sometimes, on calm days, when wild wants to do something particularly wild™ and twilight puts his foot down, the champion will pull out his slate and play the chorus of Rin-Chan Now very quietly.
twilight will stare at him with a 'don't you dare' expression as wild lifts an eyebrow, silently asking 'will you let me? or should i continue?' twilight's face settles into stone, and wild accelerates the volume, starting to sing 'rin-chan now, rin-chan now, rin-chan rin-chan rin-chan NOW' directly at his mentor. the chorus loops endlessly. wind hears this and immediately joins wild's side, not knowing why they're screaming this at twi today but that whenever wild wins, something fun and/or dangerous happens.
the others laugh at this from the sidelines. sometimes they join, like four, who splits himself into the colors to maximize the number of voices repeating 'RIN-CHAN NOW' at the rancher. eventually twi will either cave or take off as wolfie.
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Some worldbuilding character designs for one of the factions of Thormundar, the futurist Hidden Sea. Figured that they’d have subdivisions based on different disciplines and that any of the races of Thormundar could join if they have the right aptitude.
Pictured here is a Hadriga (donkeyfolk) member of the Botanics division, as well as a Shuren (ratfolk) member of the Combat Sciences division.
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illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
A collection of non-chronological moments from a different sort of happy ending. Family feels, pointless fluff, and important conversations. Rated G.
Read on ao3.
chapter 1 -- strawberry-stealing squirrel
“Hey.”
May blinked contentedly at him, lit up with warm lamplight. “Hm.”
Coulson got into bed beside her, slow and aching. There was warmth in that too, somehow. May curled up, setting her head against his shoulder, her weight solid and still somehow light against his side. She wasn’t actually reading any more, just flipping idly through pages.
There was moonlight fading gently through the curtains. It was like they could see all the world’s stars out on the porch, most nights -- but it was chilly out there on this one. The stars would still be there tomorrow.
“You tired?”
May’s voice was soft. She was in better shape than he was, these days, because of course she was, but the hot water bottle half-tangled in blankets said she ached, too.
“Mm. A little.”
Tired meant something kind of different, these days. It was the years weighing down his bones, the way everything was somehow going so much faster the more they slowed down. It was a good feeling, most days, the way certain kinds of melancholy wrap around you like a blanket.
May hummed again.
“How are you feeling?”
That slight shift of her weight was surprise. May leaned over to put her book down before she answered, switching off the lamp. She still insisted on sleeping on the side by the door, still carried those old specialist reflexes; unlikely reaction times and the almost cat-like effortlessness to it. He’d lost most of that to those months of deterioration, years ago; but the vigilance, the automatic, constant analysis was still there. They still went people-watching every once in a while, mostly to watch the world go by and be judgy old people in peace (May zeroed in on every leather ensemble that passed and ran background checks on stores instead of people, these days). They’d fought their wars.
May moved slower these days, limped more days than she didn’t, but she could still take Yo-yo’s entire STRIKE team. She didn’t teach much any more, but Yo-yo still wheedled her out to do demonstrations every once in a while. She said it kept the youngsters in their place.
Phil got to spend every day beside her steadiness, steadfast as the mountains, and that was as safe as he could ever ask to be.
“A squirrel stole all the strawberries off the plant,” May stated, as she curled up beside him again. Coulson wrapped long arms around her as she huffed, one arm draped warm over his belly. “All three of them.”
Phil jostled them both with a startled laugh. “That does not answer the question.”
“I feel like the squirrel.” May told the darkness, and also him, prim and matter-of-fact. The drowsiness in her voice was getting thicker by the moment. “Like I stole something nice and I’m happy about it.”
Phil was outright belly-laughing by then, trying to get the blanket untangled from around his ankles without having to sit up to tug at it. So much for philosophizing. May lifted her head in annoyance at all the jostling, dropped her cheek back on his chest once he paused to gasp for breath.
“Ask me how I’m doing next time,” she muttered, mostly asleep already. “ Please. ”
“Ohohoho, like hell. You, Melinda May, just told me you feel like a strawberry-stealing squirrel. I am never asking you anything other than how are you feeling ever again.”
There was no answer. May could feign sleep as well as anyone -- better, actually, since she’d finally trained herself to stagger the length of each exhale so you couldn’t crack the rhythm by counting to it. Phil lay still for a long minute, grinning into the darkness, just listening to the quiet snuffle of her peaceful breathing.
She might actually just be asleep.
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going absolutely fucking feral. fuck?
I’ve been getting a lot of TERF posts rec’ed to me through the #feminism tag lately. And they’re most often only tagged something like #feminism or #woman, so filters aren’t catching them. And it’s all just… anti-woman and anti-feminist take after take. Like. How have they hijacked the narrative and monopolized the meaning of feminism to be something so reactionary and reductive? They genuinely believe takes like, “women should be forced to abort children” are feminist. BFFR. They just hate other women having bodily autonomy.
I saw one just now where someone was like, “I was daydreaming about men just disappearing”— like being raptured— “and then realized that all women don’t know how to do male jobs and got angry” (and they did say ALL). They then went on to talk about how no women knows how to operate machinery because women have been prevented from EVOLVING to do the same things men do because men forced women to EVOLVE to serve them. Evolved. They were like, “all men could just… build a wood bridge but we women are kept from that knowledge. We have no teachers.”
Further fucking proof that these misogynistic asshats do not build community with black, brown, indigenous, poor, rural, or working class women. They live in a theoretical fantasy world daydreaming about men disappearing and “female separatism” rather than offering real fucking solutions. They live in a world where every last woman has the same lived experience as them. They assume all women are oppressed in the same way. They ignore intersectionality to purposefully minimize ableist, racist, classist, heterosexist, and cissexist structures so that everything is organizable into a simple and universal M > F dynamic. This way, in their chronically white movement, they, the white woman, is always oppressed and never responsible for the marginalization of others.
Oh. And the OP had the label “fascist” in her username. They’re self aware now, but at what cost?
Trans Exclusionary Radical Fascism, everyone:
The patriarchy is inevitable. Change is impossible. We are never escaping this hell hole.
Some other “gems” I saw, TW for racism, misogyny, ableism, and abuse:
The amount of Arabophobia, Islamophobia, racism, misogyny, and ableism I see in the #feminism tag every day is truly sickening. Like 1/4 of the posts anymore seem to be from white radfems sexualizing Arab, Asian, and Black women (while denigrating and singling out typically Arab, Asian, and Black personal-care and beauty practices) while another good 1/4 of the posts seem to be anti-queer. And then some 50% are porn bots with #sissy kinks. The tag has been trashed by bigots and bots, and I’m surprised that Staff hasn’t marked it mature content yet for the sheer level of porn bots using the tag. Oh, wait. I do know why. It’s because Staff employs JKR stans who would rather label #transfemme as mature content than combat the porn bots.
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