Ohhhh my godd Tara napping on Cyra's tummy killed me dead!!! I have to know though is she openly loving to Cyra or is it "The fact I am in the same room as you is a coincidence"
i think she knows how obvious it is at this point and doesn’t try to pretend she doesn’t love her
2K notes
·
View notes
I used to believe that bugs were little robots. Lots of people do, it’s the prevailing opinion next to “i’ve never thought about it”. Then I watched a mother wasp mourn her child. An animal who stretched after a nap and did little dances when her daughters returned from flight. Now she is opening her fourth capped hexagon and finding a pale white stillborn. She grasps the baby gently in her jaws and does not put it down for over 24 hours. Carries her loss, pacing back and forth the length of her enclosure. It is not the behavior of a robot.
So I think about the prior odds. Scenario A, bugs are robots. Why do I believe that? Because they are so tiny. Because if they are not robots then my world [where “insect exterminator” is a job title and I can buy a can of mass death at home depot] does not make sense. They must be insignificant.
The wasp makes me reconsider. Scenario B: her kind are like mine. cry when we are sad and happy when we play. Has this feature evolved many times? Or is it common to all the children of the precambrian worm? Every shark in the ocean swimming in their own feelings. Every bird and every cat knowing the thrill of being alive? The wasp made me realize that my whole moral picture is wrong. We’re not alone on this planet,
737 notes
·
View notes
[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:
BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.
— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)
Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.
That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.
Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.
(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.
She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)
“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.
“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”
“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.
“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”
“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.
“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”
419 notes
·
View notes
okay seriously why are people still (at all actually) hating on jodie whittaker
like i just saw a rly sweet interview clip where she's talking about how she's so excited for the 60th and she has no idea what's happening in it and half the comments are shit like "she's the reason i stopped watching the show" "wish i could just delete her era"
like ??? let her exist??? if you didn't like her seasons you don't have to talk about them but there's no need to say shit like that she doesn't deserve it
449 notes
·
View notes
Honestly shoutout to Steven Universe for the representation of malachite and abusive relationships because it holds up really well and is still like one of the only abuse narratives I’ve seen that portrays how like. Abusive relationships aren’t as simple as “evil abusive person was constantly Mean and Bad to nice victim” like. Lapis is a realistic victim. She refused to leave the relationship because she longed to have connection with someone and she liked feeling as though she could have control for once, even though she really didn’t. She wasn’t nice and innocent, she felt anger and resentment and liked taking it out on Jasper. And despite how horrible it was, she deeply misses Jasper because it was the longest and deepest relationship she’s ever had with anyone and she didn’t know how to function without it
But Lapis is still a victim and we’re meant to care for her and understand where she comes from. She chose to stay with Jasper to keep others safe from her harm, and because she thought she herself deserved the abuse as a way of making up for everything bad she’s done. Jasper reminds Lapis over and over that she is a monster and that’s why they should be together, because Jasper is the only one who understands her. And when Lapis finally rejects their relationship, she mostly states it through what she herself felt and has done, saying that she didn’t like the person she became in that relationship and she never wants to feel like that ever again. It’s messy and complicated, just like how actual abuse is
Anyways yeah talk about a very good abuse narrative thanks steven universe
995 notes
·
View notes