#so im a bit nervous lol

[marchingbandnerd]

I've been trying to figure out a way to justify Danny having an ice core cause I have no idea what the writers were getting at with that whole plotline and I thought, maybe a ghost's core reflects how they felt when they died? Danny died extremely young and probably with a bunch of regret for letting Sam convince him to go into the portal right? So he died feeling pretty sad and regretful and to me, that feels like emotions that can reasonably connect with ice. Another thing is the popular headcanon that Vlad has some type of heat core. He died with what I assume is anger and some jealousy (not as much as he has in the show but I'd be pretty jealous if my crush was really close to my best friend) and anger and jealousy are usually associated with fire and heat. Idk this is the closest I've ever gotten to a logical explanation for the reason Danny has an ice core 😭

[welcometogrouchland]

(on my hands and knees begging tumblr to not mutilate the quality of this drawing 😭) anyway, coming out as a secret marvel fan to announce that i really enjoyed the recently she-hulk run w/ Jen and her boytoy and am sad to see them go. Jack pls dont disappear into the ether i just got attached to you (ID in alt)

[themiraclefish]

Draw them like hormonal teens!

Hormonal teens? Like teenager right? lol i hope i got it right XD

.

.

Anyways here ya go (⁠｢⁠`⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠｢

Teen Gabriel and Nathalie👨‍🎤👩‍🎤

Aaaa!! My first ever "ask request" jwjskwkskskkw

[halfmoonstruck]

happy holidays :-D

[circular-bircular]

I think there genuinely is an enormous problem in online spaces, I think in part due to the whole concept of purity culture, where everything people say and do online is scrutinized — not just in the case of “Is this person a good person,” but “Does this person represent the values we wish to see 24/7.”

Nobody is perfect, dear lord, and this place is not the place to seek perfection regardless. This is tumblr, home of the go nuts, show nuts rule; tumblr, which is as invaded by fandom and was originally meant to be a pseudo Facebook. People who use this place didn’t come here originally to be activists. And if you did, I'm a little concerned, genuinely, for your mental health and how well you're distancing yourself from difficult subjects and giving yourself the time you need to decompress.

And yet, we keep holding people up to this frankly impossible standard of representing a movement, regardless of what their blog content originally was for. Suddenly, every system on tumblr has to represent a certain Ideal for System Rights! They have to have the right views on system accountability, endogenic systems, plurality as an umbrella, littles, dormancy, fusion, functional multiplicity, parts language, the ToSD-

This is fucking ridiculous. A laundry list of topics that people have on their shoulders, along with every other laundry list of things that people need to care about. Fuck you if you're oppressed in any single way, you need to form opinions on every single one of those things, and if any opinion is out of place, then You Are Not A True [IDENTITY].

Somewhere along the way, many of us (I’m including myself here for a reason) managed to either convince ourselves or be convinced that we need to be Correct in some way about how this all works. That’s prideful and haughty at best, but typically moreso just… so detrimental to healing. None of us will be perfect… and so, when those of us who aren’t perfect are imperfect publicly, we are often harassed or attacked — or some of us attack others, for whatever reason it may be. And somehow, someway, we accepted that this is just how it works.

It's okay to discuss those things you disagree with online. It's okay to look at someone's take about, say, system accountability, or plurality, or littles, and reblog with your corrections and even anger! But you must be doing this with acknowledgement that people will be in different places, healing in different ways, and that there is nothing wrong with that. They're their own person!

But moreover, that's a whole ass blog. That's not a reflection of a person as a whole -- hell, it's rarely a reflection of the person at all. It's just a blog that they can put anything on. Have we not all heard the stories of people who've "Completely Changed" online, becoming people who others cannot recognize? People lie on the internet, intentionally or not.

Even me. I try my best to be who I am in real life here, and I share a LOT of myself with you all. You know I'm a teacher, and engaged, and have the most perfectest little cat in the world. But do you know me? I recently just got to visit an online friend in person (It was absolutely fucking incredible and I can't wait to do it again), and the entire time, I felt like I was just so awkward; I really struggled to stay present and talk more, which is something I don't struggle with nearly as much online. Believe it or not, I am not this long-winded in real life.

Maybe that's not lying, but it's not who I am. It's me being fundamentally different online than in real life. You all see me entirely through just the blogs you know me through. Maybe it's circie bircie, maybe you know my D&D blog, maybe you know me through positivitycombopack, or maybe this just shows up randomly on your dashboard. Maybe you don't know me at all.

And that goes for every person you see online. Do you actually know them? Do you know their beliefs? What they stand for? Why they believe those beliefs?

Or are you just seeing a blog?

[josephtrohman]

Joe reaches above his head, pushing onto his toes, to put a clean frying pan on the top shelf, pulling his t-shirt up with the motion. There’s a flash of the dimples near Joe’s spine, at the small of his back—an unnecessarily sexy part of him, in Patrick’s opinion—holding Patrick’s attention. Patrick feels pulled to him from across the kitchen, unconsciously, fingers curling over hip bones, thumbs holding the hem of Joe’s shirt out of the way to get an eye full. He stares with wide, yearning eyes... Or: Patrick catches a glimpse of Joe’s back dimples, and he has to act up about it. Naturally.

top patrick/bottom joe nation i wrote a little bit of married/domestic flavoured smut inspired by joe's back dimples, hope u enjoy <3

[0809sysblings]

Amane, indoctrination, and gaslighting

and why voting Amane innocent would be the best course of action

I've been wanting to write a big post on Amane talking about indoctrination and such. Because I see takes sometimes that make it clear the person doesn't really... Get It.

Most of what I'll be explaining comes from my personal experiences growing up.

Additionally, most of what I say when it comes to outcomes (i.e. "If x happens, Amane will do y") will be based on the assumption that realism, not entertainment, is prioritized in the writing and that there are no major holes in our knowledge of what's going on. Theoretically anything could happen since this is a fictional scenario and we don't know everything when it comes to the world, the cases, and the characters. Not to mention my situation was nowhere near as extreme as hers. So although I probably have a better understanding of it than most people, I definitely can't claim that I know what she's gone through.

Personal anecdotes I add to better support my points will be in the small font (this!) since I don't want them to distract from the main text and so that they can be easily skipped for those who may be worried about being triggered. But if anyone needs plain text descriptions, I'll happily provide them!

!! TW for child abuse, religious abuse, and cults !!

I recommend skipping my personal anecdotes if more detailed discussions about these topics are a trigger for you.

At the heart of "good" (read: successful) indoctrination is gaslighting.

Since gaslighting has been one of the many psychology terms completely watered down and distorted by the internet, I will define it just so we're all on the same page!

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation used to make the victim question their own sanity, sense of reality, or power of reasoning.

Basically, you can't trust yourself. You can't trust your thoughts, your feelings, your interpretations, etc. You become completely reliant on other people (usually specific people who are the ones doing the gaslighting) to figure out what's real/true or not.

Toxic/extremist religious groups like to take gaslighting a step further though. Not only do they make it so you cannot trust yourself to judge what is right or not, they may also teach you that what feels wrong is actually right. You can see where this can start to cause some issues lol.

Anything your gut may tell you that contradicts what the group/cult leaders tell you—"this is wrong!", "this is bad!", "I don't want to do this..."—must be ignored. Because those feelings and thoughts, according to the leaders, are actually the sinful part of you trying to lead the good and faithful part of you astray. They make you question yourself to make sure you never question them.

They will figuratively or literally beat this into you until your first instinct is no longer to listen to your gut and do what it says, but to dismiss it and do what it's telling you not to do. Existing becomes a chronic power struggle between your unconscious mind and your conscious mind. Unfortunately, the fact that you're struggling often then gets used against you as proof that you need to follow their teachings. Because if you're unhappy, then you must be doing something wrong. You just need to have a little more faith, dedicate a little more time to the religion/group, go a little harder into your duties... Only then will you feel better—feel more enlightened.

An integral part in making all this work is isolation. If you don't somehow isolate the members, they may figure out that they're being manipulated and abused.

Now, isolation doesn't always mean purely physical isolation (though Amane is being isolated physically to at least some capacity). Psychological isolation is almost just as powerful. An almost universal psychological isolation tactic used by extremist groups and cults is the "Us vs Them" mentality. We can see this being very prominent with Amane. A lot of things she talks about with regard to the cult involves an Us-vs-Them dynamic. There is "Us", the cult, and "Them", everyone else.

Personally, we were taught that those who weren't believers of our religion were out to get us or will, at the very least, get us hurt/killed somehow. We were told many people wanted us dead just for being believers. You had to be careful and watch out when interacting with non-believers; you couldn't trust them. God was constantly testing you via others, and you had to make sure you stayed faithful.

This in particular is why no matter if you vote guilty or innocent, that itself will not actually do anything to change her beliefs. Voting her guilty will not make her start to feel bad and then question her beliefs. Voting her innocent will not make her listen to us and then question her beliefs. If we make her have any doubt about the cult, that's just proof to her that what we're telling her is wrong and is just another "trial" from God for her to overcome. So, changing her beliefs should not be a factor considered when voting since it's completely irrelevant. Everything can be twisted to support the cult. That's just how it works.

I don't think any amount of punishment will make Amane "come to her senses". I mean... what could we possibly do to her that she hasn't already had to endure? Punishment will likely only escalate things even more. Not to mention that having a bit of a fascination with martyrdom isn't all that uncommon in those who have been religiously abused and indoctrinated. The threat of punishment may only serve to motivate her to double down on her beliefs and behavior. Not to say she wants and likes punishment. It's obvious she's both scared of punishment and wants it to stop. After all, that's most likely the motive behind the murder.

Even prior to Amane's age, I was already fantasizing about being a martyr. A part of me almost wanted to be killed for my religion and community. It was seen as something extremely admirable. The ultimate sacrifice, if you will. We were taught that if given the choice between saving yourself by denying your faith or letting yourself be hurt/killed by standing your ground, you should choose the latter. Of course, I also did not want that to happen at all. It scared me shitless. But we weren't allowed to be scared about that stuff. It was seen as questioning God and the religious authorities, which was completely taboo. So I had no choice but to "want" it.

Isolating Amane is the worst possible thing we could do to her. No one gets better from being isolated, and this goes double for people living in abusive environments. She's been isolated her whole life. The best thing for her would be spending time with the other prisoners without restrictions. The more time she spends around people who have no connection to the cult, the better. Trying to argue with those in cults about why they're wrong and why they are in a cult (because most don't even recognize they're in a cult due to the gaslighting, indoctrination, and stigma) will almost always backfire. The best thing to do is to just be there for them to have someone to interact with who is not a cult member.

The only reason I left the extremist religious community I grew up in was because I made a friend who was not affiliated with it. I don't think I would've been able to see that the conditions I was living in were Not Very Good without that friend. He didn't even really do anything to actively help me. Just learning more about the real world through him was enough to make me start looking closer at my life.

To vote her guilty would be to continue isolating her. Not just physically as the guilty prisoners get restrictions put on them, but it's also an inescapable psychological isolation. Innocent vs Guilty is just another Us vs Them dynamic.

I fear that, if she ends up guilty this trial, she will likely be voted guilty again in trial 3. Her aggression will probably only escalate as she feels herself becoming more and more cornered. And since I know many people are voting her guilty solely to make sure she doesn't hurt Shidou or other prisoners, I can only imagine what the voting will look like for her in trial 3 once she's forced to become even more aggressive to protect herself.

And tbh... I can't imagine that having a prisoner with 3 guilty verdicts will make for all that interesting of a story for them. Not that it would be boring, per se. But having variety would, in my opinion, be the most interesting and entertaining! So, if nothing else I've said has been able to sway those who vote her guilty, then think about the entertainment factor!

Please vote this severely traumatized 12 y/o girl innocent. We can give her so many secret cakes to eat.

[rayroseu]

my sem break is approaching and i have too much time lol, the payment im thinking of is through kofi donation and/or paypal , this is just an interest check ✨

[remapped-soul]

solar power

when marc can't take care of himself, valentino steps in.

a valentino rossi/marc marquez fic for beloved @carlosheinz <3 self care is hard but we're not alone and i hope you know that <3

read on ao3

(for tw check the tags)

Valentino can’t stand Marc.

It’s a constant feeling nestled between his third and fourth rib, but the intensity varies. On a good day, Valentino simply ignores Marc. On a bad day, Valentino wants to get his hands around his neck and squeeze until the tendons crack under his knuckles. He got a taste of it in 2014. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. What would have happened if there were no cameras around them?

Marc’s bad luck starts in 2020 and it doesn’t stop. A bad day for Marc means a bad day for Valentino. A bad year for Marc translates into a bad year for Valentino. It’s worse than 2015, more difficult to swallow than 2018. Valentino wants to scream until he runs out of breath and chokes to death.

2022 is the worst of it all. Marc moves to Madrid to speed up his recovery, and it leaves Valentino baffled and a little irritated. The big city won’t be able to replace the things he gets for granted in the countryside: the quiet, the nature, the clean air.

Marc moves to Madrid and Valentino follows against his better judgment. Madrid is fucking insane, but so is driving 20 hours from Tavullia. At least, when Marc doesn’t answer his phone, he is a 20-minute drive away from Valentino’s place in town, close enough to reach before Valentino’s desire to strangle him subsides.

+

Valentino can’t stand Marc when Marc doesn’t answer his phone. Sometimes Alex picks up when he’s around, saying that his brother is sleeping, eating, exercising. Marc is busy and he can’t come to the phone. Those are the days Valentino drops the car keys back into the glass bowl and gets back to his life. But Alex is not always with Marc, so Valentino gets in his car, he drives with fingers gripping the steering wheel until he parks a little crooked in front of Marc’s house.

When Marc doesn’t answer his phone it means he didn’t get out of bed in the morning, so Valentino has to do it for him. He is annoying like that. Valentino knows where the spare key is, hidden under a fancy pot with fancy hydrangeas around the corner. Of all the windows the house has, there is only one door. Valentino grabs the key and unlocks the door, lets himself inside.

“Sono a casa,” he yells to the empty hallway, the empty living room and the empty kitchen.

The air smells like dust and engine oil, things thrown hazardously around. Valentino stands in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the big couch and the big table, and looks around with his hands on his hips. He’s listening. The house is quiet.

“Brat,” he mutters under his breath. He gets to work. He opens the windows, lets the fresh air in. He gathers the clothes and redbull caps and puts them in one place, fluffs the pillows and loads the dishwasher with dirty plates and cups of coffee. Il dottore turned housemaid. If this is what retirement is about, he doesn’t want it.

When the place looks less like a dumpster and more like a place designed for humans, Valentino sends a prayer to whoever is listening and goes looking for Marc in his bedroom. He opens the door, steps inside. It’s dark, claustrophobic. This time, Valentino doesn’t pull the curtains apart, doesn’t open the windows. He makes his way to the bed, where the blankets sit still, a bump in the middle the only indication there is a person underneath it all. Valentino sighs.

“Sun will do you good, moccioso viziato.”

Marc’s head pops up, unruly curls and unruly smile. “Vale?” His voice sounds hoarse. It hurts Valentino’s brain just hearing it.

“Shhh,” he says as he climbs in bed, slipping under the blankets. Marc is on his good side, his injured arm placed carefully on top. Valentino settles behind him, head tucked into Marc’s shoulder, arm around Marc’s waist.

“Sono qui,” he says before he presses a kiss to Marc’s neck. Marc melts in the embrace, breath stuttering out of him in a hiccup.

“Vale.”

They will stay like this for a while. Then, Valentino will pull Marc out of bed. He will clean this room too, and take a walk with Marc in the garden, force him to a light run because only his arm is broken, not his fucking legs. Valentino will help Marc stretch his muscles, wash his hair, and at the end of the day he will ask for a hefty compensation because he is Il dottore, not a fucking maid.

+

Valentino hates speaking Spanish and he hates Spanish food, but when Marc refuses to eat, Valentino cooks for him. He speaks in stilted phrases to the women at the market, Tias and Tios that have no idea who he is because this country worships a different kind of God. He learns how to cook escudella and callos a la madrileña because Marc is a spoiled brat and doesn’t want to eat unless it’s his grandmother’s recipe. One phone conversation with Juliá about Marc’s favourite dishes is one conversation too many. But he makes the call anyway and he listens to Juliá’s guidance over the speaker phone as the stew bubbles on the stove. The house smells like meat and vegetables for a long time after, rich and savory that it almost makes Valentino’s mouth water. He’d eat a bowl if it wasn’t for the soft texture of the carrots he despises so much. Marc stops being annoying for a second, he eats two bowls of escudella sitting with his legs crossed on the wooden floor, Valentino next to him munching on a piece of bread. When he’s finished, his smile kicks up a notch before he lunges for Valentino and presses his sticky mouth to Valentino’s cheeks and neck and mouth, wherever he finds skin. His giggles rattle Valentino’s ribcage where they are pressed together.

“See if I ever cook for you, brat,” Valentino tells him when Marc runs out of steam, slumping against his chest on the couch.

“You will,” Marc smiles at him, chin resting on his hands, feet kicking up in the air. Marc is tolerable when his arm behaves and he forgets about the pain for a while. Valentino doesn’t want to break too many things if Marc offers him his smile constantly.

Valentino gets his hands into those curls, tugs at the roots until Marc’s eyelashes flutter. He doesn’t say anything, because they both know Valentino will break his promise the next time Marc refuses to eat. He will cook for Marc again. It doesn’t matter if he hates the process when he loves the result.

+

Marc is the most infuriating when he can’t stop talking. Valentino doesn’t think Marc is aware of it. It happens when he least expects it, when they’re doing the most mundane shit.

They’re running around the track in Tavullia, and between one ragged breath and another, Marc says. “Maybe if I trained harder, maybe if I worked harder, I’d get better. I’m not doing enough. It’s never enough.” It’s random and unexpected and it distracts Valentino so that he almost trips over his legs and face plants the ground.

It happens when they’re cooking when Valentino is making fresh pesto and Marc is dicing the zucchini. It goes well until Marc tries to dice his fingers too. He nips the tip of his index with the sharp blade, starts swearing up and down, “You can’t do anything right. Idiota.” Valentino almost sticks his own hand in the boiling pasta water because self-inflicted pain is easier to bear than whatever shit Marquez is saying. He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs the first-aid kit and tends to Marc’s tiny wound.

By now, Valentino learned to expect this kind of talk from Marc, but he has yet to learn how to deal with it. He either gapes like a fish as Marc smiles through his horrid words or Valentino leaves the room, fuming, because he can’t yell at a person who thinks they deserve to be yelled at. The crash in Jerez must have damaged more than Marc’s bones. There are enough doctors around Marc to take care of his injuries for him, but who’s taking care of the nasty voices inside his mind? Valentino doesn’t think he is equipped enough for it, not when he can barely stop himself from pressing his fingernail to Marc’s wound in an attempt to make him realise that maybe his way of dealing with the recovery process is not the best one.

“It’s just a scratch, Marc, not the end of the world.”

Marc shrugs, not lifting his eyes from the chopped zucchini. “Then what do you call Jerez 2020?”

Valentino raises an eyebrow at him. “An accident,” he says in English. “Un accidente. Un incidente. If they invented another word for it, I don’t know it. ”

“Only idiots make accidents.”

“Would you tell that to Jorge?”

Marc inhales sharply at that. Fabio would probably knock him over at the next race if Marc called Jorge Martin an idiot.

Valentino smiles. “That’s what I thought.”

Marc frowns. “Te odio.”

“No, you don’t.” And to drive his point home, Valentino grabs Marc’s hands and bites his knuckles until Marc’s face smooths into a laugh and he forgets how the word idiota sounds in his mouth. If Valentino still hears the echoes of that words weeks after, it’s his problem to deal with.

+

Everything comes to a halt when they are doing laundry and Marc looks at a pair of pants and says, “Maybe I shouldn’t be left out on the track if I keep crashing like this.”

Valentino sees red. He tries to understand most of the time, but his understanding has a limit too. Now all he wants is to scream at Marc to shut up, shut up, shut up. There must be something visible on his face because Marc takes a step back as Valentino turns toward him, hands held high in front of him as if Valentino will attack any minute.

“What?” Marc says, shoulders raised to the ears. “I haven’t seen you this angry since Sepang 2015.”

Valentino ignores him. He grabs Marc’s face in his hands and says, “Amore,” because Valentino never uses pet names unless he wants to distract Marc. It works well this time as well. Marc shuts up and blushes a pretty red, dropping his hands to rest in the crook of Valentino’s elbows. “I’m breaking up with you if you don’t win your ninth.” He says it in Spanish too to drive the point home.

Marc frowns, his brain registering the words. “In case you haven’t noticed—“

“Bodies heal, that’s what they do. Unless you’re dead, there is no reason for you to think otherwise.”

Marc’s frown deepens. “But—“

Valentino presses his lips against the wrinkle on his forehead, down at the corner of his eye, on the edge of his jaw. Marc shudders in his arms.

“You once told me you can be faster than me.”

“I am,” Marc says, eyes closed, breathing hard against Valentino.

“Faster than you, I mean.”

Valentino smiles. “Not sure I believe you.”

For the first time in months, Marc’s eyes twinkle with hunger. “I am. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Good.” Valentino kisses him hard. “You can start doing that, but after you’re done with the laundry. I’m not your maid.”

Marc does not finish the laundry. Neither does Valentino. The sunset catches them in bed, sheets draped all around them as Valentino presses his grievances into Marc’s golden skin until the room lights up with Marc’s giggles, with promises of being kinder to himself in the process of healing. Marc will probably forget come morning. He is infuriating. But Valentino knows where the spare key is and how to cook escudella and calçotada the way Marc likes them. If Marc forgets a thousand times, Valentino will remind him a thousand times.

After all, there is still a race to win.

[carcarrot]

do i really want to make individual drinks again

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[suckishima]

im so glad i read the haikyuu manga

[orcelito]

Went thru my stuff. An hour of talking is a lot of talking lol. I for some reason thought I had to leave by 9 tho when I'm supposed to leave by 10. So I was rushinggggg but now I'm like. Wow I have some free time. Might rest my eyes for a little bit. Just a little.

[ghostlyheart]

I feel like the secret to making fun ttrpg characters if you're not an actor, writer, creative, etc. (speaking from personal experience) is honestly to just shamelessly crib from the world around you. Which can be the fiction that inspires you but also just like, look outside. Pick a random name from a gravestone and imagine what their life might have been like based on the limited context clues of their birthplace and time period. Or find a real historical figure that interests you and do that but a bit to the left. I personally find it much easier to start with the bones of a character's upbringing and occupation and imagine what "kind of person" might result from that situation than to come up with a completely new personality that I need to find a way to fit into the established world. Tweak and transplant into the 1920s/Middle Earth/the year 2352 as needed. I guarantee a 100% success rate 50% of the time

[minamaybe]

SO I just got home from work, and there were people in my apartment, and after a second of absolute terror bc I thought someone broke in, I saw it was my friends trying to surprise me with redecorating my living room; bc here's the thing, I'm going on vacation but my mum mixed up the dates and told them I'm already gone today (which. nope!)

so long story short. I just almost had a legit heart attack whoops

[cocaineyoga]

Construction worker who's been re doing our asphalt for the last 2 weeks finally just asked for my number, hell yes