#this time I was lucky
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lonelylonelyghost · 6 months ago
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By the way, for like 0.5 people who are interested, I found this little creepy song from ep.19 of Spirealm, in the door about the Drum and the Sisters
It's by United Idol, called A Tỷ Cổ (阿姐鼓), "Sister's Drum" I think
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There are Vietnamese subs and pinyin though no English, but you can translate it yourself because I'm lazy and it's kind of spoiler I think
Edit: OK, I changed my mind, so here's a transcript and translation (I used google translate so apologies for any mistakes)
月升起 雨 落下 Yuè shēng qǐ yǔ luòxià) 阿姐不說話 ā jiě bù shuōhuà) 銀髮釵 yínfà chāi 白臉頰 bái liǎnjiá 身上开紅花 shēnshang kāi hónghuā 咚咚咚咚咚咚 dōng dōng dōng dōng dōng dōng 阿姐在説話 ā jiě zài shuōhuà 不要怕,不要怕 bùyào pà, bùyào pà 不要忘了她 bùyào wàngle tā
The moon rises up
And the rain falls down
The sister is silent
Silver hairpin
White cheeks
Red flowers blooming on her body
Dong dong dong dong dong dong
Sister is talking now
Don't be afraid, don't be afraid
don't forget about her
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bluerasbunny · 4 months ago
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he's just concerned for your safety
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Yeah, I don't know about you, Fidds, but I'd fold at this 🙏
Previous!!
Next!!
First!!
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stil-lindigo · 9 months ago
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ARTISTS FOR PALESTINE 🇵🇸 - On the 6th and 9th of March, I'll be doing art requests on stream with other notable artists to raise money for Operation Olive Branch and the PCRF.
I'm incredibly lucky to be counting quite a few big names in the roster, including known Jesus and Odysseus enthusiast @wolfythewitch, the extraordinary fanartist @denimcatfish, and the incredibly talented @troubledminnesotan, as well as Lilypichu from OfflineTV.
You'll be able to watch the streams on the day of the event either on my twitch channel here, or via the links provided by the artists below.
Lilypichu
Cuptoast
Akairosu_
Sevvanto
Wolfythewitch
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curioscurio · 1 year ago
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I'm rewatching Steven Universe and I will never forgive Fandom for what it did to her
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mythicalcoolkid · 4 months ago
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You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side
#m/cc#mine#I tried extremely hard to word this nicely because I KNOW people don't mean bad and often even know there are unique challenges#and believe me I know the challenges of invisible disability too!!#I have invisible disabilities!#but as someone who has also been at least visibly 'off' since they were 10 I am SO SICK of invisible disabilities being hailed as like#a unique extra oppression that us lucky visibly disabled people don't have to deal with#there are challenges to invisible disabilities that visibly disabled people DON'T have to deal with!#but you need to understand that *the reverse is also true*#there are MASSIVE benefits to being able to lie about your disability for example#or not dealing with the overt ableism that comes with your disability being obvious to everyone#*I do not have the option to pretend I'm not disabled.* that is never an option I have#I walk weirdly. I use a mobility aid now. my speech and face are 'off.' I lean to one side#for a long time I wore sunglasses 24/7 and often didn't make sense. I sometimes can't speak or won't react to others#for the most part people will always know that at the very least something is wrong with me#and more obviously I have people telling me they'll pray for me; telling me I can't do things I'm already in the process of doing;#wanting to shake my hand to tell me I'm an inspiration for not killing myself; giving me dirty looks for existing in public#and yes. I'm aware that this is very much an in-community issue. I know the average abled person doesn't know invisible disabilities exist#that's why there's so much awareness happening for it#but as a visibly disabled person I get SO TIRED of constantly hearing 'I wish my disability was visible :'('#it's just 'I wish I had your disability!' but from other disabled people
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souphamsters · 1 month ago
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I've been hopelessly fixated on drawing one (1) sweetheart butchfemme couple ... they're all I think abt ... HELP !!!
(silly lesbian ocs that I love , chae🍓and lucky🍋!!!)
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uncanny-tranny · 1 year ago
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The leftism/anticapitalism leaving people's bodies the zeptosecond you imply that disabled people who aren't "productive" still matter in society and need to be treated like intrinsic equals who have a place in this world:
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dozydawn · 1 year ago
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Grandmaster Marta Przeździecka Bartel.
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i vote that next year instead of reading Dracula we do a Jeeves & Wooster Book Club. those two never got the rabid tumblr shipping fandom they deserved (disqualified for the sheer technicality of being published a century too soon). we must correct this injustice
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lazylittledragon · 2 months ago
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ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????
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Part 2/2
By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.
In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.
So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.
When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.
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He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.
The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.
The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.
It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.
And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.
However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.
Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:
Children.
Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.
Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.
They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.
It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.
When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:
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Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.
Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.
"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.
Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.
He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.
Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.
He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.
Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.
He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.
He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.
"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.
He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.
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All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?
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hyolks · 4 months ago
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overgrowth
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ktkat99 · 3 months ago
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Slightly Crack Batfam AU
Duke, shortly after being adopted, finds an old demon summoning circle burned into the floor under a rug in one of the rooms.
That, combined with some of the literature he finds laying around, leads him to conclude that someone in his new family is secretly a demon and he starts trying to figure out who.
Could it be Bruce, the literal demon of the night?
Dick, who bends and flips effortlessly in ways no normal human could?
Jason seems the most likely, as he climbed out of his own grave, but to be fair, he'd never actually seen Tim sleep.
And then there was Damian.
He never would have guessed that the demon is actually Alfred, summoned by a desperate, distraught Bruce the night of his parents' deaths.
Originally, their deal was just for Alfred to help Bruce get his revenge.
The reason he stuck around, though?
He realized he needed to make sure that Bruce and his collection of equally crazy orphans stayed OUT of the afterlife (and therefore AWAY from the throne of hell, which he has no doubt someone would eventually take) and decided to stay on as their oddly perfect butler.
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teaboot · 7 days ago
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If you can't make your own dopamine, receiving detailed and positive comments on your fanfiction is fine
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elvyn · 1 year ago
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Idk I just wanted to draw him with long hair
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