#that's a much more complex thing

[a-dope-fiend]

It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.

His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.

He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.

[beepmeowiskarkat]

People should acknowledge the fact that alcoholism has become a part of Logan’s character in like a genuine way, like yes it’s used jokey in the show but GODDDD it just makes it so clear what direction his character is going in. He is falling apart, he is becoming more and more dependent on destructive coping mechanisms, he’s pushing the light sides away more often and being more friendly with the dark sides and especially Janus, who has showcased a lot of similar traits which Logan seems to be developing, he’s a HYPOCRITE, he’s an ASSHOLE, he’s got issues opon issues!! He is a spiteful alcoholic and the nickname “nerdy wolverine” is becoming a whole lot more literal these days!! And I FUCKING LOVE IT!! DESTROY HIM, MAKE HIM HURT AND HEAL AND DO IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN, ABANDONMENT IS NOT HIS ONLY ISSUE!! MAKE HIM HATE HIMSELF!!! WRITE HIM LIKE THE MESS HE IS YOU COWARDS

[fumifooms]

Dad always said I was like him

Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Okay now that I've reblogged that one post...

Holy shit

Like, please understand me. This is how I already interpreted these relationships after reading Journal 3 but like

Wow Ford really was in a weird kinda complicated gay situationship with Bill and Fiddleford, huh? When he's all alone on Christmas in tbob he's all like "Oh yeah haha of course...of course. You have. Yeah. You have a wife, F. How could I expect you not to leave. I am totally not secretly hoping you'll turn around and come back to me, or that you'll even bring your family back here if you have to so I can see you. I'd retreat to my dreams but I haven't seen my muse in weeks and I miss him so badly. I'm so alone"

He and Fiddleford aren't even dating but it's hard not to get the light impression that this situationship is such that Ford kinda treats Bill like his comfort triangle from his head and dreams and Fiddleford like his comfort best friend in his lab. Like he's sad on Christmas that his boyfriends left him alone, you know? Of course it's definitely more complicated than just that, but they are dear companions to him

Or when Bill finally comes back and Ford is pissed

"You return now? After all of that, after me missing you so badly, almost dying, wondering if I'd dreamed it all up. You return now like it was no biggie? Did you ever mean the things you said? Did you not find some other scientist or some other big brain to talk up? Have you found someone else? Another partner?"

And then Bill, dodging the question was like "Funny you think I'm cheating on you as if you haven't been spending all that time with F. The side bitch. The third wheel. You've even considered telling him everything, even though you know he has second thoughts. Heh. A little birdie told me he dreams of shutting down the project even."

Leading Ford to be like "Aw hell how could I accuse my muse of such a terrible thing when I haven't been a saint. He's right! F has been much less motivated lately and I've just gotten so paranoid from the isolation. I'm so sorry for my baseless accusations."

I don't even have a lot to say I just love these three. Fiddleford put up with a lot of shit from Ford while also dealing with his own problems and trying to help him regardless, while Stanford saw him as a comfort and a good friend but ultimately someone who was of lesser mind than he and couldn't see things through his eyes, while Bill was in Stanford's corner actively making him worse and contributing to his isolation (trying to get him to drop Fiddleford and actively feeding his paranoia), while Stanford was seeing both relationships of his with stars in his eyes and rose tinted glasses because he refused to do some introspection

There's so much stuff that journal 3 and tbob added to the equation that's just bad/shitty all around. Can't believe Ford went through a double divorce/breakup despite not having ever been married (or, at least, despite not even officially dating them sorta)

The entire situation in the past is just tragic and hilarious and concerning all at once and that's what I like the portal trio for tbh

[dykedvonte]

Love that in New Vegas you can like personally and permanently fuck over your human companions:

You can destroy the Brotherhood of Steel which Veronica still considers her family despite their differences. On top of that you can kill Elijah and Christine, the latter not being necessary or beneficial to you at all.

You can set up Cass and take her to the Silver Rush to be killed by Jean-Baptiste. Which is extra cruel cause you can literally only do it by first getting her to sell out to the people who tried to kill her in the first place.

You can put more innocent blood on Boone’s hands and fuck with his head more by having him kill his former best friend who is the last person he is implied to have any sort of relationship with outside the Courier.

You can literally sell Arcade into slavery to the Legion in where his hatred for every single one of them is so strong he literally disembowels himself as a final fuck you and so he doesn’t have to spend one more second there.

Not to mention how you can just ignore ED-E, Lily, Rex and Raul’s issues leading them to live their relatively immortal lives full of hardships, unhappiness or inevitable slow deaths. Like it’s not cool but it’s really cool that the game lets you be really awful along with really good.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you. I'm sorry.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[cuppy-cake-bun]

Just because someone calls themselves a lolicon or shotacon, it does not mean they're a pedophile. The suffix means complex. The person can just like loli/shota for the esthetics, think they're cute to having sexual feelings for them (i.e schediaphilia/fictophilia).

pedophilia is someone that has thoughts or feelings toward real live children

Schediaphilia/fictophilia is having sexual attractions toward fictional characters, which loli/shota fall under since they do NOT exist.

I know that in Japan, they may use lolicon/shotacon to refer to an actual person that may show favoritism or even be an actual pedophila.

Just like the case with the word Otaku (which hasnt been used in Japan (as far as I know), since there was a negative connotation there, but it was used in western fandom to refer to people that are anime fans. Lolicon/shotacon is only used in fandom and loli/shota is only used on fictional characters.

If you see anyone calling an actual existing child a loli/shota or irl loli/shota, they're an actual pedophile. No one that is just an anime fan will call real children that.

The only people that call themselves loli/shota are adults. Even I refer to myself as such.

Just becuase Japanese people MAY refer to a pedophile as a lolicon/shotacon does not mean that is the only meaning of the word.

[nandorsrelentless]

there seems to be far too many fans who can't seem to wrap their head around the fact that no relationship in the Vampire Chronicles is healthy. every relationship includes an element of abuse/power imbalance by normal standards. literally every single one.

they are all monsters who are no longer constrained by societal rules. so I don't think it's too crazy to expect them to do mosntorus things. the genre is Gothic HORROR. the show really prioritizes the HORROR element more so than other adaptaions, which i love.

i don't need louis to be a liar to enjoy lestat. if louis lied or misremebered things about the fight in episode 5, i literally do not care because it's never gonna make me hate louis. the baseline of what constitutes "evil" or "bad" is so different in iwtv because of the fact that they are NOT HUMAN. Claudia is literally a serial killer and she's still mother to me. ykwim?

the nature of vampirism is they have to kill to survive. so it would be really cool if people could accept louis, armand, and claudia as complex characters who are fundamentally not good people (because they aren't people!) without being racist about it. THEY ARE ALL KILLERS

im more interested in this exploration of the complexities of memory and seeing how the show integrates the other books into this story in a way that hasn't been done before than I am in discoursing about whether louis is a liar or not. who gives a shit???? grow up and realize that there are no good guys here and that's OKAY

[theredcuyo]

You see, i keep thinking about fics sending characters back in time and how they just fix everything and they're sweet and i love them but also

There's things you just can't change, you know?

How would a 8 year old fucking stop a traffic accident on the other side of his city, not even the country they're in

How does a child prevent someone somehow from getting an illness that will kill them, both psycological and not

I'd love a story where yeah, they fix what could be fixed but stomp into walls that just couldn't be prevented, not having money for the doctor, personalities that just won't do as they wish, people forgetting or ignoring a kid's advice, someone that needed more than a few words to turn away from certain paths

And i don't mean it in a "Destiny finds a way" type of thing, they can do stuff, they really can, but somethings go far, far away from their capabilities

[jackklinemybeloved]

Will the umbrella academy writers ever remember that being a monkey man is not actually Luther’s power? The world will never know.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Broke (2016): BBC Sherlock is a phenomenal piece of media and anything that seems like a flaw just hasn't been fully explored yet

Woke (2020): BBC Sherlock is an incredibly flawed series run by an egotistical writer, it never deserved the hype and is actively bad on so many fronts (especially representation)

Bespoke (2024): BBC Sherlock is flawed and bogged down by increasingly poor writing, which many fans refused to see while it was airing, leading to hugely misplaced expectations (particularly for the final series), AND it has the seeds of some compelling characterizations and portrayals, some genuinely solid performances, and touches--albeit imperfectly--on complexities that are still being discussed today (particularly as it relates to the relationship between Sherlock and John). The huge cultural impact of the show has created a massive pendulum effect in its public perception, leading to most people today remembering a caricature of the show (whether positive or negative) rather than appreciating its nuanced merits and failings...that being said Season 4 sucked

[nicolibbyquotes]

Nicolibby:

[iamnmbr3]

Well that's uncharitable. I wonder if Lupin actually believes that and has really misjudged Snape that badly or if he doesn't want to acknowledge why Snape would hate the Marauders. Or maybe a mix of both.

[howinkonvenient]

more normal spinel fans: what if she's still heartbroken about pink diamond abandoning her and has breakdowns about it isn't that so sad

me: what if she's so insecure about her duty of being a best friend that in her efforts to prove she wasn't a fuckup she learns the painful way that she even never knew the first thing about her friend to begin with

she can't name anything pink was interested in or what she liked to do outside of the games spinel played with her

cause spinel never really got to know her (because she was made explicitly as a toy that pink couldn't break and was made by the diamonds who do not know how friendships work (a friend isn't something you create it's a relationship that you develop overtime) except she's also super sheltered and struggles to relate to people outside of the fun and games she's supposed to be facilitating)

and pink never really spent the time to know spinel either (because she was obsessively nonconfrontational and didn't yet see gems below her as capable of being fully realized people, and this was immediately after losing her real friend and she had her walls up pretty high as a result anyways)

mmm the pain of being such a terrible friend that not only were you made to replace a pearl to begin with, your friend had to replace you with another pearl, of all gems

and she was right to, you think, angrily, bitterly

what if she feels an unreal level of guilt about having a near world destroying meltdown and how she tried to kill a kid directly even tho she knew she was never in the right for it. that self destruction forever ruining her chances of becoming friends with the one person kind enough to reach his hand out to you (even tho he really shouldn't have)

do you think that would fuck up all her future encounters beyond a level where she can handle it, do you think in her desperation to be the good friend she needs to be she might repeat her mistakes all over again?

anyways......

[notfeelingthyaster]

"jason is bruce's favorite child" no, bruce treated jason horribly multiple times.

"cass is bruce's favorite child" no, that's a fanon cop-out, as is cass as batman.

bruce's favorite changes by the run but it's probably nightwing.