#i don't believe in time or space

[natatakinamia]

🩷

[dilfmobius]

LOKI 2x05 | "Science/Fiction"

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[phoebespenglers]

can we please stop telling people to kill themselves and to rot in hell and that they deserve to be bullied and that they are inherently horrible people who deserve to die and get doxxed. please. can we please stop doing that.

[ancha-aus]

With the big news regarding UTMV I want to take a moment to say something.

Fandom is suposed to be a place where you have fun. It is playing wiht fictional characters like they are dolls.

It is fine. It is harmless.

People may not agree with your views/headcanons/or ships and that is fine. As long as everyone is nice to each other and remain chill.

Remember. We are playing with dolls. The dolls don't have any feelings and what you like in art/fiction does not reflect in real life. (because if it did a LOT of action/horror/thriller movies would be forbidden. remember that.)

Now. What to do if someone is mean?

You get anon hate?

Turn off anons. Just turn it off.

"but OP! How will others interact then?"

They make an account. Look. It is NOT your resposibility to cater to others or to make content for them. Fandom is a community. We have fun together. We relax together. We interact and talk together. We aren't making content. we are trying to have fun together!

As soon as someone is being rude/mean/entitled? You report them. After that? You block them and keep yourself safe.

Don't. Feed. The. Troll.

Don't. Feed. The. Hater.

They WANT attention. Nothing you say will get through to them. They will see it as winning because you gave them attention and that is all they want.

It isn't rude to block someone. It is how you keep your online enviroment happy and hate free. It is one of the ways to protect yourself online.

Report the trolls and haters and then Block the Trolls and Haters.

Don't interact with them directly.

Interact with the people who see the fandom for what it is.

A place where we enjoy making things that make us happy and are happy to interact. Let people make what they make and let people play with the dolls they way they like. Keep in mind no character has true feelings and so they can not be hurt. Mind your tags and mind your own space.

It is your own responsibility to keep your fandom experience nice.

Don't engage with tags you don't like but don't spread hate. You can always block tags and put a filter to not see them.

Don't interact with haters or trolls and just block those.

Don't expect others to always agree with what you think or your headcanons. Everyone has a different view on the characters and that is fine.

Stay safe. Be nice. Have fun.

Don't feed the trolls or haters.

[chirpsythismorning]

bylers when over 350k people don’t have the exact same thoughts and opinions as them

[muirmarie]

thinking about if tos mccoy had died before romulus was destroyed, tos spock could've been carrying his not-quite-a-katra during the events of the aos movies

[zebratimw]

Spirit animal SQH

[desognthinking]

im fascinated what is tomb guardians au i am immediately imagining ava trying to get (very serious about her job) bea to talk to her (t4t aka tomb for tomb communication) like “it’s because you’re always on that damn guarding the tomb” and bea staring at her like “oh (relevant semi-religious curse word/deity invocation), i HAVE to fuck her”

Hi 😄  tomb guardians au is exactly that! except a little weirder, i think. Because they arent the guards stalking the graveyard they are the inhumanly stone-and-metal-but-not-really guardians themselves ☺️it's like what if beatrice had two heads and stood watch over the sealed, entombed heart of a bloodline. And ava was the new, terrible protector of a clan of craftsmen on a hilltop, buried with chambers of generations of their art. And what if they were necropolis neighbors 😳

This is one chunk previously posted and this shorter thing is set a little later, during the wedding mentioned in the first part. i think it kind of matches this ask pretty well 🥺:

Weddings are just like funerals: they’re never safe. The procession overflows from the courtyard at the mouth of the tombhouse, and nobody turns their attention to the other side of the hill. That's Ava’s job. Beatrice, perched carefully atop her roof in a long line of others she can vaguely make out, stretched across the rim of the hills, can see her sway and duck through kitestrings and tree-hung lanterns blowing in the wind as she keeps vigil. 

There’s fire, and an uncoordinated symphony of chattering accompanying music, and colored smoke that drifts up and drenches the air in pinks and yellows. The party had started at the Salviuses’ inner city tombhall, and then wound its way through the cobbled streets to settle here sometime around midday. Now the sun has cooled from its boil and the clouds are dissipating in streaks leaving swatches of color overtop the trees.

Celebration mixes with ceremony in equal parts, and Ava’s soaking it in, so she told Beatrice herself. Amidst the rush of activity at the Silvas’, she’d found her way over yesterday, dangling her human legs over a particularly stubborn branch that tipped over a brass gate, lurching under her weight towards brown grass.

“And, if you want,” she’d said quickly, “the view from atop our central mausoleum is incomparable.” Following the parched trajectory of Beatrice’s traitorous eyes, Ava had reached up to hurriedly smooth out the colorful combs that had erupted from her crown as she blurted out the offer. “You could see the dances up close.” 

She paused, as Beatrice reached out, at first hesitantly, then bravely, to gently still Ava’s hands from patting down the sharp, fiery crests. It’s okay.

(I like them.)

“We’re close enough that you could still keep a lookout for things over here.” 

Proximity, of course, was in truth the last thing that Beatrice feared would compromise her duty, and she knew that Ava knew it too. 

They sat in silence, not uncomfortably. Hot plumes, from where the days-long feast was being prepared in great earthen pots and pits on the rolling green surrounding the Silva walls, thinned out as they passed through the trees to Beatrice’s clearing. 

Whispers of stews, and meats, and spices. Beatrice felt, suddenly, terribly hungry.

“Will you ask again tomorrow?” she chanced, finally. 

Ava, bright and shocked and delighted, laughed. In her relief she nearly fell backwards off the branch, taking with her Beatrice, who had joined her on the tree.

Razor-edged fronds sprung up again from the top of her sun-warmed head. “Horrible”, she joked. 

Beatrice disagreed, and let her know.

Now, the sky is dampening, and the wedding party, in dribs and drabs, pauses to refill its cups and light its candles. In this twilight Beatrice lets herself turn to the west.

It is not easy to see, but the creature on the Silva house is there, beyond the clasp of woods, and when Beatrice meets its eyes its form unfolds in magnificent, menacing span and its unmistakable, jagged tail rises, quick and high, as in warning or challenge. 

From this far away, and half-hidden by foliage, it is impossible to make out the details of that bolted, harsh surface, but Beatrice knows how it feels under her palm, fluttering and leathery and spiny and warm, just as she knows by a glance the towering shape of the display and the exaggerated, daring, silly invitation that it extends across the space between their roofs. 

Ridiculous. 

Ava – terrifying as she extinguishes the numerous wraiths that have already sought to take advantage of the guardian transition, serious as the new caretaker of an artistic legacy, and an achingly, brilliantly quick learner of that uncommon dialect spoken by Beatrice’s house – lifts off her roof in a dramatic jump, and lands with a shaking thud that sends shivers through the ground all the way over. 

\

Help arrives so quickly that Beatrice knows said help is going to give her a hard time. 

“Mary,” she greets, relieved all the same. “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping watch?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Shannon's got it all handled back home,” Mary traces the perimeter easily, scanning the horizon in each direction and then feeling the hollows and convexities of the tombhouse in quick reappraisal. Beatrice stands aside as she smoothly pads across the surface of what she must have judged to be possible points of weakness, tests the robustness of a couple of Beatrice’s carefully constructed defenses, then nods, satisfied. 

A great-aunt, peeking out too to watch the celebrations, looks up, sees Mary, and waves. Mary sends her a bow. 

“You know, Bea, she’s right,” she hums, finally. “It’s not too far away, and you’ve always been focused when out visiting.”

The bait is not particularly subtle, and Beatrice narrows her eyes. 

“I just don’t think it’s safe to reduce any protections during a celebration when everyone’s guards are down.” She busies herself with cleaning up the place, tightening the wards and doing some final redundant sweeps and checks. “It’d be easy for someone or something to slip through, especially with so many unfamiliar faces.”

“Mm. And you’d be distracted.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sure.” Mary circles, then sits down, settling in and getting comfortable. She uncoils and reaches out to nudge Beatrice gently where she’s examining the shifts in some stones very conscientiously. “And I promise not to look over.”

“Mary.”

“What?” She shrugs, casually puts out a strong claw and kicks Beatrice firmly off the parapet. “Time to go-o.”

There’s a shower of stone fragments as Beatrice shakes and gathers herself to snap and snarl halfheartedly and harmlessly up at her from the ground. 

Mary looks over the edge and shakes her head, grinning. “Oh, baby girl,” she tsks, “Don’t tell me you need me to teach you how to fuck her.”

“Mary!”

Mary’s laughter echoes as Beatrice turns and steals into the darkness, necks hot with embarrassment. “Now hurry up, Beatrice,” her call seeps, howling, into the roots. It warps with the topography of the earth into something deep and old, sinking its frigid teeth into Beatrice’s bones. But the shape of the wind whipping past Beatrice’s ears is fond and teasing in its turbulence as she tears through the thicket. “Your poor girl’s waiting for you.”

[erdasmcnonsense]

Reach for the stars... and vote Joe Hills!

Ok look guys Joe's absolutely insanely cool pinball machine just. does things to my brain, ok? I just had to draw him among the galaxies, reaching for the next one to add in

[nostalgia-tblr]

What do English people call a close? You know, the stairwell bit where all the flats are in a tenement? If you go to visit someone at their flat, what do you call the bit where you wait for them to answer their door? That communal stairs… area?

("Modern AUs don't require research" MAYBE IF YOU'RE ENGLISH THEY DON'T 😭)

[melancholic-pigeon]

@vaspider @mistresskabooms @nerdykeppie I'm the one who's being weird? Me? really? You are absolutely sure you're not the asshole in this situation? You're ABSOLUTELY SURE this was a justified response to my polite confusion?

Wow. I really misread you.

[wild-at-mind]

I really think if you have deprogrammed yourself from being hard right (well done btw) then you should at all costs avoid throwing yourself into hard left politics, especially anything that involves hating people who you consider too moderate....just maybe practice some radical compassion for 'moderates', try and understand where they are coming from, and extend them the same goodwill you presumably were extended in order to extracate yourself from the hard right. Basically what I'm saying is avoid extremes of the political spectrum for a while. And by for a while I mean like a decade. It'll be a good idea trust me.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

seeing this glimpse of opening night curtain call thanks to vie boheme (ronnette) sharing it, ft. t. mychael rambo (voice of audrey ii, denizen of skid row)

[edge-oftheworld]

going back through some of this fandom's history has made me realise, we really see people as black and white good or bad don't we?

[hellobiscuit]

ergh actually the dash is getting lame again