#even if it isn't needed

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dog Meshi.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:

michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club

*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***

that's it that's the movie

outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative

actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.

aka Michael Myers Is A Republican

but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too

also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain

side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty

i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978

(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)

oh no he's hot

[hinamie]

I'm always pushing you away from me / but you come back with gravity / and when I call, you come home

[ambrosiagourmet]

I think one of the biggest tragedies of Laios & Falin and their relationship is how much his actions impact her life. But like. Specifically how much they WOULDN’T impact her life as much if they weren’t both stuck in such a shitty abusive situation.

This part of the Falin-tries-makeup daydream hour comic is what got me thinking about it again because truly it just... it seems like such a like an offhand comment that I'm sure Laios didn't mean to be cruel or anything. That's just like. A little kid not thinking about what they are saying. ESPECIALLY when the kid in question is Laios.

But man they depended on each other SO much as kids. Too much. It really feels like they didn't have any other source of positive reinforcement, or anyone else to share themselves with. So of course an offhand comment like that has a huge impact on Falin.

Or this little bit from one of the flashbacks:

This tears me apart. Do you think it tears him apart to think about? I think it does. I think Laios holds every small failure to care for Falin against himself.

And then there's the Bigger stuff. The way that him coping with his own trauma ended up impacting her.

Like his interest in monsters. Like him going to find a ghost, and accidentally revealing Falin's magic to the whole village in the process.

Like him needing to leave. And leaving her behind.

He shaped her life so much, and he carries so much guilt for it. And again, there should have been other people there to help. The same things that made Laios need to leave home are the things that made his leaving so hard on Falin. She ate alone after that. She shouldn't have had to eat alone just because Laios wasn't there.

She was 9 when he left for school, and he was 11.

Nine. And Laios feels like he failed her because he didn't stand by her through this better. As an eleven year old.

Both of these kids deserved so much better from the world.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

you know what boils my blood.

over the last 2 weeks, i've seen countless patients walk into my urgent care center, symptomatic for so many things, refusing to get tested for covid and flu, citing that they don't want to knowingly bring it to their holiday tables. i had a patient tell me, verbatim, "i don't want to test for covid, because i don't want to be the asshole who brings it on a plane."

i understand that - i understand that holidays are times where people look forward to meeting loved ones that they might only see once a year, or where they get a break from the hectic back and forth of their lives.

but here's the thing - whether they get tested or not, they will bring whatever they have to their holiday tables. it's pure recklessness to know that you're sick, and walk into someone else's house spreading the disease.

today, january 2, i saw 91 patients, many of them who have tested positive for covid and flu. many of these patients are the same ones who didn't want testing 3 days ago, until their events were over, and now, they will have to reach out to everyone they know to let them know that they were positive because they were showing symptoms well before their event.

the next week or two? we're going to see many, many more, all people with symptoms that started around christmas. these are the only two viruses we test for rapidly in our office, but they are potent and can be fatal in many people.

so here's why i wrote this post, and maybe it's a little late, but - if you care about your loved ones, please get tested if you know you're sick. it doesn't have to be at a clinic if you don't want it to, because the over-the-counter tests work just fine too (if you test within 5-7 days of symptom onset). just...please don't try to run from the knowledge that you might have covid, because immunocompromised people, elderly people, people with co-morbidities like asthma, pregnancy, diabetes, etc...many of them may not recover. and they may not be sitting at your holiday table in the future because of it.

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Occasionally I think we suffer too much from wanting to inject a normal perspective into star wars. Obviously the clones should not have an everyman normal perspective on the jedi, they are some of the least normal people alive. Obviously the jedi are not a normal perspective either, they grew up in a monastery and have cosmic forces pouring through their heads. The natborn officers are all handpicked fascists so they aren't normal either. Not one single being on any of those warships is ever normal.

Padme was a politician at age 10. Naboo is weird. They're all weird. And those mandalorians. Listen, if a traditional mandalorian found themself on melida-daan as per fanfic tradition, they wouldn't be normal about it. They'd see a bunch elementary kids doing warfare and think that's the coolest shit. They'd teach them how to fire a rocket launcher with their tiny bony arms and when a bunch of them die on the raid they coached them on they'd tell the other seven year olds it 'twas an honorable death.

[lotus-pear]

two mimir.. 🤲🏼🤲🏼

[deathfavor]

@unmachine​ said: Sorry for crashing at your place again. Sorry for filling your ashtray up twice as fast. Sorry for drinking your booze and giggling like an idiot on the floor next to you. Sorry for making every excuse for you to stick around, to make more time, to be deserving. Apologies apologies. Shame, guilt, desperation- it all starts to drain away. Just needed a little help from the aforementioned booze. Not even that much. His back would hurt tomorrow but that's fine. He's not about to hog Kazutora's bed too. He's got a hard enough head and a deep enough sleeper to make it through.

Not much changes when Eve drinks. It takes way more to get him even remotely buzzed. But he seems looser and speaks more freely (as if that's really much different from his sober state.) He rolls onto his side then his stomach, adjusting himself so he could see Kazutora face right side up. "This is crazy but I used to have long hair when I was younger. There are old pictures of me where I look dumb as hell!" he snickered. A hand outreaches, twirling a lock of his friend's hair on his finger. He glances down at it contemplatively. "Cause I was copying my brother. Long hair doesn't suit me though and I'm glad I chopped it all off... Brother... i'm pretty sure he hates me. I never figured out why or when it started, not that it matters. There's probably something wrong with me but I can't bring myself to not love him." An exhale through the nose and he drops his head back to the ground, releasing the other's long locks and rolling back over on his back to stare at the ceiling.

"I think it's because I'm better at loving things than I am at hating them. I gotta play at my strengths you know? It's hard being treated like shit sometimes but whatever... You treat me nice though...

so, thanks."

   It’s more for Eve that Kazutora has the drinks on hand. He’d been avoidant of drinking before Takemichi had shown up, whispering about Bonten and Mikey. Afraid. Afraid because it isn’t that the drinks make demons, it’s that it lets them out. And his have already claimed two lives as it was. Where others could say I’ll kill you as typical gang bluffs or just friends teasing each other, Kazutora can’t. But then he’d chosen to chase the dark shadow of Bonten, to surge back into darkness, and it’s easy. Easy to drink at a bar while pulling information from people, to break a face. It was even expected like many things. But drinking here is different than the bar. It’s more relaxed. Something that makes him think of summer nights that were still too hot with cold beers and an abandoned arcade filled with smoke. It’s nice. And it seems to help Eve a little bit.

   “  Yeah? "  Kazutora tries to picture it, but it seems at odds with the Eve that he knows. “ I used to have a really cringe hairstyle when I was real young. Same time I got my tattoo.  “  Anything to piss off his father, to be cooler, to be stronger. “ I think one or two pictures exist. Around fifteen is when I started the stripes. Never went back.  “  Outside of another ten years in a cell. He watches Eve reach out to toy with one of the loose strands, but he doesn’t stop him. Only observes as he seems to be lost in thought, in memories. He understands that well.

   He wonders what it must be like for Eve. To love in spite of that? Truth is that even now Kazutora can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine choosing to love when something seems to hate you. He’s always turned to hatred. To destroying anything that hurts him. Even... He watches as Eve sinks back down and rolls over, yet Kazutora doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away as well, but lingers, close and watchful. 

   “  Nah. Believe me, I’m way more fucked up than you are. So hell even if there is something wrong, you’re doing better than me.  “  He offers in his own strange way of comfort. A solidarity perhaps in the face of being fuck ups. “  I can’t relate to that. But that seems better. I’ve always hated easier. Hated anything that hurt me. I wanted to destroy what hurt me, wanted things to suffer like I had. I hated this fucking world.  “  He admits, turning his head to glance out the window for a moment.  “  I did destroy some of it.  “ That was Kazutora. Destroying the few good things that came into his life along with the bad.

   He turns back to Eve at the thanks, thanks that he doesn’t feel he deserves. But it is offered to him. He still doesn’t know how to handle it. He’s not used to being thanked. “  You don’t deserve to be treated like that.  “  He answers quietly, Kazutora did. But not Eve. And then an old thought surfaces.  “  If someone does treat you like that, I can beat the shit out of them if you want. Make sure that they don’t. “  He murmurs, because even now he knows the language of violence. “  But uh. You’re welcome. “ He adds, before adding “ ...Thanks for keeping me company.  “  Especially now when there was no one else.

[r-aindr0p]

Been touching grass for a few days lately but the creatures will invade the next dorm soon, here's this in the meanwhile. Thankfully someone stopped grim in time before he used an actual arrow... Roomates until spring - previous

[supertaliart]

I went a little off the rails for a power-point-party, so I thought I'd share. Don't come at me about canonicity. Also yes, I spent hours using illustrator to make pose-able vector mando'ade.

Review from my friend: "I feel like I actually learned something?"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

None of our hands are clean

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[kvietka]

I swear to god, if all you people who complained about Biden being on the Dem ticket now don't vote in November, I'm going to wanna strangle all of you.

[castielsprostate]

breaking the sign in two by how hard im tapping it

[starry-bi-sky]

i think i'm hilarious -- aka i made blood blossom danny au memes

all of these come from my DpxDC prompt "i am pushing the batdad agenda--" and it's corresponding additions in the reblogs ksdjlf.

i am. rotating them in my head. forever and always. personally i think there should be more batdad aus in dpxdc, their dynamic could be neat. :)

[hanfourz]

— h.ts thought [✷]

🪼 - saw a tweet abt taesans favorite place to take pics being the couch and i have Ideas...

warnings: suggestive, kissing, grinding

thinking abt heated makeout sessions with you on his lap. you could kiss him all day and be satisfied but today you're feeling a little more needy and of course he notices. taesan has a skill of knowing when he got you worked up and he uses it to his advantage (bc he's always a little better at hiding that he's worked up too). he slides his hands up your shirt and fondles your chest. when you whimper and arch into him, he smirks knowingly. when you start to grind against him, he's not surprised. he pulls away from your lips, much to your disappointment if the pout on your face was any proof. but when you stop moving your hips, he glides his hands down to hold your hips and grinds up into you. he's never done that before, but you're definitely not complaining. you, of course, continue your movement (catching on to that being what he wanted).

he watches you for a while, running his hands along your sides and back before an idea pops into his head. seeing you like this was making him feel a little crazy and he wanted to make sure he could remember this. the way you're looking at him with your teeth sunken into your lip, chest rising and falling as your breathing gets heavy, small whines slipping past your lips, hands gripping his shoulders, and your hips grinding desperately into his. he pulls his phone out, wanting- no, needing- to take a video of you like this. you almost ask what he's doing but decide to go with it, sliding your hands down his front and playing with the buttons on his shirt. he angles his phone from the side and leans forward to capture your lips again, moaning quietly into your mouth.

when things start to get intense again, he stops the recording and goes back to focusing completely on you. and when you whine that you need him (feeling hot and bothered at the idea of him filming you), he doesn't deny you.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.