#at least i get a free block

[prestonmonterey]

ugh fuck i forgot that wednesday is going to be actual hell

[clownsuu]

Art block fucking sucks so

Poppet got pastries for the gamers :]

Hope you feel better my gamer🏵️🥄🥄

aWEE look at thembs ;;;

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hi, I hope you don't mind this message, and idk if anyone else has told you, but there's this troll going around on Tumblr named @/freethepuppet. They claim to be “fighting for justice in the puppet industry”, but really they're just sending hateful and threatening messages to Welcome Home and My Friendly Neighborhood artists/fans.

I myself have receive multiple death threats from this person, and they have sent threats to many of my friends over the matter, some of which are minors.

Because of this issue, I have decided to keep myself and my friends anonymous, especially considering the fact that @/freethepuppet intends to send threats to PartyCoffin himself, along with the creator behind My Friendly Neighborhood.

I just wanted to warn you about this person, so that you can block and report them, as well has tell others in the community about the troll. If you decide to ignore this, then that's fair and I respect your decision.

In any case, I hope you and your friends stay safe. Best of luck!!

blocked! thanks for letting me know! to add on to this, a little advice for everyone:

Don't Engage With This Person At All!

Don't Look At Their Stuff, Don't Respond To Messages, Don't @ Them Or Give Them The Time Of Day. Just Go Block Them And Let Them Exhaust Their Own Hate

[phoenyx-rising]

I'm not surprised that people are incapable of boycotting Eurovision - many can't let go of other things for oppressed people, like Harry Potter and Chick-fil-A. Every strike has scabs who cross the picket lines. It doesn't matter that they're always remembered poorly in history, it still happens.

It's easy to give up something that didn't affect you or you didn't like, but something you found joy in? That's a real sacrifice that some people aren't capable of making.

Which, fine, we have the freedom to cross a picket line. But I don't understand the ones who weedle and whine about how they're not doing anything wrong. You're crossing a picket line; don't be embarrassing about it, too. Just own up to it.

[puhpandas]

friendly reminder that commenting on fics saying things like "commenting every day until a new chapter is posted" and then actually following through with that and bombarding a writer that much isnt funny and its actually disrespectful

[localgardenweed]

This is all I offer to the community, link to reference

[risingsunresistance]

damn i kinda dont like it here anymore

[spectra-bear]

lately I also keep getting A LOT of these kind of anon asks about why i'm following <this> and <this> and <this> 'problematic person. i get them both here people in replies on twitter who say: "how DARE you follow this rise artist who did unverified X thing i'm probably coming up with now"

and all of these are always related to the rise fandom, what is going on here? i'm so tired of this, like what's the reason for this??

no idea, and its kinda getting tiring tbh, im already going through stuff irl, i didnt want to speak about it but it already shows with the lack of posting, ive just been laying low for the time being, and its one of the reasons why i drifted away from the fandom itself months prior, things got hectic, i got tired, i even almost got blamed of indulging with problematic content myself when there were no indicators that i ever have, and have stated over and over that i do not interact with that content, which crossed the line for me

im kinda mentally worn out, as well as many of my friends being faced with this kind of behaviour, and kindly ask everyone to take a moment and step back from the screen for a bit to think about what theyre doing, who theyre going after, and who theyre doing this for, since we've reached a point where we commandeer who follows who or whatever. I know everyone means well for the safety of others, especially those underage, and its very appreciated even to those who look out for me in case smths up, but its honestly exhausting at this point

[ctl-yuejie]

[cardinalmoroni]

thinking about my ghost-oc-slash-self-insert again..........

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the absolutely Vivid reality based chronological dream i had last night. man

[dirtbra1n]

there’s a word for it. a name. for the people who take care of corpses before a funeral. hanzawa masato doesn’t remember it right now, though, because right now he’s up in the midnight hours, lying flat on the couch in the living room. too warm. he doesn’t care to remember it, the name.

it’s way, way too warm.

dying used to be simpler than this. there was no pavement, there were no buildings, there were no faceless people.

cold, though. there was cold.

the water wasn’t really flowing, too shallow, he was slowing it down, but his blood was. staining the ice.

it was gross.

he couldn’t stretch out his legs, couldn’t reach his arms out over his head. his fingers were cold and useless and deadened, and slow. the air he was struggling to breathe was pushing in and flowing out of his lungs through the puncture wound in his chest. so slow.

he’s been there before. he’s here now.

sitting stiff in the water, soaked to the bone, dying in isolation. bleeding out, masato thinks he’s alive. suffocating, he’s convinced he won’t be for much longer.

he’s not sure he’s anywhere.

dying used to be so easy.

instead of waiting until he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, kneeling until his head went under and waiting it out, probably getting swept away by the current until he crashed downstream—he wouldn’t know, he never lived to see that part—instead of that—

he’s wading around a little lost. he’s bleeding. the ghosts only look at him when they know it’ll sting worst, long shadows cast over the water, malformed specters dancing in mockery of him. he thinks his feet are getting a little worse than sliced up by jagged hateful rocks out of sight. that’s depressingly the least of his worries. it’s being impaled by the moon in a loop of time that fucking hates him. but he’s already bleeding. he’s a little surprised that he’s still got blood to bleed.

instead of releasing what could have become a burden, it’s him standing, helplessly, in the river, night after night after night. because it’s nighttime now. it keeps being nighttime.

it’s the kind of thing you’d almost expect to be a relief.

“hanzawa senpai.”

masato turns his head, creaky like a wooden doll. “…tashiro-kun.”

kimono-clad, he offers a hand. “you’re not face first in muck this time.”

masato doesn’t take it. a sharp smile curves his cheeks, not insincere. “thank you. ‘this time?”

tashiro smiles sheepishly down at him. squints. “did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

it’s hard to see from the water, but masato knows that tashiro’s shifted his eyes. saw it in the back of his mind, recorded on crackly film. he says, instead of answering, “I’ve got bandages.”

masato wishes he had something to rest his elbows on, to brace himself on. it doesn’t feel right playing his games standing upright, his hands in his sleeves instead of holding his head on his shoulders. “ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato knows what.

tashiro replies anyway, drily from up on uneven paving, “hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

things are splintering a little. crackly film.

a web of cracks splitting tashiro’s composure, his voice shaking, “why did you?”

that wasn’t what masato asked.

—

“hanzawa senpai.”

“…”

“senpai.”

“…tashiro-kun.”

“you’re not face first in muck this time.”

the smile’s carving itself in, muscle memory. masato’s not going to ask what he meant by this time. “thank you.”

“did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

in the old school projector film behind his eyelids, the flickering doesn’t feel out of place. “I’ve got bandages.”

“ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato’s always known what.

“hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

the shadows cast by a lantern hidden just behind tashiro make his shoulders look broad. masato swallows down a laugh, but he’s not sure what’s funny. “don’t be shallow, senpai, looks aren’t everything.”

the laugh comes out anyway. he manages, “I feel dead, forget the looks.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

masato takes his turn to squint. they weren’t taking turns. it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t know if he still feels like laughing. he knows for sure that he can’t think of anything to say.

it’s just as well. tashiro isn’t having the same problem. “I think you should just, I don’t know. care about yourself more.”

masato swallows. his lips press into a chagrined line. “I don’t not care,” he says.

tashiro looks right through him. his eyes are like headlights.

he doesn’t actually need to say it, and masato can tell that he almost doesn’t, but maybe tashiro thought he needed to hear it out loud, feel it taking up space. maybe he was right.

“your caring sucks, senpai. it killed you.”

masato doesn’t want to follow that thread. “how many times have you been here, tashiro-kun?”

tashiro doesn’t buy into it. his demeanor is at once solemn and jarringly pleading, “senpai, won’t you live for once?”

masato means to say it like a joke, because it is one, but by accident the words, “how could I begin to deny you,” are dropping off his tongue, he doesn’t even know why, he doesn’t know why he said that, and no amount of exaggerated irreverence can hide from tashiro—eyes like cleavers, more like—the characters slipping into the water.

the ripples aren’t all that big, but they’re big enough.

like when your head aches, or the gash in your chest is losing you too much blood, or the water is tugging itself a little too close to that gash to be comfortable. something like that. something like that. it’s enough.

he doesn’t think he’s making any sense. it’s just too warm.

“maa-kun,” his older brother’s crooning, pushing his damp bangs off his forehead with cold fingers, “I think you’re sick.”

masato blinks away what he hopes is sweat. “gross.”

“not gross, worrying. sit up please.”

“I’ll throw up.”

“you won’t.”

“you’re right, I won’t.”

he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, on the couch that he’s sweating all over, and he’s watching a fan across the room spin and it’s nauseating and he stops looking at it. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, by his older brother, because his mom’s out of town visiting her sister. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, feeling a little out of his body. feeling a little—not at all—a lot like a little kid again. feeling sick, and pathetic.

he goes into the bathroom, wobbly and upset and over-warm, and he throws up.

—

reality’s tearing itself up, his dreams are eating it up, he’s falling apart and melting at the seams, he sits in almost-too-cold water until he thinks he’s gonna throw up again.

put him on ice, already, the sooner the funeral the sooner he can get some fucking rest.

his older brother’s sitting against the door frame, slipping in and out of consciousness. he murmurs, reaching forward to pet his hair, “‘s it too cold?”

masato doesn’t think it’s sweat. “it’s okay.”

—

it wouldn’t have been a very good joke, even if it’d come out right.

masato thinks he just choked around, “I want to. I want to.”

[eclaire-went-bam]

ngl character ai is really boring

on one hand, yeah it's ai and it's steals from existing writing and ouuugh ai is bad we all know this but i do see a lotta people even from creative spheres talk about it positively a lot — which i'm not tryna get on a high horse about, mind you. i really liked it at first too

but it's like...so;; boring? everything misses that human aspect, or there are small subtleties it doesn't understand or whatever. sometimes it's funny for trolling, but for characters and world-building and roleplays, imo, it's soooo boringggg. it says the same things half the time and obviously doesn't know where to go. nothing's ever interesting. it really does feel like junk. which it is. but like. how did it get so popular. i don't get how most my friends are still so extremely attached to it

[my-t4t-romance]

GUESS WHO FINALLY CONVINCED HIS PARENTS TO LET HIM DELETE A MASSIVELY BATTERY-DRAINING, CONSTANTLY-MALFUNCTIONING PARENTAL CONTROLS VPN THAT HAD BEEN ON HIS PHONE FOR ≥6 YEARS!!!!!

[kenobihater]

it's always rlly funny coming back from a break from this hellsite bc i usually accumulate followers in my months long absences, but as soon as i start posting my opinions and hottakes i lose like 10+ followers within a few days 🫶🏼

[ot3]

HELP???? like.. "hey wtf i blocked ur ass lol... anyways i reblogged ur post im so silly"

in general i find people who block me still reblogging my posts pretty annoying because like i can respect that someone doesnt want me interacting with them online at all, that's totally fine. but you'd think in that circumstance it'd be common politeness to extend the courtesy the other direction. but like not the end of the world because for the most part i dont realize if a given person in my notifs have me blocked. but to just like, say it where itll come up in my activity feed???? cmon dude....