#causing problems Just Because

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*Mama Spade accidentally bumped into Silver’s dad*

Mama Spade: “Ah!! Oh I’m so sorry! I’m trying to find my son but I think I got lost…”

*cracks knuckles* Our time has come, boiz 😎 (For anyone wondering why Lilia’s eyes are redacted, see this fic!) Figured we needed something more light-hearted after being rushed at by the semi-truck that was the recent main story update~

I briefly mention Mr. Spade, but I kept it vague since we don’t have the details on what happened to him yet!

Please note: I received multiple other Lilia + Mama Spade interaction requests; however, because those other requests are more specific than asking them to meet, I will be writing separate responses for each of those. I don't want to overload the blog with a ton of Lilia + Mama Spade content at once, so they will be spread out between other NRC Family Day interactions ^^

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Think nothing of it, miss." The man brushed off the bump with ease and an understanding smile. "It happens. Water under the bridge, yes?"

His voice was as smooth as a sky cleared of clouds, as sultry as midnight desires. There was a resonance to it as well, as though his words were reverberating in the annals of ancient ruins, echoing legends and legacies long since forgotten by history.

He was small yet snazzy in a black vest and dress pants embellished with golden stitching, a fancy jacket set in a dark hue of green hanging off of his shoulders. The man's long, dark hair was done up in a high ponytail, choppy and uneven bangs falling freely around his face.

If his voice was a mystery yet to be unearthed, then the man, too, was one. The exact composition of his face, and how his features were arranged, eluded her. But even with her aging sight, she could tell that he was strikingly handsome—lashes so long they batted his cheeks when he blinked, eyes like ever-shifting gemstones, and a pert, mischievous mouth.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Spade nervously fanned herself with a hand. "I'm hardly a 'miss'! I’m no spring chicken."

"After a certain point, we realize that time is something we cannot combat.” He coiled fingers against his lips. “I believe you've aged quite gracefully.”

A simple shoulder-length bob cut and homely, practicel clothing—those were the staples of her style as a single mother. She had her family to look after, and little time or energy to dress up. Yet Mrs. Spade flustered all the same.

“I-I don’t know what to say…”

The man laughed. “Apologies for steering us off-topic. Back on track, then. You said you were looking for your son?”

“Y-Yes…!” Mrs. Spade quickly rebounded, her worries returning. “He told me to meet him in Heartslabyul, but I’ve been wandering the campus for a while and haven’t passed any buildings by that name.”

The man stroked his chin. “If it’s Heartslabyul you’re looking for, you’ll need the Hall of Mirrors. It has mirror portals to each of the seven dormitories.”

“Mirror portals, imagine that!!” Shock was written all over her. "We don't have a lot of those back home.”

“Mirror portals are not always commonly accessible.” His mouth turned mirthful. “I just so happen to be heading to the Hall of Mirrors myself. My son’s waiting for me in another dorm. Seeing as we're both going to the same place, I wouldn’t mind escorting you.”

“You would?! You don’t mind…?”

“If you would have me,” he replied, his tone teasing. The man bowed melodramatically, arms gesturing down a path. “Then right this way.”

Mrs. Spade barely had any time to react before he started walking away. She hurried after him, trailing behind by a few paces. Careful not to get too close, to risk colliding with him again.

“Which dorm is your son in?” she blurted out, breathless. Not from exhaustion, but in excitement.

He cut her a sideways glance, his eyes glittering. "That would be Diasomnia. He’s a second year now, and a diligent member of the Equestrian Club."

Mrs. Spade quickened her pace. "He's an athlete? So is my Deuce. He's still a first year trying to find his footing, but he’s grown a lot in his first few months at school.”

"Deuce." He said the name oddly, almost like he had had practice reciting it. "How would you describe him?"

"He's a lot of things," Mrs. Spade confessed. She spoke unabashedly, as straight as an arrow carving an arc in the air. "He's not all that sharp, and he can be brash—but he’s also strong and kind, stubborn too. A really serious and straightforward person that means well and tries his best.”

“From the looks of it, he’s a good kid. His hard work will surely see him well in the future.”

She flushed with pride, pink as a peach. “What about your son? What’s he like?”

"Silver? He has a habit of dozing off, but he's as earnest as they come. It's that honesty of his that has made him so many friends. Even the local wildlife can't seem to keep themselves away from him.

“He’s the peacekeeper of any group he’s in, that lad. I’m so pleased that he’s able to connect with creatures from all walks of life.”

“Your Silver sounds like the kind of man Deuce would look up to. The sort of man he'd want to become."

“Does he?” The question was coy. “I think Silver would also enjoy Deuce’s company. Such a spirited, committed underclassman can keep him alert and on his toes.

“Silver already has a companion that fits that description, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one more. The more the merrier, I say.”

“Your family must be big.”

“Afraid not. It’s only myself and Silver. We have close friends and neighbors of course, but legally speaking…” He brought his index fingers together, making them touch. “… we are one guardian and one child.”

Mrs. Spade’s heart stilled. “You’re joking.”

“Far from it." The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. It was not unkind, but curious. “Have I said something funny?”

“No, I was just thinking that you and I have a lot in common.” She bit her lower lip. “Deuce has his grandma, but at home it’s us two. His dad, my husband, he…” Mrs. Spade faltered.

The man inclined his head. “… You needn’t say any more. Please, don’t push yourself. Not all tales must be told to the strangers you meet along the way.”

“Y-You’re right.” She furiously shook her head. “What am I doing, making this about myself? I… I’m sorry if this brought back any painful memories for you.”

“Me? My, whatever are you concerned about me for?" There was a warmth, a fatherly tenderness, to his eyes.

“Your wife,” Mrs. Spade said weakly, “she’s no longer with you.“

“My wife?” His smile twisted into something wry. “I have no such thing. Always been a bit of a lone bat myself, but thank you for considering me."

"Oh! I... I shouldn't have assumed."

"It is you who is distressed. I should be the one more aware of your feelings."

Mrs. Spade blinked rapidly. From surprise, or to shunt back tears, she wasn't sure. "I... No, you don't need to worry about me at all! I'm fine!"

To this, the man chuckled. "I can see where Deuce must get his character from. However, you mustn't let yourself be entangled with the past.

"The past is in the past. If we keep looking behind ourselves, we will miss what waits for us in our futures." He came to a full stop, sweeping his arms forward. "Ah, and here we are."

A building with a domed roof was erected before them, guarded by massive stone walls on either side. Its door was tall, cut in the shape of a crystal pillar. One glimpse inside, and they caught the sparkle of sunlight refracting off the faces of various mirrors.

"You see? The future is right before us. No sense in dwelling on what was, only what can be."

He tapped the bottom of her chin, closing the mouth that had been hanging ajar. "Come now, let's see a smile! I wouldn't want to reunite you with your son while you've still got a frown on your face. He'd whack me a good one!"

Mrs. Spade chortled in spite of herself. "Deuce just might. He has a sharp left hook."

"I believe it. Ah, but it looks like it won't come to that. Lucky me, you're smiling again."

"Am I?!" Her hands flew to her face. The corners of her mouth had turned up, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Yes, that's what I wanted to see." The man offered a gloved hand. "... May I?"

Mrs. Spade giggled, taking it as easily as one might slip into a song. When was the last time she had felt this coquettish? So girlish, so young.

The Hall of Mirrors welcomed the pair, opening into a circle of seven portals. Each mirror trumpeted its dorm's name and iconography in its elaborate frame.

The man dropped her hand and indicated a mirror with thorns snaking up its sides, a fierce dragon guarding it. "This is where we part ways."

Mrs. Spade glanced at her route: at the mirror lined with playing cards and roses. Two spears, their points heart-shaped, crossed at the apex, and an open storybook formed the steps to the portal. Heartslabyul—the domain of the Queen of Hearts.

“Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have made it here without you, kind sir.”

“My pleasure—I thank you for the company. I hope you enjoy Family Day with Deuce.”

“Same to you and Silver.”

He nodded and turned, presenting his back to her as he made his way to Diasomnia’s mirror. She yanked herself away and stormed in the opposite direction. Just as he reached the dragon’s snout at the foot of his, and she at the cusp of a new page in the story, a single word erupted.

“Wait!!” she called out.

He craned his head to regard her. “Yes?”

Mrs. Spade clutched her fists to her chest. “Will I… Will I get to see you again?”

The shock was very slight on him, tempered by his mirth. He was used to being the one surprising, not the one being surprised, and so perhaps the silence lasted a few seconds longer than he would have liked it to.

“I really liked talking with you! I thought maybe we could do it again, and maybe Deuce and Silver could meet too.”

He took the idea, lazily rolling it between his thumb and his forefinger, considering. The confusion, the chaos, it would sprout.

“It sounds interesting,” he said mysteriously, pairing it with a shrug, “Who knows? We just might.”

And then he was gone, devoured by the dragon. The only proof that he had once been there were the ripples in the face of the mirror… and Mrs. Spade, spellbound.

The instant she stepped into Heartslabyul, she was struck with two things: the heavy, cloying aroma of red roses, and the warm body she collided with. Mrs. Spade stumbled back on the brick path. Her vision was still spinning when a familiar, rambunctious voice called out to her.

“… om! MOM!!” Deuce happily cried, wrapping his arms around her. “You made it!! I was worried that you didn’t show up on time—you’re usually not late. I was going to head out to look for you myself!”

“I’m okay, Deuce,” she reassured him with a playful tousle of his hair. “Don’t you mind me. I got a little lost, but I had some help from a kind man. Things worked out alright in the end.”

“That was nice of him! What a good samaritan!” He paused. “Er… You didn’t tell him about me in middle school, did you? I-I swear I’ve been working really hard to brush up and be an honors student!”

“Deuce!!” his mother gasped, smacking him on the side. (Dull pain reverberated in the area; she packed quite the punch.)

“What in Twisted Wonderland makes you think I’d go around parroting that around?! No, dear—I know you, and I know you’re trying your best. Besides, that man was nice!! He’d never intrude on our family matters.“ She sighed, stars in her eyes. “Ooh, and handsome too! So smart!! A real catch..”

“Uhhh…” Deuce made a face. “Are you… feeling okay, mom? Did you eat some of the weird mushrooms growing in the garden? Dorm leader Riddle says those can have weird effects.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Mrs. Spade continued to prattle on, “He has a boy at NRC about your age, Deuce! We should arrange for us to all get together.”

“W-Wait, hold on a minute!! I’m happy that you made a new friend, but who are you talking about?!”

His mother startled, as if waking from a dream. “Now that you mention it, I forgot to ask for his name. I do remember that he talked about his son though. Silver, was it?”

“S-Silver-senpai?! Then… you’re talking about his DAD?!” Deuce was striken, his heart pounding unnaturally fast at the revelation. Silver’s dad is mom’s sweetheart now?!

“Oh, so you do know him after all!” Mrs. Spade clapped excitedly. “What do you think? Is he anywhere near as charming as his father i—”

“Grk…!” Deuce suddenly fell onto all fours, hanging his head. Tears streaked his face, and his entire body violently shook.

His mom practically shrieked and rushed to his side, frantically shaking him. “Deuce?! Deuce, honey? Are you okay?!”

He tried at a response, but only managed a semi-comprehensible wail. “I-I-I’m jusht shooo happy fa’ you, mooom,” Deuce sniffled, harshly wiping at his tears and snot. “Y-You found th’ perfect guyyy, just like you deserved all thish tiiime…!!”

“H-Hey now! I may have been a little swept off my feet by him, but I’m not marrying the guy!! No shotgun weddings here!! Wh-Who even marries a stranger they met in a day?!”

“R-Really?”

“Really.” She eased Deuce into her with a hug, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Pinkie promise.”

He tried to laugh, but choked on his own sobs instead. Mrs. Spade rubbed an open palm along his back, soothing him.

“Haha, I’m being silly.” She ran a hand along his scalp—a facsimile of the head pats she granted him in his youth. “I’m happy too—happy that you’re such a good kid, that you care for your mama’s happiness.”

“M-Mom… Mom!!” He wailed even louder and buried himself in her arms.

There, under a halcyon blue sky and tinted in roses, mother and son wept with one another. The past, far behind them. The future, yet to exist.

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[somegrumpynerd]

Thinking about how Nightmare has 4 mortals and 3 of them are so so bad at taking care of themselves

[jewreallythinkthat]

Something I really don't understand is this obsession the anti-Israel crowd (in the West) have with death and martyrdom. All they care about is dying, and often killing for their cause; I see nothing about building a better future that isn't based on the murder of 9 million Israelis.

It's easy to die for a cause. The challenge is living to make a better tomorrow.

[offkilterkeys]

The world isn’t ready for my alpha kid readings.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc wherein learning magic is similar to learning how to play music. 

So basically, the creation of a summoning spell is like a full composition/song made of smaller components or ‘notes’ for things like gravity shifting, and geolocation, and transportation etc. which is why Magic can be taught and spells can be man-made. 

Danny, however, is the equivalent of having Perfect Pitch. He can compose entire songs of spells without really thinking about it due to his royal titles (ambassador/king/high prince) but doesn’t really know how to be specific which lands him in some trouble with Clockwork. His portals are coming along a lot better with the help of Wulf but its critical that Danny learns how to control the range of his magic *something something, for the timestream something* *blah blah according to the will of the ancients blah blah*. 

So put on the course to learn Magic, Danny decides to hunt down the House of Mystery and study up by himself. He’s doing community college online, what could a little bit of Magic self study really do to his schedule? This place has literally every magic resource he could need! 

Turns out he has a roommate in the House of Mystery- John Constantine does not take well to the fact that half of the spells Danny is creating are causing him issues with the JL. Random shit appearing, random shit disappearing, portals everywhere and don’t get him started on the fucking ICE present on every bloody thing the magic reaches. Not to mention there is no reason a normal human kid should be able to have this much power behind his spells. 

John attempts to teach Danny the basics like a little kid gets stickers placed on the keys of a piano. The problem is Danny has the ability to compose entire scores of Magic all on his own, and absolutely abhors the training wheels John is putting on him. 

Danny: You’re patronizing me! 

John: You deserve to be patronized. 

Just like, Danny learning Magic in various ways that you might teach kids to play musical instruments from the various Magic users in the JLD. Causing chaos along the way, found family, the whole nine. Stickers on the instruments for notes, taking away guitar strings that are ‘more advanced’ and replaying Twinkle, Twinkle little star over and over again. 

Danny can play the Magic equivalent of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake but cannot play Chopsticks. 

[vigilskeep]

when you first start the cousland origin, you can have some conversations with arl howe, teyrn cousland, and duncan that shed some interesting light on the political situation in ferelden. it’s definitely the origin where you get the most context on the rebellion and on cailan and his father. while howe isn’t exactly the most trustworthy of sources, he is also one of the most openly critical of cailan that we have access to, which i think is worthy of interest

howe remembers maric with what the toolset describes as “genuine fondness”: “your father hasn’t spoken of our time with him? that man took care of his friends. as they say, he was large as life and twice as tall!” i think we should pay particular attention to that man took care of his friends.

what howe’s talking about is a really important aspect of kingship, where you win the consent and enthusiasm of the nobility for your rule by offering rewards like wealth, land, and prestige to the loyal. kingship is always less stable than it’s portrayed, and this is one of the ways that kings must essentially sell to the nobility that answering to them is worth their time, which would be especially important in ferelden given everything we know about its culture. fereldans believe someone only has power when it is given by the loyalty of those below them, who have the right to freely rescind that loyalty. the dao codex says that “the sight of [fereldan kings] asking for—and working to win—the support of ‘lesser’ men is a source of constant wonder to foreign ambassadors.”

i suspect howe is remembering a maric fresh from the victories of the rebellion, who was able to reward those who had followed him with the spoils of those victories. at the end of the stolen throne, we see that in the final days of the rebellion, maric was killing those who had betrayed his mother to the orlesians even when they arrived under truce to meet him on holy ground. in dao, we see no lingering orlesian nobility except for those who married in and continue to be met with marked hostility. i think we can safely surmise that maric elected to make no conciliatory measures and give everything to those who had followed him; with the orlesians on the run and his people out for blood, he was in a strong enough position to do so, and it certainly served to win the fond memories of men like howe.

by contrast, howe goes on to say, “it’s too bad cailan isn’t half that.” the toolset notes establish very clearly that it’s the same issue, elaborating on howe’s thoughts: “bitter turn, i don’t get as much from the current king”, and “disdainful, i have no use for him, he does me no favours”. this isn’t a minor character detail, if howe’s last words when killed by the player are anything to go by. “maker spit on you... i deserved... more...” whatever it is that howe feels he should have been given, by the crown or anyone else, it characterises his actions and his defining treachery.

it’s in these same conversations that we see another side of this demonstrated. there are two points where howe can openly criticise the king, and bryce immediately admonishes him for both. one even has the toolset note: “speaks sharply, as a lord to a lesser man, not a friend to an equal”. it definitely comes across that way; the way he tells howe “that’s enough” is not far off the voice he uses when the player, his child, displeases him. bryce can’t tolerate any criticism of cailan, as the couslands in dao are ardent supporters of the king. to venture some hc, i suspect that this is not merely royalist fervour, and that howe’s resentment for having been given less is matched by bryce’s awareness of the precariousness of having more.

over the centuries, the theirins have consolidated their power and eradicated almost all the teyrns (the noble rank that is second only to the king). with the only other lingering teyrn being loghain, who is essentially part and parcel of the royal family, the couslands stand alone as the only real rivals to theirin power within ferelden. there are rumours that bryce was once considered for king instead of the theirins; he too could have decided to believe he “deserved more”. but unlike howe, and perhaps understandably given his strong position and happy growing family, he is satisfied with what he has. he will not take the risk of even the slightest challenge being made within his hall

(i expect that bryce’s satisfaction with the current situation further spurred howe’s dissatisfaction to its heights, given the complicated cousland-howe history and the fact that he was expected to accept a friend he had fought beside as a superior for the rest of his life.)

i don’t think howe’s judgement on cailan is likely to be without basis. we don’t hear about any victories the young king has to his name, from which he could have passed around spoils. (to be fair, cailan had harder luck than maric in this regard. a king who raises a successful rebellion gets to bring glory and prestige to everyone who follows him, whereas a king trying to rebuild after that rebellion mostly gets to bring, uh, taxes probably. especially on wealthy centres of trade like howe’s amaranthine, one might assume.) cailan also takes a far more diplomatic approach to the question of orlais, which perhaps predictably did not win over many nobles of howe’s generation. it makes sense that cailan’s strongest supporters would instead be men like bryce who hope for things to simply continue, peacefully, as they are. perhaps in another world where cailan had won the battle of ostagar, he might have earned wider respect. (you could actually argue on this basis that there’s more sense and purpose to cailan’s glory-seeking than he usually gets credit for.) but howe already acts before ostagar, which can only demonstrate his certainty in cailan’s failings at this point: his belief that even if cailan could win, he would not be stable enough to pursue justice for the couslands

[lazylittledragon]

what do you mean youre technically a detransitioner cause of terf bullshit?

it's a v long story but i detransitioned for a couple of years when i was 16/17, for multiple reasons but mostly because i fell into the blaire white/kalvin garrah chamber of "you have to be This way to be trans otherwise you're not real".

i was already Deeply insecure about myself and my 'passing' and i was led to believe that i couldn't want to wear makeup or skirts, and i couldn't choose not to have bottom surgery, and i couldn't do anything but bind for 12+ hours a day to the point that my ribcage is still misshapen. basically i thought that if i wasn't suffering enough doing 'feminine' things, i couldn't really be trans, so i should just go back to being a girl and suck it up.

the terf bullshit is because i'd seen a lot of terfs/detransitioners talking about the 'dangers' of testosterone and how it would turn me into a horrible ugly evil monster and how there was nothing worse than wanting to be a man. which combined with 'you need to fully medically transition to be valid at all' creates some very dangerous and upsetting feelings to cope with.

it also came from trying really hard to put myself in a little box before i realised that my sexuality/gender are very fluid and it's FINE for me not to have a label and just do whatever i want. when i was 19 or so i went back to using they/them (and eventually he/him) and changed my name again because even though i like doing 'feminine' things, i don't want to be seen as a woman.

tldr: i was conditioned by transphobic/terf rhetorics to think that i was being trans the 'wrong' way so i couldn't be trans at all, so i believed i must actually be a girl if i still wanted to do 'feminine' things. nowadays i am a transmasc who does feminine things because i don't give two shits about what any transmed prick thinks of me anymore.

[old-desert]

Trying to remember how to Clip Studio Paint again

featuring: Loop

[servospawn]

calling out all the 30+ yr old simmers..

no shade to the teens and early twenties bloggers but it’s hard finding people within my age group that are active and continue to contribute here in the community. 

also idk if anyone else experiences this but sometimes it can be difficult relating to the younger population due to generational differences, pop culture, etc. 

please reblog or comment if you fall into the 30+ age simblr category.

[armor-eater]

‘Dungeon Meshi isn’t focused on romance and you may be missing what it’s trying to say if you only focus on that aspect’ and ‘trying to shut down conversations about farcille completely is kinda lesbophonic when that energy isn’t directed towards any f/m or m/m ships’ are both true statements btw.

If you find yourself annoyed that shippers are focusing on farcille but don’t care about other shippers then maybe keep that to yourself. There is a conversion to be had about how fandoms hyper focus on ships but trying to say any f/f ship is responsible for that is kinda insane to me.

[samglyph]

I can’t be the only member of the unhealthily obsessed with gravity falls as a kid to unhealthily obsessed with malevolent as an adult pipeline

[snufkins-boot]

Dc x dp idea: time travel yaaaay

Danny, Sam and Tucker get back from fixing some errors in the time line in France just before the French Revolution.

And sure Danny got mistaken for a French aristocrat that had died the day before they got there but it wasn’t to bad, it only made their jobs easier. It won’t be a problem for them.

Meanwhile Constantine, Batman and whoever the fuck else (imma say Hal, I love that green bitch) are exploring an abandoned manor in France after there being reports of strange, violent activity, and with their latest teammate Phantom not picking up their calls Constantine had to pull these two with him instead.

“Hey guys, Phantom’s a ghost, right?”

Hal sounds hesitant as Constantine replies

“Yes, why?”

“I think I found a picture of him living.”

and there on the wall is a picture of a long dead french aristocrat, with black hair and blue eyes but every other detail the same as Phantom’s

There on the wall sits a photo of Daniel Nightingale, a teenager who was possessed by a demon and killed two servants, then himself.

[screwpinecaprice]

Sorted my folders and I actually added a dialogue to this?

[until-another-one-comes]

I can't rewrite this season but if it was up to me, I'd still have the Umbrellas sacrificing themselves to save the timeline and at the end we see the Umbrellas still alive, but they're all living different lives and perhaps with varied ages to show that its not their existence that caused the timeline to get fucked up, but the marigold that started everything.

The Umbrellas were always meant to exist and live, but it was the marigold that caused the timeline getting muddled and disrupted their existence. Without it, the Umbrellas (and every other kids that were created by the marigold) were able to be born and live their lifes normally like they were always meant to.

Would it still have a lot of plotholes? Yes. Would it make sense? Perhaps not but at least its better than what they implied with the ending which is very upsetting and dangerous the longer you think about it.

[shinybulbasaur]

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite!

I was tagged by @suddenrundown, thanks for the tag! I was so tempted to put "eliot's baseball hair" but I resisted (also polls don't allow strikethroughs. sad). tagging @michinaranja, @vero-niche, @acidmatze and anyone else who wants to play!