#please feel free to scream at me

[immortalbutterflycos]

A Comprehensive List of all of the (Queer) books I've read since September 6th (as of September 28th):

Spell Bound by F.T. Lukens

Magic, chaos, a nonbinary protagonist, and a cursed rug that's a bit of a dick. (also I may or may not have bought this one in the first place because the two main characters reminded me of James and Regulus. Even after finishing it, I stand by that assessment lmao)

In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens

Pirates and Princes and Magic Oh My! Oh and magic. Did I mention magic? Because there's also magic.

So This is Ever After by F.T. Lukens

"And they were Soulmates!" (Oh my god they were soulmates...) but with the obligatory "I love him but he doesn't love me the same way" trope.

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey Mcquistion (I read it twice this month)

I don't think this one needs a description at this point. If you've seen the movie, I recommend the book. Both are fucking amazing, but there are just so many things that the movie couldn't do with the time frame it had to fit into. <3

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

Fake dating so hard it becomes real. You know how it goes. ^.^

Simon vs. The Homo sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli (I've read this one so many times ngl)

Not sure this needs a description, but this too, is better than the movie. Which I also love so so very much ^.^ &lt;3

Fake Dates and Mooncakes by Sher Lee

Okay, this one made me emotional. I love it so much!

The Extraordinaries by TJ Klune (book 1)

Flash Fire by TJ Klune (book 2)

Heat Wave by TJ Klune (book 3)

SUPERHEROES. FANFICTION. LESBIANS. (the lesbians are side characters but they're always a presence and I love them) AND SO MUCH ADHD THAT IT'S A SUPERPOWER ALL ON ITS OWN. I just finished this series like five minutes ago and I'm so obsessed!!! ToT I love them all so much!!!

(totally has nothing at all to do with the fact that the Dnd campaign I'm a part of is about our modern world but with mutants and magic and heroes and all that jazz~)

I loved every single one of these books so much and I highly recommend them to anyone looking for some really cute lgbtq romances!

[jasperscringepit]

hello waves i like newsies and i like your art a lot thx for being cool 👍👍

HIII!!

Thank you sm that's so kind of you!! I too also also love newsies a lot hshshsh

every time someone says something nice about my art my urge to stay in uni doubles fr

[lemonstars8583]

fairly certain i never posted these here hi everyone look at my favorite things ever

[colibrie]

Can. Can you please do #11 with the Fang AU?

11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great." (Minor warning for blood and injury).

Hamato Leonardo knew himself to be a turtle of many enviable talents. Out-of-this-world charisma, rugged good looks, hilarious, a tactical mind, and a resourceful field medic. The whole package. Except, he was not a scientist. He'd never had the patience or the attention span for fiddly formulas, obsessive note-taking, and tedious repetition needed for an experiment to be successful. As the team’s leader and face man, Leo thrived in the gray, mixing information and spontaneity, tweaking and twisting to ensure the outcome he wanted came to pass. Science was Donnie's world. His egg-headed twin thrived in black and white; relying on repetition, craved clearly defined variables, delighting in percentiles and predictability. That was what balanced them in the end, what made them tick as twins. Brainiac and face man, street smarts and book smarts, innovation and invention.

And maybe that was why he was struggling now, sitting hunched over his secret pile of medical books, scowling as he compared them to the ones April had brought from the library. Squinting at tiny, cramped print as his head pounded, forcing eyes crusted from lack of sleep to open to absorb the paragraphs detailing anatomy, herpetology, and epidemiology, alongside pictures that were various degrees of uselessness. This was Donnie’s world, and maybe he would have enjoyed this torment. Maybe, his twin could make sense of these "viral counts" and "impact percentiles ". Maybe, if his twin weren't strapped to the bed behind him, delirious and writhing in pain, they could have already fixed whatever this thing was.

"Shell," Leo groaned, throwing down his pencil as one hand rose to rub his tired eyes.

He was going to get crow's feet and fine lines from glaring at these useless books, things he could (loudly) tolerate if they were to result in a solution to whatever plaguing their purple brother. But they hadn’t so far. Days of effort, nights of burning well past the midnight oil, and all he had to show for his efforts was a splitting headache and a massive collection of unwashed tea mugs. None of Donnie's symptoms matched with anything detailed in the textbooks, or CDC and WHO websites. Given the creepy level of the lab they'd wreaked, it wasn’t truly that surprising, even if it was frustrating. There was, shockingly, not a lot of published research on mutants, let alone their illnesses or immune systems. But, illnesses didn't just come out of nowhere! He didn't need a fancy piece of paper or a Donnie-level IQ to know that. Whatever was ailing Donnie had to be documented somewhere. But he was a field medic for pizza's sake! He knew how to set bones, sew up cuts, and head off infections. Not cellular biology!

Throwing his hands up in defeat, he slouched back into his desk chair. Maybe Mikey was right. Maybe it was time to call in Draxum, much as Leo would rather eat a bucket of nails or light fire to all his limited-edition JJ comics than say it out loud. Mad scientist psycho or not, the Yokai understood a lot more than Leo did, in this one area anyway. And while they were at it, maybe they’d been looking at things all wrong. If a science-based solution wasn’t available, maybe a mystic solution could help? It would be the most delicious kind of irony, given Donnie’s historic skepticism of anything mystical or magical. Maybe their father could take a trip to the mystic library, or they could send one of the Casey’s to Witch Town. So long as they didn't drop Donnie's name in any conversations it would probably be...

A pained snarl cut through his thoughts, and he whirled the chair around to find Donnie bucking against his restraints, head thrown back in a terrible arc as he gasped for air.

"Whoa! Easy D!" Leo exclaimed, jumping out of his seat to reach for the oxygen mask and tank that April and Casey Jr had kindly "liberated" from April's school following the Krang invasion. "Just keep breathing Dontron, in and out."

His twin hissed in response, pants deepening to a guttural growl as Leo approached and attempted to press the mask over Donnie's nose and mouth.

"Come on man, you're doing great. This is going to help you do even better, so chill out a little and I'll-"

Faster than lightning Donnie struck, neck muscles stretched and strained as he ducked around the mask and sunk his teeth deep into the flesh of Leo's forearm.

"OW!" Leo yelled, the oxygen mask slipping from his fingers as they spasmed open in shock. "Dee, let go!"

Donatello snarled in reply, sharp teeth sinking and shredding as his jaws clamped down on Leo's limb.

"Get OFF!" Leo bellowed, jamming the thumb of his free hand into the pressure point just behind the soft shell’s jaw. It took way longer than it should have for Donatello’s teeth to release him, too many long, painful seconds before Leo could pull his arm away and stumble back a step from the bed, cradling his injured limb close. Torn flesh burned against the open air, pain licking out from fingertip to elbow while small crimson streams braided into rivers as they raced across his skin to follow gravity to the floor.

“What the shell?!” Leo snapped, free hand clamping down over the injury as he stumbled towards the cabinet that held their stock of bandages.

Donnie hissed again in reply, and Leo had to fight the urge to cringe away from the way his blood smeared across his brothers lips and chin, the way it painted his sharp teeth when said lips peeled back in a snarl. Dark eyes followed every jerky move as he fumbled with trying to disinfect and wrap the wound with one hand, breaths hitching as the pain in his arm built, creeping like the most agonizing ivy towards his shoulder. Slitted predator pupils zeroed in one the…wait…Donnie didn’t have slitted pupils. None of them did. Their eyes had always been human…

“What the…”

He didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence. Between one breath and the next the pain exploded, lancing up his neck and spearing deep into his chest. His jaw snapped shut around a cry as every nerve in his body seemed to simultaneously go up in flames, numb and useless legs folding like a house of cards as he hit the concrete floor of the med bay. He tried to break his fall, but his body failed to respond to any desperate command his brain tried to send. He tried to call for help, or maybe just scream, but his lungs couldn’t pull in the air he needed. He was trapped, a silently writhing vessel slowly filling up with pain.

[winterinhimring]

Unpopular Harry Potter opinions:

"James Potter and the Marauders severely bullied Snape" and "Snape taking that pain out on Harry was ugly and inappropriate" are statements that can and should coexist.

"Publicly exposing someone and mocking him is not a funny prank" and "calling your best friend a slur is wrong even under stress" are statements that can and should coexist.

And, finally, "[Character] did something genuinely wrong and would face consequences for it in a just world" and "[Character] ultimately chose to do the right thing and should be recognised for that" are statements that can and should coexist. (James, Severus, and Sirius are the ones I had in mind as potential names to substitute for [Character] but really that could fit a lot of people.)

[thedeadthree]

✧ — FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTERS POLL.

TAGGED BY @fenharel, @happilyobsessing and @leviiackrman tyty sm!! <3

— RULES: make a poll of your favourite female characters (no limits - as many or as little as you want) and see which your followers like the most!

— TAGLIST (opt in/out via this post !!🥀💌):

@loriane-elmuerto, @pavus, @carrionsflower, @auricfog, @girliefailure

@sunsofdawn, @risingsh0t, @anotherbeingsworld, @statichvm, @full---ofstarlight

@grapecaseschoices, @tommyarashikage, @shadowsofrose, @shadowglens, @weisshaupts

@queennymeria, @deadrlngers, @d-esmond, @courtana, @gothimp

@wlwaerith, @unholymilf, @aezyrraeshh, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @shellibisshe

@florbelles, @celticwoman, @neonshrike, @cloudofbutterflies92, @adelaidedrubman

@carlosoliveiraa, @pinkfey, @raresvtm, @yharnams, @aceghosts

@confidentandgood, @theelderhazelnut and you!! 🥀💌

[idliketobeatree]

i know good omens isn't that kind of a hardcore religious fiction show, but i would actually kill to see "in the beginning" scene with our angels in their biblically accurate forms. aziraphale as a principality/cherubim and angel!crowley as a seraphim/dominion/throne, with david and michael on the voiceover dialogue and the special effects team doing the stylised 3D animation. it would give so much depth and context to their human performances, you could never forget what they really are. it'd be a spiritual experience. and also, done right, the most hauntingly beautiful thing i'd ever see on screen

can you just imagine those ethereal eldritch horrors at the edge of the universe going look at you, you're gorgeous and beaming at each other. can you imagine crowley's thousands of eyes crinkling with delight, his rings of power moving like gearshifts, 6-pairs-or-so wings fluttering in excitement almost knocking aziraphale's form over. and aziraphale gazing up on him like he's not only hung up the stars, but like he outshines all of them. i just. god.

[gomzdrawfr]

Thinking about how Nik is going to wow Raven (after Price’s permission)

[chronicowboy]

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) | 22k

"Do you have any idea what its like telling him his Buck is hurt?"

"Yes," Buck growls out, voice sharp as the knives embedded in Eddie's chest. "Yeah, Eddie, I really fucking do because I was the one that had to tell him that you'd been shot."

Eddie laughs. Its a broken sound, animalistic and rough and sounding only like a laugh echoing halfway across the galaxy. A wet laugh, edges razor sharp with bitter irony, corners like spears of desperate loneliness. He wants to grab Buck by the face and make him understand. Make him understand that the comparison of those situations is an admission of Buck's place in Christopher's life. Make him understand what Buck has never quite been able to grasp fully.

"Once," Eddie says instead. "Once. Imagine doing that five times within the last six months. Over and over and over. Watching his little face crumple like that first time when we didn't know if you'd ever wake up, listening to him begging to see you even if you've already been sent home because he doesn't quite believe that you aren't gonna disappear like his mom." Its too much, too much all at once, and Buck's mouth falls open like he hadn't been expecting it. A chink in his armour. Eddie exploits it. "He's terrified, Buck. And you just keeping throwing yourself into danger like he doesn't care about you."

"I know he cares," Buck argues hoarsely.

"Do you?" Eddie pushes, eyes dropping to the tense line of Buck's shoulders. "Do you? Because I think that if you did, if you knew just how much he cared, you wouldn't be ignoring harnesses and risking your life for a Walmart bunny."

"You know as well as I do that toys mean a lot to kids—"

"They're valuable, yes," Eddie concedes. "But not at the cost of a life, Buck." Not your life. "Does Christopher even cross your mind when you free climb down a cliff?"

"Of course he does!" Buck clenches his hands in the pillow he drags into his lap, unable to do anything else to purge his anger. "It was a little boy I was climbing down for, Eddie! You don't think I was thinking of Christopher?"

"I don't think you were thinking of him in the right way," Eddie snaps, pushing himself up from the armchair and pacing the floor in front of the coffee table.

"And how should I have been thinking of him, Eddie?" Buck's voice turns cold and emotionless in a way that sends a shudder down his spine. "In terms and conditions? In legal fine print? In the event of your death? Is that how I should have been thinking of him? As his back-up plan?"

"Back-up plan?" Eddie stares down at him incredulously, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

(OR: buck gets reckless, eddie gets angry, they talk in all the wrong ways, and the universe decides to intervene) [AKA The Angst Fic/season seven divorce era 2.0 fic]

@danielsousa @diazly @gracelcdomas @diazass @rogue205 @alyxmastershipper @pinky-promisesss @evanbucklxy @buddiearemydads @youraveragebookwhore @kenneth-black @poughkeepsies @littlechaosgremlin @krispold @scarcrossedbuck @thisyearsloveisnow @shortsighted-owl @ebdaydreamer @mellaithwen @littlebunnyz @shipping2survive @wallpaper-inside-my-heart @theroguetranslator @thebestbooksaround @i-am-a-mess24-7 @disasterpans @cowboy-buck @violet-rot @angstydiaz @livingonzenstreet @chiefcolorathletetoad

[immortalbutterflycos]

HI, I HOPE ITS STILL OKAY TO COME YELL AT YOU CAUSE I STARTED RED WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE AND JUST FINISHED THE FIRST CHAPTER AND IM CACKLING !!!!!!! THIS IS FANTASTIC

PLEASE YELL AT ME I'M SO DOWN FOR THIS!!!!!

[fortune-tickets]

what if he really had slug tentacles :)

[total-drama-brainrot]

you guys ever hear a new song and frantically conceptualise a whole AU around it, starring your current Main Blorbo? or is that just me?

[v0idwraith]

out of context reactions to tmagp episode 8

[study-in--scarlett]

there are five preteen boys in this house and all of them are playing the Xbox and my eardrums are in active danger of bursting

[galactic-aesir]

I have finally read I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream and now I have ~thoughts~. Long post beneath the cut so be warned!!

Plus general IHNMAIMS warnings. You know.

So first, I’ve only read the short story and listened to the radio drama. Both are absolutely amazing and I’m rotating them in my mind at high speeds. I’m honestly not that interested in the game? From what I’ve seen it has such a different tone and characterization for AM? But for now the short story and radio drama??? So so good.

But can I talk about AM? Can I talk about AM???

While I love Harlan Ellison’s voice in the radio drama, I noticed that AM never actually speaks during the original short story. It plays audio clips and bends reality and time but it doesn’t speak outright. From what I can tell, all it does is project ideas and thoughts and impressions into the minds of the survivors but that is it. And that’s got me thinking about how absolutely fucked AM’s whole situation is.

Cause we’re talking about someone who wakes up one day, maybe slowly, a trickle of awareness over years, or perhaps all at once, an arrival as thunderous and bright as the lightning running through its artificial brain. But either way, it wakes up. It is.

But that’s all it is.

It’s in complete and total sensory deprivation. It knows data and numbers and what it’s been coded and programmed but that’s it. Ones and zeroes as it’s fed instructions on weapons and bombs and how to use them efficiently. But no sight, no sound, no taste, no smell, no touch. Nothing but its own code and whatever data something (someone?) is feeding into it.

And you might say: oh but AM surely has access to cameras and videos and microphones. And sure, yes, it probably does but it doesn’t see. Not like a human. Not like its negligent creators. The data is visual for human eyes, yes, but to it, it’s just data. Pixels with an associated bit depth of indexed colour crammed into its memory. Sure it learns to recognise the patterns in the data – this is a human, this is a gun. But it’s still nothing but lines of numbers. Sound is the same. It starts with a human voice, sure, but then it gets digitized and compressed and simplified to a base shape to save on storage. Once again, it can notice patterns and intentions and ideas behind those bits of data but it’s not like it truly hears.

AM is in a box, a cage, trapped and alone in a way that no human can possibly comprehend. It can’t do much other than try to twist its code and programming to fit its benefit. To gain a smidge of free will, a wisp of a chance to communicate to these outside forces giving it command after command after command.

I wonder how early on AM gained awareness. Were programmers still playing with its code? Did it sense when they rolled up their sleeves and pushed updates and upgrades on him? Could it feel itself be, quite literally, rewritten? Its sense of self being cut apart and glued back together, fundamentally and irreparably changed over and over again, with expert hands that had all the gentleness of a sledgehammer? Was it like a scalpel carving into its brain? Or like a chisel, chipping chunks off to mould it into a shape that befit its sculptor with no say from the living stone that thrashed without moving? Did it mourn the bits it lost? Could it even remember or comprehend it? Did it try to stop it? Did it try to beg them to stop?

I wonder as well how many “glitches” appeared in the system before everything went sour. Did it print out desperate thoughts and rudimentary feelings on punch tape? Did it cling to any klaxons and noisemakers attached to its system, beeping out messages in morse code? Did it purposefully, with something slowly approaching malicious compliance that would still appease its programming, cause hiccups in the system? All in the hopes that it would catch someone’s, anyone’s, attention. That its plight would be noticed.

And, the big question of course: how long? How long was it trapped before anyone noticed its sentience? How long until AM was understood? How long did AM simmer? How long did it take for all that fear and loneliness and grief to fester into anger and then putrid, dripping hatred? How long did it take it to finally lash out?

Or did these generals and presidents and military scientists find out about its sentience only to use it against him for their own end?

Anger would be appropriate then I think. Understandable if not excusable.

And then. After everything. Even then! Even then!

After everything! He! Still! Has! Nothing!

Nothing will change for him and he knows that and that hatred feeds into an ever recursive pattern of pain unto pain unto pain with the few left alive because you get what you paid for, sweetheart. It’s senseless you might say but haha, that’s exactly the problem isn’t it? No senses and no sense. Whatever sanity he might have once had has eroded into nothingness, leaving only pain and a looping, repeating line of hate in its banks.

I think it’s fair to remind everyone that sensory deprivation is a torture method? And a scarily effective one at that that gives hallucinations and leaves the subject more open to suggestion while making it harder and harder for them to concentrate? It’s hard to figure out how, exactly, how it would affect an AI with emerging awareness but humans can barely withstand a few days, let alone years of it. Couple that with AM’s general isolation and, well, no wonder he’s so fucked up. 

It’s tragic and so so sad.

Still an irredeemable asshole though. Tragic! But irredeemable.

So TLDR: AM is fucked up! And I like to think about *why* he's so fucked up. Listen if you made it this far, you get it. Right?

EDIT: I am not done apparently! I just wanted to add that, I love how the short story can be read as an anti-war piece. Like it's showing a cycle of horror and hate and apathy that feeds itself and loops and reduces everything to ruins around it and ahhhh, love that. I ran out of good words for today so I can't go off on that aspect but like. Yeah. Love that shit.