#just spontaneously wrote this

[bawawawawaguitarsolofuckyeah]

Headcanon: Vox definitely plays video games.

It's part of his daily schedule (he's a surprisingly organized person) . He'd game after his working hours to let off steam and at least have some "me time"

But overtime, his workload just keeps on piling. As his businesses grew, so did the workload. Yeah sure he has workers, but he just doesn't trust them enough to believe they'd get the job done EXACTLY how he wanted it. And so, he does them himself. The man's a control freak AND a perfectionist. (Have you seen his monitors with eyes everywhere??!! The way he FREAKED out when Alastor is back in town, ruining his image without even trying - he's someone he cant control. )

Because his workload has been more and more demanding, he loses time for gaming, thus losing an outlet for himself. An outlet for his frustrations, stress, and plain tiredness. (Well. Thats when Valentino enters the scene)

He loses time for himself. He barely sleeps enough, and he can't remember the last time he ate a decent meal. It's a horrible cycle, really.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ROSE: That dream you had is very interesting, Dave.

ROSE: Freud would say it's indicative of intense sexual repression due to dealing with your brother so often, and having little physical freedom.

ROSE: Although Jung would say that it has nothing to do with sex, and simply indicates that you want to be a person with more of a purpose in life.

ROSE: Then Freud would say, "No, that's stupid. Purpose is so vague and hardly means anything about the patient or the dream. The interpretation of the genital fixation makes far more sense."

ROSE: Then Jung would retaliate with, "Not everything is about sex, you idiot! He's a teenager! How much could unconscious sexual desires affect him? And purpose just means that there is a lack of direction in his life. He wants something to do, something to strive for! Shouldn't we try to help him find that purpose instead of just attributing everything to this reductive view of human psychology?"

ROSE: Then Freud would go, "Perhaps you're right. But you can't deny that something is being repressed here. Maybe not sexual desire, but there is certainly a desire for something other than purpose."

ROSE: Then Jung would say, "Not really. What else could it be? Love? That's just an offshoot of sex in your view. I don't get what it could be at all."

ROSE: Freud would nod sternly and say, "Perhaps the patient desires connection. Not necessarily closely tied to purpose, but connection to others in the world is something he needs. That's what the globes in the dream represent. Connection to the world, something other than the living space he is stuck in. That's certainly a major effect of having no mother figure in childhood."

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would sigh and say, "Connection. I see. Maybe that's something we all desire innately. We need to connect to each other and the world in order to understand what we need to do."

ROSE: Freud would take a step towards Jung and reach out a hand, saying, "Jung. We disagree so often that it feels there is no connection in the world. But I know we know each other. We can understand what we mean. If we all desire connection, that includes you and me. Let's try to connect more with each other, okay?"

DAVE: rose

ROSE: Jung would take Freud's hand and pull him close to his face, just inches apart from each other, and softly whisper, "Freud, you know that when I disagree with you, it's more because I envy you. I want to connect with you more, we can satisfy our... deepest desires, as you say... and become the ideal people we want to be if we are closer."

DAVE: ROSE

ROSE: What?

DAVE: shut up

DAVE: i did not sign up for your psychologist fanfiction

DAVE: tell me if im gay or not

[hcdragonwrites]

Thunderstorm

(a @jttw-monkeybusiness inspired Drabble)

It was hot today and we have a thunderstorm warning so I wrote something really quick! Enjoy another one this one is short.

A heat wave.

It was the only way to describe the sudden shift in temperature from the last week of travel to now.

Sophie turned her head upward, blinking against the sweat rolling from her face. The last of her sunscreen had been used now, to prevent her skin from cracking beneath the sun's attention. The hat Wukong had snatched from a while back was the only protection she had against the hungry rays of light that drove knives of pain into her skin.

This is a miserable business. She could feel the beginnings of a burn on her arms, from where the sleeves of her tunic didn’t cover her wrists.

It was midday, the heat blistering against the companion's skin. Pigsy complained at every step, at every rock in the road, at every breath. He was drenched, his robes dark from his body perspiring. He waddled at the back of the group, bemoaning his pain to the point that even Sophie was beginning to feel it grate on her nerves. It wasn’t like the rest of them weren’t also suffering in this insufferable heat.

Sandy simply stayed quiet, the only sign of suffering beneath the heat was that the demon had emptied seven water skins- ones he had carried himself. Sandy was closer to Pigsy, getting the brunt of his complaints.

Wukong kept his discomfort silent from what Sophie could see except when he would pointedly look back at them from the head of the group, staring at Trip as if waiting for him to say something. When the monk just kept walking, Wukong would turn back around and look upward to the column of thunderclouds beyond.

The heat seemed to suck all the moisture from the world, sending it up into the dark clouds that were beginning to grow in the mountains ahead of the group. It was a day that promised burning warmth and teased the relief of a downpour. A storm born of the heat. At least it was a reprieve of sorts from yesterday's typical shenanigans of Tripataka being almost devoured for the seventeenth time. At least Sophie thought it was seventeen. Was it actually eighteen?

Sophie and Trip were both walking side by side in the middle of the group, leading Yulong behind. The poor dragon horses' sides were slick with sweat, the white fur turned brown with the road dust. Wukong was carrying the saddle, the great leather contraption held easily in one arm to give their silent companion some relief.

“The gods are punishing us.” Pigsy groaned, rolling his pack from shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe they are punishing us for the wanton murder Wukong had committed just a bit ago.”

Pigsy please… Sophie groaned silently, as she saw the Monkey King whip his head around, teeth bared.

“I didn’t see you helping any to save our master.” Wukong shot back. “The last I saw was you running away from that battle when you got cut by the centipede women!”

Sandy rubbed his face, just as annoyed that these two were picking now to start something.

“I thought I would die of poison!” Pigsy gallantly said, hand to the cloth bound scrap on his arm. “I did not want my fellow companions to have to protect me and save our dear Monk.”

“Centipede's poison only hurts insects and smaller beings. Not demons like you.” Wukong countered. He had paused at the head of the group to swing his gaze on the pig demon. “You just wanted an excuse to get back and have the first taste of the sake we grabbed from those merchants at the festival!”

“You know drinking is forbidden on our holy quest!” Pigsy tried to piously counter but Wukong cut him off with his words and a savage slash of his hand.

“DIDN'T STOP YOU FROM DOWNING TWO CASKS OF IT AND LEAVING US TO EXPLAIN TO THE MONASTERY WHY THEY HAD LESS SAKE!”

“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Sophie muttered quietly. She was too tired, too sticky with road dirt, to care much for the beginnings of this argument. And it was shaping to be a big one. Pigsy wanted to take out his discomfort on someone and it didn’t take much to get the Monkey Kings hackles up. Blaming him for the heat? That would rankle his pride.

Trip also looked between the two, face begging silently please not now.

“Stupid Monkey!” Spat Pigsy.

“Shitty Swine!” Snarled Wukong.

The storm clouds ahead cracked with thunder, the noise temporarily pausing the quarrel.

The monk took advantage of the pause.

“Let’s rest.” Tripataka called, wiping his own forehead free of the sweat clinging there. The monk's eyes looked just as relieved as Sophie felt at the excuse to both rest and to stop a full blown argument from starting again. This had been the third one today, and soon it would come to blows or to Tripitaka using the charm to put the Monkey King to heel.

If that could be avoided it would be in everyone’s favor to avoid it. Wukong usually sulked after such uses and he and Tripataka would get into their own argument.

Tripataka and Sophie both beelined for a small copse of trees, Yulong snorting in relief. They left their companions behind without a second thought, both of them tired and sweating. For all Pigsys complaining, he wasn’t being baked by the sun as badly as their mortal companions. Tripataka had a red patch of skin beginning to form on the back of his neck despite the protection of the hat. Sophie could feel the beginning of a blister at her heel. She hoped it wouldn’t burst.

The immortals only took a moment before they too joined the rest of their company beneath the trees. Sandy set to making tea, already propping a fire up faster then Sophie could follow with her eyes.

Pigsy simply just fell against a rock beneath the shade, complaining loudly, grousing about how hungry he was and how he had a pain in his back that may need looking at. No one paid him any heed.

Trip and Sophie dropped their packs in an unceremoniously heap. Tripataka pulled out a curry brush and passed a flat brush to Sophie who took it wordlessly and set to work.

The two humans had fallen into a habit of helping to strip down and tend to the dragon horse, both taking to brushing the flanks. When Sophie had first been asked by Trip, she had been eager and a bit apprehensive. She didn’t have much experience with horses (let alone shape shifted magical dragon ones) to be confident in this task. But Trip had smiled and taught her the basics of care- from brushing his coat to checking his hooves for rocks that could threaten lameness, and bring discomfort.

“You're a patient teacher Trip.” Sophie had said.

“Thank you. It was actually Wukong who taught me to tend to Yulong.” The horse had nipped fondly at the sleeve of the monk in thanks.

“Wukong?” That surprised her. “He knows about horses?”

“Before he rebelled against Heaven he had been given the position of Stablemaster. It was his duty and job to tend to the celestial beasts of Heaven. He showed me what to do to take care of Yulong.” Trip rubbed at the horse's poll, earning a happy snort from the dragon horse. “You should ask him about it! He has seen so many fabulous beasts in the Heavenly stables to rival any lord or Emperor of earth.”

Of course Sophie had. She had bothered and questioned and asked everything she could of the Monkey King about what the Heavenly court looked like, what beasts he had tended, how he had taken care of them, and much more. Wukong, if in a good mood and not acting aloof or having been reprimanded by his Master, was always willing to boast about himself. Of course that usually meant an exchange of sorts. Yesterday it had been for her to sit with him as he answered her questions, rifling through Sophie’s bag and asking questions of his own on what these were and insulting them- he particularly had taken to insulting her makeup which Sophie had, of course, taken the bait on. She had only realized it was a trap until after she was halfway through the reason why her brand of makeup and mascara was perfect and made her look and feel like a goddess that she saw that shit eating grin and had shoved at him.

Today she wouldn’t ask him her typical questions. She had something else she wanted to do.

Wukong brought the saddle up and set it at the base of the tree, tail flicking back and forth. He glared at Pigsy, opening his mouth to finish the argument when Trip, without having to look up, stopped him.

“Leave him Sun Wukong.” He ordered. There was patience still in the monks voice. “He means none of what he says.”

“He means all of it, Monk.” Wukong retorted. Sophie saw Pigsy look up and grin at them, egging the demon monkey on.

“Go.” Tripataka pointed away from Pigsy to another shaded patch. “Cool your temper and yourself. Let us have a moment of peace until we must embark into the heat again.”

The Monkey king sniffed and turned on his heel angrily, leaving Sophie and Trip to their task. As he walked past Pigsy he curled his middle finger up and away from the rest of his hand, flipping the pilgrim the bird.

Of course Pigsy didn’t understand what that statement meant. Yet.

Wukong had pestered and bugged her about the hand signal she had given when one particularly shitty day finally had gotten beneath Sophie’s skin and she had reacted silently. It had been an unusually rough day when finally, her headphones (may they rest in peace) had died in the middle of Gustav Holst Jupiter.

Sophie had at first pulled the headphones out in disbelief and then tried to pop them back in. Maybe they just need to reconnect. She tried them again. No use. Her music was finally gone. So she of course reacted silently and, with what she thought at the time, was appropriate. Sophie had regretted losing her temper that way and regretted even further to having caved to Wukongs questions.

Soon all of them would know what the middle finger meant and that may also lead to further arguments. Sophie could see Pigsy using it the most to get a rise from Wukong. For now, only the Monkey King knew. She hoped it stayed that way for as long as possible.

Or at least till we get out of this heat.

Between Sophie and Trip, they had Yulong brushed down, feet picked clean and a small bucket of water set before the great white stallion. Once his needs had been tended Sophie looked back up at the sky. The thunderstorm was tall and black, staining the blue sky wherever it crossed. A blessedly cooled breeze blew into her face carrying the scent of water and damp earth. She dragged her backpack a bit away from Trip who was meditating now, to a bit of shade a few lengths away from the rest of them where she could watch the storm unfurl.

Sophie would catch up on some reading, having been lucky enough to snag a book. It was a book of poetry by a scholar of the name Li Po, and whatever magic had cast her into the past had also given her an ability to understand and read the languages here too. A small blessing, that.

Sophie hadn’t had anything new to read in what felt like ages and was eager to crack open the little book and read its contents. She craved it.

She settled herself down, setting her backpack behind her and crossing her legs. As she crossed her legs, and turned to dig into her bag, she felt something heavily land in her Lap. She peeked down and beneath her arm.

Wukong stared up at her, face set in a scowl.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Well. This was new. Wukong would sit with her when they had time to silently rest during their travels. Usually it was side by side, usually it was Sophie joining the Sage to ask him questions. But- never him resting on her. That was new.

Wukongs head was resting squarely in her lap, arms crossed behind, shoulders on her legs.

“You aren’t going to ask me questions.” He didn’t say it like a question. More of a statement. He sounded glum.

“I was going to read this book I snagged in the last town we were in.” Sophie pulled it from her bag, showing him the simple black embossed cover. She was too tired to complain about Wukong not at least respecting her boundaries or asking permission before he settled himself on her person. If I brought it up he would just say he was a king and it was his right to any person's space. To keep peace, she wouldn’t voice her thoughts. The heat had made all of them tired and she would rather have a calm monkey resting in her lap than a monkey that would rise eagerly to argue. Even if said monkey had come uninvited.

Wukong wasn’t demanding anything of her - at least not yet. Which meant he was in a … better mood ? It was hard to tell. Some days she felt like she and the Monkey King were as thick as thieves, dodging demonic creatures, bandits and the like with an ease that was comforting in this strange world. Other days it was like walking around a scalded cat, Wukong picking and poking and snapping at things Sophie didn’t understand fully. He was a prickly monkey but …

She looked down and saw that his face, though set in his typical apathetic scowl, had none of the stormy look he usually wore when something was bothering him.

When he acted like this it made Sophie want to be his friend all the more.

Wukong pulled one of his hands free from behind his head and held up a hand, asking silently. Sophie passed him the book. The Monkey King squinted at the words, turning the book and it’s pages in his hand with a disinterested air.

“I guess that’s suitable.” He said and snapped it closed.

“Suitable?”

“To read aloud.” Wukong said, passing it back to her. He closed his eyes, breathing out as another cool breeze shook the tree leaves above them.

“We may have an hour or two before that storm will be upon us.” He lifted his chin up, gesturing at the storm.

“I don’t think you want your little book to get wet in that downpour so if you want to get a good deal into it, best to start sooner rather than later.”

“You want me to read aloud to you?”

Wukong opened one glowing eye and stared at her. “Yes. It will be a welcome change to that monkey stalker crap you have.”

“It’s not crap it’s science!”

“Sounds like crap to me.”

“If you want me to read to you, you better not call this book crap either or I will drop it on your nose.” Sophie threatened.

Wukong opened both his eyes to fix her with an upside down glare.

“You wouldn’t dare.” But there was a hint of a grin about his face, a tugging of humor to his lips.

Sophie kept his stare, unblinking.

“Watch me, monkey boy.”

She shook the book in threat. She would drop the book on his nose. Sophie had a suspicion that Wukong would then take that book and either chuck it away or keep it away from her.

Wukong grinned up and then closed his eyes again, tail curling up and onto his waist.

“I wouldn’t. It’s poetry. I want to hear what this pompous Li Po has to prattle about.” With that Wukong settled back into Sophie’s lap, getting comfortable.

Sophie felt a touch of affection for her friend, something that may have struck a different cord with her if this had been earlier in their relationship (and before Wukong had squashed that very early crush). Wukong may be an ass- pompous and self important himself- but he was genuine in a sense. He may dance around things that made him turn moody and broody but he really couldn’t hide that, despite being hot and cold at times to her, Sophie and Sun Wukong had a friendship. One born of arguments and teasing, questions and prodding. Maybe he had scared her into falling into a river. But he had stolen her clothes to replace the ones soaked. Maybe he had poor communication skills and liked to get her attention by kicking walls or suddenly jumping up in front of her or taking her things and holding them at ransom. But it was friendship. A friendship so very strange and bewildering at times that It confused Sophie as much as rewarded her.

The snap of thunder had her stare back up into the sky. The storm moved closer, already a sheet of rain visibly pouring down onto the mountains beyond. It would be a bit before it reached the pilgrims but it was making its steady way toward them all the same.

Sophie opened the book, flipping to the first poem. Quite appropriately it was about storms.

As the thunder rolled closer, promising a reprieve from the heat, Sophie felt a peace settle in as she read. Even as the sky broke apart before them, she felt a calm and grounding. She may be from another time, another place. Adrift she could have felt. Reading aloud she felt an anchor settle in her. She belonged. Even if it was only to a very angry stone monkey, she belonged.

[thoseyoulove]

Every time I accidentally come across a lesmand quote I'm like WHY ARE YOU GUYS THAT INSANE WTH

[hercynianforest]

Revelatio Noctis

For Rayllum Month 2024, prompt: "I still love you" - reconciliation

One-shot fanfic, from Rayla's perspective (angsty, fluffy, rated T, I guess). Enjoy! :)

The rustling of her sheets and Rayla's own breathing were the only sounds that cut through the silence of midnight, as she turned around in her bed for what felt like the fifth time in a minute.

It wasn't exactly helping her to escape her restless mind. Ever since they had returned to Katolis from their mission, she had found herself being haunted by what general Amaya had told her in the great bookery.

She was surprised and slightly annoyed at this. Now that they had Aaravos' prison in their care (not exactly a peace-inducing state of things, in her opinion), shouldn't her first priority be to figure out how to free the trapped souls of her parents and Runaan?

The heat of shame crept up her face. Why wasn't she in the library right now or consulting a Xadian mage about this? Instead here she was, the great moonshadow elf warrior - tossing and turning because of a boy!

A snarl escaped her lips as she sat up. Things between her and Callum had definitely gotten better, so why was she so preoccupied with their relationship? Wasn't it obvious that they needed more time?

"That's only what you want to believe..." a little voice in her head responded.

Rayla frowned. Was this true?

Ever since general Amaya had opened her eyes about how selfish she had been in leaving Callum behind, she had realised that protecting him hadn't been the only reason for her solo adventure.

Opening up to Callum and her love for him scared her. That was the truth. And it had been easier - way too easy! - to just go back to "being strong on her own", than to stay and face that fear.

Fear of getting hurt, fear of getting abandoned, fear of herself, fear of being loved and cherished for exactly who she was!

Rayla clenched her knees and bit her teeth. It was hard admitting these things to herself, much harder than any physical fight she had ever faced. But then again that was what Runaan had focused on in her upbringing and there had been no "big feelings"-times. She was starting to think it wasn't as silly as she had thought at first. Maybe not silly at all.

Sighing, she got up and put on her cloak. There was only one way to get rid of this ruminating - she had to talk to Callum. "Share your burden", as general Amaya had called it.

Acting on a whim, she decided to climb out of the window and nimbly jump over to his, instead of taking the easy route. She felt like she wanted to turn back time and get another chance at that first meeting after two years. Only this time she wouldn't pretend like everything was okay (she cringed at the memory).

Her heartbeat echoed much louder in her ears than her knocking, but finally she heard footsteps and a slightly anxious "Who's there?"

"Callum, it's me," she replied. "Can we talk?"

"Rayla?" Callum's voice sounded even sleepier after he opened the windows and stared at her in surprise (an incredibly adorable combination, as she noticed).

"I'm sorry for waking you up," she started, before jumping into the room. "I couldn't sleep and felt like talking to you might help, but I understand if you'd rather wait until-"

Here she was interrupted by Callum. "No! I'm fine with talking now. What's the matter? Is it your coins?"

She bit her lip. Dear Callum! Always so eager to help, even when it meant discomfort or trouble for himself. Had she ever truly appreciated him? A strange war between shame and love seemed to rage in her chest.

"No, actually it's not about that." Ugh! Even he thought this should be her priority! "I came here, because..." She took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to apologise for leaving you two years ago."

The silence that followed these words was definitely louder than the one she had been annoyed with before.

"Oh," was all he said.

Rayla had to will herself to stay standing where she was. Her insides were screaming at her to run, to lighten the mood, to change the topic - anything but this!

"Yes," she continued awkwardly, feeling confirmed that he was still angry - and rightfully so! "It was wrong and selfish and stupid. I thought I was doing it to protect you from the dangers that came with my mission, told myself that you deserved rest and peace after everything we had gone through...but the truth is that I was scared of how our relationship might develop without constant threats to keep us on our toes."

Now that she had started, she didn't want to stop. Just get it over with.

"So I ran away. I literally ran away from you and my feelings. I'm so sorry, Callum!" Tears she didn't know had gathered, began to spill from her eyes, unbidden. Heavens, he must think me so weak and pathetic!

"Rayla."

To her surprise, his voice wasn't dripping with disgust, but was ladden with tenderness. She startled slightly when he cupped her cheek.

"Rayla, look at me." It wasn't an order, it was a gentle invitation. She still couldn't believe her ears and next thing she knew, her eyes were telling her nonsensical things too.

Instead of scorn, she saw nothing but love and concern shining in his green eyes (was there a candle burning in the room? Or was it the moon? She neither knew nor cared).

"Rayla, you're not weak." The fact that he had spoken her name three times in a row in this impossibly tender tone now wasn't lost on her. She felt dizzy from the delight of it.

Then the meaning of his words sank in. "But Callum - how can you say that? I hurt you so badly, and all just because I couldn't handle my own emotions! How is that not weak?"

Was she actually begging him to be angry with her? Goodness, she was more messed up than she had thought!

"You made a mistake. That's not the same as being weak. If you were weak, you wouldn't have returned. You wouldn't have figured out all these things about yourself. You wouldn't be brave and caring and just...you wouldn't be you."

Rayla shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. It was such a completely new perspective, so different from what she had grown up with!

But Callum hadn't finished yet. "If you were weak, you wouldn't be Rayla. And I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

There was the slightest hesitation at his last words, as though he wasn't sure whether she would reciprocate his feelings.

A bell was ringing in Rayla's ears, it was just too much - here he was, treating her with understanding and praise when she deserved none, but also implying that he wasn't sure whether she still loved him? Had he been thinking that she had left because of that?

She gasped audibly at this last thought.

"Callum, I hope you don't think...or ever thought that I left because of anything you did, or because my feelings for you changed!"

He looked vulnerable now, like a timid little child, who wasn't sure what kind of answer was expected from him.

Her need to protect his feelings was stronger than her shame and fear.

"Callum, I still love you. I always did. It won't ever change."

The atmosphere of the room changed immediately. It was as though the walls themselves were heaving a sigh of relief.

He didn't respond anything, and all she knew how to do to emphasise her words, was to hold his gaze and place a hand over his on her cheek.

Then his gaze dropped to her lips and he leaned in...Rayla watched it with no wish to run or hide, those feelings seemed to be something of a long distant past.

She had always been baffled at how soft his lips were, but not having kissed in two years...she felt like her whole body was melting and all that existed were the sensations and movements of their mouths. Not to forget his scent (Books. Definitely books, with something slightly musky that reminded her of his scarf), his breath on her skin, his hand on her waist (when had that happened?)...

It all ended too soon for Rayla's taste, but she guessed they had to catch their breath.

There was something reassuring in the way they held on to each other. She wished this moment would never end, as she lightly rested her forehead against his.

"Rayla?"

There was no uncertainty or concern in his voice now, just pure love.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you couldn't sleep tonight."

She laughed and he soon joined in. It had been so long since she had laughed like this, she hardly recognised the sound. It was a special laugh, her Callum-laugh.

"Same here," she mumbled fondly, resting her head on his chest now, with the intention to stay there.

~End~

[greenerteacups]

most of my AO3 comments are really amazing but every now and then i'll get one that is just wildly entitled

like someone just wrote a comment on ch38 that's like "please have them get together soon i don't want to wait. also [x] needs more character development." ??? bitch i'm not a menu why are you out here trying to order

[palukoo]

I know I’ve made other posts talking about or alluding to this but like. obviously there are like the old hollywood movies in the sort of dyke subtext canon (all about eve, rebecca, johnny guitar, etc) but like. there are so many movies that like 10 people have seen but I have such a clear gay vision or interpretation for it. most of them aren’t even GOOD. and yet!!

like the great lie is the one that haunts me the most (or the women but I think that one is kind of different for me perhaps bc I’ve already talked about it here a lot or perhaps bc I think of it as being more well known and watched than I think it actually is? actually it’s probably that I think it is an overall good and well executed and entertaining movie which isn’t really true of most of these tbh). but I also think a lot about like when ladies meet, or old acquaintance, or sadie mckee, or the shining hour, or the model and the marriage broker, or a woman’s secret, or the bigamist, or craig’s wife, or born to be bad, or separate tables, or even dark victory to a degree. others too certainly those are just the ones that come to mind. for half of these it’s not even like oh these women are gay together it’s just like hey I think she’s a lesbian. and I’m right. but my genius will never be fully appreciated in my day unfortunately.

[martyrbat]

shaking some of you by the shoulders and forcing you to confront if your self proclaimed pretentiousness is just an excuse to be casually classist or ableist

[starrynightarchive]

6 for the ask game :Dd

tay bestie bff hi!!!!

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

ooooohhhh this is a good one. I'm gonna cheat and add the last two lines i wrote-

"What was once a heart is now nothing but pounded flesh on the beige carpet. He is cold."

:D this lovely line is from the fanfic (?) i wrote for @evermorethecrow 's yuuko au. I am obsessed with their aus already. they make me go insane.

[wildwood-faun]

sure would be something if I found out that my bed isnt shaking because of passing trains at all but because of an attention seeking ghost

[lotus-tower]

well. rushed out the rest of the oneshot. is it "good". idk

[elytrafemme]

feeling very grateful for my mother and therapist who find it in their hearts to tell me every single time i mention therapy that i should "consider doing every other week" while denying that it's strictly a time/money incentive for them because i will always explain very clearly that i cannot do anything other than weekly and they'll go okay i get it and then next week ask me again. Like hearing this from my mom, whatever, she doesn't know my issues. hearing it from my fucking therapist, though?

[wellmaybetheresworms]

Antagonists

Alright. I know what you’re probably not thinking because it’s somewhat specific. Who’s this worms person, and why are they about to talk about antagonists for a bit? You don’t get an answer. By the way, I’m not an expert. I have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m just an idiot ranting on Tumblr.

I, the aforementioned worms person, love antagonists. Well, most of them. Elias Bouchard can go die. But generally, I really like antagonists. They just have vibes. Good vibes. (Not as in morally correct, most of them aren’t, but you probably get what I mean.) The things a properly good antagonist can add to a story… I don’t know how I was planning on finishing that. But they add lots. Having a good antagonist is just as important as having a good protagonist, regardless of how much thought is put into their character. Take Ursula. She doesn’t have a complex backstory with deep, traumatic reasons for her actions, but damn. She just has some vibes. She properly causes problems, and it takes actual effort to stop her. I haven’t seen The Little Mermaid in years, but I know without a doubt that if I rewatched it now, she would be my favorite. (Unrelated: my phone thinks I’m British. It keeps trying to make my American spelling of words into British words. No. I don’t want another U. It’s fine as it is.)

Anyways, Ursula has a good design too. While protagonists in hero-villain stories can get a bit repetitive after a while regarding their costumes and designs (nothing wrong with that, it’s just true), antagonists tend to have something that just makes them pop, and really reflects their character. And there LOTS of variety among antagonists of all kinds of stories! There’s the incredibly traumatised, completely redeemable ones, and then they’re the entirely unhinged ones. Some of them have actual backstories with motivations that they think are worth their actions, and some are just random doing it because an antagonist was needed. There’s so much variety!

Brief paragraph or two on the distinction between a villain and antagonist. (Please refer again to where I said that I am not an expert in this stuff, and this should not be cited for some important paper or something.) Generally, villains tend to be characters, typically antagonists, though not always, who are morally lacking, or causing huge amounts of damage to something. A lot of the time, I see “villain” being used as a derogatory that labels an antagonist as bad, and removes the need for the people absorbing the media to look further into their character. They can just go “oh this person is bad, good to know I’m done now”. Villain can also be used instead of antagonist in instances where it doesn’t quite fit, but only because of the definition associated with the word. For example in Inferno Squad (Star Wars book), the protagonist is a member of the Empire, and so doesn’t have the most righteous of moral codes. Because she’s in the Empire, the antagonists of the book are rebels, so the term “villain” doesn’t really apply as much, since Just As A Rule Of Star Wars, the rebellion and republic and such just have better morals.

Antagonist refers to a force opposing the protagonist. It doesn’t mean evil, although my options on good and evil are perhaps a rant for another time, it means that the protagonist needs something to go against. It doesn’t mean a sentient being, or even a living thing at all. It can be mental health, societal norms, or a spoon that feels bad in the protagonist’s mouth. It can even be a stressful due date. This has gotten incredibly off track. If you’re still here, deal with it. An antagonist doesn’t have to have questionable morals, or even morals at all.

Now, when referring to sentient antagonists, I would be fine using villain. Key term, would be. Although it is slightly faster to say, people generally have it associated with evil characters, and I don’t like that. I don’t want people to think that I’m calling characters with complicated reasons for their actions evil just because of a dictated set of “correct” morals chosen by society, and shaped through the millennia of human existence, so carefully cultivated and yet so loosely followed. (To be clear, I’m saying facts. But facts don't really mean anything without opinions in place to give people something to do with them. I still think that some things shouldn’t happen, and I think some things are more complicated than moral or not).

Anyways, I love antagonists. They have such a unique view on the worlds around them, and since their story is usually told from the perspective of someone who isn’t meant to really like/understand them, they tend to come off as a little, well. Off. They don’t fit into the way that world is meant to be, because they’re there to cause problems for the protagonist.

But also they can just be incredibly badass and cool without trying, or just have inexplicable vibes(not those Vibes) and I am platonically gay for most of them with some exceptions, regardless of their gender or my current gender. At the end of the day, I am completely unable to describe how I feel about antagonists without dissolving into incomprehensible nonsense or off topic paragraphs. Hello, and welcome to absolute nonsense. I’m Woims, for no particular reason, and you’re watching Disney channel.

(But also screw you Disney why would you get rid of the Owl House)

Finally, some antagonists I don’t like:

Elias Bouchard (the Magnus Archives)

Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus) (Yes, I know he’s technically the protagonist. No, I don’t care. I despise him with all of my being. If literally anyone asks I will post my spite essay here)

Morrowseer (Wings of Fire)

Those aren’t all of them, just the ones I got off the top of my head.

[dankovskaya]

Well,

[machinedramon]

I have three phases of Sick that I really hate

Main Phase: I have a fever and want to die. that's about the whole of it.

Nostril DDOS: I cannot breathe out of one of my nostrils (why is it always the left one??) and I am mildly inconvenienced by it and nothing will convince all of my mucous in my sinuses to maybe not try to use the same door all at once.

Tonsil Betrayal: the lymph nodes in my throat are swollen and irritated and send me into coughing fits that trigger my gag reflex. there is nothing to be done except huff chloraseptic and hope for the best.

[calechipconecrimes]

Time zones are bullshit. I think everyone should have the same time. That is, every clock across the world would say the same time, but people would continue to get up with the sun. For example, if the sun rises at 6am in England, an American on the east coast using this universal time zone would get up 5 hours later at 11am as the sun rises. It would remove the need for complicated time zone maps and hopefully make it fully clear to people who struggle to think in time zones when global markets are open for business. In this essay I w