#might have to turn off my phone

[dinitride-art]

FWOOM!!!

Also “he can’t breath- he can’t breath - he can’t b-” makes me so very happy for some reason. Like yes!!! Repetition!! Emphasis!! The changing meaning of a line as you mess with grammar and punctuation!!!!!!

[good-to-drive]

George + quotes I like

Runner ups: "What hurts me the most is you won't admit it was wrong" (Eminem), "A rat in a maze is free to go anywhere as long as it stays in the maze" (Margaret Atwood)

Paul John Ringo

[knaveofmogadore]

Imagine you're a robot girl (stay with me) and you're made by a corporation right like you're made by a company for other people but like. You're made by a company. At any moment that company could decide that your line isn't profitable enough and they could cut software updates and support as soon as tomorrow. In the blink of an eye the very things keeping you alive stop coming and you've become terminally ill overnight, your only chance of salvation being the thin hope that in the future a niche group of data hoarders or software engineers become obsessed with getting you to work again. You're an object with sentience and a brain and wants and needs and at any moment the Google news feed of the crusty computer nerd you live with could spit an alert across your eyes telling you that you have months to live.

What even happens when the time runs out? Does life continue as normal, but you're sick more and more often? Do the viruses take more and more processing power to fight off as your security protocols fall out of date? Does the world become muted and distant as your compatibility fails? Do you one day just lose your Internet connection forever, a loss so profound that you can't explain it to your human companions? It's worse than a limb, but not quite like losing your mind.

Do you lose function bit by bit, or are you able to scrape by on second hand parts? Bit by bit replacing the pieces of you that fail, all the while living a muted, disorienting existence without the ability to right yourself? Are you more or less of a person now that you've lost touch with the network? Lost your connection to the metaphysical, to you, the divine? Are you eventually bricked after falling behind one too many software patches? Do you fry after trying to take on an update you're not able to even contain, a piece of software so complex and unfathomable that it burns you to a crisp from the inside out

[starflungwaddledee]

alright alright i keep learning about this wrt to mutuals and it is constantly blowing my mind so i gotta know

(this is a scale; please pick the furthest down option on the list that you use regularly. one-offs or playing with different tools don't count for this poll)

[forwhump]

a/n; I know I say this every time but this is like my third post today so I am sincerely sorry I won’t stop posting lmfao idk what’s happening to me I don’t even LIKE posting it’s so scary but I’m getting addicted to the adrenaline rush I guess but I’m sincerely sorry you’re suffering the consequences

here we go again <3

tw/cw: mentions of noncon, graphic depictions of violence, beating, mutilation, guns, misgendering, transphobia, character death, major character death (but he dies all the time)

human weapon whumpee, revenge, creepy whumper (I think he’s creepy anyway idk)

Wren didn’t want him to know.

He’d done everything he could, as a matter of fact, to keep Silas from knowing, and at first, it had pissed him off. Not that he didn’t want him to know, but that he wouldn’t let him put a stop to it. That Wren would keep suffering in silence, knowing that if Silas had known, he would’ve done something. He would’ve saved him.

They’d argued about it, when Wren was well enough to argue with him again.

“No,” he’d said, like he was talking to a particularly stupid dog.

Silas scowled down at him. He was curled up in Silas’ bed, just like he’d been over the last few days, but there was more life in him, a bit more of himself, and the relief had only strengthened Silas’ resolve. He wasn’t gonna let this happen again.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he replied, “if you really think I’m just gonna sit here and let them fuckin’ touch you again.”

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” Wren told him.

“The fuck it is,” Silas said.

“You’re not going to do anything, actually,” Wren told him, sharp. “You’re not going to —“

“What are you gonna do?” Silas taunted, leaning in closer, raising his eyebrows. “You gonna stop me?” Wren had poked him really hard between the eyes. Silas recoiled quickly. “Ow?”

“You are going to get yourself killed,” Wren snapped.

He groaned loudly. “I am not.”

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me?” He seethed. “You are. You’re going to do something stupid and you’re going to get yourself killed and you’re going to make me watch it happen.”

“Who cares what happens to me?”

“I do!” Wren snapped.

Silas heaved his shoulders. “Too bad.”

“Silas —“

“I’m not going to sit by and let them hurt you, Wren,” he said. “You can do whatever you want to me. You won’t stop me.”

“If you do something fucking stupid,” Wren spat, “I will never forgive you.”

They argued about it for a long time, in fact.

It was Silas, of course, who relented, because realistically, Silas can’t deny him anything. If Wren asked Silas to kill himself, he’d find a way to make it permanent. He’d pinky promised to keep his hands to himself.

He’d been lying.

It wasn’t intentional, but it wasn’t the truth. Silas just didn’t realize quite how hard it would be to keep that promise.

They’re sitting in the common room. Silas is huge, so he takes up most of the loveseat, but Wren fits perfectly in the spot next to him, warm against his side. It’s where Silas likes him best.

He has his head leaned against Silas’ arm as he draws something in the book he has opened across his knees, but Silas has no idea what it might be. Wren’s been working on it for the better part of an hour and Silas hasn’t looked at it once, hasn’t looked away from Wren’s profile, from the part of his lips, from the length of his eyelashes.

He only looks up at the sound of the door; the beep of a keycard being swiped, a fingerprint being accepted, the massive vault lock being turned. The door to their unit grinds open, and everything goes to hell.

Machine gun held across his chest, it’s a man they call Wound that enters. Especially cruel, he’s always been one of Silas’ least favourite soldiers. That cements as Wren’s back tenses at his side, and Silas knows. He knows. Wren doesn’t even need to tell him.

Wound lifts his chin at Wren, then angles his head towards the door. “The girl,” he said, in the commanding voice all the soldiers put on when they speak to the assets. “Let’s go.”

Silas can feel the way Wren’s breath hitches more than he can hear it, and he’s on his feet before he really thinks about it.

Wren reaches for his arm, but Silas steps away. “Silas —“ he starts to warn, but Silas isn’t listening.

He’s looking at Wound. Wound is an especially cruel man, and Silas knows that firsthand, but he doesn’t know the kind of cruelty that Wren knows. He can’t imagine. Wound is big, and he’s mean, and the thought of his hands on Wren’s skin doesn’t make him see red, but black. It’s a darkness that starts to swallow him the second Wren’s back tenses and that he’s completely lost in by the time he’s on his feet.

He’d promised Wren he wouldn’t, but he didn’t know. The darkness had already spiraled up and out of his control before he even knew it was blooming.

He looks at Wound and he can see Wren, just as he’d seen him that day that Silas had picked him up off the floor. The bites at his throat had scabbed, started to heal, but Silas sees them just as they had been when they were fresh, the puncture of teeth, the bruising, the blood that had pooled in his collarbones. He sees the bruises, in the shapes of hands and fingerprints, so brutal they had welted. He sees Wound’s hands.

Silas had promised to just sit there, but come on. Who could ask that of him? Really? How could he be expected to let this happen? Wren, scared at his side — is Silas just supposed to watch him go?

Like hell.

“Sit down, Park,” Wound commands, almost bored. “I’m not here for you.”

Silas doesn’t even say anything.

Wound is a big guy, a lot bigger than Wren. Silas is a lot bigger than Wound.

He swings, and he puts all his weight into it.

And Silas, quite unfortunately, isn’t human, and he isn’t close. Silas is a weapon. Silas was genetically engineered for violence.

He swings, and he puts all his weight into it. The bone and cartilage of Wound’s face are crushed beneath his fist.

The common room explodes into screaming and chaos. Wren is screaming at him. Hal and June might be, too, but they might just be screaming, panicked and confused. Robin must’ve come running, because the bass of his voice joins the clamor, just as panicked and even more confused.

Silas could give less of a fuck.

Wound drops to the concrete at his feet with a really wet, choking sort of sound. Silas leans down, throws his fist, and cracks clean through Wound’s skull. It shatters against the concrete like ceramic and his liquified brain spills out around him.

It happens quick. It happens too quickly for anybody to stop it, but not so quick that the soldiers standing guard detail don’t hear or see it happen. The thunderous footsteps of the cavalry enclose on the common room, so Silas riffs the machine gun from Wound’s limp hands.

“Silas!” Wren cries, but Silas doesn’t have the time to turn.

He hoists the gun and the first three soldiers to near him are blown apart by the ammunition.

Silas has never been allowed a gun. He’s starting to understand why.

It makes him laugh, probably a touch deranged.

“Stand down, asset!” A different soldier commands, gun drawn, but Silas snorts and blows his head clean off his shoulders. What little is left of it hits the wall behind him with a surprisingly loud sound.

He laughs again, even louder, especially deranged. It’s in his veins now and it spreads through him quickly, that darkness, that monster. Silas, usually, has a pretty tight leash on it. He isn’t the most emotionally intelligent, and he wouldn’t describe himself as a patient man, but he’s never let the unit — let Wren — see what he really is. They’ve never seen the field tests, the slaughters. Silas is sure they can guess what he’s capable of by looking at him, but they’ve never seen it. Silas was very careful to make sure they’ve never seen it.

He has no control over it now. His body isn’t his own, and the thing wearing his skin was trained for slaughter.

Another soldier he has a particular dislike for, a man they call Church, he creeps up behind Silas like Silas doesn’t know that he’s there.

Silas is kind of mean, so Silas lets him get close. Comfortable. Lets him think he’ll get to walk out of here. Lifts Wound’s gun and shoots a different guy in the dick. His lower body explodes into a mist of blood and chunks of meat.

Church lifts his gun, angled toward the nape of Silas’ neck.

Silas throws back an elbow and Church’s eyeball bursts in its socket.

“Fuck!” Church bellows.

With a grin, Silas turns, and swings his prosthetic foot into his kneecap. It crumbles, and Church falls, dropping onto the broken bits of his knee with another bellow.

He tips his head back and starts muttering something quickly and under his breath. Prayer, Silas had come to learn.

“You’re wasting your breath,” Silas says, and takes him by the chin, hooking his thumb behind his bottom teeth.

“No —“ he starts to say, and Silas rips his jaw from his face.

Church makes a sound like he’s underwater and Silas yanks his tongue from the hole that used to be his mouth. He chokes, and Silas hooks his fingers behind his upper teeth.

One of Church’s hands finds his wrist, pleading.

He snorts and rips his skull in half.

With it, he turns, and he tosses the top half of Church’s head at the soldier drawing nearest. He catches it in his surprise, and Silas grins at him as he grabs a fistful of his hair.

“Ah, fuck!” He cries, and Silas grins a little wider. He gets him to the ground, pins him there with a foot to the back of his neck, and he squirms. Silas stomps on the back of his head, leans all his weight into it, and he stops moving pretty quickly.

A different soldier tries to intervene, and Silas lifts the gun again. The soldier’s head bursts into blood and brain matter.

He doesn’t know how quiet it’s gotten until he hears Point’s voice, louder than anything else: “Silas.”

Silas tenses. Slowly, he turns.

Point is standing offside, just inside the common room. Wren’s on his knees on one side of him, his braid coiled around Point’s fist. Hal’s at his other side, gun to his temple.

Silas exhales slowly. “Darren,” he greets.

Point’s jaw twitches. “Why would you play with their lives like this, Silas?”

Something about it clears the fog a little bit. Wren’s face is shimmery with tears and Hal’s shaking like he might break apart. Silas sucks blood off his teeth and it isn’t his own.

“Don’t risk it, Darren,” Silas says.

“Stop fuckin’ calling me Darren,” Point snaps.

He shrugs him off. “Wren gets to call you Darren.”

“I fuck Wren,” Point spits, and then Silas isn’t in control of himself again.

He doesn’t even realize he’s moved, in fact, but then he’s in the common room, and Point’s throat is in his hands. He’s holding him clean off the ground, holding his mouth open with the end of the machine gun.

At the last second, though, he comes back to himself, and he pulls the gun out of his throat. “Any last words?”

Point, starting to purple in the face, still smirks at him. “Look out.”

And then pain explodes through the back of Silas’ head and everything gets really dark.

Not black, but dim, and when the light is turned back up everything is really blurry. Point is — where’s —

What’s — ?

And Wren is screaming, wailing, from somewhere really close but really far away, and Silas thinks, fuck.

He fucked up. Wren had specifically requested not to watch him die.

He lifts a hand slowly, and it shakes the whole time. It presses it to the bullet hole he finds at the back of his head. It’s hot to the touch, and for some reason that makes him really dizzy.

“I’m sorry,” he tries to say, but he doesn’t.

He vomits acid onto the concrete and keels over after it, face first. He gurgles just once before he dies.

[cheerfullycatholic]

Who's gonna get whacked by the snowstorm? It's supposed to get me the next two days and I'm kinda excited tbh 👀

ARE Y'ALL PREPARED?!

[highfunctioningfleshrule63]

hey, your video compilation of 4chan post about shield is a great ressource for fandom psychology. Interesting to see another user who lurk the wrestling board and use tumblr. Did you ever work on compilation of the tumblr fandom during the peak of the shield era ? I did not research it yet. xoxo

glad someone liked that video, only in times when im super fixated on something will i end up searching through the 4chan archives for more content...unfortunately 4chan vernacular tends to get a laugh out of me (if it isnt absolute lowtier content, had to scrape through a lot of that). the shield stuff i tried to get from when it was at its peak and you'll see posts on there from 2013+, but i also got modern stuff now bc the boardspeak actually changed with it.

ironically it is way easier to deepdive and compile stuff from 4chan bc it has a much better archival system than tumblr; ive also looked for lots of old stuff on deviantart due to the crossover but i found that it has a pretty shitty way of archiving/sorting older posts (just like on here. ive been on tumblr since 13 so i know what sorts of areas to look for, but its still very hard to find it directly on here. i havent spent as much time as i did getting those posts for that video so i can try harder.)

fandom psychology is interesting to me too so im happy you saw my video with that angle. ive collected lots of old shield fangirl content off of sites like weheartit and pinterest (ironically those are often better at keeping images up for longer periods of time) too but i didnt know if i should make a comp, maybe i will. i also looked through random forums and places like lolcow dot farms (which only really granted one of the screenshots...not too much discussion over there for good or bad. i was hoping to find discussion abt shieldfangirls or wrestling rpf but surprisingly they didnt think to make a "point and laugh" thread abt those topics). i find it interesting how much shieldrelated psychosis was on both sides of the spectrum (tumblr vs 4chan)....i could talk more on it but im a little brainless and sleep deprived rn

heres some extras i had that didnt make the cut (plus just some of my favorites):

and these were from a thread talking abt the modern stereotypical tumblr wrestling fan (specifically talking abt aedubs young bucks fans/the elite fans)

(*fangirl in this is a term im using loosely of course)

[forcebookish]

i need a new strategy for like, cleaning my room and doing yoga and reading and leaving the house. the adhd has reached mythic levels of bad. i have the thought, "i should do X," and then i won't move. i make a to-do list and i won't do anything on it. i queue up a yoga practice and i won't do it. i stare at my room and get stressed out about how cluttered it is. i write 3000 words of notes for a fic i don't even know if i'm going to write. i think and i think and i think about my OCs and they won't let me write them. i spend hours looking at stuff i can't buy. i take like an hour to write this.

[shopwitchvamp]

Back to the grind tomorrow and lemme tell you what, while I do really enjoy tumblr I sure did like not having to be Online all the time during our break.. And I've been thinking that the amount I'm Online and Available will probably be much lower this year compared to the past. So if I'm not responding to asks as fast or posting as much or w/e, that's why! Thanks for understanding 🙏

[aria0fgold]

So I have this timeloop omori au that I was planning to write for its anniversary last year but the Horrors got me so I never got to continue planning it and now that I'm into isat too, I'm thinking of either repurposing the au or just-- keeping it while also giving it to isat.

[thompsborn]

tbaf parkner vs wanting to say i love you but not letting themselves say it before they're eighteen bc of their promise to each other vs the relief of finally saying it: two 5+1 fics, one from each pov.

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm tired, and I can't sleep. I'm annoyed about that. really annoyed. but I'm too tired to do anything else. so I'm just here. scrolling. forever.

[bogkeep]

the way the most recent pokemon games don't let you turn off the exp share or the affection mechanic bonuses is nothing short of maddening. i think they make great accessibility features If Only They Were Optional and the flavour text is cute, but i want to have a fun casual playthrough that's at least mildly challenging without having to make it a nuzlocke or something. i don't want to feed my starter bitter medicines to make her hate me :(

[risingsunresistance]

when a fellow artist appreciates what you have to say about their art but their art is in a museum and your art is on the fridge with a little smiley face sticker on it

[f1nalboys]

almost 11 pages in / 5k words and i’m finally at reader and ghostface randy ABOUT TO START fucking. i’m really sorry to u all when i post this bc it’ll be really fucking long and dumb but also i love it so far and i write nearly 2 thousand words today yippeee :3

[maphel-n-doodles]

I have to pick between cutesy itachi and solemn miserable itachi for the bracket art and it's a struggle