#OP YOURE KILLING ME.

[arkodot]

coughs twice. flattens hair. taps mic.

GREAT POST OP

Wk Doodle dump

here are some of the doodles from the lovely requests you guys sent, thank you so much <333 I don't actually know that much about pokemon but my fav gen is black and white so I just drew them with the starters bc i love snivy and oshowatt idk Also more sick Chris doodles because im currently sick (yes again) for the umpteenth time and im going to make him suffer with me...

[fkapple]

[3cosmicfrogs]

oh 12.65 litres of blood clinging to the outside of my body, we're really in it now

[therobotmonster]

The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice

Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."

The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.

He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.

The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.

It was a veritable buffet.

So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.

So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.

"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.

"My name is Alex, and no." She said.

He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.

So why wasn't he Alex now?

It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.

No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.

"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"

He blinked.

The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.

"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"

He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.

Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.

"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"

The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.

"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"

She rolled her eyes.

"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"

"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.

"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"

"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"

"The mortal realm?"

"More specifically?"

"The Earth. The United States."

"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."

The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."

"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."

"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."

"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.

The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"

"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"

The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-

The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.

"How are you doing this?" He gasped.

"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."

"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?

He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.

Almost.

He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.

None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.

"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."

Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.

"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."

Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.

"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."

Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.

A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.

The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"

He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.

He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.

"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."

"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"

"What are you?"

"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"

"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.

"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"

"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."

Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.

"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"

"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

--

Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.

[bi-mirandalawson]

porcupine dilemma: no matter how strongly you desire intimacy, you will not put down your knife.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

You know, I like you and I've followed you for ages but when I see you posting about how you want ethnic cleansing it kinda grosses me the fuck out

no, actually. i don't know. because i don't know you. you are a complete stranger to me. and i don't care how much you liked me or how disappointed you are. your disapproval means less than nothing to me. what gets your approval is horrific.

you already know that 'from the river to the sea' means 'palestine will be free' you know that it's a call to end the ethnic cleansing of palestinians. you are so drunk on internet juice and brainwashed by the disneyfication of colonialism you think that the ongoing annihilation of innocent people for nearly a century is somehow justifiable and that a slogan representing earnest hope of freedom is an attack on you. you think hoping for people's freedom and safety is threatening to you. you believe that hope is a threat.

you already know all of these things, and you are approaching in bad faith because it's all you know how to do. you want me to post frieren not arguing with a zionist kill yourself image because it will reinforce your victim complex. you want me, someone with absolutely no skin in the game so to speak, to overreact because it's painful subject matter and you'll be able to point to it and say whatever it is you feel like saying that will justify in your heart or to your friends that millions of people should be killed so that some other people can steal their homes, kill their children, desecrate their graves, and piss on their existences.

you want me to tell you to kill yourself so that you can feel better about supporting a genocide. you want me to be toothlessly mean to you online so that you feel better about supporting a genocide.

not that a strangers blog is some important place that you need to seek refuge in, but you will never be welcome here. i will not make you comfortable about your position and i will not allow you to feel peaceful here. you don't get to enter my house and put your feet on my couch and watch my children play and hear me laugh over meals with my loved ones as we share art and tell jokes and talk about our day.

you want me to tell you to kill yourself because you're miserable and cruel and you want to believe you are justified, but you aren't. you never will be. im not going to tell you to kill yourself. i'm telling you, despite your proclivity to the contrary, to get the hell out of my house.

Some Links for Palestine:

One Click to Help

Operation Olive Branch - Google Sheet

UNRWA

eSims for Gaza

[galvatronsthighs]

New movie inspired me to put my two cents in on this trope.

[cosmicrhetoric]

still can't believe that kaido came down from the ceiling in his big ass dragon form to announce that luffy was dead and nami got so mad she stepped out into the open and started YELLING at him. like fully yelling she called him a stupid lizard man. sure blah blah she loves luffy so much there's no cowardice in her when it comes to defending him but the pure Haterism it takes to look the strongest man in the world in the face and go yeah actually fuck you fuck your mom fuck your kids (not yamato) fuck your whole existence you're NOTHING to me 🍊💥🤬

[moongothic]

You know when I originally suggested that maybe Dragon is the one who gave Crocodile his scar and/or took his left hand --if only because [Dragon not recognizing the big scary man with a baby when he was supposed to go see his wife, assuming the worst and acting accordingly] would make for an A-Class tragedy and great fucking drama (something which I would expect to see in One Piece)-- I wasn't fully convinced with the idea, I just considdered it just another option on What Could Have Happened between those two to get us where we are ...But the more I think about it, the more I've started to kind of believe it. And for two key reasons, first being kind of everything we know about Whitebeard, and the second being the basic logistics around the suggested scenario to begin with

By which I mean; if Dragon had indeed gone to see his wife so he could deliver their newborn baby to Garp, but instead came face-to-face with a man he had never seen before but who just happened to have the exact same and very specific facial scar as his wife and/or the same god damn hook... Like I can't say he SHOULD be able to recognize Crocodile instantly, but also, surely either of those features would make him stop for a moment think and/or talk before he'd jump into action, let alone if the man had both the scar and the hook. Of course, there is an argument to be made that maybe Crocodile had a smaller hook originally that no longer fit on his wrist after getting jacked so maybe Crocodile just wasn't wearing any hook at all, and a missing limb isn't an unusual disability on its own, at least not enough to faze Dragon. And who knows, maybe the two were supposed to meet on a dark and stormy night, in which case between the low light and the rain it could've been hard for Dragon to see any scars on Crocodile's face from a distance. These are both reasonable arguments, absolutely. But, as I have mentioned a few times before, sometimes the path of least resistance might be the most likely option as far as story speculation goes. If Crocodile had both his hands and no scar on his face, then Dragon wouldn't have had any way to immidiately and instantly recognize Croc (aside from his fashion sense) as he would've been missing (what we would now considder) his most distinquishing features. Which would it much easier for Dragon to jump into action and attack the strange man without a second thought.

And then there's Whitebeard. Whitebeard, who was kind of famous for stomping rookie pirates only to invite them to join his crew as his "sons", but who also had a weird thing about not having women in his crew (his nurses aside), because he believed "women do not belong on a battlefield". For one, that actually kind of supports the "Crocodile is openly trans" theory because, again, how the fuck would Croc have been pre-t AND stealth as a Wardlord getting his shit kicked in by Whitebeard? Like it's not impossible, as we have discussed many times before (and that is not the point of this post!!), but once again it would be easier to just assume Crocodile was still living as a woman at this point in time. And indeed, that could answer the question of "why would Whitebeard not invite Crocodile into his crew to be one of his children like Ace and everyone else?". If Croc was still living and presenting as a woman at this point, Whitebeard would not have even wanted him in his crew. (Sidenote but since Whitebeard seemed to have no issues with Jinbei hanging around the Moby Dick despite being a Warlord I don't think Crocodile's Shichibukai status should've had any impact on WB's ability to invite him to his crew. To be fair though, Jinbei did join the Shichibukai much later so it is possible WB could've just changed his position on the subject over the years) And that leads to this question; if Whitebeard has that kind of views on women, then would he ever go as far as to severely injure and scar (someone he viewed as) a woman right on their face? With an attack that could have very easily chopped Crocodile's entire head in half like a god damn burger bun if he weren't careful? Do you think Whitebeard would have chopped Crocodile's left hand off and left him permanently disabled if he viewed him as a woman who shouldn't be a fighter to begin with? Yes, to be fair, we do not know the circumstances under which Crocodile challenged Whitebeard into a fight and what kind of a pirate Crocodile had been up until that point, what his reputation had been and if he had done anything in particular to invite Whitebeard's wrath (much like Kid and Barto with Shanks). Like for all we know he could've done something truly heinous and fucked up enough that Whitebeard thought teaching him a lesson was justified.

Just, looking at all of these notes together, I can't help but to feel that it's actually very plausible Dragon could be the one responsible for one of Crocodile's injuries if not both (if Crocodad Real).

[bitchimasnake-sss]

omg one thing i love about the one piece live action is that mackenyu is just always serving face

everyone else: in danger meanwhile mackenyu:

[broken-clover]

It's eternally a little funny whenever I see someone say something along the lines of 'everyone in Strive is so happy now! Everyone's stories are getting resolved! It'll be hard to make a new game when everyone's retired and living peacefully and resolved their problems' and then there's a haunted semi-sentient mecha corpse in the corner constantly screaming from being trapped in limbo

[aq2003]

there's a quick secondhand account from part 2 of david tennant filmography video essay from OP's boyfriend saying david's performance as macbeth blows his hamlet out of the water and i don't know what kind of drugs his macbeth is on for that to even be possible because how is that possible. How . oh my god?

[kacievvbbbb]

God Characters like Erwin Smith and Shanks and the way they’ve let their trauma run their lives. Erwin to the more obvious extent of course but;

Something about men imprisoned by the love they have for their dead fathers violently taken from them to young and too soon.

Cloaking yourself in the weight of his dreams won’t save you. The dream will end and there will still be a hole in your heart and bodies in your wake.

[drwafton]

Made fanart of you-

I'm sorry if this version of you I made you a God-

"I have to say this art is well done! I wouldn't exactly call myself a god though. Still I appreciate it."

[cliveguy]

i feel like im going insane but this came up on my fyp and everyone in the comments is talking about how huge and terrifying these spiders are and it's like? does everyone not have at least one corner of their house with one of these in them. these are literally the most normal and unobtrusive spider you can get in your house. am i insane that people are acting like they found a black widow or a tarantula or something.

[mayasaura]

sometimes I get really scared about Alecto the ninth and getting a satisfactory griddlehark resolution that fully acknowledges the romance and complexity of it all but I feel like giving us no griddlehark would just be mean and Tamsyn does not strike me as an author who would do something just to be edgy or dunk on her audience or whatever else people do so I try and maintain the faith. Also her short stories and stuff support the idea that she’s actually a big romantic at heart so fingers crossed

Honestly, this is something we have no control over. Tamsyn Muir is gonna write the ending she wants to write, and whether we find it satisfying or not is going to vary from person to person.

But both books so far with planned ending points have ended on the most romantic emotionally complex notes imaginable. So I think we're in good hands.