#posting quite a lot recently...

[feimaosalmon]

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story

[cyberendlessdragon]

old mizakai armor designs.

[humming-fly]

Theatre Kid (Derogatory)

[dailyhtfboards]

Day 92

Today’s board is:

Happy 4/20 to all who celebrate it.

(From TV episode 8B, Chew Said a Mouthful)

[redbootsindoriath]

Well, that's the end of the queue. Thanks for joining me as I completely derailed the blog theme for a couple of weeks.

Once again, apologies for the low percentage of Tolkien content. As I said before, I still love the Middle Earth legendarium, I just haven't drawn much from it lately. (I also somehow missed the notifications for Fëanorian Week so...that didn't happen either. It's not the first time I've missed it, but still I was over here going "oh whoops".)

Transcription:

[Beleg:] "Did you notice how none of us was in even a single post?" [Túrin:] "I did notice that." [Third Age Finrod:] "I wonder what we did wrong..."

[crunchycrystals]

ok so like a lot of the stuff i've seen about the ending of painted devils seems to say "sad that vanja can't remember the lesson she learned throughout the book" but i'd argue she does. she knows that she's worthy of love, that the people around her care about her. it's just a bit harder to accept because of her trauma but she knows it. she leaves not because she thinks she's unworthy of love, but because she knows she has it but the system doesn't make it easy for people like her to love and be loved.

the system perpetuating poverty is the reason why she became a thief and now it refuses to let her forget that this is who she is. see kirkling (literally used as an example of what im talking about when vanja runs away), always unfairly harsh to vanja but immune to the consequences of her bias because she's retired. and now she loves someone who wants to be a prefect, someone who is going into that very system to try and improve it, but it's still the same thing. the loopholes are still there and one day someone worse will exploit it to ruin emeric's life, prevent him from saving others from her fate, and she cares about him and those girls like her too much to let that happen

the book says that it's one thing to know something but another thing to believe it. in the same vein, it's one thing to know what you want, it's one thing to know you are loved, believe you are loved, but it's a completely different thing to be allowed to pursue that want or love. vanja and emeric don't have that freedom. gisele didn't have that freedom until vanja broke the leadership system in minkja, but no one's breaking the system for vanja. not yet at least.

[whumpsical]

Applebee's

contents: addiction, past trauma, alcohol cravings, encountering a trigger, whumpee in recovery

Jian has new friends <3 and support from some old ones <3

June 2023

Taglist!! @yet-another-heathen @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary @softmutt444

🍰🍰🍰

It would just be one drink. Normal people could have a drink every now and then. It wasn't a problem. It wasn't dangerous.

Jian tapped his fingertips against his Pepsi, antsy. He tried to focus on the frigid condensation collecting on his skin. Think about anything else.

And. He had a very good support system. They wouldn't let him take it too far. One silly cocktail at a fucking Applebee's wouldn't wreck his life. He wouldn't even feel it.

With a cold, wet fingernail, Jian zeroed in on a ridge in the glass, obsessively rubbing at it with small, quick movements, staring at nothing as he tried to suffocate the most reasonable-sounding voice in his head so far.

He wasn't some out of control maniac. He was perfectly capable of having just one drink with his friends. And it wouldn't kill him. It literally wouldn't even harm him. It wasn't the deadly poison he was trying to convince himself it was.

"—Jian. Hey. Jian." Chela poked his left bicep, almost-gently prodding him from his trance. She kept her voice graciously low-key, but damn, the girl jabbed him hard enough to bruise. "You good? What's goin' on up there?"

"Ow. Bitch," Jian spat with no venom, rubbing his arm with an icy hand. He'd fallen out of loop with the table conversation, Wes and Trish recounting a college tale with players he'd never heard of. He must have zoned out for a minute. "I'm fine, there's nothing—" he vaguely gestured to his skull, "—uh, nothing going on up there."

"You sure?"

"For sure." Neither of them were fooled for a second. Chela squeezed his hand beneath the table.

"Okay. But if you do need anything—" Chela raised her eyebrows and let the offer hang in the air before patting his thigh and turning back to the conversation. Jian felt a bit lighter, almost forgetting what had been bringing him down in the first place, until his gaze landed again on the little laminated cocktail menu at the center of the table.

Hm. Right.

He wasn't usually like this. He could do restaurants, he could even do bars, it was no big deal. He found it remarkably easy to be around drunk people without feeling the pull.

But this time he felt cornered, like something was prodding at him, nudging between his shoulder blades, making him fidgety and anxious, making his palms sweat and his heart race.

"Hey, um, actually," Jian caught Chela's attention, much more gently than she'd gotten his. She didn't look surprised to turn back around so soon. "I'm gonna go outside for a sec."

"Want me to come with?"

"Could you?"

Chela nodded, and they excused themselves from the table with next to no fuss, waving off mildly concerned comments. Jian let go of a tense breath when his, "It's fine, I'll be back," really was all it took to pacify the group that was never going to be hostile to him in the first place. It was still a trip getting used to being trusted with his own head.

Wading through the modest weekend crowd toward the exit, the repetitive chorus of Rihanna's "We Found Love" danced over the muddy noise of several tables' overlapping conversations, stronger and fainter and stronger again as Jian and Chela passed between speakers on their way out. Jian couldn't sift through the rushing noise of his own brain enough to pin down what he was actually feeling, but he could tell that song was at the center of it.

The music still carried on the cool wind when they opened the door, even more speakers piping the restaurant radio onto the empty patio for any customers who may have been waiting outside. The failed escape from the noise lit a spark of nervousness and irritation in Jian's chest, but at least out here he could remind himself to breathe, and there would be no one watching him while he made the effort.

The darkening sky was clear and the air was still and warm. Jian sat at a black iron bench and Chela joined him, leaning back and crossing her legs at the ankles.

"So, whatchya got?" Chela asked. Ever impatient, even in her most helpful moods. Jian leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, and tried not to snap at her for it.

"Gimme a minute." Getting his voice to land on a neutral tone was an accomplishment. His throat strained with the effort.

"Do what you gotta do, my dude."

What he had to do, apparently, was turn off his brain and let the song play out. He spent the final forty seconds of it with his eyes shut against his palms. Beside him, Chela's restless energy was growing with every passing moment, though her charmingly dykeish chivalry kept her from pushing.

"I haven't heard that song in ages," Jian said when it finally faded out and the restaurant's 2000s pop mix rolled onward, "Paparazzi" by Lady Gaga up next. "They used to play that one a lot when I was on the scene, you remember that?" He wiped his hands down his face, forgetting the smear of glitter he'd applied for their night out, until he saw some of it on his palms. "Shit."

Chela laughed, then checked his cheeks and waved him off. "Still looks good, babe. You wanna talk? Is it sober stuff?"

"Yeah. God, this shit is embarrassing."

"Jian. I literally caught your leg when it fell off the ride at Six Flags."

"That was funny-cute embarrassing. This is sad embarrassing."

"We both know I've been around for plenty of that, too," she said, the humor dropping from her voice for a moment, like his leg had done from that damn ride. "And I love you anyway, remember? So, come on. Spill." Her voice skipped easily back towards levity, a cheesy TV detective creeping into her tone.

She never really meant to do that. Normally Jian would laugh with her about it, but tonight he just sighed, rubbing sweat and glitter onto his jeans. Even just that familiar duo of substances was making more bright flickers of vague, unwanted memories pop into his head like flashbulbs. Papa-paparazzi.

He remembered the grit of it, glitter scraping his skin raw as he melted into the heat and violence of the crowds, like he could dissolve away into the strobe lights. He could still feel the sugary grime clinging to his fingers, after all these years.

He remembered loving it. He remembered the ease of it, of genuinely not giving a shit about where any given night took him. He remembered the catch and release.

"They sat us right by the fucking bar," Jian said, his voice rising to a frustrated growl, the hot steam that had been covertly building in his chest since the beginning of the night finally finding a crack to hiss out of. He immediately tried to smother it again, pressing duct tape over the tiny break in his composure. He forced a deeper breath. When he spoke again, his tone was quiet but bitchy. "Plus, Wes and his endless supply of stories from fucking college. What am I supposed to do with that? He was taking Psych 101 while I was, you know, being the fucked up case study."

"Pssht, leave him alone. It's not about Wes. You like Wes."

"I don't. He's an—"

"You li-ike Wes." Chela drew it out this time, nudging Jian's shoulder and giving him a wink. "You want to be his fucked up little case study."

Jian rolled his eyes, then shot her a glare. "That's, like, actually not funny, Chela," he said, scowling to her playful smirk. "Swear to god, one of these days he's going to piss me off at a bad time and I'm going to punch him in the mouth."

"Yeah, okay, whatever," Chela said breezily. "So, you're being a cunt because Applebee's is pelting you with teen angst from all sides. That's rough. Wanna go somewhere else? You know we'd be down to find another spot if you asked."

Jian took a breath. Fine, maybe he was being a cunt, but Wes' unrelenting goodness and sunshine still made his fucking ears ring.

That wire of delicately suppressed bitchiness was still strung tight in Jian's chest, but he was trying to gently loosen it to something more suited to a casual night out with his new friends. It was hard enough to arrange a night where they were all free to meet up. He didn't want to spend it rotting beneath the cold, queasy shadow that followed him whenever his mind wandered more than a couple years backwards.

His body knew exactly what it was. His mind just didn't want to admit it, even to himself, so he was left with nothing but those painful echoes. If stuffing up that blind spot with drugs and alcohol wasn't an option anymore, he'd still rather redirect all that rage and heartbreak to the nearest innocent target than actually try to uncover it himself.

He remembered loving it. He remembered the freedom that came with disavowing fear.

He never had to face it before.

Chela squeezed Jian's arm when the silence became unbearable for her. When Jian looked up, he realized that tears had begun budding in his eyes. He hadn't even felt it happening.

"Babe, you know that, right?" Chela asked, still holding Jian's arm. He didn't mind the anchor. "No one's gonna be upset if you wanna go somewhere else. Honestly, Jian. We all support you."

"No, no, I know. It's okay. It's, um . . ." Jian swallowed. He felt like he was on the edge of a horrible betrayal, even just admitting how little progress he'd actually made in digging himself out of this particular hole. He couldn't even fucking face it. "I just needed a little break from things— the music, the bar, fucking Wes." He caught himself, a bit too late, and leaned back with an aggravated sigh. "Sorry, I'm being a cunt again."

"Yeah. Yeah, you are," Chela said, laughing at him. "But that's, like, okay, you know?" Her relative levity worked loose some of the painful hooks dragging Jian downward, and he took a couple more slow breaths of cool evening air.

He didn't have to face anything right now. He just wanted to have a night out with his new friends.

Something in him was still so resistant to even meeting new people that the constant struggle of reminding himself that he might actually be safe around this little group was exhausting him. He was out of practice, as far as trust went.

But these people were different than what he knew. This was nothing like North Carolina, nothing like the streets, nothing like the suburbs. Not everyone wanted him dead. Not everyone wanted him to suffer.

"I don't want to leave," Jian said into the silence. He didn't know exactly where the conviction was coming from, but it felt right.

"Okay."

"But . . . I don't know, I . . . You know," Jian floundered, shifting his weight on the bench. "I don't want to be a cunt for the rest of the night."

Chela blinked a couple times. "Do you wanna get a drink?" she asked.

"Um. Yeah, I do. That's, like, the problem?" Jian stuttered, successfully stupefied.

"No, I mean, like," Chela said, smacking Jian's thigh and laughing. "You could get that blue shark drink or something. I know you like those. Just get it virgin."

"What did you just call me?"

Chela smacked him again. He was going to end up with bruises by the end of the night if she kept this up.

"Shush, you fucking dweeb."

Jian cracked a smile, and quieted down.

"I know it's not gonna fix everything," Chela continued. "But you can still be part of the fun drinks club without drinking. You're not even the only sober one here today. I'll get one, too. What are you worried about, that we'll think you're lame? We already know you're lame."

"You're really good at pep talks, did you know that?"

"I do my best."

It was . . . an option. He couldn't deny that.

No, it wouldn't fix everything. It might not even work, might make him feel worse. But trying was probably better than sulking out here and getting picked on by mosquitoes while the rest of the group was happily chattering inside.

As Jian considered what havoc a Shirley Temple would unleash in his stomach, he noticed the sick weight inside of him had actually lifted some. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. It was an option.

It wasn't what his body was accustomed to demanding. He'd still feel the pain of that denial.

"I . . . I can't promise that I won't still be, like, kind of a bitch. When we go back in. I'll try, but . . . You know."

"Jian," Chela laughed, and more of the weight slipped away. "I'd only be worried if you ever stopped being a total bitch."

————

The sound of chattering diners bathed them in a different, busier kind of warmth than the stillness of early summer outside. Serenading their slightly awkward trek back to the table was "Super Bass" by Nicki Minaj. All of it together, the noise and busy energy of this place, sent Jian's skin tingling in a milder version of that existence-numbing buzz he'd spent his life seeking years ago. In his modern era, the tactile reminder made him feel more uneasy and pissy than untethered and free.

But he had options now.

The two of them were greeted with excitement when they returned to the table. No one asked where they'd been or what had taken them so long. Before Jian had even settled back into his spot at the end of the cushioned bench, Trish was championing for a retelling of the Six Flags story.

[mad-scientist-council]

I respect Mike Mignola in the way that he invented a character for almost the sole purpose of putting him in situations. Sure yeah there’s the underlying narrative of nature versus nurture in conjunction with the true depth of free will available to anyone who navigates the complex and winding path of life, but LOOK‼️ Hellboy is FIGHTING a BIG SNAKE LADY in an OLD AND RUINED CASTLE❗️‼️❗️‼️ FUCK YES❗️‼️❗️‼️‼️

[naomiknight-17]

Saw a poll going around asking how many first cousins you have and uh. I literally do not know

One of my mom's brothers had 2 kids, one of whom is still alive. She has another brother who never had kids

Then she has THIRTEEN HALF SIBLINGS that we only found out about a few years ago. I know some of them have kids. I have no idea how many

I'd have to go through everyone's Facebooks and count

Ain't nobody got time for that

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

another piracy headcanon bc i am very tired but want to talk about things:

i know p!saus mentions leaving his shirt more and more unbuttoned and his chest more open as the series goes on, but i think he just doesn't button it anymore after his arm got turned to stone

partially due to the aforementioned canonical foregoing of classiness, but also because logistically speaking, buttoning your shirt is kind of hard when one of your arms is made of stone now

[crayzdyaln]

The difference between my two anti-social oc’s! A little informational post. I need to get me a damn computer to write all this stuff down on, but instead I type like a madman with my two fat thumbs. Good god this is a long post of just ramblings.

Other people (Some people) in Bullworth academy typically carry the misconception that Marcus is just a shy, or a socially awkward person… or just an asshole… ok that one is a little more true. It’s an easy assumption to make from an outside perspective, if he’s never spoken to you. Given his avoidance towards any social interaction possible… But, while some bits and pieces of that are true, it’s not the case.

Marcus’ anti-social personality comes from something that runs deeper than just regular introvert ‘tendencies’. A judgmental and typically pessimistic outlook on society comes almost naturally to him.

So, what I wanted to say with this, is that with his non-existent need to be involved in social situations, his distaste for others, it comes from social anhedonia. Well, some form of it. Which, is typically seen as the opposite of social anxiety when it comes to the anti-social side of things. People who usually have social anhedonia don’t feel emotionally attached to regular, everyday social interactions, so they don’t feel the need to worry about how they are perceived, while social anxiety disorders revolve more around those aspects. (I am no psychologist obviously! just a guy who loves looking into these things. so if this stuff is wonky, i apologize 😭.)

Social Anhedonia can come from a lot of different sources, usually from more paranoid disorders. Like, i’ve mentioned Marcy has OCD before, which can correlate to schizotypal behaviors/personality disorders.

Marcus doesn’t think everyone is against him, no, not really. But, his biggest fear is just that. His lengths of paranoia don’t go as far as Gary’s, but that’s probably just because he is a medicated man.—

And, despite what some people gossip about, Marcus does care for people. Big shocker. He has a thing where he could feel lots of empathy for someone or none at all—it all just depends on the person.

Alright… now that THAT freak is disclosed, i’m gonna talk a little about Vohn.

So, like what i said earlier about Marcus and social anhedonia, Vohn would be kind of the opposite spectrum of that. His issues kind of focus more around anxieties. Is it a crazy shock that he has social anxiety?

It’s basically that, except that it just ties into something else, because social anxiety and anxiety in general can create a whole path full of social struggles in the end. This ‘struggle’ for him is primarily AVPD, which is avoidant personality disorder. It usually occurs in people who feel insecure in social situations, being somewhat related to social anxiety more than just social anhedonia.

Vohn is the opposite of Marcy, he actually wants more social interaction, he wishes he was more open. He sees the world around him more positively than he actually puts out, well— sorta. He thinks (knows) that putting himself in more social situations would be good for him. To him, it’s better to get to know the people he’s around before he can’t.

Vohn feels things much deeper than Marcus, and it’s not that Marcus doesn’t feel— he just has a more black and white way of thinking when he handles his own emotions. While Vohn likes to think and talk through them. Or, he’ll take some creative liberties and express his stuggles through art. Even if it doesn’t come out like he wants.

[retros-artandstuff]

vriska + a transmasc dave doodle

[sporco-filth]

Good shit as always with slob city. Reverse manners always gets me going, the idea that belching and farting and other slobbish habits are polite and not doing them is rude is soooo good. Kinda wonder if they put up PSA posters around the city reminding folks about "good" behavior.

The lazy app is great as well, something tells me that Lee is going to be hitting alot of goals the longer he stays in slob city.

they wouldn't have posters or stuff purely because it's such an ingrained behaviour and it just comes naturally to let it out anyway, so if no one corrects you you're not gonna hold it in (sorry if that's disappointing but you can go ahead and imagine they do since nothing I write will contradict that).

I didn't explain this in the story becauseI forgot/thought it was self-evident, but the reason why not burping after a meal is especially rude is because they consider burping a sign you've enjoyed your meal. So if you purposefully choose to not burp, you are very explicitly saying you thought the food was bad. And it's like, a really really serious insult.

I'm not quite sure if not farting would be seen as equally rude, but farting in and of itself is often a sort of way to show affection and how comfortable and close you are, so by not doing it you're being kind of cold and distant to people. burping is viewed similarly, btw

and yes, the app. It might just be the thing that finally pushes him to give in completely. literally everything around him is encouraging him and now even his phone is telling him to be lazier

I have a feeling I might be getting to the end of the 'main story' of Slob City, if only because I expect it'll be a pretty swift descent to slobdom from here on. but as always, the end of a story doesn't mean I can't reuse the setting and characters. And if you're after more stories of people becoming slobs, then I've got plenty new stories on the cards

[growinguparo]

Hi! I just wanted to jump in and say thank you, because your blog has actually helped me a lot recently. I read your post from a while back (like a WHILE, 4ish years ago) about the aro/ace future and what that looks like as we get older. I’ve been coming to terms on and off in the past few years about how averse I am to relationships and dating, and with the fact that really don’t care if I’m single for the rest of my life. But you very nearly articulated the main concern: what happens when everyone else is wrapped up in their marriages and their families I am truly alone? I’m still not sure that the aromantic identity is accurate for me, but it feels pretty close and so thank you, again, for opening this world up to me and putting words to my feelings. :)

Aww thank you for telling me!! 💚

I still feel the way I did when I wrote that post, although it occupies less of my brainspace than it used to. However, I will take this opportunity to talk about the big thing in my social life that changed since 2020: I dove hard into my local community. Any local community will do I think, but the main one for me was my local trans community. I was also in a community music ensemble, I spent a couple years in a survivor support group, and I went to local queer events. I valued those communities highly enough that they were the main reason I was upset to be moving to a new city.

Community made a huge difference for me. I wasn’t really friends with any of them exactly (like I rarely hung out with any of them outside of whatever thing we had together), and community definitely doesn’t occupy the same niche of social requirements as friends or a partner. But it HELPS. It helps with social support, feeling connected to other people, having regular social interaction, and (crucially imo) meeting people who are older than you in a peer environment instead of one where they are of higher status than you.

I know so many trans people in their 30s, 40s, 50s, even 70s, from my local trans community - variously single, married, divorced, multiply divorced, dating, polyamorous, nonamorous, etc. It really broadened my view of what people older than me are actually doing in real life, not just what the twenty-somethings around me anticipate they will be doing when they are that age. People who are like me too, queer transgender people who will never fit the conventional narrative. It enriched my life in a way I wasn’t expecting.

I still don’t know what an aroace future looks like and it’s still scary but at least now I know that mine will include local communities and that I can get a fair amount of the social fulfillment I’m seeking from them.

[freakinator]

man icb the only times mutinyduo have ever managed to genuinely get along is when theyre both alone and powerless