#yes it was always this irritating

[tapakah0]

Eh, almost forgot ;~;; Commission for sweet @celestialrose3 ;;~;;; Thank you so much *bows*

[fastidious-and-a-mess]

hey guys. btw. cause it seems like some people (especially in the game changer tag) are maybe forgetting. um. brennan isn’t actually the main character of dropout. or game changer. there are other people on the shows too, actually.

[edit: this is the least complete version of this post, please look in the notes for actual discussion lmao]

[child-of-hurin]

it does get me when people look at a male character with varying degrees of incestuous motivations towards his sister and go "homessexual!". Fellas is it gay to be sexually obsessed with your sister

[dukeofriven]

When it come to trolls, everyone grew up on the violence planet: Vriska's not special. She had to do horrible things to placate her guardian? So did other trolls: she's not special. She felt pressured by the diktats of her society to be cruel and violent? So did every other troll, she's not special. But she thinks she is, and that's when everything goes wrong. When I call Vriska a Karen this is what I mean: a Karen who stands at the check-out line screaming at a grocery store clerk may well have a shit-tonne of trauma, may have just had the worst day of her truly miserable life, and yet she still feels entitled to take it out on the people around her (people with less power than her) because she's in pain, she has problems, she has struggles, and her life's been hard. In the framework of Karen, only Karen's problems matter, only Karen's trauma matters, only Karen is entitled to getting what she wants because she's earned it because of who she is and what she's been through. Vriska is a Karen because other people never matter to Vriska as much as Vriska. (And let's not even get in to the class/race parallels of Karenism, or we'd be here forever discussing blue-blood-as-upper-middle-class-white-privelege). If we breakout into the expanded Homestuck universe, we meet a lot of trolls who grew-up on murder planet, and had sad backstories, and a cruel upbringing, and all sorts of trauma. And they are still, by a remarkable margin, mostly decent people, or at least trying to be. They can get pretty weird and quirky, but you don't see many of them girlbossing an empire by bullying a disabled kid to death. That's a choice Vriska made, a choice her peers consistently don't make. Even in the OG twelve you've got nine trolls choosing to be better than the society that birthed them (Yes, even Equius, in his awkward, dorky way.)

Again and again, Vriska's trauma is the only thing that matters, and any trauma she causes is made subordinate to that because for whatever reason, at least within her stans' minds, no one else measures up. It's fine to bully Tavros both alive and dead for 5000 pages because unlike Vriska, Tavros isn't cool. He doesn't have funny lines, he doesn't have a cool aesthetic, he's awkward and pathetic and nobody really likes him, so Vriska's unceasing cruelty is girlbossing. She's got Trauma, y'know, so what she did to him, and never stopped doing, well, we can explain it. Vriska is a Karen, who just like all Karens can justify every shitty thing she's ever done through the framework of her own problems. But trauma is an explanation for behaviour. It's not an excuse. There's a reason the old MSPA Forums didn't have 19 locked threads about the Eridan Discourse, and how a childhood of murdering lususes and the pressures of aristocratic race war means he didn't really do anything wrong. It's because Eridan wasn't cool: he didn't have a cool fashion sense, he didn't have funny one liners, and he killed a character who was more beloved, and less pathetic than Tavros. Nobody went around projecting themselves on Eridan and so nobody subsequently felt the need to defend and justify his actions in order to justify how he treated people as being acceptable. Nobody needed a patron saint of justified bullying and self-absorbed trauma response that looked like Eridan Ampora. But by Vriska-stans' own logic, Eridan did nothing wrong, right? Gamzee did nothing wrong. Caliborn did nothing wrong. They're just boybossing and building their empires, and they developed personality disorders from childhood trauma so just, like, stop judging them or thinking ill of them when they hurt people again and again and again and make no effort to mitigate their behaviour or take responsibility for it. They had bad lives, so if they happened to consistently choose to be horrible to other people, you should just accept and understand it. Vriska is a Karen. QED.

Vriska Serket winning that poll only really makes sense when you remember that most people thinking about her haven't reread Homestuck in years, if ever, and thus are going off their circa-2012 teenaged fandom-warped memories of the cool, edgy, 'lmao problematic bad bitch fave' they remember her to be, and not the breathtakingly cruel, vicious, bone-headed, monstrous piece of shit she is in the actual comic.

Fandom Vriska is a punk icon. Comic Vriska is really just a Karen.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 59

Chapter; Highlights

His ears still rang with the din of battle, his breath a rasping beat echoed by Aelin.

Atop the blood-slick battlements, their allies and companions around them, Rowan wordlessly passed Aelin the waterskin. She drank deeply, then handed it to Fenrys.

An unleashing and release. That's what the battle had been for his mate.

Hasar at last looked Aelin over. "I heard you put on a show today."

Rowan braced himself.

Aelin turned from the battlefield and inclined her head. "You look as if you did, too." Indeed, Hasar's ornate armor was splattered with black blood. She'd been in the thick of it, atop her Muniqi horse, and had ridden right up to the gates. But the princess made no further comment.

Irritation, deep and nearly hidden, flashed in Aelin's eyes. Yet she didn't speak again-didn't push the princess about their next steps. She just watched the battlefield once more, chewing on her lip.

She'd barely stopped during the battle, halting only when there had been no more Valg left to kill. And in the minutes since the walls had been cleared, she'd remained quiet— distant. As if she was still climbing out of that calm, calculating place she'd descended into while fighting. She hadn't bothered to remove any of her armor. The bronze battle-crown was caked with blood, her hair matted with it.

Chaol's father had taken one look at her armor, at Rowan's, and gone white with rage.

For now. They had bigger things to consider. Things that drove his mate to gnaw on her lip. When Prince Kashin's army might arrive, if they would indeed head northward to Terrasen. If today had been enough to win them over.

"Any nearby are to run here. Those farthest out will have to flee for the forest." Rowan met Aelin's stare. Her hands began shaking.

This cannot end here, she seemed to say.

Panic—panic indeed flared in her eyes. Rowan gripped her trembling hand and squeezed.

But there was no truth or lie that might soothe her. No truth or lie to save the army on the plain.

Something had gone wrong. Something was wrong.

The battlefield stretched into the distance, healers darting amongst the felled bodies with white banners high to indicate their locations. So many. So many dead and wounded. A sea of them.

Elide reached Chaol's side just as Nesryn Faliq leaped atop her beautiful ruk, launching into a dive for the army below. No-the other ruks.

Elide laid a hand on Lord Chaol's shoulder, drawing his attention from where he watched Nesryn fly off. Blood-splattered, but his bronze eyes were clear. And full of terror.

Any message that Yrene had given Elide faded from her memory. "What's wrong?"

It was Aelin who answered, her bloodied armor strange and ancient. A vision of old. "The dam is going to break," the queen said hoarsely. "And wipe away anyone on the plain."

Oh gods. Oh gods.

Elide glanced between them, and knew the answer to her next question: What can be done?

Nothing.

Ruks took to the skies, flapping toward them, soldiers in their talons and clinging to their backs.

"Has anyone warned the healers?" Elide pointed to the white banners waving so far out into the plain. "The Healer on High?" Hafiza was down there, Yrene had said.

Silence. Then Prince Sartaq swore in his own tongue, and sprinted for his golden ruk. He was spearing for the battlefield within seconds, his shouts ringing out. Kadara dipped every few moments, and when she rose again, another small figure was in her talons. Healers. Grabbing as many of them as he could.

Elide whirled to her companions as soldiers began running for the keep, trampling corpse and injured alike. Orders went out in the language of the southern continent, and more soldiers on the battlefield leaped into action.

"What elsewhat else can we do?" Elide demanded. Aelin and Rowan only stared toward the battlefield, watching with Fenrys and Gavriel as the ruks raced to save as many as they could. Behind them, Princess Hasar paced, and Chaol and his father murmured about where they might fit everyone in the keep. Those who survived.

Elide looked at them again. Looked at all of them.

And then asked quietly, "Where is Lorcan?" None of them turned. Elide asked, louder, "Where is Lorcan?" Gavriel's tawny eyes scanned hers, confusion dancing there. "He ... he went out onto the battlefield during the fighting. I saw him just before the khagan's troops reached him."

"Where is he?" Elide's voice broke. Fenrys faced her now. Then Rowan and Aelin. Elide begged, voice breaking, "Where is Lorcan?" From their stunned silence, she knew they hadn't so much as wondered.

Elide whirled to the battlefield. To that endless stretch of fallen bodies. Soldiers fleeing. Many of the wounded being abandoned where they lay. So many bodies. So, so many soldiers down there.

"Where." No one answered. Elide pointed toward the battlefield and snarled at Gavriel, "Where did you see him join with the khagan's forces?"

"Nearly on the other side of the field," Gavriel answered, voice strained, and pointed across the plain. "I—I didn't see him after that."

"Shit," Fenrys breathed.

Rowan said to him, "Use your magic. Jump to the field, find him, and bring him back."

Relief crumpled Elide's chest.

Until Fenrys said, "I can't."

"You didn't use it once during the battle," Rowan challenged. "You should be fully primed to do it."

Fenrys blanched beneath the blood on his face, and cast pleading eyes to Elide. "I can't."

Silence fell on the battlements.

Then Rowan growled, "You won't." He pointed with a bloody finger to the battlefield.

"You'd let him die, and for what? Aelin forgave him." His tattoo scrunched as he snarled again.

"Save him."

Fenrys swallowed. But Aelin said, "Leave it, Rowan." Rowan snarled at her too. She snarled right back. "Leave it."

Some unspoken conversation passed between them, and the hope flaring in Elide's chest went out as Rowan backed down. Gave Fenrys an apologetic nod. Fenrys, looking like he was going to be sick, just faced the battlefield again.

Elide backed away a step. Then another.

Lorcan couldn't be dead.

She would know if he were dead. She would know it, in her heart, her soul, if he were gone.

He was down there. He was down there, in that army, perhaps injured and bleeding out — No one stopped her as Elide raced inside the keep. Each step limped, pain cracking through her leg, but she didn't falter as she hit the interior stairwell and plunged into the chaos.

She had made him a promise.

She had sworn him an oath, all those months ago.

I will always find you.

Soldiers and healers fled up the stairs, shoving past Elide. The shouting was near-deafening, bouncing off the ancient stones. She battled her way down, sobbing through her teeth.

I will always find you.

Pushing, elbowing, bellowing at the frantic people who ran past her, Elide fought for each step downward. Toward the gates.

People screamed, a never-ending flood surging up the stairs. Still Elide pushed her way down, losing a step here, another there. They did not even look at her, even try to clear a way as they flowed upward. It was only when Elide lost another step that she roared into the stairwell, "Clear a path for the queen!"

No one listened, so she did it again. She filled her voice with command, with every ounce of power that she'd seen the Fae males use to intimidate their opponents. "Clear a path for the queen!"

This time, people pressed against the walls.

Elide took the small opening, and screamed her order again and again, ankle barking with every step down.

But she made it. Made it to the chaotic lower level, to the open gates teeming with soldiers. Beyond them, bodies stretched into the horizon. Warriors and healers and those bearing the wounded rushed toward any stairwell they could find.

Elide managed all of five limping steps toward the open gate before she knew it would be impossible. To cross the field, to find him on the endless plain, before that dam burst and he was swept away. Before he was gone forever.

He was not dead.

He was not dead.

I will always find you.

Elide scanned the gates, the skies for any sign of a ruk that might carry her. But they soared to the upper levels, crawling with soldiers and healers, some even depositing their charges onto the mountain face itself. And at ground level, none would hear her cries for help.

No soldiers would stop, either.

Elide scanned the other end of the gates' entryway.

Beheld the horses being led out from their stables by frantic handlers, the beasts bucking at the panic around them as they were hauled toward the teeming ramps.

A black mare reared, her cry a sharp warning before she slashed her hooves at the handler. Lord Chaol's horse. The handler shrieked and fell back, barely grasping the reins as the horse stomped, her ears flat to her head.

Elide did not think. Did not reconsider. She limped for the horses and the stables.

She said to the frantic handler, still backing away from the half-wild horse, "I'll get her." The man, white-faced, threw her the reins.

"Good luck." Then he, too, ran.

The mare Farasha-yanked so hard on the reins that Elide was nearly hurled across the stones. But she planted her feet, leg screaming, and said to the horse, "I have need of you, fierce-heart." She met Farasha's dark, raging eyes. "I have need of you." Her voice broke.

"Please."

And gods above, that horse stilled. Blinked.

Horses and handlers streamed past them, but Elide held firm. Waited until Farasha lowered her head, as if in permission.

The stirrups were low enough thanks to Lord Chaol's long legs that Elide could reach them. She still bit down on her shout as her weight settled on her bad ankle, as she pushed, and heaved herself into Farasha's fine saddle. A small mercy, that they had not even had time to unsaddle the horses after battle. A set of what seemed to be braces hung from its sides, surely to keep Lord Chaol stabilized, and Elide unhooked them. Any weight, anything to slow her, had to be discarded.

Elide gathered the reins. "To the battlefield, Farasha."

With a whinnying cry, Farasha plunged into the fray.

Soldiers leaped from their path, and Elide did not stop to apologize, did not stop for anyone, as she and the black mare charged toward the gates. Then through them.

And onto the plain.

[sysig]

And second request, would you please draw a Narrator/Stanley outfit swap, because I stated thinking of them dressing up as each other for Halloween/just for fun and think it sounds neat!

Day 26 - Leave the sleeve up, leave it alone!

[thatnerdinthecorner]

@partywithponies

[llegato]

its so fucking annoying how genshin fans seem so desperate for anything cultural in the game but whenever hoyoverse DOES incorporate culture the fans immediately begin mocking it. what do you people want?

[trainingdummyrabbit]

omg Ur ocs are very Epic Gamer.... eould you elaborate on the falling back into old habits things you mentioned at the end.... Pretty Please

certainly ! it means theyre Really Infuriating, hope this helps ^_^

but really though, its mostly just a pull on wolfes tendency to plant her feet defiantly whenever something deeply upsets her, even if it doesnt really do anything to help her. (even if shes Aware it doesnt do anything to help her. old habits die hard.) she is just very, very. inconvenient. in every possible sense. girlies whose main defense mechanism boils down to going "Nuh Uh." and not elaborating. oversimplification for comedic effect.

honestly, shes someone who runs very very deeply on fear, but has dealt with that by diverting it all into acting Big And Scary. (to varying success.) one of the first notes for her was "a prey animal trying very very hard to act like a predator." yknow what they say about foxes in snares right? self sabotage is still an act of autonomy, and all.

[13eyond13]

@magiwou-meowvin omg this is fascinating, I wonder what it is!!!!

[sealeneee]

siiiiiiigh

[skitskatdacat63]

Quick question, how old is Seb in the boy king au when they get married, I'm asking because I was rereading the fic & directors cut from September and you said he’s so obsessed with calling Seb little. Is Seb shorter than Nando or is Nando trying to feel a bit taller when actually he is a itty-bitty war criminal kitty? If Seb is shorter but still has time to grow how badly will Nando take it

Hello! This one is much easier to answer than your other one(You're really making me think deeply, thank you 🥺), so I think I can answer this pretty quickly(hopefully)

So you've probably noticed that I don't mention actual years too much which is just bcs the timeline is so vast and I've not decided on a lot 😭. But they basically have the same age gap as modern day, so I'd say they were born in 1681 and 1687 respectively(which matches up well enough with the real world history.) Irl, the war that I'm canon divergencing away from takes place 1701-1714, so stuff regarding when their coronation and marriage happens is somewhere in there. So I'd say Nando becomes king in like, 1705 and then they marry somewhere between then and 1710(when seb ideally becomes emperor??)

So to answer your actual question. Seb is def taller than Nando by the time they get married. But in that ficlet, Fernando is obsessed with calling Seb small because he wants to make himself feel bigger!! It's less about actual height and more about power dynamics. He's belittling him by literally calling him little! And it's also about Nando being older than him. Seb became a king as a boy(hence boy king), whereas Fernando became a king as an adult so he calls him little because he still sees him as that little boy king who is too young to have that amnt of power.

They first met pretty young, not knowing what their future would be like, and didn't really see each other for a while. And so until they meet again, when the marriage plans start happening, their perceptions are: Nando thinks of Seb as some little boy king, and Seb has a childish crush. So it's very odd for Nando to suddenly now meet this kid, all grown up, and he's now taller and even more powerful. So I think Nando still associates Seb with that image in his mind, thus calling him little all the time.

Conclusion: Fernando IS shorter, and he wears heels and calls Seb little all the time as a way to cope

[crossbackpoke-check]

18 + swaymark!!

oooo thank you!!

#18 - pleaser, wallows + swaymark

okay i know they are canonically obsessed with each other but. the song is in some ways about feeling like you’re failing in your relationship and being not quite as obsessed with them as they maybe are with you, and in this video of them talking about being a tandem, there is the slightest pause before swayman answers “do you miss him?” that makes me want to probe a wound. we’re not talking irl reasons of how that’s an absurd question (how do you miss him. you’re coworkers you’re seeing each other all the time) we’re talking that maybe this whole goalies-in-love thing got blown out of proportion and now swayman’s having to buy into the bit too hard. linus loves it & everyone’s asking about their bromance & how they love each other so much and the thing is—linus is safe. he’s got a wife and plausible deniability and jeremy? jeremy is gay. sure, he can crack jokes and people-please but the more people ask the more they're going to find out until maybe they find out something jeremy doesn't want them to know. and the longer this goes on, the more jeremy has to sit at linus' dinner table with linus and his beautiful wife and pretend like he isn't a little bit in love with him. and you know what? the longer it goes on and linus doesn't dial it down jeremy does stop being in love with him, because it just feels cruel, until he finally is done enough that he stops biting his tongue and ruins the moment.

[mildmayfoxe]

the thing about reading so many romance novels is my threshold for what is a decent reading experience is basically on the ground. what in any other genre would be a completely mid to not very good book is often a shining bastion of decency and basically ok grammar in a barren wasteland of like absolutely dogshit literature with half strung together sentences and only the barest wisp of character development and personality. i’ll finish a book that actually deigns to think for half a second about character motivations and has any kind of vaguely assembled plot and be like “wow. that’s reading baby :)”

[the-busy-ghost]

Petty rant this morning- I can understand that somtimes even the nicest noises can be a nuisance, even painful, and believe me I have become cranky about all sorts of innocuous noises at the wrong time.

That being said, I have heard a surprising number of people complain about bellringers practising, when they moved into a house next to a mediaeval English church

[isekyaaa]

One thing I was never able to get over with certain isekai is how the mc is always introducing these world changing concepts and inventions to the savage dumb ancient people. I hate using this term, but it's this specific colonizer mindset where the mc is God's gift to society opening the minds of the sheeple to a better life. It's rarely the mc learning about the world around them and realizing that maybe their idea may be wrong and always about how everyone else is wrong and mc is only right.