#upsetting to them both.

[laylanatorseventeen]

man I just read about the Helen Keller Plagiarism Incident

(long story short, 11 year old Helen wrote a short story as a birthday gift to a beloved mentor at Perkins School for the Blind, he published it, turns out it was very similar to a previously published story, they put poor Helen on blast for it and she lost her mentor's friendship and had to leave Perkins)

and I cannot believe the nerve. A little eleven year old girl writes a story to a trusted adult, HE makes the decision to publish it, and the child and Annie Sullivan are questioned and punished??? Disgraceful.

It's apparently also the reason Helen Keller never tried writing fiction again which is a damn shame. Not only is it bad to crush any child's fledgling creativity, but she also had such a unique perspective on the world. I think her contributions would have been very valuable and engrossing.

[shivunin]

Because I have just seen this specific thing for the second time, I would like to say:

If I reblog your art, I do not expect you to reblog (or share!) my fic in return

If I comment on your fic, I do not expect you to comment on (or read!) mine in return

My enjoyment of anyone's work does not come with strings or expectations

My friendship is not a bill that you will have to pay later

That's it!

[lucabyte]

sometimes everything just sucks real real real bad

[monotcchi]

Illustrations of Laios and Marcille for Studio TRIGGER's official Youtube channel video on the announcement of Dungeon Meshi's theatrical pre-screening

[thesummerestsolstice]

Elvish art genre that definitely exists in Middle-Earth: the captivity of Elrond and Elros (mostly just Elrond, especially after Elros dies)

The paintings– done mostly, but not always, by Sindarin and anti-Feanorian Noldor artists– are usually studies in contrast– Elrond as the bright, innocent child dressed in white; often portrayed as a small, frightened elfling, frozen at the moment he was taken from Sirion. Sometimes he is shown bravely resisting the cruelty of the Feanorians, other times he mourns for Sirion, or bows and prays to the gods for deliverance. Sometimes, he's given wings, both to stress his connection with Luthien and Elwing and to make him look more angelic and pure in comparison to the fallen Feanorians.

Maedhros and Maglor are the dark monsters the oath made them, with teeth, and claws, and harsh armor. Some of the more daring artists just portray Maedhros as an actual orc. While few of the paintings actually show the Feanorians' crimes, they're often portrayed with blood on their hands or swords, or simply surrounded by fire and destruction. They often demand, or threaten in the pictures, towering over Elrond and casting long shadows on him.

There's a few different sub-genres of these paintings. The ones that explicitly compare Elrond's situation to Luthien's kidnapping by Celegorm. The ones that feature a grateful Elrond being saved from the horrible Feanorians by whoever the artist is looking to valorize– Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Oropher, Eonwe, etc. The ones that show Elrond, locked in a dark cell, staring longingly out at Gil-Estel rising in the night sky. Some of the strangest are the ones that draw connections between the Silmarils being kept in Morgoth's crown and the twins– often with Maedhros playing the role of Morgoth.

Elrond hates almost all of these paintings. He feels like they take away his ability to define his past the way he wants to– to tell his own story. Most of them are grossly inaccurate, but most people don't know that, and dredging up all those really painful memories to try and correct people's assumption is hard. Sometimes, even when he does, people won't listen. Some of the paintings also seem... weirdly gleeful about the idea that Elrond suffered because of the Feanorians? Like they're trying to martyr him even though he's alive, and doesn't want to be martyred. It all makes him really, really uncomfortable.

There is one exception. It's not a very traditional example of captivity paintings. Elrond is at the center of the frame, shown not as a small child but as a young adult. Maglor and Maedhros are mostly unseen in the background, each with a bloody hand on one of Elrond's shoulders. Unlike the other paintings, instead of looking off into the distance or staring demurely at the ground, Elrond is looking straight out at the viewer His expression is hard to place. Anger? Acceptance? Defiance? Pity? Accusation? It's a very odd picture that unsettles almost everyone that look at it.

Elrond insists on hanging it in Rivendell.

[gloaming-sometimes]

dear lesboy (and tbh any other nuanced identity) exclusionists who think your vein of thought is the majority in queer spaces id like to inform you that today at lunch with my (entirely queer) friend group the topic drifted to me being a butch lesbian and one friend goes "wait i thought you were a guy?" and i said "i am" and another friend interjected "dudes can be lesbians too" and that was that. no further probing about my identity, nohing about how im "invalidating transmen and lesbians", or whatever. everyone just accepted that thats how i identify and i dont owe an explanation for it and moved on. i promise u its not that deep 👍

[ibrithir-was-here]

Sooo I wrote a…weird little thing, a certain comic by @mayhemchicken-artblog got my creative juices percolating and under the press of staying up far too late for several days this came to fruition, enjoy!

The Eye of the Beholder

Link to the Comic

[zivazivc]

the morning (afternoon?) after this messy stunt. Floyd got off too easy in my opinion, but it's hard for Les to stay mad at him when he makes those sad pouting faces... 🤦

If you think Floyd's being really dumb at the start of this comic before getting a reality check, you have to take into account that he's madly lovesick and was feeling very smug atm; he's also a 15yo pop troll who thinks making out with someone means they're together now; and he assumed Les's sour mood was entirely the result of a nasty hangover...

P.S. They forgot about Hed lol (I almost forgot about him too, drew him just before posting lmao)

[ink-the-artist]

holy shit I did NOT realize how popular my "I will remove my teeth, for I want to remain kind despite my anger" quote is. I just googled it for fun to see what would come up, a bunch of people are quoting it not knowing who its from, an artist called Kuma made an album titled that, so bizzare

[himemeiya]

Oh yes, they both reached for the gun... [x/x]

[bixels]

I'm not getting into The Giving Tree discourse...

[hyunpic]

hyunibini ♡

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Monty, finding a bag full of shiny jewels on the ground: Oooh pretty

Monty *gives bag to Edwin*

Edwin, blushing: Oh wow, Monty, this is really nice of you...

-Across town-

Cat King, sobbing: WHERE ARE MY FUCKING JEWELS????

[lucabyte]

Hmmm just gonna spit this headcanon out in text post form since A. I don't think I could exposit it well enough in image form and B. It's not actually textually/thematically substantiated and I don't like actually staking my stuff on just vibes alone*

But anyway. I'd say it's pretty evident that all the islanders forgot their names, right? King obviously. Because why the hell else would he do that, but also Siffrin No Middle Names No Last Name.

They're 'pretty sure' they've 'always' been 'Just Siffrin' 'as long as they can remember'. It's a pretty cruel twist of the knife to say that they don't even get to keep their birth name as a memento, which is why I'm saying as such.

My utterly unsubstantiated claim is I think it'd be cute to say that Sisyphus *is* the name Siffrin initially picked, assuming the myth of King Sisyphus is recontextualised as idk, just a play or something in the setting. But I like the idea of Siffrin going 'oh shit 🫵 he's just like me fr' at a tortured fictional character long before the irony kicks in.

As for how Sisyphus -> Siffrin. I think that chronic mumbler and emotional doormat Sif just did not correct people who misheard the name during their time travelling, and went through enough places with incompatible phonologies (pronounceable sounds in the language) without ever really writing it down that it just got kinda. Changed until it was unrecognisable, and Siffrin just went with it until the earlier pronunciations slipped out of their swiss-cheese brain. And they just kinda don't remember any of that.

Also, something something the horrid realisation that Siffrin also named themselves after a King. Just not as blatantly.

*(though I think there's something here about Siffrin, a guy from a belief system that seems to thoroughly disincentivise autonomy and self-motivated choice continuously having their hand forced to make changes/choices they don't want but have no choice but to... It's not solid enough to really back this up tbh, but it informs it.)

Anyway.

[haveihitanerve]

Bruce makes it in time to get to Jason. But… is it enough to save him?

“Master Bruce-“ “I’m almost there Alfred.” Bruce bites back, almost breaking his wrist by how hard he twists the motorcycle accelerator. And he is. He can see the warehouse. Bruce lands, not even bothering to slow, leaping off the bike as it crashes into the trees and he sprints for the doors, terrified he’ll make it too late, that he won’t be fast enough for his son. The door slams open, Bruce not even bothering to check if it’s locked or not, just plowing it down, and hurries inside, spotting his son within a moment. Jason opens his eyes in surprise, mouth curving to form a perfect O. “Br- Batman.” He whispers, voice hoarse with disbelief. Bruce rushes to his side, cupping his cheek, cradling the boy- his boy, to his chest. “Jay. Jay bird. Jaylad. Hey firecracker. Hey bud.” Jason’s eyes fill with tears and Bruce does his best to wipe them away, to press a kiss to his son's forehead. “You came.” Jason whispers, tears clogging his throat. “Of course baby.” Bruce murmurs, rocking back and forth. “Of course I came, baby. I will always come for you. Always.” He presses another kiss to Jason’s head. “I love you son. I love you, I love you, I love you.” “I love you too-“ Jason rasps, but his eyes catch something on the wall behind him. “Dad, wait- the bomb-“ the explosion shakes the very earth, and Gotham seems to curl in on herself, screaming with a pain and rage that is unimaginable. In a basement cave in the middle of Gotham, a butler's hands go cold. A man, wearing a blue mask a city over, suddenly feels a chill sweep over him, and something inside him, probably his heart, feels like it’s been torn in two.

Their bodies are found, or at least what’s left of them, two days later, the larger man wrapped almost completely around the smaller, cradling his boy to his chest. Nightwing almost beats Joker to death and is only stopped by three others, all of which seem just as inclined to kill him, but resist. Gotham mourns, earthquakes shaking the ground, warehouses crumbling to dust, and Joker is found drowned in the harbor, the fishes whisper of a presence so old and strong even the biggest fish feared her, and Aquaman shudders. Gothamites mourn their fallen Prince and his adopted son, but Gotham mourns her prodigal sons, her children, her oldest and youngest, and cradles the last survivor to her chest, cloaking him in shadows and gifting him all the things she did not give the others, the things she thought they wouldn’t need so long as they had each other, the things she had not yet granted them ready for. She drapes them over the young, jaded hero, gifting him sight and smell and sound, allowing him to control her shadows and her streets and most of all… gifting him flight, the way his namesake first claimed, the way her firstborn child and her youngest were never able to. The Vulture takes to the Gotham skyline like a moth to open flames, perhaps a little less withdrawn with his punches, perhaps a little more protective of young boys, but belonging to Gotham all the same. The Joker stole something from her, and she will never allow it to happen again. The Vulture gains followers, friends, the Starling, the Goldfinch, the Owl, the Crow, the Cardinal, and Robin, all under Gothams protection, and she has him watch, from his watery prison, as they protect her, defend their city from the ilk like him, not giving in to their rage and revenge, but helping, rebuilding Gotham in his image. Their image. The man who saw hope, and his son. Batman and Robin.

(In case it was unclear, the three people pulling dick away from Joker are Babs, Kate and Luke, and then the Vulture is dick, and his friends, in order as listed, are Stephanie, Duke, Babs, Cass, Tim, and Damian. Also Gotham does kill Joker because she knows dick cannot but she also keeps him half alive, suspended in time, destined to drown for all eternity and watch as the bats succeed in honor of Batman the man he fought against.)

[raviola-triggers]

Role swap AU designs (and some minor details about them) inspired by this post right here that got me brainrotting for the past five hours.