#yeah. i could write this easily

[quantummindclassicalheart]

Some thoughts on what makes this genre compelling: one simple framework for thinking of rules (and their more muscular cousins, laws) is as a set of guidelines for action determined by an individual or institution with the power to enforce the rules.

Implicit in this is the idea that disobeying the rules may lead to you coming to harm (either becuase the rulemaker cannot protect you from external harm, or because the rulemaker will cause the harm itself), but also the converse promise of safety if you do follow the rules.

In short: "if you follow the rules you will be safe."

Rules horror turns this on its head by asking questions like the following:

What are the rules keeping us safe from?

What if the rules contradict each other, so there is no way to consistently follow all the rules?

Who or what came up with the rules? How were they determined, and why were they made?

What if the rules were made by a force that is either malevolent or largely apathetic to your wellbeing?

What if the rules were never meant to keep you safe to begin with?

These questions are relevant in our real-world systems too-- laws and regulations, of course, but also codes of conduct, classroom policies, organizational bylaws, social media moderation policies, and so on. (One could also extend this to religious laws, but that's a whole can of worms.)

And there are different ways to answer the questions to promote trust. Community-generated agreements, for instance, ask for every member of a group to contribute to and approve the agreements of how they want to be in relationship with one another.

More broadly, in the systems of power we live under, what agreements are made between those who wield more power and those who wield less? How are those agreements negotiated, and by whom, and how are they enforced? Can those agreements promise safety? Can they promote flourishing?

Depending on how we answer these questions, this might lead us to contractualism and social contract theory or to anarchism or any other number of political and philosophical destinations.

In any case, rules horror (in the form presented above) invites us to consider what we give up when we follow the rules, whether the promise of safety through obedience is worth it (and even achievable at all!), and which consequence of disobedience is scarier: the wrath of a known authority or the threat of an unknowable danger.

...might've discovered a new genre to lose my mind about, hold please

[riddlemearose]

Inherited Handwriting

(CW: background themes of adoption and loss of/implied non-forceful removal from family)

He’s got Wild tucked into one side and Twilight against the other. They’re both asleep, breathing even and deep, faces softly lit by the pale moonlight above.

Time watches them both, neck craned awkwardly in order to do so.

It’s strange sometimes, knowing these two are his descendants, that they are his future. He can’t really think of them as his sons, per se. There’s barely a decade between himself and Wild, if one considers their physical ages, and about half that time between him and Twilight.

But still it’s quietly baffling to think that his legacy has not only one but two tangible forms.

Wild doesn’t really resemble either Time or Twilight.

Eons have stretched out between Time's inevitable death and Wild's birth, their bloodline naturally changing as the centuries tick past. The only physical appearance that has survived that passage of time seems to be the colour of his eyes; that same sharp, bright blue as Time's own.

But there are other things that have made themselves known; small tics and habits that Time had once dismissed as irrelevant and miniscule in himself finding their way into another person who exists a millennia later.

Perhaps the worst and most recognisable trait of all is the way Wild carries his guilt close to his chest, cloaked by his cheerful demeanour to keep it away from prying eyes.

It certainly is painfully familiar. Twilight does the same thing, but hides his behind a wall of bone-deep protective instincts and care.

And Time has always hid his guilt beneath a mask of festering anger.

He isn’t sure if he can truly call it a family trait; the entire Chain has things they don’t want to talk about and things they continue to hide even now, after all.

However there are occasions where this behaviour certainly feels like something Twilight and Wild, who will be born centuries and millennia after Time's own life will come to an end, are destined to inherit from him.

But in a way, Time is grateful that Wild only shares habits and behaviours. It's much harder in Twilight's case because Twilight actually looks like Time.

Time can see himself in the shape of their faces, the line of their noses. Twilight's chin and physical build are all from Malon, and even the texture of his hair is closer to Malon's than to Time's.

In the back of Time's mind, he's quietly thankful for those few differences because he knows the very striking and blatant similarities had thrown Twilight off too for the first few weeks of this quest.

Much like Time, Twilight has never known his parents; he has no memories of them at all. Apparently all he'd had when Uli found him in the Ordon Spring was a small blanket with his name embroidered on one corner.

Twilight had grown up never knowing his blood, had never had anyone who looked like him at all through his childhood.

And Time knows exactly what that does to a person.

In a strange way, the Kokiri had softened the blow for him, because Time had been nine years old before he first heard statements like ‘you have your mother’s eyes’ being directed towards another person.

It was aged nine when he had been able to see how Malon looks like her father, and how Lullaby has an almost uncanny resemblance to her own ancestors, their faces well-preserved in portraits that decorate the walls of Hyrule Castle.

There is no need for biological resemblance among the Kokiri, so it had been an almost mystifying concept for his young mind to grasp. He hadn’t truly understood back then, too young at first, and then too busy and angry to truly pay attention, but eventually time will march on and with each step comes awareness.

So eventually Time too had found himself wondering just who he looked like? Who he got this trait or that habit from?

The Great Deku Tree had told him his mother fled a war, entrusting him to the Kokiri before she passed. Does Time have her eyes, like Twilight does Malon's? Does he have her nose, like Twilight has his?

The questions, even to this day, are endless and almost insanity-inducing, and he has tried his best to ignore them, to push them away for his own mental health.

It isn’t fair to say it as bluntly as he does, but seeing Twilight had brought all those questions Time had locked away back to the forefront of his mind. They’re not questions Time expects to ever get an answer to.

But somehow the knowledge that Twilight gets to know who he looks like, that he gets to know who he got his eyes and his nose and his face from is relieving and comforting and…

... And bittersweet.

[hella1975]

a post about fic updates!

once again the winter-to-spring season has really tanked all my writing motivation this truly is an annual thing im noticing in myself. i'm staying positive by reminding myself i've still written (and posted!) tens of thousands of words during my HARDEST writing period, so the uphill from here is looking pretty promising. but still, the only way i ever seem to get my shit together again isssss !!!! stupid unhealthy writing goals!!! these are, of course, not set in stone and i'm not tolerating anyone hounding me about potentially missing a goal. i am an adult with a job and a social life and sometimes shit just happens - fanfic will not be my priority, but this is the closest to a guarantee as i can give you guys esp bc i rarely ever miss one of my self-imposed deadlines <3

so! my currently updating fics are dog teeth - the miracle mile, tams, and taob. they all have different priorities in my head based on which ones im most passionate about writing atm, which ones i dont mind having slower updates, and which ones take up the most time/energy to write, and that will be reflected in the deadline i give myself.

dog teeth: im giving myself a target of having the next chapter posted by next friday (04/04) and the entire fic finished by the end of may.

tams: between april 20th-30th. kinda vague bc while tams usually comes very quickly once i actually crack on (bc i <3333 her) i also want to give myself space so im not rushing it and butchering the quality for the sake of a quicker chapter.

taob: may :)

original works: this is for my tbostuals but also anyone just generally interested; i have an original work that i have been SLACKING on these past few months, and i figured i might as well give myself a deadline here too. i want ch1 of the prequel done by april 20th 🫵 MUTUALS HARASS ME ABOUT THIS 🫵 I NEED IT OUT OF MY FACE BEFORE I GO CRAZY 🫵

[fantasticalleigh]

Chelsea should be running a re-election campaign backstage rn feels kind of a waste for her to just be wandering around with the Secret Hervice and instigating fights. Like sure she can still absolutely be doing that but have Piper and Alba make her homemade campaign posters (but like they’re badly done) have Piper walk around with a clipboard backstage asking the other talent if they’d vote for Chelsea again (to which everyone looks confused and says no one voted for her (bc well, they didn’t). Have Alba do some phone banking and accidentally end up calling Zelina who just trolls her by using a fake voice. Give us a segment of Chelsea sadly looking at her old ‘presidential’ gear and swearing she’ll wear it again. Have her barge into Zelina’s dressing room where Zelina is just chilling/talking to Aleister/playing video games idk and demand a debate only to immediately backtrack when Zelina immediately clowns her. Idk but lots of potential here WWE are u listening. are u willing to invest.

[notvil]

my potential wips are: yandere, freak, scary guy deku; caregiver, objectification adj guy deku; rodeo cowboy guy deku; ovipovi, fae guy deku.

[ahli-stuff]

WHATEVER YOU SAY BEAUTIFUL!!!

Bsd 120 raws

Fyodor’s little stretch…!

My thoughts? Honestly, it’s a bit of a nothing chapter (I say as I don’t know what any of the dialogue is but I know it’s just going to be Fyodor explaining more space-dimensional bullshit manga logic). It is exciting to have Fukuzawa face off against Fyodor, but Asagiri pulls this SO often man, where it’s like “A new challenger enters the ring” every chapter and multiple times per fight.

And this fight really should’ve been Akutagawa’s time to shine. I know he’s going to get back up, but man.

[yansurnummu]

Fading Light

Drals and Zerith-var rest for the night in Rawl'kha. Zerith-var ruminates on his strange new companion.

Rating: T

Words: 831

(AO3 link)

It was some small comfort to Zerith-var to know that at least some things hadn’t changed so much. He watched the bright colours of the sky as the sun set over what remained of the city of Rawl’kha, breathing in the sweet, spiced scent of the cup of chai in his hands. It was perhaps a little more watery than how they would have made it in his time, but he tried his best to force himself to appreciate the little things.

He took a deep breath, pulled from his thoughts by the flicker of a flame between the fingers of his companion across the table from him. He lit a pipe of some sort he had held between his teeth, dried leaves catching and producing a sour smell.

Zerith-var eyed the strange elf as he leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke. After the chaos of the day, running all the way to Rawl'kha and finding his hidden sanctuary in ruins, finding that he really, truly was far from his own age, he allowed himself to really study Drals for the first time. 

Everything about him was alien to Zerith-var. The longer he studied him, the more fascinated and curious he became. His clothing and armour were strange, black and embroidered green, the patterns geometric and organic at the same time. The metal plating on his bracers and chestpiece were nearly chitinous, reminiscent of beetle shells but on a much larger scale. In the fading light, the lantern on the table cast a golden glow over his ashen grey skin, the most obvious oddity that had been nagging at the back of his mind. He was sharp-featured, like many elves Zerith-var had met in his time; though too tall to be Bosmer, but too short to be Altmer.

His hair, for the most part, was black as night, though strands of silver showed underneath where it was smoothed back behind his pointed ears. Zerith-var’s eyes traced the lines on his face in profile, from the sharp bridge of his nose to the creases around thin lips. He was… handsome in a way, he allowed himself to admit. The one amethyst eye that was not covered by his eyepatch flicked his way, and Zerith-var tensed as he was caught staring.

“What?” Drals said simply, the creases around his eye highlighted as he narrowed it.

“I do not wish to be rude,” Zerith-var sighed, “but your appearance is… strange to me. I… hm.” He hesitated, trying to find an inoffensive way to word the question and coming up with very little. 

Drals nodded curtly, looking away once more.

“Right, yes,” he grumbled, gesturing at his eyepatch and the scarred half of his face with one hand. “It's a long story. My ex-wife tried to kill me, I spent half a lifetime trapped in a Daedric Plane, and was cursed by the Prince of said plane. But I think it's sorted now. Hopefully.”

“That is… not what I meant.” Zerith-var grimaced, circling his hands around the ceramic cup on the table in front of him. “Besha ahnz’ii. I have never seen an elf of such a grey complexion.”

Drals blinked at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving. 

“Oh. By the Three, you have been gone awhile, haven't you?”

“It would seem that way,” Zerith-var said solemnly, picking up his tea cup once more. “And what is this ‘Three’?”

Drals only sighed, putting his pipe to his lips.

“Well… I suppose we’ve the time for a brief history of my homeland. So, the story goes…”

Zerith-var listened intently as Drals told him what he was sure was a very opinionated version of the story of his homeland, a Morrowind he had never heard of before. He found that he enjoyed listening to Drals speak; his tone was rough and he had a bit of a dirty mouth, and it was something that Zerith-var found himself charmed by.

As they talked into the night, Zerith-var's gaze wandered. He quietly – and, he hoped, covertly – appreciated the lantern's glow on his skin and the deep shadows it cast, the bit of dark hair visible under the collar of his shirt, the parting of his lips as he exhaled smoke. He had a haunted, intense look in his one eye, a look that disarmed Zerith-var every time it was directed at him.

Were he a younger Khajiit, perhaps he would have pounced at the chance to know him more intimately. To press his hands against grey skin, to learn if his hair would be as sleek under his fingers as it appeared. But he was no ja'hadaliit, and he had little time now to entertain such desires. 

Not that it mattered, anyhow. There was a dark, looming guilt hanging heavy over his heart, one that he was not certain would allow him to love freely again. He would just have to look at Drals – the handsome, intelligent, mysterious elf that he was – and long for something he could not have.

[beevean]

I spent way too long on this

Addendum: I forgot to specify, in the Isaac/Dahlia intersecion, "complicated relationship with their sister who is the only person who sees good in them and wants to save them from their sins"

(and perceived *by others fuck it graphics are hard)

[mayo-productions]

good evening tumblr (it's literally midnight..)

I'm back in the Miguel trenches and I just saw this and I just about fell to the floor in tears because this is literally what's gonna happen to Mateo..

(incoming nonsense rant in tags, sighh)

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

Ok but can we talk about how unintentionally fucked up Barry’s comment to Oliver about the hugging was? “I am fast enough to just hug you without you knowing so you might as well let me.” LIKE???? It’s not cute to threaten to violate someone’s boundary like that

[teh-nos]

I watched Avengers: Age of Ultron (apart from I skipped some overly long action sequences) and I am not sure so can someone tell me whether or not Tony Stark was the baddy in that film? Because about halfway through I was sure he was but then it was maybe just an evil robot after all and I am confused because either this film was surprisingly subversive or it was about robots hitting each other.

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

(from this video)

[enypneion-aa]

i keep thinking about ailun and his arc of unlearning everything his father had taught him because the abuse he went through had affected him to a point that he harbors both negative and positive emotions towards him, but there is also a lot to unlearn behavior wise. there is an internalized messages about weakness, shame and expectations that his father gave him. it taught him that affection or validation is only given conditionally or that love must be earned by enduring pain or mistreatment. these ingrained beliefs made it incredibly difficult to trust, to be vulnerable or even to feel deserving of kindness and respect in any of his relationships, both personal and political. there was also the challenge of detangling identity from what’s been taught. for ailun, a father’s role is pivotal in shaping his self - image and confidence, but in the context of his abuse, their relationship distorted self - understanding. he struggled to find his own identities, especially since he's been told (implicitly AND explicitly) that he's not enough and that he should be a certain way. this struggle was only intensified when unlearning as it required him to let go of the need for approval that has been deeply embedded since childhood. it's such a long process but !!!!

[tkbrokkoli]

nnnnggghh are these ppl fuckling stupid wtffffff

[unholiis]

@lured-into-wonderland send a secret, ❝ hand . hold out a hand for my muse to take. source.

the sound of champagne glasses being ticked together, the endless chatter of the guests ( many of them prominent figures within various industries ) and the soft tunes of classical music filled the spacious hall. with the glow of grand chandeliers sparkling like diamonds in the sky the ambiance carried a certain otherworldly feel to it. amidst it all was the heir of rozanov, standing tall and proud, with sharp amber gaze sweeping across the bodies that fluttered about; moving from one hub of people to the next [ ━━━ ] watching how the waiters swirled around effortlessly in between people and offering them refreshments. this particular event was one hosted by a family close to the rozanov's and custom, tradition even, dictated that yohan had to be present for it.

his presence brings in more noise, chatter, elevating the event to heights not often achieved by others. to be paraded like so was something he was used to, knew how to play this game, made it effortlessly his own. it wasn't strange for the various guests to vye for his attention or even in desperate cases offer themselves or their family to have a moment with him. this was no different [ ━━━ ] the daughter of a politician he remembered vaguely by name pushed towards him. pathetic truly ... but yohan rozanov was a game master, effortlessly moved pawns across the board and this too would simply have to become part of it. a fun little thing in between bigger plans. a little outing as it were.

therefore when she offers her hand in greeting he takes it like any affluent member of high society would. reigning from his throne build upon blood and bones, forged from stolen goods and crafted with his own hands does he wrap those same crimson dipped digits around much smaller one. one hand is moved behind his back, bowing slightly as hand is brought towards lips, a brief brush upon knuckles. a mere ( insignificant ) greeting [ ━━━ ] part of protocol but poison drips from his lips and would now stain her too ...

[nevalizona]

A fragment from an au I will not be giving context for LOL. Probably won't share too much from it either, but oh well!

Pardon any errors, please!

"Humane?" The blond officer scoughed, shooting a look at Dr.Flores.

"Yes, humane. Is there something you don't understand...?" Dr.Flores asked, eyebrows pinching together under her protective gear. The blond and brunette officers cannot see her under all her layers and safety goggles, and for a moment, she's glad.

"I just think it's a little funny that this is where you choose to be 'humane'." The blond officer retorted, earning a look from the brunette. Dr.Flores wished she could remember their names.

"I have to interject here, officer. Dr.Flores is one of the most compassionate scientists I have ever had the privilege to train. She has worked tooth and nail to make this concoction work." Dr.Weber poked at the clipboard he was holding, his voice stern and protective. The blond officer opened his mouth to say something, but the brunette officer interrupted him.

"Look, I'm sure she is. You have to understand where we're coming from. After seeing what we saw, I imagine you can figure out why it's hard for us to believe either one of you would care about doing anything 'humanely.'" The brunette officer explained, gesturing towards the scientists.

"You have to understand officers, we didn't choose th-"

"I would imagine, officers, that you two should be well acquainted with not doing things the 'humane' way... What makes this different to you, hm?" Dr.Weber interrupted, sounding clearly agitated.

The brunette officer noticeably clenched his jaw. This was not the way a first meeting should be going.

"What Dr.Weber means is, in your area of work, you have to do and see things that aren't... good... for the bigger picture. You're doing the right thing, in the... wrong way... we're no different. We don't mean any offense. We're just trying to help make the world a better place. You gentlemen are too, no? We're both going about that in 'unique' ways, are we not? I mean, you two were picked to overlook this experiment for a reason, right?" She explained, trying to deesculate the situation.

The brunette officer nodded his head slowly, still glaring at Dr.Weber.

"You said you were going to show us one of your observation rooms. Maybe you should take us there now." The blond said, inserting himself back into the conversation.

"Ah, yes. I'll take you two to the changing rooms. You'll need to gear up. We'll give you some underclothes to wear as well. Come along." Dr.Weber said, gesturing for the two officers to follow.