delicatetyrantdetective

[delicatetyrantdetective]

A Swedish woman hitting a neo-Nazi protester with her handbag. The woman was reportedly a concentration camp survivor. [1985]

Volunteers learn how to fight fires at Pearl Harbor [c. 1941 - 1945]

Maud Wagner, the first well-known female tattoo artist in the U.S. [1907]

A 106-year old Armenian woman protecting her home with an AK-47. [1990]

Komako Kimura, a prominent Japanese suffragist at a march in New York. [October 23, 1917]

Margaret Hamilton, lead software engineer of the Apollo Project, standing next to the code she wrote by hand that was used to take humanity to the moon. [1969]

Erika, a 15-year-old Hungarian fighter who fought for freedom against the Soviet Union. [October 1956]

Sarla Thakral, 21 years old, the first Indian woman to earn a pilot license. [1936]

Voting activist Annie Lumpkins at the Little Rock city jail. [1961]   (freakin’ immaculate)

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Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

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pining is 100000% the most important aspect of pre-relationship fic for me. good-natured whole-hearted pining filled with lovelorn gazing and chest aching and fluttering touches, that’s my top priority. i was put on this earth to watch characters suffer over the profundity of their love for another person. unrequited love is why god made me. characters finding out that their feelings are reciprocated after long months/years of suffering is why the universe was assembled from nothingness. amen.

[delicatetyrantdetective]

mentally i am living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in the woods and it's foggy and i am wearing a big sweater and baking banana bread

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no no see, domesticity IS hot. how intimate it is to make food with someone, to share a bed, to brush your teeth at the same sink, to shower and use the same towels and the same laundry soap, to grocery shop and hold hands through the aisles, to be cornered in the kitchen to make out while a pot of pasta boils over on the stove. to fall asleep and hear them snoring softly and laugh at the little trail of drool out of the corner of their mouth. to spend money together and share chores and pick on each other for your weird habits. it's not always perfect and beautiful, but it's comfortable and familiar and I just think it's neat.

[delicatetyrantdetective]

"It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent."

–Madeleine K. Albright

[delicatetyrantdetective]

Sometimes I want to shake people by the shoulders and scream, you need conflict to make a story interesting!

If every character got along perfectly and acted in everyone’s best interest, that would be unrealistic to the human condition but more importantly—so fucking boring

[delicatetyrantdetective]

i don't WANT to read smut right now

i WANT to read a passionate, poetic, jaw dropping, tears streaking down my face, heart wrenching, giggle inducing, feet kicking, cringy yet amazing, gorgeous story written by someone who apologizes for english not being their first language(they're the best writers ever) which has 4 chapters and then makes me scream because it hasnt been updated in months and the author is mia

[delicatetyrantdetective]

the binding of laika

ben florin, "laika"/jamaica kincaid/le loup, "we are gods! we are wolves!"/archival footage of the soviet space program/genesis 22/alan shapiro, "space dog"/olesya turkina, soviet space dogs/brennig davies, "first dog in space"/daniel ortberg, "children's stories made horrific: curious george"/idomeneo prepares to sacrifice his son in the garsington opera production of "idomeneo"/alan shapiro, "space dog"/louise glück/jonathan coulton, "space doggity"/bojack horseman, "free churro"/maynard solomon, mozart: a life/mac demarco in an interview with npr/@/fateology, “muttnik”/unknown/alex wellerstein writing for the new yorker/ ancient doll found in roman egypt/steiff laika toy/guillermo del toro's pinocchio/richard silken/laika wikipedia page/bojack horseman, "free churro"/photograph of laika//nih.gov’s page on oleg gazenko/oleg gazenko/alan shapiro, "space dog"

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pratchett will write an entire book about the grim reaper pretending to be santa claus while the grim reaper’s granddaughter goes about hunting down the dumbass who decided to kill santa, and then right when you think you’re done and the oddly pointed shenanigans are winding down he hits you with “humans need fantasy to be human. to be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape,” and knocks you into next wednesday

[delicatetyrantdetective]

You live in a human town in a fantasy world. In recent history, werecreatures enlisted to fight alongside humans throughout a bitter war in the territory. The result of that alliance is a (sometimes tense) tolerance between these two species who generally do not get along.

In the wilderness near your town, a werebear veteran has made his home. Bearish in appearance and manner, he vastly prefers solitude and is actively hostile to visitors. Sometimes he comes into town to sell meat and pelts from his hunts. The other humans are frightened, but you find him fascinating and peculiarly handsome.

A slew of livestock deaths precede an emergency town meeting. There's no question who the culprit is, or why. The town elders understand that a werecreature in heat is aggressive and dangerous. The town's interspecies liason officer, a veteran who fought beside the werebear, explains that it's not a deliberate attack on the town's livelihood, but even so, the maulings cannot continue. It may only be a matter of time before a human is injured.

The liason suggests hiring one of the workers at the town brothel to act as a "heat soother," but the brothel workers don't want the job. There's still a stigma over non-human creatures. The werebear is dangerous, violent, monstrous. Who knows if a human mate would even survive.

Tentatively, you volunteer for the role. You have no living family that could be shamed, you're naturally infertile so there's no concern over cubs, and... Well. You like the idea of it, though you keep that last point to yourself.

You are escorted to the werebears cabin by the eager liason officer, who's just glad the precarious human-werebeast alliance is no longer in jeopardy. Answering the door, the werebear looks surprised to see the two of you...

Then annoyed.

I told you, he growls at the liason, I will not take a forced mate.

The officer coos and assures the bear that you are here voluntarily, which he seems to doubt very much. He throws you both out of his cabin and slams the door.

Right, then. Good luck! Calls the liason as he hurries to the horse and carriage without you. You stand on the porch, embarrassed and confused, wondering what about you must be so undesirable.

After a few minutes the door opens again, and a gruff voice orders you inside. He knows you're not there by choice, he says, he knows the town elders probably forced you there to settle him. You try to explain that's not the case, but he doesn't believe you. He says you can stay for the night, as the sun is going down, but he expects you to fuck off in the morning.

You try to talk over dinner, but he's defensive and quiet. You try to convince him that you want to be there, but he scoffs that you have no idea what soothing a bear's heat even means.

Over the evening, you try different techniques to tempt him. Using his bath, undressing a few layers by the fire, sleeping nude in his bed. He expresses total disinterest the entire time, a steely lack of any desire towards you.

Disheartened, you're about to give up. You have no idea the reason he's being so aggressively stoic is because the moment he opened his cabin door, the moment he saw and smelled you, the beast inside him said Mine. Only mine. You have no idea that every breath he's taken since has been measured and cautious, every effort he's made not to pounce and claim you. Gods, he can barely stand to look at you without the saliva filling his mouth, the feral lust clouding his thoughts.

There's no way you're here by choice, he reasons privately. No way any nice, pretty human would volunteer for the social ostracism that would come with mating a werebear. And whatever those fuckers in the elder council did to leverage you into coming here, he can't let himself take advantage.

Because once he let's his control slip, once he let's the beast inside know that yes, you're his for the taking, nothing will be able to stop him. Not reason or conscience, not if you're kicking and begging, not any ounce of moral goodness in him. Once the beast has you, it's not stopping until it's filled you up over and over and over again.

So he can't let it slip. He has to remain cold and stiff and rude, and just pray you leave him alone and then leave in the morning.

Little does he know, you have one last attempt at seduction up your sleeve. Little do you know what the consequences will be.

[delicatetyrantdetective]

brown works so hard and does so much and everyone is so mean to her. coffee chocolate hair leather tea wood eyes broth a warm coat autumn leaves caramelized onions the crust on a loaf of bread. all things good and warm and kind are brown. bitch!

[delicatetyrantdetective]

god i really fucking love the fated mates trope, i can't lie. there's something so beautiful about fate or the deity of the world crafting you and another person to be the perfect complement to one another. your souls knew one another before you even met. the universe saw everything you could ever be and then found someone to be the counterpart to all of those. it makes me imagine the creation of the characters from the "deity" or from "fate" as being so involved and caring. aligning characters like matching pieces of broken glass together, or sewing together two pieces of fabric. every jagged piece or hole or pattern or stitch is made for you to be with someone who can love you for all of those flaws and faults. that will always, always be beautiful to me.

[delicatetyrantdetective]

Anaïs Nin, Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1914-1920

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And I whisper to myself, I am safer alone.

Wasted, Marya Hornbacher / . / . / . / painting by Mladen Ilic / Paul Auster / Letters To Milena, Franz Kafka / Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys / The Departure Of The Train, Clarice Lispector / Beau Taplin

[delicatetyrantdetective]

There is something so meaningful in the reluctant soulmates trope.

Knowing that this person was made to be your match, your equal in every way. Yet you have no idea how that's possible because you can't possibly be like them. They are nothing like you and who or what had the audacity to think such a thing?

Only for your journey to continue and you realize that maybe you don't actually know your true self as well as you believed. That you're slowly discovering who you are after thinking you knew the answer to that and you're changing and evolving with time and experience and much to your shock you are so much like your mate and that terrifies you because it changes everything.

Everything you thought you wanted.

Everything you once believed.

Everything you were so sure of before.

Now you're even more determined to prove fate wrong because how dare it cause you to lose your way, to question everything you once knew and to know you better than you know yourself.

But eventually truth wins out over stubbornness and you realize exactly why this person was your perfect match. You've accepted the "you" as you were always meant to be though fear and circumstance once held you back.

You see that you were not done changing, not done evolving but you're OK with having been wrong now because you like, no, love who you've become. And there is no one who can best stand by your side than the one who matches your soul as fate always knew, even when you were to proud to admit it.