or something idrk

────────୨ৎ────────

Last week you and your team were sent on a mission in Mexico trying to find some cartel in Guadalajara. However one of the new sergeants put herself in mind boggling danger. She stood tall at an open fire, trying to take the bullets for everyone else so they could have a chance to

live.

Everyone was screaming at her to get down, to save herself. But she didn’t want to listen, if she was gonna go down…She would be remembered for how she did it

For the few right reasons,

and for all the wrong.

You not wanting this bright eyed sergeant to lose her life from one dumb heroic decision, you took it upon yourself to tackle her to the ground. However in the midst of tackling her you got shot in the abdomen an exceptional amount of times. Due to you and the sergeant being severely injured the team couldn't move forward without abandoning you both, and to Ghost, that wasn't an option.

❤️🔥

“Are you stupid [name]?” his fists landed on his desk, causing the glass of water atop it to shake slightly. His voice may have been calm with a sharp edge to it, but he couldn't stop his actions. You were trying your absolute hardest to choke down your tears, you couldn't cry in front of your Lieutenant like a scared little girl who just lost her parents in the store.

“Huh? Are you?” he quipped. His icy blue gaze narrows on your small frame sitting on the chair in front of his desk.

“Ghost-” my voice shook as I tried to keep myself together, slowly meeting his piercing gaze.

“Don’t ‘Ghost’ me.” he hissed, cutting your trembling voice off. But somehow, Ghost cutting you off only fueled the fire that was slowly building inside of you. You looked down at your balled hands sitting in your lap, slightly picking at your nails to try and calm yourself down.

Even if you could see his face, you already could imagine what it looked like. His blonde eyebrows furrowing in frustration, his lips pressed thin in a firm line of anger. You could understand his anger to a degree, but was this really necessary? You’re sitting here living after all, injured but alive.

He took in a heavy sigh of anger, “You deliberately went against orders, and almost got yourself killed.” he growled, there he was again. Referencing the stupid wounds that litter your abdomen due to your stupid, heroic decision. His lips drawn back in a snarl as he looked at your body, studying your body language to try and guess your next move.

“Ghost, why do you even care so much?!” you finally snapped at him, which in turn caught him by surprise with your sudden outburst. Your eyes burning with frustration that had finally boiled over. Slightly shifting in your seat while never breaking eye contact, wincing at shooting pain coming from your ribs, the pain you’ve been so desperately trying to ignore. The exact pain he was referencing throughout this entire argument.

He paused for a second, debating his words. “Because I care about you.” he said flatly, the anger in his voice was slightly gone but it was still there lingering. “Don’t you get it? Do you need me to spell it out for you to even reach your thick skull?” he sneered. There's the anger that was lingering in his tone. His eyes never left yours, it was becoming a battle to see who would break eye contact first, and it wasn't going to be you.

His hands were pressed firm on the desk, standing over you like some kind of hierarchy. You sat there, your eyes staring into his while you sat there like some child getting scolded by a teacher.

“I don’t need to get it.” you muttered under your breath, annoyance clear in your tone. “I never asked for you to care,” you paused, inhaling a sharp breath while standing up to push in your chair. “Nor anyone else, so don't make it my problem.” you hissed through your teeth as you reached his office door, whipping around to open it. Maybe you were the one to break eye contact, but at this point you couldn’t take it anymore.

God if you wanted a lecture you could have gone to Price.

Ghost just stood there, a blank expression on his face that was carefully covered by his balaclava, though his eyes read a thousand words. You opened the door and slammed it shut, walking away from his office briskly, you reflected on your choice of words. They were harsh, no sugar coating that, but they were true. Right?

But this time he didn't try to call you back, demanding you come back to speak to him. He just stood there in his office, contemplating everything.

You walked back to the barracks quietly, not bothering to say hello to anyone you passed. You walked for what felt like forever, being trapped in your own thoughts made it worse.

Once you finally reached your room you opened your door quickly and slammed it shut. All your prior frustrations came back as soon as you stepped in the room. Your eyes pricked with tears as you stood there silently, a lump in your throat formed and it was impossible to choke down. You kicked off your boots and made your way to your bed, as you flopped down on the soft mattress you couldn't hold back your tears.

The tears fell smoothly down your flushed cheeks, your body curling up in a ball as you drowned yourself in blankets. Your quiet sobs filled the room, and it didn't even matter that you still had your uniform on, you didn't care anymore. Your abdomen was throbbing, the pain making your tears fall harder than they were before. His words flooded your thoughts, ‘Because I care about you.’ kept replaying over and over again.

Why did he have to care? That made this so much more worse than it had to be.

The sobs eventually got quieter and quieter, god. Why did I have to be such a crybaby? So- sensitive. His words felt like thousands of sharp knives cutting through you. It was awful, it hurt so much.  Your eyes began to flutter slightly as you continued to cry, all you could do was cry and ponder on your decisions.

❤️🔥 pov change.

My eyes slowly blinked open as I woke up to a pounding headache. Damn it. I glanced at the clock as I sat up. It read 17:38, I sighed and closed my eyes leaning my back on my headboard. I rubbed my puffy eyes and crawled out of bed, throwing my blankets off of me. I stumbled to my feet, grabbing my night stand to balance myself.

Finally steadying myself I walked into my bathroom just to look at what I looked like. Oh my god…my tear streaked face was a sight to see you could say. I turned the light on before turning the sink to cold and started to splash my face with freezing water, hoping it would clear my post-cry face.

Turning off my sink and grabbing a towel I turned to pat my face dry, good enough.

I looked at my puffy eyes in the mirror with a huff before walking out of my bathroom and turning off the light. I walked slowly towards my door, slipping on my boots and walking out of my room.

Roaming the halls it was quiet, nothing was really happening. It wasn’t a busy day today, the halls holding an uncomfortable silence as I walked through them.

The sounds of my boots lightly treading across cold tile floor filled my ears.

Continuing to walk towards the mess hall I saw Ghosts office to my right, the office that hours earlier I stormed out of. I shook my head with a sigh and continued to walk towards the mess hall. Though the halls were oddly quiet, it was unsettling to say the least.

Reaching the mess hall I realized it wasn't as  crowded as it usually was. I didn’t have an appetite so I decided to just sit down at one of the empty tables and lay my head down, just listening to the talking and bickering of the place was comforting.

That's when I heard a familiar voice behind me, his presence was strong but his accent was even stronger.

“Schatz?” the man asked, his Austrian accent strong.

“König?” I asked and glanced up to see the tall Austrian man standing behind me, looming over me like a giant building.

He sat next to me, he clearly saw the somber expression written all over my face. He sat close, but not that close. The chatter in the mess hall was a comforting ambiance to this situation.

He gently lifted a finger to my trembling chin with his rough index finger, forcing me to stare into his pale blue eyes.

“Ist etwas passiert?” he asked softly, his tone quiet but still audible from the noise around us. (Did something happen?)

“No…” I whispered lower than he could hear, my voice slightly shaking as I tried to keep myself together.

I quickly hung my head low, breaking eye contact with him. My bottom lip was trembling as I tried to choke back my own tears, I didn't want to worry him, especially with all the stuff he's dealing with on his own.

“Oh, komm her.” he coaxed, pulling me into a bear hug. Trapping me in his warm embrace, playing with my hair in an attempt to calm me down. (Oh, come here.)

I lost it, I started bawling into his chest. Clinging onto his shirt in a desperate attempt to make sure he wouldn't leave me.

“Ghost and I had a fight-” I managed to choke out.

Ghost, the name alone made Konig tense up. I felt him squeeze me tighter in his arms when I said his name.

The name rang in his ears, his head racing with thoughts of him and you together as he gently stroked your hair.

Why can't you just realize that I can be so much better than him? Konig thought quietly.

Everytime Konig saw you with Ghost, it felt like you took his heart so gingerly, so sparingly…only to stomp on it afterwards. Or whispering sweet nothings into his ear but plunging the knife in his heart, over, and over again.

“He wont talk to me-” your trembling voice broke him free from the prison someone called thoughts. “and I'm worried I really messed up big time…” I sobbed even harder into his chest, it felt like I was dying.

Dramatic much. Though my chest heaving, I was hyperventilating.

“Shhh…” he soothed, rubbing my lower back gently. Konig gritted his teeth and bit his tongue, he didn't want to upset you more than you already were. He didn’t want to add his name to the list of reasons.

He just sat there rubbing your back, just being a shoulder to cry on. My fingers clung to his shirt, like he was a balloon and I was trying so hard to keep him on the ground with me.

“I know it hurts, but everything will be fine.” he reassured, his voice soft but still stern enough to make you listen to him. He spoke of things he knew nothing about, having no prior knowledge was hard but he was trying his best.

Him calming me down was oddly comforting, his warm embrace made my heart flutter slightly. “Just calm down, it’ll be fine, I promise.” he calmed me further, his accent coming back stronger.

He held me tight, holding me like I was the most precious gem in the world and he would do anything to keep it in his possession.

How could he promise something he knew nothing about?

How could someone make such an empty promise?

I finally pulled away from him, my tear streaked face and glassy eyes looking up at him with a pained expression.

My breath was still labored, my bottom lip wobbling as I tried to keep myself steady.

“I know it hurts, but give him time,” he paused to take a sharp inhale. “You guys always work it out.” Konig mumbled through gritted teeth, his personal vendetta with Ghost was getting the better of him.

He wanted to say so much more, how Ghost didn't deserve you, how you shouldn't cry over someone like him. But he didn't, he kept his mouth shut because your comfort was his top priority.

It hurt him so much to see you in pain, to see you cry over Ghost was, who quite frankly, could go jump out of a helicopter and he’d be fine with it.

I was pulled from my thoughts as I glanced around the room. Out of my periphery I saw Ghost, leaning on the mess hall door watching me. Wait no…

Watching Konig?

His eyes looked like they were burning with irritation, though they had a hint of…

Jealousy?

His gaze narrowed on Konig who was looking at me with pitiful eyes, who looked at me like he wanted to say something more but didn't.

My head slowly rose to look up at Konig. My eyes were glassy as I looked up at him slowly, my lashes fluttering. He kept his hands on my waist, just looking down at me. That's when I realized Konig wasn't looking at me anymore, his eyes were focused on Ghost.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, though I wasn't sure if he could hear me over the chattering in the mess hall.

That's right, I forgot that's where we were. It felt like everyone else was invisible when I saw Ghost, like I could only catch his gaze and that was it.

“Warum guckt er sie so an?!” König muttered beneath his mask. I looked up at König again, my head slightly cocking to the side at his comment. (Why does he look at her like that?!)

“Huh?” I asked quietly, my hands balled in front of me.

“Nothing.” he mumbled, his eyes quickly going back to mine. I glanced slowly back at the door, trying to see Ghost once more.

But he was gone, the tall Brit that stood there, watching, was now gone.

All I could see was the people chattering, not even noticing me and König, thank god.

“Im so sor-“ I started quickly before König cut me off.

“Don’t be sorry, its not your fault hes-“ König stopped himself from saying anything more. I gave König a slightly puzzled look when he abruptly stopped talking.

“Just don’t be sorry.” he restated, not bothering to add the extra words he was about to say.

Oh.

I just sat there on the bench, pondering in my own thoughts, pondering on what he was going to say. However thats when König stood up from the bench, no longer feeling his large hands on my waist.

“I have to go, schatz. But please, please, don’t be sorry, everything will be okay.” he assured as he rubbed my shoulder slightly, his accent dripping off of his words.

His words were sweet, so sweet. Almost like poison, leaving me slowly wanting more of his comfort, more of his touch.

I gave him a curt nod as I looked up at him, wiping my face with my sleeve while I watched König walk away.

I felt so alone all over again, my red puffy eyes returning like a bad hangover.

Another cold water splash for me.

I pulled myself from my thoughts, I needed to leave, I just needed to get out.

I started to force myself up from the bench, lowering my head to not let anyone see my tear stained face, and red puffy eyes. I began to walk briskly out of the mess hall, not bothering to to looking behind me as I reached the door.

For some odd reason when I reached the door my eyes wandered. I looked left and right, high and low, just to see if he was there.

If Ghost was there.

I shook my head and started walking quickly, the chattering and bickering slowly fading as I quietly walked out of the the mess hall, returning back to the uncomfortably quiet halls.

Finally returning back to the empty barracks I grabbed the cold door handle and swung open the door. Only to have warm air hit me as soon as it opened.

Great.

I walked over to the bathroom, reaching my hand up to the light switch. The yellow toned flickering light flooding the bathroom.

I sighed when I saw my face. Looking up to see my eyes were bloodshot, my under eyes no longer purple, they were red and puffy.

Just what I need.

I scoffed at my own thoughts before turning the sink on, letting the water run to a freezing temperature before finally lowering my head to splash my face with the water.

It felt like a sense of relief as the first drop hit my face, almost feeling like someone was running an ice cube across my face.

I continued to let the water hit me. My face gradually becoming warm because of the cold.

Though it gave me time to think, should I apologize to him?

Him was Ghost, I just couldn’t get him out of my head. The way he stared at me and König in the mess hall lingered in my mind like König’s cologne hitting my nose.

Wait- why am I even thinking about both of them?

I turned off the water and groaned. Wiping the droplets away from my eyes as I looked in the mirror once again. This time there was no redness,

well maybe except my nose that was cold now.

I grabbed a towel and roughly dried my face, before tossing the towel on my sink as I flicked off the light.

Leaning down I unzipped my boots,slipping them off I stood on the hot hardwood floor before I slumped on my bed. Letting all my worries slip slightly as I hit the hard mattress, the springs beneath me rattling slightly.

Why do I feel like this?

What am I feeling towards both of them-

What is even happening?

I laid on my bed, my feet slightly above the ground as I contemplated everything. I wanted to work things out between me and Ghost, but the look in his eyes when he saw me with König.

Not to mention König gripping me tighter when he saw Ghost.

The AC turning on erased my thoughts,

Finally, it’s hotter than the pits of hell in here.

My own thoughts were driving me crazy, I couldn’t stand to be alone with them anymore.

I guess thats it? I apologize and all of this stops?

I groaned getting up off my bed, my feet hitting the cold ground. No thick pair of socks can save you once the AC turns on.

I hobbled over to my boots, zipping them up quickly trying to get my poor feet off the cold hardwood.

Stumbling over my own feet I finally reached my door, carefully opening it, unlike how I swung it open 10 minutes ago.

The warm air of the halls hit me as I walked into them, slowly closing my door behind me.

Creeeeeek.

Was all I heard as my door closed. Cringing at the noise I started my journey to Ghosts office.

Roaming the halls it still held the same uncomfortable silence, odd.

My boots clicked and clacked as I ventured closer and closer to his office, my veins starting to pump with adrenaline as I drew closer.

My stomach churned with unease,

what would I say?

I didn’t even rehearse this!

Though my body had a mind of its own. As I drowned in my thoughts I finally realized I was standing in front of Ghosts office.

Good lord help me.

I was knocking on his door before I could even second guess myself.

Knock,

Knock,

Kno-

My first was still in the air when Ghost cracked the door open slightly, peering out to see who was knocking.

His eyes held an irritated gaze when he opened the door after realizing it was me. When his door opened enough to where I could see him fully, the smell of cigarettes and cologne wafted in my nose.

“Do you need something?” he grumbled, his brown eyes piercing through me.

“I uhm-“ I stammered, forget what I said earlier, I should have never came here.

“Cat got your tongue?” his eyes narrowed while his brows furrowed in annoyance, he was obviously not happy.

I let out a quick sigh as I fidgeted with my nails behind my back, “M’sor-“ I started quietly as he cut me off.

What is with them and cutting people off?

“Why.” he stated, nothing more, nothing less. His eyes holding no emotion to go off of anymore.

“Why?” I questioned as I stood outside of his doorway, my facial expression painted with confusion.

“Why?” he scoffed a pause, “Why were his hands all over you?” his voice was gruff when he spoke to me, his bulky figure leaning on the door frame.

I stared back at Ghost who was staring at me dead in the face. My eyes widened with surprise at his words, even his tone.

“What, do I have to elaborate for you?” he growled, his voice becoming rougher as his eyes bored into my soul.

“I- What?” I stumbled over my words, desperately trying to find the ones that were stuck in my throat. I stared blankly at him, my nails stinging from my consistent picking. Unease coursing through my frozen body.

He let out an exaggerated sigh before grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his office, slamming the door on my way in.

I let out a quiet yelp as he grabbed my wrist and dragged me into his office, the slamming door making my body jolt.

He spun me around, my back facing his desk as be grabbed my hips roughly.

“Ghost-“ My face flushed a pretty shade of pink, an unwanted shade of pink, right?

“Ghost get off of me!” I demanded as I pushed his hands off of me, stumbling as I tripped backwards into his desk.

What was he doing?

He looked at me with hungry eyes, jealousy and hunger. Though his eyes flashed with a hint of surprise as I pushed him back.

He didn’t say anything, both of us just stood there in an uncomfortable silence. His muscles tensing slightly when I pulled away.

“What the hell- Why would you put your hands on me?” I broke the silence, my eyes flashing with confusion- irritation even. I was so lost and confused.

“And why would you let him touch you like that?!” he countered, his husky voice getting lower as he took small steps towards me.

My blood ran cold as he started to walk towards me, I felt helpless as his eyes flashed with an unsettling look.

“I-“ my voice was caught in my throat, a lump was there was was impossible to choke down.

“Why does it matter to you?” I finally choked out. But that was probably the worst choice of words I could have picked.

‘Because I care about you.’

His words rang in my head, practically running circles.

Though a shadowy figure broke me from my thoughts when I realized he was standing directly in front of me, his bulky figure looming over mine.

His palms rested on the cool wooden desk my back laid against.

“What are you-“ my words got lost as he cupped my chin harshly forcing me look up at him.

My body shuddered, I stayed frozen. My mouth hung open, desperately trying to say words that fell on deaf ears.

I couldn’t speak, I physically couldn’t, my words hung in the air like a sheet swaying in the wind on a clothes line.

“Why would you let him touch you, [name].” his voice was low and husky. It didn’t even sound like a question anymore, it felt like a command.

Like he was commanding me to stay helpless beneath him, commanding me to answer his ‘questions’.

More like demands.

“Thats none of your business Ghost- Get off of me!” I shouted, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to use my palms to push him back,

but to no avail.

He was anticipating this, Ghost stood tall like a brick wall in front of me. Keeping my cheeks in his rough gloved hand.

I was stuck.

lmk if yall want a pt 2 cuz this is over a year old😭😭 maybe ill have motivation

[simpforsolas]

thoughts on how veilguard could've improved rook's and solas's character arcs

So I've been thinking about Veilguard nonstop since I finished it last night. I want to preface this with the fact that I liked many things about it a lot. While I do have my criticisms, it was probably the most fun I had actually playing a Dragon Age game. They made a lot of improvements in a lot of ways. But while I enjoyed (for the most part) what was there in the game, the entire time I just had the feeling that it was missing something (or maybe more accurately, a lot of things). This post won't go into all of those things, but I want to really delve into the biggest missed opportunity in the game: Rook's character arc and how it could have impacted Solas.

I found that Rook’s character arc was somewhat overtaken by the companions. But there was great potential for a phenomenal arc for them: what kind of hero will you be? From the beginning, Rook was set up to be a mirror to Solas. They remind Solas of who he was when he first started his rebellion: passionate, idealistic, wanting to make the world a better place. Basically, the quintessential hero. But Solas didn't stay that way. In pursuit of his noble goals, he made so many sacrifices and caused so much destruction that he accidentally became the villain. So if Rook is Solas's mirror, the logical conclusion is that Rook should've had the opportunity to reflect BOTH sides of Solas with two different paths: the "pure" hero path, or the "dark" villain path. Allowing two different paths for a protagonist in a game like this is tough, so I understand why it doesn't usually happen, but in this case, I think it would work because "pure" or "dark" path, Rook's ultimate goal would remain the same: stop the gods. The only thing that would change would be the way they go about pursuing that goal.

How would this work in practice?

For the pure path, Rook would err on the side of protecting people. Examples of this could include: giving characters like the mayor and Illario a second chance instead of killing them, making the choice in an either/or scenario to save lives instead of going after the gods, refusing to make deals with demons for more power to help them in their fight. Pure Rook is basically what we got in the game so I don't need to go further on this, but Solas watching a pure Rook would be moved by what he sees. In Rook, he would see a reflection of what he could've been if he hadn't been corrupted and trapped by his own overwhelming guilt.

For the dark path, Rook would be willing to get their hands dirty and make questionable choices if it helped their ultimate cause of defeating the gods. Examples of this could include the opposite of above: killing Illario and the mayor, choosing to sacrifice people (such as the Dalish hostages) in order to not lose an opportunity to go after the gods, and making deals with the demons in Hossberg in exchange for power to help the fight. The motivation behind each of these decisions wouldn't be selfishness, it would be pragmatism. Making the choice that would give us the best chance against the gods, no matter the cost. Solas watching this Rook would feel validated in the choices he made. Rook reflects Solas's own downward spiral of a journey, in seeing yourself become the villain as you try to be the hero. He would see that when tasked with the near impossible task of stopping tyranny, Rook was willing to get their hands dirty, just like he was.

Giving Rook the agency to choose what kind of hero they want to be would tie in with themes the game already started, but didn't exactly deliver on. Solas asks the question "what will they call you, when this over?" and by the end of the game it's like, "well they'll probably call me that one nice dude who saved the world through friendship." But if they had the chance to become sort of Dread Wolfy themself, then that line would carry a lot more weight.

Now that we've established what a two-path Rook could've looked like, I want to explore a little more how that could've impacted Solas. I, personally, wasn't the biggest fan of Solas changing his mind only being made possible by Mythal releasing him from her service. For a few reasons, but what I'm going to focus on here is that it made his redemption into this one-event thing, instead of an overarching journey that could've taken place over the course of the game. What I think should've happened is that depending on Rook's path, Solas is either a) shown a new path that he could've taken or b) validated in the path that he took. Additionally, through conversations with Solas, you could challenge his worldview, or you could reinforce it. If you did a pure path Rook, Solas would basically be prepped to ultimately be receptive to the inquisitor/Mythal's attempts to appeal to him and get him to change his mind, while dark path Rook would reinforce Solas’s worldview so strongly that no one would be able to get through to him, and his mind couldn’t be changed. This way, his outcome would feel more like a culmination of choices instead of a one moment thing, you'd have more of a chance to see the gradual shift of his attitude, and Rook would have a more interesting character arc.

[plum-pitt]

X-Men Origins Rewrite

Ok I guess this is a follow up to this post i made not too long ago abt rewriting this shit, the brainworms rlly got to me here so you’re getting a follow up sooner than expected lol

Before I actually do any rewriting though I wanted to lay out the big changes I’d be making and why, mainly for myself as a guide and to organize my thoughts both about the original film’s issues and how these changes could potentially solve them, but also to allow anyone else with some ideas for possible changes to add their own thoughts or suggestions by engaging with the post.

As for what kind of final product you could possibly expect these ideas to result in, i haven’t quite decided if I want to just do an in depth outline for the story with my proposed changes or do like a full length fic novelization. It’ll probably depend on how motivated I still feel about the exercise by the time I’m finished and happy with the cleaned up outline, but I digress. Lets just go ahead and get into the changes I want to make:

Proposed Changes:

First off, I’m removing Blob and Gambit from this cut. I like both of the characters and think it’s cool they tried to include them but the cast is crammed enough as it is and those two serve very little narrative purpose that can’t be shifted to others just as easily.

Second, I’m adding Silverfox to Team X and letting that serve as the meeting point for her and Logan, it gives the audience more time to get to know her and come to care for her and Logan’s relationship, while also harkening back to the comics where she was also a part of the weapon x program. Also I know this isn’t a real film but let it be known that if it were i’d actually hire a Native American actress to portray her, i’m still shitty they whitewashed her.

Third, I’m removing the third act “Silverfox wasn’t really dead” twist. I really shouldn’t have to explain why, that shit was dumb and completely unnecessary, not to mention introducing a shit ton of plot holes with that whack ass mutant ability they pull from thin air. In my version she’s human(as far as we know) and when she dies she dies for real, full stop.

Fourth, we are GETTING a biblically accurate Deadpool. They did my bro dirty and I refuse to compromise on this. His role will be larger to compensate for his big ass personality and the fact that i’m affectively letting him take up Gambit’s role from the original in addition to what he already had. Also I just think he bounces off of Logan really well and could serve as a really interesting parallel with having such similar trauma and very different ways of responding to it and seeing the world. Like just imagine D&W if they accidentally traumabonded over their similar origin stories.

Fifth, I’m making Victor our stand in for the films Weapon XI! He doesnt get adamantium or new powers like Wade, only the dehumanizing psychological torture present in the original Weapon X comic. I think it works great for his spiraling arc, gives me a chance to squeeze a faithful weapon X adaptation in here without upending the entire film’s structure, and helps to better position his character on a trajectory towards his more feral appearance in X1 where he doesn’t seem to fully recognize Logan.

Sixth, I’d like to include Dr. Cornelius as the head scientist in Weapon X. My current concept is that he’s in charge of all the unethical mutant capturing and experimenting, working under Stryker’s supervision but still an outsider to the government, being sent in by Stryker’s most significant source of funding for his program in Nathaniel Essex. I know this has zero basis in canon I just think it sounds cool and makes sense for Sinister to have hands in a program aiming to create perfect mutant soldiers, as someone using mutants DNA to create a genetically perfect race of superhumans and become the ultimate life form. (Sinister would not play a large role, more of a looming presence pulling strings and fucking people over)

To get more overarching here, I wanted to hone in on the dynamics and themes present in the original that i thought had the most potential for further development. Victor’s spiral to madness and eventual complete loss of self under Stryker, Logan learning to let go of Victor’s influence and the violence that he let define his life only for both to drag him back after Silverfox’s demise. Really digging into that nature vs nurture shit, and adding more mutant politics (and their accompanying metaphors for the struggles of marginalized people) cuz honestly i feel like it’s absence in the original is very noticeable, and ties in really well with Logan’s arc of self acceptance and learning to see himself as more than the violent nature of his mutation.

Stuff I Still Want Changed:

Ok so here’s where I’m throwing my hat out for suggestions, because there are still a couple minor things present in the movie that i’m just not a fan of or don’t really know what to do with. The difference is, with these I can’t really think of tweaks that could fix/improve them. So if yall have any ideas on what I can do about these, or maybe some completely unrelated changes that you just think could improve the rewrite, please let me know.

One, not really sure what to do with Zero, he’s around for a lot of the movie but didn’t really stand out much to me. I just don’t know a lot about the character or what his deal is in the comics to find something cool to do with him. I’m going back and forth on if his role is ultimately necessary?? Does Stryker really need another henchman? Or should I use the space he occupies to hone in more on Victor and Logan’s rivalry? Idk i’m still on the fence so tell me what yall think.

Two, god I just fucking hate those memory wiping adamantium bullets. It’s such a stupid plot device that makes no sense conceptually and was clearly just thrown in as an afterthought at the last second like the writers forgot they needed to erase his memory by the end. That’s not to mention the fact that the bullets’ function was retconned later in Logan. Genuinely though I cannot find another way to go about fucking up Logan’s head without basically upending the structure of this movie in its entirety so any ideas on how to solve this dilemma are appreciated.

[dropoutconfessions]

Everyone’s allowed to feel how they feel about K. You do not HAVE to like K. K is an imagination people and does not matter compared to reality people.

The actual problems that I think all this discourse is stemming from is a problem in not just fandom here but in fandom as a whole. It’s a problem of trends: Why is our attention so frequently held by the masculine and white? Why, when we expand the world and look into the interiority of side characters, is our focus so targeted on white men? Why are women so overlooked, why are people of color so often ignored?

This is a wider issue. A trickling down of real world racism affecting our little play spaces. And the problem is that an issue which appears in larger trends, an issue that is a general pattern of behavior, is not easy to fix. We can’t fix this by harassing individual people. We can’t fix this by ignoring it. We definitely can’t fix it by pretending like its a problem here and only here rather than everywhere.

I wouldn’t be so bitter about K and dislike of K if I wasn’t overly sensitive to the idea of POC and femme characters getting the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about SamEvan, which is a frankly adorable and lovely ship, if I could trust people in general to act right about black women. I wouldn’t be so mad when people call Jammer and his friends rude while ignoring anything Evan did if I hadn’t seen it as the start of a malicious pattern.

If I hadn’t been in fandoms where every single woman got called a Hideous Bitch and every single person of color was Secretly Evil then I wouldn’t even be posting this. If I hadn’t seen people latch onto men with three lines and refuse to even consider thinking about women with entire arcs, I wouldn’t care about the lack of K posts. It would just be opinion. But it’s not just opinion when it happens over and over again to the same kinds of characters every time.

I don’t think it’s that bad in the mismag fandom. I don’t WANT it to get that bad here. But I don’t know how else to stop it, so I type up little confessions, and I hope someone reads them and thinks about this shit a little bit before they post.

I think people should calm down and stop insulting each other. I think people should take a break, if they need one, from fandom. I think people should leave each other alone and quit passive aggressively throwing ‘shade’ at opinions they don’t like because there is NOTHING wrong with individual opinion. There IS something wrong with the pattern its a part of but you can’t blame a person for a pattern you see in them or else you’ll end up snapping at a monster that isn’t even there yet.

Most of what I want is for people to think about how they think. Nobody has to stop liking Evan (ofc) but it is and should be concerning that even in this relatively progressive space, I keep seeing the same patterns creep their subtle and insidious way into the things I love.

I think we can all do better than this. I think we can do much better. I think we deserve better, all of us, than all of this.

-

[betterthanakickintheface]

Speaking as a white person... No, people of colour and wanting to be listened to, believed, valued, consulted, and protected in the countries they live in, and are citizens of(I'm Canadian, but I feel like it's all still Very applicable) -daaaaring to be any kind of vocal about how that doesn't happen and how they are, you know, VERY UNDERSTANDABLY not fucking happy about that are NOT the problem

To feel so comfortable saying so just demonstrates how far up your own clearly racist ass you are, no one who wasn't would double down and reiterate that astoundingly wrong opinion again but with more words

And "zero concrete examples"?? You've got some effective fucking blinders on if you can say that and believe it but think that white people's love of moving the goal posts for, and pseudo-intellectualizing away concerns, struggles and very real dangers to REAL PEOPLE who just aren't you/us isn't a very real and hugely documented, and far-reaching problem you're literally just stupid

There is no other way you can look at or hear people sharing their perspective on their own fucking lives and what is important to them as a person who is *specifically* not white and is not interested - and nor should they be - in being told to shut up, keep waiting 'their turn', quiet down, that their extremely valid and NECESSARY voices and experiences get summarily dismissed as "inane" because white people just can't fucking stop deciding that every single discussion about how white people and whiteness have done and continue to do SO much damage is about them specifically and personally that they at "best" allow their discomfort to not only often ignore objective facts about how AT THE VERY LEAST the vast majority of white people and peoples have historically been Very Shitty Indeed to peoples of colour, even people they just think of as 'not as good a white as us *insert north, western, or central European nations especially here*' but also to override or bypass sympathy, empathy, compassion or even willingness to fucking listen to them about their lives to the point that we white people shut anything not complimentary to us down. We are so fucking fragile that we can't seem to fucking get that not everything is about us, for us, concern us, have to include us and it fucking shouldn't have to. Especially when all we seem interested in is having access to any and all spaces so that we can pretend that "no, everyone else is actually wrong about things they-as a group have all professed to have experienced".

Like... Seemingly one of our favourite fucking things to do is brag about supposedly having friends of different ethnicities and cultures to anyone who will listen, so why do so many of us not fucking listen to them??? Why do so many of us then also not care or believe those friends?? Try to help? Aren't they your friends, OUR friends?? Even if it's a hard pill to swallow, why do so many of us white people actively stand in the way of supporting things that will help our friends, partners, family, coworkers(not to mention children, whether connected to you as an individual or not)?? If our friends and loved ones, wider communities are helped, provided for, listened to does that not also benefit us needy white people too by extension of being in the same potentially improving society that doesn't continue to waste so much fucking time and energy on keeping entire peoples down because white people are either insecurity and hate.

White people have been the "not all men" people who get mad when sexual harassment comes up; and yeah, most people know and believe that but that(usually unnecessary) distinction ultimately is diminishing, dismissing and ignoring the point of the matter which is that the generalized statement and belief that "men do sexual harassment" is because so many people have had those kinds of unpleasant interactions or experience, often repeatedly. Even if they were not talking about you specifically, and you've never done anything misogynistic or worse THEY have enough negative experiences with other men that that statement is true to them even if you find it hard to believe.

White people do that whenever anyone says anything about how we have in the past, but also continue to treat people of colour like shit. Like yeah, no shit not all white people are feral racists, just like not all men are creeps... But I dunno if enough people are saying that "more than a few(separate, unrelated, individual) white people have said/done/legislated negative things to and against me" maybe we should fucking SHUUUUT UUUUUP and believe them?? acknowledge that even if we, as individual white people have never knowingly or intentionally been racist there is still clearly A PROBLEM because we keep being told it is a problem.

So yeah, it's very much white people that have held us all back, even the progressive ones because we cant get out of our own way. And when soooo many of us demonstrably have been unable(or unwilling) to even recognize that, let alone do anything to change it it fucking ruins lives in a very real way and if you can't see that...you yourself are part of the problem with white leftists and progressives

**as a white person, and an untagged-by-OP one at that, I totally understand if you'd prefer I remove my addition to your post, in which case I absolutely will 🖤

Every white leftist should read this

[whumpy-wyrms]

cannot stop thinking about how whumpy it must’ve been when i was given the anesthesia and passed out earlier. like even before the laughing gas i was SHAKING and TREMBLING in fear i fucking HATE needles. but i was also smiling the whole time because my fear response isn’t fight flight fawn or freeze it’s just. to laugh. for some reason. anyway after i got the laughing gas i was smiling and giggling even more and also shaking a lot more in both fear of what was gonna happen and also probably the laughing gas. they told me to take deep breaths which i did, still freaking out though. i started panicking even more when they put the IV in my arm, like wow that was horrifying i must’ve looked sooooo scared wooow.. so much fear.. (whumpers you know where to find me). anyway i eventually followed their advice and took deep breaths, knowing that it would make the laughing gas effect me quicker, but i did it anyway because its all i could do.

(more under the cut because i couldn’t shut up and this got long)

and guys. guys. THEN. then i started thinking about Anton and imagining i was his test subject and he was just doing an experiment on me and let me tell you. the way pure CALMNESS just WASHED over my entire body. like before i walked into the room i was like “anton save mee save me anton haha lol”. and then anton DID save me. in a way. but yeah i mean i KNEW that would happen because thinking about anton literally always calms me down anyway but i just thought that was funny lmao. woow

okay so then they injected me with the anesthesia. i don’t think i really felt it. then they put a rubber thing in my mouth to keep it wide open, and i was just thinking “haha wow they gagged me that’s gotta be one of my favorite whump tropes.” i just stared straight ahead (i couldn’t really turn my head anyway with the way the chair was set up), struggling hard to keep my eyes open, breathing really deeply, barely able to form a coherent thought.

i do NOT remember falling asleep. like one moment i was sitting there eyes wide and breathing heavily, staring at the doctors on either side of me, and the next i was like all woozy flopping around in the chair, head lolling to the side as the doctors were telling me to wake up. it was sort of a blur, i had NO idea what was going on at ALL. i remember slurring as i talked, telling the doctors i wanted to keep my wisdom teeth. they laughed and asked why and i just kept repeating that i wanted them to let me keep them (they did let me keep them! i’m gonna put them in a little jar like a mad scientist). then i kept asking for my phone and they gave it to me. they put me in a wheelchair to take me to the car because i could NOT walk, i was stumbling around, completely unable to stand or sit up straight, and when we got to the car i just flopped into the passenger seat like i was DIZZY. and i was also a bit nauseous. blood in my mouth and all that. oh i also had gauze in my mouth which definitely made talking a lot more difficult

so i really barely talked, i don’t think i said much else which i’m kinda happy for because i was high as FUCK and did not wanna ramble about a bunch of weird oc lore to my mom. i KNOW i would’ve talked about anton and/or silas nonstop. but i just went on my phone instead which is when i made all those posts from earlier LOL. those typos were genuinely not on purpose at all. i could not type. i’m being fully serious.

here’s a screenshot from my discord server of me attempting to type “holy shit i can’t type.” and as you can see, it was, well, TRUE

anyway yeah i just curled up in my seat on the car ride home, i wasn’t on my phone much because i was still really tired and it was hard to keep my eyes open and stay awake. the car seat was leaned back really far so i was laying down and could not see out of the car windows (but my eyes were closed so it didn’t really matter). but i just remember feeling every turn of the car and trying to guess where we were driving as if i was a whumpee who’d just been kidnapped and was trying to memorize the directions. as you can tell i knew this situation would be whumpy as fuck and didn’t hesitate to make a bunch of silly connections.

so then we got home and there’s not much else that happened. i just took a lot of pills and washed out my mouth and put more gauze in and then went to sleep. it didn’t hurt that much at all because of. the drugs and stuff. i slept for a long time and woke up feeling back to normal, in the way i wasn’t high af anymore. yeah so now my mouth kinda hurts but i have painkillers so it’s fine. i ate lasagna like 20 minutes ago. i’m probably not supposed to eat lasagna. i did it anyway (i took very very teeny tiny nibbles it was very basil core).

anyway that’s it i think! dunno why i wanted to share this whole experience but i thought it was kinda funny the way i kept finding whump in everything hahaha (like i said, my actual fear response is literally to LAUGH and GIGGLE at everything in fear. this needs to be used more in this community imo. and i think… i have a new oc for that actually…. teehee….. ominous.. very ominous dot dot dots…..)

but really this isn’t as bad as i thought it’d be. it’s gonna suck to eat a bunch of soft food and stuff but overall it’s not bad. at least for me. obviously this was only my experience and everyone’s will be different. i do kinda see the humor in everything whenever i’m in a bad or painful situation so that might also be why this is easier for me, idk! hope u all found this at least a little entertaining because i know i did haha

[trans-leek-cookie]

listen I'm not gonna be a Curly apologist he did Fucked Up as captain but I genuinely recommend ppl watch a playthru that goes thru the game in chronological order. It kinda helps clear up the events and gaps between them, bc even tho u See the times, you still experience it out of order.

The stuff Anya says definitely sets off alarm bells but it doesn't seem like he Fully Understands what she means, and I'm going to be 100% honest I think she was trying to repress it herself. This isn't to say that she is AT ALL "at fault" for what happened after and she should've gotten help even if she wasn't ready to fully discuss the issue but I genuinely think she herself was still coming to terms with things, so she didn't necessarily process the full impact before talking to Curly, and a lot of what happens occurs after they're laid off- like this delves into personal interpretation but I genuinely think Anya only registered Jimmy as a serious danger after his outburst towards Curly. Ofc my interpretation is limited bc of the limited pov in game and not having gone through what she has, but it personally reads more akin to coercion over time than a singular Obviously Violent incident (like. Not to say that Sexual Assault isnt violent in nature, just that coercion often specifically works to obfuscate the fact it is a form of violence.) The layoff is a Massive catalyst for her bc of Jimmy, in that she now has a very clear understanding of his capacity for aggression.

To extrapolate a little from the "Dead Pixel" conversation, she starts by saying she Likes The Screen (even though it's fake). While Curly has his quotes about the pixel "not ruining the illusion" which. Y'know is Symbolic Of His Flaws. She doesn't say the pixel ruins it, just that she can't get it out of her mind.

If we take the pixel to represent her Or jimmy, either way the way she talks about it kind of downplays things, like it's a Minor Thing that's Slightly Upsetting, but she's still okay with the big picture. Idk I could be 100% wrong but that is my take

Besides that, Anya tells curly she's pregnant 2 days before the crash, and it isn't until she outright states it that he starts Putting The Pieces Together. I want to note, he says "I'd do anything" and "this doesn't have to go on our performance evals" 1. Before he knows shes pregnant 2. Under the assumption she might attempt suicide, and I doubt he even thought about her using the gun on anyone else before she brings that up. He says literally before the line where she tells him she's pregnant that "being laid off isnt a reason to hurt [herself]". Like I've seen ppl talk about the performance evaluation thing like it's about her and jimmy, but I think he's referring to (his belief) that she might attempt suicide or similar which might genuinely be a consistent thing he's seen her struggle with, given she's able to go through with it. Also just to note: assuming their society is like ours (hellish) reassuring her he won't blab Abt her mental health is like. Genuine reassurance- lots of mentally ill ppl will Not Open Up bc it could have long term consequences (like. For example. On employment) ANYWAYS I hope it doesn't come off like "Curly never failed Anya" but rather "Curly approached this specific situation without the context of why Anya is panicking and (possibly validly) assuming she's dealing with a very different issue"

Also let me say again the time frame is 2 days. We don't Really see what happens, but we know Anya tells Jimmy without Curly knowing. I genuinely believe he maybe didn't do a Great Job in those two days (the fact he says Anya should've talked to Him before telling Jimmy is uhhh. Mm. 1. Your job to create an environment where she comes to you my man 2. Weird to tell her what she should do with HER OWN PERSONAL INFORMATION) but like.

I get a lot of ppl want immediate consequences but consider that they can't really get rid of Jimmy (co pilot. Which is. Y'know it's Own Problems) but also like. Curly knows Jimmy, and we know that Jimmy tends to lash out. Curly should probably Not Confront Jimmy Unless He Knows Exactly How To Keep Him From Hurting Anya. Like I'm not an expert but this is something genuinely important- when confronting an abuser you NEED to take into account the impact it can have on their victim, and sometimes for the victims safety you need to wait until you have a Solid Plan. It sucks but it's important.

And theres discussion to be had about Curly kinda going along with Jimmy saying "well what if we all died" and like. I do believe he Didn't Realize What Jimmy Said. Like he was just processing/trying to keep the situation under control (and failing because he underestimated how willing Jimmy was to hurt everyone including himself).

Like he's definitely an enabler but I would say his problems are mostly before he understands the gravity of the situation, in that he's friends with Jimmy and assumes the best of a man with abusive tendencies, and fails to create an environment that can keep Anya and the others safe. Like, he definitely doesn't handle in game events perfectly (psych evaluation for one- he does do it instead of Anya which is actually helpful, but he still treats it like. Weirdly.)

Idk I have a lot of thoughts about this game and I don't necessarily want to defend Curly but more like. Anya's situation is very delicate (and light on details) so sometimes the way ppl talk Abt it feels like they aren't actually focused on what she wants and what it means to prioritize her safety y'know?

Edit bc I just now figured out kinda how I want to word it: curly is an enabler and making things worse bc he doesn't put a stop to Jimmy's BS, but in the specific scenario we see in game I think he's trying to use his Skillset of like, people pleasing not for Jimmy's sake but for the crews (like "if I nod my head and say I sympathize he won't lash out and hurt them") which like. There are situations which that is unfortunately the safest option (on an individual level yes, but sometimes it's also necessary to prevent abusers lashing out in response toward ppl who are more vulnerable) but it was the Wrong Choice.

It's like. I think Curly was trying and had good intentions, and understood that he needed to protect the crew, but he didn't have the toolset/experience to realize he can't Just go along with things and that he needs to be able to set hard limits, even for ppl he likes and trusts. Like he failed but the failure was "for want of a nail", where it began way before what we see (for want of an understanding of power dynamics I guess.) Again, don't think this makes curly more forgivable or whatever, I just think he's a good example of trying to make the right choices when you never realized you'd have to make these kinds of decisions and therefore are unprepared and/or unaware

Second edit: personally I don't think you can really incapacitate jimmy without there being serious risk (again he's the copilot) but curly should've given Anya the gun when she told him Abt the pregnancy

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

some nights when i don't have enough time to watch anything, i just stare at the wall and try to work out this non-existent episode's plot

i do have a pitch for an episode of the x files where the agents are tasked with trying to solve a huge art theft. scully is convinced it was for normal art theft reasons (reduced sentencing for prisoners revealing their location, or perhaps the hubris of a very wealthy private collector) whereas mulder is convinced aliens are making a collection of earthly culture to enhance their understanding of the human species. i just haven't come up with the plot twist that makes them BOTH wrong yet!

[rabbithaver]

every so often i will see a post from a leftist on this website that is so egregiously ableist that i remember that like. oh yeah the userbase of leftists on this website is violently anti-disabled people and will jump at any chance to demonize any of us for any reason. i just forget that fact because i'm extremely dedicated to curating my space

i'm paraphrasing here but i saw a post that said, "every time i see an American [disabled person] mention being scared about the election because they're afraid of losing their benefits i have to laugh. anybody who wants blood-soaked money from the US government deserves to starve" which. like. goodness that's a lot to unpack. i think we should burn the whole suitcase instead !

[mushroomsie224]

Suddenly remembered a headcanon of mine from a while back about how Cedric rarely, if ever, drinks around people because of how embarrassing he gets. He's already treated as a joke, imagine if he made a fool of himself when drunk...but he probably drinks alone in his tower sometimes. Never in the workshop, of course...he made that mistake once and that's the last time he's making it. I think he'd be the type to drink away his emotions.