#because I hate you. obviously

[disco-tea]

#really is hilarious to me how Spike had a whole phase where he was like like ‘I HOPE YOUR BOYFRIEND DIES’ #because I hate you. obviously #what other reason would there be #btvs memes #spuffy #btvs 5.04

[lazylittledragon]

i feel like social media has warped people’s perception of conflict in relationships by making you think that any minor fuck up is the end of the world and everyone is secretly a narcissist manipulator with sinister motives, because actually in real life you just say “i’m sorry, that was a bad thing, i shouldn’t have done that” and the other person says “thank you for apologising” and then that’s the end of it

#ramble #i hate that it took until my 20s to realise that i can’t go through my life just trying not to hurt people. because it will happen #it just does happen sometimes #and you have to drop out of the tiktok school of ‘i’m incapable of doing anything wrong ever and everyone else is the problem’ #and get comfortable with making mistakes and learning from them #you’re fine. it’s fine #disclaimer obviously this doesn’t mean you don’t have to try to be kind or considerate anymore as long as you apologise. use your brain

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else. 

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks. 

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms. 

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.” 

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien. 

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.” 

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.” 

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.” 

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.” 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings. 

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work. 

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back. 

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning. 

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through? 

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it. 

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly. 

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact. 

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red. 

“Does Lucien know?” 

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. 

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity. 

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.” 

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?” 

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“How long has he known?” 

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.” 

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.” 

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him. 

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body. 

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room. 

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel. 

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.” 

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst. 

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.” 

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain. 

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.” 

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him? 

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?” 

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control. 

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.” 

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.  

But you couldn’t do it. 

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move. 

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one. 

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away. 

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.” 

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

 I am not broken. But I am afraid. 

You fled from his bedroom. 

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall. 

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime. 

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way. 

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either. 

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There. 

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you. 

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea. 

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air. 

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands. 

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him. 

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun. 

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners. 

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?” 

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.” 

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick. 

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.” 

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle. 

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.” 

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #I know the fandom has a toxic shipping culture around Elain/Lucien/Azriel in particular #leave me alone all right #I am going to write the couplings as makes sense because this is a READER X AZRIEL FIC #but also i don't stand for a lot of the Elain slander #smells of sexism to me sorry not sorry just let the girl be #obviously she's not perfect but she doesn't deserve the absurd amount of hate she gets #thanks for coming to my ted talk

[uncanny-tranny]

Good news! You aren't required to make your hobbies and passions "marketable." In fact, your crafts, hobbies, and passions don't even need to be public if you so choose. You don't have to spend all of your energy becoming perfect if you aren't enjoying the process. You are not a product, you are a person, a creative, and your work also does not need to be a product.

#positivity #yet another post that's like... thinnly-veiled as being for myself #i find myself freezing with anxiety when i think about the things i used to do (writing especially) because... #...i had felt this force to make it ~content~ and ~marketable to an audience~ and it was so fucking daunting... #...it felt like being a gladiator in a coliseum #even now i fight the urge to equate being marketable to being acceptable and worthy of admiration and praise #i wish i hadn't burnt myself out of writing by doing this because i'm simultaneously grieving my writing and hating it #and it sucks the life out of what makes you feel like a person and it takes the art out of art #so be free! pist your art or don't! you are beholden to nobody!!! #(obviously this is not the case for professional artists who rely on their art to keep them alive) #(and i criticize heavily the idea that audiences are entitled to an artists labour) #(i understand that this isn't universal and if it doesn't apply to you then you don't have to take me seriously) #(if you are a professional artist or what have you i hope you are able to feed and house yourself off of that career!) #(i hope you are able to live a happy life and be able to keep loving what you're doing)

[wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt]

Listen, I know that canonically House is supposed to have very strong antisocial and narcissistic traits, but I will continue to shout from the rooftops that I believe he actually experiences hyper-empathy due to his autism. However, on the flip side, it would not surprise me at all if Wilson genuinely had both antisocial and narcissistic traits. Maybe or maybe not enough for an official diagnosis, I don't know. Either way, he strongly exhibits so many of those traits, just not in the way you'd typically expect. He's literally known for seeking out desperate and hurt people so that he can play saviour. He needs to be needed. He doesn't help people because he genuinely wants to see them get better, he helps people because he wants to become the center of their world and their only focus, and as soon as they're healed and stronger, he leaves. Because they don't need him anymore. Because he's not their only focus anymore. House even talks about it in the show.

I think that House and Wilson are genuinely just both so good at masking that they appear the opposite of how they genuinely are so strongly that their personalities and traits get mixed up.

#Someone please understand what I mean because I feel like I make no sense #I'm jsut rambling at this point #house md #house #greg house #james wilson #gregory house #hilson #hate crimes md #hatecrimes md #wilson #housemd #I hope this doesnt come across as a dig towards people with aspd or npd because its not meant to be at all #and obviously just because someone has those things does not make them a bad person #you can be a good person and do good things #I am obviously not a psychologist

[apollos-olives]

"go to palestine and see how they treat you" okay. i did. they treated me like normal. i'm palestinian and queer and they treated me just fine. but you know where i was treated like shit for being queer??? the u.s. of fucking a.

#i hate that argument “go to palestine and see how they treat you” because like lol. im a queer palestinian #palestinians are very queer #many of my palestinian friends and even family are queer or queer supporting #because we're educated. palestinians are extremely educated because we use knowledge as a tool of our liberation #and bc we're educated we are also accepting of queer identities #like seriously man. if you genuinely think all palestinians are homophobic then you've got some extreme racism problems #palestine #free palestine #that being said obviously there are homophobia problems in palestine #and all around the world #palestine isn't special with the homophobia #but we gotta be normal about this guys. we don't have time for queer liberation because we're too busy fighting for our basic human rights #we can work on queer liberation once palestine is freed

[overtake]

“a sexual awakening so intense it registered on the richter scale” is the single best and most accurate description I have ever heard.

pov: you're 16 years old and doing the final test for your super license ahead of joining f1 as the youngest ever driver. you expect the doubt and hate, and you know you can prove on track why you deserve to be there once you actually get in a car, but until then, you just have to be the subject of everyone's headlines and criticism for a factor you can't control.

then this guy comes along.

race winner who got himself to a top team and is beating his world champion teammate, a cool older handsome charismatic guy with a giant smile and big brown eyes, beloved and kind while still being fiercely talented, competitive, and hungry? the guy who you met in 2011 and who gave you the time of day before you were old enough to sniff at the f1 grid. he's not even going to be your actual teammate (yet), but he still takes the time to tell you he's looking forward to seeing you on the grid when so much of what you've heard is nonstop criticism.

he tells you good luck for your super license with a big grin meant just for you

and this is how it makes you feel.

this is live footage of daniel ricciardo becoming a permanent fixture in max's spank bank. it's one of those foundational crushes you have at a young age that sticks with you for life and unconsciously affects "your type" forever and never truly goes away.

also, i just think everyone should hear the way max very softly says "he's a really nice guy, yeah" with so much affection packed into every word.

how are you not to psychosexually imprint on him? one look at that video and max was ready to risk it all. he's been metaphorically tucking his hair, kicking his feet, and giggling since day one. he found a guy who he could race hard, who would challenge him on track, but who would still make the miserable pr days better for them, who was always laughing at max's jokes every time he did his little glance over to ensure it landed. max is so fiercely loyal to his people, and daniel has clearly earned that trust.

tldr: max verstappen is number one dirlie and if he were on f1blr, he would be writing long posts with onboards, data, and that ☝️🤓 attitude of his explaining in detail why everyone is wrong about daniel, and i hope it haunts all the max fans who get their rocks off to calling daniel a washed asshole loser that max's porn folder is daniel late braking compilations.

#ask #this got long. sorry. i also took a 5 minute crying break over old videos of daniel. #my exams start in a week and this is what i'm doing #anyway #OBVIOUSLY i don't think you have to like daniel ricciardo in order to love max. #but it's perplexing to me that people can look at someone who makes max so visibly happy #and dedicate their entire life to obsessively hate-posting about him. #move on! ignore him! #i couldn't tell you anything about a driver i hate's race besides the basic race coverage #because i don't dig into every facet of it to feed an pathological hatred. #i definitely couldn't tell you things about their personal life/anything what they've been up to/recent quotes/etc #because i just see them and scroll. wish others had that ability. #maxiel

[retellingthehobbit]

(Link here) Picture me with a conspiracy stringboard, a copy of the Unfinished Tales, and several essays about how LOTR/The Hobbit are meant to be flawed translations of ancient texts written by biased authors, and gesturing wildly as I explain how we can reinterpret The Hobbit as a funky little gay metaphor actually. we can do it. I believe

#the hobbit #retelling the hobbit #bagginshield #lotr #lord of the rings #dont you hate it when your first crush is actually super problematic.... aint that just the way #this is queerbaiting because at this rate it wont be canon in my comic until 84 years have passed in real life #this is bury your gays because thorin will still die in the end #there are obviously huge changes in my version vs ‘fanon bagginshield’ #my version of Thorin is going to be a mix of book and film #somber and sympathetic like film Thorin #but a lot more haughty and self importsnt like book Thorin #just because I think it’s funnier

[jichanxo]

Help me, Lord, from these fantasies in my head / They ain't ever been safe ones

#sayo yasuda #yasuda sayo #umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #umineko spoilers #when they cry #wtc #jichanart #beyonce song so good you start making umineko art. crazy #but yeah focusing on the father/daughter comparison here #because for how she hates kinzo she still has no choice but to rely on the money and power that he left her. in order to do what she wants. #and the fear of being like him (re: her relationship with her cousins. creating another massacre on rokkenjima) #... i think about the manga panel where sayo talks about all the corpses in the bunker #and how there's no way kinzo is innocent... and the look on her face... #anyway i wanted to emphasise the ring (inherited power) and depict her furiously ordering people around (not unlike kinzo's own reputation) #obviously sayo's wrongs are not nearly the same as kinzo's wrongs by a long shot. but the comparison is there #anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk #umineko family-isms go crazy

[ride-a-dromedary]

[Tell me something about yourself that I wouldn't even think to ask.]

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #halsinedit #bg3edit #bg3 spoilers #videogameedit #Halsin #otheredits #my stuff #i believe that this line #and it's delivery particularly in regards to his expression dropping before smiling again (because it almost comes across #as halsin being....hesitant to talk about himself because a. he feels like he doesn't do anything interesting #and b. has obviously been made fun of in the past judging by a few things and is waiting for you to as well) #(which makes that choice to be like haha bear and honey isn't that on the nose come off as more a dickish thing to say imho) #and the line 'it was a long time ago the wounds don't heal but they become more bearable' #say a whole lot about halsin in general and are largely overlooked when his character is being analyzed #a n y w a y....i love one gentle giant man please larian fix him up a bit and give him some more to say #otherwise it's fine i'll just be here and still love him and hate colouring this game

[mxtxfanatic]

Fandom Gripe #23: I know that fandom is in some deep denial about its treatment of female characters that are canonically involved with fan favorite m/m ships, but do y’all realize that when you disappear female characters from the narrative wholesale to push the idea that your canonically straight fav was “secretly gay all along!” you’re making several bad implications? That 1) bi men don’t exist, 2) bi men do exist, but those who have genuinely loved a woman before cannot genuinely love a man after that (therefore bi men don’t exist in practice), 3) women cannot inspire genuine love and devotion in men, therefore any relationship with a woman is “lesser” than the one they later have a man (see previous parenthesis), or 4) to acknowledge the existence of a lovable woman who isn’t a terrible person, where if a relationship previously existed, it did not end because of “incompatibility,” is enough to destabilize the present relationship between two queer men?

Because why is the tgcf fandom allergic to acknowledging that He Xuan had a whole ass fiancée that he loved? Why does no one ever seem to remember that the kidnappings and murders of He Xuan’s sister and fiancée were the final straws that sent him on his rampage, and he still keeps a shrine to them in the present-day of the story? Why is her entire existence and significance to He Xuan as a man, character, and to his character arc disappeared in favor of pushing Shi Qingxuan—the brother of the man responsible for his fiancée’s death—into that same role, as if to say that her impact on He Xuan is significant... just not when it's from her? Why does He Xuan’s life in fandom essentially begin not just after her death but because of it?

#tgcf #human gripes at fandom #anyways these are rhetorical questions because I already know the answer #i just absolutely hate it #why do y’all hate female characters so badly 😭 #especially when they ‘get in the way’ of m/m ships? #mxtx shows that woman more respect in the book than fandom does outside of it #and she didn’t even give that character a name! #simply embarrassing #i could have also talked about jgy here #but let’s be real: that man never loved qin su (or anyone) #so i did not want to include him when discussing people who are *actually* capable of unconditionally loving others #but anyways #mdzs fandom sure loves to either disappear qin su #or act as if she’s the one responsible for why their precious ‘meng yao’ can’t just hop into bed with his bros #you know? the one he killed and the one he used as an accomplice in his murder? those bros? that he so obviously loved with sincerity? #at least moreso than he could ever love a *woman* amiright? #(for legal purposes that last tag was a joke) #i also really hate the implication that he xuan had no life before shi wudu ruined it #that in fact shi wudu made his life 'better' by tying him to shi qingxuan #the romanticization of shi wudu's actions to make way for a ship is... a Choice

[highseas-swede]

...I seriously cannot stress how much I hate tags like "Give us BAMF Aziraphale" because it seems to imply that he's not badass.

He IS. Tell me how well most people could endure 6000 years of consistent, persistent demoralization, harassment and shitty treatment without snapping?

Do you know how HARD it is to be kind when you've been put through a system that actively discourages kindness and softness, a system that tries to beat it out of you - not physically, but still. The fact that Aziraphale got through all of that and is not just still kind, but still has the capacity to be kind to the very people who hurt him, is fucking remarkable.

Aziraphale is badass. Period. Full Stop.

It's well past time that we stopped equating physical and fighting prowess as a measure of badassery. Just about anyone can exercise and get strong enough to fight someone. Just about anyone could possibly get weapons training. Neither of these things is half as brave as putting yourself in front of a crowd of people and holding off 70 demons with just conviction and a candleholder because it's the RIGHT THING TO DO.

EDIT: I had to add this while I was thinking of it.

I feel like people are buying into Heaven's version of badassery. Angels were made to FIGHT. To fight the last big battle against demons and Hell.

Aziraphale is a deviation because he DOES NOT WANT THAT. He doesn't want to fight a war that will hurt billions and destroy the world. His defining moment in Season 1 is when he stands in the face of the quartermaster and refuses to fight the way they want him to. Instead of a weapon, he chooses to find another way.

If anything, I would think it's leading to the idea that Aziraphale feels he must fight, that he has no choice, and then, when it comes right down to it, finding another way. A kinder way. A BETTER way.

By the standards of Heaven, Aziraphale picking up his sword and fighting would be Normal. Him refusing and finding another way is what makes him Unique. THAT'S what makes him badass.

#Aziraphale is already a BAMF #miss me with these takes about how Aziraphale needs to toughen up #aziraphale #good omens #good omens meta #bamf aziraphale #I hate that tag #I hate it because it's only ever used for “Aziraphale beats people up with a sword” and never used for Aziraphale as he is #...also on a personal note #I hate bearded “manly” Aziraphale with a passion #why do people just want to make him more masculine? #Seriously wtf #Masculinity and badassery do not go hand in hand that's a very toxic masculinity rooted idea right there. #the one exception I would see is if they channeled Mrs Robinson a bit and kept the femme quality that makes him so delightful. #i mean obviously do what you want in fandom but people have literally been asking Neil to give Aziraphale a beard #Neil's response was that he wasn't going to do something because fandom asked for it but it's so rude to try and force it

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

The racism my beloved Simon had to face….my baby. 🥺💔

Although painful to watch, it felt incredibly validating. It was so annoying watching some people say this show was “only about class” while dismissing the BS that Simon had to go through. The abuse was ten fold because he’s POC and S3 finally exposed that.

That being said, and on a more positive note, it was so incredibly sexy when Simon sang happy birthday to Wille in Spanish (he feels safe with him!) and when Wille admitted to fantasizing about stroking those beautiful curlssss (and then actually did it). 🥹❤️‍🩹

Wilmon forever. 🤎🤍

#simon the bravest of braves and the sweetest of sweets i love him sooooooo much #and apparently inspo was from irl hate comments omar has received? 🔪 #oh HELL no. 🐓🤎 #omar brought face heart soul and curls to this season and to this damn show and i love him and simon so much #like it wouldn’t have been that bad if he was fully white and didn’t look the way he did and i stand by that #those online hate comments were disgusting #imported? latin lover? (they were a breath away from flat out calling him a wh*re and i was ready to throw some fucking hands) #even more hurtful because simon was very obviously a virgin when he met wille and didn’t even sleep with that douchebag #who shall not be named on my blog #y’all can try to pry this interracial ship out of my cold dead hands (you won’t) #but we heal and that’s beautiful ❤️‍🩹 #they mean soooo much to me 😭😭😭 #and like i said before #no it wouldn’t have been good if simon wasn’t poc I SAID WHAT I SAID WHAT I SAID #young royals #wilmon #simon eriksson #simon my beloved 💜 #i love them sooooooooooooooo much. #🤎🤍

[uncanny-tranny]

Hey, gentle recognition for the people who are taking care of themselves in "not aesthetically-pleasing" ways. To the people who have to do things they don't want to because they know they would suffer more if they didn't, to the people who have to brush their teeth with their fingers, to the people who have to use washcloths to bathe, to the people who need to punch pillows or scream into them to express their intense emotions, to anybody ashamed about the way they need to live and take care of themselves.

You are doing the very best you can with the hand you've been dealt. It's not easy, it's not pretty, but it sure as fuck takes so much to do these things. You are doing what is best for yourself, and I, for one, think you deserve to be proud of that. Self-care isn't easy. It isn't pretty, often, but it's something you shouldn't be ashamed of or hide away because it's deemed "grotesque" or "not really self-care (because self-care is pretty and non-threatening to 'normal peoples' senses)"

#mental health #mental health support #self care #like when i was still in school i would end up forcing myself to go because i knew i would feel worse if i hadn't... #...and i don't think people get how difficult that is. it isn't like you choose to be difficult when you struggle #and feeling ashamed about doing these things only makes the situation worse for them (the person struggling) #something i've just been thinking about #i hate this idea that self-care *only* looks like the 'healthy' person's treat days... #...like lighting candles around your bathtub and putting rose petals in the water... #...because that isn't the only aspect to taking care of yourself. sometimes it looks like forcing yourself to bathe and grieving... #...and using rough washcloths because you can't stand the feeling of your own skin and you can't stand how dirty you feel... #...and obviously i'm not saying that mentally ill people doing self-care is the only way it looks... #...but that it really doesn't help us when self-care is almost made into a 'non-threatening' activity that is pleasant and nice-looking #and of course the examples i used in this post were examples and aren't the end-all-be-all

[oozeandgoo-art]

made a weird dog

#oc #monochrome #me when there's a creature that exists between two states and watches beyond more than that: #its cool with this for the record its having a lot of fun #based super loosely off the concept of coyote from gunnerkrigg court. friend of mine wanted me to read it and i. dont like it that much but #i wanted to give it a shot bc i hate all the other webcomics they like ;-; unfortunately i still dont like it that much. it is badly writte #like materially. the reason i dislike it is because it is not well written and unlike them i came up in an era where i could read stories #like that in webcomic format that were well written #a couple ideas bit me though. as you can see #dog #sort of a fox? i guess? #also obviously goes without saying but Extremely Derivative Obviously Not My Own Original Ideas]

[jjkyaoi]

it’s real interesting watching people fall for alastor’s “i see you as my daughter” shtick. and by interesting i mean it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen because alastor had never felt threatened until lucifer, somebody who cld easily overpower him, just Casually showed up. like this is not a thing about caring for charlie his ego is just incredibly fragile and he is a little freak <3

#i know it’s more than just an ego thing obviously they hinted at that Multiple times #but it’s funnier to think of it that way #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #their first interaction is so funny because everyone’s constantly like alastor this famous demon who conquered hell and has powers that make #even the strongest shake and then lucifer’s like ‘who are you’ and alastor’s immediately like oh i hate this fucking guy #the girls are FIGHTING!