#Including moderation

[delcat177]

I see you animals out there with your brightness cranked all the way up and I dare you: turn it down for one singular minute, sixty U.S. seconds, and compare

[labelleizzy]

[arttitude130]

disco in my brain

[uncanny-tranny]

Alright, today is Transsexual Thursday; put in the reblogs, tags, or on anon the things you have loved about your transness/transition/presentation/anything related to being trans! We can never have too much positivity about the joy of creation 💛

[fjordfolk]

being part of dog health fb groups is great because it really broadens your horizons and gives a lot of context across breeds and teaches a lot of nuance in interpretation

and sometimes it lets you go 'holy heck im not in your breed but if i were i wouldnt touch ur programme w a 10 foot pole and a kite'

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

At first Minato thinks the sound he hears is his eardrums popping, but a moment later he realizes that it came from a distance– a distance they’re closing as they sprint onward, in fact.

In front of him, Sanada stops short. “What–?” Minato can barely hear him. “Dammit… Both of you, hang on!” He takes off again, not even short of breath. 

Minato is almost jealous. Despite all of his time spent with the track team, he feels dizzy and ready to collapse by the time the alleyway behind Port Island Station comes into view. Every breath might as well be filling his lungs with tar instead of air.

The shadows in the alley sharpen and focus into human shapes– not two, but three of them: one sprawled on the ground; one standing as tall as it can; the third looming over them both, arm extended towards the smallest figure, taking aim–

“Takaya!” Minato’s voice sounds foreign in his own ears. He wouldn’t have guessed he’d be able to speak at all, much less shout.

Everything happens all at once after that.

Takaya’s whole body jerks towards Minato’s voice. 

The shape on the ground lunges up and forward, taking the smaller figure crashing back down with it.

The gun goes off with a sound like–

Like a gunshot.

It isn't a clap of thunder. It's not at all like the crack of a whip. 

There is no metaphor that can soften the truth. 

The noise that tears open the silence of the Dark Hour is a gun being fired: a spark igniting powder propelling a bullet at shattering speeds towards the soft, vulnerable bodies of his friends.

Speckles of something dark and reflective fan through the air, glittering obscenely where they catch the light of the moon. Takaya almost seems to glow under that sickly light; pale skin and hair and eyes and shining silver gun gleaming ghost-bright in the murk of the alley, in stark contrast to the dark shapes huddled on the ground.

He meets Minato's eyes briefly. His expression is openly astonished for less than a moment before it shifts to fury, then is immediately papered over with a mask of calm indifference. He says something, but Minato is still too far away to hear. The Dark Hour swallows him up faster than Minato would have assumed possible.

He isn't terribly preoccupied with Takaya's Houdini act at the moment though, because–

"Shinji–!"

Aragaki lies prone on the pavement with Amada pinned underneath, whose breath is coming in shallow, panicked gasps, his face pale under dark splotches of blood. The bullet intended for Amada has shredded Aragaki’s right shoulder into a confusion of gore and torn wool and glimpses of pinkish-white that Minato tries not to think too hard about.

“Hang in there, Shinji!” Sanada hauls him off of Amada and onto his back, revealing another wound in his gut, a black well of blood. More of it dribbles sluggishly from the corner of his mouth. Aragaki doesn’t cry out in pain as Sanada and Mitsuru rearrange him in their hold, lifting him off of the cold concrete and supporting his head. He hardly makes any noise at all.

Minato feels like his ears have been jammed full of cotton. He can tell people are talking, but he can no longer pick out any voices or words. His vision tunnels, phantom colors chewing at the edges. 

He stands there and watches as Yukari frantically tears out of her jacket and hands it off to Mitsuru, who packs it hard against Aragaki’s ruined shoulder. 

He stands there and watches as Junpei unties his own jacket from around his waist and uses it to dab gingerly at the side of Amada’s face– it’s only now that Minato realizes that not all of the blood that Amada is wearing is Aragaki’s. The shape of Amada’s left ear is all wrong, like some of it is just missing, but Minato only catches a brief glimpse before Junpei presses the jacket over the injury and holds it there, hiding it from sight.

Yukari tries to summon her persona. Io flickers above her like a mirage for less than a second before vanishing. She pulls the trigger again, but the result is the same. She pulls the trigger again and again and again, face contorted and body heaving with sobs that Minato can’t hear. Io stops appearing at all. He stands there and watches.

It’s no use. They’re too far from Tartarus or any powerful shadow that could be harboring a piece of its influence. They’re too close to the end of the Dark Hour. Minato has two personas that can cast Recarm, but they wouldn’t be of any use even if he could draw his evoker, if he could move at all.

He stands there. And he watches.

Aragaki is saying something to Amada, and Amada answers through his sobs. Their mouths are moving, but Minato still can't hear. Why can’t he hear anything? Why does it feel like his mind is clouded over in static? 

Something jabs hard into his side and suddenly Minato’s ears work again, like a loose wire has been jarred back into place.

“--ato! Minato! Hey, are you listening?!” He blinks, dumbfounded, and turns to the source of the voice. Junpei is staring at him. Minato has no idea what he’d call the expression Junpei is making at him, but it’s not one he’s ever seen him wear before. “Give Sanada-san your coat, man! We need to stop the bleeding!” 

Even though he can hear again, it still takes him far too long to actually comprehend what’s being said. Junpei starts to repeat himself before it finally clicks and Minato shucks his jacket and hands it over. Junpei passes it off to Sanada, and Sanada presses it against the hole in Aragaki’s stomach. Aragaki doesn’t even flinch, just looks over at Koromaru gently nudging his hand. He pets him weakly. It’s probably the most movement he can manage.

“Just a few minutes–” Fuuka says, nearly hysterical. “The Dark Hour ends in a few minutes. As soon as it does, I-I’ll call an ambulance!” 

“Did you hear that, Shinji?” With the hand that isn’t leaning on the makeshift bandage, Sanada grabs Aragaki’s, gripping tight. Aragaki grips back, much weaker. “Just hold on for a bit longer!” 

“Aki…”  Aragaki’s voice is quiet and thready, but everyone falls silent at the sound of it. “Take care of him…” He slowly inclines his head towards Amada. 

“Don’t talk like you won’t be around!” Sanada says through gritted teeth.

“Pr…promise me, Aki.” 

Sanada’s breath hitches and he bites his lip against it. “…Alright. Alright, I– I will. I promise I will.” 

Aragaki smiles and Minato’s heart lurches. It’s sad. It’s final. 

It’s relieved. 

Aragaki is smiling like a weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders. He looks so content that Minato almost envies him. “This is…how it should be…” he sighs.

He slumps in Mitsuru and Sanada’s arms. Minato’s ears ring. There is a chorus of strangled cries from his teammates. 

Amada chokes like he’s been stabbed. “No–! H-he can’t–!”

“Is he–?” Junpei’s voice shakes.

“He’s alive,” Sanada gasps, still clutching Aragaki’s hand. “He’s still breathing–”

“I can feel his pulse,” Mitsuru affirms, pressing two fingers gently to Aragaki’s neck. “It’s weak, but it’s there. He’s only passed out, but unless he gets medical attention soon…” She can’t even finish her sentence, but she doesn’t need to. The implication is heavy enough. 

“Still breathing,” Sanada murmurs to himself. “He’s still breathing–” He says it again and again, as though he can force the words to remain true through sheer repetition.

Without fanfare, the green glow of the Dark Hour vanishes. The murky clouds that had blotted out the stars disappear and the moon returns to its normal size. 

“Yamagishi!”  Mitsuru exclaims.

“R-right!” Fuuka is already dialing. Her voice is strained and thin but steady as she relays the necessary details, and the person on the other end of the line thankfully seems to understand. It isn’t until she closes her phone that Fuuka allows a choked sob to escape. “Th…they’re on the way,” she says, her voice breaking. 

All they can do now is wait. Nobody speaks. Most of the team crowds around Aragaki, if nothing else to assure themselves that he’s still alive. Only Amada stays off to the side, until Junpei breaks away to crouch next to him and speak quietly. 

And Minato. He’s frozen in place, staring at the battered body of a man he’s come to greatly respect as the life slowly leaves him. His eyes burn, but it doesn’t feel like the sting of tears. They don’t feel wet at all. Has he been blinking? 

A hand rests on his shoulder. “Minato-san,” Aigis says, her vocals strangely gentle. How does she feel about all of this, Minato briefly wonders. “Are you alright?” 

“...No,” he answers, voice barely audible even to himself. Minato hasn’t felt like this since… not since Back Then. Not since the bridge, and the car.

Aigis’ face remains as impassive as always, but somehow she still looks sadder than she ever has. Sadder than Minato thought she was capable of. “I am here if you need me.” The compassion in her voice feels like a brick thrown against his chest.

It’s only a few minutes until they hear sirens, but it’s the most agonizing few minutes of their lives. Even in Tartarus, where a minute can stretch like taffy, time has never seemed to creep by so slowly.

A group of punks has started to gather, trying to gawk at the sprawled figure hidden within the protective ring formed by his teammates. They scatter as soon as the ambulance pulls up, stopping right next to the huddle. Four paramedics pour out and swarm around the injured parties as fast as they can. Two police cars arrive moments later. Officer Kurosawa steps out of one of them.

The alley is filled with disorienting pulses of red and blue light. Minato almost misses the sickly haze of the Dark Hour.

There’s a whirlwind of voices– explanations and questions and medical jargon– but Minato absorbs none of it. He just watches (again– again, he just watches, and does nothing) as three of the first responders transfer Aragaki onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance. The fourth gently guides Amada inside as well. 

Everyone wants to go with them, but there’s only enough spare room for one more person. Minato isn’t surprised when Sanada insists it be him. Nobody argues, and the ambulance takes off the moment Sanada is inside. 

The last train has already left the station, so the rest of them will have to find another way to the hospital. And they will. They have to.

None of them can bear the idea of doing anything less.

[utilitycaster]

It's always so funny when people are like "I'm gatekeeping this character/ship from people who don't appreciate it or know it in the same way I do" like. How are you doing this. What brokenness within you has led you to believe it you can or should emulate a fedora-wearing geek guy who harasses women and POC at comic conventions for being fake bandwagon fans because they don't happen to know the name of a random x-men villain who appeared in a single issue.

[lettersregardingjeeves]

Jeeves Takes Charge - The Unused Images

Halloa! Well, the whole first story is out, with all its good fun and illustrations from the Strand. So I figured I ought to show you the illustrations I chose not to use, and - for those interested in my inane commentary - tell you the reason why! They're from the American edition published in the Saturday Evening Post, drawn by Henry Raleigh. Let's have a look!

https://www.madameulalie.org/sep/Jeeves_Takes_Charge.html (need image descriptions)

Now, here's where we get to why I didn't include them. The style is certainly lovely, and the Florence depicted here certainly has a nice enough profile to fit the bill. But is that man on the right meant to be Bertie?? He's much too old! The story, which takes place six years in the past from Bertie's telling of it, says that Bertie had been ratted out by Edwin, Florence's little brother, for smoking Lord Worplesdon's "special cigars" when he was fifteen, and that the event had taken place nine years after that incident of tattling. As such, though most characters are not given canonical ages in the Jeeves series, in "Jeeves Takes Charge" Bertie is provably 24 years old (and thus 30 years old when jotting down his telling of it). And while certainly people aged more quickly in the past, I have trouble imagining a 24 year old would look quite so old as this!

The dog is excellent, however. As far as I can tell, there is absolutely no suggestion of a dog even existing in this story. Mr. Raleigh clearly just wanted to draw a really long dog, and by God I do not fault him for it.

Bertie, that knight is not hiding you at all whatsoever.

I actually prefer this Edwin to the Strand version, however. What a jaunty lad.

And I will say, I adore this Jeeves. Look at his nose! His calm, self-satisfied expression! Honestly both illustrators did such a fun job with their respective Jeeveses in this final scene.

Anyway, that's all! Thanks for listening!

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is debating for YEARS if trauma made you aro or if you always were. Then you get informed about Avoidant Personality Disorder and now you’re sitting here like.. I’m aro and have a personality disorder?????????????? Because that makes a lot more sense. I do yearn for connection because of the disorder but I do not feel consistent romantic attraction 😳😳 it’s like bearly there at all like an incense that keeps going out.

.

[cosmicrhetoric]

becoming disillusioned w/ higher education the second i left was so. okay a few years ago i sat in on a panel with 2nd gen south asian professionals (cause my friend was on it and we were hanging out after) geared towards brown high school kids looking to get into college. and everyone on the panel was pretty successful and had Done The Right Thing in hs and while there were a few liberal arts jobs up there it was mostly stem/business. but every single panelist refused to stick with the narrative they were supposed to stick with and every single one of them was like yeah i regret how I treated myself in high school and i regret assuming that if I can do well academically I'd be an ok person in the end. but during the q&a portion these 16 yr olds would raise their hand like "hi so how would I go about getting an internship in this very specific biomedical field that you were in" and the panelists had to be like "look. you aren't listening. if you keep doing this you are going to burn out so spectacularly that you will barely recover. the takeaway message is that none of this matters more than You" of course im sitting there like 😶 (cause that did in fact happen to me when i was 20 and im lucky i recovered) but the fact that every single person who was right there with me in high school has to spend their twenties like why did i do that. what was that all for. what did it get me. and there are no answers

[ryebread-x]

Loki’s Family tree

Finally got around to making my interpretation of Loki’s family tree(I made Sigyn’s awhile back). Unlike with Sigyn’s family tree I only included Loki and their spouses along with the instances that lead to children(referring to Sleipnir and Kol).

Note: This is my own au/retelling of Loki’s family tree and not a 100% accurate to the myths. Trygve, Vor, Var, and Liefi are based off Lokasenna where Loki is accused by Odin of posing as a milkmaid and baring children for 8 years . Vor and Var are actually goddesses from the myths who I headcanon as Loki’s daughters (sometimes they are the same goddess depending on the telling though I made them twins). While Kol is just the name I gave to the child Loki had after consuming Gullveig’s heart. Moder is also not from the myths rather she’s a child of Loki that was made up for a horror novel/movie called The Ritual.

[stopshakingplz]

guys I know that they look a little funky but..

PLEASE, don't forget that these two are yujis brothers too 😔.

I wanna see them go on silly adventures with choso and yuji

Kechizu and Eso need justice. They wanna be silly with their brothers too 😕.

[britneyshakespeare]

i know i've been very culty on here about period underwear and reusable period products in general whenever i've brought up the topic in the last year or so but i mean it sincerely. i have never spent my money on a product that just simply improved my life so much. game-changing isn't even the beginning of it. i look forward to how much better my periods are now since i no longer have to depend on gross disposables. period underwear is the shit

[daenystheedreamer]

harrenhal

[boleynqueenes]

"...the hill on which the Queen and John Dudley stand collapses into the earth... " | Nowe Thus | Chapter 21.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

jotting down a couple of my solaris post death engine headcanons. hospitalization and mental decline is discussed, although not in all too thorough detail, so i suppose that's a cw?

saying that the medical team didn't consider solaris worth saving wouldn't exactly be accurate. but her condition seemed bleak, and her survival chance was incredibly slim

physical injuries aside, her radiation poisoning was the worst of it. when she was initially brought in after the crash, she wasn't expected to last even a handful of hours as a result of her exposure

said radiation also got all over her clothes, which- when you factor in that patches of them were melded onto her skin due to the sheer heat of the crash- certainly did not help matters much when it came to mitigating further exposure.

thankfully she survived the three hour grace period for severe radiation poisoning. then the three day grace period for moderate radiation poisoning. and then the two week grace period for 'mild' radiation poisoning… the treatments helped, of course, but her immune system hardly escaped unscathed. nor did her stamina, pain tolerance, hair, or the majority of her muscle mass

getting such a traumatic injury immediately after spending an extended amount of time in zero gravity wasn't exactly great for solaris' physical strength. once she was allowed to leave her cot she found it very difficult to support herself without the temporary use of axillary crutches.

she… did not like them. and accidentally made herself worse for a time by purposefully forgoing them. but it didn't take her too long to learn it was less miserable to use them than it was to collapse in the hallway in front of her coworkers.

the fabricator's company especially helped during that period… having designed her own prosthetic after losing her arm, there was little concern fabby would think her any weaker for relying on a mobility aid

the incident… really changed solaris' perspective on a lot of things. grappling with your potentially-rapidly-approaching death will do that to you. she was always a bit of a perfectionist, but going forward she started to cling to her mistakes with a lot more self-directed hostility. after all, it was, ultimately, her fault the death engine project failed to begin with

she also struggles with regret a lot more- mainly in regards to time, and the ways in which she 'wastes' it. another consequence of watching it slip between her fingers, half certain she would be spending the remainder of her life in a hospital cot.

she tries not to make either of these facts too obvious to her coworkers. the fabricator can tell rather easily, though. but that isn't the worst thing in the world. at least she won't weaponize any of it.

the day after she was let out of the hospital was the day she drafted her resignation letter from zoraxis. but she was too scared to do anything with it, or act on the urge to quit beyond that… it was a miracle she even survived to begin with. zor could kill her with a flick of their wrist if they wanted to. and it isn't as if she and the doctor were ever on the best of terms- especially not after her catastrophic failure. she… didn't want to tempt fate until it proved absolutely necessary.

she threw herself into building her imposing figure and nature back up almost as soon as she physically could. and while she inevitably became just as powerful as she was before the incident strength wise, her constitution leaves much to be desired. functionally, she's a glass canon. thankfully, she doesn't look like one- which is a fact that she uses to her advantage when necessary.