#i cannot stand white ppl i just can’t

[waitinqroom]

so this girl keeps on flirting with me but it’s only around her ex to show her or whatever and it’s 😐😐😐

#like. I VERY MUCH HAD/MAYBE STILL DO HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU. PLEASE STOP #also her ex is an actual fucking cunt. like. PLEASE do not go back to her #she’s hot but i cannot stand her. white all american ass #she said some annoying shit about 9/11 today AND about this one sweet gay girl ik #AND SHES LITERALLY BI SO LIKE????? WHAT IS HER PROBLEM #i cannot stand white ppl i just can’t #this girl can do sm better #ik it’s confusing bc i’m talking about 2 separate girls #but u get the gist #r #2022

[time-is-restored]

oh shit i forgot here's another one, this time its an old neal caffrey analysis rant (this one fueled by insomnia, and written much earlier into my first watch of white collar - i think early season 3??):

im gonna be weird about white collar but the thing is so many people are weird about white collar in the wrong direction

like woobifying neal to hell and back or inventing whole new personalities for el or . i don’t even know how to describe what they do to peter

like the thing about neal is he Is a magpie he’s just a surprisingly loyal one, he flits from shiny thing to person to ideal, sure, but certain classes of ppl can fully hold his attention

peter holds his attention bc he is good as in skilled (it’s borderline canon that no one else can catch him, or even really come close), and extremely principled w a cunning streak which neal basically approaches as like. a puzzle box, bc like none of their principles line up so he’s curious how the apparent closed system rube goldberg machine of his morals work LOL

then it becomes a dedication through loyalty, in that peter sticks his neck out multiple times due to faith in neal, and neal is EXTREMELY weak to loyalty/consistency (gestures at the mess of his childhood)

and due to generally low self image (morals wise, he kind of thinks he sucks? like he’s competent and cool and charming and everything, but he also tends to consider himself a nuisance, w how he’s disruptive to ‘normal’ / ‘good’ people) that dedication can become disproportionate

we see through kate (and later, adler) that the easiest way to con neal/get him acting against his own self interest IS to cultivate that loyalty

there’s an easy archetype to it, even, in that u present him with a competent, smart individual (bonus points if they’re a conventionally attractive woman), but have her off limits in some way (uninterested, taken, stand off ish, whatever), activate his thief urge to ‘take’ what he wants, then when they are friends/partners whatever, his inadvertent guilt over like. corrupting/endangering this person/tricking them about who he ‘really’ is will loop around into VERY strong loyalty, and a commitment to being whatever they want him to be x2, bc he Cannot handle being left behind LMAO

peter simultaneously feeds into + challenges this framework, bc he clearly has the least biased opinion about who neal is, even though he’s still wrong about a lot of things. and beyond that, he REALLY likes neal, thinks he’s interesting and funny, but at the start of the show can’t deal with even 0.01% of his chaotic neutral methods

WHICH IN TURN!! actually breaks through some of Neal’s shit bc:

peter picked him out of prison before neal had changed at all

he essentially sees his role, from as early as ep 1, as tactically breaking the law where peter can’t/won’t, in ways that help them close the case faster

after peter (more or less) gives a thumbs up the first time he does this, neals puzzle box brain goes ‘oh?? morally grey bestie??? CRIME BESTIE????’ and now he’s trying to ‘solve’ peter’s moral code

this is actually almost in complete opposition to elizabeth, who is compete open and clear about her affection and friendship w him basically since they meet, and apparently has no prerequisites for it. which, again, pointing to the low self esteem, triggers the ‘oh god what have i done to deserve this i haven’t even CONNED her yet’ so he’s low key more invested in + comitted to elizabeth in a specific. 'i want to be on good terms w this person' targeted way than he initially was w peter (since their mutual obsession manifests so fucking frequently as 'what, you're gonna hit me? you're gonna hit me with that big bat? better make it hurt. better kill me in one shot!' style antagonism)

HENCE the constant check ins w their relationship, reminding peter about anniversaries and dinner times etc, though that’s also due to a general fascination he has w stability + permanence

we learn in s2 he was seriously considering proposing to kate, and that he genuinely wanted to take the ‘true love’ way out of the conman life, even though he wasn’t quite sure whether it would stick, hence we see a lot in s2 his fascination w peter + els marriage, along with june (crime aunty <3)‘s relationship w her passed husband

a lot of his dedication to peter circa s2 is, by my reckoning, explicitly because peter is so determined to stick with Neal, and doesn’t give up on him/their deal even when it would be entirely reasonable (neal admits to crimes, gets put back in prison, constantly breaks rules and goes looking for kate) which is like. neal HATES being trapped, but he also REALLY values consistency + competency

hence the complexes, y'know?

#wc #white collar #can you tell im procrastinating uni work. im gonna get a functional draft of this assignment done and then i'll reward myself by posting my #inconsolable wailing circa elizabeth's kidnapped arc

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

in some fandoms, mostly media whose audiences skews younger, theres often an annoying minority who latch onto a comfort character so hard, they genuinely get mad at other fans for putting their comfort characters in situations that make them (the characters!) upset in fanworks. most of it’s, like, kids and teens who haven’t learned how to interact with people yet and theres a smattering of unhinged adults and either way theyre not like. the joking or ironic mad most fans get seeing those kinds of works. these fans’ vibe isn’t “fuck you op /lh” its more “fuck you op /srs/kys”

anyway i already think the concept of judging a work solely based on how its characters feel as if they’re real people with agency, instead of judging the work based on how it makes the audience feel/what the work is trying to say, is uhhhhhh braindead! but also if you look at the comfort characters some of these ppl have its like. most of them follow fandom trends. and by fandom trends i mean most of them favor the angsty, usually white and male, characters who have rly tragic backstories. they don’t have to be particularly well written characters though some of them definitely are. but they’re usually edgy and, i cannot stress this enough, very tormented by events that happen in canon.

anyway i think most of it boils down to people not knowing how to mind their own damn business and just avoid angsty fanworks if they’re not feeling it. but it’s like. buddy, if you can’t stand people making content about your comfort character Going Through Situations, then why did you pick a comfort character whose entire job in canon is to Go Through Situations

#shut up pandora #im not kidding go into any big fandom that has a large teen/young adult population #and pick out the fandoms most prolific often pale twink whos kind of fucked up and sad #if the fandom is big enough thats the most likely place where these kind of ppl will spawn first #not that other characters dont also get fans like this #the uwufication of some characters if you will #like infantilization but more annoying #the way fandoms do it for pale twinks is different from the way fandoms do it for women and poc but its annoying in both directions #but yeah in fandoms big and young enough theres always a pale twink that a bunch of ppl worship and woobiefy and write bad angst for #and eventually some ppl step back and think this saturation of angst is distracting from what i liked about the initial character #and the normal fans decide to explore non angst facets of this character to deepen their appreciation or just explore other characters #but some double down on the woobiefying until the character is a teddy bear no one else is allowed to look the wrong way #lest you face the wrath of them complaining about people 'being mean' to their favorite character like this character has feelings or smth #oh and the harassment dont forget they'll get onto the comments and replies of every fanwork that has a modicrum of angst #and yell at the creator for being angsty because 'WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE ANGSTY CANT THIS CHARACTER GET A BREAK' but theyre serious #anyway luckily this is usually a very small part of most fandoms because most people understand its unhinged behavior and not in the fun way #but its very annoying when i see it!

[90363462]

fuck her and her daughter I wish nothin but the worst for ppl like this and Candace Owens is trash still for this documentary so yeah fuck her too!

Black parents have to consistently explain to their children why people who look like them are murdered by law-enforcement.

White parents shed tears for having to explain to their children why Black people are angry about police murdering, unarmed Black people.

The whiteness.

Your talk as a white American isn’t like our talk as black Americans

Remember when giving the talk was about sex? Now for black folks it’s about staying alive in a country where in order for your life to matter traumatic pornography of somebody’s father or mother being beaten or killed needs to be circulated all over the world and there’s need to be outrage and uprisings.

Pretty sure most 7 year olds know murder isn't a "mistake", racist white lady What an ugly minded and looking waste of human space

Candace Owen's is gutter trash man. Candace Owens will and always be a disgrace to the Black American Family. All of this for a dollar. Like 4real I'm sure it was not only black people in that target stealing. And this heffa talking about a mistake when it was murder that's what she should have been explaining

Owens and the white mom this was not a mistake. It was MURDER!!!! And yet coonye is ruining his own career by repeating the same old lies in this disgusting disgrace of a documentary and whenever he knows it or not he’s being used at his most vulnerable and darkest point in his life by another grifter regardless Kanye West 🤝🏿Candace Owens=🦝🦝

Let’s set the record straight:

if someone causes a murder and he/she never wanted to happen, it’s an accident

but if they planned it, or committed it for any and no reason at all, it’s premeditated murder

police brutality is NEVER a mistake. It’s intentional.

I can’t stand the Yt’s sometimes. I’m not doing this today.

Just so you know White tears won't sway God on the judgement day.

Speaking of God, the Bible says No one can serve two masters; You cannot serve God and wealth." Matt 6:24

George Floyd was unequivocally murdered regardless of what you think of him

Yes He wasn’t a saint but he didn’t deserve to die the way he did in such a inhumane and horrific way

Being a willing tool for WS deserves the hottest layer of hell.👇

Candace Owens master is money ...

THIS clip 👇🏽 is wickedness

Owens USED Ye to promote her TRASH documentary therefore SHE should be sued and according to hood policy & procedures subject to “a fade”

[cosmicanger]

❍

❍ “Reminder that in 2020, the first two weeks of rebellion were not led by Leftist orgs/milieus. Leftists joined the fray late and largely engaged through a range of tactics, from support for the militants to general agitation + conscientization. Others moved counterinsurgent tho. These, alongside the regular old conservative political guard, typical pacifist liberals, radlibs looking for photo ops, the buy black and black business crowd, the fascists and sinophobic anti-vaxxers, the pigs, & these companies all worked in different ways to coopt the energy. Alot of what we are seeing rn re: Tyre Nichols are strategies that I didn't see prior to summer 2020. They are also all culminations of strategies that have been being worked out against Black Rebellion for decades, most especially from the late 20th century onward.”

❍ “the idea that its only “white anarchists” who are militants when it comes to anti-police movements should be discredited by now. the idea that the only legitimate multi-racial organizing or activity is that happening in orgs that focus on policy should also be discredited by now.”

❍ “I think some wise activists have rightly pointed out that some actions have become liberal parades and serve no purpose. For whatever APTP is or will be, it does seem clear the organization and its leadership embraced NGO money and the org is now part of the system. We can’t achieve our goals by embracing liberalism and incrementalism. Rolling down the street behind a truck, standing around and then dispersing is the very definition of a liberal parade. That’s their choice and their type of action. Perhaps they will achieve some good with their NGO cash. That said, real change comes from the actions of people that fight and resist by all and any means. That much we know.”

❍ “we need ungovernable Black communities—not just from the State, but all extensions, functionally or by proxy, of it, including the NPIC and orgs/groups which prioritize hierarchy above all else. this is by far one of the most direct ways to reach the margins because these ungovernable communities are by definition distant from the structures and institutions that create that marginalization such as the police. they are where we are most safe.”

❍ “ppl who aren’t in the bay & have little to no experience with street movements in the bay, please read this. aptp leadership has been actively working against militancy in anti-police street movements before aptp was even a thing—only now they have a lot more $$$ thanks to their associations with the Tides (Foundation) Network and Cullors’s BLM™️. ppl unfamiliar with their history boosting them isn’t helping this worsening situation.”

❍ “imagine the amount of lost time and resources wasted by the NPIC and shitty "socialist" orgs that when not being antiBlack, they protect abusers and sexual assaulters.”

❍ “another way of saying that “you can’t reform this” is to say “you can’t defund this. you have to abolish it or it goes on.” ppl trying to “defund” literally got their messaging turned against them by both the gop & dems after the riots of 2020. you rlly can’t reform this… you cannot trick the state into slowly but surely disarming itself so that you can then take it down, too.”

❍ “so annoyed with the ppl bragging about how peaceful the protests are. it doesn't matter, fascists will not suddenly grow a conscience because you protest peacefully. you either destroy fascism or it will destroy you.”

❍ “this swift condemnation of Black cops has more to do with the fact that they’re Black and therefore can be scapegoated to pretend that reform is occurring, than it does with literally anything else, including the murder itself.”

❍ “anyone calling for more funding of police and military in this country is a fascist. it's someone who is condoning ongoing genocides. i don't care what party they claim.”

❍ “i'm so upset "defend the p*lice” ever came from the mouths of "abolitionists". it should've been defund or nothing.

❍ “the c*ps were gloating and bragging to each other over beating Tyre Nichols to death because that's what policing is about—the brutal lynching of Black people.”

#theory #quotes

[rudystree]

ok before i start. yes i am stalking your blog. i like your blog! i’m bored and i’m stalking it. because once again i like it here! let’s get that out of the way in case this conversation goes sideways and i get a bunch of comments about how i’m a waste of space with no life stalking you.

i understand that people who hate on elaine take it too far 99% of the time. she’s literally just a girl, dating a guy and doing her best. she takes great photos and who cares if she’s in a room labelled cast only. i’m sure if she was unwanted, she wouldn’t be in there. i’m sure if the cast didn’t like her, she wouldn’t be photographed with them all the time.

https://rudystree.tumblr.com/post/679094452904673280/she-didnt-just-say-some-bad-words-she-said-many

but i came across this post and i just had to say something. because yes, elaine used those words a long time ago and it looks like she’s educated herself to be better. but the way you answered that ask (not mine by the way) is so condescending, rude and insensitive. i’m trying to be respectful but i’m not going to sugarcoat my words because the things elaine has said are not just words. and although u did acknowledge that they’re inappropriate i can’t help but feel like you’re diminishing how harmful they are. do you know that the n word can be traced back to slavery? that even after slaves were emancipated it was used to vilify black people and turn them into an uncivilized and animalistic race? that it’s been ringing in the ears of black people during lynchings and civil rights riots and the “war on drugs”? it is not just a word. but it is a word used by the kkk. and it’s a word that a lot of people who were storming the white house that day were yelling. i’m sure elaine has changed. i’m sure she would never use that word now. but if i’m giving her the benefit of the doubt i have to give that anon the benefit of the doubt as well. and by that i mean that i’m assuming that they’re not one of those people who send elaine death threats or talk badly about her physical appearance. because A LOT of people who dislike elaine are not those people. they’re people who are just hurt that so much love and attention is going towards someone who’s said those awful things and that people go to such extents to defend her when we can’t even get the same reactions from those people when we’re shot on the street by cops. im not saying elaine deserves all the hate. but you can’t say that every single person who dislikes her and brings up what’s she done is a jealous fan girl. and it’s not your place to say that we should be doing something that actually helps. we’re doing more than anyone else is and putting more into this cause than anyone else because we’re living it.

Wow okay well first of all thank you for liking my blog! 🫶 & I love it when ppl stalk my blog hehe

I also appreciate you sending a very respectful message. But that’s the problem when you’re looking back at older posts, because the context in which I answered them was that I did NOT receive respectful asks about Elaine. These were people in my inbox telling me over and over again that she is a monster and deserves to die. For jokingly using inappropriate words as a teenager. I stand 100% behind saying that this is absolutely vile and disproportional.

Of course I am aware of black history, but again, her allegedly having used the n-word around a friend in high school doesn’t mean she actually hate-crimed anyone ffs💀

I hate to break it to you, but most people have said dumb shit when they were younger. Chase, Carlacia, Madison, Drew, etc., they’ve ALL said problematic shit. To assume that someone is undeserving of love, attention or happiness in life for things they cannot change is cruel. Obviously they don’t deserve endless praise for correcting their behaviour now. But you have to acknowledge it if you’re gonna keep bringing up the old shit.

If you keep looking down my blog, I’ve answered a billion times that I don’t condone her past actions and that anyone is free to dislike her. But constantly fucking obsessing over her every move after all these years of her proving that she is nothing like that anymore is absolutely absurd. It is 100% my place to tell ppl who incessantly bully her to shut the fuck up. They are welcome to bitch about her anywhere else, but not on my blog and not in her comments.

#idk how old you are #but ten years ago the world was not exactly pc #so many cool kids just throw around the nword for funsies #fucked up yes but there’s no actual malice #ask #elaine chats

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen qing #wen ning #what the fuck am I doing you ask??? #i don't know #okay #i really don't know #i am nhs #i haven't come up with the bebe's courtesy name yet lol #i am the national health services #midnightlighthowlite #corie replies #corie fics #cql ficlet #lanyan #midnight sun #ly1

[metfell]

Ok I’ve seen ppl say as long as I don’t call out any specific artists we’re good- and I would literally never do that so. Here’s some art style stuff I personally don’t find appealing for petty reasons:

When they give the characters rlly long chins. Reminds me of yaoi comic stuff.

Really stiff posing when the image really doesn’t fit that

Same face syndrome is fairly obvious but I’m adding it anyways

When someone can’t draw height differences without making the short one look like an actual child

When they can’t draw someone with curly hair and instead make it straighter like cmon.

A lot of my gripes are ppl not being able to draw any poc features. Like at all.

When someone has an amazing lining and sketching style but their colors are just not very well developed I get so sad like YOU WERE ALMOST THERE

This goes back to the poc one but when ppl have that anime-influenced art style where they make the light skinned people pure white and the dark skinned people a normal white skin tone. Like I get they’re supposed to be darker but it is so jarring and weird to my eyes.

When ppl put absolutely no effort into the shoes

Those tiny chibi wings. I cannot stand the tiny chibi wings. Give them normal wings.

You can always tell when someone doesn’t know how to draw a woman.

When the only outfits they draw characters in are funny meme graphic tees like “I met god behind a Denny’s” kinda shit

When someone just completely cannot draw an animal despite being a skilled experienced artist

And this one just makes me sad cause they’re still very good but the nature of this style means unless it’s perfect it will still look Off in some way: non-perfect realistic portraits.

Again these are all my personal pet peeves this is not a nag on anyone’s art style saying it’s shit, it’s just what I PERSONALLY don’t like.

#text

[smuggsy]

i would love to see #11 for the prompt thing (just want to say i adore ur current ed/oswald/omc series btw im excited for more! <3)

owww, thank you so much <3 it's nice to hear ppl are actually enjoying it bc i've got almost no feedback. another chapter is coming soon (;

but now onto the whump below the cut. #11 “Please, let me help you.” 

Getting used to his impaired vision is no easy task, he'll admit. Now that the doctor's made a thorough job of cleaning the wound and administering antibiotics to prevent infection and prescribed him two different kinds of painkillers and now that the initial shock of it all has passed. Now it downs on Oswald that this is who he's going to be from now on, that watching his step carefully when he goes down the stairs and bumping into walls that are closer than they seem is something he's going to have to get used to. 

As if walking around with a limp and a cane wasn't demeaning enough already. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes it to the kitchen, everything is sunk in darkness and he fails to turn on the lights two times before he finally finds the switch.

He sees the switch. He knows where it is. It's always been there, in that exact same spot, and he's walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night to fix himself some tea countless times before.

Now the switch has moved.

"Urrgh," he grunts one more time as he turns around and collides against the kitchen aisle. He nearly grabs one of the chairs and tosses it across the room, a sudden rush of adrenaline and fury coursing through his sleep-deprived mind.

There's a pang behind his eyepatch as if mocking his helplessness but he calms down soon enough, closing his good eye and taking a deep breath to brace himself against the counter. He manages to put the kettle on without any further incidents, but when he stands on his toes to reach the cabinet —how many times has he told Olga to keep that stupid tea-set at hand?!— he topples over and ends up sending two very nice cups to their deaths.

They crash on the floor with a piercing sound and Oswald startles and grits his teeth at the commotion. 

Deep breaths, deeeeeep breaths.

Choosing to ignore the incident he turns around to switch off the gas with trembling hands and pour the water into the one cup he did manage to obtain. 

Except, of course, his mind is still foggy from restless sleep and drugs so he misjudges the angle entirely and ends up pouring it all over his hand holding the teabag in place instead.

He lets out a yelp and drops the kettle instantly.

"Ow! Shit! Stupid little—!"

The water drips onto the floor unceremoniously as he tumbles over to reach the water tap and put his hand under it.

Ed barges into the place only half a minute later wielding a handgun, with hair sticking out and with his glasses askew. Oswald barely spares him a glance, blood boiling under his skin and dangerously close to the edge already.

"Oswald, what—"

"Nothing!" he blurts out almost immediately. Edward bearing witness to this mess is the last thing he needs right now, "just go away."

But, of course, he's Edward.

"What happened?" his friend asks, pistol forgotten on some nearby shelf and rushing over, words the slightest bit slurred by slumber and Oswald thinks lucky you, being able to get a wink of sleep, and takes another of those deep breaths that are doing a poor job of slowing down his heart rate. 

"What does it look like it happened, Ed?!"

Edward stares at him numbly and then his eyes dart around the place like he's only now taking it all in, seeing the shattered china on the floor and the pool of water by their feet. Immediately he brings both hands to Oswald's under the cold water from the tap and tugs at it.

"Let me see."

Oswald jerks him away.

"No— I'm fine!" he bites out, "go back to sleep."

Despite his ill-mannered humour, Edward doesn't move. Oswald doesn't look at him while he stands next to him in silence, letting the waters cool, clearly giving him a moment to backtrack on his request. And then, ever so softly, Ed's hands return, to his elbow this time. A touch too gentle it almost makes Oswald let out a whine — because he's tired, and aching, and sleepy and nothing turns out for him as of late.

"Please, let me help you."

His words are a caress in Oswald's ear. Barely there. Ed keeps his warm fingers on his arm and slowly brings the hand to his chest for inspection. Oswald lets him, this time. All energy seems to leave him with that puff of breath and he lets Ed guide him to one of those chairs he was contemplating taking all of his frustrations out on just a minute ago.

There's a slight hiss of sympathy.

"Should be alright with a little cream and a bandage," is Edward's assessment. 

Oswald rolls his eyes and fights down a sappy retort much like: yes, I know that, I'm not so incompetent that I need you here to issue an official diagnosis, just leave me to rage in peace. He nods tiredly instead, shoulders slumped and yawn unavoidable.

"I'll be right back," Ed says with a hoarse voice, moving around quickly despite his dishevelled appearance, looking perfectly awake now but sounding nothing like it. 

Oswald doesn't try to stop him. Because he knows it'll be a lost cause and because he's afraid if he starts poking too much at the situation he'll end up embarrassing himself and crying out his frustrations on Ed's shoulder.

Not ideal.

So he keeps silent instead, watching Ed's expert hands apply that cold salve on his knuckles and wrap his aching red-looking skin in a white bandage, giving up on not looking miserable because what's the point.

He is miserable.

"There, all done."

Ed pats him twice on the thigh as if comforting a hurting animal and Oswald can only offer a small scoff in return. He can smell Ed's shampoo from where he's standing so close and he keeps his eyes fixed on that loose crumpled white shirt he wears to sleep, afraid to look up into the gentle eyes he knows he'll find behind those glasses.

Because he might start blurting out stuff that shouldn't be blurt out if he does, as helpless and exhausted as he's beginning to feel.

"Now let's get you that cup of tea."

Ed turns around to make himself busy and Oswald takes the opportunity to scatter away.

"Where—"

"Sofa," he crooks out deadpan. 

That's where Ed finds him ten minutes later, staring at the unlit fireplace as if willing it to come to life on its own. Sitting on his usual spot with the lights off and a glassy look of resignation. 

"Chamomile," Ed says as he offers the steaming cup. Oswald doesn't have the heart to tell him he's changed his mind and would rather down a glass or two of that aged Scotch instead. He takes a sip without muttering out a word. Ed sits down just beside, clearly not taking the hint, "you're uncharacteristically quiet."

Oswald shrugs.

"Just tired," he offers, and then, only to put Ed's mind at ease, gives him a practised look of reassurance and a smile, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Edward turns the attention back to him, ignoring the clear dismissal implicit in the words.

"Did you go to sleep at all?"

"Yes."

"Is your eye bothering you?"

And then the Oswald from the kitchen returns without a warning and he lashes out.

"Goodnight, Ed."

Edward goes to speak again but stops himself when Oswald sends him a sharp menacing look. He looks nothing short of a kicked puppy as he gets on his feet and turns around to leave.

And then he doesn't leave.

"I could start a fir—"

"Goddamn it, Ed! Just leave me alone!"

And just like that the fourth and last cup of that lovely set ceases to exist, turned into another pile of shattered porcelain on the floor. Because Edward Nygma is a pain in his fucking ass, and he doesn't know how to read an indirect and back down and just disappear. He pokes and pokes and pokes—

—and when Oswald turns to look at him with that murderous glare, he sees no reaction from him. Clearly, this was his intention all along, from the very first moment he walked into that kitchen, to see just how much he could take, to push until he broke, to make him talk about it.

Oswald should have learnt to read Edward Nygma by now. Should’ve seen it coming.

As Ed strides back to him with purpose and swiftly sits back down on the sofa and leans in to wrap him into an embrace, Oswald understands he definitely still hasn't learnt to read Edward Nygma. 

"What are you doing?" he pushes him away half-heartedly with his good hand. Edward doesn't let go, an unmovable brick wall that cannot be swayed.

"I'm hugging you."

"Let go—"

"No."

Oswald blinks. Then lets out a breathless laugh. He can't seem to fathom any other reaction to this — provided this is actually happening. Provided it isn't a secondary effect of being drugged up to his eyeballs for a whole week, now. 

He stops trying to tug Edward away and instead slumps against him, head resting on a slim shoulder and cold and runny nose poking Ed's neck as he keeps giggling at the unprecedented gesture. 

Edward's hug is implacable but awkward. He doesn't move, his broad hands against Oswald's back just pin him in place almost in a possessive fashion. He's clearly unskilled in the ways of physical reassurance.

Oswald realises those nervous giggles he's letting out are actually sobs.

#ta-da! #thank you really. i needed to get this out #whump nygmobblepot is the best nygmobblepot #nygmobblepot #edward nygma #ed nygma #the riddler #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #nygmobblepot fanfic #riddlebird #gotham tv #gotham fox #gotham #my writing #answered #i wrote this instead of studying

[akria23]

Wooooo

Another great episode - gave more perspective but also more questions imo.

I said before the episode that I feel the show has been giving us a White x Sean x Black trifecta (just bond wise and not romantic of course) and given this episode I still feel that way - that so storylines were erased or even redistributed to have these elements be the main focus even BUT I don’t know what the endgame is - failure or unity or if it intents to even lead into one of them. Because while it was hinted at that Black has a calmer side to him that those close love - Gram (his supposed best friend in the gang), Eugene (love interest who hadn’t wanted to separate), Sean (who feels Black have him his life goal) and even Todd (who despite it being easier for him can’t even kill) - and yet we do not really ever get to engage with the Black that would’ve had any softness with them at all. And the moments that seem to show he’s even capable of human affection are fleeting and covered in violence - be it him leaving Eugene sons he wouldn’t be in danger, him getting emotional during the Sean fight, or him sending White away so he won’t get hurt. Every act that shows he might care somewhat comes heavy with coldness, and detachment.

The same ppl who gave him a somewhat humanizing aspect are the same ones that are taking it from him - Gram who tells Eugene that Black ain’t shit be with me, every chance he gets (I really don’t know what’s going on over there)

- Sean who yes hated Black for his betrayal and coldness but clearly admired him for that same drive only now feels like - I’ve always hated you and white is the better twin (which granted he’s in love with one while black is keeping him away so it’s valid to be like 😑 you suck bring the good twin out, I guess)

- White referring to him as his evil doppelgänger 😬

- And even Todd implying that Black doesn’t care about the issues he’s just having to have it all his way - control.

I said before that it felt like we might transition into White against Black (White’s last transition into this new White being not just walking in Blacks shoes but having to overcome his brother to be himself) but in someways it feels like everyone and then Black on the other side and that’s what makes me question the real endgame for Black.

I’ve implied this before but I’m gonna be very disappointed if the ending message for Black here is that he’s too radicalized. I’m just not on that personally.

Speaking of I found the conversation between Todd & Black to be interesting and it makes me wonder at the overall ending. Will they take down 2 enemies or will they take down Tawi only for us to see Todd take over and gain the power position that came vacant with the lose of Tawi. I know some ppl may not like that but I’d be okay because it’s realistic. They used Martin Luther King as their example and as Todd said yes he fought against racism, but he was assassinated and there’s still racism. And I think for me the illuminating part is that Martin is used by racist in today’s society against black ppl, to keep them in their place. Martin wouldn’t do that, Martin would be turning over in his grave, he believe in turning the other cheek. He is used as a safe measure while they ignore all of his ideologies they cannot use and ignore the fights that worked at then same time he did. Yes the ideas and standing moves things, but the reality is someone else takes the space or they adopt a new way to keep the same systems in work. And the fight never ends. It’s just a new generation having to strap up and get to work. It may be easier or the fight may be different but the fight carries on all the same.and I think having that sort of ending where one power dies and they get ready to take on the next is just as close to reality as we’re gonna get.

Also side note I’m not saying that SeanWhiteBlack is the only triangle - there’s BlackToddTawi / SeanTawiDan / YokDanSean etc I just mean that’s our main focal point that we have been aware of from the very start. Idk this episode just left me questioning even more the endgame message & intent. Def with Dan wanting to tell Sean about what he did 😐 so many questions 😂

#not me #not me black #not me sean #not me white #not me series #not me the series #seanwhiteblack #seanwhite #gmmtv #thai bl #episode 11 #offgun

[mcufandomhatespeopleofcolor]

I saw so many Bucky Stans talking about how hard it is being a Bucky Stan bcuz he gets such little screen time then I’m just like…there’s even less screen time for Sam and absolutely no fanworks that don’t make him a nanny or a cheerleader for a white guy or a white ship but oK ThEn whine about the white dude.

omg don't get me started on whiny white fans. they exhaust me. like I cannot stand how they ignore Sam Wilson, when they're not making him the perpetual mammy character (aka therapist/nanny) or a prop for white ships. like so far I stick to the sambucky tags and what ppl recommend but my mental health can't take all

mod laina

#sam wilson protection squad #fandom antiblackness

[palbabor-writes]

dude uh so like dabi but as a father... like he would never but like no one day he gets left with this kid and he's not gonna abandon it bc he cant idk i just want to see dabi as a parental unit trying not to be a bad parent

lol, ppl ask me asks and i respond with a feature freaking film worth of words.  (//▽//) warnings: adult language, angst, mild spoilers for current manga chapters: 290 - 291

words: 3915 

notes: I answered this a little differently. It’s more of a longing for what could have been, rather than a kid of his own sort of thing. But, Dabi does his best damn it. Also, yeah, yeah, it’s another Greek title. I cannot be STOPPED. but i prolly should be. Not beta edited, so all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

Pónos 

ponos /ˈpoʊˌnɒs/ or ponus /ˈpoʊnəs/ noun  Ancient Greek: Πόνος Pónos  the personification of hardship and toil

There’s a loud clattering noise that’s echoing along the polished floors and walls of the Meta Liberation Army’s base. 

Dabi hates these long hallways. They remind him of some kinda tomb, with all that reverberation and all those gleaming surfaces. They’re perfect for elongating and stretching voices and sounds. 

So whatever the fuck that racket is, it’s not like he’s going to be able to avoid it. He’d need to turn around to do that and he’s not about to fucking turn heel and retrace his steps. Besides, it would take him twice as long to go the other way. Nah, this path is easier, despite the looming annoyance of the commotion.

 He rounds a corner and catches sight of a young woman. 

She’s struggling with something as she reaches into her shoulder bag, and her back twists awkwardly as she leans both forward and sideways. Dabi can’t get a good look at her from here. But, he reasons, he also doesn’t care enough to bother with a second, closer, glance. Nope, all he’s gotta do is slip past her and he can be on his way. 

“Reo-- Reo! Please keep still. I need to get to my phone…” The woman’s voice sounds strained and that odd pattering noise that he’s been hearing since he stepped toward this hallway hasn’t stopped either. If anything, it’s worse. Is it her quirk? Is there somebody behind her? Does she have one of those remote talking devices? Like that the ones that the Doc gave to the League before all this fucking cult bullshit started. What-

Dabi’s thoughts wander to a screeching halt as a boy bumps into his shins. He blinks at the sensation and stutters to a stop, his eyes glinting at the small form. The kid, who looks about four or five, stumbles backwards and cranes his head, looking up at this new discovery he’s run into. 

The boy studies him and, for a brief moment, Dabi worries that his face might spook the kid bad enough to send him into a sobbing and crying fit. Dabi’s not exactly the easiest thing to look at now. But, the kid seems ok with gawping at him, his violet eyes goggled and wondering. 

“Reo-” the boy’s mother repeats, replacing her phone and scanning the hallway for her rogue offspring. “I--Uh, there you are! I’m sorry...Oh, you’re one of those new generals. I’m afraid I don’t remember your name. Ooh, oh my gosh, now that you’re here, would you mind watching him for a moment? I’ve gotta run something back to Skeptic…”

That woman is saying something but Dabi’s too involved in his strange standoff with the boy. Neither he, nor the kid, seem to have the wherewithal to pull their gazes away. No, they both just watch each other, the former maintaining his aloof scowl and the latter is putting on an amazing show of raw fascination. 

“So, just don’t let him get up to too much trouble and I’ll be right back. Won’t be more than a minute.”  

Huh?

Dabi whips his head up, suddenly realizing what’s being asked of him. Like fuck he’s gonna watch this kid. Wait...where did she go?

He twists and turns, his cerulean eyes flashing up and down the sterile hallway, but there’s no sign of her. What the hell? How can someone dematerialize that quickly? He didn’t even say yes, for fucks sake. What a negligent, irresponsible parent she is, to just leave her kid like this with a complete stranger. Pfft, stranger feels a bit weak, honestly. Nah, Dabi’s a walking, talking freakshow. Nothing about him looks safe or dependable. There’s a pull on his dark pants and he automatically shakes his leg against the sensation, agitated. What now? 

Ah.

Junior is blinking up at him, those chubby hands wrinkling the rough fabric between his tiny digits. “Hi,” he beams, his pearly baby teeth straight and gleaming, “I’m Reo!”

“Yeah,” Dabi scoffs, knocking the kid’s hands away. “I heard. Where did your, er, mom go?”

“What’s your name?” Reo prattles, following Dabi as he skulks a little ways down the hallway, his brow furrowed and shoulders tense. Now what is he going to do? He could leave, tell the kid to stay put and go about his business. He doesn’t have time for this, after all.

“Hey!” Reo calls and Dabi turns at the slightly frantic note in the child’s voice, his eyes sharp. 

“Whadda’ want kid? I’m trying to find your mom.” 

“I said my name is Reo-”

“And I said I heard you. Tch, you’re so loud there’s no way half of the building didn’t hear you,” Dabi snaps, looming over the little boy, his mouth pressing into a deep frown. 

“I told you my name, so..so now you gotta tell me yours,” Reo scolds, those violet eyes shining. Dabi can see that the kid’s tiny frustration is rising at the thought of some adult being so rude as to not answer his newly engrained social niceties. 

“Hmph,” Dabi snorts, a low laugh puffing out of his lips. “The name’s Dabi.”

Reo digests that, his nose wrinkling as he mouths the unfamiliar name to himself, like he’s wanting to get it just right when he speaks it aloud. It’s kinda cute, Dabi muses. You know, in a stupid sort of way.

“D- Dadi?” Reo mimics, stumbling over that all important ‘b’ in Dabi’s name.

“What? No. It’s DABI. It’s got a ‘B’ in it. Like, uh, b as in, uh, bear. You know what a bear is, yeah?”

“A bear?” Reo asks, biting his lip at the strange change of topic. “What about a bear?”

“You got my name wrong, kid. It’s Dabi, not DaDi. My name has a ‘b’ not a ‘d.’ Try again,” Dabi groans, sinking to his haunches and praying that this kids mom will rematerialize any goddamn second. 

“Dadi,” Reo mimics, still fumbling. 

“Ugh,” Dabi sucks his teeth and begins to stand again. 

“Hey! Pick me up?” Reo requests, his arms lifting, stocky fingers clenching and unclenching into his palms, opening and closing in a repetition of a familiar demand. 

“Pick you up?” Dabi repeats, incredulous. What the fuck is wrong with today? The only thing that could make this worse is someone seeing this odd performance.

“I’m not gonna pick you up,” Dabi growls, his lips pursing at the kid. “You’re just fine where you are. Besides, don’t kids like you need to practice walking? How old are you anyway?”

“Five,” Reo chirrups, puffing his chest out, like he’s expecting a rainfall of praise to fall on him now that he’s verbally acknowledged that he is indeed, a big boy.

“That’s too bad, kid. If you’re five, you’re definitely old enough to walk under your own power,” Dabi snorts, bemused by Reo’s chipper attitude. Doesn't that get tiring? All that smiling and pacing that he’s doing? Dabi’s never had much experience with little kids, well, other than his own contact with his younger siblings, but they were never this...chatty.

“Awe,” Reo whines, his head falling, little chin bumping as it hits his collarbone dejectedly. Dabi shakes his head at the dramatic reaction. Sulking is better than crying, he reasons, turning his head to look for the boy’s mother again. She said it would only take a minute? The fuck was she?

“Hey, kid. Where were you and your mom before you came here?”

There’s a strange, static-like quiet that follows Dabi’s question. That’s weird. He would have figured that his new query would have broken the boy out in another rash of talkative excitement. So for him to be…

Wait. 

Dabi turns back and his eyes scan the newly barren hallway for the boy. The fuck? Where did he go? His gaze is still whisking frantically when he spots the heel of Reo’s shoe disappearing beyond the next corner. Fucking wonderful.

He paces after the boy, his long legs pulling him quickly along. Again, he wonders why he gives two shits. It’s not his kid, not his responsibility. Yet there’s some nagging pressure that keeps beating at the back of his mind. It’s likely some pieces of a fragmented lesson that had been taught to him long ago. Back when he wasn’t like this. Long before he’d made the decision that sent him on this mindless trajectory, lingering in the obsession of his pent up rage and hurt.  

You’re the eldest. 

Take care of your sister. 

Easy, he’s still a baby. That’s right, hold him like that. You’re such a good brother. 

You’re the one who he can go to when he needs help.

Thank you, Touya. You did so, so well! I’m sorry I had to leave for a bit, but thank you for watching him. 

It’s a big job, and one that you’ll always have, so, can you do it?

You’re their big brother. They look up to you.

Look! She’s happy to see you, Touya!

Dabi snarls at those little flashes of memory, his teeth gritting. No one needs him. Fuck, he’d be more likely to kill them than help them now. Or, at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. Drilling it in, over and over, until he can repeat that vitriol like it’s some kinda twisted prayer. He’s not that boy anymore and he can never, ever go back. He’s made sure of that. 

“Hey! Hey kid! Get back here! You little shit!” 

A loud, male voice is booming up ahead and Dabi jogs the last few steps, his head already uplifted and searching as he rounds the corner. There’s a tall, unfamiliar man in the next hallway and he’s looking away, watching as Reo sprints from him. 

“Fuck, man. Why you gotta yell at him?” Dabi scolds, his cerulean eyes glaring. The man whirls around and Dabi notes the source of his ire. There’s a large stain, bleeding against his crisp white button up and an upturned mug is clutched in a tight fist. Kid must have bumped into him and knocked his coffee out. Well, that fucking sucks, but it’s no reason to freak out at the little guy. He’s five for fuck’s sake. Not like he did it on purpose. 

“He burned me! He ran around that corner and smack into me! Control your kid, you ass! I know you’re one of those hoity toity new generals but you gotta--”

“He’s not my kid,” Dabi snaps, already shoving past the blustering idiot. If he hurries, he can snatch the boy up before he gets too much farther. 

“You sure are running after him like he is!” 

The taunt chases him as Dabi stalks away and it makes him grind his teeth again. Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, he repeats, all he’s gotta do is get the kid and wait for the mom. Besides, he’s in too deep now. He can’t just abandon him. Fuck, with his luck, he’d run into the mom before he ran into Reo again.

The next hallway leads to one of the many common rooms. 

Dabi, realizing this, begins to jog again, suddenly desperate to catch Reo before he wanders into even more members of this crazy cult. Or worse, he gulps, a member of the League. He’d never live it down if the kid bumped into Compress or Shigaraki. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As he skids along the next turn, Dabi catches sight of the kid. He’s wavering beside the double doors of the common room and he looks distinctly lost, his dark head turning every few seconds, those violet eyes of his wide. 

“Oi! Reo! Stop running,” Dabi calls, already lowering himself to a kneeling position, his long, mangled arms outstretched. He’s hoping he’s painting some kinda welcoming picture with this gesture and not just creating a terrifying pantomime of comfort.

Reo looks back and he lets out a little squeal of recognition and delight. Excited he is finally going to be picked up. His shoes tap loudly against the tiles as he dashes into Dabi’s oddly warm embrace. 

Once he’s got a good grip on the boy, Dabi rises to his feet, keeping the kid’s body securely against his. At first, Reo protests the tight hold, his back bowing and squirming, but Dabi stills him with a long, hard, stare.

“Don’t do that,” Dabi chastises, wincing against the pull on his marred skin. 

“Oh! Does it hurt?” Reo asks, carefully bringing his swinging feet to a standstill, noting the grimace of pain on Dabi’s scarred face.

“Yeah,” Dabi confirms, shifting Reo to his hip so he can free up his other arm to adjust a pinching staple. “My skin ain’t exactly healthy. Now, let’s get you back to your mom before she finds out that you fuc-- I mean...that you dashed off like that. Give people a heads up next time, huh? Making me run all over the compound after--”

“Oh! Who’s that you’re holding?”

“Gosh, he looks just like you! With that dark hair and those bright eyes of his. Is that your son?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Dabi tosses a glare over his shoulder, but the two women keep walking toward him, cooing at Reo’s pleased little face. One of them reaches up and ruffles the boy's hair and Dabi instinctively takes a step back, a snarl lifting his lips over his white teeth.

“He’s not my kid,” Dabi corrects, for what feels like the umpteenth time today. It’s only the second, but twice is two times too many. 

These women are being ridiculous. They don’t look that much alike. He’s just got dark hair, that’s all. If they knew what color Dabi’s hair really was they wouldn’t even make that connection. With his true coloring, Reo would be another kid and Dabi would be some fucking freak who’s left holding him. He’s not this kid's anything, least of all his protector. 

It’s not his job to look after this half pint, nor is it his job to care about him. Even if he reminds him of some sliver of what was, what could have been. No, Dabi is just some schmuck who somehow stumbled into this absurdity. It would be easy to unwind those trusting arms and lower this kid back to the ground, he’s not sure why he’s still holding him. He should...he should put him down...He... 

For some reason, that last thought makes his heart squeeze, pressing an irregular beat against his breast. He shakes his head at the sensation, burying whatever bubble of emotion that is trying to rise back down, pressing it deep, smothering and covering until he feels normal again. 

“He’s right! I’m not. Because he’s Dadi!” Reo confirms, simultaneously standing up for his new, haphazard, caretaker and throwing him under an oncoming proverbial bus in the same breath. Goddamn it all.

“That’s so sweet! Your son is beyond adorable!”

“He’s not…” Dabi begins, but bites his tongue. What good is it doing him anyway? These flunkies of the Meta Liberation are just fawning over Reo anyway. He’s honestly stunned they’re still talking to him at all. 

As they’re tickling and petting at the boy, a sudden thought springs into his mind. Actually, this might not be too bad. If he can get one of them to take the kid, he can fucking slink away, his responsibility finished, job done. 

“Oi, one of you can take him. He’s waiting for his mom. She said something about meeting with that Skeptic dic-- guy.”

“You want us to watch your son?” One of the girl’s questions, her head tilting at his demand. “Wouldn’t you rather wait for her yourself? You don’t know us and, well, not that we’d do anything bad...but that feels strange. Besides, you’re doing a great job! Look how happy he is. The two of you are so cute!”

Amazing. 

Apparently, Dabi, despite his hardened and rough persona, one that he has cultivated and built up for years, mind you, could now add, “cute,” to that resume of terror that he is building. 

Sighing, Dabi tries a more direct approach. “You seem to like him a lot, so just keep an eye on him until his mom comes back. It’s not hard. He likes being held, so just, er, hold him.”

Reo, sensing that he’s about to be deposited out of Dabi’s warm grasp, begins to wiggle again, his hands clinging to Dabi’s skin. He’s trying to be gentle, remembering Dabi’s earlier warning, his small digits tapping rather than digging, but he’s still scrabbling against the pull.

The woman clicks her tongue and smiles, tucking some of her long hair behind her ear. “Your son is so precious! He must really love you. Look, Han, isn’t this kid is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen!” Her friend chuckles and agrees and the cheerful sound makes Dabi seethe. 

“Like I told you, he ain’t my kid. Now knock the wax outta your ears and take him,” Dabi snarls, still pushing Reo outward, hoping beyond hope that this calamity will just fucking end. 

“Dadi,” Reo pouts, his nose wrinkling as he burrows his face into Dabi’s arm, his skin hot against Dabi’s purple flesh.

“If he’s not your kid,” the woman named Han says, propping a fist on her hip, “why does he keep calling you daddy?”

“He’s not calling me that,” Dabi grumbles, his eyes lingering on Reo’s distressed slump. “The kid can’t say my name, which is Dabi. For some fucking reason the “b” is alluding him.”

“Fucking?” Reo questions, his brilliant purple eyes lifting, searching Dabi’s deep blue gaze. When he doesn’t get an answer, he repeats the word, lingering on those harsh syllables a little longer than he needs to. God, Dabi thinks, pulling Reo back to him, trying to muffle the boys bewildered tests of his new word. This is beyond ridiculous.

“Uh-oh,” another, male, voice resounds. Dabi scowls at the newcomer, watching as he steps beside the women, his eyes widened in mock concern. “That your kiddo?” He asks, his brow arching at Dabi’s now openly hostile form. 

“Fuc-- Again? I gotta answer this again?” Dabi snaps, shifting Reo back to his hip, just above his belt. “No. No, he is not mine.”

“Sure about that?” the man quizzes. “He’s sure got your hair and, uh, your vulgarity down.” 

“He’s that woman’s...Look, his mother went to go see that Skeptic bastard. So, you wanna help me out here? Any of you idiots want to do something useful? Hmm? Go into that big meeting room, the one past the common area and get her. I bet that’s where she went. When you see her...tell her, her kid is going wild. Stop...stop looking at me like that or I’ll torch you where you fuc-- where you stand.”

Instead of being cowed by his threat, the Meta Liberation Assholes just laugh, the three of them leaning against each other as they heave with their amusement. And Reo? Well, he’s seemingly amused by all the ruckus, giggling and murmuring little nothings into Dabi’s skin, nuzzling into Dabi’s inhuman warmth. Dabi feels that strange tugging at his heart again and in his anger and distant horror, he spews more rage onto the trash that’s daring to chortle so openly in front of him.

“Goddamn it, I’ll make each of you pay for this you...you stupid--”

“Dabi?”

Can a hole open up under him? That would be absolutely perfect and he’d be so, so grateful. He cranes his neck and catches sight of the last person he wanted to see. Fucking, Twice. His costume is making those white eyes of his comically wide and his hands lift to clap at his face, always dramatic and overblown to the last.

“Who is that sweet little boy? The hell are you doing with that child?!?”

“He’s--”

“It’s his son!” The ‘Han’ woman calls, still clutching her sides, her eyes wet from her mirth.

“No,” Dabi groans, his head dropping lamely. He wants nothing more than to fry each and everyone of these fucking pieces of shit. The desire is so strong he can feel the creeping of heat that’s rising in his palms and tickling up his piercings, scalding his skin against the metal. No, he scolds himself, he can’t do that. Not with Reo in his arms. He’s gotta be careful. He can’t hurt the kid. It’s not his fucking fault he’s been trapped in the care of a monster like him. 

Dabi gasps at his sudden, protective instincts. The fuck? This kid is nothing to him. Nothing. He doesn’t remind him of anyone. No, he’s nothing like his little brothers, all questions and sweet, brief hugs. He’s not...he’s not…

Reo’s hum of agitation breaks Dabi from his swirling emotions. The boy tries to lift his legs away from Dabi’s hips, his arms wrapping around Dabi’s neck, suddenly unsure and starting to whimper. 

“It’s too hot,” he complains, his voice small and soft in Dabi’s ear.

“I know,” Dabi concedes, taking another deep breath, trying to still that rushing rage that is lingering in the back of his mind. “Sorry kid, it should stop in a minute.”

“Ok,” Reo nods, his black hair mingling with Dabi’s spiky tendrils. 

Twice has stepped forward and he’s standing beside Dabi, his head cocked, looking from the shivering boy to Dabi’s haggard expression. “He does look a lot like you,” Twice ponders, his fingers tracing his chin meditatively. There’s something about Twice that Reo is bothered by and his face falls into the hollow of Dabi’s neck and shoulder, straining his body against Dabi, away from the black and red suited man that’s beside Dabi’s elbow.  

“Fuc-- Piss off, Twice,” Dabi growls, his blue eyes narrowing and hardening as he pats comfortingly at Reo’s back, twisting from Twice’s curious stare. “You’re freaking the kid out. Hey! Hey, don’t you assholes have some bootlicking to do?” Dabi snaps, his eyes lifting to the gaggle of MLA members, who are still giggling and whispering across from him. And, just as those words leave his lips, Reo’s mother, finally, finally returns. 

“Oh thank you!” She coos, raising her arms to Reo and peeling him away from Dabi. To Dabi’s shock, Reo still shakes his head, his arms retightening around Dabi’s tense neck.

“Oooh, he’s taken a liking to you I see!” 

“You gotta let me go, kid,” Dabi whispers into Reo’s ear, unlacing his little arms. Reo whines and pouts as Dabi presses him back to his mother, a sigh of relief shuddering from his mismatched lips. Thank fucking God. Now he can have this woman tell all of those shits that he’s not this boy’s father...wait...what the fuck? Oh...oh, now they all leave.

The MLA lackeys are drifting away, walking in a tight bunch as they re-enter the common area, soft grins still lingering on Dabi. And Twice? Twice is snickering openly and making his way down an adjacent hallway, no doubt off to tell Toga what he’s seen.

“Thanks again. Looks like you did a great job,” Reo’s mother repeats, shifting her son to a better position, trying to quiet his frantic scrabbling, his small arms still reaching, struggling for Dabi.

“Dadi!” Reo cries, a few tears falling from his soft face as he’s walked away. In another heartbeat, they’re both gone and all Dabi has left of that strange little kid is the lingering sting and warmth of his embrace on his burned skin.

Notes: Dabi is a grump. Or is he? o(TヘTo)

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @evesmores

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on dabi and his bad attitude #dabi #bnha dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #bnha angst

[dancefloors]

what’s a hot take you’ve always wanted to express🎤

I genuinely don't think there's anything I've thought that I haven't said bc I cannot keep my mouth shut. but let's go

I think cyberbullying is the backbone of society rn, I think its more respectable to be on kpop stan twitter than to have a letterboxd account that you use seriously, idgaf how innovative they are I think NFTs are the most disgusting horrible thing I've ever heard of and convince me that society is in its downfall, I think the way a lot of activism is conducted online is ineffective in the long run and exists largely to clear personal guilt (hence the focus on celebrities) and there should be a lot more focus on getting involved on the local level / less focus on symbolic victories, i think white swifties are the most sociopathic subset of individuals to exist on this planet, I think bisexuals are other bisexuals' biggest enemies (as in we stand in our own way and manifestations of internalised biphobia are doing unbelievable damage rn), I think hating other women is fine and not a big deal, I think it's funny when ppl take Elon Musk seriously for saying he's going to colonize space when he can't even make a submarine or a car that doesn't crash itself, I think Jake gyllenhaal is not weird at all he's just normal and annoying.

[jq37]

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 3

The Case of the Curious Clues

Before we start, a quick plea to Grant O’Brien: Please stop finding clues. I can only take notes so fast. You’re killing me Grant. Moving on...

We start off this episode with yet another flashback, this time to the final confrontation of Sly and his supposedly dead arch nemesis Fletcher Cottonbottom at Reichenbunny Falls (...Brennan please). Fletcher was using a local castle as a storage center for munitions but Sly tipped off the cops before they could be moved. They do some repartee back and forth before Fletcher, the madman, handcuffs them together and jumps off the edge. They hit the water but Sly is able to lockpick himself out and escape while Fletcher disappears beneath the waves. 

You know what I got from that story? No body.

Anyway, we jump back to the present where there *is* a body, Squire Badger’s specifically. Everyone in the room who isn’t a PC thinks that this must either be the work of ghosts or Mrs. M who was the only person in the room when it happened (allegedly). 

This is a crucial time for clue gathering and Brennan keeps everyone in initiative for investigative purposes. Now, *so much* stuff happens here that I’m not going to recap every single detail--just the major clues and the things that seem relevant. I’m serious, this is like the volume of info we usually get in the once per season later game lore dump ep but it’s episode THREE.

Daisy tries to find a secret door but critically fails. She clocks Gangie, a fellow criminal, and in the moment Rekha and Katie decide that they prob have worked together in the past even though they are very different kinds of criminals. 

Buck, who is outside listening to what’s going on in the room notices that his ankle knife is missing which is Concerning considering a man was just knifed to death. 

Sly has Lars guard the door (he opens it and Buck is discovered, whoops) and then rolls a NATURAL 20 plus NINE to investigate so Brennan just has to tell him literally everything. RIP to him and me. Anyway, here’s the rundown (along with some of the stuff other ppl got):

Mrs. M’s hands are covered in blood but she couldn’t have done it. Based on her personality for one and for other reasons we’ll get to.

The wound is much messier than it would be if a person stabbed themselves typically.

There is a note in Squire Badger’s handwriting that says “Sylvester Cross I am afraid” No indication of if that was the whole message or if he got interrupted (maybe Buck could figure it out with his handwriting checking skills). Daisy from across the room clocks that Sly’s name is written on the paper but can’t read the rest.

The knife is a hunting knife with a pronghorn handle--an animal not common in England but very common in Texas (and Buck is sweating obv).

There is a slight layer of charcoal type dust on everything on the big resolute desk in the room (which makes sense, ash from the fireplace) but there is parchment type dust on the bust of Barkus Aurelius (OK, that one’s good) on the table and that’s the only place that dust is. Ian later notices that the date on the bust is wrong. 

Speaking of, the desk (which we learn later was put in and taken out of storage once Loan Hall was modernized) is bolted to the ground and a lot of stuff has been thrown off it as if by a powerful force but Sly notices that it’s just the metal stuff like things made of silver or with screws. Stone things like the bust and other non-metal things have stayed put. Plus he smells ozone. This was the work of magnets, not ghosts, he concludes. And, for the record, Grant figured this out himself!

Mrs. M’s eyes are rapidly dilating. She is questioned about what happened and she says that she was told she was fired and would receive a small pension. 

(Not a part of Sly’s clue dump but Buck rolls a 24 with disadvantage to persuade everyone he didn’t do it but then 2 nat 1s in a row to see if Harding--who said he was standing outside the door--is suspect. Buck thinks he’s at most a stooge but he did roll a nat 1 so who knows?)

Anyway, back to Mrs. M. Gangie fully believes Mrs. M is innocent and scared. She doesn’t quite remember what happened for a couple of seconds in there and it’s clear this is not the first time she’s had missing time. Sly calls Longfoot (the bunny photographer) over to take a picture of Mrs. M which everyone is a little appalled at until they realize he’s making a point. When the flash goes off, she bugs out like she did in episode 1 and forgets that the picture was ever taken. Sly then has Dr. Magpie list the symptoms of epilepsy. It seems that Mrs. M had an episode triggered by the flash she mentioned seeing and then lost time. It’s possible that what she thought she saw after that she didn’t actually see.

[While Sly is monologuing this Rekha texts Brennan and gets a 17 to swipe the “I am afraid” note. Sly doesn’t notice.]

So if it wasn’t her, then who was it? There’s only one door into the study and anyone who walked in would have to have walked past Mr. Harding, Shellcrest, Calliope, and Tabitha (who is having a marvelous time being in the midst of so much drama). Ah, but who said there was only one door? Sly has Harding pull a sconce and a SECRET DOOR OPENS! Woo! Finally! It’s a classic bookshelf one that opens into the hallway and there is some extremely fine crushed glass under the door. Hmm.

Sly clocks that there is something under the desk but we don’t know what it is because Brennan texts it to him and it’s redacted. There are actually a couple of redacted texts that go around this ep so we are def missing information. 

OK, that’s more or less everything. 

Sly notices that the page is missing and Grant gasps while Rekha does an excellent job of pretending like she doesn’t even remember what paper is being talked about. Constance asks if it’s possible that Mrs. M totally made up the memory because of her epilepsy and between Dr. Magpie and Sly they determine that that’s uncommon but possible. Dr. Magpie says that everyone should leave so he and Sly can examine the body and Sly says that someone should watch Gangie at all times. 

At this point, Harding and Gilfoyle (the butler) say they should establish where everyone was at the time of the murder. A lot of the staff and guests have solid alibis cause they were in big groups/cleaning up together. But the PCs were off alone (or with each other) and had reasons to want to guy dead so they’re prime suspects. Sly even admits that he’s one too. Also everyone dogpiles Ian because Raph makes it so fun. 

Harding mentions the letter that was given to Buck (the one selling his shares in BB and giving voting writes to his rival Josiah) and asks him to read it. Buck reads it and gives a streamlined version of the truth, saying everything except for the part with the proxy vote. With a 26 he is able to allay everyone’s suspicions for now, but now he’s purposefully hidden the truth in a way that can be readily called out if anyone sees the letter or the contract which he resolves to find. 

Buster distracts the group so Daisy can “check the body for a pulse” aka: check the body for the contract. She doesn’t find a it but does find a key attached to a piece of red silk--something that would be weird for him to be carrying around instead of his valet. She figures this must open whatever locked drawer the contract is in and swipes it but Sly clocks her stealing it (his perception ties her sleathiness but an earlier Bless from Ian tips him over the edge--poetic).  

Calliope says that everyone is kinds suspect, including Sly, but *someone* has to solve this and Sly’s their best bet so everyone should just stay put and they can guard the exits. The butler says that, besides the front door, there are some towers that poke up above ground and a servant's exit/entrance by the elevator in the kitchen wing but they can lock down both and have someone guard the front doors. 

The butler is like, lmao yeah Sly I know you didn’t do it and I’m not gonna stand guard here but you know, everyone is keeping an eye on y’all. And then he leaves the PCs, Mrs. M, Constance, and Dr. Magpie in the room with the body. 

Lars is about to go watch the kitchen staff but, before he goes, Sly says to him that he saw Cottonbottom and is obviously quite scared. Gangie, who used to work for the guy, overhears and asks what’s going on. Sly assumes Gangie is playing coy but rolls high enough to know that he isn’t. He saw a starkly white Cottonbottom and one of his known conspirators doesn’t know he’s back? Perhaps it was a ghost after all. 

Case Notes

My 2 fave bits of this episode were “bad to bad bad bad” (and the further riffing) and Daisy throwing increasingly bigger books at Sly.

Even with a Nat 1, Sly gets a 16 on Investigation. Wild. 

I don’t think Rekha got enough props for her “Cross examination” line so I’m mentioning it here.

Brennan said the ozone question was still open--but I assumed it was like the electricity smell from an electromagnet. That would make sense, right? Maybe he meant they hadn’t found the source of it specifically yet?

Brennan says Buck’s knife is a pronghorn knife. I assume they’re made from the animal’s horns? Even if they’re the kind that fall off every season, is that weird? Or is it just like human hair wigs? Also, does this world have leather?

I love that the dice keep supporting the narrative that Daisy simply cannot get her shit together when she’s with Sly because he distracts her too much. Delicious. Their whole relationship is delicious. 

OK, I am a tiny bit suspicious of Calliope. It’s partially the way she took control of the situation near the end and partially the fact that she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be involved in this which would make her heel turn delicious. No hard evidence and obv she couldn’t be the person who actually stabbed a guy but idk. Just spitballing. I’m very curious about whether we’ve met everyone we’re going to meet more or less or if there are still outside people/hidden inside people. Because, in real life, a murderer could be literally anyone but in a story, you can’t just introduce a new villain all of a sudden at the end. Bad storytelling. Weak payoff. We’ll see how things start to pan out. 

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #mice and murder #mice and murder spoilers #the case file

[incorrect-spiderson]

I feel like ppl will find a way to attack n get mad at at least one thing in every ship. We never said that we don’t like interwebs or dont like nebula & tony or may & peter, but personally i love how peter brought out the father side in tony n made him all soft n stuff, and i cant get that with morgan, only with peter, harley and nebula bc they were the first ppl to bring it out and i like that. And Harley is also a white boy. Of course i still love morgan and tony bc yeah but peter kick started it and you could see tony start to slowly care abt him through the movies. It’s j rlly starting to worry me and annoy me bc there are s o many horrible ships w peter out there and theyre mostly w white males but theyre finding a way to get mad at an innocent father son relationship. I totally get that ppl want more inclusivity tho and i absolutely love may and peters dynamic pls theyre so sweet.

I mean yeah people do tend to try and find things where there isn’t anything. I love tons of different kinds of relationships in the MCU whether they’re platonic or romantic. You cannot, though, compare two different dynamics and say “well this one is taking the spot light from the other one”. No. Not how it works. They are two completely different dynamics. Like if I said Tony’s friendship with Rhodey overshadows his friendship with Natasha and that’s sexist. No, it isn’t. Those are different dynamics. One is friend from college and the other is a friend from work. Akin with Peter and Tony’s relationship I don’t see how people can go “Tony being a father figure is overshadowing May”. It isn’t. May is a motherly figure, Tony acts as a fatherly figure. And fics focusing on that fatherly dynamic shouldn’t be forced to include May as well because they are different dynamics. They are different dynamics. Are there things that could be changed with how fics are written and are these topics completely absent of overshadowing and sexism? No, absolutely not. But you can’t force it into places where it doesn’t exist.

Second topic, the inclusiveness of race. Do I love and appreciate all the poc characters that are in the MCU? Yes they’re wonderful! Are Tony and Peter poc characters? No. They’re two white male characters. Can they change their race? No. Can Harley change his race? No. The races of these characters are the same no matter what and people cannot blame someone for liking a character and shame them for liking said character based on the characters skin color. If it were a poc character it would be no different. I personally believe race shouldn’t be a deciding factor in a character whatsoever because in all honesty I do not see race I see people. I don’t like Peter Parker because he’s white. I like him because he’s funny and courageous and he’s my age so I relate to him. I do not like Miles Morales because he is black. I like Miles because he is an underdog and stands up for what he knows is right and again, he is around my age and I can relate to him. Race has nothing to do with the characters I like. And yes, of course there should be more inclusiveness. But people cannot go around judging people for what characters and dynamics they like based off of skin color.

Anyways, that’s my rant for the day. Anon this just a response to everything btw not just to you love. These topics are continuing to be brought up and I feel like it just really needed to be addressed where I stand on things.

#marvel #mcu #peter parker #avengers #tony stark #spiderman #irondad and spiderson #spiderson #irondad #avengers endgame #cam rants #cambles

[army-of-mai-lovers]

ok I know this is an atla blog but I also know a lot of my mutuals are marvel.....idk if “fans” is the right word but y’all have seen the movies, and I gotta ask: do people actually like Dr. Strange? Both the character and the movie? I saw the movie years and years after it came out and by then I was way more disillusioned with Marvel as a franchise than I was when Dr. Strange actually came out but truly as someone who loves time travel movies I cannot picture a timeline where I enjoy Dr. Strange (the character or the movie). He’s just a dick and the movie is just a very shallow rehash of the kind of “Eastern spirituality” that white women in yoga pants dish out when they feel unsatisfied with the suburban hellscapes they create and RACHEL MCADAMS DOESN’T EVEN GET TO TIME TRAVEL. WHEN IS RACHEL MCADAMS GOING TO GET TO TIME TRAVEL. were there some cool visuals sure but otherwise I can’t fucking stand it and it regularly ends up on ppl’s top Marvel movies list (alongside Black motherfucking Panther???? how could you even COMPARE Black Panther to the whitewashed nonsense of Dr. Strange?????) and I’m just. I’m so confused. did I miss something? what’s going on?

#i did not intend to rant for that long about the scourge that is dr strange but the dude deserves it #esp now that they're making white spiderverse #who needs that shit #i'm so tired #swearing tw #caps tw #genuinely i'm asking i'm not gonna slam you if you enjoyed dr strange buddy #i enjoyed civil war when it came out i have no moral high ground #to this day one of my most emotional viewing experiences was seeing tws opening weekend and fucking sobbing #when steve told bucky that he wasn't going to fight him #deadass i'm tearing up now as i write this wtf #bucky my beloved #i know i just lost someone's respect w that tag but idc i love bucky #i also love sam dw #i also don't participate in marvel fandom and never have (which honestly seeing y'all participate in it i made the right call) #but like idk what the marvel fandom discourse is so i may have said something that's not copacetic idk #i apologize in advance