#I don't know how to put it in words

[dailyrickastley]

Via The Guardian

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[deadpoets]

DEAD POETS SOCIETY (1989) dir. Peter Weir

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Archery Nemesis.

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[captain-flint]

something something Ed not being able to step in to protect Stede from physical and emotional harm out of fear of damaging Stede's reputation and instead letting it play out as he silently falls apart in the background

[bixels]

I'm not explaining why re-imagining characters as POC is not the same as white-washing, here of all places should fucking understand.

[inkskinned]

sometimes we just need someone to pay enough attention.

for the longest time i had been trying to read The Lord of The Rings. everyone had sung the praises for it, over and over. i'd seen clips of the movie and it seemed like it could be fun, but actually reading it was fucking horrible.

my parents had the omnibus - all the books squished into one big tome - and in the 4th grade i started sort of an annual tradition: i would start trying to read TLR and get frustrated after about a month and put it back down. at first i figured i was just too young for it, and that it would eventually make sense.

but every time i came back to it, i would find myself having the exact same experience: it was confusing, weird, and dry as a fucking bone. i couldn't figure it out. how had everyone else on earth read this book and enjoyed it? how had they made movies out of this thing? it was, like, barely coherent. i would see it on "classics" list and on every fantasy/sci-fi list and everyone said i should read it; but i figured that it was like my opinion of great expectations - just because it's a classic doesn't mean i'm going to like experiencing it.

at 20, i began the process of forcing myself through it. if i had to treat the experience like a self-inflicted textbook, i would - but i was going to read it.

my mom came across me taking notes at our kitchen table. i was on the last few pages of the first book in the omnibus, and i was dreading moving on to the next. she smiled down at me. only you would take notes on creative writing. then she sat down and her brow wrinkled. wait. why are you taking notes on this?

i said the thing i always said - it's boring, and i forget what's happening in it because it's so weird, and dense. and strange.

she nodded a little, and started to stand up. and then sat back down and said - wait, will you show me the book?

i was happy to hand it over, annoyed with the fact i'd barely made a dent in the monster of a thing. she pulled it to herself, pushing her glasses up so she could read the tiny writing. for a moment, she was silent, and then she let out a cackle. she wouldn't stop laughing. oh my god. i cannot wait to tell your father.

i was immediately defensive. okay, maybe i'm stupid but i've been trying to read this since the 4th grade and -

she shook her head. raquel, this is the Silmarillion. you've been reading the Silmarillion, not the lord of the rings.

anyway, it turns out that the hobbit and lord of the rings series are all super good and i understand why they're recommended reading. but good lord (of the rings), i wish somebody had just asked - wait. this kind of thing is right up your alley. you love fantasy. it sounds like something might be wrong. why do you think it's so boring?

[evilrat-sabre]

This isn't about Strawberry jam

I want to ramble on about something I am not so sure about what it is, so I will tell yall a story.

So imagine this; You are 20 years old, you live with your partner in your shared apartment, your partner buys a tiny glass jar of strawberry jam. 

If I pointed at that moment and asked you what it was, I think you would say “Well, it's a jar of strawberry jam” 

Okay now, imagine one week later; the jam was good, but the jar was tiny so you and your partner already ate all of it, holding the empty and dirty jar you realize, wow it has a very nice shape, maybe I can use it as a cup, so you clean the jar and lets it sitting beside your water filter. 

If I pointed now and asked what it was, what would you say? “It’s an empty jar of strawberry jam that we use to drink water.”

Okay cool, nice and practical, lets go forward, Imagine 10 years later… Yea I know a lot of time, but hear me out; You are 30 years old and you had a child in the meantime, this child is 7 years old. 

If I pointed to the empty jar of strawberry jam and asked what it is, you know what they would say? “It’s a glass cup, we use it to drink water.” Do you see where I am going?

Okay now let's go 30 years in the future, imagine; you are 60 years old and this story isn’t about you anymore, no this story is about your grandchild now. Your 37 years old child has a 10 year old child themselves now. If I pointed to the glass cup and asked the same old question, what would they say? “Oh that's a vintage glass cup that belonged to my grandparents, my parents get it out on… special occasions.” Okay cool, it's a vintage heirloom now I guess.

Okay now Imagine; Someone broke it, what would be said if I pointed to the glass and asked you to say what it is?

“This was an empty jar of Jam, we bought it a bunch of years ago and I don’t remember if the Jam was good or not, but it served us well.”

Ok, and If I asked your child?

“Oh, this was an old glass cup that was in my parents house. I liked to use it when we would drink vodka… I think it was older than me. It's a shame it is broken.”

Your grandchild?

“This was a family heirloom. It was older than my parents and I pretended to give it to my child one day. To be honest, the thing was old, it is a miracle how long it lasted.”

The garbage man that will dispose of it.

“Someone threw broken glass in the wrong bin, I will have to put on my gloves.”

[leconcombrerit]

This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.

And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.

What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.

And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.

Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.

And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.

It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.

It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.

Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.

I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.

[longmaxsilvarg]

something about the main menu for life is strange genuinely makes me wanna collapse and sob

[ciao-bye]

Is it wrong that I it all felt so romantic for me?

Not physically romantic, but just... Romantic

The only thing that can truly wound a monster is another monster.

[dotterelly]

It's interesting to me how comparatively calm qPhilza's lore feels, especially in comparison to the heavy angst of qTubbo and qBad all coming to a boil last week/weekend. Like, our cubito is also experiencing personality changes, serious threats and foreshadowing that he may either die, be stolen away, or straight up possessed. The conversations with his eggs about death and what it means are happening. But the vibe is so gentle. The changes (for now) are subtle and quiet. So much happened in today's stream and some of it was deeply concerning and yet I'm despite the way he ended I came out of that feeling warm and cozy and wholesome.

[themeraldee]

AY the southern stylist ask was delicious ik that was a while ago but I'm scrolling through lol. But like what if he came in one day, really rough day, madlyn was on him, the media too. Just pissy baby energy. And then she sees him and immediately can tell something is wrong, especially when he doesn't chat or smile like he usually does and before she can think she's cupping his cheek and just going "Sugar, you seem down. What's wrong baby?" Of course in like that southern way where baby can be used platonically but she sees the effect it has on him and goes 'oh mommy issues, that makes sense. Welp gotta lock in now'

[follow up to this - sort of]

Stupid Stan and his stupid fucking lectures. Homelander slams the door to the dressing room open. It leaves a dent in the wall but he doesn’t care as he slams it back shut.

Fucking Stormfront. Where does Stan get off thinking he gets to decide who goes in the Seven for god sakes?! Undermined again, being made to feel like a petulant child—again!

He’s so frustrated there might as well be steam coming out of his ears. And now he has to prance around at a premiere for fucking Tek Night Lives and pretend like his life doesn’t feel like it’s unraveling. 

Homelander sits himself in the makeup chair staring at a reflection of himself. He can’t even contort his face to a neutral state. He watches as his jaw tightens, his Adam's apple moving with a gulp and his tongue pushing his lip out when he runs it across the top of his teeth in frustration. He can’t stop fidgeting and flexing his muscles. He’s doing anything he can to take away the urge to scream and tear anyone nearby piece by piece.

He’s so distracted, stewing in his own persistent thoughts that he gets caught off guard by the two gentle hands that land on his shoulders, jumping a little in surprise.

For a moment he forgot about this. About you. About the only good thing he seems to have left these days. Something positive to come back to.

"Honey, you look all kinds of stressed. What's eatin' at ya? You alright baby?" The honeyed drawl of your sweet southern accent almost does the job at untangling the coil of frustration and anger in his gut.

“It’s nothing.” He raises his hand sweeping it through the air, brushing it off with a tight fake smile. He doesn’t want to appear so frazzled in front of you but he’s so on edge, filled with this angry energy that there’s no way for him to keep calm.

“Now, don’t you go tellin’ me it’s nothin’. I can see it all over your face.” You brush your fingers through his hair as if to expose his face even more, not allowing him to hide behind any loose strands.

“Come here.” You walk around the chair, your hand sliding down from his shoulder all the way down his arm so you can slip your hand into his gloved one, pulling him out of the seat.

Vought always spends too much money on things that don’t matter. That’s why this dressing room is fully decked out. To your advantage now, it also includes a nice couch that you lead him to.

Sitting down on the edge you urge him to follow you. Homelander feels even more lost now but for a different reason. Yet he’s not one to refuse close contact. Grateful that he still holds some respect among Vought employees as the increased time he’s demanded for his hair and makeup prep is coming in handy now more than ever. At first it was a thinly veiled attempt at seeing more of you, at hearing more from you. Now it comes with extra perks he didn’t even think would be an option. 

“Come on now, don’t be shy, sugar. Rest your head here, you need to relax.” You tap your lap, giving him the green light to continue. 

He slowly lays down on your lap, his head facing away from you.

“There ya go. Nice and relaxed.” Your hands automatically slide into his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp, as if scratching the tension right out of him.

Homelander lets himself melt into you, accidentally humming out loud in pure bliss. How can something so simple do him so much good? 

“Feels good, don’t it baby?” The way your fingers manage to melt the tension out of every inch of his body makes Homelander think that you might have a superpower of your own.

“Sure does.” He says in a lazy tone, a dead giveaway to his blissed out state.

He ends up turning around to face you and the ceiling. After a few minutes of pure indulgence he catches your hand before it does another round of running through his hair and stroking down his cheek and instead he brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it soundly, closing his eyes to enjoy the gesture as much as he can. 

He sits back up and you lean in to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. One that gets him all flustered, his once tense exterior now replaced with that cute boyish smile and a carefreeness spread across his face. “That’s better.” You comment on his smile.

"Now, how 'bout we get you back in that chair so I can work some of my magic on your hair after I’ve gone and messed it up some, huh? What do ya say, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, let’s.”

[ckret2]

I had just finished the first chapter of the Axolotl arc in WAIGLZ and reading the second.

Is he technically being a ghost ever going to come up past this arc to the other chapters in WAIGLZ later on?

Like,

"It was not like y o u were the one who viciously murdered me! I am mean technically your gruncles did not even kill a "living" being in the first place, according to s o m e people,

Bill shook his head, fanning away trillion year old resentment

-"you really think it was my first roadio? P l e a s e . So, try not beat yourself up about it kid, ok?"

Mabel looked up and stared at Bill.

"Wha- Huh??" Mabel said dumbfounded.

It would be crazy coolio to see it mentioned in the main fic.

Until I read your fic I never even thought about Bill being a spirit once, and now I feel rather silly wondering how he lived so long outside of his dimension :,)

Please have a truly wonderful day + happy holidays! ^ ^

Toodaloo!

I'm sure eventually it'll be mentioned again (I mean, for one thing, eventually we're gonna see the massacre) but probably not like that.

Like, Bill technically-being-a-ghost isn't some big secret or a major plot twist, and it doesn't fundamentally rewrite the rules around him and what he does. It's just what we see him do throughout canon.

He's a non-physical entity ("a being of pure energy!") that's apparently self-sustaining without needing sleep or food and impervious to injury and illness ("with no weakness!")

He's usually invisible to normal (living) people. He can possess people. He can move inanimate objects even though he can't physically interact with them. He can haunt dreams.

When he has the opportunity to make himself a body, he doesn't turn into something physical; his physical form is separate from him, and he can freely separate from it any time he wants.

This is mind-body dualism. Generally, mind-body dualism is a framework people use to express the idea that the spirit/soul is a separate entity from the body. The thing that's killed in Stan's mind is the spirit; the statue left behind is the body.

Meaning, before he had that body, he was spirit.

When he separates Dipper's spirit from his body in the exact same way Bill separates from his own body, he says, "Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

Bill usually doesn't have a vessel to possess.

Ergo: Bill's basically a ghost and he said so himself.

I haven't listed anything we didn't learn from Sock Opera and Weirdmageddon.

The ONLY question is "well BEFORE he was an energy being, did he have a physical body?" Whether he was born an energy being or became one later is in the realm of headcanon; and I suppose it's a matter of opinion if an energy being counts as a ghost if it's 100% identical to ghosts in every way except that it didn't previously have a physical body. You could argue that his eagerness to get a physical body the second he could implies he used to have one or was meant to have one, but that's speculation.

In every other way, he meets the criteria for a ghost the same way that tomatoes meet the criteria for berries. But when someone tells you "tomatoes are berries," it doesn't teach you anything new about tomatoes. You already knew tomatoes have berry-like traits, you just assumed they were disqualified because they're too big or too unsweet or too vegetably, and now you know they aren't disqualified.

So like—putting that word on him doesn't change anything about Bill. You've learned nothing new. The characters around him would learn nothing new. It's not a plot twist or massive character revelation; it's just a background fact that gets mentioned when it's relevant.

[louisferrignojr]

my favourite ‘sidenote’ about the katey stoetzel article is her acknowledging josh russo as a character. like... the most journalist ever... she even mentioned carson.

[sergle]

what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting. not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women. and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do. acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house. saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.

like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive? "you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it. if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right? also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.