#but life says No. well whatever

[eternalergo]

[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.

[marypsue]

Man, it's cool and all if you see a metaphor for marginalisation in the monstrous, and if you want the power fantasy of 'what if you could just eat anybody who threatened you/pissed you off'. Me too.

However, as soon as you start saying 'no, these monsters are a 1:1 on Specific Marginalised Group, and you have to treat them in the fiction like they are directly representative of real human members of the marginalised group', BUT you also, in the fiction, make them hurt/kill/eat humans? And then try to shame me, your audience, for noticing or engaging with the bit where they kill people, because you made them directly representative of a real-world marginalised group? You have lost me, and also, I think, the plot.

[eggsdrawings]

grab what’s precious

fem dabihawks, ko-fi request for @cynda-queer !!

[triglycercule]

horrortale waterfall game broke me sorry (hey just like horror!)

[shorthaltsjester]

the mighty nein - critical role

this is a place where i don't feel alone. this is a place where i feel at home.

[sweetieviktor]

"it's the tradition", feat. viktor.

summary: it's christmas in runeterra and couples are sharing kisses under the mistletoe.

word count: 1.000. (yes! exactly 1k im happy with it :]

content warning: just fluff as always! :DD (written with s1 viktor in mind!!!

author notes: ITS 5AM AND IVE WRITTEN 2 FICS IN A DAY, maybe im going to die but fuck it we ball. love viktor and love xmas, i wish i could use sweaters but in brazil december is sooo hot but yeah, here it is a lil something for the holidays. hope u like it!! :)))

whenever some holiday approaches, piltover academy is adorned in it's colour by students. it's december and the halls are decorated with reds and greens all the way, bringing joy to those who look up and see the fairy lights blinking slowly to them. christmas is coming, and so is winter.

everyone is using their thickest coats, but there's still some people who are cold, even if they are holding hot drinks to warm up both their hands and their body, or if they are rubbing their arms, creating some friction that could maybe help it, or sharing kisses under the mistletoe meticulously placed on the tree near the entrance of the academy, which have all kind of things hanging on it. some letters addressed to santa, little brilliant baubles made in all type of materials you could think of, red bows and colorful lights, all made by it's students.

you wanted to spend your day like this, enjoying over your partner's warmth under the mistletoe. well, life isn't fair. he was already working and you needed to work too, but maybe you could bring him some sweet milk and cookies on your lunch break, right?

so once the clock hitted midday, you walked to the cafeteria, the same one you and viktor got out on your first date, and ordered enough cookies for both of you. the women on the other side of the counter packed them to you, putting the little bag on your right hand, while you carried the cup of sweet milk on the other. finally, you got out, hands full, hoping that you could bring him some of the christmas spirit when leaving those in the lab.

when you made it to the academy again, it was even more crowded than earlier, students going in and out, chatting and joking around, throwing snowballs at each other and playing in the snow. and again, the couples kissing under the mistletoe. and all you could think of was him. oh, how you missed his kisses. so you hurried up, the flashy holiday themed colors in the halls blending together in an indistinguishable blur.

once you reached his lab, you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for an answer. you could feel how your heart thumped against your ribs, maybe it's the nervousness or just because you runned all the way to come here in time. “come in,” was all you could hear from inside.

you turned the door knob, pushing it so you could enter the lab. he was hunched over his desk, but once he looked past his shoulder, realizing you were the one who got in, his golden eyes immediately lighted up, just like the fairy lights, but shined even brighter when he seemed the baked goods you carried, then turning again to his work, “just wait a bit, i will finish this, ehh- hopefully soon.”

you came from behind him, leaving both the bag and the cup over his desk, “i know these are your favorites,” you put your hand on his shoulder, “and it's my break now, but soon i need to get back to work,” his hand stopped, no longer making calculations. he looked up at you, then at the papers in front of him, thinking if he should or not give in.

sighing, he let the pencil over the papers. you knew he would keep working if you didn't say it. “i guess i could give myself a break, then,” the corners of his mouth quirking up while he reached for the bag, opening it and letting the smell of the cookies bathe the place, bringing coziness alongside it. he shoved his hand on the bag, picking one up and biting onto it, humming softly when it melted on his tongue, then bringing the almost half cookie to your lips, only to put away and eat it himself.

he was laughing loudly, keeping a hand over his mouth, to prevent any crumbs from coming out. “you ain't fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. you knew he was just joking, but you wanted to eat too, “i brought those so we both could eat. together!”

“i know, i know!”, he said, getting the cup of sweet milk and taking a sip of it, “but it's fun to tease you. can't help it,” he shrugged, looking at your pouty expression turning into one of anger. picking another cookie, he proceeded to feed you first, your frown immediately disappearing. he was trying to not laugh again, but he couldn't contain it, as he did so, soon the frown came back to your face.

“stop making fun of me and let me eat, for jannas's sake,” you also couldn't keep your smile from growing, it was such a good atmosphere that, even if you were mad at him for stealing your cookie and laughing at you, you couldn't be mad for longer than thirty seconds.

you were laughing with him, happy with how your lunch was going, eating and talking, so busy with everything that you didn't see him fidgeting, looking for something inside his jacket pocket. once there was no more food nor milk, he cleaned his hands, bringing one over you both, holding something up. a mistletoe.

you scoffed, running your hand over your face, “really, viktor?”, you were astonished, he truly got one of those just he could have an excuse to kiss you?

“well, it's the tradition, isn't it?”, he grinned, placing his free hand on your waist, bringing you closer, “any person who's under the mistletoe must kiss, it's correct?”

“yes, absolutely correct,” you put both hands on each side of his face, kissing his lips softly, tasting the sugar on his mouth. “but you taste like milk and cookies,” you kissed him again, just to make sure you got it right, “maybe next year i will bring you more of these, so we could kiss under the mistletoe again.”

“oh, christmas may be my favorite holiday now.”

[rouge-fauna]

Normally, I wouldn't really say anything about the drama and stuff, because that's not what I'm here for and honestly I feel like a lot of it is just none of my business. But, it just feels so close to home for me that I can't help but say something. Because here's the thing people aren't going to talk about and probably don't even realize, but I think so much of this drama actually has to do with Dream being autistic.

Just notice the themes of what Tubbo said about Dream being weird, inappropriate, not considering the social boundaries, not communicating, coming across wrong… etc these are all things that can be attributed to Dream literally not knowing better because of neurodivergence. That’s not an excuse but an explanation to know the difference between Dream texting Tommy’s mom out of being manipulative versus not understanding how that breaks a social boundary. That’s not to say Dream should get a free pass to do whatever but I think in the same way we take into consideration other people’s ages and their naivety and obliviousness and inexperience into consideration, Dream’s neurodivergence should be considered too. It is valid. It makes a difference between manipulative and malicious intent versus simply not seeing it the same way.

And really the sad thing is, that I think people will always dislike Dream. At the end of the day, I think that will never change, because even if he was the most perfect person people would still dislike him because of an underlying subconscious response to him not being like the rest. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he is made the villain in real life and in the dsmp, because it is simply a psychological fact that people inherently dislike autistic people. It’s not because they are ableist it’s just we don’t act like they do so that makes us weird and therefore unlikeable. And it’s hard to understand us because our brains our literally different and as has been said throughout history what we don’t understand we hate, we fear, we see as evil, we attack. Why does Dream get canceled and attacked over and over again? Not because they are true and it proves a pattern that he’s shitty, but because society is so desperate to find a more tangible reason to hate him other than the fact that they just do. Because his behavior breaks social rules he didn’t realize existed. Because he’s easy pickings. Because in my opinion it all comes down to autism and honestly until that piece is actually taken into consideration nothing will probably resolve.

[halfbaked00q]

Im soooo weak to when Bond is like casually being used or exploited at his expense for some ostensible Greater Good except the situation doesn't HAVE to come to that, not really, and he's so inured and even numb to it that he barely pays it any mind; meanwhile, Q absolutely minds and is very indignant on his behalf and works overtime to like either try to avert or forestall the situation before it gets to the point where Bond has to dig his own claws into more of his soft underbelly to offer up on the sacrificial alter of politics of all tawdry things, or to manufacture a way in which he does the needless "needful" so as to spare Bond at least one unnecessary additional wound upon his psyche.

bonus if Bond finds out and maybe after being angry or indignant about it - I don't need you to do my job for me, Q, this is what I'm here to do - and either Q tells him/lets slip or he deduces that like, this isn't Q thinking he can't get the job done, this is Q finding him precious and worthy of protecting, and like. he's just very in awe of that and does in fact feel very safe and cherished within the cradle of his Quartermaster's regard

[rustedhills]

Disney, releasing Wish: "so it's all about legacy--the new generation surpassing the old, overcoming the evils perpetuated by them, relinquishing singular power... and there's an old man in a tower, uh... animal sidekick, i guess..., ah... magic...?

Miyazaki, just out of frame, sledgehammer raised:

[sforzesco]

BALAK, PANGAGAD

uhhh conspiracy. can be a courtship dance. ritual. so to speak. & hosting one in your house is an act of service

[puppppppppy]

beep beep im a sheep

speeddraw below the cut (audio warning)

song: "Cult of Dionysis" by The Orion Experience

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason never made his debut as a Crime Lord and instead only comes back to Gotham when Damian insists on training with the Batman, insistent on guarding him from the shadows.

Bruce’s headache reaches epic proportions when neither Talia nor Damian elaborate on the man’s presence other than that he’s “Damian’s older brother”.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This is the start of something new

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[pvpcivilization]

ok im going to bed bc its late as hell here but i wanted to doodle parkciv finally

[pleasedontcareaboutme]