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#stand for our common humanity
sincericida · 7 months
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“We ask that, as President of the United States, you call for an immediate de-escalation and ceasefire in Gaza and Israel before another life is lost,” it reads. “More than 5,000 people have been killed in the last week and a half – a number any person of conscience knows is catastrophic. We believe all life is sacred, no matter faith or ethnicity and we condemn the killing of Palestinian and Israeli civilians.”
"Beyond our pain and mourning for all of the people there and their loved ones around the world we are motivated by an unbending will to stand for our common humanity,” it concluded. “We stand for freedom, justice, dignity and peace for all people – and a deep desire to stop more bloodshed. We refuse to tell future generations the story of our silence, that we stood by and did nothing.”
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gloriousmonsters · 6 months
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love when you can ask the Narrator why the Princess is a Princess and he's like 'well i uhhhh YOU did that. maybe it's because uh... something something about her being above you... but still approachable... look i don't want to analyze or anthropomorphize your--' my guy. i am a primal being of Order and Eternity and Shaping. You're the one who convinced me I was some dude and were quite willing to take credit for shaping my view on the world through narration five seconds ago. Are you gonna look me in the eye and tell me the desire to interpret something worthy of adoration and more powerful than me as a dommy princess is written in the very nature of the universe or are you going to show me your browser history like a man
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oatbugs · 2 years
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we feel too big for our own good
#i feel like one of the most important aspects of being a creature on this earth in this universe is to possess the ability to feel as much#an animal/a part of nature as any other flower or tree or creature. i feel feeling like a small part of a larger whole is very important to#this process. i think this used to be a very common human experience - in vast forests#staring at uncountable stars existing as a part of a seemingly unending space. somehow somewhere along the way our big became too small.#maybe it was the development of large cities. but when our big becomes so small compared to what it used to be#we may see ourselves as far larger than we used to in comparison. i think what used to be reverence for the vast is now synonymous with#existential dread and i think that mindset has been one of the worst things to happen to us and by extension to this planet.#we need to feel small and insignificant and that is not at all a bad thing. we need to maintain a good perspective of our place in this#world. i wish this was encouraged. i wish it was seen as important to go stand at the foot of a mountain at night in the cold#stare at its height. stare at the stars. feel how easily the cold could end everything. i think that would do everyone wonders.#we just really arent seperate from others.#i want to force every capitalist to float in space untethered for like 2 hours in complete silence.#the acknowledgement of the scale of our existence should be a point of deep respect and awe and unity but it has been treated as something#to feel isolated about. its been deemed existentially unhealthy. this has done so so much harm for us.
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communistcephalopod · 6 months
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🌊 lugias-sopping-anus
Can't stand how people will learn that humans are related to Pokemon and somehow come to the conclusion that different people are different types. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.
🍑 pechaberrysoda
there are literally so many fighting type people what are you even talking about lmao
🌊 lugias-sopping-anus
Your genetic make up doesn't just magically change type because you took a karate class. Do you also think your Charizard is a Grass type now because it learnt Solar Beam?
✨ ace-trainer-luna
But aren't Psychic type people a thing? Some humans have telekinetic powers, I'm pretty sure there are a few gym leaders who have them. There are even rare cases of children born with psychic abilities.
🌸 cynthiasfuturewife
that's still just learning moves
🌌 mistyterrain
As an actual Psychic type, this post is really disheartening to see. The fact that people who still refuse to acknowledge the existence of psychics are so common is just shocking. We exist!
☣ deathtounova
no one's refusing to acknowledge the existence of shit, you just don't know how types work
🌌 mistyterrain
The sheer ignorance on display here, it's obvious you're just mad you're a normal type lol.
☣ deathtounova
how bout i karate chop your ass and we'll see how "not very effective" it is
🌌 mistyterrain
Typical physical attacker brutishness, resorting to violence as usual
🦧 return-to-mankey
didn't you claim you manifested the kyogre disaster in hoenn?
⚡ electrictypesfuckyeah
WHAT
🥀 cradilyzone
Actual professor here! Genetically, all humans are Normal types, though some of our relatively recent ancestors were Psychic. Part of what let us succeed as a species was reutilizing the brain power originally used for psionics to language and tool use. We do still have some vestigial psychic power that can be trained, though it's quite weak compared to most Pokémon. As for those born with psychic powers, this is considered nowadays to be like an egg move, passed down from parent to child. And no, obviously learning Fighting moves doesn't make you a Fighting type, there is no way for a human to change their type.
🌔 hexmaniac
my grandma became a ghost type
🔶️ bigjiggly
I-
🔞 mega-miltank
What about swimmers though, they're water type, right?
📀 HM-69
did you even read the post
🪴 n-did-nothing_wrong
Are we all just ignoring OP's url?
🌊 lugias-sopping-anus
Team Plasma apologist blog, opinion discarded.
🛗 mostlymukposts
This post single handedly evolved my Porygon-2
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xeansicemane · 8 months
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I think what's fascinating about this whole Unity debacle is how clear it makes something.
The entire C-suite of every company on earth are idiots.
That's not hyperbole, they are people serially uninterested in becoming informed and constitutionally incapable of hearing they're wrong about something. They build a thick shell of unreality and assure themselves they can direct any human venture even if they know nothing of how the enterprise in question works or how its' customers interact with it.
They had it. They were THE tool for learning to build games and even worked for larger projects. Producers and consumers alike knew Unity as a trusted albeit occasionally teased household name.
And they fucked their institutional trust like a university of Florida fraternity pledge strung out on something called "gator blood" fucks a supermarket turkey.
And it isn't even just Unity - look at Twitter, the smoking ruin of something once synonymous with the digital commons. It isn't just Twitter - look at grocery prices.
Our "business leaders", our "movers and shakers" don't know what they're doing. An MBA is taken as a stand-in for competence and knowledge. Because the neo-feudal overlords can never hear no.
The enshittification continues.
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tanadrin · 8 months
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There is an obvious objection to evolutionary models which assume that our strongest social ties are based on close biological kinship: many humans just don’t like their families very much. And this appears to be just as true of present- day hunter-gatherers as anybody else. Many seem to find the prospect of living their entire lives surrounded by close relatives so unpleasant that they will travel very long distances just to get away from them. New work on the demography of modern hunter-gatherers — drawing statistical comparisons from a global sample of cases, ranging from the Hadza in Tanzania to the Australian Martu? — shows that residential groups turn out not to be made up of biological kin at all; and the burgeoning field of human genomics is beginning to suggest a similar picture for ancient hunter-gatherers as well, all the way back to the Pleistocene. While modern Martu, for instance, might speak of themselves as if they were all descended from some common totemic ancestor, it turns out that primary biological kin actually make up less than 10 per cent of the total membership of any given residential group. Most participants are drawn from a much wider pool who do not share close genetic relationships, whose origins are scattered over very large territories, and who may not even have grown up speaking the same languages. Anyone recognized to be Martu is a potential member of any Martu band, and the same turns out to be true of the Hadza, BaYaka, !Kung San, and so on. The truly adventurous, meanwhile, can often contrive to abandon their own larger group entirely. This is all the more surprising in places like Australia, where there tend to be very elaborate kinship systems in which almost all social arrangements are ostensibly organized around genealogical descent from totemic ancestors. It would seem, then, that kinship in such cases is really a kind of metaphor for social attachments, in much the same way we’d say ‘all men are brothers’ when trying to express internationalism (even if we can’t stand our actual brother and haven’t spoken to him for years). What’s more, the shared metaphor often extended over very long distances, as we’ve seen with the way that Turtle or Bear clans once existed across North America, or moiety systems across Australia. This made it a relatively simple matter for anyone disenchanted with their immediate biological kin to travel very long distances and still find a welcome.
love the idea that humans avoiding their annoying family by moving hundreds of miles away is part of our ancient evolutionary inheritance
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denimbex1986 · 5 months
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'...“It’s fun playing bad, but actually he’s not,” the actor says, smiling as he reflects on his character, Crowley. “He’s a villain with a heart. The amount of really evil things he does are vanishingly small.”
...As it always has, “Good Omens” dissects the view of good and evil as absolutes, showing viewers that they are not as separate as we were led to believe growing up. Aziraphale and Crowley’s long-standing union is proof of this. The show also urges people to look at what defines our own humanity. For Tennant — who opted to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Leave trans kids alone you absolute freaks” during a photocall for Season 2 — these themes are more important now than ever before.
“In this society that we’re currently living in, where polarization seems ever more present, fierce and difficult to navigate. Negotiation feels like a dirty word at times,” he says, earnestly. “This is a show about negotiation. Two extremes finding common ground and making their world a better place through it. Making life easier, kinder and better. If that’s the sort of super objective of the show, then I can’t think of anything more timely, relevant or apt for the rather fractious times we’re living in.”
“Good Omens” is back by popular demand for another season. How does it feel?
It’s lovely. Whenever you send something out into the world, you never quite know how it will land. Especially with this, because it was this beloved book that existed, and that creates an extra tension that you might break some dreams. But it really exploded. I guess we were helped by the fact that we had Neil Gaiman with us, so you couldn’t really quibble too much with the decisions that were being made. The reception was, and continues to be, overwhelming.
Now that you’re no longer bound by the original material that people did, perhaps, feel a sense of ownership over, does the new content for Season 2 come with a sense of freedom for you? This is uncharted territory, of sorts.
That’s an interesting point. I didn’t know the book when I got the script. It was only after that I discovered the worlds of passion that this book had incited. Because I came to it that way, perhaps it was easier. I found liberation from that, to an extent. For me, it was always a character that existed in a script. At first, I didn’t have that extra baggage of expectation, but I acquired it in the run-up to Season 1 being released… the sense that suddenly we were carrying a ming vase across a minefield.
In Season 2, we still have Neil and we also have some of the ideas that he and Terry had discussed. During the filming of the first one, Neil would drop little hints about the notions they had for a prospective sequel, the title of which would have been “668: The Neighbour of the Beast,” which is a pretty solid gag to base a book around. Indeed there were elements like Gabriel and the Angels, who don’t feature in the book, that were going to feature in a sequel. They were brought forward into Season 1. So, even in the new episodes, we’re not entirely leaving behind the Terry Pratchett-ness of it all.
It’s great to see yourself and Michael Sheen reunited on screen as these characters. Fans will have also watched you pair up for Season 3 of “Staged.” You’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you think is the magic ingredient that makes the two of you such a good match?
It’s a slightly alchemical thing. We knew each other in passing before, but not well. We were in a film together [“Bright Young Things,” 1993] but we’d never shared a scene. It was a bit of a roll of the dice when we turned up at the read-through for “Good Omens.” I think a lot comes from the writing, as we were both given some pretty juicy material to work with. Those characters are beloved for a reason because there’s something magical about them and the way they complete each other. Also, I think we’re quite similar actors in the way we like to work and how we bounce off each other.
Does the shorthand and trust the two of you have built up now enable you to take more risks on-screen?
Yes, probably. I suppose the more you know someone, the more you trust someone. You don’t have to worry about how an idea might be received and you can help each other out with a more honest opinion than might be the case if you were, you know, dancing around each other’s nervous egos. Enjoying being in someone’s orbit and company is a positive experience. It makes going to work feel pleasant, productive, and creative. The more creative you can be, the better the work is. I don’t think it’s necessarily a given that an off-screen relationship will feed into an on-screen one in a positive or negative way. You can play some very intimate moments with someone you barely know. Acting is a peculiar little contract, in that respect. But it’s disproportionately pleasurable going to work when it’s with a mate.
Fans have long discussed the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. In Season 2, we see several of the characters debate whether the two are an item, prompting them to look at their union and decipher what it is. How would you describe their relationship?
They are utterly co-dependent. There’s no one else having the experience that they are having and they’ve only got each other to empathize with. It’s a very specific set of circumstances they’ve been dealt. In this season, we see them way back at the creation of everything. They’ve known each other a long time and they’ve had to rely on each other more and more. They can’t really exist one without the other and are bound together through eternity. Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms, I think that’s fair to say.
Yet fans are trying to do just that. Do you view it as beyond romantic or any other labels, in the sense that it’s an eternal force?
It’s lovely [that fans discuss it] but you think, be careful what you wish for. If you’re willing for a relationship to go in a certain way or for characters to end up in some sort of utopian future, then the story is over. Remember what happened to “Moonlighting,” that’s all I’m saying! [Laughs]
Your father-in-law, Peter Davison, and your son, Ty Tennant, play biblical father-and-son duo Job and Ennon in Episode 2. In a Tumblr Q&A, Neil Gaiman said that he didn’t know who Ty’s family was when he cast him. When did you become aware that Ty had auditioned?
I don’t know how that happened. I do a bunch of self-tapes with Ty, but I don’t think I did this one with him because I was out of town filming “Good Omens.” He certainly wasn’t cast before we started shooting. There were two moments during filming where Neil bowled up to me and said, “Guess, who we’ve cast?” Ty definitely auditioned and, as I understand it, they would tell me, he was the best. I certainly imagine he could only possibly have been the best person for the job. He is really good in it, so I don’t doubt that’s true. And then my father-in-law showed up, as well, which was another delicious treat. In the same episode and the same family! It was pretty weird. I have worked with both of them on other projects, but never altogether.
There’s a “Doctor Who” cameo, of sorts, in Episode 5, when Aziraphale uses a rare annual about the series as a bartering tool. In reality, you’ll be reprising your Time Lord role on screen later this year in three special episodes to mark the 60th anniversary. Did you always feel you’d return to “Doctor Who” at some point?
There’s a precedent for people who have been in the series to return for a multi-doctor show, which is lovely. I did it myself for the 50th anniversary in 2013, and I had a wonderful time with Matt [Smith]. Then, to have John Hurt with us, as well, was a little treat. But I certainly would never have imagined that I’d be back in “Doctor Who” full-time, as it were, and sort of back doing the same job I did all those years ago. It was like being given this delightful, surprise present. Russell T Davies was back as showrunner, Catherine Tate [former on-screen companion] was back, and it was sort of like the last decade and a half hadn’t happened.
Going forward, Ncuti Gatwa will be taking over as the new Doctor. Have you given him any advice while passing the baton?
Oh God, what a force of nature. I’ve caught a little bit of him at work and it’s pretty exciting. I mean, what advice would you give someone? You can see Ncuti has so much talent and energy. He’s so inspired and charismatic. The thing about something like this is: it’s the peripherals, it’s not the job. It’s the other stuff that comes with it, that I didn’t see coming. It’s a show that has so much focus and enthusiasm on it. It’s not like Ncuti hasn’t been in a massive Netflix series [“Sex Education,”] but “Doctor Who” is on a slightly different level. It’s cross-generational, international, and has so much history, that it feels like it belongs to everyone.
To be at the center of the show is wonderful and humbling, but also a bit overwhelming and terrifying. It doesn’t come without some difficulties, such as the immediate loss of anonymity. It takes a bit of getting used to if that’s not been your life up to that point. I was very lucky that when I joined, Billie Piper [who portrayed on-screen companion, Rose] was still there. She’d lived in a glare of publicity since she was 14, so she was a great guide for how to live life under that kind of scrutiny. I owe a degree of sanity to Billie.
Your characters are revered by a few different fandoms. Sci-fi fandoms are especially passionate and loyal. What is it like being on the end of that? I imagine it’s a lot to hold.
Yes, certainly. Having been a fan of “Doctor Who” since I was a tiny kid, you’re aware of how much it means because you’re aware of how much it meant to you. My now father-in-law [who portrayed Doctor Who in the 80s] is someone I used to draw in comic strips when I was a kid. That’s quite peculiar! It’s a difficult balance because on one end, you have to protect your own space, and there aren’t really any lessons in that. That does take a bit of trial and error, to an extent, and it’s something that you’re sometimes having to do quite publicly. But, it is an honor and a privilege, without a doubt. As you’ve said, it means so much to people and you want to be worthy of that. You have to acknowledge that and be careful with it. Some days that’s tough, if you’re not in the mood.
I know you’re returning to the stage later this year to portray Macbeth. You’ve previously voiced the role for BBC Sounds, but how are you feeling about taking on the character in the theater?
I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve done Shakespeare. It’s very thrilling but equally — and this analogy probably doesn’t stretch — it’s like when someone prepares for an Olympic event. It does feel like a bit of a mountain and, yeah, you’re daring to set yourself up against some fairly worthy competition from down the years. That’s both the challenge and the horror of doing these types of things. We’ve got a great director, Max Webster, who recently did “Life of Pi.” He’s full of big ideas. It’s going to be exciting, thrilling, and a little bit scary. I’m just going to take a deep breath.
Before we part ways, let’s discuss the future of “Good Omens.” Gaiman has said that he already has ideas for Season 3, should it happen. If you were to do another season, is there anyone in particular you’d love to work with next time around or anything specific you’d like to see happen for Crowley?
Oh, Neil Gaiman knows exactly where he wants to take it. If you’re working with people like Gaiman, I wouldn’t try to tamper with that creative void. Were he to ask my opinion, that would be a different thing, but I can’t imagine he would. He’s known these characters longer than me and what’s interesting is what he does with them. That’s the bit that I’m desperate to know. I do know where Crowley might end up next, but it would be very wrong if I told you.
[At this point, Tennant picks up a pencil and starts writing on a hotel pad of paper.]
I thought you were going to write it down for me then. Perhaps like a clandestine meeting on a bench in St James’ Park, but instead you’d write the information down and slide it across the table…
I should have done! I was drawing a line, which obviously, psychologically, I was thinking, “Say no more. You’re too tempted to reveal a secret!” It was my subconscious going “Shut the fuck up!”
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cuprohastes · 4 months
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The humans said "We sent our very best to the stars."
Well we looked at what they sent: And thought, if that's their best, what are their worst like? They were scavengers and opportunists, fast talking con artists, barely restrained psychopaths with mayhem on their mind.
Honestly we were expecting the worst: That 'human' would be a curse word, that we'd have to root them out painfully and banish them back to their dirty heavy world.
But they cleaned up Antichor. They dredged the oceans, got the ecosystem back up, cleaned the mine lakes, remediated the sludge swamps, turned the hulks into gleaming ingots.
"We knew how. We had the experience." They said.
The humans started showing up in the weirdest places. Conflicts of all sorts... and they always had questions. "Why are you doing this? What if tehy did this. What if you did that?" And it was so odd - Within weeks of the Humans showing up, common ground would be found, or reasons to get along would appear.
"Well, we're used to it. We know how to deal with conflict." They said.
And the human liars, dressed in bedazzling clothes, singing and laughing... They spun lies! For entertainment! Of better worlds, and drama, of excitement, of adventure. Thay made such spectacles - Fire in the sky of a thousand colours - smoke and lasers, costumes and music, feats of synchronised movement the Civil Worlds had barely imagined could be performed by any being let lone these strange humans...
"We know how to have a good time!" They said.
When there was a nasty little war of expansion over on the Veran worlds, we thought we'd be barely in time to document the mass graves and the scraps of planetary genocide. Expansion wars are the worst of crimes but what can you do? The settlers who are squatting on the graves of the people who came before aren't usually the ones who ordered the invasion or carried it out. And there's always some justification that can be argued over for centuries: none of which brings the dead back.
We were horrified to find the Human fleet there. Finally proof that the Humans were the worst sort of mercenary.
But the ships had aid: Shelters and food. Medical personnel. And those that did fight did so under strange rules that allowed for surrenders and retreats in good faith.
The Verans talked of the Arnath Invasion fleet: Unstoppable, claiming thier worlds before they even landed, their leaders ranting and cursing those who lived there - But then the Humans arriving like heroes of legend, in flame clad dropships, spending their lives hard, making the Arnath throw incredible effort to get nowhere... Of the mighty Rangers, each one a hero. The Bulwark infantry who wouldn't yield a single step until the civilians had been evacuated. The Medical teams as caring as any, who'd stand and fight as hard as a soldier to protect their patients.
And even before we arrived, the Arnath were losing - Humans arriving on their world and asking "Why?". Arguing with the Archons with the skill of philosophers, litigating on behalf of the Verans with cunning arguments. The clowns and entertainers with unexpected savagery, showing the population their own "heroic" soldiers burning crops and firing on children, turning the population against thier bloody handed leaders.
The soldiers returning, not hailed as heroes, their crimes documented.
"We know these crimes. We won't stand for them." The humans said.
And we started to wonder... what else did they know?
What we know now is... you can always ask the Humans, because they always send their best.
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sugarcoatednightshade · 6 months
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thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.
And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.
And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.
And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?
Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.
Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.
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Terrible Visions
A scrambled timeline is a timeline that has proceeded much like ours, except that some particular facet has been mixed up all over the place. For example, in the scrambled timeline we will consider today, our world's fictional stories have been told by different people, and in different ways.
Bryan Lee O'Malley, in this alternate timeline, is best known as the cartoonist responsible for Homestuck, a popular comic series about a group of children who become embroiled in a cosmic-scale video game known as Sburb. Although Homestuck is probably most often associated with the cult classic Edgar Wright-directed film adaptation released in 2016, the comics themselves are highly-regarded, and the film brought a new audience to them. Netflix has commissioned an animated continuation, The Homestuck Epilogues, which is due to be released soon.
Andrew Hussie, on the other hand, is a figure you're likelier to know if you're overly online. His "MS Paint Adventures" series - most notably including Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, which is kind of like Homestuck but weirder and hornier - have firmly remained a fixture of obsessive Twitter fandom culture. It doesn't help that the best-known iteration, Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, is infamous for stretching thousands of pages of meandering digressions out of a simple and focused narrative starting point. Scott Pilgrim fans have developed something of a toxic reputation, which is not entirely deserved - although of course Knives discourse is interminable, and back in the fandom's heyday there were reportedly incidents of fans assaulting each other "for being evil exes".
Scott Pilgrim fandom was very big back in the day, though, and consequently it was a nexus for other creative figures who would go on to surpass Hussie. Perhaps foremost among these is indie developer Toby Fox. He was literally living in Hussie's basement when he produced ROSEQUARTZ, a universally-beloved retro Goonies-like RPG about a human hybrid boy born to a race of gem-based aliens. He's now developing an episodic spiritual successor, RAZORQUEST, with more overtly dark themes. It revolves around an inheritance dispute among a demon-summoning family.
Other foundational figures in this timeline's internet culture include Alison Bechdel, who helped get the webcomic scene started. Although she's now more seriously acclaimed for her personal memoirs, her gaming webcomic Press Start To Dyke, which premiered in 1998, was once everywhere. It had a broad appeal, and at its height, it was common to see even straight guys sharing pages from it. Time has not been especially kind to it, though, and at this point its main legacy is test.png, a meme spawned by one of the comic's most ill-advised pages.
Then there's John C. McCrae, more often known by his pseudonym Wildbow. A prolific and reclusive author of doorstopping "web serials" - long-form fiction published online - McCrae's best-known serial is still his first, Wind, a noir superhero story set in an alternate history where capes are mostly just a subculture of unpowered vigilantes. Wind landed in a culture already rife with comic book deconstructions, like Alan Moore's 2002 graphic novel Worm Turns, but it nonetheless managed to stand out from the pack with its extensive cast of characters and its themes of coordination problems and the end of the world. Later McCrae web serials include Part (the first "Otherverse" serial; an urban fantasy story about a couple who die in a car accident and find that they have become ghosts), Tear (a "biopunk" story set in a collapsing underwater city), Warn (the controversial Wind sequel), and Play (the second "Otherverse" serial, set in a small Indiana town that helps hide a psychic girl from the CIA).
Last and perhaps least, we should discuss J. K. Rowling. Far and away the most famous of any of these authors, Rowling's name is inseparable from the YA series that she debuted with, the Luz Noceda books, which remain her one successful work. Although it was heavily derivative of older fantasy novels - like Jill Murphy's Academy For Little Witches, or Philip Pullman's Methods Of Rationality trilogy - Luz Noceda was still a monumental and unprecedented success in the publishing industry, and the film adaptations were consistent blockbusters. The final book, Luz Noceda and the Watcher of Rain, contained some allusions to a romantic relationship between Luz and her recently-redeemed associate Amity. Rowling confirmed that this was her intent in subsequent interviews and indicated that she had fought her publishers for it; the film would then go on to escalate matters slightly further.
There have been many lengthy and heated online arguments as to whether the references in the book itself constitute text or mere subtext. Whatever your stance on this discourse, a new complication has been introduced recently: although she has put out no official statement on the matter as of yet, it has become quite apparent from Rowling's shrinking network of contacts and her conspicuous silences that she is certainly TERF-sympathetic, and likely an outright TERF herself. For many, this is leading to a critical reevaluation of the social values inherent in the Luz Noceda series; others, to say the least, are holding off on that kind of reappraisal.
Anyway, Scott Pilgrim just beat Luz Noceda in a Twitter poll for Most Gay Media, and people are piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed
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dailyadventureprompts · 9 months
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Monsters Reimagined: Bandits
As a game of heroic fantasy that centers so primarily on combat, D&D  is more often than not a game about righteous violence, which is why I spend so much time thinking about the targets of that violence. Every piece of media made by humans is a thing created from conscious or unconscious design, it’s saying something whether or not its creators intended it to do so. 
Tolkien made his characters peaceloving and pastoral, and coded his embodiment of evil as powerhungry, warlike, and industrial. When d&d directly cribbed from Tolkien's work it purposely changed those enemies to be primitive tribespeople who were resentful of the riches the “civilized” races possessed. Was this intentional? None can say, but as a text d&d says something decidedly different than Tolkien. 
That's why today I want to talk about bandits, the historical concept of being an “outlaw”, and how media uses crime to “un-person” certain classes of people in order to give heroes a target to beat up. 
Tldr: despite presenting bandits as a generic threat, most d&d scenarios never go into detail about what causes bandits to exist, merely presuming the existence of outlaws up to no good that the heroes should feel no qualms about slaughtering. If your story is going to stand up to the scrutiny of your players however, you need to be aware of WHY these individuals have been driven to banditry, rather than defaulting to “they broke the law so they deserve what’s coming to them.”
I got to thinking about writing this post when playing a modded version of fallout 4, an npc offhndedly mentioned to me that raiders (the postapoc bandit rebrand) were too lazy to do any farming and it was good that I’d offed them by the dozens so that they wouldn’t make trouble for those that did. 
That gave me pause, fallout takes place in an irradiated wasteland where folks struggle to survive but this mod was specifically about rebuilding infrastructure like farms and ensuring people had enough to get by. Lack of resources to go around was a specific justification for why raiders existed in the first place, but as the setting became more arable the mod-author had to create an excuse why the bandit’s didn’t give up their violent ways and start a nice little coop, settling on them being inherently lazy , dumb, and psychopathic.   
This is exactly how d&d has historically painted most of its “monstrous humanoid” enemies. Because the game is ostensibly about combat the authors need to give you reasons why a peaceful solution is impossible, why the orcs, goblins, gnolls (and yes, bandits), can’t just integrate with the local town or find a nice stretch of wilderness to build their own settlement on and manage in accordance with their needs. They go so far in this justification that they end up (accidently or not) recreating a lot of IRL arguments for persecution and genocide.
Bandits are interesting because much like cultists, it’s a descriptor that’s used to unperson groups of characters who would traditionally be inside the “not ontologically evil” bubble that’s applied to d&d’s protagonists.   Break the law or worship the wrong god says d&d and you’re just as worth killing as the mindless minions of darkness, your only purpose to serve as a target of the protagonist’s righteous violence.  
The way we get around this self-justification pitfall and get back to our cool fantasy action game is to relentlessly question authority, not only inside the game but the authors too. We have to interrogate anyone who'd show us evil and direct our outrage a certain way because if we don't we end up with crusades, pogroms, and Qanon.
With that ethical pill out of the way, I thought I’d dive into a listing of different historical groups that we might call “Bandits” at one time or another and what worldbuilding conceits their existence necessitates. 
Brigands: By and large the most common sort of “bandit” you’re going to see are former soldiers left over from wars, often with a social gap between them and the people they’re raiding that prevents reintegration ( IE: They’re from a foreign land and can’t speak the local tongue, their side lost and now they’re considered outlaws, they’re mercenaries who have been stiffed on their contract).  Justifying why brigands are out brigading is as easy as asking yourself “What were the most recent conflicts in this region and who was fighting them?”. There’s also something to say about how a life of trauma and violence can be hard to leave even after the battle is over, which is why you historically tend to see lots of gangs and paramilitary groups pop up in the wake of conflict. 
Raiders:  fundamentally the thing that has caused cultures to raid eachother since the dawn of time is sacristy. When the threat of starvation looms it’s far easier to justify potentially throwing your life away if it means securing enough food to last you and those close to you through the next year/season/day. Raider cultures develop in biomes that don’t support steady agriculture, or in times where famine, war, climate change, or disease make the harvests unreliable. They tend to target neighboring cultures that DO have reliable harvests which is why you frequently see raiders emerging from “the barbaric frontier” to raid “civilization” that just so happens to occupy the space of a reliably fertile river valley. When thinking about including raiders in your story, consider what environmental forces have caused this most recent and previous raids, as well as consider how frequent raiding has shaped the targeted society. Frequent attacks by raiders is how we get walled palaces and warrior classes after all, so this shit is important. 
Slavers: Just like raiding, most cultures have engaged in slavery at one point or another, which is a matter I get into here. While raiders taking captives is not uncommon, actively attacking people for slaves is something that starts occurring once you have a built up slave market, necessitating the existence of at least one or more hierarchical societies that need more disposable workers than then their lower class is capable of providing. The roman legion and its constant campaigns was the apparatus by which the imperium fed its insatiable need for cheap slave labor. Subsistence raiders generally don’t take slaves en masse unless they know somewhere to sell them, because if you’re having trouble feeding your own people you’re not going to capture more ( this is what d&d gets wrong about monstrous humanoids most of the time). 
Tax Farmers: special mention to this underused classic, where gangs of toughs would bid to see who could collect money for government officials, and then proceed to ransack the realm looking to squeeze as much money out of the people as possible. This tends to happen in areas where the state apparatus is stretched too thin or is too lighthanded to have established enduring means of funding.  Tax farmers are a great one-two punch for campaigns where you want your party to be set up against a corrupt authority: our heroes defeat the marauding bandits and then oh-no, turns out they were not only sanctioned by the government but backed by an influential political figure who you’ve just punched in the coinpurse.  If tax farming exists it means the government is strong enough to need a yearly budget but not so established (at least in the local region) that it’s developed a reliably peaceful method of maintaining it.  
Robber Baron: Though the term is now synonymous with ruthless industrialists, it originated from the practice of shortmidned petty gentry (barons and knights and counts and the like) going out to extort and even rob THEIR OWN LANDS out of a desire for personal enrichment/boredom. Schemes can range from using their troops to shake down those who pass through their domain to outright murdering their own peasants for sport because you haven’t gotten to fight in a war for a while.  Just as any greed or violence minded noble can be a robber baron so it doesn’t take that much of a storytelling leap but I encourage you to channel all your landlord hate into this one. 
Rebels: More than just simple outlaws, rebels have a particular cause they’re a part of (just or otherwise) that puts them at odds with the reigning authority. They could violently support a disfavoured political faction, be acting out against a law they think is unjust, or hoping to break away from the authority entirely. Though attacks against those figures of authority are to be expected, it’s all too common for rebels to go onto praying on common folk for the sake of the cause.  To make a group of rebels worth having in your campaign pinpoint an issue that two groups of people with their own distinct interests could disagree on, and then ratchet up the tension. Rebels have to be able to beleive in a cause, so they have to have an argument that supports them.
Remnants: Like a hybrid of brigands, rebels, and taxfarmers, Remnants represent a previously legitimate system of authority that has since been replaced but not yet fully disappeared. This can happen either because the local authority has been replaced by something new (feudal nobles left out after a monarchy toppling revolution) or because it has faded entirely ( Colonial forces of an empire left to their own devices after the empire collapses). Remnants often sat at the top of social structures that had endured for generations and so still hold onto the ghost of power ( and the violence it can command) and the traditions that support it.  Think about big changes that have happened in your world of late, are the remnants looking to overturn it? Win new privilege for themselves? Go overlooked by their new overlords?
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floatyflowers · 3 months
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Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Five
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<<< Chapter Four
"My back hurts so bad right now"
"It must be the seats...There is no way this is what sacred smells like"
Percy whines, as all four of you sit in the back of the bus.
The blond boy feels bothered for not being able to sit beside you.
"We’re soldiers on a mission. It’s not a vacation." Annabeth shoots back.
You start scratching your back from the itchness and the pain.
"I will go to the bathroom in the store, be right back"
You announce and leave before they can say anything to you.
Percy stands up to follow you, but Annabeth forces him back in his seat.
"No, you will stay right there, I'm going to go check on her"
°°°
The moment Annabeth enters the toilet, she is shocked to see white wings on your back.
"Are those wings? And your eyes, they are red"
"Yes" you answer nervously.
"Oh...wow"
"I know, do you think I can fly with them?" you ask excitedly.
I mean it's every child's dream to have wings to fly.
And now you got the chance to do that.
"Your wings might cause a huge problem it will attract monsters"
"Don't worry, my dad gave me a music box to keep the monsters away"
You pull out the music box from your bag.
"Also, can humans see my wings?"
A woman enters the toilet after you ask that question.
She only washes her hands then walks out.
"No, they don't" Annabeth says after the woman leave.
"We need to leave, I sense that we are being followed by a monster"
You turn on the music box as a beautiful melody begins to play.
"This will keep us safe"
°°°
You and Annabeth walk into the bus with Annabeth shouting to the two boys to open the windows.
Percy only stares at you in surprise at your new appearance, then hurries off to break the window with Grover when he sees Mrs. Dodds.
As the passengers get off the bus when the driver announces emergency, one of the furies fly into the bus through the broken window.
The monster looks at you ready to approach you.
But the melody makes it scream in pain when it was close to touching you.
Annabeth takes her chance and throws her dagger at the fury, killing it as it turns into dust.
All four of you escape quickly.
°°°
"Hades has kidnapped your mother, (Y/n)"
Annabeth says, as you walk all together in the Satyr path.
"What? Why would he do that!" you exclaim, worried for your mother.
"Who told you that?" Percy inquires, looking at her in suspicion.
But before she could answer, Grover sniffs the air.
"Do you guys smell that?" 
"Grover, I’m not kidding..." Percy asserts.
"No, neither am I. Just shush."
"Hamburgers" you sigh at Grover, causing him to blush.
"I think you are just hungry, Grover"
"No, I'm not, somebody's making hamburgers in the middle of nowhere, on a satyr path. Whoever it is... they’re from our world."
°°°
You don't know what made you trust Percy and go inside Medusa's house along with Grover and Annabeth.
Probably because Mrs.Dodds is outside waiting to snatch you and Percy away.
"You're concerned I would hold a grudge against you simply because you are a daughter of Athena?"
You don't dare to look at Medusa even if she is hiding her eyes.
Medusa continues speaking to Annabeth.
"You shouldn’t be. We're not our parents after all. And you and I might have more in common than you think. Please, sit and eat."
Letting out a nervous breath after Medusa starts speaking to you.
"You must be the daughter of Calista, you look like her when she was your age."
Medusa notices that you are not looking at her, she could feel your fear.
"Your mother was a friend of mind, she visited me and told me about her encounters with the gods, poor thing, they wouldn't leave her"
"...They" you inquire.
"Your mother is the daughter of Nyx, her beauty attracted the attention of many gods including Poseidon, Hades, Apollo, Hermes, and Eros" 
Percy shivers at the thought that his father loved your mother.
Maybe he can succeed where his father failed.
"Your mother is an enchanteress not a demigod"
Grover jokes, but stops when Annabeth glares at him.
That must be why Hades kidnapped your mother.
Little do you know that you might up having a similar fate like your mother.
But with demigods instead.
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talesofesther · 5 months
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too close to the stars
Loki x Reader
Summary: Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, but a bit of a Christmas spirit might just change that.
A/N: I wish everyone a very happy Christmas. <3
Word count: 3k
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The sun peered over the horizon this morning only to shine over the white expanse of snow that covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound.
It had snowed pretty heavily over the night, and as Loki looked out his window, he couldn't help but think that the landscape was rather pleasant to look at—Thor had already made his way outside to shovel snow out of the driveway along with Steve, the once green fields were now a blanket of glistening white, as were the many trees around. The air was cold, but a pleasant kind of cold; it brought a feeling of calmness.
That is, until a rather sharp noise of something scratching the floor outside his bedroom disrupted Loki's peace.
Accepting that another day had begun, the god made his way outside onto the common area, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and putting on his slippers.
As soon as Loki rounded the corner to the spacious living room, his lips hung open in bewilderment and his brows furrowed in mild confusion.
You were standing on the very top of a ladder, stretching your body so you could reach the ceiling trims and lamps, all while holding an ungodly amount of ornaments, string lights, and garlands. It looked like a rather precarious arrangement and Loki found himself worrying for your safety for a moment.
"What on earth are you doing?" Loki asked, exasperated, frozen in place as he watched you.
The ladder wiggled in place when you quickly turned around to face him and Loki nearly bolted forward to catch you if you were to fall. He cursed under his breath when all you did was give him a cheeky smile.
"I'm decorating," you gestured around to the expanse of the living room, which already had most of its nooks and crannies filled with garlands, Santa Claus plushies, stockings, and the like.
Loki's frown only deepened, "We already have decorations." He pointed to the exaggerated Christmas tree that had been standing beside the TV since before the beginning of December. Honestly, he had yet to understand the humans' obsession with said holiday.
You chuckled, and the sound naturally brought the ghost of a smile to Loki's lips as well. "No, silly. I'm decorating for our little Christmas party tomorrow night, I thought the place looked a bit bare still." You winked at him and went back to work.
Loki shook his head, his heart swelling with affection. He was way past denying it already. Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, yet.
With a flick of his wrist, the living room erupted in a myriad of greens, golds, and reds. Each decoration you had on your arms—and more—magically took its rightful place in the walls and between furniture.
A breathless chuckle went past your lips, eyes glinting with amazement as you watched it all unfold. It was incredibly endearing, the way that, despite seeing so much of it, you never ceased to be enchanted by Loki's magic. He secretly took pride in it.
"That's convenient," you mumbled with a faint smile.
"Quite," Loki stated, taking a step closer, "Now please get down from there before you break something and have to spend your precious holiday in the med bay."
You skipped down the ladder as if gravity would bend to your will, were you to fall; the tilt of your lips ever present as you came to stand before Loki, much closer than what would be socially acceptable for ones who said they were merely friends. Yet Loki would never dare to complain. If anything, he held himself back from pulling you even closer.
"Do I detect a hint of worry, trickster?" You raised a brow at him. "Would you miss me if I didn't attend the party?"
Loki chuckled lowly, his smirk was teasing but his eyes avoided yours. "Darling, you're the only reason I'm even going to this party."
You bit your lower lip to keep the smile from getting any bigger, "Flatterer," you breathed.
And Loki loved you like this, all pink cheeks and bashful eyes, as if he had the same effect on you that you had on him. He hardly dared to dream of it. But he allowed himself to bask in these tiny moments by your side.
Then your pinkie hooked around his own, and Loki was putty in your hands.
"Come on, let's take a walk outside, enjoy the sun while it's out." You tugged him toward the elevator, not once letting go of his hand.
It was indeed very pleasant outside, the soft rays of sunlight were just enough to bring a bit of warmth along with the cold winter breeze, the air was fresh to breathe in, and the snowy landscape was beautiful.
Loki's boots crunched the snow and frozen grass underneath as he lazily walked beside you. He'd steal glances at you from time to time, watching as the sunlight shaped your serene profile and how you looked genuinely breathtaking amidst the white horizon. Everything felt perfect for a precious second and Loki wished he could slow down time.
His musing was suddenly interrupted, however, when he was hit in the back of his head with something mildly solid and very cold; causing an oof to escape his lips.
He whipped his head around in your direction only to see you muffling a giggle with one hand, while the other held a snowball.
A halfhearted scoff went past Loki's lips. He raised a hand to brush off the remaining snow from his hair, as a mischievous smirk painted his features, "You little minx, you have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."
A mix of a squeak and a chuckle fell past your lips the moment Loki bolted towards you and you naturally sped off in the opposite direction. You struggled to run amidst the rather thick snow and Loki took the advantage to bunch up a snowball of his own and hit you square in the back.
By the time you had made it back inside the Compound, you both had nearly run two full laps of the whole yard and were a mess of snow-covered clothes and breathless laughs.
"I.. win," you spoke in between deep breaths, one hand resting on Loki's chest to brace yourself.
"Absolutely not," Loki frowned as if you'd personally offended him. He took a deep breath himself, gesturing to your snowy clothes, "You're way worse off than I am."
"Uh uh, lies," you insisted. "I hit you way more than you hit me, your aim is shit," you chuckled.
Loki's smile followed yours naturally, he raised a hand to brush wild strands of your hair away from your eyes, his touch all delicate and soft. "You keep telling yourself that, love."
─── ·❆· ───
When the night of the celebration finally arrived, Loki found himself hesitating to get out of his room. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, slowly running a hand over the smooth fabric of his black suit. Did he like what he saw? The person staring back at him? Would you?
It was no secret that, despite accepting his presence, a few wary looks and comments still lingered between his teammates whenever he walked into a room. Loki couldn't blame them, not really. He also couldn't deny that those not-so-kind comments didn't get to him sometimes, much as he'd like to.
But then, there was you, who had never once made him feel unwelcome or unworthy. You who made him coffee in the mornings and always saved him a seat at the table. You who had a smile reserved for him ever since his first day here. You who made his heartbeat stumble and his silver tongue get caught in his mouth.
And Loki so desperately wanted to be someone deserving of all that. Still, he feared he wasn't.
A long sigh went past his lips. With a final tidying of his hair and the tie around his neck, Loki made his way out.
There was music playing in the common area. The several blinking lights you had so meticulously arranged were illuminating the room beautifully, reflecting against the many Christmas ornaments in warm shades of orange in the night. Tony, Thor, and Natasha were hanging out by the bar, with drinks in hand and loose smiles on their faces; Clint and Steve were sitting on the couch, laughing at something that Loki couldn't hear; Bucky and Sam were standing together by the Christmas tree, apparently trying to guess what was inside each present.
A few of their gazes turned as Loki stepped into the room, he could see as well as feel it, the weight resting in each one. He gave a polite smile and nod to no one in particular as his gaze skimmed around, looking for the reason he came. When he couldn't find you, he walked straight to the bar.
Loki leaned his elbows on the glass surface, closing his eyes and breathing in. There was a reason he wasn't overly fond of the team's social gatherings; he felt like an intruder, someone they were merely putting up with.
"Anything special?" Natasha's sultry voice made Loki look up. She stood behind the bar with an inquiring eyebrow raised at him.
"I'm afraid she's not here yet," Loki mumbled, which elicited a low chuckle from Natasha. The spy was a dear friend of yours and probably something close to it for Loki as well, one of the few people here who he knew didn't mind his presence.
"Actually," Natasha started, nodding towards the opening doors of the elevator, "I think she just arrived."
Loki turned around and his breath hitched. You stepped out of the elevator slowly, one hand smoothing out the fabric of your red dress—a gorgeous red dress that hugged your body and accentuated your curves to perfection. Your hair was up in a bun and there was golden jewelry highlighting your features.
The god was frozen in place, entranced by the beauty that was you. He'd never been so taken with anyone like he is with you. And when your eyes met, and a small, timid smile graced your glossy lips, Loki swore he could feel his heartbeat stumble.
You were about to make your way to him when Steve called your name and stole your attention. And then Bruce, and then Sam. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of you tonight.
Loki had a near-empty drink in hand when you finally managed to walk up to him.
You approached him with a smirk, leaning on the bar just beside him and raising a hand to gently tug on the lapel of his blazer. "Well, don't you clean up nicely, trickster?"
Loki hummed, leaning just a tad closer to you, "I'm not the one everyone is trying to get a hold of this evening." He said lowly, only for you to hear.
"Oh please," you chuckled, briefly avoiding his gaze. "I only have eyes for one person tonight."
A beat of silence passed, even if the room was anything but silent. Tony was going on about one of the many Christmas stories he shared every year, eliciting laughs from your teammates who by now had gathered all around the living room. From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed Bucky trying to straighten the star on the very top of the Christmas tree, the one the soldier himself had knocked over earlier.
You'd be mad, Loki thought. You'd be saying something about manners and being more careful, with a smile on your lips as you easily fixed the golden star yourself.
But instead, you were here; attention solely on Loki, in your little corner of the world as the chatter around you turned to nothing but muffled noise.
Why? He couldn't help but wonder. What could you possibly see on him?
"And who is this lucky gentleman?" Loki asked, his voice suddenly way too quiet as he kept his eyes trained on his half-empty glass, "Or lady?"
Only after you didn't answer, did Loki finally look up at you. There was a soft smile on your lips, painted with a feeling he couldn't name.
"That's a secret," you whispered back and took hold of Loki's glass of champagne, leaving it on top of the bar before closing your hand around his own instead. "Come on."
Loki followed easily, he allowed you to guide him to the balcony, where the cold wind was flowing and the warm lights from inside were nothing but a faded glow coming from the glass doors.
You didn't let go of Loki's hand when you stopped walking, only squeezed it once as you looked up at him with softly furrowed brows and an adorable tilt of your head. "What's wrong? You've been all tense ever since I walked in."
Of course you'd know. Of course you'd notice the stiffness of his shoulders and the guarded look in his eyes. If there was anyone who could read him like an open book, it was you.
A breathy chuckle fell past Loki's lips, he drank in the sight of you in the night; as wisps of your hair flew with the wind and as the light from inside outlined the shape of your features.
"You know it as well as I do that they don't want me here," Loki shot a pointed look at your teammates inside, not accusing, simply stating. "I don't… belong here…" Loki's fingers tangled with yours, his thumb gently brushing the skin of your hand, "With you." The words were nothing but a breath.
You raised your free hand to his face, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers before you gingerly traced his jaw. "But you do," you took half a step closer to him, your heels bumping his shoes, "You may think that you don't, but you do. I'd miss you greatly if you ever left."
Loki met your gaze again, his eyes a pool of sentiment, walls down and as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him. He leaned into your touch, all soft and pleading. "How could I ever deserve your kindness?" He spoke quietly, almost as if he never meant to say it out loud.
But you heard anyway, and your answer came in the same heartbeat. "You already do, always have." Your voice caught slightly in your throat, overwhelmed with the affection you felt for him.
The softest of smiles graced Loki's lips, the back of his eyes burned and his heart beat out of his chest, for you, for you, for you. He leaned in, biting the inside of his cheek and closing his eyes when you didn't pull away. His lips met your forehead in a lingering kiss, a promise of the thousand words he wished to say to you, of everything you made him feel that he couldn't put into words.
When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with something akin to adoration—maybe he could dare to call it love. Your eyes shining with a twinkle of expectation.
Loki squeezed your hand, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I couldn't break your silly tradition, now could I?" He shot a glance up.
You followed his gaze and finally saw it, a glimmer of green leaves with a small red trinket tying it together, delicately flowing in the wind as it hung by the door, pretty much on top of your head. A mistletoe.
You hummed, a small smirk coming to your lips as you settled back on Loki. "I don't remember putting it there." You raised a brow at him, standing so close you breathed the same air.
"And yet it's there anyway," Loki mumbled, lost in your orbit. His eyes darted down to your lips; it was a quick glance, all timid and boyish, but you caught it.
"So it is," you chuckled quietly, taking hold of the tie around his neck so you could pull him closer still, "And I wouldn't want to break tradition either."
You kissed him then, soft lips fitting with his own like a missing puzzle piece. A quiet gasp of surprise escaped Loki as soon as you closed the distance, yet you were quick to kiss it away, trapping his lower lip between yours and bringing one hand up to tangle in between his hair.
The taste, the feeling of you, put Loki's most beautiful dreams to shame. It's white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and the sip of champagne you had earlier.
The world around faded to nothingness as Loki's hand traced your spine and tugged you flush to him, his breath came in trembling puffs when you pulled away just the tiniest bit. His lips tingled as they brushed against yours again.
What a remarkable mortal you were, to have a god shivering beneath your touch. And selfishly, Loki wouldn't have it any other way.
You opened your eyes slowly, tongue running over your bottom lip as your thumb traced his jaw. You breathed in deeply to catch back the air he whisked out of you.
Loki watched the stars dancing in your eyes, looking down at you as if you were his universe, and delighting in the way you looked up at him as if he were yours. Maybe that's what love was all about.
Your hand trailed down his arm, brushing the fabric of his blazer until you tangled your fingers with his.
Squeezing your hand, Loki smiled. He felt like he belonged, right here by your side.
"Come on, before they open all the gifts without us," you winked, raising your free hand to clean the smudged lipstick by the corner of your mouth.
Loki followed you inside with his cheeks and heart feeling all warm. And if the mistletoe disappeared in a flash of green after you turned around, no one needed to know.
⋆* ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
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nameless-flame · 6 months
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RoR gods reactions to you calling Poseidon a 💅Drama Queen💅
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RoR and fem!Reader crack below the cut
Seated along the round table, various prominent figures of each pantheon waited, some more patiently than others, for the mortal standing before them to reveal what she had summoned them for.
[Name] cleared her throat, putting an end to the idle chatter that had previously filled the walls of the old-fashioned conference room. "I have called you to this meeting to discuss a matter of utmost importance."
Shiva rolled his neck, allowing his eyes to freely wander between the faces of the gods – all deemed to be high figures in their respective pantheon – some even belonging to the same one. And yet, there was one man missing.
Leaning his chair back, the God of Destruction balanced himself with two hands holding onto the edge of the table, whilst his remaining two rested behind his head. "Where's that sea deity?"
Shooting a glare in Shiva’s direction, [Name] resumed talking. “If you had not so rudely interrupted me you would have known why.”
The blue man merely rolled his eyes. He had long before grown used to her more… unmannerly way of addressing them. Her disrespectful attitude had at first irked him, and many other deities, but eventually whatever ill feelings they initially harboured toward her soon evolved into intrigue, and later friendship. Some even more than that.
Seeing how the god had not argued back, the human continued. "As for why Sea Boy isn’t here with us today, I didn’t invite him.”
Hades’ brows flickered and he paused his chess match with Zeus. “I presume this meeting concerns my brother?”
[Name] gave the God of the Underworld a curt nod. “I’ll just get straight to the point so to not further waste our time. Can we all come to common agreement that Poseidon is the biggest drama queen in history?"
Hades didn’t know what was more worrisome; her odd exclaim, or the fact that no one had so much as reacted to it. Have things like this truly become the norm?
Most eyes darted to Apollo, and then lingered there, before returning to her, obviously questioning her statement. However, [Name] did not yield under their distrustful stares but continued speaking without any less conviction. "Yes, sure. Some might argue that the twink has some dramatic traits as well."
Apollo craned his neck in her direction, no longer staring in the reflection of his hand mirror. "Why are we listening to her, again?"
“Because they’d rather be here than at one more of your lame parties.” Apollo furrowed his brows, but ultimately decided to just massage the tense muscles of his temples, not desiring to start a fruitless dispute with her.
“But we are not here to talk about Apollo, but Poseidon – the biggest drama queen I have ever encountered in my entire life.”
Beelzebub sighed, tapping his foot impatiently against the marble floor. He just wanted to return to his research. “How did you even come to such an irrational conclusion?”
Standing tall, [Name] placed her hands on her hips. “Irrational? Do you guys truly not see it?” Blank stares were shot in her direction, only Heracles and Ares had the decency to shake their heads.
“Well then, allow me to provide you with an example; If a fly were to land on that drama queen’s shoulder, he would not hesitate to drown all their villages, slaughter their children, and then feed their corpses to the nearest animal.”
Loki snickered, obviously finding some amusement in what he deemed to be an exaggerated story. [Name] ignored him and continued. “And then, to truly top it off, after exterminating an entire species he would just act as normal, as if his reaction was more than justifiable.”
“She does have a point,” the serene voice of Aphrodite spoke. “Poseidon’s reactions do tend to be quite… overbearing at times.”
[Name] dragged a hand through her hair in hope that the motion would soothe her racing mind. “And I know this to be true because that fly is a metaphor for us humans. I literally bumped into him just the other day, and this bitch-”
A warning glare from Hades.
“This very fine gentleman acted like I gave him the bubonic plague.” Loki and Shiva broke into a fit of laughter. The Hindu god even toppled off his chair, but that didn’t seem to encourage him from continuously laughing his ass off.
[Name] rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, continue howling all day long you buffoons, but I think I singlehandedly made him wish for a second Ragnarok.” This only made the duo double over, trying to choose between drying their tears or holding their stomachs. It was a good day for Shiva to have four arms.
Hermes, however, coaxed his brows. “Do you mean to tell us that you came in contact with Lord Poseidon without invoking his wrath?”
[Name] cocked her head to the side. “Didn’t I just tell you that he looked like he wanted to pierce me into a shish kebab?”
Hades moved his king one square forward on the chessboard, the slight click when the piece hit the wood gaining her attention. “That is not what he meant, my dear. If our brother is truly angry, he will not hesitate to kill whoever is around him. The fact that you are still alive indicates that he had no desire of ending your life.”
Odin nodded from the seat beside his son, who was staring out of the window, wishing for this conversation to come to an end.
"This!” [Name]’s sudden outburst caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the socially withdrawn God of Thunder. “This is what I mean when I call him dramatic! You have just grown used to his actions. Look, I don't mind his exaggerated reactions, but he needs a bit of variation.”
[Name] began pacing around the room, her back straight and chin held high, while holding a stick in her hand. Where did she even get that?
“Someone breathes the same air as me? Dead.” Everyone’s eyes widened.
She was imitating Poseidon.
“Someone accidentally steps on my foot? Dead. Someone has the audacity to look me straight in the eye? Dead.” She stopped and heaved a heavy sigh, “Like, come on. Try something new for once, please."
Zeus stroked his long beard. "Wait, let me get this straight. You mean to tell us that your problem with Poseidon is not his behaviour, but that it has grown old?"
[Name] slammed her hands against the table, making the glasses along the wine bottles on it shake with the sudden force. “Yes!”
“This meeting is over.” Hades declared, already walking away. It did not take long for the other deities to follow him, Loki and Shiva needing to crawl out from all their excessive laughing.
“Fine, go! But don’t come crying to me when you guys realize I was right!”
“We won’t,” cooed Zeus.
“Hades?”
“Yes, Zeus?”
The King of the Gods blinked, not believing his eyes. “Why is Poseidon drowning that entire meadow?”
Before the two deities stood their brother, sending wave after wave into a beautiful landscape of green hills and the most gorgeous of flowers.
Hades sighed, running a hand through his white hair. “To kill the flies.”
Zeus turned his head to his brother, already dreading his next answer. “Why?”
The King of the Underworld gulped, cursing that mortal for how correct she had been. “Because a fly had landed on his shoulder.”
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jpitha · 6 months
Text
The Oxygen Breathers: With one hand tied behind my back!
The human sat on the bench in the common area for at least one of their hours before the children worked up the courage to approach.
"You're a human right?" One of the children - an Innari - said as they approached the human. They were taller than the human, and seemed to have barely any bones. They moved and undulated like an octopus that was used to being out of the water.
The human's helmet flashed an cartoon icon of its face and smiled - without their teeth - broadly. "That's right! My name is Harold, but everyone calls me Harry. What's your name?"
"I'm Opian, this is Downward Draft, and standing in the back is Vizxxian." They gestured with their tentacle-like appendage. It had manipulators on the end which could be seen a little like fingers. Good for fine detail work.
Harry put up his gauntleted hand and spread his fingers. A wave. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. What can I help with?"
"Downward Draft says humans are the strongest of the Coalition peoples. Is that true?"
Harry sat up slightly. His icon continued to speak while he did. "Well, I don't rightly know if that's true, Downward Draft. I haven't met everyone. Of the ones I did meet, I have a hunch I might be stronger, but you also have to remember, we come from a heavier world than most of the other Coalition species. Earth's gravitational pull is half again what it is here on this station. There were gasps and noises of surprises from the kids. "That's so heavy!" Downward Draft rustled their feathers they caught the light and sparkled. "This station is already heavy for us; our homeworld's gravity is even less. I bet I couldn't' even walk on your planet!"
Harry's icon nodded. "You might be right, Downward Draft. But, gravity aside, it's nice here. I like the colors you use to decorate, and I like your plants. Everything back home is just different shades of green."
Vizxxian was working themselves up for something. Harry peered over Opian's head. "How about you? Do you have a question?"
Viz's eye slits squeezed shut and they blurted out "My parent says you're all a bunch of 'rock throwers' and that we should have never let you into the Coalition. They say that outside of your suits and ships, you're not so tough."
Downward Draft nudged Viz. "Don't be mean Viz! Harry is a guest here. You know how to treat guests."
Harry chuckled. "It's all right Downward Draft. We learn things from our parents. Part of growing up is trying to figure out what is true and what isn't. Now, I'm not mad, but you know that 'rock throwers' is a slur, and not a nice thing to say, right?"
Viz's ears wiggled in assent. "Yes, but that's the word father used. I know it's a bad word though."
Harry nodded. "Context is important though. I could say 'I picked up this rock and threw it' and that's not a slur, but if I said 'those rock throwers always go back on their deals' that is a slur. It's all right though, I'm not angry." Harry's helmet cleared. The kids looked across as his face became visible for the first time. Opian's eyes dilated in surprise. "So your dad thinks that we're not so tough outside of our suits? How about we place a little wager? I'll get out of my suit, and if any of you can touch my arm, I'll buy you a snack."
Opian shrinked back. Downward Draft raised their feathered arms in a gesture of dismissial. "You can't breath the atmostphere here! You'll die!"
Harry put up a hand. "It'll be all right. I'll wear a breathing mask, and the pressure and atmosphere difference won't hurt me for the time I'll be out of the suit."
"Oh we couldn't-"
"I'll do it!" Opian and Downward Draft turned in shock to Viz. They had stood to their full height, just a little taller than Harry and bent their legs just a little. "I can touch your arm."
Harry grinned. "Good. Let's see." Harry stood up, and touched the pad on his suit's arm. There was orange light that illuminated his face and he frowned and pressed more buttons on his suit. After a moment, it turned green, and lines appeared all over the suit. Joints. With a hiss of pressure and a whine of servos, his suit unfolded like a flower, and Harry stepped out.
He was much shorter than the kids. Just two meters tall if that. On the top of his head was a dark fur that was closely cropped, and he had fur all over the lower part of his face that was the same color. Under the outer, armored suit he wore a tight body suit that connected to the outer suit with thin wires. Harry reached down and unplugged them and they slid up into the suit he was wearing and disappeared. Opian was impressed. Their suits seemed to be far more advanced than ones of Innari make.
"There." Harry's voice was much lower than his translator made it sound. Maybe it was the difference in breathing gas? It was also a little muffled by his mask. "Okay Viz. Whenever you're ready."
Opian and Draft stood back and watched. Viz stood stock still and seemed like they were trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, Viz howled and ran towards Harry. Their long legs consumed the distance between them relentlessly. At the last half meter, Viz spun and in one fluid motion bend down and lashed out with one of their legs. Opian gasped. He was attacking Harry! That's a lethal kick if it connects.
Before Opian could react any further, Harry... wasn't were he was before. He was standing a meter to the side, and Viz was flying backwards into the bench. Viz jumped up, and roared again. This was a roar of frustration as well as a battle cry, and charged Harry. Once again, Harry stood there watching, and as Viz turned to kick him, he wasn't were Viz expected, and they went skittering across the smooth floor.
Harry stood with his hands on his hips. His eyes flicked to Opian and Draft. "Remember, strength isn't everything. Know your opponent. Know how they attack, watch for signs, paying attention and then you can move out of the way and dodge." Harry was grinning and put his hand out and curled his fingers towards himself. "Come on, Opian, Downward Draft, you try too!"
Downward Draft bent low and leapt towards Harry, using their legs to absorb as much potential energy as possible, releasing it as they sprung towards him with arms outstretched. Quicker than Opian could follow, Harry ducked underneath the Avar, and Draft sailed harmlessly overhead.
Harry, looked at Opian and raised one of the small lines of hair above his eyes. "What about you, Opian? Give it a try?"
"No, thank you Harry. I concede. There's no way I could touch you."
Harry's nodded. "That's all right. Mayb-"
Harry looked over and Downward Draft was standing mere centimeters away, with his arm out, and the barest edge of one of his iridescent feathers brushed against Harry's arm.
"Got you." Draft whispered.
Harry tipped his head back and laughed. The kids all took a step back in fear. "No, no, it's all right. that's a fair touch. You win, Downward Draft. I'll buy you snacks. Just let me get back into my suit. My skin is starting to itch."
It only took a moment for Harry's suit to climb onto him and fit around him as he stood there. "I have to say Downward Draft, you can move quietly."
They ruffled their feathers in pride. "Thank you Harry. On my world, moving without noise is a prized skill."
Harry darkened his helmet and his icon re-appeared. "Harry?"
He turned, "Yes, Viz?"
"You don't have to darken your helmet. We don't think you're scary anymore."
Harry's helmet cleared. He smiled without showing his teeth. "I'm glad to hear that Vizxxian. I'm glad to hear that."
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blues824 · 5 months
Note
Prompt 30 with past Lilia if that is possible! And having baby Sliver there just clinging to reader🌸💗
~ @toconolaw | 🌸💗 anon
AWWWWW!!!
You requested: “Baby, It’s Cold Outside…” from the Fluffcember prompt list.
Preface: Reader is human, and is married to Lilia, and is female.
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Lilia Vanrouge
Ever since your husband had found Silver in the forest, you had become the child’s mother. You had become the happy family you had always dreamed about, and you wouldn’t change anything about it, especially not as you are feeding a bottle to Silver and Lilia is sitting in the living room armchair in your cottage.
Silver was getting so big. Not too long ago, he had taken his first steps, and the bat fae made a remark about how he would be a fine knight for the young prince. Speaking of, he as well as Queen Maleficia were common visitors in your comfortable domicile. 
You snapped out of your thoughts when you looked at the clock, and you realized that you needed to get started on supper soon. However, you would need to go to the market to get everything you needed. You wanted to keep it light for today, so you were going to make grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. You started writing a list, balancing the pen in one hand and the baby in the other, of everything you would need. 
“Darling, I need to go to the market to pick up a few things for supper. Please don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.” You stood up from your seat at the dining table, carrying Silver to Lilia and setting him in his lap. You placed a kiss on his lips as you headed towards the door, but you suddenly felt something tug on your dress.
You looked down to see Silver, eyes tearing up, clinging onto your skirt.
“No leave, mama!” He said before starting to cry. You picked up the crying child, started to shush him, and you got kind of irked at your husband, going to tell him off, but he was right behind you.
“Dearest, it’s snowing outside, and you could get lost out there. We will be fine without supper, as we have other food in the house,” He took the crying child from your arms, starting to rock him back and forth.
“But I wanted to make tomato soup. I know of your love of tomatoes, and I was going to make grilled cheese sandwiches to accompany it. Plus, it’s something for Silver as well, since he can have a bite of it and start to get used to actual food,” You pouted. However, you felt like standing your ground on the matter.
“Y/N, I said no. It’s cold out there, and the last thing any of us need is for you to fall ill. How will our son cope without his mother?” He lifted the baby’s face up to his, pouting just as Silver was, making your heart break at how brokenhearted he looked… Silver, not Lilia. Speaking of, the child started making grabby hands towards you, his chubby cheeks were so cute.
You took him into your arms, showering his face in kisses as he started giggling, and that’s when you noticed that your husband had placed his hand on the small of your back and started leading you back to the living room.
“You little piece of-” You started, but he placed his hand over your mouth to prevent you from finishing what you were going to say.
“Watch your tongue, dear~ We have a child in our midst…” He said with a smirk. He knew that you would prioritize the baby, as you wanted him to have the best upbringing that you could provide, and whenever you were angry at him, he would use the baby as a shield.
“Fine, you win. But only because Silver doesn’t want me to leave,” You were still pouting, but Lilia sat back down in his armchair. You thought it was all over, when he suddenly pulled you to sit in his lap. You let out a squeal of surprise, and Silver was laughing again.
“My beloved family, with my beautiful wife and my handsome son… What more could I ask for?” He said with a dreamy tone to his voice, leaning in to give you a kiss on the lips.
“...A grilled cheese…” You said with a pout, making him laugh, a beautiful sound to accompany your son’s babbling.
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