#Don't know what to do with it

[captainsweet]

I keep forgetting about this :sob:

Anyway, random drabbles with edgy titles I didn't feel like changing.

(TW! IMPLIED EMOTIONAL ABUSE AND PARENTIFICATION.)

(IT'S NOT GRAPHIC WHATSOEVER, BUT PLEASE KEEP YOUR COMFORTABILITY IN MIND REGARDLESS.)

These were also made during various stages of being half asleep so sorry if I don't make a single lick of sense lmao

|| Unknown Means to an End || AU: ITERATION LOE || MAIN CHARACTER: Dove ||

There was one thing he always knew no matter what.

He was her little Dove, she loved him, cared for him, saw him as her child for a couple of years. After all, he was a genius, a natural one at that, and he was useful.

Dove was useful, and Mama would love him as long as he'd continue to be.

That was fine though, he loved being with her, he loved the scarf she made him, loved the Dove pins even more. He loved the fact his Mama was considerate enough to get him glasses, considerate enough to let him meet people, to let him play, to let him eat, to let him be happy, to let him exist.

She was so nice to him, allowed him to breathe, to still be around, to let him help his twin brother.

Mama was always so sweet.

She was the reason Dove was alive, that Dove could get his little Mik walking again, that Dove was so happy to simply exist and breathe and be alive. She gave him that luxury, and he shouldn't take it for granted.

So, Dove made himself useful. He would be a good Turtledove for her, and she would give him what he needed to make his family happy.

No more Dad going out for days for food, sometimes coming back empty handed just because he was that worried. No more of his twin staring at them longly as they ran around or simply ate breakfast. No more tears flowing after Leo accidentally broke Raf's arm again.

No more pain, and maybe one day, no more hiding.

But that wasn't now. So all Dove had to do was be a good picture perfect son, and his family would be happy again.

|| There Comes a Time || AU: ITERATION LOE || MAIN CHARACTER: Dove ||

There comes a time where you have to stop holding onto the words of your parents and discover the truth for yourself. A time where you are finally no longer being coddled. A time where you are forced to be just like they were, but better.

And it fucking sucks. Dove can attest to that.

Except this wasn't his father, no, this was his own mother. He dreaded the thought of following in her footsteps, he dreaded it more than the day he lost his Mom, his real one, and he just knew he couldn't do it.

He has a family, people to look after, and he would've left long ago if being in this position didn't give him the chance to save his sibling. His Twin at that, and he'd rather endure this torture and life day by day than have to lose them.

Any of them.

So he stayed silent. He kept to his role of Perfect Son while grieving his Mom, and missing his family. He listened to whatever his Mother requested, gave her what she wanted tenfold and hoped to god it would be enough that she'd stay quiet when he left.

If there's one thing that always stays true, it's that no matter how much of a genius you are as a child, you're still a dumb and naïve kid.

Why would she ever let go of him when she has seen his potential? When she's seen how capable he is? If Dove knew that it mattered, he would've been just as useless as his Mom warned him to be, but he knew he was special, and he was desperate.

It didn't matter. When it came time to go, she had said no. She wanted him to stay, had cried faux tears over a child that was only briefly hers, had whined about losing the only person she had left.

And if there's one thing everyone knows, it's that no matter what, you always have to listen to your Mother.

|| Making Do With What You Have || AU: Robots, Robots, and– Oh! More Robots. (RROMR) || MAIN CHARACTER: Frida ||

She didn’t know what to think when her mother walked in with a little boy. She didn’t even know how to begin to process it when she was told that same little boy was just a robot. A nice little deal someone owed her mother as always.

He was silent, and freaky, and always smiling, and Frida didn't like him. Not at first at least.

If there was one thing clear, it was that he was supposed to replicate someone, but it was not a good job whatsoever. He was supposed to be the leader, he hardly said two words to her, and he seemed to look down on her in a way.

It was only the first time they fought that she realized, that they realized, he wouldn't compare.

It hardly took five moves before he was down, and even less than that the second time. He was made to be talented, but a robot can only compare so much to true years of training and work, even if it's booted in their brain.

That day.. was also when his look completely changed towards her. He didn't talk more, but he practically had stars in his eyes whenever she was around him. It was pathetic, and it showed just how utterly weak he was, how less than, how much better Frida was of a soldier.

And she cared for him.

Not because she wanted to, oh god no, but it was because of how utterly useless he was. He wasn't better than her, he provided no new ideas, no tactics, nothing. He was designed to be a leader, just like her other was, but he couldn't even compare to the turtle before, even if he was probably dead and died as just a baby.

He was a pathetic excuse of a remake and nothing more, but.. Frida could make him better. He was a hunk of metal that didn't matter, but they wouldn't get rid of him. She even got grounded for suggesting so! If that was going to be it, she was going to make him better. Make him worthy of being around her and working for her mother.

To be claimed as her mothers son. To call this robot her other, her brother at that.

He may be an empty shell now, but she would make him oh so much more than ever thought possible.

[cartoonus-maximus]

Oh, and I have polls now!

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[hinamie]

10 years later

[fleshadept]

looking at (vetted) gofundmes for people trying to escape palestine and i don't know how many of you actually click on the gofundme links you reblog but i would like to point out, for what it's worth, just how amazing it is that so many have raised so much money. it may overall feel like a drop in the ocean but the fact that several gofundmes have raised tens of thousands of dollars is amazing. it is so expensive to leave gaza right now, and people still need money after they escape. but regardless of what propaganda the US, UK, canada, and other western nations are trying to pump out, people across the world are doing what they can to help these people survive. many of them are still very far from their goals (like this one and this one and this one) and some of them are very close to high goals (like this one), and some of them have reached almost double their original goal.

and that's not even addressing direct aid or organizations that take continuous donations for distribution of food, menstrual products, etc. the PCRF has raised $16,000,000 of their target goal of $20,000,000 to fund current aid and long-term relief efforts in gaza. ANERA's febuary 13th update discusses the material ways they helped palestinians today:

(ANERA donate link)

my point is, it often feels like the world is turning a blind eye to palestine. but i would like to point out that there is an important difference between "the world" and "western political leaders and media narratives". a breathtaking amount of real people, the people who make up the world, are trying to help. in the face of israel attempting to commit genocide, the world is saying No. These people deserve to live. and literally sending millions of dollars internationally, through the internet connection that israel has desperately been trying to destroy.

it may not feel like it matters in the grand scheme of things. but to the people who get fresh clothes, or a hot meal, or blankets, or the kids who get new toys, or to the people who are able to bring their families to safety, it matters to them. go make someone's day better. i've linked so many options with ways to do that.

[medli20]

Garfield Meshi

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[jerich0two]

Surprise! It's not Hazbin Hotel, shock horror... but happy pride month! I like this Mordecai headcanon (edit: I've since been told that it's canon!)

[maeamian]

Part of the reason that Republicans are so desperately acting like they will never lose again is because they are deeply terrified that this is their last real chance to win. The big orange dipshit came in and gutted the party of everyone who wasn't a loyalist, which left it full of nasty little gremlins who have gaping voids where charisma and human decency is supposed to go.

They still hold a lot of power, but if we stop them this year the next presidential election may not be the Most Important One Of Your Life™, that's not a guarantee or anything, but if they don't win here and now their future looks grim, this dipshit is the only guy they have left and he's extremely diminished and has his brains leaking out of his ears at this point. We can beat him into the ground.

So that's what we're gonna fucking do. We're gonna break these fucking fash. They will crash upon us and we're gonna break their fucking necks. When they come for us they will lose because they're fucking losers and we have each other's backs which is something they fundamentally are incapable of comprehending.

[seven-oh-four]

I'm still pretty new to chess, can anyone tell me what I'm supposed to do if my opponent plays the Eight Fucking Bears opening? I'm really having trouble.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[brainrotcharacters]

the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.