#act how i feel

[mintaii]

a little post act 1 drawing...

[girasolmuerta]

For real tho 😩

I'm trying my hardest to not act how I feel.

[tawnysoup]

You both jump in place for a bit, grinning.

[drdisasterarts]

stardust to stardust // inspiration -> "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt

edit: reblogs r appreciated plsplspls😖💕‼️

[pidgydraws]

✨ together ✨

continuation from part 2...

[pangur-and-grim]

oh. I think my fears about Chiefcake passing from old age were more on point than I realized. she's acting very weak right now.

and it's late on a friday, when all the rabbit-specific vets have closed. I'll call around anyway to see if at home euthanasia is an option tonight.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Into the pit? More like into the daddy issues

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[macadamiyam]

cait is h*rny on main

[timethehobo]

Face hurts from smiling so much but I finally met Emmy in-game!

He’s exactly as I imagined him to be, omfg. 😭🫶

[triona-tribblescore]

I thoroughly enjoy the stage of huskerdust where they have yet to fully admit their feelings to each other uvu <3

P2

[knightingale]

The "Sansa reminds Sandor of his sister" motive that some people try to hitch to his character really just flies in the face of his actual attachments to her, doesn't it? Sansa reminds Sandor of himself. He sees the little boy who used to love knights in this girl who's been swept up by the same romanticism. He sees his abuser in her abusers, the much larger knight(s) beating on the helpless child. He sees how she is betrayed by every level of authority that should have saved her and remembers his father's neglect and Tywin and Robert's apathy for Gregor's crimes. He's protective of Sansa because he was Sansa.

And GRRM's design, that one of the strongest warriors in the series, a fearsome and cynical 6'8" guy who's "muscled like a bull" and has the face of death itself, sees himself in this soft and effeminate teen girl, and empathizes with her because he was an abuse victim too, is INFINITELY more compelling than "Oh yeah I bet she just reminds him of his sister," who he's never mentioned and who we know literally nothing about. Way to unnecessarily water down a character, you couldn't have ignored the black and white text more efficiently if you tried.

[vaguely-concerned]

the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh

[kedreeva]

I need you to understand that the very straight and immediate line from someone's very confident "I don't like mice/I've handled mice before so I know what they're like" to joyous wonder as they hold the first calm, friendly mouse they've ever held and murmur "they're so soft/sweet/warm/gentle" practically to themselves is basically a drug

"I work at a petstore," says the young man with much disdain, "so I don't really need to hold another one. I know what they're like."

"These aren't petstore mice," I say, as I turn my hand over and the mouse holds on tighter. "They're not like any mouse you've ever held," I say, as I close my hand gently around the mouse and flip her onto her back for a second so I can touch her mouth and demonstrate how difficult it would be to get one of my mice to bite.

"I'm sure you've handled them extensively from a very young age, though."

"They haven't been handled before today, except to be moved into clean cages." She arranges herself in my hand and cleans her face. "Are you sure you don't want to hold one?"

He opens his hands, and she pours from my hand into his like a viscous liquid. She is soft and warm and sweet, and his entire face lights up when she hunkers down onto his warm hand and closes her eyes.

"....She's changing my mind."

"They tend to do that when you leave it open."

He took her and two companions home.

[shivunin]

Because I have just seen this specific thing for the second time, I would like to say:

If I reblog your art, I do not expect you to reblog (or share!) my fic in return

If I comment on your fic, I do not expect you to comment on (or read!) mine in return

My enjoyment of anyone's work does not come with strings or expectations

My friendship is not a bill that you will have to pay later

That's it!