#I know you're better than this

[violetviolyn]

Caitlyn... Caitlyn darling look at me, ok? I understand that you're feeling those big, confusing emotions right now. It is good to feel them. What isn't good is letting those emotions control your behavior and treat people like that, alright? You're such a clever girl, I'm proud of you. Now go apologize to your wife and give her a big KISS ON THE MOUTH FORFUCKSAKEEOKFOFLDLVK

[hirakiyois]

losing the greatest minds of my generation to the agony and despair caused by between us' choice of using the words "man up"

[hansoeii]

crowley

[swolesome]

Expanding on this great post by Aranock. I have talked about this before: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iuRpNDgp5Ck&t I will be talking about it again, because for whatever reason, the message is not sinking in with a great many people. This "The left doesn't try to reach men" narrative is one of absolving responsibility and placing blame; not only is this not helpful to boys and men, it is actively harmful to all of us. Quite frankly, the right treats men like absolute shit, reinforcing the idea that all men are in a constant battle for dominance (and thus, that there are "superior" and "inferior" men), or that they must perform to a certain contrived patriarchal standard to be adequate in their manhood or worthy of acceptance. Whether it is Andrew Tate peddling vicious misogyny, or Jordan Peterson cramming bioessentialism down our throats and acting like crying while he does so makes it a balanced and compassionate take, the mechanism is the same: Boys and men are drawn in by the reinforcement of what patriarchy has taught them about manhood. That it is domineering, aggressive, violent, and positively correlated with power. It is validation of patriarchy, that is the appeal, it is not because "the left doesn't try to reach men." Are there problems in leftist and progressive spaces in how we talk about boys and men? Yes. Absolutely. Unfortunately, this is an inevitable byproduct of the trauma so many people have experienced at the hands of men. It's also an inevitable byproduct of a space where diversity and self-determination are core values for most people. There is no specific, strict behavioural doctrine we're all beholden to--that's kind of the point, and it means we have to engage with problems as they arise rather than downplay or deny them. Social cohesion and change is work, and that's that. But we all need to stop acting like someone on social media posting "Men are trash" is the driving force behind this problem. Andrew Tate literally uses his fans as foot stools and calls them pathetic wastes of space, yet he raked in millions and rose to unimaginable influence specifically because of this unapologetic contempt toward his target audience. If you take twenty seconds to look beneath the surface, it becomes painfully obvious that the issue isn't what's being said, it's who's saying it. Boys and men who have taken the patriarchy pill do not listen to women, and they do not listen to anyone challenging their worldview because the very idea of being challenged is a threat to their identity. Men do not compromise. Men dominate. Men do not listen. Men already know what's real and true. Leaving space for correction is admitting weakness. Pushing this idea that leftists aren't trying not only erases the hard work so many of us are doing, it absolves the men suffering under patriarchy from doing the internal work that would free them from that suffering. Like I said, it is not. Helping. And relying on the input of a literal sex pest to elaborate on this problem not only keeps this creep relevant by giving him a foot in the rhetoric door, it just ain't a good look. We should be having this conversation, being able to talk about this stuff is part of the solution, but you can find better sources of insight flipping logs in a swamp. My guess is that the reason Vaush even takes this stance is because it protects him from having to face his own inability to admit wrongdoing and concede space to people who know better. It's the same male dominance concept masquerading as "progressive" because the guy pushing it publicly says "trans rights" while privately salivating in the DMs of every trans woman content creator this side of Saturn. Let's clean it the fuck up, boys. We're better than this.

Seeing people fall for the "left doesnt speak enough to young men, and I the most sexist creep whos platform is devoted to harassing women and who thinks you need tactical n words am definitely a good source on this" stuff again and I just am so sick of it. There are actually a lot of leftist people, particularly leftist men, who are speaking and reaching out and trying to help young men grow.

Please go watch; F.D. Signifier or Swolesome or Colormind or Babila or Noah Samsen or 50 other of my colleagues who do good work online.

Trying to find a progressive way of doing sexism is not a solution and seeing multiple people sharing a fucking v**sh tweet on here is disheartening. Like no actually the racist sexist creep does not have a point, catering to sexism is not going to help young men. Yes of course the right appeals more to young white men, because power is appealing, being told that "you deserve everything and you are better than everyone else and actually women not having sex with you, which obviously you are entitled to, is because traditional gender roles(ones which benefit you) are being taken away" is more appealing then "actually you do need to work on yourself, you are not entitled to sex or power" then idk what to say. But theres no world in which you should want to cater more to the first thing and still genuinely call yourself feminist.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[lazylittledragon]

do i have to post an in-depth tutorial on how i make my frappes at home if it'll get people to stop going to fucking starbucks

[egophiliac]

me: okay, I did the 350k points thing ONCE for pink Last Note Hayate, I'm never ever in a million years going to do it aga --

dkmn: blue digimon Fralio :)

me: oh DAMNIT

(I did eventually get the card too, even though trying to pull him felt basically like...)

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[fridgrave2-0]

hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

[darkeneddawning]

Escaped clone au

You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.

Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.

Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?

So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.

Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.

More thoughts under the read more

Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:

After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.

But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?

That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.

Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.

Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)

[cosmicdreamgrl]

taehyung x on/black swan performances for @raplinenthusiasts [ cr: 0613data ]

[mister13eyond]

I just saw barbie and i have Thoughts

[capydoodle]

have compassion for yourself and for others. it seems hopeless but any small amount of good you can do is just that much more love in the world

[aroaceleovaldez]

just read the plot summary for Wrath of the Triple Goddess and. wow this is. painful this just sounds painful to read.

Why is Grover the incompetent inciting incident character? That is not his narrative role ever, really. That's like, the fanon conceptualization of his character where he's reduced down to comedic relief and nothing more. He's mostly exposition and support. Why not have the inciting incident be something about Annabeth's hubris - something that has gotten the gang into situations tons of times before in a way that doesn't put down any of the characters? Heck you could have even tied it into some Sea of Monsters stuff, like Circe having told Annabeth that she'd make a good sorceress. That'd be perfect for how this book literally just exists to be advertising for s2 of PJOTV. Or maybe call-back to Percy's introduction, where he talks about how he doesn't try to cause problems but problems tend to find him. Or use the established personalities of Hecate's animal companions from HoO, since we know they have attitudes. Just what are you even doing here????

[luminique]

hii hii lumii !! I ADORE your interpretation of lighter so far— I love him smm

anyways, I hope my req is okay but I was wondering if you could do a comfort fic ? maybe reader has been a lil distant lately and just in some feels and he gives them a lil talk after being blown off here and there to find out they were having issues w their mental health and not feeling good enough and maybe he’s caught off guard because reader is usually so out going and always has a smile on their face and to see them feel so small makes him wanna take care of them so much and gives them so much reassurance and gentle kisses and cuddles 👉👈

I hope it’s okay !! I’ve been in the feels lately

hi anonn !! im gonna answer this one first because i've been in the feels too and i think we all deserve some reassurance, especially after all of the sad lighter story.

i don't take lighter for the kind to be too intrusive. that's not to say that he doesn't notice the way you're staring off into the distance, as if always having something on your mind. or the way you left earlier than usual for the SoC's nightly hangouts around the fire. or the way you had just been distancing yourself from him.

maybe you just needed a day, or two, and so he waited. he waited, and waited, but it just seemed like it was getting worse. he was beginning to get anxious, coming up with possibilities and worse case scenarios. even his favorite grape-flavored lollipop couldn't reduce the anxiety that was building up inside of him as he followed after you one night.

he shook off his nerves, spending quite a bit of time at the front door of your lodging while in blazewood. mentally practicing what to say so that he wouldn't make things even worse than they already were. one step, two deep breaths, three knocks on your door. he cleared his voice, usually confident and smooth but now carried a hint of worry in it.

"hey, uh... everything alright?"

you could hear the ruffling of his jacket, the soft metal clinks of his gloves. he didn't dare open the door until you allowed him to, so he waited, just like he always had. "lighter? yeah, everything's fine," was that a slight crack in your voice? no, no, he had to have imagined that. he knew it was wrong but he had waited long enough. he turned the knob, opening the door just a little bit but still not walking in.

"you don't have to tell me everything. just... know that i'll be here, waiting for you." he wasn't the best at comforting, nor was he good at even navigating these sorts of things but at the very least, he wanted you to have the knowledge that you had him. it didn't take long for you to finally get up, opening the door that separated the both of you. you looked so... different. the light absent from your eyes, the edges of your lips normally turned upwards but now they weren't. if he couldn't say what you wanted to hear, maybe you'd understand through his actions.

his arms wrapped around you. squeezing you just a little tighter than usual as he somehow made the both of you waddle backwards into your room. he had kept his gloves in his pants, not wanting to hurt you even more with them. his embrace was a familiar warmth, like the fire during particularly cold nights in the outer ring. you could hear his heart racing, was it from nervousness? anxiety? fear? even he didn't know.

he took this as an opportunity to place soft kisses on the top of your head but then stopped all of a sudden. he turned around to the door and realized that it was still wide open. he kicked it close with his foot, feeling embarrassed at the fact that he had to stop because of something so minor. he wanted you to feel safe, to have privacy, to be able to breathe without others barging in. technically, he had invaded this space of yours but you were slowly melting into him, as if you had been waiting for this too.

every passing second hugging you, kissing you, it made his own worries disappear. he hoped the same for you as you slowly spoke to him about your own problems. as he listened, he'd pause every once in while to give you a deadpan stare. not because he was making fun of you or anything, but it genuinely baffled him how you could say such things about yourself. you felt so insecure about yourself and your image, about being with him, being with the SoC. he had to physically stop himself from just blurting "i love you" every time you said something so degrading.

instead, he chose to wait and listen. his calloused hands gently caressing yours, his lips pressing kisses on the side of your head as you nuzzled into him. he loves you for who you are, the person in front of him, not the image that you had made yourself out to be in your mind. but he waits for you to let it all out before he says anything else. he will wait, he will listen, he will always be there for you.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!