#I’m not the one doing the writing

[mariathechosen1]

Seeing a lot of people criticize Netflix’s 3 Body Problem for its casting choices (which I understand, they’ve definitely made an…….interesting decision), but when it comes to criticizing it as a show I think many are being a bit unfair.

I get that a lot of people don’t like it when adaptations change elements of their favorite book, but this show was honestly pretty well made! Not to mention visually stunning!

I watched it with my dad, who has read all the books and who’s a really big fan, while I’m only vaguely familiar with the book plot, but we both really liked it! I definitely agree with some critics that the show sometimes struggles (especially in the first episodes) with giving us proper direction and motivation (something/someone to root for ya know?) but that fixed itself a bit as we got to know the main cast more and more. The show’s biggest flaw (except for all the weird af adaptation choices) is that they don’t give us more time with our main cast. They can be a bit flat at times, and I really feel like most of them carry a lot of unexplored potential.

Onto the positives: The way these guys do dialogue is just *chef’s kisses*. It’s smart, it’s layered, it’s funny and they never made exposition boring. I think a lot of the characters were ‘saved’ by just how great the dialogue was. Characters like Wade very quickly became favorites because of just how entertaining they were, while, on the other side, characters like Auggie seemed a bit ‘dull’ at times (though Auggie definitely became better once they gave her more agency). The show’s characters almost seem divided into two categories: Those with emotional depth, but dull dialogue, and those with no depth, but awesome dialogue. Sometimes it balances itself out, other times it’s a bit frustrating.

I was also pleasantly surprised by how they handled the horror element of the story. While probably not as effective as in the original book (converting written to visual horror is a challenge of its own caliber.), there were several scenes that very much scared the shit out of me.

I also cried……several times. Kudos to Alex Sharp for a breathtaking performance.

I think this show is best suited for two types of people: 1) People who haven’t read the books, but who are interested in some nice sci fi, and 2) Book fans…….who aren’t too emotionally attached to the original storyline.

[ironunderstands]

The way some of yall mischaracterize Ratio as being stoic in chill when in reality he is 24/7 resisting the urge to rip everyone around him a new one is crazy to me like. He cares so much, so much. It’s unhealthy, he loses the idgaf war every time because Ratio is the least nonchalant person ever like

He was this close to breaking character and throttling Sunday like you cannot tell me he wasn’t planning a murder in this scene. Ratio straight up calls Sunday a crazy bitch but everyone brushed it aside 😭

Honestly his entire conversation with Screwllum is just him tweaking, watch it on YouTube the VAs performance is amazing, you can here just how much He Cares

Genuinely, Aventurine is way better at concealing his true feelings that Ratio. Ratio may be acting for the sake of the plan but the way he truly feels about anything he’s doing always seeps through, it’s why he apologizes to Aventurine in 2.0 in their staged argument scene. It’s why he is as mean to Sunday as he can be. It’s why him pretending that he “hates” Aventurine makes him act so silly. Ratio can’t fully commit to the bit, he can’t force himself to not care or to be someone he isn’t, because fundamentally Ratio CARES and that is something he is incapable of hiding, alabaster bust or not.

The problem is that him expressing his care is often done in a rude and/or blunt manner which people tend to interpret as stoicism or apathy when it’s anything but. Ratio’s vial that he gives to Aventurine is short, sweet and gets straight to the point, because that’s the easiest way for Ratio to express his emotions, even if it’s often detrimental for him and anyone else around him. However Aventurine understands him quite well, and knows that although brief, Ratio telling him to “stay alive, survive this and keep on living” is how he truly feels towards Aventurine, and that’s enough to keep him going.

Underneath Ratios carefully crafted marble facade is a man who cares so much and is so bad at expressing it and I wish the community in general, especially Aventio shippers would acknowledge that more. Ratios true moments of sincerity are brief, but they are anything but stoic. Let the man be soft, it’s in character.

[writeouswriter]

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

[visenyaism]

me: this test is due at 11:59pm but please do not do anything insane to get it in on time if something comes up for you. if it’s not looking likely just let me know

students in my email inbox at 11:58:

[magic-owl]

I don’t believe in gatekeeping at all but if you flat out admit to me that you’ve consumed little to ZERO of the canon media and have gotten all of your information based off of reading fluffy fic with woobified characters, I will not be taking ANY of your fandom opinions or meta seriously

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “PRETTY BOY.”

— expect the worst when whitney has a stupidly, dumb puppy love crush on his upperclassman that happens to be you and even more so, when you predictably take notice of it. but, remember— he asked for it first, didn’t he? 3.5k w.

— warnings? yeah, mildly dub-con, handjob in broad fucking daylight, somewhat exhibitionism although no one gets to see the stupid, pretty boy squirm and upperclassman male reader who’s sort of.. a bitch. y’know the drill by now, plus a younger whitney (still an adult, no worries. I’m not into that sorta shit.)

Like a clueless moth instinctually drawn towards a burning flame, he’s no goddamn different than the clingy idiots who can’t seem to automatically take a hint when given so in their direction— y’know, the ones he’d audibly snicker and scoff at due to the sheer embarrassment, disgustingly obvious puppy love streaked along their flushed faces as they mindlessly follow the other’s every move. Innocently peer up in search of their crush’s approval like some sort of brain dead dog whose sole purpose is to joyfully please their master. Hell, it’s gross, and the blonde doesn’t make it any more difficult to showcase his wrongly placed dislike for it— yeah, by the repeated gagging noises spilling forth from his open maw.

“It’s nauseating to watch, stinks up the whole room with those big, puppy, doe eyes”— he’d openly say with an absent shrug of his broad shoulders, glinting, barely visible glimpse of the metallic barbell freshly pierced upon his curved tongue proving his judgemental statements to be otherwise.. fuckin’ hypocritical, no? ‘Cuz, isn’t that same piercing found in his mouth done due to one, single, stray comment you aimlessly made by chance?

Not like your liking of things plays a grand role in whatever he does, trouble he’s immediately roped into, fuck— no, definitely not! It’s a stupid, damn coincidence is what it is, nothing more and nothing less either. No need to uselessly pry any further in the meaning of his baseless actions. Just.. happened to have it done on the same consequential day you confidently expressed your idea that he’d get one because— y’a said it’d look good on him, didn’t you? And, look here, he fuckin’ did it like some cheap mutt. Obediently parted his rosy lips for your viewing pleasure to willingly prove to your pretty eyes that he truly went along with your absently made suggestion, for real. Gleefully hung upon your every important word like his life depended on it— god, it isn’t like that, okay?

An upperclassman he’s briefly looked up to is all you are, all you’ve ever been for that matter, and he’ll punch the shitty, fuckin’ lights out of any big mouthed idiot who dares to say so otherwise. Right in the guts for spouting out complete, nonsensical bullshit, alright?

Or is it time to reluctantly admit it with a bashful blush apparent upon his contorted features— accompanied by gritting teeth stubbornly grinding together in a futile refusal of his shoddy, unwanted sentiments burrowed deep within his stuttering heart? As if he’d ever would in your presence, which he possibly can’t help himself, to childishly imitate your gestures in the withering hopes that’d you scarcely notice his thinly veiled efforts, acts filled with meaning.

Well, well.. Whitney, the supposedly cold and untouchable bully here isn’t so unique nor different from those idiotic dumbasses he’d routinely poke fun at, huh? Time to face the embarrassingly evident reality set before him, whether his gaze dares to instinctively stray away or not from the unsettling truth— ah, good thing you’re here to seamlessly guide him on the right path, ain’t that right?

As for the so-called, morally ethical path he’s hopelessly talking about.. Perhaps, that’s a plain, ol’ lie he’ll repeatedly tell himself of so considering your shared reputations at hand. More likely than not, often referred to — as much as the nickname itself has the tip of his ears prickling scarlet, noisily yelling at the fuckers who cheekily name him that — your little, dumb puppy. Fuck, he’s not! The day he, himself, Whitney of all people, wordlessly bows down to the height of someone’s heel frustratingly grinding atop of his head, is the day one can loudly claim with unbridled conviction, that he’s officially lost his goddammit mind, that’s what.

Listen, you’re the one who faithfully promised and guaranteed your unwavering protection if he stuck to your sides like some fuzzy pet, so he did the obvious choice. Specially when met with the shitty conditions this rundown town, definitely shady for that matter, is. Rather be silently stamped as the ‘sly follower’ who went along with the smartest choice presented to ‘em— your offer, by the way — than some nobody seamlessly forgotten on the dirtied streets. Least, that’s what likely replays on and on in his mind like some cheap, broken record to dumbly convince his unmoving mind of what this annoyingly persistent feeling is deep within the pit of his quivering tummy. Annoying, ain’t it?

Speakin’ of tummy, you sure are touchy-feeling with him, aren’t ya? Not that he necessarily minds nor will outwardly admit the slightest shivers that comes to grace the entirety of his figure when met with the briefest grazes of your fingertips flush against his bare skin. Likes the physical contact intimately shared between you two? Fuck no— just keeping himself on your good side in case you were to suddenly discard him like you habitually do with your other.. nameless toys, which he doesn’t possess enough fucks to bother learning their names. As long as your flickering gaze doesn’t happen to stray too far from his, he’s actually, pretty content.

‘Course, it did progressively start off with the sorta things you’d absentmindedly do with your numerous friends. Brush of his golden strands glimmering against the gleaming sunlight— shit, even acted out like some cheesy rom-com at the way his face instantly heated up, glimpse of vulnerability you seem to so easily catch on with him and fuck, does he detests it— truly does like no other. Still, lets y’a carelessly stroke your fingers throughout the mess of a hairstyle the delinquent wears, even fucking.. tenderly pushed a single, stray strand of hair behind his burning ear. Shoulders instinctively drawn up in sheer defence at the tension residing within him because, really, how do y’a expect him to relax and ease up when it’s with you?

“What? What is it? Do I have shit in my hair or somethin’?” Oh yeah, nice goin’ on that fuckin’ stupid question of his, huh? Flush adorning the length of his face— god, even down towards his neck too— immediately deepening at the crude choice of words. Might casually speak so with anyone, but when it comes to you, he’s got this instinctual urge to not come off as some try-hard desperately trying to butter you up in hopes of your returned approval of him.

“Hm? It’s nothing, I just think you’d look cute if you grew out your hair a little bit. Don’t you think?” Ah, and there you go— with your surprising compliments spoken out of the blue like that.

“Cute?? Are you seriously tryna fuck with me right now?” Defensive mechanism or whatever to draw up that blank conclusion since this is just about the first time any sort of adjective resembling that of ‘adorable’ by the way, could’ve been made to plainly describe a rowdy, unrelenting boy such as Whitney.

“What? You don’t think so? I think you’re cute as shit, Ney-ney.” That fuckin’ nickname again, god. Quit it, will ya? And, don’t try to tentatively lean closer in his personal space when calmly making that stupid remark too! Your goddamn— ah, hot breath effortlessly heating up the shell of his ear, curled lips almost, insistently pressed against his cheek. “Real fucking cute, actually. Definitely cuter than the average boy that’s for sure— prettier too, but you’ve got too much of a stick up your ass to admit that, don’t you?”

At this point, you’re practically taunting him, and he would’ve unabashedly swung his fist if it weren’t for that said person being you. Grin cracking upon your lips at the doe, wide-eyed look he’s greeting you with, seemingly unable to utter so much as a word to that uncharacteristically depraved statement, or is that your idea of a damn compliment to another guy? Shit, that’s right! Both guys is what you two are— so, his cock hidden underneath the fabric of his ripped jeans, languish legs lazily stretched out along the creaking, wooden bench, shouldn’t be stirring up with peeked interest at the mind numbing prospect of endlessly being called ‘pretty’ by you. Nor profusely encouraging the alarming amount of translucent pre-cum dizzyingly forming at the swollen tip of his cock head, crudely staining the material sheer. Give the blonde a supportive head pat while you’re at it, too. Ah.. should be saying somethin’ right about now lest he wants to appear as some bashful fool.

“I don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t swing that way, I know. I’m not hitting on you, I’m just telling the truth as it is. Got any idea how many guys would line up just to fuck your dirty mouth? Maybe your tits too, if they’re into that sorta stuff— shit, I think they’d go for the ass too, definitely. I could make a goddamn fortune just whoring out your pretty, slutty body to the old fucks at the pub, y’know that, Whit?” Endless chattering on and on, explicit details of how some grubby old men could be here, disgustingly groping his flesh instead. Yet, that lingering glimmer within your gaze, noticeably darkening in return at the mere idea of it as your thumb comes forth to idly tap at his blazing cheek.

“But, you know.. I don’t. I won’t. Not cuz’ I’m a nice guy or anything— hah, truthfully, I’m no better than them for wanting to ruin a pretty face like yours.” You’re.. god, he can’t keep up with whatever shit you’re nonchalantly spouting, gracing solely his ears to be the one to silently listen to this.. crap, can’t really say it— fluttering in his tensed stomach from your bold admission, depraved wants just as much as he does late at nights— wanting to fuck him too.

“Honestly, do you know why I don’t use your sorry fuckin’ ass, Whitney?”

If he’s meant to attentively keep up with your words by now, then his brain has happily shut off due to the dizzying amount of semi-insults, degration and somewhat praise shot in his way. Like he’d fucking know, shit!

“See, it’s cuz’ it’s real funny to watch you trotting ‘round my side like some dumb, fucking puppy begging for its owner’s attention. I give you just a bit of praise, and your doggy tail would start wagging if you even had one. You look so goddamn stupid that it’d hurt my conscience to sell you out like this. And, I don’t like it when other fucks touch what’s mine either. I’m not running some gracious charity, am I?” To be truthful, if you tirelessly keep up with that incessant spouting, he’s bound to boil over like some screeching, burning kettle considering.. the obscene amount of scorching heat riddled across his features currently, adorning his cheeks so stupidly — and prettily too, huh— crimson red for your unwavering gaze solely. Seems like you’re liking the rare show in front of you quite a bit, aren’t you?

Stunned would’ve been one of the few lacking words remaining in the thick, daunting dictionary to scarcely describe the absolutely idiotic expression he’s nicely sporting right about now.

“Shut up.. I’m not—“ Fuck, fuck, fuck!! And, how the simple concept of verbal speech dutifully fails the bully at a time like this. Great going there, fuckin’ dumbass! Visibly seething would’ve been the most reasonable reaction in face of this, but— but— fuck! Entirety of this crap is all too quick for his sluggish mind to steadily keep up with your unpredictable actions, pathetically keening with a drawled out curse— no, more like a high-pitched whine is what it truly sounds like, once your calloused palm gingerly strips him free from his relatively loose jeans in one fell swoop.

“What the fuck’re you doin’—?? Mmph, fuck.. don’t—“ Dumb question to be asking when the self-evident answer is plainly in front of him.

Weeping cock, flushed in the cooling, outside air, naturally springing forth out of its constricting confines to audibly slap against his bare rigid tummy. Aw, now ain’t that real pretty to witness? Timid, twitching cock profusely leaking out sticky pre to messily smear along the curve of the blonde’s stomach, which you promptly do the honours for him, unabashedly too.

Always been pretty confident in your audacity to joyfully serve people, haven’t you? By god, he’s half-hated ya for meddling with others private businesses to begin with, although his throbbing cock being so smoothly tended to can say otherwise, idly disagree with his withering logic. Shakily sighing, puffing out heated huffs of air as your so— fuck.. annoyingly warm and soft hand loosely tucks ‘round his fat cock, teasingly squeezes him down at the base. Meanly drawing out more pearly globs of his dribbling pre-cum with a resounding, wet squelch!, undeniable proof of his shared arousal at the newfound situation he’s unfortunately finding himself in.

‘Unfortunately’— one says, funny that you see right through that by the mocking nature of your barking laughter, sharply ringing within his ears.

“My, who’s the exact fucking pervert here, Whit? Y’seem pretty hard to me. Actually, you’re dripping wet down there, y’know that?” No fucking shit. Ready to single-handily cum from a single, measly stroke of your fist snugly wrapped around the veiny girth of his quivering length— fucking hell. Head instinctively thrown back to which you soon wistfully take advantage of, ‘course you would, wouldn’t you? Lazily pressing hot, heated kisses along the sharp edges of his jawline that soon has the same bully, known to be so very resistant, stifling wanton moans, firmly clasping a palm over his gaping mouth in a heedless effort to remain discreet as possible. Slithering, pink tongue laving and tracing over the heated shell of his ear, ushered snickering coupled by bouts of utter filth being so brazenly whispered towards him. And your canines— ah, are not helping at all either. Grazing the bobbing curve of his throat, delicately sucking a bruising mark upon the tanned skin to pridefully admire over later. “Nnh— no, fu— ah, uuckk! N-Not there, you bastard!!”

“Not here? What’s the matter, Ney-Ney? Can’t fucking speak properly when your pretty, pink cock is being stroked off like this?” Would’ve scornfully refuted you, barked out the meanest curses that would’ve had an elderly woman shockingly clutch her pearls if given the chance, but stealing a discreet glance down to humiliatingly witness how sticky and wet his tip has gotten, messily stained your palm in a string of creamy, white pre is not.. Possessing way too much pride to do so. “Y’see, you like this— hah, fuck— you like it when I actually take what I fucking want from you and ruin you down to this cute, little, slutty mess, yeah?”

“I-It’s not like that—“ Uncharacteristically meek protest on his part. Cat got his tongue, ‘s that it?

“No? Pretty boy. Use your words, will you?” Oh, fuuuuckkin’ god. Seeing sheer darkness as his eyes reflexively roll backwards to his skull from casually being called ‘pretty’ by your lulling voice.

Have any idea the way your hushed words dizzyingly affects his fuzzy brain? Renders him alarmingly stiff like a stoned statue, wobbling knees surely bound to buckle beneath the weight of your relentless taunting, all the while being boldly jerked off in broad, fucking daylight — hidden amongst the rustling bushes of the park, mind you — still, very much in an open space where one can be so easily seen by oncoming passerbys. And even then, the absolute control you possess over him, sneakily snaking your arm ‘round his middle, relishing in the little, heated gasps hurriedly rushed out of this dirty, fucking perverted bitch of a blonde’s mouth is too way goddamn much for him to precariously withstand another tortuously long second of this shit.

Yeah, one more minute? He’s fucking busting by then.

“What’s the matter? Can’t keep up? Gon’ shoot your filthy load soon, ‘s that it?” Mild disinterest lacing your very tone with a slight hint of, what’s that..? Actual anticipation? Hah, as if he can barely discern between the mind buzzing layer of reality set upon him when coupled by your soft— so fucking warm, shit.. hand relentlessly fisting him dry, milking every thick droplet steadily trickling forth. Uncaring for the accumulated mess below you both as his hips instinctually roll forward against the rewarding palm of your curled fist, sickeningly jolts at a noticeably harsh press of your padded thumb atop his oozing tip. “Well, then.. Go ahead, I’m not stopping you, am I?”

“Cmon, pretty. Paint my hand all sticky and nice for me, yeah?”

Predictably so, as the uttered rumours had notably confirmed— how downright desperate Whitney’s always apparently been for you to the damn point that he’s automatically cumming on command like a dog patiently withholding for its owner’s words and oh, was it fucking worth the extensive wait. Stifled whimper weakly slipping out, fingers immediately latching onto the comforting feel of your forearm lazily slung around his quivering figure for proper support. No use in making a fool out of himself by clumsily buckling down to his slacked knees— not that he hasn’t already, though too late to be thinking about it twice, huh? Thick, sticky strings of his hot seed directly shot out of his pulsing cock and into the air to, as expected, pervertedly dirty your open hand in a mess of his load which is kinda.. hot, no? Fuckin’ get ahold of yourself, shit! Minus the rest having uncontrollably splattered downwards onto the ground, pitifully traced in a puddled mess of droplets.

And somehow, the barely discernible hint of a relieved breath tumbling from between his parted lips. The natural conclusion that this is it, oncoming closure bound to take its place yet still— still, damn it; Always managed to keep the dirtied blonde on the edge of his toes, haven’t you?

So, truly, it shouldn’t have came off as an unexpected shock then, how you so brazenly mumble a stuttered curse beneath your puffed sighs at the melting sight. “Ah, fuck.” Swiftly freeing your fat— well, admittedly hefty cock for his following eyes to shamelessly gawk at in turn because, y’know.. fuck, he won’t outright voice it, but the sinful glimmer in his wide gaze says it all. Innate itch, unadulterated need— god, to merely sling down to his knees, sloppily drool all over your tasty-looking cock and coat it all shiny and wet with his spit. Although, too busy admiring the rare glimpse of your contorted features strained with pure, unrestrained concentration to bother paying much attention to the repeated, distinct fapping! noises of your cock being so hurriedly stroked raw, as if in a hurry, almost.

Furrowed brows deepening, lashes fluttering in their wake as your rosy lips that he’s known time and time again to be nonchalantly formed into a grin— now, so prettily stained crimson by the harsh press of your teeth against your puffy, bottom lip. “Don’t— ugh, fucking look at me like that.” You audibly groan out in the mix of a huffed chuckle. Slightest flush delicately dusting your cheeks a pink hue, so damn pretty too. “Hah, it makes things kinda awkward, y’know?” Ah, takes less than a stretched minute for his brain to acutely process what’s hit him before given the proper chance.

Something hot— and sticky too, actually it’s pretty evident what it should’ve been if he wasn’t so goddamn brain dead within this bleary moment. Splattering amongst the already present mess you’ve both collectively made of yourself, thick ropes of sweet cum landing right upon his rumpled uniform you’ve taken a gleeful joy of permanently ruining. Judging by the cackling laughter soon drawing forth outta ya thanks to the sheer, dizzying sight of the cum-stained mess he’s forced to pitifully endure for the time being.

Look what you’ve done, god— even if you manage to be one step ahead of him, as always, in such a predicament as the delinquent merely receives a thrown jacket straight in the face. “Sorry for ruining your nice shirt of yours, I couldn’t really help myself when you looked so dumb like that. Take it as an apology, alright?” Exhaling out shakily in the chilling air suddenly alarmingly cold without your warm weight shifted against his own, too deliriously fucked out of his mind to muster up a rightful remark to your cheaply made one. Dumb, little ol’ puppy is what he is to you, no?

And perhaps then, it’s the idiotic absurdity of your actions, swiftly turning away like the encounter itself hadn’t even taken place right at this very spot. Footsteps progressively fading amongst the rhythmic crunches of fallen leaves fluttering down from the withering trees, gaze tentatively flicking downwards to where your stupidly soft, discarded jacket rests within his arms. Meaningless gesture is what it should’ve been notably perceived as, though that doesn’t really help the gradual thump! of his swaying heart noisily beating against his chest nonetheless.

That’s not— oh.

Oh.

“..Fuck.”

Yeah, being wholly swallowed by the ground beneath his feet doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?

[dozydawn]

Mayerling.

Melissa Hamilton and Rupert Pennefather.

Lauren Cuthbertson and Thiago Soares.

Natalia Osipova and Edward Watson.

Melissa Hamilton and Rupert Pennefather.

Natalia Osipova and Edward Watson.

Sarah Lamb and Steven McRae.

[hi-there-buddies]

“The cell saga is bad because the z fighters were idiots the entire time”

that’s the POINT

THE CELL SAGA IS ABOUT ARROGANCE

EVERYONE IS BEING STUPID BECAUSE THEY THINK THEY KNOW WHATS GONNA HAPPEN

THEY THINK THEYRE AHEAD OF THE CURVE

BUT THEY AREN’T

THIS IS LITERALLY SHOWCASED MULTIPLE TIMES THROUGHOUT THE SAGA

IT STARTS WITH TRUNKS AND BUILDS FROM THERE

GOHAN LITERALLY LETS CELL LIVE BECAUSE OF HIS ARROGANCE

THE ONLY REASON CELL IS DEFEATED IS BECAUSE GOKU, GOHAN, AND VEGETA ALL LET GO OF THEIR ARROGANCE AND PRIDE AND FIGHT TOGETHER

GOKU STEPS IN TO HELP GOHAN, WHICH HE DIDNT DO BEFORE BECAUSE HE THOUGHT GOHAN COULD DO IT HIMSELF

VEGETA HELPS GOHAN AND LANDS THE PENULTIMATE BLOW ON CELL, DESPITE WANTING TO BE THE ONE TO END CELL HIMSELF

GOHAN FINALLY FINISHES HIM LIKE HE REFUSED TO DO BEFORE

THEY ALL LET GO OF THEIR ARROGANCE AND FINISH THE JOB

THATS THE THEMATIC POINT OF THE SAGA

RAHHHHHHH🦅🦅

[purplebehittindifferent]

I have added a quirky comment here for the last year and a half, however now… I have no words.

jk I have all these words 👇

I know it is very bitter sweet, but this is the end of Reconnecting. Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me. I plan on making a behind the scenes video on my YT sometime soon. Feel free to send any asks you have I want to answer them all!

Please know I am not going to dissapear! I still plan on making content consistently, and my original comic RULE 5 is already underway, and if you’d like I’m certainly not against writing some exposition fics for Reconnecting 💜

masterpost

Prev (3::8) / This is the End 💜

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[ohitslen]

Intrusive thoughts

[zuppizup]

My angsty brain: So… Callum’s Dad died of some kind lung condition, eh? Sure would be a shame if that was hereditary

[imfinereallyy]

some of us, and I’m not naming names, need to start being properly tagged on fics.

Angst: Is it me?

No.

Unhappy Ending: Is it me?

……it’s not Angst.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #97

The Justice League fought hard against the anti ecto acts but unfortunately it wasn’t enough and the laws were passed anyways but not before a clause was added to them that states the JL had the right to pull a ghost out of a facility of they had potential to work for them. When they see the potential hero Phantom is caught by the GIW they of course do their best to acquire him. Unfortunately the government sees Phantom as JL property now instead of his own person. Phantom seemed content being trapped on the watchtower and explained it was better than whatever the GIW was planning. Superman thinks something weird is going on with the ghost as when he supposedly went to bed in the room he was assigned he’d temporarily gain a heartbeat again. Constantine is just glad the young prince hasn’t decided to kill anyone in the US congress yet for passing such a ridiculous law. Batman’s adoption senses are tickling.

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[oddlittlestories]

Thinking about Cuddy.

House is a genius. I’ve written about how Wilson is equally talented.

But Cuddy is, too.

One of three(?) female deans of medicine in the country. One of the youngest. And every time the spotlight turns onto her, she does things no one else can do.

She has a kid by herself. Wilson points out that a man in her position would have a wife, two nannies AND two assistants. (She tries to hire an assistant and the job is so demanding they quit regularly.)

She consistently gets things for the hospital no one else can get and is the trump card only she can play. In 5 to 9, she gets (I think) 7%, which is far and away better than her opponent, her board, or anyone else but her thought she could get.

In season 1, iirc it’s implied SHE brings in Vogler, and she’s the only person who can stop him when he starts tearing the entire hospital apart to get at House.

In season 3, she ends the nonsense with Tritter.

She’s also the only person who can and will keep House on her team (no one will hire House or Foreman, other than her). And she’s the only person who can wrangle him, canonically (I disagree with canon, but Cameron does hand the reigns back to Cuddy with this exact statement). Moreover, she makes House an ASSET. In 5 to 9, she explains that PPTH is on the cutting edge, which includes their world famous ddx department.

And! Despite the fact that House routinely accuses her of being an administrator and not a doctor anymore, she still successfully treats patients from time to time. She helps ddx the babies in Maternity. She saves her patient’s baby in Fetal Position. In s5 Joy, she clocks that something is wrong with the mom when no one else does, and pushes until the diagnosis is made and saves both their lives. She figures out the diagnosis in Joy to the World at the same time as House, and is so kind and respectful to the folks caring for the baby, yet still makes sure she gives the baby what she needs.

I have to admit that I don’t remember s7-8 well enough to go through those, but it’s clear to everyone that Cuddy is a great doctor. Much like Wilson, she gets dismissed in part bc she gets too emotionally involved. And it’s also clear that no one really understands her work or how good she is at it. Everyone only sees their part, and she has to see all of it and make it all fit together, making sure everyone gets what they need. Her ability to flip between caring and hardass undermines her ability to seem tough, but it’s also necessary. If she couldn’t care, she wouldn’t take such good care of her people or patients. If she couldn’t toughen up, she’d let people walk all over her. It’s a unique style, and not without its pitfalls, but it’s all hers.

And like Wilson, she doesn’t get seen as a genius. In fact, she barely gets acknowledged as smart at all. A lot of her successes come from charisma and social intelligence. And those things often get dismissed in women, especially women who care as deeply and obviously as Cuddy does. The ability to juggle so many things gets dismissed as “basically being well-organized,” and also, no one really SEES what she does. It sometimes takes her a minute, but she reads people like THAT. She figures out and outwits that sociopathic drug dealer. She sees through most of House’s lies. She often settles with plaintiffs because of guilt, but she also often talks them out of suing the hospital in the first place.

Cuddy is just as good, and just as brilliant, at her job as House and Wilson. But she doesn’t get seen as a genius anymore than Wilson does.