#intentional media

[5sosnobody1420]

I’ve been avoiding more social media in general. It’s hard because I still use several to communicate with friends and people I care about. But I’m trying to replace doom scrolling with other things. Even if they aren’t productive or “good” like watching TV or rewatching that childhood movie you’ve seen 100 times and could quote by heart. Hell, I’ve been taking extra naps. I’ve been trying to read more (both informative political or mental health books and some just for fun). I even started playing meaningless games on my phone again. Yes it’s important to stay up to date on information. It’s a privilege to not know what’s going on. But that’s not what I’m advocating for. I personally have been for a lack of better words overdosing on social media. Yes you need to know what’s going on in the world. But do you really need to know what your cousins boyfriends ex wife thinks about it? Or that one actor in your favorite childhood show that has concerning beliefs now? This is a call out to myself as much as anyone. Tumblr is a little less of a hell scape so I’m going to be on here more, but I encourage you to put the phone down. Or at least play a game or music or read a book. (You can do that for free on your phone with your library card. And if you do not have a library card you need to go get one that’s your task for today) Stop letting yourself be propagandized and advertised to for free.

I’m not quitting socials all together. But my goal is to be intentional with what I use, how I use it, and how long I use it. Because the important part of activism is self preservation. I can not fight for those like me and others if I am not taken care of myself. 🏳️‍⚧️

I deleted TikTok last night, at least for a while. I’m not (more) concerned about my online privacy in 2025 - that ship has loooong sailed - but I think I need to take a stance against being aggressively propagandized to.

Deny them the financial gain from your engagement. 🤷‍♀️ if enough people do it…

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x09 - “The Dirt Under Your Nails.”

[k-wame]

MALAKAI & ROWAN | Heartbreak High 2024 · Teen · Drama · S2·EP4

[squidthusiast]

So what if I drew Marina in a bunch of Ellen Ripley outfits, what then huh??? What’cha gonna do hmm??? (Sigourney Weaver had no business serving like that)

[peach-sea]

Cringetober Day 1. Screenshot Redraw

inspired by this early eah scene where raven "lets her bad side out" playing guitar and my cousin and I go "apple's probably losing it" and then they cut to her and she's making this face ↓

[asexualandalwaysshipping]

Guess who just made their first letterboxd list

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[calirph]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 as 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐍/𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃

foreshadowing of the eye of sauron. "One moment only it stared out, but as from some great window immeasurably high there stabbed northward a flame of red, the flicker of a piercing Eye; and then the shadows were furled again and the terrible vision was removed."

[ddenji]

i technically already posted this panel but the gender dynamics in csm are so beyond anything else in shonen rn. yoru occupying a more traditionally masculine, agressive, perpetrative space here and denji always, always, always occupying the space of the female, the subdued, the taken advantage of. his wording here is so defensive, trying to deflect the act, because he is always being acted against. yoru, the living embodiment of war (a traditionally male system and responsibility!) being trapped in the body of a teenage girl. fujimoto does a good job of subverting traditional gender dynamics in some very subtle ways earlier in the manga, but this one seems far more blatant and disturbing in the context of denjis entire experience.

[bookishjules]

no way in hell i'm redownloading tiktok after all of this. the way they praised trump in their little notifications, the way they never actually had to shut down, the way trump is trying to play the savior and acting like he wasn't the one pushing for it to be banned in the first place, the way he's insisting that the solution is for the united states to have 50% ownership of the app.

it's gross, it's foreboding, it's suspicious, and it's frankly not something i want to be a part of.

[seventeendeer]

this isn't at all meant to be condescending or finger-waggy because 100% we all have blind spots like this, but I'm really, really hoping that the people who never found Gaiman's approach to his own fandom concerning in any way will take this all as a learning moment.

he was an older, hyper-famous author engaging directly and frequently with an online audience of largely vulnerable young marginalized people. he presented himself as cultured and worldly, and made himself approachable as someone to go to for advice, encouragement and "wisdom." his manner of speech was extremely pathos-heavy and clearly intended to be comforting and encouraging in exactly the way his target demographic needed it to be to swallow every word. the way he spoke about stories and creativity was designed to make young creative hopefuls feel special and important, while sweeping real analytical techniques under the rug - in hindsight, likely so no one would think too critically about the disturbing amount of patriarchal abuse played for cheap shock value and voyerism in his own body of works.

Gaiman saw a target demographic that was desperate for an older creative role model to tell them they were worth something, and he exploited that pain to twist a narrative around himself where he was king and any critique leveled at him or his works were the enemy.

to be clear, he could have been innocent. he could totally have been just an out-of-touch old man saying nice things to people because he wanted to be kind and he thought he was a lot smarter than he really was. red flags are warning signs, not a surefire way to tell if someone is actually "secretly shitty."

but if you used to look up to him, PLEASE take this moment to revisit the ideas you absorbed from him. did you take his words to heart because they seemed to have objective merit? or did you take them to heart because it felt good to believe what he said? do you still hold these values? does knowing he was intentionally manipulating his online audience make you less certain? do you need more information from a different source before deciding one way or another?

again, I'm just really, really hoping people on here will take a moment to reevaluate the ideas and opinions he's injected into tumblr fandom culture, because his reach is immense and he has absolutely been manipulating popular perception of relevant topics to gain further influence and control the narrative around both his own and Pratchett's legacy. please, please take this moment to notice what he's been doing - and next time someone tries to pull the same shit, hopefully we'll be able to apply what we've learned from experience.

[littlefankingdom]

Tumblr already showed me twice a post where OP implies that Bruce made the choice to not help Jaybin when he was attacked by an angry mob in Legends, so I had to check, and look at that, they were lying.

Context: the general population has been turned against superheroes.

An angry mob does attack Robin, and what is Batman's reaction? To come to the rescue! He even immediately calls him "son", switching to an endearing term to reassure him. However, Batman is hit in the eyes with a bottle of perfume and blinded, as his attention was on his boy. Gordon tries to get him to leave, but he refuses because he can't leave his boy behind, and when Gordon tells him that his men will take care of Robin, Batman is like "I don't trust your men with my son". Batman is forced out of here, he is so pissef, and he is called "arrogant" by the cops there.

This man trusts ONE cop, and it's Jim Gordon, that's it. And people dare to tell me Bruce isn't an acab believer. He grew up in Gotham and his parents were murdered when he was 8, of course he believes in acab. That's why he was so against his son becoming one.

Anyway, later on, Jason is in the hospital (Bruce was right, Gordon's men didn't do shit), and Bruce is pissed at the situation. However, Jason feels guilty and ashamed, and Bruce immediately goes to comfort him, reminding him he isn't at fault for getting beat up, that Bruce is proud of him and that he is a great Robin. And when Jason compares himself to Dick, Bruce stops that too, bringing up that Dick also had less glorious moments like this. And again, Bruce switches to "son" and "Jay", which convey affection in the goal of comforting his boy.

In the end, Bruce leaves his son safe at the hospital, resolved to not obey the president and get to the bottom of this. Later, Jason decides he cannot stay there and must help, even if it kills him. And people dare say that he wasn't reckless.

Anyway, the other thing about this, apart from Bruce didn't walk away WILLINGLY from Jason being attacked by an angry mob, is that as awful this is, the writers never intended this to be a traumatic experience for Jason. Of course, it would be normally, but it's just a plot point here to get Robin away from Batman while he works with the other heroes. Damn, there isn't even a follow-up to Jason leaving the hospital, he doesn't show up in the next issues to help.

Sometimes, especially with older stories, comics' events don't matter as much as you think they do. If you want to re-imagine them as impacting for the characters, that's your choice, but let's not act as if they were intended to be. Because I saw that moment being used as a comparison to Under The Red Hood, to be like "see Bruce keeps abandoning Jason", and like, calm down with the shortcuts. Because you are making that up, on your own, with what was given to you by different writers over the decades that didn't communicate with each others or agree on the characters.

[iirulancorrino]

The Green brothers are doing effective altruism better than maybe 95% of people who identify online as effective altruists.

[genericpuff]

There's a user going around currently reblogging/commenting on antiLO content with the intent of "digging up dirt" on people who simply read and enjoy the comic. Basically demanding the OP's of such posts to inform them of any 'stans' so they can add them to a 'list' that they absolutely do not have any good intentions to do with, along with making some very unsavory and completely unwarranted comments about the fans in general (and I don't mean the usual "lmao LO fans are weird/dumb/etc." stuff, I mean genuinely cruel wishes to have the fans of the comic doxxed/harmed/etc.) I have blocked this user for obvious reasons, and if you get a similar reblog or DM like I did from this person, I hope you'll do the same.

Please do not play into this. As much as I and many others talk shit about this dumpster fire of a comic and its questionable if not outright controversial writing and messaging, none of us have any right to go after any of the fans or stans directly. At best that would just be proving to the fans who already hate this part of the fandom that we're boogeymen out to get people, at worst it would be a betrayal to our own integrity as human beings who should be capable of discussing media without turning it into a harassment campaign. Making shitposts about the media and the fandom is fine, discussing the media itself and the creator who made it within our own little spaces of the Internet is ultimately harmless so long as it's managed within reason, but deliberately going out of your way to dig up personal information on innocent people within the fandom for the purpose of ruining their life is not okay and if you ever get to that point where you're trying to rationalize going after people directly, you need to log off.

[distant--shadow]

When Imogen wakes it is with an ache in her neck

a drop into reality unusually cushioned

a hand combing through her hair

and she can’t help the smile that breaks when she meets Laudna’s watchful eyes peering down at her, flushes shortly after.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep?”

Laudna smiles back at her, halts the hand playing with her hair.

“You did.”

An unspoken mutual agreement allows the moment to stretch in silence –

that or time is still fucky from Imogen only just waking up. It gives her enough of it to contemplate.

The sun must be high, the atmosphere muggy and the fauna all bustling as if it were a market day and the critters had stalls to set up and produce to bring home for their litters in the burrows. She feels the layer of sweat on her skin wherever the sun directly touches it, smells in waves where it heats the floor and diffuses the groundcover as if it were potpourri-

Above her, backlit - Laudna’s wearing a halo. The giant leaves of the giant trees are so high above them that the scale almost looks normal, the light breaking between the canopy in beams, sparkling in places where it catches insect wings and pollen, silhouetting edges of wiry strands of hair that act as though curtains on a canopy bed, all giving cover from the storm (should it come). It all feels so hazy, could be the vision starting to turn to grains of sand in her eyes like before a migraine but it’s also unusually clear, her head weightless despite the aching neck – funny what a handful of hours of good sleep can do.

The unspoken mutual agreement is ended.

“Did you rest well?” what did you dream about?

“I did, yeah...”

Unintentional, excusable really - waking with her defences down.

Wouldn’t be outta the ordinary to share.

“…dreamt we were back at Oddrún’s, was nice-” she withholds the details, just to save a little face. Exposes it anyhow, when she finds herself inadvertently taking the hand that had stilled in her hair, holding her palm up above her head with Laudna's lying flat on top of it “-then the roof caved in again and the place got swarmed with birds.”

“Birds?”

Imogen's thumb traces the knife-edge of the long nail on Laudna’s.

“Birds.” Imogen confirms, distracted, half-awake, giddy. The word already sounds funny; thrown back and forth between them. She chuckles at how her lips form around the repetition of it, says it again in Marquesian to see if it feels as abstract- that causes Laudna to quirk her brow from behind the fan of their fingers. “All different kinds, real cute and stuff, mostly. Place got furnished in feathers, was pretty chaotic - parakeets nestin’ in the cups and saucers and kingfishers in the rafters…” Laudna exhales a single syllable of a choral chuckle and Imogen has never felt so relaxed. “There was a kinda shady lookin’ big one standin’ on one leg in the corner by the hearth though, kept squawkin’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, think it was a shoebill. You ever seen one of those?”

“You know, I’m not sure. I wonder if there was any significance…”

Their fingers interlace, under Laudna's initiative. Imogen stares at the long nails now reaching to her wrist like plates of fine ebony gauntlets.

“I could try draw it for y’all, but I don’t think it’d help…” comes out audibly distracted, the points of Laudna's talons gently making contact with Imogen's scarred skin-

“Allow me to get my notebook~” Laudna enthusiastically sings – nearly cutting Imogen, their hands separating - and Imogen is left staring at the empty space that was occupied by the shape that the two of them made, wonders if there is a word for that, like ‘bird’ - each hand a wing of some amalgamation, dream chimera, released between palms.

Probably a word she doesn’t have the language for.

(passage and illustration from @picturesofthegoneworlds ' intertwined)

[fatliberation]

please always treat each other with kindness. generalization, painting an entire demographic with the same brush, will be our downfall.