#it's unproductive

[nietzhat]

it's genuinely incredible to see people still trying to defend israel at this stage. i beg of you, get off this site, you're not tumblr material. you're soon-to-be lepers forming communes of likeminded weirdos, voluntarily warping your minds to justify the unjustifiable. and that last bit is what makes you incompatible with this site.

[mybedroomceilingsbored]

i'm late, but doing one of those note thing thingies. because i need to be productive but have no willpower :3

this is legitimately never gonna get anywhere. but i don't rlly care lol

mm.. 25 notes and i'll start lifting weights again (actually kind of wanna do this one)

50 notes and i'll drink adequate amounts of water for a FULL WEEK

100 notes and i'll eat at least two meals a day for a week

200 notes and i'll weed my vegetable garden (horribly grassy)

300 notes and i'll redo my intro post

400 notes and i'll clean out my 950+ unread emails

600 notes and i'll actually clean my room (gasp)

800 notes and i'll post myself playing smth on the piano? or flute? or uke? y'all's choice lol

aaand 1000 notes and i'll start APPLYING FOR SCHOLARSHIPS omgg

uuum go wild ig?

[slidehead]

hello online feminist do you hate men as an extension of the hierarchical class they create, uphold and coercively enforce in society or do you hate men because you genuinely believe they are evil through an inherent biological heritage that cannot be mended

[yearnerspermit]

I’ll be honest the way some people talk about this show makes it sound less like they’re interested in the messy nature of people failing and remorse and guilt and atonement and redemption and regret and the capacity to change and the inability to undo what’s been done and unforgivable actions and maybe forgivable people and how you face all of it and continue to live and endure. and more like they want to be sitting in that jury, determining who’s guilty or not guilty, deciding a sentence, and walking away satisfied in the result being final

[uncanny-tranny]

The whole "breasts shouldn't be politicized because the primary purpose of breasts is to feed babies!" can be a fine jumping-off point, but I really wish people thought deeper than that when we talk about the ways in which bodies are politicized and restricted.

Like, why's it that when we talk about breasts, they must have some Higher Purpose? It's true that breasts aren't inherently sexual, but they aren't valuable solely because they can potentially feed a baby. A human body doesn't have to serve a Higher Purpose in order for it to not be legislated against or policed, and I just wish people would remember it isn't always about babies, about other people, about anything else other than the people who have that body.

[amelia-yap]

QUACK

[trensu]

Had the realization that if stranger things were set in the 2000s, Steve and Robin would know all of Avril Lavigne's hit songs by heart.

Guys, guys, just picture the two of them in car blasting Girlfriend, singing at the top of their lungs. Picture Eddie pulling up next to them at a stoplight and staring at them in stupefied delight, like what is happening right now oh my god is this real life did I somehow end up in the trippiest version of heaven what

Picture Robin noticing Eddie gaping at them like an idiot and nudging Steve. Picture Steve, without missing a beat, turning to the driver next to them and sing/screaming "I want to be your girlfriend"

Then he realizes who he just sings that to, the guy Robin KNOWS he's low-key had a crush on all year, and bursts into nervous laughter at Eddie's gobsmacked expression and fucking floors it the microsecond the light turns green, cursing out a cackling Robin the entire time

Eddie goes home that day with the image of a sunny-bright Steve laughing with unreserved joy and bopping to a fun beat with his bestie. Eddie finds himself humming Girlfriend on and off all week, much to Corroded Coffin's horrified delight

[divorcedwife]

the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams

[zvezdacito]

My friend told me to doodle whatever I wanted onto her scrapbook of our friendgroup outings so here (she likes batman hence his presence)

My traditional sketches are kinda wonky but yeah

+ Random Rollo childhood HC doodles I never posted. Get marie antoinette syndromed boy

[buwheal]

Why does the orange Addison's mannequin kinda resemble you?

[birrdify]

3 i respectfully need you to explode in a million pieces

[hellenhighwater]

the only--the ONLY!--thing I had on my to do list for today was work on any of the commissioned paintings that I need to get done. That was it!

So instead I've sculpted a bunch of clay leaves to make into a mobile, gave a kitten a bath, rearranged the sunroom and repotted a few plants, watered my tomatoes, got some eggs from the doves, read a book, did some laundry, made a book press, made a video about making a book press, bought a detail sander and halloween candy, taught Vice to do a double high five, accidentally melted my gardening gloves, went to the animal shelter, and forgot to eat for the entire day.

So I'm pleased to announce that all executives are functioning at 0% capacity, as per normal.

[mesetacadre]

they killed me for posting too good

hello, i'm former iberiancadre. my previous blog was terminated for "harassment" via a manual report. i honestly don't have any idea what prompted it since for the last month I'd pretty much stopped arguing with people and screenshotting them, save a few posts that never got more than a few reblogs so i highly doubt it was that. please help me find my comrades by reblogging this!

anyhow, they haven't replied to my appeal with anything useful. i've taken the time to create this blog which will hopefully be a little bit better organized, i'll try to do consistent tagging too, and eventually create an index of posts i like. also, this blog has an actual custom theme! it isn't anything special but i like how it turned out ^^

[upsidedog]

god the scene in season one where jonathan comes home to joyce and lonnie on the couch drinking together is harrowing. it makes me want to cry just thinking about it, your brother is dead, your mom is horrible mental state and is now also introducing your abusive father back into your house. what a fucking nightmare.

[silverskye13]

random thought, but i had a vivid image of, if helsknight and welsknight ever saw each other without armor (or just helsknight out of his armor tbh), helsknight showing welsknight the scar tanguish gave him and saying "this was intended for you."

i don't know how in character that is, but tbh it's haunting me. maybe it's part of helsknight's revenge against welsknight or something, calling out his unknightly behavior and unhonorable conduct.

"You didn't answer my summons."

Helsknight froze. It was a quick, momentary startle, a short-circuit of normality. The moment he did it, every instinct told him to keep moving. That old command [Do something.] blared loud in the quiet surprise of his mind. So he moved his hand to pick up the brush on his table, and pretended to be unconcerned.

"I'm not a dog. You can't call me to heel," Helsknight said simply. He smirked and growled, "Though if you feel like losing some limbs, feel free to try."

Behind him, Wels shifted uncomfortably. Helsknight liked making Wels uncomfortable, he didn't handle it well. He was a creature used to comfort and ease. Inconvenience often galled him more than a sword to the throat. Different tactics for different battlefields, and this battlefield was a delicate one.

Helsknight was cleaning his arms and armor, which was one of several reasons why he hasn't leaped for a fight when Welsknight had called him to one. He was only in a tunic and breeches. It was luck he even had his boots on. He had offered to run errands with Tanguish, but Tanguish had said he was visiting his church and wanted to go on rooftops. So Helsknight stayed home, and he left his boots on. That was the other reason Helsknight hadn't answered the call: Tanguish wouldn't know where he was, and he knew Tanguish got paranoid about being left behind. Besides, Helsknight had chores he could do at home [like cleaning his arms and armor] so he stayed. Cleaning the chainmail was almost a formality. Hels was hot and dry, and he wore it often enough that the rings clattering together cleaned themselves. But sometimes he just liked putting an extra shine on things, so he took out his brush and oil and started brushing it down for any miniscule specks of rust or broken links he could find.

Wels, always keen on the times he wasn't wanted, decided now was the perfect time to show up in his living room. He stood awkwardly, waiting on Helsknight to make some aggressive movement. When none came, he cautiously stalked further into the tiny living space. His emotions were loud and uncomfortable without the distance between their respective worlds to dampen them, and they clung like smoke against Helsknight's skin. Caution at an unfamiliar space. Disgruntlement at being ignored.

[Guilt, like ash on a burn.]

"Is this... Yours?" Wels asked, glancing around.

"No, I'm just squatting in a random house. Sounded like a fun way to spend a Tuesday."

Helsknight felt the ant-bite sting of vicarious agitation and smirked. He was already getting on Wels's nerves.

[Good.]

"Couldn't build something nicer?" Wels snapped impatiently.

"I'm a fighter."

Helsknight found a place on his chainmail to brush down and got to work. The rough, grating twinge of the coarse bristles on chain made Wels wince. Helsknight always found the noise pleasant. Like scratching an itch.

"So?"

"I have better things to do than spend hours building the perfect house."

Wels scoffed and looked around the room with renewed disdain. "Where's your little devil?"

It took Helsknight a moment to place what he was asking. He sneered, a quiet bearing of teeth, and caught the flicker of red in the reflective shine of his chainmail. Wels looked pointedly away from him.

[Like ash on a burn.]

"Not feeling remorse... are we, crusader?" Helsknight asked, finding a new place to polish. The coin-drop clatter of chain, and the shrill scrape of bristles filled the silence like an accusation.

"Of course not," Wels sniffed disdainfully, still refusing to meet Helsknight's eye.

"Careful." Helsknight murmured, that red flash reflecting off his chainmail again, anger simmering. "Lying's a sin."

"Why would I feel remorse for protecting my home?"

"A crusade well fought I'm sure."

"It's not a crusade!" Wels snapped, his own anger a living thing raising hackles. "A crusader invades! A crusader fights a holy war just for the principle."

"Right. And you're fighting because--"

"Because I'm protecting Tango."

"-because it's for his own good?"

Wels didn't exactly wince, but he did still, as though he'd heard someone draw a blade from its scabbard. Helsknight might as well have unseated his sword. He had stopped scrubbing, all pretense of work falling. The need to pace, to circle, to corner, rose up in Helsknight like a waking beast.

"Interesting choice of words. Protecting." Helsknight said, his voice low, his hands still. "I was under the impression they were friends. Do you often protect Tango from the people he's begging you to spare?"

"That doesn't matter." Wels said so firmly it was almost convincing. Almost. "People are convinced they need an abusive relationship. That doesn't change the fact it's bad for them."

"So many interesting words today," Helsknight hissed. He stood like a dark tower rising, all embered fury slowly stoking. Wels didn't bother turning to face him. He could feel his intent like thunder. "Abuse. Brings to mind the image of power. I do have a question."

"I didn't come here for your stupid questions."

"No, you came here looking for a fight."

"I didn't."

"You really do need to tame that lying tongue."

"I didn't come here for a fight."

"Did it feel powerful?" Helsknight demanded, pacing a step, and loathing the tiny room for denying him the space to circle. "The voice. The command. How did it feel."

"Shut up."

"To have someone begging you not to hurt them," Helsknight continued relentlessly. "Not your stupid play fighting on your stupid little server. True, shaking, terror. Did it feel good, crusader? Just?"

"I told you to shut up!" Wels shouted, taking a threatening step forward only to find Helsknight had closed the space between them and stood looming like a rook on a tombstone.

Fear, a caged thing howling, battered against Helsknight's anger. It made Helsknight feel almost giddy, the crash of malicious schadenfreude and self-righteousness against Wels; a flickering thing of brittle will. They made a terrible ouroboros together, fear feeding anger feeding elation feeding fear. They were always like this. No matter how calm either of them tried to be, once anger kindled in one, their emotions burned until there was nothing left but fury and loathing. Helsknight had been made to cut Wels down to size.

"Do you know what that kind of fear does to people?" Helsknight demanded again, his voice so near a whisper it was smothering. They were so close together, but they made so little noise, all will and wide eyes. "What happened to mercy for the helpless, crusader?"

"He wasn't helpless," Welsknight said, trying very hard not to back down. "He stabbed me."

"And a drowning rat bites. I wouldn't call it an apex predator. Certainly I wouldn't call it a danger to you, with your full armor and sword." Helsknight bared his teeth at Wels, something like a bitter grin. "I wasn't wearing armor."

Wels looked down, where Helsknight had drawn up his tunic to reveal the new scar in his abdomen. Wels looked like he'd stopped breathing.

"This was intended for you," Helsknight said. "You should thank me."

"You're-- you're here telling me he's harmless," Wels laughed nervously. "But he almost killed you. You."

Something in Helsknight snapped, and in the moment it took him to reach for it with white knuckles and compose it again, he'd shoved Wels hard in the chest. It didn't knock his other half off his feet, but he stumbled back hard enough hit the opposite wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to warn.

"He did," Helsknight snarled, pacing forward slow steps. "That's what terror does to helpless people, crusader. It makes them bite. It makes them beg. It makes them clamor to live. You. Did. That. What did it feel like to abuse that kind of power Wels? To turn someone into a scared animal? To make someone so desperate they would almost kill a friend? Did you find your righteousness there crusader?"

Helsknight didn't know what he planned on doing. Violence was in his blood like a serpent, and he wanted it. And Wels knew he wanted it. There was the ring of drawn metal, and the silver-bright glint of an enchanted blade in a dark room. Helsknight's advance stopped at the top of Wels's sword, not close enough to hurt, but close enough to warn.

"Stop." Wels said. A command. A plea.

"I'm unarmed."

"That doesn't matter."

Helsknight smiled, and there was loathing and euphoria in it, and the wine-dark dread of Wels right on the other side of it. The knowledge of a line crossed, a battle he hadn't even realized he was fighting made forfeit.

"Fine." Helsknight said. "My blood's already been spilled once on your behalf. At least this time do it with your own sword, coward. I'll make it easy for you."

He took a step forward, and nudged the blade with a knuckle, resting the point against his scar. The metal was cold, even through his shirt, the enchantments alive and writhing so close to his skin.

"How cruel have you gotten while I wasn't there to keep you in check, crusader?"

There was a long breath of silence between them. Helsknight stood, precarious and predatory, daring Wels to kill him. And Wels stood there, and dared himself to as well. And the room was dark, lit only by red anger and blue dread, and the pale, languid flicker of enchanted steel. And neither of them breathed. And the universe watched.

A loud clatter sounded on the roof. Both knights looked up towards the ceiling, Wels in startlement, and Helsknight in resignation.

"And he stays my hand once again," Helsknight sighed.

"What--?" Wels didn't get his full question out before Helsknight moved. He knocked the sword aside and lunged forward to grab Wels's shirt. In a move that would've made Martyn proud, he dragged Wels forward into his knee, knocking the wind out of him. In the time it took Wels to collapse to the floor, Helsknight had taken his sword, and held the point beneath his other half's chin.

"Go home Wels," Helsknight said, "before I send you there the hard way."

Wels, breathless on the ground, let out half a strangled laugh. "Why don't you?"

"Because I was asked nicely not to go running off and killing you."

"Helsknight?" A loud knock sounded at the door. Tanguish's voice, a bright comfort even in spite of its concern, called to him. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard something fall."

Helsknight glared meaningfully down at Wels, who only hesitated long enough for Helsknight to draw back the sword before slipping back to his world. The moment he did, Helsknight felt his breath leave him, the great void of being left to his own thoughts and emotions. In the wake of everything that was Wels, he felt ridiculous.

[What in hels had he even been about to do? Die on someone's sword to prove a point? Idiot.]

"Helsknight? The door is locked."

"I'm coming," Helsknight called, pausing only long enough to hide Wels's sword beneath the couch, where Tanguish couldn't see it and inevitably worried about it. He checked his tunic to make sure he hadn't managed to actually stab himself [he hadn't] and went to let Tanguish inside.

[min-play]

i’m so weak