#it's absolutely a fool's errand

[anarchotolkienist]

"Removing religion as a force from politics" - good fucking luck with that project.

[wobubling]

Hey if fitz brought beloved back into his own body then died when he was trying to revive beloved’s, leaving him behind all alone possessing Fitz’s empty shell would that be fucked up or what

[polite-pandemonium]

There's this TikTok trending sound floating around where the gist is 'can't tell if the friend who is always fake flirting with you is still fake flirting' and I immediately thought of these two. It's practically canon IMHO.

Who is kicking up the fake flirting a notch differs between the two of them on the daily.

[slowparts]

hey how did i get here? what am i doing here? *manager*? surely not, couldn’t be me

[chaotictissuebox]

So I may have had a little dab of inspiration from @birdybirdnerd au on ao3

also known as a fate or fools errand

So here’s the results under the cut cause it’s a bit

also spoilers for it

Anyway there’s like 3 more videos so I’ll go take care of those now <3

[fratpackhasmeinachokehold]

Fitz having a skill headache and The Fool calming him down and comforting him

SEND HELPPPP I AM NOT OK

[samwisefamgee]

haven't done anything on Sunday for the past two fucking months because a friend has made plans for all of us then canceled them the day of or before every. fucking. time.

[tribow]

Being a brush main in the previous life really taught me how to run away in Splatoon. Now, whenever I get chased while playing tri-stringer I can become an annoying target to chase down.

Similar to the ol' brush days, I even throw down a toxic mist the moment I know I'm dead. If I'm going down I'll inconvenience you from the grave.

[scottishstoner]

Terrible night at work at the restaurant, fucking hate this waitress who thinks she’s hot shit coz she has like 20 years experience - yeah she’s great but the fact she’s never been promoted speaks volumes to me and she’s a fucking cunt man. I have 5/6 years restaurant experience, same with bar…worked in many “fancy” paces doing hospitality, serving etc..I didn’t even get a chance to tell this bitch, all she asked was “worked in hospitality before?” When I met her first time tonight and I said yes and she just said “oh good” and didn’t give a fuck then began telling me her life journey to here like I even gave a fuck after the way she treated me acting like I was a toddler that didn’t know basic shit

[teacasket]

how skz would prank you on april fools’ day

genre: fluff    au: non idol au warnings: none    word count: 0.2k    pairing: gn!reader x ot8 a/n: some of these are just them being annoying lol

bang chan

He leaves you a long voicemail that starts off normal but then becomes a Rickroll. The song gets stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

lee minho

He shows you a picture of two cats on his phone and tells you that he's going to the shelter later to pick them up. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

seo changbin

He’s in charge of the post-workout smoothies, so you think nothing of it when he hands you a pale beverage. When you take a sip, you realize there's absolutely no protein in there; it’s all vanilla ice cream.

hwang hyunjin

He buys himself a full sequin suit. When you two leave the house to run errands, any time he walks into the sun, he pretends he’s Edward Cullen from Twilight, much to your embarrassment.

han jisung

When you’re playing a game at your computer, he comes up to you and announces that he disconnected the router. Of course, you freak out and then soon remember Stardew Valley does not require WiFi. Jisung thinks it's hilarious.

lee felix

He buys you the ugliest skins for your most played character/weapon on League of Legends, Valorant, etc. Free stuff is nice, but now you feel obligated to use them. Your eyes will never recover.

kim seungmin

He will not talk, only sing. At first, it seems fun. However, if he stopped adding so many runs and flourishes to all of his sentences, maybe you could actually have a conversation with him.

yang jeongin

He acts like it’s your birthday. You get cake, balloons, and an empty wrapped cardboard box because apparently getting you a real gift is taking the prank too far. At least the cake’s good.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! I love your writing so much! It always gives me such a good chill and I absolutely adore the way the words all flow together! May I request a hero trying to escape from a villain and when the villain finally catches them there's a bit where they lift the hero's chin with a sword?

"Ah, good," the villain drawled. "You managed to apprehend our little runaway."

The hero grunted in pain, as the guards threw them down onto their knees. Their gaze darted around the room - a war room of maps and schemes too high up on the table for them to see properly, the dulled silver of the guards uniforms, and the perfectly polished leather boots standing not far ahead of them.

"Though not," the villain said, "without a little bloodshed, I see? Take yourself to the infirmary tent. I can handle him from here."

The hero's jaw clenched. They kept their head bowed, doing their best to keep their face obscured.

"My lord," the guard said.

As the room emptied, the hero tested the tightness of the ropes binding their wrists and ankles. They strained for the knots. No good. Before they could even start to rise, the villain had drawn their sword with a soft shick and pressed it to the hero's throat in one swift move.

"Suddenly shy?" the villain asked. "I was expecting spitted defiance and glares. Maybe some elegant spiel at what a monster I am and how I will never get away with this."

The hero said nothing.

The villain hummed, using the tip of the blade to tilt the hero's head up.

The hero braced themselves as their gazes met.

The villain froze.

The hero's lip curled; a smile most mocking.

"Guards!" the villain yelled.

The guards returned immediately from outside, even as the villain's attention stayed locked on the hero's face.

"Would you like to tell me," the villain's voice was silken, dangerous, "why you've captured the wrong person?"

"I - my lord?"

"This is not the prince. Do you not know your own prince?" the villain asked.

"But they - they wielded the royal blade, my lord - they -"

Power, dark and ominous, ripped through the room like a thousand shadowy swords appearing in the air.

The guards fell silent.

"Fooled ya," the hero rasped. "Sucker."

"Go to where you found them," the villain ordered. "The prince can't have got far-"

The guards stayed silent. They didn't move. The smile on the hero's lips grew a little more.

"What?" the villain snapped.

"They put up - that is - the fight and the chase went on for some time, my lord." The head guard sounded strained. "Any of their tracks would have been destroyed by our own. The prince is long gone, my lord."

The power struck in an instant.

The lead guard dropped, dripping blood from a thousand blade cuts. The hero managed not to flinch. Somehow.

"Would somebody like to try that again?" the villain asked.

"We'll find him, my lord," another guard said, pasty with sweat. "We'll go and look now."

Most of the guards left, on that hopeless errand. Someone dragged the head guard's body out. His blood was already beginning to turn inky.

The hero felt light-headed with a mixture of triumph and terror, as they eyed the villain over the hilt of their sword. The villain studied them in turn.

The running, after all, had been genuine. Escape had always been the plan. Still. They supposed the ruse had fulfilled its purpose either way, just so long as no one was stupid enough to come back for them.

"Who are you?" the villain demanded.

The hero shrugged.

The villain pressed the blade in a little harder. "Who. Are. you."

"I'm your tailor's assistant."

"...excuse me?"

"I help mend your clothes and the clothes of your soldiers," the hero said. "Thrilling, isn't it?"

The villain stared at the hero like they thought they might be joking. They weren't.

"You were skilled enough with a blade to fool my highest ranking officers."

The hero shrugged again.

The villain used the blade to tilt the hero's head the other way. "You really do look remarkably similar to the prince, on first glance."

"Bet you regret killing your own men in a strop now."

The villain draw the blade down again, opening the smallest wound. Blood pooled in the hero's collar bone, shimmering a faint, barely there silver.

"You're one of the king's bastards," the villain said.

The hero resisted the urge to swallow.

The villain's eyes narrowed, liquid shadow, as they seemed to consider their options, before a truly terrible smile flashed across their face. Charming. Beguiling.

They looked up at their guards.

"Take our little runaway to my quarters. Do make sure that they're secure this time, won't you?"

They definitely should have ran faster.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Since you’re doing some Welsh lessons, I was wondering if you’d teach us some Welsh idioms? I have a committed love for all the different sayings in different languages so I’d love to know if there are any particular to Welsh!

Thank you!! (Diolch?!)

Tonnes! Let's see

Mae'n bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn: it's raining old ladies and sticks (it's raining cats and dogs)

Mae'n ar y gweill: it's on the (knitting) needles (It's in progress)

Mae e'n cadw draenog yn ei boced: he has a hedgehog in his pocket (he's stingy with money)

Dawnsio ar y dibyn: dancing on the cliff edge (playing with fire)

Ar bigau ddrain: on thorn tips (on tenterhooks)

Y drwg yn y caws: the bad in the cheese (the problem)

A'i wynt yn ei ddwrn: with his wind in his fist (he's out of breath)

A ddwg ŵy a ddwg fwy: he who steals an egg will steal more

Fel cynffon buwch: like a cow's tail (later than everyone else)

Angel pen ffordd, diawl pen tân: angel on the road, devil at the fireplace (two-faced)

Mi/fe rown fy mhen i'w dorri: I'll give my head for breaking (I'm absolutely certain)

Paid â chodi pais ar ôl piso: don't lift your petticoat after pissing (don't cry over spilt milk)

Deuparth gwaith ei ddechrau: Two-thirds of a job is starting it (the first step is the hardest)

Ennyn cannwyll i chwilio am haul canoldydd: to light a candle to search for the mid-day sun (a fool's errand)

Hawdd dywedyd ‘mynydd’ na myned drosto: It is easier to say ‘mountain’ than to go over it (easier said than done)

Gwyn y gwêl y frân ei chyw: The crow sees her chick as white (To have a biased opinion of someone)

And finally, my personal favourite:

Mae rhaid i mi dod nôl at fyng nghoed: I have to get back to my trees (I am mega stressed and I need to find my equilibrium.)

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[aangarchy]

Every atla AU is like "aang was found later" or "aang was found earlier" or "aang died and someone else became the next avatar" or "aang never got encased in ice and died 100yrs later and yue became the next avatar" but what about an AU where Aang never got found at all and remained encased in ice forever?

The world would have to accept that the avatar will never be reborn. No one knows what happened to the cycle. Even spiritual experts are absolutely baffled bc by all measures, the cycle shouldn't have stopped at all. People assume the young airbender would have been killed during the fire nation raids, while in the avatar state. But there would have been reports of that. People couldn't have missed a glowing kid? And if the cycle is supposedly gone, why do we still feel Raava's presence?

All contact with the spirit world eventually ceased. Even spiritual elders like Iroh eventually aren't able to meditate into the spirit world anymore. The Fire Nation's drill plan would have succeeded. They would have conquered the Earth Kingdom fully. The only true free nation remaining would be the Northern Watertribe, who remain in their ice fortress locked away from the rest of the world forever. Airbenders remain extinct.

Zuko gives up on his search for the Avatar after 4 years. At this point the 17yr old realizes he was sent on a fool's errand. It was his father's intention for him to never return. Him and Iroh abandon the ship, and make it to Ba Sing Se, where they settle and become Earth Kingdom citizens. Sokka and Katara leave the Southern tribe around the same time, in search of Hakoda. With Katara's limited waterbending skills they make it to Whale Tale island and catch a boat from there. Then they travel the Earth Kingdom with the limited information they have to find their dad. Toph eventually runs away from home to go to Earth Rumble competitions all over the Earth Kingdom. Her goal is to become the world champion. Suki's ambition to help refugees and fight in the war would cause her to take a troop of Kyoshi warriors and leave Kyoshi Island.

These people were destined to meet, with or without Aang. Their paths would cross one way or the other. A banished prince, the son and daughter of the Southern Watertribe chief, the leader of the Kyoshi warriors, and the only heir to the Bei Fong estate, they would make a team and devise a plan to stop the war. But they would always feel like something is missing. And that something is beneath the ice, in a deep eternal slumber. Would they even succeed?

[palant1r]

the thing about voting for president in america is that, if you have decided it is morally wrong to vote for a person who has done or will do war crimes, or who will enable injustice in office, you cannot in good conscience ever vote again. like america is and always has been a genocidal empire that literally has always existed as an imperialist illegitimate state built on conquest and exploitation. morally "pure" participation in our political system simply is not a realistic thing to strive for.

as a citizen in america, you will both suffer from the consequences of local inequality/resource injustice and reap the benefits of being a part of the imperial core. this is inevitable. this is a way in which you will be part of the political system regardless of if you purport to abstain. not voting is not a conscientious objection to the system. it is a choice to continue to exist in a system, but give up any influence you may have over it.

like, withholding your vote/voting undecided in the primaries does send a meaningful message i think. but in the general election? not voting or voting third party is functionally a vote for trump because of how low voter turnout favors republicans. this is not a moral judgement but a political fact. there is no functional practical way to be neutral in the upcoming presidential election.

sucks, right? it sucks! it absolutely sucks! for the record, i really don't like that this is how things are, and i do fully believe that america sorely needs electoral reform, because the current system is a fucking farce!

but that's how it is. that's the reality of being a political participant in the electoral process of an empire. there is legitimate positive change to be had through biden. there is even more horrible negative consequences that will result from another trump presidency.

i'm not a fan of derisive posts referring to people withholding their vote because of gaza as "single issue voters." because like. yeah, actually, it IS morally defensible to have the prevention of a genocide be a single issue.

but withholding your vote for biden for gaza's sake isn't voting against gazan genocide. it's voting to intensify it. it's voting to end any chance at american pressure being put on israel to end it in the next four years.

and i understand if voting for genocide joe makes you feel dirty. i understand if you hate him. i hate him.

but being american means being a constant participant in systems that enable genocide. you pay taxes. you buy phones. this is not a moral judgement, but an emphasis that to attempt to absolve yourself of sin by divesting completely from any individual choice tainted with imperialism is a fool's errand. drawing the line at voting is simply not a rational ethical choice.

your individual choice will not make the genocide stop. collective action and other unified political strategies are infinitely more useful than withholding votes in the general election

and while you're doing those, show up to the polls in november and vote for biden.

[dhampling]

I've had this idea in my head ever since I first played as a Dragonborn or Tiefling in BG3, and I have no idea why it isn't discussed more. But what if a Tiefling! (Or Dragonborn, whichever you prefer) Tav shows affection by coiling their tail around their s/o? Like they're close by and are just overwhlemed with love and adoration, and their tail just kinda wraps around their lovers leg? Or wrist or anywhere they can reach! Like Tav is hugging Astarion and then without really realizing it, their tail coils around him as well? Idk, I just think the concept is super sweet/cute. I would love to see this as a small story, or even just head cannons if you want to explore the idea as well. No pressure, obviously, ignore it if you wish to ❤️ hope you're doing well!

a tail of... insert pun here! tavs with TAILS. tails with tav. tav tails with dal.

hello sweetling! can i start by saying that i loved this - genuinely, absolutely loved this. i started by writing HCs and got a bit carried away, so i hope you enjoy the little bit of both here! thank you for giving me something different - this is absolutely not something i'd have thought of and i had SO MUCH FUN. a/n: species isn't mentioned, and I've tried to keep it as generic as possible so it could be applicable for tiefs or dragonborn tavs!

headcanons;

As far back as you can recall you’ve been particularly expressive

It’s not something that you’ve ever seen as an issue, beyond the occasional mishap you can laugh over with any tail-whipped parties later

Frantic little licks of excitement when playing with your peers as a youngling come to mind as an immediate example

Running amok and jumping with the widest of smiles as your tail oscillates behind you

Your family chiding you playfully whilst rubbing their stinging ankles after a particularly jovial day in your presence

Your parents holding you whilst you were still small enough to be held

Your tail bony and light, and yet tightly winding around their forearms as you rested on their torso like a twisting vine

A sign of comfort, safety

A sign that hasn’t lost any significance as you’ve aged

Many a time you’ve run into an old friend and accidentally lashed them in sheer glee, loosely wrapping your tail to whichever limb you can to keep them close as you agree to wander the local bustling market together

And so when you begin to bond with your fellow escapists as you search for a cure for your unfortunate parasite problem, it’s inevitable

It doesn’t even cross your mind

Not until the day where everything just went right 

For the first time since your abduction you’ve emerged your battles all victorious, casualties kept to a minimum, and with enough variety in supplies to have a proper meal 

Spirits are high, wine is flowing; and your party has a real energy of optimism

Your tail flitters back and forth like a moth to a flame as your take to your feet and search for the one who has captured your attention

fool's errand;

It takes Astarion a little aback when the wine steers you towards him.

A few weeks in each others’ presence, sure. A night or two; possibly three, maybe even four at this point, of mutual enjoyment under the stars. Frequent back and forth exchanges while on the road, bantering like old friends. You give him your neck, he offers you moral support.

But on a night where the joy is positively spilling from every cup in camp, you step to him?

He’s unsure whether to be flattered or cautious.

If you’re to end your arrangement, surely tonight - where the conversation is so effusive, so effortless across your party - would be the optimal time to do so. Laugh it away as a lapse in judgement between ‘old friends’, as you often joke, and drift from him to a more viable prospect as the coming days pass. Leave him as the least amicable in camp once more. He’d understand.

Not that he’d like it.

But he’d understand.

Or, he’d try to. He might be a little upset if Lae’zel wins Lady Congeniality over him, but it’s not the end of the world.

He’d have to hope the group still would still want to keep him around of course. Be a little nicer to Gale. Offer to help Karlach carry your packs between camps. 

What is he offering you if not his nimble fingers? Maybe he went too hard on gunning for you. Or not hard enough, perhaps?

You quirk a brow as you snap your fingers in his face, wine sloshing gently in your other hand.

Clearly his face is now showing his displeasure.

“You ok? Hello?”

“Oh! Yes, my sweet. Lost in thought.” 

He waggles his fingers and lifts his goblet to toast alongside yours. To new friends.

“I must say - you being lost in thought is entirely unusual. Still wondering about the left handed tongs Gale sent you searching for earlier?” You laugh warmly. He scowls.

“I don’t eat! I haven’t eaten for two hundred years. What use would I have for tongs in a dungeon, darling?’

He sips.

‘A fool’s errand in very poor taste, if you ask me.”

You still. He pauses.

He’s feeling sour, and he’s ruined it for you. Sapped the joy from your evening. Gods.

He wracks his brain for ways he can come back into favour. 

Suggest other things he’d like to taste in order to clear his palate. He hasn’t eaten in two hundred years, and he’s absolutely famished. Whet your appetite a little. Win you back round.

“I can hear your brain whirring, you know.” You whisper, leaning close.

He freezes. Can you see it? Through the tadpole? His horrid scheming?

And you do the most unexpected thing.

Your arms come around his torso to envelop him in a tight hug.

You aren’t fervently clutching at his waist, running fevered hands over his abdomen or pulling yourself close just to feel his body against yours.

It’s soft. Clandestine almost. He doesn’t know how to react. 

“I do so adore you, you know? You make this sordid little adventure a little more enjoyable each day.’ 

You hum. Your head falls to his chest, your tail wrapping around his leg steadily.

‘You can talk to me about these things if you want to. If you figure out what you want to say. I’m here.”

He wouldn’t have anticipated a single one of your actions in the face of his sullen behaviour this evening.

Yet the one that touches him most is the tail now secure around his leg. 

A reminder of every tired day you flit joyously against him as you trek together, the curiosity and jubilee when he powers through a wholly trapped room with nothing but a single tool and a flourish - for good measure, of course.

Your little happy whips as you stumble on dire-needed pouches of gold alongside him. His lockpicking skill that you find oh-so enthralling, providing for the party in making use of his talent.

And every once in a while when you’re aside him, the way this happens.

A moment that reminds him of the beauty within bodies past their use for sexuality. How genuinely happy those little mindless touches make him. How his undead heart could maybe be cajoled into beating again over this one.

He coughs. Smiles. Brings his arms around you, though delayed.

Head resting atop yours. 

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you, treasure?”

Your tail flits against his leg in a happy shiver.

“Naturally, darling.”

You imitate him in a way that makes you both laugh like fools. Toast once again.

"To us."