#also chicken nuggets

[arttsuka]

So, @wolfythewitch 's gravity fowls au...

[inkz123]

Day 8: Bento🍱

[inkskinned]

one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.

in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.

disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.

desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.

in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?

we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.

except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?

and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.

to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."

this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.

in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.

the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.

and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.

some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.

the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.

we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?

"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.

there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.

[summertaters]

Ka-Ka-KACCHAKO

[icarusbetide]

i know washingdad jokes are more of a fanon, musical thing but really. i genuinely believe in my soul that historical washington was the type of guy to hear his aides chant "we want mcdonalds we want mcdonalds" and silently enter the drive-through just to order one black coffee, no cream no sugar and leave.

[arawsuu]

Had to draw Dew even though hes burnt and a bitch

[pant--eater]

thinking about the fact that Melisha is canonly traumatized from the chicken escape incident, being thrown into the pie machine and basically getting nearly boiled alive in gravy.... it's probably really hard to talk about the PTSD to most people without sounding weird or crazy. "Beaten up and nearly cooked by a bunch of chickens on an airplane"? Would have many people laughing in its absurdity.

No wonder she masks it all with the "strong and charismatic businesswoman" facade and refuses to show weakness :''') i also love the hcs that she wears that full-body covering outfit and gloves, to cover her burn marks

[wilhelm-in-places]

Semicircularhelm

[cruesuffix]

found this interview bout a week or two ago and thought it was pretty funny. nikki and mick make so much noise you can barely hear them at times. at one point they even order mcdonalds and continually rustle the bag and stuff. it’s extremely loud at some parts (sudden coughs and the bag rustling) so maybe keep the volume down so you don’t get jumpscared. also if you don’t like the sound of ppl eating this might not be for you either…it’s not loud but it is noticeable.

[idiasmentalhealth]

if i had a dollar for every time i knew a character who's:

1. nonbinary

2. with white hair

3. in a dating sim

i'd have 4 dollars. which is quite a bit, and something tells me there's more i just don't know about.

[intotheelliwoods]

Oooh you guys want to send shit to my inbox so badddd 👍to get my art juice flowing again and all that

[violetscharcoal]

Gregory violet modern au

part 1: confession <3

notes: just pure fluff, also no he doesn’t mean to act like a creep, he just is like that naturally. also I wanna turn this into a mini series! just 3 or 4 parts orsmt idk

also english isnt my first language and I’m dyslexic so if there are some spelling mistakes then shut up.

(AND IF YOU HAVE GREG MODERN AU HEADCANONS PLS SEND THEM IN!!! ID LOVE TO HEAR THEM!!!!)

He spotted you a few times in hallways, never talking to you, just.. staring?.. he never considered you a ‘crush’ just someone who stood out in a crowd!

until he noticed that whenever he made a portrait, it slowly started looking like you, he groaned and tried again… again, again and again… everytime it had atleast one of your features, your nose, eyes, hair and just whatever he found the prettiest.. which is everything.

So eventually he started looking for you, slowly following your schedule, maybe a bit creepy but whatever…

You noticed little drawing being left to you. of your favorite flowers, animals, characters. and it slowly turned into litte poems!

a few months after this started you sat in the library, just studying. or atleast you tried to. there was a guy staring at you, a familiar guy who you’ve see around before! you didn’t think much of it, I mean sure he was kinda cute, his hair always being a bit messy, his hood hiding his face looking a bit mysterious… you where interested in him but never really got the courage to walk up to him…

but now you’re sitting alone in the library with him, the boy occasionally glancing at you. you take a small breath and look up as well, catching his gaze. it clearly caught him of guard as he looks away immediately. his cheeks turn into a slight crimson red, quite cute.

until suddenly he softly slides a piece of paper to you, ofcourse you grab it and gently fold it open. A letter? he wrote you a love letter? you read it and realize that the writing style was familiar!

you look at him again, but he’s gone along with his stuff and everything… but its okay, he really is a sweetheart <3

(and perhaps your sweetheart???)

[starheirxero]

Btw I can't lie I find it INSANELY funny how many people have fallen for not just the tsams thumbnail, but ALSO tlaes thumbnail. You are all, in fact, the april fools

[cartoondrawer]

Female Villains:

Gaslight 💄

Gatekeep 🪻

Girlboss 🌸

[galacticair]

I went to an early screening of Chicken Run 2 a while ago, and saw some models up close :3

[sreabhadh]

So. I slipped and fell. And now I have a nearly 2k word long Vortex fic to release into the wild. And yes, I do mean Vortex, not TexAid- this predates Vortex's death. (Don't worry, I'm getting there, I have plans). (There as in Vortex's death. I hope it turns out as juicy as I want it to and is as juicy to others as it is to me.

Mandatory Vortex trigger warning. I would say standard TexAid warning but First Aid isn't in this one.

Blood, gore, death, violence, language, Shockwave. I am scared enough of Shockwave to consider him his own trigger warning lol.

Hope you guys like it!

**********************************************************

Vortex’s vision was filling up with red. Figuratively. They were going to pay. Vortex had figured it all out, and they were going to pay. Vortex checked the time, grinding his teeth with a furious snarl. It’s not enough. Not enough for the bastards that did this. Not enough to make them bleed until their pristine white lab coats are the brightest shade of red. Not enough to make them drown in their own precious fluids, with as many holes and cuts on their bodies as Vortex’s little brother had bandages on his body. A stab of the knife for every stab of the needle, a twist of the knife for every bruise, a slice for every inch of cloth wrapped around him. They brought Swindle to the edge of death then made him dance. Vortex was going to make them beg for such a merciful treatment, and then he would make sure they never came back.

His fingers ran over each of his weapons in each of their hidden pockets and sheaths, memorizing them physically, where each one was and how many he had of each. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have any of them. Vortex had gotten quite skilled at hiding them though, and his stockpiles had grown substantially over the years. They were going to be quite useful tonight. Tonight there was a meeting of the higher ups, to discuss the recent influx of monsters on the Western plains. Vortex hadn’t received an invitation, but he was writing his own. He’d have to write it after he was already inside, which wasn’t how invitations worked, but he needed blood to write this invitation, and he wasn’t going to use his, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to use Swindler’s. It was fine. He’d just write the invitation so it would be inviting them to hell, instead of inviting himself to the party. They had gotten lax. They’d trained their attack dog, set him loose on monsters, promoted him, given him treats and trinkets, forgetting more and more every day to worry about how his teeth would feel piercing their flesh. Vortex could act like a good boy, walk right in on their party, and unleash hell. And boy was it going to be a hell of a party.

Vortex’s vision filled with red. Literally. It was such a beautiful color. Made a real splash on the decor. Literally. The screaming had already started, though Vortex had only just begun. His first target, the one most responsible for what had been done to Swindle and the others, lay on the table choking on his own velvet-colored fluids as they eagerly ate up the horde of white sheets and notes of paper lining the table edges. Vortex’s remaining party poppers, the other inhabitants of the room had scattered, clambering over one another to get to the door. Which wasn’t working, silly thing. Them and their fancy automatic doors made of fancy metal to keep them safe. Never did work correctly when there were psychopathic murders on the loose and killing everyone in the room. How inconvenient. For them. Vortex grinned like a mad man, hopping up on the table with the glee of a 5 year old on their birthday. Like a normal 5 year old that is- Vortex couldn’t remember any birthday parties at that or any other age. He sniggered, then lost himself in a howl of truly demonic laughter. It wasn’t his birthday, but it was never too late to make up for lost time.

“WELCOME TO MY PARTY YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT!” Vortex crowed from his new table for standing on and giving ominous speeches of vengeance (now in deep cherry red, no tablecloth required to provide a pop of color).

One person was still sitting at the table, probably in shock. Vortex ignored them. He could kill them after their panic set in enough to make them scream in terror. Failing that he could just make them scream in agony.

Many in the room turned from their fleeing positions to regard him with horror. Others ignored him, banging and slamming on the door, calling for help. Ha. Idiots.

“I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY WHAT I’VE PREPARED, THOUGH NONE OF YOU CAN STAY FOR VERY LONG-”

Vortex gave the line a moment to sink in their panic-filled heads before continuing.

“AS YOU’LL ALL BE RECEIVING A PERSONAL ONE-WAY INVITATION TO A VERY SPECIAL PLACE!”

“YOU MAY HAVE HEARD OF IT! IT’S MUCH BETTER THAN HERE REALLY, YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE IT!”

“Bloody hell!” someone exclaimed. Vortex shot them in the head. The air exploded with a new chorus of shrieks and screams as vibrant as the colors that had exploded from the skull he shot. The monster-slaying caliber weapon might have been a bit overkill and then some on a human head. Some of the shrapnel embedded itself in other people’s bodies and skulls. It was perfect. The screams were delicious.

“EXACTLY! HELL! CONGRATS YOU FIGURED IT OUT! YOU ALL GET A ONE WAY TICKET TO HELL, FREE OF CHARGE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO EVERYONE, IT’S THE LAST THING YOU’LL CELEBRATE!”

That last line hadn’t come out quite how Vortex wanted, but the lab coats and neck ties were still quaking in terror, so it was doing its job regardless.

Vortex lifted the now-dead corpse on the table by the collar of its tie. This is what they would all get for hurting his family. For hurting Swindle. He wanted to yell that part more ferociously than he had anything else, but he couldn’t. He had been conditioned into not showing any weakness and not giving the enemy anything to work with. He wasn’t going to give them that. They could die not knowing exactly what they had died for, but Vortex would know. That’s what mattered.

Vortex stabbed the corpse a few dozen times for good measure. He’d been distracted enough not to notice when exactly the man had expired, but he wasn’t breathing, and never would, which Vortex took as a good thing. Disappointing that he had gone so quickly, the bastard deserved worse than that, but at least he was gone. He’d never hurt Swindle or anyone else ever again. Now for the others. Cowering and cringing before him like, well, he didn’t have anything pathetic enough to compare them to. These were the people responsible for so many deaths and so much suffering and they couldn’t handle a little blood? A single combatant? There were more than enough of them to have at least tried fighting him, but no one seemed inclined.

Or not. Vortex whipped around at the sound of a scraping chair, ready to defend himself and fell his attacking victim. To put them down like they fucking deserved. The person with the chair wasn’t attacking though. They merely had a hand on the back of it, and their face was turned away from Vortex. The hell was that about? It was the person who had stayed sitting earlier, the one in shock. What were they doing? Were they still in shock? They didn’t look like they were in shock, though Vortex couldn’t tell without being able to see their face.

Alarm bells rang in Vortex’s mind, and he instantly shifted from gleeful murder spree mode to careful predator mode. He couldn’t be sure what this person thought they had up their sleeve or what they were doing, but it wasn’t going to get in the way of his vengeance. Or his fun.

Languidly, they brought a hand up to their face, then cast it aside like a used cigarette. The mask they discarded crashed noisily against the wall and down to the floor, electronic pieces sparking and fizzing as they continued to display the holographic image of a normal person’s face. Vortex felt his heart begin to race. There was only one person on base ever rumored or seen to wear a mask. He hadn’t realized there was a holographic aspect to the mask. He’d never heard of that, but he did know of one person who supposedly wore a mask.

The figure turned, and Vortex felt a wave of terror roll over him. One eye. No face. One eye, glowing with quiet confidence and casual malice. How many people had seen Shockwave’s face and lived to tell the tale? It’s him. Vortex’s knees buckled, almost sending him spilling off the table like a fumbled glass of milk. A number of the other occupants in the room passed out.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit FUCK. It was him. He was real. He was real and staring Vortex right in the face. Unblinking with his singular nonhuman eye. It- he, Shockwave- tilted his head. A question. A challenge. That much Vortex could read in the monster’s cold humanoid figure. Vortex no longer felt like a careful predator or a gleeful 5 year old.

He felt very small, and very tiny. As insignificant and meaningless as a dented piece of equipment that had finally stopped serving its purpose. A crippled rat strung up and helpless to the slaughter. Vortex snarled, though his heart wasn’t in it. He lifted his monster-slaying gun by instinct with the battle-hardened limbs and muscles trained to work long after Vortex’s mind had taken a leave of absence. He fired. And fired again, then again, and again, releasing a halestorm of fire. Surely that would work. Surely it had to. Surely. He’d never make fun of anyone for using an overpowered gun instead of a good knife ever again. Sometimes guns were overpowered for a reason.

Sometimes being overpowered wasn’t enough. The gun overheated, safety fail clicking on, rendering it useless. The gun slipped from Vortex’s fingers, then clattered hollowly to the table. Vortex wanted to run. Wanted to hide. Find the darkest, quietest, most remote corner of existence and curl up inside it and whimper like a kicked pup. Fear. Vortex had not felt that emotion, truly felt it, been consumed by it in a very long time. He had banished it, cut it out with his bare hands and removed it forever. No longer. Vortex was afraid. More so than he had ever been in his entire life. More than every terrifying moment and memory of his life combined. He had enough to fill a stadium with, but they wilted in comparison to this. This thing. The monster. Shockwave.

Shockwave stood, unmoved, unconcerned. He, it had not a scrap of clothing left, but Shockwave had no need for human decency. Shockwave was not human. His metallic “skin” fuzzed a moment, then was replaced with the holographic image of clothing. It was a bit blurry, but it didn’t matter. The wall, the ceiling and floor, that entire section of the room had been destroyed. Shockwave stood in the midst, completely unharmed. Completely unphased.

Vortex still wanted to run. Wanted to whimper and hide. But he was dead now anyway, so he gave his best snarl, which came out as a half-choked hiss, and lunged, aiming for that singular sinister eye with his good knife hand.

Shockwave caught him by the throat, and Vortex felt the hologram fizz uncomfortably against the skin beneath the vice grip of Shockwave’s cold metal fingers. Vortex’s body moved reflexively, mind working desperately, but his attempts were as fruitless as before. He could kick, punch, jab and twist as finely as the best trained wolf, which he was, but in Shockwave’s grasp he was but a mewling pup.

Shockwave slammed Vortex into the wall, and Vortex heard himself cry out. It was a far away sound, and his vision swam, the concussion from the blow already threatening to shut his brain down. Shockwave slammed him into the wall again, and Vortex groaned, unbeknownst to himself. His body rag-dolled limply in Shockwave’s grasp. Vortex was out like the light of a birthday candle on a lone velvet cupcake.