#so people who have that tag blocked can still block this stuff

[sir-adamus]

People will call anyone speaking about how tractors will call characters abusive and toxic when that is factually untrue. But rw/by is the only show I’ve seen where “fans” created their own community and group and tag dedicated only to shit on the show.

People who dislike elements in one piece don’t call themselves Half Pieces to shit on the show. Hardcore Naruto fans who hate Sakura or the Boruto spinoff or Sasuke or any long boring arcs of the show aren’t CALLING THEMSELVES a different name.

The “toxically positive” fans did not come up with RW/DE. They didn’t push them to make a whole subsection of fandom. I honestly don’t know how anyone can call themselves “a rw/de” but still claim to like the show. You don’t need to join a hate bandwagon in order to criticize the show. You’re allowed to block the Too Toxic Bee Shippers if they come onto your posts uninvited. People being upset that yet another person called Yang abusive when that is factually untrue did not bully that reactor. RW/DE talk shit about crwby all the fucking time. For ten years. But THATS not considered bullying??

If a reactor feels so negatively about one of the main characters, calls her abusive, then yeah people who like Yang and the bees won’t want to watch anymore. That’s like playing Luigi’s Mansion with someone who hates Luigi. I’m not going to engage with someone who thinks so lowly about a character I enjoy.

It too two years for volume nine to reach us. Rooster Teeth is dead. We have no new rwby news. Yet rw/de is still alive and well finding things to hate.

And here’s an honest thing. People are assholes. I don’t doubt there are bees fans who do go out of their way to join posts and server out of their lane. Because people do that. People who “like stuff the proper way” can still act shitty in fandom spaces. I think saying ALL fans of any ship or media act the same way is disingenuous. If someone is bullying that is not a ship problem that is a person problem.

Also. Blake and Yang are together in canon. Yes you can ship canon couples that just means you enjoy them. But saying Bee shippers ruin things like. It’s canon. It’s in the show. I mean I guess they think bees ruined the whole show so that logic tracks but. If a couple I hated became canon and it bothered me that much I would just drop the show

I still have trauma from show I can’t even name. You know where I talk about it? Not online every day years after it ended

However. Being able to block more ppl is good. It’s like weeding the garden

yeah

[zoppzoop]

Literally just copypasting whatever I wrote on twitter but here's what my views are, heres a less polite tldr, idc much, don't fucking make a call out post for a goddamn minor, get off your moral high horse of fandom policing and making a callout post for the most basic fucking things, just block and move on. I'm gonna keep drawing as usual and also this venn diagram

Okay i woke up to a callout post about me today and didnt have the time to look into it when it happened but now that I do have the time, I just wanna ask why make a callout post when you could've just blocked and moved on. I understand that nsfw stuff might make you uncomfortable and it's very very understandable but it's interesting to me that you went through a writers kudos' to find people who read and liked their fic and went down their tumblrs to look for their interactions with each other and proceeded to tell us that we need therapy. Also interesting that you made a whole callout post for two (2) people who read nsfw fics, one of them who you knew was a minor. And while I'm not condoning faer actions of interacting with nsfw fics while being a minor (also on the other hand let's be real, we all have read nsfw things at 16, like who hasnt done that, also the nature of ao3 is such that you can't really enforce who reads what and nor should you), it's interesting to me that you specifically targeted a couple of people when there's so many people also making and interacting with nsfw things. I don't mind the callout honestly, but if you know that fae are a minor, why the fuck would you put fae under fire like that. Not bashing you, just saying it's interesting. Now on the topic of me interacting with nsfw fics, I saw someone mention something about me being a minor? Which I'm not? I don't like putting my age up on the internet but I'm literally definitely an adult. So there's point one. Second thing, I like reading fics that my friends write and I like supporting them with kudos' and comments. It's absolutely wild that you went down and hunted out who read and kudosed his fics. Third thing I myself haven't really made any explicitly nsfw works myself I think? And even if have made something suggestive I've made sure to tag it as such so that people who don't like such things can just choose not to see it? Also here's a neat venn diagram made by m skittlespizza viv-weylin about fanworks and fandom

It's interesting that you're willing to put away time to monitor what other people are reading, specifically, as you mentioned, people you don't know and then making a whole callout post for them. Anyways I'm not mad about it nor do I care too much, I'll still be posting the art I usually do, feel free to block or unfollow me if me reading nsfw makes you uncomfortable i guess, if you do unfollow make sure to like make that a soft block since I'm assuming you'd also probably not like me to interact with you.

[dykedvonte]

why do you hate Joshua Graham or Honest Hearts so much?

This DLC and character represents a bigger issue with fandom spaces I have but particularly fallout fandom in general.

Fallout tends to tackle a lot of topics controversial and not. The first two games it’s heavy cause they are the most satirical and direct with how anti-war, nationalism and etc… they are. 3 loses this as it’s very clear once you play or learn about all the games that Todd and a bunch of guys at Bethesda just liked the 50s post apocalyptic aesthetic and refuse to actually critique the ideals of the time period like the earlier titles.

New Vegas is the game that really gets back into it a degree it almost seems like it’s taking too much on. There are things done exceedingly well while other things are done horribly wrong . I’ve made posts about it before and plan to make a big series of posts (it’s a lot of writing) but my biggest gripe is with Honest Hearts and all the gross and white savior esque depictions it has of indigenous peoples. The entirety if FNV does not do the injustices faced by indigenous people correctly on any count. My two biggest complaints are with the Khans and the tribes in Zion but I’ll talk about the former on a different post.

Both characters of Daniel and Joshua are the most accurate depiction of white saviors I’ve seen and I hate how the DLC tries to justify and defend them. The DLC treats Joshua like this man who has repented for his past actions when he is just retracing his steps after his cruelty bit him in the ass. He was one of the worst parts of the Legion and it is all but explicitly stated that if you don’t force him to be non-violent he will turn the tribes of Zion into the legion 2.0. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows are horribly infantilized by both Daniel and Joshua who both use them for self serving purposes guised by religious duty. The White Legs are the horrible stereotype of violent and savage indigenous and I personally think a lot of their interlinking with Ulysses, his hair and Ulysses character in general are distasteful and very telling of how BIPOC or POC where involved.

But outside of the game it’s the weird obsession people have with these characters ideologies and trying to make them seem more interesting/philosophical than they are. Tumblr is an echo chamber and many fans of Fallout are not the people on this site. Many people are not educated in the issues these characters convey and how poorly they do or used these characters as a poor introduction for their takes. Contrary to what a lot of people believe in, fallout has a prediomeny white cis male fanbase. More importantly a large portion of the fanbase is white.

You can joke how FNV made you trans or see the numbers on post/fics or diverse headcanons but these are kiddy numbers compared to the millions that consume the franchise and aren’t in those more aware spaces or don’t engage in the spaces the same way someone like me does/has to. Their views shape a lot more than people realize and it’s exhausting to be in a space where people don’t correct the more subtle yet toxic aspects of it but also adopt them into some weird quirky view point on the characters or issues. Some people don’t realize and some people don’t care.

My main issue is just the idolizing of these sort of thing in this fandom space and people try to acts like a game like fallout whose tagline is “War never changes” and has never had a game not revolve around political or militaristic factions issues isn’t that deep or doesn’t relate to real issues. I think it’s mainly caused by how over powered you can become and how you can strong arm your way past these learning moments as majority of people who play this game do play it as a power fantasy where they can do so as they please (which of course, go ahead it’s fun) but never take in parallels or lessons in the story as if it was just another first person shooter.

Also like another personal gripe is Cazadores spawn like hell whenever I’m there and I have not found a mod that works to mod them out so I have to play Indigenous Racism the DLC while getting jumped by giant wasps WHILE helping Mormons. Like I cannot catch a break.

[selenealwayscries]

fuck you *puts your fairydog in hanfu*

[sportsthoughts]

.

[yeehawgeek]

hey, folks who’re watching acolyte, how is it so far?

[shiverandqueeef]

looking at the notes of your bands poll is like. nobody knows how to not be over-familiar and violently aggressive to strangers on line. @ everyone in your reblogs Cool It Or Else.

*long beleaguered sigh* yeeeeaaaaaaah. tbf it's only a handful of people who have been outright crossing a line (don't? threaten to kill me??? i mean there is a cute jokey way to do that but i don't know you and you have worded it very aggressively)

also i have almost certainly been guilty of the same behavouir myself - especially the whole 'demanding to know why [insert whatever] hasn't been included on the post without first checking the notes to find out if OP has already added the thing'.

It's just so so frustrating to have so many ppl in the notes expressing outrage (even fun, good-natured "outrage") over either a band/musician they like not being included (they are in a different poll! they were included!!! AHHHH!!!!) or demanding to know where fucking celine dion or rush is because i didn't make it clear in the first poll that the whole point was "popular in canada, unknown(ish) everywhere else" i think i kind of assumed it was obvious...but uh. turns out people can not, in fact, read my mind. also pissing on the poor and all that.

anyways. im still having fun with it. but yeah, i am unfortunately at a follower count that is high enough for there to be a decent chance of a post taking off, but too low for any secondary/follow up posts to circulate at nearly the same level. all my (relatively) popular posts have a lot of very angry and/or confused ppl in the notes demanding to know something that has already very much been answered lol. and i have yet to master the whole not caring about people being wrong on the internet thing. it's been 10+ years of being on the internet (and frequently the person who is wrong lmao) but i still haven't figured it out! 😂

[randomrandy]

Random post: “reblog if you *thing I agree with”

My brain: if you reblog this you’re a virtue sighing whore who just wants internet clout. If you don’t reblog this you’re a heartless monster who should be shot in the street. Kys

Me: wtf

[torchickentacos]

UGHHHHHH take a shot every time a makeup youtuber uploads a video on their diet or on how sugar ruined their life. paragraph of complaining and criticism of diet culture under cut, ed tw but in a very anti-ed way.

like please just tell me about mascara and stuff, I do not want to be sold a program on how to have an eating disorder. I have SO many rants about this but I'll leave it at this for now: unless done in a very specific and mentally healthy way, restricting categories of food is almost always going to be your first step down a slippery slope, allergies excluded. Restricting one category leads to labeling it as bad, so you assign moral worth to food, so you start trying to 'deserve' your food, et cetera, down you go on that slope.

[dragon-tamer-1]

To that anon that asked me about why I still follow a certain person, I hope you can understand that I do not want hate for this. I am very much unaffected by the choice of belief someone else has. And while I know that others don't like or care for that person, I still do enjoy the art and writing by that person. Their choice of belief doesn't really matter to me, especially since that person hasn't ever done anything to anyone that was harmful, that I know of. Everyone is free to dislike someone, but I don't feel it necessary to hate anyone, especially over beliefs.

Please understand that I am not attacking anyone, nor do I advocate for hate of anyone really.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I've never orphaned a fic, but I'm glad AO3 has the option to do that. When I was in my late teens, I deleted all of my work from FFN because I thought I was done writing fanfic and for some reason got the idea into my head that it was dangerous to just leave them up, in case future employers or whoever found them. Even though I was writing very tame, mostly K+ and T rated stuff based on relatively uncontroversial original works. *facepalm*

Anyway, if I'd had the option to orphan my fics back then, I think I probably would have done that instead of deleting them. I wish it had been an option. I don't intend on ever orphaning what I'm writing now, but it makes me happy to know that if I ever did want to no longer be associated with it, I'd have the option to do that without taking it offline completely.

It's things like the orphan feature that really highlight the fact that AO3 was created and is maintained by fans. The people who volunteer there are also people who read fic and people who write fic. They get it.

Other features that I think are fantastic include, but are not limited to:

being able to have private bookmarks

being able to subscribe to a single fic, or to a fic series or to an author

the Fannish Next of Kin system whereby you can set a guardian for your fics in case of your death or incapacitation

site skins, which allow you to change the look and feel of the site to something that works best for you

the ability to have a pseudonym account on your main account, so if you want separate our your works that way you can

Tag Wranglers, who read all of the weird and wacky ways we tag our fics and make them searchable and filterable in the database

the search and filter capabilities!!

otp:true

the kudos feature, so I can still show love even when I don't have words

RSS feed capability

the ability to restrict access to my works and to restrict comments on my works

blocking and muting!

never having to click the Proceed button again

Anyone else have a favourite feature that I didn't list above? (if any of my points is new to you, lemme know - I'm always happy to do a deep dive)

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

[be-good-to-bugs]

I wish hatsune miku was real

[landofgay]

I've got to stop checking the pistols effex tag because it just makes me wanna blow my brains out

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick: chapter 1

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep. 

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back. 

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though. 

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door. 

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?” 

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.  

Maybe summer's not so bad after all. 

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.” 

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding. 

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!” 

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other. 

“Can take ‘nother if you need.” 

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home. 

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in. 

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to. 

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away. 

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.” 

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.  

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone. 

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.” 

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater. 

-

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet. 

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again... 

“Hi there.” 

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily. 

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty. 

Although, speaking of fed... 

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.  

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...” 

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.” 

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm. 

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade? 

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.” 

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.” 

D’you want to come in for a drink?  

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way. 

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary. 

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone? 

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls. 

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.  

And yet. 

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere. 

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.” 

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove. 

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.” 

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.” 

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?” 

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.” 

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.” 

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—” 

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you. 

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?” 

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?” 

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?” 

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.” 

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.” 

-

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway. 

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.” 

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo. 

“You big on reading, then?” 

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.  

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.” 

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains. 

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments. 

“That explains all the books y’got.” 

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.” 

“Think it's impressive.” 

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?” 

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.” 

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice? 

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that. 

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are. 

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks. 

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.  

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real. 

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it. 

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. 

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench. 

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach. 

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind. 

“You really should let me pay you.” 

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.” 

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything. 

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.” 

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.” 

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.” 

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 

[palipunk]

Hey there sorry to bother, but I’m very interested in traditional Palestinian tattoos but I can’t find any good sources or information on them. Do you have any recommendations? Thanks so much in advance ! I’m Palestinian, but was raised so distantly from our culture I’m hungry for more if you know what I mean ♥️🇵🇸

Not a bother!

I will be honest, there really aren't many resources online that go into detail about them. A lot of information about them just hasn't been recorded and they've faded away, as older generations of Palestinians die, their tattoos and their meanings have gone with them. A lot of the Palestinians still wearing these tattoos are older Bedouin women.

I uploaded this post a few years ago with some illustrations and I answered an ask about it with some links and discussed traditional tattooing practices in West Asia between Arabs, Kurds, Assyrians, and Yazidis (there are some overlapping symbols and meanings with the tattooing throughout the region). Tattooing in Palestine is hard to document because we've been forcefully exiled all over the world. A lot of Palestinian traditions, including tattooing, were uprooted with the destruction of Palestinian society during the Nakba. There are a few different terms for it, depending on what language or what dialect of Arabic you speak, but dag/deq/dakk/daqyit are all ones I've seen used.

I also have to say that many of the meanings within the tattoos were discussed either only between the tattooer and the client or were based on one's own community or tribe. Just for example: Some tattoos or combinations of markings can distinguish a person's tribe (this is something more common for tattooed Bedouin women) or village or it could be for health, protective, religious, or cosmetic reasons. My Great-Grandmother had them for cosmetic reasons, it was just something they did in her village according to my father - sometimes tattooing is regarded to be like jewelry.

The tattooing itself would be done with a needle and the ink would be made of ink or smoke residue (sometimes breastmilk was included) and then punctured into the skin. The few articles or books I've seen it referenced in have made note that the tattooers were usually Domari artisans.

He's in the second link but I will always highlight @siinlayth 's work on cataloging tattoos in West Asia, he's a bedouin artist and has spent lots of time putting this carrd together if you'd like to browse: https://southwestasiantattoos.carrd.co/#gallery

I'll just include some more images here:

{I haven't posted about traditional tattooing in a while (none of this is directed at you butchorc) but the last time I uploaded stuff about tattooing in Palestine on my blog, I had people (who were not Palestinian in the slightest) reblogging it with tags saying it was for DND inspiration and putting information about our tattooing practices on their DND blogs for "character reference" - do not do this. Please treat our customs respectfully, this is a dying practice that we are trying to preserve- I will block anyone I see doing this.}

I hope this was at least a good starting point! I hope things go well for you and you can learn more about your culture, best wishes!