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james-fun-in-the-sunderland · 1 year

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1, 6, 8, 11, 14, 21, 22, 26, 28, 29, 30. maybe too many for one post but u can split it up as u like.

HIIII you always give me a billion qs from ask games i love u sm for it <3

obligatory link back to the npc ask game

1. What’s your NPC creation process like?

ALREADY ANSWERED FOOL!! (/j <3)

6. How do you pick names for NPCs?

same way i pick names for ocs of mine! if theyre not a one off npc or one off turned main npc then i search for a name that has a meaning relevant to who they are as a character! (swords's last name is lyon and her symbolic animal is a lion... winifreds name means reconciliation, giving her a fun ironic twist since she wants to KILL her ex husband soso bad lol) but if theyre a one off then typically i just generate the name using this american name generator and pick something i think fits the character at hand!

the only one that doesnt fit in either here is jacques who as i belief i said is named off of my old cat with the same name <3

8. What kinds of NPC (personality, class, culture, age, whatever occurs to you!) tends to be your favorite to make and/or play?

i really enjoy fucked up dudes!!!! if it werent obvious from my ocs... this was supposed to be a lighter campaign but i really love tragedy and making people have OBVIOUS issues and its fun to have stuff with those play out with the players, sometimes even being used to bounce off the players! also i like magic users. theyre fun. or people involved with the gods of this world! i think i really really enjoy making people who give off lore hints or just straight up tell you interesting stuff about the world c:

11. (which oc is...) Most unique?

oh this is a hard one... if we mean in context of the world itself like in that world then i would have to say speciallest girl ever henrietta but also not really bc theres also vanya.... hmmmmmmm but out of context i would have to say probably daggers, swords or dr. shi, i feel like those three have a good spread of not being too like many of my other ocs! (daggers having lots of image issues and being outwardly guilt trippy and feminine, swords being impulsive and almost like a shonen character, and dr shi being very monotone and intelligent (i like my dumbasses) plus all three have big as hell prides, they think they are HOT shit)

(putting the rest under a readmore so that people dont hate seeing me on their dash)

14. Most likely to be on a reality show?

HARD TO TELL... first instinct is to say daggers or swords bc those two interact with media enough to want to go onto a reality show (or henrietta bc shes. you know. leader of the old rebellion imagine the numbers that could do for the show) but i think final answer would be delilah bc not only would she LOVE to be on tv but she would like have an AWESOME time

21. Which NPC is the easiest for you to roleplay? Why?

ALREADY ANSWERED AGAIN!!!!!!

22. Which NPC is the most difficult to roleplay? Why?

ouhhh hard one here but id probably say first of all vanya bc my russian accent skills are NOT there. but in terms of personality and roleplaying in general not just speaking as them then probably wiz or daggers! both have to have an incredible amount of balance, in daggers's case its so that she is nuanced and not an annoying caricature considering my concept for her and with wiz its just . not revealing some things too early and not revealing some things too late, plus hes the quest giver and PLUS idk why but doing his voice gives me troubles. this is all ironic bc he is like. one of my favorite npcs lmao (hes better in writing IMO)

26. Which NPC is YOUR least favorite and why?

oh interesting... this is like having to say i hate one of my children i really never dislike any characters i create i just get agonies over them tbh but if i HAD to choose one..... hmmm probably vanya and/or richter, i really enjoy them conceptually but i feel like i fumble them too much and their story, while interesting and exciting in the beginning, became a bit more extraneous as time went on ! but really its not by much that i dislike them, i really love every npc i make

28. Is there any NPC you wish your party interacted with more?

THREE STRIKES YOURE OUT SIR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

29. Are there any NPCs you wish you could play as a PC one day?

wiz probably fits most closely into the type of pc i would create for a game like this! however if i would want to be more fun more creative then i would actually really like to play jacques or vanya, mostly because they also are the types of characters i would make and they are easily translateable into a pc for this specific campaign (both in stat ways and in story ways!) as for a complete wildcard i think also playing as someone closer to the religion of this campaign (swords, rhys, etc) would be very interesting ! but im sure if i were to recycle a character concept from this game i would not expect who i would choose in the future...

30. Bonus question! Answer any that you haven’t been asked, or talk about any NPC you want!

oh god an open ended q ummm this is really the hardest question ever . i will give you a few little tidbits abt characters not on their toyhouse and not like fully really talked abt i tink...

Vanya is based on a character from dungeon meshi and originally followed this characters plot way more closely before i changed her up! not saying who tho

hook and rex came out to each other at the exact same time (as trans).... it was really funny and they almost immediately did a fun little clothes swap :)

even though wiz has his 50 ft vision, sometimes bc of habit when hes in his house he wont use it and if he has a guest he will often times get spooked by them... he feels silly after it happens every time lol

jacques is bisexual. also has never dated anyone ever. (he feels like its weird to date anyone from the village hes from bc everyones kinda like family there...)

rhys and the griffin god priest (mr hightower) have actually met once on occasion, they found each others company very enlightening but will not meet again ever

#oh god this is so longggggg but i hope you enjoy and that its comprehensible 👍#rev lore #dnd comeback #still open for any qs... might rb another ask game later too im procrastinating things... lol

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mxpseudonym · 4 years

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Just Good Business

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, feminine clothing descriptions

Summary: You are forced to marry Tommy Shelby, but that doesn’t mean you have to make things easy for him.

Length: 1671 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Mentions of forced marriage. Otherwise Bad bitch, chaotic energy and some justified (non violent) rage.

A/N: This was very fun to write!

Also there’s going to be a NSFW part II because the tension? The sheer sexual tension?? Yeah, it needs to happen.

Part II

Being a bit impossible to pin down is what you're known for, and you liked that. It was your grandmother who taught you how to be difficult.

When they try to smooth your edges, rip the sandpaper.

You didn't have a natural place in polite society, your family knew this. But your father wasn't going to let you into the family business, either. So he took your brother, your imbecile of a brother, and let him lead instead. Two years later, you're sitting at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant with your parents, your brother who can't look you in the eye, and two gangsters from Birmingham. You could tell they were gangsters because they smelled like new money, and had guns under their blazers. One was an older woman Polly Shelby, and the other was her nephew, Thomas Shelby.

You thought it was any other business meeting, but your brother was fidgeting the way he did when you were younger, and he stole your necklace and broke it but didn't want to tell you. He was hiding something big. Luckily for him and unluckily for you, it quickly became abundantly clear.

"Let's get right to it, we'll settle the debt, put in an accountant who will manage to unfuck you, and take 45% of the resulting profit," Tommy Shelby laid the cards on the table. Your face contorted in confusion. What debt?

"Alright, it's done," your father said, a quiver in his voice along with relief.

"What? That's a terrible bargain," you scoffed. The way your mother turned away, her eyes tearing up, and your brother practically quivering beside you. You met the eyes of Polly Shelby, and something about them told you to brace yourself.

"Is your daughter still upholding the marriage to our dear Thomas?" Polly asked. For a moment, you thought you blacked out. For a moment, you thought you'd forgotten you had a sister. For a moment, you assumed it wasn't the 1920's but the 17-fucking-40's where you may have come with some livestock as well.

"So this is it, huh? This is why you let me go to Paris with my friends last week, Mum? And why Dad said he'd buy me a car? And why Graham won't stop fucking fidgeting?" You asked, looking to your brother who just grimaced at you. There was no out, and you knew it.

"Don't make a scene, y/n," your father told you, tired already as if he'd put up some great fight.

"Well? Are we on?" Polly got us back on track. "I'll need to hear it from her." You looked down at your handbag until you saw the emerald color and not a blinding red.

"You'll take 10% of the resulting profits," you finally said. If you were getting given away, it was going to be at least a good deal.

"40," the deep, Brummie voice of Thomas Shelby came to the party. Your eyes flicked up to meet his icy blue ones.

"12."

"35."

"15."

"33%, and you can go to Paris as much as you'd like," he said his final offer with a smirk. If you weren't so fueled by anger, you'd appreciate it.

"18%, I go to Paris as much as I want, and I won't make your life a living hell. Maybe I'll even kiss you goodbye in the morning, my love," you said in the most charming voice you could muster, which wasn't very. He'd never tell you that's when he knew he liked you, but he didn't have to. You landed on an even 25%. You could go to Paris, he'd get his morning goodbye kiss and some peace from time to time, and you'd get a car that was better than anything your father had planned. You shook on it yourself.

"Welcome to the Shelby's," Polly said when she grasped your hand. You grabbed your bag and turned to Tommy.

"If the car's not a Hispano-Suiza, 2% of that profit comes directly to me," you warned him before walking away.

You should've fucking known that it would be at least partially an adventure. At first, you were mad. You allowed yourself to be easily swayed in the wedding planning, saying yes to the most frivolous things.

"500 bloody pounds for a dress you'll wear once?!" Tommy all but shouted and threw down the receipt on the desk of his office. You sat unnerved in the seat in front of him.

"Once, on the most important day of my life," you said, giving a brief pout and nothing else. Tommy rubbed his chin as he went to refill his glass of whiskey.

"Stubborn, reckless, outlandish even. Sure, you're all of those things. But spoiled? That's a surprise," he said, almost disappointed. You rolled your eyes at his little act.

"Come off it, Shelby. I have very little in this world, least of all a family I can trust. Everything I do have is about to belong to you because I'm a woman with nothing but familial debt. So don't stand there and lecture me about the rights and wrongs of acting out, Thomas. You and my father only listen to money." You stood and were halfway to the door when Tommy blocked your way.

"You've threatened to run away if you had to live with your parents, so we've put you in a grand apartment in London. You have your parties there with all your friends. You spend all the money you'd like and more. When will it end?" He asked. You wondered if he actually cared about the stability of your coping mechanisms, or about you. His hand came up to brush your waist. It was all you needed to come back to your senses. You took a breath and looked up at him.

"Until I'm satisfied," You decided.

Polly was something between annoyed and amused at you. You were loud, as subtle as a cannon, and possibly more stubborn than her nephew. There wasn't a week that went by where Tommy wasn't talking about something you'd done.

"Tommy, have you tried going along with something she says?" Polly suggested one day when you'd called not finding a proper wedding venue an "emergency." Tommy leaned back in thought, then picked up the phone. Perhaps his aunt was right... like usual.

"If this is kidnap, it's very ironic," you said as you stumbled along the gravel. Your ridiculous fiancé had taken you to an undisclosed location. Now, the only thing guiding you was Tommy, whose hand was over your eyes.

"It's not a kidnapping. On the contrary, I've come to take you home," Tommy said before his hand lifted. You blinked the blur away to see a large house. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It was a mansion if you'd ever seen one.

"Holy hell," you breathed.

"This is Arrow House, Ms. y/l/n. It's got everything you could need and hopefully what you want. Here's a map." He pulled a thick piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Let me know if I've missed anything."

Crying wasn't in your repertoire. Even the events of the past few months hadn't done you in. But, you made an exception and allowed a few to leak while you looked around. You could feel your betrothed’s eyes watching you take it all in, but it didn't matter when the home was breathtaking. When you came back to the foyer, you couldn't help but tweak an eyebrow at Tommy.

"Have you got a crush on me, Shelby?" You asked, or accused rather. He just chuckled and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door.

"Let's go see the stables."

The wedding was grander than was even sensible. Tommy didn't know how you forged the guest list or who most of these people were, but you told him if he helped you hang drapes, you'd explain your itemized list. Now that was a sight to see. You could only stand it for a bit and did what you usually did at parties. You found quiet place on a balcony overlooking the wedding reception turned memorable party that spilled into the large venue's gardens.

"Well, we've done it, Mrs. Shelby," Tommy said, walking up from behind you with two champagne glasses. You took one with a broad smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I'd have to agree."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Sure, are you? This is your wedding gift," you said, motioning to the crowds.

"And how is that?" He looked over the railing with you. You started pointing people out.

"Over there is the Commissioner and his wife's sister. London police chief over there with his mistress. Lady Catherine Wilcox, one of the most influential socialites in the country, is by the fountain. She's been eyeing Arthur all night too. And so on." You nodded triumphantly. "At those parties I was having in London, I only said good things about you, which is annoying to admit but here we are. Thomas Shelby, your wedding is your introduction to the upper echelon society." He turned and leaned against the railing, and you followed his lead.

"I guess I owe you a thank you," he said.

"I’d say so. You’re on several guest lists and incredibly important customer lists now.” You cupped your ear and leaned closer. “Let's hear it.”

"Thank you, y/n." He rolled his eyes, then looked at you with a sigh. "Are you happy, then?" He asked.

"Better, I'm satisfied."

With a clink of your glasses, your relationship could begin. And when Tommy leaned in to kiss you, you didn't pull away.

"This seems like a crush," were your first words when you parted.

"You're the one who made us late to the ceremony," he pointed out.

"No one even noticed."

"I think they did," he begged to differ.

"You weren't supposed to come to find me before the wedding. It's bad luck," you tsked Tommy, taking another sip of the bubbling drink, which did nothing to help the heat creeping up your neck.

"Just had to make sure you didn't run off." He shrugged but moved closer to whisper in your ear. "And I believe, Mrs. Shelby, the dress wasn't even on yet."

"Don't get your hopes up, it meant nothing." You waved it away, not convinced or convincing. Tommy nodded then kissed you again.

"Right, right. It's just good business."

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby fic

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sunlitroom · 3 years

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@rhavewellyarnbag kindly tagged me to list my favourite characters from ten different fandoms and to tag ten people. Thank-you. I’m not entirely sure that I have ten fandoms, but I’ll keep going until I run out.

1. Gotham. Oswald Cobblepot.

I’m hardly alone in this. Oswald is very much the character of Gotham season one. He’s vulnerable, soft at times, but he’s violent and dangerous. He’s loving, and capable of great generosity, but he can be cold and greedy+. He schemes and dares and risk with wild abandon. Oswald in season one may be a step ahead of everyone else, but he’s one misstep from winding up dead.

Oswald is an Other. His foreignness is emphasised by his jangling East European musical motif, and his mother’s accent, and differently spelled name. He’s physically different. He’s slight and short among the big broad mafia guys. His vulnerability in a physical context is underlined by his limp. His manners can be old-fashioned, wandering into fussy (he quickly stands up at his table when Jim comes to the club). His sexuality is other - we see, incredibly early in season one, that he desires and has feelings for Jim. His methods and style are typically feminine: although he is capable of physical violence, he’s more likely to scheme. The poisoning we see in season one is usually a feminine murder trope. We know - even before we meet him - that he was an outsider: his mother’s reference to bullies, his desperation to make friends, his visceral rage when the two guys who give him a lift mock him.

Aside from all that - he’s a fully-realised person. He longs and bleeds and hurts and fumes and boasts. He makes mistakes. He gets tired. He gets lonely. He has regrets. He can be ridiculous, and he can be noble.

I’ll argue that the writing in later seasons becomes very lazy and Flanderising - but the good solid foundations of season one hold true

2. Hannibal. Frederick Chilton

Frederick is a bright spot of very human ridiculousness. He’s hardly unsuccessful - he’s head of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane - but he’s insecure and chronically aware of his own inadequacies. He’s vain and silly and inadvertently hilarious.

For all that, though, Frederick is good-hearted. When Francis has him captive, and threatens to kill Reba if he makes a sound, Frederick stays silent - even though it’s probably his last best chance to avoid a horrible fate. His actions were in stark contrast against our ‘heroic’ characters, who had knowingly used him as bait, despite the risk.

Frederick deserved better.

3. DS9. Kira Nerys

Arguably one of the most full-realised women in Star Trek. Kira has a violent past full of trauma. She owns her identity - even if she’s not proud of everything she’s done. She has regrets. She’s fiercely loyal. She has a deep and abiding faith. She’s vivacious - she enjoys herself more as time goes on, and truly values her friendships. She has lovers. She cares deeply about the future of her home. She can endure just about anything. She has a core of deeply-held principles, but she’s capable of change.

4. Smallville. Lex Luthor.

Godamnit - Lex just wants love and connection and he does not get it. He’s clever and soft and generous and people just take endless advantage. I really love later fic when he lives in Metropolis and we get lots of detail about his tastes and domestic habits, for some reason. What colour his pyjamas are? What he does when he gets a headache? Yes please - all the details.

5. E.R. Robert Romano

Romano was one of those characters you get a lot in shows of yore - who is plainly brought in to be a short-term antagonist, turns out to be successful, and then rapidly has his corners knocked off.

Romano is never entirely softened. He’s difficult, and you sometimes get the sense that he genuinely struggles around people. He’ll annoy people to amuse himself, and this can be heightened to deliberately repulsing/alienating them in what looks a lot like self-destructive behaviour. He’s lonely, but he still - sometimes deliberately - fails to connect.

All that said, he’s not a bad person, and has a softer side. His unrequited love for Elizabeth is probably where it’s most apparent. He never stops caring about her: even when they’re at odds, not even when he sees her at her worst. He visibly aches for her - not just sexually - for her, all of her, for some time, for some connection.

Again - deserved better. Mercifully, there’s fic.

Honourable mentions

I don’t know if I would quite class these as fandoms for me - but they’re characters I’m fond of.

James Norrington, from those Pirates of the Caribbean films that I’ve never really watched. There is a post somewhere that says Norrington is an Austen hero stuck in a Disney film, and I have to agree. You keep longing for him to be lifted from the headache-inducing setting and placed somewhere infinitely more congenial.

Edmund Blackadder - you magnificent bastard.

This is very likely fanon Hux (I’ve never seen the films) - but neurotic, prissy, vain, iron-willed, sarcastic Hux is good fun.

I tag - if they’d like to play: @lalaurelia, @dashokeypokey, @shadow-waterglow-and-atcnm, @ncfan-1, @littlesaintmick, @inappropriatefangirlneeds, @peritwotone, @marywisdom, @delicatelyserved and @marcceh

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seer-of-lxght · 4 years

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My friend (@CATBOYHIFUMI on Twitter) and I coined a new term, Ironet(ian), for those who feel discomforted or alienated from the lesbian label due to nonlesbians insisting it may include men or that male-aligned nonbinary people may use it.

You have no obligation to use this term if you do not wish to and we are both open to constructive criticism and suggestions.

[Edit 1]: Please do not harass or send asks to those who reblog this post inquiring its nature, I absolutely do not want to impose hate, stress, or otherwise negative scenarios or emotions onto other people due to them reblogging this specific post. If you have inquiries, concerns, or other statements please send them to me directly. I will do my best to clear up anything.

The meaning of the term in full is as follows:

Ironet. A term for women and appropriately comfortable nonbinary peoples to describe their sole attraction to the such at the complete exclusion of men and male-aligned persons.

This exists as a term for lesbians who have felt alienated or discomforted from their label due to the push for its inclusion of men by nonlesbians or general treatment of of it being an umbrella term; this is a new label without history and thus, it holds an inarguable nature and definition.

[Edit 2]: To emphasize and further explain why my friend and I coined this label, the implications that I could be or, in fact, AM attracted to men makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable and physically nauseous (in the simplest terms, yet in those that downplay both my physical and mental responses’ extremities that I have no dire need to explain) and I need a label for my own personal comfort and wellbeing that excludes them. I understand and know I am not alone in this experience and wish to give this same comfort to those who have a similar reaction or otherwise feel uncomfortable at the implications of being attracted to men due to their own personal experiences.

[Edit 2 (cont.)]: In case this needs to be cleared up, I meant no offense to mspec folx or those who are otherwise attracted to men with this as it would be ridiculous to imply that liking men in any way is inherently bad, some folx just need a label that excludes them for our personal comfort and to be able to describe our attraction as what it is.

Similarly, it exists to completely include those women or appropriate nonbinary people who do not use she/her pronouns, unaligned nonbinary people who feel connected to the label and nonbinary persons in general provided they are not male-aligned, and trans women/trans fem people as, needless to say, they are women or valid within their experienced gender.

Conversely, it excludes trans men or male-aligned people as they are men or are linked to men in some way, shape, or form.

[Edit 3]: Ironet completely inclusive of those who are multigender, have fluid genders, etc. As a bigender lesbian myself who is both agender and genderfluid, it would be incredibly hypocritical of me to exclude us. The label is also inclusive of trans masc. individuals as they are not inherently male.

[Edit 3 (cont.)]: Again, as a nonbinary person myself I well understand that it’s incredibly difficult to surmize the whole of the experience with being nonbinary in spare few sentences, especially in these specific terms due to it being much more than a mere spectrum, but a universe of experiences. Please message me if you have any specific concerns or inquiries.

Note: “Appropriately comfortable nonbinary peoples” is repeatedly expressed in this way as not all n.b folx are comfortable with a(n) lesbian/ironetian being attracted to them due to its inherently feminine connotations or they would not be comfortable with using the label(s) for this reason.

"Ironet(ian)" in itself is derived from the nature of chivalry, or, more specifically, the word's association with knighthood and armour's association with metal, and thus, iron.

The term may not have modifiers attached to it (such as bi or pan ironet) spare if they are acespec or arospec identities, such as aro ironet or demi- ironet. This is not a term that can be used if you are attracted to men and nor can it be modified to imply this.

Flag stripe meanings:

Dark Green: Chivalry

Lime: Freedom and tranquility

Faint purple: Harmony, unity, and different experiences uniting under a common label and community

Pink: Love, intimate relationships, and sex | Support and kindness

Magenta: Hope, a new beginning

#lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lgbtq #pride flag #mogai #alternate lesbian label

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docholligay · 4 years

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Just in case anyone else didn't ask it: She-ra thoughts?

Ah, yes, we finally finished the She-Ra last night. Okay, so I feel like I don’t have to say this, because I think this is in keeping with my general empotional timbre but: It’s fine if you loved the last season. I cannot EXPRESS how little I care. I do not go to bed at night thinking “IF ONLY I COULD CONVINCE THOSE FOOLS” I think arguing about it is stupid, by and large, because I find it highly unlikely that anything I sy is going to make someone who loved it go “You’re right, it was fool’s gold, but truly, I wanted so badly for it to bring wealth” and I doubt anyone could say anything that would get me to say “Oh you have opened mine eyes! I can see the craftwork that I so long denied” like come on.

Remember how Jet hated Madoka Magica, and how it stopped me for not even five seconds from thinking it was fucking incredible, and how we managed to continue being friends because an animated show being good or not is not something grown people stew about? Good.

So this isn’t a REFERENDUM on however you felt about it. I don’t cre. Let me take your hand. I do. Not. Care.

So:

I thought it was HORRENDOUSLY paced, and most of the problems I have with it, but not all, come out of that. It was frustrating because the show by and large had been so good, even when I hadn’t loved a step it took, of being well considered and being willing to fully embrace the idea that a character can be wrong, or that you are allowed to feel multiple ways about something.

People, I think, assume I hated Catra, but I don’t! I NEVER did, I LOOOOOOOVED Catra as a character, allowed to show how someone can be so twisted in their own fucking victimhood that they become the villain. I thought it was a brilliant bit of writing. I though having her and Glimmer, both so driven to the point, square off against each other, was amazing. I FULLY EXPECTED, and you can find me talking about this several seasons back, that she would have a redemption arc. I know how kid’s shows work, but also I knew she was Noelle Stevenson’s favorite, and there was no way she was going to let her close out the show being unredeemed.

I also knew Catradora was happening, because it’s Stevenson’s ship. And no hate! Please know if I was running either SM or OW: The HBO series, it would go down EXACTLY the way I wanted.

So I think what people thought my problems were are mischaracterized, reductionist, and a bit unfair.

My problem was I got fucking WHIPLASH off the turnaround. We should have: have more seasons, made it last the whole season, started it earlier, or not had Catra fall so far. ANY of those would have helped the situation IMMENSELY for me. Catra literally tried to MURDER them all, MULTIPLE times, and I feel like she made one gesture and was let off the hook. I will have to go back and take a tally, but I think we stay pissed at her in the group for like TWO EPISODES. MAX. No one is allowed to continue to mistrust her, to resent her, nothing.

I feel like she was never really held to task for her self-pitying horseshit, and unfortunately, the DIRE circumstances made things where I even maybe thought she had a point dissolve before my very eyes.

Like, I know you don’t want Adora to die, and you may even have a fucking point here, but if it’s one girl versus the world, you are being selfish to keep her. The world matters utterly more. Doc, I would think you would like that, her being utterly selfish, oh I WOULD LOVE IT, if the show in any way allowed you to hold the idea that Catra is Selfish and Bad. It’s the Iron Man problem, where the movie won’t leave me space to think he’s terrible, so instead of being like, Tony Stark, you little twit, I have to full-on hate him.

And unfortunately, this isn’t just a problem with that whole storyline. Everything felt so rushed and set to the side, and the side characters we’d come to love got almost no real feel of resolution for me, or emotional depth.

Like we haven’t spent any time with Spinerella or Netossa, but I’m supposed to get emotionally involved in the fact that they’re on opposite sides? I’m supposed to care about two characters who I have really only seen in passing? It takes a lot to make me want to bring my own emotions to the table, and it never managed that.

The Glimmer and Bow thing felt entirely shoehorned in for reasons I don’t even fully understand, and I thought the pair-offs at the end were GENERALLY lazy. Not everyone needs to have a romantic interest at the end of the show! It could have been SPinerella/Netossa, Catra/Adora, and Mermista/Seahawl, and I think we all would have lived fine. Those are the couples we’ve come to expect, that were laid into the show, etc. Why pair everyone else up? I don’t get it all.

I find brainwashing storylines very lazy and can never get emotionally invested in the whole ~my friend is now my enemy~ thing unless it’s VERY VERY well-written.

MInor side note: INCREDIBLY unimpressed with the future flash with Adora all feminine and Catra having walked back her short hair. But glad, I suppose, to see that this show has never stopped from it’s goal of making any woman you could possibly take as butch and making sure you feminize her.

THE GOOD

I did love the showdown between Micah and Glimmer. I thought that was really thematically important for Glimmer and her struggle with her powers, and there was nothing on earth I found disappointing about her blasting her dad in the face with 895 volts of eat a dick. It was great. Loved it.

SHADOW WEAVER. Perhaps my vote for MVP of the entire show, I love that she was emotionally complex and difficult to read to the end. I love that even as she’s giving her lives for Catra and Adora, but also, mostly, because she knows it’s the only way the world will get saved, her last words are “You’re welcome” She was never NICE, but she provided a very complex marrative about evil and good, and she lived in the greys in many ways, and I thought she was a terribly interesting character that you were allowed to feel a WHOLE VARIETY of ways about.

Seahawk’s whole “This reminds me of when we first met! You tried to kill me then, too” I howled at his whole thing. They are the only valid straight/het/whatever couple in the show and perhaps the world. (I mean, I would have rather he be a butch lesbian anyday, but)

WRONG HORDAK. That was so well done and funny, I just thought it was a delight throughout the entire season.

But all in all, it was such a major writing disappointment. It was so poorly done in these final strokes, and that's so ridiculously shocking given the good writing of other seasons.

#and please do not DARE tell me 'it's a kid's show'#unless you want me to look down my nose every time you recommend one #madegeeky

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4pondsinabox · 4 years

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Women of the Waverider: Zari Tarazi

You know how some things “fans” say just really don’t sit right with you and you just sit there letting things fester in your brain for weeks and weeks until it all tumbles out into one giant essay? So yeah.

A few weeks ago, I created an extensive post on the Legends of Tomorrow Amino analyzing who I have found to be the four most hated characters on this wonderfully wacky time-travel show. All, naturally, are women and two are evidently non-white. Very curious, wouldn’t you say? After pissing some people off by stating “inherent societal misogyny affects the way we perceive female characters, especially when they act similarly to beloved male characters,” I resolved to move my argument here and see what other damage I could do.

For length purposes, I’m only focusing on Zari for today, but will be happy to transfer the others over if this makes any number of notes. Now, down to business:

Why do I love Zari 2.0 and Why Should You?

“Annoying” and “Spoiled brat” are the words I most commonly see associated with Zari Tarazi. Because the first of these is completely unhelpful in arguments (tell me WHY you find her annoying, then we can talk), I will focus on the second and how much it completely ignores her family dynamic. In the very first episode she is introduced, Zari is shown to be constantly ignored by her parents in favor of her brother. By definition, she cannot be spoiled because she’s not even given the attention she craves, much less whatever she wants. It’s no wonder her relationship with Behrad was strained to start with, when the favorite child is so evident. This is where her social media followers come in.

Kids are always in need of attention, of someone to take pride in their efforts and tell them they are doing a good job. When they don’t receive this attention, they latch on to something or someone else. Clearly, a young Zari, who had launched to fame with her dragon taming and received no evident approval from her parents, turned to her fans for support. Zari Tarazi is no longer a child, but old habits die hard and posting photos and videos online is her way of feeling like SOMEONE cares about her. “I have millions of followers but no friends” is what tells Ava and the audience that Zari has tried for so long to get people to like her from afar but has made no personal connections in the process. This is why her relationships with other members of the Waverider, which gradually grow over the course of the series, are so so important.

Ava was her first true friend, the person who connected with the real Zari, not the facade she created for social media. For the first time, Zari belonged somewhere, with a team no less. That little smile when she is told she is finally part of one? It tells all. She connected with Mick through their shared experiences with fans and supported him when he didn’t know how to deal with a particularly difficult troll. She had every intention to try and befriend Astra, even after getting off on the wrong foot. Zari wants only to make connections with people, real people, in a way she’s never been able to before. It’s hardly a crime to want to look good in the process.

The phrase “Zari 2.0 doesn’t fit with the Waverider team because she lacks experience like the old Zari” is misogynistic at its core. Zari 1.0 was “experienced” because she saw her family killed and had to grow up fast to survive. “Experience” is not the word you are looking for here, it is trauma, and trauma is not what makes women interesting. Zari Tarazi IS different in personality from the rest of the Waverider team, but that’s what makes her such a critical addition. When Mona was booted off, the writers needed another character who could lighten up the team in Ray’s absence. Zari brings the Drama but also Humor and Fun to a group of people who often forget how to have it. Amidst an ex-assassin, a studious clone, a grumbling thief, stressed shapeshifter, and brooding magician, someone who knows how to throw a good party and host it with style turned out to be a welcome change for many of them. Prior to this, only the men were given the chance to goof off while the women were always in charge of missions and rules, so isn’t it refreshing to see these gender stereotypes reversed?

But that’s just scratching the surface. Something else Zari possesses that none of the others do? Social skills. Who else was going to teach Ava how to lure popular party woman Marie Antoinette out of her element? Who else could have come up with the crazy suggestion to start a sorority and successfully draw out the god of wine and parties? Zari 2.0 may not have visible superpowers or be a hacker, but she understands people, which is something none of the other legends can claim and is a kind of superpower in itself.

The most ironic argument frequently made against her character? How John Constantine should never be paired with someone so different from him. The woman who, despite evident self-hatred, acts superior to everyone else is somehow different from John “drown my sorrows in alcohol and distance myself from everyone to act too cool for them” Constantine. Zari may have a bigger wardrobe and John might wear the same outfit over and over again, but fundamentally they have much common ground in the way they see themselves and how they hide it by acting superior around other people. This relationship wasn’t hastily thrown together like Nate and Zari 1.0, who have absolutely nothing in common. “John would never choose to be with someone like her!” You mean someone who acts just as stubborn and full of themselves as he is? Their big egos were bound to clash at first, but these similarities won each other over in the end.

It’s so easy to reduce feminine characters to dumb airheads and this is exactly why posts “defending womanhood and femininity” have been trending so much the last few years. It’s exactly why Tala herself pleaded with the fans in an interview to “please give this new Zari a chance” BEFORE any episode had even aired. Women are told that to be “strong” and successful in life they should act more like men, which is far from the truth. Zari Tarazi IS feminine, but also a successful, adored businesswoman who knows how to get what she wants. Viewers might hate her for it, but she subverts the “dumb feminine woman” trope in a way that’s incredibly important for fashion and makeup loving women today.

Before wining that the writers transformed Zari into a bunch of stereotypes, actually watch the show and rethink why you might feel the way you do about a certain character. It’s safe to say not every character clicks with every fan, but boiling hatred towards a confident, influential, feminine woman just ... does not translate well.

#zari tarazi #zari 2.0 #legends of tomorrow #lot ladies #arrowverse #the waverider #character analysis #long post

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werevulvi · 3 years

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Finally someone i can relate to somewhat. I like the effect of mtf hrt for the most part but i don't want to forget (or pretend to not know) that i'm a bisexuabl male with a chemically modified body. I am fairly stranded communitywise (ironically gc spaces worsened my dysphoria so i couldn't remain in them) which always brings a cutting sorrow of not having a 'home' but it's kinda good to see people who are on a similar wavelength even if i'm never going to truly meet you. Keep thriving queen!

Hi! I can totally see why gc spaces make your dysphoria worse... I've been noticing that many gc circles (especially radfem) tend to be a bit (lot) anti-male, so if it's those you came across, it's no surprise to me that it made your dysphoria worse. And I'm really sorry about that! I can only imagine that hearing you're some kinda evil oppressor for just how you were born physically can make you hate being male even more. I don't view it quite so harshly. Sure, a few (or a lot) of males were socialised very badly and thus turned out crap humans.

But it's not because of their biology that they're crap humans, and I would never condemn anyone for just the way they're born. I've known horrible men, but also very wonderful men. And most MtF's I've met, I've struggled to relate to, but they've been decent people just living their lives. I don't hate males, I can't agree with that sorta sentiment. I hate how some aspects of male socialisation teaches many men to hate women, but that's hardly the same thing, and I think it's an important distinction to make. Those semantics really do matter.

Point is, it makes sense to me why feminist, and female focused gc spaces, would make a dysphoric male/MtF even more dysphoric instead of less. Let's be honest: they give you all the reasons to hate being male.

And then what other gc spaces are there? Well, the conservative right (many of whom also Christian) comes to mind, and although they're less likely to hate on men, they do have a tendency to be uncomfortably anti-gay and anti-gnc, which... I dunno about you, but that makes at least me incredibly uncomfortable, if not even badly upset. Even those who aren't outright hateful towards gays/lesbians/bisexuals and gender non-conforming people, the vibe is just not very welcoming. That kinda gender critical community is not gonna help any gnc/same sex attracted person feel good about themselves either.

(I'm clearly stating the obvious here, but I think it's important to point out these issues with gc communities, just in case you don't know why they make you feel bad, and in case you want to know. If not... I'm sorry for salting your wounds!)

And that's about it when it comes to gender critical spaces, aside from individual people who aren't really aligned with any specific ideology, but still criticise gender ideology harshly, and/or help raise the voices of those who do. Posie Parker, Benjamin Boyce, Joe Rogan, and Arielle Scarcella come to mind. They're gender critical to varying degrees, but not particularly conservative, nor radfem. Although I've rarely ever seen any gc stuff that's actually positive towards males, that doesn't turn around and say stuff like "I hate men" and "femininity is gross on men" or "don't be gay" etc the very next second. So if I had been male instead, and still dysphoric, I'd probably be having a very difficult time accepting my sex too.

As I've been saying (mostly to myself) lately: we're not broken, the world is.

I feel pretty stranded communitywise too, actually. I have like one foot in the radfem/gc circles and the other foot in trans circles, neither of which really like me criticising them. I mean, it's probably just very human to not like being criticised for one's opinions, but... yeah basically gc's sometimes think I'm either "still in the trans cult" for not wanting to get rid of my physical masculinity, or they think I'm a man pretending to be a detrans woman, and they don’t like that I disagree with some of their views. The trans masses on the other hand generally have far more issues with me, my opinions and my identity. They would have be beheaded for less than just looking a little suspicious!

But here's the thing: I think trying to not rely on a community to feel loved and accepted is probably very important. There will always be individual people who love and support you, and agree with things that matter to you. These individuals can come from all sorts of ideological backgrounds, but what ties you together is true friendship, not community, which only mimmicks friendship in an often political way. I'm trying my best to focus on those individuals in my life (which really is just a handful of people) instead of trying desperately to find a whole community that will love and support me. Because that's probably not gonna happen. I am too provocative with my womanhood, and will always keep questioning everything. I don’t actually want to settle ideologically. I want to keep evolving and learning. The way I view myself doesn't really fit into any set ideology, because it’s a combination of things that matter to me personally. It is tailored to fit me and only me. And I think that's what's causing the friction. I'm ideologically a freeloader, or nomad, and thus, I get along best with others who also ideologically freeload.

Alas... I still feel that "ideological homelessness" too, and it does hurt. I think it might just be a result of too much ideological couch surfing. I'm always a guest, but never at home. Thus, I am always treated as a guest, and viewed with more scepticism. Who am I to barge into THEIR community? However, I still have a home, ideologically. It’s just that I’m the only one living there. And I think that might be applicable to you too: you do have an ideological home, you just live alone. That can be lonely, but it also allows you to think more freely and be more genuine about your opinions. Thank you, I want you to thrive too! Meeting irl might not happen on random like that, no, as I'm suspecting you don't live on the same Swedish island as me... but if you think an online friendship might be worth a shot... it's totally okay to send me a pm! I will warn you though, that I have a tendency to ignore people for a few weeks here and there though, as my sensory overload gets the best of me... really a lot. It's a challenge to be my friend, but some have told me it's really rewarding once they do get to know me. It's up to you! But I get the feeling that we might get along well.

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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years

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Author: Treacle_in_a-chipped_cup

Prompt: Dancing in the rain

Group: E

Awakening

It was the most absurd thing he could have thought; lying on the floor, fighting to breathe, in so much pain that it didn’t hurt any more, the cloying scent of iron filling his awareness, and wetness spreading against his back, his head… Longest dry spell in the history of Seattle. The dim light within the container darkened further, became vague, as if he were surrounded by clouds, as though he were a part of them; reflecting strange images, bizarre thoughts. “No, Papa, not thoughts.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, because that’s where he was. Nowhere. He turned full circle, answering the voice; naggingly familiar, like a half forgotten harmony to a song he knew so well.

“A dream then,” he said, and idly wondered why he hadn’t objected to being named ‘papa’ when he knew damn well that he had no kids. Wasn’t the type. A chuckle sounded and a sudden brightness in the fog resolved into the figure of a man who took a step towards him just as he realized he was on his feet, and not on his back, in an increasing pool of his own blood. “You always were difficult,” the man said, close enough now that Weaver could look into his face and saw his own eyes staring back at him. Papa. The word echoed in his mind. This had to be a dream, some kind of hallucination as he neared death. “’Fraid not,” the man said as though he knew exactly what Weaver was thinking. “You can’t, remember?” “Can’t?” he asked, not understanding. His confused frown became one of pain, his body suddenly on fire and the bright mist surrounding him began to darken. “No, no, no, no, no,” the man cried urgently, but the voice had changed, was strange; two in one. “Stay…” ”…with me! Weaver, don’t you dare…” His pain increased as a pressure on his chest held him down against something balled at his back. He managed a rasping breath. “That it.” Rogers’ voice; soft, almost crooning. It made him want to laugh and he fought not to; fought against the pressure on his chest. “I’ve got you.” Then Rogers’ voice turned harsher. “Where the hell are the paramedics!” That was it. More like the partner he remembered. “…remember…? Immortal? Cursed?” No warning. He was back in that strange, ethereal place and felt hands on his arms gripping him tightly. He frowned. He knew this man. Surely he did; like an itch he couldn’t scratch, a word on the tip of his tongue. A word… a name. “…Baelfire…” The whispered voice was soft, feminine. It made his heart lurch and his stomach clench. He flooded with emotion he couldn’t explain: a tangible longing, such loss, but also incredible warmth, belonging… love. “Papa?” He opened eyes that he hadn’t realized he’d closed, felt the run of moisture over his cheeks, and reached up, meaning to swipe at his face, but his… son…? He moved first, cupped his cheek and wiped away the tears with the gentle pass of a thumb. It felt both right and very wrong, both at the same time. “Who is she?” he almost sobbed. “Oh, Papa,” the man breathed, then he seemed to reach a decision, and said, “Come with me. She doesn’t have much time.” It wasn’t so much a ‘going’ as suddenly being in somewhere else, as though he had dissolved from one place, and appeared in another. He stood in a misty hallway, a petite woman in front of him reaching to open double doors. She wore a short, black skirt, and a matching blouse, her high heeled, platform shoes were also black and white, but it was wrong somehow, he knew, and frowned, even as he followed her into the room beyond. She turned to him then. Her absolute beauty took his breath in spite of the lingering wrongness still swirling in the fog. Smaller than he, her chestnut hair fell in waves about her shoulders. Her skin was a soft pink, her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes… their ocean blue shone with the warmth, with the love he had felt when she whispered his son’s name. He didn’t even wonder at his acceptance of that now. “So… what do you think?” The words came from his lips, a question, not for her, but for his utterance of them. “I think we’ve been married almost a full day, and I don’t believe we’ve had our first dance,” she answered. He shook his head. “Backwards…” he breathed even as she snapped her fingers. Once… twice… thrice and again… in a blink everything changed. The ballroom, the chandelier, the music. She stood resplendent in a floor length gown of yellow gold, perfection in ruffles and lace. The softness of silk stroked his skin. The blue and silver finery not at all what he was used to. Memory stirred and everything turned right-side-up. ”Care to dance… Missus Gold,” he said. “I would love to.” Her answer was coy… alluring. They moved together and he took her in his arms, and she fit against him perfectly. They moved as though they were one, and he closed his eyes to feel her better, to reach into the warmth that radiated from her, reaching for… “Rumple,” she whispered. His eyes flashed open. The room, the light, gone. She was still in his arms, but they were not as before. Her dress was blue and white, a maid's. He felt… different, defiled, dark. He recoiled at tight scales on his hands. The tightness clung to the whole of him, and a rush of self loathing subsumed him. He heard a whimper, did not recognize his own voice until she soothed him softly. “Sshh,” she murmured. “Trust me.” They spun in the dance and the cold, dark hall around them dissolved. It re-formed into the clutter of a much smaller room. There was light and happiness there. He heard the soft murmur of a sleeping baby - their child - over the still imagined music which sank into each heartbeat and became part of every breath he took. He barely caught a glimpse of the child in the bassinet before the room spun away as they turned in the dance, to become the softness of a sunlit cottage. Timeless, except no… she had aged, but neither the gray in her hair, nor the slight cloud in her blue eyes diminished her beauty, her perfection. She was still in his arms, and he still belonged to her. “You will find your way back to me again.” At her words, the images that left his head spinning darkened like a slowly failing lamp to leave them both circling slowly on the packed dirt, flashes of red and blue, blue and red, colored the dusty air of Seattle’s seedier side. “I’ll show you.” She murmured. Longest dry spell in the history of Seattle. A raindrop splashed the arm of his leather jacket, then his shoulder, and he looked up to the darkness above. Cloud rolled in out of nowhere and rain finally fell, wetting the ground, sinking into the cracks and imperfections, even into him. They danced on regardless, stepping and turning, whirling together, in perfect unity as he pressed close to the beautiful young woman in his arms, losing himself in the azure depths of her eyes. “I promise,” she whispered, and brushed his lips with hers. A torrent of memories fell with the rain to soak him to the skin, to the bone, to his very soul as every lost and hidden moment of his life returned to him, and he knew… even as she began to fade. He knew everything. His eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids. He could see her through the mist that curtained them. Overwhelmed, terrified to lose her again he cried out, “Belle… wait! I remember…” Weaver gasped as he woke. Everything hurt but he couldn’t let go of his dreams. No… not dreams. Memories. His memories. Killian was there - Rogers - rattling on; handed him the mangled remains of a bullet. “Should be dead by all accounts.” Rogers said, “You must be bloody immortal.” “Immortal,” he breathed, a foot still in both worlds. “That was a joke… mate,” Rogers said. It wasn’t funny. It reminded him of all he’d lost: Himself, his son, his beloved Belle. He felt control slipping. He couldn’t allow that. Not now. Not yet. He took another pained breath, gave orders to Rogers, who argued only briefly, then complied, leaving him to fight his storm of emotions. It wouldn’t do to break down. Not yet. Not now. A nurse bustled in to take his vitals, fussing to make him comfortable. “Hey,” he said hoarsely and nodded to the window. “What’s it doing out there?” “Raining,” she answered, “and I never thought I’d say this, but… thank God.” ”…I promise…” And Rumplestiltskin laughed until the storm broke, and then he wept.

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #rumbelle fic #Round One entry #author: Treacle_in_a-chipped_cup #woven beauty fic

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barbariccia · 4 years

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i’ve always thought omega had a really cool design. it’s a gritty place, in keeping with its name - omega ( Ω or ω ), as the last letter of the greek alphabet, tends to symbolize the end of something (typically in a line or list of things that have come previously), especially in christian camps, contrasting alpha ( Α or α ) which refers to the beginning. the alpha and the omega are a title of christ and apt enough, meaning that christ is the beginning and the end of all things.

suitable, then, that omega is in terminus space - the end of civilization - and frequently left abandoned, in the corse of an asteroid.

as you land, you’re approached by a salarian, and then a batarian, who tells the salarian to make himself scarce after a brief meeting. the batarian turns to us.

Moklan: Blasted scavengers. Welcome to Omega... Shepard.

turns out we’re not exactly on the down-low, and they’ve had their eyes on us since the second we stepped into omega space, with the so-called leader aria wanting to know why a dead spectre is in her area. we’re told in no uncertain terms to go make ourselves known to her, and, well, we don’t exactly know where we’re meant to be going to find our scientist yet, so we might as well.

aria t’loak resides in the afterlife club, because just because you’re at the end of all things doesn’t mean there’s nowhere else to go. it’s big and gaudy and in high demand; a vid of three asari strippers dancing plays directly above the entrance, and a line of people is waiting impatiently to get by the elcor bouncer, who’s got no time for these people who aren’t on the list. and boy, it’s gaudy on the inside, too, with the hallway leading to the club proper playing images of flickering fire. oh, and the lighting in here is atrocious, truly suitable for a nightclub.

there’s a little pack of batarians who think you’re looking at them wrong, and you get to tell them to pound dirt before you enter afterlife... which is a wholeass spectacle.

it’s dark and dingy and there’s asari dancing above the bar, where you can order as many drinks as you like from, courtesy of a well-dressed turian barkeep. after a little dutch courage, you can go up to the next level, to the private lounge where aria keeps her eye on the rest of the club, and as you ascend the stairs, she speaks.

it’s a whole mexican standoff of sorts, guns pointed in every direction, and me just wanting a nice chat with a new friend. :( her batarian bodyguard scans us with his omnitool - and even if you object, you’ve no choice but to suffer through this.

Shepard: I was told you’re the person to talk to if I have questions.

Aria: Depends on the questions.

Shepard: You run Omega?

aria might just be my favourite asari in the franchise; she still suffers from “skin on display even while dressed” disease, but she feels fully autonomous and doesn’t put up with bullshit. sure, the idea of a Tough Woman is a whole trope in and of itself, but in a series where belonging to this particular race throws you firmly into one of three feminine ideals while considering them a magical space-elf race that everyone’s attracted to by rote, it’s real nice to see an example that doesn’t do the same thing as everyone else. hell, even benezia is blown out of the water by aria, who doesn’t come across as evil so much as self-serving, and tough to keep her iron rule going.

Shepard: One scan and we’re straight to business? People are usually more concerned about who I am.

Aria: Your death was downplayed, but hardly what I call a secret. I had to make sure it was really you. You could have been anyone. Anything.

Shepard: Tell me how you got set up here.

Aria: That’s as privileged as information gets. I have many friends and enemies I keep at varying distances. I don’t count you among either. We’ll see how useful you prove. Short answer: mind your own damn business.

Shepard: You must know what’s on Omega.

Aria: Everything that’s worth knowing. I don’t usually give it out freely. Information is power. Mundane things, you can find yourself. Take a walk in a back alley, or buy one of the mercs a drink. Better yet, talk to the entertainers. They give great tours.

there are two dossiers to fulfill on omega, and you can ask aria about both of them.

Archangel is a mercenary commander whose operations are noted for their technical expertise and strategic brilliance. He is responsible for high-profile attacks on gang leaders on Omega and can likely be found there.

Dr. Mordin Solus is a salarian biological weapons expert whose technology may hold the key to countering Collector attacks. He is currently operating a medical clinic in the slums of Omega.

Shepard: I’m trying to track down Archangel.

Aria: You and half of Omega. You want him dead, too?

Shepard: Why’s everyone after him?

Aria: He thinks he’s fighting on the side of good. There is no good side to Omega. Everythign he does pisses someone off. It’s catching up to him.

Shepard: Just the kind of guy I’m looking for.

Aria: Really? Well, aren’t you interesting. You’re going to make some enemies teaming up with Archangel. That’s assuming you can get to him. He’s in a bit of trouble right now. The local merc groups have joined forces to take him down. They have him cornered, but it sounds like they’re having trouble finishing him off, and started hiring anybody with a gun to help them.

Shepard: What can you tell me about him?

Aria: Not as much as I’d like. He showed up here several months ago and started causing all sorts of problems. If you make your own laws -- which everyone her does -- he makes life difficult. He’s reckless and idealistic. But he seems to know enough to stay clear of me.

she tells us that every major merc group is after archangel right now, which is incredible in itself, because they’re never seen together unless they’re warring. archangel has done the impossible.

Shepard: Know where I can find Mordin Solus?

Aria: The salarian doctor? Last I heard he was trying to help plague victimes in the quarantine zone. I always liked Mordin. He’s as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you.

Shepard: What can you tell me about him?

Aria: Used to be part of the Salarian Special Tasks Group. He’s brilliant and dangerous. Just don’t get him talking. He never shuts up. If you really need to find him, take a shuttle to the quarantine zone. No guarantee they’ll let you in, of course.

that’s all aria has to say; we take a trip downstairs to sign up with the blue suns to hunt down and flush out archangel. but not before some sexism!!

you DO NOT GET THIS LINE or any equivalent if you’re playing as a male shepard. all the recruiter says is “you three look like you could do some damage. looking for a good fight?” and BOY FUCKING HOWDY why would you include this. why would you include this line at all. why would anyone think this was a good idea. why would you not include an equivalent for mshep if you were going to do this. i hate this line and i lose my fucking temper every time i think about it because wow, guess fucking what, we never see any batarian females! we never see any salarian females! we never see any god damn turian female characters! we don’t know SHIT about the women of this universe and oh, it’s so gratifying to know that even in the future, even across the galaxy, even non-humans don’t value women as equal to men. where’s your culture differences? where’s your fucking worldbuilding? you cannot mean to tell me the entire galaxy works on the same sexist paradigm of “man good women weak hurrhurr” because that’s so fucking lazy and weak and i despise it.

you get a choice (renegade, obvs), to pull a pistol on the guy, and then the lines carry on as usual. you buy into the blue suns, making a note to kill every one of the bastards when you’re done picking up archangel, and leave the club to find a transport just outside, where we’ll be carried away to the fight against archangel. as you leave, there’s a human kid that walks in and wants to join the fight as well - you can ask him just how old he is, and do a paragon interrupt to stop him from joining a fight that’s already taken out countless teams trying to get to this merc, but i was angry enough that i let it slide. teach the kid a lesson about trying to be fucking macho and the consequences.

grumbles loudly.

#mol plays me2

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

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Beauty and the Beast, Part 1

I’m absolute Beauty and the Beast trash. We’re going with my own take on the tale with a female beast. This is going to have a fluffy as fuck relationship, some smut, and a happy ending, but yeah I had to make this angsty in places so just be forewarned.

Per period standards you wear dresses and have long hair, but otherwise as usual I try to leave the rest of your appearance to your imagination.

----

Deep in the woods, down an overgrown and forgotten road, lies a castle. If you were to ask the surrounding towns and hamlets who their liege was, they would answer that they had none, they never had in fact, and they were lucky enough to govern themselves for the most part. In this castle lives a queen, forgotten and bitter, ruling over nothing but empty halls and bleak gardens. As an arrogant young woman, left to rule early by the untimely death of her father, she spurned an old hag who had come asking for shelter. Turning away her ugliness, declaring that such a visage had no place in the gilded halls of her palace, she watched awestruck as the hag morphed into an enchantress of such perfect and ethereal beauty the queen began to weep.

The queen begged for forgiveness on bended knee, but the sorceress looked down her nose at the gesture. She saw the queen for what she was: hardened, vain, cruel. So the sorceress cast her curse. The castle and its inhabitants would be forgotten by the world, left to rot for a century. If the queen could learn to love, truly love, and earn the love of another in return, the curse would be broken. So the servants all became avatars of their work, left sentient and mobile enough to keep things running. The queen was cursed with a twisted, dark visage to match the cruelty and malice hidden within.

Nearly nine feet tall with a shaggy coat of auburn fur, matching the hair of her human form. Her face was unrecognizable, like some cross between a cat and a goat, with rams horns curling over her ears. Her eyes, at least, were the same cool green they had always been, although as the years went on she became less thankful for the burden of knowing that what she saw in her reflection truly was her own face. She was broad at the shoulder and at the hip, with a feminine waist and figure, although the hugely muscular arms that came from helping to propel herself with her knuckles were new. She dressed mostly in masculine clothing now, her father’s old shirts and trousers altered to fit her frame. Of all of the changes this curse wrought, this she was the least upset over. Even as vain as she was, she had always hated gowns and preferred the elegant lines of men’s court dress. Having an excuse to don breeches and shirts was the only silver lining she could find.

It had been nearly ninety years since that night, and her time was growing slowly to a close. It had been three decades since a human had even set foot in her castle or on its grounds, and none of them could leave the bounds of their land. It had been years since she had even left the castle grounds and ventured out into the surrounding forest, still technically part of the estate. She’s walking the garden when the sound of muffled sobs near her rose bushes draw her attention. A human woman is huddled on the cold ground, the first frost taking hold and leaving nothing but freezing hard earth. Her face is in her hands, head bent and hair loose from its plait and curtaining her. When the human sniffles and wipes her cheeks, the queen gets her first look at you, eyes glassy with tears and face slack with grief. You’re still so beautiful, and she’s intent on wooing you to break this wretched curse.

~~~

You had never really fit in when it came to the other townsfolk of your small hamlet. You had your father, your horse, and your books, and that was enough for you. Well, mostly. It would have been plenty had it not been for the others in such close proximity. While it’s convenient to live within such close proximity to the market square, and therefore the book shop, you still feel incredibly out of place.

“Ah, my sweet lovely bride, there you are!” Oh, and there’s also Gerard, who you really wish had just died on the front lines at war instead of coming back lauded as a hero. Not only did this inflate his already massive ego, but the hero worship he received made him feel entitled to the attention and affection of any woman he so desired. It just so happened he desired you. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve spurned his advances, getting progressively sterner with each no you’re forced to give. You’d have thought after the first few times he’d move on to someone else in the village, but he seemed absolutely stuck on you.

The glares from other eligible women that come with the attention from Gerard make you even more reluctant to go into town. You had a hard enough time interacting with others out in the world without the constant heat of glares on the back of your skull. Honestly, you wish those glares really would set you on fire. Maybe then at least you’d be rid of Gerard, what with the disfiguring scars that would be the result. “I am not your bride, Gerard.” Your deadpan reply and flat stare do nothing to deter him.

Perhaps, if you were interested in him in the first place, his attention would be flattering. You cannot deny that he is an attractive man, tall and muscular with an angular face and masculine jaw. His clear blue eyes are cold though, and calculating. You want love, desire, passion, the things that your parents had in their marriage. He wants you because you’re beautiful, not because you’re you. “Come now, don’t be so difficult pet. What more could you want in a husband than myself? Rich, powerful, handsome.” The way he purrs the last word makes the two girls peeking out from the baker’s shop sigh and swoon. It just makes you sigh...in exasperation.

“I don’t know, Gerard. Love, respect, intelligence?” Your biting remark makes him scowl at you darkly, grabbing your jaw painfully with one of his large hands.

“Listen here, pet. You can refuse me now, but your father won’t be here to protect you forever. What then? We all know unmarried women of your station are worth less than nothing. Or do you want to wind up out on the street?” He shoves your face away like it burned him, scowling as he gruffly calls for his footman to follow him. You cup your tender chin and walk back home, foregoing a trip to the bookstore today as you had planned. You try hard not to let what Gerard said get under your skin, but it isn’t as though he’s wrong… Still, you have your father, and your home, and as long as you have that you have the hope that you can hold out for someone who will love you.

Returning to the little cottage you shared with you father you were immediately struck by how quiet it is. This is unusual, especially considering that at this time of day your father should be wrist deep in his latest noisy project, humming along to some internal song that only he can hear. Instead you find him slumped over the table, still breathing but not conscious. You’re rushing, and do what you can to make him comfortable on a pallet on the floor while you run out to get a doctor.

Sadly, along with the doctor you find Gerard, and he insists on coming along. A stroke is what the physician called it, and there was the possibility that your father would never wake. Gerard gave you a pitying look, but tried to twist it to his advantage. “See, pet? What are you going to do now? How will you care for him?” You kick him out with a teary glare, and the physician helps you get him situated into a cart in order for your father to be taken to the local clinic where he’d at least get round the clock care.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re worried. If nothing else, your father was at least cared for. There was enough money stashed to keep him at the clinic for months, but not much else. You’d get by on your stash of preserved food for a few weeks, but what would you do for money after that? It is with this thought on your mind that you pack a bag with enough to get you through the day and take off on your horse into the forest behind your village. Instead of taking the well worn road out to the larger village a few hours ride from here, you decide to take a detour down an overgrown path.

You remember walking this little road as a child, but cannot seem to remember where it leads. You stop for lunch at the side of a small stream, allowing your horse to graze and drink while you relax with your feet dipped into the cold water. When you mount back up the sun is well into the sky, although not quite at midday, and the air is warm enough that you can remove your cloak. The fresh cool air is nice, and you take your time following the path until it ends at a rusted wrought iron gate.

When you dismount and walk up to the gate, curious, something spooks your horse and sends her bolting back the way you came. You run after her for a while, but as the sun crests in the sky at its highest point you know that you’re going to have to find somewhere tonight to hunker down in order to make it back to town tomorrow. With any luck, your horse will have made her way back without you and she’ll be waiting when you return.

The walk back to the gates is long and by the time you reach them again the sun is dipping below the trees, casting long foreboding shadows. When you try the rusted gate it pops open with a groan that shakes your ribs, just enough for you to slip through. The walk from the gate is lined with beautiful and terrible statues, the lifelike marble women being embraced and devoured by demons. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, but it isn’t like you have much of an option anyway. You cannot be out in the forest at night without protection, and your cloak and bag are still draped over your mare’s saddle. Rubbing your arms for warmth you continue trekking up the path, although you’re distracted by a branch off of it that leads to a garden full of rose bushes surrounding a fountain. Sitting on the fountain’s edge you sigh, gazing at the blood-red roses peeking out from the verdant green.

You aren’t sure when you begin crying, but a chill wind cools the tracks of your tears along your cheeks. When you lift a hand to wipe them away, more come unbidden, until you’re heaving on the stone with great, body wracking sobs. It takes a few moments for you to calm, memories of your mother’s casket, covered in roses. Your father’s limp body slouched on your shared table. It would be so much easier if you could just disappear.

The crunch of gravel under heavy feet makes you startle, sniffling and trying to compose yourself before you call out. “H-hello? Is there someone there? I’m lost, and looking for a place to stay for the night.” You call out to the wind but hear nothing back, but you still follow the sound as best you can. There’s nothing there, although if you were a tracker you may have noticed the huge, clawed footprints disturbing the chilled grass. You follow the path back up to the huge castle, standing trembling in front of the giant wooden doors.

As soon as you place a hand on it, it opens as if by magic. “Hello? Is there anyone there?” The way your voice echoes around you is haunting, and you can almost feel the tingle of something otherworldly in your bones. “Hello? Please, if there’s someone here, I need help!” You shiver at the breeze that passes through the castle, but the murmur of voices and a faint flickering coming from down the long hall to the East seem to draw you in. “Hello! Please, I’m lost in the woods and need a place to stay for the evening, until I can find my way back in the light of day.”

The murmuring you thought you heard stops, but the faint flicker of a fireplace still glows in the distance, growing ever closer as your feet click solitary footfalls onto the marble floor. You enter what looks like a sitting room, with one huge fireplace along the back wall, two wing back chairs in front of it with a small side table between them. There’s a chaise perpendicular to the two chairs on one side, and a settee on the other with a huge black waistcoat draped over it. You marvel at the size of it, surely whatever man wore this must be the biggest person in the world. It looked to be in good condition, if a little frayed at the buttonholes, and importantly much like everything else in this castle it was without a speck of dust.

“So, you’ve decided to let yourself in then.” The voice makes you gasp, and as you turn to greet whoever owns that voice you stumble. Falling, you’re prepared to hit the unforgiving stone with your skirt-covered bottom but you’re surprised to feel a cushion beneath you instead. It’s an ottoman, a sentient ottoman, and it gives a rough bark like a dog before scurrying away with you firmly seated on its back. It settles down by the fire, with you still on it, and you’re frozen there with confusion. You look back over at the doorway, finding a hugely imposing figure standing there silhouetted in the darkness. “Has no one ever told you it is rude to impose yourself on others?”

The voice is somehow feminine, but that seems impossible considering the size of the figure before you. Surely they are at least as tall as the door frame, if not taller, and nearly as broad across. “I’m sorry to intrude, I was out for a ride when my horse bolted without me on her. There was no way for me to make it back to town before nightfall, and surely out there alone I would freeze to death. Please, I apologize for my rudeness, but I would appreciate a place to stay for the evening. I do not have much to give you, but I will do my best to repay you as you need.”

There’s a low growl from the shadow, and then a rough laugh. “A place to stay, hm? Are you sure you’re any safer in here than you are out there, girl?” The shadow steps out into the ring of light emanating from the fireplace and you gasp when you catch your first sight of the beast. Your heart is beating like a rabbit and your breath coming in fast gasps. The snarl and scowl on their face bares huge teeth at you, but their eyes are full of more fear and self loathing than they are burning hatred. Something about their eyes draws you in, there’s the same burning desire for love and acceptance deep in there that you can read much like your own. “Well? Nothing to say then? Too scared to run? To scream?” But you simply fix her with a shy smile, pulse still nervously flitting in your neck.

“I’m not going to run from you.” You aren’t prepared for how cute she looks as her face goes slack with confusion, like a lost puppy. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”

#Beauty and the Beast #BATB #WLW #Lesbian Love #Lesbian Fiction #My Writing #Female Beast #Female Reader #Fem Beast #Fem Reader #SFW

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pagalini · 5 years

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hi, sorry if this is too personal of a question, but i was wondering how you realized you had adhd? i think i may have adhd but i don’t really want to say anything to my family until i am positive? thank you!

Hey there! No worries at all, I’m a very open person.

I want to start by stressing that I’m currently on the waiting list for NHS assessment, because the UK process for diagnosis is very drawn-out and underfunded. However, though I don’t yet have the piece of paper that “officially” means I have ADHD, myself and my GP agree that I exhibit a lot of the symptoms, and they’ve managed to affect my life to the degree that I need some help.

The primary symptoms for me - well, my most significant issue involves problems with working memory - myself and my partner call it my “if it’s not in front of me, it’s gone” problem. If I don’t have a task that needs doing literally in eyesight in some way, I will completely blank on needing to do it. I also blank on verbal instruction, and have to ask people to repeat things a lot. I often walk into rooms and then stop, because I’ve forgotten why I’m there. And it’s not just occasional - everyone will walk into a room now and then and be like, wait, why am I here. I do it on a daily basis. I have to keep extensive and strict checklists for even the simplest of tasks, or I’ll forget about it. To set up for the day, I write a to-do list on Habitica, and then I write one on a physical post-it as well, and then if something’s really urgent I write it on my hand just to really make sure I’ll see it. And even then I miss things!

Task initiation is also a problem for me, but it’s at the core of ADHD itself, so that’s not surprising. I’ve always found this symptom troubling, because when I was initially investigating ADHD I didn’t think I had issues with task initiation, but I’ve come to realise through time and through the example of my partner, who definitely doesn’t have ADHD, that I do have it. Important difficult thing that needs doing? Nope. Too Much. I can’t even explain it, that sensation of Nope, Too Much, but it’s like a physical wall between me and the thing that needs to be done. Examples: I’ve needed to get a dentist for literally seven months, and I still haven’t done it. I also once needed to get a car scrapped and took TWO YEARS to actually get it done, and even then it only got done because my dad organised it for me. Exam prep? Oh man. That one’s a double whammy. If I didn’t put a note out for myself, or if I put my books away out of sight, then I’d just forget, and I’d end up cramming literally either the night before or the morning of. I’m quite fortunate in that I’m naturally intelligent, so I was able to “coast” like that through my GCSEs, but then my A Levels came along, and - well.

How did I realise I had ADHD, you ask? Well. For a lot of people with ADHD, they don’t realise there’s something going on until they hit a “wall.” In my case, I hit two walls a few years apart. The first wall was my A Levels. In the UK we do GCSEs, which are basic broad-spectrum qualifications, and then we do A Levels, which you select yourself and are more tailored to what you want to do in life. The jump from A Level to university undergraduate degree is very small. The jump from GCSEs to A Level is ENORMOUS, and I fell flat on my face. At GCSE level, without retaking any exams and with quite honestly little to no revision, I got fifteen GCSEs. Nine of them were A*s, and two were Bs. The remaining four were all As. The key thing is: I was a really excellent student.

Then I went up to A Level, and at the end of the first year I got: D, E, C, and U. For non-UK folk - a U if a grade so bad that it’s not even an F for fail - it’s U for unclassified.

I got 12% on the exam. I was heartbroken and completely lost. Everyone around me was shocked. My biology teacher was so sure there’d been a clerical mistake that she rang the exam board on my behalf! Except - there was no mistake. I’d just completely beefed it, to the nth degree.

Through unbelievable hard work and sheer terror, I managed to retake everything and come out of my A Levels with A, A, B, B. Not what I or anyone who knew me had expected - I’d always been predicted straight A*s - but good grades. Good enough to take the heat off of what had gone wrong, so on I sailed into university and beyond.

Retail work, retail work, volunteering - I was a busy bee for a few years. Then I got my first Adult Job, which was in editorial. Here was my second wall, and I left after six months to do an MA in Graphic Design, convinced that I must have picked something entirely wrong for me. I was shattered, confused, and it would take me at least a year to even slightly recover. In that year I kept busy, both with my MA, and with my research into ADHD. And the more I read, the more it dawned on me that this might just be the explanation for what had happened to me.

Here are some of the symptoms that really resonated with me then, and still do now:

Focus - I find it incredibly difficult to focus on something I’m not interested in, to the point that my brain just Nopes it. I describe it to the people around me as being like trying to balance a drop of water on a duck’s back. All the water wants to do is slide right off, and while for most people focusing on something they don’t want to do is something they can do even if they don’t like it, for me it’s that balancing act - something that requires all my attention and then some, and often ends in failure.

Sensitivity - Repetitive noises and actions both drive me absolutely WILD. I can’t stand either. Many a clock has suffered my wrath and had its batteries removed at 3am. Ironic, considering I have a really bad case of RLS (restless leg syndrome) and constantly have to shift around in my seat until I’m a position where I can Jiggle Good.

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria - I overreact to negative feedback, taking it as a personal slight or assuming that the person hates me or no longer loves me. It’s an overwhelming thing, an almost physical sensation, and I’ve had quite a few panic attacks over the years because of it.

I also experience these:

Acting without thinking

Constantly changing activity or task

Difficulty organising tasks

Irregular sleeping patterns / difficulty sleeping

Anxiety

Mood swings & irritability - (this coupled with acting without thinking has ruined a lot of friendships for me over the years. It’s only recently, and with the patient help of my partner, that I’ve been able to slowly change and get a better handle on this aspect of myself)

Starting new tasks before finishing old ones

And on a more positive note, also these:

Creativity (constant racing thoughts mean a lot of ideas)

Information-lust (just gotta KNOW what that xyz means)

Last but not least, hyperfocus. Where would I be without hyperfocus? It’s what makes me who I am. It’s what lets me speed read books in just a couple of hours, or write two books and a DND campaign of my own despite working however many jobs at the time. It’s what lets me watch a two hour documentary about microscope slides because I “just gotta KNOW, man.” I am ever the font of random facts out of the people I know, and I love that about myself. I love how hungry I am for new information, new skills, and new stories.

I hope this (very long) post has been helpful. I wish you all the best with your ADHD journey - and please remember, if your doctor is at all dismissive of your experiences, get a second opinion! Especially if you’re female or look feminine - doctors often won’t listen to you anyway but especially so with ADHD because it’s still perceived as a “boy’s condition.” I had to get a second opinion, and in my case the second doctor has been fantastic and is totally on my side while the first was not at all.

#adhd stuff #pagalog #long post #adhd #Anonymous

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thaumaturtles · 5 years

Text

Begin ANGELQUEST

The other day, I was doing some.......

...... studying.......

When I came across an advertisement. This isn’t at all an unusual experience; I’ve been on the internet for a decade and change and I’ve come to accept that ads are a part of the experience. This was an ad I’d seen many times before, too. I’m so accustomed to seeing it that my eyes often skip right over it. However, I’ve been reading a lot of articles about Enlightenment, lately, and I’ve been trying to put that into practice in my everyday life. I’ve been attempting, to varying degrees of success, to become more aware of myself and my environment, to probe onward into my mind’s own blind spots. In short, I’m trying to blitz my chakras. (Don’t worry, am Indian, can reclaim.)

And so, for perhaps the first time, I took a moment to truly see the ad in front of me. To stop and smell the dogshit hiding behind the roses. And, goodness, was it a sight to behold. Ladies, gentlemen, and all who fall betwixt, I present to you, THIS:

Take a moment, if necessary, to take it all in.

Have you collected yourself? Good. You’re holding up the rest of the class.

I don’t know how I’ve managed to let this pass without mental comment on more than one occasion. How did I look at this image, think “angel reading? yeah, sure, that’s a thing that exists” and then shuffle along? The only explanation I can muster is Divine intervention, which would ironically lend this product some legitimacy. I need to understand. What does Angel Reading mean? How could such a process be personalized, and, furthermore, how could it take place over the Internet? Who is this “Celeste”? What is she after? Why does she look vaguely disappointed in me? Can she see my soul? What is an “Angelic Medium”?????

Clearly, if I want answers, I’m going to have to dive in. I place my Crocodile Dundee hat on my head with no small measure of trepidation, though I must confess a moiety of excitement deep within. As I hike up my Adventurin’ Shorts and stuff a few hundred metres of rope into my backpack, I consider the long road ahead. And then, with my cosplay explorer’s outfit put on to my approval, I sit down at my computer. I’m really not sure why I felt the need to do all that when I’m just gonna be here at home.

I steel my will, and I click.

This loading screen appears, and I’d like to mention that the URL for this page is perhaps longer than any URL I’ve ever seen before in my 16 years.

Okay, let’s just take a moment to get our bearings here and-

HOLY MACKEREL, THERE’S A COUNTDOWN!

And only twenty-seven minutes left! Sakes alive, I clicked this link just in time! Imagine If I’d wasted more time farting around and dressing up like Indiana Jones!

Although, weirdly enough, whenever I refresh the page, the timer restarts, and it always restarts at 27 minutes and 50ish seconds, which is a random-enough number to seem legitimate.

Hmm. Odd.

I wonder if maybe the countdown isn’t actually real and is just there to pressure you into typing your info more quickly so you don’t notice how fishy this whole opera-

OH MY GOD ONLY 26 MINUTES!!!!!!!

OK, gotta think quickly here. Gosh, they’re asking some personal questions right off the bat, but I can’t let them know it’s me; they might recognize me from tumblr. If this sting operation’s gonna go forth I gotta lie my ass off. My name? Uh, uh.. My name is Dyl-Dy- Uhhhh, shit, okay, it’s Dylan-NO, Dylllllllll...... Delilah? Delilah. Like from the Bible. Yeah, that’s fitting, especially since I’m swindling these fools. Soon, Celeste, your hair will be mine.

They’re asking for my date of birth, which I’m hesitant to put because my 16th birthday party was kind of a big deal and Celeste might’ve heard about it, in which case she’ll know it’s me AND things will be super awkward cause I didn’t invite her to the party.

I put 4/13/1969 obviously

They’re also asking for my e-mail address, which I can’t give out because it has my full name, address, and social security number in it, so let’s just pull this ripcord real quick and parachute out of this nightmare zone, and over to a quick, free, secure e-mail client. That is, protonmail.com, which is not my usual e-mail server and will thus throw Celeste’s goons even farther off my trail

Wow, that was a surprisingly quick and painless process! I might just have to use protonmail in the future

So anyway here’s my info, sent in right under the wire, with a mere 24.3 minutes left! God that was close. Picture that classic scene in Indiana Jones where he slides under the door and then reaches back in to get his hat, only it’s an out-of-shape teen and also the door hasn’t even started closing yet.

I went with my actual country because, c’mon, there’re a lot of people in Jamaica. Statistically speaking, how likely is it they’d find me through that?

You know I didn’t. You know I fucking didn’t. Why are you asking.

Also, here’s a quick rundown of what Celeste is actually offering in case anyone was curious. It does somewhat tickle me that she claims she’ll “get to work immediately” as soon as anyone clicks the link and subscribes, as though the process isn’t completely automated. It evokes a clear image of Celeste, in full angelic garb, sitting at a computer screen and answering calls while also typing into three discrete keyboards simultaneously.

The idea that she could personally take the order of every individual who clicks this ad betrays either a complete lack of confidence in the desirability of her product, or an incredible amount of confidence in her own ability to multitask.

Who is “she”? Celeste? That doesn’t make much sense in the context here. Peter’s Guardian Angel? But earlier Celeste made it sound like all angels use he/him! Also, what does “bring her back” mean if it’s the angel? Can angels leave and later be found again? I feel like if you find your guardian angel once, that should be it forever, but apparently they can leave and you have to ensnare them again?????

Hooray! A link from an unknown source to an unknown destination! I sure can’t wait to click it all day long!

The things I do in the name of science, I swear to God Celeste.

It took a minute but here it is. Sidenote: I rather enjoy the irony of an inbox which consists of three e-mails about encryption and ways to curate a safe internet experience, and one which is an automated link from a bullshit ad for a product that doesn’t exist. There’s a subtle poetry to this image. I almost want to frame it, and then sell it for an exorbitant amount of money.

Here’s the e-mail, folx. If ever you needed proof that this was a scam, look no further.

Who on this good green earth would think beginning such a missive with, “Thank you for your trust,” would be a good way to garner MORE goodwill? When I go to my local grocer and I purchase a party-sized bag of Tostitos to eat by myself over the course of a day and a half because I’m in control of my body, goddammit, the bag doesn’t say, “Thank you for believing in us! We promise we won’t give you dysentery!

Like, what the fuck? “Thank you for your trust.” Your product should be able to stand on its own two feet and proudly proclaim, “I’m gonna give you a fucking angel reading or die trying!”

That initial line has honestly made me more scared than ever for this process. I’m confident I’m going to click that link and it’s going to auto-download a terabyte of obscure Norwegian pornography to my hard drive. I did just update my computer this morning, however, and all my data are backed up, so I feel somewhat more secure than I might otherwise.

Did I really just say “data are”? I know it’s grammatically correct and all, but it’s still jarring to hear. Messes with my mental flow. And wouldn’t the proper, descriptivist thing to do be to use “data is” to avoid confusion? Using “data are” feels clunky, is more difficult to say, and makes me look a bit snobbish. I’d delete it but that would require hitting the backspace button on my computer and I’m frankly quite lazy about that sort of thing. What was I talking about again? Oh, right. I have to click the link.

Again with the “thank you for your trust” bullshit! Whatever, I’m going to let it pass. They’re clearly going for a friendly, approachable persona here, even if they’re doing it in the most threatening, ass-backwards way possible.

This next email took a seemingly endless eight minutes to arrive, during which time I meditated, raised a bonsai tree to adulthood, watched Marley & Me, grappled with intense feelings of loneliness, and worked on some of my homework.

Or maybe I just played games on my phone. You decide!

Okay, not quite what “hereby” means, but sure. It’s a common mistake, likely exacerbated by the presence of the word “here” within “hereby.” Sort of a “wherefore does not mean where” situation I suppose.

Anyway, I’m submitting to the mortifying ordeal of clicking the link yet again.

Christ get a load of this shit. How fitting that the Angelic stone for someone born on 4/13 would be Jade. My archangel is Megatron apparently??? His info claims he’s some sort of scribe. My major planet is Neptune, and my secondary planet is.... the sun? Is anyone going to tell Celeste what stars are or do I have to do everything myself around here? I do like that ram up in the top left though. I’m naming you Ram Elliot.

Now for the pièce de résistance. Meet Mahasiah. Mahasiah is not my guardian angel; Mahasiah is the guardian angel for anyone born between April 10th-14th. My guardian angel is Yerathel, apparently. A few things I learned while researching this: both Mahasia and Yerathel have “feminine energies” (???) and both have Fire as their associated classical element. Also, Yerathel rules over Intelligence, which is one thing I actually somewhat like about myself. This is actually kind of neat to learn about!

I mean come on. That’s pretty fuckin cool. His name means “He Who Punishes Evildoers” which is beyond epic, and his associated gem is Smoky Quartz, aka the only Steven Universe character.

You know, maybe this whole Angel Reading business isn’t a scam after all. Maybe it’s a perfectly safe process and I’ll be totally fine, what am I worrying about? At the very least, it couldn’t hurt to explore her site a bit more..... for research’s sake.

yeah baby tell me more

certainly, miss celeste, anything for you

wait, aren’t I already in a relationshi-

JAZZERCISING JUNIPERS BATMAN THERE’S ONLY 28 MINUTES LEFT

holy shit! I want accurate readings!

Oh god oh no okay i’ll do whatever you want celeste please don’t leave me i need my tarots

THEY KNOW ABOUT ME ALREADY OMG

Well, okay, even in my currently addled state I can still see that “Duo-Telepathy” is complete bullshi-

OH WELL IF AMANDA GAVE THEM THREE WHOLE STARS I HAVE TO TRUST IT

Amazingly, my info was pre-filled in. Almost like this site is linked to Celeste’s in some way, or perhaps even run by the same group of scammeUPSTANDING CITIZENS IS WHAT I MEANT TO SAY

Ooh, another e-transmission from my good friend Celeste! Oh, how I’ve missed her! And apparently large and surprising discoveries have been made concerning me! She’s presenting me a Guide? I sure hope I’ll be able to open it, hassle-free, with no additional purchases/information required!

OHOHOHOHO

bro i’m shitting my drawers rn

I have no fucking clue what that means but you said FREE so i’m in!

oh my god there’s still so much left. just shut the fuck up and take my money you fools

AW TITS YEAH

....i think

Okay, I know the original thing said FREE and I should be “mad” or watever, but look at that bargain! that’s more than half off! It might as well be free! I’d be stupid NOT to buy it!

I’ve invented a lot of secondary information for Delilah. The phone number is merely (559) YOU-SUCK, as a subtle way of establishing the power dynamic at play here. I’m sure Celeste will appreciate it.

Hmmmmm.............. It would seem my method of “just input numbers randomly” won’t work here. Such a shame. Credit card fraud used to be so easy. I’ll have to put that on the backburner, though, because look what just appeared in my inbox!

You can see where this is going.

I’ll take my leave now, this post is getting long enough as is, but I do feel it’s important to note that doing a quick bit of research shows that Celeste & co. are famous for emotional manipulation, as well as getting people addicted to their products and forcing a sort of dependency upon them. It’s important to do your research, and remember basic internet safety tips like don’t click popups or check if a site is legit before downloading from them. It’s incredibly easy to get trapped down this sort of rabbit hole, where you wind up buying more and more of their products like you’re stockpiling for the Rapture. Not me, though, I’m obviously fine and can quit anytime I like. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go try a bunch of credit card numbers until one works.

#dylan talks #angelquest #long post #why do i keep making these #also yes this post was inspired by 'come with me on a magical journey through the internet' and 'an offer you cant refuse'#what about it

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pyropsychiccollector · 5 years

Text

Fate Zero: Part Four

Risei Kotomine stood calm and composed as he went to answer the door. Though it wasn’t a very big congregation that he led, the church still received visitors on occasion. He knew that it wasn’t any of his parishioners at the door, however… because it was far too early in the morning.

Risei took a composed breath before opening the door – unsurprised to see his son on the other side, looking as impassive as ever.

“We have a problem.” Kirei blandly reported.

Soon enough, they were in the basement as Kirei passed on Assassin’s recent discovery. The Servant himself was outside the church and patrolling the perimeter, ensuring this meeting was an ironclad secret. Risei appeared more troubled as Kirei went on, and when he’d finished speaking, there was only one solution the elderly man could think of.

“Caster has just become the very top priority… If he and his Master have no intention of respecting the rules that the Holy Grail War has established for hundreds of years, then we will postpone the war until they are eliminated. Minor rule changes fall under my purview – we’ll have all of the Masters work together to defeat Caster.”

Kirei raised an eyebrow at the notion of Masters collaborating.

“Will we really have to go to such lengths? All Assassin need do is get a clear shot, and he can take out Caster… We have yet to discover their main base of operations, but they poke their head out of the rabbit hole often enough that executing them would be a trifling matter…”

Risei shook his head and fixed his son with a stern glance.

“You have found and identified Caster, but this specific Servant will be too difficult to handle on your own. Neinhart was once a member of the Spriggan 12, before he attempted a coup and was imprisoned for life. Cobra is formidable, but the Spriggan 12 were personally picked and trained by the Black Wizard, Zeref himself. We cannot assume an attempted assassination will survive first contact. Keep an eye out for him in the meantime, but do not engage until we at least get Tokiomi in on the hunt as well. Hades will be of immense help to you and Cobra.”

Kirei’s eyes fell as his expression remained blank.

“… Understood…”

~*~

Dust blew through the air amongst the ruins as a gust of wind passed through. The dark-haired man made clinking noises with his metal boots as he walked past so much rubble, keeping an eye out. The sky, the clouds tinged brown, appeared ghastly and filthy, indicating the kind of battle that had raged in this area very recently; it really wasn’t pleasant to linger here, but the dark-haired man couldn’t just leave. At last, he spotted a solitary living figure amongst the corpses and ruins – hunched over as he sat on a large piece of wall. The other man’s face was obscured by his intertwined hands as he appeared deep in thought, but Gajeel would recognize that shock of pink hair anywhere.

“Oi, Flamebrain! What’re ya doin’? Let’s go home!” He called out exasperatedly.

The pink-haired man, wrapped in a tattered gray cloak, his arms covered thoroughly in wrappings, didn’t answer for several moments, but when he did, Gajeel felt incredibly uneasy.

“Go back, Gajeel. I’m not done.”

Gajeel’s face scrunched up in confusion and bewilderment.

“What are you talkin’ about? You annihilated this fortress, Natsu! There’s nobody left!”

“There are. They just have different bases.” Natsu grunted, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare as he peeked over his hands at Gajeel. “I’m not done until they’re all dead. Until I wrap my hands around the throats of every last one of those bastards… Until their bones are reduced to ash…!”

Gajeel’s eyes softened, the longer he stared at Natsu. He couldn’t help feeling anything but pity for his Guildmate. Natsu couldn’t be blamed for turning out like this; no matter how murderous he had become, it was all completely natural. Hell, if Levy had…

Gajeel shook his head as he couldn’t even finish that nightmarish thought.

“Natsu. We can’t just let ya run off half-cocked! If I let you go, Gray ‘n Mira are gonna have my head on a pike…!” He growled as Natsu stood up stubbornly, turning his back to the Iron Dragon Slayer. “Just think about what you’re doin’! You can’t stoop to their level! Come back with me!”

“I’m already worse than them, Gajeel… It’s too late. I’m gonna finish what I started, and I’m gonna protect you all. Don’t follow me.” Natsu coldly bit out.

Gajeel gnashed his teeth as he took a step towards Natsu’s retreating back.

“Salamander…!”

“Tell Happy to stay with Lisanna, and not to come after me.” Natsu droned in an equally cold tone. He spared no more words even as Gajeel continued to call out to him.

Gajeel would never see him again.

~*~

Waver awoke with a desperate gasp, panting soon after he sat up in bed and covered in sweat. He looked around his darkened bedroom, and found there to be no threats or anything amiss. As he got his breathing under control, he stared down at his blanket-covered legs.

“Was… Was that a vision?” Waver muttered to himself. In all his research on the Holy Grail War, the topic of visions had never come up… But that had definitely felt so real. It had to have been Gajeel’s memories of when he was alive. “But… how…?”

The blanket bunched together in Waver’s clenched fists as he tried to think about it logically. The only thing that came to mind… was that their connection as Master and Servant must have allowed him to see a glimpse into Gajeel’s past. But even so, the ‘how’ wasn’t really important… What concerned Waver was the contents of that memory. The Fairy Tail Guild was one of the most legendary organizations of mages in the world, and many of their exploits had been recorded exhaustively. While Waver had only been able to get the bare-bones summary of their history while on the flight to Japan, nothing that was recorded seemed all that… dark.

But that memory had definitely been real. The wretched sky, the soot-filled air, that carnage and those ruins, and that tense standoff with Berserker… Or rather, Natsu Dragneel, as he’d been known in life. That hadn’t been just any old dream conjured by his imagination. And Gajeel had felt so pained and filled with regret about letting Natsu go like that… Waver didn’t really understand why Gajeel hadn’t gone after him; Rider wasn’t the type to hesitate, but in that one instance he had. And he apparently regretted it for the rest of his life.

“Where am I gonna find out more about Fairy Tail’s history, though…? It’s not like I can just walk up to Rider and demand he tell me. And I don’t want to waste a Command Seal and get him mad at me…” Waver sighed as he ran a hand through his hair agitatedly before flopping back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with mild frustration. “… Guess I’ll think on it tomorrow.”

Up on the roof of the Mackenzie household, Gajeel sat cross-legged. A light breeze blew his hair around a little, and the Iron Dragon Slayer’s eyes were fixed on the nightlife scene of Fuyuki. Unconsciously, he clenched his fists tightly.

~*~

Gray leaned back against the wall and sighed raggedly as he crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling. Despite swearing fealty to Kayneth, the man had more than a few harsh words to say about not slaying Erza on the spot… Not that Gray particularly cared what his Master thought about that “failure”. He was gonna win the Grail for Kayneth – that wasn’t about to change. But no matter how loyal he was to his new Master, he wasn’t so devoid of honor that he’d strike Erza down when she was distracted by Flamebrain of all people…

The Ice Mage clenched his teeth and clutched his arm tighter as his thoughts drifted there…

“Natsu…” Gray growled and swore under his breath. Before he could continue that line of thought, a feminine giggle gathered all his attention.

“Kayneth’s words still echoing in your ears? You should have just let me tear into him. It’s not like he’s above criticism~…” The woman slowly strode up to Gray, hands clasped behind her back. The Ice Mage merely rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Criticism and beating a dead horse are two completely different things, Sola-Ui… I wasn’t about to let you humiliate him, too. He got enough of that from Berserker and Rider…” Subconsciously, his grip around his forearm tightened again. Sola-Ui tilted her head curiously.

“You know he wasn’t exactly right for beating your ‘failure’ like a dead horse? I mean, it’s not like there will never be another chance to defeat Saber. Kayneth’s just obsessed because Sabers tend to be the strongest Servants…” Sola-Ul traced a lazy semicircle around Lancer, a cocky grin tugging at her lips. “It’s too bad in this particular War, Lancer rises above all others, eh?”

Gray scoffed, arms dropping to his sides as he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. I know my own limits. Every single Servant in this War could take me on… I’m not even gonna rule out Assassin or Caster, who I haven’t seen yet.” He craned his head to the side as his fists stayed clenched at his sides. “If I have my way, three of ‘em are gonna be my responsibility. Counting Erza.”

Sola-Ui frowned, and her brow furrowed.

“Three? Not six?”

“I dunno who Caster and Assassin are yet, like I said. And Gajeel… I wouldn’t care if someone else took him out.” He curled his fists hard enough that even Sola-Ui could hear them. “Hades, though… And Erza and Flamebrain… I have to settle things with them personally. Hades goes without saying. Erza, I would have taken her on personally even without Kayneth’s obsession… And Natsu…”

Gray trailed off there, unwilling to say another word about Natsu. Sola-Ui’s frown deepened.

“History says you and Natsu butted heads with every chance you received… Is it just a fire and ice thing?”

The Ice Mage snorted derisively.

“If it was something as cliché as that, I wouldn’t even bother making it personal.” He began to walk away from Sola-Ui, despite her protests. “Don’t think about it too much. It’s between me and him. I know exactly why he’s in this thing, and I’m gonna stop him… at any cost…”

As he shimmered away into his spirit form, Sola-Ui scowled in frustration, leaving their conversation at that. Even in spirit form, Gray felt like rolling his eyes.

‘It’s like she’s an unholy combination of Juvia and Ultear… Ugh. I don’t wanna even imagine that.’

~*~

Kiritsugu frowned as he pored over the maps and photos sprawled across the table. He knew that the Grail War was just starting, but there were far too many unknown variables – and that wasn’t even counting the Noble Phantasms, which they hadn’t seen any of, yet.

“We barely even know where anyone is holed up…” The Magus Killer muttered. “Tokiomi hasn’t left Tohsaka Manor even once. Kayneth has turned a hotel into his personal workshop… Kirei Kotomine, Kariya Matou, and Waver Velvet are constantly on the move… And Caster… he and his Master must have some base of operations, but finding it isn’t going to be easy.”

Erza sighed breezily as she entered the room, clad in a suit and dress pants combo that Irisveil had picked out for her.

“Natsu and Rider will come to us when they’re ready. Dragon Slayers have noses like no other.”

Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes at the small sign of fondness in her tone. He stared up at the redhead sternly.

“Even if they were your Guildmates in life, we still have to take them down.”

Erza averted her eyes from Kiritsugu’s, but the Magus Killer could tell she wasn’t having doubts.

“You don’t need to remind me… I am well aware of the nature of this war.” She looked back into his eyes with just as much steel behind them. “It is you who seems to need reminding about your role… As my Master, you should not go around behind my back to assassinate enemy Masters. By doing so, you’re not only endangering your own life, but also dishonoring me and the other Servants who are fighting this war for your sake as well as theirs.”

Kiritsugu rolled his eyes and snorted at the mere notion of ‘honor’.

“Honor? There’s nothing more facetious in this world. You’re not going to win a war with petty ideals like ‘honor’. Victory comes to those who will do everything in their power to claim it… You can’t afford to hesitate even for a second, because that one second is all the time the enemy will need to cut you down for their own selfish gains. Wars aren’t won on platitudes.”

Erza’s nostrils flared as she glared Kiritsugu down.

“I know how wars are fought…! And I have won my fair share without compromising my ideals!”

Kiritsugu placed a hand on his hip casually, not growing annoyed by Erza’s tone in the least.

“Perhaps you did… But did all your Guildmates, I wonder?” He arched his eyebrow critically as her eyes widened, shocked he’d bring them up. “Maybe before the war with Tartaros, your Guild was a collection of saints, never killing their opponents. But like it or not, you all wiped out the Guild of Tartaros, and your very own rival, Mirajane Strauss, harvested their souls to fuel her own power. Lancer, Gray Fullbuster, became a Demon Slayer after inheriting his father’s will. Furthermore, in your war with Alvarez, Laxus Dreyar and Rider killed two Spriggan Shields. And let’s not forget the fearsome Acnologia… all of your beloved Dragon Slayers annihilated him.”

Kiritsugu took his hand off his hip and deepened his frown.

“That doesn’t even cover all the legends that came after Alvarez… Especially after your death. Though… frankly, it’s probably for the best that you don’t seem to have that knowledge. You might look at some of your fellow ‘Heroic Spirits’ very differently if you did.”

Erza’s hands curled into fists. The more Kiritsugu lectured her, the more she found herself absolutely seething.

“You speak as one from the present day, who never knew the tribulations we had to go through… The hardships, the heartache… I don’t claim that we were perfect. But we never abandoned our loyalty. Our bond. We were all that we had. And that bond… prevented us from succumbing to the darkness, even in our own hearts.”

Kiritsugu took out a lighter from his pocket and lit up a cigarette. He puffed smoke calmly, much to Erza’s irritation.

“… And what do you suppose happened when you lose ‘all that you had’? I think the two you were closest to in life can answer that… And luckily for you, they’re both participating in this war so you can ask them yourself.” Kiritsugu stared at Erza out of the corner of his eye as he began to move past her. “Put away your pride. If you want to show your friends mercy, win this war for them. I guarantee your own desire, your own wish… will be far kinder than theirs.”

Having spoken his peace, Kiritsugu strolled out of the room, leaving the scarlet knight with much to think about.

~*~

Aoi was startled when the doorbell rang. Rin wasn’t due back from school for a few hours yet, and hardly anyone stopped by in the middle of the day like this. When she opened the front door, she half-expected Tokiomi or some messenger of his… But what she saw was even more shocking than that.

“Sakura…?!” Aoi gasped, hands flying to her mouth impulsively. She appeared a bit malnourished… But that was definitely Sakura, standing there politely and offering a pleasant beam.

“Mom…!” She couldn’t help releasing a small laugh as she threw her arms out as she tackled Aoi with an affectionate hug.

Aoi didn’t even have to think twice. She held her formerly estranged daughter tightly and cried. Even if she knew it couldn’t last… Even if this was some cruel trick by the Matou Clan Head, Aoi would treasure this moment forever. Because she never thought she’d be allowed to hold Sakura in her arms ever again.

It felt like an eternity before she registered the second figure standing at the front door. He’d previously let Sakura have this tender moment with her mother before he couldn’t help himself and step into view to get a good look at the reunion. A warm smile tugged at his lips.

“Sakura really missed you, Aoi… I would’ve been a monster to keep her from you.”

“Kariya…” Aoi whispered hoarsely, wiping at her tear-filled eyes confusedly. And despite how happy she felt in this moment, she couldn’t help but ask the question that plagued her mind. “Why have you brought Sakura here…? You know… what we did…”

Despite how sad Aoi sounded, Sakura looked up at her mother calmly and without a hint of anger.

“Mother… It’s okay! You and father… only wanted the best for me…” Sakura couldn’t help smiling bittersweetly. “It was really scary living with the Matou’s, but Uncle Kariya and Mister Natsu saved me! And Uncle Kariya says we’ll be able to live together as a family again!”

Aoi looked awestruck as she processed her daughter’s words. She stared up at Kariya in disbelief, and he offered a hearty grin in return.

“It’s true. Sakura’s free, Aoi. I… I joined the Holy Grail War because Zouken had promised me that if I returned victorious with the Grail, he would free Sakura! But my Servant, Natsu… he annihilated Zouken. He purged my and Sakura’s bodies of that old vampire’s worms, and he secured Sakura’s future! She will never again be violated by the Matou’s twisted Magic… If she still wants to become a Mage, I won’t stop her. But she won’t have to do a single thing for the Matou’s!”

As Kariya’s words sank in, Aoi’s eyes softened, and she gently smiled, reinforcing her hug with Sakura.

“Kariya… thank you.” She whispered softly. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you…”

Kariya shook his head, a slightly amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Just take care of Sakura, at least until this War is over. If Tokiomi still insists on sending her away… I’ll take her so that she won’t have to go through any more horrors with different Mage families. And then… we can play in that park, like we used to… in better days…”

Aoi’s eyes fell to Sakura as she petted the top of Sakura’s head.

“Kariya… I’d… I’d like that…” Aoi hesitated in showing her agreement. She looked up at him again, but this time with concern. “You’re still going to participate in that War?”

Kariya’s eyes fell as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

“… I have to.”

Aoi hugged Sakura tighter as she looked up at Kariya with some distress in her eyes.

“Kariya, you’ve saved Sakura! You don’t need to risk your life anymore…!”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Kariya that spoke, but Sakura.

“Mister Natsu’s hurting…” Sakura didn’t pause even as Aoi leaned back to look her in the eyes. “Uncle Kariya promised he’d help Mister Natsu so that the pain would go away…”

Kariya made a small, bitter snort of amusement.

“It’s my fault for listening to Zouken… I brought Natsu into this world under a madness enchantment. I can’t just send him back after all he’s done for us. He deserves peace, too.”

“Kariya…” Aoi whispered softly.

The pale-haired young man gave a reassuring grin.

“I promise. Once I’ve helped Natsu win the Grail, I’ll be back! And I’ll even make sure Tokiomi makes it home, too! I’ll do it for you, Aoi. And for Sakura and Rin.” Kariya turned on his heel and stepped away from the front door, throwing his hood up over his head again. He waved his hand lazily as he departed.

Aoi and Sakura both watched his retreating back, feeling anxious about Kariya’s decision. Sakura seemed to want to go with him, but Aoi kept her close. The least she could do was be the mother she was supposed to be for Sakura.

… But that didn’t make her feel any better, just letting Kariya go like that. He was doing so much for them… and all she could do was watch him march off to war. If he did make it back, as he promised… she would let him adopt Sakura.

It was the least she could do for her longtime friend.

#Fate/Zero #Fairy Tail #Kirei Kotomine #Risei Kotomine #Natsu Dragneel #Gajeel Redfox #Waver Velvet #Gray Fullbuster #Sola-Ui #Kiritsugu Emiya #Erza Scarlet #Kariya Matou #Aoi Tohsaka #Sakura Matou

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