#keyboard abuse

[myershorror]

Lol. The keyboard survived my abuse, (so far). 😂🙊

[lawva-girl]

silly draft i forgor to post:

Law being such a nerd he sometimes just stares at his figures/memorabilia, you’ll find him from time to time doing so

Maybe !!! You find him and reach up to his shoulders, he always jumps just a bit

But you continue, grabbing his shoulders and gently squeezing, trying to get his stubborn muscles to relax.

Law doesn’t exactly acknowledge you, at least not with words. He’ll sigh and lean a tiny bit into your hands, to attempt to let you know he likes it.

The first couple of times you thought he wanted to push you away, so you would retreat and drop it.

but one day law started staring at his figures, and you walked in. you didnt come close, since you wanted to respect his space.

but law grumbled, turned to you, and said "my shoulders hurt."

you just stared back at him, unsure of why he would sudden- oh

you laughed a little, to his protest, and walked over to start massaging his shoulders.

he stopped whatever mumbling had been going on and sighed in relief, saying how he felt like a kid throwing a fit.

you chuckle, and answer with something about how he was acting like a kid.

but every time he stared at his collections, or you wrote in your journal, you both were there.

rubbing each others shoulders :D

[roxannepolice]

Out of all the literary quotes that can be thrown at the Master and thoschei, this one from A hero of our time always struck me as a particularly accurate. Like, when the Master rushes over to keep the Doctor from falling in EoT, this is what popped up in my brain. Why?

Well, A hero of our time is up there with Shamela as earliest cases of recuntruction of a genre. Except where Shamela deconstructs stories that are generally regarded as sham - the mindbogglingly noble innocent girl "fixing" a guy, with none of the introspection to be found in Bronte sisters' works - A hero of our time deals with a more regarded - and objectively artisticly more meritorious - genre of byronic heroes. The main character, Grigory Pechorin, ticks all the boxes of a byronic hero - handsome, young, tragic, romantic, what have you - except unlike his predecessors like Byron's Giaour or Pushkin's Eugene Onegin (that Pechorin is a direct parody of, with both having river-based surnames)... he's aware he's a bastard. Like, there's always a part of him that can look at himself from outside and recognize that he's ruining himself and others, and that there are very easy ways to stop this. If you provided a critical analysis and called him a spoiled rich white boy who needs therapy, he'd be the first to agree. He's an homme fatal in the way of quality noir femmes fatales, who - again, in actually good noir films - strike the audience as much, much more than just sexy objects that can't control their sexuality and selfish impulses.

Which is why the above passage strikes the reader so hard. Yes, it's all written in a memoir convention, but we're still not at the point of deconstructing the peotic frames, what is written is to be taken at face value. And what we find is a flood of emotion, of deeply honest love and desperation that's hard to be brushed aside as a pose. And yet it's the pov character/main character that does so. He even goes for biologization of his state, dismissing it as possibly litte more than exhaustion. He recognizes spleen for a endocrinological imbalance that the name suggests.

The book is perfectly, openly unpreachy. There's no moral here to derive about how to live. It just presents the reader with a character that we are deeply confused about: he's clearly capable of deep, beautiful, noble emotions, yet chooses not to act on them, the moment a single physical obstacle (such horse dying from exhaustion) cuts the stream of consciousness. There's something no longer unsentimental as much as anti-sentimental about it. "People are, by nature, good, and if they just followed their natural empathy and feelings"- no, nothing good would come out of it, at least there's no guarantee.

And yet there's an honesty to it. An honesty that's specifically lacking in usual romantic heroes. There's an awareness that this level of dramaticness in life has to involve an element of cynically orchestrating it. And it's not the case of preachy "and therefore we should dismiss all delusions of such emotional rushes as fake", because there is no fakeness. It's the case of even manipulation being stragnely honest about itself, moreseo than truth could ever be. It appears to be saying "the only way to resolve the mystery of Mona Lisa's smile is to scratch all the paint off the beechwood, do you really think you'll find something truer underneath?". In a way, yes, wood was there beofre da Vinci, but I don't really think that's the reality we're looking for.

That's why when either fandom or the source material goes for getting to the Master "undearneath all performance" it strikes me as empty. No, it's not the Doctor knowing the truth of the Master, it's the case of the Master exposing truths about the Doctor.

Like Pechorin of byronic heroes.

[fruityuncleskeletor]

More late night thoughts about Vegas and Pete

I was thinking about Vegas and about the way Gun raised and beat him into becoming a weapon; I was thinking about his office, which is a front decorated with shiny shit by someone who secretly and desperately wants to be discovered and found interesting enough to dwell on. I was thinking of how the Bond villain attire is strictly mafia and stricly work gear, Vegas himself being a snuggly PJs kind of man. I was thinking of how his family did to Vegas what many people do to pitbulls - take a very mellow and protective nature and twist it into something hideous and then BLAME the animal for how it was trained and for being too good at carrying out his master's orders. And then in walked Pete.

I saw your witchy shit. I saw your BDSM gear. Cool decor, bro. You need love. You're doing your best. You're a good son. You don't have to compare yourself with others. Like on those shows where they rescue abused dogs, they cower or try to bite when they see a hand approach because they are used to the beatings, but when the hand pats the head, the dogs wag their entire person. It takes one instance of being seen to be reset. And sure, it could be argued that this take makes Vegas too needy and pathetic, and painting him as a victim is boring and not as fun as making him be an unrepenting monster-

but I propose to you this: he is still a monster, and he's worthy of forgiveness, healing and love nonetheless.

A pitbull can still rip someone to shreds even once it becomes a beloved family pet. It just chooses not to. And Pete is like that one person who stops in front of the cage at the shelter where the most scarred and gnarly dog sits, ignored by families and young couples, Pete looks and says "I'm the only thing between you and the gas chamber, but I can deal with you, I can take your anger because you and me, we're the same." And the scarred and mean looking dog gets to go home with a human, and sleep on a soft bed. Not even God can save whoever is reckless enough to threaten his human.

Then, what does it say about Pete, a man hardened by a life of poverty, abuse, and intense violence, who still, even when pushed to his limits, can look at a man and say "yep, needs love" ?

[babybeel]

if you support ai work (in any form, be it art or writing) pls unfollow me!

[maliciouslycreative]

For the first time in like 6 months I have my AO3 inbox empty of new messages. I replied to all the comments on my work, dealt with all my wrangling stuff I needed to deal with and marked the rest as read.

[psijay]

i'm back to work for the school year and i bring bad news. the children of Disney Adults are reporting to school and they are named appropriately.

[waywardsalt]

i have planned to write a pseudo-essay or some kind of detailed look at linebeck in phantom hourglass and how he can be interpreted as autistic but thats not going very well right now so here are some autistic linebeck headcanons

He has low empathy and as such has a hard time responding very well to emotional situations, but he can take advantage of his lower empathy in situations where empathy could make things harder, like tending to wounds or rationally handling emotionally-charged situations

His coat is a comfort object and he made it specifically to act as a very slight accommodation; it’s heavy and barely lets any light through it, and he can keep all kinds of little things in pockets sewn into the inner lining, but larger objects do make it more uncomfortable to wear at times. It’s mostly good to carry around things to fidget or stim with and can be helpful in trying to recover from overwhelming sensory experiences

He doesn’t usually stim in public, but taps his fingers on tables quickly and tends to rhythmically snap his fingers when excited, and on his ship is more vocal and more willing to stim, even if around others. One of his main stims that he’ll do for no particular reason is that he’ll hold his arm or back of his wrist/hand up to his nose and mouth for the smell.

He masks frequently to please people. His default mask is that arrogant and brave front he puts up for islanders and other he may come across. Usually, if that mask doesn’t work, he tends to double-down because it usually works and, in his experience, dropping the mask has usually gone badly (non masking he’s rude and blunt but more outwardly excited about adventure and his ship and all of that, i consider it where overseas in the game is when he usually isn’t masking. this shifts his arc to be about him learning to stop masking and feel comfortable being himself)

His special interests could include stuff related to treasure hunting but it could really range from stuff about adventuring or the ocean or engineering (relating to his ship) to stuff not at all touched in the game like music. He really enjoys music, listening to it, playing it, and writing it. He also enjoys and is fascinated by shellfish.

When busy or otherwise occupied, he doesn't usually notice when he's hungry. He doesn't have as much of a problem noticing thirst or exhaustion, but feeling hunger is a problem for him, and often leads to him going a long time without eating. On the other hand, he doesn't mind eating the same thing repeatedly and is perfectly fine with blander foods, so handling food supplies for when he'll be overseas for a long time is easy for him.

He knows he's autistic, he's known for a pretty long time, and he has books on it; he also knows that Link is autistic, but doesn't say anything about it and instead waits until someone else tells him. Until (and after, I suppose) Link actually learns that he's autistic Linebeck just makes sure to keep note of what accommodations he might need and if there are any textures or tastes or smells he can't stand. He doesn't have much of a problem helping out during sensory overloads, even soon after meeting him. It's more out of understanding how it feels to not have your needs met and a sort of solidarity rather than actual friendship.

[anachrosims]

TBH I’m really weary of this “purity culture” stuff. People have sex, get over it. Learn to curate your online experience instead of shrieking at people about daring to discuss mutually consenting adults gettin freaky or producing fan content that’s NSFW. As long as that shit is tagged as appropriate, the burden is on YOU not to go looking for it.

I completely understand the ones who are concerned about fan content that glorifies toxic/ab*sive/exceptionally triggering behavior though. I do understand that. HOWEVER, it helps absolutely NO ONE to police what fans produce--the real goal we should be having is creating fandom spaces that help provide SAFE and PROFESSIONAL resources for fans who might need help dealing with certain issues, or to help acquaint people with safe sex practices and other safe, good online resources they might not get anywhere else in their life.

EDIT: The best you can do with the above is to quietly reach out to someone about whatever it is they’ve posted or written or drawn and just fucking talk to them about it. They might flip out at you and go nuts, but that’s what block functions are for. Just say, “hey, I saw (post) and I feel it may be harmful to post that because (reasons)” and if they don’t respond well? LET IT GO. Just say “thank you, I just wanted to reach out, but I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Some people are going to be wild shitheels because they have baggage and we can’t expect to control that.

I hate toxic shippers just as much as the next person, but as someone in her mid-30s--and I hope the older folks agree with me--it serves nothing and nobody to thump folks over the head with holier-than-thou callouts. Newsflash: That shit makes you just as toxic and it only alienates people further. What you need to be doing is providing better messages that help fans, old and young alike, to come to understand what healthy communication and behavior look like--to help support fans in times of need--and to foster COMMUNITY in GOOD FAITH.

And for those who are worried about the genuine creeps hiding with us? I guarantee you, the healthier a community is, the more supportive and communicative and compassionate we are with each other? The less spaces those creeps have to hide.

Learn to curate your online experience. Treat each other with respect and dignity in good faith to the best of your ability. Help others in need. Get in the habit of reaching out to people and engaging with them when you’re able. And learn to stay in your lane, because while your experience matters, it’s not the only one that does.

[myershorror]

Me: *Slams fist down on keyboard because it crapped out & was beginning to delete everything that I had worked on*

Also me: *Keyboard now broken, having to go buy another soon; going onto my third keyboard from breaking two others* 😂🙊

[doukeshi-kun]

hi yall. i actually just travelled back to my uni and it's been a very long and exhausting day. i'll reply to asks later okay ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠)

anyway take care and thank you for enjoying the fic! sorry i really can't communicate rn im so tired (⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠)

[robrongifs]

[nando161mando]

This asshole, doesn't know or differentiate their shit from their brains and its obvious. Keyboard commandos... @sockpuppet1

[liskokasa]

Some absolute batshit drama in a thing I'm involved in came up and I'm glad it was discovered but holy shit this will be a mess to untangle...

[kelp-my-beloved]

read on ao3

"Hey there, kitty. Long time no see"

That was an understatement. It had been weeks since the last time False stepped on Cogsmead, which had made coming back all the more jarring. The last time she had lowered her guard a giant sentient statue had decided to take residence in her base, after all. One learns to except the unexpected after a while.

She reaches the hand that's not holding the fish out to give them an apologetic pet, but the cat dodges her and rans instead up to one of the logs of the railing, a few blocks away.

False does the best to ignore the slight pang of hurt, focusing instead to put the salmon down for them to eat later.

"Looks like someone is a bit resentful," she mutters, trying to hold the bitterness from her voice.

The cat just stared at her, head low and tail twitching from side to side.

She had abandoned them without explanation, she reminded herself, so maybe she deserved the silent treatment.

"Alright, I understand, I'm leaving now," she told them, raising her arms and slowly backing away.

On the corner of her eye, she noticed something dark in her hand, under a nail. Once she was far away from the cat she wasn't worried about them jumping off, she picked the knife in her belt to try to clean it off.

It was a black thing with weird texture. The metallic smell invaded her nose when she brought it closer to her face.

"Blood," she realized distantly.

Well, that was weird. Fish didn't bleed like that, and even if they did, it wasn't even the hand she had been using to hold it.

"I must have cut myself somewhere without realizing," she tried to explain to herself. "That kind of thing happens all the time, right? Just a little scratch"

"Come on, kitty kitty kitty..." False tried clicking her tongue, hoping that the noise would at least interest them enough to look at her.

The fish she had offered them the day before had spoiled, not a single bite taken. Cleaning it had been an experience False had no intention on repeating, both because of the stench, and the claw that would swing at her if she got too close to where her cat was sitting.

They didn’t seem to have moved at all since she had tried to feed them the salmon.

She had been at this for hours, and the only time they looked at her direction was to let out a hiss.

False sighed, putting the cod down. She had thought that maybe a change in the fish would be a more tempting option.

"Alright, that's it. I'm heading to bed. Maybe tomorrow you'll be on a more agreeable mood" she muttered at them.

Her cat just looked at her as she got up, ears flat and claws showing between the dark paws, as if trying to warn her of what would happen if she dared to come back for them.

False looked at the rotting cod, unimpressed.

"Still mad, I see"

The cat hissed in response. The Grand Architect kneeled down to clean the mess.

"You know, most pets are all over the place with happiness when their owners come back". She dodged a swipe at an arm that had gone a little too close. "fWhip's pigs practically tackle him to the ground whenever he goes to the pit, I've seen it"

She had heard somewhere that pets liked it when you talked to them, and that it was recommended to form a strong bond between the animal and the owner.

This one, however, looked like they would prefer the sound of a piglin farm over her voice. They just kept hissing at whatever she said.

"Some appreciation would be nice, that's all I'm saying. You used to more cuddly" She didn’t bother to keep the reproach from her voice. "Couldn’t even walk around here because you would be all over my legs"

False stopped when she noticed the lack of threats being thrown at her, and how close she actually was to the cat. If she was fast enough, she could even grab it before they had the chance to run away...

Slowly, she grabbed a few pieces of fish she had cut beforehand from her pocket, and tried to hand it to them, doing her best to look as little threatening as possible.

Her efforts were rewarded by a clawed paw digging right into her wrist.

"Ah-ah! Let go, dammit!"

The cat finally did so, before jumping away to a different log, further away, and with a slightly red paw.

"Aw," she complained, holding her hand to her chest. Her shirt was now getting stained with blood, but it wasn’t like it would be the first time.

No, she was more focused on the animal in front of her, back arched and ears pinned to their head.

The sentiment was certainly mutual, she wanted to start by telling them, before-

False shook herself off. This was not getting her anywhere, and if she kept at it she was going to end up doing something she regrated.

No, False was going to take a deep breath, and go away for a little while. Maybe she could build that tavern she was thinking about. Clear her head.

She could always come back later, maybe with something different.

Things were fine.

Yeah, maybe False was having memory lagoons, and one could argue she was losing her mind, and her cat now seemed to hate her, but at least nobody had come to murder her.

Yet.

False choose to stay positive.

"I know we didn’t leave things on the best terms last time I was here, but I got you something special this time"

Normally, when she was like this, she would get something to relax her mind. Either a new build project, or work on a farm, or pet her cat.

The fact that one of those seemed to no longer be an option was something that was driving her over the edge.

It wouldn’t bother her so much if the cat had just disappeared. No, it was the fact that they were right there, but wanted nothing to do with her that got her.

"Look, just for you. As many as you want"

This was just like taming a cat, she told herself. Only that she had to do it a second time. And the cat didn’t seem that interested in what she had to offer.

She just needed to show them they could trust her. Give them a few fish from her hands.

All cats had to eat, sooner or later. She doubts that their hate would get them to starve to death, and False had all the time in the world.

The tropical fish was an afterthought. Cats were supposed to love them, and at this point there was no trick she was unwilling to try.

"I know you're hungry. You haven’t moved from there, and mouse aren’t dumb enough to walk into your mouth"

As if understanding her words, the cat looked away from her.

"I'm not going to leave them this time" she warned. "You're going to have to come get them"

She was going to get that cat back, mark her words.

The cat was hungry. It had to be.

It still refused to come near her.

"Are you really going to starve off because of what, pettiness?" She scoffed. "I got it, I left you alone, I should have taken you with me, I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry"

False could argue that it wasn’t the first time she had left them alone in the base for a long while, or that they had never reacted with such hate. But arguing with a cat was something an insane person would do, and she was doing her best not to fall into that particular rabbit hole.

The cat didn’t let out a sound.

In fact, they hadn’t let out a hiss or tried to give her a swat since she got there, which was a huge victory for her.

If you ignored the way it stood so still that it looked like it was made of stone, or their rapid breathing, or the ribs poking out at their sides.

Or the way it hadn’t taken their eyes off the bloodied sword in her hip.

It was making her uncomfortable.

"You don’t even know what happened" she scoffed at them. Slowly, very slowly, the cat started to move their front paw. Then the other. They shifted their weight to their back legs as they started to stand up.

"Finally decided to use that brain of yours?" False taunted, lowering the tropical fish so they would have an easier access.

The cat ran away into the woods.

[cainite-bite]

Here’s my gaming hot take;

im so saddened, and sick and tired of the fact that so many games are being flooded with chuds who want to turn everything competitive and don’t know how to fucking have fun

“I only play to climb ranks/win for a team/will scream insults if you aren’t in a clan” thats fine and dandy but you keep joining matches and staying in matches with like 9 other players who do not give a flying fuck and would rather not deal with your howler monkey ass screaming at the top of your lungs when you die once and decide to rage quit. Most people don’t care about your K-D or the fact you’re in some superficial and stupid clan full of other fragile egos. Learn to have fun instead of compensating for the fact you never bothered to practice anything else to become skilled in and can’t make your parents proud of you with literally anything (and thus screaming at others to take it out on them).

And I hate the fact that devs, sometimes much to their own detriment, are trying to cater to the merry little band of shrieking donkeys by gearing up all their shit for just that and trying to pretend the casual crowd isn’t there