#read my garbage

[socialistexan]

Rare Quora W

[hascious]

im struggling to balance writing and doodling but im managing nonetheless

also!! i just finished writing myself a little list of events that will happen for the last half of the au, so everythings basically plotted out i just gotta take the time to write it coherently. pray for me

the first half i got to fuck around but now ive gotta take it seriously, so sad </3 but its okay cause once its over i can just doodle silly things about everything and even redraw some of my old concepts

double also... i mightve had an idea a while ago for a small spinoff... i might talk more about it another time...

oh and heres a scuffed reference i made a little while ago for Henry's ability if anyone wanted to know what it looks like as of chapter 6

[musubiki]

danmarch 🐉💎

[girlsdads]

tagged by @annebd for WIP wednesday friday... instead of a WIP snippet have something that i don't really know what else to do with but i didn't hate so :-)

Max’s phone lights up with Daniel’s name while he’s sitting in hospitality the morning of race day. It’s face-up on the arm of the sofa—Max watches as it catches the eye of Lawson next to him. Possessiveness rises like bile in his throat. He snatches the phone as quickly as he can, cradles it to his chest like that would erase the letters of Daniel’s name from Lawson’s memory.

“Whatever, mate,” Lawson quips, rolling his eyes. Like anyone was talking to him, anyway. Like Max gives a fuck if he’s here or not. Like they’re mates, and he’s not someone Max is contractually obligated to be cordial to.

“Clean up your crumbs, when you are finished,” Max says as he stands, sweeping his gaze pointedly over the spray of chocolate chip muffin debris covering Lawson’s lap and the sofa cushion beside him. He doesn’t wait for Lawson’s response before stalking from the room. He thinks about the stacks of keto-friendly protein bars going stale back in his motorhome and hates Lawson that much more.

Max waits until he’s closed the motorhome door behind him to open Daniel’s text.

It’s stupid, he knows, to want to do this in private. Everyone knows he talks to Daniel still, probably no one would think it strange or pathetic for Max to be texting him now. Daniel had said—Max had known he wouldn’t be here, this weekend, or any weekend. Max understands, in his own way, despite how bereft he always feels, during.

But. It is a race day and Daniel is texting him. Daniel hasn’t texted on a race weekend since, well—since. He had facetimed the day after Brazil, relaxed and happy and congratulating Max from New York. They keep a running conversation during off weeks, Daniel sending picture after picture of himself with arms around his friends, some Max knows, some he doesn’t. Max saves the photos to a hidden folder on his phone, crops them all so it’s only Daniel. Sometimes it leaves him missing an arm, or two, but he can’t stand to see Daniel with all these people who aren’t Max. In turn, Max sends him videos of the cats, memes he hopes will make Daniel laugh, updates on the funny-looking bird that has been building a nest on Max’s balcony.

(That’s my—what’s the little animal friend that witches have—my familiar, Maximus! I sent him to watch over you, obviously. Be nice to him.) That message had gone into the secret folder, too.

Race weekends are radio silence. Max has come to terms with that, knows it isn’t personal, that it’s an open wound Daniel is nursing. So for Daniel to reach out, today of all days, Max can’t help the stab of yearning in his belly. It could be an important day, for Max, maybe Daniel decided—maybe he’s said he’s hopped a plane, he’s driving out from LA, he’ll be here before the chequered flag—

Max couldn’t bear it if anyone else were around, if that’s not what Daniel’s message says. Even alone, he feels like a hermit crab that’s outgrown its shell, hope leaving him soft-bellied and vulnerable.

He swipes open his and Daniel’s message chain.

Daniel’s not coming to Vegas. At least, that’s not what he’s texted.

The text is a picture. Max’s eyes are drawn immediately to Daniel, though he’s only in about one quarter of the frame. If he was trying to take a selfie, he did not do such a good job--it's mostly a shot of the dusty-red ground, Daniel's beautiful face peeking in from the top corner. He’s wearing his dirt biking clothes, sweat darkening the pits of his long sleeves where his arm is lifted to make a thumbs-up. His pinky still doesn't quite fold in next to the rest of his fingers. Max wants to kiss the careful bend of his knuckle.

It's a few long moments before Max even registers what's etched into the earth behind Daniel. It is very obvious, then, why Daniel is sending this now. There in the California dirt, Daniel has used a stick or maybe even one of his long, lovely fingers to write 3 + 1 = 4. A wobbly heart is drawn around the whole thing.

Max is infinitely grateful for the lack of prying eyes as he sinks slowly to the floor. He draws his knees up to his chest and cradles the phone in cupped hands, as if the message will be sucked back into the ether if he grips too tightly. He lightly taps to full-screen the image, zooms in on Daniel's face. The soft, almost awkward smile is the same one Max has only ever seen directed at him. He knows this, because he's spent years cataloguing Daniel's interactions with others, longing and longing. Daniel never makes that face at anyone else.

Max's phone buzzes as another text comes through. Daniel's hands reaching through the wire to squeeze Max's heart until it leaks out between his fingers.

Always cheering for you, Max. Give 'em hell for me.

[is-this-even-relatable]

DP x DC PROMPT 1: Phantom Thief

------

tldr: Danny is king, and is trying to find missing artifacts of the infinite realms that have been scattered across the mortal realm. Cue him creating an alter ego, one Phantom Thief.

Inspired by Chapter 2 of "I Am A Retired Hero And My Love Interest Is A Former Crime Lord!?" by ShyCrow on AO3.

------

Danny, recently crowned King of the Infinite Realms, had been going through mountains upon mountains of paperwork. Apparently Pariah Dark, "The Bloody Tyrant", was not a good king who answered his duties. And his long sabattical in the Coffin of Eternal Sleep did not help the work get done. Who'dve thought.

So in an effort to be the king the realms needed, Danny started work on the backlog as soon as his mortal responsibilities were over.

As he went through the realms' archives, looking for an item referenced in a territorial dispute, he could not for the death of him find it. Come to think of it... this archive had been in existence for hundreds of millennia, and was terribly organized. And there were a lot of missing objects.

Danny sighed. Just another thing to pile onto his plate.

---

Ok so he catalogued what wasn't there, and oof... it was a doozy. He figured he should start with stuff that really shouldn't be left in the wrong hands.

And first on that list was Dorothea's amulet.

Danny had tracked its energy to some random rich person's personal museum in Gotham, of all places. Ugh, he really didn't want to get on Batman's radar with any of this... He didn't really wanna bother the Justice League with business of the dead because, frankly speaking, he wasn't sure if they wouldn't do more harm than help.

So he had to go in quietly.

Hmm... "King Phantom" was too flashy... But "regular human Fenton" on the other hand...

Danny smiled as he let his transformation wash over him. Now he just needed to figure out his outfit.

[opikiquu]

(disappears for a month and reappears with a slightly obscure hyperfixation) Hey guys

[birbleafs]

Alhaitham really, really loves needling and riling Kaveh up instead of simply telling him directly sometimes lmao (but we all know Kaveh secretly enjoys their back-and-forth just as much, so lol). And I’d also kind of suspected that Alhaitham would be the type to read whatever books or notes Kaveh left lying around in the study or any common shared space in their house—because, of course, he's nosy about Kaveh, just like how Kaveh can't shut up about Alhaitham too all the time even when he isn't there… Hehe...

I miss seeing their silly banters and adore it to bits—I just love that petty bickering over mundane and/or domestic trivialities are just This Thing That They Do Together, even when they have mostly reconciled and are rebuilding their friendship again. But even so, why are they always being Disg0sting (tm) and just.... openly flirting?? in public like this ????? XD

That poor street vendor caught in the middle of their bickering against his will: Uhhh, really? Right in front of mY salad BOOKS???

I LOVE Alhaitham so fucking much, he's so annoying (affectionate!!!) and effortlessly funny but tbh SAME LOL.... Me, whenever I'm plotting the secret paingst/sudden plot-twists in my fics lmfaodskfjsvk

Lol this screencap really sums them up entirely: Kavetham being a public nuisance and third-wheeling any poor soul nearby, caught in 4K

[meramu-meramu]

I've actually wondered before how well Giorno's speech pattern is even conveyed or understood, like in general across the multiple localizations, to non-Japanese speakers. Iirc a lot of the English tls don't even take his keigo into consideration, sometimes for valid reasons like lack of space for speech bubbles or lack of reading time in subtitles. However, if translated, I do think that because of the differences in how polite English versus polite Japanese is utilized, he's a lot more likely to come across as arrogant in English whereas in Japanese there's instead this odd contrast between his assertiveness and his humble politeness that really stands out. Tbh I've sometimes wondered if this is why so many English speakers call Giorno boring, like, idk, there's an argument to be made that he's more strange and unpredictable to jp readers. Also?? I forget how they phrase it but whole thing about Giorno being withdrawn or whatever that the other characters keep commenting on, I feel like that's definitely one thing that's a bit lost in translation.

Also in jp I feel like the times he's NOT polite stand out way more. Giorno spends the whole white album fight speaking to Mista in perfect keigo, life or death situation but he is still conjugating those verbs! But at the very start of part 5 he quite rudely tells the girls bothering him to "get lost" lmao

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

there is no moral value in reading fast and there's also no moral value in reading slowly. people who read slowly aren't automatically/necessarily reading more thoroughly and thoughtfully than people who read quickly, and at the same time reading is not a race. some people read fast because that's how their brains work; some people read slowly because that's how THEIR brains work. some fast readers are getting deep into analysis and close reading and some slow readers are just along for the ride and not thinking too hard. these are both equally valid and valuable ways of engaging with books

and nobody should shame anybody else for reading slowly but also if i see one more post that suggests people who read quickly only read meaningless garbage (your elitism is showing btw) and lack reading comprehension, i will start blocking people. it's just bullshit, and it's weird judgy bullshit at that. some people have jobs in books where reading hundreds of books a year is part of it. some people are academics. some people are bedridden or isolated and trust me you get through a lot of books when you're stuck in your room alone for days. and some people love the books you consider garbage and they're just having fun passing the time with light fiction that isn't too brain intensive and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that either, because reading can be a form of relaxation and doesn't always have to be an ~intellectual challenge~ to be worth doing, actually

[emily-mooon]

Scott Pilgrim Characters as Text Posts but they’re mostly of Stacey and Neil cause I’m obsessed with them :]

[morgana-ren]

Mate, if you unironically say things like 'corn' instead of porn, 'spicy time' or 'smex' instead of sex, or anything like 'unalive' on here, you're probably too young or emotionally immature to be engaging in any sort of content or conversations around those topics.

[grapefruittwostep]

I tried very hard on Sealskin Katara with her Tang Dynasty nonsense and the lighting killed me. I need to lie down forerver

[balkanradfem]

Do you ever think about how sad and messed up it is to grow up in this world as a little girl who likes to read. Because you are a child, and you don't get that there's a difference in who writes the books, you read everything you like, you read the adventures and the fantasy and the mysteries and the traumatic stuff and if you're also very isolated and lonely, these books build your worldview. Because why wouldn't they? They're written by humans, so they have the attitudes, opinions, perceptions, morals and spirits of human beings in them, they're telling you what humans think and feel about things, how they go about situations, what they imagine, what they desire. What your role in all this is, or what it could potentially be.

But, since you are not capable of differentiating the material, and you just read what is available to you, you end up reading a lot of books written by m*n. You also have to go thru the required reading at school - 90% written by m*n. And so slowly, since young age, without even socializing or learning it thru interaction, you find yourself in a world shaped by minds who do not have empathy for women, especially not for little girls. You find yourself relating to the male protagonists, but you also find out that girls only play a passive role in their stories. You find that m*n problems are centered, made important, their suffering and violence critical points in the story, while women are cast aside as helpers, servants, givers, caretakers, and generally just exist in the background, not a thought given to what they are going thru.

You learn thru books written by m*n, that your experience is secondary. Even if you cast yourself as the adventuring, immensely important and struggling protagonist, even then the other women in your mind end up being just background characters, caregivers who do not need a thought spared for their suffering.

Books written by m*n, even for children, will trivialize female suffering to the point where they shape the child's mind into one that looks at the world from a male perspective. Where women either don't matter, or are capable only of giving and aiding, to be cast aside for more important matters, such as male aspirations for their own lives.

Thinking back, I understand why I felt myself unimportant and trivial in any social setting - I understood my role from the written word, and I knew adults found me trivial, secondary, only a background figure to someone else's adventure or mission. As much as I could fight it in my fantasies, and make myself the main character, it felt like a pipe dream, like something that was incredible self-indulged and selfish and would never translate to reality.

I wish it had been different. I wish I had been introduced specifically and only to books written by women, for women. I wish I had found empathy for myself in those books. I wish I had found myself standing on high ground, equal ground, with other women, our desires centered, our lives translated into tales of epic importance - because that's what they are. I wish I had been born into a world where female perspective is available from the start, not after years of growing up and finding feminist literature and having to re-write my own role in my brain, from all of those years of reading male perspective as the default.

I don't think any little girl should be exposed to literature that shape her world as a place where she doesn't matter. I don't think books written by males and shaped by their worldview should be allowed into children's literature, or teenage or for young adults. Girls should not be learning from fiction that their most important value is empathy and understanding for male problems, and their second, to be desired and/or helpful to them, all while being treated as nothing but service and background noise until you're desired for something. We need to open books and find out that we matter too. That our lives can be the center of our existence, rather than being in the service of someone else's life.

[betaruga]

hey arnold shortakiweek day 4 - stoop lyrics by genesis

[deadpanwalking]

you may have addressed this in the past, but i am pretty sure i'm too dumb to read james joyce. how do you improve your reading comprehension? i'd like to move beyond the nyt bestseller list, but going from stephen king to faulkner seems like a steep jump.

Nobody is too dumb to read a book, but plenty of people have been conditioned into perpetual incuriosity.  The only way to improve reading comprehension is by reading outside of your comfort zone, which necessarily means letting go of the notion that the relationship between an artist and their audience is adversarial, and that a challenging work of art is booby-trapped with mean tricks designed to make you feel bad.

What do you do when you run into a word or concept that you don't immediately understand in the wild? You don't (I fervently hope) drop what you're reading like a hot potato—you keep reading to see if there’s clarification, and if there's none, you find a reliable source that gives you the definition, context, and examples, then circle back. What do you do when you're watching a movie you haven't seen before and the camera lingers on a random detail, or a character makes an inexplicable choice? Unless you are my dad, you give the story a chance to play out before asking what the deuce is going on. 

Faulkner and Joyce aren't cyphers, which is why their short fiction is a standard in the public high school English curriculum, and As I Lay Dying and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man are frequently assigned to juniors and seniors in AP classes—but even their denser writing is more accessible now than it's ever been. Over the past century, so many people have loved them enough to devote their lives to studying their work—and they’ve passed the savings down to you. They’ve written annotations that explain literary, historical, and biographical context and that's aligned with the pagination of the books, they’ve integrated hyperlinks into the hypertext.

There's exactly one (1) acceptable excuse not to read Faulkner or Joyce: not wanting to read Faulkner or Joyce.  You don't even need to give them a chance—millions of people (among them, many prolific and intelligent readers) have and will continue to live rich, meaningful lives after deciding that a particular book or author is simply not a priority, even if the author is famous and the book highly recommended by several friends who wear glasses.

If you can parse this passage from Pet Sematary, you can parse just about anything Joyce throws at you:

[bardicious]

The cute Damian + familial bits of DC vs Vampires: Hunters, you're welcome.