#but you already know that

[claymton]

Do u have any characters that you HATE, like can't stand them at all ?

When some putty fans talk about him something inside me feels pushed to hate him

[triptychofvoids]

hey just wanted to say your art is really cool im a huge fan of your medic and engies together! I might have a weakness to nerds....

thank you!! your soft spot for them will be duly noted and filed away for later use in their world domination plans. anyway, have more!

[classified-coworker]

Introductions are in order!

Hey, hello! The name's Bryce Stryker. I work at [RECACTED], in... ffiiinance. Finances. I'm sort of a big deal here. And hey, maybe through the power of the American dream, some common sense and survival skills, and a little help, you might make it too! Just don't let it get to your head. Alright? >[⚠🚬⚠]

OOC NOTES UNDER THE CUT

This is an elevator hitch AU blog. Characters and (most) art belong to racheldrawsthis and Studio Investigrave. Concept for AU belongs to me TAGS: Posts: anomaly.post Asks: anomaly.answer Reblogs: anomaly.reblog Roleplay: anomaly.reply Out of character posts: ooc.post, ooc.reblog, ooc.ask.

Current blogs in the AU: @classified-coworker (me) @anomalous-antagonist (me) @workingprotagonist

[lily-blue]

Unscripted

☆ characters: dunk & older!you ☆ genre: meet-cute ☆ warnings: mention of alcohol consumption - the two of you are basically meeting at a bar after a couple of drinks ☆ summary: it’s about the tipsy conversation between you and your celebrity crush after you save dunk from a pushy fan ☆ words: 2k ☆ dedicated to: @dat-town​​ ♥ merry christmas, love

You wouldn’t have called yourself a heavy-weight drinker; on the contrary, the familiar buzz of light-headedness that came with the second glass of beer embraced you oftentimes when you let yourself get talked into a night out. You couldn’t help it. Pubs and bars weren’t your usual scenes, and you were blessed with an adventurous albeit calm nature thanks to your conflict-avoidant parents that didn’t really fit with the chaos. Even on rare occasions when you ended up being wasted, your friends would sooner have found you dozing off by a random table than throwing punches or screaming another person’s head off because of alcohol.

Therefore, there was no way that your out of character behaviour could have been blamed on those free drinks your seniors had shoved into your hands upon your arrival at the company outing. Nor could that so-called liquid courage have motivated you to keep up the delirious act when the person you had wanted to scare off had already stormed away.

Coming down from adrenaline, you let out a deep sigh and let your shoulders fall forwards as your body slowly ridded itself from the tension.

‘It wasn’t an accident,’ an accusatory voice came from your left, the tone a bit hoarser than it usually was when your eyes were glued to your monitor. You tightened your grip around your empty glass, frowning at how sticky the cold material felt against your skin. ‘And you don’t look that drunk anymore, either.’

You couldn’t argue with that. Even though the world around you felt a little blurry and slow, even though the music wasn’t as loud or bothersome as it should have been, your steps were undeniably steady and your eyelids nowhere near heavy.

You would have said you were pleasantly tipsy, though, if you had really needed to describe the warm, fuzzy feeling that spreaded throughout your insides. What other explanation could have been there for the amused smile on your face when the following question rolled off your tongue:

‘Oh? Did my acting manage to impress a professional?’

It was silly. The unintentional chuckle that escaped your mouth was silly, too. It sounded like you were flirting, when the person accusing you was both objectively and subjectively out of your league.

Your shoulders shook from the next wave of your giggles. The grip around your empty glass loosened just a bit.

‘So you know who I am.’ It was more of a statement than anything, yet you nodded anyway as though he was waiting for a confirmation. You doubted he was, but he didn’t seem irked by your behaviour, so that was that, you supposed.

‘I’m a fan of your acting,’ you explained with as much nonchalance as you could muster, because you refused to be “one of those girls” despite your speeding up heart rate. So what if he was a celebrity and a hot one on top of that? It wasn’t like he was the only actor you were simping over to your best friend whenever you had the opportunity. And it wasn’t like he could see through you and know for sure that the last message you had sent to Breeze about him had been borderline inappropriate.

You straightened your back, and locked the memory of calling him your sugar daddy in the depths of your consciousness. He didn’t know; and you hadn’t meant it that way, anyway. 

‘I couldn’t just let you look so uncomfy when my eyes already fell on you, now, could I?’ You decided to divert the topic back to the original predicament before your words could have aided his imagination and turned you into a freak in his fantasies. Not that you truly believed that he was thinking that hard about you; however, you had indeed caused a scene to get him away from a touchy girl, and that could have easily occupied anyone’s mind.

You cringed internally as you recalled how you had intentionally bumped into his pushy company and poured the remaining half of your drink on her pretty dress with a horrified look on your face. Ahgr, what on Earth had possessed you to act so overprotective over a stranger? Were you in a parasocial relationship without realizing it?

You wished you could have disappeared.

(You also wished you could have kept up the conversation naturally just a tad longer without making a clown out of yourself. After all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for sure.)

Dunk freaking Natachai had the audacity to tilt his head to the left and narrow his eyes while he checked you out from your head to your toes.

‘Why? I’m pretty sure you’re not the only one who noticed it. It could have made for a very nice video,’ he challenged you - was he challenging you? -, making you feel all sorts of things with a single sentence. 

Yeah, you were definitely tipsy by now. That was the only explanation for feeling so much at once when you were more of a rational thinker. You usually weren’t so hung up on your emotions to pinpoint who they related to or notice when they had more depth. You did well with simple ones: happiness, sadness, annoyance. But this weird mixture of irritation, boiling rage, anger, helplessness and something else you couldn’t really put your finger on? Unusual at best.

Were you upset with Dunk for suggesting that you should have recorded him being ambushed by a pretty girl or on his behalf, since clearly, a scenario like that was easier for him to picture than a person who genuinely put his comfort first?

You looked down at the glass in your hand and contemplated whether you should have got yourself a new drink or you had already reached your limit. 

It was weird, standing so close to the main bar and the dancefloor without heading to either of them. It was weird in general, keeping up a conversation at a bar without any drinks or the comfort of the padded booths in the relative quiet of the corners.

Your legs didn’t move an inch.

‘Maybe. But I’m not into that kind of social media,’ you stressed, shaking your head disapprovingly to put more emphasis on your strictly platonic intentions. He was five years younger than you. It was your overprotective side speaking: the end product of long years of mom friend and older sister duties. 

Dunk let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

‘Ah, you’re the silent stalker type,’ the actor exclaimed, his raised eyebrow almost cocky, and his dark chocolate eyes hard and low-key judging.

Oh, boy. Only if he knew!

Your laugh was thunderous as you tilted your head backwards. Your shoulders were shaking from the amusement that seemed to take control over your body. 

‘Yeah, we can call it like that,’ you humoured him good-heartedly and made a mental note to report back to your best friend once you went back to your table, because seriously, what were the chances? The person whom you watched making out with some other guy in your free time as part of your destressing pastime activities had just called you a stalker out of all things. Not a saviour. Not a fun stranger to kill some time with. A stalker on social media. Breeze would never let you live it down. She would totally use it in one of her fanfictions on AO3 to commemorate your most hilarious meet-cute since graduating university. ‘Though, if you’d asked, I would have said I’m more like the private kind of girl,’ you protested just for the sake of it.

Just to make it clear that his first impression of you didn’t exactly align with your real self. He might have easily forgotten about you as soon as one of you put an end to this unnecessary conversation, but you would have still hated it if he had thought badly of you. It would have made it difficult for you to keep bringing him up in your conversations with your friend.

Would you have to give up on Hidden Agenda before you got to the last episode?

An unintended frown crawled its way to your face. Meeting celebrities was indeed unlucky even when they didn’t ruin their own image with the first word that left their mouth. Sure, in your case, there wasn’t much space left for disillusioning as you didn’t have a fixed idea of the real him in your head, but he was pretty decent.

He was easy to talk to. Not to mention that he seemed like someone who could take a joke or two, even if they were made at his expense.

If he had shown any sign of discomfort, though, you would have never been able to erase the memory from your brain. And that would have made things super awkward.

Maybe, it was time for you to bid your goodbye and preserve your encounter before it could have turned into something bitter and unpleasant.

Tightening your grip on your glass, you pressed your lips together in contemplation before you made up your mind and parted them slightly.

‘Private?’ Dunk asked, a small smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. You noticed it because you were staring at it shamelessly for the majority of the time - but mostly, to make sure you understood what he was saying despite the constant background noise. Luckily, he hadn’t called you out on it yet. ‘So you wouldn’t give me your number if I asked for it?’

You had no idea what he was getting at. So despite your anxiety to be seen as incompetent by complete strangers, you would have asked him to repeat what he was saying without much hesitation if only a big part of you wasn’t convinced that you had heard him correctly.

For some reason, he wanted your contact info.

He wanted to keep talking to you, outside of this bar, too.

Your cheeks dressed into a pretty shade of pink as you were looking for the right words to say. Surely, you couldn’t have given your number to a celebrity. Real life didn’t work like that.

Why couldn’t it work like that, though? - your best friend’s voice echoed in your head, slowly followed by a deeper, coaxing one:

‘Or should I look for you amongst my followers? Is it a payback for calling you a stalker?’ He chuckled before he pulled out his phone from his jacket’s pocket and pulled up his Instagram. Satisfied, he turned his screen towards you with a lopsided smile and shook the device in front of your face a couple of times. ‘I’m sorry, na?’

You swallowed back a scoff, but you weren’t sure you were doing a decent job at concealing your amusement at the sudden change in tone. What had you done to make him do a full 180 on you all of a sudden?

Surely, it couldn’t have been your convincing skills. Based on your interaction, he should have still thought you were one of those obsessed fans who could have jumped on every opportunity to get close to him.

Did he not know self-preservation? With his profession?

Maybe, if you had made sure he was well-protected from a possible, terrible backlash… Then, you could have entertained him a bit longer.

‘I’ll give you my Line ID, but…’ You raised a finger and pointed at him as a warning. ‘You can’t message me until at least two other people have given you the green light. This way I won’t know your number, so you…’

He shut you up effortlessly when he shoved his phone into your hands, consequently ruining your fabulous attempt at protecting his privacy. Eyes wide as saucers, you must have looked horrified when you lifted your bewildered gaze at him. Otherwise, he would have teased you more, wouldn’t he?

Not that you knew him! But it sounded reasonable enough in your head.

‘W-what?’

‘Nothing,’ he reassured you. ‘I will tell you in the morning,’ the promise fell from his lips easily, his eyes not leaving your slender fingers until you handed his phone back - quickly, like it was burning you.

Defiant, you refused to throw the ball back to his court, even though you had the perfect response on the tip of your tongue: something along the lines of him wanting to wake up next to you. He was five years younger, for God’s sake.

You would not go there. You wouldn’t.

(But you did. Exactly two and a half days after his first message.)

the end.

[bixels]

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[nathaniacolver]

arcane ships be like

i love a show that teaches equality (😭😭😭)

[apricior]

i remember when i was a child internet safety was like "if you even hint at the country you live in, you're gonna get kidnapped and murdered", and nowadays it is encouraged or even necessary to give corporations every single personal detail if you want to use anything because if they can't sell your information they cry so hard they throw up

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[mumblingsage]

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

(ETA here although it's impossible to edit reblogs: over the months since this post really took off, there has been valuable discussion in the comments. I stand by the passion with which I wrote this post and with the general message, but not all the exact wording. I talk more about the way I'd re-write this post in a response here, replying to an addition that added a ton of useful context [other additions touched on similar themes, but that person had it all together in one reblog]. With that said, I am muting this post.)

[do-you-know-this-queer-character]

Do you know this queer character?

Castiel is Queer and Agender or Genderfluid, and uses varying pronouns based on presentation!

[onefey]

you're going about your normal day when, suddenly, surprise! you've been pokémon mystery dungeon'd!

unfortunately, due to budget cuts, the pokémon assigning quiz has been canceled. instead, you must spin THE WHEEL, assigning you a random, unevolved, non-legendary and non-mythical pokémon. you must now go on some sort of world-saving adventure as this pokémon. good luck!

tell me in the tags what you rolled, and how you feel about it - for bonus points, you can spin the wheel again for (or just take your pick of) a pokémon to be your partner.

bonus rules:

you're not shiny unless the wheel tells you you're shiny

take your pick of regional forms and evolutions (for example, if you roll vulpix, it's up to you whether that means normal or alolan vulpix)

apply whatever logic you like with regards to gender

have fun and be yourself!

[novelconcepts]

I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying.

And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic. My god. My god, this movie. It shattered me.

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[let-them-fight]

can we stop doing this trope

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in