#I’ve tried okay?

[mycological-mariner]

It’s less what is on my bookshelf than how the books are organised that’s the most telling. For example, there is a cluster of nautical books, fiction and non fiction: there’s Patrick O’Brian and Frederick Marryat and a bunch of local authors and historians. And in the middle of all these is The Fandom of the Operator. I’ve got Harlan Ellison right next to The Flight of the Heron next to my hardback copy of Monstrous Regiment. Sartre and Camus and Frankenstein in Baghdad and The Dream of the Celt. And it just goes on like that.

[lunarlivs]

family things

1. meet my oc, wolfstars oldest kid, mae :3 she’s fun and fierce and just as stubborn as her dads. she’s a few years younger than harry, and they grew up as basically siblings

2. harry trying out sports (he’ll get the hang of it eventually)

4. harry and draco who grew up as besties

5. luna and pandora

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

That's kinda,, gay😰😰

Lil extra thing

[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?”

[thisgingerhasnosoul]

Let me apologize in advance for being super fucking depressing.

On the one hand, I’m so, so glad that some of the hostages were released. I’m so grateful they’re safe and home. But on the other hand… I also know that those kids who were kidnapped will never be the same again. It will stay with them their entire lives, and they will never fully get over that trauma (I don’t even want to think about the kids still being held). I experienced 1/1000th of what they went through and I am still dealing with the extreme traumatic effect it had on me. So I know—I know—how all of them must be feeling right now. I know how those weeks must have felt as a captive, ripped away and isolated from their security, put into the hands of complete strangers and abusers. And to still see so many apathetic or outright justifying what was done to them… I really don’t have the words to describe how furious I am. How sorrowful I am. I really, really don’t.

Especially because I know that if they hadn’t been Jewish, more people might have cared.

[janetcage]

I’m titling this, Syzoth and Ashrah go to Walmart. Now accept the shenaniganary.

[fym-daichi-dies]

Whiteboard haikyuu doodles except I didn’t pursue art as a kid:

I drew Bokuto as a the blue MnM also little suga kicking kageyama’s ass

[codgod-moved]

^3^

(there’s a bonus drawing under the cut that i don’t like enough to put in its own post but i still think it’s cute lol)

fambily :]

[whereismyhat5678]

Oh and uuuh do you guys remember that one screenshot of Anton and Annie? 👀👀

Yeah yeah yeah that I drew it I think it’s real neat 👀👀👀👀👀👀

I THINK THEY’RE CUTE TRY AND STOP ME THEY’RE ADORABLE JUST *FERALS* THEY SLEEP ON THE COUCH TOGETHER AND JUST CHILL AND STUFF AND I BET THEY BOTH SNORE LIKE BEARS AND KEHJWKXUAJQPDIWBLDISBWLFIWB HELP ME THEY’RE BOTH SO AWESOME AND I LOVE THEM STOOOOOOOOOOOOP-

💥💥💥

[chaoswarfare]

Over This Whole ‘School’ Thing

Dick leans on the railing of the school building's roof as he watches the building the deal’s about to go down in. It’s an abnormally quiet night, which is great, since it’s the first night he’s getting to take Danny out on patrol with him since he joined the bat clan.

It was pretty obvious that Danny had suspected them of being the bat clan the moment Masters dropped him on their porch, and finally getting confirmation that he was in the know and actually wanted to help was probably the best thing of Dick’s year.

Now, waiting on the Joker’s goons to show up for a deal, he’s glad he’s getting the chance to hang out with his newest brother(excepting Oracle on the comms, of course.). It was almost relaxing just sitting together on a quiet stakeout, and listening to the noises of Gotham and the occasional siren wailing in the distance.

“You know, I never actually liked school.”

Dick jumps when Danny finally starts a conversation. He’s been very quiet the entire time and it was almost startling how quickly he moved from dead silence to noise. It was almost a surprise that he decided to start a conversation at all, given how quiet he’d been since coming to the manor. Alfred is probably the only one he talks with regularly, now that he thinks about it.

“How so?” Dick asks hesitantly. God knows that he had a pretty rough time in school too, so he may not be the best person to talk with about the subject. “I thought Masters said your schooling was just fine? Your records didn’t say anything either.” Dick trails off a bit when Danny flinches at the mention of Masters. It’s not the first time he’s acted hesitant about the man, but nobody has been able to figure out the mystery or get any information about him yet.

“I wasn’t exactly popular, you know? Lotta bullies in small town schools, and my life outside school kinda kept bleeding over into class time. Sucked hardcore.”

That was new. Danny hasn’t really talked about his school experience before now, but it could be where they are at the moment prompting this, Dick thinks as he gazes out over the run-down neighborhood they’re watching.

“I wasn’t exactly ‘mister popular’ back then, myself.” He starts warily, smothering his words in fake cheer. “High society kids don’t take well to ‘circus freaks’ stealing their opportunities and invading their school. Couldn’t do much about it either because I didn’t want to tell Bruce I was struggling.” Dick drops a bit of the over-the-top peppy mask as he thinks about it.

“So what did you do about it?” Danny leans over, peering at the older vigilante as he waits for an answer.

“Got tired of it and beat them up after a couple months. They gossiped about it for months and refused to talk to me for a while. It was pretty sweet, actually.” He sighs in contentment at the memory. “Bruce and Alfred were pretty disappointed in me though. Practically grounded me for weeks.”

Dick preened as Danny let out a chuckle.

“Man, I wished my parents cared that much about my education. ‘A Fenton always gets A’s. Or in your Dad’s case B-‘s.’ was something Mom always said.” Danny seems to droop as he thinks of his parents. It’s obvious something happened there, but he’d usually shut down immediately if anyone brought them up.

“On top of the ‘out of school’ activities taking over my life, this dickhead named Dash made it his personal mission to ruin my day every time we interacted.” Dick busts out laughing as Danny considers what he said, before freezing and slapping his hands over his face. “Ancients, I didn't even think of that- sorry Dick. He was definitely an asshat though. Real piece of work, that one!” Danny chirped mock-cheerfully. “Did you know that if you’re really flexible you can fit in a half size locker?”

Dick freezes at the sudden question. “Uh… No?” He replies warily. The idea of someone being inside a locker that small physically pained him, and he really didn’t want to think about why Danny would know that.

Why anyone would shove his little brother into a locker.

He pushed the fear and guilt boiling in his gut down and turned to Danny with a smile. “How would you feel about online classes?”

Danny whips his head around to stare at Dick like he grew a second head. “Online?” He asks tentatively, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Online.” Dick agrees quietly.

Danny stares out over the dreary scenery and the sun just starting to shine light over the edge of the horizon. ‘The only time you can see it through the smog’ Dick muses as Danny thinks about his offer.

“I think I would like online school. It might help.” Danny admits in a quiet voice, hands gripping the railing almost painfully tight(For a second Dick thought he saw the metal give a big, but that must have been a trick of the light. Danny’s blood tests didn’t have the meta gene.). “And thank you… For offering to do that for me I mean.” Danny mumbles.

“Of course! What are older siblings for!” Dick beams at him, only faltering a little at the well concealed hurt in Danny’s face. It was pretty obvious that he was just about to shut down the conversation completely, when the batcom went off. Perfect timing.

Dick waves the com in Danny’s direction. “Looks like our clown friend got picked up across town on his way here.” Danny glances up in confusion as Dick hops off the railing he had been sitting on. “You want to race back?”

Danny visibly perked up as he hopped over the railing and pulled his grapple out of his belt pocket. He smirked Devilishly and took off before Dick could even hop over the railing.

“Get back here! I never said start!” Dick yelled out after Danny as they sped across the rooftop and swung between buildings chasing each other back to the cave.

Back home.

[kingkatsuki]

Specifically thinking about long distance relationships today.

So tell me how you and your f/o would first meet online?

[luniviravosshipper]

The most frustrating thing about liking complex and morally grey—maybe leaning a bit more towards morally black—characters is that you have to deal with both sides of people who try to simplify and reduce that character to a few superficial traits that either absolutely detest that character with all their being or worship them wholeheartedly as a result.

You can’t say you like a character because of their flaws or wrongdoings or else the side that hates that character will take your appreciation of those things as you trying to endorse them and will go out of their way to even suggest that those same flaws or wrongdoings must be reflected within your own life. Because how else could you endorse the actions or beliefs of such a terrible character? But the other side will also mistakenly perceive your appreciation of those imperfections in that character as you trying to justify them and will therefore use it to prove their own viewpoint. The viewpoint that the character wasn’t wrong in the first place and shouldn’t be seen as so complicated of a person because, in their mind, they never actually were. Anyone who sees them as complicated is “misunderstanding” or “misinterpreting” them and their intentions since their motivations were quite simple all along.

I, for whatever reason, am not allowed to like a character in media simply because they’re ambiguous. Because their nuance makes them feel more fleshed out, more real.

I must like them only because I see them as good, and I need to be able to argue why I see them as good.

That seems to be the overarching dispute between those who do and those who don’t like those types of characters. At least from what I’ve noticed.

The thing is, this isn’t even a case of whether or not a character is actually good. I mean, you can write one of the most vile, unarguably evil characters ever and they can still be seen as complex. And one character’s complexity shouldn’t undermine how “good” they might actually be.

I feel like people just hate characters that are written to be multi-dimensional because they themselves can’t as easily fit them into their black and white worldview of morality. It’s not so much of a matter of whether or not that character is actually right or good, it’s more about the fact that people can’t seem to be able to distinguish the difference between what makes a character complex and what ideals they uphold.

And, of course, the fact that people seem to think that you can only like things as long as they can fit within their own sense of morals and ethics. You can’t like something or someone that doesn’t reflect your own values according to them. And if you do, well… Apparently that must certainly say something about you.

Though, again, this is all just stuff I’ve picked up on overtime.

[evansbby]

my opinion on the Blake lively situation

[its-hyperfixation]

just have patience. it’s not how you spend the time, it’s if you waste it.

happy early birthday my beloved @bellamyblakru , i love u so much. thank u for being my friend <3

[miekasa]

mie, do you have any hcs about satoru's kid(s) having to "parent" him more than he should be to them lmao

LMFAO listen, Satoru is a good dad, and his kids look up to him and follow his lead a lot—but the one thing they school him in is confronting and talking about his feelings. They’re not actively trying to council him, of course, the twins are only four afterall, but whether they realize it or not they’re a pretty good influence on him; all the “why” questions they ask lead both them and Satoru to talking about things he didn’t even think he felt or needed to vocalize :(( it’s actually kind of precious :(( even if he’s soundboarding with some kids

Like, they’re watching a movie or something together right, something they’ve seen before which is why when Satoru starts mumbling about two of the characters, the older of the twins turns right in his lap and says, “Daddy you always talk at this part.”

“No I don’t!” he quick to taunt, turning to the other twin at his side for backup, but he agrees with his brother. Satoru pouts, “Maybe, whatever. I don’t like this part.”

“Why?” the one of the left prompts, looking up at his dad. Satoru frowns; those eyes are his own, and they’re staring right into his soul.

“I just don’t,” he hums, hoping to satisfy the curious children. It doesn’t—and it doesn’t help that they’re twins, because Satoru swears they’ve got some kind of telepathic communication going on with the way they look at each other, then back at him and ask again in unison: “Why?”

“Because, they just leave Tinkerbell behind. That’s not very nice,” Satoru confesses, once again hoping his explanation satiates the twins.

The boy in his lap blinks. Satoru knows he’s in for it. “But they come back for Tinkerbell,” he reminds his father, shuffling around in his lap to rest his head against Satoru’s chest, “That’s nice, daddy.”

“But it’s not nice when they leave her,” Satoru pouts, “It wouldn’t feel good if your brother left you behind, right?”

“Oh,” the other twin gapes, “Does it make you sad?”

“No,” Satoru scoffs, but his tone is too defensive—makes the kids even more curious, and again he’s got two sets of wide eyes staring at him and asking, “Why?”

He sighs, gentler, more honest, “Maybe a little.”

A moment passes where they’re all quiet. Satoru’s not sure of what to say next, worried he might have made the twins upset, when the eldest of the two nuzzles his head against his chest and gently grabs his shirt, “I would be sad like Tinkerbell, I think—I think I’m already sad when you and mommy leave when we go to school.”

“Mommy says it’s okay to have missing feelings,” his brother pipes in.

“Your mother is right,” Satoru chimes in, a nostalgic grin forming on his lips, “We miss you guys, too. Work is not as fun as school.”

The boy by his side frowns, “You work at a school, daddy.”

Satoru chuckles, moves his arm to pat his head, “Yeah, but I work with big kids, not cute little kids like you two.”

The kid giggles under his father’s affection, and for good measure, Satoru squeezes the boy on his lap and little closer to him, too. He smiles too, wiggling around to tuft more of Satoru’s shirt into his small fist.

“Are the big kids nice?”

“Of course!” Satoru grins, “You know that—you’ve met them before. Aren’t Maki and Yuuji and their friends super nice?”

“Oh, yeah,” his son blinks; then smiles, “Yuuji is super nice.”

“Yuuji is the best,” the other twin pipes, “I like Nobara, too—and I like Toge because he gives me piggy back rides.”

“Me, too, I like Toge, too! And, and—and Yuuta because Yuuta does the best pushes on the swings.”

“Does he now?” Satoru questions with a smile.

He gets a nod of confirmation, “Yuuta is really nice. He always gives me more snack, but Yuuji is my favorite.”

“Oh? Yuuji is your favorite? Not me or mommy?” Satoru teases. Both the boys claw at him, talking over each other in exclamations of—“No, you and mommy are the best, too!” and “You’re my favorite favorite!”

He accepts the proclamations with many kisses, genuinely happy to have both his boys in his arms. Satoru kisses both of their heads before they settle back down. They’ve missed a good portion of the movie talking, but neither them seem to mind. Satoru isn’t watching much of it any more himself, busy with thinking about how he’s blessed with such perceptive and intelligent little kids.

“Daddy,” a small voice breaks through his thoughts; Satoru turns to his side, “Are you still sad?”

Satoru purses his lips. He wonders just how much they catch onto—or, perhaps, if he was never that good at hiding it to begin with.

“No,” he answers honestly, “You boys make me very happy.”

His soon looks up at him with a toothy grin. Satoru expects another question, maybe even a—“You make us happy, too, daddy!”—but nothing could have prepared him for what his son says next:

“Hey, daddy, doesn’t Nanamin look like Tinkerbell?”

[thespiritssaidso]