#saner chats

[sanerontheinside]

oft-goes-awry

replied to your post

“9, 10, 11. TELL ME ALL YOUR SECRETS.”

Life Day dinner in the Yoda/Dooku/Qui-Gon/Xanatos/Obi-Wan/Anakin/Ahsoka lineage would be a TRIP. Like, Mace Windu and Plo Koon taking bets on when the first spoonful of mashed potatoes gets thrown kind of trip.

I wandered way too far into my drafts and found this. I truly have no clue what it was. or when. but, hey, it’s a something! 🤲 

also @meggory84​ I had you tagged in this for jedi family shenanigans

--

“Grand-Padawan, stop texting under the table.” 

Ahsoka glanced up, wide-eyed. Nobody really paid her much mind when these dinners got going. But now she could see that Master Dooku’s jaw was clenched, and Master Yoda’s eyes were alight with some dangerous mischief. 

Dammit. She’d missed something. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “We can see you anyway—might as well just do it in the open.“ 

“Tell Plo I owe him ten credits,“ Qui-Gon added. 

“For what?“ 

Ahsoka barely held back an ill-advised eye-roll. 

Anakin had been focused on the dinner like any reasonable being (and he had every right—after all, he’d cooked it, and he was the only one who could eat some of the spicier dishes). Now, though, he too had realised he’d missed something, and his insatiable curiosity wouldn’t let a dead eopie lie. 

He also lacked—Master Plo would call it subtlety; Obi-Wan would not-sigh and say something like “tact, Ah-nakin, tact,“ and Qui-Gon would sigh like a soft summer breeze. 

Ahsoka, however, happened to know that Master Qui and Master Plo had a running bet about whether Master Yoda would ever fail to bring up that mysterious Event that only he and Master Dooku seemed to know about. 

And Ahsoka had missed it again. 

Somehow, any mention of The Event would invariably provoke Master Dooku—or rather, Master Yoda needling at him for the rest of the meal tended to do that. Master Dooku, however, would start looking for ways to distract himself. It didn’t work. 

Last time, Master Dooku had spent over a week holed up in the Archives after the dinner ended in disaster. Master Obi-Wan had had to brave Master Nu’s disapproval to bring the man food. 

To Ahsoka’s immense relief, the front door swished open. 

“HULLO! DID YA MISS ME?“ 

Relief was a distant, shriveled thing. In the landscape of Ahsoka’s mind, a fell wind blew, and ash drifted on the chilling currents in the air. 

Master Qui, on the other hand, perked up. “Xan! It’s so good to have you back, what opportune timing!” 

Ahsoka could just see the corner of Xan’s cloak as he froze in the midst of kicking off his boots with as much flair and noise as he could manage. She fancied she could just about hear a soft “ohshit.“ 

No one was safe when Master Qui got like this. 

“Join us!“ Qui-Gon continued, the grin on his face absolutely maleficent and aimed at his shrinking Grandmaster. On the other side of the table, she saw Master Obi-Wan’s hand clamp down on Master Dooku’s forearm. Master Dooku was probably remembering that time his cloak caught fire. 

It used to be that Xan would do his best to break up the fight, and take the blame for it. He also had... well... a propensity for pyrotechnics and other elaborate prankery, as Master Obi-Wan put it. Ahsoka still remembered the days when Master Qui had been utterly aghast at the results. They were, in a word, messy, and tended to involve potatoes. 

Lately, and especially when he was in a mood, Master Qui rather tended to encourage Xan’s destructive puckishness. With the caveat that, of course, Xan would be the one making amends and cleaning up the mess. And braving Master Yoda’s and Master Dooku’s rage afterwards, sometimes combined. 

The difficulty with this, of course, was that Xanatos wasn’t just paying for his own pranks. After all, Ahsoka had it on good authority that it was Master Obi-Wan who set Master Dooku’s cloak on fire. 

#oft-goes-awry #saner chats #replies n stuff #me @ me: so what was the event???? #saner's excerpts

[raina-at]

One of the most interesting things about the 20 Questions survey lately was that it revealed the astonishing amount of people who are here through the X-Files to Sherlock pipeline. And it makes total sense, of course, because you have the neurodivergent genius mess and their much shorter, much saner doctor partner. Their relationship is incredibly intense but remains platonic for a very long time, and it's almost impossible to explain to outsiders because the genius one is completely insane and the supposedly sane one is so incredibly repressed you'd need a fucking crowbar to get a straight answer out of them. But they almost need to fuck at some point because they're such insanely intense soul mates that anyone who gets between them gets crushed by the narrative. They're so dysfunctionally co-dependent that they'd literally die without each other, but at the same time they're both such messes that you need, like, 60k of fic to get them to actually express, like, one emotion.

And you can see what the Sherlock fandom has learned from the X-Files fandom, because Trapped Together, Fake Married For A Case, Huddling For Warmth are actual canon tropes in The X Files.

(I remember in one of our fic chats back in the day someone once said that the Sherlock fandom invented the 'fake relationship but it's For A Case' trope, and a lot of us were like, um... that's an actual canon X-Files episode. So many tropes are like... um, that's an ACTUAL CANON EPISODE of the X-Files. Remember when they were trapped in the Arctic? Or stranded in the woods? Or when they were trapped on that rock in Quagmire? Or when they had shared hallucinations? Or when Mulder broke through the mind control because he couldn't bear to shoot Scully? Or when they spent Christmas in a haunted house? Or, you know, THE FUCKING BEE?!?!?)

The X-Files, everybody. The mother of modern internet fandom.

#the x files #sherlock #the overlap is strong in this one

[madfantasy]

Dear blogging

Wish you peace, always. Considering all, it been extra rough. My guardians were sick, and my fragile of a stability was about to break— but it okay now, and the pendulum of consciousness returned swaying in my head.

Somehow in the middle of everything, I was starting to feel okay and accept that this is the best it can get for this non verbal Mani. I honestly I stopped living as if there was tomorrow maybe the majority of 2023, zero drive or hopefulness, and lately started to accept that there's no denying that I'm not made to survive this life, and dropped all pretence that I'm able, set a 5 years counter. Because if mere looking at people's faces distress me so much that I blank out &/or go mute, since childhood, no amount of me forcing myself to watch videos/ pictures over and over can fix that. That's simply how I'm made and I know that now, and in a way it's bringing me peace.

Because I thought I'm bratting when I wore my headphones to cancel out noise that were literally going to drive me insane, or when I couldn't respond to messages knowing that I can articulate deeply in writing but ignoring all the endless times when I simply couldn't, and have forced myself to eat many things that set me days in nausea and abdominal pain while I only enjoy liquids more and get high off of fruits, I love them so much half my OCs are named after some.. and drew.. drew even before I spoke because it was my only outlit to express because how much I'm told I'm like a robot, I'm so expressionless and non reactive and disgustingly literal, even when they actively beat me black Nd blue to stop drawing, I couldn't.. where do you free those emotions when U can, i needed emotion displays and heartfelt trimmers, thrilling or killing, I needed to do them as if my life depended on it, and I haven't realised it back then, but my life was dependent on them, even when I had 'no talent ' , as I have always been told.

(commissioned by precious Julia ♥️🖤)

And besides drawing my needs, I actually, physically, started to feel better when I didn't do what my body said it literally can't do, all my life:

-Walked away from my guardians arguments, my chest stabbing pains became less frequent.

Stopped "practicing" my voice &/or facial expressions, I talk for 2 minutes, immediately my whole face muscles hurt, voice is cracking and gone, I don't feel like my eyebrows hurt as much. I'm okay being the monotone no expresso train c:

-stopped eating what I "don't like" (I mean it's not like I have much choice, but stopped feeling guilty over refusing it cuz food be tight) Nd now I can actually drink more water, and my tummy aches are on lower levels now

-i stopped dealing with Discord, or group chats in general cuz I don't expect accommodation over things I can't deal with. Stopped stressing over doing engaging material that no body seems to care about, cuz I'm not a good judge of demand, or stressing over either I should be thanking everyone who spams me with likes or not, (while I appreciate it to the moon) 90% of the time they don't respond Nd Im forced to think like I've done something wrong. I'm now at more ease with posting — (literally I have to fight the urges to delete my socials daily) just with interacting with who addresses me (I lov U guys sm) and I've been more relaxed from it.

I returned to "speaking in riddles" cuz if I don't use the words my brain spews no matter how weird they R, a tire will pop somewhere on the other side of an AU- idk lo'

-i rock, hum and laugh OUT my maniacal laugh, hard and strong, continued loving and talking to my plushies as I used to do, the easiest thing I could do to feel calmer again. As everyone should do

.. I stopped saying the word sorry. It's a naughty Mani era.

Accepting these facts and many, even with having no will to live had me saner than I ever been, at least I hope so.

I just know that I have a few to be grateful of: that I'm still here somehow, even with my dwindling income, Nd my internet not worth costing 120$± I'm always grateful for the sudden one or two commissions that keeps me here and buys me coffee and pumpkins seeds..

I still struggle horrindously with sleep. But I'm grateful at least I'm at pure ease playing games. Games been my go to media for knowing basically all based on books they were made about, like Severus and Tintin, I still play their ps1 games! Tho I got stuck on this game & their sleep has given me so much ease lo

I'm at my happy place rn, heh.

Bonus panel: ye they R hungry for that SHI- lo 🙈

And an honorary appearance of my OC with Tintin hehe

Stay safe, don't feed the overconsumption machine, don't give up on your heartstrings's stringers, don't worry— there are people who think and feel like you always between the crowds, and I'm thankful that I share the same timeline with you♥️🖤

Sweet dreams 🌃 19.2.2024

#text #drawing journey #non binary artist #on the spectrum #personal

[sounwise]

“Inner Beatle Secrets: From Paul” (interview with Alan Freeman in Rave Magazine, April 1966 issue)

[Full transcript beneath the cut:]

-

No doubt, pop-pickers, millions of you would flip at an opportunity to entertain Paul McCartney in your home for a few hours. Well, if you ever do, take my tip . . . move the piano out first. Because Paul makes straight for it the way other people head for a good-looking chick.

“You eat, sleep and dream on it, don’t you?” I said. Paul grinned and rippled out another string of tuneful thoughts, the melody just growing from his fingers. Then he tried it over again, this time adding a jumping bass pattern that suddenly brought the whole thing to life. He stopped halfway through.

“That’s all I’ve got so far,” he said. “I must work on that a bit more.”

It took me half-an-hour to get Paul away from the keyboard and sit down and relax. I could see why the Beatles rarely run short of great new numbers. If someone invented a way of composing in your sleep, McCartney would be on to it like a shot.

It was nearly a year since I’d had a Heart-to-Heart with Paul, here in the same room at my London apartment. We’d met often since then, of course, on shows and in TV studios. But now, with a rare day free just to laze around and sip a long drink and chat about whatever came into his mind, you could see a big change in him.

In the old days Paul, like a lot of genuinely sensitive and creative people, used to cover up a little under a dry, wise-cracking front. Today he’s fizzing like a firework with all sorts of thoughts and theories about music, films, books and art.

People used to ask, “What happens when the time comes that the Beatles break up and go their own ways?” I don’t think we need to worry. I reckon their individual talents are possibly even greater than their achievements as a group. Even if the Beatles had never made a single disc, the Lennon-McCartney songs would have been a glowing milestone in pop anyhow.

So, if you don’t mind, Beatle-diggers, this is Paul the person talking of his ideas, his discoveries as his mind matures and the mad, hurtling pace of the world’s idols steadies down to a saner rhythm.

The phone rang outside, but I wasn’t letting anybody cut in on this revealing session with Paul. “No calls for the next hour, no matter what,” I said to Carolina, my secretary.

And Paul began to talk.

“It’s hard to know whether the Beatles have changed much in the past year as the public sees them,” he said. “But I know we have. I know I have, as a personal, internal change. I don’t mean things like getting the M.B.E. I think after the first couple of weeks we forgot about that.

“I’d say the really big change is in our tastes, in finding out about things we didn’t know before. For instance, George spends all his time now, listening to Indian music. He’s joined the Asian Music Circle. He’s really serious about it, too. It started when he got a cithar [sic]—the Indian instrument we used on ‘Norwegian Wood’.

“It’s the same with all of us. We’ve all got interested in things that just never used to occur to us. I’ve got thousands, millions, of new ideas myself. What I really want to do now is to see whether I could write all the music for a film. Not just to write tunes, but the music of the film itself.

“I want to read a lot more than I do. It annoys me that so many million books came out last year and I only read twenty of them. It’s a drag.

“What I’m reading at the moment is everything I can get on the assassination of President Kennedy . . . all the evidence, all the reports. I’m convinced that the real truth about that hasn’t come out. And I’m reading a French writer—Jarry. He’s great, weird.

“I’m reading plays like mad, too, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to write one. But there are so many things I’d like to have a try at.

“Painting. I’ve done quite a bit and I enjoy it. I’d like to do a lot more, find out if I might have a talent for that.”

Caroline brought in tea and passed the cups. “Paul,” I said, “how would you say all these new interests of yours might affect the Beatles’ music?”

He grinned, stirring his tea. “Well, if you mean are people frightened that we might suddenly go all sober or play stuff like Mantovani, they needn’t worry about that. We’ve got no intention of trying to rehash old things. The whole point is that we’re learning about new things all the time.

“Like doing ‘Yesterday’ with the string quartet instead of the big sweeping orchestra, which was the old way. But it would be a pity if we change the way which we think is better but everybody else doesn’t. It’d be a pity—but that’s the only way we’ve ever worked.

“We’ve only made the records which we think are good, and that’s the only standard we’ve ever gone by. Eventually we may get a bit too way-out. I hope not, but I don’t know.”

I pointed to the stack of newly released discs standing by the record player and said, “But if you go through those, for example, everyone can see that pop music is getting more and more way-out. People are going for it, all the same.”

Paul nodded. “Yes, to some extent it is. But there are still too many groups who are trying just to keep up. That’s no good. That’s what makes the whole pop thing dull in the end. You ought to be able to move on a bit further with every record, like The Who.

“And what’s more, they’ve got every chance. The equipment in most British recording studios is much better than it is in the States. But there’s some extra bit they get to the sound over there that we haven’t quite got. I don’t know what it is yet, but you get the sensation of that little bit more. The Stones always tell us we’d be better if we recorded in the States, but we never have. We probably will eventually.

“You put a record of ours with an American record and don’t alter the volume, and you’ll find the American record is always that fraction louder. And it has a lucid something I can’t explain. Funny, because as I say, I believe we’re technically better in Britain.”

Paul shrugged. But he had the contented look of a young man who has just come up with something else to investigate and find out about.

There must be many a group starting out now who are spurred along by visions of what life at the top must be like when you finally get up there in the Beatles class. But Paul said that although you obviously pick up the luxuries, you also discover that you’re going short of a lot of things that less successful people have more time to enjoy.

“I suddenly realised that because of the Beatles, as far as my own life was concerned, I’d got in a very severe sort of rut. And we all had, because we all just seemed to be working only towards trying to get pop things done. And we saw that obviously we must have missed out on quite a few things.”

He grinned and nodded towards the piano in the corner. “Only the other day I was working out a number and I stopped and thought, ‘What a drag. I’m twenty-three and I’ve never learned to read music.’ And I found I was thinking to myself as if I was finished. So I said, ‘Why don’t I?’ And now I’m doing it.

“Sooner or later it hits you that the average span of the British male is seventy-five years and you’ve had more than twenty of them, so you better make the most of what’s left. Then the brain starts working, and John and I rush out and buy loads of books.

“I’m lazy, but I don’t like myself being lazy. So the only way out is to do something about it. Like I made myself listen to classical records, though nobody in our house ever liked them. When one came on they’d just turn it off. But I thought, ‘I’d better sort this out for myself and see whether I like it or not.’

“And in fact I don’t like a lot of it. It’s too fruity and sentimental. But from that you get on to what the modern composers are doing. And it’s suddenly great, because you discover that there are all these things going on.

“Then I play them to John and he says, ‘What a drag—all these millions of records coming out all the time and we’ve not been getting on to them.’ Then we rush out and buy loads of modern compositions.

“The only thing to do is to listen to everything and then make up your mind about it.”

And that’s the best advice you’ll ever get on this planet, friends. Because it works, not just in the world of music, but in every profession they ever invented. I know people with no special gifts who’ve made fortunes just by listening. Not eavesdropping . . . listening. And when you know, then you can really start moving.

Paul shares with Pete Townshend of The Who a taste for the music of Stockhausen, one of the modern German composers. “His ideas are fantastic. It’s the farthest-out music yet. He uses electronic stuff that nobody else has got round to. And his records are listed under the classical section in the catalogues. So if you’ve got it in your head that you don’t dig classical music, look what you’re shutting out.”

He shook his head. “You can’t go putting music into little categories like serious and Merseybeat and so on. The great thing is that it’s music, whatever label they try to stick on it.”

Paul said with quiet intensity, “You see, you’re going to have trouble getting but unless you have fairly solid opinions on things. You live in a muddle. as soon as I noticed myself saying ‘I don’t know’ I thought, ‘Well, you’ll have to try. Why don’t I know?’ Unless you get at it, by the time you do find out you’ll be ready to die.”

The Beatles have obviously been the single influence on pop for decades. But Paul admitted that this influence would never have come about if he, John, George and Ringo hadn’t been excited and stimulated by other people’s thoughts and ideas.

“The whole thing is about trying to contact people all the time. And with everything . . . plays, books, music. Even cooking. Anything that breaks down any kind of barrier and lets you get through to another human being . . . that’s it, that’s what valuable, that’s what matters.

“I think that’s why the whole being-English explosion has been such a success in America and everywhere else. It’s a genuine effort, and it’s working. Everybody in England has suddenly got just a little bit more interested in everything and everyone else. Britain has just climbed up on to another level, and it’s a wonderful thing.

“You ought to hear the people who come over here, the ones we talk to. They’re knocked out, because the idea they had of England before was just ridiculous. They believe the whole bowler-hat thing, thought the English were very reserved and very cold. When they go to a few parties and see what we’re really like, they’re amazed.

“Oh, sure, there’s been a change in us, all of us. But there’s a lot of people who’re still apathetic, who’ve got one fixed opinion. You know, the kind who say ‘I just like pop music or rhythm-and-blues or Edmundo Ros and don’t ever tell me about anything else because I don’t want to know’. They’re still scared to lay themselves open to any new influence. And they stay in the don’t-know rut for ever.

“As far as the Beatles are concerned, we can’t just stop where we are or there’s nothing left to do. We can go on trying to make popular records and it can get dead dull if we’re not trying to expand at all and move on into other things. Unless you’re careful you can be successful and unsuccessful at the same time.”

The next the Beatles do a television film, Paul said, they want to use many more of their own ideas instead of leaving it to the network’s camera crews. “The one they did while we were in America could have been so much better. It needed just that little extra bit of imagination.

“Instead of getting someone in to do the music and the sounds, we’d like to do it ourselves. Spend a long time on it and really work at it.

“We’re getting something that’ll really give us some experience with mixing up sound and film in that sort of way. It’s a gift Capitol Records gave us in the States, and it’s the greatest little present event.

“It’s a television recorder. You just plug it into your set and you record the programme straight off, just like on to a tape. You can record the BBC while you’re watching ITV and show the film on your telly at one o’clock in the morning if you want to. They said we’ll be the first people in England to have them.

“So what we’re going to do when they come is go out and shoot film, weird shapes and patterns and light, and record special weird music to go with it and then come back and play it at home on the television. And we’ll be able to find out what works and what doesn’t, so that when we do a proper full-scale film we’ll know exactly what to put in it.”

The telephone shrilled in the other room. I looked at my watch. Our quiet hour had ended. “It’s Brian Epstein’s office for Paul,” said Caroline.

If you’re a Beatle, the world doesn’t leave you alone for long. While Paul was on the phone, the chauffeur arrived to pick him up for another business meeting. And for another while at least, all the schemes would have to wait while Paul the person made way for Paul the star.

As we shook hands on his way out, I wondered how far he would have carried his plans, what new excitements would be gripping him, the next time we have the chance of a Heart-to-Heart. More than likely, he would have come in from the bachelor cold by then and followed the other Beatles into marriage.

One thing for sure, I thought. No kid of Paul McCartney’s will turn out to be a don’t-know.

I looked at the piano guiltily as the lift hummed down to the ground floor. After all this time, I should be able to play that machine with the best of them. Why can’t I? I sat down and got a little chord shape going.

“Alan,” said Caroline around the door. “Fred Thing wants to know if you can come over.”

One note out in the bass somewhere—that’s got it.

“Tell him I’d love to,” I said. “But I can’t now. I’m working on an idea.”

Till next month—stay bright!

#i had to request this issue from a research library on the other side of the country...! shoutout to librarians forever #paul mccartney #alan freeman #rave magazine #the beatles #transcript #1966 #scans

[dearweirdme]

https://x.com/Kverosa_/status/1737838665983021315?s=20

Rain, I wanted to send this because I know you've been infested with jokers lately and I wanted to highlight the kind of delusion that is behind some of this rhetoric. We've seen it here with people accusing Taehyung of some really unfair and unfounded behavior. This account (not the one I shared but the one, they're calling out) is a burner from a popular Joker with over 2000 followers.

I know not every shipper is bad or would condone this the way I don't condone everything some Taekookers do but the person behind this vile behavior would have seemed like one of those 'normal' shippers before being exposed.

You get a lot of jokers here pretending like they're here for a discussion or asking questions like they genuinely want to know the answers but only doubling down when they get answers they don't like.

But considering some of the asks about Taehyung and some who even claim to be doubting Taekookers, I wanted to show an example of what is really driving some of these people behind the masks of reasonability they like to pretend.

So when people read your asks from these losers, they can see first hand what kind of person might be behind it and what their motivation for coming here is (and I know you've said you don't use TwitX so maybe this is your first time seeing this shit too)

And unfortunately, this isn't exclusive to jokers. A popular Taekook account with 7k followers has just been exposed in a group chat for making horrific accusations against Tae and wishing death on him over Taennie rumors. This person stated in the chat that they didn't want to address it publicly because they didn't want to lose followers.

Too many shippers cross boundaries. I think this is one of the most reasonable and fair blogs but maybe we all need to ask ourselves sometimes if it's even worth the energy and engaging with people who might, and most likely do, have ulteriror motives and just want to access any platform that will get them attention and get more eyes on their nasty messages (and hands up, I'm usually one of the first to bite and take the bait)

I really like this blog. I even like the idea of healthy and fair discourse with other reasonable people who might not see things like I do but some of these asks have just not been that and while I'd never tell you what asks to answer or who to indulge (like I said, I'm usually the first to clapback in the ask box) I'm just wondering if it wouldn't be better to just ignore them and remove their platform completely while focusing on JK and Tae and their relationship?

Because I really think a lot of these jokers and even some 'doubters' are asking questions that they really don't want to hear an answer to. They just want to engage us all in a cycle of negative discussion and in our desire to defend Taekook, as a ship and individuals, I'm starting to feel like we might be a little too hasty to heed the call sometimes.

Hi anon!

Oh trust me, I’ve seen it all. Talk like that has reached my inbox numerous times. I don’t even post half of the straws I get. There’s many blogs and accounts who care more about having followers than about the members. I know my blog as well isn’t for everyone. I can feel how people try to pressure me into following a certain train of thoughts at times. It was difficult for a while, but in the end this is my blog and I enjoy this space because it is where I can share my thoughts freely.

The difficulty for me is that I don’t want to only look at Tkkrs thoughts on this. I like to have different points of view, because I feel it keeps me saner in all this, and .. I do get baited at times because I can’t stand the insanity 🙈.. I’m human 😂. So that’s why I also post Jkkrs and anti’s and neutrals asks at times. I don’t want to be someone who sees only one side of the story, because to me the whole story matters.

You are right in there probably being some actual jokers around. It’s difficult to filter them out at times. I suspect it’s going to be less and less from now on. Less content means less debate usually.

Edit because this was such a non answer (i’m super tired 🙈, gonna go to sleep soon): I don’t think I’ll completely stop posting straws and anti’s, but I’ll try to filter out the really bad ones better.

#taekook #straws #my blog

[mask131]

A guide to face Tumblidiots (0)

Being on Tumblr is a very interesting experiment. Fascinating, interesting, challenging - certainly not a pleasant one.

Given the fact that I never fully side with one extreme or another, I ended up, throughout the years, on various subjects, as the target of contradictory attacks by random people who just came to me in chat, notes and reblogs.

Because I am interesting in the history of Christianity, in stuff such as the seven deadly sins, in folk-Christianity and angel lore and all that, people call me a religious Christian fanatic. Because I am interested in the devil and witchcraft and speak of devil and heresies, I am called a God-hated devil-worshiper.

Because I speak against antisemitism and dislike it, I was called a whiny Jew. When I say I am not Jew, I'm being told I am just a dirty propagandist. When I say I am French, people come to me explaining why I am responsible for the French colonies, and for the slavery under Napoleone's empire.

When I say I am into guys, I am called a sinful queer or shameless homosexual ; but when I say I'm asexual, I am not queer enough and I'm just a straight in disguise.

Because I hate the extreme-left, people call me "right-wing". Because I hate the extreme-right, I am called a leftist.

Ultimately I don't care much anymore because the good thing when you are accused of being so many contradictory things at once, or of being responsible for world atrocities just because I was born in a given country or speak a given language, is that you end up realizing - I don't need to give a crap anymore because no matter what I am going to say or do, somebody is going to be displeased and come after me. And Tumblr is filled with idiots. [I know a lot of you will have had this experience on Tumblr, even if you're not French - no matter the nationality, the sexuality, the age, someone is always coming at you somewhere, at one point or another.]

Or "Tumblidiots" as I'm going to call them. Apparently, this is the fashion on Tumblr to make puns and neologism using "Tumblr", and since I am talking about a despairing subject, better make it more whimsical in the presentation.

But why would I put into a same bag homophobes and the worst "woke-caricatures", extreme right and extreme left, fanatical religious and the most hardcore atheists? Because, as it turns out, they all behave the same way.

You see, one of my weaknesses is that I refuse to block people straight away when they come at me with insults or stupid words or hostile behaviors. I saw a post on Tumblr evoking how you should never debate with someone who holds a morally wrong position or a politically dangerous one, because they are using debates as a tool to make you doubt your position and endoctrinate you. I do not agree with such a position: if you want to live in a democracy, you need to debate. Debate is a manifestation of people's rights to say their ideas, of the ideal of a world where everybody can talk and discuss on equal footing, and it is just a basic social tool. A society with no debate is a return to the absolutist monarchies and their censorships. So while I do agree that in the end, to be able to survive the cesspool that is Internet where every vile minority can make themselves sound like a legion or a horde, one needs to block the most harmful, idiotic and dangerous people - just blocking everyone on sight is useless, because you shield yourself away from the threats to the point of ignoring its existence ; and because you also potentially shield people on the wrong side of the barrier from coming up onto a more normal, a saner or a less harmful discourse that could make them nuance their opinions in turn.

Digressing a bit here - but all of that to say that I always talk to these people first, open a dialogue (since they reached out to me), try to see if there isn't a case of misinterpretation or wrong first impressions. I always give a chance to people that look like violent brutes or mindless hateful sheeps because I trust in the fact that other people are in fact intelligent, reasonable, sensible beings that can talk rationally and logically of actual facts and respect personal convictions. But often I find myself disappointed upon realizing the talks I have is entirely illogical - worse, since I try to act logical and reasonable when they do not, the situation always ends up with me being trapped.

And given it happened many times, on both sides of every spectrum possible, and given it happened to me at a young age (since I started Tumblr as a teen, as a lot of people do), I found myself trapped more than once. But I always managed to not get devoured or chewed up for one simple reason: in real-life, I had personal experience of narcissistic, gaslighting, manipulative people ; and I helped people who were in cases of emotional abuse, and I was a testimony to sly and perverse bullying techniques. The result is simple: I could immediately see these same tactics and traits in the Tumblidiots discourse, and thus immediately identify them as coming with a very negative and very harmful intentions. That they want it or not - because here's what is so infuriating with Tumblidiots. Some are actually clever, manipulative people who use of these sly techniques on purpose - but they're a minority. Most Tumblidiots are ACTUAL idiots who simply repeat and recreate the same processes, attacks and discreet abuse actual bullies and fanatics and perverse do on a regularly basis.

Try to explain that to someone who doesn't even understand that what they are doing is wrong not because of the opinion they have but of the way they do things... Given these people rarely want to consider any other angle of attack to any question or any other sides to a given story ; since in their minds the world is not made of nuances but of big blocks of colors that can't possibly fit with each other and can't be broken with anything else but a hammer...

And so, years and years of experience on Tumblr decided me on opening this little guide.

It is not a guide to defeat the Tumblidiots - no, if I knew how to do that, I would already be slaying these little, squirming, toothless, acid-spitting, slimy pseudo-dragons. I unfortunately do not know how to change a Tumblidiot's mind so they act more considerate or reasonable, and I do not know how to defeat once and for all someone who is hellbent on spreading misinformation or attacking people on the slightest and most superficial cues.

But they all, no matter their goal or side, they all use the same techniques, the same methods, the same words. And this is what this guide will be about: identify these common tactics, identify these techniques, how they are put into place, what they entail. So that, when you face one Tumblidiot, you'll be prepared. You'll be ready. It won't help you defeat the slimy mind-beast, nor will it soften the blow, nor will it appease you in front of the most infuriating stupidity - but at least you'll be able to clearly see what is going on, and to not let them suddenly think you are a worthless piece of non-human being who is lying to themselves and shouldn't be who they are.

#a guide to face tumblidiots

[eastofthemoon]

Spring In Your Step

Chapter 3:  Gardening

Rating: G

Characters: Nozaki, Mikorin, and Chiyo

Prompt: Gardening

--------------------------------

Mikorin had expected to see Nozaki working on his manga when he entered his apartment. If not that, then cleaning, cooking or possibly even just reading a book.

Seeing Nozaki surround by flower pots, a bag of soil and trowels was the last thing he ever expected.

“Oh, hey,” Nozaki greeted as he waved a trowel at him. “Good timing. You can help me with this.”

“And what the hell is ‘this’?” Mikorin asked as he set down his bag. “Since when do you garden?”

“Since I thought I would include gardening for my next chapter,” Nozaki said as he held out the seeds. “Next issue’s theme is ‘Seeds of Love’ so I thought this was the easiest way to tackle it. Besides, I thought having my own source of vegetables might not be a bad idea.”

Mikorin sighed. Sad thing was, this was one of Nozaki’s more saner ideas.

“Alright, fine,” Mikorin said as he sat. “What do you want me to do?”

“I already filled the pots with soil and planted the seeds,” Nozaki said as he held up a pot. “If you could help me water them and bring them out to the patio, that would be great.”

Mikorin did as requested and it didn’t take long before all of the pots were relocated to the porch.

“Okay, so, now what?” Mikroin asked.

“Just wait I guess,” Nozaki said as he stroked his chin. “Although, I have heard plants grow faster if you talk to them. Maybe have a chat with them while I work on my outline.”

“Huh?” Mikorin asked. “What the hell would I talk to plants about?! I would just be having a conversation by myself.”

Nozaki was silent as he thought and then turned his head. “How did your last game go?”

------------------------------------------------

Chiyo didn’t know what to think when she walked in.

Nozaki was at this desk working as he should, but Mikorin was not. He was sitting on the patio and looked like he was yelling at soiled filled flower pots.

“That writing in it was just terrible,” Mikorin exclaimed as he threw his hands in the airs. “It’s one thing to suddenly reveal for a girl to be a murderer, but you need at least a little foreshadowing in it somewhere! It doesn’t make sense!”

“Nozaki, what’s he doing?” Chiyo asked.

“He’s talking to my plants to help them grow,” he said as he glanced up. “Although, I might suggest he talk something more positive. I worry if he vents too much it’ll stunt their growth.”

“Rrriigghhtt,” Chiyo said slowly and debated if this was less weirder than the Tomoda incident.

#gnsk #gekkan shoujo nozaki kun #monthly girls' nozaki kun #nozaki umetarou #mikoto mikoshiba #sakura chiyo

[444names]

brythonic deities + german forenames + the entire wikipedia article on cadwgan ap bleddyn

Abdudius Aboridone Aded Adel Adermill Adinnise Adiusus Aellivid Afte Aftenepon Agdo Agers Agoth Agotuck Agreted Agria Aliannus Alla Amagneph Amanchann Amelmuta Amente Amna Amorg Amut Ander Andrannus Andrenze Aned Angth Anik Ankarle Annahaert Annaldoms Anne Annes Annuetch Anustle Apom Arachris Arich Arietitz Arinth Arloth Aroborian Ated Atis Aurvicus Austast Aves Avets Barich Bart Batren Batrulin Beades Becad Beed Befndrike Beldogus Beranus Berews Beriches Berik Bernhar Berth Biannand Binia Bodedied Bord Boreled Bormar Bors Borthew Brol Brutther Buncamara Buxoner Canna Captis Card Cardt Care Carus Ceflesus Celiessit Cene Char Chat Chrik Cidogedd Cine Cithera Citinhard Civenly Civolfga Clouta Cluddy Cocim Cold Coldan Colf Colto Cona Conterna Corwed Cynd Cyner Dagards Dagus Demar Dems Desto Dieducars Dona Edembents Edrettles Edriesce Eingdol Ekke Elia Elving Emai Eman Embroke Emicorks Emirks Emistinry Ered Erianna Ertard Everds Exch Fain Famarbas Famber Fambrar Fand Fannee Fearingdo Finna Fired Firkon Fita Flenus Folby Forwin Frachros Fral Frand Fras Fria Frice Frick Fried Friked Frin Frobius Frobor Frolge Gebhanne Gerhan Gertimer Gerts Gisa Gislaum Goma Gooker Gotto Gottsce Grand Grast Gredmut Grelly Gremsey Greter Grethis Gron Grum Grunus Grus Guisbere Gwdwga Gwer Gwys Güntio Hadron Haelo Halsh Hanca Hanist Harnus Harola Hart Harvoston Heing Heize Heldog Helmuntz Herielves Hert Herwigis Hester Hiang Hilhaer Hilheing Hilhen Hilianika Hill Hille Himen Himsey Hiram Hiryl Hisa Hisana Hollatto Holph Howyn Hubeter Huelga Huelly Hughang Hughte Imsegus Inee Inus Ioscenis Iosio Ireturst Ishimille Itald Itall Itia Jacold Janna Jere Jerts Johandea Johandesl Johaned Johanko Joharlo Joina Jona Juludon Jupparg Justar Jürge Karlonto Kathig Killy Kilowe Kins Klad Klannesce Kold Landsus Launstim Lausus Layear Lenius Leve Lied Llwn Lona Lonodwild Lormar Lort Loutta Lovalter Luddwr Lüto Lütomanna Madefnd Madoger Maeried Maertry Maidon Mainthily Mald Malieb Maloto Manded Manne Mannia Maraim Mard Mareding Marik Marisand Mart Mastiold Matios Mauka Mellerth Mice Mildo Milhenes Milyndt Mircia Mirius Mirs Miselia Monry Mule Muns Nand Nanotob Nantobern Nast Nathentia Nattarid Neliang Nelly Nemedeade Nese Nich Nord Nore Ogmutts Olle Oniusus Onus Orrida Owaing Owas Parl Parricurn Peach Pemin Petut Pher Phira Phisa Plaig Ponan Prietrid Pris Prom Protth Ralte Rame Rast Redriesel Reing Relsact Renz Retiand Retitack Rets Returie Rhis Robeen Robing Robis Romain Rottertia Ruffel Ruffudd Rusteate Sabarne Sagania Saing Sameigne Sana Sandolfga Saner Santucene Saxim Selix Selmuel Seposevis Shred Sinedinne Skiffert Skin Sold Solf Sona Soned Stata Sted Steph Ster Sucadrine Sury Sverthed Thad Thare Theliete Therned Thim Tios Tobarl Tona Toneented Trads Trang Traringom Twen Twer Udiansta Utin Uwenus Vaus Vher Vilhan Vina Vinerdt Vinnalia Vins Vitz Vive Vola Voscetch Wald Walde Wale Walvinus Wela Welk Welsh Wevolge Wheinz Wherming Whict Whilby Wigar Wild Wilm Wilyn Wina Winger Witert Witiany Wold Wolfrah Yeachave Yearsted Yspwyn Ysta Ystya

#444 names #444names

[lordfrezon]

Welcome back to another edition of “The Inquisition Finds Mata Nui”

At some point in time I’ll write these more regularly.

Probably around the time I write fanfic chapters regularly.

Regardless.

Previous edition here: https://www.tumblr.com/lordfrezon/710837657289261056/welcome-back-to-another-edition-of-the?source=share

Treytor has arrived in a dimly lit room, after teleporting to coordinates stored in Dominus’s teleportation watch.

They hear someone or something talking.

Naturally, they yell out “HELLO???” because subtlety is not only overrated, it’s just wrong.

Fortunately for them, they’re in a room not with a psychopathic Inquisitor, but with some biomechanical dude working on a machine.

There is a great deal of confusion on both sides, Treytor is asking where Dominus and who this guy is, the guy is asking who this crazy person that can teleport into the most heavily guarded facility in the system is, standard stuff.

Eventually, Treytor gets out that this guy is the Great Being Angonce, who they remember had contacted them some number of days ago.

Angonce still has no clue who Treytor is, and their explanations are not helping.

Frustrated, Angonce starts tinkering with Treytor’s watch so the two of them can teleport to grab the saner member of the party, Emilia.

Because Oswald is just happy to be here at this point.

Meanwhile, Oswald and Emilia (ok, just Emilia) are mourning their most likely brutally murdered teammate.

It doesn’t last long.

They get back on Mazeka’s boat and start boating away.

They consider breaking the news to their boss that their teammate Treytor is either at best, dead, or at worst, betraying them again.

"If we call Alice, do you think she'll kill us?" "I mean, doesn't she want to kill us all the time?" "Yes, she's shown remarkable restraint up until now"

Then they get a phone call from Treytor, who, surprise, is not dead.

Angonce hacks the call, asks them for their spatial coordinates, they have no fucking clue, so Angonce just teleports himself and Treytor back to the island, gets visual, teleports to the boat, freezes Mazeka, and teleports back to his lab.

Oswald is getting real sick of teleporters at this point.

Back in the lab (which Angonce calls “The Cavern of the Elements” like a loser), the four of them figure out what’s what.

Emilia confirms and displays the call Angonce made to her through the Great Being Compass, Angonce does not recall doing that and blames weird time shit, seeing that hey, that toa is wearing the Vahi and that tracks.

Ignoring the fact that Oswald did not have the Vahi when that happened.

(fun fact, they never learned exactly how/why Angonce called them, and due to later events, it ended up being paradoxed away, sooooo.... yeah)

But given they have a real ass Great Being in front of them who is not: 1. Looking to turn any of them into servitors or 2. Velika, they start asking a ton of questions.

Angonce gives them a large amount of info, he explains the Core War, why they built Mata Nui, who Magna Esse is (a Great Being named Nisari).

Also they all determine that Dominus is one of the Element Lords, and not just AN Element Lord, but the Element Lord of Ice, who started the war, looking for, ya know, Energized Protodermis.

Which he still is.

And confirms to the party, since he teleported to the Ice Element Orb in the Cavern.

(also his name was Dominus Elementum, literally Lord of Elements in Latin, like come on.)

He’s quite cheery and chats up his “dad” and “kids”, Angonce looks pissed and doesn’t say anything, the party is quite concerned and expresses this concern.

Dominus reveals that Great Beings could control his actions (and Nisari is) and asks for the party to go kill her before booking it.

Angonce is understandably upset Dominus figured out he was planning to mind control him, but recovers.

Encourages the party to complete the Reunification of Sphereus Magna, offers what aid he can.

Also tells Treytor to stop carrying around the Ignika, the universe needs that and they are not a destined user thank you very much, the list is very specific.

The crew learns then that you can add destined users of the Mask of Life.

The party heads back to the ship, wake up Mazeka (who Angonce slightly shut down a bit), and carry on their way.

Along the way, they debate what the hell they’re going to do next, because jesus flapjacking christ they do not want to deal with a Demigod of Ice who is technically their boss but also wants to kill their de facto boss.

Ditching Mazeka again, they teleport back to Voya Nui, back to the Mask of Life chamber, and run into a dude in silver and black armor with a big smile and a spear that he claims he can use to fuse them if they want.

Also this guy wants the mask of life.

Also he is completely unhinged.

It’s Vezon, if you didn’t get that (yes I broke the chronology of events but I’m not NOT going to introduce my favorite Bionicle character in a Bionicle game).

They figure, what the hell, this guy can’t use it, so they drop the mask off and leave.

Dominus gives Treytor a text asking them to call him when they’re free.

So yeah.  They had that to look forward to.

#dark heresy #bionicle #warhammer 40k

[novaknightwritings]

Half an hour til the end of the month.

So, two more post that are needed, and while I think I got one more in me I don't think I will be able to find some shit to write about to get them all done in half an hour.

Well it kind of sucks but at the same point makes a lot of sense, and by being able to type this up today that means that I only need to make up 3 post next month, a far saner number then the 6 that I should have gotten this one. Not much honestly has changed, not a lot happening in the RP server, thougth was able to talk to a few people in voice chat that I hadn't seen in some time.

The challange for the MoC is still happening tomorrow and for some reason the ST are pretty sure there is going to be a good deal of drama. Honestly, not sure what they going to do that makes them think that there going to be stuff. Also they dropped the stupidist plot hook that I have ever seen, a leaked 911 call that for some reason has video? Now how the hell an audio file has video is a question as well, and maybe something I will poke at when I don't have like two other plots that I am trying to slowly poke at, plus me needed to run the stuff for things that I already started. Like I need to do the scene to get the sheep spirit back to where it wants to go, got a big event that going to be running for about three days, and may or may not need to run a scene for a rank challange because while there are other ones happening there don't seem to be a lot of progress going with them currently. I have ideas in what I can do for a Adren test, and I got told to use examples for the book and one of the ideas is a changed up verison of that. Thought I can't really do that until we know who the MoC is going to be. I been told that one of the other missions is another Adren rank challange, thought I am not sure if it been said out in the open, may have just been a blue book thing. Thought I will talk to the player that gave me the challange and let them know that it is possable that the one that I thought of may not be allowed by the ST. Thought it funny that this is the same ST that said that they are pretty much tired of all the drama and shit that is happening in the game due to normal ST drama in discord. Will try and come up with some ideas for that is happening with current plot, but honestly. Players don't seem like they want to try and push stuff it its hard to tell what is going to be happening plot wise.

[raynewritingdownthoughts]

tues jul 26th

god has today been a whirlwind. i forgot to take my medicine two days in a row again. it's 5pm and i'm at floral fetes. getting pretty hungry and i'm glad i actually can eat. i woke up at like 9am, made myself food, did yoga, made the bed. then i got to work and started to spiral. i feel so extremely in debt today. i'm going back to purchases and returning things. the pomegranate, the marc jacobs zine. rayne stop buying things. only food, only gas.

i tried to watch a film at work but my mind is just working overtime on it's looping.

i feel much saner at home. being at work reminds me how i'm idle in a way that i can't actually GO anywhere. i want to run away. i want a new life. i want opportunity. that's really what it is. i know that my stability will come when i work at a job, any job, that gets me like $60k a year. i want to get new glasses. i want to get a new front tooth. i need benefits so badly. this will completely change the quality of my life. my mom won't help me. i have no one else to depend on but me. i wish i was a nepotism baby. but, i am not not not at all.

i tried not to look at my signal chat with ado. but i did. nothing new. i want to be less on the phone but i feel so alone without it.

i don't even mind the idea of being alone. what mostly bothers me is my lack of financial stability. not only that, but i feel like i have no idea how to even begin to have stable relationships. i don't know that i've ever had one.

i struggle with having compassion for ado, in that he truly wants a friendship with me, but also such pain, that he is unwilling to be my partner all of a sudden. i don't feel like we were constantly fighting, but that he was seeing everything i said as something i didn't say. that he was resenting me for not being the way he wanted me to be.

i do feel like i learned from this. i'm just so upset that connections like this aren't common. but maybe the connection was less about connection and more about an idea.

i don't really care about guns, or anarchy. i don't think using force or violence is wrong, i just don't think i'm one to do it. socialism is the right thing. but i don't feel the need to perform politics when really everything has been so convoluted that helping barely means a thing anymore. sure, you can help people, but it has so many constraints. i don't see that i'll be any type of future vigilante.

what i want from my future is simple. i want a house that i can decorate. i want to be able to travel. i want to see the doctor when i need to. i want to have a garden. i want a bit of natural sustainability. i want a partner who hears me. i want friends who visit me and we laugh hard together. i want to worry less. i want to keep avoiding social media. i want to read. i want to make some things, without any force or to uphold someone's idea of me.

i'm struggling so much to see how a person who seemed oh so dedicated would want to completely put the brakes on. it makes me think he would rather be with his ex. that maybe she is good for him. and in a way, i don't disagree. she's also performative and likes that kind of "my body my choice" shit that doesn't really mean anything. sure, get a piercing. it doesn't do anything that special, lol. sure, get a gun, practice shooting, wait for the apocalypse. i don't even want to survive a total decline. i love life because of so many small joys, and i want everyone to be safe and happy. idk if this exists. i don't know if humanity is good. i don't feel the need to preach because i know what's in my heart. that i want to do no harm.

i think ado wants to keep me in his back pocket. that he keeps all exes in "a place" where he doesn't have to choose anyone. but maybe if he gets lonely enough, he will. i don't want to be someone's "well maybe". i think i'm too good for that. and i can be weak, but i am strong in that i don't think it's healthy for me to be in that role.

a lot of it seems to be about control. because when i broke up with him he lost it and wanted it so badly. but when he broke up, it was so matter of fact. it's just not safe territory.

i love thuraya, sufi is fine. i don't like his house, it sucks. i liked his energy, probably drawn to his erratic nature. i like a chaos friend. i don't want to be with someone who would leave their dog with their most recent ex. the complete lack of boundaries there is atrocious to me. they became friends because she came onto him. unless he lied. he probably did.

we barely like the same music. we have completely different taste in art. he has lame tattoos for the most part. most done by past lovers which is tiring.

he talked about an ex and instantly sent me a photo of her like she was part of a collection. he said he wouldn't have condom sex with me and would rather just jerk off. when i wasn't kissing him "enough" he was offended and said it seemed like i didn't like him because i wouldn't make out yet. he rushed me. i wasn't ready for a good bit of it, but he made it feel very fun. he said he only "fucks his friends", yet he had casual sex with that girl vivi? i think what he meant is that he only stays sleeping with his exes because he's found a way to seem like a good enough guy to stay around but never actually get deep into love with. he wanted to call his ex for his birthday, and text another ex who hates his guts seemingly.

[oldgooddaysoldgooddays]

102

Today I go through my own songs and teach myself how to play them. I go to an online database to find the bpm of each one (they have everything on the internet now), so I can programme my new metronome I needed a YouTube video to operate. I swing wildly between crippling fear and unstoppable desire to play music live, and I know to seize the latter moments and spend them practicing. This is some of the most fulfilling and teenage work I’ve engaged in in months, and a hundred times more enjoyable than making the music itself. I learn to set up effects pedals and a loop pedal I don’t even remember buying. I stand and sing. I film myself standing and singing, and make a decision not to hate how my face and throat look in the videos. But man do I wish I could grow a beard. I think of all the men I see on the street and in my romantic back catalogue and in magazines, lending mystique to the lower parts of their faces, defining their own jawlines. As women, we are allowed only turtlenecks, perhaps a choker. Niqabs if you’re a certain demographic. A mask if you’re inclined to sanitation I listen to a podcast about what it’s like to marry (and divorce) a narcissist and the woman telling her story says the prenup her fiance gave her specified that if she was to bear a child, she had to return to pre-pregnancy weight within a year. I am obsessed with this idea, and obsessed with the woman who goes ahead with a marriage on these terms, whether she signed it or not B is in IKEA customer service he’ll and sends me conversations with their pseudo-Swedish live chat team. “Sorry our agent got lingonberry jam on his paws and assistance is unavailable”. Then later : “How is your day going on [sic] by the way?” and “I’m sorry, we did not mean to see you around chaos”. I lose all sense of sympathy for B and cackle hysterically, something that I’m sure will come back to bite me when I’m setting up my new home in a few months. Although I’ve never found IKEA a compelling solution to interior design or homemaking, this half convenience half DIY ethos N tells me she took the A train home to Brooklyn in broad daylight and a man pulled the necklaces from her neck while alighting. “What is this, 1979???”, she writes, shows me a photo of the back of her neck reddened by the weird attack. New York has always felt like a simmering pan of desperate madness, even in its most wealthy neighbourhoods where residents simply have the money to conceal and manage insanity. There is rich mental illness and poor mental illness and the city is as segregated by this binary as it is by race. Inevitably the two sides clash at moments, the pan boils over. The New York Post throws a pun at it. AOC reminds everybody brunch is not appropriate. I want N to be safe. And London is only marginally saner - this morning a crack addict with one leg amputated at the knee kept waving his crutch in the bike lane to sabotage cyclists en route to work. Nobody was harmed, except my heart which aches for people sick with the disease of addiction…….

[sanerontheinside]

Do you have any Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan fic recs? I have ready many of your fics several times over and figure I will like whatever fics you like. 😀

You are most kind! Though, I will warn you that it is not necessarily true that you will like what I like 😅 for various reasons! 

1) I ran out of deadcat’s ReEntry series and then tore through the Q/O tag in search of more content. and then MA Archive, somewhat. 

2) there were misadventures 

3) I have many, many recs. there is, if nothing else, certainly variety here

Also, you reminded me that I haven’t updated my stash of pdfs and live links in a while, so I got lost in the sauce for a bit there. 

h’okay, so—here’s the rules: 

in some cases I will only list a username, because I have lived in the author’s works and well and truly recommend all of them. 

this means also that it is entirely up to you to mind the tags and ratings. 

I may highlight some favourite works. I will try not to highlight more than 4. or 5. 

Some works are viewable to registered users only, and I am sure they were marked that way for a reason, so I have some slight reservations about publicly recommending them?

ETA: I forgot to add the things that only exist as tumblr snippets, so we’ll be coming back to this conversation at some later date

ETA2: I will probably end up making a whole page on my blog for recs, the way I keep forgetting and adding stuff after the fact 🙈 and anyway, the formatting is.. painful

Authors: 

3jane/Jane St. Clair - poetry. in prose, but pure poetry. classic. 

Darkisrising, @darkisrising - everything. you will not regret. 

davaia, @davaia​ - everyone deserves to experience reading all of davaia’s work for the first time. 

Flamethrower , also @deadcatwithaflamethrower​ (whose fic got me into this ship to begin with) Some special highlights: - Both the Re-Entry series and Re-Entry: Journey of the Whills are viewable by registered ao3 users only, atm. This is what brought me to this ship, so there we go. - In a Lonely Place is a particular highlight for me, and inspired the frankenfic (my series, Silent enim leges inter arma) - Speaker of Valaeanath - Letters to Qui-Gon Jinn - everything there is. 

Firondoiel , @firondoiel - Recovery, a special highlight for our collaborative work with @happygiraffe and @luvvewan - everything. I live here now. It is truly impossible to believe that I met Firo and first read their work only about a year ago. 

DraloreShimare, @hobbitystmarymorstan​ - Waiting at Thresholds (😭 )

elayna - particular favourites include: - Love Me Do - The Hunter and the Rose - Thief of My Heart - The Big Deception

extraneous_accessories,  @extraneousaccessories

- The Wind in the In Between

handhellbasket

ilcuoreardendo , @ilcuoreardendo-fic

- particular favourites include Joy and Solace - A Matter of Positioning - and check out these series: Another Space and Time and Fantasy Verse

Kototyph - Through Night Forests

kettish, @kettish​

Lady_Saddlebred

Littlelynn - Lessons in Translation 

LuvEwan, @luvvewan​ everything. however, special highlights for: - Deserts and Trees - Sacred Things - What Else - rainwater - We Will Always Know - you asked for slash fic recs, but I will say that if you are comfortable reading both gen and slash for this pairing, I would very much recommend reading luvvewan’s gen Q&O works. 

meggory, @meggory84​ all works. you will not regret. 

Mrs. Hamill , @mrshamill many works here. particular favourites include: - The Senator and the Jedi - Son of the Empire - The Ghost and Mr. Kenobi (😭  my god, this one) - The Jinn Identity (aaaaaa ❤️ ) - The Seduction of Obi-Wan Kenobi

oddlyexquisite, @oddlyexquisite​ - I have discovered that some of the most powerful quotes have come to me from oe - the one that came to me at the right time, in the right place, came from Once More, Plainly - but I am in love with all of oe’s works (aaaa the lighthouse fic—!!!) - oe is responsible for the appearance of poetry in my own work, so there is that

outpastthemoat, @outpastthemoat​ - everything - Prisms - Detours - Arrivals - and again: if you are comfortable reading both gen and slash for this pairing, I would very much recommend reading outpastthemoat’s gen Q&O works. 

psocoptera - A Duel With Fate

punsbulletsandpointythings, @punsbulletsandpointythings​ - special highlights: The One That Got Away

Randomalia look here for the poignant and the bittersweet. - Currents is a true classic - Apogee (randomalia is also the one to go to if you are in the mood to shred your heart with unrequited pining) 

Salmon_Pink - To Bend - Sized Up

scarletjedi, @scarletjedi - The Rules omigod - and Pineapple, of course 😏 

jessebee, @skyywalkerfen​ - just. everything 

torch - Gardening at Night - Crystallize - Whispers, Remains 

Tohje , @tohje  - Litanies - hold life like a face - momentary lights - Malalignment - say them very quietly - and another time I will add, the gen works are a wonder 

treescapes, @treescape​

wrennette, @wrennette - a very special shoutout to utterly ensnared

writestufflee, @masterwritestuff​ - Ever Since Happiness Heard Your Name - The Rewards of Patience - Creature Comforts - A Distant Refuge 

Single works, assorted:  

Akathecentimetre ( @akathecentimetre ), agarthanguide ( @agarthanguide ), and TheCrackedKatana - Counterpoint a Scordatura

canis_m - desert bloom 

FayJay - Free

Nimori - Lacuna is absolutely haunting in the best way. 

Ruslight - A Matter of Perspective 

Valmouth - Backwards

wickedwords - Waiting Place - (it’s not that I don’t recommend Cutwork, but that’s up to you.) 

Yahtzee - Surfacing (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

I will add, though, that if you are willing to explore the MA Archive, that’s a task you will now only be able to carry out with the Wayback Machine, and it’s a bit spotty. That’s a project for a later me, too. 

#Anonymous #saner chats #ask me things

[girlypopmikewheeler]

Why are the depressed gay people so weird 😭😭😭

@bisexual-etherian @your-local-bi-disaster @lilithisamess @weirdlovelyhuman

#I'm referring to the chat #sam i see you #I'm tagging the ones i was talking to just noe #i love yhe rest of y'all too #y'all are saner than the tagged ones

[sie-rui]

ok ok but reader being toman's girl bestfriend but toman replace them with a new girl 😳 angst bae bcs im lovin it

❀ BUT YOU’RE STILL A TRAITOR (1) | TOKYO REVENGERS

;; toman’s best friend feels as if she was replaced

🥛 — tokyo manji gang

🧾 — female reader, second pov (you/your), cursing, angst, hurt no comfort, au - everyone lives / nobody dies, au - middle school, platonic relationship, imagine

✉ — i can’t believe that we’re going back to angst but i’m happy about it

🔖 — references to traitor and happier, parts [ 1 | 2 | 3 ] 

You weren’t officially a part of the Tokyo Manji Gang but it always felt so whenever you were dragged around with them; whenever you always find yourself at the usual meeting place because they want you to be there.

Being friends with gang members, with delinquents, was supposed to be dangerous and it was nonadvisable, like 0/5. But your time with Toman? Those were the best days of your life.

Running around, not caring if you were being a public disturbance, randomly bickering and starting a fight in the middle of a street, skipping classes and going to arcades and karaoke rooms. And being there for each other, no matter what. That was how it was with Toman. That was why you fell in love with Toman itself.

Because it was where you felt the most free while still being understood by the people you cared about and cared for you.

You stare at your phone, at the group chat that was sliding down too fast with the amount of messages typed all at once, Mikey having more typos than usual because of the speed.

Normally, you were a part of the flurry of texts, hell you were even the reason why those started. Today, you can only blankly stare as they all seem to shut up whenever one person is going to say something. That pretty girl in Mikey’s class that had successfully caught his attention after she punched a bully in the face at the very front of the classroom.

You would have supported her. You would have accepted and loved her so much. And you did! You welcomed her in the group warmly, jokingly giving little information about the boys that can be used as blackmail.

But this past week…

It’s as if I never existed at all.

The usual private messages that are only just memes rather than important topics, the group chat being filled with someone or two calling you out for something you did two years ago, Mikey randomly barging in your house and Draken following an hour later to see if his President was still alive and kicking… They were all just… gone.

It was silent.

Peaceful.

You realize with mockery to yourself, you hated peacefulness. Before you got involved in a fight with Baji, your first meeting with Toman, all you ever wanted was silence. You wanted to just finish school, preferably alone.

But, you only realize how lonely you are when all the people you used to talk to were busy with something else.

A whole group of friends and not one of them remembered that you were supposed to hangout today, like you usually did before the girl came along.

You close your eyes, trying to block the noises of the city out, knowing that tears were gathering in your eyes and you hated it. You tried to ignore the fickle voice in your mind but it was futile, traitors, they’re traitors.

Toman isn’t yours. You aren’t a part of Toman.

And yet… And yet.

These boys were their own people, no one was supposed to own them. But sometimes, it felt as if it would forever be just you and them, laughing around and pulling another bullshit, roping the saner members with it. It felt as if you were theirs and they were yours, a whole group of strings inextricably knotted together, pieced into one huge puzzle.

Traitors.

Liars.

You pushed yourself to get out of the bed, stumbling to your closet. You weren’t going to see them, it was never how you were. What’s the point of looking for people that have their backs to you?

She’s beautiful… She looks kind… Despite being strong enough to put smug assholes to their places.

You snort, wiping your face with the back of your hand. Isn’t that how you were as well? Weren’t you as kind as her? Weren’t you as strong as her? Weren’t you as prideful and yet sympathetic as her? So why? Why did they leave you behind? Why would they forget you?

You gazed at the mirror.

Ah.

Because she’s beautiful.

The setting sun peeks at your window, shining you golden, but your look had already soured as you frustratedly grabbed a comb. Outside. Somewhere. You needed to go somewhere. Away from here, and hopefully, never look back.

Digging the comb to your hair, pulling so hard until it hurts, trying to fix the mess, trying to look as organized as her. You can’t change something that isn’t meant to be. It comes flying off to your bed, bouncing from the anger behind the force.

Toman wasn’t yours, not your exclusive friend and you weren’t theirs. And yet, they were still traitors.

The door closes behind you and you didn’t bring your keys.

(Your phone rang the moment the clock struck six, Mikey frowning as he waited for you to pick up, pacing around the room for a certain glance at the calendar reminded him of the day. But no one was there to answer. You were going to disappear, to figure out who you were before you met them, before they shaped the girl you currently are.)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey #sano manjiro #sano manjirou #manjiro sano #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo manji gang #toman gang #toman

[restapesta]

Piercings. 5+1 ficlet, but with piercings. I have a problem.

1.

Ian thought he knew pretty much everything about his husband. He knew him, inside and fucking out.

How could he not? Ian's pretty much been with him for a better part of his life, and they've had enough late-night talks to share all their demons with each other, however hard it may have been. They knew each other.

There was no doubt about it.

But, well. Ian should have known Mickey kept secrets.

He also should've known that one of those secrets was bound to put him in the grave one day with the inscription on his tombstone saying that he died from horniness.

Because one of these days, he would. There was no doubt about it.

It wasn't the most conventional way to go, but Ian didn't mind it.

Because, holy fuck, Mickey just admitted he used to have his ears pierced.

"Sorry," Ian balked at his husband who was standing in the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror, a pair of black studs in his right hand. "Did you just say you had your ears pierced?"

"I probably still do." Mickey grabs an earring and places it against the healed-up hole that is so faint, Ian needed to come impossibly closer to see it. Mickey had pointed it out to him after he initially said he was getting his ears pierced again. Right after Ian was left with his mouth wide open, staring widely at him, not trusting he heard him right. "And if not, I'm just gonna reopen them."

How did Ian never notice it? How did he never see Mickey, the love of his life, with earrings in his ears? With little patched-up spots of skin that were so plainly visible to the eye, now that he really looked at it.

Mickey grimaced as he pressed the needle against the hole, pushing and prodding against the uncooperative entrance. He eyed Ian in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "What are you staring at?"

Ian was stunned speechless. Of course he was. Of fucking course Mickey was about to bust out some crazy thing two years into their marriage that would make Ian finally break. Like having his ears pierced, making every single yet-undiscovered fantasy come to life.

He couldn't help but imagine Mickey with a nose ring, now. Tongue piercing. Eyebrow piercing.

Nipples.

Holy fuck.

Blood was rushing straight to his dick, and goddamn it, this was it. Ian was about to die.

Because holy fuck, the earring went through.

So did the other one.

And now, Ian was staring at Mickey, who was sporting black studs in his ears. Two dark diamonds that were obviously fake but could've not been, because this wasn't Mickey anymore. This wasn't the Mickey who rolled his eyes at anything gay—except getting pounded, obviously.

No—this was Mickey with earrings.

Ian's mouth was dry. It was dry as Mickey turned away from the mirror to face him. He stood in front of him, a determined look on his face as if waiting for Ian to call him out. Him, in all his fucking glory.

"Did you, uh," Ian finally stammered out. "sterilize the needles? I don't want you to get an infection."

"That really all you gotta say?"

Ian swallowed. "How come I never saw you with," He pointed at Mickey's ears, unable to even say the word. "those?"

"I was really young. I got 'em pierced when Mandy did. Took them out fairly soon, 'cus, you know." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Ian knew.

He gripped Mickey by the shoulders pulling him closer. His eyes were on Ian's, but Ian's were on the earrings, and Ian never really knew he had a kink for jewelry.

Well, there was the wedding ring, but fuck, this had nothing to do with their relationship, and yet Ian was still sporting a raging hard-on Mickey had yet to notice.

"I love them." He said truthfully, mentally noting to get Mickey real studs once he got the chance. Not the cheap grocery-store ones, but actual diamonds that he wouldn't mind spending money on. Not when they would look so good on his husband.

Mickey blushed, pushing Ian away immediately, not getting away far, arms practically out so Ian could pull him back in. And he did, squeezing him tightly against his chest, careful not to place too much pressure on the newly-reopened piercings.

Mickey mumbled something against Ian's shirt, incoherent.

"What? I didn't hear you"

"I love you."

Ian smiled. Pulled Mickey away so he could stare into his eyes.

"You know you gotta let me fuck you with those on. Pretty sure it will be the best orgasm of my life."

Mickey only smirked, eyes lighting up immediately at the suggestion. He looks fucking amazing, Ian thought.

"Lead the way, hotshot."

Ian was right. With the earrings and the smugness—

It took him less than a minute.

2.

When Ian saw the photo, he was pretty sure he was going to die.

No, not pretty sure. One-hundred percent sure. Death was awaiting him now, ready to pull him in. He was already feeling faint, ready to just slip away into unconsciousness. He was going to die, for sure.

Or maybe it was just the loss of all the blood that was heading way down south that was making him feel this way, because holy shit.

Holy shit.

When Mickey took the earrings out after a few days of usage, claiming how they sucked, Ian thought that was it. Mickey was never going to do anything that reminded him of being gay ever again. He had probably been embarrassed and wanted to take them out, and Ian was feeling at such loss when he saw his ears vacant that he was ready to throw hands.

But, oh God.

Ian was now staring at a picture of Mickey—a picture he posted on goddamn Instagram for everybody to see—and it was him.

Him with a fucking nose piercing.

Ian checked the comments first. It would've probably been saner to call his husband and ask if he actually got a nose piercing and if he was ready to be a widow because Ian won't be lasting much longer, but there were a bunch of comments on the photo, and fuck if Ian wasn't going to leaf through them all. This could be a joke for all he knew.

Some sick joke to get Ian's hopes up, just to get them crushed down until he never had any hopes in life ever again.

Mickey with a nose piercing. Mickey with a nose piercing.

Carl said it looked 'fuckin' sick'. Lip was putting 😲 emojis all throughout the chat, sometimes even adding the 😏 one, probably a reference to Ian (at least Ian hoped it was). The other comments were just about how good Mickey look, which was really no surprise, but holy shit, did that mean this was real?

Mickey was out running some errand. Said he had some shit he needed to. That sneaky bastard. Ian didn't care if he was in the middle of the goddamn line at the Costco aisle or in the middle of a drug run.

He facetimed him.

When Mickey's face came into view, the nose ring present and very much real, Ian was lost for words. Mickey was biting his lip to keep from smiling and once he noticed Ian was just going to continue and stare, he scoffed.

"Man, it's just a piercing."

"No," Ian said. "This is much more than 'just a piercing'."

Mickey chuckled. "Well, I figured since I didn't really like the earrings, I could do this. It felt right."

This was the Mickey Ian knew and loved. The Mickey who wanted to try new things, get to know his own style. Mickey, who was finally confident enough in himself, and hopefully comfortable in their marriage, that he didn't even consider this a big deal. Ian was filled to the brim with emotions, and he was ready to explode.

"You need to come home now."

They met each other's eyes through the screen, blue glimmering in mischief. Mickey smiled. "Why?"

"Because."

"This piercing shit really gets you going, huh, Gallagher?"

It did.

It really did.

"If you're not home in ten minutes, I'll get the whip. So better be fucking home." With that he hung up, getting up to ready the supplies.

Mickey was home in eleven.

Ian knew it was fucking intentional.

3.

Ian might've been getting used to the fucking hotness that Mickey Milkovich with a nostril piercing was, but that didn't mean others were.

In the end, it probably didn't even matter that Ian was one million percent down for any types of piercings Mickey wants to get—he might have even been pushing him for a nipple piercing, but the why of it was for another time—what would eventually decide whether or not the earring stayed in was the reactions of somebody other than Ian.

It was unfair, really, that others would be able to affect Mickey's decision to finally do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, despite his ever-growing confidence. Still, Ian had a way of making sure that nobody made him feel shitty for doing something he wanted to do. Something for himself, without fearing the judgment of others like he had his entire life.

He was an arsonist, for fuck's sake. Let them try and eye his husband the wrong way.

Ian perhaps expected it from old, batty women at the grocery store who didn't have a clue what century they were in or Karens who were homophobic pieces of shit—but he never would be guessed it would be his own family poking fun at something that probably took guts to do. Because it took guts to actually get something like a nose piercing if you were a Milkovich with a past of growing up in a homophobic household.

"So, uh, you gone full gay now, Mickey?"

"Watch out, Ian, I think he might out-twink you."

"You look like Sandy now. Don't be surprised if I jump you."

"I think you look cool, Mickey."

"Uncle Mickey, what's that in your nose? Can I have one?"

Mickey didn't seem to really care about the Gallaghers' opinions. It was mostly just him flipping Lip off at the twink comment and winking at Franny for that last one. Ian, on the other hand.

Ian was the one who was getting fucking offended.

What if Mickey decided that all the teasing and sideways glances aren't worth it and he takes the nose ring out? What if Ian's deprived of sexy, liberated Mickey because of assholes like his own siblings?

It didn't matter how selfish it sounded. There was no way in hell Mickey was ever going to feel conflicted over something he didn't need to feel conflicted about.

So, the second Mickey was out of the room, and the Gallaghers were still unrelenting at the teasing, Ian knew what he had to do.

"Okay, that's enough," He said simply after the eight-hundredth joke about how the ring looked like a booger in his nose—what the actual fuck, Lip?—his voice stern.

"Come on," Lip said, despite the others clearly relenting, palms going up with sheepish expressions on their faces. "We're just joking."

"Well, enough jokes. You could be more like Liam. Tell him he looks good."

Lip snorted. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to?"

"He knows it's all jokes. He doesn't even care."

"I do." Ian narrowed his eyes. "I care whether or not he feels like he's done the wrong thing because you won't shut the fuck up after the joke's not even funny anymore."

That was what made the smile on Lip's face thin. He lowered his head sightly, as of bowing it down in shame. Ian knew he had finally caught on. Finally understood that, sometimes, even jokes could hurt people's fucking feelings.

Maybe Mickey wasn't at all touched by this. Maybe he really didn't give a shit about what Lip or some old-ass grandma at the store thought. Maybe it was only Ian who gave a shit.

But fuck it, he could give enough shit for the both of them.

If it meant Mickey would always feel comfortable in his own skin, then fuck yes he could.

"Okay," Lip said simply, and Ian smiled at him, thankful.

And when Mickey reappeared with a slight frown on his face and a, "what, no more jokes?" followed by a wide smile, Ian knew he had done the right thing.

Because Mickey looked good.

And the ring stayed on.

4.

"What is it with you and the goddamn nipple rings?"

Ian bit at his lip. Okay, he may have gone a little overboard. With all the research and the reference photos and all the places you could get one... But fuck, he had a fantasy, and he needed to see it come true.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Come the fuck on.

"Babe, listen," Ian started, moving so he was positioned against the headboard of their bed. It was almost midnight—what better time to lay it down on Mickey that he would look really fucking good with piercings in his nipples and that it would be Ian's dream come true. "They'd look so good."

"Then why don't you get them?"

Ian made an incredulous face. "Because they wouldn't look good on me. They would look good on you."

Mickey swiped at his nose, diverting Ian's attention once more to the perfection that was his black nose ring. How could Ian not see all the possibilities with multiple piercings when Mickey looked like that with just one?

"Come on," He said again, the image in his head even more vivid than before. "I googled it. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I have a feeling like that is a very obvious lie."

Ian rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe it was.

He pushed himself back down onto the comforter, shifting so he could have access to Mickey's chest. He trailed a finger from his neck, then slowly down so it rest in between his nipples, laying out his palm so it could feel the beating of Mickey's heart.

"Imagine the sex," He whispered, trying out a new technique. Seduction. It had to work.

"Probably not until it's healed up and stops hurting," Mickey scoffed. "Also, I really don't think I'd like it. I'd look like a bull."

"You'd look like a very sexy bull. Oh, by the way, septum piercing." Ian wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't you see it? Don't you think it'd look awesome?"

Mickey looked like he was on the verge of either laughing or punching Ian straight in the dick. "I think," He began. "that I've created a monster."

"A monster who is extremely horny for your ass."

"Why do you have to have a kink for this? Ian, out of all the things. Just look up porn with a bunch of jewelry on the guys if you need to get off."

Ian frowned at the imagery. "It's not the jewelry, Mick. I've had hookups who wore a shit-ton of jewelry and it never made me all hot and bothered."

Mickey smiled at the hot and bothered part. "Dork. Then what is it?"

"Well, fucking obviously it's you."

Mickey's face lit up. "It's me?"

"Ugh, Mickey, we've been together for a while. Don't make me feel shy over this."

The exasperation made Ian's cheeks pink. Suddenly, Mickey was leaning in and pressing his lips to the heat, smiling all the way through it.

When he pulled away, there was a wide grin stretched across his face. Ian was a sucker for that grin. That grin was everything he needed in life. Nothing more.

"I won't get a nipple piercing."

Sadness. All Ian felt was sadness.

"But maybe we can check out other options." It was Mickey's turn to wiggle his eyebrows. "Tongue piercing float your boat too?"

Happiness. All Ian felt was happiness.

5.

Eyebrow piercing. It ended up being an eyebrow piercing.

And God. Ian was done. He was completely done with everything. This was it. This was all he ever needed to see in life. Now, he could die peacefully.

He was married to the hottest man alive. Ian could pride himself in that fact. Mickey truly was the hottest person Ian had ever laid eyes on.

Especially now that he had a nose and eyebrow piercing at the same fucking time.

Ian knew there would never be another man to get his attention again. Never anybody else to make Ian feel like he need to avert his gaze. Not when all eyes went to the Mickey with the hot body, amazing ass, great face, and perfect piercings.

"Maybe you should get some piercings, too," Mickey said as they sat together at the table, munching on cereal. "I mean, if you act this way over my shit, who knows how I'll act over yours."

Ian smiled. "I can't pull anything off like you can."

"Bullshit. You're hot as fuck."

Ian's cheeks pinked. "Shut up."

"No seriously," Mickey said as he got up to get more coffee. "Hottest guy I know."

Ian licked his lips, slowly running his eyes down his husband's body. "Well then, guess we both got lucky."

Mickey smiled and the piercings come into view again.

Ian really was a complete goner.

+ 1

"No," Mickey said once he saw Ian come into view. "No. No. No."

Ian grinned widely, tilting his chin slightly so he could showcase the tiny diamond—actual diamond—studs in his ears. "You like it?"

Mickey knew then that this was what heaven felt like.

He barely stopped himself from tackling Ian onto the floor.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding.

He didn't stop shit.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #fanfic #PIERCINGS #piercings #5+1 things #:))))))))) #i said i had more #i wasn't lying #*ficlet