#i fucking hate it here sometimes

[neptune-scythe]

current mood is repulsed aroace pissed off at sexualization of my favourite characters when I was just trying to absorb some content about them and their personalities/aesthetics instead of just seeing a bunch of posts about them being thirsted over

[obayashi]

doing the country challenge on letterboxd (watching at least one film from each country on the LB world map) and as i work my way thru the short films from some of the smaller countries on the map and read reviews it's becoming so clear who actually enjoys engaging with + finds meaning in film and art in general and who looks at it as, like, a game that can be won or leveled up. there are so many comments on films produced in countries with no film industry to speak of, saying "i only watched this to turn the country green in my stats" and rating it two stars? like what do you mean you aren't overwhelmed by the inextinguishable human drive to create? so sorry that nauru, a country with a population of 12,000 whose land has been ravaged by phosphorous mining and public funds depleted by economic corruption, hasn't produced a coppola-level epic for you to watch. sorry the short film about a group of boys in eritrea who collect beles fruit and swim in the lake didn't have any 1:1 allegories for you to feel smart about picking up on. kill yourself

[cinamun]

2nd hard reboot of the day...

[gay-david-tennant]

y'know one of the things that piss me off the most about the elections in germany? that the party (Freie Wähler) of the guy who didnt even apologise when it got out that antisemitic flyers had been found in his backpack at school had the biggest increase in voters in bayern (bavaria). and the nazi party (not the same btw. its called AfD) got the second most votes in hessen (hesse) and the third most votes in bavaria.

[finecutvoidsalt]

love it when I’m feeling overwhelmed in a building with bright lights and tons of people talking where I’m expected to be engaged and involved in conversation or at the very least be visibly paying attention (because I can’t just sit and listen with my eyes closed because the lights are too bright and my head hurts) and so I make the executive decision to sit in the bathroom with the lights off for the majority of the time and am then asked by my father what’s wrong, are you alright? And I respond with idk I just feel bad mentally. He says I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well, what do you think is causing this? and I say maybe it’s the fact I’ve been expending massive amounts of emotional energy every day for the past year or so with very few breaks because I’m taking care of my elderly grandmother who has the beginnings of dementia, and today I also spent 5 hours in a car and have been entertaining my very excitable 3 year old niece for several hours. and he says. this bitch fucking says I think you’re under a spiritual attack. ok then. you can keep your opinions to yourself preacher man

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[spoiledskullz]

sonic movie monkey paw: knuckles is more popular now than he was prior to 2022 but it's movie knuckles and his character is still misunderstood

[candycatstuffs]

screencap redraw + color palette fuckery bc the hyperfixation is reaching critical levels in my neural pathways

[necromash]

Something something, one of my Pelle WIPs because I turned 22 today or whatever, twinning! 😁👍🏻

[ringosmistress]

[darknesspervades]

I LOVE BEING TRANS!!! I LOVE SEEING THE WORLD IN ITS SPECTRUM OF COLOUR AND BEING FREE TO EXPRESS MYSELF HOWEVER I WANT!!! I LOVE THAT I CAN EXPLORE MASCULINITY AND FEMININITY FREE OF RESTRICTIONS!!!!! I LOVE THAT I'M PART OF SUCH AN ACCEPTING COMMUNITY!!!! I LOVE BEING TRANSGENDER!!!!

[kaisollisto]

“Are you here?" Ava barely breathes it, there's a tension in the air that she can't recognize, an energy that squashes her. Her throat feels scratchy and she can feel the Halo slotted between her shoulders. Ava's flat on her back head turned to look over at Beatrice. She feels wimpy like a stomped flower, her left arm dangles dangerously close to Beatrice-territory. She wants to reach out, to touch Beatrice to confirm that she's here but something stops her. She feels so silly, she could easily shift over to touch Beatrice, shake her gently and - 

Beatrice slides over, a firm sleepy sister warrior knife wielding badass with frumpy hair poofing from what remains of her low bun. She moves towards Ava, inches away from her but moves to answer her. It’s rare for Ava to see her like this. Beatrice is clearly fighting sleep, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to move in hopes that it’ll shake the sleepy spell. 

She’s dressed in one of Ava’s ugly loose white shirts, a huge bass clashing with faded big blocky lettering that just reads “FISH”. Beatrice had looked at her weirdly when Ava had dug it out of the bins at a thrift store disheveled and ecstatic. 

Ava had spent hours coaxing her into it doing her damn best to hide Beatrice’s laundry when she wasn’t looking. It fills a warm feeling in her chest and Ava wants to burrow further into it. It was a fool proof plan. 

Ava found her shortness made it exhausting to reach up towards the Beatrice-level-cabinets. The halo pulls at her pinching and knotting up the muscles in her back after a long day of training. She feels it alive within her, an uncomfortable reminder sealed inside her back. 

At the end of the day Ava settled on hinging at the waist. She had slowly started integrating Beatrice’s sleep shirts in cabinets that Beatrice had to bend down to reach. Ava always tried to situate herself at the scene of the crime doing her best to seem inconspicuous while she leaned over hungry for Beatrice’s reaction. Ava thumbed her findings down in the recess of her mind, her finger tracing over it in a hurried desperation. The time would pass and she did not want to forget. 

(It helped, the imagery of Bea’s furrow when she would find her sleepwear underneath the sink when Ava would have to tuck her spine into the halo as she placed the shirt somewhere clean.) 

Thanks to her genius planning Beatrice had finally caved and worn Ava’s huge “FISH” t-shirt after weeks of her persistence. She looked adorable, she was drowning in it and constantly tugging at it. She had found Beatrice loved to tuck it into the band of her sleep shorts creating puffy funny creases distorting the text even further to say “FSH”. It looked so ugly and old and endearing. 

She looked out of her depth and it made Ava’s heart thump funny. Beatrice with her weird posh mannerisms combined with the peaceful unguarded look when she slumbered made her feel hot all over. 

It was the prospect of the future, a glimpse into her life with Beatrice, of when they would grow old together. It shakes her, the idea that Beatrice will get wrinkles with her. She takes it seriously, a study that she isn’t well versed in but preparing for. It is a long hard internal debate flipping between what wrinkles will show first. Ava selfishly hopes it’s smile lines, that Beatrice will smile at her as much as she does in secret. She’s happy to be wrong, Beatrice’s forehead crinkles have always been cute. She hopes that Beatrice never stops looking at her, thinking of her. She wants to spend a long time being the source of her wrinkles. And just for right now she can handle the role of being just her friend. 

Beatrice blinks one eye open, the other pressed against the pillow as she stifles a yawn. Her hand blocks her mouth in a delicate way and Ava can see her nails are short and uneven in places. Ava wishes she could touch them, study them in a way no one has done before. She wants to press against Beatrice hard enough to watch her skin fold around hers. Some sort of truth that she was here, that she is here. 

Beatrice scoots over slowly, her elbow tucked under the pillow. She stops inches away from Ava, a frown set in her jaw. Ava mirrors her position albeit more awkwardly and more wiggling than Beatrice’s but she finds a place where the Halo won’t bite her back. 

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs it, a quiet thing between them. 

Ava closes her eyes hoping Beatrice won’t notice her shakiness. She blinks a few times before she presses closer, the arm she’s laying on moving to support her head underneath the pillow. 

There’s so much to tell her, anything and nothing at all and Ava doesn’t know where to start. It constricts her throat, the constant stream of consciousness from inside of her heart. It’s horrible and she can’t stop it as the feeling balloons inside of her lungs. Ava wants help, she so desperately wants to feel okay again, to feel anything other than the stupid fucking halo. It grates on her nerves and muscles, a burning hot metal ring poking and prodding at the entirety of her upper torso. It leaves her reeling, a sort of anger that beckons for her to hurt (hurt something, hurt someone, hurt), disregarding the aftermath of tears and shame. 

Ava is sure she’s shaking, a layer of sweat gathers between the space of her shoulder blades as the Halo lights up with her inner turmoil. It’s a faint pitiful thing that Ava would be ashamed of if not for the bone aching tiredness. 

She wants to say she’s sorry the words clawing their way up her throat and it feels wrong to feel anything but that. There’s a sort of unspoken shame that haunts her with the Halo. It’s a thing she’s known long before any of this. 

Beatrice drags her out of her turmoil with her hand hovering near Ava’s pinky. She has a gracefulness to it, like she has practiced it a hundred times over. It’s weird, to be in a bed, a soft and lumpy bed looking at Beatrice. Beatrice with such plain features and subtle cheekbones that Ava can’t stop looking. It pays off, watching Beatrice, Ava knows it when Bea smiles a grin too wide for polite acknowledgement and Ava can see her dimples pronounced. 

“Can I?” Beatrice’s finger lingers near her hand, a hovering itch that Ava needs scratched. It’s so wholeheartedly Beatrice that Ava can do nothing but nod. Something inside of Ava aches harder than the rest of the organs inside of her. It’s the unwavering crushing thumping feeling that squeezes around her heart. The sincerity of Beatrice. 

She places her hand over Ava’s and squeezes her gently. Beatrice’s hands are firm and soft. She can feel the callouses on her palms prodding at the back of her hand and wonders if Beatrice has ever had them fade away. If she’s had the pleasure of unscathed palms. Her hands are warm but not sweaty, not like Ava’s.

Ava can’t feel Beatrice’s pulse but she tries her best to match it. She imagines it would be a slow melody playing a duet with a classical track. Some sort of tune that spurs comfort or a feeling of nostalgia. She briefly wonders if Beatrice listens to music, if she seeks out music that has spoken to her. If there was a song that shook her to her core so deeply she had to sit down and digest it. There’s so much she still needs to know and so little time. 

“I admit I’m not sure what you need from me.” Beatrice whispers it quietly, she’s hunched awkwardly, hovering close in Ava’s space but too far away for her own comfort. 

Ava clamps her mouth shut, sure that “come closer” will betray her. That she will reach too far into Beatrice and take far too much. 

Beatrice pays no mind to Ava’s silence and slowly caresses her hand, it’s a small little gesture that seems to have no set course. Ava briefly wonders if it’s the start of a massage or if Beatrice is looking for her joints underneath her skin and touching her tendons in apology. 

It should be awkward, Beatrice and Ava orbiting each other in a lopsided manner. A rotational tilt that is unfamiliar to both of them and yet feels intimate. An unknown dance with their eyes closed and their breaths mingling. (It’s easy to follow Beatrice’s lead, Ava knows love.) 

There’s nothing Ava can say to her, she chokes up at the prospect and they both blink at each other. She’s not sure what she needs, only that it’s nice having someone here. 

Beatrice drowsily blinks rapidly and slowly at the same time as Ava watches swallowing the bits of her smile. Her hand has slowed its pathing, opting to curl on the inside of Ava’s fingers. It’s endearing watching one of her favorite bad ass sister warriors lose against sleep. It softens the edges of Beatrice who is always carrying some unseen obligation. (Here it is only the two of them free of their past and future burdens, just two girls sprawled thinly on hopes and dreams). 

She can feel Beatrice’s grip loosen, she’s going to fall back asleep any minute now but Ava doesn’t have the heart to keep her up. Beatrice is no doubt tired, powered by her own sleeping and eating habits unlike Ava who has the artifact to juice her up. 

She isn’t quite unwound but she feels manageable now. It’s weird to be within reach of Beatrice, someone who cares about her. To be in proximity of someone who will look for her, be in step with her, maybe it’s duty but Ava holds it close to her heart regardless. (It’s all the same to her, devotion, loyalty, love). 

She clings to Beatrice afraid to let the moment go, she had called and someone had answered, Bea had answered. Ava can feel her eyes watering, it almost feels like a distant dream. She tucks her chin closer to chest and thinks, how awful to be loved. 

She can feel her throat closing up and she squeezes Bea’s hand just a tiny bit harder. (She answers in the twitch of her hand, clearly on the cusp of sleep). The Halo still thunders in her back throbbing some fatal fate but here in the hush of night grounded by the touch of Beatrice she has some reprieve.  (Part 1)

[shrimpari]

“I made a pact with Vol, a pact of Blood”

Strahd von Zarovich and his very, very good friend.

[charadoodle]

Okay. I'm going to be. Such a hater for a sec bcus like

I keep seeing this post around.

And like. As an autistic person I can see. How it's very easy to fall into this way of thinking. Because YES there is things we will never quite understand. And YES there is things that like. Neurotypical people won't understand. And whatever BUT. I THINK this is much more of like. A bad friend experience ?? More than ?? And autistic one? Like this is clearly just. Lack of communication especially since. This is about children. But also like. To me. It kind of feels like fear mongering yourself a little? And I just feel like it's really not the kind of thinking we should encourage within the autistic community as well bcus. There's so many nuances in friendships too? And like. How can you REALLY know. People from your childhood hated you? Did you ask? Did they really hate you? Truly? And like. Let's just. Not scare ourselves into "trusting our instincts" and then pushing people away/ not allowing ourselves to make new friends just because of one bad experience that. Honestly. Everyone has. This isn't an autistic experience, I fear. A lot of people get scared their friends don't like them. And a lot of people have had shitty friends. I'm not saying stuff like this doesn't happen. I just really don't think this is a good/healthy way to frame it. And. I know it can suck being disliked but let's not also act like people just. Aren't allowed to not click with each other. I just think we should be polite and open and able to communicate about it too. Yknow?

[cyberscratch]

some pokémon inspired cat designs!!

these designs are for sale, 15 usd a pop - dm here or on toyhouse to claim :]

[mamawasatesttube]

hi guys. a fun fact about me is that i hate dc comics!