#not in a society like ours anyway

[elymansss]

*gives you an award and medal for getting luffy right*

Thank you! Luffy is a super interesting character and complex even with how.. how to put it, simple? he is.

He's both, it's amazing to see how Oda made Luffy. I do worry that sometimes i can't completely and correctly characterise Luffy, but i try anyway

He's straightforwards, simple, has ideals and dreams he follows until his death and never does what he doesn't want to do. He's someone who is truly free and has people around him bend so his whims, whether they know it or not.

He's hard headed and doesn't change his mind, like ever. I've never seen him be completely in the wrong, his innate senses just make him always be correct for some reason (unless im misremembering lol) It's a unique trait i'd say

His freedom influences everything and everyone, and his demeanor pushes anyone who sees him forward into their own journeys. A beam of hope and happiness in the dark that is their reality.

But his stubbness and his unwillingness to show weakness (unless absolutely unavoidable) is quite prominent. He's someone who accepts the truth as it is, knowing he won't bring the dead back to life and is able to process such heavy information in months. Some people take years to get over the deaths of loved ones, yet you see this 19-year old process it in a tiny amount of time

He doesn't even talk about it to his crewmates

He's someone who has had people around him affected by their heritage, background or past so prominently that they escape from their lavish home into a jungle or angrily lash out at the name of their dad. Luffy knows, so he doesn't ask, not Ace, not Sabo, not his grandpa and not his crew. After all, living in the present is the best and bringing up the past won't change much.

He's someone who experienced being alone for years, until he met his brothers. He felt so isolated and lonely, the thirst for love being quenched for a bit by Shanks. After that though he got brothers. And they loved him and he loved them. Then Sabo died.

They weren't alone but it felt empty. Luffy experienced loss early, he knows what it's like. The empty space of the deceased person makes you feel even lonelier than if they just left on their own two feet. He and Ace cheered each other up.

Of course in Luffy's mind, all of this is simply thought and let go of. He now knows that he doesn't care for the past much. The past would stop him from living in the present and using the skills he learned then to do something in the present is possible without sinking into the memories. There's no need to complicate life. Death will come for you, early or late, so why not have fun and eat and sleep and fight while you can?

[ash-and-starlight]

rotating the first chapter where baoxiang and ouyang interact at 200 mach speed in the microwave of my mind, there’s so much bitter understanding in every line it rlly makes wang’s Insanity Villain Rants and his ouyang haterism in hwdtw so stark in contrast

[quietwingsinthesky]

thinking about how dean’s character gets simplified in fandom, or more specifically, the very black and white lens that gets applied to him. because integral to dean, from my point of view, is that he is both a victim of abuse and a perpetrator of it. that these two things do not cancel each other out or outweigh each other to the point that only one matters. he’s both, you cannot separate him from the fact that he’s both.

but very often, people do. dean is either a victim. or he’s an abuser. it’s like it’s hard for people to hold both those facts in their heads at once. dean went through incredible amount of trauma as a child and an adult, is routinely faced with violence, has resorted to alcohol abuse to cope with it. he’s also a violent person, someone who retreats into tactics of emotional abuse and control when he feels threatened, who hurts the people around him constantly and the people who are closest to him (ie Sam, Cas, later Jack) get the brunt of that abuse. these are just facts. they’re things that happened on the screen and cannot be denied.

and it’s. idk it’s weird to me (not unexpected, because he’s hardly the only character to ever get this treatment) that dean of all people is the one portrayed in such an either/or way when one of the defining moments of the show for him is that during his stint in Hell, he was tortured and then became a torturer to escape that, to feel like he had some control again, and he relished in it. it’s baked into who he is.

[princessefemmelesbian]

Transandrophobia truthers are so damn racist and white oh my fucking god y'all actually piss me the fuck off every time you tokenize Black and brown men for your stupid as fuck "mra but make it trans-inclusive" ideology created by a creepy guy with a corrective rape fetish(something I'll never let up on for as long as I live, btw). If I ever see another one of y'all say "Black and brown men face discrimination because they're seen as overly masculine and that's why masculinity in men is oppressed in this society" I will literally kill myself. Stop using Black and brown men as brownie points for your bullshit arguments about misandry being real when you don't have the slightest idea how racialized oppression works. White boys are so annoying and dumb istfg.

@punkeropercyjackson @punknicodiangelo @pinkpinkstarlet

[her-soliloquies]

Did not need this double reminder of pain on those last episodes

Just finished season eight and I really don't understand why the thing that happened had to happen

[recycledraccoon]

I think my thoughts on the penultimate episode can be summoned up as disappointment over a potential we didn't get to see, and why that's ok. (This got long, 1.4k oops lol)

Am I a fan of The Rat Grinders? ABSOLUTELY. I think I started liking them even more when they were full-on confirmed villains. As fan's of the edited show, watching with a week between each episode to theorize and think, I loved seeing and theorizing over these 6 fucked up kids. We know Kipperlily prior to the second half of sophomore year, while she obviously still had her anger and jealousy over TBK's it wasn't ENTIRELY unjustified and completely out of control (although some aspects were utterly and absolutely unfounded and ridiculous). Jawbones file mentions her language being "I think Aguefort likes them more", "The school takes it easy on them", and "Half of them don't even go to classes." All of these are true things people in this world would notice. It's not until AFTER their Mountain of Chaos chaperoned trip, at the end of the year, that KLCK switches to "I hate them." The Bad Kids further briefly discuss if Jace would have asked Jawbone/looked for "students with rage disorders." I think specifically mention it being a disorder is important. Acknowledging its there, KLCK WAS trying to get help for an issue she had. They didn't talk to Jawbone about it, but did decide Jace must have given he went on that quest with TRG's. They further briefly talk about students getting randomly mad, and yes they specifically joked about Fabian shitting in class, but WE also remember the Soil club student getting so mad after having gotten that tainted soil. With the 30 Riz rolled, Jawbone's file ALSO specifically talks about Kipperlily loving her adventuring party. We know things weren't perfect, its obvious from when talking about their name change, but its still there and canon. Kipperlily loved her adventuring party. This is all just Kipperlily, mostly with our information from the first part of ep.16. It is not touching on the rest of the members, especially Ruben and his dreamscape we saw, or of his distinct 180 musical tastes POST Sophomore Year Spring Break. The implications of something happening to them during that time is pretty evident and acknowledged. So we're fans, watching a show, spending so much time thinking about not only our infamous protagonists, but also our villains. Many of us adults, getting older, thinking on the tragedy befalling kids and feeling empathy. So yeah. It's a disappointment over an unseen potential. Specifically tho? Its the potential we could have gotten on The Rat Grinder's thoughts and motivations that could have been revealed through dialogue. Dialogue that we got very little of in what could be considered a significant exchange of dialogue and not bits. I always have high narrative expectations from this show, due to its long standing history of SETTING those standards each and every season. This one episode just fell short emotionally while watching, comparatively.

AND THAT'S OK AND ABSOLUTELY NOT THE BAD KIDS/INTREPID HEROES FAULT

On the narrative side of things, The Bad Kids have had an incredibly stressful past 3 years. From day one, they have been involved in life or death stakes situations. It's always been do or die, and they've died, sometimes more than once. They've lost people and faced traumas that go often unaddressed. TBK's ENTIRE highschool experiences have been a revolving door of violence and unhinged situations. They've also always kinda been assholes, insular and more than a little mean especially to those pegged as enemies. We know them, know they have good hearts and intentions, and love and side with them constantly throughout because The Bad Kid's are our heroes. They are still teenage assholes sometimes, but that is something we love and forgive them for. The thing about this recent battle is that they are very used to the situation they are in by now. TBK's have to prioritize, move fast and hard, and get a job done so countless people don't die while something evil rises in their world. Emotions have been high for them all season, rage especially which is absolutely unsurprising on multiple fronts, and it's absolutely showing in what few dialogue exchanges we have. The Bad Kid's entered that gym for the singular purpose of stopping the situation, saving lives, and making sure something evil didn't arise to power in their fucked up world. Nothing new. They hid, already knowing where the final confrontation was going to be FORCED to happen in due to the nature of the ritual, and prepped. On point and smart of them. Then they entered the battlefield, very quickly getting to business. They know their skills, their friends and how to work together as a devastatingly effective team making heavy hits and masterfully controlling a battlefield despite the chaos. This is what The Bad Kid's Do. They got Ivy and Oisin out of combat as fast as possible, Oisin didn't even get a turn. They took out a high-damage long range attacker and the enemy wizard. They know how powerful and important Adaine is on the field, and they knew Oisin would have been the same. They crippled the enemy with the slow spell, effectively taking Mary Ann out of the running until it gets dispelled later on. Fig saw Ruben's high damage level 9 spell and dropped her ploy to get him out of combat as soon as she could. It was too dangerous to have him up, and while the hell bit was uncomfortable in the moment, it is absolutely on brand. This is what they have to do, if they want to stop Porter, who is our real main big-bad. Remove as many obstacles from the battle so more of them can focus on the fight that really matters.

This combat wasn't ever gonna go any other way, unless the dice gods decided otherwise.

This is what The Bad Kid's Do. In regards to the IH's, it is VERY important to acknowledge that while I've mentioned having high narrative expectations, this is still primarily an improve comedy show around a group of real people's DnD game. It's also a show they have a tight filming schedule for, with back to back days and long hours which we KNOW from the talk-backs leave them very tired. Like any tv show they also have a limit on how many episodes per season they can even produce. I think it was a real and genuine benefit to Sophomore year that they were doing it live, because it gave more time between sessions for the IH's to mull over information and whats been happening in-game. This is also a very well developed campaign world they haven't played in several years, which I certainly know would effect me in how I played. We still have one more episode, the Finale, and so much always happens there. I have incredible faith in Brennan as a DM and storyteller, for all that his players have a huge say in how any story he tells unfolds. There is a VERY real chance that what happens in the finale completely changes my mind on episode 19, and I will go back to rewatch with absolute glee because I know of the coming emotional catharsis in relation to The Rat Grinders. There is also a very real chance we don't get that in the way we want it, but that will be ok too. I will still love this season, rewatch it and laugh and have fun. The best part of having a fandom, is watching us take canon apart to fuel endless au's, fix-it's, character studies, ect. Taking crumbs and going wild with it is par the course, especially when something in a show has left us wanting in the moment of watching it. I think more than anything, I would be and am more upset from infighting and genuine anger directed to each other and especially towards our Intrepid Heroes. It is not wrong to be upset with an episode of a show, but it is to take those feelings out on others, be in in defense from Rat Grinder's fans or justification from Rat Grinder haters. So yes! I was disappointed with this particular episode emotionally. I still think it was funny, I think the combat was brilliant and fun to watch. I still love this show and this cast, and could never dream of being mad at them for how they played a game, and for the fun they were finding within the act of playing it as the well-known unhinged improv comedians we know and love.

I'm excited for next week, buuut I am absolutely consuming fan-content to help deal with my emotions, both the highs and lows.

[gerrydelano]

it's been like 10 hours and i am still thinking about gerry child experimentation canon. fuck my entire life

[mage-witha-glock]

There's something really funny about the fact that the team's strongest member is also their medic. Like, you'll have Daimen or something being like "I'm injured, where's our best medic" and Zorian just points at Zach who is mid combat with the most dangerous opponent on the battlefield.

[punkeropercyjackson]

I just saw a post saying Hobie Brown looks like a skater boy and it had almost 700 notes,that's it i'm gonna fucking kill myself

[bunisher]

might be the aro in me but i think one of the reasons i don’t ship mattfoggy is because i enjoy the idea of platonic intimacy and friendship without romance. i enjoy them as best friends, because their friendship is not any less than romantic love or needs to be. especially for characters like them, i think it’s important that they have friendships that are not inherently romantic. matt, because he has severe abandonment trauma and avoidant attachment, where all of his romances have ended in some form of tragedy. he has trouble feeling comfortable with people, he feels like he has to perform in many aspects, and does not with foggy, at least not anymore. trust is a hard earned thing with him, but it’s not just about trusting with being a hero, but trusting to be himself. in regards to foggy, because he also has his own issues regarding family and not feeling accepted. he needs that friend who provides the motivation, validation, and feeling of being good enough just for being him. his insecurities often come from being underestimated, being awkward, not fitting in, and with matt he can just be. they’re able to have a relationship with each other that has rupture and repair, knowing eventually after time it’s them against conflict and not them against each other. they set the standard for each other in how romantic relationships are. they provide that safe place for love that doesn’t have the weight of being someone’s everything or partner. they’re already partners! they’re best friends. i personally am a little in love with all of my friends, and i am utterly devoted to them. i will be affectionate and supportive and loving and i am not dating them. so yeah i see how stuff could be read romantic, i understand why people enjoy the ship, i get it, i do. but it’s more powerful to me when it’s not. romance is not the end all be all and that’s why i am obsessed with their friendship without it being this stepping stone for romance or there being no other explanation.

[nacrelysis]

can't help but think like, bro. if you wanted to attack the archive, good job i guess?

but if you actually wanted to erase the queer + nsfw + queer nsfw content that ao3 houses...good fucking luck, dude (sarcastic).

people are always going to create. people are always going to be exploring the meaning of humanity or morality or any complex emotion through their art.

governments and groups alike have tried to censor literature in history. that sort of sentiment has indeed led to book burnings and regimes and horrible ways of attempting to control the human mind. but do you know what it didn't do? it didn't fucking stop those writers. it didn't stop their responses. it didn't stop efforts to restore and preserve after the worst had passed.

like, if that is your unironic objective for this whole situation. i don't know what to tell you. lol. humans, we are always going to create. queer people, we're always going to have pride in our identity and expression. authors and artists and creators, we are always writing and drawing and creating for ourselves, for our inquiry, and for our communities.

if ao3 really goes down for a prolonged period of time, people will find other ways. if you take away one website, people will move to others. if you take every one of those down (and i hope it drives you bankrupt doing so), then, eventually, people will create their own archives. online. in real life. of course it won't be the same. and it'll be difficult. but, i guess my point is that we won't stop.

like imagine telling a human to stop making art. lol. companies will stop doing something if it doesn't make a profit, but we aren't creating for money. what we're creating for, our causes and motives and passions, are things a cyber attack/acts of hate will always fail to stifle and take away.

[applebyraven]

Friendlier Neighborhood Spider-Man:

In which Neil is Spider-Man, and Todd, his roommate and longtime crush, finds himself torn between his feelings for Neil and the superhero who consistently rescues him in times of danger.

Read on AO3.

[arkhamgrays]

is any fandom REALLY complete without one of these...

[renlyslittlerose]

My father, talking about how humans were made to mate and procreate, and how our reproductive organs are incredibly important, right in front of me, his daughter, who is about to get a hysterectomy because her reproductive organs are trying to kill her

[equalseleventhirds]

what up besties sorry i haven't been online much but would u like to read the piece i wrote for my final for creative writing? it's metaporically about being trans n neurodivergent n disabled n ppl loving an idea of you more than you, but also it is about a zombie who comes back, not wrong, but not quite what anyone wanted..

(cw for death, electrocution, being buried (not quite alive), and complicated feelings about gender & name but that journey not being completed yet.)

- - -

Grave News

Amelia Marquez, 34, passed away in a tragic accident…

            Later, when anyone learns she woke up already buried, she can see the horror movie assumptions playing out behind their eyes. The thought of waking up, trapped in a tiny, dark, airless space, scrabbling at the walls, gasping for breath, the weight of the earth above pressing down, down, down…

            She smiles and accepts their pity, their horrified dismay, and does not tell them about lying awake, perfectly motionless, trying to figure out how to move. About how easy it is not to struggle for breath when pulling air into your lungs takes conscious effort. About pushing at different groups of muscles, her body twitching and twisting in the dark, until she works out forward, works out force, works out the flex of her hand as it pushes through velvet, then oak, then dirt, then dirt, then dirt.

            Amelia claws her way out of her own grave, not frantic, not berserk, but deliberate. Gradual. Almost mechanical, as she practices moving by repeating the same thing again and again, her patient hands working their way through wood, through earth, to the surface.

            (It isn't until later, standing in her parents' doorway and listening to the screams, that she realizes what ceaseless digging does to the human hand. She realizes that she somehow did not feel the pain as she dug. She realizes she needs to buy gloves.)

…the home she shared with her fiancé…

            Cole had been so certain about his repairs. Fifty bucks at Home Depot and a couple of days of work, and Amelia’s concerns brushed aside.

            “I’ve got this, Ames. Way better than hiring a contractor.” And she had agreed, had let him do it himself, had made dinner for a week while he spent his evenings messing with wires and fuses, assuring her that he was nearly done, that the video on YouTube made it so easy.

            Cole hadn’t been home when the lights went out, when Amelia went to the fuse box and tried to flip everything back on. When the jumble of wires in their walls shorted and flared and spread electricity through her body.

            When it killed her.

            Once her parents call, Cole drops everything to rush over. He falls to his knees in front of her, staring up into her face through a haze of tears and hope and shock.

            “You’re back. Ames, Amy, you’re back, how…”

            She stares down at her lap, making sure her hands are covered by the blanket her mother had nestled around her.

…a beautiful light in our lives, extinguished too soon. Her friends and family…

            Her memorial photo, the black clothes, the incense on the table, are all gone the morning after she comes back, packed away in boxes or thrown out in opaque garbage bags. Hands hesitate before touching her. They keep her at home, talking about rest, about recuperating.

            “Since you’ve been…” She sees the glances, the mouthed no, don’t say it. “…in your condition. It’s important to rest up.”

            It’s as though they think one wrong move, one wrong word, will kill her again.

            She wonders a little bit if they’re right.

            Her mother is the gentlest she’s ever been brushing Amelia’s hair, her hands careful, her voice filling the air. “And I unpacked some of your nice clothes,” she says, working through a tangle. “You don’t have to wear sweatpants anymore, I found your skirts…”

            Amelia looks down at her loose, comfortable clothes, the t-shirt worn and soft against her skin. She thinks about struggling with buttons on a nice blouse, thinks about whether ruffles will still itch the way they did when she was alive. Thinks about the way the mottled colors on her legs have lasted too long to be called bruises. Maybe she should call it decay.

            Her mother clicks her tongue sadly as a few strands of hair pull loose from her head. “These knots…”

            “What if I cut it?” Amelia asks. She’d been thinking about short hair back when she was alive. And it would be easier. “I can’t make you brush it for me every day.”

            Concern melds with distress on her mother’s face. “You can’t cut it,” she hisses. “What if it never grows back?”

...bright, funny, resilient, the first to volunteer...

            Once, she accidentally sleeps for three days. That’s the kind of thing the living joke about—so tired I could sleep for a week, as impossible as that would actually be. Turns out it’s easy for the dead—easy to lie still, easy to stop pushing, easy to drift away into forgiving darkness.

            She wakes to her mother weeping, her father pacing in the hall, Cole pale and haunted and clenching his phone in two hands. The funeral home’s phone number must be burned into the screen by now, but he hasn’t pressed the call button. Not yet.

            Amelia makes herself sit up in bed, reaches out to him, and sees him flinch.

            Right. Gloves.

            Even as she twists her face into a smile, she knows she's done it wrong. Her eyebrows are at odd angles, her lips curled strangely. She tries for light-hearted: "Whoops, close one! Don't want to wake up in a grave again."

            No one laughs.

...kept forever in our memories and our hearts...

            Late at night, she hears her parents whispering. “Is she all right?” her mother asks. “My little girl, my Amelia—she’s not acting like herself. She’s so tired, so...”

            “She just came back,” her father says. His voice is firm, comforting. Determined not to let any uncertainty slip through. The same voice he’s always used when her mother worries—the same voice he used when Amelia told him her own worries, her doubts about the future, about Cole. She always ended conversations with her father sure that he was right.

            “She’ll be back to herself soon enough,” he says. “We just have to keep her active. Remind her about being alive.”

            “But what if she’s not herself? I know we said not to bring up…” Her mother’s voice drops, furtive. “…the Z word…”

            “We’re keeping an eye on her. We’ll notice if she does anything that needs… intervention.”

            She closes her eyes. Wonders if she can turn off her hearing. Wonders if it would have been easier, staying in her grave.

            The next day, she brings up moving back in with Cole. He says he'd be happy to have her, and she pretends not to notice the look he exchanges with her parents.

…brought out the best in people, always ready to help, to listen…

            Cole is attentive. He brings her pastries from the bakery near their apartment and tells her about his day—work, his hobbies, a dog he saw at the park. Shows her pictures and videos on his phone. Mentions people by name, and she's not sure if they're new, since her death, or if she managed to forget people she knew about before.

            She knows which muscles to move for an understanding nod, an encouraging smile. She knows how to make herself chew and swallow food, how to bring it back up later so it doesn’t just sit and rot in her stomach. She still remembers the right way to ask questions so Cole shares more.

            There’s no real reason not to do it, but the more she thinks about it—the more she imagines forcing her body into the right place, the ordeal she’ll have to go through later—the less she wants to do it. She sits silently, pastries untouched, letting the muscles in her face go slack.

            “Ames? You okay?”

            It takes a second; she has to fill her lungs to respond. She tips one side of her mouth up in what could have been a reassuring smile, once. “Fine. Just tired.”

            He sits next to her, worry pinching between his eyebrows. "Of course. I'm sorry. Let's just sit here and watch TV? There are new episodes of all our favorites."

            The shows all feel distant, the plots blurred, the characters unfamiliar. She watches with him for hours anyway.

...a kind and giving spirit, she wanted to create...

            Shattering the mug isn't intentional. Even if she's started to resent the comforting cups of tea Cole brings her. Even if she's sick of pulling latex gloves over her cloth ones so she can wash the dishes. Even if the cutesy blobs of yellow and pink painted on it have always been too much, too bright, too false-forced-cheer, from the moment she was gifted it eight years ago.

            She still doesn't mean to let go of it, the muscles in her hand (and there are so many muscles in the human hand, so many to keep track of, and most of hers are damaged already) loosening and spasming as she's walking to the sink.

            The jagged pieces of it surround her, and Cole's hysterical babble of questions and assurances—"Are you okay, I've got it, just hold still"—fades into background noise as Amelia leans down to try and gather the shards.

            A hand wraps around her wrist and she turns to meet Cole's wide, frightened eyes. "Amy, your foot."

            A full inch of jagged ceramic is buried in her heel.

            She does not bleed, even after Cole pries it out.

...although she will never fulfill those plans, her dream will live on...

            "Ames, I'm worried." Cole reaches out, stops with his hand just over her thigh. Puts it down on the chair next to her, not touching. "This is... I know you've been through a lot. But you're acting like—"

            She turns her head until she can look at his face. Her neck jerks in the wrong direction a couple of times, but she's getting better at it, faster. "Like?"

            Cole's eyes are red, and can't quite meet hers. "Like..." His shoulders drop. "Not like yourself."

            He waits a beat—two—and gets up, breathing out harshly. "Ever since you came back, Amy. You barely look at me. You barely talk to me. You don't even like doing the things you used to like. I understand about your... condition, but..."        

...pray she rests well, and waits in peace for her loved ones...

            She sits in their apartment—Cole's apartment—long after he's gone, watching the afternoon sunlight shift across the space they used to share. Her books are still on the shelf. She remembers packing up her childhood bookshelf to bring to their new home. The painting she bought at a flea market is still hanging on the wall. She remembers joking with Cole about picking up a masterpiece for two dollars.

            Looking at them now, she doesn't even particularly want to bring them with her.

...invited to celebrate her life at...

            Merely dragging her body across the ground would be easier. But, even though she's wrong, even though she's not the person they think about when they look at her, she's still not a mindless, lurching zombie. Mostly.

            She walks. One step forward.

            Was she ever the person they thought about when they looked at her?

            One step.

            Maybe now she'll find out.

            One step.

...in lieu of flowers, the family asks...

            She settles into her seat on the train, making sure her hands are covered. A new start doesn't mean much if she sends an entire train into a panic.

            Someone sits next to her, bouncing in their seat. "Hey there! Looks like we've got eight hours ahead of us. What's your name?"

            She hesitates. Amelia. Amy. Ames.

"Mel," she says. It's strange in her mouth. Just slightly wrong, the same way she's just slightly wrong. Maybe that’s the right fit.