#this is so nonsensical. thinking a lot of things.
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cold nights // part thirty-two
summary: the end.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.9k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.
a/n:
the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(
ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!
if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!
just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')
see you soon!
my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)
send me any and all of your thoughts! here!
series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board
You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.
Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.
It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.
Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.
"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.
"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.
"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."
"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."
"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.
"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.
"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.
You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.
The funeral.
All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.
"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."
"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"
You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."
"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."
"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.
"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."
The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.
You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.
It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.
Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."
You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.
You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.
You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.
Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.
He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.
Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.
He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.
As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.
Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.
"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.
"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."
"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."
You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.
"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.
"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.
"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.
"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."
He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."
"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.
This was it. This was your breaking point.
Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.
Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"
"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.
When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."
You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."
"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."
You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.
"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.
"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."
"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."
You pry your eyes open to face him.
"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"
"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.
"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."
"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.
"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."
"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.
"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"
"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.
He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"
You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.
"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.
Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.
"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."
"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."
"That should not be enough, though." You insist.
"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.
He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."
"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.
He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"
"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.
You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.
taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss
okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!
also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)
#tbosas#tbosas x reader#tbosas fic#tbosas fanfiction#thg#thg series#thg fanfiction#thg fanfic#thg fic#the hunger games#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus x you#coriolanus imagine#coryo snow#coryo#coryo x you#coryo x reader#snow lands on top#snow x reader
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Self aware! Aventurine x fem!reader. Yandere! Aventurine cause why not. Something for giggles at the end.
No smut guys. This is just me being silly, and self indulgent cause Aventurine evaded me. It stings, ngl so this is more to make myself feel better😂 Pay zero attention to this nonsense omg 😂
Aventurine could instantly feel the sadness caused by the crushing weight of life through your hands the moment you played his character demo. He knew what that was like, so to be nice and so you could shut your brain off for awhile, no damage was taken at all from enemies.
Oh, but what's this? You started playing this game just for him. There were 5 days left for him to "come home", but sweetheart, it was an unrealistic gamble. You were still very wet behind the ears. Trailblaze level 39 and barely even aware of your own abilities to play the game.
Aventurine could definitely feel how scared you were observing you struggle and ultimately triumph over certain tasks once you got a feel for it down. It took you a lot of nerve to even play. He would hear you think, "I hate messing up and not doing things right the first time."
Dedication squeezed at your heart. Made you lose sleep. Dedication all for him.
Please quiet your pounding heart, darling. You have a better grasp than you think. It was quite frankly amazing to see.
It was both amusing and endearing to see you soak up information like a sponge. Only to have you try and pull when you had a comfortable amount of currency.
As the days went by, and your time window got closer to slamming shut until the next opportunity, he supposed that it was a good thing Dr. Ratio was helping you out.
Supposed, anyways
You were starting to cheer for Ratio when he started to crit high. That was starting to irk him, but the rush of fulfillment he felt through you when you cleared something made it worth it.
After all, you were doing all this for him. Aventurine was only able to feel your emotions because he is was always on your mind every second you played. Even after logging off.
You are his, damn it. That was that. There really wasn't anyone else you needed. He craved to spoil you.
Of course, he had his own ways of keeping tabs on you. Dr. Ratio was starting to be more use to him that he thought.
Aventurine truly hated shutting you down, especially when he felt your heart sting and a few tears well into your eyes. You held your head high and soldiered right on, brushing them away from your eyes with your delicate hand before they even fell.
He wanted you flourish first. He wanted you to have 10000% confidence. He knew he could've just come home and did everything for you, but he wanted to fight by your side as well as fight for you. He wanted you set up the party with him in it and think with a smile, "I can do this. I know I am capable. And I have you, Aventurine. Nothing can go wrong."
It was a pleasure for him to watch you. Especially in the Simulated Universe, and the Critter Pick quest. How you smiled and giggled at the cat cakes. You cooed at them. Even lamented about not having something like them in another game.
When that time finally came, and it would, don't you worry your pretty little head. He already knew your dedication level was incredibly high, and there would be extra insurance provided by both you and him.
Aventurine realized that you were irrevocably, totally, and completely dizzy in love with him. The words in your head exactly. They made his heart skip beats.
When he realized he was in love with you, it was during the end of Critter Pick mission. It snuck up on him, and slapped him hard in the face. It was when you were facing down the Swarm for the final Curio.
You loathed The Juvenile Sting and Lesser Sting from the Swarm in particular. You'd retreated over and over, getting intimidated when they multiplied. Until one night, you'd narrowed your eyes in determination and said, "Okay, you fucking bugs. Let's go. I won't be bullied by you today. I will do this for the sake of the cat cakes."
You dug your heels in, and didn't run. You wanted to do many times. You were already terribly fragile with your confidence to begin with. He watched you so close, and the surge of pride he felt when he saw you refused to yield in the end was undescribable.
"That's my girl," He'd murmured when the final bug exploded. Ratio may have taken care of you, and he was glad for that. Aventurine knew he would've been better for you.
Until that day when he could come for you, darling, he was still going to be there. Hovering patiently unseen. Maybe your shields around your characters would last a little longer in tight spots. Maybe a mysterious extra skill point would appear that you thought you didn't have. Maybe, just for you, Ratio would have an extra follow up attack.
And okay maybe sometimes when you had to pause battle for whatever reason, Ratio would get downed mysteriously now and then. He really, really was starting to hate that you relied on him so much.
Aventurine sought out a certain master hacker to put traces on your phone. That would was the only way to keep you close off game. Perhaps he would find a way to just come to you. And poof, you would disappear from your world and go with him.
He felt much better knowing where you were, and what you were doing when he so desired. He lived for when he could hear you say his name outloud. It sounded so sweet to him to even hear you think it.
It was ideal, really.
And just who was Scaramouche anyways? He was immediately shut down with such a spine chilling shock when he tried to investigate.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#aventurine#self aware aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#aventurine x y/n
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It is absolutely disgusting to frame Jews as "ungrateful brats" for daring to (correctly) say "nobody came to our aid in WWII" while you yourself are being an ungrateful brat stomping your feet and screaming and crying that over 400,000 Americans "gave their lives to save the Jews."
This patronizing and frankly victim blaming "community notes" on a speech made by Netanyahu is pretty damning! I smell some Hitler particles coming off of this, what about you? And we all know Netanyahu is a criminal clown but this quote:
Was not incorrect.
It says so much about how you view the Holocaust if you agree with the American (and other Allies') perspective on the Shoah. History says otherwise. The Allies only cared about the Shoah when it was politically beneficial and convenient to frame themselves as liberators and heroes.
They turned boats carrying Jewish refugees away, the USSR sank some of them, drowning hundreds. All these governments denied entry visas. The United States allowed Nazi sympathizers to hold rallies and stage protests, while normal Americans prided themselves on their neutrality (more Americans were sympathetic to Syrian refugees entering in the 2010s than Jewish refugees in the 1930s).
American (and British) forces entering "liberated" camps were often "shocked" by what they found. And yet the world knew for years about Hitler's antisemitism, the Nuremburg Laws, Kristallnacht. So not only were they aware of the danger posed to Jews, most people as well as their governments didn't care. And their "shocked" reaction to discovering evidence of genocide should tell you they certainly weren't motivated to join the war to stop a genocide!
To demand that a people be "grateful" to you for doing nothing and then helping defeat the Nazis (for your own benefit) which stopped the genocide they faced after only a paltry 6 million people were murdered... you are the real brats. Thankfully a few brave naïve Twitter people pointed out under the predictable comments things like the Yad Vashem... or the fact that so many people saying "I've never heard a Jew thank a goyim for anything!" were met with "you probably don't know any Jews lol."
The legacy of the Holocaust/Shoah to people like this is "Worship us, sanctify our names and deepthroat our cocks forever because we think we saved you." Like how dare you think Jews should forever be on their knees kissing your feet because you deigned to "end" a genocide after 80% of Europe's Jewry was gone. Your true colors show the moment any Jews ever question America's exceptionalism and beneficence. This happens a lot. If an Israeli ever says a single thing that does less than imply sunshine comes out of America's ass, a lot of the (right wing) American non Jewish Israel supporters immediately go off the fucking rails and "threaten" to stop their support.
This is the dangerous side of American Philosemitism. Because without fail, and I mean without fail, this jingoistic kneejerk temper tantrum instinct in Americans invites literal Holocaust deniers to come out of their toilets and start spewing their vile nonsense. And do you know what all of these people crying about their peepaw's sacrifice for those ungrateful Christ Killers say in response to these Nazis? Nothing.
Their support for Jews is entirely contingent on how much Jewish people kiss their asses, or how much they perceive Jewish people to be kissing their asses, and America's ass. Childish!
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i think a lot about the "brain hacking" aspect of mind control
i don't just mean tech control and brain chips and stuff, although those are super fun!! but it's more like... the idea that you can exploit the human brain is just. on my mind frequently
imagine if one day we discovered a visual pattern or something that could totally hijack your mind. like it just tickled all the right neurons that it triggered some sort of cascade and broke you wide open, leaving you suggestible and pliant
i think a major reason this is on my mind so often is because it's the sort of thing that would be LITERALLY impossible to resist. like what are you gonna do?? for a psychological process you can struggle, hold out, fight, but for a neurological process you just. snap. gone. there's also this clinical aspect to it, where you're sort of treated like a machine; a bundle of neurotransmitters that can be sparked in a way that's just proper, and then reprogrammed
so basically i just get sooo weak when inductions use this kind of language. even if it's complete nonsense it just!! it calls forth this imagery when a spiral is described not just as a focus but as a stimulator or something like that, and when its mechanism is described. hell, it doesn't even have to go for the neurological stuff- isn't it really really hot and squirm inducing when you're being TOLD how you're being hypnotized? like the opposite of covert stuff, when the hypnotist is just calmly explaining to you all the complex things they're doing to your mind and you're just too zoned out to even clock that you're being put under control
(also hi!! i'm posting again :D thanks to everyone who's still hanging around ily!! send me asks abt things and i'll have fun answering them!!)
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Xenophobia in Celtic nations' independence movements: A guide to the red flags
This is something I've wanted to write about for a long time - I want to go over this in more detail when I can. But for now a short guide to the most egregious red flags is warranted imo.
'Celtic nations' refers to the modern regions where Celtic languages are still spoken, namely Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Isle of Man, Cornwall and Brittany. Its important to know that these places are called Celtic not because of who lives there, but because of the languages which have survived there. Its a common error to think 'Celtic nations'= Celtic people. In my field (Celtic Studies) Celtic is generally only applied as a descriptor in the sense of language family.
Because of the popular misinformation 'Celtic nation' = 'Celtic' population, xenophobia rears its ugly head in multiple corners of the various Celtic nations' independence movements. Left unchecked, this xenophobia develops into outright racism. Which is why it's important to recognise these red flags when you see them.
'Acceptable Targets':
The reason why some of the xenophobia goes unchecked (and develops into worse kinds) is because a lot of xenophobia in the Celtic nations is aimed at 'acceptable' targets - which no-one bats an eye about when this rhetoric is deployed. But were it deployed against any other nationalities, it would immediately obvious that it isn't acceptable. Now, I will preface this with that there's nuance with these nationalities and there's something to be said about whether some of it is 'punching up'. However, because of how accepted it is to be casually xenophobic against these privileged groups, it is signalled through that that it's okay to be xenophobic in general to less privileged groups. I feel its important to address the first rung on the ladder before tackling any higher up.
Without beating around the bush, I'm talking about the English (and French. But I know more about the English so that's where my focus will be).
Yes, pro-independence anti-English memes and jokes can be funny. Most of them do stay on the side of punching up and many raise important points on the effects of English imperialism on the Celtic languages. However, there's a fine line between punching up and voluntarily using and wielding xenophobic arguments and rhetoric to get one up on the English. This, in my view, only paves the way for worse kinds of xenophobia and to me is a canary in the coal mine situation. But I also cannot talk about this without also making it clear that it is possible to recognise that sometimes a line is crossed without validating English persecution complexes à la 'you can't even say you're English these days' or similar nonsense. Both things can be true at once: Casual xenophobia against the English does exist, however, its existence should not be used to validate English persecution complexes. On the contrary, we should fight that also.
The reason why this canary in the coal mine has gone unnoticed is because of the reluctance to actually point out xenophobia against the English in pro-independence movements due to fear of accidentally validating the claims Englishness as a concept is under threat or due of fear of ostracism from Celtic nationalist movements. There is little danger of actually validating the former sentiment, however, because of a crucial fact. The people in the Celtic nations being casually xenophobic and the English with persecution complexes have one massive trait in common: they're both xenophobic in incredibly similar ways. If it's hard to tell apart an English nationalist from one in a Celtic nation if you were to swap the target of their ire, congratulations, your movement has a xenophobia problem /s.
English nationalist: We should tighten controls on our borders to keep all those foreigners and immigrants out. Make England English again.
(Xenophobic) Celtic nationalist: We should fight for our independence so we can tighten controls on our borders to keep all those foreigners and immigrants out. Make [insert Celtic nation] [nationish] again.
Many Celtic nationalists will also present ahistorical facts or manipulated versions of history in order to seem more valid or legitimate. It's a massive red flag when someone's grasp of history seems more emotional than grounded in historical fact. Using Welsh history as an example, I've seen this type of Celtic nationalist blatantly lie about historical figures, literally deface ancient castles in Wales based on a poor grasp (and respect for) history and conflate modern English and Welsh identity with ancient entities which do not map neatly 1:1. The ahistory presented by individuals or groups fancying themselves as leaders in their respective movements are unquestioningly accepted by others in the Celtic nationalist movements. This creates a manufactured mythology, belief in which confers in-group status and out-group status. A mythology which reinforces beliefs already present in the movement - such as the right to be casually xenophobic as long as it's against the 'right people' and as long as it is done in the name of protecting or advocating for their nation.
It was never going to stop at English people:
Once casual xenophobia is established as being tolerated, expected or even encouraged in the various independence movements, it enables xenophobes to be bolder in their rhetoric. Because casual xenophobia against 'deserving' nations like England is dismissed as 'just banter' and not taken seriously, it sends a signal to everyone in that movement that xenophobia is okay if its used against the 'right groups. While it may roll like water off a duck's back to the average English person, other, more vulnerable people do not fare so well.
To use an actual example I've seen out in the wild, some people will claim that you can't be considered Welsh unless you were born in Wales. Many people won't question this or interrogate the implications. Firstly, this comes back to how Celtic nationalists can often sound exactly the same as English nationalists (blood and soil nationalism is common to English and Celtic nationalisms). Secondly, this rhetoric also simulataneously invalidates several ostensibly Welsh people, such as Saunders Lewis (born in Liverpool) and Jan Morris (born in Somerset). In most cases, anyone who lives in X country / is a citizen of X country can or should be able to describe themselves as Xish.
The perennial anxiety of Celtic nationalists is that because most of the Celtic nations (excepting the Republic of Ireland) are constituent parts of a state (either the UK or France) and not independent entities in their own right, there is no control over borders and there is no system by which someone can be made a Welsh, or Breton or Cornish etc. citizen - and thus no way to control [nation]ness via those means. When Celtic nationalists agitate for independence, it's important to interrogate their motivations. If they are motivated primarily by a desire to control who is considered Xish and who isn't, that's a red flag.
English nationalists have this citizenship problem too, since England is not an independent nation, but a country within the UK. However, most English nationalists overlap heavily with British nationalists in general, so most agitation for 'sovereignty' gets channelled into British nationalism. This is one of the key differences between English and Celtic nationalists - the former is usually very fond of the United Kingdom, the latter detests it and wants to secede. This leaves Celtic nationalism in a tight spot - there is a desire for self determination which is currently impossible to achieve or enforce. And that makes a lot of Celtic nationalists anxious. And that anxiety leads to feeling like they need to prove their commitment to the cause by performing xenophobia, which validates their in-group status while simultaneously establishes the out-group.
A person born in England but who lives in Wales, perhaps speaks Welsh or considers themself Welsh will, in general, be mostly unharmed by 'you have to be born in Wales to be Welsh' rhetoric. But you know who might be? So many immigrants who consider themselves Welsh who make Wales a great place to be. Immigrants in Wales (especially nonwhite immigrants) may feel excluded by such rhetoric. It's almost on par with "where are you really from" sentiments. And this is an entirely self-defeating kind of rhetoric for Celtic nationalists to take up. Here we have thousands upon thousands of people who willingly want to live and work in Celtic nations - many of whom will also learn the language - undoing centuries of English and French propaganda that diminished the worth of Celtic nations and their languages* - and Celtic nationalists want to exclude these people from claiming the nationality of their adopted nations because... they didn't happen to be born here. Got it.
Xenophobia, once established, cannot be contained:
Xenophobia ripples outwards. Once it is established it is okay to be xenophobic to certain groups, other groups begin to be included in the xenophobia. This then has the potential to expand into outright racism. In Ireland, for example, there's significant amounts of antiblack racism present in the nationalist movement. Very recently, due to the actions of the UK government over the Rwanda Plan, the Republic of Ireland has gotten frustrated at the amount of immigrants attempting to reach their shores after abandoning attempts to claim asylum in the UK (out of fear of being sent to Rwanda). There's a "we don't do that here" attitude in many Celtic nationalist movements with regards to English imperialism, xenophobia, racism and anti-immigration. But not only do we do that here - it's worryingly integral to some people's visions for their nation's independence! You end up with complacency because many will take a literal no true Scotsman approach to Celtic nationalism and pretend that such people aren't really part of the movement. The problem is, is that they are here and regularly hijack otherwise unproblematic movements.
There are many routes through which Celtic nationalists can get radicalised into becoming massively xenophobic in order to fight for their respective nation's independence. All of them stem from real, legitimate problems in each nation whose cause has been misidentified.
One way is through opposition to second homes. On all counts, a noble goal and a very legitimate problem which I myself am invested in fighting. But the ways in which this problem is addressed often veer into questionable territory. If the focus is on "how dare those people from over there come over here" instead of "how dare a very small group of people monopolise housing for holiday lets at the expense of locals" there's a problem. The problem isn't people not from [place] holidaying there, it's the people who monopolise housing for their own profit which reduces housing available for locals and destroys community. In Aberystwyth I've heard some appalling sentiments against people from the Midlands - borderline if not outright classism around their appearances, mannerisms and accents. Sneering at random families visiting the beach isn't going to help anything and only exposes thinly veiled bigotry in whoever is making such remarks.
As already mentioned, another way radicalisation into xenophobic Celtic nationalism can occur is through mythologised 'history' which has been manipulated to suit the needs of the person or people making the claim. Lately, I've been seeing a rise in Welsh 'history' groups rife with disinformation and outright misrepresentation of historical events which are so designed to keep people angry about historical injustices against Wales. There are plenty of real historical injustices which can be talked about - but the 'history' presented in these groups is often fabricated or twisted to make things worse than they were or are stripped of nuance which perhaps paints certain historical figures less favourably than the authors would have liked. Not to mention superimposing modern nationalism onto ancient peoples is also just accepted as fine to do. Here is a screenshot of a Welsh 'history' group shared in a Welsh learning group I'm in. I can and will do a deeper dive into this topic in particular when I can. For now I'll mention the most important things to notice:
As mentioned in one of my other posts on this topic - the term 'native' is frequently misused in a Celtic context. Here, it sets up the basic in-group/out-group dynamic from the start and creates a setting in which members of the group are privy to the 'real' history while others are not. A brief glance at posts in this group makes that quite clear. The flag in the image is a representation of Y Groes Naid - supposedly a piece of the True Cross kept at Aberconwy. Now, there are ways to depict this cross which aren't so dogwhistley - so I'm immediately suspicious this image was chosen on purpose. Right down to the fact there's plausible deniability if anyone tries to point out how much the flag looks like the white supremacist Celtic Cross symbol, since it's Y Groes Naid, right?
I will wrap this up with that as a Celticist, I see far too many people uncritically supporting certain Celtic nationalist movements simply because they are pro-independence. Turning a blind eye to 'acceptable' xenophobia and choosing to believe ahistorical versions of history because it better suits their politics. This must be resisted - we can advocate for the independence of Celtic nations which desire it without relying upon these means. It can be done, I promise. But the path to that means dismantling systems of oppression which exist within Celtic nationalist movements. Awareness of the problem in the first place is a good place to start.
Reblogs and comments are welcome on this post to raise awareness of the issue and actually talk about these things.
Diolch am darllen!
#cymblr#tymblr#Celtic#celtic studies#celtic languages#celtic nations#racism cw#(in case)#xenophobia#anti xenophobia#antiracism#celtic history#celtic mythology#welsh nationalism#annibyniaeth#annibyniaeth wrthfasgaidd#antifascism#Ireland#Wales#Scotland#Isle of Man#Cornwall#Brittany#I didn't have time to touch on pan-celtic nationalism but that's a whole nother beast#reblogs welcome#long post
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Kiss Prompt Scarian 30 …as comfort? :3 -🎀
ange asked for this as well, so it’s gotta be hhau, right? ft. some unused dialogue from our Big RP™
Scar hates seeing Grian like this— curled up and miserable, wings tucked so tightly against his back that they may as well be invisible. His hands fidget with the ribbon tied around one of his wrists, body mostly hidden under the length of his cloak. He’s pressed up into the wall in a way that can’t be comfortable and Scar just can’t take it anymore.
He needs to do something.
“Grian,” Scar tries, and though his ears droop slightly when Grian barely twitches in response, he still continues. “Did I ever tell you about my idea for a cookie shop?”
Grian does perk up slightly at that, but it’s mostly to cock an eyebrow in confusion, wondering why Scar would possibly think to bring up such a thing now of all times.
They hardly ever talk about Hermitcraft. And for good reason— it usually results in nothing but pain.
But something about Scar making cookies brings warmth to Grian’s frigid, aching heart, and despite his better judgement, he mumbles, “…cookie shop?”
Scar smiles, feeling successful already and deciding to ride that high. “Yeah, and I was going to bake them myself! None of that villager crap.”
Grian doesn’t reply directly, but he nods, eyes now regarding Scar with renewed interest, glad to tether his attention onto something that isn’t his own self-loathing and despair.
Scar is happy to take what he can get. He also scoots in closer to Grian, craving the closeness, just wanting to be within his orbit. It takes a moment, but Grian returns the casual affection by idly running his fingers over Scar’s knee, which is more than enough to keep Scar going on with his daydreamy nonsense.
“I was gonna grow out my hair and have this whole elven theme going— live in a tree, work right out of my house.” Scar runs a hand through his messy hair, noting that it’s already begun to grow out quite a lot, even if it looks nothing like how he would have intended. He probably looks more like some sort of goblin than a lustrous-haired elf.
Grian chuckles softly, pulling Scar out of his thoughts. “What, like a Keebler Elf?”
“What’s a Keebler Elf?” Scar asks, entirely genuine.
That gets Grian to laugh fully, and even if Scar doesn’t understand why, it makes his heart about melt. He loves Grian’s laugh. He doesn’t get to hear it enough these days.
“You know,” Scar adds, feeling cheeky now that he’s already earned this small victory. “I had a particular cookie in mind that I bet you would have loved.”
“Tell me,” Grian says, eager for more of this delightful distraction.
Now that he’s got him, Scar begins a long-winded explanation, theatrical and exuberant: “Well, I make a delicious chocolate chip cookie, of course, but you can’t have those—“
“I’m not allergic to chocolate, Scar.”
“You’re not??” Scar gasps, earning a small eye roll from Grian (he’s still smiling though, so still a win). “Well no matter! Because I had an amayzin’ idea for incorporating chorus fruit into the icing for sugar cookie.”
“Chorus fruit, really?” Grian replies quietly, now weirdly finding himself craving the odd, purple fruit that he likely would have never eaten otherwise. He feels the edge of doomed nostalgia begin to creep in, but only for a moment because Scar keeps talking, snagging his attention back to this fantasy of a quaint little cookie shop.
“Yeah! A treat and a surprise!” Scar exclaims proudly. “One little bite and zzzzzooooop!”
Grian laughs again, weaker, but still amused by Scar’s antics. He wants to let the daydream linger, to picture bright purple frosting and a fantastical treehouse without feeling a sense of great loss of what could have and should have been. He struggles, but Scar’s smile keeps him grounded, leaves him leaning in, gravitated toward that unbridled joy he somehow manages to hold onto.
But maybe his sorrow still shows through, because Scar leans in closer, presenting that smile so it fills all of his vision. “You know what I was going to call them?”
Grian blinks, barely able to process anything other than the closeness of Scar’s smiling face. He manages a small shake of his head, eyes still anchored on Scar’s bright green ones.
Scar’s smile widens, seeming incredibly pleased with himself and whatever this answer may be.
“Elven kisses,” he coos, closing the distance and pressing their lips together, softly, like a feather brushing over skin.
The name hardly makes sense, if Grian is being honest, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. Something about the prospect of a simpler time, where Grian is surrounded by the fresh smell of cookies and a beautifully woven treehouse and the image of Scar presenting him with that name just as proudly, a shy little blush scattered across his cheeks.
He should have kissed Scar a long, long time ago, he thinks, somewhat sadly.
But Scar’s lips are on his now, and it’s possibly one of the only good things left in this wretched nightmare of a server— an uncomplicated affection, something genuine and pure. Something gentle and loving when everything else is coarse and cruel.
Grian moves, grabbing both sides of Scar’s head with desperate, yearning hands, and kisses him fully, hungry for the comfort of Scar’s breath against his own, lips intertwined, passionate and unwavering.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
He feels Scar’s mouth curl upwards into a joyous smile, pressed into his own, private— theirs alone to enjoy— and for a moment, everything feels like it might be alright.
For a moment there’s sweetness dancing across his tongue, and Grian willingly falls into the illusion of its simplicity.
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X-Men Fic (Rogue/Gambit) : Toys
A/N: Yes, this was inspired by that clip that's been going around of Gambit's VA for XM97 playing with action figures. I cannot believe this is what I'm writing for my first real fic for this fandom. Dear lord, forgive me for the shenanigans... also, unbeta'd. I just wanted to get it out into the world and be done with it.
I'll post this tomorrow on Ao3
Rated: T for suggestiveness
Summary: Rogue catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 comic verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97
****
Toys
Upon arriving home, Rogue comes in through the open kitchen window because why bother with stairs when you can fly? It’s been a long day, a long week, a long life… All she wants to do is curl up on the couch with the cats and a trashy book and hopefully Remy’s home so she can get a back massage. Hell, forget the book, she’ll gamble for the massage first. Save the trashy for later.
She grins, thinking about her husband’s warm hands on skin.
Remy is, indeed, home; standing at the kitchen island, his back turned towards the window, so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear her come in. And what he’s doing takes her by surprise.
The kitchen counter is covered in half open boxes, plastic containers, cardboard, and little zip ties. There are a good, half-dozen or so action figures all lined up in a semicircle; each one of them a well detailed, classically designed replica of, well… the X-Men. Oh, dear god, what did she walk into?
“I’ll take ya down in one slice, bub,” Remy says, holding the Wolverine figurine in one hand, his voice low as he attempts Logan’s gruff voice. Remy LeBeau is good at a lot of things, Rogue would be first to give you a list, but doing impressions is not one of them. She bites her lip, fascinated to see how this plays out. Remy grabs the Magento figurine as his voice shifts to imitate Erik. “You incels!” Remy screams; loud, exaggerated, and carefully enunciated. “How dare you try to take down me; the questionably dressed, ego too big for my helmet, Master of Magnetism?”
Rogue puts a hand up to her lips, holding back an amused snort. Oh, Remy…
Remy loses the impression as he lunges the Wolverine figurine at the Magneto one. The Magneto one floats away. “You fools! Don’ you remember I control the metal?” Shaking the Wolverine figurine violently, Remy lets out a feral scream and the figure is flung to the side, landing with a clatter in the sink.
Magneto is discarded for a moment as Remy picks up the Scott and Jean figurines. Scott has his hand to his visor while Jean has both her hands on the sides of her head. “Jean! I seem to have made a tactical error,” Remy cries in Scott’s no-nonsense voice. His voice then slides higher as he mimics Jean. “Scott, my telepathy. It out o’ whack! Oh, Scott!... Jean!… SCOTT!.... JEAN!!”
Rogue is dying inside. She holds herself tightly, trying as hard as she can not to burst out laughing.
Scott and Jean are shuffled into one hand as Remy picks up the Magneto figurine again. “Enough of this!” Remy says, back in the Magneto voice. He then lets out another dramatic scream as he tosses the Scott and Jean figurines onto the pile of boxes, scaring Oliver, who had been inspecting one of the twist ties.
He picks up the Storm figurine next, raising her arms to the ceiling. “An’ now you deal with Stormy, who will smite you with her lightning blasts.” He jolts the Storm hands into Magneto, making little sound effect lightning blasts as he does so. “Fool, I am impervious to lightning… How dat possible? Lightning an’ magnetism are not the same thing!... I can control static electricity!... Dat…still don’ make any sense!... Begone, weather witch!”
Rogue has tears in her eyes. She’s biting her lip so hard, it’s beginning to hurt. Thankfully, Remy is so lost in his make believe world that he can’t hear her snickering.
The Storm figurine is placed gently face down on the counter as Remy picks up the Gambit figurine. Rogue’s eyes grow wide, intensely waiting to see how this will play out…
“Ohh, you goin’ down now, mon ami,” Remy’s voice grows low and serious. He starts making explosion sound effects, as if the Gambit figurine is throwing little playing cards at the Magneto one. Remy then throws his head back in a villainous laugh as he goes back to the Magneto voice. “You seriously think a few mild explosions could ever touch me?”
Remy stops, and grins that cocky, beautiful grin of his. “Non, but it enough to keep you distracted.” He starts turning the Magneto figurine around, as if it’s confused. “See, I always gotta ace up my sleeve.”
In a quick second, he drops the Gambit figurine, and grabs the Rogue one. Her arm is out, one leg up, poised to fly. Remy slams the fist of the Rogue figurine into the Magneto one’s head. “Howdy, sugah.”
Rogue tilts her head, amused. Remy’s imitation of her own voice is so comically off, and yet incredibly endearing.
“How ‘bout you leave my family alone!” The Rogue figurine crashes into the Magneto one again. This time, Remy charges the Magneto figurine, causing it to glow purple. He tosses the charged Magneto figurine up, letting it explode in mid-air with a bang. The charred remains drop to the counter with a clang before it bounces into the trash next to the counter.
Remy then picks up the Gambit figurine and brings it in close to the Rogue one. “Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re punching people, chere?...Why don’t you shut up and kiss me, Remy…” Remy starts clicking the faces of the two figurines together, making little kiss-y noises and ‘mwa’ sounds as the action figures ‘make out’.
Rogue grins wildly, expecting nothing less. She crosses her arms across her chest, casually walking forward to let her presence be known. “Whatcha doing, sugah?”
Remy gives a startled jump, the figurines dropping out of his hand with a clatter. He’s not the least bit sorry he’s been caught, however, a devilish grin quickly sliding onto his lips. “Jus’ havin’ a bit of fun testing some of these toys that show sent us.” Rogue picks the destroyed Magneto figurine out of the trash. “Some of dem defective,” he says slyly.
“Defective huh?” She drops the figurine unceremoniously back into the trash and comes in close, wrapping her arms around his neck. She knows the show is a sore spot, no matter how much free merch they’ve gotten from it lately. “You still salty about all that?”
He lets out a grumble, but still wraps himself around her, just the way she likes. “Don’ act like you wouldn’t be, too, if they killed you off like dat. Middle of the first season, too. What’d I do to deserve dat?”
“They just knew you were the best one.” She runs her fingers through his hair. “Who else gonna go out in a fiery blaze of heroism like that?”
He smirks, though she can still see a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It was pretty epic, non?”
“The best…” She draws him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and comforting. “Forget that show, Remy. That ain’t our life. This is.” She kisses him again, a little bit harder, grounding herself in his embrace. He had tortured himself wanting to keep watching that show, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t want to imagine herself going down a path she would never recover from. “Besides…” she says, trying to keep it light. “I’m sure season two will have me pulling your pretty ass back from the dead one way or the other. And if it doesn’t, you best bet I’ll get those writers fired and write it myself.”
“I ever tell you how sexy you are when pulling me back from the dead?”
“Shut up and kiss me, Remy.” He does and they do. Forget the massage tonight, they’re going straight to the trashy. She’s hungry to feel him everywhere tonight.
They break apart once again, breathing heavily as Rogue leans her forehead against his. “Hey, Remy?”
“Oui?”
“Why don’t we leave this mess for later and go play with some of the toys we’ve already got.”
He laughs into another kiss. “You always have de best ideas, chere…”
****
Later…
In the stillness of the night, long after Remy’s fallen asleep, Rogue gets up for a glass of water.
The kitchen is how they left it hours ago, a mess of trash and action figures scattered around the room. The cats had gotten into some of it. Poor Scott had fallen to the ground. She picks him up, placing him next to Jean, giving him a little pat as she does so.
She wants to ignore the others. Wants to ignore the strange sensation it is to have your likeness in toy form. Still, she’s drawn to the little action figure her. She picks it up, inspecting it. It’s her old green and yellow uniform, one she hasn’t worn in years. She doesn’t even know where it is, probably having been trashed in some long ago fight. Unsurprisingly, the boobs are a little too big, the waist a little too small, and the hair a bit ridiculous. But it’s oddly still her. A little version her.
She looks down to the Gambit figurine and smiles. The trench coat, the staff, the ridiculously abbed pink breast plate. The cocky little grin. They got his likeness perfectly. And yet it doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.
“Love ya, Remy,” she says softly, as she takes the Rogue figurine and gives the Gambit figurine a kiss with it. She laughs at her own silliness, but still takes a moment to place the figurines together, resting against each other, as they should be.
She grabs her water and turns off the light and heads back to the bedroom, where she’ll soon curl up against her husband and fall asleep.
#xmen#x men 97#(sorta)#rogue#gambit#romy#anna marie lebeau#remy lebeau#roguegambit#romy fic#xmen fic#idk what else to tag it#s.o. writes things#good lord it's late#maybe that's a good thing#i'll just put this out in the world and maybe one of you will find it humorous#please let me keep playing with the toys - i'm still learning
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Okay, I have been meaning to say this for a while, because I think this is a noticeable problem in our community:
Every ask matters
And yet there are NONE
Do you feel bored in this RP fandom?
Tired of browsing a rarely updating tag?
Notice how half the community is joining ask games?
Ever wonder why many OS RP blogs go almost completely inactive?
Notice how there's half a dozen boring and slow as hell arcs going on recently?
This is because many blogs get NO asks at all. Popular or not.
Even OS Game RP giants like @diginiko-asks and @nyat-a-cat (currently shadowbanned so ask @the-kerfus-machine ) can experience a complete lack of asks sent sometimes!
And we need YOU to send some to the blogs you follow!
No matter what you send, no matter if they get answered or not, having asks to answer is good for everyone!
If you find yourself constantly waiting for asks all day, without actually sending asks out yourself, you are a part of the problem!
This community thrives on interaction, not waiting!
Want to help this community? Want to improve people's days?
Try sending three or more asks to random blogs a day!
Feel anxious to send asks? Nobody in this RP will do anything to you, and the characters do not reflect any of the blog runners intentions. Also, the anon option is there for a reason! Always remember that you have good intentions!
Feel like you will worsen someone's day by sending an ask? As long as you follow the rules set by the blog runner, you won't! At worst, it's a forgivable annoyance.
And if you are running an RP blog, remember: you are not obligated to reply to any asks sent, do not let this hobby cause you burnout.
"Oh, but I don't know who to ask!"
Just browse the "#OS game RP" tag, it's more effective than you might think at finding new blogs!
Check the blogs you follow, there's likely an RP blog or two you forgot about.
There's already large lists of OS game RP blogs out there, check out Mapmaker's interview list and the fifh masterpost!
"Oh, but I don't know what to ask!"
Here's some ideas:
Philosophy, hobbies, and specific preferences are simple topics to form questions in, and can tell a lot about a character!
Ask something as YOUR character! - Have a casual conversation between two different characters with someone else in a thread, share lore on the way, tell stories, and have fun!
Question some lore! - If you can ask something regarding a character's backstory, especially to fill in the potential plot holes, that can be very healthy for the writing side of running an RP blog!
A lot of blogs are actually fine with M!As, if they are simple or interesting!
Found yourself questioning or answering something interesting out of RP? Great ask!
Found something interesting in a quiz? That's a great ask idea!
Came up with something that would probably cause funny reactions? - Ask away!
Heard a silly question in general? Great! Guess who you can redirect it to!
Remember: Questions do not have to be complicated! Don't feel bad if something of yours does not get answered, because you had good intentions in the end!
But I am never going to tell you to send people random nonsense just for them to not have empty inboxes, so try to avoid:
Random memes/words - These are hard to work with and are unlikely to lead to interesting things.
Basic compliments - Most characters will probably say "thanks", unless they have a backstory for it.
Repeating jokes - No one's gonna have fun if you just send "Fifh" to Freeware entity for the 15th time without putting a unique twist on it.
Spam, NSFW, exc. - Just no.
In general, it's best to put thought in your asks.
If you have anything to state on the topic, please do so in the reblogs. I encourage you to check them.
Share this around and tell your friends to send out asks regularly!
Anyways good night, sleep deprived ramble over.
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Let's go down the line of fuckassary: LONG ASS POST AHEAD.
1: Gaia looked and acted like everyone else. She should've been WAY angrier, she should be pissed at Persephone for bringing about winter first of all. Should be pissed that she was a sleep and NOTHING got better over the centuries. But sure, she's giggling and happy.
(I liked that she shoved her hand in Ouranos' chest tho.)
2: It's soo funny that people keep SAYING that Persephone and Hades have true love but the comic hasn't showed us that ever 🤨, like if anything those two losers are obsessed with each other. Be so fr.
3: Once again..this should be Persephones story/POV but its in Hades' always. Fascinating.
4: "You have to spend 3 months away from your sugar daddy" OH NOOOO BUT WEVE BEEN APART FOR SO LONGB 🥺. God. At this point does she even NEED to be in the Mortal Realm fr?? Like..Demeter, Metis and Rhea are back now so..what's her purpose there.
5: The way Gaia just isn't. Gaia is baffling. Anyways. Demeter FINALLY found out what happened to Persephone but she's not..having a moment with her daughter?? Not talking to her about it?? Okay.
6: As usual. They're eager to have sex cuz that's the only thing they do. "I can't wait to see that ass--" ..how very Zeus and Posedion of you quote on quote romantic 🤨
7: She gets her coronation but..didn't she already have that when she married Hades?? Ig not then. Also..Apollo just got a slap on the wrist, not surprising.
DEMETER GOT PUNISHED MORE THAN HIM??? Hell the Titans got punished more than that bitch what the fuck??? God.
8: The disrespect to Zeus is so. 😶 Zeus would literally not sit back quietly for this shit the fuck??? Also..Hera didn't divorce Zeus all those years and now she did ?? And she's what..gonna get with Echo now??? Fascinating. Zeus needs to start tossing rocks. Rachel did Zeus and Heras relationship so fucking DIRTY!!!! GOD!! FUCKING DAMMIT. I hate how she wrote them. Anyways.
9: The Mortal Realm is a lot easier cuz Hades is there?? YOU WERE BORN THERE!!! ITS YOUR HOME!! You ungrateful ass spawn. It wasn't that fun cuz you didn't have a man there?? Insane.
10: The way Persephone clearly doesn't love her own mother is sickening actually. Like..we can't even have them talking to each other?? Dancing?? Even the comment about her doesn't have that much emotion. Also..Dionysus' hair looks goofy, and I guess Hades is all for bringing back mortals now despite making a big stink about it in season 1 but whatever. Yay Semele.
11: "hera just gives him busy work" ..He's literally the king. Literally-- oh my god. "His powers having been the same" which..MEANS WHAT?? And the way Zeus would literally not be happy about this shit is so-- UGH. God it's infuriating. Hades and Posedion clearly don't give a shit about their brother if they aren't concerned about his fucking powers 'not being same'??? Die.
12: Echo needs to stand SEVERAL feet away from Hera. That ship is so god damn tasteless and unnecessary. If you're gonna give hera a new love interest. Maybe give them actual moments?? Make it make sense!!
13: "Ares is still a dog!" *cue laugh track sound*, god this is so..why ?? Ares, baby I'm so sorry people keep disrespecting you in every iteration 🤦♀️
14: ignoring the Artemis bit cuz she wasn't relevant for any of the major plots and she still isn't. Anyways. Hades stay the FUCK away from Thanatos. "They can have conversations" oh?? How fascinating. Hades just NOW deciding to care about Thanatos doesn't make up for years of his neglect.
15: Persephone, Ares and Aphrodite should beat Eros' ass for being useless about Apollo. I still think that. Eros is an ass of a friend.
16: 'new powers' ..Girl your powers are basically your old powers with one extra step. Shut UP!!! anyways. (No one cares about kassandra, sorry not sorry. Who was worried about that )
17: Hades and Persephones millionth drabble of nonsense fluff. They're not saying anything new, nor are they doing anything new. I do like the art tho. It's just..baffling how..they're relationship started soo much nonsense and we're suppose to see it as a good thing??
THIS is a good ending??
Nevermind the fact Persephone didn't spend time with her friends or her MOTHER, nevermind the fact Zeus and Posedion don't even get to speak to their mother either.
Hera, Hestia and Demeter don't have a moment with Metis either.
Like..what was the point of bringing them back if you weren't gonna bring it to a satisfying conclusion?? Absolutely insane
Also..Eileithyias design is ass. It's sooo boring. It's literally just pilot Hebe but darker. Oh wow she's yellow with purple eyes??? Insidious. Also she just looks boring and bland to be the daughter of the literal king and queen but sure. Give us nothing.
And..again with making the children boring copies of one specific parent! Macaria is so..boring to look at just like Melinoe. Also...hades can..have kids now?? 🤨 okay.
So basically..this was insane from start to finish.
This wasn't a good conclusion. It was absolutely a wreck.
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David Talking About GO Season 3
@weatheredland sent me the video!
I put subtitles and edited the image of the video. It does have a watermark, so I apologize for that.
"So no more Michael Sheen kisses."
Right brow lift, slight head tilt "Well, you don't know how many we've got left for series three" both brows raise, smile "I mean, neither do I, to be honest, but you know." Head lowers to the right then lifts up left, moves and looks down.
He's having fun with this answer. The last motion he did with his head could be taken as a nod, but it does go to the side, not straight up. He also looks quickly down, breaking the eye contact. He doesn't know for sure how many kisses there will be, maybe he has his own ideas.
Him looking down and moving away could be because he doesn't want to delve into this question any further, or because he was adjusting the way he was standing. David is restless, we've seen him move about while sitting and during interviews so this could be taken lightly. Putting his left hand in his pocket can also be taken as him trying to get comfortable. Hiding your hands (in pockets or anything else) means someone is trying to hide something. In this case, I don't think that applies.
"Are you having a good time filming this?"
"It is deeply joyous. It's deeply joyous."
Here, we can see a slight head nod. His words and body are congruent.
"I mean, (quick pause) MAINLY because I get to hang out with Michael everyday"
He stutters here. It's not unusual of him to stutter, but here it's a lot more noticeable. The pause is him thinking. Maybe of how to phrase his answer correctly, choosing the right words, or thinking why it is deeply joyous for him. There are many reason of why David took his time to think.
The high pitch in his words is done when thinking, trying to find an answer, or deciding the best way to answer. You can see his mouth elongate up (not a smile) and his cheek pop out. (Think of when Crowley was pondering whether Aziraphale's idea of hiding Jim would work)
Inhales "and talk nonsense " shakes head no
He doesn't agree with something about the statement above. Many reasons why he wouldn't agree with something he's saying. The inhale could've been caused because he ran out of air, or to calm himself down.
"and they're great scripts" shakes his head again.
Maybe he disagrees with something about the scripts or another reason why he shakes his head is because he can't believe they're great. 'Wow how can something so amazing exist' type thing.
"and it's just a kind of mad, crazy world so, I love it yeah."
When he said 'crazy' his brows raised meaning surprise, it really is crazy for him.
At the end he looks at the woman directly and stops talking. Pretty simple, he's showing he's done talking and waiting for her to speak.
Let me know if I missed anything!
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#ttpd analysis day thirteen - I Can Do It With A Broken Heart
so fun fact, when I first listened to ttpd I hadn't read the prologue (does this make me a bad swiftie? lol) but so when i first heard ICDIWABH i texted one of my friends "this song sounds like mania". i know now that she referred to the relationship itself as the mania but following heartbreak, some people can be purposefully self destructive/harmful, and in that same vein i think some people refuse to process events when they've recently happened and occupy their mind with other things (hello denial stage). so basically that is ICDIWABH in a nutshell
so the lyrics of ICDIWABH are worrisome and extreme (and dare I say, unfortunately painfully relatable). to couple those lyrics with the upbeat, speedy production, the whole song sounds like avant-garde dadaism, basically
Dada was an art movement formed during the First World War in Zurich in negative reaction to the horrors and folly of the war. The art, poetry and performance produced by dada artists is often satirical and nonsensical in nature.
lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die
I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art
I'm miserable! and nobody even knows!
once you get past the satirical production and first verse, there are some parallels to Hits Different (which also has an upbeat production):
I keep finding his things in drawers crucial evidence, I didn't imagine the whole thing/I find the artifacts, cried over a hat
one of the lyrics that stands out to me in ICDIWABH is I can pass this test. it can go a lot of different ways and I think that's why it resonates. it makes me think of TIMT and fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here, Bejeweled did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve, and even Dear John's never impressed by me acing your tests. it could be indicative of the relationship itself being a test (to the public), or the muses partner testing the narrator. given the context of the song, it's likely the narrator saying i can show everyone I'm fine but it wasn't true
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do u think ur gonna write a part three? i love ur writing style!!! ate that shit up so fast
Thank you so much!! Here's kind of a part 3 with Wolfstar acting on their feelings. Hope you like it.
****
"Come with me, Moony" Remus heard Sirius whispering in his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.
With all the noises that The Karaoke Night brought, Sirius’s voice sounded intimate and delicate. Even if they were surrounded by loud teenagers.
Remus's eyes were fixed on James and Lily singing to each other on stage.
"Where?" Remus asked loud enough for Sirius to hear him. He didn't dare to look at him in the eye.
"I want to show you something"
Sirius’s breath was warm and he smelled really great. God, he was so close.
"What is it?"
"It's a surprise" Sirius said in his ear again "Don't you trust me?"
Remus raised his eyebrows teasingly.
"I shouldn't, Sirius" he answered "But unfortunately I do"
Remus smiled knowing Sirius’s reaction would be the same. But before he knew it, Sirius was already on his feet, offering his hand to Remus.
The boy dared to look up finding that Sirius was smirking handsomely. Gryffindor Jersey with black tight trousers. His iconic leather jacket on top. It gave Remus chills that someone so gorgeous was paying attention to him and only him.
Ever since their conversation in the dorm, when Remus confessed to him he was gay, Sirius had been stuck like glue by Remus's side. It wasn't in the supportive brotherly way James had been (because he had told the rest of his friends as well). It was different. Sirius sometimes stared without discretion. He touched Remus a lot. Subtle things like play with his wristbands or take his arm to draw on it, or fix his curls, or squeeze his chin. It had been driving Remus insane.
He even asked Grant about it over the phone.
"Sounds pre'ty queer to meh, sweetheart" he had laughed "Trust meh, no straight bloke gets comfy with touching another bloke"
However Sirius and James were comfortable touching each other affectionately. But in Sirius’s case it was different. He had a certain intention in the way he did it with Remus. Although Remus didn't want to get his hopes up.
"Come on, Moony!" Sirius exclaimed, getting him back to the present.
Remus looked around. Most of the teens were busy with the show. But as Remus took Sirius’s hand to rise up, he noticed the nostalgic gaze of Alecto Carrow. She had been trying to gain Sirius’s attention since term started. And even if she was annoying, Remus kind of understood what was like to want Sirius Black when he didn't want anyone back.
"You might want to grab a jacket" Sirius smiled at Remus and only him "We are going outside"
Remus raised an eyebrow "What about the teachers?" he asked gesturing to the table in which some of the teachers were watching kids sing. Chaperones that avoided chaos. And even if some students were having fun with the innocent karaoke, others were utterly bored and annoyed without alcohol.
"Don't worry" Sirius shrugged "They are very well distracted"
So Remus followed Sirius without any excuse left. Not that he didn't want to go. They got up to the dorms first.
"Go grab your jacket" Sirius said as they climbed the stairs "I'll meet you downstairs in ten"
"Where are you going?"
"So many questions, Moony" Sirius grinned "We will need refreshments, wouldn't we?"
"Refreshments as in alcohol?"
Sirius winked as a response "I want to show you a place. You're going to love it"
How was Remus supposed to react with all of this? What was Remus supposed to do when the boy one had fancied since forever said he had a surprise for him? Should Remus get his hopes up and blindingly follow Sirius anywhere or stop with this nonsense?
Wasn't Sirius supposed to be straight?
'Did he ever do something like this for one of his girls, though?' a voice said inside his head.
A voice that sounded a lot like Grant.
Once Remus grabbed a jacket, some cigarettes and a split just in case, he found Sirius just outside the Common Room.
Sirius smirked widely as he showed him a package that looked like a bottle. A bottle of booze presumably.
"Where did you get that?"
"Tobey" Sirius replied, then looked at Remus with a cheesy smile "Don't look at me like that. I know you buy packs from him as well"
"Sometimes" Remus shrugged "He's a charger that one"
Sirius led the way after that as they walked into the lonely halls of the Castle.
Sirius was holding his hand all the way through. Maybe like a parent with his child scared that he might get lost. Or maybe like a person did with their lover. Remus could pretend it was the second one.
"Where are we going?" Remus asked, because the silence might have exposed his loud heart beats.
But Sirius shut him up "Don't you trust me?"
"I am starting to regret it" Remus tried to joke.
Sirius silenced him with his finger. "Filch might be around" he whispered.
So they were quiet the rest of the way. Sirius led Remus out of the castle into the woods.
Remus's rational part was telling him about the dangers of getting inside the forest at night. It was against the rules. They could get caught. But, Remus's emotional part didn't care about that. He was just happy to be with Sirius. To be holding his hand and following blindly.
Sirius kept looking back at Remus giving him beautiful smiles. At some point he had opened the bottle, taking gulps himself and passing it to Remus.
"Taking me into the woods and getting me drunk..." Remus commented happily "I'm actually considering you are a serial killer"
Sirius laughed "We're almost there, Moons. God, you're impatient"
"You know me, I simply cannot wait patiently for my death"
When Sirius turned to look with his eyebrow raised, Remus put his hands up defensively.
"I was joking"
"Before you die, you have to see my surprise first"
Sirius stopped on his tracks and scanned around.
"What? Did you see something? They say there are wolves around this forest"
Sirius silenced him again then he smiled when he spotted something "It's this way, Moony. Come on"
And just like that, Sirius ran. He was laughing happily as he went. Remus just observed at first.
"FOLLOW ME MOONY! COME ON!" Sirius yelled from somewhere.
"Fucking hell" Remus sighed before taking a large gulp of the booze and running after Sirius.
Remus started feeling adrenaline through his veins as they ran through trees and trees. Sirius was just in front of him, full of euphoria, screaming at the top of his lungs. His happiness was contagious. So Remus screamed and laughed as well
"Here we are" Sirius announced when they arrived "Isn't it beautiful?"
Remus's mouth dropped open when he took a look of that place. They had arrived at the lake apparently. But this was a new part of the forest, The Marauders hadn't seen. It was a wonderful of part of the lake. It looked like an enchanted forest with beautiful trees that seemed alive. With the moon reflected on the water. And some fireflies flying around.
"Woow" Remus gasped "This is beautiful"
Sirius was grinning, proud of showing him this place.
"I know, right?" he asked walking closer to the water "Found it the other day. I kind of got lost started panicking but this place gave me peace. Then I found my way back easily"
"The other day?" Remus frowned "You mean the day you skipped class and disappeared for a while?"
Sirius nodded shyly.
It had been a bit of a worrying nightmare to watch over Sirius lately. Ever since he escaped his house over the summer, his friends had been worried about him. He did wild things like skip class, get into fights, drink and get lost for hours. Things like the one he was doing now.
Maybe Remus shouldn't have encouraged him.
"Pads..."
"When I saw it first, I thought: Moony would love this" Sirius interrupted, then turned with a smile "I didn't know why I wanted to show you first"
Remus smiled back.
"Do you like it?"
"It is amazing, but..."
Remus stopped because of the intense way Sirius was looking at him. He was getting closer slowly and painfully. And Remus was frozen as Sirius reached the bottle from his hands to take a sip.
"Do you dare?" Sirius asked as he gave Remus the bottle back and started unzipping his jacket.
"Ha?" Remus wished he wasn't blushing this easily.
"Get in the water" Sirius giggled amused.
When Sirius took off his shirt and trousers, Remus was doomed. He couldn't stop staring. His eyes were stuck there. His mouth went inexplicably dry.
"Come with me for a swim"
Remus blinked and shook his head "It's freezing, Sirius. The water is probably the same. Don't want to die frozen over"
Though Sirius didn't seem to mind the cold. And Remus's body was warming up with the sight.
Sirius smirked "Don't exaggerate, Moony. Cold water is good for the skin"
"I knew you wanted to kill me"
That made Sirius laugh deliciously.
"I am going in" he shrugged and ran inside the lake, gasping and whining for the cold.
"Told you!" Remus smiled as he hugged the bottle to himself.
"I'm completely chill" Sirius said with shaking teeth anyway, which made Remus laugh.
Then Sirius grinned and got fully inside the lake Remus enjoyed the view of his back as he bent down.
"You're such a faggot, Remus" he whispered to himself before drinking up.
Sirius screamed as he got out. He looked glorious with his hair wet. He was a true Greek God that one. Like those hero statues.
"GET IN, MOONY! PLEASE!!"
Remus shook his head vehemently. But he was happy.
"DON'T BE A PUSSY, MOONY MOONS!"
"Yeah exactly" Remus said to himself "I am a pussy. And I would go there and eat your delicious fucking mouth, you fucking wanker"
"WHAT??"
"NOTHING!!"
God, Remus was an idiot. Another gulp.
Sirius had been the boy he had dreamt about since he was ten years old. Even before knowing what love was. No matter how much time passed, Sirius was always going to sweep Remus off his feet, make him feel alive, make his heart dance with happiness. And of course, make him do stupid things.
Like drowning more alcohol and stripping down.
"YEAH! THAT'S THE GRYFFINDOR I KNOW!"
Remus bit his lip "SHUT UP"
Remus got undressed quickly. Sirius was very confident of his body. He was constantly showing skin at the dorm, at gym class, even in the sunniest days. Not Remus. He was always hiding his feminine body with big sweaters and hoodies, he never got undressed in front of someone and he never showed more skin than part of his arms. His body wasn't nice to look at as Sirius’s. He was covered in scars. He was too skinny. And he still hid his chest under a binder.
But tonight, Remus felt bold. He took his clothes off quickly minus his underwear and binder and got into the water before Sirius had the chance to watch.
And Sirius didn't seem to mind. He was beamed that Remus had followed his madness.
"THAT'S MY MOONY!"
The iced water hurt Remus's limbs for a few seconds. When he emerged, he screamed with cold.
"FUCKING HELL, SIRIUS!" Remus managed to say before his teeth shook "THIS IS FREEZING. JESUS, I AM GOING TO DIE!"
Sirius laughed at Remus's misery. He swam closer graciously.
"You get used to it"
"You're really insane, Padfoot" Remus's body shook involuntarily.
"It is fun"
Sirius was smiling as he approached.
"You have a twisted idea of fun, tosser" Remus laughed as he moved his arms in the attempt of getting warmer "Should we swim-race to warm up?"
"I have a better idea"
Remus stopped smiling when he realized Sirius was too close to him. He didn't seem to be in a joking mode anymore. He kept looking at Remus with intense seriousness. His gray eyes traveled through Remus's face over and over. And Remus was too pathetic to do anything.
He also didn't do anything as Sirius’s hand reached forward. Remus was very still as Sirius put one of his locks away from his face.
"Is this the part when you kill me?" Remus whispered trying to joke and lose the tension. Though Sirius didn't laugh.
Sirius was lost in thought, looking as if he was fighting with himself. Despite the fact that he seemed to be hesitating, he scooped even closer. So close Remus could feel his warm breath and count the water drops across his face. He was so gorgeous it hurt.
"What are you doing to me, Remus?" Sirius asked, frowning a little with his eyes glistened with what appeared to be tears. Though Remus wasn't sure. It could have been the fact that Sirius was wet. "I cannot stop thinking about you" he was speaking very low and very slowly "I cannot stop thinking how much I want to kiss you"
He's drunk! Remus immediately told himself. He hit his head when he got into the lake! There had to be some explanation.
The reasonable part of Remus was sure this couldn't be possible. He thought this was a dream or a fantasy in Remus's mind. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe Sirius was making fun of him or proving him because he was gay. Maybe Sirius wanted to see if Remus wanted to kiss him to raise his ego by having not only plenty of girls but a gay guy after him as well.
These thoughts crossed Remus's mind in only a second. But an irrational part of him shook them away.
"Kiss me then"
Remus didn't know where he got the confidence to say it without hesitation.
Sirius did as he was told. He didn't use force as he leaned in. On the contrary he closed his eyes, touched Remus's cheek and kissed him delicately.
It wasn't a wild kiss. It was more like lips touching each other shyly. It lasted only a second. A second in which Remus tasted glory. Then Sirius broke apart.
They were frozen for a sip of time to think about why they had done as they stared into each other.
And then boom!
They were glued back together like freaking magnets. This time they weren't shy and careful. This time it was all about passion. They moved quickly desperate to taste each other's tongues. They opened themselves for the other really fast. As soon as Remus's tongue touched Sirius’s, he saw stars.
It was a wave of pleasure, and a wild electric shot all over Remus's body. He forgot about the cold. He forgot about the carefew and the possible wolves around. He forgot about everything. His own name even. He forgot about who he was and what he was.
All he knew was that he never wanted to stop what he was doing now. All he knew was that he couldn't believe he had lived without tasting this, without doing this. What had been life without Sirius’s lips on his? What was life without Sirius’s fingers running through his hair the way they were doing now?
Everything was Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius and Sirius. Remus didn't know anything else. He didn't need anything else.
He was finally alive. He was finally breathing. He had been dead until now.
And Remus cursed the fact that he was human and his weak body needed air to survive. Remus's whole existence protested as Sirius pulled away to take a breathe.
Remus was too overwhelmed to move so he only opened his eyes. And thank God he did, because the sight he had in front of him couldn't be missed.
Sirius, so beautiful, had his cheeks slightly pink, his wet hair a mess, his lips swollen and hydrated. Remus had tasted them seconds ago!
The best part was the way Sirius smiled which meant he was about to burst in joy as well as Remus. The latter even let out a soft laughter.
But seconds of torture were the ones in which Remus's lips weren't kissing Sirius’s. He wanted him again. He wanted more. He wanted this forever. He wanted to kiss Sirius until the day he died.
So Remus pulled Sirius from his neck into another snogging session. Impressively, this time better than the last one. Sirius ate his mouth hungrily, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Remus closer.
Remus's heart was going to explode out of his chest. He wouldn't mind mingling with Sirius’s self until becoming one. This was where heaven was. Right here. And Remus didn't want to ever leave. Ever.
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hate the military hate being like the 4th generation of 17 year old kid to be like "I really hope today my friend doesn't lose his leg in the middle east somewhere". like girl he needs to take his ACTs put him back in iowa please for the love of GOD dishonorable discharge for something stupid and then hes home 🙂. but alas things will never be like My Freshman Year Of Highschool Again Because I Am Not 14 Anymore And Nothing Will Go Back To The Way It Was.
#sam joining the military is and was a.. point of contention in our friendship.#unfortunately im still gonna spend the next four years chewing at my nails waiting between calls.#the air force keeps sending me recruitment pamphlets thank god every math grade#on my hs transcript is a D or i would probably. i cant let my best friend go to war alone. my way i to abandoning all my morals and my spine#like jesus h christ i really do despise the military and ive seen ptsd and the va make a monster out of my father but the#whole like. well ur going im going i camt let my brother go to war alone. thing i understand it i really do#keeping my sanity by sending sam videos of me reading chomsky out loud alone in my truck for him to open#and call me a fag over. god.#this is so nonsensical. thinking a lot of things.#if i could change anything i probably would have. not just Watched the stagnating highschooler military recruitment pipeline happen.#maybe i worry so much more than I really should bc if anything happens to him i know ill feel guilty. hes his own person he's 18 but what if#i had been a little meaner when he brought it up gave him that much more shit talked that much more about politics.#delete later
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pest control TWO!!!!!
heres the first one
adn heres the obligatory bonus bc i can't help myself :')
#i already threatened that little basard twice in these i may as well make good on it#pizza tower#peppino spaghetti#fake peppino#the noise#fp ''oh god wait that is not a real rat and also tastes awful'' moments. he doesnt actually have any interest in eating that thang ok#even if seeing a small scampering little guy like that WILL activate his prey drive without fail#peppino loves it he thinks it's the funniest shit in the world for fp to go after noise. so he is always encouraging this.#but anyway yeah. fp is *really* not the one noise should be worried about.#arting#pizzaposting#i still have lots of tag room thjis time so im gonna do some tangential nonsense rambling. e#fp gotta be like crazy good at hunting i think. not just for strength and predator instincts but also bc like#he doesn't have much in the way of a scent or body heat or anything that would give him away as an alive thing#not to mention he's uh... not particularly organically-shaped a lot of the time#so esp. to smaller prey that don't like... memorize a landscape; if he holds very still he's like completely undetectable#total ambush king. though i'm sure hes also very good at#persistence and pursuit hunting since he has peppino's speed and no way of getting muscle fatigue. ultimate beast#fortunately he doesnt care that much and doesnt really need to eat so hes not devastating the local ecosystem or anything#except for the rats.
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dirkjake if they were parents is like. idk if they'd be /bad/ parents but theyd def have some WEIRD ass shit going on. every family board game would be unnecessarily intense. family fishing trips seem normal until you realise they're either grabbing the fish with their bare hands or stabbing them with swords. that kid would have the worst accent ever ever. can you imagine if one parent spoke with the most ridiculous dated vocab while throwing in normal modern speak and then the other spoke in perfect sentances and grammar but in 2010s coolguy diction.
#dirkjake#homestuck#jake english#dirk strider#theyre so fucking silly.#i just think there would be a lot of nonsense#and they might be bad parents depending on how well adjusted you make them#like if they havent really worked out their issues then theyre garbage parents but if theyre figuring things out theyd be okay parents#and if theyre in therapy for 100 years theyre good parents /lh
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I notice your artstyle changed quite a bit, are you trying new things?
Well – I love drawing faces now. Came a long way from avoiding drawing Wade and Peter's faces like the plague.
I think it's mostly down to the passage of time, and that I'm using different equipment! There's three art eras of the blog – the first, where I used a flimsy little Samsung tablet for my posts... I don't even remember what app I used.
The second, where I used a flimsy little screenless Wacom graphics tablet and Photoshop – I wasn't drawing directly on a screen, so my lines were always wobbly and scritchy and weird.
And now I use Procreate on iPad! And I get nice, smooth, delicious lines.
It's kind of funny – I used to be so frustrated in that middle era of the blog, about my art. I used to be so upset that I couldn't get nice, smooth lines. I'd get so jealous over artists with nice clean lineart. Now I get the nice clean lines, but a lot of people prefer the rough lines I had before, and I kind of love them too. It's a funny old world.
#mod speaks#i've been at this a Very long time so i think evolution is obligatory#i think probably a lot of my animation know-how has bled into my art presently#i know a lot of things now i didn't think about before when it comes to art and character consistency and other such nonsense
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