bobtheacorn

[bobtheacorn]

not to sound like a christian facebook mom but some of yall need to have grace in your hearts for the people in your lives or the people you pass once on the road and never see again like you literally need to stop assuming the worst of everyone and their intentions it is poisoning your brain. you can be careful and responsible without being a miserable person. it is possible i promise

[bobtheacorn]

The struggle of finding good clothes

[bobtheacorn]

Takin a nap

[bobtheacorn]

when people act like Large Beverages are the thing thats wrong with america as if thats not the only thing keeping me from driving off a cliff... ohhhh Those greedy americans slonking away at their Large Beverages. we're literally all working in the hamburger mine to afford rock and roll disc . Beverage is all we have

[bobtheacorn]

This part made me giggle a little too hard ngl

[bobtheacorn]

[bobtheacorn]

(a commission by an anon!) The boys !! look at them, all happy. And not dead and/or traumatized. <3

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Commission Info

[bobtheacorn]

I think like. The thing I keep coming back to about the Murderbot show is that I cannot remember ever seeing another tv show give an “Oh” moment to platonic love.

But my god, when Murderbot shows Mensah Sanctuary Moon to help with her panic attack. You see her look at it, and you see her realize…

Yes, she has been thinking of Murderbot as a person, that’s why she went back for it at the DeltFall habitat. But it’s all been very theoretical—the way you might help a stranger up if they fall, but that doesn’t mean you want to get to know them. It doesn’t mean you’ve reckoned with their interiority.

But as Murderbot murmurs, “Breathe, breathe, breathe the crystal light” to itself, you see it all click into place for Ayda Mensah.

This terror she’s experiencing? All-consuming and confusing and soul-crushing? SecUnit has felt this. And it had to face it alone—not just in the sense that there has never been anyone to offer it comfort, but in the sense that no one even thought that it—it as an entity, it as a being capable of fear—exists.

So it found this show. And Mensah has been so pissed at it for potentially getting them all killed because it thought a stupid fucking soap opera mattered, but oh, oh, oh fuck, this show is the only thing in the universe that has ever given it comfort. This show has offered it context and escapism and asked for nothing in return. It absolutely is critical matériel.

And that brings her to now, to herself, to herself and Murderbot. This person next to her, who she is technically in possession of, who has had to claw and scrape for even a thimbleful of peace, who was only able to protect that peace by never ever ever letting anyone know it existed. She and her team have ripped away its impossibly precious privacy, exposed its secrets… and here it is handing her part of its soul anyway, because in this moment she needs it.

Because it knows what it’s like to be scared and alone, and does not want her to feel that way.

And so she falls in love, and you get to watch it happen.

My ace ass has a lot of messy feelings about love and the way it appears on screen. Few things have hit me as hard as getting to witness the exact moment Dr. Ayda Mensah’s soul met Murderbot’s and decided it was home.

[bobtheacorn]

still not over the fact that zoro and luffy officially modeled for gucci

[bobtheacorn]

While we’re talking about censorship, I need everyone to stop playing this little amnesia game where we pretend not to remember what internet and fandom has looked like for the past 20 years. Weird and taboo porn has always existed, it used to be a LOT easier to access, and you won’t die if you look at it. We simply cannot continue placating the crazy mob of people who are scared of sex and love overstating harm, they’ll call you a pedophile literally no matter what, and they’ll roll around in their cognitive dissonance like a hog in mud when you point out that the other group calling you a freak and a pedo are the conservative alt right. Fucking exhausting being a fag and a pervert in 2025.

[bobtheacorn]

i do think a lot of implausible medieval plot devices make more sense when considering the fact that these people simply did not have glasses

[bobtheacorn]

eyes

[bobtheacorn]

those caitvi kinktober rules going around on twitter are insane im still thinking about them. the no transmasc depictions already tell me everything i need to know but depiction of aftercare required? no dub con of any kind?? explicit consent before during and after sex??? man dont run a kinktober event then

[bobtheacorn]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[bobtheacorn]

You better believe I’m back to drawing some more Raph >: ) But this time, it’s baby dino Raph time. His Saturdays are sacred and everyone knows. He even gets special permission to use Donnie’s computer 👀

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IDK if Minecraft looked like this back then (or even existed at this age) but you know what whatever

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Also!! Total props and credit for this adorable idea from @dina-lani 🥺💕

[bobtheacorn]

KPOP DEMON HUNTERS (2025)

[bobtheacorn]

The Two They Left Behind