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numbpill · 1 month ago

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[tutorial: build your own neocities/nekoweb page]

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a beginner's guide for making your very own home on the indie web—retro, personal, weird, and 100% yours.

this ain’t an average wix, squarespace, or tiktok aesthetic.

we’re talking full html/css with soul and attitude.

[ prerequisites ]

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> an idea

> basic text editor (vscode, notepad++, or even notepad)

> account on https://neocities.org or https://nekoweb.org

> some gifs or tiles you love (dig deep or make your own)

> optional: image host or gif repo (or self-host everything)

[ feeling overwhelmed? read this. ]

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you do *not* need to know everything.

html is not a mountain. it's a garden.

you plant one tag. then another. then a style. then a button.

you can build your site piece by piece.

and every piece is a portal to somewhere personal.

you are allowed to make broken pages.

you are allowed to use templates.

you are allowed to start over as many times as you want.

this is *your* world. you control the weird.

[ step 1: create an account ]

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> neocities: https://neocities.org

> nekoweb: https://nekoweb.org

this is where you upload your files and see your site live.

[ step 2: your first file - index.html ]

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make a new file: `index.html`

basic starter:

<html>

<head>

<title>my weird little corner</title>

</head>

<body>

<h1>welcome to the void</h1>

<p>this is my page. it’s strange. like me.</p>

</body>

</html>

> upload to the dashboard

> boom. you’re live at

https://yoursite.neocities.org

or https://nekoweb.org/u/yoursite

[ step 3: add a style sheet - style.css ]

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create a file called `style.css` and upload it.

here’s some nostalgic magic:

body {

background: url('tile.gif');

color: lime;

font-family: "Courier New", monospace;

text-shadow: 1px 1px 0 black;

}

img {

image-rendering: pixelated;

}

marquee {

font-size: 20px;

color: magenta;

}

link it in your html and the vibes activate.

[ step 4: decorate it like a haunted usb ]

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> use <marquee> for chaos scrolls

> embed gifs from https://gifcities.org/

> steal buttons from https://cyber.dabamos.de/88x31/

> set up a guestbook at https://www.smartgb.com/

> loop audio with <audio autoplay loop>

> add fake errors, 90s web lore, random link lists

[ step 5: resources, themes, and comfort ]

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> templates & layouts: https://numbpilled-themes.tumblr.com

> glitchy gifs & buttons: https://glitchcat.neocities.org/resources

> layout builder: https://sadgrl.online/projects/layout-builder/

> free tiled backgrounds: https://backgrounds.neocities.org/

> beginner html intro: https://www.w3schools.com/html/

> pixel fonts & cyber assets: https://fontstruct.com/

remember:

you don't need to know js. you don't need to be a coder.

you just need a mood, a direction, a dream.

the html will follow.

[ bonus concept: shrine pages ]

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> a page just for one character you love

> a room to house digital fragments of your identity

> embed quotes, music, images like altars

> call it shrine.html and link it from your homepage

[ closing mantra ]

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you are not here to be optimized.

you are not a brand.

you are a ghost inside the machine,

carving your initials into the silicon void.

welcome to Your website.

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numbpilled-themes · 2 months ago

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Old Web/Windown 98 Style HIGHLY CUSTOMIZABLE Neocities/Nekoweb Template

LIVE PREVIEW DOWNLOAD FOR FREE

FOLLOW ME ON KO-FI!

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peepreadscomics · 28 days ago

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Thinking about the nightmare 90s!Tim has in YJ01...

Tim's kneeling on the sidewalk, gawking in horror at his hand. His wrist is wrapped with bandages, and his hand has been replaced with a batarang.

His actual hand, glove, and all have fallen off, swarmed by the killer cockroaches of Gotham's streets.

Young Justice 1998 01

Idk, I can't stop thinking about how part of him is replaced with something Batman made, honed, and curated for efficiency and vigilanteism.

A part of Tim is just laying there... swarmed and consumed by the unkillable vermin of Gotham streets.

Here it is again; Tim's fear of slowly becoming someone that he isn't. Becoming a tool and a weapon, less human and more machine.

And then there's Batman in this nightmare. Standing tall, ready to move on... nonchalantly asking Tim to grow a beard so he can make a personal use of his shiny new appendage.

But it's the,

Don't worry, Robin... No one will notice.

that's just smacking me across the face.

A part of Tim is dead and gone, but dont worry, kid! No one's gonna care enough to notice! (This is not a dig towards Tim's parents btw. Ill talk abt the Drakes in a different post.)

Batman brushes off Tim's horror—when lil bro's literally choking with horror—with an assurance that everything that Tim's afraid of will come true and, hey! it isnt a big deal.

Of course, this is Tim's nightmare view of Batman and not a characterization on Bruce, but it's just another example of how Tim sees Batman as a symbol that has consumed Bruce. (So, also not a dig towards Bruce, btw. He gets his own post later, too)

Since Tim's first few appearances, he's been terrified of becoming consumed by justice (?), vengeance, and vigilanteism.

Between his visceral fear at the comfort/hug from Bruce when his mom died, to a different nightmare featuring nightwing, to this nightmare, to rejecting comfort from Bruce at Steph's funeral, to hating Robin and himself after his father's death, and faking an uncle to get away from Batman??

It just shows how terrified he is of becoming someone he isnt...

And this nightmare in particular adds this: he's afraid no one will notice.

Young Justice 1998 01

It makes sense how his attempts to try and prevent the erasure of who he is would slowly escalate with every death. And with so many other heroes just... coming back... and coming back the same or even "close enough"?

It's easy to reach the point of rejecting death entirely. (am i side eyeing people who compare his reactions to certain people's death as a valid measure to who's more important to him? Maybe. Thats a different post tho)

Anyway. Fast forward like 3ish years later...

Red Robin 2009 01

Haha. I love self fulfilling prophecies.

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year ago

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Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #lan xichen #jin guangyao #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #qin su #EDIT: Tumblr published an earlier draft with only half the notes I wrote so: late entry on my JGY thoughts.#Unlike the mystic powers of the stockmarket (what the OG meme is referring to) I think this situation calls for more active investigation.#qin su is such a deeply tragic character to me and I really wish we got a bit more from her.#Love everyone who sent me messages about her after the last time she appeared.#I think she needs a spin off of her being a transmigrator SO badly.#MDZS has so many interesting characters - but it sometimes fails to give them the proper room to really develop past a role in the plot.#That's just the consequence of writing a story like MDZS. Not every character in a book *needs* to have a rich inner life and backstory!#To do so would bog down the story and obliterate any notion of pacing. It's just not possible.#Jin Guangyao (nee Meng Yao) is unfortunately not free from this leeway rule. He is the culprit of this murder mystery plot #and thus NEEDS to encapsulate the themes of the book. And personally he's a 7 out of 10 at best on this front (in the AD).#MDZS is about rumours twisting reality and working towards truth. And about how people & situations are rarely ever black & white #JGY has his motivations. He's well written in regards to his actions making sense for his character.#What started as good traits (drive to succeed & improve his image) became twisted over time (do anything to maintain his image)#and it's a good parallel to WWX! He has the same arc (with different traits)! Bonus points for IGY in that regard.#but man....by the time we confront this guy for murder there's not a lot of grey morality. He's just...deep in the hole *he* dug.#There's a beautiful tragedy to it! More on JGY in later comics - this is getting pretty long already!

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quartzteph · 3 months ago

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HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TGS!!!!!

I've had this design for a recombined Jekyll rolling around in my head for months now, so I finally took the time to draw him. For the sake of clarity I'll refer to him as Re!Jekyll (short for Recombined Jekyll) (also the prefix "re-" feels kinda fitting for him, since he is whole once again). I have many ideas/headcanons for him, but I'll put all that under the cut :)

As for the drawing itself, I tried to mimic the look of the comic for the most part. (Note: Many of the colors used here were colorpicked from the comic to ensure accuracy.) I wanted him to look less like a 50/50 mix of Jekyll and Hyde and more like a Hyde-ish Jekyll, so I opted to give him the same face and hairstyle as Jekyll, but with some Hyde-like qualities. Aside from the obvious blonde streak, his hair is fluffier, messier, and a bit longer. The hair tuft/sideburn things in front of his ears are based on a mix of the hair tufts that hang in front of Hyde’s ears and university Jekyll’s sideburns. While he mostly wears red, he likes to include a touch of green, as seen here in his cravat. Also he gets the dark eye circles, as a treat. (I just really like Hyde's dark eye circles and don't have enough self-restraint to not give them to Re!Jekyll.)

Bonus doodles cause i love my freak son:

Various headcanon ramblings about him (plus drawing process) under the cut:

When he's trying to look more respectable, he uses his now-longer bangs to hide his green eye. At first, he also attempts to make his hair look neater, but this is a near impossible task that he eventually gives up on. (He is doomed to live out the fuzzy-headed mad scientist stereotype.)

When people question his sudden change in appearance, he claims his blonde streak and green eye are the result of a chemical formula splashing him in the face (á la Two-Face). Yeah this sounds a little far-fetched, but he is charming enough to get away with it. (Besides, he knows way more about alchemy than they do, who are they to question it?)

This sudden merging of identities is initially super disorienting. It takes him a while to get used to it. (In the first few days, he keeps referring to himself with "we". He eventually breaks this habit tho.)

Has a bit of an identity crisis. (I'm specifically envisioning a scene of him staring at his wardrobe, mostly full of reds and greens, and getting stuck because he doesn't know what color to wear.)

Jekyll and Hyde were so used to having someone constantly there, listening to them and yapping in their ears (or in their heads, rather). Now, for Re!Jekyll, life feels so quiet. It's peaceful, but also a little lonely.

Has a bad habit of talking to himself aloud. When he's alone, he sometimes has whole conversations or debates with himself.

Struggles more with the mundane parts of his job due to having Hyde's impulsiveness and wanderlust. He occasionally has to take little breaks from all the paperwork when he becomes too restless.

He's still goopy. Moments of extreme emotion (stress, anger, excitement, etc.) can trigger the green goop. (Think that one scene in Ch. 14 when the priestess startles Hyde, causing goop to spew from his face.) I like to imagine the guilt of everything he's done hitting him and causing him to have a "that one scene in Howl's Moving Castle" moment.

In rare moments of severe inner turmoil or repression, he may even go into convulsions in addition to the goop, as if his body is trying to transform. (Feel free to disregard this one if you wish, this is 100% just me being super self-indulgent cause I love angst.)

Despite his many newfound struggles, he’s actually very happy! He now knows that Lanyon loves and accepts every part of him, and this helps him to better love and accept himself.

And now drawing process images! Shoutout to that one Re!Jekyll who is way too excited about something:

#chat i might actually be developing brainrot for this guy #i started making him a playlist and everything #(btw if he had a theme song it would most likely be Two Wuv by Chonny Jash)#also shout out to all the people in the discord server who saw this last week #yall are the best #the glass scientists #tgs #henry jekyll #edward hyde #re!jekyll #art #fanart #quartzposting

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 5 months ago

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Why The Ending Sucks

Ok I figured it out. Hear me out:

The entire comic has a running theme best summed up as "who is controlling the narrative, and why are we listening to them?"

Hussie plays a caricaturized version of himself that he describes as "buffoonish" and "oafish". Caricature!Hussie is well-meaning, but a dumb idiot who's incredibly biased in favor of certain characters and in disfavor of others (the most obvious example being his "love" of Vriska, but there's also the way he constantly disparages Eridan). As a result, you have to be VERY SKEPTICAL and VERY CAREFUL when approaching Homestuck's narration, because even when the "best" narrator is at the helm, he's not 100% trustworthy and incapable of giving the readers an unbiased view of the story.

I say "best" because, importantly, Hussie isn't the story's only narrator. He and Doc Scratch explicitly fight over control of the story - Doc Scratch, the child abusing predator who engineered Alternia's fascist murder society, whose shaping of its history is explicitly described by character!Hussie as "fanfic". He is then killed by Lord English, who is described by Hussie as embodying the "toxically masculine" and by extension, the patriarchy, and Caliborn explicitly takes control of the story. John even grapples with Caliborn's version of events, calling out how sexist and misogynistic and shitty it is.

So if we're keeping score: control over the narrative is LITERALLY wrested away from Hussie (who was already struggling to be unbiased) by fascists, abusers, and the patriarchy. It's stressed multiple times that Caliborn/LE are responsible for literally everything that ever happens; the reason the Game Over timeline ends the way that it does is because the alpha timeline is, in essence, the narrative LE is telling: the forces of fascism get to claim the new universe, thereby propogating itself, while friendship dies and all hope is lost.

Who's in control of the narrative, and why are we listening to them?

There are other minor examples of this, too: Aranea is an exposition fairy, and she's biased as fuck and wrong ALL THE TIME about her own teammates. Karkat's explanations and rationalizations are constantly tinged with his own self-loathing and self-blame. Sollux and Meulin are both prophets as per their Mage class, but are both so bogged down by their own emotional issues that the futures they pick out are actively harmful. So on and so on. At nearly every turn, you have to interrogate who's telling the story, what their motivations are, and what they're overlooking or deliberately obfuscating.

So given that this theme is so prevalent, and so thoroughly weighted toward "well, actually, maybe you shouldn't take narration at face value and should interrogate it and come to your own conclusions," it would be Really Weird for the story to go "actually, you can totally trust the narrative now because everyone gets a happy ending".

So, I know that it makes me sound like a conspiracy theorist, but here's my genuine take on Homestuck's ending:

The ending is shitty on purpose because the viewer is intended to take it as a dare to refute the narration and make something better.

Why are we letting character!Hussie tell the story? He's a biased idiot. Why are we letting the various avatars of LE and Caliborn tell the story? They're fascist, misogynistic, predatory assholes.

And - because Homestuck is a story about life - why are we letting idiots, assholes, abusers, and creeps dictate the story of real life? The world is full of forces that would try to take control of the story and make everyone else play along, represented in microcosm within the text of Homestuck. We cannot let those forces win.

So please go out and do something kind and hopeful and loving in the world today. Thanks for reading.

#homestuck #homestuck lore #homestuck analysis #anyway i know that this sounds Crazy but hear me out #Hussie does not drop the act in the book commentaries #which were written after the comic ended #moreover the ending and epilogues are chock full of stuff that really seems designed to piss off as many people as possible #like vriska coming back but having her character development reverted #which upset both vriska haters AND vriska fans #and famously the existence of Yiffany which lowkey fucks up rosemary #but the baffling thing is that in spite of these 'lets make everyone unhappy' moves #we're still getting vital exposition about how the world works (ultimate selfhood) and characters outright saying things like #it confused me for the longest time but looking at this running theme it makes sense #the ending of homestuck is the ending picked out by terezi... who never finished her arc #it's why even though it's LITERALLY the ending she picked out for herself and her friends #shes still unable to be happy in it or feel 'fixed'#because she too is unreliable!!! she can't do it alone!!!!#and bringing back vriska eased her guilt but didnt solve her fundamental issues...#because homestuck kinda can't have a happy ending unless EVERYONE IS THERE

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aventurineswife · 4 months ago

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I just got an idea, the hsr men (you're choice) with a reader who is like Miyo from the Netflix anime my happy marriage

Echoes of a Heart Unseen

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Miyo Saimori (from My Happy Marriage) based Reader, Comfort, Self-worth, Emotional healing, Tenderness, Insecurity, Gentle encouragement, Character development, Slow burn.

Warnings: Mild emotional distress (insecurity, self-doubt), Sensitive themes (self-worth, past trauma), Heavy themes of emotional growth, Gentle romantic undertones.

Aventurine leaned casually against the door frame, his eyes watching you with interest as you timidly set about preparing a meal for him. There was an elegance to your movements, even in your silence, something that drew his attention despite himself. He wasn’t used to people who lacked a strong sense of self, but there was something undeniably captivating about the quiet resilience you carried.

He had always prided himself on reading people—their fears, desires, and the lies they told themselves. Yet, with you, it was different. Your shy demeanor and hesitant actions spoke volumes of a painful past, one that had made you doubt your own worth. He couldn't quite place why, but there was something about you that awakened a strange sense of protectiveness within him.

“You know, for someone who claims to be… timid,” he remarked with a playful smirk, “you certainly know how to command attention with that cooking.”

You flinched at his words, lowering your gaze to the dish you were preparing. It was a quiet act, one that spoke of years of practice, but he could see the insecurity in your shoulders.

Aventurine took a slow step forward, his voice softening just a fraction. “I don't know what kind of cruel world you've lived in, but it’s obvious to me that you're capable of far more than you think. Don’t you realize how much of a gift it is to make something so beautiful with your own hands?”

His words were layered, calculated, but they lacked the usual mockery. For once, he wasn’t gambling with words; he was being sincere. The compliment, though simple, left you speechless, and he found himself intrigued by the way your eyes flickered with uncertainty, like a bird unsure whether to take flight.

“You don’t have to be silent all the time, you know," he added, his smile a little softer. "There’s strength in your silence, but there’s also power in your voice, should you choose to use it."

You looked up at him then, hesitation swirling in your gaze. He’d seen the way you shrank from confrontation, how you seemed to keep your distance from anyone who might get too close, but he saw something else too—something he had never let anyone see: your quiet fight.

Aventurine extended his hand, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table, almost like a dare, but one that seemed to speak more of a challenge to himself than to you. “The question is, will you be willing to take that step?”

For once, his words weren’t a game. There was no mask, no manipulation—only a gentle invitation to someone who seemed so used to being unseen, unheard, and unappreciated. You were so much more than what you allowed yourself to believe, and for the first time in his life, Aventurine was unsure whether he wanted to manipulate that or protect it.

The quiet hum of the Astral Express filled the air as Sunday stood by the window, looking out at the stars. His wings fluttered ever so slightly, an expression of inner turmoil that only he could understand. You stood beside him, a quiet presence that he had come to appreciate in the time you’d spent together.

You were not like the others; you never seemed to expect anything from him. There was a softness in your demeanor, a kind of timidity that reminded him of a part of himself he had long buried. You lacked the confidence that so many around him carried, but Sunday knew better than anyone that there was strength in the quiet ones—the ones who didn’t shout for attention but instead stayed in the background, offering support in their own way.

"You’ve been awfully quiet today," he murmured, his voice like a gentle breeze. He didn’t need to ask why; he could sense the weight you carried. It was something about the way you moved, how you kept your head low and your gaze averted.

You hesitated, your fingers nervously twisting a small piece of fabric in your hands, but Sunday didn’t push you. He waited patiently, the calmness of his presence offering a silent invitation for you to speak when you were ready.

“I—I just feel like I’m not good enough,” you confessed softly, almost too quietly for him to hear, but he caught the tremor in your voice. "I don’t know why I feel this way, but sometimes I feel like I’m just… a burden to everyone around me."

Sunday’s gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. He had always been the one to hide his own pain, to bury it beneath layers of idealism and grand ideas, but in that moment, it felt as though he saw something in you that mirrored his own struggles.

“You are not a burden,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You matter. More than you realize.”

He stepped closer, though he didn’t touch you, his presence felt like an embrace. “Sometimes, the world makes us believe that our worth is defined by what we give, by what we can do for others. But that’s not the case. You are valuable just by being you.”

You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, and there was something in his expression—something beyond his usual composed demeanor—that spoke of his own battles with self-worth.

“You are more than enough, and no one should make you feel otherwise,” he continued, his voice a whisper now, meant only for you. “You’re not alone, not while I’m here.”

His words, so quiet yet so certain, gave you something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. The faintest flicker of confidence began to stir in your chest, like the first breath of wind before a storm. It was small, but it was real, and it was yours to nurture.

The world around you often felt too loud, too harsh. People rushed past without a second glance, their voices carrying burdens of words you didn’t quite understand, much less have the courage to speak. Yet, the silence around you was different when you were with him.

Argenti was a man of honor, clad in armor that shimmered with an almost ethereal light, his eyes glowing with conviction and purpose. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. His presence was like a steady flame in a cold room—comforting, reassuring. He was everything you weren't: strong, confident, self-assured. It made you feel small and fragile, but at the same time, he never treated you as if you were anything less than worthy.

You had been struggling lately, the scars of your past still fresh and raw. The years of emotional neglect and the unspoken words of doubt that echoed in your mind every time you looked into a mirror made it hard to believe in yourself. You were still that person who had been beaten down by life, who thought of herself as a burden to others, as nothing more than an invisible shadow.

But with Argenti, things were different.

"Are you troubled, my dear?" His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the strength in his posture. His gaze was warm, understanding, though he said little. He never pushed you to speak, never demanded more than you were willing to give. Instead, he waited, patiently, allowing you the time to gather your thoughts.

You sat on the stone bench, your hands clasped in your lap, your heart racing under the weight of his stare. "I… I just… I feel like I’m not enough. That everything I do… doesn’t matter." The words spilled from you, as if they had been trapped inside for so long that they could no longer remain hidden.

Argenti knelt in front of you, his armor making a soft clang as it settled. He reached out, his large, gloved hand gently lifting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes shimmered with a tenderness you had never expected to see in someone like him.

"You are enough," he said, his voice firm, unwavering. "You are a work of beauty, not because of how others see you, but because of the heart within you." His thumb brushed over your cheek, the touch so soft it almost seemed unreal. "You may not believe it now, but there is strength in your quiet, in your gentleness, in your ability to care even when others have hurt you."

You felt the knot in your throat tighten, the tears threatening to spill. You didn't deserve his kindness, yet here it was, like a blanket wrapping around you, soothing the very parts of you that had been broken.

"Your past does not define you, nor does the way others treated you. What matters is the path you choose now." Argenti’s words were like a balm, healing wounds you had long forgotten you carried. "You have the power to become the person you want to be. And I will walk beside you, guiding you, protecting you, if you will let me."

His words felt like a promise—a promise that he would never leave you, never abandon you like so many had before. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that told you he saw you for who you truly were, not for the brokenness you thought you held.

"I… I want to believe that," you whispered, the uncertainty still lingering in your voice. "But I'm so afraid of being wrong."

"You are not alone," Argenti said, his voice a low, soothing hum. "We are all afraid. But it is in overcoming that fear that we find our true strength."

With those words, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. You weren’t perfect, and you never would be. But in Argenti’s presence, you could begin to accept that you didn’t need to be. All that mattered was the journey ahead.

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mademoiselle-cookie · 29 days ago

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AU where warframes have ruts and civilians don't.

One day, the Decepticons and Autobots are forced to join forces against a common enemy, and when trust is established, the Autobots watch over them (from afar) when the Decepticons are in heat. Because they're not supposed to get close, to avoid issues on both sides.

Things go well for several years, until one day Optimus accidentally bumps into Megatron during his rut.

(Or Bumblebee into Blitzwing. Or anyone you want)