#People are smart on here

[bixels]

Just gonna have to wait and see, right? Just wait and see! Just gotta wait and see! Who knows, we'll just have to wait and see! It's anybody's guess, we'll just have to wait and see! The future is exciting, we just gotta wait and see!

[nonasbirthday]

Clear as mud! But I expect nothing less from a Homestuck 🫡

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 198

Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly. 

But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance? 

So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever. 

He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib. 

Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib. 

Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway? 

His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest. 

“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring? 

Oh. 

He wasn’t human this time around. 

[turrondeluxe]

[dustteller]

Honestly, the most shocking part of the plagiarism accusations is not even the plagiarism itself. I knew people plagiarized stuff, even if I didn't know who. The most shocking part is sheer lack of opinions.

I don't understand. You are interested enough by a subject that you read so much material to plagiarize, but for some reason, during this entire process, you do not form A Thought? Not a single one? I have opinions about the shit the people in front of me in the plane are talking about! I can not imagine actively consuming a significant amount of content and not having three times as many opinions!!! What is your brain! Are you a lizard??? What the heck is going on up there?? Do you lack the joy of Pondering and Considering and Creating????? I kinda just thought those were inherent human traits!

[vitasexualiiis]

poor fukuzawa is soooo out of his element with these two???

there's no way between mori, dazai, and ranpo he doesn't feel like a stone cold dumbass like 75% of the time even though he'd otherwise be the smartest person in the room.

[blackbatcass]

the thing about dickroy is it’s at this delicious little cross section where roy harper loves dick grayson so much his chest is going to explode one of these days AND ALSO is physically incapable of taking any of dick’s bullshit.

[eric-the-bmo]

Actually: it frustrates me how with characters that have high intelligence or charisma, the player of said character is expected to also be able to be clever or charismatic or what-have-you in the moment. I wish I could elaborate my thoughts on this but alas, I cannot.

[kay-selfships]

me clicking “not interested” on a post about a canon x canon ship involving my f/o knowing full well it doesn’t do anything

[thisonelikesaliens]

An appreciation post for the Unknown fandom:

To the gifmakers: thank you for putting in the time and effort to create such beautiful gifs that help me relive my favorite moments of the show.

To the big brains: thank you for the in-depth analyses in body language/color theory/cinematography/character development and other areas that I typically overlook. Your eye for detail and ability to connect those details into poetic eloquence have made me appreciate the show even more. (This includes those of you who write essays in tags, just dropping insightful gems like it's no big deal. I see you and appreciate you.)

Thank you all for making the past 2 months such an enjoyable experience.

[nonasbirthday]

Memes for when you are reading Harrow the Ninth for the first time and have no idea what is going on:

i love being part of a fandom with so many smart people who can predict plot twists and make connections in the text, BUT

i need a little representation for those of us who had a blank screen with a loading bar running in our brains for the entirety of Harrow the Ninth!!!

[image IDs in alt text]

bonus for Nona:

[blade-that-was-broken]

“Hey Clay?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I know you don’t really like to talk about your older bro-...” 

“Did he call again? Ignore it, he’ll stop. Honestly, he should know better by now,” Clay grumbled, not looking up from his project. Last week, Bruce had called him, out of the blue. It had been a weird phone call, acting as if the last several years didn’t happen. As if Bruce didn’t just pick up and move across the country the moment he could, leaving the rest of them to their mother.

He knew he was holding a ridiculous grudge. It had been years. And Clay might have gotten over it eventually, if Bruce hadn’t replaced them with his perfect family. He barely stayed in contact - even with the brothers who weren’t as mad at him. Branch had been young when Bruce left, barely six years old. Clay wasn’t a whole ton better but at least Branch knew him to an extent. Branch at least knew his favorite color. Clay doubted Branch knew the first thing about Bruce. 

“He… he’s here.” 

Bruce wouldn’t leave his resort and his wife and well, now his kids. It was like he expected everyone to pick up and go visit him just because he lived on an exotic island or whatever. As if Clay didn’t have responsibilities or Floyd wasn’t constantly traveling. As if it was so easy for Grandma to leave the house and fly across the country. Bruce barely called and he never, ever visited - much less out of the blue like this. 

Clay stopped and looked up, his head swiveling around to look back at his best friend. Her curly blonde hair was wrapped up in a messy ponytail, which was fairly normal, but the uncertain and awkward expression on her face was definitely not the norm for her. “What?” he asked, shocked. 

She nodded. “Yeah. There is a guy down in the courtyard. He said he’s your older brother.” 

Clay shook his head. Bruce would never leave his precious wife and resort to visit him, especially when he knew how much Clay was upset with him. Had been for years. Honestly, aside from one phone call a week or two ago, Clay hadn’t really heard from him in years. Clay could have chalked it up to Bruce just knowing that he was angry with him for abandoning him - them - with their mother the first moment he could, but he barely kept in contact with Floyd and Branch as well. And they didn’t hold the hard feelings that Clay did. Not that Clay was much better; he didn’t talk to any of his brothers much either. 

“There is no way,” he protested with a huff, rolling his eyes. She must be mistaken, there was no other option. “He’s never made a trip out here. He would never leave his resort. What is he doing out here?” Viva hesitated, glancing away, which was very strange for her. She was very straightforward and easily excitable. Clay felt his brow furrow a little. “Viva…” 

“He’s not… like how you said.” 

He just sighed and took a deep breath. Bruce definitely had a way with people; he always had. Granted, Clay probably painted him in mostly a crappy light, due to the fact that whenever the subject did come up - which was extremely rare - it was not often positive. Clay had a lot of anger and probably a lot of resentment. It was a work in progress. “Look, Viv. I know he’s easy to believe. He seems soooooo friendly and charming that you want to just swoon or whatever. He’s got that effect on people but…” 

“No.” 

“No?” Clay asked, confused. She said it so strong, so flat, so sure and Clay wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

“Clay… he’s not like that at all. He was actually really quiet and awkward and super uncertain but held him with some kind of…rigidness? At least as much as he could,” Viva looked uncomfortable, like she had seen something she really didn’t like. He wasn’t sure what that was about. At the moment, he was more hung up on the description which did not sound like Bruce at all. 

He scoffed. “Bruce?” 

“He didn’t say that was his name,” Viva continued, still uncertain, glancing towards the window. “But you only have one older brother right?” 

Clay blinked and his whole world came to a standstill. “I….” 

“Clay?”

Older brothers. 

There was no way, though. He hadn’t heard anything from him since their parent’s divorce and when he was practically dragged away almost kicking and screaming. Clay barely remembered it; he tried not to. Everyone had been crying but Branch’s screaming, going along with everyone else's tears kind of drowned everything out. It hadn’t been a pretty memory and Clay avoided thinking about it. Coupling that with his mother’s systematic way of erasing anything that evoked him or their father from their house and their lives, it only took a few years for everyone to stop considering them entirely. 

His eyes widened. There was no way. There was no way it was possible. 

Clay didn’t even think. He bolted out the door, not even bothering to strip off his lab coat. There was no way. It had been at least fifteen years. What were the chances? After fifteen years? There was no way. 

He had to be sure. 

Making his way down to the courtyard, with Viva shouting after him, he scanned the area upon slamming the doors open. It had been a decade and a half. He had no idea what to look for anymore. They had all changed. 

“He’s by the fountain, sitting on the stone wall,” Viva supplied. 

That helped. He made his way over, still looking over the area until he spotted a more middle aged guy with short hair and bandages on his arm. When he looked, Viva nudged him, giving him the sign that who she had talked to was him. Definitely not Bruce. 

He looked over at Clay and recognized him, suddenly nervous. Clay just stared. That was all he could really muster up to do. “Uh… hi, Clay. I know you might not really remember me but…” 

Clay didn’t say a word at first, just launching himself at his big brother, knocking him into the grass behind in a hug. He clearly wasn’t expecting it but he took to the action pretty quickly, wrapping his arms around Clay’s back for support and to keep him from being tossed around. 

“John Dory.” 

Clay couldn’t remember the last time he thought of him, much less said his name out loud. He hated that. His eyes were squeezed shut, just soaking up the firm grasp his oldest - his oldest - brother had on him. He had so much to say and so many questions but only one happened to come out. It had been fifteen years and now John Dory just showed up out of the blue. 

“How did…how did you find me?”

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. There was a lot he wanted to say and do but his mouth had run off with him, questioning so much that he really didn’t actually care the answers to. Because he was here. After fifteen years. 

“Bruce told me.” 

Clay shifted slightly. “B-Bruce?” He supposed it might have been easier to find a resort owner before some crazy older college student. Although Clay felt like he had his name out there more than his other older brother, as he had written papers and had been featured in several journals. Although it might not have been in things John might have looked through. They could be pretty niche. 

“I…” John tensed a little and hesitated. “He found me. The hospital found him, I guess? They found him and called him. I’ve been staying with him for my recovery.” 

Clay’s heart dropped as he pulled away, trying to assess. He scrambled off his brother, stepping back. “Your what?” 

John grimaced. 

Viva nudged his shoulder and spoke quietly. “Clay.” 

Clay’s eyes were drawn downward. Sure, there were bandages on his arm but John’s grip didn’t seem to be very weak so he doubted that would be so debilitating and honestly, his legs seemed fi-… where was his leg? 

“W-Where is your leg?” 

“Sudan… I think?” 

Clay just stared. 

“Right, sorry. Kinda dark humor there,” John muttered, sitting up a little more. “I was… I have been, I guess, in the military for a while. Over ten years I guess, uhm… it’s a long story. But some stuff happened, my arm got kinda burned up but it’ll be okay. Head got banged around a bit but that should be fine too. The biggest thing was my leg which… well, that ended my military career pretttyyyy quick. The hospital found Bruce and yeah, I’ve been staying with him but…. I wanted to see you. Needed to see you.” 

There was a pause. 

“Sorry, that was… that was a lot of words.” 

“When Bruce called…” Clay drifted off in realization. Bruce had called to tell Clay about John. 

“He didn’t want to freak you out.” 

“But I hung up.” 

John nodded. “Bruce didn’t really tell me anything about what happened with you guys or anything but I just… I bought a plane ticket and well, here I am.” 

Here he was. 

“Does Bruce even know you’re here?” Clay asked, uncertainly. With John’s state, it probably meant that Bruce was kind of taking care of him, which meant he was in charge of his welfare and health. John was still on leg crutches and probably couldn’t get around super well. It couldn’t have been that long since it happened. 

John snorted. “I am a grown man.” 

“Missing a leg!” 

“So?” John asked, his nose wrinkling. Clay almost felt like he had been slapped. Floyd and Branch did the same thing. “I knew a guy who lost both and guess what? He lives alone. Does just fine.” 

“He’s probably freaking out.”

“Bruce? Probably.”

“Then why are you here?” 

John tried not to look hurt. He would have done a great job too, if he hadn’t looked away. It was a telltale sign and Clay noticed. He didn’t even realize what he had said and how it came out until it was too late. He cursed himself; he didn’t want John to think he didn’t want him here. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen years, Clay. No matter how much time passes or what happens, I love you.” 

Shit. 

“Clay… he’s so cute,” Viva sniffled. “You never told me-” 

“That I existed?” John guessed, making Clay cringe. “That seems to be an ongoing theme.” 

“JD, I just…” he didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t have any excuse, really. He could blame a lot on his mother but that felt wrong to say to him. There wasn’t any real excuse that would make anyone feel better. 

“It’s alright,” John replied, although Clay could tell there was some struggle. Which made sense. No one wanted to feel forgotten by loved ones. Especially not the ones still alive. “Bruce didn’t tell his kids I existed either. I’m getting over it.” 

He shouldn’t have to get over it, Clay thought. He shouldn’t have had to do any of it. He should have spent the last fifteen years with them. He should have been there for birthdays, for their graduations, for their important moments. He should have been there when Bruce got married. For Floyd’s first show. For Clay’s best college awards. Bruce’s kids should have known their uncle their entire life, not just now and so forth. 

“She’s dead, our mother,” Clay said, blandly. He blamed her a lot, for pretty much everything. Not the divorce itself; that was both of them, but for cutting them off from his brother. For forcing his name to never be spoken. For erasing his memory. It was one thing to keep them away from their father, although Clay didn’t like that either, but to keep them away from their older brother was unforgivable for him. 

“So is dad. Over ten years.”

Ten years. Over even. John lost his family, became an adult and lost his father. No wonder he joined the military. 

“Six.” 

“I tried looking for you,” John promised, like it was something he had to convince Clay of. Like he didn’t want Clay to think that he didn’t try. It wasn’t meant to make Clay feel worse and Clay knew it but it did anyway. Because Clay hadn’t. He hadn’t looked. He hadn’t even considered it. “Before joining the military. After too, a little, I suppose. I’m no detective I guess.” 

Clay just stared at him. Did he think…?

“I know…” John frowned again. “I know you’re mad at Bruce but I can’t… I… Clay, I want to be…to have… to be in some part of your life and I just…” 

“I’m not mad at you.” 

Clay hated the almost hopeful look that John stared at him with. It was a expression that screamed he wasn’t expecting this reaction. “You… aren’t?”  

“No. Of course not. Our parents were petty and bitter and it is all their fault. JD, you never… you didn’t abandon anyone. Dad took you away and mom decided to try and erase that part of her life. Have you blamed yourself this whole time? For years?” 

“No, no, I just… I don’t want you to think I stayed away or something.” 

“I believe you,” Clay promised. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”

[thatruerealmwalker]

"Sometimes... When I look at the other kids playing around, unaware if what's happening here... My Stomach Hurts..."

"When one of those Toys is Near... My legs Scream at me to RUN..."

"When night comes... and the Workers look over me while I try and sleep... My eyes threaten to Cry..."

"BUT I CAN'T... I can't show that anything is wrong, That I know..."

"I'll change my chosen toy all the time, be average on every test they give me, speak nothing of what I know..."

"I'll stall for as long as I can, buy myself as much time as possible. I'll learn every weakness, every flaw, of both this factory and those horrible Toys. I'll get stronger, faster, smarter, as much as possible without anyone catching on. I'll prepare as much as I can, for every fight, every route, every danger..." "So when the time comes..."

"I'll GET OUT OF HERE"

Hello there! This is William, a young orphan within the walls of Playcare, a new OC I made for Poppy Playtime! Specifically William was inspired by and somewhat considered an OC of the blog @realizinau and their wonderful work over there! (Hello!)

William is a kid who knows far, FAR to much then he should. Aware of what the toys really are, aware of what their doing to children like him, and aware that he is not safe within Playcare.

If someone were to ask him about something in the factory, he would most likely know, but would never dare even entertain answering those questions. He knows that one wrong step, one target on his back is enough to get him selected next... so he stays as average as he can, shows himself to be not soon-to-be toy material. He has it down to a science at this point, and he won't risk his life, not yet, not for a damn question.

He considers every toy in the Factory to be both horrifying and the highest threat to his survival and chances at leaving one day. He avoids and dances around them when he can, and recites literal self made mantras of every weakness and every way to harm or escape the toy in question he knows about within his head while around them if he can't (due to not being able to write anything incriminating down). Several times in a panicked state because he doesn't have the tools and weapons on him to follow any plan he has.

He is afraid of the Smiling Critters the most for the fact that he sees them and interacts with them every day, thus being the highest risk to him. After every interaction there is a chance he may genuinely puke in the nearest bathroom from his fear getting hold of him. He silently prays that they never take notice of him, or god forbid take interest in him and spend more time then normal around him. He would wear the most perfect mask while interacting with them but be screaming his Mantras internally while mentally holding a cross, especially around Catnap (due to his red smoke) (not sure if the Realizing Au has Catnap with his red smoke still, so if not he would most likely consider Bubba the most dangerous of the critters).

William's core desire is to leave the factory and never look back. He, when he is at least 80% sure he can get away with it (it used to be higher but he's getting desperate) gathers as much information as he can, about the layout, systems, patrols, anything to give him an edge when the time of his escape comes. He has also been able to make very small stashes of makeshift tools, weapons, and items around Playcare, all either to help him escape or fight back against a Toy should he need to. The most dangerous is a Flare hand he smuggled off of a GrabPack once, which almost got him caught.

William is at the point where he genuinely does not value any life inside the Factory other then his own, and would not hesitate to kill a staff worker or Toy should he have to. Again, nothing matters to William other then getting out... but that could change depending on events to come.

I'll be throwing some more stuff of William up later, but I absolutely tore my hand up drawing all this today. Hope you enjoyed!

[statementlou]

So I see folks pointing out that Louis' circle A tattoo is more likely an aesthetic choice than an announcement of a political commitment to anarchism, and saying basically that that maybe makes him a bit of a poser and I mean- I GUESS. But I don't like to look at things that way and I don't think it's useful. As I see it the subversive sexiness of the symbols of resistance have ALWAYS been gateways for people who are drawn to the struggle in vague ways and that's GOOD. Aligning yourself with those values is good no matter the reason, in my book, especially given the wretched options available out there, but also the journey doesn't necessarily stop there. Gatekeeping queerness victimizes people who are just trying things out and starting to discover that it may run deeper than just trying on a new look who should instead be welcomed and helped along their path, and I fail to see how gatekeeping political affiliations is any different (plus how counterproductive to actual movement building is that?)

ANYWAY. What I really want to say about Louis is that while I KNOW that Louis is probably not secretly a theory reading anti-state communalist anarchist, I think that actually Louis' optimism and idealism (and his unwavering commitment to allying himself with the working class and embracing those roots) are a perfect fit for the philosophy and always have been. I know that anarchism is mostly understood as being about throwing molotov cocktails and fighting the state (and the allure of its symbols are that they signify this, a terrific aesthetic for him to choose to sign on with in my book), but that's honestly largely cartoonish stereotyping that comes directly from anti-anarchist state propaganda. That resistance is necessary in this hellscape of oppression we live in and is super important, but in its heart anarchism is only about the state in that the state and capitalism currently stands in the way of its goals. The whole point of anarchism is that it's NOT about the state! It's about being able to imagine something better than a state, it's about how we live and about how we SHOULD live, it's about HOPE and picturing something utopian and something free of the ways capitalism pits us against one another! What could be more Louis than that?

"I need you and you need me and I love that" is as beautiful a way of talking about the cornerstone of anarchism that is mutual aid as any long winded essay I've read (even if what he meant was contextually different), and I think when he talks again and again about how special the space fans have made around him is he is expressing an intuitive understanding of the importance of autonomous zones, places and moments outside of the shitty life imposed on us by the system (also a huge part of anarchist thought). Maybe I'm just being an optimist but I think that Louis DOES understand that caring for people and wanting self-determination and freedom for all and allying himself with the working class involves a certain amount of resistance to and positioning yourself in opposition to the state. Thinking the symbols of smashing that state are cool isn't meaningless; it's a CHOICE. There are other cool symbols out there and I just happen to think that feeling a resonance with certain ones is something in and of itself, even if at this moment he does not choose to start a fight with the media about it all.

[corrodedcoughin]

Eddie and Steve pronouncing ufo ‘oofo’ just to annoy Dustin

-Steve, Eddie and Dustin star gazing on Dustin’s lawn after dropping him off-

Steve: Woah! Did you guys see that?? I think it was an oofo!

Dustin: what the fuck? An ‘oofo’? It’s a UFO. Unidentified flying object. UFO.

Eddie: nah I’m pretty sure it’s an oofo, kid. I actually don’t think I’ve ever heard it the way you said it. Definitely an oofo

Dustin: I hate you both

Steve and Eddie, reaching over dustin to hold hands: no you don’t :)

[snekdood]

"people shouldnt keep cold weather dogs in hot climates" dude thats so cool and wise of you!! Now what do people do with their cold weather dogs in their hot climates? Whats the next best move, jackass?