#guy of essay

[guyofthing]

Swords, guns, and wands have symbolic meaning in both Homestuck and Fragments, but they're completely different symbolic meanings. This is for several reasons: one, even though one is a fanwork of the other, they are different stories with different themes; two, all of these things are phallic, and Fragments isn't about gender nearly as much as Homestuck is about gender, despite having more canonically trans characters (it's still about gender though. A little bit. Mostly with Vereni and the Tembits' story arcs); and three, Fragments has significantly more out there weaponry at times, and much of it is a joke (much of Homestuck's Is Also A Joke). This has been Fun With Flags, I'm Sheldon Cooper.

[blueskittlesart]

i think we all collectively moved on too quickly from hyrule warriors

[misscammiedawn]

Just read The Strange Case of Harley and Harleen and my god I needed a little bit of positive plurality in my life this week.

The way Pam and Harl's relationship adapts to accept the Harley/Harleen split makes my heart swell.

The way Pam sees the difference between her girlfriends.

And assures her that she accepts and loves all sides of her.

And does what she can to accommodate Harleen's memory holes.

The core relationship of this book is just so sweet and positive in accepting things as they are without judgment or pushing. Just acceptance and love.

And after finding that in our own life, I know what a powerfully positive thing it can be.

But the Harley/Harleen relationship is well handled too. There's friction and denial at the start but the two develop and trust one another by the end and Harley takes a seat as my favorite kind of character, the morally ambiguous protector.

I love the way Harley's protectiveness of Harleen is depicted and how she tries so hard to keep her from interacting with the criminal underworld of Gotham.

It's just saccharine and kind.

Highly recommend the book to anyone who just wants soft and kind plurality vibes. Heaven knows the majority of the fiction involving split personalities are flooded with angst and darkness and though this book contains a few dark plot beats like DV it never feels painful or sorrow inducing.

I'm so happy I read it.

[gerrykeay]

im not putting this post into words. beams into your mind The Parallels

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[noproveninterests]

he loves and supports you btw

underswap sans belongs to PopcornPr1nce/AU Community

original image under the cut

[inbabylontheywept]

Soviet Birds.

The secret facility that I work in has holes in the ceiling. We don't know how to get them fixed.

We tried asking the government to fix it, once. We told them that the holes in the older parts of the facility had gotten large enough to fit birds through, and that birds were getting through, and that, perhaps, a Soviet Spy could fit through as well.

After all, it is well known that Soviet Spies and pigeons are approximately the same diameter.

Our hope was that that this vague and nonsensical threat would put a little fire under Uncle Sam's feet. If the fed couldn't be bothered to give a shit about the giant gaping holes in the roof of our facility, perhaps they could be persuaded to give a shit about... Soviet Spies.

This attempt at manipulation 100% blew up in our faces.

See, the government does not need to be persuaded to give a shit about Soviet Spies. It still wakes up most nights, drenched in cold sweat, terrified and confident that a Soviet Spy is hiding in their nightstand. If it sees a rock on the ground, it flips it over, pistol drawn, ready to shoot the Soviet Spy it fully expects to slither out from underneath. Which is to say: The government is crazy. So when we dropped those two words - inflitration risk - in the repair request, they came in guns-a-blazin'.

Does that mean that they fixed the roof? Of course not. Don't be stupid. No, instead of performing basic maintenance, they installed a state of the art alarm system throughout the facility - lasers, sonar, the works - and told us to always be on the guard. Because of the roof holes.

Then they left.

So now we had an extremely good alarm system... and birds. Which have combined in incredibly obvious and predictable ways to produce an unending fountain of problems.

For Example: About once a month, someone gets called in by the local airforce dispatch because AAAAAAAAAAA a Spy is in the Rad Lab! We're all gonna die! Except every time, it's a bird. And I get why we have to check, but every time, the dispatcher is panicked and the person going out has to be like listen, listen: It's a bird. It's always a bird. It's been a bird every month for the last fifteen years. It will be a bird next month. All this stress? Bad for your heart.

Second Example: Sometimes, birds get in while we're actually working. And when it's in the morning, you know, it's a nuisance, and it stops testing (we are not going to risk irradiating a bird) but it's not an all-hands-on-deck situation because it doesn't take ten hours to get a bird out. But surprisingly often, the bird gets in riiiiight at closing time, and in that situation, everyone goes feral because nobody can leave until the alarm is set, and we cannot set the alarm while the bird is there, because the bird would immediately trigger it and then we'd have to stay another 4 hours to confirm that it was not a Soviet Bird.

So in order to go home, everyone's top priority is Get That Bird. And we have a system for it.

Step 1: The test stands tend to be located in rooms with 30+ foot ceilings. We can't catch birds in places like that - so we have to lure the bird into the relatively low ceilinged (8 feet only) upper offices.

We do this by turning all the lights off in the test rooms, then putting floodlights by the exits. I don't know why this works - some kind of evolutionary brain fragment shared by both Bugs and Birds - but work it does. The birds almost always follow after the lights. From there, it’s just two guys moving the floodlight and a third guy to turn off the lights.

Step 2: Everyone else has been waiting for this step. There is this long stairway up from the basement level into the offices, and in the final stage, the floodlights are brought to the base of the stairwell to bring the bird up. At the top of the steps there will be a group of tennish people, waiting for the signal. The light guys will set up the final transfer, everyone will tense, and then, swish...a bird will flit up the stairs and into the offices.

It's like watching werewolves on a full moon. Before the bird cometh, we are engineers. Nerds. Pale and skinny things, trembling under the fluorescent lights. After the bird, we are beasts. Feral, gnawing things, glowing under the orange sunrise of the 70's halogen floodlights.

And like all beasts, we cannot help but give chase.

Step 3: The were-engineers begin the hunt. The goal at the start is not really to catch the bird - just exhaust it. So the pack simply does not relent. Because the stakes are going home on time, the group is basically given free reign to go anywhere in the building. If someone's door is open, and the bird goes inside, they're going to have to deal with ten sweaty panting maniacs leaping around their office. They don't get to say that they're busy, or remark on how all this movement is a terrible distraction. They are allowed to sit in silence during the chaos, and perhaps thank the war party for chasing the bird while they sat comfortably on their ass. This has been explained several times, and it will continue to be explained until cooperation is achieved.

Anyway.

The chase can go on for quite some time. Sometimes, the bird will get tired and find a crevice to hide in, where it can then be reached through standard cornered-bird catching techniques.

Other times, it will slow down enough that someone can actually yoink it out of the air. But this will go on until someone catches the bird and triggers Step 4.

Step 4: The Finale. This is the get-the-bird-out-of-the-building stage, and it requires someone to adopt a specific role: To Become the Sacrificial Vessel of Bird Removal.

This job is both coveted and feared. It's coveted, because holding a wild bird in one's hands is a precious thing. To feel how small, and fragile, and scared it is, only to free it from the building? That is what it's like to be a benevolent God. But the cost! Oh, the cost. The entire time the Vessel is in motion, the bird will be biting the hell out of their fingers. And I cannot emphasize enough just how painful bird bites are. Their entire face is a set of needle posed pliers, and they know tricks the even the cartels haven't figured out yet. So there's always a little hubbub about who shall be The Vessel while onlookers, stranded outside The Office of Bird Capture, can only look on. Quiet arguments and pleas are heard, little fragments of fear and pride and glory trickling out of room like the silver dust left behind in a bag of well shook quarters. The sound of concensus is silence, and the argument will go on until that's all that's left. And then, from the darkness of the final office, the chosen sacrifice will step forward: Hands gently cupped, tears streaming down their face, fingers trembling from the pain of the ongoing bird chomps.

And this scene is what organizes people. Not leadership, not truly. No one can think and coordinate a crowd while their fingers are being attacked with a combination nutcracker/ear piercer. But the crowd sees the suffering of their annointed, and it is driven to do everything poossible to make the process flow. People instinctively flair out, finding the fastest path outside. Doors are held open. Paths are cleared. Someone, somehow, always knows the way forward and can describe it to the sufferer. Left, left, forward. Corner closet. Yep, there's a hall in there. Forward. Two-hundred more feet man, you're doing great. Just hold it together a little longer. You're killing it.

Then the final door swings open, and the bird flees out into what remains of daylight. And yet, even here, the deed is not yet done. I cannot explain it in words, but the crowd that helped is never content until they can see and speak on the Bird Vessel's wounds. They all have to pull the fingers back and see what was given. Estimate the price: One day to get better - No, three - No, a week! Are you blind? Do you see that blood blister? -Yeah, that's not going away anytime soon - Damn, can you believe how feisty those things are? Like wolves without teeth.

(They cannot help but touch as they go. It has always been this way. Even Thomas was not content until he felt the wounds in Christ's hands.)

Only when the last of the helpers has seen, and commented, and commended, will the engineers scatter. It is their return from the underworld that announces to the sun living surface dwellers that they too can go home. (@somerunner tolja it needed to be a post.)

[penceykills]

My Chemical Romance live @ Saint Andrews Hall, Michigan // June 18, 2004

[theashesofthefirststar]

God if I think about Edwin Payne too much I lose my mind. No one saved him. No one reached out a hand. He had to save himself. He escaped hell with only his own two hands to carry him there. And what does he do with his freedom? He reaches out a hand to Charles. He reaches out a hand to every ghost he can help. He could have been bitter. He could have said No one’s coming to save you. Save yourself. Instead, he says, you’ll escape, and you won’t do it alone.

[aceissomunster]

discowing + jaybin ! press for quality

txtless + ref under the cut

ignore my horrible art please i drew this on ibis paint x with my finger and the soft felt tip pen brush. and my crappy penmanship.

[counting-stars-gayly]

Book: "I don't know what my mom will do. I just know I'll fight next to you." "Why?" "Because you're my friend, Seaweed Brain."

Show: "You've done more for me in the past few days than my dad's done for me in my entire life. If I have to stick with someone, I—" "Careful. I think you were about to call me your friend."

[st-hedge]

I can’t believe they’d managed to animate kusuriuri’s insane character design and then decided to make it even more insane. The most character ever

[guyofthing]

Propaganda to convince you to read Fragments when it comes out:

A trans woman convinces her boyfriend's brother to transition into a woman.

Toxic old woman homosexuality.

Doomed old woman/middle aged man friendship.

There's lizards in it.

Numerous ICP references, some of which have absolutely nothing to do with purplebloods or members of the clown religion.

Moon Glorious is there kinda.

Fucked up sibling dynamics.

Daft punk helmet.

Femboy barbarian.

Men platonically hatekissing.

Shaq-A-Licious XL Gummies.

I accidentally made a character dubiously Troll North Carolinian (he eats Cookout and drinks Cheerwine One Fucking Time)

Unhealthy auspisticism.

The main character is like if a MPDG and the extremely boring heterosexual man she fell in love with were one person.

He's canonically a member of the NRA.

There's a character who is based on 90s anime and women's wrestling. And her Beforan counterpart is based on certain "girly" subsets of 90s/2000s music and aesthetics. And they'll both kick your ass.

The world's most cisgender man and a woman whose entire character arc revolves around both literal transition and unsettling metaphors for transition are siblings. They hang out together a lot.

the dodent 🦡

I experimented with classpects a lot, so there's some fun ones. I'm particularly fond of Prince of Void.

You've heard of unreliable narrator, now get ready for completely unwilling narrator.

People falling off of roofs a lot.

Dubiously effective roommate situations.

There's cloning in it.

Pale situationship.

Insufferable poser.

One million dead fuschias and rising.

"What do you MEAN two of your players "don't technically exist", the fuck?"

First ever troll to have a same-species parental figure and he has mommy issues.

First ever troll to be a parent and he's a teen parent and the baby isn't his and it's the same guy as the last bullet point.

Go my scarab.

Bat Out of Hell is in it.

There's a lot of Gwen Stefani also.

[lazylittledragon]

can't stop thinking about how well they nailed falin's 'weird little girl' energy. when she picked up a stick and said 'ooh a bug' i felt that

[bakedbeanchan]

AU where Zuko doesn't practice helmet safety

[jacobe5435]

“Mama I’m chasing a ghost.”

[linkedin-offficial]

hymnheart birds, better known as "hymns", or "travel mount" birds, are a genus of bird derivative from todays common flocking birds of sky (doves), and the less common nightbirds.

during the days of prosperity, these birds were bred to be large and capable of carrying many passengers, as skypeople flight was not a common form of travel. similarly, it wasnt uncommon to find a smaller version of these birds (usually bred by hand, and not by known breeders), meant for single person travel, that was also often used in racing. these lesser travel mounts are known to have sparked the use of mantas for racing and speedy travel, as mantas were faster and smaller, and functionally better for the same uses.

in modern day, these birds are considered to be extinct. after great technological advantages like flying boats becoming mainstream, and soon after the modernization of 'caped' flight, hymns numbers had begun to dwindle due to simply no longer needing them for their main purpose. unlike hymn travel however, manta riding remained persistent as a practice, as the species was abundant, and did not need skypeople aid to continue to breed.

few individuals, like those of the nester families, continued to breed these birds, but eventually discontinued the practice as it became laborious and took too much time.