#idk if it's a white thing or a north american thing or what but it's so silly

[chaotic-queer-disaster]

thinking abt my "culture" as a concept is super... strange. as a white north american. and i dont know how to articulate this beyond "its so big it's nothing" and im aware it's so so so incredibly privileged to have a big disconnect from "my culture" because it's everywhere as opposed to because people tried to stamp it out! I know. i'm just thinking out loud about how it is strange.

[on "no reblogs" just bc i dont know if im articulating this exactly as what i mean and im mostly thinking out loud in the tags]

[thefictionshelf]

The taboo around telling children about death is so goofy to me. Like you know children can just learn about death the way they learn about anything else. It's doesn't have to be a whole thing. If you didn't go out of your way to hide it from them until well after they learned how to speak then is just wouldn't be an upsetting or scary thing to learn about, even though it's kind of inherently scary and upsetting. Like why do you want to add another hard conversation to have with your child. This is an entirely invented problem. It's so insane to me that people will put off telling their child THAT PEOPLE CAN DIE until after a pet or family member has already died. First-time grief is already so hard what appeals about pairing it with a world-shattering revelation. It's like when parents who only teach their kids abstinence, go "see! I told you it's dangerous for teenagers to learn about sex!" when their child comes home with an STD. No, you're just a dumbass.

[concoulor]

& there’s definitely a point to be made about the bidens and political office overall saving the dog from euthanasia

[perotovar]

ásjá - a winter solstice story

Ásjá by Heilung (i highly recommend listening to this while reading)

Our second single release is a love song. Maria sings to the listener of love, recovery and prosperity, chasing away evil and welcoming love. The piece contains a quotation of some lines of “Hávamál”, combined with a selection of blessing words meant to provide help to the listener in a troubled time. Kai brought his vocal part of 'Asja' back to us after a month of isolation, fasting and meditation in nature. Only the spirits know the full meaning, but we do know that the context is love, prosperity and protection.

pairing: pero tovar/ofc!helga (but this is mostly a character study) rating: T word count: 7.4k (idk what happened here) warnings: minor swearing, google translated spanish (sorry), historical inaccuracies in favor of fantasy/magic, my american norse pagan perspective of these practices, if i missed anything else lemme know! dividers by @saradika-graphics beta and norwegian translations by the lovely @chloeangelic thank you, honey ♥

summary: Pero picks up a contract that leads him "somewhere up North", but what he finds instead is unlike anything he imagined for himself. Or, what would happen if Pero encountered the Vikings during their winter celebration?

this is apart of @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro. thank you for including me, kylee, and make sure you all read the other presents!

god jól, everyone🌲❄️🌙🐺

It was fucking cold.

With shaking hands and numb limbs, Pero made his way further up the hill. The wind picked up the further he went into the trees. 

The contract he’d taken up was for a man by the name of Ingvar. A strange name to Pero’s ears, but that hardly mattered to him. This Ingvar was to be taken care of, and Pero had to show proof. 

Not a problem.

The problem, at least for the moment, was the fucking weather and his own lack of foresight. He was told that Ingvar was “somewhere up North”, and that was it. He didn’t exactly plan for just how cold it would be. His fingers were going numb and red, and he saw every breath that left his lungs. If William were here, he’d tell Pero to quit his “bitching” and to make camp.

The camp, he could do. The bitching? Unlikely. 

Pero and William separated after the… events in China. They stayed together to do a few jobs together, but William decided to make his way back to China and meet up with Lin Mae again, possibly even settle down. Pero didn’t fancy seeing the people that had arrested and almost killed him, and black powder wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. At least not to him. He rather liked the uncertainty of his job. Found comfort in it, in fact. His future was set for him in this line of work. He would live doing the things he loved most; fighting, fucking, and drinking. And the ending was always the same. At least, that’s what he told himself.

A low whisper brought Pero out of his thoughts. He snapped his head towards the direction of the sound and furrowed his already heavy brow. The sound of a raven cawing caught his attention, making him hum skeptically to himself before deciding this was as good a spot as any for a fire. 

Once settled on a fallen tree and attempting to warm his hands with his meager fire, Pero dug into his travel pack. He grumbled at the pitiful excuse for food he had left. He grabbed a piece of thick, dry bread and started ripping off chunks and eating that. Perhaps he could hunt? Find a rabbit, or something a little bigger. He remembered to make a bow this time. Swallowing the last chunk of the bread, he picked up his bow and arrows, and threw his cloak-slash-blanket over his shoulders. It was going to be dark soon, and he didn’t like the idea of starving his first night in this frozen Northern hell.

Another whisper.

Pero’s body went taut. He looked between the tall trees and the endless sea of white ahead of him. Nothing. A rabbit hopped by, distracting him. Before he could think too hard, he knocked an arrow and let fly. The arrow landed in the snow just after the rabbit hopped away.

“Mierda,” he grumbled. (Shit.)

He crouched low and slowly followed after the rabbit. He made his way toward a small clearing, which seemed to be in the center of the forest, if his tracking skills were getting any better.

There was a large stone in the middle, towards the top of the clearing. There looked to be a large blood stain in the center of it. Pero raised a brow and grunted quietly. This was none of his business, clearly.

Suddenly, the rabbit made its way to the middle of the clearing, next to the large stone. Pero sighed and lined up a shot, hoping for the best. He released a breath at the same time that the arrow left his fingers, and another whisper passed through his ears.

He gasped quietly and time seemed to stop as the arrow traveled through the cold air. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, trying to make himself as still as possible. 

The sound of the arrow piercing the rabbit startled him out of his frozen state. He blinked a few times, the white forest coming back into view as he looked down at the dead rabbit in the clearing. He exhaled and slowly stood, settling his bow on his shoulder. He looked around again, and when he saw nothing, slowly made his way down the hill and towards the center of the clearing.

He picked up the dead rabbit and removed the arrow, tucking it into his belt to clean and use again later. Standing in the center of the clearing, he looked over at the bloodstained stone and felt that shiver go down his spine again. He looked up at the gray sky and decided it was time to go back to his camp. He hooked the rabbit’s carcass onto his belt, pulled the cloak over his shoulders tighter, and shoved his hands inside the fabric.

“Maldita nieve,” he grumbled to himself. (Fucking snow.) As he climbed back up the hill, he felt a sharp pain in his foot and lost his balance, catching himself with his hands in the snow. He hissed loudly and looked down at his boot. A small spike was poking out through the top, meaning the sharp rock was piercing through his foot. He groaned and leaned against the hill, steadying his breathing. He counted to three in his head and yanked the rock from his foot. “Fuck,” he exhaled loudly, a few drops of his own blood covering his palm as he looked at the rock. A small symbol was carved into it, making him squint his eyes, trying to decipher what it was. Pero shook his head and sighed, pocketing the strange rock to inspect later.

On his way back to his little camp, limping the whole way to not put too much pressure on his foot, he grabbed some branches to make the fire last a little longer. Once the meager fire came into view, he swore he saw someone sitting on the log he was using before. He froze in place, heavy boots landing in the snow abruptly. He squinted his eyes and grew confused. An old man? What would he be doing out here? 

Pero looked around the frozen forest to see if there was anyone that could be with the old man. When he didn’t see anyone, he looked back at the campfire, and the old man was gone. He’d completely vanished. Pero grunted quietly and rubbed his eyes with frozen fingers. He shook his head to snap himself out of it and made his way over to the campfire.

After putting the rabbit on the spit and it started to cook, Pero made his bed for the night. He’d do his best to sleep, but didn’t have high hopes. Once the rabbit was cooked, he stabbed it with his knife and started eating it messily. He groaned at the taste of fresh, hot, cooked meat and enjoyed it, even if it was pretty bland. It warmed his bones a little and made him more comfortable, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders.

The sound of a branch snapping behind him went unnoticed by Pero’s ears, too focused on the food. He hadn’t eaten in days. The second snap, however, was heard, and it made him drop the rabbit onto the ground and grab his sword, brandishing it in front of him as he stood.

“¿Dónde estás, bastardo?” He grumbled under his breath, his heavy breaths puffing out into smoke. (Where are you, bastard?)

He sighed in frustration when he didn’t see anything. He was seriously starting to consider if this contract was even worth it. And if it wasn’t, would he be able to make it back without dying? Either from the cold, or whatever it was that was playing with him. He mumbled obscenities to himself and sat back down on his fallen tree.

He picked up the rabbit and groaned at the dirt now covering it. He blew off what he could and decided to continue eating it, dirt be damned. He was hungry.

Once full, he looked up at the moon in the sky, trying to figure out how late it was. He rubbed his hands over his arms to keep warm and added a branch or two to his fire. He grabbed a piece of spare cloth from his travel pack and quickly wrapped his foot. He laid down next to the fire and pulled the cloak up over his shoulders and shut his eyes. He didn’t feel tired, but he couldn’t help closing his eyes. He tried to fight it, to keep his guard up, but it was useless. 

He started to feel lightheaded and turned onto his back, looking up at the moon again. The moon and the stars, so bright he almost didn’t need the campfire, were swirling around and moving in close and further away. The trees surrounding him looked to be moving side to side. 

What was happening? Did the old man poison him somehow? Who was that old man?

His vision went blurry and he felt like he was spinning in place despite laying on the ground, completely still. He let out a weak groan and tried to move, reaching for his sword. 

The last thing he saw before his vision went black, was the silhouette of a large dog, or perhaps a wolf, in the distance hidden behind the trees.

Warmth. He felt warm. And a pounding headache.

Pero slowly blinked awake and groaned at the light that hit his eyes. The smell of cooked meat and root vegetables hit his nostrils. His stomach whined in protest. 

“For en merkelig fyr…” An older male voice said, somewhere behind him. (He is a strange one…)

“Kjekk, da,” A younger, female voice replied. (Handsome, though.)

He didn’t understand any of it. It wasn’t a language he’d heard before. Eyelids fluttering, he slowly opened his eyes to a small gathering of people all looking down at him. He startled and reached for his knife, and grunted when he didn’t feel it.

“Vi har våpnene dine. De er trygge.” (We have your weapons. They’re safe.)

Pero turned his head in the direction of the voice and squinted his eyes at the woman. She looked to be in her 30s, with a baby attached to her breast and drinking.

“No entiendo,” he grumbled, voice hoarse from lack of use. “¿Dónde estoy?” (I do not understand. Where am I?)

He took in his surroundings, now sitting up, and saw that he looked to be in a small room cut off from a much larger group of people. He heard laughter and song outside the cloth separating the, assumed, larger hall from where he was now. He furrowed his brows. A celebration? What for?

“¿Dónde estoy?” He repeated, voice slightly harsher. (Where am I?)

“Har ikke hørt det språket før,” one of the men said. (Haven’t heard that tongue before.) Pero looked up at him and squinted his eyes slightly. The man was large, with a full beard, and an even fuller middle. But there was no denying his strength; age hadn’t stopped this man from doing well in a fight, Pero assumed. Not that he couldn’t take him, of course. He looked at the man’s belt and saw a one-handed axe attached to his belt and thought better of it, especially without his own weapons. 

Suddenly a small sting came from his foot and he snapped his head down at the young woman tending to the wound he’d gotten on his way back from the clearing. He’d almost completely forgotten about it, too cold to even really feel it. The young woman startled and blushed, keeping her head down as she cleaned the cut. 

“Det er et vakkert språk, da, er det ikke?” The first younger woman’s voice came through, a slightly entranced tone to it. (It is a beautiful tongue, though, no?) He looked to his left and saw her batting her eyelashes at him. He huffed a breath in amusement. He’d had his fair share of women giving him looks like that, almost always with a payment in mind, but his thoughts were elsewhere, even if it did feel nice. And she was a tad too skinny for his own tastes.

Pero exhaled. This was clearly getting nowhere. Fine. “Where am I? You know English, yes?” He asked, exasperated, in the general direction of anyone who might be able to answer him. 

The shy girl cleaning his wound lifted her head and smiled softly at him. “I know a little,” she said quietly, her voice heavily accented.

“Finally,” he sighed. “What is going on?”

“A few of our men found you in the forest, passed out. Your lips were blue.” She won’t make eye contact with him, bur her brows furrowed like she was worried for him. “We have lost some of our own men in a similar way before. It is not pretty.”

Pero hummed softly and nodded his thanks. “Did any of them see an old man? In the woods?”

The girl tilted her head and asked the man next to him, the one with the axe in his belt, if any of them had seen such a man. The man raised a brow and shook his head, looking at Pero skeptically. 

“Ingvar says–”

“Yes, I understood, thank you–” Pero cut himself off and looked back at the man with the axe. This was Ingvar? Pero looked back at the girl and nodded his head as she bandaged his wound, his own cloth wrapped around his ankle. He would have to be careful if he was to carry out this contract. “Thank you,” he repeated, the words foreign on his tongue.

The girl nodded, cheeks pink, and stood to leave. As she left, the cloth covering them moved to show a large fire in the middle of the hall with an even larger feast around it. The girl came back with a tankard of something for him and he took it gratefully. As the sweet liquid hit his tongue, he coughed slightly.

“What is this?” He wheezed a little, looking at the cup like it slapped his mother.

The girl giggled before saying, “Mead. It is honey wine.”

Pero rolled the words around his tongue for a moment. “Interesante,” he hummed to himself. (Interesting.)

“Vel, han er våken. Tilby ham noe å spise, men hold øye på ham. Han ser ut som en leiesoldat, og jeg stoler ikke på ham,” Ingvar grunted, leaving the room and rejoining the festivities. (Well, he is up. Invite him to eat, but keep an eye on him. He looks like a mercenary and I do not trust him.)

Pero watched him closely as he left, and took another drink of his mead, eyes hard. 

“Would you like some food, mister-”

“Tovar,” Pero grunted. “Yes. I am very hungry.” He turned on the cot and got to his feet quickly, but quickly lost his balance, a couple of the women catching him as he stood on shaky legs. He sighed in frustration and stood on his own, shrugging off their help. The girl held her arm out to him, and didn’t seem too offended when he just stared at it.

“Tovar. This way,” she smiled, her face a little pinched. 

“What are you celebrating?” He asked, looking around at all the food. His stomach roared at the smells.

“It is the third night of Jól. You have heard of Jól?” She asked excitedly, turning to him as she found a place for him to sit. He slowly made his way down at a long table nearby where Ingvar sat at the head of the table. A leader. This contract was getting more difficult by the second.

“I have not,” he grumbled. “What is this… Yool?” 

The girl giggled again, this time at his attempt at the word. “Jól is the celebration that welcomes back the sun from the harsh Winter. Our crops start growing as the sun comes back, and the snow melts away.”

Pero hummed as he listened, nodding his thanks when she handed him a full plate of different meats, root vegetables, bread, and cheese. “You are farmers?”

The girl nods. “Most of us. Some are warriors.”

Pero hummed again, chewing on a piece of meat. “How did you learn English?”

The girl turned a little sad, but smiled anyway. “We used to have a man that came from… Eng-land? He died last year,” she sighed. “He taught me and a few of the children how to read and speak English. How did you learn?”

Pero frowned around his food and sighed.

“I am sorry, forget–” Pero held up a hand to stop her. “Apologies. I am… unused to kindness from strangers,” he grunted, not meeting her eyes. “A dear friend of mine is from Scotland. We have separated so he could be with his woman. He taught me.”

“Scotland?”

“It is near England.”

She nodded, slowly picking at her own food. The two of them grew quiet and just ate for a while. The celebrations continued around them, and it gave Pero a chance to take it all in.

In the center of the hall was a large hearth, with an even larger tree in the middle, lighting up the hall. It looked like the one he was using earlier as a bench, so they must have gotten it from the same forest. He can’t be too far from there, then. There were candles and flames everywhere, lighting up the hall brightly, but warmly.

He looked back at the girl and found her already staring at him. She startled, cheeks going pink again, and looked down at her food. He smirked a little, but hid it well. She was amusing.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“Sigrid,” she said softly.

“It sounds strong.”

“Yes. I am more drawn to medicine, so I suppose the name is ironic.”

Pero chuckled. “Hardly.”

Sigrid smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them again before Pero asked, “Who is Ingvar? He seems like a powerful man.”

“He is our Jarl. Our leader.”

“Is this like a king?” Pero furrowed his brows. He didn’t think this contract would be finished.

“Not exactly. But no less powerful.”

“I see,” Pero grunted. As if on cue, Ingvar stood from his seat at the head of the table, a large grin on his bearded face.

“Venner! Kvelden er ung, og festen er rik. Vær så snill, nyt, for mine gamle beindekk. Jeg ser dere alle i morgen tidlig.” Everyone raised their drinks and shouted… something, but Pero didn’t catch it. Sigrid leaned over and translated what Ingvar said for him. He nodded his thanks, but he was skeptical at best. Ingvar left through a door behind the throne that sat in the center of the hall. (Friends! The night is young, and the feast bountiful. Please, enjoy, for my old bones tire. I will see you all in the morning.)

“He cannot be that old, no?”

“He has been around much longer than I,” Sigrid shrugged. Pero laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You are a child, of course he has.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it. “If seventeen winters makes me a child, then yes.”

Pero choked on his mead and hit his chest to keep from coughing too hard. “Yes, it does,” he wheezed, laughing quietly. Sigrid laughed, too, eating some bread and cheese. A small child ran up to Sigrid and asked her a question as he tugged on her dress. Sigrid looked back at Pero apologetically and he waved her off, eating some more meat.

This was hardly the setting he expected for himself when he took the contract, but he couldn’t deny it, it was a pleasant one. The food was good, and the people seemed friendly enough. He couldn’t help but be confused by the contract; who was dumb enough to put a hit out on a powerful leader like Ingvar?

Sigrid mentioned that some of them were warriors. That didn’t surprise him at all. Just by looking at the people around the table, men and women alike, he could’ve figured that out on his own.

He sighed to himself and chewed thoughtfully. Suddenly, he remembered the small stone that pierced his foot. He looked around at the people around him to be sure no one was watching before he felt around his pocket for the stone. When he didn’t feel anything, his body went taut and he froze. Shit. They probably found it when they grabbed his weapons. Where were his weapons?

Sigrid came up to his side with the small child from before holding her hand and looking at him from behind her. “Tovar?” She asked softly. He looked up at her, heavy brow still pulled down. She gave him a quick once-over before clearing her throat. “We have sleeping quarters for you, but Lord Ingvar wishes to speak with you first.”

Pero chuckled humorlessly around his food before putting it down on his plate. He grabbed the mead and took a drink, making a face at the taste. He wasn’t sure he’d get used to that anytime soon. “Of course he does,” he sighed. “You will translate for me?”

Sigrid nodded, braided blonde hair swinging with the movement, and looked like she was trying to steel herself. He admired her mettle.

Pero followed after her, keeping light pressure on his foot as they went through that door Ingvar went through before. It led down a short hallway and ended up in a large bedroom. Ingvar was sitting on the edge of the bed before standing tall and fixing Pero with a hard look. Pero grunted and rested a hand on his hip as he leaned on the uninjured foot, waiting to get this over with.

“Hva heter du?” Ingvar grunted. (What is your name?)

“He asked your name,” Sigrid said softly.

“Tovar,” Pero narrowed his eyes. 

“Hvorfor er du her?” (Why are you here?)

Sigrid translated quietly.

“Your people brought me here. I was wondering the same thing,” Pero shrugged with an attitude. Ingvar gave him a look, clearly unimpressed. Pero rolled his eyes.

Ingvar looked at Sigrid and she blushed, nodding. “He didn’t mean–”

“Yes, I know what he meant,” Pero sighed. “I had a contract. I came to fulfill that contract.”

Sigrid spoke quietly and Ingvar seemed tired as he nodded.

“Var navnet mitt på denne kontrakten?” Ingvar sighed. Pero gave Sigrid a look as she quickly translated. (Did this contract have my name on it?)

“It did…” Pero raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. Ingvar nodded again, but Pero spoke up before he could say anything. “I decided not to complete the contract when I saw your celebration and… status. I may be a mercenary, but I am no fool. I do not go after lords or kings.”

Ingvar raised a brow and chuckled quietly before letting out a loud, hearty laugh. “Jeg vet ikke om du er smart eller dum,” Ingvar smiled, cheeks flushed with mirth. “Jeg takker deg, men tilgi meg for at jeg ikke stoler på deg helt, Tovar.” (I do not know if you are smart or stupid. I thank you. But you will forgive me for not completely trusting you, Tovar.)

Pero nodded and shrugged. “I understand.”

Sigrid looked between the two of them, looking much less nervous. She quickly spoke to Ingvar quietly, asking him a question. Ingvar nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“Nyt festen, Tovar. Vi diskuterer hva vi skal gjøre med deg om morgenen.” (Enjoy the festivities, Tovar. We will discuss what to do with you in the morning.)

“I wish to leave,” Pero grunted, looking between Sigrid and the Jarl. Sigrid looked a little crestfallen, but took one more look at Ingvar before he waved them off. She pushed Pero out of the Jarl’s quarters and back out into the celebration. “Sigrid?” Pero asked, confused.

She sighed before looking up at him. “The Jarl wishes to keep you here until Jól ends. To keep an eye on you, make sure you keep your word.” She started wringing her hands together and bit her lip.

“How much longer is Yool?”

Sigrid went quiet.

“Sigrid.”

“Nine more days,” she sighed, looking down.

Pero’s eyes went wide before he shut them and sighed heavily. He looked up at the ceiling and mumbled, “Joder yo,” under his breath. (Fuck me.) “Fine. Nine more days and I will leave.”

Over the course of the first four days, Pero was treated like he belonged with these people. He still didn’t quite know where he was. If someone were to give him a map, he couldn’t tell them, but he knew he was probably at the top somewhere. He was shocked at how much he liked it there despite the bitter cold.

He felt eyes on him the whole time and he didn’t like the feeling, but he understood it. 

He taught Sigrid and some of the children some Spanish words and in turn he was taught some words in their tongue. Norse, he was told.

Pero also found himself helping the warriors Sigrid mentioned before, called Vikingr. Their job was to sail to faraway lands, raid strangers of their belongings, and bring it back home. He didn’t judge. He’d done worse, and frankly, it sounded like something right up his alley. He mostly helped with keeping their longships cleaned for their next raid when the snow thawed.

And he ate. He ate a lot. There was so much food at the feasts in the evenings. He tried to eat as much as he could in the hopes that it would carry him on his journey home. Wherever that was. Every feast started with a chant and “offerings” to their Gods. Some of these “offerings” came in the form of the mead Pero had - reluctantly - grown to like, and other times it came in the form of one of the farmer’s poor goats. 

While he didn’t understand a lot of these people’s customs, he couldn’t deny it, they were a hearty people. 

He’d also caught the eye of some of the women there, too, but he mostly ignored them. They were all too young for him, and he was too busy not getting killed. He still wasn’t given back his weapons. Or the strange stone. His wound would take a while to heal yet, but he could put pressure on it again.

On the fifth day, he was helping chop wood for people’s homes. During the feast, everyone in the village congregated in the Jarl’s home to be surrounded by the fire given by the Jól Log and enjoy the food, but they all needed wood for their own homes as well.

He stopped to take a break and wiped the sweat from his brow as a cool chill blew past him. Pero looked to his left, the feeling of someone looking at him catching his attention. When he saw it wasn’t one of Ingvar’s men, he startled a little. It was a woman. Older than the ones that mostly watched him, and far more… Interesting. To him, at least. He raised a brow as she turned and left, clutching her basket closer to her body. He’d seen her around during his time there and she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She was unattached from what he could tell, and wondered why. She was beautiful. 

Pero snapped himself out of it and shook his head, going back to chopping the wood.

On the sixth day, he saw her again. He’d asked Sigrid what her name was as he saw her making her way through the market, and she said it was Helga. 

Helga.

He liked the name.

Helga was a thread-weaver. She made blankets, scarves, anything to keep one warm and covered. Pero was given clothing that suited the temperature better, and he felt strange without his armor, but he was never given a scarf. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted one before now.

He asked Sigrid if she could ask Helga for him for a scarf, and the girl giggled, pushing him toward the woman. He sighed and walked over to her, looking at the weapons and tools surrounding them at the market. He tried not to make himself too obvious, and it mostly worked, he thought. He was genuinely impressed with the craftsmanship of the weapons.

Pero sidled up to Helga’s side, but before he could say anything, she stepped away from the stand and walked back to her house. He watched her go and frowned.

This was going to be tougher than he thought.

The seventh day was much like the day before, but instead of chopping wood, Pero was asked to help around the Jarl’s home. He noticed a lot of the young women that stared at him worked there, so he tried to keep mostly to himself. He’d never cleaned linens or blankets before, but found it to be quite relaxing. There was a rhythm to it, and he could do it without much help.

“Tovar,” a young voice asked from his left. He looked up, finishing the fold of the blanket he was holding. He grunted in acknowledgement. “Jeg og noen av kvinnene har lurt på noe,” the girl was blushing hard up to her ears and biting her lip. (Some of the women and I have been wondering something.)

Pero smirked a little and nodded for her to continue. He picked up on the gist of what she was saying, thanks to Sigrid’s teachings of Norse.

“Hvor fikk du arret fra?” she asked meekly. (Where did you get your scar?)

Pero’s face pinched slightly and he shook his head. “I do not wish to talk about it.” The girl’s eyes went wide and she started scrambling out apologies, her hand pressed to her chest. A sad smile crossed his features before he shook his head. “It is okay,” he said quietly.

The girl frowned, cheeks bright red, but nodded as she turned and left. Pero exhaled quietly and looked down at the linens he was folding. 

“I do not believe she meant any harm,” a low, feminine voice said to his left. He hummed in acknowledgement before he froze, realizing that she spoke perfect English. He turned his head and nearly jumped out of his boots when he saw Helga standing there. She smiled and started helping him with the linens. “Tovar, yes?”

Pero huffed a laugh and nodded. 

“I have noticed you watching me.” She had a soft smile on her lips, brown hair pulled away from her face in a braid. She turned to look at him, blue eyes full of heat as she looked over his face and chest. 

Pero blinked, eyes slightly wider. He went to speak, but all that came out was a croak, making him cough. “Apologies,” he wheezed, the side of his fist pressed to his chest. “I am sorry for staring,” he mumbled, turning back to his own linens as his cheeks flushed. “I am still getting used to the customs here. There are two days left of your celebration, and I will be gone.”

Helga hummed noncommittally and pushed her small stack of folded linens toward him to add to his pile. “That would be a shame.”

Pero furrowed his brows and added her stack to his. He looked at her incredulously, but her head was faced down as she continued folding. He didn’t say anything and continued as well, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

“I thought only Sigrid and a few of the children spoke English,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“They are not the only ones.”

Pero snorted and shook his head. “Clearly not,” he hummed to himself. He cleared his throat and glanced at her before continuing. “When I arrived at this place, I was in the forest. I am not sure how far it is from here, but I saw an old man,” he started, keeping his eyes downward. “I was hoping I would see him here in the village, but I have not.”

Helga hummed a noise for him to continue. 

“He wore a cloak, the hood covering his head. He sat in front of my campfire, but I only saw one of his eyes,” Pero’s brows furrowed further, confusion filling his head. “I am not sure if he was missing one or if it was covered.”

Helga stopped folding and looked at him, a small smirk on her lips. “Did he have a long beard?”

Pero looked up and blinked. “Y-yes. You have seen this man?”

“Once or twice,” she said. “He is a wanderer. He does not stay in one place for very long.”

“Who is he?”

Helga bit her lip and shrugged. “He has many names. We cannot be certain which he likes best.”

Pero sighed in frustration. “Why was he at my camp?”

Helga smirked again and finished folding her linens. “Perhaps he was looking out for you,” she shrugged again, leaning over to pick up her basket of fabrics. “Enjoy the feast tonight.” She grinned and left the Jarl’s home, leaving Pero quiet and watching her retreating form.

Pero exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. When he looked down, there was a scarf folded on top of her pile of linens. 

“Du får tingene dine i morgen, etter den siste festen,” Ingvar grumbled. (You will receive your belongings after tomorrow’s final feast.)

“Must I stay the whole time? I wish to return home,” Pero growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that he had a home to return to.

Ingvar rolled his eyes and waved him off. Sigrid grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the Jarl’s bedroom. Pero grumbled obscenities in Spanish to himself until he was sat at a table in the hall. It was the eighth night, and he was getting tired of being watched constantly. He had no intention of hurting anyone here. He might if they didn’t give him his things, though. The people around him continued to have the same energy this night that they always seemed to. He supposed that came from actually understanding what you were celebrating, and not having to worry about death or arrest at every corner.

“You leave tomorrow evening, yes?”

Pero startled and looked to his right. Helga sat next to him, a plate of food in front of her. She smiled warmly at him and he softened. “How do you do that?” He huffed a laugh and shook his head before grabbing a piece of meat and eating it.

“You do not pay attention,” she said simply.

He squinted his eyes at her and grumbled around his food that he did too pay attention, thank you very much. She laughed softly and it made him bite his tongue. She had been nothing but kind to him while he was there and she didn’t deserve the frustration he felt to be forced on her.

“Where do you live?” Helga asked softly. “Where will you go?”

Pero bit his lip as he tore a piece of bread in two. “Nowhere. I am a mercenary. I go where the work is,” he shrugged, shoving the bread in his mouth. 

“You enjoy this?”

Pero raised a brow as he chewed. 

“You like not having anywhere to call home? You do not have to leave,” she hummed around her own food, taking a drink of some mead.

“What do you mean? Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Ingvar wants me dead. His men are constantly watching me.”

Helga rolled her eyes. “You really do not pay attention,” she sighed, setting down her cup and turning to face him. “You have not heard how people talk about you?”

“I am still learning the language,” he frowned, chewing messily and lips greasy.

“Why are you learning the language if you want to leave?”

Pero blinked and looked down at his plate. He frowned, thinking about it. Why was he learning the language? 

“Because you like it here, Tovar,” she said softly. “We like you.” It went unsaid, but he got the feeling that she liked him, too.

“Pero.”

“What?”

“My name is Pero.”

Helga smiled, pink dusting her cheeks. “I do not think you will have many people protesting if you stay. The children love you. And I think you would make an excellent Viking.”

Pero raised a brow and exhaled, thinking about it. Having a place to call his own would be nice. And he was familiar with the kind of work the warriors did, from what he’d heard. 

“You do not have long to think about it, Pero,” Helga hummed. She picked up her plate and stood before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I would like it if you stayed,” she whispered into his ear. He looked up at her with soft eyes and she smiled down at him with her hand on his shoulder before turning and leaving.

Pero shut his eyes and exhaled once again, then looked in the direction of the Jarl’s personal quarters. 

Would it be such a terrible thing to stay?

On the ninth day, Pero woke with a startle. He thought he’d heard a whisper next to his ear again. He’d been mostly dreamless while he was in the village. Last night, after his talk with Helga, he dreamt about the old man and the wolf in the woods. He didn’t understand any of it, and he barely remembered what the dream actually entailed, but he remembered the feeling. He felt… odd. Not bad or wrong. Just… different. Comforting. 

As he got dressed in the clothes that were given to him, he looked over at the scarf Helga gave him. It was a brown color and the material was rough, but also thick and soft. It kept his ears warm. He wrapped it around his neck before slipping his feet into his boots, making sure to be careful of his injured one. He made his way over to the Jarl’s quarters and knocked on the door.

“Er du sikker?” (Are you sure?)

Pero nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

Ingvar sighed and crossed his arms, too. “Du forvirrer meg, Tovar. Men hvis dette virkelig er det du vil, tror jeg ikke at jeg ser noe problem med det.” He shrugged and looked at Sigrid’s smiling face. “Gå og hent tingene hans.” (You confuse me, Tovar. But if this is truly what you want, I don’t suppose I see a problem with it. Go get his things.)

Sigrid nodded happily and ran from the room. Pero and Ingvar awkwardly avoided eye contact. Even if neither of them were enemies, the circumstances of their acquaintanceship were less than ideal. When Sigrid returned, she was carrying Pero’s weapons in both arms and looked to be struggling to do so.

Pero furrowed his brows and gently took the weapons from her. She sighed in relief, but smiled shyly up at him. “I am happy you decided to stay,” she giggled.

Pero smiled down at her, then gave a grateful nod to Ingvar before leaving the room. Sigrid walked next to him while he attached his sword and hunting knife to his belt. He carried the armor under his left arm. “Me too,” he grunted awkwardly. “I am unsure how I will fit in, but…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

“I think you will be fine,” she nodded, sure of herself. One of the small children, a younger brother of hers he found out, came up to her and tugged on her dress. He mumbled something Pero didn’t quite catch. Sigrid tapped on his shoulder to get Pero’s attention, making him look down at the two of them, dark eyes intimidating, but soft. “She lives at the end of the village,” Sigrid winked, then took off with her younger brother.

Pero’s cheeks flushed, but he chuckled to himself. He made his way through the village, waving or nodding to people as he saw them. It was strange, being accepted as he was. He wasn’t the only gruff and hardened warrior here, and no one seemed scared of him for his scars or his accent. The feeling was so foreign to him.

As he walked up a small hill toward the end of the village, he heard a quiet thud against the grass. He looked down and saw the strange stone from the forest laying there. Right, he’d completely forgotten. It must’ve fallen from his belongings. He picked it up and looked at it, thumbs running over the strange markings. It was almost shaped like a fork, but with three prongs. Maybe Helga would know what it meant.

When he made his way in front of the door of the last house in the village, he hesitated before knocking. The sun was slowly setting and it was getting a tad colder, so he eventually knocked. 

“Et øyeblikk!” (One moment!)

Pero smiled to himself as he heard her voice behind the door. Once the door opened, he raised his head and smiled sheepishly, the shape on his face still foreign to him.

Helga’s face softened as she saw him and rested a hand on her hip. “Well, come on in, then,” she grinned, opening the door wider for him. He nodded gratefully and stepped inside her home, the smells of burnt leaves and the feeling of a warm fire engulfing his body. 

“I will find my own home, you need not keep me here if–”

“Hush,” she chuckled softly, taking his armor from his arms and putting it in her bedroom for cleaning later. “You are more than welcome to stay here,” she looked up at him with a bit of shyness. The first time she’d ever looked at him like that. “If you want to, that is.”

Pero took two steps closer to her until his face was mere inches from her own. “I want nothing more,” he said softly, rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against her cheek. She shut her eyes and exhaled softly, nodding. 

“I was just getting ready to go to the feast,” Helga smiled, looking up at him. “Would you like to join me?”

Pero’s lips quirked up into a soft smile of his own before he remembered the stone he was holding. “Yes, but first,” his brows furrowed in thought. “It is silly, but… I found this strange stone while I was in the forest.”

Helga hummed and tilted her head to the side, letting him continue.

“It has a marking I have never seen before. Do you know what it means?” He asked, showing her the stone lying in the palm of his hand. She picked it up and rubbed her thumb over the marking like he had before.

“Where did you find this?” Helga asked, face pinched in confusion.

“In the forest. There was a small clearing with a bloodstained stone, and–”

“The ritual site,” she smiled up at him, clutching the stone in her hand. “We sacrificed one of the cows on the first day of Jól there.”

Pero blinked down at her, hands holding her arms and rubbing softly. “I see…”

Helga laughed softly. “You’ll get used to it,” she winked. “This is one of the runes. It seems we forgot one.”

“What does it mean?” He hummed, cupping her face in his large hand. He rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

“Protection,” she said softly. She looked at his lips, then looked back up at his eyes. He did the same and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. They stayed there for a few moments before he released her and pressed his forehead against hers. 

“Surely the feast can wait a few moments,” he growled into her neck, kissing against the soft skin there. Helga bit her lip and smiled, fingers tangling into the thick curls at the back of his head.

“It can,” she gasped, startled by the small nip he left against her shoulder. Pero slowly walked them toward her bedroom and laid her on top of the bed. The curtains in front of the window were drawn. Something caught his eye in the window and he looked out, hovering over Helga’s body. 

In the distance, on top of a hill, was a large black wolf. It seemed to make eye contact with him before it turned and left.

A chill ran down Pero’s spine.

a/n: if you're at all curious, here's a decent idea of what i imagined the stone to look like 🥰

[thecoolnauta]

Idea for Sagau but instead of MC as a young adult who is love by everyone is just... A TEEN (xd)

THIS GOING TO BE LONG SO

So okay, (I'm bad at English so, I don't thinks this might be well understod but, please excuse it :'u) this actually came from me watching TOH while eating so.

Just think of it, where all Teyvat's knows about this mystic and graceful creature that is always near the Traveler and their little rare pixie. They know that a unknown creature even above their gods is traveling with the (far to nice) foreign.

They don't know how they look, they don't know how they act or even how they sound like, but they can feel them. A warm hug filled with curiosity and dearly affection.

Maybe they won't make a whole new religion for that new god, but they might pray them instead of their own Archons for very important wishes. Hoping for an instant, you'll hear them.

And even the Archons are cool with it!!! Since the Traveler came to Teyvat, everyone feels that love biting their skin in a childish way.

They imagine you like a benevolent and playful deity, a charming and elegant being that helps even with the most harmful missions, just for save them.

Just for make them smile again.

And there's you! A (probably) neurdivergent queer kid who might be not fully North American and is obsessed with fantasy and writing fanfics about your parental figures.

Yeah, you might get to intense when is about them. But hey, even Jesus doubt.

In your universe, Genshin is not, in fact, a thing. The whole freaking lore and the "gameplays" are just very detailed dreams you have every night.

You can't actually tell when it started, but it have a while so-

Yeah, you are really The Creator, huh.

Well, let me tell you something, IT'S GETTING WORSE

When your not that accepting parents decided to put you on a weird camp thing where you will be a honorable member of American society (yeah u know what I meant) a weird but cute... create stool your diary where you write your dreams.

To write a fanfic or smt idk.

And that, really weird existence with withe fluffy hair(?) and golden eyes ran into a forest that you never actually notice.

But screw that you probably change the state, you're getting back that diary.

Persecution cringy cinematic, blahblahblah and you get to a very gigante estructure more old than your last name. The fantasy and pure white practically inviting you to take a closer look.

And you do, of course (maybe was your internal desire of still being you)

You pass over it, the creature is gone, but you have your diary back. Yey :D!!

But man, this isn't the Americans, they would never take care of a forest like this.

Then you almost do the same travel of the not Abyss twin (I'm getting tired, I just want to name one of them but AHG), you walk all over the forest, see with amusement all around and WHY IT'S TOO FAMILIAR FOR THE LOVE OF MADOKAMI.

And yeah, after finding slimes and a statue of a very pretty man you realized you were in your dreams world.

oh, oh

Yep, you were in fuckin Teyvat's floor, touching Teyvat's grass and breathing Teyvat's oxygen...

AND LISTEN TO ME you just fall into Mondstadt to find a guide and a way to scape and all treats you like the Traveler but ways less useful. Just offering you food and awkward smiles by your strange kind of act.

(they just can't handle a neurdivergent kid with anger issues talking Spanish when they can't understand how the time works)

So after the fourth night sleeping on a bunch of boxes because you refuse to have any type of cold blood animal on you when you sleep, an aventure took you to the Favonius knights.

(Totally not a request, Katherine you inteligent metallic women)

So they might just seeing you like a kid who happens to be in the same spot as the Traveler, but less stronger and more but MORE curious than them.

You smeems to know everything, not just of them but their nation, asking thing that a normal foreign would never ask.

But after a while of overthinking, they just decide to let you wandering around Mondstadt, just if you don't cause any trouble.

In fact, you did, but shhhh..

Yeah, all that would ended like a weird but not problematic at all situation BUT OH NO LORD BARBAS FREE THEM BECAUSE THEY GET ATTACHED TO U MORE THAN THEY WANTED.

Found family found familying and stuff, you're totally Pog dude, never forget that.

AND WHEN THEM FINDS OUT YOU'RE THE CREATOR WHO TAKE CARE OF THEM AND TAKE CARE OF KILLING THE MENACE WITH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP THEY JUST:

"Oh for you, kiddo you were the creator all along!!!"

"The what?"

But you just go before they even finish to assimilate all that information bomb. And that repeats with all the nations, for the love of hippie god son

So yeah, they just re program their windows and treat u like the above mortals type and you're just confused and too neurdivergent for that shit so just "continue talking man, yeah I totally understand the fact that u see me as the god of gods, yeah sure, rad"

And yeah, that was everything, it's 3:00 and I'm very dizzy so, please don't mind my really bad grammar and thanks for reading all that.

(If you want to use the idea just give credits, it's okay) Maybe If I have time I'll write an actual fanfic or more headcanons but now I'm going to sleep.

Stay safe, remember: you can fight all this shit, you'll get better soon. Bye :v

[nerves-nebula]

Going from living in the southern US to moving to the northern US for work is insane bc like. White people seem to think the racism is all down in alabama and kentucky and shit and like. Yeah its there. Theres sundown towns and klan shit and my daddy got his ass beat for looking at a white woman too long.

But up north, man....People are just MEANER about it, idk what it is. Its like theyre more snide. They talk behind their hands and shit. They do the more like...quiet, insideous. They still have klan meetings, theyre just quiet about it. They quietly poison you. They ask me if I like henny or if I'm more of a lean girl and act shocked when I say I dont drink. They stare at a homeless white man and say "oh man he was a veteran, thats awful" but flip and say "ahhh that black dude over theres just a druggie its fine, pass him by."

White folks walk up to me and start like, bitching about the arabs and the indians thinking that because im not one of Them that I'll be on their side and say its okay.

Idk. Its very bittering. I wanted to move up here because I hoped i would escape it. But. Well.

But well indeed!!! I admit I’m not the best at being able to tell when racism is happening to me due to neither of my parents really being able to help me in that regard

(white mom who insists racism doesn’t happen anymore + African dad who is always away and is hyper vigilant about racism but doesn’t exactly understand the intricacies of antiblackness in America. They are both racist against black Americans and I never left the house growing up. also i might be autistic so picking up on when i'm being discriminated against is a bit of a battle too.)

But I do know that when I moved out to the east coast (california to be specific) for art boarding school I wasn’t invited back the next year because there were "concerns about my ability to keep up with the hygienic requirements" AKA: I was too dirty.

The dean of students (who later resigned because we all hated him) said I was dirty to my FACE and blamed me for bedbugs when there was literally no logical way they could have been my fault, and we had a ton of foreign students who could've gotten them while traveling, and they were also in dorms I’d never so much as stepped foot in. I was one of very few black students on that campus and I'd never been called fucking DIRTY to my FACE by a group of white people who acted as if that was a totally reasonable thing to say- and been blamed for something i could not possibly have done- by a member of my schools faculty before.

edit: got this on april 10th and saved it as a draft, then forgot to publish it.. sorry king !!

[makwandis]

Yeah I think one of the main things abt usa or Canada being portrayed as indigenous is that like. We don't even really identify as that lol. Anyone who really knows their culture and nation won't identify as that. A native Canada or usa would be regarded by us with pity for allying w/ that state and not what their actual nation is. Cause ok if Alfred or Matthew are native....where are they from. Is Alfred like, what, Powhatan? When did he stop being that? Is Matthew Mikmaq? Why did he stop being Lnu? Especially when Mikmaq culture is very strong and the language is very strong too like ???

To me it would mean that these two must have gone through horrific amounts of trauma and suffering that leads them to renounce their true nations and become ... Canada and USA? Somehow ? How would this happen idk. I don't think them fuckin honkies in Ottawa and Washington woulda let Matthew and Alfred's Brown asses near them lmfao. Like I don't get it.

I see a lot of ppl do also a mixed take on them like they're half native and white which is also just 😬 . Why didn't they fuckin stay with their nations. Is this another case of stolen indigenous children? Sinister af man.

Like I don't identify as a Canadian. Lived in canada I'm not a Canadian because my nation there is not Canadian. Never has been never will be. We want autonomy and separation eventually. The Haudenosaunee have their own passport. I know babies who were born in "manitoba" never registered as Canadians don't have a SIN number don't have a health card nothing because their family is so against that Canada identity they refuse to have any future generations apart of it.

Indigenous separatism and autonomy in North america is rarely spoken about bc it is a huge threat to resource extraction industries which all happens on native land. Our people, our traditional governance, don't wanna be apart of these colonial states.

And native Canada or usa would just be...a sad sad example of extreme white washing and assimilation. It's a very depressing idea.

In my personal fanon I actually don't have a Canada or usa because those are some fake ass countries and especially Canada doesn't have enough unified identity or culture to merit a representation. I have various ocs. I have innumerable north American ocs because its so regional here! I'm happy with that. It makes sense to me.

Course no shame to native fans who make native characters however they want this is just a silly little anime thingy. But . Those are some of my thoughts. Again lol

[hollowtones]

What's your favorite "weird" food? I'm watching a documentary about Anthony Bourdain (MHMBAB) and I was thinking the way you speak/explain things is really similar in like. Casual eloquence if that makes sense? So what's some weird stuff you've eaten that actually isn't that weird?

I don't think I'm anywhere on the level of Bourdain but I'm very flattered by the comparison, haha.

The only things I can think of that are "weird" by the standards of, idk, North American white people, is like... tripe, I guess. I had intestines in pho once and it was delicious. Really nice texture. Not much taste on its own but it soaked up the taste of the broth really nicely.

I got to suck the heads (LOL) on shrimp once and it was real good. I feel like a lot of times when you get shrimp around where I live they've taken the heads off already, but the innards there have really good taste. This was years ago so I don't really remember what it was like, other than "savoury" and "I liked it". Apparently you can eat the whole damn head if you fry it real good? I wanna try that at some point. I've heard crab innards are also really damn good but I've only ever had crab in the form of crab cakes before.

One time when I was a kid an uncle told me to try raw white onion and peanut butter on a cracker. It's very weird and it's not for everyone. I liked it though. I haven't had it in years & I don't know if I'd still like it. But I liked it when I was, uh, six? Maybe seven.

There's lots of food out in the world and I want to try more of it.

[keyshui]

DC/BATFAM WING AU.

because i’m thoroughly and unhealthily obsessed with wingfics right now and i need to share my au ideas.

(pre info warning: these characterizations are based on a mixture of comics and the young justice tv show because some characters i only know from young justice.)

first some worldbuilding:

not every person has wings. wings only grow on people with an incredible amount of drive and willpower, be it for good or for evil. wings have to be earned not by action but by heart and soul. the species of bird that corresponds with a persons wings can be based on personality, the person’s goals, even their genetics or appearance. there’s no solid way of determining what wings a person might have.

a persons wing species can change! that change usually happens because of a sudden and important event in their life, but can also change if their motivations/goals change.

the way people view wings varies. most people consider them a good sign or a blessing. if a bird species has a superstition following them, it’s often that it follows a person with that bird’s wings too (like with crows and an association with death). the same thing goes for what birds might symbolize in different cultures.

okay onto the cool stuff

THE BAT FAMILY’S WINGS!

all of the bat family has wings that belong to the corvidae family, or birds related to crows, ravens, magpies, etc. robins are the only exception to this rule because they start off with (shockingly enough) robin wings, though all eventually change.

BRUCE WAYNE has carrion crow wings. they’re dramatic, huge, and often ungroomed- criminals are terrified of Batman’s wings.

DICK GRAYSON starts off with north american robin wings. when he becomes Nightwing, his wings molt into pied raven wings (an extinct raven species) that look a bit like the night sky.

JASON TODD also starts off with robin wings. somewhere along his journey through death they get cut off, and when he’s stuck in the lazarus pit, regrown as hooded crow wings.

TIM DRAKE’s robin wings change into cayenne jay wings (which you need to look up because they’re fucking hilarious and i think really embody him) when he grows into Red Robin.

DAMIEN WAYNE has always and always will have magpie wings. he never gets robin’s signature feathers. talia instilled an intense, unchanging drive in him when he was very young

BARBARA GORDON’s wings also change- as bat girl, she grows common crow wings (to jim gordon’s delight /s). losing the ability to walk never hurt her willpower, only changed it. Oracle’s wings are red billed chough wings

CASSANDRA CAIN’s wings are huge and striking, possibly larger than bruce’s. they’re white necked raven wings.

i know there’s members of the batfamily missing here, but i’m still working my way through the comics and don’t know enough about steph or duke (or anyone else i’m missing) to be confident about giving them wings yet.

i might post a condensed and more digestible version of this idk.

[ziskandra]

*cackles* 7, 10, 11, 13, and 24

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them? hate is probably too strong a word but i've developed a knee-jerk reaction to fellow anders fans over the years because of the subset that truly seem to think he can do no wrong and that all of his actions were entirely justified and had no negative consequences for anybody in kirkwall other than the templars. on one hand, i kinda get it, because i know anders fans have also gotten a lot of flack because... this fandom is incapable of being normal. on the other, i have a knee-jerk reaction towards anyone who assumes everyone plays these sort of games the exact same way as them (or indeed, the same way each time). i totally respect people doing whatever they want in their games and in their fanworks, but it's when it comes out in harassment of others or making bad faith assumptions about the character of actual living human beings that i'm like. no thank you. obviously there are fans of other characters who also engage in this behaviour, anders is just the one where my negative fandom experiences outweigh the positive ones, personally.

oh also, while i'm being salty (the name of the game i SUPPOSE), i fucking love f!handers but m!handers leaves me cold (especially in canon-verse fic, i don't mind it as much in like, modern AUs and the like?) idk i feel like them being the same gender changes their dynamic in a way i can't articulate--probably that hawke being female shifts the power dynamics a bit and. yeah. 10. worst part of fanon

again, 'worst' is probably a harsh word, but when it comes to pervasive fanon that i personally just don't like, it has to be visibly mixed-race alistair. i don't mind it as much when his ears have like, a subtle point to them or whatever, but speaking personally as someone who is visibly mixed, to the point that i have fielded complete strangers asking "what are you" on regular occasions, alistair's narrative would be. quite different if he wasn't human-passing. and while i get that some mixed-race people find solace in making their blorbos more representative of who they are and their identities not causing any issues, it leaves me cold. and again, i don't care what other people do, but it's when some people act like fellow fans who dare depict alistair as he appears in canon are being racist or what have you that i get annoyed. like, yeah, dragon age fandom does have problems with race, but like... this is imo not one of them, and it detracts from like. bringing awareness to actual issues. yeah yeah people can care about multiple things at once, but by the same token, people can only care about so many things at once, yknow? also this fandom in particular has a real problem with treating poc like we're all a monolith, and that includes both white people and poc. i find it especially frustrating that the dominant discourse centers north american race politics the most, but god forbid anyone try to address that directly .... but that's a rant for another time lmao. 11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered i have about 16 fandoms i'm not in filtered mostly bc they just turn up on my dash a lot, and a handful of characters/ships filtered for fandoms i am in! the one that has been consistently filtered the longest is reyes vidal. 13. worst blorbofication

oooh, this one i think is a toss up between alistair and varric. as someone who loves both these characters more for their flaws rather than their virtues, fandom can be. a difficult time! alistair often gets reduced to this...perfect prince charming, which i think is kind of disappointing considering there is so many different ways for his story to develop depending on the the outcomes of origins? varric, otoh, gets reduced to hawke's bestie a lot. and look. i get it. he is hawke's bestie. he is. very uncritical of hawke, which is not as much of a problem if hawke's a good person but. what if they're not? what if they're not, varric. god, what i would give for like. a fucking complicated characterisation-rich fic which explored like. hawke and varric's friendship and how they're like. codependent messes. (and i say this as someone who loves codependent messes lol). and i guess like.... everyone treats varric being viscount as a meme. and yeah, i get it, the dude is everything everywhere all at once. but i'd really love to see more content focused on like... his relationship with kirkwall, and his feelings regarding his friends and becoming viscount and yeah. anyway!! being a blorbo of mine is the worst because i enjoy pain and suffering. anyway, 24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

mage rights and also the chantry boom. i don't think i even have to elaborate on this do it 😭 🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

[vinilsoup]

I hate asking for favors, but this is not for me. Last year, I've taken of the street and cared for five animals, a young white tom cat that appeared in my street, that I took to be castrated and found a home, a litter of three newborns kitties who were abandoned in the road just below my street, which I had to take care 24/7 for a month until they were old enough to be adopted, and Orion, my dog, that showed up on my door, I thought he was lost but has been likely abandoned, nobody wanted to adopt him so I took him.

Mars the cat has been showing up in my balcony for longer than any of those pets. He was a terrified of humans cat, very hungry, clearly a tom cat due to his extreme territorialist behavior with other animals, big puffy cheeks and always hurt because of fights. He had and still has one eye that has a very dark coloration.

I feed him for six months, hoping one day to befriend him and take him to be at least castrated. While he let me get closer, I ended up needing a cat trap to castrate him.

After being alone with me, he became very sweet and cuddly, but needs time to socialize with other animals (I already had two cats with feline leukemia, which is why is so important to me to vaccinate Mars, so if he doesn't find someone to adopt him he could live with me), especially Orion my dog.

He ended running away trice despite my house being catproofed, but three weeks after castration, he calmed down and is living in my balcony/front yard.

However, he suffered a lot in life, has big deep scars into his face and it's clear he lived on the street for years. He needs vet treatment, specially to be vaccinated and examine what's wrong with his eye. The vet said it could be a variety of things and he needs examination.

Like I said, I've done a lot last year, and in top of all I was unemployed while doing it. I had help, but a lot of costs ended up for myself. I found a job in December but it was in a mall, and it was so draining, especially because I may be autistic, so the noises and the people made me have multiple breakdowns, so I had to quit after only 3 weeks.

I took Orion to the vet, castrated and gave the first dose of the vaccine to Mars while I was still employed, and now I'm not and they both need the second dose.

I'm badly indebted, live alone, my family lives far and my parents passed when I was a teen, so I don't have who to ask for help, besides hoping some kind strangers will help me give this cat the life he deserves after being neglected and probably abused by humans.

About pricing, I'm Brazilian, I know things are hard everywhere because of the crisis, but we've been always kinda fucked when it comes to money, so it's almost unbearable rn. I'm searching for jobs and am doing some selective process, but it'll take a while.

The value of only Mars vet expenses are 570 reais, which is around $114 dollars. With Orion's expenses added the value, the total is 780 reais, around $156 dollars.

Anyone who is North American or European, by donating a dollar you will be helping immensely. This is like a lot of money here, it's almost my full rent, and I ain't got no money to pay that either shajjakajdks but I'm only asking for help for them! I can get myself out of this mess, but their health can't wait.

My p@yp4l is (removed, goal reached!)

There's also this group founding thing here, idk if people form outside Brazil can donate there but I'll leave the link here.

And if you can share I'll appreciate it too. Thanks.

Goal reached, thanks everyone!

[moesartblog]

I watched un*corn warr*ors eternal (censored so it doesn’t end up in the tags) the other night and it another thing I’ve seen a bunch of ppl really like but I was super disappointed by. Spoilers for the show btw

I’m gonna do a brief rant. If you liked the show that’s great keep liking it I just want to share my quick personal thoughts.

-I hated the art style. I understand some of the influences for it. I know what it’s aiming to partially emulate. I simply could not stand the way any of the characters looked. That’s an entirely personal preference. I never really like the rubber hose/Betty boop kind of style to begin with.

-the pacing was horrid. A lot of supposedly important things were happening way too fast. There was so much trying to be crammed into so few episodes that there wasn’t any time for anything to breathe.

-I genuinely couldn’t tell what tone they were going for in many sequences. There were scenes I felt like we’re trying to be more slow and earnest but the combination of the art style and writing made it seem comedic and that was so jarring for me.

-(warning for racism discussion about indigenous American peoples and Indian people) ok idk if these are valid feelings but I had to ask for anyone who is either Indian (as in India) or any Indigenous person who has seen the show, the scene with the un-named, I assume north or South American indigenous person who gets possessed and loses all their hair? That didn’t seem great. I know the possessions are meant to be seen in a negative way but idk that didn’t sit right. Plus the way the character was designed I don’t think went beyond being a false sorta monoculture caricature. Then there was the I assume Indian character who was like a false mystic scheming the white woman lead character for whatever reason. That didn’t seem great either. If I’m wrong in my assessment of either of these feel free to tell me. I’m willing to retract my thoughts on this. I’m not an expert and I’d like to learn.

[striving-artist]

first of all, apologies: this may sound like needless bait and or agressiveness, it may not be my place, as a non usamerican, to comment on usa's politics, i can't hit enter on anon ask for some reason so this will be a block of text, and my english is of dubious quality when it comes to expressing my points. But as a non usa citizen, or even a non global north citizen, but honestly the bidencourse or whatever feels like its distracting... from the actual point? 1/?

Okay, first, Very Sorry it took me a while to answer. I wanted to wait and give this a proper response, and then real life got to be a Lot. Second, your english is better than my french, and your phrasing ends up saying things more clearly than native speakers because you’re trying to communicate, not say something with clever words. 

Actual answer now. It’s below the rest of your asks, which I copied all into this. I’m going to talk about Americans as ‘We’ in this. I know that there are exceptions, I hope I am an exception to it, but its easier to talk like this.

like, yeah, sure. american politics are horrifyingly influential on a global scale in such a manner no single country should be. yeah, sure, deciding whether your president did something bad, terrible even, whether your... ok i dont know the name of state guys in usa politics, so biden & folks, and whether you'll vote for or against him to continue supporting your political goals against their current actions is important, sure 2/?

but also, it really feels as a sorta... united states of america main character of the world moment? really bad at wording this, but it feels as though the vast majority of americans right now are using whats happening in palestine as... performance, sorta? political performance, or using palestine suffering as set dressing to their own issues. theres a really strong vibe of "see all these people suffering, *arent you, white american liberal* feeling guilty about your choices?" 3/?

its like... it really feels as though the whole things is abstract or like, superficial to most people posting about it right now. sure, theyre making a big show, or whatever, but instead of heres how you can actually help, heres what you can actually do about this, american posters are doing the equivalent of asking for a manager about a building thats on fire. theyre complaining more about their own politics than actually helping 5/?

and it circles back to how could my politician do this, or im not voting for him, and, sure, by all means, feel this way, act on it even, but like. grips their shoulder. Can you please not make it about yourselves. once in your lifes. can you please not think about people who are dying, who are being killed, who are being oppressed - in terms of set dressing for internal american politics? just this once? 7/?

this is going a little offtopic, but like, fuck yknow? i saw more people commemorating the death of kissinger than discussing on how to undo the shit he did, and most people commemorating were... americans. i celebrated too, because i was born raised and live in a country that got its dictatorship through american involvement, but it always ends up being how the world impacts america than the opposite, despite how ppl phrase it. sorry. idk. this ended up venty as hell. 8/8

As long as the USA continues to shove into the politics of other nations, especially in the global south, you have the right to comment on what is happening here. I’m happy to be a place for you to vent. You’re also right that the USA is acting like a Main Character. We have done that since Isolationism went out of style. Lots of American politicians on the right talk about ‘America First’ and staying out of other countries’ problems, but they just mean they don’t want to send aid money. Almost every American politician still wants to get involved when it suits their interest (oil, money, personal agenda, personal religion) 

Talking about Biden is an intentional distraction here. In part because our politics is a mess of blame shifting and personal attacks. In part because it’s election time, and anything a president running for re-election does is heavily scrutinized. But also, because most americans don’t know enough about global politics to actually talk about it. Instead, we make it about ourselves.

That gets amplified online, and especially on tumblr bc there’s a lot of americans on english websites. We are used to everything being about us. 

You’re right that our politics have a huge impact globally. That’s also true for Russia, China, and some key European countries. For the most part, the global south is considered unimportant. Not saying that’s a good thing, but it’s definitely true right now. The next american election could, genuinely, collapse the USA as we know it. I don’t mean the country will turn into anarchy and the purge overnight if Trump wins, but it would be very bad. I’ll ignore the problems we would have domestically for now and how those filter into the rest of the world. That’s an entire essay. They’re huge, but you asked about why we only see things through our own lens.

I kind of want to say that we just suck. That it’s ego, and nothing else. But, we’re actually taught to think this way. That won’t help your frustration, but it is the Why.

Americans get raised with an american perspective, obviously. We’re taught, pretty specifically, that we are a superpower who can change anything we want, and the rest of the world can’t stop us. Having veto power in the United Nations is a good example. We don’t see things that aren’t filtered through American media and reports unless we go out and look for them. Hell, we’re at a record high right now because 60% of americans have passports. We don’t go to other countries, when we do, we expect them to cater to us. We never see anything but the american side of things. 

And if America is the only one who can really have any impact, we see our elections as the Most Important Thing. It isn’t completely wrong. How our politicians think about other countries has a direct impact on the rest of the world. We supply a huge amount of money, weapons, and aid to countries. Right now, funding for aid to Ukraine and Gaza are really contentious in Congress. Congress has to pass the bills that let Biden send help. Our system is a mess, and we have people who are elected thanks to a few thousand, or a few hundred voters, that are going to be critical to get those bills passed. 

But that’s the bigger picture. That’s officials, and why, in a lot of ways, it DOES matter to the rest of the world how our politics change. I don’t like that, but so long as it’s true, then any american who cares about the rest of the planet needs to focus on effecting our government’s choices. 

As for individuals. You are very, very right about this. We treat global events as set dressing for our leaders. Like I said, it does matter, but the way we talk, especially online, is performance. 

Lots of americans WANT to help internationally. We feel helpless to do that. If you don’t have the money to donate to charities, it feels like all you can do is scream. Media and news in America doesn’t talk about the rest of the world, so we pour all of that anger onto our politicians, and expect them to fix it. We feel weak, we don’t know what to do, so we do the only thing we know. We don’t know the names of Knesset leaders. We don’t even know about UK politics unless it’s really dramatic, and they’re our closest ally and culture. 

To use your metaphor; we’re screaming at the manager because we think he has the keys, and we’re in the fire too. He doesn’t. We don’t know how to handle that. So we’re just screaming.

As for Kissinger, it ties into the above, I promise. A lot of the hate for him, and the celebrating that he died, is because we know what America has done is fucked up. He was a symbol of that. Lots of young americans hate what we did. Shit, lots of americans who were young back in the 70s hate what we did. Him dying felt like we’d gotten rid of some of the baggage tied to us (it doesn’t, we still interfere all over the world) It was a bit of good news when we are facing the fact that we can’t force other countries to obey us.  

I’ve talked before about how conflicted I am about this. I badly want America to step in Fix It. I want us to help the Rohingya. I want us to stop Putin in Ukraine. I want us to force a peace deal in Israel and somehow make things right. I want that so badly because I hate what’s happening. I also hate the idea of America continuing to act like we’re the main character. But. I hate that we could do more, and we aren’t. I think a lot of Americans feel that way. 

Americans who are watching the rest of the world feel weak right now. Younger Americans - who are more likely to be online talking, AND more likely to be watching the rest of the world - feel weak in every part of our lives. Money, politics, social stuff, corruption. We feel like we aren’t able to do anything. So we’re screaming at the manager because staying quiet hurts too much, and we don’t know how to change it. 

This is already long, and I don’t think it will make you or anyone else feel better. But I want to add this. 

Everyone pays attention to their immediate surroundings first. The people of Guyana are focused on Venezuela trying to annex them. The people of Sudan are thinking about how everything is falling apart for them. The problems in the US are pretty privileged. The danger for trans americans is bad right now. It’s not wrong to think about keeping yourself alive and safe first. You put on your own oxygen mask first. Everyone does. 

I don’t know if I missed something that you want me to talk about. I don’t know if this was helpful at all. Really, I just sympathize with you. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right, I want to shake americans by the shoulders, and I can’t. And I hate that. 

[chlodoll]

i was just trying something here and the week is now over (this was also getting longer than expected)

random thoughts of the week 😮‍💨

that song from north west is so catchy i can’t lie! it’s your bestie ~ miss miss westie ~~~

tiktok shop is really ruining the experience on there

andrew and emma broke up over a decade ago .. please get it together stop the lala land edits i beg

idk if those summer fridays lip balms are worth $24

i need to start watching sports these men are always fighting

selena selena selener… oh girl hahahaha

are kids really in 8th grade unable to spell their own names? what is going on?

still hate a man with a podcast mic

i really have no memory of fantasia and jennifer hudson being on the same season of american idol… i thought they were on different ones? you mean jennifer wasn’t a winner but won in the end?! oh i know that’s right!!

i’m actually shocked kylie didn’t walk the carpet at a wonka premiere yet she was there for most of them?

pardi is 40??? he has a kid???????

they did WHAT in the senate hearing room!!!!

suki still has that photo up on twitter cropping nabiyah out? oh she’s a nasty one and stands by it

and fuck south korea for not giving bts that exemption! giving it to people for playing fucking video games! are they insane?!

ariana needs to just rest and revamp rem beauty OR let it go

both of those rings are hideous

the day james gunn stops coming online and fact checking every damn thing is the day i know peace

these white boys of the month are more in the gutter each time. bring back the heartthrob!

seeing those pics of emma stone from behind with that long black hair for poor things is actually the thing convincing me to watch. idk what it’s about otherwise but that hair!

i never really felt deeply about veneers but zendaya should never get them. she has to keep the toof

it’s been time to recast kang

i really do love the bow trend. that one is really cute

i just want zac efron to be happy

how are they mad at people keeping up with tz and call us weirdos who only like tom and don’t like z when they get majority of their z news from here… if we didn’t like her how does that work? if they really thought we were the weirdos why are they here too?

book authors making fake accounts to leave 1 star reviews? on goodreads? wtf

i would love for meghan and megan to meet

i’m shocked people like the movie the holiday so much. even more that people loved the jack and kate relationship. i must’ve tuned them out each time i watched cause i have no idea how they happened

bridergton will be cancelled before they get to all those love stories. they gotta start doubling up. and shouldn’t have changed the order

drake and camilla cabello? please be serious!

why are they even releasing aquaman in theaters?

sydney sweeney is suddenly styled incredibly well

where is simone ashley casting news

the 9 month cruise on a boat from 2003 sounds like a bad idea

who was that white man who instantly became more attractive saying that grown woman by beyoncé was his favorite song by her?

when are they announcing spider man 4?

what did charles say to get them to totally ruin the crown? they were on his neck before. claire foy didn’t work her ass off for them to end the show like that

my reading goal is going to be 40 next year i’m over this

[celestialmaison]

gentle reminder because it’s almost election time in the united states: voting blue is not the end all be all solution to all american issues at home or abroad. a lot of people (including me) voted for a blue president (biden) the last time there was a presidential election and generally vote blue whenever there are “minor” elections because girl have you watched the news lately??? obviously vote blue … but hey let’s not forget that biden has

- pretty much done nothing to resolve student loan debt (or general american debt) issues

- not done anything significant regarding climate change (it’s oct. 2023 when im typing this if im wrong, correct me please)

- not made any effort to, idk, return abortion laws to all americans (“he can only do so much there’s rules” i don’t fucking care, thanks)

- pledged his support to the ongoing ethnic cleansing and genocide of palestine. continues to pledge his support to israel as of october 26 2023. is on twitter showing his ass the same way trump does. directly giving a thumbs up to the murder of thousands of thousands of people. doesn’t care that he is using american tax dollars to fund child murder and has in fact doubled down on his pov since this started. doesn’t care in generally apparently i can’t believe i voted for him or believed for a second that things would get better and he would be the one to make it happen.

can we maybe get up and recognize that voting blue is not (and probably has not been for a while if ever) what we and others have prophesied it to be?????? even on this shithole (affectionate) where i generally see some of the best internet etiquette about some of the most difficult topics of our lifetimes, people are saying vote blue no elaboration. just a few weeks ago i reblogged something about voting blue. “it’s better than voting red” “it’s the lesser of two evils” “it’s the best option” are you sure about that. why are two colors as far as we can get with conversations about laws and rights and freedoms that concern the lives of millions of fucking people that we’ve never even met. do we not recall that this country was built on black and indigenous slave labor, white supremacy, and indigenous genocide forced migration and ethnic cleansing, all for some “manifest destiny” bullshit because some dumbass was looking for another land, people, and culture to colonize (asia) and found north america by accident??????????? and that this legacy continues to perpetuate american politics regardless of what a candidates political colors are????????

i don’t know how much more of this shit we need to live through before we realize dividing the country by colors (red and blue) and “perceived values” (conservative and liberal) and leaving the conversation at the classic us vs. them is. fucking. stupid. if we can’t understand now after everything biden has done and will probably continue to do that voting blue is not going to save us, i don’t know what will make us understand. i’m twenty-two, black, queer, etc. and im tired of this fucking bullshit. i don’t know how our parents lived through this. i don’t know how anyone lives through this. but us vs. them is what got us into this, and i doubt it can get us out of it.

so when you go vote, please do your research first. i think i’d rather eat rocks or get thanos snapped than vote red, but like i just said, defaulting is part of the fucking issue, so read a thing or two before you pick your person, please. and take care of yourself and your mind or else (there are no consequences i just know we can’t fight the good fight if we all go insane so pls take care out there)(get a little treat do something silly skip responsibility cuddle something take a nap etc.)

and read about how you can support palestine (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sLUKG5HwKtFZZXaPOT3venMDq9PnJ_NM5dFzAhTRt_Q/edit#heading=h.hg4tp0gpsmmu) and please do something to express your support as well. inform, act, and pass it on.

[draculagerard]

Welcome one and all to the second day of whatever this is!

I’m losing my shit over the recap idk why it’s just so funny

THAT POOR GUY WAS JUST TRYING TO TAKE A PISS THATS GOTTA BE ONE OF THE WORST WAYS TO DIE

K so I know she’s dead and all and that really is sad and tragic but her headstone is really nice actually? Did you know the price for a pillow headstone like that would start at 1,500$(CAD) which is insane. Anyway you’re welcome for that fun fact 👍

Oh shit that scared me just as much as it scared Sam

Dean is such an asshole actually. <- that’s not even specifically about anything either, just a general statement

I’m begging this show to treat women like actual real life human people, like I know they don’t the entire show run but holy fuck

Actually almost as soon as this episode started things started looking familiar and I looked it up and while yes, the pilot was filmed in LA, almost the entirety of the rest of the show was filmed in Vancouver. That’s actually code for ‘we really filmed all over the lower mainland but we don’t want to get too broad or too specific’ watch me start and point things out that I recognize from here on out. (Season 1-5 of the x-files were filmed in Vancouver and I straight up seen science world in the background)

OBSESSED WITH THE DRAMATIC ZOOM INS ON THE RIPPED UP TET

ROY YOU DUMBASS

Love when shows in the 2000’s just casually call indigenous people Indians. Tbh I feel like it bothers me less than it does some people because even now it’s so used in even a professional setting because it’s still the ‘correct’ term. Like real life if you were to search up ‘what is a rez’ the first definition would be ‘a North American Indian reservation or reserve’ not important to spn or anything just interesting

YESS MOLOTOV COCKTAIL THAT BITCH

OOOOH NOOOOOO

shoot it WITH FIRE

They are aware that... women aren’t like that... right? Like maybe she might act like that but... they’re not gonna do this to the rest of them... RIGHT?

also sam you've brought this upon yourself be prepared for like 1 pf these a day

WIN

yeah silly show silly recaps <3 <3

RIGHT WLKJRKFE ITS SO FUNNY

FOR REAL?? THAT IS INSANE YEAH . thank you for the fun fact belle

YEAH right!!! I just watched the first 2 and a half episodes yesterday so it's fresh in my mind

NO LIKE FOR REAL. HES SO. UGH.

literally oh my god. baby seasons change but 15 years of spn bigotry dont

NO FOR REAL!! ALSO OOOH i did not know that!!! that's so interesting

IT'S SO FUNNY

LITERALLY ROY YOU DUMBASS.

OOOH huh for real?? About the part where you look that up and it still says that. yeah , yeah i hear you

LITERALLY <3

when in doubt, use a special gun in the white american gun show!!!

im not sure they are. also yeah brace yourself it's just like this forever... does it get better? yes. but marginally and like it gets worse in some other aspects of misogyny SO

i'm literally so excited belle you dont understand... also this is nothing sometimes i woke up to 100+ dm notifs from Noah drop-of-infinity reacting to spn episodes <3