#Supports Surfaces

[cinderoo]

miners have rights

[starry-bi-sky]

this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au

Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.

By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.

Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.

Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.

It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.

Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.

He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.

Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.

It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.

Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.

He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.

The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.

They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.

"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"

When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.

By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.

[gingerswagfreckles]

I see a post about how JK Rowling's goblins are antisemitic. I click on the person's blog. Their blog is filled with Holocaust inversion, MENA Jewish genocide denial, Hamas support, political "takes" from Twitter bitches with the red triangle in their usernames. I click out and block.

[flwrkid14]

Buried Beneath The Laughter They Ignored

Tim is totally fine. Ridiculously fine, actually.

It didn’t matter that he woke up feeling this bubbling, manic laughter in his chest, like everything was suddenly so fucking funny. It didn’t matter that he’d woken up from another nightmare last night, crying, calling for his mama—not the mother he lost, but the mother he gained, Harley Quinn. And it didn’t matter that most days, he felt more like Joker Junior than he did Tim Drake.

It didn’t matter that no one else seemed to fucking care.

He shoved down every bit of laughter clawing up his throat, because he knew if he let even one chuckle slip, they’d all give him that look. The one they always did. Disapproval masked as concern. They didn’t like Junior. They didn’t want to believe Junior was still in there, clawing his way up every time Tim breathed.

It didn’t matter that no one ever asked him how he was doing. They didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and they preferred pretending it wasn’t. They expected him to be fine, to push it down, to carry on like nothing happened. If he tried to bring it up, they’d say he was being insensitive—insensitive to Jason's trauma. What fucking irony, he thought bitterly. As if it wasn’t insensitive to be stepping all over his by not letting him speak.

It didn’t matter that he caught them glancing at him sometimes, like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to snap, waiting for Junior to come out again. But they never asked. No one asked what was going on in his head. No one fucking asked.

It didn’t matter that when he finally snapped, when he finally screamed at them, sick and tired of pretending, they had the nerve to act clueless. As if they didn’t know.

It didn’t matter that Dick, of all people, screamed back. Yelling like he was being unreasonable. Like he was the problem. He screamed at Tim, demanding answers, to ask what the hell he meant by Joker Junior, as if—

As if they didn’t know.

They didn’t fucking know.

This whole time, they hadn’t known.

They didn’t know Tim had been taken. They didn’t know Tim had been missing. They didn’t know Tim had been held prisoner at the hand of the Joker for months, tearing him apart, piece by piece, until Junior was the only thing left of him. They didn’t know he had screamed for them, begged for someone to find him, but no one ever did.

They didn’t know how much he had suffered. Alone. They didn’t know how much he had changed. They didn’t know that every time he woke up now, it felt like he was still Joker Junior, just wearing Tim’s skin.

And they didn’t know how much it hurt—how much it broke him—to realize that they had never known.

Tim wasn’t fucking okay. And it mattered—oh, it mattered—that they didn’t fucking know.

Because if they didn’t know, it meant no one ever bothered to look. It meant no one ever cared enough to notice.

[alltimefail]

Another YouTuber has talked about the Dead Boy Detectives cancellation and asked if they should do a full series where they explore each episode!

You know what to do!!!! Subscribe to Amanda, like, and comment! Thank her and tell her you subscribed and would love to see more Dead Boy Detectives content from her!

Stay positive, stay focused, keep fighting. We will save Dead Boy Detectives! I know it's easy to get bogged down, but if you start feeling pessimistic do not let that feeling consume you. Just step away for a second and breathe, do something that refreshes you, and come back when you're ready.

You're not in this alone. Netflix is banking on waiting this out until we are all fatigued and our numbers have dwindled. DO NOT give them that satisfaction. Be loud, keep streaming. We're doing great!

[infizero-draws]

these freaks AGAIN? when will i be free..

[clonerightsagenda]

I'm really grateful I have a group I'm already involved in right now, because I'm seeing a lot of despair and "I don't know what to do" and "I'm the only one in my community who feels this way", whereas we're like. well. we know what to do. It's going to suck, it might not work, people are going to get hurt in the meantime no matter how hard we try to limit the damage, but we do know what we need to do.

The reality is, this is not a mobilization problem. It's not going to get fixed by convincing more people to go to the polls, or if a few third party voters had held the party line, so you might as well stop blaming them. Actually unfortunately the next steps rely on stopping blaming individual people, but go ahead and take however long you need to get it out of your system. I get it.

As I said, it's not a mobilization problem. A large portion of the population voted the way they did on purpose, and a big reason for that is because for a large portion of the United States population, life kind of sucks and has been getting worse. The Democratic party has failed to run on a coherent narrative of why this is and how they're going to make it better. The Republican party, on the other hand, has run on a very strong narrative of how they will make it better by getting rid of all the things and people who are to blame. It's a narrative that has worked for a lot of groups in the past. It's working now, in the increasingly polarized social media landscape, even in demographics Democrats have typically considered safe. Everyone loves the luxury of having someone to blame.

Unfortunately, the fix to this is long, and slow, and hard. It's not begging politicians for scraps. It's getting offline and going outside. Talking to your neighbors about their lives, their fears, their needs, and what kind of world would meet those needs. Even the one with the Trump sign in their front yard. Some of these people are in it for the racism and the cruelty and siphoning everything to their rich cronies, but a lot of them are struggling and desperate and grabbed for the life preserver someone threw them, even if it's secretly stuffed with arsenic. If thrown a different life preserver, they can be convinced to grab it.

And no, it's not ok that they decided to shove vulnerable minorities' heads under water just so they could theoretically get theirs. You're allowed to be angry! But unfortunately further isolating these people only pushes them deeper into the fascist movement ready to embrace them. They need to interact with real representatives of the groups they've been trained to blame and fear. They need to be given a different narrative with real solutions, but screaming it at them on Twitter won't do it. Long conversations where people take their hardships seriously but direct them more constructively might.

That's not going to be easy. You may not like or forgive them. And not everyone can do this work! It's going to be safer for white, not visibly queer/gnc folks to make some of these initial contacts. (At one of our meetings, a femme woman of color was talking about canvassing transit riders and dealing with misogynistic comments and having to decide, ok, where do I personally draw the line saying I cannot work with this person versus being aware that a lot of people are not steeped in politically correct language and can change. It's a tough line to walk!) People also aren't interested in answering their doors for canvassers these days, so organic social connections work best. Maybe you're talking to people in your workplace. Your apartment complex. Your neighborhood. Your own family. Maybe you join a book club full of seniors at your public library. Many people want positive change! My state notoriously always votes for progressive ballot measures and then turns around and votes in conservatives who try to dismantle them. There's a logic gap there, but in that gap is a potential for conversation, because we have places where we already agree and want to work together.

The theory here is, if we can talk to enough people, if we can build genuine real world offline connections where we agree on our shared problems and our shared desires for a better world and come up with solid solutions beyond pointing fingers, we can build a large enough coalition to start making demands, most likely through targeted disruptions (strikes, walkouts, etc.). The handy thing is, if you can get that many people demanding something, it doesn't actually matter which party is in power.

Is that possible? I don't know! Organizing that many people is really really hard. It's hard reaching out to people who've just punched you in the gut. Some people will not change. Some people will have hard lines that don't mesh with your hard lines. And I'm certainly really scared myself about the likely takeover of all three branches of government and probable draconian measures against dissent. We're going to have to carefully consider risk/reward when planning actions and disruptions. We're going to have to fight through fear and exhaustion and apathy and pain and betrayal, and I don't know if we can. I don't know if I'll see something like this happen in my lifetime (although the UAW sure is gonna try in 2028). Hell I don't know if we'll have elections 4 years from now. But that's the path. If you're not up for walking it right now, that's fine. If you're not up for walking it ever, ok. But I don't think there are any shortcuts or miracles. This is what we can try, and if it fails, at least we did what we could.

(If you see this post and your instinct is to reply with some variation of 'nice speech but we're all fucked and might as well give up', I understand why you feel this way. It's a feeling a lot of us are struggling with right now. Take the time you need to take care of yourself, and when you're ready, you can come back and we'll be happy to have you.)

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I have all of these extended thoughts on my head about the amazing way themes and character relationships are handled in Iruma-kun and the inclusion of queerness and the handling of the coming of age narrative in this shonen manga/anime

And every time all that comes out when I'm reccing it is "You should watch/read it"

Do it. Go watch/read Mairimashita! Iruma-kun/Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun

Please.

[swordsonnet]

self-proclaimed radical leftists: in the communist utopia that exists only in my head, everyone will work, by which i mean a full-time job in the post-industrial revolution sense. this is because work is obviously the only way one can contribute to society, and everyone who doesn't work is a parasite that will be eradicated in my Communist Utopia™. i don't even care about the products or purpose of people's labour because, as everyone knows, employment equals morality and so having a job is inherently virtuous and not having a job makes you a lazy leech who doesn't deserve to live. trust me, this is a very communist idea. i'm practically an expert because i read 1.5 tweets about marx.

what? omg why are you making this about disability, i was obviously talking about normal people 🙄 if you're disabled, you have an excuse to be a useless waste of resources who can't contribute anything 😊 in my ✨ Communist Utopia ✨, you don't have to work if you're not able to. don't worry, we'll have rigorous and dehumanising tests to determine if you're disabled enough or if you're just a lazy faker! this process is infallible and has no drawbacks whatsoever for disabled people. have you considered that maybe you're the real ableist for criticising me? 🤔 anyway, have i mentioned how much i love employment and also the taste of boot leather

[annabelle--cane]

also, udad time

[inarmes]

yes i am the biggest advocate of surrogate father haymitch & adopted daughter katniss but like. they're so Awful. they've not got a mother/daughter relationship, they've got that father/daughter relationship where the dad is both reaching for a connection and rejecting the thing that he made because she's too much like him, too close to what he is and far away from it because of her potential and the daughter rejects because she doesn't understand him. understanding him is understanding herself. caring for him is caring for herself. and then she's awful to him because she doesn't understand and doesn't want to understand. and he's rejectful of her because she's got so many traits that are for the worse and not for the better. their similarities don't hurt nearly as much as what their differencee impale them with. it will always be what katniss could be (haymitch), and what haymitch prevented/could've been (katniss.)

[rowanclair]

If you haven't seen my shop recently, there have been a few new additions, as well as restocks of older things! If you're outside the UK now's a great time to get ahead of the end-of-year post. And yes, there are discounts available...

🌟 rowanclair.etsy.com 🌟

There's also INPRNT if you like bigger art prints!

🌟 inprnt.com/gallery/rowanclair 🌟

[piplupcola]

I don't have a lot of confidence in my art, but Roosterteeth and Achievement Hunter was one of the few things back in the day that got me to sit down & draw. I'm still really honored to be one of their guest artist for their 18th anniversary. You weren't always the best Roosterteeth, but thanks for inspiring this shy artist to keep drawing.

[muninnhuginn]

I imagine the damianya crowd have probably been all over this months back but the way damian and anya both pursue stellas above all else to the point of putting themselves in situations they hate simply so they can impress their parents

[feligayzed]

hii... grins... question abt surface au...

how long did it take for sebastian to get used to walking on land with Legs again and does he ever need aids like a walker... ive got a few ideas forming in my head for the fic i promised but i need to know which are possible and which arent..

Hihi!! You know I was thinking about this the other day and I wanna say it took him a hot minute to regain full confidence in walking, like nearly a year? The first few months post-procedures were really rough, like that was the time period where he (begrudgingly, Painter and doctors insisted) used a walker to get his feet back under him, and as he progressed switched to aids such as elbow crutches~

Present day he doesn't need them anymore, but he does keep a cane in the closet as a backup in case of bad days (he didn't anticipate the long lasting effects, so that was a kind of hard pill to swallow. The logical side of him suspected that he wouldn't be able to simply pop back with his 20yo vigor, but his hopes were maybe a touch too high)

[tovaicas]

↳ ꜰꜰxɪᴠ — ʀᴏᴜᴠᴀꜱᴛʀᴇ ᴅᴇ ʟᴇᴜᴠᴇᴄʜɪᴇʀ ⇄ ᴇꜱᴛᴇᴇᴍ

Today, tomorrow — forever on, from one war to the next. Have you ever wondered when our war ends? Does it even matter? Were we not meant to be nothing but weapons from the day we were born, our edges kept sharp and bloody when needed and hung up and set aside like good, obedient little soldiers when not?

(Steel Temper! Heavensbreaker! The Warrior of Light! Our Weapon of Light!)

Look in the mirror. Do you still feel him crawling up your spine, setting within your bone? Do you feel it gnawing at the edge of your soul? Feel the blood in your fingers again. Remember your purpose. Remember the grind of the bone beneath your fist. Remember. Remember. Remember. Stare into my eyes and REMEMBER.

(Even now, you continue to deny it. Well. Deny me all you want. You cannot deny what we have done.)

You feel it, don’t you? There’s no point to hiding it. I know you. Feel the furious pulse of hot blood in your head. Feel it in your teeth. Feel it in your throat. Feel it in your heart. Feel my hand on yours, cloak it in scale, and grind it deep into where it needs to be. Again, and then again. One broken shield exchanged for another. It’s never enough. It will never be enough.

(Or you could beat every single one of them to death with your bare hands. You would like that, wouldn’t you?)

But you know as well as we — that it was never the Eye.

(I knew you would.)

It was always just you.