#people can be so weird on the internet

[minkkumaz]

hi sorry if this is weird just wanna say thank u for ur service for blocking adults that interact with woonhak fics, they’re weird 👍

omg no anon it's not weird at all. it's really gross how some adults can shamelessly interact with shit abt a 16 year old... i can't prevent everyone but i try my best to monitor it.

[thottybrucewayne]

I think what I want to get into with the "Anyone can do harm." thing that I keep beating yall over the head with is that literally anyone, anyone at all can do harm it's not "in your DNA" to be an abuser or written in the stars that you'll be a predator. Whatever image you have of an abuser in your head, drop it and replace it with your favorite person in the world and you'll probably be closer to the truth than you realize. It's easy to address harm when it's coming from someone you already hate. I see it happen all the time. Someone you couldn't stand for no real reason does something heinous then all of a sudden here comes the avalanche of "I always knew they were a fucked up individual." No, you didn't. There is no possible way you could have known, you just already didn't fuck with them before they started doing something you could use to justify your hatred of them. I'm guilty of it too! I'm petty, mean, vindictive, and yes! I'm way quicker to believe something bad about someone I hate versus someone I love because I'm human. Still, y all gotta learn to move past that initial "Well, they were always nice to me!" gut feeling and understand that nobody truly knows anyone and anyone can be capable of anything. Even victims. Even you.

[takethelx3]

when ur platonic bro is just helping u stretch while u platonically yap about ur MAGNUM DO-- detective skills.

[wallbeatjournal]

what if i told you hiram lodge was a redditor?

i think he's catfishing and suicide-baiting posters on niche kink subreddits at this very moment

[drivebypainter]

Hey my fellow SVSSS enjoyers! I need a little help!

So I wanted to give Shang Qinghua a nickname/name of endearment in this fic, but I really don’t want it to be connected to his courtesy name (For some reason I feel like it cheapens the endearment if SQH gets “A-Hua” when SQQ gets to be “A-Yuan”).

However, I know that Shang Qinghua doesn’t have a canonical real name outside of his Peak Lord name, so I was wondering if anyone has any ideas for a pre-transmigration name I could give him? Triple the kudos if you can give me both a pre-transmigration name and a pre-peak lord name.

[tiktowafel]

do you ever think about how all you used to draw when you were 10 was ponies and that you should still know how to do that, then get an idea and proceed to draw something like these in nearly one sitting and it turns out better than any drawing you've done in the entire past month

sooo anyway does anyone have cutie mark or pony name ideas for them?? lol

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[cable-salamder]

I’m all against unethical experimentation but I do think it would be funny to have the strictly-pinterest-crowd join tumblr for just a day. Just to see what we have going on here every single day, only a fraction of which they get to experience at the whim of those who venture both sides. I think that would be mildly funny.

[the-good-luck-anomaly]

[LINK THAT LEADS TO THE RULES OF THE INTERNET]

[yelow-heart]

I've been seeing a growth on hatred towards Tubblings (Tubbo's community) in here. Aswell as some explicit hate towards Philza.

It's not a huge issue yet, but before it is: know that we don't tolerate plain hate in here and u will be reported. Tumblr HAS a report system that works.

You ARE responsible for the things you say online.

Doesn't matter if you're famous, or a public figure, or just a jane-doe. You're not just another number or comment and u will be held accountable.

Be gone trolls

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just want to say: a, I admire very much that you've figured out a healthy way to work on your fics that allows you to have fun with it. And also b, am very excited to hear that you are getting there with pez! It has fully given me brain rot ever since I read it last year, there is just such a lack of content for the highly specific trope of using time travel as a device to explore extremely unhealthy levels of self loathing.

I just adore everything you're doing in it. Neither midoriya is anywhere approaching okay for any portion of the fic and I love rereading and mining into all the subtle characterization pointing to that. It's a bit like nhtycth in that some really goofy funny stuff is often hiding some really fucking worrying things, but the fact that characters DO do that stuff—that todoroki uses his teaspoon's worth of extremely stunted social skills to bludgeon his friend's door open and help him, that a rpf shipping war is an actual source of drama despite how goofy the sentiment seems on the surface, that about half of what jon says is deeply worrying and the other half is extremely funny and there's a lot of overlap between the two—really lifts the tension and brightens the universe. It's sort of similar to what you did with gerry, in that endless misery isn't nearly as painful as the ups and downs of a life that, when you step back and zoom out, has something deeply and horribly wrong with it.

(jon sort of reminds me of spider-man in that he uses human to deal with trauma and stress, except I don't think he at any point realizes how fucking funny he is. He's just there, in a home depot, gnashing his teeth because he's got so many bodies to dispose of and this cashier sure is taking her time.)

I really, really, really have had trouble finding fics that take everything midoriya has dealt with to task. It's a hell of a thing to live 14 years as a disabled minority, have it heavily shape your existence, and then one day you wake up and you realize you're...not that, or at least, nobody will ever acknowledge you as that again. You've lost all claim to it. Those experiences that shaped who you are? Dust in the wind. 14 years of pain and life might as well be buried in the ground for all the good they do you. Nobody's going to cut you any slack or quarter, you've gotta simply work harder, be better. And now when you do that you get the results you wanted, so that's fine, then. That's good. There was something wrong with the you before, and there's something right with the you now, and if the transition is a little rough, well that doesn't matter, you're the same as everyone else now, so it's your own job to fill in whatever gaps you need to.

I really can't get over how mentally fucked it must be for midoriya to run into quirkless people, run across quirkless issues, and be silently caught between, incapable of speaking his mind and too scared to do so anyway around those he can trust.

Also I should mention, I'm just very excited for bakugou to get back from the gym. He's been there like a year I hope he's getting a good workout in.

Me realizing that it’s been a year since pez dispenser debris:

I feel like there’s just this very specific type of grief that Izuku has to grapple with in the span of pez dispenser debris that I’m just obsessed with. He’s sort of silently mourning who he could have been, when 1) he has to present like there’s nothing lost to maintain his secret and 2) the entire world is constantly inundating him with the message that there was nothing lost.

Like. I don’t want to get too deep into it because it risks spoiling things and I do have major plans to continue it (I’ve loved this story for so many years before I ever even hit publish), but the emotion that Izuku’s feeling right now is so much more complex than “I hate who I used to be and want him to stop existing” or “I just want to keep my secrets.” And I think the way he interacts with Mirio is the biggest evidence of that.

Izuku’s placed himself at the very center of the Quirklessness debate with his support of Mirio. He fights for Quirkless heroes, very publicly, to the point where he’s not even graduated yet but considered to be one of the most prominent voices on the matter. If you took a poll of Quirkless people as to which hero would be most supportive of them pursing their own career in heroics, Izuku would be right at the top of the list. When it comes to Quirklessness itself, he’s nothing but supportive.

But he didn’t tell Mirio the truth of his own Quirklessness.

Out of everyone, Mirio’s the one everyone expects to know, despite him being a relatively newer relationship compared to someone like Iida or Uraraka or Todoroki. And I tried to imply that he’s sort of the one who knows the most about Izuku out of everyone save All Might.

Like, we’ll get into how much exactly Mirio knows soon, so I won’t divulge what, if anything, Izuku has told him. But we know that Mirio knows, weirdly enough, that Izuku is deeply fucking haunted. He knows that boy has many violent ghosts in his bones. He finds it hilarious and will tell their realtor about it. Izuku told him about the discontent spirits who died in a violent passion and live on inside of him before he told him about his Quirklessness.

And I just feel like one of those things is a little bit easier to discuss than the other.

Izuku has decided to keep his own Quirklessness quiet in a way that surpasses secrecy about One for All. If it was just about OfA, he could tell people he didn’t get his quirk until the entrance exam, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. He’s purposefully obscuring his own past as Quirkless even as he takes a forefront of the Quirkless hero debate with his open support of Mirio.

And the fact that he’s at the forefront of this debate in and of itself requires a difficult dichotomy. He is the world’s most vocal proponent for the first Quirkless hero. He is a known figure in the Quirkless community now.

He isn’t considered one of them anymore. He’s an outsider coming in.

It must be such a strange, odd sort of grief to come to the people you were home amongst for most of your life and be greeted as a stranger. To return home, and to be welcomed in for the first time, and to not even be able to tell people that you’ve lived here all your life and don’t need a tour.

It’s a sort of death of self, I think. And I think Izuku never expected to have to grapple with his own ghost.

[creatrixanimi]

One time i somehow got on a redit thread on will wood bc i looked him up or something and Im constantly thinking about one person I saw getting really aggressive about his fans liking him for queer reasons and they said something like "he's a cis het 30 year old man he probably doesnt know what 'so gender' means" and like ok yeah being parasocial is not good but saying that he doesnt know what "so gender" means is laughably wrong. The guy has a song about gender identity and also at one point dressed like this:

Like theres discouraging parasocial weirdness like assigning stranger's sexualities and then theres what is essentially gasligthing people into thinking they just made everything they like up about a musical artist they like. For some reason.

[c-kiddo]

(idea from discord i just got reminded of again) modern au cad has a very 2000s blog website thing which he just uploads photos of his process of his pet beetles and also plants he's growing (mostly herbs and things for cooking). he sits in bed on days when he just has no spoons for anything and is sore and exhausted and has a clunky laptop jester got him on a lap-tray and slowly, methodically , uploads each image and writes a sparse caption . like "the goliath beetle has beautiful patterning" and "turmeric is growing well"

[lucienarcheron]

As happy as I am that authors get the opportunity for several special editions of their books, this special edition nonsense is getting wayyyy out of hand. At this point, it’s beyond excessive.

[jenanigans1207]

All I’m saying is that in the supernatural universe, I firmly believe that the most popular destiel fics are written and posted by one Sam Winchester under a pen name. And he doesn’t even come up with elaborate plots. He just dictates, almost verbatim, interactions he witnesses Cas and Dean having and then just tacks a kiss or a love confession on the end.

And everyone comments about how he just gets their characters, how he builds such convincing sexual and romantic tension, how the characters feel like real people instead of words on a page. Sam is the most popular destiel ao3 author, his fics on every single rec list, and it’s simply because he got tired of watching Dean and Cas pine uselessly for each other so he decided to make it everyone’s problem.

[blade-that-was-broken]

Clay wasn’t sure what held him back. Upon the evacuation of the Golf Course, he had taken the rear of the group and although he knew Viva had found some help to get them to some place of relative safety, he had no idea who they were. Or even where they were going. It wasn’t until everyone had gotten away from the course, hours later and the world getting darker, that he started to find out things. He helped his people get settled down for the night, creating makeshift tents and shelters for the night. Everyone was scared. Of course everyone was scared.

They had lost their home.

They had no idea where they were going, what was going to happen, how their future was going to change yet again. First the escape of the Troll Tree and now the evacuation of the Golf Course, everything and anything was uncertain.

Everyone was well settled into a well-defensible clearing. He had heard Viva let a few scouts go around the edges to make sure things were okay and keep an eye out. He eventually found Viva settling in next to a fire with a couple other trolls - both familiar and unfamiliar - huddled around on logs dragged from the forest. He took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself, letting the smell of the fire and the crackling of the flames fill his senses.

“And here we thought Johnny here was the last pop troll around,” one of their guides cackled. He had some sort of strange accent Clay couldn’t identify and he couldn’t quite make out the form of the troll from the shadows, despite the illumination of the fire.

He could see Viva rather clearly. She looked a little confused but also curious. “What do you mean?”

“Well… Johnny left home for a bit and when he came back? Everyone was destroyed,” the troll responded. Another troll draped in shadows tensed. It was all Clay could make out from him. “Some of us saw a bit of it… it was… yikes. And after what he told us about… those giants? He thought that everyone had been eaten.”

Viva looked nervous. “The tree looks that bad?”

There was a hesitation. Another troll, who hadn’t spoken yet, let out a quiet, low, “Yes.”

“It was rough there for a while,” the first troll said, continuing to speak. “For him, I mean. Spent years with the gray and you know what comes with that…”

“I do?” Viva echoed.

Grayness wasn’t exactly a very common phenomenon around Pop trolls. They were naturally optimistic and happy, easy to forgive and extremely adaptable. Not everyone knew much about grayness and it was hardly mentioned in school work. Clay knew a bit about it, with some of the sad novels he read, but even he didn’t quite understand it all. He supposed, he had never really quite tried either.

“Hopelessness,” the troll said. “It’s only in the last few years, he’s gotten some of his color back.”

If the subject of their conversation seemed to have any objection to being talked about - and his struggles - he didn’t say anything. Viva looked between the group, the other Putt Putt trolls exchanging uneasy glances. “How… long-?”

“Uh,” the second troll - Johnny, Clay thought he remembered him being called - trailed off, uncertainly. “Over ten years? Maybe thirteen?”

“That…” Viva frowned worriedly. “We escaped about 14 years ago.”

“I wasn’t gone long.”

“And you thought your family was dead this entire time?” One of the Putt Putt Trolls - Flora - looked something akin to horrified with a touch of understanding and empathy. No one was entirely sure if anyone else escaped. They all suspected but no one knew who had survived and who had not. And no one was quite brave enough to go out and try to find them.

“If… If you survived, perhaps my brothers did as well,” the voice was barely a whisper and had a flicker of hesitant hope. “But I don’t want to count on it.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t want to be struck down again,” the first troll answered for him, understanding. “False hope can be devastating.”

“Other pop trolls survived,” Viva said, strongly. “The escapees. We were caught by Bergens and then escaped. There are others but we just don’t know where they are.”

“If they’re out there, they are exceptionally difficult to find.”

****

Clay followed John into the woods, his big brother humming a slow, unfamiliar tune. It sounded almost sad but that didn’t make any sense. He had never known his brother to listen to any sad music. John just started piling sticks next to a tree.

He had waited, momentarily, when John left the fire. Viva had glanced at him, a little confused but she trusted him. They talked about John almost like he wasn’t even there and although they talked in abstract riddles, Clay tried to piece together some things. Like his brother came back to the tree - for them - and thought his entire family was dead. Had for well over a decade. Just the thought made Clay sick to his stomach.

“John Dory.”

His brother turned around but his face just fell into a disappointed but almost concerned frown. Okay, so Clay wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting that for sure. It was like John was unhappy to see him. Perhaps he just should have known better. They had separated on terrible terms and John had said goodbye forever. The talk around the fire made it seem like he wanted his brothers back, to be alive. The look on his face told a different story.

“Oh. I guess I should have seen this coming.”

That was really not what he was expecting. “What?”

“One mention of my dead brothers and my brain decides yeah, lets hallucinate again,” John’s chuckle was hollow and without humor and it made Clay’s stomach turn over at least a dozen times.

“What?”

John squinted at him, slightly confused. “You don’t have to sound so shocked. I know you know.”

“I know?” Clay echoed, far more confused.

“Well, get on with it.”

“Get on… with?”

“I'd rather you leave quickly so I don’t have to take hallucination medication again. It messes with my memory and I’d like to keep whatever memories I do have at this point.”

“Get on with what?”

John tilted his head. “You’ve never acted this way before.”

“In your hallucinations?” Clay asked for clarification. “How does it usually go?”

“Lots of yelling, upset remarks, blame anger, etc. Guilt. Not you but me, obviously.”

That wasn’t obvious to Clay.

“Then you usually spout out how much you hate me and I just laugh.”

Clay’s stomach dropped. “Laugh?”

“Of course.”

“Why would you laugh?”

“Because you could never hate me as much as I hate myself.”

Clay sucked in a breath. “I don’t hate you.”

John looked mildly surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. Clay wondered how many times John’s mind had told him that, using Clay’s face.

“Do you miss me?”

John snorted again. “That is a dumb question.”

Clay tried not to look hurt. “You used to tell me there was no such thing as dumb questions.”

“There isn’t. Except for that one. Well… except another one too but you haven’t asked me that one. I’m grateful for that.”

“What is the other dumb question?”

“Asking if I love you.”

Clay blinked. He had never really thought to ask that. No matter how much answer and resentment he held onto, for no matter how long, that never crossed his mind. And he was grateful for that. “I don’t need to ask a question I already know the answer to.”

He was pretty sure John was holding his breath. He was scared.

“I know you love me.”

And he let it out. “I do. Although I am a little surprised my brain is trying to assure me of that. That you know.”

“Do you think you have enough sticks?”

“Are you sticking along? Sometimes Pete is an ass about it.”

“About what?”

“The hallucinations.”

Oh right. John didn’t know he was real. “I won’t be obnoxious.”

He sighed. “Well, I can’t get rid of my guilty conscious so whatever.”