#<- for folks who want to avoid it

[rav3nston3]

so i've been playing noita

normally i wait until i've beaten games to make art of them (just a weird thing i like to do), but i'm sure anyone who's ever played noita knows why i'm choosing not to do that...

[starflungwaddledee]

some rather strong first impressions were made.

required reading for the magical "voice" headcanon and another for starstruck's signature in particular. asked by @trainerbob23 !

[mxtxfanatic]

I don't know whether to laugh or cry at this. Basically came across a post that said "Imagine you're in a car with your brother and you keep telling him "slow down, you're going too fast" and he insists "I've got it under control!" And then he hits someone and you get out of the car and find out it's your sister. Your brother goes crazy from guilt and starts running over people left and right until you have to kill him to make sure no one else dies. Then years later he comes back to life and his boyfriend reveals oh guess what fuckhead. The reason he had to drive recklessly everywhere? Because he gave his legs to you in a secret operation you didnt know about. That's mdzs from Jiang Cheng's pov."

How wrong can someone be?? 💀😭😭. And they got such an enormous amount of notes too 🫠. Mdzs fandom is doomed.

This is such a ridiculously bad post, but some of my favorite highlights:

1) wtf does a losing your legs have to do with driving cars?

2) how is Wei Wuxian driving this car without legs????

3) how does no one notice that Wei Wuxian is driving without legs????? Does he just never get out the car?

4) better question: how does Jiang Cheng go from legless to having legs and Wei Wuxian goes from having legs to legless, but he “doesn’t know” there was an operation and that maybe Wei Wuxian was the donor? Is he some kind of idiot to op?

5) Jiang Yanli wasn’t killed by Wei Wuxian or his corpse army. She was killed by a “righteous” cultivator who then tried to victim blame her and Wei Wuxian by saying that “well she jumped in my way, if wwx had just died peacefully instead of defending himself against my shixiong, this wouldn’t have happened.” So a better analogy would be that someone shoots up Wei Wuxian’s car, kills Jiang Yanli, and everyone blames Wei Wuxian for it because “well if you didn’t have a car, we wouldn’t have had to shoot you.”

6) …are cars some super unknown technology that Wei Wuxian had to invent because no one knew they were a possibility in this convoluted au, or does op imagine that disabled people get free cars to drive around?

Extra: I love how this analogy just completely neglects the fact that Jiang Cheng was planning on killing Wei Wuxian to steal his “car” before Jiang Yanli died, but it implies that he was always in the car when it was being driven, so methinks that makes him an accomplice, idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

[fortheloveofexy]

btw for those still avoiding them, I will continue tagging for tgr spoilers until March 30th. after that, this blog may not be a spoiler-free zone 🫡

[r0semultiverse]

I’m just gonna say it, the newer generations (yes even that one other trans/nonbinary person you think would never hurt you) are way too comfortable pedojacketing their former friends/partners. Just because someone hurt you or you didn’t like the way they acted around you, doesn’t mean they’re a pedo or some shit. I’m tired of seeing this happen to other younger trans folks and I’m tired from having gone through it myself with younger nonbinary folks. It’s always the younger folks too it feels like. You need some reason to try to “cancel” someone even though you have no evidence and no case whatsoever because you would rather be in control and be angry than face your own sadness and sit with your discomfort at a situation that doesn’t require any public outcry!

[charlidrawz]

Sonic Saturday.

I won't respond to every message. I won't always have the perfect response planned for every submission...

That doesn't mean your voice isn't heard.

I believe that better days are coming- somehow, someway, someday-

"Every world has its end.

I know that's kinda sad, but...

That's why we gotta live life to the fullest in the time we have.

At least, that's what I figure."

We're gonna get through this.

To everyone who's sent me a message, is struggling, or just feels alone right now...

I believe in you. I believe in us. This isn't gonna keep you down, I know ya'll are stronger than you think.

If The World Chooses To Become Our Enemy, We Will Fight Like We Always Have.

Your perseverance is admirable. Your strength to withstand the worst of our nightmares is uncanny.

For those of us who struggle to find ways to help make a change, I hope you know... you're seen.

You inspire us.

Keep the spark alive in yourselves... we see it. we're cheering you on.

Not lookin' back

Not givin' up

Not letting go

We'll keep on running.

[fallloverfic]

I love singNsong again reminding people in Side Story that Dokja wanted other people to read TWSA (he wrote reviews and comments! It was his first wish), and he only stopped bothering because people harassed him for it. He didn't gate-keep the story. When he's avoiding talking to Sangah about it at the beginning of ORV, it's because he knows what happens when he tells people about the story, not because he's gate-keeping it from her. He notes he's not proud of his hobby (likely because he's been bullied all through his life, including for reading the thing he loves): he finds it embarrassing to talk about, and better respects her studying Spanish in her free time (learning another language is a generally accepted thing in society). He assumes she won't care or will look at him funny (or worse) for when she learns about the novel he's into.

Basically anyone writing "let's gatekeep ORV" posts because of the anime announcement or because they dislike the manhwa or some other weirdness, y'all are the villains in the scenario.

The literal climax of the story is about sharing ORV with as many people as possible. What story were y'all reading?

[mars-ipan]

sometimes i’m like “i should probably work on my tendency to take it to the grave when i have feelings for people that are stronger than standard friendship” and then i imagine telling someone i have a squish on them and i immediately change my mind

[who-the-fuck-knows-blog]

i think the scene where ed told izzy to kill him legitimately changed my brain chemistry fundamentally. izzy just fully done with everything. he knew what ed wanted him to do and said “fuck off”. and then when ed went to recreate the dream he had, izzy didn’t take his shit. the scoffy sort of laughsnort before he said “go on, clean up your own mess, i’m not doin’ it, i’ve been doin’ it all my fuckin’ life.” because this is so typical of ed to expect him to do this for him too.

he called him EDDIE. and said that he’s been doing this his whole life. i’m insane. i’m inconsolable. how long. have they known eachother.

i wanna know why he shook his head like that. i need to know everything.

edit: christ i think he shook his head because he was about to start crying and he forced himself to laugh instead. i’m ill.

[starflungwaddledee]

what is the name of the awtdy au? it looks to be an acronym of some sort

(any more stuff about the au in general is welcomed)

correct! here's the two page comic i made to answer this question instead of just typing out five words like a normal person because i am nothing if not committed!

[your-phantomfield]

CARL = CLOVER

i .. ii .. iii circa 2198 for @tokufan400

An older-sibling-esque relationship...

I.

What Carl Clover has had to live through would change anyone. The things he’s seen are the kinds of things one usually can’t find outside of a war zone. In many ways, his experiences have made it impossible for him to relate to others his age.

And considering who was behind the horrors he’s faced, it’s even worse with those older than him.

He knows adults are smarter than him. They know things he doesn’t, they’re able to hide things and lie to your face in ways he never would have imagined two years ago. They can hurt you in ways he couldn’t have made up in his worst nightmares.

So Carl doesn’t take any risks with those older than him. He can’t afford to. Not now- not with Ada depending on him.

II.

Because of this, it isn't easy to get through to Carl. His trust is hard to earn. The walls he puts up get higher in proportion to the age difference between you, and the power difference that creates.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone looking out for him. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be able to trust again. But to build that relationship with him, you have to be patient.

He keeps his distance by presenting as unfalteringly polite. This chilling formality is how he’s learned to protect himself, how he keeps himself from being tricked or used- so don’t try to push past it. Let him set the pace if you want to get close to him.

Try to treat him like an equal early on. That kind of respect will do more to prove your good intent than anything else could.

III.

He’s had plenty of people start off expressing concern for him, only to turn around and treat Ada like a monster. You have to avoid that if you want to be in his life. Try to be compassionate toward Ada. She may not look it, anymore, but she’s just as much of a traumatized child as he is. She’s worse off, in his opinion- at least he still has his body.

Be honest with him, of course. You’re not going to be able to understand her. Don’t try to pretend to be able to- you’ll do just as much damage by ignoring her ‘condition’ as you would by ignoring her humanity. But do respect what she was, at least, and what she still is to him.

He says she speaks to him. So trust him on that. Ask him to translate for her so that she isn’t left entirely out of conversations, just like you would for a ‘normal’ child with a disabled or speech-impaired sibling.

IV.

Meet him on his own interests. Even before his life was torn apart, Carl was always a little different. Sheltered, shy, oddly mature- being born into aristocracy made him a little… stuffy.

If you want to foster a surrogate sibling relationship with him, keep that in mind. Even in a good mood with his walls down, he might not look like a stereotypical fourteen year old boy. He’s not up to date with memes and doesn’t ‘get’ a lot of them. There may be some video games he’s open to trying, but he is prone to regurgitating that “I was told they rot your mind, we should play a more stimulating game instead” rhetoric. He thinks music with cuss words is pedestrian. (Yeah, this is the kind of kid that calls things “pedestrian.”)

V.

He loves chess, and he’s had no one to play with for a long time. He used to play with Ada, but she’s lost the dexterity to move the pieces; when they’ve tried to play, she ends up knocking the chess board over on accident, drawing attention to just how much they’ve both lost and unfortunately ruining the mood. So play with him. Even if you don’t know how or aren’t very good at it, he likes to teach, and it’s nice to see him have a chance to be all smug about his win streak- a chance to be a normal, bratty kid about something inconsequential.

If you humor him enough, he might be willing to try out some of your ‘more simple’ interests. He’s no good at sports, but as long as you encourage him, he can have fun with things like basketball or volleyball, where movement speed and quick thinking is more important than brute strength.

As for games those ‘brain rotting’ video games, he might never really ‘get’ first person shooters, but story driven games might be up his alley. Get him hooked on some good visual novels or JRPGs, he’ll like them more than he expects to.

VI.

There are actually a lot of hobbies he used to have that he was forced to abandoned after what happened to Ada. He and his sister both played violin, once upon a time. The incident stopped them, each for their own reasons- Ada can’t hold an instrument properly anymore, and Carl doesn’t have the space to be carrying around anything superfluous while living on the road. He used to read a lot, too, but his books had to be abandoned for the same reason as his music; he can’t be carting around a library from city to city.

It would be great if you could help get him back into the things he used to love. Buy or rent a violin for him; he can play it all he wants while he’s in town, and leave it at your place while he’s gone. Keep some books for him, and on occasion, offer to read to him. His sister used to read to him all the time, and he loved it. It’s one of the million things he misses about his old life.

VII.

On that note, invite him into your home, if you can. Whether you’re able to offer him a whole room or only a couch, that stability represents the end of his loneliness. Give him a place to keep his things, a place to return to when he’s about to fall apart, a place where he knows someone is waiting for him.

He’ll never be able to stay; his work is not yet done. So don’t insist. Don’t try to be his parent, don’t try to set curfews or bed times- just be there for him. He’ll come and go as at his as he needs to, but as long as he can trust you to see him off with a smile, he’ll keep coming back.

Whether he’s staying for days and waking up to share breakfast, or showing up at your door unannounced in the middle of a rainy night; give him a place where he’s welcome.

A ‘home base,’ at least, if he’s not yet ready for to accept a ‘home.’

VIII.

Speaking of breakfast. Could you cook for him? Even early in your friendship, before he’s willing to trust you, he’s always open to food. No matter how much he insists on his independence he still needs to eat.

He’s a horrible cook himself, so he hasn’t done the best job keeping himself fed while on the road. When he has money, he can buy himself a meal, but there aren’t a lot of restaurants that will allow him to go in with Ada without making a scene. He’s gone hungry often, and he knows it’s a problem; it weakens him and slows him down as a vigilante, and it worries his sister.

A home-cooked will melt his heart. He’s missed his sister’s cooking so much- this may not be able to make up for that, but it still means the world to him.

[icannotgetoverbirds]

saw an exclusionist post so here's a reminder

specifically in reference to transmasc lesbians and trying to draw lines in the sand on who can and can't claim the lesbian label, about how being a lesbian is exclusive of loving men, with someone referring to the people they're attempting to exclude as "fandom gremlin transmascs and neo-mogai crazies."

I don't have the spoons for a proper response but i do feel like i need to make something clear.

on this blog we support fucky genders, fandom gremlin transmascs, and neo-mogai crazies. reblog if u love ur fellow fandom gremlin and neo-mogai crazy queers.

[naomiknight-17]

My brother said something the other day about how no-one could prove if the current anti-Israel boycotts are actually making an impact cuz there could be other reasons people aren't eating at McDonald's or whatever

But besides the fact that there are many articles easily find-able online saying that the companies are aware of and feeling the impact of such protests, and some are even making some changes, I needed to make a point to him about why I participate in boycotts whether they're successful or not

But my brother tends to get annoyed and stop listening whenever I talk real politics, so I tried to make a really simple analogy

Let's say there's a man outside our house, and he is just beating people to death with sticks. Not people from our neighborhood, but still, people. We can't call the cops to stop him, because they think he's doing a great job. And we can close the blinds and ignore him, but he's still there and we know it.

And he has a big pile of sticks, so when one breaks he can get another to beat the next person to death with

So one day you have to go outside and the man turns to you and says, "Hey. Can you pass me a stick?"

And maybe it doesn't matter if you do or not. Maybe someone else will give him a stick anyway, or he'll get one on his own, or he'll start punching people

But I don't want to give him a stick.

And maybe I can't stop him, but I at least don't want to help him

At this point my brother tried to make a joke (because that's what he always does in every conversation) and he said something like "What if you don't give him the stick and then he beats YOU to death"

And I was like, "That's a great point, actually, because the Yemeni wouldn't let weapons shipments through their waterways so Israel bombed them."

And the analogy was broken but. I hope I made my point

Maybe I don't have the power as an individual half a world away to stop a genocide. But I at least want to not contribute to it

[kissingwookiees]

its 'leave social media if you dont want spoilers' and 'noooo dont put me and the other community council members on a blocklist for potential spoilers thats bullying' like....

[perceivedregret]

vampire eddie this, vampire eddie that- what about vampire steve

pt 1 of something (so it goes) that's been gnawing at me. i'll prob just go about updating only on ao3 if it continues to take a hold of me. user is the same over there 💐 [there's a part 2 now]

and so it begins

Kathleen Harrington was known for many things, but to her one and only son, she was simply mom.

She was kind but stern, helping Steve with his homework with a calm voice as she corrected his work, the promise of desserts after dinner if he finished before the sun set. Cautious but fun, always letting him lick the batter off the whisk where he sat on the counter as she placed the cupcakes they had spent a better part of their morning shopping for all the ingredients into the oven.

Most would call her absent as she was so often out of town with her husband while her son stayed at home with a sitter. When she was around she was attentive, always watching, always listening. It used to creep him out, used to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end the way she’d call out to him from another room to stop doing something she had no way of knowing he was doing.

During recess Steve would tell the kids that his mom had superpowers. While they were all gathered together, laid back in a circle watching the clouds skirt across the sky after they'd all tired themselves out playing tag, cheeks red and hair sticking to their foreheads, he'd tell them. With a quiet voice, low enough to mask his genuine awe and side of unease he'd mutter that his mom was a witch with a magical third eye that could see through walls.

The kids would all look at him warily, but then Tommy would flick his friend's forehead as an unimpressed scowl scrunched his features. "Monsters and witches aren't real, Harrington. But you know what is? Cooties! You're it!"

Steve would huff in annoyance because, "no, seriously guys, it's weird," but it wouldn't matter because he had the Touch and needed to spread it to the rest of the boys who were already halfway across the playground before the bell rang.

The older he got the less skeptical he became, and eventually he decided that mother’s just know things. Moms have some freaky sixth sense that has nothing to do with magic or some supernatural element because monsters and witches aren't real. Mom’s just know their kids and when they’re messing around with things they shouldn’t, nothing more, nothing less.

Being all knowing wasn’t her only gift. She was also filled with an abundance of sayings. She had one for just about everything, and more often than not those saying made Steve’s eyebrows attempt to knit themselves together as he tried to make sense of the phrases she so often threw his way.

"A watched pot never boils, Steve. Your father will get here when he gets here. Stop watching the street from behind the curtain and set the table for dinner before he gets home… Now. You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Except, the pot will eventually boil.

"Birds of a feather flock together, don’t you worry yourself. You’re still growing into who you are, still figuring yourself out. You'll make friends, just give it time."

But what if the bird lost its feathers?

"You can't miss what you’ve never had, honey. You’ll forget about those puppies before you know it. Now, let’s get going or else we'll be late for evening service."

That last one was one of her personal favorites and it was one of the many few that made sense to him.

The first time she said it, or at least the first memory he has of her saying it, he's three. They're at Cherry and Dot's Toys picking out a gift for one of her book club members' youngest's birthday. They're flying up and down the aisles trying to find something that doesn't make Kathleen's skin crawl. She's dragging Steve around by the cuff of his sleeve as she mutters disdain for the creepy porcelain dolls and ugly plastic GI Joes staring at them as they race through the shop.

Like any other kid, Steve’s eyes are saucers as he takes in the setting. Before he can even think about reaching a hand out to grab the first stuffed dinosaur that comes within arm’s reach, she's pulling him away. He tries to reach for it, ignoring the initial tug.

"Steve, no, not today."

The plushie tumbles to the floor, the tips of his fingers jostling it off the shelf as she tugs again. They both reach for it together but Steve's small frame means he gets to it first and he immediately hugs it close to his chest.

“Please, mom, just this one?”

“Put it back, I said not today."

He shakes his head, hugging the plush closer as determination sets his features, a budding tantrum about to be let loose. He's about to commit to it as he takes a breath, filling his lungs to get a good yell out, but before he can start she's crouching in front of him with a steely stare that makes tears begin to spill. With a stern look she takes a hold of his chin and he hiccups on that inhaled breath, the urge to make a fuss defusing with one single look.

"Steve, do not start with me."

"But m-mom, I wan–"

"Yes, you want, you can want to your heart's content, but you do not need. Today's trip is about Emily, not you." She tips his chin, eyes narrowing and silently asking for understanding. And Steve does, at least he thinks he does, so he simply nods. He nods and puts the neon green and blue triceratops back on the shelf, if only to get her to stop looking at him like she can see through him.

She watches him warily for another moment until she can confirm her son won't go about embarrassing her as they stand surrounded by Tonka Trucks and Barbies. She gives the bridge of his nose a light pinch before her fingers move deftly to wipe away the tracks of tears. A quick once over of him and she stands, fingers locked around his wrist as she grabs the first doll that doesn't make her skin crawl.

"You'll get over this soon enough, Stevie. You can't miss what you've never had."

The phrases along with their many memories are one of the few many sayings that are tucked away and held close, remnants of memories that are held together by scotch tape and sheer force of will of what life was before.

It's all he can do to keep a hold of his humanity ever since he died.

At least that’s what the headstone back at Hawkins declares.

tags and notes can be found on ao3!

[morifawn]

occasionally i am reminded how much i wish my physical disability limitations didn't prevent me from irl thrifting regularly, as deeply satisfying as it is to scavenger hunt secondhand sites for hours to find the perfect piece, there truly isn't a more rewarding feeling than visiting your local thrift locations regularly and finally scoring something amazing imho :,3