the indignant

roommate headcanons (part 2)

post-series au thing in which all the key kids live happily ever after together, bc why not :)

- Sora has a terrible habit of leaving the bathroom door unlocked/slightly ajar when he’s in there. He doesn’t want to be walked in or anything, he just… forgets a lot of the time. Ventus, on the other hand, has a terrible habit of waltzing into places unannounced. Needless to say, this has led to several unfortunate encounters between the two. 

– Bathroom door swings open. Both, simultaneously:

  • Sora: *screeching & flailing* W-WHOA, HEY, I-I’M IN HERE–
  • Ven: *recoiling violently* DUDE! What the– ?! 

– Ven backpedals rapidly, slams the door shut. A long, uncomfortable silence ensues. Then:

  • Sora: *rattled, to the point of embarrassed indignation* You ever hear of knocking? Sheesh.
  • Ven: *sputtering & equally affronted* …Yeah? How ‘bout next time you try locking the damn door?

- Namine, Roxas, Xion & Ven pulling random all-nighters together… Baking cookies, building pillow forts, watching scary movies, eating ice cream, talking and laughing about all sorts of things. They try to be quiet, so as not to wake the rest of the house up, but their efforts aren’t always 100% successful. o.o

- Sora joins them sometimes (when he’s not passed out on the couch already or bunked up with Riku & Kairi). Lea just shakes his head when he half-sleepwalks past them on his way to the bathroom, muttering something incoherent about ‘crazy kids’ and needing to get his beauty sleep.

- Aqua is totally the house mom, regularly checking to make sure everyone is home and safe at night (unless she’s been notified otherwise), that the doors are locked, stove is turned off, etc. Terra does this, too, if only to relieve Aqua from time to time.

- Dance Offs –> Almost always come down to a threeway battle between Aqua, Ven, and Kairi. Aqua kills it figure skater style, Ven’s a breakdancing machine, and Kairi can twerk swag it like nobody’s business. Riku’s actually a really good dancer, too, when he’s in the (rare) mood for it. Every once in a blue moon he’ll bust out some crazy moves that shock everyone and turn the competition in his favor. 

- Lea scores points for who-can-look-the-most-ridiculous, although Sora isn’t far behind. Namine doesn’t participate so much as end up giggling the entire time. Also, she’s the only one to consistently try & vote for EVERYONE; she just feels too guilty not to.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- Xion spoils their pets so bad. Seriously (even worse than Terra, tbh). She’ll sneak them copious amounts of scraps under the table, rub bellies for an indefinite length of time, let them all cuddle up on the couch/in bed with her, and give them Lea’s socks to use as chew toys. …Okay, the sock thing was one time, to be fair. And they had holes in them.

 - Roxas & Ven have a(n unspoken?) twinning competition going on. Ven’s actually a little bit taller, to Roxas’s ultimate chagrin. Ven loooooves to rib him about this by resting his elbow on Roxas’s shoulder, reaching things that Roxas juuust misses, telling Roxas he better eat his veggies if he wants to catch up!, making short people jokes, and so on. Sora, who’s the same height as Ven is, gets in on the ribbing too a lot of the time. Poor Roxas.

- Both Terra and Sora love food, but neither are particularly skilled/motivated in the cooking arena. Hence, they’ll eat anything and everything readily available. (Terra has a bit more self control, and won’t really go for the super sugary/processed stuff, but still.) So, if you’re saving that leftover slice of pizza for later, you’d better explicitly mark it with a ‘do not eat OR ELSE’ note, complete with a signature and doodled angry face. Otherwise, chances are it’ll be gone by the time you get to it, courtesy of one of the aforementioned parties. Anything unclaimed is fair game! 

- Aqua is the only one who can truly be classified as a neat freak. The others will tease her about it, especially Terra (but it’s good-natured teasing, of course). Xion & Riku come pretty close to her level, but they’re not nearly as vigilant. Riku in particular though can’t stand clutter and keeps his room limited to the bare necessities. 

- Roxas & Namine are, overall, pretty good about not making a mess/picking up after themselves. Kairi can be very organized when she wants to be (which… isn’t necessarily all that often). At the very least, she knows where most of her belongings are at any given moment. 

- Terra is borderline messy, and tends to be oblivious easygoing about things like laundry heaps and dirty dishes– Until it reaches a point of near-disaster (or Aqua walks into his room and gets that look of barely-concealed-horror on her face, and… You really don’t want to be the subject of that look; believe him). 

- Lea, if he’s being honest, in no way, shape, or form enjoys cleaning. And so, he chooses to not partake in that activity unless forced to it’s absolutely necessary. Ven is the same way, but takes it a step further by falling into the looks-like-a-tornado-ripped-through-here category. 

- And Sora, well… Sora is the tornado. Also (not so?) lovingly referred to by his roommates as The Disaster on Legs. <3

-

part 1

anonymous asked:

ok ok but tell us some of her flaws! we love flaws!!!!!!!!

CRACKS MY KNUCKLES LET ME BULLET THESE BECAUSE SHE HAS MORE THAN SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE DOES

  • First of all: she’s got a temper on her. It’s easy to irritate her and to get her to get snappy. She can be patient and has been known to be patient but it’s mainly with others–as in, they’re those of her team, her, family, her friends. If you’re close with her or are an ally, she’ll have more patience with you, but if you’re an unreasonable stranger, she’s not afraid to get snappy and tell you where to shove it where the sun don’t shine. Lucina is someone who is not afraid of conflict and is prone to getting into arguments with strangers and being rude towards them. Granted, they’ve usually done something to irritate her, but frankly, she gets angrier and more indignant than she should.
  • She’s got a martyr-complex. She feels like she has to sacrifice stuff for the people around her and that she needs to internalize everything. Frankly, it’s unhealthy and some might even come to view it as self-righteousness like you go…. let me do this, etc, etc. Why she is like this is because as a leader, she feels like it isn’t her place to do certain things or feel or want certain things, hence the martyr-complex. She’s also not afraid to sacrifice herself for her comrades, which can be good because it means she cares but also having such a martyr-complex just isn’t healthy. She guilts herself too much.
  • Lucina’s quick to assume things and jump the gun. I’ve toned down her accusations of her accusing Robin of having an affair with her father because how heated she got with it seemed kind of sudden even for her–but if you think she isn’t suspicious of those two a little bit until she gets to know Robin, then you’re mistaken. Lucina jumps the gun and assumes things a lot. The thing is, she’s smart and is used to being right, which is why she’s inclined to do this, but the thing is–she isn’t always right, so when she does this and gets it wrong, it can be bad for everyone involved.
  • Her lack of self confidence is a big flaw. Lucina is a very capable and strong woman, though her self doubt can leave her sometimes wishy-washy. Which is, in the end, not good for a leader. Yes, Lucina has conviction to her, but her lack of self confidence and self hatred upon her own mistakes can be something dangerous and inappropriate for a leader.
SF&R, Chapter 10: How Can I Even Try

Catch up on previous chapters and access the AO3 link here.


You seem so far away though you are standing near
You made me feel alive, but something died I fear

I really tried to make it out

I wish I understood.

-“S.O.S” from Mamma Mia!


When he heard the snap of a twig behind him, Nathaniel spun around, hoping beyond reason that Cataline had come back. Instead, it was Thea who emerged from the trees. “Oh. Hey, Thea.”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction and placed a hand on her hip in mock indignation. “I’m going to pretend I am not offended by that reaction.”

He sighed, gesturing for her to follow him inside. She automatically started a pot of coffee and started washing the only two mugs he owned, which had been abandoned in the sink because he simply had not thought to clean them yet; he still wasn’t used to the idea that he might actually have guests. Neither of them spoke while the coffee brewed, and Thea poured out a cup for each of them before sprawling on the loveseat opposite him in the living room. He finally broke the silence by pointing at her locket and asking, “why a wyvern?”

Thea’s eyes looked away, her hand moving to the locket almost automatically. For a moment he thought he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes, but if he had it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. “It was a gift from a friend,” was her quiet reply, and he could tell that this was something he would just have to let go for the moment. His friend took a long sip of her coffee before speaking again.

“Do you want to talk about it, Nate?”

“No. Yes- I don’t know, Thea.” He placed his head in his hands, trying to organize his thoughts. To Thea’s credit, he knew she would not push him to say anything more than he was ready to. It had always been like that: he knew that she knew more than she ever let on, but kindness dictated that she would give him the space to figure it out on his own.

“Am I crazy, Thea?”

His friend gave a small snort of laughter. “Hardly, kitten. Or at least, not in the way you probably think you are.”

“A month ago, I had planned on getting in, getting out, and getting on with my life. Now I have a new job, and I’m living in your backyard, and a lot of things that I thought were buried in the past are coming back, and I am just not certain what to do with any of it.” He took a drink of his own coffee, grateful that Thea still brewed it dark and strong. “That woman is driving me to distraction.”

Keep reading

Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra.

The thing that is getting to me the most about news of Carrie Fisher’s autopsy report is not the results themselves, but the way the media is handling it. Like it’s a Gotcha moment—like somehow we were tricked into thinking she was a better person than she actually was.

And that is profoundly bullshit.

Carrie was open about being an addict. Her opening line from her iconic stand up show (and book by the same name) “Wishful Drinking” was quite literally, “Hi, I’m Carrie Fisher, and I’m an alcoholic.”

She talked at length and in often brutal depth about her problems with substance abuse, her compulsive self destructive tendencies, and her dependencies to both illegal and prescription drugs. She wrote about it in her books, she talked about it on talk shows. She made an entire comedic stand up performance out of it, detailing the lengths she went to in order to try and regain some semblance of safety and normalcy in her life. 

She was brutally honest that every single day was a struggle for sanity after years and years of attempting to self medicate a mental illness that for most of her life was mistaken for feckless lack of self control. 

You know how they way “Religion is the opiate of the masses?” Well I took masses of opiates religiously! -Wishful Drinking

She was bright, and beautiful and bold about it. And she didn’t have to be.

Carrie Fisher didn’t have to stand there and take the shitstorm of criticism people launched at her for decades, let alone turn it into humor. She didn’t. She didn’t owe anyone outwith her immediate family an explanation for her erratic behavior over the years, nor the flack she caught for it. (Think of all the male actors in Hollywood who are in and out of rehab centers so quickly they could harness the revolving doors as a wind turbine. Then tell me the media press about her life and now her death are fair.)

But she did it anyway, because she knew it was important. And she took those bright lights of Hollywood shining down on her like a ruthless, malevolent child holding a magnifying glass under the sun—and she turned that merciless heat and pointed it at things that mattered, often at the expense of herself, opening herself up to ridicule and the severe cruelty of others who lambasted her for everything, ranging from her weight, her mental illness or her audacity to simply grow old.

Is it tragic that her addiction likely cost her her life? Yes, of course it is. Does it invalidate any of her achievements? The strength and vibrancy with which she lived her life and touched the lives of millions around her for the better? 

“I call people sometimes hoping not only that they’ll verify the fact that I’m alive but that they’ll also, however indirectly, convince me that being alive is an appropriate state for me to be in. Because sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bright idea. Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?” 

-The Princess Diarist

Carrie Fisher mattered, her voice mattered. The things that she said and did, mattered. They still matter. And they are no less true and poignant in the light of these revelations.

Addiction is a disease. It’s a dysfunction of the brain’s reward system which requires constant management and care and often goes hand in hand with other mental health disorders. It is not simply a question of willpower or the perceived lack thereof. And while sobriety is to be praised and encouraged—of course it is, of course it absolutely unquestionably is—you cannot possibly know what may cause a person to slip or to feel like they can’t cope without that crutch. And shame on anyone who says it was therefore deserved. 

Shame and my heartfelt wishes that you never go through the things that can lead to serious addiction. Or that you are ever abandoned, derided and regarded as less than human because of it and your death turned into a smear campaign against your memory for the sake of a sensationalist headline.

Yes. Carrie Fisher was an addict, she had drug dependency problems related to her mental health. There was a time she kept it hidden, but after she made the decision to come out about it, she stuck by that decision and became a champion, for herself and everyone like her who struggles. Because she never wanted anyone to suffer like she did in order to get help. And she did it with as much grace and humility as she could manage—and a whole lot more indignity, immodesty, crass humor and love as well. Because that’s who she was and she cared. 

And that’s a hell of a lot more than can be said for those crowing over her death like it’s just deserts.

Fuck you.

People do not exist to stand up to your demands of a perfect ideal of humanity. You do not get to place that burden on the shoulders of someone then tear them apart when they fall under that weight—famous or otherwise.

Fuck you and your whole pretense at moral piety and the horse you rode in on.

Carrie Fisher was not your unproblematic fave. She was in fact extremely problematic, and no one knew that better than she did. 

“I heard someone say once that many of us only seem able to find heaven by backing away from hell. And while the place that I’ve arrived at in my life may not precisely be everyone’s idea of heaven, I could swear sometimes—if I’m quiet enough—I can hear the angels sing. Either that or I fucked up my medication again.” 

-Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking.

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

full offense, but does it ever hit you in the god damn gut that tony stark, protector, knight in shining armor tony stark –

mister “i saw young americans killed by the very weapons i created to defend them and protect them,” mister “i’m trying to protect the people i put in harm’s way,” mister “i hope i can protect the one thing i can’t live without,” mister “i see a suit of armor around the world,”

the guy who answers for his most paternalistic acts (like wanting to keep pepper and wanda locked in a mansion) with “i can’t protect you out there” and “i did it to protect you,”

tony stark, whose gradually worsening mental conditions show in his progressively more backwards, desperate attempts to protect people, tony stark who’s been trying to protect people to the point of harmful consequences,

that tony stark

is the single character

in the entire mcu

who has been accused

– by friends, enemies, and civilians alike

in every movie he’s been in

of FIGHTING ONLY FOR HIMSELF

SIMILARLY

THIS TONY STARK

tony “i shouldn’t be alive” stark, tony “i’m not the hero type” stark, mister “you deserve better,”you’re right, i don’t deserve her,” “it’s me, you’ll think of something [to complain about],” “you’re in a relationship with me, everything will never be okay,” “i saw them all dead, felt it, because of me,

tony stark, who shoots his reflection and views himself as a “monster” and openly resents himself during his speech about charles spencer, THIS TONY STARK

IS THE SINGLE CHARACTER WHO’S CONSISTENTLY PERCEIVED, IN-UNIVERSE AND IN A META LEVEL BY MOST OF THE FANDOM,

AS SOMEONE WHOSE EGO NEEDS TO BE PUT IN CHECK

I AM HONESTLY

7

supergirl season 1 appreciation week
day 7: free choice (kara learning to manage her anger)

If I had thrown a chair or, my God, if I had thrown a napkin, it would have been all over the papers. It would have been professional and cultural suicide.

Then what do you do?

You need to find a release.

LGBTQ+ Movies of 2016: Part 3

Below Her Mouth

An unexpected affair quickly escalates into a heart-stopping reality for two women whose passionate connection changes their lives forever.

Do You Take This Man

Daniel and Christopher have to rely on their close friends and families to help them through drama on the eve of their wedding.

Indignation 

In 1951, Marcus, a working-class Jewish student from New Jersey, attends a small Ohio college, where he struggles with sexual repression and cultural disaffection, amid the ongoing Korean War.

Women Who Kill

Commitment phobic Morgan and her ex-girlfriend Jean, locally famous true crime podcasters, suspect Morgan’s new love interest is a murderer.

I, Olga Hepnarová (Já, Olga Hepnarová)

Raised in Prague, Olga Hepnarová was a timid by nature and troubled child with no friends, that was frequently bullied by her classmates. Living in a strict family environment, feeling alone and unable to cope with life’s issues, she gradually alienated herself. Unable to fit in, she felt a raging hatred growing inside her towards the indifference of society that left her destroyed by people. Rejected by everyone and marginalized, she meticulously plotted against society, declaring her intention for revenge against her family and the world…

It’s Only the End of the World (Juste la fin du monde)

After 12 years of absence, Louis, a writer, goes back to his hometown, planning on announcing his upcoming death to his family. 

Center of my World (Die Mitte der Welt)

After a summer spent with his his best friend Kat to escape his family, Phil goes back to school and starts to question his feelings towards Nicholas, a new classmate.

The Pass

Nineteen-year-old Jason and Ade have been in the Academy of a famous London football club since they were eight years old. It’s the night before their first-ever game for the first team - a Champions League match - and they’re in a hotel room in Romania. They should be sleeping, but they’re over-excited. They skip, fight, mock each other, prepare their kit, watch a teammate’s sex tape. And then, out of nowhere, one of them kisses the other. The impact of this ‘pass’ reverberates through the next ten years of their lives - a decade of fame and failure, secrets and lies, in a sporting world where image is everything.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5