#equivalence classes

[starry-bi-sky]

bruce and danny being fuckign nerds together,,,, they are being the BIGGEST nerds. geeks. if you will

these losers are color-coding the most inane bullshit. they are making diagrams for things you've never even thought of. they are having the time of their lives

"what are you two doing?"

Danny, sitting criss-cross on a table, hunched over a spread of papers and a bunch of different jello cups, his back is gonna hurt SO much: color-coding jello

Bruce, sitting in a nearby chair, also criss-cross, scribbling on a graph paper: hm [agreeing]

Alfred, already exasperated and SO fond: may i ask why? and on what parameters?

Danny: we're basing it off which flavors are the most mentally stimulating and for which subjects :}

Alfred, SO fond: ah. i see.

Danny, snapping his head over to Bruce and leaning over: wh- no-- no. Buzz, I told you: lemon-flavored jello stays strictly in the 'smelling salts' category--

Bruce, still writing on the graph paper: mn. no.

Danny, nearly sprawled across his back, faux-outraged: strawberry is NOT good for math-- you fucken HEATHEN--! Give me that pen!

Bruce, did that solely to rile up Danny, now trying not to smile: hnm.

[0120moebius]

personal favourite from last year

[rookanisstuff]

do you think Lucanis had to send a flock of Crows to Minrathous to deal with the citizens that attempt to sue Rook for “damages” post game?

[leafuxxtea]

'Oh God, they're beside me again, aren't they.'

LMFAOOO WHAT DID THIS GUY DO TO DESERVE THIS. imagine just sitting there, eating your lunch peacefully while one of your comrades (he's not even eating food, wtf is he doing there) goes and harass the other one once again with his weird homosexual activities (wiping the other's blood and licking it???). I'd lose it, personally.

[moonsglare]

every day, once a year, yelan takes a day off.

this is written directly into her contract with the tianquan. there are no exceptions, no special arrangements. on this singular day, yelan does not belong to the qixing; on this singular day, her leash and collar are abandoned, and she has free reign to do as she pleases.

what does she do? well, prepare for your anniversary, of course.

she hops out of bed, cleans up, tugs her jacket on and then slips out the door with the clink of her jade bracelet. it’s a clear day, and yelan tilts her head to the sky briefly, letting the golden sunrays warm her face almost like an embrace. you were never really a morning person, but the sun on your skin always suited you. she’d have to drag you out of bed to see it, but it was always well worth your grumbling in the end when you finally cave and offer her a smile which she would then steal with a kiss.

“ugh, yelan—“ you giggled, your hands on her chest gently pushing her back. your bracelet was cool against her skin, and the matching one on her own wrist hummed. she nosed along your jaw, pressing more and more kisses until she reached your neck. playfulness turned into something a little more heated, and her blood sang at the sigh she pulled from your lips. emerald eyes flicked up to you, teasing, challenging, and you managed a wry huff before tangling your fingers in her hair and tugging her back to properly kiss her again. it stung, beautifully, but yelan grinned all the way."

she shakes herself out of the memory, and steps into the busy street. liyue’s morning scene has always been crowded, and she blends into the throng with practiced ease. she follows the flow of the crowd down the wharf until she reaches the shop she’s looking for—a florist, tucked snugly between two other stores on the higher levels of the shopping district.

the owner, a midde-aged woman, looks up from tending to her orchids to smile at her. her eyes crease with familiarity at the sight of yelan as the spy steps into her store, fingers brushing the petals of a few flowers. the woman rounds the counter, and rummages in the storage for a few moments.

“the usual, i take it?” she asks, and yelan nods, leaning against the counter and tapping her fingers over the grainy wood. the shop hasn’t changed much, if at all, since she last came here with you.

you leaned down by a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, lips curving upward into a smile as you breathed in the soft, floral scent. yelan looked curiously over your shoulder, a hand casually resting on your hip. she asked if it was your favorite flower—you nodded, your other hand rising to just as casually cup her face from over your shoulder. “they’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” you hummed, and yelan took a moment to ponder the question. in the end, she said they were nowhere near as pretty as you, and took the light smack you delivered to her shoulder with an easy laugh.

the florist clears her throat, coaxing her out of the memory. yelan recieves the bouquet—white chrysanthemums—with a smile, settling it in the crook of her arm. the woman’s expression is measured, but there’s a slight waver to her tone when she speaks. if yelan really had to name it, it sounds close to… pity.

“yelan—“ she begins, but she only flashes the woman a signature grin, before slipping out the door as quickly as she came. she has other things to get, after all, and the clock is always ticking.

(or maybe her clock stopped ticking a long time ago and all this is just extra. maybe it cracked when the rocks fell and the earth buried—)

she dissolves back into the crowd as she heads to her next destination: wanmin restaurant. she can smell the chili in the air as she makes her way down the street again, a sharpness only wanmin seems to be able to make. when she gets there, xiangling is boisterously calling out orders while her father toils away in the kitchen, with guoba tirelessly maintaining the roaring fire for his wok. when she sees her, xiangling’s grin only widens, and she waves her over enthusiastically.

“miss yelan! welcome, welcome,” the young chef says cheerily. “here for another batch of dried chillies?”

yelan chuckles, shaking her head. “no, not this time. i’m here for a few rice buns. with a sweet filling, preferably.”

“ooh,” xiangling coos, nodding. “are you planning to go on an expedition? rice buns are both portable and satiating.”

“you could say that,” yelan says vaguely. the little chef is right, in a way, since she’ll have to hike a little to get to your spot—but really, it’s because rice buns have always been a comfort food of sorts for you.

“how can you not like them?” you asked defensively as you trudged along with her behind the group. there was a slight smear of filling on the corner of your lip, and your expression scrunched up a little more as she wiped it off. her jade bracelet was cool against your heated cheeks. yelan only shook her head, teasingly remarking that spice was a much greater wake-up call than sweets. you huffed at that, taking another bite of your rice bun. “not all of us are masochists, lan’er,” you grumbled, and yelan laughed softly. her nimble fingers encircled your wrist, tugging you closer so she could take a quick bite of your bun. it was sweet, sweeter than she’d like, but maybe that was because you were there. and somehow, that made it good.

yelan pulls herself out of yet another memory when xiangling deposits the bag of warm rice buns into her hands. they’re freshly steamed, and the scent of warm buns fill her senses. she thanks the chef, and disappears much the same way she came before the young lady can get even so much as a word in. in the back of her mind, she can almost hear you chastise her for it.

(she always hears you in the back of her mind. if not, where else—)

there’s only one thing left on her list, and it’s incense. it’s late in the morning now, so the crowds have thinned out—and without her cover, yelan takes to back alleys and rooftops instead. she sighs, relieved almost, as she slips into the shimmering, reflective cover of hydro, darting like a minnow between buildings like rocks, barely a blur in the eyes of anyone nearby. the secrecy isn’t strictly necessary for what she’s doing now, but she’s been so used to being unseen that being in the open feels… unsafe.

it doesn’t take her that long to reach wangsheng funeral parlor. the young lady running the parlor isn’t in today—instead, it’s her ‘assistant’, the elegant man shrouded in such thick mystery that neither her nor ningguang has been able to pierce. he greets her with a solemn expression, no doubt because director hu has told him the reason for her visit. “incense?” he asks again anyway to confirm, his voice low and soft. yelan nods absently, her nose stinging slightly from the intense scent permeating the parlor.

she watches as the man disappears into the back of the parlor for a moment, before he reappears with a delicately wrapped packet of incense sticks. she slides a pouch of mora his way, which he takes wordlessly. she tucks the packet into her little pocket dimension, then turns on her heel to leave. just as she exits the door, he calls out to her.

“safe travels.”

she doesn’t deign him with a response.

her feet take her out and away from the city, down the familiar path to the bleeding wound in the earth—the chasm. the land goes from valleys to large, curling momuments of rock, carved by the force of a falling star. she feels that familiar tug in her chest, the voice that calls to her, that tells her to forsake the surface as her ancestor once did. she listened to it, once. and—

“go,” you whispered, pushing her away. half of you was buried under rock, and she could only see one of your eyes; the other was forced shut by the blood that trickled down your face. yelan nearly screamed herself hoarse, but you grabbed her face and kissed her. it tasted like salt, and her heart lurched at the wrongness. your kisses had always been sweet. you slipped your bracelet onto her wrist, then pushed her again, and then the earth heaved and groaned, and it was the last she ever saw of you—

she turns her head and rips herself out of the memory and the temptation; she has other, more important places to be today. she has other days to chase down her demons. she skirts the side of the chasm, slowly ascending to the top. she passes by the memorial to the millelith, and leaves a rice bun and a few sticks of incense as an offering. they too, deserve to be remembered after all.

(she wonders if anyone else comes out here to remember them. she wonders who will come when she’s gone for—)

it takes her a while, but eventually, she reaches the highest point in the chasm. the sun has traveled across the sky by this point, the afternoon heat mellowing out into a slightly cooler evening warmth. the sky is alive with shades of gold when she finally stops, drawing to a halt right before a smooth stone, standing upright from the earth like a silent vigil. she kneels before it, producing three sticks on incense and inserting them into the censer before the stone and lighting them. she sets a rice bun on the plate by the stone, and saves one for herself. the bouquet of white chrysanthemums, she lays on top of the stone.

yelan takes a bite of her rice bun, letting the sweetness settle on her tongue, as the floral scent mixes with the incense, filling her lungs and settling on her shoulders. she tilts her head to the sun, and the warmth feels almost like an embrace. and when she closes her eyes, the wind in her hair feels almost like a caress. when she opens them again, she lets them rest on the stone—the headstone, and she offers it a smile.

sitting on the edge of the cliff, your legs swinging, you smiled at her, nearly blindingly bright like the golden hour. your pinkies were twined together, your shoulders flush with hers. there was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums on your lap, and just a few crumbs on the corner of your lips. your voice carried in the wind when you spoke.

“happy anniversary, yelan.”

“happy anniversary, sweetheart,” she whispers. the wind carries her voice as well, and she hopes you hear it, wherever you are now. one day, she’ll join you, but for now she takes another bite of her rice bun and breathes in the scent of incense and chrysanthemums.

[the-inner-musings-of-a-worm]

forever thinking about aaron's handshake with the eden's bodygaurds and andrews salute to them. do you think on their break they'd help the twins with hw? in the book it says the guards "lit up" or smthn when they saw the twins, how on earth did they get people to like them. were the twins like the babies of eden's twighlight? the prickly, mean, teenage goth babies?

[toffeemugg]

the emerald trio funny as hell (id in alt)

[morsmortish]

i feel like we don’t acknowledge the canon age gap between barty and evan enough…barty is probably about 4-5 years younger than evan (insert the extracts from the books here that icba to pull up but trust me). GUYS. just imagine renowned surgeon evan who’s well-established in the medical world (his…side quests are kept on the down-low in this world). he writes articles and carries out studies and even appears on different documentaries or news channels, speaking in his monotone voice and routinely pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. he’s concerningly intelligent, and he’s perhaps one of the most respected doctors in his field. and then there’s dr. rosier’s college student ‘boytoy’, towering over him like a lean, menacing guard dog. he’s all tattoos and piercings and long limbs, dressed in ripped jeans and grunge t-shirts, which look awfully out of place next to evan’s pristine lab coat and polished spectacles. he’ll quite literally growl at anyone who looks at his precious doctor the wrong way. he’ll also happily lay down in evan’s operating theatre and let him perform open heart surgery on him (with no anaesthesia) if evan so wished it.

[peitalo]

highschool was good for 2 things 1) drawing in class and 2) the thrill of balancing chemical equations everything else was sisyphus and that damn boulder

[n4rval]

HI I love your profile pic hsdhfjhg... big hand... liddle face... very good and cute. brings a smile to me in these trying times ;w;

(picture for future reference on this post)

hi freak i missed you!! 👋🎊

the trying times are sure A Trial. this is why i have commited to the duty of becoming the gaster girl from tumblr who only ever draws and writes for this one character

[phoenixcatch7]

Like I know it's self indulgence but it'd be so funny to see a full kardashian style Brucie Wayne, spoilt playboy prince of Gotham, local sunshine idiot on the front page every other week for darwinian levels of idiocy or billionaire levels of donations.

But he gets kidnapped or something and there's illusions or mind magics that make him think he's in the bat suit and then he gets dumped in the middle of a live world broadcast arena to fight some goons.

Like he doesn't think anything of it, batman's been kidnapped and forced into gladitorial arenas for sport many times before, maybe he always carries concealed weapons so he's still got like grapples and batarangs and stuff, but he's just going full doomslayer on these guys. No cowl. No suit. Just an open silk shirt and a pair of slacks. In full view of the world.

Tell you what, what about the whole justice league. Just a group of the motleyest people you've ever met. There's about as many famous people as there are absolute nobodies.

Several billionaires defer to the guy who writes articles on outdated lead in buildings and socio economic corruption. There's a renowned museum curator flying and uppercutting aliens so hard they get tossed across the room. There's a guy who spoke in science conferences about meta containment procedures running up the wall and delivering a roundhouse kick to three enemies at once. Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. Of all people. Two world famous idiot ceo celebrities. And they're back to back whaling on armoured alien henchmen like a well oiled team. A ten year old podcaster shooting lightning from his fingers and no one in the group bats an eye.

Just.... Insanity.

[essektheylyss]

I keep seeing the post about what hobbies you have irl that wouldn't be apparent from your blog, and I do love seeing people's tags on it, but I cannot reblog it because I am a gabber. I have so many hobbies and I chatter about all of them. And I should make it clear that this is not because I'm not talking to people directly about them—I very much am—but because chattering about them on tumblr is like the equivalent of talking out loud to myself while I'm home alone. It's like a stim at this point. If there's one thing you gotta know about me it is that I do not shut up.

[834k]

I have a hc that dancing and carnivale is a big thing in the culture of Quetzlan because of their proximity to birds and the importance of courtship rituals for birds. And because of this, all the schools in Quetzlan have a mandatory social dancing unit in core PE when it comes up to the avian breeding season.

[vigilskeep]

this is a really good, thorough, as far as i can tell non-spoilery video just focused on combat that explains the playstyles for all the different classes & specialisations :)

[noirshitsuji]

i watched rivals this week and among the many things I liked about it is how much of a genuinely good sympathy bait-and-switch it does with david tennant's character. like, the show starts and tony baddingham seems almost like an underdog in this rivalry with this born tory aristocrat. tony is someone who, yeah, married into wealth with a purpose, but also actively worked for the level of status he enjoys, and is down in the dumps now and trying to stay afloat.

and then the new year's confrontation with cameron happens. that was the tipping point for me, but even outside of it, slowly but surely we were shown just how much he says things he only means until his interests or his ego are on the line, because tony is a man made entirely out of class envy in a way few people are, and that's the core of every single evil - and I do mean evil - thing he does. from daysee to his award speech, every single thing he does starts to reek of it, and you realise that rupert was right in his insult way back in episode 1.

special shoutout as well to the final 2-3 episodes. they are brilliant in keeping tony's real intentions and feelings about cameron obscure and questionable, and then you see his face when he watches back the tape from the garden party, her and rupert and chemistry, and you think 'oh, maybe there is something here'. and then he's shouting at her and it's not about her breaking his heart, it's about rupert taking her as if she's another trophy, another rug he's managed to pull out from under tony's feet, and you understand that there's no saving him, because his rivalry isn't even with rupert - it's with the concept of rupert.

his relationship with monica is also fascinating to me and i hope we get more of that next season. they're both just in-and-of-themselves such a good class study, though of course the entire show does that, but both of these are their separate posts.

[dragonsdendoodles]

pre loop hc question, how well off do you think the kids families were?

I imagine Horace probably had rich parents. I don’t think anyone else did though (other than Jacob obviously)

Especially with the fact that most of them are from World War II you don’t really get well off families from that time all of Europe was invaded