#WELL GUESS WHAT

[glitchgh0sty]

*slams wip down on table*

*refuses to elaborate*

*leaves*

Yall, this au,, this one right here, 🤖 •o•⁉️,, no words needed, just 😭🤲✨ [perfection <33]

[Mecha pilot jazz au, by Keferon]

[llittlelotusflower]

shinogiyu for the masses

[evelynmlewis]

getting tired of people being butthurt that Tolkien didn't include a token female dwarf in the Hobbit company or a girl member in the Fellowship or whatever. Tolkien fought in World War I okay, he fought alongside and in the company of other men and his stories are going to reflect that. The book wasn't written in a vacuum and it can be gender-unbalanced without being problematic or sexist, and I don't see why we have to "acknowledge" that it's sexist "by today's standards" because it's literally not even sexist by TODAY'S standards, it just so happens that not everything is about you all the time. "Today's standards" can and should include being intelligent enough to discern the difference between values dissonance and just having a justifiably different context for writing in

[rarilight]

Thinking about her….*

*bodyguard!twilight

[coolaidstain]

TIL that theres aphobes on Tumblr trying to claim that Jughead Jones has actually been gay coded the whole time and that saying he's ace is homophobic I fucking hate it here

[schnuffel-danny]

Vlad being vampire coded..... and Jack being the "sunshine character archetype"..... something is going on here

[thyglere]

A very long analysis on Caitlyn if you care to read:

Act 1 of season 2 of arcane just dropped on our collective brains like one of Jinx's bombs and just about everyone is losing their minds over it.

I've seen it happen especially over Caitlyn's actions which is... understandable.

What miffed me, however, is how the discourse has strayed to absolutes: Caitlyn is either absolute and irredeemably evil or completely justified in her actions.

Neither is true, of course, arcane is not interested in that sort of thing.

Caitlyn begins the act on the worst low of her life, her mother is dead over an attack that happened some feet away from her, its perpetrator on the other side of her gun some moments before it. Her father appears almost catatonic, incapable to see anything in front of him, he doesn’t offer Caitlyn true comfort, just more responsibility.

Caitlyn has never dealt with loss her whole life, she had the privilege of living in a rich estate, with a whole family and no need ever unmet. Now she is offered empty platitudes that do not quench her growing guilt and rage. We can see Jinx dominating her head, and what begins with the belief that Jinx, and only Jinx, is a monster quickly changes after the attack on the memorial.

Before it was easy to hate only one, Caitlyn knew her name and knew her face, but now she doesn't- too many people, too many faces, and she will probably never know any of her names, just a indeterminate mob of people that act like monsters and even look like monsters. They are easy to dehumanize and, in Caitlyn's head, the actions of the few are turning into the image of the all.

In episode 2 and 3 Caitlyn and her strike force steamroll over Zaun, weaponizing the Grey and extorting information with force- Caitlyn wants Jinx and she will get Jinx as fast as she can physically get. We can empathize with her loss, with her grief and rage, with her guilt and the trauma that came with seeing Jinx do what she did.

But if you want to argue empathy then it has to work both ways. The people of Zaun are not complicit in any of it, and I've seen people arguing that "the people they went after are criminals anyway!", "they are using the Grey tactically!", and "It is justified!". No, no, and no, the deployment of a chemical weapon and overwhelming police brutally are never justifiable, the leveraging of chemical weapons against human beings is a literal war crime, and while the montage is aesthetically breathtaking, the way Caitlyn's face is rendered against the backdrop of Jinx's wanted posters is very indicative of the nature of what she is doing.

Because what she is doing is not just going after Jinx, she is tormenting and terrifying the people of Zaun. Imagine that you worked at a clinic or healing center and suddenly people started flooding in because of chemical warfare near of your neighborhood; imagine if you heard that cops have started to gass people were you live; imagine that the air you breath was becoming contaminated, because chemical weapons cannot be tactically deployed, they spread and in the underground they will stay there.

When we read news about police brutality, when we see body footage of the use of excessive force and twitchy trigger fingers, our reaction is not sympathy for the traumatized or "stressed" cop- it's the understanding that this person should not hold the power they have, they shouldn't have a gun or a way to indiscriminately beat or arrest people.

We didn't emphasize with the actions of the enforcers in act 1 of season 1, they weren’t justifiable, and its mirror image also isn't.

This culminates in what happens in the fight with Jinx, and the behavior that Caitlyn displays. Caitlyn can rationalize her actions to herself, that she "had the shot" and that she "wouldn’t miss", neither are true. Caitlyn is a great shot, but she is not a "perfect" shot, no one is. Earlier in the fight she blew Jinx's finger off, and, if anything, that proves it all the more- it didn’t incapacitate Jinx, didn't stop her (that was Vi), and the place were Caitlyn wants to desperately put a bullet in is Jinx's skull. She can't guarantee that she wouldn't miss with all the flailing about that Jinx and Isha were doing, that is simply an impossibility. This refusal to see the harm she can do, that she is doing, either to poor Vi or the people that she thoroughly vilifying in her pursuit of revenge is truly what sets Caitlyn as a new antagonistic force.

Now Caitlyn has all the power in her hands and the devil on her shoulder, the next arc will probably be her descent until it all comes crashing around her. Because Caitlyn will be redeemed, I'm absolutely confident about that. There will come a moment of revelation that she will think: "What am I doing? What have I done?"

Perhaps then we will see the reforming agent that Caitlyn wanted to be inside the enforcers, someone that wanted to truly and genuinely help people, to see the humanity in everyone, not as an idealist, but as a more well-rounded person that understands the circumstances of life and what strife all go though. Not as someone that sees us-versus-them, not as someone that sees good versus evil, not as a cop that bashes through people's lives with government endorsed brutality, not as a cop that doesn't see the fault in her twitchy trigger finger and has no problem leveraging a chemical weapon against civilians.

Because, right now, Caitlyn is just acting like a cop, and all cops are bastards.

[unclefungusthegoat]

@lucy-and-loki and I are going to comic con tomorrow dressed as potentially the funniest idea we've ever had

[hollenka99]

So... how we feeling about the fact Unus Annus babies will be starting school soon?

[the-sonic-crew]

EHEHEH I’M THE ONE WHO SENT THE FOREHEAD KISS ASK

ME

YA KNOW

🐜 MOD!

THATS MEEEEE :D

Anyways. Sonic, do you like cereal.

[prehnite-soul]

note to my immune system: stOP GETTING HYSTERICAL OVER POLLEN

WTF

ITS JUST POLLEN IM NOT DYING

[iiboronii]

Currently thinking about the Onceler sipping fancy truffula fruit juice from a champagne flute

[ilikedetectives]

Ghilan'nain being voiced by Michelle Gomez explains so much

[milolovesbmc]

If I see one more person hating on Broadway BMC I will actually cry, thanks <3

[ravensmadreads]

What Love Means

A/N: so remember when I said I wasn't gonna write again? Yea I'm a lying liar who lied.. anyway, this came from me screaming about my unhinged love for David York to @chronically-ghosted , who then once asked me what I thought love meant to David and the thought sent me in a spiral. It's not really so much a fic as it is a stream of my own consciousness. If anyone cares though, there definitely is a whole fic about these two and their backstory.

Warnings: uhhhh bad writing? So David is probably ooc (but this version of him is my comfort character sorry), description of a panic attack, mentions of canon violence, and like the barest hint at smut.

Taglist: @chronically-ghosted (sorry ily) @fuckyeahdindjarin (i know Dave is not really your thing, but it felt wrong not to tag you- feel free to ignore tho no pressure! )

He gasps awake. Panic creeping slowly at the edges of his consciousness until it lunges and swallows him whole. He's not even sure why. The lingering effect of a nightmare he can't remember anymore. Shadowed figures drenched in blood and violence have been a part of him for so long that it's hard to distinguish the memories from the monsters. He bites his lip to stifle a cry. Fists holding tight onto flowered sheets and jaw clenched tight as he tries to remember to breathe. In and out right? It's simple.

His eyes fall shut as he swallows the bile that threatens to choke him. He's well versed in the art of fighting alone. He's been training for years. They've drilled him so hard, for so long, that he can pick an enemy apart in the dark and not make a sound. His fight or flight has been torn down and beaten until the only option he remembers is fight and win. The voices inside him never rest. Never go quiet. The pressure in his chest tightens. Was breathing always this difficult?

And then.

A movement.

He can't make out the sounds, but he knows someone's coming. His heart is pounding. It's inching closer still. Soft, steady footsteps just on the edges of the room. And yet he can't move. Can't open his eyes. Can't breathe. The voice in his head spits venom: Coward. A thud on his nightstand. A dip as the bed shifts and the world tilts a little.

A gasp that he can't hold back; and suddenly his eyes fly open.

Deep laboured breaths. Blurred vision. Every muscle on high alert. There's someone in front of him. He can't move. Fight or flight? A blink. Fight or flight?! Another gasp. Fight, you coward! But he can't move. Fight! He can't breathe. Would it really be so bad if he stopped?

"Dave!"

****

He blinks. There's another voice now. But it's outside the raging in his head. Outside the voices screaming for blood. It's soft. Softer than anything he knows. Anything he deserves. It's you. He can't make out the words but it's enough.

Another gasp.

Another blink.

You.

A lungul of air.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

One more time.

One more time.

One more time.

He's well versed in the art of calming himself down on his own. He doesn't have to though. Not anymore. Not when your arms hold him like he's the most fragile thing in the universe. He'd scoff at the thought if he could breathe.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

He can feel again. The tingling in his skin slowly being replaced by soft warmth. Soft lips on the side of his neck. Gentle hands running through his hair. Fistfuls of cotton fabric in his hands. Strands of your hair on his cheek.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Strawberry scented shampoo. Vanilla bean candles from the corner of the night stand. Something inexplicable that he can never name but that he knows is undeniably you.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Whispered assurances in his ear. The gentle hum of the air con. The rain pattering on the window and the wind that's slowly settling down now.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Metal in his mouth because he bit his tongue trying not to scream. The aftertaste of the last cigarette he had before bed.

Inhale.

He can't open his eyes. What if this is the dream? What if he wakes up alone again? Fingers clutching tighter. Nails digging into skin. You feel solid. Warm. Present.

Hold.

His eyes blink open. Starry glow from the nightlight you've turned on. The pulse pounding steadily in your neck. The birthmark in the hollow of your neck.

Exhale.

Is this what relief feels like? What safety means to him now? Does he even deserve a taste of either after all that he has done?

He blinks, and it's you. It's all you. He's surrounded by you. Your scent, your walls, your colours, your skin, your presence. The one holding his hand. The voice in his head. Talking him out of the terror. Walking him out of the darkness. It's you. But then again, it has been you since the moment he fell off of that cliff. The only fragment of his life that remains. The only thing from before that he can hold on to.

Your hands cup his face, and he smiles. It's a small thing. Twists into a grimace far too quickly. He opens his mouth to apologize. For all that he is, all that he can never be, and all the horrors he darkens your doorstep with. For all his scars and all his pain. Even if he does deserve every single one of the demons wreaking havoc in his head and trying to tear him apart from the inside.

But you know him too well. Know what he's thinking. And you're already shushing him before the words can even form on his tongue. Pressing gentle kisses over his forehead. A warm smile and soft eyes staring back at him. He has never known quite what it is you see in him. Has tried to convince you of the monster that resides within, but you refuse to acknowledge his self flagellation anymore.

He grabs you tighter and starts to lie back down. Your heart beat against his racing one. Your arms around his neck. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Maybe he can pretend. Just for a minute. That he's someone worth saving. That he's someone worth loving? He falls before he can finish the thought.

****

He wakes up in your arms. It startles him. The normalcy. The state of nothing. He's not used to silence. Not the comfortable kind anyway. If ever there's silence with him around, it either beckons death or follows it. And he's been drilled in the art of war for as long as he can remember.

He's not entirely sure what to do now. With hands on soft skin. A quiet mind. Who is he when the sun comes up? In the gentle breeze of dawn? When there's no list of names waiting to be scratched off; and when the sun filtering through the curtains chases away any shadows where monsters like him may lurk. When your breath tickles his neck and he can wake you with gentle hands and small kisses.

"Hey." A hand through his hair. "You okay?"

Trust you to start worrying about him the minute you wake up. He smiles, and it's a genuine one this time. The muscles in his face ache from disuse. He's been smiling more and more now, even if it feels unreal, like a skin he's trying to put on. You've been relentless in chasing them out anyway, and he's still surprised every time he finds a reason to smile.

He doesn't really remember what happiness feels like anymore. Small echoes of it maybe. From a distant past. Of army buddies laughing in the trenches, two little girls giggling around him, a leader that felt like an anchor and a mentor who felt like family- now all gone; too quickly, too violently - he shakes his head. It doesn't matter anymore. You're all the reason he needs now.

****

There's a word on the tip of his tongue. It lingers there. Quiet. Subtle. Just a little bit out of reach. It comes to him in the quiet moments. When your hand is in his hand, your head on his chest. When you listen to music and he pretends that he's not watching the dimple in your cheek. When you sway as you cook a meal and he forgets to remember that he's forgotten how to smile.

It comes to him in other moments. When he's on top of you, surrounding you, clinging to you. When your eyes are on his, your nails leaving delicious marks on his back. When your hands pull his hair and the only word you speak is a quiet and reverent David. He has always hated his name, but he's learning to crave the way you say it when you're overwhelmed by him.

It comes to him in the afterglow. Lingers on the edge of his consciousness. With your hand over his heart, his arms wrapped tight around you and his lips on yours. He's sinking into sleep. The warm embrace doesn't scare him any longer because no monsters in his head could never win against the light in your soul. He reaches out to hold it, that word, the one word he never had, just as his eyes flutter shut. He smiles into the kiss. He'll tell you tomorrow. You'll understand. You probably already know. You're the reason that word exists after all. And he knows you'll keep it for him until the day he dies.

Safe.

[historias-multorum]

I've had it. I've FUCKING HAD IT OFFICIALLY!

I am so fucking sick and tired of this stupid ass bullshit

@clownqueen88 @goblinwithgame-offical and your fucking rag tag shitty group you call friends SHUT THE EVER LOVING FUCK UP

Seriously, yall have nothing fuckin better to do than to act like fucking children and spout bullshit that is so baseless, so FUCKING STUPID, that a goddamn fifth grader makes more sense then ALL of you put together.

STOP HARASSING PEOPLE THAT WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU

No one is doxxed you, yall don't even know what doxxing means so you're just saying shit to sound like you actually have a brain, which clearly yall don't.

No one has fucking harassed you because it's you all who are the main ones who fucking started all this bullshit for attention like you are all fucking 3 year olds with no home training

Stop fucking acting like you're victims because you're fucking not.

And I fuckin DARE YOU to say something, I WANT YOU TO SAY SOMETHING because unlike all you dumbass bitches, I have so much proof against you, it'd make your head spin

And unlike yall I don't make empty threats, I'm dead-ass serious. I will be reporting all of you and it is fucking on sight.

You messed with my friends for long enough and now you're dealing with me.

Try me. I fucking dare you. I'm not like these other people on tumblr I'm not fucking scared of you. You mean nothing to me.

And I hope you all fucking see this because I want you to know how fucking stupid and down right pathetic you all are.

Best believe there is a callout being made against every last one of you and I promise you, you will pay for the shit you've done.

You mess with the wrong one. I'm not all talk like you think you're used to.