#this is just about feeling connection to culture

[mochinomnoms]

Shrimpy Chronicles: Ama and the Sun

Octopolycue x Shrimpmer!Reader (Main: Azul x Reader)

Synposis:

"Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light. And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her fathers and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin. She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting. Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun." or Your daughter notices that you yearn for the sun and the surface more than her other parents do, and learns why.

Takes place after "Mating Season", different timeline from "The Delights of being a 'Zuzu'". Neither are necessarily needed to understand the story, but are helpful for some context.

[wc} - 1,818

[cw/tags] - gn!reader, reader is referred to Ama but has they/them pronouns, mild angst, has a happy ending, in daughter's p.o.v., Jade and Floyd mentioned but not seen in story (implied poly!octotrio x reader), Azul is referred to Baba/Zuzu, reader comes from a happy family in their world, i also didn't edit lol

[notes] - I wanted to write something very simple for coming off my hiatus! I have a lot of strong thoughts about preserving something like my culture and language. I imagine that for a Yuu with a strong family bond, having to accept that they can't go home and lose not only their family, but their culture and language, is quite devestating. For people in our world that have to leave their homes to go somewhere else, sometimes they forget bits of that and want to make sure that their kids know and love where they come from out of desperation to maintain that connection. I wanted to write a little something about that, hope yall like it!

Written while listening to "Shelter" by Porter Robinson and Madeon, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

There was something about the warmth of the sun that Coral was drawn to. She wasn’t sure why, her sister, Pearl, didn’t have the same inclination, nor did her fathers. Her Baba Zuzu might’ve been an exception, but he also was perfectly fine to stay in the dark, cold depths of their home. 

But Coral was like her Ama. They shared a lot of similar traits, like their shrimp merforms and the color of their skin. The strand along her bangs even matched the color of Ama’s hair, pretty stark against the rest of Coral’s teal hair. Though, her twin Pearl also had the same strand, just on her opposite side. 

But still, Coral was Ama’s baby girl. Coral never said it to anyone other than Pearl, but Ama was her favorite parent. And Ama?

Ama, they liked the sun. They liked the sun and warmth and all things light. Sometimes, when Ama thought no one was looking, they would gaze out the window and stare at the sunlight filtering through the water, making green and blue streaks glitter during the day. 

And the days that Ama would go to visit their friends on the surface, they would stay up just for a bit longer. Coral would stay in their arms, as her papas and sister dove back down in the water, back in the darkness, and watch Ama close their eyes and feel the sun on their skin. 

Coral tried to copy them once. She thinks she understands a bit. The sun, big and bright, hurts her eyes. But the rays feel like kisses on her skin, warm and comforting. 

Afterwards, her Ama would always hold her close and dive back down. But Coral could see the wet look in their eyes. Her Ama was always sad after being in the sun. 

Coral did her best to make sure they’d never be alone, always going with them to the surface. It was a bonus for Coral too, she got to see her Grandpa Divus and his doggies. Most of the time, though, it was her Goddads Ace and Deuce. They were okay too. 

This time, her Ama and Zuzu were up on the surface to warm up a bit before diving back down after visiting Grandpa Divus. Though, Zuzu still stayed mostly in the water. He rested his arms and chin on the rock while Ama was laying on their back, arms spread and eyes closed as they basked in the sun. 

Coral had taken to hanging on one of Zuzu’s tentacles picking at the skin with her shrimp legs, trying to mimic Ama when they were cleaning her Papa and Dada, though she was starting to fall asleep. 

The warm sun always made her sleepy, and Zuzu’s scratching at her scalp wasn’t helping along with his tentacle rocking her back and forth. But the low voice of Zuzu speaking to Ama caught her attention. 

“You’re going to dry out if you stay too long up here.” He was whispering, like he didn’t want to wake Coral up. So she kept her eyes closed and listened, her earfins wiggling a bit. 

“Mmh.” Ama hummed in response. “It’s fine, just for a bit.”

“A bit has been for almost 30 minutes.” Zuzu sighed, harsher this time. “Please, my dear, come back in the water. Coral’s fallen asleep, we should take her back home.”

“Just a bit longer Azul…please…” Ama sounded sad, the way they sighed. Coral could make out the sound of movement. Maybe Ama turned on their stomach?

“I just need this, okay? The sun and the air.” Coral peaked an eye open up at Ama and Zuzu. She could see that Ama was indeed on their stomach, facing Zuzu as they kept speaking. 

“Didn’t you used to miss the sea when you were at NRC all year? The cool water, the darkness? Floyd would talk about getting homesick, wouldn’t you?”

Zuzu sighed again, holding his cheek in his hand. 

“Sometimes, yes. As much as I didn’t like my natural form then, I missed having ten limbs. Losing 6 of them was a shock. Couldn’t do quite as much as I usually could.”

Ama blinked sleepily as they yawned, the sun was lulling them to sleep too. Coral really took after them. 

“I just miss my home.”

Zuzu was silent, the swaying of his tentacles in the water stopping, and the one rocking Coral slowing down. 

“… Your home is under the sea. You remember that, right?”

“…”

“Angelfish?”

Ama sniffled, their eyes watering as they looked to the side, staring at the shoreline nearby. 

“I know! I know it is, it’s just…”

Tears began flowing from their eyes, their lips quivering as they continued. 

“It’s not that I’m not happy with you all, I am. I really am, I just—” They took a shuddering breath, rubbing the tears from their eyes. “—I had another family before. Parents, siblings, friends, that I will never see again. That my girls will never meet!”

Holding their face in their hands, Ama began tearfully rambling, making Coral’s heart feel funny.

“I had a whole culture, a language, that I can barely remember now. I love my life here, but the longer I’m here, the more I feel like I’m losing a part of myself. Can you imagine that, Azul? Can you imagine remembering the touch of your mother’s hand on your cheek, but her face faded from your mind? She will never get to meet her, you, Jade, or Floyd. She will never meet her granddaughters. She will never know that I’m safe and happy and loved.”

Ama was crying now, hiccuping as Zuzu reached up to cradle their face, pressing his forehead again theirs. He was wiping their tears away, cooing at them like he would when Coral or Pearl had a nightmare.

“And you are so loved, my dear. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but know that when the twins and I gave our word to care for you, we meant it.” Zuzu pressed a soft kiss against their lips, giving them a small smile. “We never go back on our word, especially where you are involved.”

Sighing, Ama nodded, holding Zuzu’s hand against them as they kissed his palm. 

“I know, I just hope that somehow, my family knows that. That I’m loved, and safe. And trying to keep their part of me alive.”

Zuzu chuckled softly, one of his tentacles scooping up some water to pour over Ama’s drying tail. 

“Is that why you’ve been teaching them phrases in your language? Pearl was shouting something at Floyd a few days ago after he took the jellyfish she was trying to teeth on. Did you teach her curse words?”

Ama snorted, smiling at him as they reached down to splash some water onto their face, speaking a phrase in the foreign tongue that Ama spoke to them sometimes. 

“No, nothing remotely like that. It means ‘I love you’ in my language. I just told her it’s a bad word, and to never say it. I figured she’d try cussing one of the twins out eventually, so I told her how to say ‘i love you’ instead.”

Zuzu tilted his head as he repeated the words, though he sounded off. Ama giggled at him, shaking their head. 

“No, you gotta click your tongue! Like this.” Ama repeated it, their voice taking on a different tone and accent as they did.

Zuzu repeated it back, sounding closer to Ama’s accent, though they still giggled at him. 

“I’m trying! Don’t laugh!” Zuzu huffed, though Coral could make out the tips of his mouth curl up into a smile. “Say it again, say I love you in your tongue.”

Ama smiled, their skin flushing as they repeated the words.

“Hmm, again.” Zuzu purred, smiling at the shy smile on Ama’s face. They repeated it again. And again as Zuzu kept demanding them to say it again and again, while Ama kept giggling and repeating it back. 

Coral cringed at the display, feeling embarrassed as they shared a long kiss. 

“Ew…Ah!”

Coral yelped as the tentacle that had been cradling her suddenly tightened around her waist and lifted her upside down. Squealing at the sudden change, Coral giggled as Zuzu brought her between them, he looked annoyed as Ama was smiling. 

“I thought you were asleep, were you pretending, you little sneak?” Zuzu clicked his tongue, though based on his smirk, he was more amused than anything. 

“Hehe, noooo~” Coral giggled as she was lowered down into Ama’s arms, who cradled her against their chest and fluttered kisses against their cheeks. “Ah! Ama! That tickles!”

Coral squirmed against their grasp, finally wiggling up as their little legs grabbed onto Ama’s arms to hold herself straight. 

Trying to straighten her face, Coral grabbed Ama’s cheeks with her little hands and, very seriously in her opinion, asked, “Is Ama okay? You were crying about home, do you not like being in the ocean?”

Ama frowned, shaking their head as they gave Coral a smile and bumped their forehead against hers. 

“No, baby, Ama loves being in the ocean. They just miss being a human with their family.”

“Ama was a human?! No way!” Coral gasped, eyes going wide. “I thought that was just for school!”

Coral frowned as she thought back to Ama’s earlier words. 

“Do we have more family far away? In the land? Is that why Ama is so sad?” Coral asked, watching as Ama’s face turned sad, but quickly back to a small smile. 

“Yes, baby, but it’s more complicated than that.” Ama lifted Coral into their arms, sliding down into Zuzu’s arms and tentacles as he lowered them back down into the water. “I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, okay?”

“Besides,” Zuzu piped up, pressing a kiss into Coral’s forehead. “You’re still due for a nap, Coral, you can wait later.”

Coral pouted, mumbling complaints to herself as they all dove back into the water. 

“But I wanna know noooow…it’s not fair! I’m not—” Coral yawned mid-sentence. “—mmh. Ima not tired…”

One of Zuzu’s tentacles reached over to brush her hair as Ama cradled her closer to their chest, Coral curling against them despite herself. 

“Shush, go to sleep, baby.” Ama cooed as they slowly made their way back home. “I’ll be here when you wake up, and you can ask whatever you want, okay? Sleep my baby.”

Coral blinked sleepily, eyes wandering as she made out the outline of her Ama’s face as they brushed a finger against her cheek. 

Coral thinks she understood what her Ama was saying. She loved Ama’s hands on her cheek. She loved her Ama’s face. She never wanted to forget her Ama’s face. 

Her final thought, before finally falling asleep to the image of Ama’s smiling face, was how warm her Ama made her feel. Like her own personal sun. 

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi fic #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade/azul #floyd/azul #octotrio #octopolycule #shrimpy chronicles

[perpetual-ash]

to the people who want to have a conversation about john's being an indigenous man, a māori man, i would like to remind you that the first time we see māori spoke onscreen it goes as follows.

one person in this room is interested in the cultures and languages of the world that came before, to the point her name and mission in life are respectively a human chain reaching back ten thousand years and justice for the destroyed earth: a mission that allowed her to persist beyond death, which brings her to being in control of cytherea the first's corpse. the other is john, who is disinterested in her idea of justice for them and speaks over her multiple times.

that human chain, her name? he doesn't respect it just as he doesn't respect her. this conversation is beneath him and so is her full name. he is annoyed into reciting it.

māori is spoken by john here, and it is spoken with contempt for the woman who wishes to avenge earth and whose name preserved a part of the language that he helped annihilate, along with aotearoa and all other māori people.

the first time māori is spoken in the series it is spoken by an indigenous man—who received an extensive colonial scholarship, who was alienated from his culture and sought respect and recognition in predominantly white academia, who was burned time and time again by the systems of oppression that formed the basis for climate change and the earth's abandonment by the trillionaires—who speaks it with a tone of condescension and a complete lack of gravitas because it is irrelevant to him. genuinely sad, bordering on very funny.

the second instance of māori is when he renames gideon the transliteration of her name into māori. she does not identify with it and she likely does not know its significance.

she is also a corpse: killed indirectly by cytherea the first, who presented a threat to harrow's life that could only be dealt with via her ascension to lyctorhood via gideon's death, who groomed gideon into accepting her role as cavalier primary to harrowhark nonagesimus.

killed by one of the emperor undying's fists and gestures, killed by the ideals of cavaliership which he societally instituted, killed due to cytherea the first's disillusionment with him leading her to go on a killing spree at canaan house in order to gain his attention, killed due to john and john's actions and the systems of the society he created.

the only time we see john use the māori language in a way that isn't dripping for contempt is when he renames his daughter's corpse, wherein he clarifies that she is prince kiriona gaia, heir to the emperor divine and the emperor's only daughter, the emperor's construct.

construct, like the skeletons that farm leeks on the ninth. she is not entitled to resurrection: she is to ownership, to being the ninth's chattel in life and her father's construct in death. he uses the language to declare her his.

gideon is the name of his saint, his oldest friend, spoken by the ghost of the woman that birthed her, to the nuns of her house—kiriona is john declaring a corpse his heir, and his daughter his construct.

there is a conversation i would love to have about john's indigeneity: it's the one where we acknowledge that after wakes death he has preserved the legacy of the māori language by using it to name his daughter, a māori woman killed by his society and the consequences of his actions, something she doesn't feel any connection to.

john is an indigenous man, a māori man, who was born into a land settled by colonisers who rendered it rife with systems of oppression that alienated him from his culture, and led him to fall back on the same systems of oppression when he founded the nine houses. indigeneity describes a relation to colonisation and settler capital, primarily in the form of dispossession; when john declared kiriona his, did he do so as an indigenous man or as the emperor of an empire that ships populations between planets like cattle?

#the locked tomb #john gaius #kiriona gaia

[comradekatara]

i read somewhere that, after the war, zuko at least hands hama over to the swt instead of keeping her in fire nation prisons 'till the end of her life. Which is nice, I think. But I'm also curious as to how that would work out.

Most notably: how do you think it'd go down if she were to meet Pakku? given they both have some sort of connection to kanna's life, the idea of them being forced to interact even once entertains me very much. like, old waterbending master pakku—white lotus member—who has grown up in a patriarchal society and actively forbidden women from training to fight, under the precedent they are somehow ontologically weaker, fragile, and belonging in the healing huts... THAT guy, meeting his former fiancé's old friend: (or current wife's if you go by canon, which, eugh) A woman who not only fought in the front lines but ended up becoming one of the most skilled, creative, and deadly waterbenders in history. How would he react when finding out that a woman came up with blood bending? How badly would Hama mind-fuck him?? Because I'm confident they'd hate each other's guts-- no way she'd tolerate him,,,

And on a similar note—how would Kanna feel upon reuniting wirh Hama and discovering what she put Katata through, in your opinion? Idk, I'm just full of puppetmaster thoughts today. Hama is incredibly interesting and I wish she wasn't handled so much like a Halloween Specisl creepy witch, (even though katara herself is handled and written pretty well in this episode, i think. but i digress.)

i mean obviously i think about this all the time. i personally think that zuko hands hama over to the swt upon katara's request, and she and aang personally deliver her on appa (sokka is not there, for the very deliberate reason that if he knew what they were doing he would very vocally disapprove). and so katara is sort of retraumatizing herself by doing this, but she also feels like it's necessary specifically because she needs to be able to look hama in the eye and tell her why they're not actually the same (especially now that she actually did bloodbend someone in cold blood). katara has the love and support and safety to step back from her anger and her pain and her grief and hang onto her own humanity and allow herself to be the bigger person even in moments of abject rage and acute trauma, and hama doesn't. hama is a victim of her circumstance, and that's part of what makes her so uniquely terrifying to katara, because katara has that same capacity to make people hurt, she has the same tools at her disposal, and she has the same justifications to exercise that power. but unlike hama, she hasn't actually been pushed past her limits. sometimes she can see the cliff's edge, and sometime she even teeters on the line, but hama was fully just shoved off without a parachute, and that's really what separates them above all. i think katara should be allowed to acknowledge that and forgive herself for that, even if hama doesn't directly apologize to her (although in my mind she does, and it's not enough, but it's also so much more than katara ever expected to hear). even if it is too late for hama, katara deserves to heal.

frankly, i don't really give a shit about pakku or his reaction to hama. i also don't actually think that he thinks woman are ontologically incapable of being talented waterbenders of whatever; he's a pretty worldly guy, the reason he clings to these traditions isn't born of the belief that they're grounded in logical evidence like sokka's is, it's because he believes in the preservation of a system that benefits and valorizes him. pakku thinks katara belongs in the healing huts because he comes from a culture that dictates that women belong in the healing huts. like, he might also subscribe to the bioessentialist logic that women are better healers and men are being fighters, but that honestly doesn't really matter, because (unlike sokka) his epiphany lies not in the fact that woman can fight, but in the fact that his role in upholding these systems has actively driven his loved ones away due to his cruelty. he decides to be kinder, to women and in general, because he realizes that being an asshole has negative consequences. but frankly, who cares what he thinks of hama. realizing that your sister tribe in the south deserves aid and protection after being subjected to a century of genocide is kind of too little too late imo. unlike katara, sokka, aang, or kanna, who can approach this situation from the perspective of being a genocide survivor who even remotely understands hama's trauma, pakku really has no place in this conversation to me.

as for kanna...... god. hama/kanna reunion is genuinely one of the most heart-wrenching concepts to me in all of atla. as a sidenote, hama/kanna fanfic goes so hard every time. there's a total of like 15 fanfics for them on ao3 (last i checked) but they're all sooooooo. fucking delicious. tide locked........... ugh. anyway. i cannot fathom kanna's reaction upon learning that her closest friend once upon a time is not only alive, but also a convicted felon, for crimes including but not limited to manipulating her granddaughter, violating her (and sokka's) bodily autonomy in cruel and perverse ways, and forcing her to participate in that mode of violence in a way that traumatized her forever. even if you don't read them as former lovers (although it is indubitably better that way) it's so gut-churning. kanna lost so many people over the course of her life, and to learn that one of them has returned but in the worst way possible must be mind-boggling and distinctly unreal. like how do you even process that. first, how do you process how much pain she must have went through to become the kind of person who is capable of doing this, and then, how do you process the knowledge that the person you once loved most in the world irreparably hurt the person you now love most in the world? obviously she would always prioritize katara's safety over anyone else's no matter what, but god. kanna has led such a fascinating and impossibly difficult life, and it's not over yet.

#kallianthi #asks #analysis #postwargaang #hama #katara #pakku #kanna #hamaxkanna #hama&katara #also i didn't mention it in the post itself bc i've talked about it before but yeah i very much agree that i wish hama had been framed #differently because i do feel like making her into a cackling witch kind of undermines the whole point of the episode #she's someone who is deserving of our empathy and understanding despite her violence and by reducing her into a caricature #we lose that nuance #but otherwise it's such a fascinating episode.... #kataraaa.... katara i love you katara <33333

[kakiastro]

Marriage in Astrology

Because we all have manifested a marriage like there’s😅

Hey y’all! I wanted to talk about this topic because this is a popular question in astrology. So I’m going to show you where in your chart that YOU can look for to help you get the answers.

See, a lot of people just look at one section when it’s a lot more complexed than that. There’s a lot of variables to look at. It’s like reading a story, the more chapters you read, the more you start understanding the book. It’s best too look at one placement at a time then look over your own life and start connecting the dots.

If you’re still confused after this post, schedule a reading, I’m doing them 25$ for my spring sale!

Venus + Libra + 7h

Venus rules over the partner + your idea of marriage. When I say the idea of marriage, I mean YOUR personal beliefs regarding it. Everyone has different points of view regarding marriage depending on cultural or religious beliefs. Keep in mind, marriage for the longest was seen as a business contract and still is in many cultures. What are the odds that Venus also rules over contracts 😅it’s all based on the type of partner you will attract or subconsciously attracted to.

Look at your Venus to see what kind of partner you’re attracted too.

Venus rules over the sign of Libra and rules the 7h. The 7h (area in life) can show you how you view marriage overall, not just your own but the people in your life. The ruler of your 7h can indicate how you’ll meet.

For example: Taurus 7h. You believe marriages should be grounded and stable, you might believe in a generational home that can be passed down, physical connection, listening, familial roots is strong. These people are not spontaneous, planning and taking their time. You may know lots of people with Taurus placements that talk a lot about marriage or they’re ideal of it. Ruler in the 11h. May meet their spouse randomly, when they’re pursuing their dreams or through mutual friends group

The 7h is ruled by Libra so look at the house Libra rules in your chart to see more details of the partner!

Pluto + Scorpio + 8h

It’s so wild that Pluto and Scorpio is not talked about enough when it literally rules what goes on inside the marriage. Venus + Libra rules over the idea and the partner we want but Pluto is the type of marriage you’re going to have. No one knows what goes on inside of anyone’s marriage regardless on what they publicly share to the public.

Pluto rules over intimacy and exchange. It also rules over shared resources. Shared resources isn’t always financials, it’s anything you share with someone. Marriage is a very private affair which Pluto rules over. Now Pluto is a generational planet so many people have you Pluto placement, however, the house it’s in can show you Your personal chapter and how it Pluto plays out for you. This is why everyone in your generation sort of have a similar theme with marriage but everyone has a different story. Everyone is sitting on the same bus but everyone is getting off at different stop. You feel me?

The 8h is ruled by Scorpio as well so this house where you really look and see the energy of the marriage of someone. You can get a glimpse of what kind of marriage you’re going to have. This house also rules over divorce as well while Venus rules over breaking of contracts. That’s what marriage is at the end of the day. You are committing and sign a legal document saying you will spend your life with this person.

The house Scorpio rules, is where you are really private so you may not feel comfortable with discussing your marriage at all.

For example:: if you have a Scorpio 4h, you’re family may not know nothing about your marriage but one or two things😅

Asteroid Juno

So asteroid Juno is connected to marriage and the marriage partner. I’ve been studying Juno for a while now and the more I research, I believe it shows how devoted we are to the marriage and to our partner. Juno rules over our devotion.

For example: Juno Aries. This person would fight for their partner and marriage if they genuinely believe in it. It can also manifest as easily giving up if the flame is completely burnt out . One thing for sure these people will bring the passion and fire to the marriage.

Keep in mind, these are just placements. This isn’t including the aspects to these placements which influence your chart as well.

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #love astrology #astro observations #advanced astrology #kakiastro #birth chart #tropical astrology #marriage in astrology

[astronomical-bagel]

yo mutual i love ur tags fr because like u took the words right of my mouth i was so baffled how ppl would side with one more than the other because the autism pvp felt so real to me that i related to Both of them rlly a lot like. So much so it has cemented itself as rlly one of my fave scenes ever because it was a Step up for growth like that fight made them both better people . and it makes me mad ppl belittle toshiros experiences and like ignore his autism for the sake of pitting two bad bitches against each other Good Lord. The Nuance. There is Nuance. and ppl who ignore it just feels so personal to me as an autistic asian person who's been told that there's no way they're not "normal" like ive not been masking and not even like That well either.

Toshiro to me is like a similar vibe of Autism to Mob aka Shigeo Kageyama MP100 where he represses so much of his true feelings and opinions and emotions that he will just blow up one day (validly!!!) !!! like. let him be autistic in peace. not everything has to be a moral failure and not everything has to revolve around Laios just because hes the main character of Dunmeshi. Like they were both so relatable it hurts me...

not me spelling empathized as emphasized lmao

but yeah anyways I really interpret the shuro and laios conflict as just two autistic people who just don’t mesh naturally? At the very least, it’s a complication between two people with very different cultures.

Both laios and toshiro are people who don’t exactly fit in. On shuro’s side, the source of his ‘otherness’ is a little redirected (is that the word?) because his status and nationality already set him apart on the island, but even back home he was reserved and didn’t socialize well. He struggles to connect with others and has a hard time being sincere!!! the argument between him and laios isn’t an evil neurotypical vs blorbo autistic, it’s conflict-avoidant autistic vs social cue blind autistic!

There isn’t really a right or wrong side here, Shuro tried communicating in the way he knew how, but he and laios just simply don’t understand each other’s languages. Their fight is a reset for the both of them; now they each know a vital fact about each other! Laios knows that Shuro has a hard time verbalizing discomfort, and shuro now knows that Laios needs to be told things to understand them. Now they can both find a middle ground and properly compromise between their two opposites.

and it’s important to note that if laios did know he was making shuro uncomfortable, he would stop as best as he knew how, all the way. This guy takes boundaries seriously, as long as there are clear lines to what those boundaries are. And he’s attentive to other’s needs! (See: him and chilchucks friendship. They understand each other very well, I could write a whole meta on it)

Now that he and shuro are seeing eye to eye, their friendship can now progress in a healthier fashion! This fight isn’t the end of the world. (Honestly having a fist fight is like third base to me but we won’t speak of that) Toshiro isn’t evil, he’s just a really cool foil to Laios, and their disagreement serves to establish important parts of their characters and to progress both their character arcs 👍

#Also YESSS he is so similar to mob psycho. Repressing until you can’t anymore and have to beat someone up 😎✌️ #Maintagging this bc I’m tired of the hate. Drown em out #toshiro nakamoto #laios touden #astronomically random #astronomical asks

[dunmeshi-darlings]

Do you have any crackships you really like?

aye i do and i actually would like to chat about them. I like the idea of Izutsumi X Laios. A Person who views themselves as an unattractive monster that nobody could find attractive being pared with a man who finds true beauty and connection in all things monstrous. It just screams angst and comfort and learning to love yourself for who you are, a right splendid ship.

Another One i could enjoy is Chilchuck X Namari. One is a person who cares about making sure people are being properly financially taken care of and treated right, the other being somebody who struggles with making sure they have enough money to survive and escape the stigma of their family. Both of them bonding and sharing drinks since they both love to drink so much, could be fun. Another one i particularly enjoy would be Kabru x Shuro. One of them is a man who is highly based on cultural norms and expectations and is incredibly repressed being with a person who is incredibly analytical and studies people. i feel like kabru could study and learn about shuro and what makes him tik and perhaps help him learn to not be as repressed and be open about things.

Another one being Mickbell and tade, ill admit this one is mostly fueled by the image of him sitting on her shoulders and seeming to be friendly with her. Who doesnt love a size difference ship to the extreme?

Though as ive said before i could make fun little ideas and delightful scenarios for any ship.

#dungeon meshi #laios #izutsumi #chilchuck #namari #mickbell #kabru #shuro #tade

[ivaspinoza]

Does a writer love to write?

Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.

During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:

"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."

Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.

But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.

It's the soul.

That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.

What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.

Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.

Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?

As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.

"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"

I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.

It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.

"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.

All is vanity. Love is the reward.

#writers on tumblr #writers and poets #poets on tumblr #writeblr #poetry #spilled ink #creative writing #ivatalks #on writing #about writing #writers on writing #writers of tumblr #writers and readers #writers #women poets #women writers #female writer #female poets #poetess #novel writing #fiction #original fiction #writing advice #writing tips #how to write #writing help #thoughts on writing #writerscommunity #writer stuff #tumblr writers

[nellscorner]

WARNING: long unintelligible ramble below (I’m feeling emotional)

I just think it’s so funny cause when I was in high-school watching Dan and Phil, I was one of the people who excluded myself from the “shipping culture” within the phandom at the time. I was totally happy thinking about dnp as platonic besties. GUYS WHEN I TELL YOU I USED TO FILTER OUT DAN/PHIL ON AO3 😭Not for any moral reason, but just because I liked to think that such an amazing connection between two people could exist in a completely platonic context. Not that there can’t be amazing platonic relationships but like, I guess what I’m saying is that I have learned so much about myself and the limiting way that I viewed romantic vs platonic relationships just by growing up watching dnp. I am not exaggerating when I say that watching dnp’s relationship has forced me to confront my own issues with my sexuality and aversion to romantic relationships simply by defying my limiting expectations of what a romantic partnership can look like (and I’m not just talking about straight vs gay). It just blows my mind and I can’t really put it into the right words right now but it low key makes me so emotional and grateful and I know Dan and Phil don’t want to make a big deal out of their relationship which is so fair but I just hope they know that, as much as we joke (which I adore), we don’t take everything they choose to share with us lightly. It quite literally means so much. It means more than they could ever know.

#I’m an anthropology and sociology major #so I take stuff like this very seriously as you can see lmao #maybe I’ll write something more well organized later #dan and phil #dnp #dnpgames #phan #dapg #phandom #queer #daniel howell #phil lester

[kmartmithril]

Cold Conviction: a one off about what Lucy Frostblade’s last moments might have been like. Some mention of gore, mention of death. Some creative liberties taken and I have not gone back to check this for spelling or grammar ( forever posting a first draft 🫡)

“Please, Lucy- just listen to me—“

“Do you know what you’re asking me, Kipperlily?”

Tears well in Lucy’s eyes, a hand on her chest tugging at a well loved sweater. There’s pain in her heart, pain for the brief second in which she considered what is being asked of her. The pain of giving up on something she has held so dear for so long.

Ruvina. She couldn’t give up on her goddess, the very thing that connected her to her culture. Harsh as the cold and the wind was, she was a part of Lucy’s heritage, and keeping close to others made them warm against her cold. Why would she need anything else?

There’s a whisper at the back of her mind, the pull of something familiar, as Kipperlily promises something strong, something powerful. Something full of rage. They can face down whatever, they just have to give themselves over to this god. The sensation of warmth, of light, a counterbalance to Ruvina’s own domain.

The warmth becomes a burning heat. A signal that something is wrong.

Some gods speak directly to their followers, others give them visions and feelings to interpret. Ruvina is trying to tell her something, a warning against a darker path.

Lucy looks down at her hands. Hands that have healed, hands that held Kilperlily’s as they promised to watch each other’s backs. How they held hands as Kipperlily argued in favor of keeping the name “The High Five Heroes”. Hands that held her dying friend in the Mountains of Chaos not long ago.

They are now clenched in defiance against stacking odds.

Emboldened, she takes a strong stance against her friends. Her friend.

A tear escapes her eye.

“I won’t be bullied into this.” She declares. “Don’t you hear yourself? You want me to pledge myself to a different god so you can get your revenge?”

Kipperlily’s back is to the woods, a dagger in her hand. Her brow creased so hard Lucy wonders if it might be stuck that way. Beside them, the lake glistens in the dim light from the moon over head. Even in this light, Lucy can see a mix of fear, anger, and sadness in Kipperlily’s eyes. It’s the anger that’s the strongest, replacing the annoyance and frustration that had been so prevalent in the past couple of years.

“You’re making a mistake.” Kipperlily says through gritted teeth, her grip on the dagger intensifying. “We can be heroes! we can do the things we’ve only dreamed about doing! We can be better than them!”

There is venom on the “them”. Kipperlily is blinded by her ambition, a need to surpass someone who seemingly has it all. The tragic backstory, the skills, the friends. It was something Lucy could never fully understand, but she listened to her talk about wanting to be one of the best rogues in the world, how she wanted the chance to save someone - save the world.

Lucy herself never had any quarrels with the Bad Kids, another adventuring party at their school. One of many, but one of the only ones to really take a stand in recent memory. They’d killed Kalvaxus at the end of their Freshman year and by all accounts, that was a pretty rad thing to do. Killed by Riz Gukgak, then slain again by the Maidens who, understandably, wanted to get their revenge.

But Kipperlily was seemingly upset by the fact that Riz had this tragic tale to him, that he “got” to have his father eaten by Kalvaxus and “get” to have that revenge arc. Kipperlily wanted for nothing, and yet she wanted for something that would give her glory.

At first it was petty jealously, but ever since her death, her tune had changed. They all had, in fact. It was gradual, but Lucy was beginning to notice a rage building in all of them. Subtle in some, Mary Ann was still Mary Ann and Oisin still appeared relatively calm, but she could see it in them too. She was starting to feel very lonely.

Lucy’s hands are balled into fists. “Is that all you want? You want to be better than them?”

“Yes!” Kipperlily sounds exasperated. “What’s so hard to understand about that?!”

Anger boils in Lucy.

“Isn’t it enough that we’re together?!?” She snaps. “Is it not enough for you that we get to hang out with our friends? Think about everything we could be doing! All the problems we can solve- we can get better and go back to the Mountains and do what we set out to do in the first place!”

Kipperlily looks down at the dagger in her hand, then back up at Lucy. For a split second, she sees the young halfing girl she met on the first day of school, a book clutched to her chest, a bright smile on her face. She thinks about how in the following months, they’d braid each other’s hair and share secrets no one else knew. She thinks about their promise. A promise to face the world together.

“Don’t you trust me?” Kipperlily asks. Another twinge of pain, this time at the deception. Kipperlily knows how to get what she wants. “I’m doing this for us! When the rage god returns, we can be glorious, Lucy. The two of us- together.”

Ruvina’s warning returns. Warmth, heat, fire - Rage.

Lucy stands her ground. She shakes her head and Kipperlily’s bravado falters.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t turn my back on everything I’ve ever known.” She pauses. All she has to do is say one thing, and she knows what’s coming. But she can’t back down either. “Im sorry you can’t be him.”

Rage flairs in Kipperlily’s eyes. Shes too quick, she’s on her in a matter of seconds, cold steel cutting through Lucy’s body. Lucy closes her eyes, accepting her fate and falling back with arms outstretched.

It’s cold. It’s so cold. Shes doesn’t even feel it as Kipperlily continues to slice at her out of sheer anger.

She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to leave her friends, her family, everything behind, but little choice is given to her.

There’s an embrace, deep and cold, as Ruvina takes her in. But then the feeling is jerked away, warmth and light finding her instead.

No, not warmth and light. Rage, it’s the heat of rage.

A hand reaches out to her, coal black with ribbons of fierce hot magma. She looks up, seeing a stern face looking down at her coldly. In this moment, she realizes the connection to Ruvina.

“I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”

The hand withdrawals. A flash of something on the face - pride. Pride in her conviction, in a sense of personal justice.

The heat fades to warmth, then the loving embrace of a goddess returns, briefly, to cradle her. Shes not sure if she’s at peace, but she’s fine to rest here until such a time comes.

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high spoilers #fantasy high junior year #dimension 20 #lucy frostblade #kipperlilly copperkettle

[woso-dreamzzz]

bambi’s relationship with alexia is so so complex and sad to me ohmy (sorry for the long msg!)

can’t fault alexia for the postpartum and her initial feelings towards bambi. everything for her was difficult and at the end of the day, she decided to go through with the pregnancy and carry bambi til she was ready to be introduced to the world. alexia can’t be faulted for not feeling an initial connection. nothing is perfect, and their relationship (like bambi’s train) is quite fragile.

i’m pretty sure i mentioned it before but i feel like alexia’s behaviours/attitudes towards bambi manifest in very selfish ways. bambi after the “Before” is someone for alexia to keep, to create a false image of what alexia thinks is a perfect family. before the “Before,” alexia wishes for bambi to start looking like her because MAYBE that’ll make her feel more connected. this makes me wish that bambi never looked like alexia until jenni’s version occurs, where bambi had no semblance of alexia’s features and jaume looked like his grandfather, whom he got his name from.

i feel like bambi would’ve overheard alexia going on and on about how perfectly jaume fits in the picture—because to bambi, that’s all alexia’s ever really cared about: if things fit into the timeline. fit into the family. fit into alexia’s schedule, alexia’s life, alexia’s wishes and wants and desires. in bambi’s POV, she’s nothing but the little girl who so happened to impede on alexia life with the worst timing ever. to bambi, alexia never wanted her. bambi doesn’t fit in (she doesn’t look like any of her known relatives), she doesn’t excel at football, and she feels like she definitely does not have anything in common with alexia.

so, the move to mexico is good for her. jenni’s great at implementing a system, thinking ahead, and prioritizes bambi above everything. there are regular video calls and visits for alba and eli, jenni knows mexico will be a culture shock so she does her best to acclimate bambi to her new home. all of alexia’s teammates are on speed dial for whenever bambi wants to call any of them. alexia definitely walks in on mapi and ingrid saying they hope bambi’s received the new train in the mail and that they’re so proud of bambi for landing the lead role in her first recital in mexico—one she ultimately finds out alba and eli flew out to go see without telling alexia.

with the move to mexico, alexia only yearns for bambi more. after all—distance makes the heart grow fonder… but in this case it’s just alexia wishing for something only because she doesn’t have it. to alexia, jenni’s version bambi begins to grow into her features and soon resembles alexia in the most heartbreaking way. bambi shares almost all of alexia’s features to a T but all of her mannerisms are picked up from jenni. it’s a cruel reminder to alexia to watch little bambi become alexia’s mini me from a distance, especially because bambi credits all of her joys in life to jenni, her “true mama.”

a really bad for bambi and alexia tho, following injured: before! deep frowns and all the love to both of them. <3

how are exams going tho, my friend? hope you’re almost done :) do you have anything planned for the summer? 🌷

Alexia suffered pretty badly from post-partum depression. She wasn't expecting it so it hit like a truck.

Injured!Alexia's love for Bambi does manifest as her being fairly selfish (but only in the main story of Injured, she eases up in Alexia's Version). Alexia and Bambi had a rough start to their relationship so Alexia was never quite sure how she was meant to act with Bambi because everyone just kept telling her about how much love she'd have for her once Bambi was out and never mentioned any of the hardship so Alexia's fairly wary when other people tell her what they do with their kids. Alexia found that being a bit selfish with Bambi worked and she didn't want anything to go wrong (it did) so she just kept it as it was.

The best thing Alexia did in Jenni's Version was get over her selfishness to let Bambi have the best chance. Of course she regrets it a little bit because she's very quickly cut out of Bambi's life and only hears things second hand but she also doesn't regret it because she's the one that made the choice to go to Jaume first instead of Bambi and she's the one that decided she couldn't change enough to let Bambi have the best life possible with her.

(I just took an exam today. It was horrible. I waffled for ages so I've no idea how I actually did. Just the exam today and then the exam on Thursday and I'm officially done. I'm out with my friend on Friday to to Toby Carvery and then I move out on Sunday!

I haven't really got any plans. I head back to work in June and I already know I'm going to hate it yet again but whatever, I need the money 🤷‍♀️)

#asks #bambi #🌷

[bumble-punch]

OK GUYS LISTEN IM GOING FULLY MASK OFF ABOUT CHIP X JASMINE DRAKE I LOVE THIS SHIP AND HOW IT INFLUENCES THE DEVELOPMENT OF FISH AND CHIPS

LISTEN TO MY UNHINGED RANTINGS ABOUT WHY ITS GOOD AND MAKES SENSE

(THIS IS MOSTLY ANOTHER CHIP INTERNALISED HOMOPHOBIA CHARACTER ANALYSIS I'LL BE HONEST)

(ALSO I HAVENT FINISHED RIPTIDE YET SO IF JASMINE TURNS OUT TO BE EVIL WHOOPS I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I JUST SAID)

OK LISTEN so Chip has internalised homophobia, as I have previously established. I also, like many, ascribe to the popular interpretation that he has not-straight feelings towards Gillion. And it's really interesting how we can track how these feelings develop as the series progesses.

Chip starts off by freaking out the merest implication of something gay, but he gradually starts getting more comfortable around Gillion, and these reactions decrease. There starts to be more descriptions from Bizly of Chip being physically affectionate towards Gillion, putting his arm around him, leaning on him ect.

Which leads to their encounter with Jasmine... (from here on out we enter the realm of intense headcannoning and nebulous connection to canoncial events, just warning you)

What's SO AWESOME AND INTERESTING AND EXCITING about Chip's interactions with Jazz is that HE DOESNT FREAK OUT when Jazz flirts with him in an extremely forward way, and Chip almost seems surprised by how unbothered his own reactions are. It's like he's had all this time to gradually become accustomed to the potentiality of something gay possibly existing between him and Gillion. In a way, his relationship with Gillion was a safe avenue through which to explore his feelings, since Gillion never made any moves on him, and therefore, never made Chip feel threatened or under pressure to make a decision about how he felt. Chip had all that time to basically think "ok, OBVIOUSLY IM NOT GAY FOR GILLION THATS RIDICULOUS HAHA. what if I was though. What would happen. Would everyone hate me and i would die" and gradually explore the possibilty at his own pace.

Which leads to meeting Jazz, and suddenly being confronted with something extremely gay and explicitly directed at him, and.... he finds it's actually not that bad. It's ok. It’s not scary. He doesn’t feel threatened. What would have elicited a violent reaction from him before he met Gillion is no longer scary, because he's had time to think about it and come to terms with it before that point.

So I like to imagine that Chip ends up having a fling with Jazz, because he decides he's got to figure out how he really feels once and for all, one way or another. And unlike with Gillion, who he deeply cares about and loves as a friend and is terrified of misstepping with, Jazz is just some guy who thinks he's hot and is dtf, so Chip isn't as scared of experimenting with Jazz, since the worst outcome if things go catastrophically wrong is Chip has to jump out the nearest window and run away and just make sure to avoid the Jazz Pirates for the rest of his life.

After this fling, he pretty much is able to come to the decision that "ok. maybe i do like men. in which case oh my god these feelings for Gillion are actually a real thing that I have to deal with and can't just ignore" and he starts gradually, very slowly, expressing his feelings for Gillion more honestly, which leads to the iconic "babygirl/babyboy" moment in Zero, which was Chip extremely awkwardly trying to establish new ground in their relationship (though it's uncertain how effective it was considering Gillion's lack of understanding of Overseas culture. Oh well. Our boy tried.)

#jrwi riptide #jrwi chip #chip bastard #chip lastname #fish and chips #jrwi fnc #Jrwi jasmine drake #jasmine drake #Chip x jasmine drake #Chip x jazz #chip jrwi #fnc

[badbatch-badfics]

Tech x Male Mandalorian Reader; Kar'taylir Darasuum Gar

Characters: Mainly Tech, little snippets of the rest of the Batch.

Relationship: All platonic buddies, except for Tech near the end.

POV: 2nd (you/yours)

Pronouns: He/him

Species: Unmentioned, but you have a normal "human" head (so no horns, lukku, etc.)

Content: Angst to fluff, get really hurt (literally) and then comfort. You're an idiot who can't confess unless their life depends on it.

Warnings: Description of injury and cleaning wounds(ish). Some throwing up blood ig. Cringe lol

Notes: Fem aligned and/or women can interact, but please be respectful. This is a MLM x reader fic. Don't be weird. Thanks. "Kar'taylir darasuum gar" means "love you" in Mando'a- I couldn't find the equivalent for "I."

Word count: 5,364

You sat in the co-pilot’s chair, arms crossed and leaning back.  Tech sat in the pilot’s chair, tinkering with some self-made miniature droid.  Everyone else was asleep, Echo in his hammock, Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair each in their respective bunks.  The ship was decently quiet, except for Wrecker’s occasional snoring, which, honest to Kad Ha'rangir, sounded like a Venator class star-destroyer powering up.  Contrasting the man’s tremendous snores, the hyper-drive produced a nice and constant low hum, with beeps sounding out every once in a while.  Tech’s screws and wrenches would clang out, and the sound of sparks would startle you into a more awake state each time it occurred.

Although there was no way he could know, seeing as your helmet was facing directly out the view-port, you were staring from the corner of your eyes.  Hard.  The way he effortlessly moved his fingers across the droid, connecting and severing wires from point A to point B, or how the golden sparks would illuminate his face and reflect off his goggles, casting a beautiful glow that you simply couldn’t get enough of.  Truthfully, you couldn’t have been more grateful for your helmet and culture, knowing full well he would have caught on to your… tendencies, and quick, if you didn’t wear it- bearing all your embarrassing expressions out to the world.

You knew it was bad to be feeling like this.  They were in the middle of war, which was no time for romantic relationships.  And, truthfully, you didn’t even know if Tech, or anyone else, liked you.  For all you knew, they simply had high tolerance for annoyingly secretive men they were assigned to work with.  You had always avoided questions about the culture you grew up with, obviously always avoided taking off your helmet, and hardly took off any of your armor- even when it came time to sleep.  Which must have been unsettling for them, or anyone, really, you were sure.  Someone who was highly skilled in fighting, but never took anything off, always electing to remain in the armor that was most certainly not a comfort to sleep in.  And, clearly, the fact that, out of nowhere, the Republic had hired and assigned you to them.  They had every reason not to trust you- or to, at the least, not like you.

And you had no clue what to do to lessen that mistrust.  Telling them about your culture was out of the question- you couldn’t deal with the…issues revolving when, if at all, anyone would be close enough to take off your helmet.  they might think they were close enough, but you didn’t.  Or, even worse, you might think you were close enough, but they didn’t.  And, Kriff, if they caught on to you hypothetically taking off your helmet more around Tech than the others, they would easily piece together your feelings.

But, hey, maybe you were wrong.  Maybe they found you at least somewhat amusing, somewhat useful, somewhat not a nuisance.  And maybe, just maybe, Tech would even feel the same way.  Doubtful, but since when was love logical?  A beep came through, pulling you out of the deep pits of overthinking and alerting Tech.  He lifted up his head, temporarily setting down the project.  Tracing his fingers over the wheel and control-panel.  “We have almost arrived.  Would you go and wake up everyone?”

You stood up, stretching your arms as far as they could go, audibly groaning.  “Sure thing, boss.”  You first walked to Echo, shaking him gently.  He was an easy sleeper, after everything.  Hunter could sleep well once he was in it, but otherwise, his enhanced senses made it difficult.  Crosshair was easy enough, not incredibly difficult, but you wouldn’t wake him up by simply walking around either.  Wrecker, on the other hand, slept like a rock.  You found out within the first week of your stay that his brothers would simply punch Wrecker in the shoulder, hard, to wake him up.  Hunter had explicitly granted you permission to do the same.

That being said, you wound up your arm before slugging Wrecker square in the shoulder, earning a startled grunt from him.  Once he registered what was happening, he lopsidedly smiled and mumbled a good morning of sorts.  After the four men were awake, you headed back to the cockpit, electing a chair further in the back so they could all sit closer- a common practice.  Hunter gave the mission debrief- same old, same old.  Just beat up a bunch of droids, and nothing special about this mission.  Echo and Hunter had a smaller, but more advanced battalion of droids to defeat within the building, so they needed to go radio-silent.  Crosshair and Wrecker would take a larger battalion, as would you and Tech.  After everyone was 100% certain in their role, everyone split up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kriff, this was not going well.  Blaster fire everywhere, explosions left and right, and the only Batch member you could see was Tech, double-blasting his way through any droid he saw.  You used a batch of whistling birds, each miniature missile hitting its mark.  Not that the few dozen marks did much damage against the entire droid battalion circling you two.  You reached for the pouch on your hip, which carried the multitude of bombs and droid poppers necessary for war.  Much to your dismay, there was only one bomb left.  And for better or worse, it was a giant bomb.  It would be incredibly difficult to evade- for both you and the droids.  It was designed with the intent of being far above the enemy- not 10 feet away from them.  But this was your only chance- if you could pair the main explosion and send out half a dozen droid poppers while the rest of them were distracted- it would be a victory.  And perhaps if you could run fast enough, dive, and get as many droids behind you to take the majority of the impact- perhaps you’d make it out relatively unscathed.

And, not that in a million light years would you ever admit it, the most important part- Tech would be safe if you pulled off this stunt.  You’d be able to get rid of at least one third of the droids with the large bomb alone, and sending out droid poppers in every direction during that opening would eliminate, at minimum, three quarters of the remaining droids.  All in all, Tech would have only a handful of clankers left, he would be safe, and the mission objective would be claimed as a victory.  Might as well.

“Run south!” you shouted over the blaster fire, instructing Tech.  For a split second he thought to question you, but decided against it.  He knows what he’s doing, and there’s no time to object, he concluded.  Tech sent a nod your way before running, still blasting his way through what was close.  As soon as he was out of range, you pulled the bomb from the waist pouch.  Maker, did you hope this will work.  You stared at the bomb, hoping you would be shown mercy, as if the bomb was a sentient being capable of choosing who to blast and who to not.  With a remorseful sigh, already having spent too long wondering and not doing, you reared your arm back and threw the ball as far as physically capable.

As soon as the sphere of mass destruction left your hand, you bolted- sending out droid poppers in different directions every few seconds, hoping to any god or higher being that they would take the majority of the impact, and not you.

Unfortunately, any and all higher beings seemed to be tastefully against you today.  You felt the heat and force before you heard it.  A stinging sensation sprung throughout your entire body, sending you crashing forward, groaning.  Apparently, you were not far away enough, and there were not enough droids to take the majority of the impact.  Kriff.  There was an excruciating ringing in your ears, or head-?  You weren’t sure, but it was loud and annoying as hell.  The last droid popper rolled from your palm, effectively killing off the half-dozen clankers headed over.

Although it was primarily obscured by the horrendous ringing in your ears, you could pick up faint sounds of blaster fire and metallic bodies hitting the ground.  You shakily got on your hands and knees, one arm clenched tightly over the stomach region, and lifted your head, groaning.  Although it was incredibly difficult to make out in this delirious state, you saw Tech running towards you.  He’s safe, was all you could think.  The mission was a success and he was safe, what else could someone ask for?  With that, there was no longer any reason to stay awake.

You promptly collapsed onto the cold ground, rolling over, hand still clutched.  You were coughing up blood, which just fell back down to your helmet and mouth, casing your cheeks and lips.  “Y/N!” Tech yelled, attempting to keep you awake and responsive- not his most successful attempts. You felt him lift your body upwards, examining the damage.  A shattered off droid piece had pierced through your abdomen, front to back.  Blood coated your armor, turning it from (color) to a dark ugly mess of browns and reds.  His eyes trailed over you, ever worried.  He and his brothers had never faced such an extreme injury, except for Wrecker’s large scar on his head.

“I need to take off your helmet.  I can hear you coughing up blood,” Tech informed.  You attempted to push him off, delirious of the extremity of the situation.  You were not ready to cross that bridge yet.  Tech felt bad, he did.  Even though he couldn’t possibly understand why a culture would not allow someone to simply remove a helmet, he would respect it, and he would respect you.  But in a situation like this, it truly didn’t matter.  If your helmet didn’t come off, you'd drown in your own blood before dying of the shrapnel was even a possibility.

“That was not a request, it was me informing you of what I’m going to do.”  You wanted to give him a smart-ass response, truly, but you couldn’t speak coherently, let alone think of one.  Accepting defeat in this minor battle, your head lolled back into his palm, coughing once again.  He placed his hand under your chin, just on the edge of the helmet, and carefully lifted.  The helmet hissed as he pulled it off, and your eyes squinted harshly at the bright light, now surrounding you from all sides, not just the visor.  This was not how you wanted him to see your face.

Tech grimaced.  Clear from the blood and sweat caking your mouth and cheeks, you had already coughed up a large amount of blood, and he highly doubted it’d be stopping anytime soon.  “Okay…I’m going to move you to that rock over there- you need to be more vertical than horizontal if I am to treat your injuries.”  A mumble was the only response he got.  Tech put his hand on your back, roping underneath your arm.  Using his other arm to support your lower back, he lifted, and despite all his effort in being gentle, it didn’t do much.  Even though the rock in question was only, at most, twenty feet away, it seemed like an impossible task.

With each step, despite Tech supporting the majority of your weight, it felt like another piece of droid shrapnel shooting though you.  Everything became more fuzzy by the second, dizziness overcoming you.  “We are almost there,” he said, observant of your worsening state.  After what felt like an eternity, you had arrived at the large rock.  He turned you around and gently placed you on the rock, blood coating his armor.

Reaching to his waist pockets, Tech pulled out a pair of tweezers, a large roll of bandages, and bacta-spray.  “I will cut space around your chest plate and clothing.  Do not move.”  You groaned, looking up at the sun.  Perhaps you shouldn’t have done the “throw a bomb and hope you outrun it to save someone else’s skin” plan.  Now you’d need a new chest plate and under-armor clothing.  Fantastic.  Tech pulled out a new set of tools, all to cut the chest plate.  Luckily, the hole was jagged and cracked, so finding a good place to further the diameter would not be incredibly difficult.

Tech carefully pulled out bits of the chest plate, making the hole larger by the second.  Unfortunately, him cutting that close, despite his best efforts, still applied far more pressure than you would like on your wound.  It was not a pleasant experience, to say the least.

“I am finished cutting around the front of your chest plate,” he said, breaking the tense silence.

“Okay…” you breathed out, voice shaky and dry.  He looked at you with pity before quickly tearing through the cloth, all too close to the droid bit.  He noticed your extreme uncomfort, face scrunched up, trying not to cry.  He felt pity towards you, but there was no time for any of that.  If he wasn’t quick and adequate, you could very well die.  Tech’s point was emphasized by another fit of blood coming up, some blood dripping on his armor as your head came forward.

He grimaced, using his thumb in a feeble attempt to wipe off the new blood.  “Can you lean forward while I cut open your back?” he asked, unsure whether or not it would be required to fully turn you around.  “Mhm…I think I can manage,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper and hardly intelligible.  You rocked forward, arms outstretched to hold up your weight.  Tech carefully moved behind you before repeating the process.

Eventually, Tech deemed the cloth and armor to be far away enough from the droid.  He would pull out the droid, then fully take off your armor and clothing, apply bacta-spray, and wrap you up.  Once you were on the ship, he could dig out any excess sharpanel.  Then everything would be fine.  He concluded that the best way to get it out was to not let you know.  He deduced that you were, more than likely, not thinking rationally- and even if you were injured, you were still heavily trained, and he didn’t want to risk you trying to push him off if there was a warning for what was to come.  To be fair, doing it suddenly would surprise you, which wouldn’t be much better, but your reaction time was certainly delayed, so it was still the best option.

“Lean back.”  You obliged, hitting the back of the rock and letting your head fall backwards.  While you were still looking upwards, he gripped the droid piece with both hands.  Pulling hard was most certainly not the best option, but he had already spent too much time clearing the space, and there was no equipment for performing the removal in a safe manner.  You would have to deal with it.

Tech pulled on the droid, and he pulled hard.  Your eyes went wide, and you lurched forward, hands grasping at the wound.  Short, ragged breaths filled the sound of the field, paired with the metallic clattering of the droid being tossed aside.  Tech cupped your face in his hands, looking into your eyes.  If you weren’t in so much agony, you would’ve been a flustered, blubbering mess.  “Hold still and do exactly as I tell you.  I need to dig out the smaller shrapnel, but the bleeding must stop soon.  There can be no distractions.”

At this point, you could hardly respond, choking on any words you attempted to form.  Now that the droid was removed, Tech could slip your chest plate off.  “Put your arms up and do not take them down until both your chest plate and clothing have been removed.”  Vision blurry and shaky, you lifted your arms despite them feeling like a hundred pounds each.  Quickly, Tech pulled up on your chest plate, immediately discarding it among the other debris in the field.  Following immediately after, he lifted up your shirt, slightly more conscious of the injury since the cloth was brushing directly against it.

As soon as he finished discarding your shirt, your hands fell limp once again, and you collapsed onto the rock.  Tech quickly doused the affected area with bacta-spray, not particularly caring if it got it more space than needed.  He needed to be quick, and there would be more time later to fix everything.  He positioned himself behind you, legs wrapped around to give you support as he cleaned the back, making sure to wipe off any large chunks of dirt or pieces of rock.  After your back and front were successfully doused in bacta, he re-positioned himself and you.

He moved about two feet away from the rock, legs straddling your waist.  He had turned you around, eyes meeting each other once more.  Your arms were gripping his shoulders, shaking with every breath.  Tech carefully reached around and grabbed the bandages, unfurling them.  He started at your waistline, moving upwards with each layer of binding.  He would carefully glance over your shoulder and angle himself to see your back to ensure it was all going smoothly- or, at least, as smooth as something like this could go.  The bandages had finally reached above your wound, before reaching over your shoulder for extra support and coming back down for a double layer.  Despite the wrappings having been on for less than ten minutes, the blood was already tainting the once white fabric.

“I am finished,” Tech spoke, finishing off the last layer and grabbing your waist to pull you closer.  He carefully grabbed his comm to relay his position and the situation to the rest of the Batch.  He knew it would have been useless to comm beforehand, as Hunter and Echo were radio-silent while Wrecker and Crosshair were dealing with a smaller squadron of droids.  But now that you were safe- or as safe as possible considering everything- and the rest of the Batch had their objectives completed, he could call them.

“Hunter, I need a pickup at the valley in between the two ridges where the droid squadron was.  Immediately- (Y/N) has been injured.  I have applied bacta and bandages, but it is not adequate.  We must get to proper medical care as quickly as possible.”

“Got it, Tech.  We’re on our way, just hang on,” Hunter replied, voice glitchy and faded out through the comm.  Tech pulled you closer, your head resting on his shoulder.  He placed his hands on your infraspinatus, rubbing small circles in them repeatedly.  The telltale humming of the Marauder approached, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the field.  The ship turned to its side before touching down about ten feet away, ramp opening.  Wrecker ran out, panic clearly written on his face.  He slowed down as he approached you, face falling more by the second.

“Wrecker, be careful around his abdomen, that is where the implication occurred.  Do not run or jostle (Y/N) too much, he can not sustain any more injuries than what he already has.”  Wrecker nodded in understanding before gently picking you up, hands under your thighs.  He placed your head in the crook of his neck, out of respect for you never taking off the helmet and hiding your face.  Your arms were draped over his back, bouncing with each step he took, despite the effort to be more gentle.

With a tired groan, you lifted your head up, eyes peering over Wreckers shoulder to be met with Tech’s.  He had stood up and taken off his helmet, the light gray armor tainted and stained with your blood.  You felt the incline of the ramp as Wrecker entered the Marauder, and the sounds of scattered feet and clattering could be heard.  Shortly after Wrecker had entered the ship, Tech followed suit, your helmet and chest plate in hand.  “Tech, what’s the deal with (Y/N)?  What do we need to do?”

“(Y/N) threw a bomb which effectively killed off the majority of the droid army, but was hit with debris in his escape.  He was regurgitating blood and had a large piece of a droid lodged in his abdomen.  I…have cleaned the wound, albeit quickly and not as efficiently as I would have hoped.  Clearly, I have bandaged him and removed the primary source of implication, but did not have time to adequately search through for smaller pieces of shrapnel.  We should not remove his bandages until we are on Kamino.  Someone should be watching him for the duration of the trip until we arrive, and we should attempt to minimize his sleeping until he has proper medical care.”

As Tech explained the situation, Wrecker re-positioned you into a more “bridal style” carrying, before gently setting you down on his bed and slipping his arms out from underneath you, all while avoiding your face.  Your head was propped up on Lula, and Wrecker draped a blanket over your body, the edge draping off the bunk.  He stood still for a second, glancing around nervously.  Tech came up behind him, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder.  “Go in the cock-pit and help with the course.  I will stay here to ensure everything is alright.  There is no need to worry.  If I do require aid, I will request it.”  Wrecker glanced past his shoulder at his brother, sending a short smile of thanks before hurrying off to the cock-pit.  Tech carefully sat down on the edge of Wrecker’s bed, just beside your feet.  The bed made a small creaking noise and dipped ever so slightly.  Tech sighed, back slouching.  He glanced once more at your form, eyebrows furrowed.  You two would be having quite the serious conversation later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hunter walked up to the bunk, staring before finally saying something.  “Tech- we’re coming into Kamino.  Take the wheel and comm in (Y/N)’s situation.  I’ll get him prepped and Wrecker will carry him till the medical team shows up.”  Tech nodded in agreement and stood up, walking to the cock-pit.  Hunter glanced down at you, avoiding your face.  He had a few of his spare bandannas in hand, ready to wrap up the majority of your face out of respect.  It wouldn’t be perfect by any means, but any face covering would be better than nothing for you, he reasoned.  Trying his best not to look, Hunter lifted up your head and placed four bandannas on it- two on your forehead, and just one each for your nose bridge and chin.  As soon as your face was covered, he re-angled himself to tie the knot behind your head.

After your face was covered as well as anyone would do while still minimizing the risk of further complications, he carefully pulled the blanket away and lifted you up, cautious of the injury.  He stayed with you until Wrecker and Tech came, the ship having landed.  “There should be medical personnel on their way.  I requested that a droid be the one to attend to (Y/N)’s injuries, but whether or not they listened is… uncertain,” Tech said, glancing over at you, worry evident by the slight crease in his eyes and furrow of his eyebrows.  Hunter was slightly surprised at his brother’s concern for your culture.  There was no reason to explicitly request for a droid, but he did so nonetheless.  Usually, Tech would not have cared for such things- so long as the objective was completed and no-one was severely harmed, what did it matter if some cultural lines were crossed?

Hunter’s thoughts were interrupted by Wrecker picking you up bridal style once again, head draped back and arms dangling.  His loud stomps echoed through the metal corridor, and it was all Tech could focus on.  Which had never happened before- just focusing on one thing and one thing alone.  But here he was, watching Wrecker exit the Marauder, you in hand- unclear if you would survive, and the only thing he was aware of was the echoing of Wrecker’s footsteps, you disappearing along with them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tech waited anxiously outside the med-bay door, leg bouncing up and down.  The halls were quiet and deserted, only a lone wandering Kaminaon or clone every dozen or so minutes.  Tech didn’t know if he preferred the silence or the possibility of crowded and loud halls, people shoving past each other non-stop.  He was fairly sure they were both equally terrible options.  Hunter had stayed with him a while, but he needed to get back to the rest of the squad- Tech didn’t blame him.  He held your helmet in his hands, looking over every detail- every mark, burn, dent, scratch, paint chip, design and patterns and colors- everything.  Although, logically, he knew it was very likely that either you or one of his brothers, or himself, would die in this line of work, knowing about it didn’t quite reach the same levels as nearly experiencing it.

The doors slid open, AZ emerging.  Tech immediately sat straight up, more alert than ever.  Before he could even begin asking questions, AZ began speaking.  “(Y/N) (L/N) will fully recover within about 8 rotations.  He is no longer bleeding and all sharnale has been removed and the wound has been treated.  He is to remain on bed-rest until I give the say so.”  Tech didn’t even bother to respond, all he could do was practically jump into the room and land beside your bed.  You looked up at him, trying your best to smile- he was not amused.  In fact, Tech was at a loss for words.  Tech was never at a loss for words.

Actually, scratch all of that.  Tech had an abundance of words for you.  That much was obvious by the way his face went from “soft and glad you were okay” to his signature “are you kriffing kidding me?” look with an extra splash of anger.  Your smile immediately fell.

“What were you thinking- I mean, you decided to throw a bomb which you had no chance of outrunning and for what?  That was the most illogical and poorly thought out plan I have ever seen, and I have seen some very stupid things.”  It was clear he had more to say, but he figured he’d save it for another time.  Tech glared at you for a second longer before pulling up a chair beside the bed.

He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “You…are intelligent enough to have realized the risks.  Just explain why you took such… idiotic ones.”

Silence.  “I…I figured that if… you could get out of range, that would be enough.  I would throw the bomb and get far away enough to survive, taking out any more droids in the escape.  Then, you’d be… fine.  I mean, the odds weren’t exactly in our favor, Tech- we were losing that battle- hard.  We’d probably both be dead if I hadn’t done what I did.”  Tech glanced down, thinking over your words.  As much as he hated to admit it- you were right.  There may have been another way he would’ve come up with to save your hides, but at the moment- your actions did save them.

“I… am sorry I saw your face.  Although I do not understand why a culture would prohibit someone from showing their face- I respect you, and so I do apologize.  If it is any consolation, I requested droids only for the medical staff, and Hunter had wrapped up your face as much as he could.  Nobody really saw your face- just small fragments of it- except for me, obviously.”

You were silent, bandaged and calloused hands wringing around each other.  “It’s… it’s alright.  In my Clan, you are allowed to take off your helmet with… certain people.  Those you consider… close.  You can take off the helmet around those types of people.”  You glanced up, eyes just barely meeting.  He gulped nervously.  No-one outside of his brothers had ever considered him close- and if his hypothesis was right- this type of “close” you were describing was most certainly new- not the type of bond one shares with his brothers.

“Are you… implying that you have a romantic interest in me, (Y/N)?” Tech asked cautiously, as though each word represented him taking another step closer to the edge of a thousand-foot drop.

“Is that alright?” you asked tentatively, turning to properly face him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Well… it is not standard military protocol to… intermingle.”  Your gaze fell downwards, grimacing.  So much for a confession.

Then he continued.  “But we have never been ones to follow protocol.”  Your mouth went slightly agape, and you looked back up at him.  Your eyes met each other, and he smiled.  He didn’t smile often.  Tech reached out hesitantly and grabbed your hand, rubbing circles in it.  You placed your free hand on his, like a weird romantic sandwich, and let your head fall back, closing your eyes in satisfaction.

“Y’know- if I knew all it would take to confess and know you reciprocated was to have a near-death experience, I would've done it way before.”

Tech jumped back slightly- “‘All it would take?’” he asked, mocking you.  His eyes were wide in disbelief at your disregard for such an event.  His face was absolutely golden, and you started laughing- evidently, far too much since within a few seconds you were clutching your side in pain.  Tech now wore a mixture of his “I told you so” and “that was not amusing” faces, judging you heavily.

"Regardless, AZ informed me that you would need an 8-day bed rest.  And as you do not contain your own proper sleeping area, you may share with me.  This way I can closely monitor you at the same time.  It will be greatly beneficial.”

You cocked your eyebrow, looking directly at him.  “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said so.”

“If you are to keep up this behavior in my sleeping quarters, I will not hesitate to kick you out- both figuratively and literally.  Perhaps I’ll just make your “visiting time” as terrible as possible.  I am not above such actions.”  You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes in a playful manner.

“Here- I made certain that I had kept your helmet.  The chest plate was practically unsalvageable, but it is currently on the Marauder.  Although you are… comfortable without it around me, it seems, I assumed you would want it for the walk back.  Am I correct?”

“You're always correct, and you know that.  Thank you, Tech.”  You carefully slid the detailed helmet on your head, somewhat sad.  Although it was clear that you would need to wear it in the halls and in front of his brothers, you still felt sad you two couldn’t enjoy more time, faces and secrets and emotions and everything exposed for the better.  You let the brief moment of sadness wash over- it was better to be grateful.  I mean, Tech reciprocated!  You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“Let me assist you in getting up- you are most certainly not fit to walk by yourself,” he said.  You obliged, his arms coming up underneath your armpits and hauling you off the bed.  You quickly found your grounding, and swung an arm around Tech’s shoulders.  You two trudged down the long and barren halls of Kamino until reaching your designated barracks, pausing slightly at the door.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such joy.  You looked at Tech, dark visor meeting his yellow-orange tinted goggles.  “Kar'taylir darasuum gar.”  Tech knew what it meant.  He didn’t need his fancy language visor to tell him what you said.  You loved him and he loved you.  And that’s all that really mattered.  He smiled at you once more before the door opened, Wrecker immediately shouting in joy that you were safe and sound.  Everything would be alright from here on out, war be damned.

#tech x male reader #tech tbb x male reader #tech the bad batch x male reader #tbb x male reader #the bad batch x male reader #tbb tech x male reader #the bad batch tech x male reader #tech x m!reader #tech tbb x m!reader #tech the bad batch x m!reader #tbb x m!reader #the bad batch x m!reader #tbb tech x m! reader #the bad batch tech x m!reader #the bad batch fanfic #tech the bad batch fanfic #tech fanfic #tech tbb x injured reader #tech x injured reader #tech x injured male reader #tech tbb x injured male reader #tech tbb x injured m!reader #tech x injured m!reader #tech x mandalorian reader #tech tbb x mandalorian reader #tech x male mandalorian reader #tbb tech x male mandalorian reader #the bad batch tech x male mandalorian reader #tech the bad batch x male mandalorian reader

[nullbutler]

something something identity something something culture

#jumblr #jewblr #i dunno if this is the kind of thing that really belongs on my silly blog but ive been wanting to draw it for two days #this is just about feeling connection to culture #and i dunno i know the whole 'is judaism considered a race' thing is iffy as all hell #because it IS an ethnic group and i see it in basically every bloodline person ive met #there is a familiar look #our grandparents and babies look the exact same #of course converts are lovely and welcome and i'm not gatekeeping #but so long of just being like 'who am i? ah. i am nobody #i am a white girl from california who knows nothing of nothing' is a drastic understatement #i've dealt with anti semitism since i was a child #it has been everywhere #not many people understand it because its just...well we dont look that different (to the people who matter) (bad people can tell right awa #the immeasurable trauma of the holocaust and the weight of our grandparents and everything else is just so crushing...AND we look caucasian #is there no fate worse??? lmao #not saying i'm not caucasian of course i think two things can be true at once #but i think meeting someone and realizing we have the same face and with it faced the same hardship is really really meaningful #because to just say i'm some 'stupid white girl from california' is a butchering undercut of everything i actually am

[chepib3]

dick and clark would have such interesting conversations about being ripped away from your culture and your family and about becoming a symbol of hope and resilience in the face of complete loss and all of those fun topics i'm going to pour my feelings about anglo/eurocentrism into those guys any day now

#bruce would let little dick hang around clark a lot bc he knows clark can understand him better in a lot of things #and he just wants dick to not feel so alone #i mean imagine being part of a culture that's ostracized enough as it is #and then your mom (the only connection you have to your culture) is killed #i would be mad as fuck too #little dick was so right about so many things can people please stop pretending like he was just some feral child #dick grayson #robin dick grayson #nightwing #clark kent #superman #dc comics

[kadextra]

SO SO excited for new people to once again experience qommunication smp and be welcomed with warm open arms to the island found family, and then immediately be thrown into possible parenthood along with the terrifying horrors like everyone else <3

#cellbit Will spread his anti-cucurucho propaganda again and stuff each and every person into the ordo theoritas to loredump #it’ll be great #qsmp #all of these islanders are hurt in some way #survivalists who make the most of being together happy despite the terrors #and with the connections being made despite language or cultures everyone is respected #the feeling is just so different from anything else #a crazy environment for new people to be introduced to #love watching it happen everytime. after about a week or two you can see the shift #where they go from ‘oh this is neat’ to ‘OH. I UNDERSTAND NOW’

[mogoce-nocoj]

what isn't the purest connection than bringing someone closer to your culture through art that you create together

#joker out #this is all i'm gonna say for now because i need to leave #but I've been ranting about eastern european melancholy as a cultural term for a few minutes now and i'm just ashjhjfshjakshe #Kris feeling so connected to his Slavic side Kris wanting to stage this with Damon such an imporant cultural and historical aspect i'm dead #god god god i'm having a stroke #kris guštin #damon baker