#why should anyone else care

[abuzd]

[mxtxfanatic]

One day this fandom will have a reckoning on how it likes to blame Jin Xixuan's death on Wei Wuxian—whether by maliciousness or a "loss of control"—while ignoring the fact that Jin Zixuan died because he lunged at Wei Wuxian with a drawn sword because he was angry that Wei Wuxian told him that he doesn't trust him after he refused to tell Wei Wuxian whether or not he was a part of the ambush his cousin set up after Wei Wuxian told him to keep his distance from him after he told Wei Wuxian to stop defending himself against an ambush that he showed up to and was plainly told was put together to kill Wei Wuxian after he had already been bodily pushing Wei Wuxian around to protect his cousin. But all of that is supposed to be forgiven and forgotten because the reason he wanted Wei Wuxian to ignore all logic and put his life in danger was for Jiang Yanli's temporary happiness? Lol. Lmao even.

[basicallykiyotaka]

My favourite thing to do: talk about Endeavor

My least favourite thing to do: explain why I like Endeavor

[st4rstudent]

Various other one-sided swap doodles inspired by oomfs comments

[themarkofoxin]

i am not watching the stream but someone asked what mic phil is holding here

and the answer is it’s a shotgun mic without the windscreen. fascinating that they even have one honestly. shotgun mics are usually used as booms, so generally higher production-value stuff than they do. maybe they bought some for the dapg return church shoot? why not just rent them though.

also this is nitpicky but holding a shotgun mic like that and having it that close to your mouth is CRAZY guys oh my god. first of all shotguns aren’t great for shooting indoors because the pickup pattern allows it to pick up reflections of sound off walls because it looks like this

so that cross section in the middle is what picks up reflections. most professional audio people swap shotgun mics for cardioid condenser mics if they’re booming inside, because as you can see in this pickup pattern catches a lot fewer reflections from the back and picks up moreof what’s broadly in front of it.

which is another reason why it’s super weird to use a shotgun mic as a handheld announcer mic, because the narrow pickup pattern of the shotgun mic means you have to keep it aimed very directly at your mouth for the best sound quality. shotgun mic audio pickup falls off CRAZY fast when it’s even slightly off-cue.

anyway that’s all to say weird choice there. not sure why they did that. their regular mics are probably cardioid so idk why they didn’t use one of those!

[hirazuki]

Me, episode 1: Oh, a relatable protag! And a relatable female protag, at that. Sweet! That never happens.

Me, a few episodes in: Wait, the protag really is going to be my character? The one I identify with the most? Seriously? It's not going to be a strange, at least somewhat sinister, seemingly hostile male side character? It's gonna be a female character and the protagonist? That's insane, that literally never happens... what's the catch??

Me, more than halfway through the season: ... huh, I guess Maomao really is it. Okay, then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Me to myself, after episodes 22/23:

[moeblob]

Demyx (my beloved)

[starwarmth]

We were seated by the fire, as just now described, and Miss Havisham still had Estella’s arm drawn through her own, and still clutched Estella’s hand in hers, when Estella gradually began to detach herself. She had shown a proud impatience more than once before, and had rather endured that fierce affection than accepted or returned it.

“What!” said Miss Havisham, flashing her eyes upon her, “are you tired of me?”

“Only a little tired of myself,” replied Estella, disengaging her arm, and moving to the great chimney-piece, where she stood looking down at the fire.

“Speak the truth, you ingrate!” cried Miss Havisham, passionately striking her stick upon the floor; “you are tired of me.”

Estella looked at her with perfect composure, and again looked down at the fire. Her graceful figure and her beautiful face expressed a self-possessed indifference to the wild heat of the other, that was almost cruel.

“You stock and stone!” exclaimed Miss Havisham. “You cold, cold heart!”

“What?” said Estella, preserving her attitude of indifference as she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her eyes; “do you reproach me for being cold? You?”

“Are you not?” was the fierce retort.

“You should know,” said Estella. “I am what you have made me. Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the success, take all the failure; in short, take me.”

“O, look at her, look at her!” cried Miss Havisham, bitterly; “Look at her, so hard and thankless, on the hearth where she was reared! Where I took her into this wretched breast when it was first bleeding from its stabs, and where I have lavished years of tenderness upon her!”

“At least I was no party to the compact,” said Estella, “for if I could walk and speak, when it was made, it was as much as I could do. But what would you have? You have been very good to me, and I owe everything to you. What would you have?”

“Love,” replied the other.

“You have it.”

“I have not,” said Miss Havisham.

“Mother by adoption,” retorted Estella, never departing from the easy grace of her attitude, never raising her voice as the other did, never yielding either to anger or tenderness, “Mother by adoption, I have said that I owe everything to you. All I possess is freely yours. All that you have given me, is at your command to have again. Beyond that, I have nothing. And if you ask me to give you what you never gave me, my gratitude and duty cannot do impossibilities.”

“Did I never give her love!” cried Miss Havisham, turning wildly to me. “Did I never give her a burning love, inseparable from jealousy at all times, and from sharp pain, while she speaks thus to me! Let her call me mad, let her call me mad!”

“Why should I call you mad,” returned Estella, “I, of all people? Does any one live, who knows what set purposes you have, half as well as I do? Does any one live, who knows what a steady memory you have, half as well as I do? I who have sat on this same hearth on the little stool that is even now beside you there, learning your lessons and looking up into your face, when your face was strange and frightened me!”

“Soon forgotten!” moaned Miss Havisham. “Times soon forgotten!”

“No, not forgotten,” retorted Estella. “Not forgotten, but treasured up in my memory. When have you found me false to your teaching? When have you found me unmindful of your lessons? When have you found me giving admission here,” she touched her bosom with her hand, “to anything that you excluded? Be just to me.”

“So proud, so proud!” moaned Miss Havisham, pushing away her grey hair with both her hands.

“Who taught me to be proud?” returned Estella. “Who praised me when I learnt my lesson?”

“So hard, so hard!” moaned Miss Havisham, with her former action.

“Who taught me to be hard?” returned Estella. “Who praised me when I learnt my lesson?”

“But to be proud and hard to me!” Miss Havisham quite shrieked, as she stretched out her arms. “Estella, Estella, Estella, to be proud and hard to me!”

Estella looked at her for a moment with a kind of calm wonder, but was not otherwise disturbed; when the moment was past, she looked down at the fire again.

“I cannot think,” said Estella, raising her eyes after a silence “why you should be so unreasonable when I come to see you after a separation. I have never forgotten your wrongs and their causes. I have never been unfaithful to you or your schooling. I have never shown any weakness that I can charge myself with.”

“Would it be weakness to return my love?” exclaimed Miss Havisham. “But yes, yes, she would call it so!”

“I begin to think,” said Estella, in a musing way, after another moment of calm wonder, “that I almost understand how this comes about. If you had brought up your adopted daughter wholly in the dark confinement of these rooms, and had never let her know that there was such a thing as the daylight by which she had never once seen your face—if you had done that, and then, for a purpose had wanted her to understand the daylight and know all about it, you would have been disappointed and angry?”

Miss Havisham, with her head in her hands, sat making a low moaning, and swaying herself on her chair, but gave no answer.

“Or,” said Estella, ”—which is a nearer case—if you had taught her, from the dawn of her intelligence, with your utmost energy and might, that there was such a thing as daylight, but that it was made to be her enemy and destroyer, and she must always turn against it, for it had blighted you and would else blight her;—if you had done this, and then, for a purpose, had wanted her to take naturally to the daylight and she could not do it, you would have been disappointed and angry?”

Miss Havisham sat listening (or it seemed so, for I could not see her face), but still made no answer.

“So,” said Estella, “I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me.”

Great Expectations, ch. 38

[good-beanswrites]

If ur still doing reqs id love older brother and little siblimg 0003!! I love es and fuuta sm, you can choose what they do but id rather it be post/no milgram!! Tysm

Ahh this was such a sweet request, thank you ✨ I had a lot of fun with it! I kept the details loose -- I don't know how t3 actually shakes out -- but Es still doesn't know much about themselves, so they end up moving in with the Kajiyamas. Enough time has passed for things to become fairly normal between the two.

“What are you doing? It’s giving me the fucking creeps.”

Fuuta made a disgusted face, but Es didn’t seem to notice. They just kept standing in the middle of the kitchen. It was 3am. They were barefoot, wearing one of Fuuta’s old pairs of pajamas. They stared at the countertop intently. They hadn’t even turned on the lights. Fuuta waved his phone flashlight around, trying to see what they were up to. It didn’t look like anything had been touched.

He took a step closer. His nerves were already on edge, coming into the kitchen to steal a late night snack and finding them standing ominously in the darkness. The little bit of light from his phone reflected in their icy gray eyes. 

“Oi, Es…?”

Sleepwalking. That had to be it. Fuuta rolled his eyes, breathing a small sigh at the realization. The sound was somewhere between relief and annoyance. Es was an odd kid as it was. It had been strange getting used to them living in his house, and now he had to deal with freaky stuff like this…

Fuuta approached as quietly as possible, putting his phone down. He reached out his hand. He planned on guiding them back to bed in silence, but he must have been too harsh with his grip. 

Es gasped, the dull look in their eyes turning to shock.

Fuuta immediately leapt backwards, his startled curse turning to frantic apology.

“Y-you were sleepwalking, I was trying not to wake you up but…” he trailed off, seeing Es scan the kitchen and get their bearings. 

“It’s alright. I’m used to waking up in strange places, I suppose.”

Fuuta grimaced. ‘Odd kid’ was an understatement. 

They didn’t seem to notice. Their expression had darkened. “I… I was dreaming. I was back there, and,” their voice shook with sudden emotion. “And we were all…” their breath caught.

“Hey, don’t go and start cryin’ on me.” They didn’t sound like they were going to cry exactly, but he couldn’t be too careful. He wouldn’t know what to do. “You’re not some baby. All of that is over now.” 

Fuuta had meant it as encouragement; he knew how strong Es was. As strange as they may be, they were the toughest person Fuuta had ever met. Realizing that his words may have come out a bit harsh, he tried to speak softer. “Really, it’s all over. You can relax here.”

Es nodded, but stayed silent. The two stood in the dim glow of the flashlight.

Fuuta coughed. “Now, did you want something, or…?” He gestured to the fridge, then made his way around them. He dug around inside for a snack. 

“N-no. Thank you. I’ll be heading back to bed, then. I’m sorry to have frightened you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Fuuta said quickly. He took out something, sniffed it, and shrugged. “And anyway, it was way less terrifying than when Haruka did it.”

“Haruka sleepwalked?”

“Yeah, and when you wake a normal person up from it, they’re supposed to go into fight or flight. None of us were itching to deal with Haruka’s fight response, you know?” Fuuta took a big bite. He turned to find Es with a miserable look on their face. Through the food, he mumbled, “what?”

“I… I didn’t know that. About Haruka.”

“Okay?”

“There’s so much I didn’t know about all of you.”

“You also didn’t know jack shit about yourself, so we can call it even.” Fuuta took another bite, assuming the conversation was over.

Es wasn’t as satisfied. “I mean it,” they said, their voice still strained. “I thought I knew you, but I’ve learned so much here. There was so much I didn’t know about you. I never knew what your family was actually like, or how well-kept your room is,” they gestured to him, “or that you hardly ever sleep normally.”

Fuuta couldn’t tell if it was a criticism or not. He clicked his tongue. “Well, I never knew that strawberry milk was your favorite, but you don’t see me getting misty-eyed about it.”

Es had opened their mouth to continue, but they blinked in surprise. “How did you know I liked it?”

“Because I like it, and you keep drinking everything in the house.” He rolled his eyes.“I bought twice as much last time I went out, and you still ended up stealing it all. There’s only one little carton left…”

Es’ face slowly softened. Then, a devilish smirk crossed their lips. “You know, I thought I heard that milk is good to drink before you go to sleep…”

“Eh? Oh, hell no! That’s mine.” He went back to the fridge, rummaging around to get it.

“Says who?”

“Says me. I’m older. And I liked it first.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. And I should get it because I’m younger.”

“Now that doesn’t make sense!” Fuuta retrieved the milk. He turned the carton over in his hand. A thought crossed his mind – one he would never speak aloud to anyone, ever. He recalled his sister helping him when he was too small to reach the milk. She used to heat it up for him before bed.

He lazily tossed it across the kitchen. “Not like I care. Here, be grateful.” 

Es scrambled to catch it. Once again, their expression turned emotional. “Fuuta…”

“It’s not a big deal, sheesh!” He picked his phone up from the counter, biting down on the snack he’d grabbed. “Like I said, all that is over. You just gotta be normal now. I know that’s hard for a weirdo like you –”

“Hey!”

“– but just try, okay?” He shoved Es’ shoulder as he walked. “C’mon. Pops doesn’t care when I’m up, anymore. But he’ll give a goody-two-shoes like you a lecture if he hears.”

“I’m not a goody-two-shoes.”

“Psh, you’re the worst I’ve ever seen!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being disciplined.”

“Drink your damn milk.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[greenqueenhightower]

I’ve heard Alicent’s “no, but he would be partial to me” comment about her father be used against her before but actually, after having failed to see an ounce of interest from Viserys about the position and the future of her children and after having to endure his constant disregard of the danger his own parenting puts them in, she very much deserved a person to look after her and her children’s interests.

[shiryawashere]

man i haven't felt this alone in a fandom since i was 15 sailing the SS Cameron/13 from House MD

[mazojo]

If Julian Cerati isn’t in season 2 of La Primera Vez whats the point

[antiqua-lugar]

fun fact, during my first fully blind playthrought of bg3 I honestly thought gale was the writers' favourite if nothing else because of how much varied dialogue he had. like I never reallly had a conversation with astarion that wasn't about his trauma, his vampirism or how boring I am for not wanting to take over a cult but I knew all of gale's hobbies, two or three childhood's anecdotes and the whole history of tara, who he was making plans to introduce to me later.

[trans-estinien]

i love being autistic cause sometimes i get a glimpse into how regular people perceive things and its like. what the fuck. what the fuck is that? you live like this? and its normal?? i think YOURE the weird one actually. im fine. thanks though.

[secret-side-hetalia-blog]

I love having friends that will listen to me ramble about anything else, any other stupid interest.

But just not hetalia, thats the line.

[mtt-burger-emporium]

thinking about chara and the implications of the line "chara hated humanity. why, they never said..." like ok i KNOW something was happening at home. chara baby you didn't deserve that shit i'm so glad you fell down a thousand feet in a cave hole and right into the arms of people who would keep you fed roof over your head and would never raise their hand against you. "eradicate humanity" you're 10 years old how about eradicating your shitfucked surface fam by calling cps first