#what is Nopes' message?

[randomnameless]

For whatever reason, I was skimming 3 Hopes TV Tropes despite the controversial rep about the users editing Fodlan are.

I don’t whatever the person adding this was smoking, but it paints a rather “stereotypical” view on foreigners putting it lightly…

---

Eh, that’s Nopes in a nutshell for you, anon.

Sometimes you want to be progressive and depict “other” nations, only to fall back on Grandma’s guide to survive in the “Orient” from the 1810s.

Sometimes IS completely messes up with the message they want to tell (TFW Tellius’ woes originated from Lehran losing his powers when he fucked Altina, but hey, this game is totes anti racism we swear!) and sometimes, you have, well, Fodlan and its self-awareness (who cares about the war, let’s drink some tea and uwu about our cute students, plot be damned! Nabateans? What’s that, a new pastry?) and then, we have Nopes with Mr “those people are so backwards with their outdated values I’ll impose mine by raiding and pillaging their lands and killing their beloved pope whose only sin was to crash on their couch and to eat ice cream, because I hate her guts for some reason”.

That TV Tropers also seemed to have missed Shamir saying Dagda values more “freedom” than Fodlan, even if it means people are free to kill each other, and we are just left wondering what the actual fuck Nopes wanted to say, like, everyone out of Fodlan is a barbarian, per Grandma’s old handbook, or what?

Hell, at this rate I’m wondering if the writers weren’t so full of Hresvelg Grey that they suddenly wrote Brigid and Dagda to have “crap” values, to justify Adrestia periodically trying to conquer them...

“Fodlan should open its borders!”

Looks at Fodlan’s neighbours per Nopes : uh yeah. how about no.

[easilyentertained99]

chat, i need to be honest. that was not good

[icewindandboringhorror]

proofreading an email for 2 hours straight just on the off chance that sometime between the 14th and 15th rereading the text has magically been replaced with a bunch of slurs and images of dead animals or something that I somehow entirely missed before

[pastaxandria]

The Red Thread: Chapter 156

The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its shelves: Chapter 156 of The Red Thread.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Your heart skipped in your chest, picking up speed. Here, here was the information you needed, the road that would guide you to both the orchid and, potentially, some additional clues about where Derek might be hiding. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t even need the orchid. Even if Margaret was headed out, there might be other people in the building who'd formed enough of an attachment to him. The orchid would be the easier option if you could get your hands on it—a single thread you knew reliably led to Derek, one that wouldn’t require you to dig through threads in alleys or during risky conversations. But you’d still take that backup if you could get it, just in case. You’d do whatever it took to find Derek. And once you found him… you'd find Anthony. Could Anthony feel it? That cool shiver down his spine as you closed in? Did he feel hunted, like you did? Afraid?

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings for this chapter: brief references to being abused and being robbed, but no other warnings!

Read me on AO3 because that’s where penguins hang out

[rahabs]

I love SVU, but "rape is okay when it's committed by a minority and white women should feel guilty about those rapists being punished by the law/reporting those rapes" was a very, very bad message to send, and a bizarre one considering what the show is, what it is about, and what it's historically been about.

[niallandtommo]

.

[the-acid-pear]

Hands of hips looking down shaking my head I don't know how to sugarcoat this so I won't but signs is so much better than nope. I don't know how people even say the movie aged bad. I think the feelings they have for the director cloud their view (I don't even know how either of his names). You got a 1:30hs movie vs a 2hs movie (I'm cutting the 10 minutes of credit for both) where in one you are never bored and are gripped by emotions and the other where you sit waiting for anything to happen. Like I'm sorry but there's no fight here. Hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby.

[justtogetthrough]

For real though, why would someone turn off read receipts after a fight when you’ve had them on for a year and a half?

I will also never understand how they work. I’ve always kept my read receipts off because I hate them. But if the other iPhone user has them on, it means our conversation uses them despite my settings saying NOPE. And I’ve never found a way to turn them off without telling the other person to turn them off. This has happened for the whole 5 years I have had an iPhone (4 of those being for work).

But now, my friend went and turned hers off and they stopped showing up. I checked my settings for our conversation and I still have them turned on. Why isnt that forcing them, like other people’s have always forced me in the past? Why do iPhones only force read receipts in the direction I don’t want them?

This is the way it should be, if one person wants privacy the chat needs to be private. I’ve never understood how one person having them on would take away the other persons privacy. It’s ironic timing that now that I do want to see her read receipts and I do purposely have mine on, all of a sudden Apple turns favours the person turning them off.

Apple, this feels personal. I want a say in this. There were so many people at work who had them on and I had mine turned off for EVERY CHAT/CONTACT but because they opted in it forced me too. Why aren’t you forcing my friend now >;( Be consistent damn it

I don’t understand how this works

[crushpunchh]

nothing serious just thoughts about a DR au that i got embarrassed about putting up here <3

[rocicrew]

i just realized that naomi has to call/send a message to holden's parents to tell them he died,,,,

[mymultifandomhell]

i wish for once the people who i liked would like me back not even in a romantic sense i just want friends

[spacecrows]

hell is other people answering machines

[ei-mugi]

just got banned from an enstars discord for explaining why i support bi lesbians o7 happy pride month everyone

[a-treatise-on-velociraptors]

I was going through my childhood email and found this one that I sent a friend

I want to study this email in a lab. I want to send this into space and convince aliens this is how humans speak.

[paperhandsexe]

😐

[statusquoergo]

“Come on.”

“Uh?”

Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.

As if there's anything else to do today.

“I'm not going to the hospital.”

“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”

Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.

“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.

“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”

“You'll drop me.”

“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”

It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.

They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.

“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”

She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.

“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”

That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.

Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.

“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”

Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.

Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.

“You can sit on the bed.”

It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.

“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.

“Take off your shoes.”

Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.

Lucky, was it? It's about time.

The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.

“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.