fictitious-little-stitious
I don’t know what a canapé is, but bon appétit.
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given that Google is pretty unreliable nowadays, can you explain why TLOU is anti-Palestine? I remember the games being very insularlly focused on the USA. (I don't know shit about anything, lol)
Neil Druckmann was the creative director and co-writer of the Last of Us part 2 and is the current co-president of Naughty Dog. He wrote and produced the TV show as well and his hatred towards Palestinians was a point of inspiration with the story.
He was born in Israel and was raised in a Israeli settlement. He recounts that the killing of two Israeli occupation soldiers by Palestinians (within the occupied West Bank I might add!) is what sparked a lot of his hatred towards Palestinians. It’s a whole sob story about how he wanted vengeance on Palestinians and how he later “regretted the impulses”. It’s not something you can really ignore in the show or games because it is baked into the writing.
Here’s the vice article that talks about the Israeli politics in the games:
And I really recommend this one by @akajustmerry about the show and pinkwashing:
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Just in case anyone needed a reminder or somehow still doesn't believe it, Neil Druckmann the creator of The Last Of Us is a racist zionist scumbag, if him making two entire games about how much he hates Palestinians and admitting to having had revenge fantasies about killing them still isn't enough to convince you of that
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hey you! yes you on tlou tumblr! if you've been on the internet at all recently, you should have heard about the israel-palestine conflict/genocide by now! and if you're like me, you're probably watching out for media to avoid supporting that supports israel.
well unfortunately, that includes the last of us, especially part two.
this article will explain it in detail, but tloutII is based on what neil druckmann, an israeli, learned growing up in the west bank, and has a very skewed "both sides are bad" notion when palestinians have only been trying to defend themselves for decades.
i know im not the most prominent account on here but i feel like i should do anything i can to spread what i can.
here are some twitter threads that can more show you different ways to support the people of gaza and palestine as a whole. (if you're also like me and hard on cash, dont worry! just remember to keep reposting and talking about what's happening.)
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Aaa! So freaky from the get-go. That smirk he gave, though maybe it was harmless, has me eyeing him most suspiciously already 👀👀👀
The Take Over - a prologue
Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!reader
Rating: teen
word count: 479
warnings: none - the sea is calm for now.
Summary: something’s amiss in your backyard.
A/N: I watched Invasion of the Bodysnatchers last night and now my brain won’t shut up. I will make this everyone else’s problem. Note that this is an AU of the film. You don’t need to watch the film to understand what’s going on. Credit to the gif maker(s)
Your cabbages had gone bad again and it pissed you off.
You read all of the farmers almanac’s, spent countless hours pouring over lifestyle blogs that would show you how to curate the perfect garden, you even hired an assistant to help with the upkeep.
And your cabbages still went to shit.
Was it something in the soil? Were the seeds crowded? Did you not play enough classical music to inspire it? Sighing audibly, you lean back on your heels in your knelt position, running your forearm across your brow. With the plans of soup and salad now thrown out, you were going to need to order food for dinner. It wasn’t too late to grab a pizza or takeout and you knew that Marcus really loved the Thai place downtown.
Before calling it quits and heading inside, you get up and circle around your other crops, surveying their growth and making mental notes of what needed to be tended to. As you round the corner near your makeshift greenhouse, you notice a bit of tarp laying on the ground close to the entrance.
Emily wasn’t on schedule to show up to help you today and this was the only time you’d been in the background so it didn’t make sense for the tarp to be there. Had you placed it there by accident? Forgetful or not, you stride over to put it back where it belongs when you halt in your steps, the hairs across your arms spreading all the way up to your neck coming to stand on edge.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
Cautious as you tread forward, you grab a small section of the tarp, yanking it forward to uncover whatever lay beneath it.
Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the scene displayed in front of you, body fixed and unmoving. This sort of thing shouldn’t bother you, you’re a doctor for goodness sake but you drew very strong lines in the sand about bringing work home. When you step foot across the threshold of 522 Livingstone Lane, you weren’t Dr. Pike, you were Mrs. Pike. A dutiful wife, amateur greenthumb and aspiring podcaster.
Making your way back to the house, you slide the patio door ajar, stopping in front of it. Marcus gives you a quick glance over and goes back to his work, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips.
“I take it the squirrels have gotten into the greens again? I keep telling you to stop feeding them, they’re only going to come back for more than you can provide.”
Silence.
Marcus looks up to you again, eyes narrowing as he fully takes in your demeanor. The air in the kitchen slowly drains, leaving behind tension and a paralyzing terror.
“Honey?”
You finally speak, voice cracked and laced with shock.
“Marcus, there’s a body in the garden.”
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I love this newfound geekworthy moment for us!!
Yesss 😈 my plan worked
mm hmm hi yes hello i’m going to say it (and i’m really throwing it back with this one) but Jaws by Sleep Token is catapulting me back to your Me & the Devil, particularly those deliciously sacreligous church scenes 😩
mm yes love you bye 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 @fictitious-little-stitious
Oh god are we being metalcore geeks together now?? Yes
Also I will never be able to think about anything else whenever I hear this song
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Fuckkkk 😩 it got me hook, line, and sinker by 9 seconds 🤘😈 Head banging and yearning are some of my favorite things! Left field right field center field I’ll go anywhere with youuu
♾
like my adoration and respect for you ♾ 🖤 hope i’m not too late for the music lyric ask
@fictitious-little-stitious 🖤
You're never too late 🖤 this one is a little out of left field for both of us lol but if you can make it to the five minute mark you'll get it, I promise.
Oh, and my love
Did I mistake you for a sign from God
Or are you really here to cut me off?
Or maybe just to turn me on
Cause these days
I would be lying if I told you that
I didn't wish that I could be your man
The Summoning by Sleep Token
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Gabriel Luna as Tommy Miller
THE LAST OF US — 1.01 “When You’re Lost in the Darkness”
#i have it BAD for him#gabriel luna#tommy miller#i have loved following him in the months building up to the premiere#he seems like such a nice and chill dude with a great outlook#fingers crossed he plays guitar in this too in addition to his brother#tlou spoilers#tlou#gifs
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not in the fandom, not out of the fandom, but a secret third thing
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"Un-uhlaive? UN-UHLAIVE? Ma'am, that man has been killed. He has been MUHDUHED. To DEATH."
#my fiend bean#dude this was me @ you 🤣 nonconsenual things around… death? you mean MANSLAUGHTER? 🤣#to. *DEATH* took me out at the knees#not fic#in the tags#benoit blanc
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You have painted such a serene, idyllic scene that the jerk to reality is all the more heartbreaking. ♥️ And here I am weeping for them both, for what could’ve been and for those who join them in suffering from others decisions. Excellent, my love, excellent. ♥️
two queens (in a king sized bed)
PAIRING: Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen (if you squint)
RATING: G (dw, it's all fluffy, yearny angst)
WORDS: 800
WARNINGS: slight wlw themes, some angst, brief mention of death, heavy on the yearning, food and wine mention; nothing too wild, just the innocent portrayal of the love for your childhood best friend
A/N: this is a gift for my angst loving, soft, sweet @corrabell as part of our HotD server exchange! happy new year, my darling! i'm so so happy to know you and to be able to gift you something just for you! 💜
(thanks to @acrossthesestars for giving this a beta and endless encouragement)
Lush, green blades of grass tickle at the bottoms of her feet as she walks through the Godswood. The air is crisp, the smell of jasmine floating along the breeze like a promise, like a distant memory.
Her fingers grip tightly to the book in her hand, itching to pick back up where they left off the day before. Long, delicate fingers intertwine with hers, swinging gently as they march on.
There’s a tree ahead, larger than the rest, twisting branches reaching toward the sky as if trying to send a message to the Gods - their spot. She turns to her silver-haired friend, excitement threatening to overcome her. The kind, tender smile she finds on her companions face is exhilarating.
She’s been rather sullen, what with the impending birth of her little brother. Alicent knows Rhaenyra is excited, but there are many pressures surrounding the babe’s arrival and complicated emotions to be had.
When they reach the Heart Tree, Rhaenyra has laid flat the blanket carried with them. They drop unceremoniously to the ground, Alicent with her back propped against the rough, gray bark, Rhaenyra’s head in her lap.
Cracking open the book, she resumes regaling Rhaenyra with the exploits of Nymeria the Warrior Princess, quizzing her every chapter to ensure she’s paying attention. Each correct answer awards Rhaenyra with a gentle pat on the head and one plump grape, fed to her by Alicent.
Time passes by unnoticed, the two of them inhabiting their own little world, completely wrapped up in each other. There are no thoughts of Kings, of lines of succession, or heirs to be had here. It’s just the two of them, and the unique way that having each other makes it feel as if they can conquer anything. They dance, hand in hand, twirling in the soft grass until they feel as if they’ll puke. They play with each other’s hair, weaving intricate braids with wildflowers, gushing over how beautiful they look. They feed each other fruit and cheese, and drink themselves silly on wine stolen from the kitchens.
The sun begins its slow descent, casting the Godswood in a dreamy, warm glow. They know it’s time to head back to the Keep, to return to a life where they each have their own roles to play, lines to deliver, people to please. But for now, Alicent thinks, she’s quite content to stay right here, with Rhaenyra’s head on her chest, breathing softly, hearts beating in time, watching as the sun sinks lower and lower, until they’re cast into darkness.
Alicent wakes suddenly in a damp, cold room, in a bed that seems simultaneously familiar and strange. She sits up, rubbing sleep from her weary eyes and takes in her surroundings. The room is quite large, the embers of a long-dead fire simmer quietly in the corner. She’s in a giant canopy bed, the white linens draped delicately over her body, one she didn’t have only moments ago.
To her left lay a sleeping figure, stringy white hair cast haphazardly over their pillow, soft snores tumbling from their parted lips. The figure, distinctly male, was not that of her childhood friend, but rather that of her friend's father, the King.
It all comes back to her at once. The birth of Rhaenyra’s brother, Baelon, the death of her mother, Aemma, Baelon’s falling shortly behind. She remembers how her father, Hand of the King, had placed her directly into the line of sight of a grieving Viserys, ensuring that she would be the first he thought of when choosing a new bride. Emotions sit thick and heavy in her throat as she remembers how she wasn’t there for her best friend, her soulmate, the only person who had seen her as a person and not as a pawn to further political connections.
When had she started crying?
Alicent sat there, alone on an island, the shell of her husband sleeping soundly beside her, and wept for the way the events of the past had shaped her future.
She wept for Rhaenyra, how she had felt the call to rebel, not trusting that she could come to her best friend for comfort, for understanding. She wept for Viserys, who was so blind to her father’s ambition that he couldn’t see their marriage for what it truly was. She wept for her children, ignored by their father, weighed down by the pressures of an impossible legacy.
And finally, she wept for herself, a woman she didn’t recognize anymore. A woman who now held resentment in her heart for the one person she had ever truly loved, whatever that love had once been. The woman who, despite her achievements, her family, and her duties, would love nothing more to escape to the Godswood.
To share one more lazy afternoon laughing and dancing, picking flowers, and watching the sun set over Westeros in the arms of her soulmate.
#angst#yearning#alicent hightower#rhaenyra targaryen#misc characters#misc character fic#reblog with comment
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Me, when I see sweet pea back on the dash
🥰 Me, when I see my fiend bean in my yard, my house my inbox
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Belatedly doing this piccrew that @jadore-andor and @acrossthesestars tagged me in (thank youuu 🥰). Hope you all have a cozy beginning to the new year. ♥️❄️
Piccrew Link
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My fiend bean, I’m reeling from this 🖤🖤 so much so I recreated an existing meme
*ahem or characters, but sometimes a character can be such a creature when put in your dastardly hands 😈
Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.
Thanks for the tag @morninglesss 🖤✨ this is from Paper Crowns, my HotD mafia au
He may be a monster, but he was the monster she had created. And now she feared that someone else held his leash.
I won't tag that many people, so here are the usual suspects: @jadore-andor @magpie-to-the-morning @cheesybadgers @carefulnowprincess @a-bang-for-your-bucky and anyone else!
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hi! just wanted to stop by and show my appreciation for you and leave you this gift:
ok that's all 🧡
I feel the lovins, I feel the appreciation, and I will remember you for it always 🥰🥰 I adore you endlessly, thank you my love :’)
🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
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Going on an indefinite / intermittent (if that’s even a thing) hiatus until I:
adjust my expectations of myself and of others to be more realistic
scale back on comparing myself to others — or use that to become more secure and motivated, and less envious or blue
find laidback enjoyment in reading (and maybe writing) again, instead of feeling obligated or rushing through things
give less damns about inconsequential fandom things so I have more to give to important issues in fandom and more energy to enjoy as much as I can
find the fun and casual enthusiasm in all this again, so that I can let it refuel me instead of let it worry me
Thank you for tagging along so far. ♥️ If you see me pop back in, hopefully it’s a more pleasant and healthier me.
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This is long. At the risk of making things more awkward for myself, here’s venting and trying to organize some thoughts. Attempted metaphors and similes for the state of my fanfic experiences. Heads up: insecurities, doubt, and the like.
My experience on here is like being at a bar or a party with several people. Everyone is there for basically the same thing and having a nice enough time. I’m having a great time even! There’s people I know and there’s talk of what we enjoy or what’s new. After laughing along with others or listening intently, I finally think of something witty or insightful of my own to contribute, so I build up the courage to share. I wait for a lull or opportune moment…
And I share! Sometimes it’s blurted out, sometimes it’s mulled over. Still, I know what I say is worth sharing. I know without a doubt that I am clever and creative. I’m humble enough to know I might flub my words or it might not be everyone’s cup of tea. I try to speak up loud enough, I even repeat myself once or twice if needed.
Sometimes there’s that person or two or more who was nearby and heard me and are so glad I shared. We don’t even need to suddenly become bosom buddies for us to appreciate eachother. They might draw others’ attention back to me or have a nice, brief interaction with me.
But often times, either of two things happen: nobody else hears me or they hear me and just look at me. Some of them are people who I’ve been listening to the whole party. With the first, I can attempt to speak up louder, see who or what’s grabbing their attention, wait and try later, or save face by keeping it to myself.
Now when people hear me and just look at me? Maybe they smile a bit but whether it’s one of politeness or sarcasm or mild appreciation, who knows. There’s no booing or murmurs, no glares or quirked eyebrows, no criticism. However, there’s also no poorly muffled laughs, no looks of rapt attention, no shoulder bumps, nothing to encourage me to continue either. They’ve shown that they heard me speak, but I still don’t know anything more from them. Likes? Dislikes? I’m no mind reader. They seemed to welcome my attention to them earlier when they were the story teller.
So I go back to idle visiting and listening, which I still enjoy. I’ll think of things to say, sure, but I put myself out there less and less. Because why speak just to hear yourself talk? And now I’m taking everything in, but there’s less of an outlet. Then I have a harder time being cheerful for others, including the ones who’ve stuck with me. And I know I better leave before I fade into the background.
———
I enjoy sharing parts of myself for engagement and attention, and my writing is a small part of me. But I feel so embarrassed and naive, that I want to take back everything I’ve written. I must’ve misread the audience or expected too much. Maybe what I said was too niche and I could’ve kept that for myself to be amused by. I’ve deleted games and prompts I’ve reblogged because how pitiful it is to see that with no answered asks following it.
My experience, and other people’s too, has been more stagnate (people with 5x, 10x the notes I get are feeling the decrease in engagement) when I yearn for it to be dynamic. To have pleasant exchanges about any assortment of topics. To visit about characters and stories and ideas, or have a quick simple interactions to say yeah, we both see this or here’s something this reminds me or how did you come up with that? or imagine if X thing happened, what then?
I try to adjust my approach to fit the medium: use specific tags, use tag lists, post teasers, self-reblog, cross post to another site, share positivity and show appreciation. I remember authors so I can check their blogs for updates, instead of waiting for the updates to come to me. I’ve played the ask games and submitted requests. I try to share milestone and writing celebration posts when I see them. Let’s be vulnerable and show more of my personality, I think as I share another game or teaser or read fics of different characters, maybe I’ll seem more approachable.
Being a hypocrite is not where it’s at, I have reblogged tons of fics and shared my genuine reactions because I’ve enjoyed doing it. That’s why I made this blog in the first place: read and share and be a silly fan of whoever. Writing was an after thought. Both are fun, rewarding ways to connect with others, explore characters, and challenge and express myself.
But I sense that there’s an imbalance between the level of what I’m giving and what I’m receiving within this community, and my expectations for both. And I’ve been setting myself up for disappointment. Now I know there’s more than one way to engage with fics and community. It’s not as strictly transactional as I did xyz for you this many times, now you better match that. That’s unfair and unrealistic. It’s reciprocation that’s on my mind.
I’m pouring from a cup that occasionally gets filled, and often partially at that. It’s gotten harder to enjoy myself and to give generous pours to others. I feel like holding my cup upright and trying to take back what’s already been poured.
It’s apparent to me now more than ever that people just don’t notice the things that I notice. They don’t operate or remember or interact how I do. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but adjusting to that is kicking my butt. I am so weary of swinging and missing, of holding out hope.
I’m unsure what this (any of what I just said) means for my fic experience or future of it, but it was churning in my mind for a long, long while. This is one way for me to work through what I’ve been feeling lately. Many people are feeling disheartened and burnt out. I’m sad that I feel the need to rein in my enthusiasm when I’ve never even had that thought in all my years on this site.
….
#now watch there’s gonna be some obvious ass typo in here 🤣#i withdrew from here for 2-3mos at the start of 2022. I got 0 msgs & <15 notes on older fics or queued.#so when i felt better to come back I had little indication that people thought of me just because or noticed my absence.#but then i show up in an inbox and it’s all ‘omg hi *cute nickname* you’re back!! 💕🥰’#am i missing smth obvious here? a social convention or fandom interaction 101 bullet point?#i’m not even the third wheel here i’m the donut in the trunk#what aren’t I doing enough of. how have I misstepped.#truly i am so confused#my assorted gabs and chats#feels a little off tone for this post but it’s the tag i got
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Ugh thinking about this, thinking about Him again. 🥹🥰💙 Now there’s a fine “Good morning to you too, Darlin’.” 😭👉👈
Slow Burn
PAIRING: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Fem!Reader
KINKTOBER DAY 11 PROMPT: Sleepy Sex
WORDS: 700 (I know. Who even is she??)
WARNINGS: it’s Kinktober… it’s smut. it’s relatively soft and straightforward, but let me know if there’s anything I should tag.
A/N: I have missed writing for my big, soft cowboy husband. Sleepy, sideways sex is my favorite, so I hope I did it justice! I left it intentionally vague so it can be read as part of It’s Been You if you’d like. As always, thanks to @the-purity-pen for creating a beautifully sinful prompt list and to @acrossthesestars for her beta skills.
You woke slowly; eyes half open and struggling to adjust to the light that filtered in through the window. When you glanced down, you noticed the large hand pressed firmly against your stomach and smiled to yourself. Lacing your fingers through his, you brought it slowly to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles, scratched and scarred from long, hard days in the saddle.
Keep reading
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