#25 years and this character still hasn't paid off! 25 years and it is still unclear what Oda is trying to say with this character!

[giantkillerjack]

Watched two episodes of the new one piece show tonight. Absolutely blown away. Finally an introduction to one piece that's fucking watchable!!!!

Also so far Garp is really evil-coded, and that makes me unbelievably happy. A lot of fans always wanna make excuses for Garp because they can't turn the boot-licking part of their brains off long enough to realize that he's a terrible fucking person. So it is very reassuring to see that the writers of this show seem to be on the same page as me here.

Edit: so my wife and I finished the show and Oh No

[zaahvi]

first concept of my rook!! his name is faolan and he's a dalish crow :))

backstory and lore tidbits under the cut bc it's alot 👇

fal was part of a dalish clan roaming northeastern thedas, and had been first to the keeper since his magic manifested (around 8 yrs old). he was quite troublesome, impatient, and had a temper. one day when he was 15, he stormed off in a fit of anger mid-lesson with the keeper, disappearing into the forest on his own for several hours until he'd calmed down. when he came back, his clan were all dead, and whoever was responsible was long gone.

after pulling himself together, he packed his things and left in search of another clan. there was one nearby, he knew, but when he reached them, they refused to take him in; they already had too many mages, they said. faolan knew this wasn't true, and instead suspected that his well-known poor character was the reason he was turned away, but for once he said nothing and just turned away. it was time for a different path, it seemed.

his journey took him to the nearby city of treviso, where upon learning of the antivan crows he practically begged to be let in. after all that happened, all he wanted was to kill, and to find whoever murdered his clan, and kill them too. after some time and trials, he was accepted in, and his training began.

after officially killing his first mark at 18, he paid another visit to the nearby dalish clan, for nothing else but to ask for his vallaslin. he wasn't a first anymore, but he had become a hunter, in a way, and thought he'd earned his markings. the clan's keeper begrudgingly agreed, and faolan got his vallaslin: the twisted branches which symbolised elgar'nan, the god of vengeance, for that is the path he'd taken when they'd turned him away.

over the next few years, the antivan crows began to receive more and more contracts on members of the venatori. during this time, faolan discovered that they were behind the murder of his clan: they had been searching for information on elven lore, and had chosen the violent path with his clan. fal was lucky enough to swipe a few contracts on the specific members that were involved and kill them personally; but when it was all over, he felt nothing. it seemed that getting vengeance wasn't as gratifying as he thought it'd be. in the end, his clan were still dead, they weren't coming back, nothing was going to be like it used to be... he had a new life now, one filled with plots and murder, and he really hadn't been in the headspace to process how permanent that'd be.

so that's faolan and where he is now. he's about 25 now and he feels kinda stuck in life, his past is still weighing on him and he's constantly just trying to distract himself with work. i think the solas job & then the forming of the veilguard is the first time that things start to feel a little different for him? like he's actually doing something important for once... and he finally gets friends yay :)

some tidbits:

as a kid he got into fights all the time. ALL the time. this continued on until he got into the crows and started losing

^^ he never used magic while fighting btw. that's cheating.

personality wise nowadays he's more guarded and doesn't really like to socialise, it's not that he's "socially awkward" it's just that he'd rather keep to himself. i think the veilguard is the first time he kinda comes out of his shell so to speak

that being said he will still absolutely kick your ass if provoked.

he's the kind of guy you see at the bar sitting at a solo table in the corner staring at everybody who comes in

his eyes both used to be that goldenish colour; his left eye turned silver when his magic manifested

doesn't know any healing magic. he hasn't bothered to use it since his clan died, and has forgotten how to do it

the tips of his ears get hot when someone casts magic nearby

takes shots at veilguard team meetings

hates any and all weather, honestly how he managed to survive 15 years in a dalish clan is beyond me

can be very charming and really good at flirting when he wants to be, but is an absolute disaster when it comes to showing genuine affection

has whatever the deity equivalent of daddy issues is with elgar'nan

okay i'm all done but on a related note for that last point here's a lazy meme as a gift for scrolling this far:

[solarsavoy]

If there are still no other asks I will give you another one.

3, 6, 17 and 25 please.

Yup, still just you! (And I don't mind. Interactions are interactions. XD) Ask thing.

3. What's your favorite candle scent?

I think I'm going to go with most vanilla varieties. There are some others I like, but I don't remember the exact scent name and I always end up defaulting to vanilla anyway. It's the cheapest and I really enjoy it too.

6. Say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).

So cruel to make me do this one! XD But okay. I love my nails. Despite years of dishwashing and me not taking particular care of them, they look great and like a natural french manicure and I get complimented on it all the time. Also, I like that I look super young. People are always surprised that I'm often a whole whopping decade older than I look, two decades even to some. (Average guess is 24 because my overall demeanor says a lot or they'd guess lower, but I've gotten as low as 16 more than a couple of times as well. I'm 36.) This last one is technically physical, but not necessarily looks, but it counts! I don't look like I can play DDR on double pad like a pro, but I totally can, and do. (Not a physically fit person, so I def don't look like I can do very many active things, but my appearance is very misleading in many ways, apparently.)

None physical things. I love my memory. I never paid much attention to it before and just assumed everyone's memories were this good unless they had some debilitating illness like dementia or Alzheimer's, but apparently it's not normal to remember all the words to a song I sang in a play that one time in third grade, including the second verse which many people have said they always forget first in a song. Nor is it normal to remember enough about a past event to remember the context clues needed to help the other person remember the event to a similar capacity, which they need in order to access that memory. I don't remember everything, but I remember a great deal and that's apparently impressive. (Don't even get me started on how many stories I got locked inside my head that I remember most details to even if I haven't even started writing them yet and came up with them months or even years prior. You can check my WIP list as a reference. Thanks to my self imposed new content ban, it hasn't grown... much.)

I like how intricately my mind can put together a story before I'm even aware of all the details I've put into it. I usually refer to it as "my muse", but am slowly coming to terms with it really being me, just thinking on a much higher plane than I'm aware of. I'm still not comfortable with the idea that it's actually all me, so I'm going to continue to refer to it as "the muse". Some notable examples are the meaning of Deshi's name and how appropriate it is, as well as where Stag's name comes from despite there being no "stags" anywhere on the planet he's on. There are many smaller things and most times, I don't even notice them until I've read my own work three, ten, twenty times and even then, I'm still finding little breadcrumbs my muse has left me. I often wonder if that's just how writers are when it comes to their writing. It's hard to believe it's simply "all me" all of the time coming up with all this stuff, but it's still a thing I really like regardless.

I like how cute I can act. Because I grew up really lonely without much interaction, I've adopted a lot of the traits that anime characters will generally have, poses and tonal inflections and other notable things, and this constantly makes my hubby squeal in excitement and he just has to hug me because "you're just so dang cute!!" XD I don't really do it on purpose, it just feels like it really fits in the moment to me, but I like that it has this effect. ^^ I like coming off as young and cute and vibrant and intelligent. It is the me I've come to accept. (Still working on the love part. I love some parts though, at least, so progress?)

Pictures!

My beautiful nails that I hope never ever go away no matter how old I get (although they're bound to get more fragile eventually.)

An example of some of my cute, real life expressions. (Using references, too embarrassed to try and make them on command and post them on here. 😅)

Explanation of pics translated into my mannerisms in order: 1. talking about my OCs or Krystar or anything else I'm super passionate about, 2. me being in a generally good mood (I hold out my arms and will even walk that way just because happy), 3. annoyed and wishing the problem would just go away, 4. angry/annoyed/upset with someone or their actions or just expressing my overall strong disdain of something/someone, 5. not wanting to broach a subject but also knowing I need to. Also general anxiety.

17. Fairy lights or LED lights?

Darkness! Seriously. That or the standard room lights. If I want light, I want it to be clear and bright light, otherwise I don't want it at all, and don't you dare give me any sun! HIsssssssss, I am a vampire, give me darkness.... (A vampire by the real name of sunshine because irony.)

25. What's the best personal gift someone could give you?

Honestly? Comments and/or talking about my book/writings. It brings so much more joy than anything I can think of. Drawings of my characters is about the same, but if I had to choose, it's the prior. Knowing that someone took the time to read, understand, and then expound on my stuff without prompting is the kindest thing anyone could ever do for me. It makes it so the time I spent creating such things was really worth it. Heh, I guess that makes me an official fanfic writer now (if I wasn't already one long ago XD).

[monsoonblooms12]

Sirimiri (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: Reminisces of their first meet from Ethan's POV. Based on OH Book 1 Chapter 1

Sirimiri: (Spanish) A light drizzle, a fine rain🌧

A/N: This is like a band-aid to the hearts I hurt with the Brydia fic on Sat. This is total fluff and has rains, so I hope this nonsense brings a smile to your faces🤎

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Loads of thanks to the amazing @jamespotterthefirst for pre-reading! Love you🤎

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8 K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff

Triggers: A few curse words (Just 1 or 2)

Prompts: @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 25: Bliss

A soft breeze blew through his dark brown hair as Ethan sat next to the window, reading one of those detective novels Pooja rambled about endlessly.

And, not that he would admit it to her in any way, he liked the storytelling. Pooja had told him that the stories were originally written for teens, so he was doubtful that it would appeal to him.

But the books had been written in a way that captured the attention of the old and young alike, breaking through the barriers of age.

As the rain began the rhythm of serenity in the background, he took the bookmark and placed it on page no. 45 of Incident on the Kalka Mail.

The rain was soft, gentle and refreshing. He envisioned her, sitting on Alex's couch, watching the rain as Alex played with Comet & Jenner. She was always fascinated by the rain, staring endlessly at it, and bearing that one dimpled smile he was a fan of.

He got up, went to the balcony, and leant on the railing. Occasional water droplets fell on his forehead and cheeks, making it an enjoyable experience.

His balcony bore a multi-chromatic view with the brown of the earthen pots, the green of the plantlets, splattered with occasional whites, pinks and blues of the vivid flowers. All of them planted by Pooja when she moved in here.

She bears the love of gardening in her traits, he thought. Ethan was amazed when he went to Panchmarhi for the first time and saw the vibrant garden her father had grown all around their house, making it majestic and serene at the same time.

Pooja came into his life like an unannounced shower of rain. Just like her arrival made his balcony's melancholy monochrome full of hues of colours, her love made his life multi-hued with the colours of emotions, feelings and care. Life was a bliss for every moment she spent with him.

One after the other, doors of memories opened. Memories that no matter how much he had strived to forget, refused to leave him. And at this moment, he was grateful for them. A light chuckle escaped him as he thought,

Their memories were as stubborn as both of them were.

Like pages of an old journal, remembrances presented themselves before him and he got lost in them, in her, as the rain accelerated from a drizzle to a mild downpour. But Ethan didn't leave his spot. He was too drenched in her to care about the rain.

Slowly the last pages of the memoir of his brain took him to the first day of their meet. A distant memory, but yet crystal clear before his blue orbs. Nothing was particularly significant on that day. Just another day of handling cases and dealing with petty interns.

But there was one. One person due to whom that day still stands atop the others in his life.

It really started like any other regular day. After taking Jenner for a walk, feeding him his Purina ProPlan and becoming the recipient of his numerous licks that brightened up his day, he got ready.

Get a Vienna at the Derry Roasters was his mental note for the morning.

The smooth cinnamon-y taste enamoured his taste buds, as he internally groaned at the sudden remembrance of what day it was.

This day, every year, was the one he dreaded the most.

Why? One would ask.

Because it was the day a fresh batch of petty interns came to test his patience.

Ugh. Mental eye roll.

That's why he made sure that he got his favourite coffee from his favourite coffee shop and grab on any last moments of solace before going to face the mad troupe.

The sun dazzled overhead, glaring at everyone under its blanket. Ethan's mind kept fluctuating between the medical cases and the agony of facing new interns. Step by step, he made his pace quicker, hoping to get to his office before any "fans" started pestering him.

Even today Ethan hated interns just as much as he did 3 years ago.

Or, did he? Oh, whom was he kidding?

His mind, still could not comprehend how, a single person, waltzed into his life and had such a profound effect in every sphere of his character, slowly, tactfully carving him into a new man.

A tolerant man.

Who knew how it felt to be loved.

Who knew how to love.

The two days, today and the first of her intern year, were such a stark contrast to each other.

The blazing sun vs. the drumming rain. The coldness of him vs. his warmness today. The frown of that day vs. the smile of today.

Two different worlds, two different times and two different circumstances.

How grateful he was to become the man he was today.

He still remembers the spontaneous name he called her that day.

That one nickname stuck as a token of his feelings all through the years.

Rookie.

When he called her Rookie that day, he meant it.

She was an intern, after all.

"Hey. Rookie. Get in here."

Ethan wasn't paying attention to her. He needed an accomplice and saw her, hence called her.

She had the eyes of a diagnostician, he collected. To notice a mild bruise on the patient on the first day of your residence, that too when you have just arrived is not something many would have been able to do.

He knew from personal experience, that half of them would have been complimenting him when there was goddamn patient to save.

He hated them.

But the first day jitters did get her after all. Her hand trembled with the scalpel in it.

And without much thought, he took it in his.

It was the first and last time he did that with an intern.

How foolish he was, Ethan realizes as he makes himself a cup of hot chocolate.

Nah, not quite as delicious as Poo's, but works.

She was an exception to every one of his rules.

He had made her an exception before even realizing it.

"...Sharma." He scoffed, fury rising through his veins.

Tossing back her ID, he went around, muttering just a single "Arrogant interns" as he heeled back to his office.

The faint mutter of her "What an asshole" had reached him, and he scoffed.

Why are all these interns the same?

He is marking the differences, he thinks.

The differences between how it was then, and how it is now.

The fury of "What an asshole" now subdued to a normal remark she teased him with, ending up in chuckles.

One of the most fascinating incidents, for him, was the Barbara episode.

He had tried being strict, pleasant, stubborn, but nothing, at all, had made her take the meds.

That is, until Pooja came, like the flick of a magic wand, and made her take them.

"What is the blood group of an author?"

"Type-O!"

Memory brightened with the stupid joke she had made with so much enthusiasm made him chuckle.

If there's something that hasn't changed, it's Pooja's sense of humour.

Ethan thought of going out for a walk. A pluvious shower spread a scotch-mist all around, and he thought against it.

Always during monsoons, Pooja made it a point to walk around the city, splashing and dancing in the rain, especially if the rain was a heavy downpour.

It reminded her of the eternal, melodious, torrential cloudbursts that enveloped the hills of Panchmarhi throughout the year.

And Ethan? He would be standing in the very same balcony he was moving towards now, watching her enjoy and feeling her enjoyment reciprocate in himself.

The film roll of reminiscences projected on the misty atmosphere as the vinyl played a harmonious melody of her laughter, the splashes of water and the pitter-patter of the raindrops.

The image is vivid in front of his eyes. He spots the faint dimples on her wet cheeks and his heart dances.

For a moment he forgot that it was just a picture cast by the projector of his encephalon.

Just like he was drenched in the rain, he was drenched in her love.

He had never felt all alive as he does at the moment.

He lets the mist envelop him, just like her memories enveloped his senses.

Relaxing against the cool air refreshing his skin and heart.

"You remembered?", Pooja asks, surprise and curiosity evident in her musical tone.

"Just paying attention." Again that dazzling smile appeared on his face and the dimpled one on hers.

If he had paid attention to his soul that day, he would have sensed the butterflies that erupted in his stomach.

He is still not sure why, or how he remembered her name when he had never made an effort to do so with any other intern, especially on their first day.

It's as if his mind knew that this name would become the jewel of his life, the beauty of his soul, and it stored it, kept it safely between the silken folds of memory.

The thunder crackled and the storm raged. Zeus must be having a good time up there, Ethan scoffed as he hurried indoors.

The thunderstorm was playing a fortissimo orchestra and amidst it, he failed to hear the repetitive chime of his phone on the night stand. It was when he saw the lit screen of the notorious cuboid, that he understood someone phoned.

It was Pooja. With 5 missed calls.

Fuck.

He called her back. It didn't even ring once before he heard her speak from the other side.

Ethan! Oh, God, I was fucking scared. Open the goddamn door!

He mentally smacked himself as he proceeded to the main entryway.

As soon as he heard the click, Jenner pounced up and down. He leapt upon him and licked him all over as Pooja entered, chuckling without a breath.

She loved her boys more than anything.

Once Jenner calmed down, he trotted off to the kitchen in search of any buffets Ethan would have arranged for him.

Pooja locked her arms around Ethan's neck, evidently worried, "Why were you not opening the door, E?"

Ethan brought her close, wrapping his arm around her waist, touching his forehead to her, which he knew would bring an instant calm over her elegant features.

Giving the most ravishing smile Pooja had ever seen, he whispered "Drowned in a certain someone's remembrances."

She gave him a playful wink, "Drowned in love, Dr Ramsey? Oh, What a Misery! My Intern Year Dr Ramsey would never..."

And they both chuckled. Intern Year Dr Ramsey would never.

Placing the most gentle kiss on her forehead, he locked her hand in his,

Let's get something to eat?

PS: Thank you so much for reading my mess and I hope you have a great day ahead🤎

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno @stygianflood @aleynareads @choicesbookclub

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[cloudyweatherahead]

I posted 215 times in 2021

18 posts created (8%)

197 posts reblogged (92%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 10.9 posts.

I added 145 tags in 2021

#thanks op for my life - 31 posts

#funny - 25 posts

#cloudy's tag - 19 posts

#esc 2021 - 15 posts

#the witcher - 13 posts

#dgs - 11 posts

#ace attorney - 9 posts

#eurovision - 8 posts

#thank you op for my life - 7 posts

#geraskier - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#but. it's so nice. also it's fun picking it apart and figuring things out. and pissing my older relatives off along with my brother.

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

i've been using welly boots today as white noise to study and when i finally finished i paid attention to the lyrics for the first time and now it's 2 am and I'm bawling my eyes out

4 notes • Posted 2021-10-22 23:19:23 GMT

#4

my brother, seeing russia's song : ah. so, five songs in and eurovision finally started huh

5 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 19:33:46 GMT

#3

me, seeing kh trending: oh sweet did we get an announcement or-

*checks tags*

... ah.

12 notes • Posted 2021-06-01 18:34:30 GMT

#2

my brother, on the color change in portugal: so 100 years passed and he still hasn't found his love

me: NO-

32 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 19:39:52 GMT

#1

esc 2021 being like

160 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 20:23:48 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[theliterateape]

The Workforce Hasn't Changed, Valuation on Quality of Life Has

By Don Hall

The Zoomers have a point.

College was supposed to get you the good jobs and the higher tax bracket. But unless you knew someone at the good jobs in the higher tax bracket, that MBA means jackshit.

Starting out in life at minimum wage was supposed to allow you to grow within the company and increase that wage with experience, but when the federal minimum wage hasn't been increased substantially in decades, the concept of moving up in the company is all but a vicious lie.

Becoming really masterful at a job is supposed to garner more security, but when so many employers are scared off by experience (re: hiring older workers who've been there) and prefer to hire inexperienced worker bees to keep wage costs down, the idea of even bothering with gaining experience is practically self-defeating.

Taking a trip in the Way Back Machine, I recall one of my first high school jobs at the Diamond Standard Station on 13th Street in Wichita.

The job was gas station attendant. As in car pulls up, I jump over, fill it up, check the oil and tires, clean the windshield. Yeah, I know those jobs don't really exist anymore. 

L.D. Diamond was the owner and my boss. A big man with blinding white hair in a pompadour, his skin a taut reddish brown from standing out in the sun all day, and a brusk air about him that signaled he was not in the mood for your bullshit.

"How much you wanna get paid?"

"I dunno. What do you usually pay?"

"Minimum wage is $4.25. If you're only willing to do the minimum, that's what I'll pay you."

"The minimum...?"

"On the other side, I'll pay you $10 an hour. But there are some rules. You show up on time, every time. No excuses. You show up in your uniform and it better be cleaned and pressed, every day. You work an eight hour shift but you don't leave if there's work left to be done. That work for you?"

I took the $10 an hour. He wasn't kidding about his expectations. I was late for work once and he read me the riot act, reminding me all day long about what a slacker I was for showing up late, and he docked my pay for a full day. I was never late again.

It was a solid high school job but what made it special was L.D. He taught me a few things that I needed to learn in terms of jobs in general. He was the kind of boss who expected big but paid big to get it.

The pandemic is now the go-to culprit for a lot of our current whining. Pandemic Fatigue. The almost comical rise in violent crime. Weight gain. Existential angst. Vaccines that magnetize your head.

If the year in lockdown had any affect on jobs and the workplace it was not that people got free money and stopped wanting to work. It was that the year gave so many of us a moment to reflect on our day-to-day lives and seriously consider what we're willing to give up for a wage.

I mean, that's the trade-off, yes? You give forty–fifty hours of your living, breathing time in exchange for money that you can use for rent, goods, and services. At its essence, that's the contract. Minimum wage should be only your pay if you're only willing to give the minimum effort and, if that's the case, shut the fuck up about your lousy salary.

Unfortunately, minimum wage for so many business owners is instead the least amount they can get away with before calling their business indentured servitude.

Workers have had more than a year to reconsider work-life balance or career paths, and as the world opens back up, many of them will give their two weeks' notice and make those changes they’ve been dreaming about.

“The great resignation” is what economists are dubbing it.

Surveys show anywhere from 25% to upwards of 40% of workers are thinking about quitting their jobs.

SOURCE

I'd argue this shift in perspective of a critical mass of people is the tipping point of true change in paradigm. The most effective form of protest is not marching in the streets en masse (which is great for visibility of the cause but traditionally pretty lousy at changing things) but simply opting out of a system you find objectionable.

This is a long overdue reality check. Again with the Way Back Machine, corporations used to reward employees for loyalty with corporate loyalty. Somewhen along the way, they stopped giving loyalty while still expecting it. Pensions were eliminated; 401Ks were instituted. Layoffs for employees with seniority, not out of ageism but because those older folks cost more to employ.

The labor force became nothing more than a financial liability all while promoting a faux familial corporate speak to cover up the apathetic view of the working class.

Dana and I finally got around to watching Nomadland the other night. She liked it more than I did but I'm coming around. My issue was that the character played by Frances McDormand was not someone beaten down by "the system" described above but someone who has chosen to live outside the margins.

When push comes to shove, her character has choices beyond checking out and living in a van. This bothered me initially—not much of a fan of the Gutter Punk Aesthetic—but I'm warming up to the idea.

The organ grinder makes his living because he has a monkey dressed in a vest and fez, to dance to the tune. The monkey gets peanuts, the grinder gets money. If the monkey decides to opt out of that equation, the grinder either finds another monkey or re-configures the arrangement.