#it got me through a lot of shit

[melancholic-fruit]

i love rewarding Starstruck Odyssey. Barry’s introduction alone, see ya in the stars, Loose Duke, right on, the plinth, Aurora Nebbins, the turtle infestation, operation slippery puppet, i could go on

this show has me giddy and stimming like no other piece of media (other than a few other special interests). this show brings me so much genuine joy that i cannot contain myself— i just want everyone to love this show as much as i do

[datcravat]

It seems there's a new lawyer in town!!!

[your-local-narc]

Did someone say teenage mutant ninja turtles

[leafmealoooone]

god i love solarpunk. Shout out to solarpunk.

Sometimes it gets criticism for being just an art aesthetic, and i get that, fair enough, but for me thats the whole point.

I can't always picture a future worth fighting for on my own. It would be so much harder to hope for and work towards a better future without the images others have crafted of what that better world might look like. Sometimes what keeps me going is pretty imaginings of a beautiful, flawed, near-utopia that's mostly just vibes and sunshine and plants growing regardless of whether the conditions are well suited to it, and humans who continue and endure and care for their world and community.

[ricketycr1cks]

And if I say Mac grew up equating love to cigarette burns and absent fathers and getting told to toughen up, that Mac doesn’t understand love that isn’t conditional, love without equal parts hate or distaste, that never in his life has Mac understood earnest love, that even though Dennis isn’t trying to, he often ends up re-confirming this idea in Macs head, that love is hatred, that-

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

one of my favorite things about zedaph is that on a server full of people that find strange and oft-overlooked minecraft mechanics or rare events and then see just how far they can push them in the name of spectacle or efficiency or world-breaking, zed is over here finding these mechanics in order to do the weirdest things he can think of in as entertaining a manner as possible

like i 100% have faith in zedaph's theoretical ability to be just as efficient or spectacular or world-breaking. if he wanted to do that stuff, i trust that he absolutely could. but thats so far from being his priority. instead, hes going to spend around a week of irl time focused entirely on eventually having the good luck to spawn in something insanely rare so that he can convert it into something even rarer, the result of which being something that 99% of the server reacts with complete and utter shock that it even exists in the first place, just because its zany and funny and he wanted to. and i love that

[senselessalchemist]

Bow problems (+ other nonsense)

[heyimkana]

oh nah there are people on twitter talking SHIT about my man just because jinwoo didn't go there quickly to save everyone im'ma need y'all to hold me back hold up

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.

[old-skyguy]

Rewatching Gravity Falls for the who-knows-what thousandth time and I. I have. A thought.

The website that alluded to (not confirmed, as far as I know) of a season three. And this is a big deal.

Since it's pretty much a given that if this does end up happening, Bill WILL be a part of it and they'll need some way to stop him. So I figured, since Mabel destroyed the memory eraser and Bill would probably not have fallen for the same thing twice anyway, the obvious choice is the zodiac wheel again.

BUT.

What if instead of it all being the same person in the same spot as they were in the finale, why not have their positions switched around a bit. The obvious examples being Wendy as pine tree since she and Dipper swapped hats and Soos since he took over as owner of the Mystery Shack and also Stan's iconic hat. I *may* try to plot out who would go where and share the rest of that stuff on here, but I think this idea would work really well when you contextualize it with the concept that even though time has passed and people have grown and changed and are no longer the same as they once were, they're still just as strong and still care for each other and their bond will never be broken.

Much like the people who loved this show.

[pumpkinrootbeer]

say what u will about barry allen but no other superhero has had a worse time. you come in, take up another heros mantle, be a hero for however many years, DIE!!! actually die not comic death but die to the point you are functionally irrelevant for 20 years you completely cease to be that character and the vast majority of people grew up with a different flash, get resurrected you're back now (yay?), writers don't know what to do with you because there's already another flash and there has been for the past two decades so the entire universe kinda hems and haws about what to do with you until they take you out of your main comics and just have you chill in the justice league, then you lose your powers and are once again no longer the flash.

I need a "where are they now" but for Barry Allen flash. dead for Twenty Real Life Years. come back to life. reset the universe. just to lose your powers and be booted again from the superhero title. God himself hates this man

"Oh wally got erased from existence" "well x happens to Batman" it's not even about what happens in the narrative it's like. you're the only mainstream superhero ever that stopped existing for two decades and when they do decide to bring the character back they have no idea what to do with you so you're eventually forever relegated to the sidelines And also you're not the strongest or the most skilled or the fastest flash and they keep retconning all the special stuff You did in specific and refuse to let your narrative exist beyond Dead Mom. bartholomew baby I'm so sorry

[nekrosmos]

My ability to calm people down in record time will never not be funny to me, useful skill to have in social work for sure

[telesodalite]

Been cleaning up and rearranging stuff a lot lately in preparation for moving, and I'm getting a bit emotional about my first TF figure/toy...

I've had this Jazz for like, 10+ years, and I used to take this guy everywhere. He's so scuffed from being dragged across driveways and playgrounds, and he sits and stands a bit wonky because the plastic cracked along one arm, and both his legs tend to pop off, and he doesn't really transform well anymore because of that. I forgot him in a drawer some years back, but nowadays he gets to sit front and center atop my bookcase ;-;

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2025: METAL FROM HEAVEN by August Clarke.

This is pitched as For Fans Of GIDEON THE NINTH (by which they mean: ow, and messy lesbians, with a side of immersive worldbuilding) and THE PRINCESS BRIDE (by which they mean: Inigo Montoya and Fantasy Politics). Personally, I would also comp it to ARCANE, for the aesthetics and Loadbearing Mysterious Malleable Resource and class warfare and explicit sex scenes lol.

The titular metal from heaven is ichorite, a weird and versatile substance that's kicking off an industrial revolution. The book opens with the brutal strikebreaking massacre that sets young Marney (our hella dyke--sorry, crawly--MC) on her quest for revenge: She's going to kill the foundry owner who had her entire family of striking workers gunned down. She gets adopted by crawly bandits and becomes a notorious highwayman and prepares for her revenge (because we hate capitalism in this house, and we're working for our Hereafter beyond it).

I loved the prose, I loved the POV fuckery, I loved the worldbuilding and religions and names and community and colors and aesthetics and the ichorite weirdness. I loved the exploration of gender and of grief, of revolutions and of cycles of violence. As soon as I finished, I immediately reread the first paragraph, and holy shit it broke my brain a little (affectionate, astounded).

If you're looking for a messy, raw, tragic, brutal struggle with grief and takedown of capitalism, this might be the book for you--it's definitely not for everybody, but it sure was for me!

[the-blue-wraith]

As someone who is a survivor of many abuses Astarion made me feel cathartic and seen. He became one of my ultimate comfort characters because I see myself through him. He made me realized what I've felt was valid and I shouldn't blame myself for going through a lot of trauma because it wasn't my fault. He made me really inspired on how to handle my own trauma.

Stephen Rooney and Neil Newbon did an incredible job for making this character feel alive and relatable to anyone who experienced the same.

[tabithatwo]

(x)

(this is a pls stop blaming juliette lewis for nat’s arc and death post <3)