#this post is probably complete nonsense

[fayeandknight]

Sometimes I get too in my own head about what others are achieving and feeling behind. But tonight, as I waited in between runs at agility, I felt peace with where we are. It doesn't matter if we ever trial or earn titles/win ribbons. We are having fun playing agility.

We have fun dabbling in other things like tricks, and rally, and most recently scent work. He's also grown into a reliable service dog who genuinely enjoys his job.

And mostly importantly, he is a dog I deeply enjoy having in my life and it's clear he too is happy and fulfilled.

He's good with my senior kitty and gets along well with Faye. He's social with people and ranges from neutral to social with other dogs. We've got a nice little life together.

I remember despairing through the more painful moments that we'd ever get here. Y'all probably do too. But we are here. We made it. And it's so nice in a way that's both incredibly deep and yet simple.

I love Faye. It feels like her soul and mine resonate on a frequency all their own. But Forte brings my broken and battered heart peace in a way I didn't know was possible. And I'm just so deeply grateful to have him.

I imagine it as though I were shipwrecked, bobbing along in the ocean in a dingy while storms toss me this way and that. Faye climbed into the boat with me. She is here with me no matter how horribly the storm rages. Forte is the line I managed to catch hold of. It doesn't quell the tempests but it does keep me from getting completely swept out to sea.

I know this is so dramatic, lol. Especially given that these thoughts occurred to me while looking at him staring intently at me while other people and dogs run around a fancy obstacle course.

But I want to acknowledge that peace. Because I think it's so easy to get caught up in comparisons and self judgement. But at the end of the day the titles/ribbons don't matter. What matters is that we enjoy our little corner of the universe and are happy to be here together.

[coquelicoq]

In talking about Chaucer (p. 74), I said that, in general, puns and verbal connections of sound were unimportant and not to be sought out; and now, you will say, I have been using them to explain cruces in Shakespeare. Alas, you have touched on a sore point; this is one of the less reputable aspects of our national poet. A quibble is to Shakespeare [Johnson could not but confess] what luminous vapours are to the traveller; he follows it at all adventures; it is sure to lead him out of his way and sure to engulf him in the mire. It has some malignant power over his mind.... A quibble was for him the fatal Cleopatra for whom he lost the world, and was content to lose it. Nor can I hold out against the Doctor, beyond saying that life ran very high in those days, and that he does not seem to have lost the world so completely after all. It shows lack of decision and will-power, a feminine pleasure in yielding to the mesmerism of language, in getting one's way, if at all, by deceit and flattery, for a poet to be so fearfully susceptible to puns. Many of us could wish the Bard had been more manly in his literary habits, and I am afraid the Sitwells are just as bad.

William Empson, 7 Types of Ambiguity, ch 2 pp 100-101

i'm sorry this is so fucking funny. that pathetic loser shakespeare who loved puns so much it cost him everything, except of course his status as the most famous, most read, most immortal english-language author of all time. but everything else, he lost and it's all because of how weak he was to resist a pun :/ pouring one out for my sad little girly man who could have had it all if only he was better at writing, the thing he is the most famous guy in the world for.

even empson, who disagrees with johnson that shakespeare "lost the world", is like, too bad our favorite poet is susceptible to the thing that made him famous :/ really tragic that the guy whose wordplay we've been talking about for 300 years likes wordplay :///

also i can't get over writing a book about the types of ambiguity and NOT INCLUDING PUNS?? sorry but puns are ambiguous! that's where their juice comes from! imagine liking ambiguity so much you write a book about it but never mention puns except to dunk on them. imagine being a POET and POETRY CRITIC who looks down on sound-based ambiguity! could not be me!!

[juniperberrypipebomb]

Decided to log into twitter (hell) and outside of everything going to shit as always i found this piece of shit as my banner

I dont even remember when i made this but i do remember that i did and i remember how i made it

I saw a picture on twitter w some kind of caption and decided that i could make it look like a banner

i tried to add the fire flaming text that i saw on some reposted to twitter tumblr posts where someome makes a grammatical error and someone corrects them in a form of flaming (sometimes animated) text (never change guys, gals and all of you magnificent pals lol) but at the time i didnt know the website that you all used so i tried to improvise and google

I remember half way thru the making of this text being so upset that it looked like shit but after taking a break for 20 minutes i said "fuck it, it is way funnier this way" and i kinda glad that back then i decided to "fuck it we ball" it

It looks disgusting and i love it

[skitskatdacat63]

I know it would literally never happen, but whenever the speculation of who the next James Bond will be comes up, I can only think about how I would sell my soul to get a butch lesbian James Bond 😣

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → DR. DIANA WESKER

but i will transcend and vomit this loser out of me i will become the next big thing

[template]

[ex-vespidae]

GUYS GUYS GUYS you know how sectonia uses two staffs right. right. One of them is like gold with a magenta(?) crystal and the other is like. silver with a green crystal. DO YOU THINK the gold one represents sectonia and the silver one represents taranza I am probably completely bullshitting here but i do associate green and silver with taranza you know. also it's interesting that she has two staffs but only really uses mainly the gold one to attack HMMMMMM

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. An ULTRAKILL screenshot of the end of level P-1: Soul Survivor, on standard difficulty. The screen displays that OP took 3 minutes and 5.18 seconds to complete it, got the required two kills, and ended with 9648 style points, not dying a single time. In other words, it's a perfect P-rank. End ID]

easy boss

[9hikers]

the tragic part about micro-communities is that sometimes i'll see a post where some poor sap is getting fed up over smthing like "why is nonbinary always woman-lite" or "stop assuming all asexual people are sex-repulsed", meanwhile i'm over in my separate bubble always having the exact opposite problem

oh to trade places, but for a moment

[crescentfool]

been playing through p3 fes and… i genuinely love that maxxing out minato’s social stats ended up coinciding with the “ryoji is the appriser" reveal on december 2nd. so here’s a tangent about some hcs / thoughts i have surrounding december as prompted by gameplay experiences.

i feel that the reveal as is, already hits hard, given the moral and existential question that ryoji’s proposal raises. SEES are forced to reevaluate their actions under perceived hopelessness and it’s!! good shit!

but there’s an added layer of depression when you think about the player choices during the afternoon and nighttime segments of the game, and what that implies for minato’s mental state.

since i had minato’s social stats maxxed out (and already completed the tower and devil SLs)... during december, i ended up sending minato to game panic EVERY single night since there’s… not as much left to do. the idea of minato constantly engaging with repetitive activity at game panic just to burn time gets me fucked up. the weight of the decision he has to make by the 31st leaves this suffocating silence that’s hard to push away. and he can’t completely turn away from the impending feeling of “doom” looming over him- during december there’s fliers all over paulownia mall for strega’s cult to worship nyx and antagonize SEES.

hell, you could also just… send minato to bed early and not bother to do anything for the night given that gameplay-wise it’s not “productive” for the player to visit the social stat raising places. december feels extra fucked up when you experience it in-game because it almost feels that minato is just going through the motions of Life™ while trying to grapple with a heavy decision and the existential dread that comes with it. i also think minato could have insomnia- and it just gets WORSE this month.

the dorm’s atmosphere also completely shifts this month as well. aigis is out-of-commission, and each member of SEES is attempting to process the information that ryoji dropped on them- making sense of it in their own ways. when they do join together to talk about it- it’s messy, and emotionally charged by this imminent threat. i love how well the gravity of this situation is reflected in-game, and how SEES musters the resolve to fight nyx, no matter what the future may hold for them.

ANYWAY. i love december in p3- getting a chance to experience it in-game and translating gameplay experiences to the protagonist has really heightened my appreciation for it! even if the protagonists are ‘intended’ to be blank slates… there is so much that you can infer and piece together from the gameplay and AUGH! i love the MCs 😭

[pink-octopede64]

while i’m toad posting, might as well post this old art i drew based on an actual dream i had: toad uses his time machine (yes he has one) and traveled into the modern day. along the way, he found out what memes are and he went back to the 19th century to tell his friends how pickle rick was the funniest shit he has ever seen while laughing uncontrollably. of course, his friends is just beyond confused 

[suggsnkisses]

Moriah Mills’ account getting suspended is nba twitters burning of the library of alexandria

[lenievi]

I wanted this post to be “the only scenario where I could imagine aos!spones as ‘enemies’ to lovers would be if it was based on misunderstandings” post but it just works better as them becoming friends and mckirk and spuhura being a thing

from McCoy’s POV because Spock was an ass to Kirk (and continued to be an ass to Kirk, questioning him at every opportunity, quoting regulations etc), because old!Spock messed up with Kirk’s mind and made him suffer nightmares for weeks, McCoy wanted to do nothing with Spock. 

from Spock’s POV - he was initially pleased and impressed, especially when McCoy was on his side during the whole “gotta yeet Kirk to space” phase, but after that McCoy would always take Kirk’s side. And he was Kirk’s friend. And Spock continued to see Kirk as a frat boy he kept hearing about from Uhura for three years, and he couldn’t understand why McCoy would dedicate his whole self to Kirk.

So Spock wouldn’t have to just reevaluate his opinions about McCoy, but also his opinions about Kirk.

[chimielie]

u ever love someone so much ur stomach hurts about it

[arolesbianism]

I find it so funny just how long I'd have to talk to get to a single non original character in the random card au if I explained the worldbuilding in chronological order. I'm pretty sure the first recognizable characters would be og Tae and Rei and even then there's a pretty big span of time where they could have possibly existed so I could theoretically go through a Lot before getting to them even without all of the finer details of kingdom worldbuilding

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader 🎄 @glitterypirateduck’s December challenge: O Christmas Tree

"What about this one?"

You're standing next to a giant tree, one that's probably double your height. "It's a little big but-"

"I don't know if that will fit in your flat, sweetheart." You huff, hands on your hips, and Emmaline wiggles where she's snuggled against him, tucked up on his chest inside his arms. You've got her in some sort of snow suit, like a baby marshmallow, capped with a red knit hat that ties under chin to keep the ear flaps down, and even though she clearly hates it, and looks a little ridiculous, he knows the whole thing is keeping her warm in tonight's frigid weather.

"Okay. What about this one?" The one you're pointing to now is smaller, but sparse, a little prickly looking. He shakes his head. "You don't like any of them!" You protest, and Emma grunts, babbling some sort of nonsense.

"'m just doing what the boss here is telling me to do." She looks up at him, eyes bright with a little bit of snot beneath her nose, and he wipes it away with his thumb. "There you go, baby girl. I gotcha."

"She's not the boss." You step close with a shiver, close enough that he can see the fog of your breath, peek of your neck beneath your scarf, and he reaches out to pad his fingertips across your chilled cheek.

"Cold?" You shrug.

"A little." You dip forward to give Emma a quick kiss on the cheek, and at the same time, he ducks down, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. He's never going to get used to this. Never. Even now, in this moment, he can't believe he's walking a tree lot with you, debating which one to choose. Him. Simon Ghost Riley, picking out a Yule tree with you and the baby. His family.

There's a bang in the street. A car backfiring, probably, but it's enough that it startles someone else on the lot, and they shout, the combination like a shot of adrenaline to his heart, focus and intensity taking over, his movements shifting to autopilot. His hand covers Emma's head, curling forward at the same as he tugs you into his body with a firm arm around your back, essentially immobilizing you, keeping you close in case- "Simon." You say his name softly, gently, fingers holding onto his forearm. The touch grounds him, reminds him to breathe, and he relaxes slightly. "It's alright. We're okay, we're at the Christmas tree place. You're okay. You're with us." With you. With you and Emmaline. At home. He closes his eyes, repeating it in his mind, twice, three times, for good measure, before he trusts enough to uncover the baby's head and let go of you completely. You smile when he does, bright, beautiful, sweet, still working you touch against his arm, not stepping away.

"I'm sorry." He tries to explain, but you shake it off.

"Don't be. It's okay." You loop your arm through his, sticking close to his side. "Want to keep looking?" You ask, nonchalant, and he's overcome with emotion so strong it could bring him to his knees.

"Yeah, but I... I want..." he stumbles over it, words failing, and you wait, patiently, turning into him so you can look up at his face.

"What is it?" Holiday lights glow behind you, twinkling colors mixed with frosted whites, strung together across trees and posts and big red and green signs, 'O Christmas Tree' playing over the speakers that line the perimeter. He's never been one for holidays, never really cared about any of it, all the excitement lost on him, most of the celebrated days spent alone. But now... with you, with the baby, he feels the magic. He thinks he can even see it, in you, in Emmaline, and he's filled to the brim with the wonder, the anticipation for it all, to experience it all for the first time like this, with his angels.

"I want to kiss you." He says the same words he gave you a week ago, outside on the balcony, and you give you him the same smile, warm and welcoming, lips curling upwards with happiness.

"Please." You beam, and he obliges, your lips parting for his, getting lost in the taste of your mouth, decadent honey dripping across his tongue. You make him dizzy, make him stupid, make him so weak for you, and all he wants is more. He wants it all, wants everything you'd give him, and he has to hold himself back, cognizant of Emma in his arms, pulling away regretfully after five seconds that could last five hours, or days. Years. You clear your throat. "Well, okay, uh- should we?" You motion to another row of trees, and he nods with a laugh.

"We should."

Later, after the tree has been decorated, dinner has been made and cleaned up, fire started in the fireplace, Emmaline has had her bath, and you've changed into your pajamas, he sits on your couch with you curled into his side, both you and the baby asleep. It's late, and the lights are out, and he thinks he probably should have woken you to get you both up into bed, but he can't bring himself to shatter the moment, the silence, the fire, and the sounds of your breathing, face barely illuminated by the glow of the lights. He stays right there, listening to the crackle of the logs, staring at the tree, watching the two of you breathe, heart so full he thinks it could explode. This is it, he thinks. This is the magic.