#and my petty grievances are forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudmancy · 1 month

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i just finished acofaf and i havent finished the last few adventuring partys yet but it kind of makes me feel crazy how no one has brought up wuvvy clearly being in love with rue. especially in rue & wuvvy's last conversation theres never any indication of rue acknowledging the depth of wuvvy's feelings for them or the sacrifices she's made to be with them and its kind of baffling to me cause rue must know how wuvvy feels about them right? she left her court for them! which is literally the same exact grand gesture hob makes for rue to prove his "love" for them. except wuvvy didnt need to be persuaded. and i was so surprised how in the adventuring parties nobody rlly talked much about wuvvy's love for rue, like emily mentioned it a few times but it felt to me like this elephant in the room that no one was talking about. it's funny cause most/all of the pcs this season were queer but wuvvy comes across kind of like a "scorned lesbian" character where the lack of acknowledgement of her grievances belittles them so as to communicate that they are not legitimate and her feelings are petty and immature. which is obviously a trope intended to preserve a heteronormative and misogynistic status quo. sorry if this is kind of rambly and/or incoherent (i have the flu) i just like your posts and fanart of wuvvy and i wanted to share my thoughts!

OHHHH BOY... you're in for a treat because they do talk about wuvvy in acofaf APs 9-10. it's bittersweet because it's very much an acknowledgement of 'yeah she had feelings for rue and it's a bit fucked up what happened to her'. I cannot blame oscar for wanting to go for a PC/PC romance with brennan's character rather than the NPC but you're right... it really does bother me the way the fandom treated her as a bitch, making really aggressively violent posts when she burned hob's letter, oscar not really even acknowledging in or out of character how much rue meant to her... some of it has to be attributed to how short the adventuring parties are and how much of it was spent talking about ruehob (I have my own opinions about how baffling it was that ruehob was meta'd and built up so much entirely OUTSIDE of the campaign, the main content of the show? but that's a post for another time)

I don't think aabria, brennan, oscar, or anybody else actually meant to contribute to a lesbophobic trope or stereotype; aabria was playing a thoroughly cool character and the circumstances surrounding her just happened to end up this way. it's a game of dnd in the end where a pc/pc romance is more interesting roleplay wise and that is how the cards fell in terms of npc romance. it would not kill people to acknowledge wuvvy and how badly rue hurt her though 😞 I have a huge problem with the 'ruehob together forever, happy ending' part of acofaf & its fandom because of how little the fandom seems to remember or care about her... I do think that is a pattern of misogyny especially when you have many many fans who violently hate wuvvy for getting in the way of their (already canon) ship

I will never stop talking about wuvvy though. [slaps her horns] this satyr can contain so much devotion and angst in her

#asks #lesbianmarrow #wuvvy #acofaf #thanks for the ask! equally rambly reply back

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respectthepetty · 2 months

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Some viewers are saying that a story of revenge is too tropey and Phi/Non endgame is “too predictable”. But there are so many twists and turns that I’m surprised every week and I gave up guessing; ANY outcome/explanation for ghost/mundane murder-fuckiness makes sense. DFF is basically a choose-your-own adventure. I personally love revenge stories because it’s so satisfying when wrongs are righted. I really hope we see Phi/Non reunite; I will lose my shit (again) if that turns out to be the case - just like I lost my shit with the reveal that they were lovers. Please start a PhiNon Supporters club where we can all wear matching membership bracelets!

Anon, one of the major reasons I'm enjoying Dead Friend Forever, which in its current moment in the story is not very enjoyable, is because all theories are possible. I agree with you that this is really choose your own adventure!

If you are defending Fluke, skip to page 87! If you ship Jin x Phi, go to page 129. If you think Tee should be spared, flip to the end. If you think White is an innocent bystander, stay on the current page, but if you think he is New instead of Tan being New, go to page 95. If you think Phi is actually the worst offender, move to the next chapter. If you want to know who Perth is in this story, keep reading!

I'm scrolling through the tags enjoying each person's take and desires for the series because they are all different. And, of course, some people aren't enjoying the series, which happens with all shows. Others feel it's predictable while you and I think this could end six different ways. Like you wrote, any outcome is going to make sense to me because every action up until this point has made sense to me, (except Fluke cancelling the Uber). The conversations are all over the place and about twelve different things. I LOVE IT!

Also, as a person who actively maintains a Grudge Garden and a Petty Prison where I nurture my grievances against shows, I think disliking a show for trivial reasons is acceptable. If people hate the idea of Phi and Non being together in the end because it feels predictable to them, that has nothing to do with me and how I'm interacting with the show, so I remain unbothered by it.

But as for what I am concerned about, if Dead Friend Forever and BOC wanted to sell merch from this series in order to raise funds for upcoming projects (praying 4 Minutes is Bible x Fluke, amen), a simple red bracelet would be the only item I'd need because this Phi x Non ship ain't sailing itself!

#I am a Phi x Non shipper #which is wild in a show about murder #I can live off the episode seven crumbs for decades #dead friend forever the series #phi x non endgame #this is your daily reminder that I think non is alive #and I want another red bracelet #take my money BOC #so I can get 4 minutes faster #let my ship help another ship sail

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lordofthestrix · 5 months

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Seriously we’re both Scorpios? Great. Well. Happy Birthday I guess.

Wish Tristan a happy or unhappy birthday! "Why did you do that? Now we will both drown and die. In desperation, the frog had enough time to gasp out his confused lament." Tristan's musing didn't appear to be directed at Lucien. He was easily ignored after his petty grievance acted as an awakening factor for the fable. It is in my nature. He wasn't any more delighted with any coincidence simulating resemblance between them. And yet perhaps the imagery of two scorpions wasn't altogether inaccurate here. A shared malady. Maybe the product of being two thirds of the trinity that had known what it was to be robbed of their own selves for the longest time in secret history. If it had ever been any different, that was no longer the case. Tristan could admit that they were both ruthlessly loyal to the designs of their soul. Not necessarily with any transparency, mind you. Tristan often judged himself as the only one who genuinely saw how delusional, twisted and crooked Lucien's spirit had become beyond the presented veneer of more superficial wickedness. Still he was unequivocally certain it would forever rule over his fate. There was no denying Tristan de Martel was just as loyal to what it meant to be him. Even beyond his own survival. And it wasn't for any lack of insatiable appetite towards living. He considered saying something more explicit concerning the matter. He decided against it.

"Thank you. I guess." Tristan mimicked his questionable etiquette in casual taunt.

@kingmakercastle

#Tristan's birthday 2023 #Kingmakercastle #Cellphone reply

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sunxdusk · 1 year

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Briengr trudged wearily through the forest. Overhead, the moons, Masser and Secunda, gleamed dimly. Masser had become ever brighter, and now its red glow stained the night sky. A light fog had gathered, and the snowy terrain he moved through was bleak and jagged. Rocks broke through the turf like open wounds cracking and spreading across the surface. Sometimes Briengr thought he could hear great wings passing overhead, but when he looked up, he could see only the red glow in the sky. ‘There are no dragons this side of The Pale,’ he thought, stroking the smooth surface of his bow.

‘And if there were, Hircine would have given me a sign by now.’

The fog distorted and spread so that it looked as though he were walking along the bed of The Sea of Ghosts. There was a sense of foulness about this place, Briengr decided. The air tasted rotten, and the delicate, pale hairs on the nape of his neck constantly prickled, hackles rising as he struggled to calm the Beast writhing, snapping in his chest. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

When he had been just an elfling in the village of Kjolr, he would sit in his adopted father’s home and watch the sky grow black with menacing clouds. Then would come the most monstrous storm in living memory.

Now Briengr felt the same sense of fear and anticipation. Unnatural forces were congregating here, he was sure. He felt like a mouse crawling over the body of a sabercat that could, at any moment, awake and swallow him whole. Even his Beast seemed unsettled and oppressed. It had fallen silent and did not even growl or murmur to him. Now and again, Briengr would stop, stand and sniff the air, his whole body tensed as if he strained with every nerve to catch the slightest trace of something. He wished he had not come. 'Surely,' he told himself, 'my obligation to Skald the Elder does not mean I must face certain death. I could find a Hagraven, cut off her head, and pass her off as the necromancer he wanted me to kill.'

Do that, and you will have dishonored yourself forever.

Briengr gritted his teeth. He prided himself on being an honorable mer, and the debt he owed Skald the Elder was real. The hoary old bastard had given him a place at his hearth after he’d banished Vaermina’s influence from Dawnstar. Granted, at the time, he had not known the old Jarl was ill-tempered and intolerant, courting petty grievances as a man courts a desirable lady. Not that it mattered. It still left Briengr under an obligation. He remembered the riotous drunken evening in Jarl Skald’s Hall when he had sworn a blood-oath to Skald’s service and promised to give aid when called. When Skald found out that Briengr was a hunter, he asked Briengr to investigate strange happenings in the snowy wilds of The Pale.

At the time, it seemed like a splendid idea in the warm glow of fiery camaraderie. The bounty had struck Briengr as a Great Hunt that would please Lord Hircine and make his blood sing. Little did I know, Briengr thought, that it would lead to this. Hunting for necromancers and their pet corpses. His lips twisted in a silent snarl, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. It was easy to sing of brave heroics in the taverns and weave tales where horror was a thing conjured by the words of a famous Bard. Out in the wilds, though, it was different. His breathing became labored, and the oppressive atmosphere made him want to rip off his skin and howl at the sky. Still, he tried to console himself, this will be a glorious hunt. Hircine will be pleased, and Skald will reward me with enough ale and meat to last through the winter.

The woods became more profound and more tangled. The trees took on the aspect of twisted, uncanny specters. Briengr felt as if they were watching his every step. He tried to dismiss the thought as fantasy, but the fog and the red moonlight only stimulated his imagination. He felt as if every pool of shadow contained the monster he was hunting.

Out of the fog, Briengr spotted something…someone. A human, Briengr decided. But the outline was still there….

And the smell… The smell was wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

K I L L ! !

Without hesitation, Briengr unslung his bow and sent an arrow speeding the being’s way.

@ramblingsofamoonwatcher

#➳ ❪ closed rp ❫ … under the red glow of masser ❞#➳ ❪ ramblingsofamoonwatcher ❫ … the night is dark and full of terror ❞#long post #I'm so excited for this!!

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jimmythejiver · 7 months

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To the last reblog I made that I won't derail further, but I've really held my tongue too long to not start fights on: The fact that my dashboard was full of 'if you don't burn or dump your old Harry Potter books and merch and stop making or consuming the fanworks yesterday, you're a transphobic asshole promoting her work and genocide.' Okay done. Trashed them and don't click the tags on AO3 or search it out anymore. You gonna stop consuming and making Scott Cawthon shit you anti-immigrant homophobes? Or you gonna willingly swallow the lie that he 'stepped away' when every evidence shows he hasn't and if you believe he won't still give his residuals as a creator to racist, homophobic candidates who yes are also transphobic mind you, then I've a bridge to sell you. It is mind boggling to me that fandumb thinks being a good person means 'don't consume transphobic content' but never apply the same to other bigotry except to harass small marginalized creators who didn't do representation correctly. Yet Scott Cawthon is exempt and can keep doing whatever the hell he wants forever because MatPat used statistics and graphs to say it wasn't anti-immigration, but 'safe borders' as if that isn't the same fucking thing with dogwhistling repubs. Fuck you MatPat and your money train. Even if the Fnaf fandom thinks you're cringe and think they're not like other Fnaf content creators and dissociated with you, you basically gave the go ahead that this was okay when all this shit initially came out and I've been sitting on my 'petty grievances' forever because I didn't want to be the troll bringing up old wounds that the fandom collectively decided was resolved, but it fucking isn't and I predict with the movie coming out with the creator's name all over it that we're going to have another J.K. Rowling debate for too many years on his intentions before it's too late, but hey that's just a theory, no? Surely this has never happened before with the likes of Orson Scott Card, right?

#want to make further clear that i don't hate all you twilight and fnaf fans who still enjoy your cringe and make shit or watch video essays #but it is telling you think your creators are exempted from the same boycotts you impose on rowling arbitrary because...#you decided terfs are the final boss of bigotry and not obviously bigoted candidates cawthon donates too #the shit rowling says is used by republicans to draft these transphobic laws but don't pretend cawthon's money doesn't talk too #that said i'll keep being the bigger man boycotting harry potter and grit my teeth while y'all have fun never growing out of your cringe #((said smugly because that's what y'all sound like every day you think you're superior you never got into hp or quit it at 12 years old))

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kleenexwoman · 9 months

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A lot of writers think they are the next Philip K. Dick. The actual next Philip K. Dick would have:

an Adderall script with no diagnosis

a series of very similar girls that he half-dates half-stalks

a Twitter where he retweets about both government and corporate tyranny without caring about the source or noticing whether they're on the right or left, but also very occasionally posts something really anti-abortion from his own head that makes everyone yell at him

A Tumblr where he posts a lot about the "real Matrix" and "quantum consciousness downloads" and how God is actually a woman and the Church has been lying to us for centuries about everything including what year it really is, but will also occasionally post a petty tradcath grievance along the lines of "REAL Catholics NEVER eat meat on Fridays even if it's St. Patrick's Day, so why all the corned beef specials?" (he didn't say that, but a relative of mine did and I need to share that with you because otherwise it's going to sit in my brain like a mosquito bite forever). But the only posts that ever get any traction in the larger Tumblrsphere are his self-aware shitposts about how ridiculous his own mental breakdowns are, and also his pictures of his cats.

He puts out a new novel in his long-running "I Got Isekaied Into the Real World and It's Not the One You Think It Is" series roughly every three weeks. Occasionally there's an unscheduled break because he had a nervous breakdown or because the alien god satellite he gets some of his ideas from was taking a really long time beaming new stuff into his brain, but he usually gets going again pretty fast. People tend to love it regardless of the stupid shit he says on Twitter, but occasionally he'll write in something that's a truly outlandish response to something someone said to him and nobody can tell if he's agreeing with them or making fun of them.

People keep making new adaptations of "IGIItRWaINtOYTIT" that are all completely different and yet still all somehow significantly more violent than the original. He always makes a fuss about how he's worried it won't portray his creative vision correctly, but then he's like "It's perfect, you've worked magic, are you in my head?" regardless of whether it's moody and slow and realistic or is full of absurdism, cartoon violence, and tits.

#philip k. dick #polls

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abla-soso · 11 months

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While watching the ex wifes and lovers Union i had similiar feelings to yours. Personally what changed my mind was Carolina's line "he would have hated this" making IT less of a solidarity nové and more of last fck you sort of thing. The motivation being spite rather than emphaty

It does make sense for Caroline's character to offer this request (She is spiteful enough to do it, and she's still reeling from the hurt Logan inflicted on her, and I do think this "fuck you" move was her own weird way of grieving her ex-husband and moving on).

What bothered me was how the other women went along with it and even bonded over it. It just doesn't make any sense. Marica is too classy and dignified for this petty shit. Kerry is one of the very few people who openly and unabashedly mourned Logan in a human way and she's still not in the "fuck you" grieving stage. So why were we expected to believe any of these women would accept Caroline's offer? (Sally-Ann is too much of a "'whatever" character that we literally know nothing about. So I won't bother trying to figure her out. She's clearly just fanservice).

The way the scene was filmed and acted, it's clear that it was meant to be seen as "women showing empathy towards each other because it's dumb to fight over a man".

I love seeing female solidarity and comradery. But I'm very uncomfortable with this gross feminist myth of women being more of a collective category of people than individual persons with unique personalities and so women must bond over their shared victimhood - especially when they're victimized by the same man - or else they're not true supporters of women's rights. Like women can't be decent people unless they stop having grievances against each other, no matter how valid.

It grossed me out how the writers forced Marcia's character to show empathy to a woman who willingly had an affair with her husband and gladly helped to ruin her marriage and then celebrated the end of the marriage ("lol, Marcia is forever shopping in Melan". Ugh). The act of showing empathy was not out of character for Marcia, even towards Kerry, and I would have welcomed it if the context was different. But in this context? It felt insulting.

#succession

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nirikeehan · 1 year

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Pravin & Thalia, dramatic situations prompts: "A character angling themselves in front of another character when things get tense or uncomfortable, stepping between them and harm’s way"

HI THIS has possessed me and is now part one of something to be continued at a later date. Stay tuned.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1759

CW: Introduction of an OC from Thalia's past with super bad creeper vibes.

---

The Hinterlands were ablaze with autumn color. Thalia sat on her provided wooden bench and admired the hues: burnt oranges, vivid yellows, reds as bright as flame. The afternoon air was crisp but the sun warm, the sky an aching blue. The fair weather, it seemed, was her only respite. The procession to see her spread straight out of Redcliffe’s town square and curled around a corner.

With a nod, she allowed the Inquisition soldiers serving as her security detail to admit the next petitioner into the shade of her pavilion. It was a woman, not much older than Thalia herself, wearing dark braids and a homespun dress. In her arms, to Thalia’s dismay, she held a swaddled, squalling infant.

“Praise the Herald!” The woman threw herself prostrate on her knees, so that Thalia was forced to look over the edge of the long wooden table where she sat. The woman held up the crying babe, mucus streaming from its nose. “Please, bless my child.”

Thalia hesitated only a heartbeat. She raised her left hand, flashing the gash in her palm that spilled emerald light, and waved it over the child. By luck — or perhaps the anchor’s glow did have a soothing effect — it calmed.

“Your babe is already blessed,” Thalia said with a soft smile.

The woman climbed to her feet, equally dazzled. “Thank you, my lady. That was incredible. Thank you so much.”

The mother retreated, and in the procession’s lull, Thalia’s cousin Pravin slunk out from behind a tent pole holding up the pavilion.

“Nicely done,” he murmured.

“That’s not the first snotty baby that’s been shoved in my face.” Thalia sighed, resisting the urge to rub an eye. The afternoon felt every bit as long as the line gathered to see her. “Usually waving the anchor around is enough to convince the small folk I don’t need to kiss them.”

“The best for everyone involved,” Pravin adjusted the ostrich feather in his wide-brimmed cavalier hat. Today he’d donned a doublet and half-cape of deep navy blue slashed with royal purple. “I’ve heard tell the miasma of sickness is spread more easily in close contact, especially with children.”

Thalia smirked. “I’d rather not face Corypheus while battling a chill, thank you.”

Pravin peered at her with his sharp green eyes. “Are you tired? I can tell the guards to turn the remainder away for the evening.”

“It’s all right.” With the Inquisition’s fame spread far and wide, these sort of audiences had become both more important and more taxing. It seemed these days she couldn’t go ten feet without a crowd of people wanting to meet the Inquisitor and ask for her favor, blessing, or air any amount of petty grievances. “We’ve an hour or so before sunset; I can make it until then.”

“If you insist.” Pravin leaned forward, picking a bit of pollen off the collar of her dress. “In that case, I think I ought to go check on your boyfriend.”

Thalia snorted. “Don’t call him that.”

“No? What shall I call him, then? Your paramour? Beau?” Pravin smirked and struck a dramatic pose. “Your lover—?”

“I think ‘Commander of the Inquisition’ will suffice,” Thalia cut in, her face burning.

Pravin let out a hearty laugh. “You two can’t keep it a secret forever, you know. The puppy eyes he gives you in our war council meetings are already so obvious. And now Arl Teagan has asked him to give a speech tonight — in your honor. Do you really think his Wicked Grace face is that good?”

“I thought he turned that offer down,” Thalia said, bemused. Cullen hated giving speeches that weren’t meant to boost battlefield morale among his soldiers; he found them overlong, self-important and trite — his exact words.

Pravin’s grin widened. “I… might have persuaded him otherwise.”

“Pravin!”

“Because it’s good public relations,” Pravin insisted. “And perhaps because I got Varric to write it for him and agreed to coach him on his delivery. Trust me, when he hits lines like ‘our beloved Herald,’ he is not subtle.”

Thalia let out an exasperated laugh. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about us.”

“I’d’ve figured it out. Just like everyone else will,” Pravin said with amusement. “I’m just saying. Think of making a public announcement. Get ahead of it.” He buffed his nails against the lapel of his doublet. “Now, dear cousin, I’ll bid you adieu so that you may get back to your Inquisitorial duties.”

Thalia shook her head as Pravin strolled out the back exit of the pavilion out amidst milling townsfolk and Inquisition retainers. Sighing, she straightened her posture and lifted her chin. There was a line of people waiting, after all. “You may send the next in.”

An hour later, her pavilion closed to the public, Thalia slipped into the gathering twilight. Redcliffe’s town square bustled around her. The lamp lighters were out, and as she stood amidst the cobblestones, she could see the fading sunset reflected on the placid surface of Lake Calenhad. The warmth of the day had given way to the pleasant chill of an autumn night. Fireflies dotted the sky, and, higher up, so did the first dusting of stars. Thalia closed her eyes and inhaled the cool air, heady with the scent of cookfires. Redcliffe was hosting a feast for the Inquisition’s retinue, and all too soon she could be called to another pavilion, greeted by Arl Teagan, and seated at a high table for another round of diplomatic mingling.

“Thalia?” said a man’s deep, silken voice, at once strange and unsettlingly familiar. “Thalia Trevelyan?”

She opened her eyes. A tall figure loomed before her, bathed in shadow. A lingering petitioner, probably, though the way he hunched, as if used to being unable to fit through doorways, set her on edge. She’d left her mage staff in her room at the Gull and Lantern, deemed too threatening to carry while meeting the common people. She clenched her left hand, feeling the anchor’s reassuring spark. “Yes? May I help you?”

“It is you.” The man slunk forward, face obscured by his hooded cloak. His voice brimmed with elated mirth. “My, you’ve grown.”

Thalia’s stomach clenched. “Who are you? Forgive me, I don’t recall—”

He glided into the street light. The world tilted slowly. Intense blue eyes, crooked nose, concave cheeks, limp hair falling across his forehead — he was older now, but she’d know him anywhere. She’d stared into this face for hours, once.

“Knight-Templar Algernon,” she breathed.

“I’ve dispensed with the title, unfortunately.” He lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “War — what’s it good for? Never should have left our little slice of paradise, methinks.” He cocked his head, smile wide and ghoulish. “Do you ever miss it? The Circle Tower?”

“No,” Thalia said sharply, drawing back. “I don’t.”

Algernon laughed. “Not surprising, I suppose. Dissolving the Circles and all that. Couldn’t comprehend it would ever come to that, let alone at the hands of one of mine.” He stretched out an arm to brush bony fingers against the dark ink beneath her right eye. His voice went hushed. “How could I have known my work would one day adorn the Herald of Andraste?”

“Hey.” In a flash of purple cape and ostrich feather, Pravin threw himself between Thalia and Algernon. “Hands off the Inquisitor, buddy.”

The former Templar snatched back his palm. Light-headed, Thalia dug her nails into the puffed sleeve of Pravin’s doublet.

“Forgive me, ser, forgive me.” Algernon raised his arms as if in surrender. “We go way back, she and I.”

Pravin clucked his tongue. “What a coincidence, as do I. I’m her cousin. Who the hell are you?”

The remaining glee drained from Algernon’s face. He swayed in his raggedy cloak, eyes darting. Without another word, he whirled and stormed off into the night.

“Asshole.” Pravin turned to Thalia, brow furrowing in concern. “Are you all right?”

“I— yes.” She leaned against the lantern-post, the fuzzy light above gathering moths, and tried to breathe deeply. He’s alive. He’s still out there. He… remembers. She shuddered.

“Are you sure?” Pravin asked, skeptical.

“I just need a moment.” Thalia sat on the low stone wall that separated the town square from a manicured garden, pressing her palms against her thighs. Her dress pooled out around her, whisper-soft aquamarine samite threaded with cloth-of-gold. Not for the first time, she felt as if all of this were a farce — that only people like Algernon knew who she truly was.

Pravin watched her with a troubled expression. As he opened his mouth, her security detail rounded the corner of her pavilion. “Is everything okay?” one of them asked, breathless. “We thought we heard a commotion.”

“No, everything is not okay.” Pravin jabbed a finger in Algernon’s general direction. “While you two were slacking off, the Inquisitor was accosted by a vagabond. You can rest assured I will be reporting this incident to the Commander—”

“Pravin,” Thalia said. “It’s all right. I came out here by myself for some fresh air. It’s my fault.”

“Like Andraste’s tit it is,” Pravin retorted. “They have one job, and that’s to keep you safe.”

“I’m fine. Look, see?” She lifted her chin and forced herself to smile.

Pravin rocked back on the heels of his expensive shoes and let out a slow breath. “If you insist. But all of us are escorting you back to the Gull and Lantern — right now.”

Thalia didn’t protest; she stood and followed her cousin and guard detail. Soon they stood in the busy common room of the Gull and Lantern. The soft light and warm, cheery atmosphere reassured her. A minstrel tuned her lute over the din of those eating, drinking and carousing, and launched into a jaunty ballad.

In the wide, bright space, Thalia felt less like Algernon might again leap from the darkness at any moment. She sank into a chair at an empty table and put her face in her hands. It had been years since she’d been able to feel the imprint of her tattoo on her skin, but her fingers found the curves and spiky lines regardless. She traced it from the bridge of her nose, around her eye, to her temple. She rubbed the opposite eye, where the ink bisected her eyebrow.

Pravin sat beside her, folding his hands on the tabletop. He’d worn lacy, ruffled sleeves — dressing to impress the Arl tonight, it seemed.

“So,” he said, voice low and gentle, “are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

#thalia trevelyan #pravin talavera #pravinquisition #i love them your honor #don't love algernon tho he's a creep #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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julie-su · 1 year

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You used to be so petty.. give in! Bite and kill!

No-- I USED to be a teenager with unchecked anger management issues :P

My state of Zen includes getting petty and pedantic to friends and family in private, and then letting it wash over me and fly away. I've nothing petty to say, I already sent it off downstream!

-- A little bit of pettiness and cattiness is healthy. But not thrown onto a public forum, where it may so live forever, stacked and seeping with loathing, and forever a part of you, and whatever it may be you are striking at. You don't know who idolises you on the internet, and how many strangers will take your minor petty grievances, and double down fuelled by your words. I chose responsibility over the catharsis of being rude on the internet, ha.

It's just better not to air out my petty grievances to say mean things out loud on the internet, I've found.

#when I DO kick off online - that's when you know I'm truly miffed #aaaand there are more closely related people to complain about penders than EchidnaFan123 here :P #I've never even talked to the guy #there are better people to tell tales of him XD

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guiltywisdom · 2 years

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Do you know whether or not (eastern) orthodox christians have also the concept of "memento mori"? I only found out that they have this concept when it comes to the monk skulls in churches and i also found something called "meditation on death" (μελέτη θανάτου) but idk

It is true that we have something like “memento mori”! We are told we must remember that we will die so that we will remember that while we are here we must do good things, we must try our best to never sin. When one of those monks you mentioned looks at a skull, a skull that once belonged to a fellow monk, they are contemplating their own death. “This was once a monk, they are now dead. I am a monk, one day I too shall be dead. If I die tomorrow, then what must I do today?” We must “prepare ourselves for departure.” If you are taking a long journey by plane, you must pack your bags ahead of time and get up early because you do not want to be caught unprepared. “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks.” (Luke‬ ‭12:35-36‬ ‭NRSV). As you may be aware, Christ himself always remembered that he was going to die and he told his disciple often about his looming death. “…for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” (Mark‬ ‭9:31‬ ‭NRSV). We are to be like Christ, we are taught that we must remember that this life is fleeting and that eternity awaits us. We must remember that petty grievances are nothing when compared to forever. The remembrance of death is constant, in one prayer recited before going to sleep each night this is said while pointing at one’s bed: “O Master, lover of mankind, is this bed to be my coffin, or wilt Thou enlighten my wretched soul with another day? Behold the coffin lieth before me; behold, death confroneth me…” (Prayer of Saint John Damascene, Jordanville Orthodox Prayer Book). To forget that you too will die is to become arrogant and conceited; death humbles us. I wonder if that answered your question; you can read some more about the “remembrance of death” on the OCA website.

#memento mori #asks #replies

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lepoppeta · 1 year

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*Sits down at a desk like I've just arrived at a meeting* Tell me about your ships and their theme songs and your thoughts, for any fandom/ships you currently feel like rambling about, even if I personally don't know them. Don't hold back c:

hhh oh boy this… "dont hold back" i could simultaneously go on forever and also… not. what im going to try and do for this is concentrate on songs that could be applied to both sides at once, rather than one individual person referring to the other. im also not going to be too narritively focused. these rules help me to keep the ask response to a minimum; i dont really like writing obscenely long posts, and would rather categorise them more concretely.

(by coincidence, this basically narrows down my ship themes to just my bioshock pairings).

if you want to inquire about particular character themes in reference to their respective pairings, then dont hesitate to send another ask! that goes for anyone else reading this post.

that being said… shakes hand thanks for coming today and expressing you interest. we really love to see that kind of go-getter attitude on this blog!

since i asked you about DELTACLAIR themes a little while ago, i figured id repay you and start with them first. deltaclair i find to be very interesting because has the intense aesthetic of a soulmate au but without any sort of weird macguffin to go along with it; theyre simply two people who had an instantaneous connection and an initial sense of deep, unwavering trust. in a lot of media ive consumed concerning these two, they dont really care about their past actions (either for themselves or for the other), but rather focus on the present and how that can affect the future. its a very interesting dynamic and honestly not one ive explored before in any other fandom.

the night we met (lord huron)

i am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt ive been searching for a trail to follow again take me back to the night we met

the melancholy nature of this song really drives home the directionless nature of themselves and their relationship. they just seem to exist suspended in time and space and outside of finding eleanor and getting out of rapture neither of them have any especially lofty goals to strive towards. sinclair never comes off as particularly ambitious, more placidly curious and perhaps mildly vengeful. delta is… well, delta.

and then i can tell myself what the hell im supposed to do and then i can tell myself not to ride along with you

despite me noting that they never seen to distrust each other, im sure there was a part in the beginning where both of them were waiting for the inevitable screwing-over. as they slowly get more comfortable with the situation theres still this lingering feeling of "i shouldnt be entertaining this at all" and yet they do anyway and its so brilliant and angsty.

like real people do (hozier)

i will not ask you where you came from i will not ask and neither should you

theres this silent understanding that ive always garnered between these two that some things are better left unsaid. sinclair has no idea who delta was before the alpha series, and delta knows that sinclair (chatty as he may be) is pretty tight-lipped at the best of times. its not that important information is being swept under the rug in lieu of a shallow fantasy, its more a silent agreement that bringing past grievances up isnt particulalry helpful. neither of them come across to me as particularly petty (although one could argue that sinclair is the Pettiest Bitch in Existence).

so i will not ask you why you were creeping in some sad way i already know

(see above for explanation)

devils backbone (the civil wars)

dont care if hes guilty dont care if hes not hes good and hes bad and hes all that ive got

delta and sinclair definitely come across as relitively apathetic about each others seedier choices, and quite readily move them aside for the sake of a survivable present and more important a fruitful future. theres simply a distinct lack of shits given, but in an accutely unyeilding way.

in comparison, JATLAS is extremely passionate and volatile compared to deltaclairs mutual, silent acceptance. their songs also tend to be a lot more narratively involved and arent suspended in space like deltaclairs are. they stand out more as individuals who happen to be part of a pair, rather than two characters viewed as a whole. dismissing the themes that contribute to the story rather to them just as inidviduals, jatlas for now only has one song.

exile vilify (the national)

youve got suckers luck have you given up? does it feel like a trial? does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?

atlas and jack never expected to be so important to one another. it all happened so quickly and so intensely that neither of them really stopped to consider how they felt about the whole ordeal until much later. they plague each others thoughts for entirely different reasons; jack has experienced a loveless existence (especially after his mother died) and atlas has never met someone who strikes him as fiercely as jack does. theyre the victims of poor luck and overwhelmingly shitty circumstances and all they have at the end of the day is each other.

#answered ask #bioshock #bioshock 2 #alternate universe #musicalshock #jack ryan #atlas #atlas mulligan #jatlas #augustus sinclair #subject delta #deltaclair #my headcanons

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inmyloveworld · 11 months

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a letter to no one:

please don’t tell me things like “it will happen when it’s meant to,” or “love will come when you least expect it.” please don’t give me such empty promises and optimisms. i know you mean well and wish me to be happy. but i would truly be happier if you helped me accept the ultimate state of my loneliness in a more realistic way.

help me accept that i am upset that i have tried so many times at love, to connect with another person, to provide steadfast care and attention to them while falling for every little detail i uncover of their existence and still am left beside myself. i have been laughed at, mocked, passed over, used as a second option and last resort, belittled and bullied, manipulated and treated like a child who knows nothing of life and empathy. i have only ever been shrunken by the hope i have held despite it all.

i don’t want to hope anymore. hope hurts. hope makes you foolish; blinds you to so many red flags and harsh truths. hope is a burden. i take solace in certainties alone.

i am alone. i will be alone forever. i only have the comforts of imagination to warm my heart.

i just wish i could stop being upset. acceptance is supposed to be freeing.

i want to crush the shred of me that is still looking out in every crowd for a face that might find mine as it has in some other life. i want to yell that that kind of thing is only possible in my dreams. i want to be over it. and i want to stop being sad.

i am so tired of living in this rut. i am so tired of being dissatisfied. i feel so petty and ungrateful. i should not be this bothered when i am well fed, i have a roof over my head, a good job, an education, incredible friends, bountiful opportunities and experiences. why am i so stuck on this one thing? why have i always been so stuck on this one thing?

help me bleach out the hope. help me scrub away my grievances. help me find gratitude again. but do not tell me to hope. please.

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foerge-archive · 2 years

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me watching the "you are the bane of my existence" scene: smth arthureames just happened to me

#sorry this is their dynamic SPOT ON #the competitiveness the petty one-upping the CONSTANT matching of each other's energy #ive forever had the biggest grievance w fanon ems bc he's oftentimes portrayed as such a creep #who pursues a coworker insistently while they do nothing but reject his advances like that's CREEPY #the arthureames flavor is the You Vex Me / You are the Bane of My Existence and i stand by that #anyway can u tell i watched sm bridgerton last night #im off to work I'll see u in the afternoon 💜💜💜#DEL.

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ruins-mourner · 3 years

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It would be so funny to continue petty discord bio battles but I recognize that it’s not healthy for me nor is it quite grown up!

#yes I admit I let my pet peeve get the best of me and used it as an outlet to vent my grievances #but here we go again with their hypocrisy and dredging up old unrelated shit #like yeah I gave into the petty but #wow they brought their straps #anyway fuck them #I don’t care if I’m gonna be their villain forever #I’m hurting and I admit I want them to know my pain still #but I blocked them everywhere else so I should block them there too

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motivationisdead · 2 years

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I’m just saying, if you needed any proof about how righteous and good of a person Lan Wangji (and Wei Wuxian) is just look at his relationship with his uncle and brother in Wei Wuxian’s second life. Me? I would’ve held a grudge for the rest of my life about Wei Wuxian’s death.

Family tea time would’ve been so awkward. Lan Wangji could’ve been so fucking petty. It’s a credit to himself that he did not take that route but just imagine it for a moment:

LXC: Wangji, perhaps you should come with me to the next cultivation conference.

LWJ: … You want me. In a room. With the other clan leaders.

LXC: *confusedly* … Yes.

LWJ: With the same people that villainized and killed the love of my life.

LXC: *tiredly* There were extenuating circumstances and you know it Wangji-

LWJ: In a room with Jiang Wanyin.

LXC: He is a sect leader-

LWJ: Xiongzhang I can not think of anything I could possibly want less except for Wei Ying’s death. Oh, wait.

LXC: *rethinking all of the potential political damage LWJ could do* … Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t go after all.

LWJ: If you insist.

***

LQR: Wangji, there’s a meeting with the elders you’re required to attend.

LWJ: I see. Would it be appropriate to thank them for whipping me within an inch of my life before or after they start airing their grievances about Wei Ying?

LQR: Wangji!

LWJ: My apologies Uncle. I don’t know what else we could possibly have to discuss though.

LQR: … *through gritted teeth* Never mind.

LWJ: Of course Uncle. If that’s your final decision.

LQR: *eye starts twitching*

***

LXC: Congratulations on your marriage to Wei-gongzi.

LWJ: *nuetrally* Thank you Xiongzhang. Your approval means a lot to me after your sworn brother turned the entire cultivation world against him and helped bring about his destruction.

LXC: *downs his tea like it’s a shot of vodka*

***

LQR: How is Sizhui doing?

LWJ: … Sizhui. Your grandson.

LQR: *warily* … Yes.

LWJ: He’s spending time with Wen Ning. *looks LQR dead in the eyes* His uncle.

LWJ: His only family by blood still alive in fact. For a given definition of alive.

LWJ: Because you helped lead a siege on the rest of his remaining relatives. Who were all non-cultivators. After Wei Ying saved them from a labor camp.

LQR: …

LWJ: He’s doing well thank you for asking. More tea Uncle?

***

*Lan Wangji every time he and Wei Wuxian run into his Uncle*

LWJ: Uncle. You remember Wei Ying.

LQR: Yes-

LWJ: *interrupting* My husband.

LQR: I know who he is Wangji-

LWJ: *continuing unfazed* The Yiling Patriarch. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation-

LQR: For God’s sake Wangji! HE’S BEEN LIVING WITH US FOR TWO YEARS! I remember who he is!

LWJ: Of course Uncle. I’m simply concerned about whether or not your age is catching up to you.

WWX: *chokes on his laughter*

LQR: *storms off*

***

LXC: Wangji you can’t do this forever.

LWJ: *diplomatically* If you say so Xiongzhang.

LXC: … Hypothetically though how long are you going to do this?

LWJ: *cryptically* I can neither confirm nor deny anything.

LXC: *regrets everything with more intensity than usual*

#mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #lan qiren #yes i do know what happened is not entirely their fault #would that have stopped me?#absolutely not #incorrect quotes

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