“I think it’s more realistic if I depict my werewolves without tails”
Okay jackass, how are they gonna stim then???? What will they hug when they’re nervous??? What will they wagwag when they’re so happy they can’t help it??? What is even the POINT?????
“more realistic if they don’t have tails”, yeah all right Pol Pot, suck more joy out of the world why don’t you
G-D I LOVE RESPONSES LIKE THIS! Really puts me in my place and shows how much of a saint you are...
P.S. Fun fact: Did you know that the Chinese government recently deemed Muslims or practicing Islam as a "mental illness"? I'm not joking... Go ask them.
Israel has done no such thing.. yet look how they are demonised for being "the bad guy". They house 2 million Arabs (most of whom are practcing Muslims, and they dare not tear down the Dome of the Rock)... and yet are attacked and called an apartheid. Give me a break.
Just wanted to redraw a few screenshots and then I got awfully carried away
ꜜ Close uuuups ꜜ
I was going to apologize for always being part of weird fandoms.
I was thinkng to myself "wow you really do have shit tastes in fiction" but then I figured out
It's not that I don't enjoy good fiction, I have recently binge watched all of Mamoru Hosoda's movies, which are all really brilliant.
But here's the thing, I watch it, I go "yup, that was great" and then I'm satisfied with myself and I never talk about it ever again
You know what has gotten me to yap and rant for the past 12 years of my life though ?
Total Drama.
And all things considered : The reboot was alright !
"This seems," Dick points out, mild with sleep deprivation, "Like a bad idea."
"I think it's a great idea," Jason says, because he is twelve, and thinks that ghost hunting is grand adventure and not, like, tedious grunt work spent fumbling around in the dark.
Dick thinks. He makes an executive Older Kid Decision (gross) and snatches the spirit box out of Jason's hands before the kid can spirit it away (ha). "No ghosts."
"Come on!" Jason whines, peeved. He jumps, and he tries to climb up Dick's Gotham U sweater— but Dick came by his height honestly, and no shrimp malnutritioned preteen is going to make Dick give in and tussle with ghosts at three in the morning.
"No," Dick snaps, arm raised higher. The preteen is unlatched with a hand to the chest and an aggressive push with his foot. Jason grooooans, as if this is the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to a preteen, ever. "If you want to fight ghosts, wait until B is back and bother him. I need four hours sleep and an un-haunted family wing during finals week. Get out and go harass ghosts on your own time."
Jason sours like an unripe lemon. "Motherfucker," he whispers under his breath, as both the worst word he knows and as if Dick has never heard swearing before.
"Pussy," agrees the spirit box.
"Shut up," Dick decides, deciding to ignore everything that isn't a nap and his econ essay. "Or I'll send you to wake Alfred about it and tell him about your desperate need."
And then, before the ghost can chime in: "Both of you."
Jason, reasonably pale, scatters. Hopefully the teen takes the ghost with him. Dick resolves to ignore any future repercussions of whatever that was; his essay is due this upcoming noon hour, and Dick is going to wreck the class's v-shaped bell curve even if it kills him.
Maybe it was his smile. That big, goofy, absolutely ridiculous, shit-eating grin. Maybe it was his hands. Soft, with the ability to show intense love, and to take a life, cold and brutal. Perhaps it was his body, lanky and almost frail, yet incredibly powerful and so much stronger than hers.
~
It was in fact his eyes. For a man with focus on everything, be it the enemy with a sword against his throat or even a random cute girl on the street, he saw her. He didn't look past her. She existed in his eyes. And it was everything, to both of them.
I am bleeding out of my heart constantly constantly and I am staining everything and everyone
And I keep bleeding and keep wondering why everyone is always greeting me with a wince, angling themselves to avoid the worst of my mess, and leaving pulling wet and ruined shirts away from their bodies
and I keep wondering why I always feel a little empty on the inside
And I have to keep reminding myself it’s because you’re bleeding yoire bleeding you’re bleeding and there’s a special place where it all goes which is down the drain when they wash the red from their hands and you cant forget that you are just too much. You’re bleeding out of your heart all the time and you’re ruining everyone’s clothes
And I’m trying I swear. I’m trying to pull away from hugs faster and make only the lightest touches. Im trying to stay inside in my room where the only things I can ruin are my own sheets, and certainly no one cares if I stain those. I’m still marred by my own impermanence and unimportance and I just get desperate sometimes and you're always cold when your insides keep seeping out of your like they also just can't wait to get away