#entirely too relatable

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Neurodivergent Girl

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[mee1414]

Theyre sharing contacts fr

Screenshot redraw, refrence below the cut

[lyinginthesnow]

thinking abt that line in dundee when logan says shiv makes boogie men out of the clothes she dumps on her bedroom floor. always has.

[ronanlynchusurper]

anyone else constantly thinking about that part in greywaren where adam talks about how he killed the other versions of himself to be this new version and how he stored his truth in ronan and lost sight of his real self and how he missed knowing where he was going, or is that just me?

[royaltea000]

Hetalia fans the same everywhere rocking in our global nursing homes 😭👵

[sallymew4]

just look how much BRIGHTER Mob’s demeanor is once he has Ritsu safe with him. that is the biggest grin ive ever seen on that boy’s face he loves his little brother so damn much it’s incomprehensible

[cosmocove]

all you ever need is to be nice and friendly

[lorebird]

In which Ford struggles so badly to relate to other people that he wonders if he’s really human at all. The more isolated he becomes, the harder it is to reconcile with his own humanity.

[sirjo-esque]

Okay guys but "is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more?" literally begs for a Penelope who decided to cope by pretending Odysseus was with her.

Penelope who wakes up every morning to kiss the bundle of pillows beside her because that's where he would've been if he was there. Penelope who glances over at Telemachus' cradle, no doubt something Odysseus carved himself, while she keeps record of how much he'd grown. Penelope who talks about her day to her imagined Odysseus, always at her side. Penelope who laughs at the quips he's not there to make, but knows he would. Penelope who talks the mirror through her outfit, because Odysseus would've been standing right there behind her. Penelope who's self aware enough to know that Odysseus is not there, but chooses to leave space at the table for him anyways. Penelope who doesn't take up the whole olive bed at night, even when Telemachus has a nightmare and comes to sleep next to her. Penelope who complains to her wedding ring as she adjusts her veil when the suitors start to arrive. Penelope who tells Telemachus everything Odysseus would have wanted to, in his stead. Penelope who tells herself she loves him every moment she can get to herself. Penelope who asks her beloved husband not to cry, while in tears herself. Penelope who asks nobody in particular for feedback on the shroud, knowing she'll undo it all later. Penelope who discusses The Challenge with him in detail before even thinking of announcing it.

[angryaromantics]

@mossy-aro made an excellent post, that can be found HERE, on the subversive nature of aromantic positivity, and how negativity can damage the community and “we should focus on building, improving, and nurturing ourselves and each other (construction) as opposed to destruction.” 

I wholeheartedly agree, but I wanted to talk about ‘negative’ feelings a bit more. The type of negativity Mossy was largely discussing seemed to be the ones that stemmed from self-hatred. “I hate being aro.” “This is so hard, I wish I was normal,” etc., etc. This negativity, no matter what personal place it comes from, can and does damage the aromantic community. 

Negativity spreads, we’ve seen it in online spaces before, and we’re seeing it now. Being aromantic can be hard, so it’s frankly easy and understandable, that the bombardment of negativity would harm individual aromantic people and the community as a whole. Being an online community, we’re pretty insular, which can make the negativity feel particularly inescapable. 

I would argue, however, that the negative feelings themselves aren’t an issue that needs to be corrected. There’s a reason you feel that way, and it’s likely rooted in some real-life issues either on a personal level or on a societal way. It’s not your fault, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it. 

The  issue arises when you share those feelings without examining the root cause of the feeling. You hate being aro. Okay, but why? Is it a sense of isolation from your peers? Is it the cost of living for a single person in your area? What is it about being aro that you find difficult enough that you hate it?

A post that reads “I hate being aro” is always going to have a negative impact, whereas a post like, “I find being an aromantic person isolating,” opens up the start of a conversation. You’ve made progress, but even going from Point A to Point B, I think Point C would be an even more useful place to be. 

You find being an aromantic person isolating, but why? What specific thing do you find isolating? Is it the lack of real-life connections you have with aromantic people? With Point C, the conversation becomes the start of an interrogation with an intra-community issue. 

We have now gone from “I hate being aro,” to, “I find the lack of aromantic community outside of online spaces isolating.” Besides the harm reduction that interrogating these negative thoughts clearly performs, the biggest difference between Point A and Point C is that Point C is actionable. You can take real, actionable steps in forming in-person communities, both on a personal level, and as a community. 

“I hate being aro,” gives you no actionable steps, even in the figurative sense. It only serves to spread your negative feelings. Negative feelings, sadness, fear, rage, all have their place both internally and within your community. But, you need to think critically about what you’re putting into the community, and interrogate where that feeling is coming from in the first place. 

All aromantic feelings have the potential to be fulfilling on a personal level and even, as Mossy said, be harnessed “as a form of protest and political power.” We can use these negative feelings to improve ourselves, and our communities. They can be just as fruitful building blocks as aromantic joy.

You’ve just got to interrogate your own feelings or you risk doing detrimental harm to the aro community, and none of us want that. This is where we live. 

[buttercupshands]

*looking at isat ss discord* my power of being silly got out of control

or how I tried understanding rpg maker basics by literally trying to do one (1) thing I really wanted to see ever since seeing Loop unused sprites lying on wiki months ago

the reason I mentioned isat ss discord was simply bc guys were the first people who saw me trying to draw close to pixel sprite face sprite for Loop to,,, do something at some point just to see how it works

and nope I'm not making this into anything, but I really like the fact that I managed to do this

(now with video post edited into this sentence!)

[theworldisalways-ending]

some headshots of random tma characters

made in magma so sorry for the random Text jumpscare on hezekiah

(based off that one post that says each Old Man for each fear lol) (i have not gotten to the other 8 yet) (pending)

[gingermintpepper]

“Pallas Athena,” he greets softly. There is no affection in his voice, barely any intonation save for stiff, long-practiced neutrality. He continues wringing the water from his hair like she’s not intruding upon the sanctity of his purification ritual, “Have you already had your fill of victory?” 

His calmness is… off-putting. Unnatural. Like the stillness of the sky before a horrible storm. She’s grown accustomed to his icy silences, the dark looks thrown when their father isn’t watching, the barely restrained disgust when he’s forced to hear her speak of her tactics and methods for obtaining unquestioned victory. She knows Apollo isn’t weak-stomached - of all their kin, he is perhaps the most practiced in death - but he is not a warrior. He finds no glory in death-bringing, no meaning in the intricacy of war-work. For him, it is a job, a task that must be completed for the continued equilibrium of the mortal world. It means he can still be hurt by war’s savagery. And he had been hurt. Repeatedly. She had personally seen to it. No matter how good he was at his work, Phoebus Apollo was still an emotional creature. Not weak-stomached perhaps, but still soft. Tender. 

“I’ve something important to discuss.” 

He’s languid when he unpins the remaining length of his hair. It falls in heavy, swirling waves, rich gold which threatens to drag upon the ground if he hadn’t deftly grabbed the ends and tied them round his thigh. “I know you have little concept of ceremony but this is a bit ridiculous don’t you think?”

His dark hand reaches for one of the vases of oil stacked neatly on a little jut of rock that acts as a ledge. Athena intercepts him, standing a little taller to convey her graveness. “It’s very important. I only need a moment of your time.” 

She expects him to sigh, to cross his arms petulantly over his thin chest and complain that the war is over and so is her access to him every hour of every day. She expects to have to remind him that the battle isn’t finished ‘til the Acheans have vacated Trojan soil, to coax him from the little solitary cave of mourning he’s obviously built himself so he can see his job to its total completion. 

Instead, she gets another look. Calm. Dark. Horrible.

Apollo does not sigh, but it is a very near thing. “A moment and nothing more.” 

“The Acheans will begin their preparations to return soon,” she takes hold of the vase and carefully passes it to him. It smells saccharine, like rosewater or something similar. Like perfume to hide the stench of death. “I need your word that you will not hinder them on their journeys.” 

Their fingers brush as Apollo accepts her offering. It’s always odd the way his warmth radiates past all logical barriers. Athena can feel the chill of the water alongside the heat of his fingertips. Somehow, it is the cold that lingers despite all his warmth. “I do not make impossible promises, Athena. I want Neoptolemus,” he says. She stops as though struck. “The rest will have my blessing if they but ask.” 

“Phoebus— “

His eyes are like congealed blood when he looks at her, dark and tar-like upon an altar’s surface. “I want Neoptolemus. And I will have him.” 

How similar his tone has become to Father’s in these long years acting as his mouthpiece! Though his words are soft, the finality in his voice brooks no argument. How easy it is for her heart to soar at the prospect of a fight. Her warrior’s mien shutters all her feelings away like she’d never taken her helmet off. Her clawed finger pokes harshly into his chest, he’s marble hard under her touch. “You already had Achilles. You’ve no right to his son.” 

She regrets the words the moment they leave her lips. A stupid mistake; a feint when she should have dodged altogether. 

Apollo’s face goes slack and still. Serene, one would say, if they were a fool who had never before seen the shape of his wrath. He stands to his full height, broad shouldered, the flickering ends of his hair the only signifier of his displeasure, “Who said a thing about Achilles?” She huffs but does not answer, unsure of where his anger lies if not at the foot of Pelides. “Polites. Eurypylus. Priam. Helenus’ jailor. Andromache’s conqueror. If it weren’t Odysseus’ lot, Neoptolemus would have thrown Scamandrius from the tops of the balcony himself. What other reasons do I need?”

[polyamorouspunk]

I feel like I could write a whole essay about how having BPD fucks up your relationship with various fictional media.

[queerpyracy]

thinking about mary shelley (aged 18) giving the creature's first murder victim the same name as her dad