#ramblish

[terra-feminarum]

You are very wise so I want to vent a problem I have with radical feminism to you. I’ve been a radfem for roughly 2 years now. Now when I’ve learnt a lot about radical feminism (reading books etc…) I desperately want to go back to not knowing about all the misogyny. Being unaware to the extent of misogyny didn’t mean I wasn’t experiencing it. But now when I’m aware I still experience it while also seeing it but not being able to stop it. In the beginning it was a relief to be able to have what I was experiencing explained to me. Now? I miss the days when at least I didn’t have to be aware and could enjoy male attention, makeup, learning about history, video games, music, etc… without seeing and understanding the misogyny behind all of it. I would relish in being the centre of attention of men, it would make me feel very powerful and good about myself. Now I know that attention is meaningless and they don’t look at me as an intimidating beautiful woman… just an object to fuck. I never were powerful, no matter how attractive I looked.

I feel like all radical feminism has given me is the language and knowledge about my oppression. And that is something that is of value to me. But it also took so much away from me that just haven’t been replaced. I know what Andrea Dworkin said about this phenomenon so I know it’s not just me but that doesn’t change anything, I’m still struggling to enjoy things.

It’s not like I’m doomscrolling on tumblr all the time or don’t engage in other types of literature, it’s just that what I’ve learnt sticks with me and I see the world in a feminist lens. Still I just want to go back to the time when I were able to enjoy some parts of my oppression. I know that’s a bit pathetic but that’s how it feels… I’m exhausted and I just want to live an enjoyable easier life. But I cant. I cant forget about the suffering of women and about the true nature of men and how they see me. What should I do?

Sorry if this sounds a bit ramblish I don’t know how to formulate these thoughts and my English is a bit bad.

Thank you for your message. English isn't my mother's tongue either so I don't notice your English being bad, the only thing that matters is that we can understand each other well enough and I think I get what you're saying.

You didn't say whether you are straight but I assume you are attracted to men. Being attracted to women comes with it own hardships but I can't imagine what it's like to be attracted to men while living in a patriarchy. After all, you can't choose who you are attracted to, and your animal brain was wired to expect better of men than what they are capable right now.

What I read from your message is that you feel powerless. And I get it, it only carries you so far to know why you feel powerless, and then it just becomes exhausting. The illusion of power felt better than having no power at all.

I wonder if there could be other things that might make you feel powerful and good about yourself than the attention of men? Maybe learning real-life useful skills, maybe skills that men have claimed to be theirs only. It can be great to realize you can do something you thought you never could. Or it could be activism, anything that makes you feel like you make a difference, that you are competent. Creating deep connections with other women is just as important. Maybe they can't make you feel sexy but they can make you feel valued in so many other ways.

I can't relate with what you describe because male attention has never been really important for me and there's nothing men could give me that women couldn't. So I might not understand your situation all that well. I can relate to the feeling of media products becoming kind of ruined as the misogyny is everywhere but that doesn't really bother me that much. They just lost their charm when I realized what I'm watching and now I'm just doing other things.

I think I can relate most through my experiences of realizing the extent of the ecological catastrophe we're living. I would like to go back to not knowing. I feel powerless, scared and it feels so useless for me, as a one little human being, to know. I don't want to live this, I don't enjoy any of it.

At first it was unbearable. I went through a very difficult crisis and I wasn't really sure how I could continue living. But the crisis and the unbearable feelings forced me to reconsider my values, rearrange how I live, and to change my worldview. I still feel scared and powerless, and the reality is the same as it was before my personal crisis, but now I have accepted the reality and found deep meaning in belonging to the generation of people who witness this and who do what they can to build something better. My life is now more meaningful than it was before the crisis. I feel deeper feelings of connection and gratitude. What was necessary for this shift was mourning what I had lost: the illusion of a safe and stable world.

I think the feminist lens you can't get rid of could be something similar. Seeing the reality for what it is is a burden, yes, and it hurts. Your awareness alone will not end the patriarchy. You might need to really mourn what you've lost with the knowledge your gained: the enjoyment of certain things that will never feel the same. It's a real loss. You might enter a crisis - or maybe you're in it right now - and when you emerge, you will be stronger, not weaker. You might have a clearer vision of what is your role, what you can do, what the future might be like, and you might find meaning in all this.

You might need to distract yourself from these thoughts every now and then with concentrating on something else than feminism, but in the end, you need to reconcile what it means to you that you know these things and this is the reality you live in. With that reconciliation might come a peace that really lets you rest and focus on other things, too. I hope you all the best.

[thelesbstrosity]

Okay but like as a lesbian and a person who grew up in an Evangelical baptist church, I feel very seen in Aziraphale in the last episode. It’s so hard to give up years of a religious lifestyle even when you love someone very very deeply. You do feel like you owe the church something and have a responsibility to them. It’s very hard to break away from that. You feel almost guilty not choosing them. And I feel that’s even more so when you’ve been taught x thing is bad: in the real world in that religious sphere being a gay person is seen as bad and in the case of good omens demons are bad. Aziraphale seemed to want to pick Crowley deep down but felt an obligation on the surface to go along with the institution he was “raised” in for lack of a better term and that’s a very strong parallel for how many queer people in the evangelical community feel.

Sorry this is a bit ramblish…

#go spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens reactions #aziraphale #a z fell

[ficletfan]

Fem! Goat Monster reader, taken from Satyr myths!

(Okay so my personal OC is a Goat satyr, I just Hhhhad to write this, so this is a bit self indulgent 🐐 😋if you relate great! But it's closer to my oc than my generalized headcanons)

Poly Coven:

- You're a Goat based monster, big floppy ears, two medium sized horns, hooved feet, goat-like legs and a long thin tail with a tuft of fur on the end

- They are magic user humans, physically you beat them easily but their minds and teamwork balance that out. You'll outrun all of them anyday. Faith tries to join your morning jog but... Eh for her it's a morning sprint

- at least they fit into most pants, your bent goat legs need specialty pants with longer legs despite you being a small size or not

- shorts and dresses suit your anatomy better

- Please let them paint your hooves, it'd be so so cute!

- While you're not Vegan you can't digest meat, Joy shares her Vegan food with you often and you're glad to try it, even if sometimes its not very good because other times it's delicious!

- 10/10 Dances with your girlfriends in the living room, Joy sitting in her chair reading when you come over, kick on the music and convince her to dance with you

- Same with Faith and hope, but hope hardly needs convincing

- They keep you close around species that are known to eat satyrs during missions... There would be hell to pay if a big bad took a bite out of their Goat

-Yes, when you get surprised you goat scream, it gets them every time, even faith can't help but chuckle at the sound

Polly:

-High energy couple, you're always active and she brings you to dance partys to expel your energy

- She's dead, you're not, so she won't let you do the more hardcore drugs or drinking

- Will certainly make predator and prey innuendos to fluster you, its her second favorite thing to do

-her first favorite is your cute goat ears, she says they look like stitches ears from lilo and stitch!

- if she gets the chance she'll totally get a knitted goat horn hat and wear it "look boo we match now!~" its too sweet, daw vibes comaaaa

- will grab your tail out of the blue to get a reaction from you, anything, fluster, annoyance or even a little huff

- someone has to say it in head canon land: if you're shorter than her she will rest her boobs on your head or shoulders to fluster you

- shes a flirt and you agreed to date her, shes using those rights to fluster you

- will scare you to make you goat scream and post it on social media

Vera:

- Unlike others in this list, Vera is a predator species, she could kill you in an instant, it makes your blood rush when she's near and you love it!

- Her snakes have bit your horns before, much to their surprise it doesn't hurt you, they're mostly hard except near your scalp

- She doesn't try to catch up with your high speed jogging in the morning, it wears her out and she doesn't expect you to slow down for her either. You'll run past her many times and give her a kiss or compliment on your way by

- You've broken a mans ribs when they tried to steal you for ransom against Vera. She'd forgotten how vulnerable yet strong your kind are. Strong backlegs but no fangs or claws...

- Vera keeps you close, to anyone outside it looks odd that she sticks as close as she does but there's a small fear in her that you'll be a literal lamb to the slaughter without her and shes grown to love you a lot

- usually you're facing each other in bed or you're face first into her chest, those horns are hard to snuggle with when they point backwards

- Zoe totally ships it, Terrifying Killer gorgon and her forbidden Herbivore Satyr lover!

- Hopefully you don't mind seeing meat be eaten, she needs it just as much as you need plants

- Shes tsundere, showering her with affection is the absolute best idea

-Snort laughs when you goat scream when she accidentally scares you

#monster prom x reader #monster prom imagines #monster prom #monster prom vera #monster prom polly #monster prom hope #monster prom faith #monster prom joy #monster prom coven #poly #ramblish

[writer-candy]

Been considering writing a story where I edit as I go... just to see how it works!

#writeblr #ramblish

[sugoi-writes]

Okay but like-- in my ilomilo fic (Izuku x Reader), just like-- imagine this from Mido's perspective.

For years he's been chasing you, wanting to get close, and each time it falls through, leading to when you left UA.

This is his fuzzy feelings and unrequited love put to music. ❤ gdhsjsjs

#izuku midoriya imagines #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha fanfic #kinda ramblish #anyone looking forward to part 3? #Spotify

[cookedmaruchan]

evil mushrooms.

#Earthbound #mother 2 #ness #evil ramblish mushroom #this took me 4 hours #im so proud #my art

[napo-con-fritas]

Love yourselves 2021

Tagged by @ailec-12 graciasss <3<3

Rules: filter to 2021 on your AO3 stat page and answer these questions! Tag friends to do the same

How many fics did you finish this year: 15 or so? All one shots tho

Most popular by kudos: Appalling Apollo

Least popular by kudos: Almost Family (my very niche not-fandom but I love writing for it ☺️☺️)

Most enjoyable to write:

Old Praetors And Could-Have-Beens (a missing scene in Heroes of Olympus that I really wanted to read)

It’s Called a Cruel Irony (I loved writing from the PoV of a character I disliked, it was interesting)

Most out of your comfort zone to write/fic you’re most proud of: Il Minuetto della Ragazza (it’s both I think, I don’ do long fics but I’m also proud of having an overview and an idea of where this is going)

Best fic you wrote (or finished) this year, in your opinion: Shut Up, Six, A Ten Is Speaking (modestia aparte, I liked how I sort of summed up everybody’s epilogue-ish lives without making it too ramblish)

Anything you wrote that you think is underrated: Gambito de Reyna (I’m biased bc I really love these characters and their relationship)

Tagging: @blackpebbletoad @regalllove @crushing-on-nico-di-angelo and @paddooo if you want to! Anybody else who wants to share fics too!!

#gracias por el taaaag!!! #tag game #most of these are pjo #but alas i have yetto write for a bunch of fandoms i like #mis fics #thefangirlsnewgroove

[peantbutter-honeycombs]

The Hollowing Series: Part I

Title: Prelude

Word count: 2,980

Characters: The 11th Doctor, Amy Pond, ocs

Warnings: Platonic fic not romantic. Crappy writing?

Notes: So three? I want to say three years ago this idea came to mind. Well not this one. But I worked off that idea and came to this. I like the idea of the Doctor being around children. They’re just so innocent. But then I though what the hell let’s torture 11 and the kids and this was born. I’ll explain more later but for now Spoilers. I reall have worked hard on this it’s my first Doctor Who fic. It’s been in my head and notes for years so please be kind and enjoy. I’m going to try, try to break this in to only 4 parts. But hey I’m a detailed writer.

Special Thanks to my college buddy B, @mirkwoodshewolf, and @underskaro​ for tolerating my ramblish rants and beta reading the chapter.

———

Down the road aways, pushed against the hills, stood a cobblestone farm style home. The front lawn was messy, jagged and uncut. From the muddy earth sprang up wildflowers and weeds, northern marches, poppies, and heathers. It was all very wild. The pedestal of a concrete birdbath was cracked and lopsided, with vines wrapping around the very base.

A trike was tangled, hidden in the tall overgrown grass. It felt out of place among the weedy garden. The bike in contrast to the exterior of the old homestead must have been brand new. Green and black, the trike was just brilliant enough to be noticeable through the thrush.

Visible from the left lower window appeared a boy, no older than 14 but no younger than 12. He reached out toward the edges of the frame, grasping at the sangria red fabric. In one swift motion, he drew the curtains closed.

“There,” the boy said, standing back to admire his work.

The four windows of the well-sized sitting room. The warm golden light that once flooded through the glass panes, faded, leaving room to feel somewhat dark and empty.

Stepping backward, the young teen collapsed over an armrest onto a sofa. The sofa’s cushions sank under the weight of him, creating a spot perfectly tailored to the shape of his body. The sofa had seen better days. The brown leather fabric was worn, torn in some places and had a great dark stain on the Center cushion that the boy couldn’t remember ever not existing.

Dragging his legs over the armrest, he moved himself so he was in a sitting position. He stretched his right hand out, leaning his body so he could reach a drawing book on the right end table. The silence of the sitting room hugged him like a security blanket, his muscles became jello, all the stress of the day just melted off him. Being the man of the house was hard.

He became lost in his own world. He didn’t utter a word for the next fifteen minutes and barely moved from his spot for a full thirty minutes. His left hand carefully looped and curved over the blank sheet of paper, no longer blank. Every now and again he’d spin his pencil around in his fingers in deep thought, or wildly erase a thoughtless mistake. He hummed along to the song blasting through his one right earbud (the one thing he’d moved to retrieve.) nodding his head in time with the 60’s melody.

The sound of creaking floorboards overhead pressed through his exposed ear, carrying him back to reality. He could hear gentle feet beating against the wood. They were almost unnoticeable over the music. Almost.

There was a lull in the footsteps, creating silence.

They must be at the stairs, he thought, beginning to set his drawing tools away.

They always stopped at the top of the stairs and the base. The stairs of the old farmhouse were criminally steep, with each weirdly a different height than the last. They were enough to give anyone unfamiliar with them a headache. If his mother had gotten them carpeted, maybe the stairs wouldn’t have been so nauseating, but she’d wanted to preserve the house’s history as best she could.

Thump, thump, thump.

He could just imagine the little human, the footsteps belonged to crawling down the stairs. Moving down them one by one, on their knees. Sort of in a reverse way of the puppy conquering the stairs in Lady and the Tramp.

“No, go away,” he called, pressing a pencil down into its colouring box. When there was quiet he looked over his shoulder, everything from the waist down just sitting there on the steps. The figure's upper body was obstructed from his view.

“I was kidding, you can come down.” He turned back to his tidying. He heard the little feet happily stomp about, then thump, thump, thump.

Focused on organising his things, he looked up only when noticing the pair of dust stained white socks out of the corner of his eye. He blinked, somewhat irritatedly, staring at the little girl who now stood across from him.

With a great sigh, he said.

“You’re really annoying sometimes, you know that?”

A child no older than four stood before him. Her brown eyes, earthy hues of the soil after rain or bark on a walnut tree. They gave him a look that was of youthful innocence. Bright auburn hair reached down to the middle of her back, slightly covering the sides of her cheeks. Her pale skin was dotted and marked with a surplus of freckles — Sophia.

Sophia frowned, taking a step back. This made the older boy quietly snicker.

He smiles in a reassuring manner, “Hello, Soph-a-loaf.” He teased goofily pronouncing her name. The slightest smile tugged at the corners of the ginger's lips. He brought Sophia onto his lap, letting her sit on his thighs. “What’s up ducky?” He asked, brushing some of her hair back behind her ear. Sophia scrunches her mouth to one side, making a few murmuring noises. “Oh really? Sounds like you’ve had a day.”

Sophia nods. She rests her head on Oliver’s stomach, looking up at him with her sweet doe eyes.

“What?”

Her eyes darted off toward the window.

“No. No.” Oliver shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Sophia tilted her head to one side, training her attention on Oliver’s. “Seriously the park now?” Oliver whined, backing into the cushion.

He reaches for a throw pillow and covers his face with it.

“I’m sleeping,” he murmurs from behind the fabric. Sophia fusses lightly, pressing at his stomach. Oliver grunted, but kept the pillow pressed against his face. “I’m dead,” he tried.

This time Sophia head butted him in the gut. Oliver pulled a face, bringing the pillow down.

“Bleh!” He mocked, tongue lolled out of his mouth. Sophia squeaks, swatting her palm against Oliver’s arm. “Hey, we don’t hit. Sophia, I don’t want to go to the park.” Oliver said leaning down so his forehead was against hers. Sophia kindly taps her temple against his. Oliver chuckles softly, giving her forehead a sweet peck. “Sophey Tophie.”

He lifts Sophia off his lap, setting her on the floor in front of him.

“I suppose… it would be nice to get out of the house.” His eye drifted to a calendar on the interior sidewall of the sitting room. He couldn’t remember when he circled that day. Sophia excitedly bounces up and down. “What are you a rabbit?” The little ginger doesn’t respond, bouncing her way to the front door.

Oliver rolls his eyes. Upon realisation, he sprang up from the sofa.

“Sophia, you need a coat!”

-

The two children squinted against the hazy Yorkshire rain. The rain was cool against their exposed skin. It felt nice, refreshing even. It ran through their hair, smoothing out Sophia’s auburn waves, mopping Oliver’s ash brown locks. It plastered small individual strands to each of their faces.

Oliver chatted away as they went down the muddy, winding path. Chatting isn't quite the right word as Sophia never spoke. It had only taken him two minutes to go off on a tangent about something or other.

Sophia, only kind of sort of listening, pedaling her hand-me-down trike. His voice disappeared into the white noise, allowing her to quietly enjoy the English landscape.

The countryside stretched and weaved as far as the eye could see. Rustic English cottages and cobblestone farm houses dotted the grassy hills. The land gently rolled up and down the valley, merging with the uneven, mist filled moors half way up the emerald green mounds of earth.

Dew, white and clear, decorated the damp droopy grass the land glittered, sparkling under the orange purpling sunlight.

The houses of the humdrum sleepy town were few and well spaced out. One could walk a good half a mile before reaching their neighbours' property. Those closer to the center of town were flats, pushed together in neat lines, occupying the space over the small, often family owned shops.

Oliver and Sophia arrived at the park in twenty minutes. Sophia having to struggle, pedaling through the mud had set them back. However, neither of the children seemed to care. Sophia hopped off the trike and clicked off her helmet, abandoning both on the pavement. She couldn’t wait to explore the soggy park.

For the next 20 minutes they hung out at the park, Sophia wandered the grassy playing field picking at wild flowers while Oliver practiced his kicks. In the following ten, Sophia ran up the stairs then went down the slide. She’d dust herself off, then go round again. The next five minutes she sat still, a bit tired, content to watch the villagers while Oliver puttered around.

“Oi! Sophia, I’m goin’ to the loo. I’ll be back right back!” Oliver shouted from the far side of the futbol field. The park had no bathroom, so he’d have to walk clear cross the road to Brews Brothers’ Pub. The popular bar had an outdoor side restroom reserved for the public.

Sophia watched Oliver leave until he became nothing more than a speck in the distance.

The quiet times brought a certain comfort to Sophia. It was the perfect time to watch people revel in the coolness of other humans’ lives. Usually the park was a buzz with townsfolk, mostly children. They melded together and dotted the public lawn like A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. But now there was little life to distinguish the little village from Oradour-sur-Glane, France.

The night air, though cool, had a biting sharpness to it. No thanks to the rain. Sophia sniffs through her nostrils, inhaling the almost intoxicating spring air. Sitting on the bench, her little legs swung over mud coated grass. Misty rain was still falling steadily, and the temperature had dropped considerably.

Sophia wasn’t bothered though.

Reaching for a short stick she traces some shapes in the ground. She nods her head, humming a tune she couldn’t quite place.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if you actually know how to fly the TARDIS.” A voice, female with a thick Scottish accent, said.

Two foreign voices cut through the cold silence. Her eyes dart down the path. From where she sat she could hear them, the voices, bickering. About what, she had no clue.

Out of mist in the distance strode what appeared to be a young couple. The man seemed tall. His dark brown hair was long, stuck to his forehead in a droopy fashion, much like Ollie’s. Despite looking like a young man, he wore clothes that reminded Sophia of one of the town retirees; a Donegal tweed sport jacket with elbow patches, an off white dress shirt, rolled up deep blue trousers and… and bow tie?

Bow ties are for Sunday, Sophia thought, eyes narrowing at the approaching pair.

His partner appeared to be much more put together. Auburn hair, just a smidge less vibrant than Sophia’s framed a pale Scottish face. An irradiated cross expression dominated her features. Her voice wasn’t high nor low, it perfectly suited her in an indescribable way. And unlike the man to her right, she wore clothes appropriate for her age.

The pair stopped in the middle of the path, continuing to argue.

“Of course, I know how to fly the TARDIS sometimes she- she just has a mind of her own.” The lanky man argued, earning an eye roll from the ginger.

“We’re supposed to be England,” She grouched. “What about Churchill? This looks like— are we in Scotland?”

Sophia scoffed, shaking her head, tourists. She watched as the man licked a finger, held it against the wind, then popped it back in his mouth.

“No, no. I’m sure we’re in England.”

The finger crossed her arms over her chest in a cool way.

“Shouldn’t there be I dunno fighters, soldiers, something? I’m getting sheep.” She said looking round the area. She wasn’t wrong there were sheep, white puffs mindlessly grazing on the hills. When she looked back at the man, he was squatting. In his right hand he held a good chunk of mud.

“Wha—What are you doing?”

“Definitely in England. Westerdale Yorkshire, to be more precise. Right country wrong period. Does something seem off to you?” He asked, running a thumb over the mucky mud, cautiously examining it.

His partner snorted indignantly.

“Something or… someone? No don’t eat the—”

Sophia quickly pushed her head down, crinkling her nose. Adults are weird. She turned her attention to her dirt scribbles. She didn’t understand what they were on about, anyway. Hopefully they’d be on their way soon. They didn’t belong.

There’s a weight increase, bending the planks of the bench. An electric chill ran up Sophia’s spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The reaction wasn’t from the cold. There was a weight increase bending the planks of the bench.

“Well hello there, I’m the Doctor. What’s your name.”

Surprise was never an emotion Sophia handled well. Her shoulders went rigid, her entire body defensively readying itself. Her sweet eyes become stoney. Her breathing felt as if it was becoming more shallow with each breath. The guarding alarms inside her mind we’re going crazy halting the thinking gears of her brain.

The man held his hands up resignedly. “No, no, don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” There was a gentleness to his tone, a kind of concern. Sophia couldn’t be sure. No matter something about him. She let her shoulders go loose, but the rest of her still felt tense. “Would you mind? I have a few questions.”

Sophia allowed herself to relax a little more, not completely but more.

“Doctor!” The scot’s voice rang up briefly, sending Sophia back into defensive mode. “You can’t keep talking to children you don’t know.” She sounded like a mother chiding her young child.

Her comment sparked a minor argument between the pair.

Sophia took the time to lean back and take the pair in full, particularly the man. He was a little more normal-ish looking up close. Normal enough. There was something about his eyes she couldn’t quite describe.

Sophia observed the two curiously, unaware that the fear, once crushing her chest, was steadily subsiding.

“I introduced myself this time. Oh yes,” the Doctor swiftly turns to Sophia, “this is Amy.”

“That’s not how it works,” Amy grumbled.

Her partner ignores her, keeping his attention on Sophia. “There’s something… something about this place. Don't know. I think-" He spoke fast, flaggishly moving his hands about. “Well I know it’s something. Too many ideas. Head’s bit cloudy.” He knocked on his temple.

Sophia, though a little behind, shifted uncomfortably.

“Need to narrow it down…” he trailed off. Sophia, her left palm on her thigh, absently traces along each finger with her right index. He observes Sophia with a kind, sort of calculating, gaze.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?

Concurrently, Ollie was on his way back from the toilet. He dribbles across the park, knocking a futbol between one foot and the other. “He’s going for the full court folks.” He deepened his voice, trying to mimic the vocals of a proper sports announcer. “He’s at the 75 marker, will he go for the assist?” He sped up, using a lace touch to control the ball. “He passes to,” Oliver knocks the ball clear cross the field.

“No one.”

He’d get his ball back tomorrow. The silence made his blood as cold as the icy waters of a polar plunge, as he strode across the park to where he had left Sophia.

Everything was still hazy and cloudy from the English rain. Billions of trillions of icy drops dripped down his neck and fell off the flaps of his slicker. In this de-focused world, he could just make the outlined silhouette of Sophia.

“Sophia. Sophia?”

He goes taut, stopping in his tracks. For a moment his brain glitches. His eyes went wide, mouth falling slightly ajar. Although he was staring at Sophia, he was seeing more than he expected.

“Sophia, what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was steady, but had a sharpness to it. “Talking to strangers?” He holds a hand out, which Sophia compliantly takes within seconds.

“And you lot.” The ginger seemed taken back by Oliver’s frigidity. A tween scolding two strange grownups, one of them a Scot, bit startling. The gentleman, however, seemed off in his head, silently mouthing the same word over and over. “You can’t just be talking to people you don’t know, numpties.”

“Oi, watch it.”

Oliver’s eyes sourly narrow. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He deadpanned.

“Just passing through. Hello, I’m the—”

“You should keep passing,” Oliver interrupted. Stepping between Sophia and the pair. Sophia could only watch as Oliver spoke to the two adults. “Leave town before it gets dark.” He warned, picking Sophia up, holding her on his hip.

“Is everything okay?” The gentleman asked, stepping up from the bench.

Though his expression held a casual indifference, his skin goes colourless. He let out an understated sigh, bowing his head and turning to leave. “I have to get Sophia home. It's almost supper time.”

Sophia beats her head against Oliver's shoulder, hitting it just hard enough to make the older child wince. He rolls his eyes, but turns back to the pair. “If you are going to stay… it’s only fair.” He sounded like a toddler forced to apologise.

“I must warn you.” He let his face fall in seriousness.

“Beware what lies in the mist of the Moors.”

#11th doctor #11th doctor x child oc #doctor who fandom #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #doctor who series #11th doctor fanfic #doctor who series 5 #amy pond #ocs #11th doctor imagine #Matt Smith #karen gillan #Paxton Singleton

[headoverjojo]

Dear Tricia💚 may I ask about your thought/theory about Doppio/Diavolo’s origin? I just.... cannot still make any sense of it (not like it should, with this all being JoJo). So his mother didn’t have sex for 2 years but then ~magically~ was on labour? then the kid was a creepo? and then, after at least 15 years, the mother is suddenly under the church tiled floor?? plis help me i look like the algebra lady meme

Hiiiiiii darling! :3 oooooooooooh, this is such a good question, A H, I love iittttt *.* and FEEL YA?? Like yeah Doppio/Diavolo has to have a mysterious and inexplicable backstory, but HM?? *big squint* SO! Let’s pour here the various theories I have about this fact 👀 hoping not to blurt just uncoherent babblers!

So, about the “two years of pregnancy”... I know that a lot of people in the fandom theorize that this happened because the baby had “two souls”, so the pregnancy had been longer because of this. I frankly find it fascinating, but dunno. It doesn’t convince me 100%. And so I thought about something more “plausible” (even if plausible things sound even weirder in the jojoverse) and this is my thought about how Doppio’s mom got pregnant and gave birth to her son while she was in jail: I don’t think and it doesn’t seem that Doppio’s mom was in isolation, so she could receive visits. She could have had a boyfriend before being thown in jail and maybe this boyfiend came to see her? And, with the complicity of a guard -a corrupted police member wouldn’t be anything new, all in all-, well... things happened and Doppio was conceived. But how explain the fact that she didn’t know about being pregnant? Searching around, there are various cases of women that, sometimes, didn’t know to be pregnant even just before the delivery. Symptoms usually associated to pregnancy, such as sore back and bones, nausea, headache, general irritability could not manifest and sometimes even period doesn’t “stop” completely. So, she may not have got “typical” pregnancy syptoms and, with the fact that pregnancy belly may not show, she may have gone on her merry way to the delivery without knowing to be pregnant. Of course she couldn’t say “oh y’annow, I had a quickie with my boyfriend while your colleague X watched around”, so she had to lie and apparently reveal a sort of “miraculous” pregnancy? Not that the other guards asked a lot about it, in any case. The baby must be sent away as fast as possible.

So, here we come to the second point: Doppio’s mother under the church floor. So so, I usually hc Doppio as the main personality and, for long time, as the only personality. I think that Diavolo personality developed slowly during Doppio’s childhood. Doppio grew up in a small village where turists didn’t come -it’s common in Sardinia, there are tons of very small villages, my dad’s village is really small too- and, in so small villages, prejudices and, even more, gossips run faster than wind. So I’d not be surprised that, even if the priest tried to keep Doppio’s mother’s identity as a secret, his real identity as son of a prisoner spread like a wild fire in a matter of days. And so, prejudices: no one wanted his son or daughter to play or stay near to the son of an inmate. ‘Cause he could have inherited his mother’s “evilness”, ‘cause he was already marked. And so, always in my opinion, Doppio grew up alone. He only had this “imaginary friend” that called him on the phone, but the priest never worried about it, ‘cause it was a game, ‘cause Doppio was just a child -and even if the priest tried to stay with him as much as possible, nothing could replace other children’s company- and he was alone and wanted to play, so he had invented that phone game and his imaginary friend. Yes, the fact that this friend was, apparently, called “Diavolo” concerned a bit the priest, but not to the point to take him to a therapist. It was an innocent game, all in all. What could go wrong?

And so Diavolo personality grew and grew inside Doppio, slowly occuping more and more space in his mind. It became something fundamental for his sanity, it became his... everything. And both Doppio and his best friend Diavolo always blamed Doppio’s mother for everything bad it had happened to them. Their loneliness, their invisible shame mark, the bullies that made their life impossible... it was all her fault.

And now I personally think that let’s say arount Doppio’s 15-16th birthday, his mother finished her period in prison and got out. The first thing she did was to search for her son, as she knew that he had been sent to Sardinia, her homeland. She found him right in her village of origin; she wanted to apologize, or at least to explain, but her son wasn’t on the same line as her. Here there was the reason why his life had always been so miserable. Here, in front of him, there was the reason of all his sufference. His past always marked him, making him an outsider: it had to be erased. And how to do it? Making her disappear. I think that THIS is the point when Diavolo personality became so powerful, finally overcoming Doppio and taking possession of his body. He made his own mother disappear, hiding her under the floor, but never finding the courage to actually kill her, as there was still something, call it a sparkle of humanity, a sparkle of affection for the woman who gave him life, that always blocked him from killing her. All in all, he was safe: his past was now hidden and no one would have ever seen her again or found about her. But then the priest found out about her, he literally exhumed his protege’s past: this was something neither Doppio or Diavolo could accept. The priest had seen his mother, the living proof of his past: he had to die. And with him everyone who knew that he was the son of a prisoner had to die. If everyone died, he would not have been marked anymore. He would have been free, free from his past, free from prejudices and sufference and loneliness. If no one knew who he was, he could have been who he wanted, with no limits, with no one here to put him down by calling him evil just ‘cause he was the son of his mother. His past was what always prevented him to get a normal life, so it had to disappear, with every single one who knew about it. Now he wasn’t the son of a prisoner, he wasn’t a bullied kid, he wasn’t the lonely child who talked on an imaginary phone: he was the boss of the most powerful criminal organization of all Italy, he reached the highes peaks and he became what he wanted to be, building for himself a new identity, a new life, and nothing, not even his own child, could ruin it.

This is how also I explain his paranoid behaviour towards his past! And boiiii it came out looooong... I hope it doesn’t sound too ramblish and there’s something that makes sense!!

#answer #atom-isk #those who say hello are patooties #the court of the crimson king #diavolo #doppio #doppio/diavolo's past #tricia speaks #tricia rambles #boi i had fun writing thissss #a lot of rambles but still #tricia's opinion

[ask-the-crimson-king]

[*slides into your inbox* Let's hear about Magnus The Redemption.]

[Alright, allow me to tell you a grand old tale from... roughly seven months ago.

This is going to seem very fragmentary and incomplete and a bit ramblish but that’s due to all of this being from memory as I’ve since lost the logs for the actual roleplay, unfortunately.

Anyway, with the preliminary warnings out of the way... The Tale of the Redemption of Magnus the Red.

Magnus happened upon Roboute as he was making his way back to Terra. However, instead of a battle ensuing, Magnus appears to him as an aetheric projection on his flagship, warning him of the current state of the Imperium. Instead of attacking or acting hostile, Magnus tells him that he sees great change possible. The Imperium can die and rot away into nothingness, but it can become a place of enlightenment and peace, it can even become better than it was back during the Crusade itself.

The Crimson King tells him that he is willing to work with Guilliman but not for the Imperium. If they are to work together, they work for the betterment of all, for humanity. After a little debating, Guilliman agrees, happy to have another brother willing to work with him. On a few conditions, of course. Magnus is not to be armed when the two meet in person, and he must adhere to a psychic screening. For the first few weeks, he is to be accompanied by Sisters of Silence to ensure his powers will not be used on anyone. Magnus agrees to these terms, though he knows there are a thousand hurdles to cover if any unity is to be found.

Magnus tells Guilliman to take the Webway through Luna, and he disappears, readying his Legion to make for Terra. Guilliman ends up fighting Red Corsairs, and Magnus tries to help. Guilliman wins, and the two eventually make for the Sol System. Guilliman arrives roughly a day before the Crimson King, and Magnus stops on the edge of the system.

Guilliman and Magnus both have to try and quell the in-fighting on both of their sides, with various commanders, High Lords, Inquisitors, basically everyone telling Guilliman that Magnus should be killed here and now, and Magnus having to tell his sons that this whole endeavor is not for the Imperium. This is for the betterment of humanity.

After a few hours of bickering, and after a staring match with an armada ready to blast the incoming Thousand Son fleet into dust, Guilliman’s order finally comes through; the Thousand Sons are allowed into the system.

Magnus meets with Guilliman within the Palace, and the two begin planning. The Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy will not be dissolved, but the two do intend to slowly chip away at their false faith in the Emperor. Magnus agrees to help bring the half of the Imperium still within the sight of the Astronomican closer together, and Guilliman asks about the Rubric Marines within Magnus’ Legion.

The tale of the Rubric is recounted, and Roboute promises to help restore it, somehow. Even if it is a long-term goal, Magnus is content with it. 

Roboute laments about the fragmentation of the Legions into Chapters, and about the use of his Codex Astartes. He says that he is going to be writing a new codex, titled the Codex Imperialis. Magnus comes up with a plan; he and his Legion can assist with the worlds under siege by the forces of Chaos in order to seem more... pure in the eyes of the Imperium while Guilliman deals with his new codex and the High Lords. 

Fast forward through some questioning about the nature of the Warp, Guilliman suggests that Magnus could recruit the Blood Ravens to help destroy a few old edicts that could be used to hinder their plans. Along with enlightening them as to who their progenitor is. Magnus agrees, and he leaves his brother to begin making preparations, and to address the various concerns and arguments his Legion may have.

Magnus and his Leigon make planetfall on a world currently besieged by an unrelenting tide of daemons right next to the Cicatrix Maledictum. Guilliman survives an assassination attempt by an Eldar assassin, stating Guilliman will doom everyone. Magnus is ambushed by an entire company of Wolves, though he refuses to fight, instead pulling himself and his Legion back, letting the Wolves calm down. 

After Guilliman makes an imperative order for the Wolves to cooperate, the Thousand Sons return, and with the might of a Legion, they’re able to liberate the world. A warband, along with a few Wolves, are left behind to keep an eye on the world.

Magnus returns to Terra, engages in word shivs alongside Guilliman against the High Lords and agents of the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy, essentially reinforcing that all of their faiths directly defy the Emperor. 

Documents regarding Monarchia and the nature of its destruction are dug up, and finally the truth is somehow getting through to them. Lorgar was punished for believing the Emperor to be divine, and if any of these bureaucrats were around when the Emperor still walked, they would be too. 

It was here that the actual roleplay stopped, but the direction it would’ve gone in would result in the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy helping to fight back the forces of Chaos and ultimately forsaking their belief in the Emperor as a god. Magnus and Guilliman would slowly enlist the aid of their brothers, loyal and traitor alike, to unite humanity, and, eventually, the galaxy. Essentially a galactic utopia was the ultimate goal.

Some of the traitors would be killed, namely Fulgrim, Mortarion, and Angron, with the others having to go through various trials in order to atone for their own sins. As for loyalists, none of them believe the traitors have actually changed, and an uneasy relationship is formed. In an effort to subvert old rivalries, Guilliman and Magnus try to get their brothers to swear oaths to forgive each other. Magnus actually tries to be level with Russ and the two slowly do forgive each other and the Space Wolves and Thousand Sons become a force to be reckoned with in the galaxy.

This is all super rough and definitely needs workshopping, but the stuff after the rp stopped was more of me and my partner trying to play around with ideas. It had to stop since he was going into the military, and the actual rp was lost a while later.]

#its very rough and bad #but eh

[goodnight-chicxgo]

how is it 2017 and people date actually saying or defending people who say "hitler did nothing wrong" hitler did fucking everything wrong racism and genocide and homophobia are all wrong I can't believe that there are people in this country who believe hitler did nothing wrong. this country. America. We're supposed to be against everything Hitler stood for, and yet those who believe hitler did nothing wrong also say they are patriotic. We freed those we could free from the camps they were imprisoned in. You believe he was right. I don't think you can get any more unpatriotic than that

#i'm sorry that this is kinda ramblish #it's 2 am #i'm just angry #antisemetism #racism #homophobia

[muwitch]

thoughts???

Ok so I want to write out the facts abt this book that made me shook just like that it’s a little ramblish idk.

Nadia's route was AMAZING, it gave us depth about her, it showed that even if she's a strong woman in power, she's human, she has her issues, she's been struggling this whole time. She was once in the shadow of her sisters, she got away only to be manipulated and outshaded by the douche man. She showed resolve, she showed strength but also kindness and understanding. I didn't play the paid moments, but I believe they are lit. Nadia was rocking but what striked me is how humane she turned this chapter like she was all that before but here's like boom. My queen.

Asra's route was full of answers. It was cozy to some degree, but what shook me was him adressing that he had mental issues 3 years ago. With him coping with that, admitting it, it made a lot of cryptic stuff he made a lot more understandable. As a person who either struggles with smth like that myself or is surrounded by people who deal with similar issues, it finally made me root for Asra even tho I had my doubts before. It made him vulnerable, it showed that he, too, was not in a position to know everything and being a magician by keeping things away from MC.  It bought me. The book also gave us a slice of how life goes in the shop, these ordinary pieces of house routine just made my heart warmer. And the answers raising more questions, ofc.

Julian's route was a double ended sword but if excluding that second paid scene, it was also so...unraveling? Abt the plague and about Julian's character too? Like how he cares about people, about not only MC but also his sister, Mazelinka and vesuvian people. I mean he isn't doing that cause he loves drama, he's doing it for the sake of their lives, he cares, he wants to be able to protect them and cure. He's willing to cooperate the safe way first, like this book gave some insight of the changes he takes if you compare to what he was before. It also gave the strongest feels cause I'm a bit biased and thars the only route where we WHITNESS the hanging. Idk how your heart was, but I was crying over Portia and Mazelinka trying to comfort her and give her strength when she needed it most.

say what you like abt the book, but it was strong.

#The Arcana Game #the arcana #Arcana spoilers #arcana thoughts #mu speaks #i need to get sleep and get things out of my head #thanks for coming to my ted talk

[gabrieldrawsandwrites-blog]

Except from Sumthin’ I Wrote:

SCENE 2: DAD

Mark re-enters onstage from the other side of the stage, he enters on assured at first, and then his expression turns into confusion, he doesn't know where he is, he then catches his father in the corner of his eye. DAD is putting on business clothing. Spread across the coffee table is a coffee mug, assorted papers, and an open briefcase.

Dad, mid forties, very nurturing man, soft spoken, sweet man, is only ever concerned about teaching his son the right thing to do and making sure he is okay.

DAD

Oh! Hey sport! Did I wake you?

(Resumes to putting on clothing and arranging himself)

MARK

No, no you're fine, I just... Dad? Is that you?

Mark stands still, looking confused, his dad isn't supposed to be here. Dad notices this confusion and discomfort.

DAD

Well it certainly isn't Santa Clause, Mark.

(Dad chuckles)

MARK

Yeah... hey Dad?

DAD

Yeah?

MARK

Hmm, what kind of pet do I own?

Dad beings to chuckle at this question.

DAD

Mark, never in your life have you owned a pet, we could never convince you. Hell, being the kid you were, you were always so afraid of killing the damn thing. Gosh, especially after we saw that one movie, the one movie, you know? With the orange fish? Anyway, you'd gone on and on about getting a fish afterwards and then... Christ the fish barely made it out of the tank, soon as the lady handed it to you, you just started bawling.

(Dad chuckles)

That was a great birthday.

——————————————————————————————

Okey dokey so this scene is WAY out of context not gonna lie, but I figure if I’m gonna show somethin I wrote I gotta start small right? This is an excerpt from a play I’m writing, called In Passing, our guy Mark is seeing his dad for the first time in ages, and his dad is proving to him that yes, he is in fact his dad with that little factoid that he knew about him. I want the dad to come off as sweet and caring, and kind of ramblish, I hope I’m achieving that! I hope you guys like it!

Also questions! And conversation! And talking! I love those things! So if you want to know more about this I’d love to share!

#writing #scriptwriting #playwright #father and son #check this shit out #wow finally some writing

[hamliet]

If M and U represents 2 sides of K's discrimination towards ghouls, maybe Sa and Sh represents 2 sides of empathy as well (but it's less evident and more ramblish on my part). Sa's empathy towards ghouls steams from her experiencing good sides of them. She is saved by Amon and meets ghouls who are willing to sympathize with her lie abt having lost her home and to give her help. Sh on the other hand sympathizes with Nuts bcs he recognizes in her the same struggle. N wasn't helpful or kind cont.

she tried to kill him and sold people for money. However, Sh did the same: he killed N, exploited her body and to top it all he did so for money. Alo Sh recognizes that both N and her sister have at their root a similar desire. So Sa empathizes bcs she recognizes good qualities of both ghouls and humans while Sh bcs he recognizes similar struggles and sins. That's also why he struggles more than her on this point other than the usual pattern active-passive the Qxs have. Sa's empathy is easier co

while Sh's is painful bcs it doesn't eradicate the conflict. Right now there's the 1st form of empathy where everybody joiins hands bcs they share an objective and so are able to share info and maybe some feelings, but there is still the fact human and ghouls don't share only the goodness in them, but also their negative qualities, the loss they experienced and the sacrifices they made which are remembered by Aura. If it's so Sh's return and the zombies may address the 2nd form. (meta anon)

Anon, you write good meta. I love this. I need this.

#ask hamliet #meta by anon tbh #tg meta #tg ramblings #quinx #saiko yonebayashi #shirazu ginshi #Anonymous

[rushpaw]

Ive got a couple ideas for a few wc fan fictions in my head but at the same time no idea which one to write. I have an idea about a medicine cat that is also a murderer (for a reason) that would be maybe two chapters at most, one about two brothers in a noncanon clan by the sea featuring kinda heavy topics but also at the same time it's probably my most fleshed out world (it would probably be 10+ chapters), one less fleshed out one about a prophecy that's taken too far that would probably be about the same length, and a one shot type thing about Darkstripe and his relationship with Graystripe. If you guys have any preferences tell me because I really want to write something I just need to decide

#Sorry if that was ramblish it's finals week I'm exausted #if you have questions about any of the stories just ask!!

[that-elegant-captain-blog]

@tinkiisms asked so guESS WHAT I’m gonna ramble about the Hook and George Darling being portrayed by the same fellow usually which I have not rambled about before I just needed an excuse. And it got long so I’ll use a readmore.

It is a tradition that Hook and Mr Darling be played by the same actor because he was when the play was first preformed. There are m any theories that have spawned off this, some of which depend on one's view point as to whether or not Neverland is actually real or dreamed. If dreamed, some speculate that the character of Hook takes on traits from George because similiar temper and, well it’s the main man the children are familiar with so?? why not imagine your dad as a slightly different looking pirate especially after you just had a disagreement with him. I do not necessarily agree with this because I consider Neverland to be a real place and also follow the more strongly agreed upon fact that James Hook actually represented the author JM Barrie, both in certain characteristics and when he played with the children that inspired the story of Peter Pan (the movie Finding Neverland is v good I cried but anyway it shows him actually pretending to be Hook for a game at one point). Another theory I have seen was that Hook’s death in book was symbolic of Mr Darling’s redemption in real life, but this also seems based on the more dream-Neverland concept. THat’s just my opinion I am not saying they are bAD theories they just do not work for me personally. Also, I’ve talked to a Wendy in the past (they are no longer active) and we mused over the fact that part of the reason she may have been surprised by Hook in the book (beyond manners) could have been because he reminded her of her father. Makes sense to me tbh (a lot more than her just ‘oh wow you’re handsome’ bc she is still a chiLD and I would be much more surprised to if I saw a pirate guy who looked somewhat like my dad with long hair and in rly nice old-fashioned clothes at her age than a much older attractive man, but that’s an apparently rather unpopular opinion of mine).

OTHER THAN THAT I cannot think of any other theories off the top of my head, probably because they did not make sense to me at the time so I didn’t remember them. I do have my own views/observations from studying Disney version of the story if you’d like to hear those, if not you can just ignore the rest of this post. And I don’t feel like I need to point out that Disney version has it’s share of differences from the original book/play to you, but I’ll just remind about that fact for anyone else reading before I continue.

Okay so obviously Disney is animated there are no live people seen in the movie, BUT this was during the days that people still modeled for the characters and scenes etc (Tink had a cute model but I forgot her name gah) for the animators. Hans Conried, however, not only provided voices to both men but also posed and etc. Hook’s design actually changed to resemble and in some cases even act more like him, such as Conried’s rather dramatic gestures and expressions. He also had great manners and elegance and hIEGHT irl so that helped support those aspects of Hook as well (my Hook’s hc height is actually the same as Hans Conried’s). Unfortunately I don’t know if he modeled for George Darling too, I’ve only seen photos of him dressed like Hook for scenes from the film. But judging by George and Hook’s temperaments and dramatic poses/gestures, I’d imagine he probably did; if he didn’t, they certainly appear to have at least let him inspire Mr Darling too. And their voices even sarcasm are definitely a lot alike, Hook just has a tad of sea slang thrown in while George does not. In other words, despite being animated, Walt Disney still very much incorporated the tradition of them being portrayed by the same person. I personally take this a step further in my portrayal by including one or two of the traits seen from George into Hook, such as his sympathy toward Nana when she is tied and the fact that he is not as concerned by little things when he’s drowsy or very tired. My Hook may also have father-ish traits surface from time to time in interactions with a few certain ppls muses that somehow manage to befriend him cOUGHES. This is a more indirect relation, but when Disney gave Hook a love interest in JatNP, she has red hair and curls. We don’t see Mrs. Darling’s hair down in the original film, but considering Wendy’s curls, it’s probably safe to assume hers is as well. MY POINT IS that much like George and Hook not looking exactly alike yet they can still remind someone of the other because of their personalities and gestures, Red Jessica does not look identical to Mary Darling b ut has the same calmer nature and ability to quieten her angry man far more quickly than anyone else by tone or simply a touch, j ust like Mary gets her husband to chill. They have another similarity or two but I have no idea if this was even intentional on Disney’s part, it is an interesting coincidence if wasn’t planned though. I didn’t intend to get into a reason I support a Disney Jr ship so much b ut since I was comparing the two men it seemed appropriate to point out the ladies they fall hard for are also quite similiar which reflects back again on their personalities. George is just more peaceful and law abiding business man who I’m p sure has never killed anyone, Hook is not.

There are probably some other things I could have talked about lurking in the back of my mind but I am currently very sleepy so this’ll have to do for now my apologizes for ramblish tendencies it’s a bad habit

OH WAIT NO there was one other notion I came up with one time in a joking manner but after I thought about it it is actually somewhat possible: Due to how similiar Hook and George are I cannot help wondering if they’re not actually distantly related. I have 0 evidence for this but the idea of Wendy and siblings actually being a great great+more greats niece and Hook learning this would freakin astonish him and that would be an interesting idea to play with imo bUT again that’s just my thoughts I have no backing beyond how much they can be compared/same hair color and height. Now I’m done even tho this probably has a lot of typos I should review but I’m not going to. Good night everyone I seriously need sleep

#Blue rambles on #ooc #headcanon #some of it not all #tinkiisms #thatcrimsoncaptain