#rant of sorts

[spindle-girl]

what are the bad undersiders opinions you’re seeing outside of tumblr? curious

Just as a precursor, this isn't any specific person or section of the fandom. You'll find these opinions anywhere and they've been around for years and I probably shouldn't get as annoyed as I do at it but whatever. It's (I'm paraphrasing btw) stuff like:

"Taylor would have been a hero without (evil/bitch/stupid) Lisa." Ignores the very legitimate issues Taylor has with authority and ignores Brian, who was the actual main reason Taylor joined the Undersiders. Lisa did lie in a few different ways to mislead Taylor, but nothing major enough to trick her into being a villain.

"Aisha could have been a hero if she knew what the Undersiders were REALLY like." Aisha would get annoyed that her brother can be cool and only does it when he's not around her. Also, she knows, but people ignore that or else they would be forced to realize Aisha has an actual character instead of a manic pixie girl they can ship with whatever hero of the week they want.

"Brian is stupid for joining the Undersiders and not the Wards." I've talked about this before, but no he fucking isn't. Choosing to not become more like his dad is actually a good thing. Also pretends that cps is both a) not incompetent at best malicious at worst, and b) ignores how they're considering the Laborn's mom again as an alternative to Brian to house Aisha after their dad failed so badly.

I'm beginning to realize the main theme with these is that people don't want to think about how the Undersiders have legitimate reasons to not like authority.

"Alec is evil for not turning himself in after escaping." The heroes have only ever made his life worse and I'm sure the cops didn't make it any easier in the time between running away and joining the Undersiders. Also, blaming people for shit they did under mind control is a dick move. Despite Worm having lots of comic book fans they don't seem to remember every annoying mind control arc or the Purple Man.

"Taylor (and the other Undersiders) would have been happy and fine if they joined the Wards." Lol, lmao. Ignoring Sophia for Taylor and Coil for Lisa, I don't think any of the Wards had their lives improved by joining anyway. Even if, for some magical reason, the PRT helped them with their parents they'd have issues with the organization itself. Not to mention their risk of dying gets upped tenfold by joining. Piggot is more than happy to use her child soldiers until they break.

"Lily got manipulated into leaving a good career with the heroes." Foil mention?!? I know, but I can't forget that half the time this is brought up, they always mention her career. Fucking bleak. Also, Parien isn't even her full reason for leaving. She left before confirming her relationship with Parien, because what she really got tired of was the heroes not being heroes. It's why she investigated Armsmaster, why she listened and respected Parien's choice to get help from Skitter. There was more I think, but yeah.

Nothing really to say about Rachel or Sabah. People don't talk about them that much. Oh, wait

"Rachel would have gotten help if she got captured and been a Ward." That wog was specifically if Rachel got captured early on, is only with Boston, PRT therapy actually helping (lol), and she still doesn't have anyone close to her tying her down to Boston so she could end up like Foil.

There's more. I could write pages on Lisa alone, but it's been a few days and I'm not currently in the mood to be annoyed rn.

[fade-nightingale]

I promise I'm not dead

So, I can't upload art for a while, since my health has gone downhill.

No, it's not a cold

No, it's not the flu

No, it's not in my head

No, it's not something Ibuprofen can fix, tried that for ten years

No, I don't know when art will be available again

Thank you to all y'all beautiful people who've been liking my posts

It brings me such a hit of dopamine on my bad days, and I hope to be able to draw again soon ☺️

[applecat8]

Idk if this is clear but I’m not the brightest bulb in the box, I’m pretty versed in many games I play but I have trouble learning all the ins and out strategies for some because I’m a bit on the slower end of figuring things out, I mean a puzzle game? I’m on it like ants, don’t starve together? Brother my 900 hours is probably me scratching my ass

Dst wiki is used for character study on my end

I don’t post about gameplay because I’m 100% not doing something the way other people think is common sense simply because I don’t know unless I’m throughly explained

Some people have the goal in dst to kill bosses, mines like, survive and work slow, I’m not in a rush, I’m almost to 300 days on a Wilson world and I still don’t feel like I’m that good and I think that’s kinda sad because that’s so many hours for one world yk

Also I’m scared of asking for help because people are mean, luckily recently someone explained how to do some of ruins for me and I appreciate that greatly

[egg04]

I read the popular youtube comments on an artist's video about their commission prices and now I suddenly feel like shit about my work 😭 people don't fucking respect artists holy shit. It's not your damn place to say whether or not someone's commission was worth the price.

[quarantinedinabaddream]

got your whole life ahead of you , you’re only 19. but i fear that they already got all the best parts of me.

it’s been a year since you left the house which was supposed to be a home but never quite felt like one no matter how hard you tried to make it into that. it’s been a year since you realised that freedom isn’t what they make it out to be, because like a caged bird left in the wild you too still can’t quite comprehend what to do with yourself. it’s been almost two months since you turned 19. you cried waiting for your mother to wish you at midnight, despite being surrounded by way too many people than you ever had been on birthdays, except all it did was make you feel lonelier. and at last the wish did come, later than you expected, but it did. and you couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief, quietly thinking about how your mother still loved you it seemed even though you always know deep down that she is going to forever despise you for ruining her life by just existing but you brushed away that thought before it had the chance to become tangible in the form of blood dripping on the bathroom floor, staining the tiles the same colour as the dye in your hair did the summer after 18.

on most days you can’t help but wonder if anyone truly sees you, if anyone understands the weight you carry on your shoulders, the burden of unwanted expectations and disappointments that seem to define your existence. you think about whether they can see it on your face, that each passing year feels like another layer of your real self being stripped away, leaving behind a hollow shell of who you once were but the thing is you can’t even recall who you used to be and it scares you because what if this is all you’ve ever been? what if the dreams you had were just childish insolences disguised as ambitions. on most days you also can’t help but mourn the person you could’ve been, had things happened differently. the person who would have the strength to dream without restraint and chase after their beliefs with unwavering determination. the person who would know happiness and love like the back of their hand. but alas, you know in your bones that the gap between who you could’ve been and who you actually are can never be bridged. so now as you stand on the precipice of adulthood with trembling knees, you are haunted by the ghost of the person you once could’ve been, now forever lost to the passage of time and the cruel hand of fate.

you want to scoff when people say it gets better the more you grow because you know it doesn’t won’t. you know that you are going to spend the rest of your years wishing you could go back, to what though you still can’t really decide. and on days when the world around you swims and blurs into a haze of muted colours, voices and bone deep exhaustion, the lines between reality and illusions blurring and swirling into a violent storm of pain. you can’t help but numbly wonder whether the devoted “it gets better” believers can see the ocean deep hopelessness in your eyes. whether they can see the exhaustion of nothing you do ever being enough in the trembling of your body. whether they even notice the sickness that torments your mind and body forcing you to take pills just so you can get out of bed. but even then you can’t, not always. not when your mind won’t stop obsessing over the most trivial things to the point that you start to suspect whether you are even real and your body won’t stop aching at the slightest of movements. you want to laugh in their face when they call you weak because you know they wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where you were raised. you want to snarl and scream and tell them that you will never believe their lies of “oh, it will get better with time” because, unlike the stories you grew up reading there is never a light at the end of the tunnel in reality, not for you atleast. so, you resign yourself to the bleakness of your existence, knowing that there is no escape from the prison whether of your own making or not.

[derangedfujoshi]

Stalking is a crime, yes that includes your yandere boyfriend

Assault is a crime, yes that includes your whumper/whumpee scenarios

Being part of a mob is a crime, yes that includes your sexy son of a mafia boss

Killing is a crime, yes that includes your blorbo

Zoophilia is a crime, yes that includes you liking Nick Wilde

All your "exceptions" from what is and isn't condemnable in fiction are, in real life, a crime as well. Every dark trope falls in the "it would be a crime to commit this irl" category, it's not just the big age gaps with adult/minor ships and the incest, it's ALL of them. All of them are crimes in the real world, by law. The sentence may vary but you'd still be sent to prison. "But I only like it in fiction!"

So do we.

So do we, so can you get off your high horse and just admit that liking dark themes in fiction, ANY dark theme, does not reflect your moral compass in real life and for the love of everything STOP pretending fake murder is better than fake incest? You sound preposterous.

[queerdraws]

projecting on luffy again. get bited.

[bornwholocker]

Reading flatland and obviously Bill’s home dimension and flatland aren’t exactly the same, but like. Since we don’t know which parts are different I’m just thinking. This is really unorganized and all over the place and probably doesn’t make any sense but

In flatland, it takes a LOT of planning for an equilateral triangle to be born. I’m talking like generations of interbreeding and methods for the fathering isosceles to get as close to equilateral as possible. It’s a huge deal. When an equilateral is created, it’s celebrated by pretty much everyone (for a miriad of different reasons but I won’t get into that). And being “irregular” in any respect is one of the worst things you can be. If you don’t “fix” your irregularity enough, you’re executed.

So imagine Bill’s family working their triangular asses off to have an equilateral kid, to give him a better life, and when they finally do it, he’s got that eye. From what we’ve seen of his parents, they seem to have taken care of him as best they could, but again, it’s been a whole ordeal just to have him, involving the whole community and family, and he came out wrong.

I imagine that’s probably why his parents took him to see the doctor and drink the “juice” that messed with his vision. They thought they were doing what was best for him. They didn’t blame him for his eye, didn’t hate him for it, but they felt the need to fix him, either to please their families or even just bring him to their own standards. The idea of irregularity being wrong is seen as natural and obvious, so they wouldn’t find an issue with trying to change him.

Another thing about flatland is that the mention of any third dimension or any idea close to that is pretty much criminal. (Spoilers i guess) The narrator of the story, a square who saw the third dimension for himself, is eventually locked away for talking about it.

So Bill was supposed to be a sort of miracle baby, I guess is the best way to put it. And when he came out just slightly but irreparably wrong, it was devastating. And then he starts spouting about 3D and the stars and he just wants people to understand, to see that it’s not dangerous, that it’s beautiful. But his parents don’t want him to get imprisoned or worse, so they try to keep him quiet. They give him his juice and his silly straws and wave away any ideas about the third dimension.

Bill was born a disappointment, one of the lowest life forms imaginable, and the only way he was gonna get anywhere in life was by losing his stars forever. He was told that the thing right in front of him wasn’t real, that he should stop talking about it, that he could get in trouble. So he had to show everyone that he was right. He would be a hero! He would be the kid who finally discovered where the light came from, something no scientist had ever gotten close to figuring out!

But in the end his parents were right. It was too dangerous. God bill tragic backstory is so ougrhhhhj grabs alex hirsch by the shoulders and shakes him

[benevolenterrancy]

none of the parenting books warned him how hard it would be to keep his little brother from catching the avian flu

[that1notetaker]

I love prophecies and the battle of Bond of Choice versus Bond of Obligation.

[magnoliamyrrh]

that post about how traumatized people are expected to censor their own experiences reminds me of how when people with visible deformities or scarring post selfies, people will get mad at them and go “this could be triggering!! tw body horror!”

people need to develop a sense of shame for their own hypersensitivity and sheltered coddled lives. being shielded from the realities of other peoples lives is not a human right. if you dont wanna see scarred people then avoid looking at photos. if you dont wanna know about peoples life experiences don’t talk to them. I hate this shit so much. “You owe it to me to hide the evidence of your suffering because thinking about it makes me bummed out!!” I lived through the actual experience, I think you’ll survive witnessing the fact that I survived. jesus christ

sry for late reply but this is so damn real i still think abt this all the time. "i lived through the actual experience, i think you'll survive witnessing the fact that i survived" bars tbh. very well put into words

[alaskan-wallflower]

ponyboy definitely sneaks into darry’s room when he has nightmares, especially post book because the nightmares slowly dissolve from his parents dying to darry and soda dying and during those nightmares pony just really needs darry, so he’ll sneak into darry’s room and gently tug the pillow out of darry’s arms (darry’s a sleep cuddler argue with the wall) and pony will just nestle his way into darry’s arms and wraps himself around darry and just presses his head against his chest and falls asleep to darry’s heartbeat and other internal sounds because he needs to know his big brother is alive and okay

(bonus but darry always wakes up every time when pony does this but he never says anything, half for pony’s dignity and half because he’s so sleepy he doesn’t even register it-but some nights it’s real rough and pony starts panicking and he just sits up like “woah woah woah there, ponybaby-what’s wrong? you gotta talk to me, kiddo, i’m here…” and he NEVER gets mad at pony. ever. no matter how little sleep he gets. especially post book)

[egg04]

The height of "Why are you watching people play the games instead of actually playing them yourself?" was really annoying to be honest.

Because it's *really* simple: I can't fucking play the game myself!

Besides the fact of watching something vs. playing something being very different experiences, there's also the fact that I usually don't have the device, money, and (or) the game is just inaccessible to me in some sort of way.

[ghoulinfuschia]

There’s been something bugging me for a while that I’ve been trying to articulate. Other artists on Tumblr could probably help me— the idea of art being treated as “content”.

Right out the gate, that word sparks a feeling of resentment in me. When people call art “content” rather than what it actually is, it feels like it undermines the intention behind the work. Artists create their work to share ideas and express themselves. Boggling it down to just be content made purely for consumption feels…. for lack of better word, dystopian. Artists feel it too.

The idea of “producing” art is nothing new. I’ve heard many stories about artists feeling terrified of the algorithm’s wrath that they start pumping out artwork like there’s no tomorrow. Then, they get burnt out. The artwork they’re creating isn’t for them anymore, it’s for the machine. It’s….saddening.

It feels symptomatic of the capitalistic society we live in where everything is meant to be sold to a consumer. You aren’t meant to approach it mindfully, but instead treat it as another meal for your mind to wolf down before spitting out the bones. I think that’s what scares me. Art on the internet isn’t treated as art, it’s treated as just another form of stimuli for those glued to screens.

Now this isn’t the case with everyone, obviously. I have one friend specifically who I feel is a wonderful example of someone who appreciates artwork wholeheartedly. A commission client of mine. Always tips his artists generously, collects all art he sees and mourns the deletion of artwork. He admires artists’ work with all his heart no matter what it is because he can see the soul behind it. The intention in every line drawn, and the feeling the artist wanted to provoke. He’s gone on record numerous times to say he loves art.

Art, not content. He doesn’t care for the machine. He cares for the person’s intentions and skill. He loves art.

By the way, this doesn’t just go for visual art. It goes for writing, video essays, documentaries, short films, animation, anything created by a human hand. It’s art because it was created with intention.

I genuinely can’t stand seeing people call art “content”. I appreciate all the support I receive, but that’s the one thing that grinds my gears in a way which I can’t get over. No matter what it is. If it was made by a human hand to convey a thought, it’s art.

With my whole heart, mind, body, and soul, I pray on the extinction of the ideology behind content creation. Just call it what it actually is- art.

[quarantinedinabaddream]

i got cursed like eve got bitten. oh, was it punishment?

they say that eve’s bite was a sin, a transgression that wove a tapestry of exile and longing. when she sank her teeth into that forbidden fruit, the world split open and knowledge poured in like torrential rain. i can’t help but feel like i tasted something forbidden too. and it was sweet but it left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue, that still clings to my soul buried within the depths of my tormented mind but everpresent. a curse that shadows every step i take, making me wonder whether it was defiance or destiny? the weight of abandonment settles upon me like a bone deep exhaustion, making me feel like a mad woman on her knees howling to the midnight sky like a wounded wolf, begging to a god she doesn’t believe in to change the prophecy, tormented by the icy grips of solitude and sorrow running through her veins, marked by the vile knowledge that isolates and a truth that alienates. tell me, is it punishment? this endless cycle of parting? this poisoned garden of forsaken bonds? every connection, every embrace, doomed to wither? friends, lovers, even fleeting acquaintances all fated to always always slip away? leaving behind the cold echo of their absence. each departure a cruel reminder, a silent testament to the curse that i bear but somehow can’t seem to grasp whether it was a birthright or the consequence of seeking what lies beyond the veil of innocence. or maybe the curse is in the knowing, in the bitter aftertaste of that first bite, in the endless haunting question: was it punishment? is it punishment? or simply the price of seeing too much, feeling too deeply, and daring to reach for more than what was ever meant to be mine?

[renthony]

I hate our shitty apartment and I can't stand our asshole neighbor, but I do know the names of all the plants growing around our building, and I've been watching the same birds for so long that I recognize specific individuals. There's a male cardinal who I refuse to name (because I won't name wild animals), but who I fondly refer to as "the Loud Boy." He just finished growing his feathers back after molting for the year.

My little container garden attracts pollinators and birds, and it makes this shitty living situation a little bit brighter. It's about the only thing that keeps me going some days, but it does keep me going.