#Token Generation Event

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

not to beat a dead horse but there's something kind of illuminating and warmie yet sad about the fact that Taylor's parents are attending Travis' game with her and regularly. I know the "you never saw--" joke is old, but the idea that [redacted]'s family did actually occasionally attend events with Taylor (including at what it seems may have been a difficult time), but after a certain point she herself didn't/couldn't attend his in turn, never mind her family, and it's just a testament to how different things are now, how different her life is, and frankly how integrated their family life has become. Idk I'm just really happy for popstar bestie because I feel like this is probably everything she ever wanted and didn't know she could have at one point.

[imasallstars]

Kono Koi no Kai wo Kotaenasai by SfC GROUP D

　Lyrics: Koichi Tsurusaki 　Music&Arrange: Koichi Tsurusaki

[orphiicheartd]

Taking a break from the tw.st but I FUCKEN LOVE THE MASQUERADE SO FAR AAAAAA

[nasa]

One Giant Leap for Mankind

Millions of people around the globe will come together for the Paris 2024 Olympic Games later this month to witness a grand event—the culmination of years of training and preparation.

Fifty-five years ago this July, the world was watching as a different history-changing event was unfolding: the Apollo 11 mission was landing humans on the surface of another world for the first time. An estimated 650 million people watched on TV as Neil Armstrong reached the bottom of the ladder of the lunar module on July 20, 1969, and spoke the words, “That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.”

While the quest to land astronauts on the Moon was born from the space race with the Soviet Union during the Cold War, this moment was an achievement for the whole of humanity. To mark the world-embracing nature of the Moon landing, several tokens of world peace were left on the Moon during the astronauts’ moonwalk.

“We came in peace for all mankind”

These words, as well as drawings of Earth’s western and eastern hemispheres, are etched on a metal plaque affixed to a leg of the Apollo 11 lunar lander. Because the base of the lander remained on the Moon after the astronauts returned, it is still there today as a permanent memorial of the historic landing.

Microscopic messages from kings, queens, and presidents

Another artifact left on the Moon by the Apollo 11 astronauts is a small silicon disc etched with goodwill messages from leaders of 74 countries around the world. Each message was reduced to be smaller than the head of a pin and micro-etched on a disc roughly 1.5 inches (3.8 cm) in diameter. Thailand’s message, translated into English, reads: "The Thai people rejoice in and support this historic achievement of Earth men, as a step towards Universal peace."

Curious to read what else was inscribed on the disk? Read the messages.

An ancient symbol

The olive branch, a symbol of peace and conciliation in ancient Greek mythology, also found its way to the Moon in July 1969. This small olive branch made of gold was left on the lunar surface during Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin’s 2.5-hour moonwalk. The olive branch also featured on the Apollo 11 mission patches sewed on the crew’s spacesuits. Designed in part by command module pilot Michael Collins, the insignia shows a bald eagle landing on the Moon holding an olive branch in its talons.

We go together

As NASA’s Artemis program prepares to again land astronauts on the Moon, including the first woman and the first person of color, this time we’re collaborating with commercial and international partners. Together we will make new scientific discoveries, establish the first long-term presence on the Moon, and inspire a new generation of explorers.

Is aerospace history your cup of tea? Be sure to check out more from NASA’s past at www.nasa.gov/history.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[trashmouth-richie]

dulcis ut rosa { sweet as a rose 🥀}

part 1 1/2– dulex (the gnat🥀) pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

emperor Geta x female servant reader || word count: 4.4k || smidge of caracalla x reader

summary: brought to Palatine Hill as a gift from your village to the new Emperors— Caracalla claims you as his own, but Geta has his own plans for you when the moon crests into the sky.

tw: anal, p in v, rough inexperienced sex, oral m receiving, use of the word whore, caracalla is a whiny bitch, geta is fuckboy of the era. i googled a majority of the historical events, timelines, roman names for things, and latin translation— if it’s wrong, oh well. bad at feelings! geta, insane! crybaby! caracalla. idk geta is an unhinged mother fucker but what if he wasn’t so bad?

It had been months and many cycles of the moon ago when you were sent as a token of goodwill, a gift to the new Emperors in exchange for peace for the small village you resided in. 

Other Virgines and yourself were taken in the dark ebony of twilight, shackled side by side into the wobbly wagon driven by the village's strongest oxen. You didn’t dare object, instead you held your chin high, awaiting fate as the cart swayed this way and that, heart racing and blood pulsing as your journey to the Palatine Hill began. 

Some nights were still spent awake, remembering the crippling fear in your chest as you watched women from your village being gifted to generals as their personal servants. 

Some were given to soldiers as a sense of “release.” No better than a common whore being passed from soldier to soldier, fitting their needs.  The others were pillaged and picked like grapes from a cluster— and finally you had stood alone, defiance pooling in your eyes, pushing back traitorous tears.

Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat on ruby and gold twin thrones, identical in size and power. The tension between them was palpable— so thick you could reach out and stroke its ugly head. Where Caracalla’s grin was full of mischief, Geta had a snarl curled on his upper lip. 

You should have known then. The difference between them.

From where you stood, Geta’s dark eyes looked empty. Every so often they twitched as he spun the rings adorned on his left hand. His eyes rolled when his older brother giggled as the gifts from whatever poor village gave away their ripe, untouched women. 

Bare toes standing on the marble floor— unable to even grab shoes before you were heaved into the cart— you felt a heat from dark eyes that you were certain would drive someone mad if they dared look back. Like the boiling flames from hell itself were simmering in the coal of his irises. 

Caracalla jumped up, stepping forward from his throne, a wicked sense of evilness piercing from the iciness of his stare. His golden tooth caught the sun’s rays and you nearly vomited as he strode forward, eyeing you like a meal. 

A feminine laugh bubbled from his throat,  he clasped his hands together, bangles clanking in a sick harmony, a childlike grin spread on his pale face, “she’ll do.” 

You remember the first night in his chambers. Caracalla himself was bathed in ivory, same as the stone walls that were covered with flowing draperies. Although it was meant to be beautiful, the air felt choked, tight in your chest as you tried like hell to calm your frazzled nerves. 

The same giggle you heard in the throne room all morning now reverberated off the walls. He sat on a chaise lounge in only his dressing robes, sweat dampening his temples, that same damning stare as he slid his tongue over that disgusting gold tooth. Was he nervous? Drunk?

You had thought an emperor of his caliber would be used to this sort of thing. Maybe not. 

You had been cleaned by the palace servants, hair untangled and dirt scrubbed from under your nails. Hints of jasmine and honey perfumed from your gown as you tiptoed toward him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped at them hastily. 

“Sit.” 

The singular word seemed to give him trouble, as if he had never been in the presence of a woman before. 

He was clumsy, unthreading your gown with clammy hands, dragging across your skin like a damp sponge. Your skin crawled under his touch. 

His lips were stained with wine, thin and shriveled as he pecked at your skin. When you reached for him, hurrying this task along, he recoiled from your hand, shaking his head, a pained expression on his face as he held your wrist in a death grip. 

His eyes squinted shut and he screamed for you to leave. “Out!” “Get out!” Chalices and gold cutlery were tossed in your direction as you sprang for the door. 

Throwing open the heavy wood and running smack into the bare chest of the other Emperor. Emperor Geta. 

Although younger, he was taller than Caracalla. His chest was more broad, shoulders stretched tight with muscles. The same death-like stare on his face as he shoved you from him, having you stumble onto the stones into a wall. The cords of his neck strained as he took in your appearance.

He didn’t soften his features as you peered up at him with a fear stricken expression. He snarled, flaring his nostrils at the pathetic look of you, practically in rags. 

“Ah, and what do we have here? My brother’s whore in tears outside his chamber door. Can’t say I'm the least bit surprised.” He leaned into you, his eyes burning into your skin as he ripped the last of your gown to the floor, leaving you naked before him. 

“Tasteful thing, aren't you?” he gloated, pinching your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, laughing when you yelped in surprise and tried to cover your decency. 

He crowded into you, pushing your further down the hall way until you reached a dead end, his groin pressed into your middle. 

“Pathetic.” he sneered, enunciating every syllable the word held.  “Every single one of you.” His voice slithered like a snake against your ear, his breathing was forced, almost erratic and strained like he was holding himself back from bashing your skull into the wall. 

“Brought in here like some glorious stuffed hog on a spicket, trying to impress the Emperors so your village would be overlooked..” he clicked his tongue and grabbed the nape of your neck, his mouth only an inch from your own, “I don’t miss anything. Even though my sniffling brother may, I do not.” 

“Emperor, please.” 

“Do not speak!” he shouted loud enough to wake the entire palace, the veins in his neck stood at attention, throbbing,  “a whore will never open her mouth to me unless asked, or you are given something to fill it— understood?” 

You nodded feebly, a single tear trickling down your cheek. Geta placed the tip of his tongue to your skin catching the salty wetness, “if you can not please my brother, you will please me… otherwise what good are you here?” 

He shoved you to your knees, bits of sand biting into your skin as you hit the ground with a thud. His eyes were ablaze as he pulled out his cock. Veiny and impossibly thick, you’d never imagined one to be so large.  

Geta stroked himself, already hard and velvet beneath his palm, “open for your Emperor,” he demanded, the same snarl on his lip you noticed earlier today. 

You did as you were told, tongue out mouth agape waiting for him to slide against your mouth. Forcing himself inside, he filled it full until the pink head slithered into your throat, his groans vibrating through your bones. 

He rocked his hips into your face, panting and groaning some more as you gagged on his length— spit dripping down your bare chest and down his sack. 

He spoke nonsense to himself as you tried to breathe, squinting out tears from your eyes as you peered up at him. “The virgin mouth is fuck, yes, too good… impossibly sweet, untouched by another man, fuck, never get enough.” 

His large fist gripped your hair, pulling at the root as he bludgeoned himself further into you, fucking your head into the wall surely to leave a bruise or knock you unconscious, he wouldn’t care either way. 

“Stupid sniffling Caracalla,” he choked out between thrusts, “incompetent bastard wouldn’t know what to do with a whore if one fell on his cock,” he laughed and scrubbed at his face, reaching with his free hand to press the column of your throat, feeling himself deep beneath his thumb, “lucky for you, I do.” 

He came then, loud and shaky, holding you to him until your nose was tickled by his patch of dark pubic hair. He pulled out, leaving a pearl against his slit to rub against your mouth. 

“You might belong to Caracalla, but you will bow to me, and you… my sweet rosa, I have plans for you.” 

And that was how it started, how every night you would meet with Caracalla only to be summoned by Geta in the corridor upon your dismissal. Spilling secrets of his brother before pleasuring him with your mouth. 

In the light of day, you were ignored by him as you catered to Caracalla’s beck and call, and you often wondered if Geta had another servant he preferred during the sunlight hours. 

You were a midnight affair, a servant to one Emperor, a secret to the other. Caracalla was a strange man. Your time with him mostly was spent with him whining about the day's woes. 

How hard it was to be an emperor, the many expectations he had, the palace wasn’t large enough, his brother was too mean. Night by night his paranoia spread like wildfire, and he became gaunt, refusing to eat thinking Geta poisoned his food, his cheeks began to hallow. 

During all those nights he never once gave in to his own sexual temptations, he laid his head in your lap like an infant, whimpering and sniveling. One particular warm night you were sitting on his bed as you did every night before, listening to him sob about his mother and how he felt her attention was elsewhere. 

It took a single second of you being unresponsive for his switch to flip. Caracalla raged, flipping over furniture, ripping his draperies from the walls and pulling at his own hair. You were terrified, scared of him for the first time since the night you came to the palace. 

Caracalla bound your wrists above your head, and took force between your legs as you silently let him, disassociating from the entire situation, as he kissed a bruise to your collarbone, and scratched your thighs with his bitten fingernails. His inexperience was evident in his approach, in the way his hips held no rhythm, in the way he screeched like a midnight owl when he was close to release. 

He repeated the same thing over and over until he spilled against your stomach, a plea to either himself or to the Gods above, I am worthy. 

You shook violently, not with pleasure but with fear. You had thought of spitting in his face, but realized death would be your only future if you were to humiliate him during this catastrophic performance of what he would assume to be lust. 

Caracalla finished with a sweaty brow, laying down to fall asleep like a babe, an arm wrapped around your middle. A gaudy rouge colored his pale cheeks as drool slipped from his lips. 

You felt sick, defiled and disgusting. 

You’d rather be fucked by thirty men at once than have to endure that pathetic, cry baby fit from Caracalla. Gently placing his arm on the pillow, you fled. 

Missing your village, your family, the man who you were supposed to marry someday, your tears clouded your vision down the winding corridors of the palace. You would have fought to stay behind, should have pleaded to the men that you could be useful to them. This whore’s life isn’t what you had bargained for, death would be swifter— easier than this. 

The sweet scent of the balneum made you take a detour to the right, and you sobbed upon seeing the moonlight glint across the soft bathing water. 

Desperate to scrub his filth from your skin, the water was barely warm but you couldn’t care less as you sunk deep into the marble stone basin. Scrubbing your skin with anything your fingers could get ahold of. The jasmine soaps the servants washed you with the first time was tucked into its cradle and you slathered until your skin shined like an apparition. 

Tears dropped from the apples of your cheeks hitting the massive pool like a rainstorm over the ocean. Caracalla was a coward, a nuisance to Rome, to the Gods themselves. You damned his name as you scrubbed and lathered, repeating feverishly. 

For how long Geta stood in the doorway, you weren’t sure. You weren’t where you should have been, and he was irate upon your absolute disrespect of his time. He wanted to shout, plunge his way into the water and drag you out by your hair, bring you to the coliseum and make everyone watch your death against whatever animal he saw fit. 

You broke his rules, his laws, his heart raced with anger at the sight of you casually washing yourself. Nobody in the palace bathed in the moonlight, and when he heard commotion from the tepidarium room, he stomped towards it to find whoever the culprit was idiotic enough to disobey. He was alarmed to find you in there. Frantic, shooken up, no doubt from the hands of his flaccid brother.

“The lamb strayed away from the flock, I see.” his voice was like a snake, cool and calm but dripping with acidity that could kill at any given time. Jumping at his voice you nearly shrieked at his sudden appearance. 

“The moon has passed the mountains, yet you do not seek me out? Instead I find you here, helping yourself to the royal bathing quarters, as if you deserve such luxuries.”

Your voice trembled, as you climbed from the water, “I wanted… I needed to be clean.” 

His eyebrows twisted inward, confusion riddling his features until he stepped further into the room and noticed the marks across your skin. Caracalla’s mark. The marks of an hungry, untrained runt, trying to prove himself to the litter. 

Geta’s face boiled with sadistic rage as his eyes scanned down your body, the scratches of an novice beast unable to pleasure a whore. Bruises from a limp man who deserved a knife to his throat.

“Come.” he demanded, not waiting for you to follow as his stalked from the room, tossing a long cloth behind him to your awaiting hands. 

—

Water trickled behind you and down the length of your body as you padded on bare feet to catch up with Geta. 

This part of the palace was foreign to you, a set of stairs leading to a dark tower that you didn’t know existed, and then you realized why. He was leading you up to his chambers.

Geta and Caracalla lived on opposite ends of the palace, their hatred splitting them apart as far as it could allow. 

He thrust open a concealed door and stomped down a few stone stairs leading into his chamber. 

It was decorated in hues of deep ruby and scarlets, black linens flanked his walls. His bed was massive, alluring in the dark majesty of its presence. A single candle flickered beside his bed, casting shadows in the deep night. 

His hooded eyes seemed to strike with a ripple of psychotic light when he came back to the doorway to pull you inside by your wrist. 

Sitting on a lavish wooden chair he leans back, spreading his legs wide, reaching for a wine filled chalice downing it in one gulp, his eyes never leaving you. 

“Let me make myself clear,” he stated, “I do not care what Caracalla does in his chambers I never have nor will I now.” 

Geta wiped at his chin and set down the glass, his finger rounding the rim, “You came here knowing what your life would hold as an Emperor’s servant or a soldier’s fuck sack. The little amount of freedom you were once born with has vanished, and what a pity that must be…but quite honestly,” he gleamed leaning forward his face warmed by the light, casting shadows of evil on his brows, “I am not a savior to the fucked raw whores of this palace who weep after fulfilling their master’s needs.”

Your eyes casted downward at the patterned marble floor. “I told you the night we met that if you aren’t pleasing my brother or myself, you have no purpose here, did I not?” 

Your head shook up and down, knowing every word he said was true. 

“I will grant you gratitude where it is due by saying that you have done everything I have asked of you, sharing my brother’s secrets, using your mouth to fill my needs— it is all very pleasing…”

For the first time you look into Geta’s eyes, the shadows inside flicker with the candle light, and you are drawn to them like a moth. 

“… however, I find myself enraged thinking of that shriveled weasel dick not taking you to bed in a proper manner. It is not my style to fuck like a lover would—I use women to my needs and that’s it.” 

He rubs his jaw, as if the stubble was itching him, suddenly stopping to look at you dead in the eyes as his narrowed to slits, “but you, are a gnat. An annoyance I can not seem to get rid of, and I can’t decide if you are a woman version of the plague or something else…” His eyes glimmer for a second before he shakes his head to clear his mind, “Get on the bed.” 

“Emperor?” 

His voice boomed as he slammed down his cup, “do not make me say it twice, I find myself to be quite angry when I have to repeat my words.” His throat pulsed in wrath, and his knuckles turned white from his fists being clenched. 

You do as you're told, gingerly making your way to the enormous frame and mattress, sitting rigidly. Geta undresses himself, standing bare before you, that glorious length springing freely. 

“The difference between Caracalla and myself, is I know how to use my God bless-ed cock to pleasure a woman, and I’m damn good at it.” 

He’s on you in a flash, his breath sweet from the wine he had consumed. His body was solid on top of yours, pale skin never exposed to the sun. Enormous shoulders dressed in muscles that were hidden with robes daily. He sniffs loud, taking in your scent you feel his body shiver above you. 

His teeth nip at your earlobe, piercing through the flesh releasing a trail of hot blood onto your neck. It’s swiftly lapped away by his tongue, a low groan following as he tastes you. 

“If your blood is this sweet I would hate to know how you taste between your legs.” 

You squirm beneath him as he bites your lip the same way, his canines piercing your plushy flesh and he moves his mouth over the bites, enjoying the iron-like taste. A flood of wetness rushes to your core and you suddenly feel hot everywhere… something Geta doesn’t miss. 

“My brother’s whore is quick to becoming wet.” he says with a chuckle, sweeping his fingers between your folds, his rings collecting your arousal on his knuckles before he pulls them into his mouth,  “mmmm leave it to Caracalla to fuck a bitch when she’s drier than a well.” 

His mouth assaults your neck. Sweeping circling as he groans into you, his cock rutting against your sex as you pull him further into you, a hand coiled in his golden hair, yanking slightly, a traitorous moan escaping his lips. 

Your hips widen to try to sneak the tip of him into your cunt but he only laughs at your attempt.

“Look how desperate you are, pathetic thing… so eager to be filled by a man who knows how to fuck.” He groans when your nails scratch down his back, and he licks his lip to not get too carried away. 

That pitiful excuse for a human couldn’t satisfy his own hand, let alone a whore who begs to be brutalized.” You moan his name when he skims blunt nails around the peaks of your nipples, running his palms along your rib cage. 

“You're teasing me, Emperor, te necessito.” 

The snarl that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face curls on his lip, “begging is a good start, we both know how good you are on your knees, but I like the pity showing in your eyes, as if I’m your God.”

With that final word and title, Geta thrust himself into you, shredding your walls with each delicious inch of his cock buried inside of you. All breath is expunged from your lungs as you stare into the devil’s eyes, a chokehold to your own.

“Ora pro me, Deus meus, pray for me God,” he grunted as he pistoned back into your heat. Your screams filled his chambers, the tower shaking with seduction as he matched your shouts with grunts and moans of his own. 

He pawed at your tits, squeezing and claiming every inch of skin he could get his hands on. Your thighs were wrapped around his waist, your hips circling to meet his rhythms. A large hand wrapped tight around your throat, and you licked your lips letting a grin spread against them. 

Geta was leaned forward just enough for you to put a hand against his own throat, squeezing as tightly as you could. He wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting someone to match his own sadistic fantasies.. let alone a commoner from a village he didn’t care to know the name of. 

His eyes embellished like a dark jewel in a burning hell before he snarled and backhanded your cheek. He had never been more turned on, practically fucking you stupid as the welts from his rings raised on your skin. 

“Puella pulchra, pretty girl,” Geta whispered into your ear after flipping you over, his cock wedged between your ass cheeks. “Mea es, mea es, you’re mine;  no one else’s.” 

His rings bit at your sides as he positioned your ass upwards, leaving his dental records in each cheek before slapping them hard in unison, mocking your yelp as he dribbled spit where he needed it to be. 

With no warning he entered your other hole at a bruising pace. You saw black when Geta bottomed out and you swore you were near passing out from the stretch of his giant cock stuffed tight inside of you. 

Your pussy throbbed to his commands as he pulled you by your neck with one hand, so your back was leaned against his chest. Thick fingers slotted themselves in the heat of your core until his rings were nestled against your clit. “How dare you let Caracalla have at you first, this cunt is too sweet, too sinful to not be mine.” 

Babbling along to everything he said you simply screamed yes over and over, as your head lolled back on his shoulder. You came so hot and bound tight that it flooded his fingers and spread down your legs as he kept pounding inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” Geta grunted, shoving your forward to gain leverage on your hips as he pistoned into you a final time. A great yell breached his throat as his seed flooded your ass, filling it full and spilling over both himself and you, down to the laundered sheets. 

You collapsed onto his bed, legs shaking and quaking struggling to catch your breath. Geta fell onto his back beside you, his skin glistening with sweat, his release coated thickly on his softening cock and pasted into the curly hair. 

“Dulcis ut rosa,” he murmured with his eyes closed, licking his lips to savor your taste once more. 

Tumbling on shaky knees, you lift yourself up just enough to eye his length, wrapping your mouth around his cock, sucking off his spend and yourself from him. Moaning as you devoured him.  

He hissed at the contact, reaching out to stroke your cheek with his thumb “you’ve made a fool of me, you wicked thing, I’m nothing but a fool.” 

When you were finished, Geta laid in silence beside you. His thumb strumming along his torso his eyes wide staring into the ceiling, deep in thought. 

Noticing a decanter of wine you asked if he’d like another glass. “No,” he said, still staring upward, unable to look at you. “I’m tired, leave me now.” 

Removing yourself from the bed you find the dressing robe he was wearing when he found you in the bath and slipped it over your shoulders. 

Leaving his chambers left you feeling rotten. 

It was strange how he looked at you during and after, he was talented just as he said he was, and you knew you’d never forget the night the other Emperor bed you in his sheets. For tomorrow was another day, back to Caracalla and his blubbering whines of the hardships of royalty.

Geta lie awake for hours. Eventually seeking refuge on his balcony staring into the pale ivory moon, silently asking the Gods for answers he himself didn’t know. He had bedded hundreds of women. Every shape, size and color. But you. The little gnat. You had been buzzing in his ears every night since you had gotten to Palatine Hill. 

Since the day he laid his eyes on you and scoffed to try to denounce his admiration, Geta silently wished death on Caracalla when he claimed you as his own. His original plan was to spoil the apple from the inside out, use you as a spy to gain information about his deranged brother— but it became more to him, you became more. But why? 

The God’s didn’t have the answers tonight, just like they hadn’t the night before, or every dawn since the night you showed up here. Guilt struck him like a bolt from Jupiter’s mighty hand and he pushed it down with the remaining wine he had stashed beside his bed. 

The facaded mask he wore these days almost slipped off tonight when you lay beside him. How he wanted to reach out and touch your skin while you laid in euphoric bliss. And he shut you out to avoid something he couldn’t risk. He didn’t know how to love a woman, his love was for war and power, blood and gold— still the gnat buzzed, unrelentless. 

Laying in the sex sodden sheets, he knew what his dream would be of tonight. It hadn’t changed in the months of you arriving here: Caracalla dead by his hand, and you, the gnat, sweet as a rose…his empress.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

latin translation:

virgines— virgins

dulcis ut rosa— sweet as a rose

balneum— bathing room

te necessito— i need you

ora pro me deus meus— pray for me my God

puella pulchra— pretty girl

mea es— you’re mine

tagging some moots: @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @etherealxwitch

[the-library-alcove]

An updated Antizionist Bingo Card

Came up with this after reading the "debate" between Hen Mazzig and Kei Pritsker.

Explanations under the cut

Settler Colonialism Canard: Portraying Israelis as White Europeans who can just "go back to [their country of origin]", and stating that no matter where within the region they live, even if far inside the 1947 Green Line, they're "settlers" and thus deserving of death. Even if they're babies.

Blood Libel Canard: "Israelis deliberately target children to kill them", or anything to do with calling Israelis bloodthirsty, killing people to harvest them, depicting them as vampires, bathing in blood, or otherwise engaging in ritualistic slaughter of human beings, especially children.

Celebrating the deaths of Israeli citizens: Straightforward and very popular. It should be especially apparent when said Israelis, or Jews in general, are living outside of Israel, and people are pleased to see them dead. There have been multiple examples in just the last few weeks--a car accident in NYC killed several Jews, including children, and was celebrated, and there were two brutal murders in California, also celebrated.

"We have Token Good Jews!": Tokenization in the classic sense, being used to hold up as a shield against accusations of bias. (Very often these individuals turn out not to be Jewish as well)

Historical Revisionism of Israel's founding: Fairly straightforward, in terms of misrepresenting or distorting (or straight up lying) about the events of the Arab-Israeli War of 1948 and the founding of Israel.

Inflating the death toll, or other disregard for actual Palestinian lives: according to the official count by Hamas' own governmental apparatus, approximately 50,000 people have died in the Gaza Strip between October 2023 and April 2025, including of natural causes. Anyone claiming that the death toll is an extreme undercount or citing higher numbers essentially wants there to be more dead Palestinians in order to blame Israel. Also qualifying are those who dismiss or demean the anti-Hamas protests happening in Gaza.

Historical Revisionism, 1948-2006: Covers lying about or distorting the Six Day War, The Yom Kippur War, the First and Second Intifadas, the return of the Sinai Desert to Egypt, the status of the West Bank, the peace accords during the 1990s, or the Gaza pullout, among other topics.

American-centric view of the conflict: Covers, among other things, "Palestinians are like the Natives in the US being kept on reservations, or like Latinos trying to enter the US being kept behind a border wall, and the Israeli government is like the Republicans, only Jews!", or other such comparisons where the speaker is trying to impose their own outsider perspective onto the conflict.

Genocide Canard: Any accusation that Israel is genociding the Palestinians. Quite simply, if Israel was genociding the Palestinians, none of them would still be alive.

"But Israel/Zionism!" in unrelated topics: Discussing antisemitism in the US or elsewhere in the world? Discussing Jewish history, traditions, culture, theology, or other aspects of Judaism? Just existing as a Jew? And someone brings up Israel or Zionism in an effort to derail or force an answer? Here.

"Israel killed its own people on purpose.": Comes in two general flavors--either claiming that 7/10 was a false flag attack, or accusing Israel of deliberately targeting the hostages in order to kill them.

Celebrating or mythologizing Hamas, Hezbollah, or the Houthis: They're terrorist groups backed by Iran to stir the pot and instigate conflict; they're responsible for incredible amounts of death and misery, and are not plucky freedom fighters, much less La Resistance.

"I'm antizionist, not antisemitic": The universal clarion call, usually invoked right before saying something incredibly Jew-hating.

Historical Revisionism, Pre-1948: The largest historical revisionism category, but breaking it down could be its own bingo card. Anything from "There were never any Jews in Palestine before 1948" to appropriating British Palestine Jewish culture and innovations for the Arabs, to the Happy Dhimmi myth, to claiming that the Jews did not originate in the Levant... all of it qualifies.

Israel is solely culpable for Gaza's standard of living: In 2006, when Israel pulled out of Gaza by treaty, there were three dozen hospitals, a power plant, a desalination plant, and lots of other infrastructure present. Now, water and power are rare, and the reason the pipes are gone is not Israelis--it's Hamas digging them up to use as rockets. And the hospitals, schools, and other civilian infrastructure were used to launch rockets out of, making them valid targets. But apparently it's just easier to blame Israel than Hamas for violating the rules of war.

"My acts of violence are free speech, your speech is violence.": An extremely popular double standard, where Antizionists will excuse any and all hateful rhetoric, hostile environments, or actual physical violence against Jews as "acts of free speech", but Jews protesting these behaviors are engaging in violence.

Ethnostate/Jewish Supremacy Canard: There is no definition of Ethnostate that fits Israel that doesn't fit a majority of other nations in the world, rendering the fixation on Israel to be a clear case of double standards, and the accusation of Jewish supremacy is just projection.

Apartheid Canard: Non-Jewish citizens of Israel have full equal rights; this is not equivalent to South African apartheid in the slightest, unless the accusers are saying that the Palestinians are actually Israeli citizens instead of being foreign nationals--and if that is the case, then I would ask them if they have the same rights in another nation that they're not citizens of.

Jews don't get to define antisemitism: Fairly straightforward; any attempt or effort by a non-Jew to claim that something isn't "really" antisemitism falls here.

ZOG Canard: "Israel/Jews/AIPAC/etc own/control the US government/media/economy/banks/etc". I.e "Jews run the world from behind the scenes" accusations.

Historical revisionism, 2006-Present: Anything that tries to rewrite history regarding Gaza, the stalled peace process, the conflicts, the rockets, the Iron Dome, or even Netanyahu's corruption all fall here.

Dual Loyalty Canard/Diaspora Jews are valid targets: "All Jews, aside from our Good Tokens are Evil Zionists beholden to Israel and thus valid to harass or kill".

Accusations of Indiscriminate/Wanton/Cartoonish Cruelty: To hear some antizionists talk about Israelis, they're so evil and sadistic that they by all rights should be in some Game of Thrones-style narrative, where kicking puppies is just part of the morning routine. Israel bombs hospitals/universities/schools/daycares/mosques/etc, apparently just for the chance to be evil and cruel, instead of the reality of "Hamas deliberately puts its weapons and fighters there to use civilians as human shields". This is tied to the Blood Libel narratives--especially when claims come of Israel deliberately targeting children--but is distinct enough on its own to merit its own box.

"No True Pro-Palestinian Activist would...": Just a No True Scotsman claim, and yes, yes they would. We have citations. And please don't try to claim that they're mentally ill, either.

Redefining Words, NewSpeak-style: A lot of words get redefined in this conflict; Genocide, Apartheid, Zionism, and Settler-Colonialism are all major enough to get their own boxes, but they're not alone. Pulling from another post of mine, here are some examples:

Humanitarian Aid becomes Manufactured Famine.

Borders become Concentration camp walls.

Suicide bombers become heroes.

Rape becomes Resistance.

Civilian Evacuation becomes Ethnic Cleansing

Unwilling Human Shields become Brave Martyrs

Indoctrinated Child Soldiers become Adorable Spirit Of Resistance or Murder

People returning to their native homeland become Colonizers

Hostages become Prisoners of War

Anti-Rocket Defense becomes a Tool of Genocide

Surrender becomes Ceasefire

Civilians become Acceptable Targets

[femslash-february]

Welcome to Raptor’s Femslash February Bingo 2025! Round 2: Electric Boogaloo

This year with four different prompt bingo cards—light prompts, dark prompts, spicy prompts, a combined one with all prompts—to celebrate Femslash February 2025. All fandoms, content and warnings welcome! Enjoy! ❤️

Rules and prompts in text form under the Read More!

Rules:

When: all of February

What: focus of your work should be a wlw / femslash / f/f ship, i.e. a ship with two or more female presenting characters, gender bending welcome

How: it’s totally chill, just do a single prompt or aim for bingo(s), whatever you want! You can get your bingos with one fic, with multiple fics, whatever you like. Choose one of the bingo cards and mark what prompts you're using. Interpret the prompts however you'd like.

Any fandoms, any characters, any ships, any content though please tag appropriately, any type of fanwork—fics (no minimum or maximum wordcount!), art, poetry, moodboards... go wild!

Tag #femslash feb bingo when posting it here on Tumblr and mention this blog so we see your posts and can reblog

AI-generated works are NOT allowed

Crossposting with other events allowed

Most of all: have fun!

Prompts in text form

Light prompts: Wilderness Accidental baby acquisition “Tell me again.” Meet ugly Body swap First kiss Mirror History Once in a lifetime “Who else but you?” Wrong number Opposites Token Curse Festival “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

Dark prompts:

“You could have died.” Last kiss Chains Before the fall Attic wife By a thousand cuts “Do you regret it?” Demon Fatal flaw Spite Poisoned Bad neighbors Hunting “And you thought I loved you.” Forbidden Mind control

Spicy prompts:

Begging Rope bondage Shower sex “Does that feel good?” Sex pollen Marking Blindfold Size Difference Breathplay “Stop distracting me.” Power Exchange Dirty Talk “Behave.” Orgasm Denial Praise kink Suspension

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

You know, life necessities aside, I think it's actually an important thing to teach kids how to handle not being included in things, especially social events.

Not only because rejection is an important emotion to experience and learn to navigate, but because sometimes things just aren't for them.

Obviously, we don't want our children to feel lonely or rejected by their peers, because we remember what it's like to be on the outside looking in, and I'm not out here saying that it's completely fine if other kids completely exclude people from participating or never demand that accommodations should be made, like wheelchair accessible ramps or sign language interpreters, but like... there has to be a line in the sand.

If they're at a birthday party, they shouldn't expect to get party gifts, because it's not a celebration for them.

If they don't make the sports team, it's not the end of the world, because there are games to play with other friends.

If they lose, they should be fine with not receiving something that makes them feel like they won (yes, I'm jabbing at you, actual boomers and gen x parents, for fussing about participation awards when I was growing up then complaining about how my generation didn't know how to handle losing).

If an event is for support of a certain demographic, such as say... the LGBTIAQ+ people, they should be completely fine with the A not standing for Allies (not salty at all she said with sarcasm) or a movie celebrating black history or heritage without asking where the token white person is.

And dare I say it, but if they go to a party where things are going to be triggering or something is going to set off their sensory issues, such as a karaoke party or a crowded place with fireworks, it absolutely sucks, but you have to explain to them that other people are allowed to experience those things without being called evil for doing so.

It's nice to include people. It's a lovely gesture when someone goes out of their way to make someone feel safe and part of the group. But we also can't neglect how to handle when things don't go their way, especially when they're sensitive to rejection, and teach them that it's not the end of the world. They just have to look for where they belong. And if they can't find it, make it, because someone else might be looking to belong too.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

💐 twst jp may 2024 schedule 💐

Early May

🍚 Last Master Chef event!! This one has rice as its main ingredient and features SR Apprentice Chef 👨‍🍳🐙 Azul and 👨‍🍳🤖 Ortho. One can be obtained for free by trading in tokens for a special pick key.

🦁🥏 SSR Clubwear Leona banner! No vignettes, but provides unique furniture.

🤵‍♂️🍎 SSR Platinum Jacket Epel banner! His 💐🍎 Broomquet banner will also make a return.

🐉 Main story update; book 7 part 8!!

🌅🏹 Book 7 limited time banner… SSR Savanaclaw Dorm Uniform Rook??????!!!?!?!!?! It’s so weird being about to see his bare arms for once— This will operate similarly to previous story-related limited time baners; ie this Rook is not permanent.

Mid-May

🤵‍♂️⚔️ SSR Platinum Jacket Silver banner! His 💐⚔️ Broomquet banner will also make a return.

Late May

✨ Tsumsted Wonderland part 3!! This will feature a free R ❤️ Tsumsitter Ace and a free R 🐍 Tsumsitter Jamil. There will also be three limited time banners for SSR 👑 Tsumsitter Vil, SSR 💀 Tsumsitter Idia, and SSR 🐉 Tsumsitter Malleus! The SR Tsumsitters that will appear alongside the SSRs are ♣️ Trey, 🐆 Ruggie, and ⚔️ Silver.

General/Long Term

🎉 Main Story Completion Support Campaign! This will be running from April 26th to June 17th.

There will a period of increased EXP and madol drops for lessons.

Clear as many books of the main story as you can to earn rewards like a SSR perfume and a 10-pull key. Even if you have already cleared the books, you are still eligible for these items.

Easy mode tickets will not be required during the campaign period.

Be sure to check the event campaign page to claim rewards. You can pick them up for 10 days.

Completion support packs will also go on sale in Sam’s shop.

PLEASE NOTE: this campaign does NOT confirm the end of the main story; rather, this campaign is to encourage people to clear as much of the main story as possible (since it seems like a lot of people have been gated by book 6).

[ibelievewhatyousaid]

The Sinner’s assigned Abnormalities in L. Corp are very intriguing to me, as not being a general “resonance,” that Limbus uses with its current day Ego. But! They were assigned that for a given reason, even if only on a meta level, so I’d like to put my two cents into it as I love the Lobcorp Abnos so much. These are simplified summaries of the Abnormalities and speculation on how they fit said Sinner.

Faust - Forsaken Murderer

I do not believe she has an Ego Gift adored to her except the one for this Abno, so we can focus in on this purely; all being of Forsaken Murderer. (On this note, although I am not talking about the realization Ruina Egos, Meursault has Ego for this Abno as well) Forsaken Murderer in his original logs was said to have been a murderer in federal prison to have been sentenced to death. Before that could take place, a bunch of researchers decided to experiment on him. They wanted to prove an innate “evil,” existed and on a further level, they wanted to “cure,” him, although unclear what it really was they wanted to cure. Their experiments twisted out all of his penitence for violence, turning him docile, until he came to this belief of ringing in his head, that his head itself had became metal, leading to self harm against himself. Eventually a fatal accident happens, the researchers jump the ship and decide to simply dissect his brain, until the end he muttered, “ends, begins, ends, begins, end.”

NOW, this is hard to shape into Faust’s story, given how little we know about her on a deeper level, but, I think there’s already (shallow-ish) connections we can make. Faust has a lot of implications of science experiment (Child in a Flask, Telepole) whether we take this ‘literally,’ it’s safe to say either way Faustcord keeps her on a tight leash as being an “experiment” of a Faust who is willing to take a gamble. A lot of Forsaken Murderer focuses on the fact he is chained and tied up but “free as any other man,” we could take this as Faust’s expectation of being a skilled scientist and genius who is bound by those around her, to fulfill that role, yet “free,” at the sake of being all knowing. Faust is “omnipresent,” yet she is just another in a chain of command. In TKT she mentions to Vergilius that both of them “know their place,” despite how great she is, how “free,” of knowing she is, she is just another chain, in both the City and Dante’s contract to the sinners. We can also go deeper with this concept of “inevitably,” of the city, given to her by a predestined plan of fates, in every mirror world, how it all will end has already been put into motion. To know of how tied you are to fate surely must be a token of freedom as well, can’t it? He also seems to have a bit of an ego, a Ruina line of his being, “Don’t look at me with those eyes. You’re the most pitiful one here.” Which, fits Faust’s need to be above others, such as “Faust is brilliant, smart, Yi Sang is a genius.” An implication that Yi Sang had a cap on how brilliant he can be, something he must’ve lucked into, Faust was born to be great. Even if she is regrettably pitiful in every other aspect. An inability to connect to others or form meaningful attachments, this especially rears its head in events were her intelligence creates gaps between her and others, all of MotWE or Dante’s brush off of her in Canto 6 when she cannot given them an answer, or, even earlier, Sinclair accusing Faust and Limbus using the Sinners as compasses to boughs. In all situations it leaves her isolated and awkward, unable to answer, creating a larger, pitiful wedge between her and others, despite how great she is. She is still a thing to be “studied,” whether from an actual scientist or to other versions of her, or those around her, she is a spectacle.

Outis - Der Freishütz / Bloodbath

The story of Der Freischütz in Lobcorp was of a marksman making a deal with the devil, the devil proposed that the gun could shoot anyone, on the last bullet it would pierce the person the marksman loved, in return, the devil would gain the marksman soul in hell. The marksman thus went through all his bullets, killing off all his loved ones. The marksman traveled, simply doing good and bad deeds in impulse, no sign of an actual moral code. Eventually, he realized that the devil had long since stopped following him. He realizes that the contract had long been fulfilled, since the very beginning of him giving up his loved ones, did he fall to hell. And so, now a devil as well, the marksman continued to shoot anyone he wanted, forever.

Again, another sinner we’re left out in the cold for. But, to tap into Outis’ source, The Odyssey, the story follows Odysseus’ desperation to finally reach home, to his family. As the stories play out the more Odysseus gives up his morals. To sacrificing his men to no mercy, a king who was once gentle and kind, gives up all people around him to succeed in arriving home. Of course, from the start, Odysseus had given up his family, a mother who died alone, a wife left waiting for over a decade, a son who had never known him. Odysseus also makes many deals with Gods around him, something he pays greatly later for. Of course, none of this is a one for one, but I think it is to mimic Odysseus, or here, Outis’ slower decent into someone who hurts those who she loves (or should’ve) by her cruelty, once Odysseus had set off to war was the moment he was bound to lose everything. Which, is very similar to how Der Freishütz is, he had lost his humanity the moment he made the deal.

Bloodbath is a Abno based overtly on Carmen, but, to ease it into a more general baseless story, the Abnormality represents: “the pain of all those who couldn’t take their sorrow in stride.” A huge focus on Bloodbath is the guilt of love, of unable to achieve success, using “scars” as marks of failure. The bath mocks the person peering in with hands reaching out desperately, as if begging to be saved, or joined, in this misery. It’s a sign of endless despair, unable to ever reach the climax of this, the only outcome is to accept this wave of despair and let yourself accept it.

So, arguably this fits Outis really well just on the bases of the line: “Many hands float in the bath. They are the hands of the people I once loved.” This once again, is more of a line of thinking born from her source, but a lot of Odysseus’ guilt is haunting to him, specifically that of Penelope, but overall, he gives up many men, including people very close to him, to never truly “succeed,” I feel like this one is easier to connect to, given what I said of the previous Abno to Outis, so.

Don Quixote - Meat Lantern / Void Dream / Fragment of the Universe

Meat Lantern is quite.. obtuse, in its logs, both in Lobcorp and LoR most is left obscure. Which is terribly fitting. Meat Lantern, by your guess, is obviously not a tiny little flower. The logs say that it is gigantic, underneath the entire facility, always waiting, it lures people in, in L. Corp’s lens, it lures in employees by being a lantern, something shiny, full of hope, they haven’t seen stuck underground for so long. Any nature, any lights, something that wasn’t horrific or artificial has long since been lost to everyone there. It’s easy to feel it calling to them, to reach out, to touch, but it’s all a ploy to devour and eat whoever trusts it.

So, Donqui’s Abnos are actually what made me originally want to write about them. I had written out my analysis of hers a few months before, but it was too hinged on my own reading of her that it felt easy to write off as me sounding insane. But! With the reveal of MotWE.. this seems, pretty obvious. (Glad to know I’m not too crazy) Don Quixote wears a mask, one of “hope” something born from really just being .. silly, of something rare in the City. Someone who genuinely believes in good? In hope? Here? As “Don Quixote” stands as an ideal, a concept, “too good to be true.” and beneath that is a “reality,” no one’s has “really ever seen.” (as the log says about the “real body” of Meat Lantern) and then “devours” people. Yeah. I bet.

Void Dream’s logs follow someone who has Void Dream eat all their nightmares, giving them the best dream they could have imagined, the person they love had returned, even working in such a horrible company that is L. Corp was good. Everything was so, so amazing, a perfect ideal world for the dreamer. When waking up, the person was crushed by reality, when forced to confront the truth they became despaired. They tried to find those dreams again, in an obsession, but, they never did come back. The employee comes to the realization that Void Dream’s deal was too good to be true, that from the start, the Abno had set them up. And they had lost, unable to enjoy either sides of reality or dreams, they find their way back to Void Dream and beg them to eat all their dreams. Stealing away all their dreams, nightmares, hopes and despairs, virtually leaving them empty. When Void Dream is accused of leading people on, it brushes off the person, insisting it just wishes the best for others. The line, “a demon must change its shape to deceive others.”

Originally, I had read this purely as Don Quixote being put into the victim’s prospective, someone who “wakes up” from a perfect dream to be crushed by reality. And, I don’t actually disagree, I think this still 100% fits. But I think her fitting “as” the Abnormality makes perfect sense, too. Obviously, the whole “deceiving others,” line fits. To change one’s shape, a “demon” a Bloodfiend, to deceive others into seeing it as innocent, pure, true to the ideals it preaches. But, and this is a bit speculation on what we know very little of, “Don Quixote,” was given, or is a dream herself that a Bloodfiend wishes to dream, that Bloodfiend must’ve spun this tale, this “perfect” dream is an “act of kindness,” despite not being kind at all. Despite giving out this dream, not only to herself, but to others around her, does it lead to destruction and a harsher fall to reality itself.

Fragment of the Universe.. actually isn’t an Abnormality. At least, not traditionally, if the logs are true. The log mentions how it let itself be caught and studied, and through studying they declared it “intelligent enough” to communicate via language, thus, it learned more and more of humans and humanity. It became endeared and loved people. It reflected what it saw, leading to it looking like a kid’s drawings of hearts. When asked why it had came to interact with humans, it said it wanted to spread messages. One being its song, a song of the universe that drove people crazy, but also let them “finally see the stars,” and also to inform everyone that “there are no coincidences in the universe.”

FotU is really intertwined to its love of humanity, even its design is rooted in this love for the species. Its aim to spread its song is to “relieve” people, as well, even if misguided or unable to be understood. I think Don Quixote, as a concept, is so terribly human. She’s overly emotional, she’s quick to action, strong morals, she’s clumsy and brave and fearful and determined. She is so very human that it backfires. Given Cassetti’s lines, “we are so, so hideous behind the mask.” and his dedication as well as other Bloodfiends to “run” from being monsters and Elena’s lines of her wondering if she was desperate enough to “chase after being an ordinary human again.” I think the Bloodfiend behind Don Quixote genuinely loves humans, and, most likely, wants to “be” one. And “reflects” what she sees, which is a habit Donqui has, mirroring Merusault in TKT, or wishing to “copy” other sinners from Outis’ wristwatch. Donqui also has a huge tie to stars, so, so many of her IDs have her mentioning them, not to mention her tagline. I think an Abno who knows far more than it lets on, powerful, letting itself into humanity, coming to love them, but never being one, is dreadfully fitting.

Yi Sang - Funeral of the Dead Butterflies

FotDB is an Abnormality born from the pain and suffering of.. Lobotomy Corporation, actually! It’s a mourner who is rumored to wandering the halls of the facility with a coffin for those who are bound to be lost, an early mourning for those who are destined to die, and an incomplete sorrow for those already gone, the coffin too small to fit them all, unable to fall asleep or escape. The ending of the log decides that there is no escape, these butterflies are damned to wait, because there “must be an end to every world.”

I think, just like with Gregor’s case, although the original Abnormality is directly tied to L. Corp, in a more general definition, it is about the pain and sorrow of those inevitable deaths born from things such as K corp, or the Smoke War. Cases of people’s lives being thrown away and devalued, not given proper burials, no home to escape to, a fate to dying here, leaving the mourning to the others in the same situation who simply “lucked out.” In Yi Sang’s case, an “ending for every world,” feels very deliberate to the “world,” in which he was locked up in a cage, passively awaiting the days for it to end, one way or another, only to realize he was able to walk out, that the door was never locked. Yi Sang’s grief and attachment to the League of Nine, the only person who seems to grieve over those loses, alone, carrying that pain wherever he goes. In that sense, “an ending to every world,” could also be turned into a guaranteed ending of things he loved as well. There is more to be said, but this one seems very obvious.

Ryōshū - Spider Bud / One sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds / Scorched Girl / Bloodbath / Big and Will be Bad Wolf

(Oh my God girl. Do you need that many???)

Spider Bud is an Abno that is deeply protective of her babies, quite literally her alternative name being “brood mother,” she reacts negatively and violent if an Agent hurts or steps on her children

Ryōshū has gotten this Abno thrice now. It’s gotta be important, and yeah, it is! This is born purely from her Source, but Yoshihide’s tragedy is losing his daughter, Spider Bud’s entire gimmick is being peaceful (as an Abno can be) unless someone hurts her children, she stalks and watches and exacts revenge against those people. I didn’t want to bring in Uptie stories, but Ryōshū’s uncharacteristic gentleness to the spiderlings who nip at her is really.. striking. Once again, this one feels kind of.. duh, so I won’t go much deeper into it.

One Sin is an Abnormality with the purpose of being confessed to, to relieve one of their sins, it’s tied to religion to Hell’s screen gimmick of.. Hell.. feels, yes, but I feel as though this is more general and disingenuous from One Sin’s connection to Christianity while Hell’s screen is about Buddhism’s hell. Instead this felt more interlined to Parallel Gebura. A lot of people have jumped on this for power scaling fun, but! I think it’s important to realize why Carmen would’ve said “At least similar in this regard,” my take is that a huge aspect of Gebura’s woes in Lobcorp was her unable to protect those she loved. Given Yoshihide’s tragedy here, unable to protect his daughter. I think that is the aim that makes the most sense right now with how very little we have about Ryōshū.

Scorched Girl is another Abnormality she’s already gotten, all in all, SG lives on a sense of angered revenge and self destruction. Her logs depict her to be torn in two from her desire of affection to one of wishing harm on others.

Her attempt at hurting others involves hurting herself, which lines up with Yoshihide’s ending, of his natural self destructiveness, how he makes his art and his death. Her rage also lines up with Ryōshū’s, a want to have back warmth, love she’s lost, but only able to be a match of destruction.

Bloodbath, we already covered this in Outis’ section! I think Outis and Ryōshū naturally align similarly, (Hong Lu, Mr. “Horrific family” isn’t ever the one getting cold or aloof to mentions of family or parents or children, it’s only ever these two!) A guilt of unable to succeed despite how much you gave up and sacrificed, including others And to lose those you love, the hands in the water being everyone you’ve ever loved, by your own faults.

Finally, Big and Will be Bad Wolf! The Abnormality is about being set up from birth being one way. From the way society sees you, you will always be what they depict you as. The Abnormality doesn’t feel remorse over the violence it causes, because it was “inevitable” he’d turn out this way. Who is he to blame nature? Regardless of nurture.

This one is the most hard to really fit without going “well, just a hunch.” I think this could be in regards to Yoshihide’s further and further acts of violence and pain to others around him, but unable to feel that remorse (until it is too late) because he was born with this way. He was “born” an “artist.” Who is he to defy things sacrificed for art? He is unable to be anything but cruel and vindictive, and he doesn’t try to be.

Well, that’s everything I could remember off the top of my head! Apologies if it starts to get a little weaker by the end, I’ve been typing for hours. In general, there’s more I could say or conclude, but, because of how loose Abnos are in concept, as well as how most of these Sinners (everyone but Yi Sang…) haven’t had their cantos yet, it leaves a lot of assumptions built upon their sources and short behavior ticks we’ve seen them display. I won’t say these are confirmed or sure fire takes but more so a jumping off point in fathoming these choices.

[sarawritestories]

I Will Be Watching For Your Enemies.

Cassian X Reader

Summary: After being attacked by a fae in the streets of Velaris. Cassian comes to check on you. And feelings come to the surface.

Content Warning: depictions of violence, hurt comfort

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

ACOTAR Masterlist

The cool breeze of the fall evening kissed your skin. You leaned against the balcony railing, releasing a sigh. Your eyes fluttered shut, and images of the events earlier in the day came flooding back. Images flashing in rapid succession.

Head slamming against the brick, causing your vision to blur.

The taste of copper coating your tongue from your blood.

Hands roaming freely as you were in a daze: defenseless.

Flashes of raw red power.

Wings flaring to block you from the sight of your attacker.

Warm hazel eyes meeting yours.

The muscled arms wrapping around you.

Your vision going black as unconsciousness consumed you.

The soft texture of a blanket wrapping around you brings you back from present, and you stiffen. "It's me, Sweetheart." The scent of leather and sandalwood settled over you as Cassian moved to your line of sight, his hand sliding down to your back. "Sorry. I should have announced my arrival."

You shrugged, allowing yourself to focus on the warmth of his blanket. "It's okay."

Cassian's jaw clenched, his wings twitching, "it's not." He instinctively pulled you closer to him, and you obliged his thumb stroking circles along your back. "I should have walked you home. I should have been-

You pressed a finger to his lips, "Shhhh. This wasn't your fault." You noticed his free hand splayed on the railing, and you wrapped your fingers around his. "Cassian." He eyes darted away to the the lights of Velaris. You heightened hearing caught the general grinding his teeth. "Cass, I'm fi-"

Hazel eyes snapped to yours, "Don't lie to me." His tone was clipped. "You were hit so hard you fell unconscious. Rhys could hear his thoughts." The hand on your back moved to cup your face. "You were hurt. I thought..." Your friend sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. "I thought I was too late."

You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed you. "Cassian." You whispered as tears welled up in your eyes.

Cassian pulled away from you, his hazel eyes held such determination. The hand that was gripped in his was lifted to his lips. Gently, he kissed it as he said, "I promise you, Sweetheart, as long as I live to make sure what happened today never happens again." He looked at your hand and placed another kiss to it. "I will be watching for your enemies to let them know that they contend with me."

Overtook with emotion, you cupped his face as tears continued to fall and slammed your lips to his. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Your chest collided with his. His lips were soft and gentle, and you could taste a hint of the whiskey on his breath. You never felt more at home than in his embrace.

Safe.

Loved.

Cherished.

Needing air, you reluctantly pulled away. Before you could say anything, Cassian said, "When it comes to you. I would rage war to keep you safe, and I wouldn't fight fair. I love you, sweetheart."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I love you too, Cassian."

Cassian pulled you into a hug as he began stroking your hair. "Mine."

You smiled as your head laid against where his heart was. "Yours."

General Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @lilah-asteria @artists-ally @mybestfriendmademe @awkardnerd

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[imasallstars]

　[Formula Baton] 　　　Every time you wave it around, this feeling you have yet to understand overflows like a numerical formula. Now, let us solve the conundrum that is "love"

The featured unit of the event is an unnamed unit featuring idols who ranked in the Top 5 of the D Group of the Stage for Cinderella Elections back in March/April 2023

This unit consists of Hayate Hisakawa, Aiko Takamori, Riamu Yumemi, Ranko Kanzaki, and Izumi Ohishi

[punkeropercyjackson]

hey! was wondering what u meant by "white washing miles' personality" /gen k thnx

Miles Morales is an inherently black character.His entire characterization is fundamentally black-His tastes come from him being a Brooklyn black boy and so do his attitude,mannerisms and ways of thinking about the world,himself and in specific circumstances.Miles is also a very soft,artistic and nerdy black boy with ties to black femininity that compliment his black masculinity(this is where the trans Miles headcanon popularity comes from)and this is what leads to the whitewashing of Miles' character,because nonblacks see softness,fine creative skills and academic intellect as white traits.They think Miles acts white.Not as hate but as a backhanded compliment he's 'not like those black people' except he absolutely is.He's a literally a hood kid and his Spidersymbol for the movies was based on the anarchy symbol so imo,he counts as a black punk too,specifically afrosolarpunk based on his motifs and earthy fashion fitting him

Nonblack Miles 'stans' turn him into a neutered 'golden retriver boyfriend' for their exaggeratedly hateful and frankly femcel-esque Gwen interpretations and compare Ghostflower to literally every black guy x white girl solely on race(No,Ekko is not a Miles Morales Variant,neither is Wybie Lovat and neither is Darius Bowman)yet shuffle their feet at afrolatina/black biracial Gwen Stacy,Punkflower gets brotherszoned which is bad enough but they make it even worse by pushing the most white gringo ass 'universal brotherly experiences' onto them and in a demonic ass not really turn of events if you know your misogynoir history,Margo is somehow not popularly thought of as a Miles love interest even though she unambigiously is one and invalidated from the cast in general even though she's one of the best Spiderpeople.Miles Morales is NOT your token black fave you get to wave in peoples faces to go 'See!!!I don't hate black people,my favorite Spiderman is the black one!' while you run his name and history through the mud for your own palpability.Either treat Miles right or leave him the fuck alone

[egophiliac]

I have a question about the jp server pickups, since I really want knight Sebek, but I’m trying to save gems for bloom malleus + the 3rd tsum event that’s gonna show up sooner or later. Iirc, after knight Sebek, the next story update’s pickup had all of the previous story cards (ie cerberus Ortho, general Lilia, and knight Sebek). Is this true, and if it is, did it include a token system like the dorm pickups where you can just do 100 pulls and then buy the specific card you want directly? Because if that is how it works, then I can wait until then and be sure I won’t have to go to 200 for him.

we did indeed get a second chance at those three when 7-7 came out! I'm pretty sure there was not a token system -- though admittedly I don't 100% remember, sorry! 🙇 I took a quick search through some past posts/videos from people who tend to include the gacha and news stuff, but I didn't see any mention of it, so I'm inclined to think there really wasn't one. :( they were all separate pickups with their own pull counts rather than a combined one, if that info helps at all.

speaking as a strict f2p who hoards keys/gems like the lovechild of a dragon and a magpie, given the choice between saving for a story card and a birthday card, I'd go for story -- it does require a lot of patience, but there are way more opportunities to get past birthday cards, both from the anniversary events and the rerun pickups! tsums is a bit harder to say anything on because Eng doesn't follow the same event schedule, but it's a longish event and those pickups let you have a free 10-roll, so I think they're also a bit easier to save up for.

(ALSO speaking of free rolls, starting with the fifth round of birthdays -- the kutsurogi my room ones -- the birthday boy/union jacket/bloom cards have had a separate pickup that you can get two free 10-pulls at by doing missions! I got a bloom Jade from it a couple weeks ago. :D meanwhile general Lilia is the only story card I've ever managed to pull, so...I'm probably kinda biased. whoops.)

[yellosnacc]

What kind of art do the Sloman/Uniima make?

Very hard to answer in a single post so I focused on visual art here. Here are some few sketchy examples from both species.

There's a wide spectrum between the single species' cultures and even bigger between the two species. But there are many convergent art forms where the biggest differences lie in style as slomen and uniima see the world differently (color, space, person recognition...).

Slomen

In slomen cultures, art is commonly created for a community. Either to decorate a space or gift to a group etc. The least rare exception would be gifts for family heads but those usually see it as an obligation to share it with the rest.

So portraits of only one person are very rare. Art pieces also tend to be large, as the average painter group (in Ciwa) consists of 5 members and a mural-making group can be around 20. When they agree on the base motives, each artist executes their part with the resulting piece having all sections equally over-detailed.

Ciwan and general sloman visual art is often about fitting as much as possible experience and telling many stories without focusing on one single aspect (unless it's to highlight a higher-ranking member such as a matriarch). Art that can be touched is preferred.

Ciwan style of people drawing focuses on little facial detail, drawing people more idealistic with expression being shown more in body language. Individual indicators are primarily stripes and markings, sometimes holding a token of their occupation.

Uniima (sky)

In sky cultures, visual art is very popular and used in practical senses too. Ueema cultures commonly exchange art as information in case of language barriers and use it for documentation when they can afford it.

The structure of sky settlements, being that of thousands of microstates, leads many to compete in presentation. Having the most inspired architecture and decoration is why many become artisans which then bleeds into other parts of society.

Art is a job for one and it's full of competition. A good artist acts as their whole company, creating advertisements inside and outside their home, traveling, and inserting oneself into events.

Sometimes, uniima stylization can be realistic and practical but very often it's not and becomes hard to read for outsiders (even other uniima cultures).

Many artsy movements wash over regions in a year, inspired by people, cultures, and faded cultures like those of dead microstates that had little to no outsider contact.

The people drawing style spectrum over ueema cultures alone is overwhelming as they don't work as a single culture and many have a style native to their small area.

Most honor the individual great, including self-portraits and private pieces. The best indicator of who is the painted/crafted individual is the crest and beak shape, after that marking spacing and color + often accessories showing off a uniimas status, skill, and faith stance.

Some styles will include noise visualization to show the person's voice or other non-visual information to make the piece truly pact with context about them.

[catchingdaydreams]

House Wife Mithrun

He decides to live the quiet life with you after the events of the dungeon. As he slowly regains his desires the both of you agree that he can keep himself busy by taking care of the house. It's just a few tasks at first, generally keeping the house clean and what not. Simple tasks that can help gain routine. He is often very forgetful, especially towards his own health and hygiene. So you made sure you kept a check list of all the chores (and most importantly tasks for himself ) needed to complete.

He eventually gets the hang of doing mundane tasks again. And you couldn't help and spoil and praise him when he does. Little appreciations, tokens of gratitude were in the forms of soft kiss and warm praise. He further began craving your touch. Motivated for approval he seeks to pursue other tasks.

His first instinct was cooking. Bad idea, very terrible. He decided to surprise you too. So when one day you came home to Mithrun's surprise, you wouldn't have suspected that he somehow set the oven on fire while simultaneously the baked treats came out undercooked. Lucky you knew snow magic to extinguish the flames. He insisted that he wanted to increase the heat of the oven so the treats were done before you came home. You had to explain to him how it doesn't work like that. Turns out formally a rich ass elf who had servants cooking for him, and only eating 'camping style' while being a Canary, he would greatly lack basic cooking skills.

Yet you couldn't be mad at him. Him willingly wanting to do something, have the desire to do something and for you too made your heart ache. So you decided to show some of the basics to him. Senshi was more than interested to help out too when you asked for tips. His skills were slow to improve, but eventually (with many bandaids later) he became a beginner! And yes you banned him from using anything with fire for at least three months, unless you supervised him. His pouting was extremely difficult to withstand at first but you must not be persuaded by his puppy dog eyes.

Over time his cooking skills improved. He loved making noodle dishes, and found his passion for it. The only issue was that he keeps on making portions to feed a dungeon team, so many nights you have the Canneries over for dinner.

Eating such homely cooked meals were such a treat for you as it was for Mithrun. He took great satisfaction in feeding you. Unbeknownst to you, he liked seeing you eat Elven styled dishes and was extra cuddly with you afterwards. Particularly he likes to nuzzle himself on your stomach as you stroke your fingers through his hair. When you picked up on yourself gaining some weight from all the cooked meals, Mithrun is quickly to reassure you that nothing is wrong. Him kissing your stomach quickly made you stop feeling down about yourself, mostly cause your brain got fried.

And Mithrun's advances continue to grow. Some days he won't feed you unless he got a kiss from you. Don't call his bluff , he will literally teleport the food out of the house, he is that stubborn. He'll make excuses to touch your face, saying that there's crumbs there when there isn't. One day you even came home to him wearing the most frilly girly girl apron. At first he just brought it cause it was on sale (he's a cheapskate) but once he saw the look you were giving him, he made sure to wear it often.