#this is a pointless text post

[nedlittle]

it drives me bonkers the way people don't know how to read classic books in context anymore. i just read a review of the picture of dorian gray that said "it pains me that the homosexual subtext is just that, a subtext, rather than a fully explored part of the narrative." and now i fully want to put my head through a table. first of all, we are so lucky in the 21st century to have an entire category of books that are able to loudly and lovingly declare their queerness that we've become blind to the idea that queerness can exist in a different language than our contemporary mode of communication. second it IS a fully explored part of the narrative! dorian gray IS a textually queer story, even removed from the context of its writing. it's the story of toxic queer relationships and attraction and dangerous scandals and the intertwining of late 19th century "uranianism" and misogyny. second of all, i'm sorry that oscar wilde didn't include 15k words of graphic gay sex with ao3-style tags in his 1890 novel that was literally used to convict him of indecent behaviour. get well soon, i guess...

[nokikissa]

I’ve been playing Hi-Fi Rush recently, which is a lot of fun, but this thought has not left my brain lol. Like they’re vastly different games I’m not trying to say there’s any copying going on, but it’s funny how similar some of the overall concepts are.

[jollyreginaldrancher]

Yellowjackets text posts 221-230 (Yeah we hit the two hundreds)

[oblonger]

Chapter 8 of TPiaG: Body Swap AU

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@sincerely-sofie I think this is my favorite chapter I've written so far!

Twig is unconscious

Darkrai couldn't sleep.

As ironic as that sentence is, it's nonetheless true.

He'd long since gotten used to the needs that Twig's body demands for. And he would be lying if he didn't say he, to some extent, enjoyed being able to fall asleep.

But for the last week, he couldn't fall sleep for the life of him.

He tossed and turned in his bed, trying every position he could think of.

He attempted to sleep curled up, splayed out, on his belly, his side, his back. With his blanket, without his blanket (A grave mistake).

Nothing worked.

And he hated so much that he knew why.

He couldn't stop thinking of Twig.

That loathsome wretch that took his body.

He couldn't understand why he can't stop thinking of her.

He hated her.

He hated how scared and helpless he felt seeing that passage open.

He hated how he wasn't as angry as he wanted to be when she picked him up without his consent.

He can't stop thinking of how she broke the shelves in that closet to fit both of them in there, even though she could have easily just stuffed him in there alone.

He hated so much that he felt safe in there with her.

He hated the way his breath caught on itself when she pulled him closer, after hearing Grovyle step past.

He hated how he felt like he'd been torn in half when Grovyle ripped her out of there.

He hated how frozen in terror he was as he watched Grovyle beat her within an inch of her life.

He hated how he felt utterly useless, watching Celebi, Dusknoir and Kip do everything they could to keep her from dying...

...

Darkrai's eyes widened as a thought came to his mind.

She may not have been attacked if she had just left him.

She might not be unconscious in the hospital, straddling the line between life and death, if she had simply hidden herself in the shadows, and left him to confront Grovyle.

She wasn't hiding herself from Grovyle.

She was protecting him...

...

Darkrai slowly curled his fists, leaving scratch marks in the floor.

No.

That wasn't what she was doing.

She hated him as much as he hated her.

It was in her best interest to keep her own body alive.

Then why didn't she hide you in the closet alone, and try speaking with Grovyle

Because Grovyle would have attacked her regardless.

Then she would have hidden herself in the shadows and tried conversing with him.

Did you not see the murderous rampage Grovyle was on?! He wouldn't have listened to her.

What about the code word?

Darkrai's heart skipped a beat.

She would have had a chance to say it had she not tried to keep you safe.

She... She had a chance to say it during their fight. She'd forgotten she had that word in mind.

Would she have forgotten if he didn't claim that her voice was a trick? Would she have forgotten if she had a chance to talk with Grovyle? Would she have forgotten if she only dodged, and didn't try to fight back?

Grovyle wouldn't have believed her if she did say the word.

Kip didn't believe her until she said the word to him. And he had more of a reason to doubt the legitimacy.

Darkrai pressed his claws into his arms.

Stop.

If she had shown you to him, and explained what had happened, what do you think Grovyle would have done?

Darkrai winced from the pain he was inflicting on himself, attempting to hold back tears.

Stop it!

Grovyle would not have hesitated to try and kill you.

STOP!

He would blame you, as he does now, for stealing her body.

Blood was starting to pool where his claws pierced his skin.

Do you not recall her expression, when she apologized for what she said to you that morning? And the promise she made to find something for you to do during the day?

ENOUGH! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MY OWN MIND BELITTLING ME LIKE THIS!!!

She cares about you.

...

Darkrai quietly cried in his bed. Trying to remain as silent as possible so the others couldn't hear him.

Why?

...

Silence.

**********

Grovyle lay flat on his back in Kip's bed, ironically getting less sleep than he did than for the few weeks he was technically homeless. Forced to stay in that position so his ribs would heal correctly. Tears flow down his face as he thought about Twig.

The fear in her eyes, as a human, a Charmander, and in Darkrai's body haunted him.

The feeling of satisfaction he felt, watching her bleed before he knew who she was, made him consider leaving to enter Labyrinth Cave alone.

Grovyle intentionally took deep breaths. Each one sending out sharp pain from his chest.

He can never see her again. His presence would force her to relive what he'd done to her.

He tried to kill her.

He forced her through intense agony to make her suffer.

He traumatized her.

She should hate him.

She should hate him the way he hates himself, with every fiber of her being...

He hopes she does.

*********

Dusknoir couldn't take any comfort in the literature he used to. Despite Celebi's and the doctors' best efforts, the damage done to his eye is permanent. Everything looks like he'd been submerged underwater. His age already made his eyesight worse, but now he'll have to learn Braille to read again.

But he wasn't worried about that.

He was more worried about Kip.

He was of course worried about Twig. Praying at every moment that she would recover, but his fears still lay in seeing Kip neglect himself to watch Twig at all times.

The fact that the last thing he could, and probably will ever see clearly, was Kip's expression of terror, the same he'd seen several years ago, filled him with a pain that was much greater than what Kip had afflicted him with.

Dusknoir wondered if all of this would have been avoided if he was never given his undeserved mercy.

He saw the way Kip shook when he exited the passage of time.

Twig wouldn't be on the cusp of death, and Kip would be happy if he was simply never brought back.

********

Celebi couldn't understand how Darkrai isn't exhausted all the time with how he's constantly angry.

She's barely able to do anything but sit on the couch and think of just how much of a brain-dead idiot she is.

If she had just looked forward when they figured out that Kip and Twig had moved, then she could have stopped any of this from happening.

But NOOOOO!~ She just HAD to wait and see what would happen! She just HAD to be surprised by how things would turn out!

And now she hurt everyone and Twig might die.

Sure, they managed to get her to the hospital, and yeah, She's at least stable.

But what happens if her body gives out?

She dies.

And it'd be her fault if she does.

Celebi doesn't even want to think about what Kip and Grovyle would do if she passes.

She's completely trapped in a prison of her own design.

She hates that she didn't look forward then, and she hates how scared she is to look forward now.

She hates how angry she feels towards Kip for hurting Dusknoir like that. Even though she knows it was a knee-jerk reaction.

She hates how angry she is at Grovyle, for letting himself get to the point where all logic and reasoning went out the window. Even though she knows he was just tired and furious and paranoid.

But she doesn't hate how angry she is at herself.

There isn't a justification for her actions.

She is just stupid.

*********

Kip didn't care that sleeping next to her gave him nightmares. He couldn't care less that the pendant she wore with the lunar feather was lost during her fight.

The fear he feels in those nightmares pales in comparison to the fear he feels at every waking second.

Every morning he jolts awake, covered in cold sweat from the nightmare he had, and stares at Twig. Watching her to make sure she's still breathing.

He hasn't left the room since he was allowed in after the emergency surgery the Doctors had to preform on her.

He watches the doctors replace the medicine and bandages daily. Staring at her wounds to make sure they haven't gotten infected. Even if that's not his job.

Kip just-

He was so mad at himself.

He wanted to make up for abandoning Twig when she needed him most. But he can't.

And he might not ever be able to.

What a moron he is. He can't figure out why he started running in the first place.

They were his friends. They wouldn't hurt him or Twig.

But Grovyle ended up nearly killing her anyway. All because he wasn't there to defend her. To explain what had happened.

Kip stared at Twig.

First time she's slept since switching bodies, and it was because of him.

Kip stood up and heavily, slowly walked towards the door.

He turned his head to look back at her. Hoping she'd woken up.

She didn't. She lay in the same position. Her breathing, weak and short.

...

Team Skull was right about him

They were more right than Twig ever was.

All he ever did was weigh her down. He was a burden that he forced her to carry.

She had lied to him. He wasn't her friend. Friends don't abandon each other when they need them most.

Friends don't suddenly change their minds and try to go back for them for no reason.

Friends don't break down crying, unable to do anything while trying to put medicine on their wounds.

Friends don't act like him.

Kip left the room and slowly walked out of the hospital towards the travel agency. His head hung low.

He could feel the atmosphere get less heavy with each step, but he himself still felt heavy.

He's going... Somewhere. He doesn't know where. Just, any other town.

She doesn't deserve a scumbag 'friend' like him.

It's better this way...

*******

Celebi had told her everything.

She couldn't help but notice the underlying anger in her words. Everything recounted to her with an uncharacteristic flatness. Simply laying out the facts and nothing more.

She took a slight amusement as she thought about how Twig must have looked at Grovyle, when he saw her clutching that monster like some scared child holding a stuffed toy.

It was exactly what she deserved to have happen after she gave pity to that wretched, selfish thing.

At least justice was finally served.

Maybe now she'll take a step back and realize her actions and words were in no way justified.

Maybe she'll finally see just how awful he acted. And finally take the steps to right what's wrong.

Cresselia stopped her midnight flight when she suddenly realized that someone experiencing great physical and emotional pain. Barely detectable, as it was far away. All the way over on the Fire continent.

Cresselia decided to shelve the thoughts as she began making her way over to where the pain was originating.

She thinks it may be coming from a Snivy but she isn't quite sure yet.

Cresselia enjoyed the feeling of the crisp, early spring night breeze against her feathers.

Perhaps her and Kip will finally see eye-to-eye when she returns.

[babbybones]

i can see why toby tweets about UTDR so sparingly now considering you have some people who will be like "What does this drawing of Spamton Pogging/this Mob Psycho 100 Crossover Fanfic mean for the jbjksfbgsdgbjksdagkjsf" and then you have others who are like "well I know this lore was dropped on the official website and is clearly a Sincere Piece of Storytelling but I think it doesn't count"

[antichrists-plus-one]

the thing about Jonathan sims is I trust him with my happiness but mostly I trust him with Jonathan sims’ life and if he is planning on releasing anything it means he actually believes it’s good and adds to the story

[katyahina]

What 'default' Paleblood Hunter is like?

Recently I've been talking about characters of color in Bloodborne and how there are more than what fandom notices and someone pointed out that Paleblood Hunter should also count since they're entirely customiseable.. and that made me think about something 🤔

Tbh what gives me a slight frustration is that whereas Fashionborne is a great aesthetic, there is no way to cover characters' skin and hair on 100%, and that made deciding on sort of a "canon look" for Hunter inevitable unlike in other Soulsborne games where they had helmets to solve the problem! Like.. going by merch , default Hunter has grey eyes, grey hair and pale skin. Bloodborne clothes style just doesn't offer a way to avoid that :pensive: Also, the grey-haired version has been used as default for creating cutscenes ( x ), and there is a face data in the game itself not used by any NPC but strongly resembling this version ( x ).

On the other hand, whereas Bloodborne Titan Comics are separate thing from the game's canon, they are still licensed! I think for this reason the comics is also valid to use for interpetations? The comics have Paleblood Hunter with pale blue eyes, brown skin and black hair! Also very blantantly nonbinary one; they are designed to look very androgynous and they straight up respond 'I am a hunter' on Iosefka asking if they are a boy or a girl. Aleš Kot who wrote the comics confirms writing the Hunter as nonbinary, it is not just them being "confused" upon waking up or something ( x )

Then, in the game itself when character creation menu is opened, there are two preset hunters, male and female, with all black hair and greyish-green eyes; when other Soulsborne games offer different origin presets that effect the preset look/race, Bloodborne doesn't have this feature. 🤔 This is JUST what we get, only gender varies.

^ I think lack of origin choice in Bloodborne comes from necessity to imply that Paleblood Hunter HAS TO come from the same foreign country as Brador. There is no origin variety because they had to come from a specific country that never gets named; whereas it doesn't effect the look because hunter can be customised, but possibly white people are the most common in that country and we are given a look of the most generic citizen from that place! 🤔

So yeah, what I am trying to say is that Bloodborne protagonist dodges the 'everyman' state of just an abstract person without any hint for what's under their John Soulsborne armour due to BB outfits style. Which is good, because there is no way to avoid getting creative! But also when John Soulsborne IS needed, it is just a loop fhfhds (Should have given them a cool full-face mask for consistency!)

[aurosoul]

tried to take a vacation from art but now I’m just using this time to make new, weird, completely unmarketable personal art and honestly? a truly unparalleled experience. highly recommend it

[baseball-mom]

it’s always the side couple that make me go feral

is it because i prefer interesting characters who through their devastating flaws/trauma are still able to find someone to love? or does my lack of attention span just attach itself to the new shiny thing?

[lovewritteninthestrands]

it’s actually not difficult to say “thank you for calling me on that! I’ll keep that in mind going forward” when you say or do something unintentionally bigoted and ppl will almost always appreciate that you’re listening and trying to change your bad behavior instead of being a dick and doubling down. i think being able to do this when the person criticizing you is doing so in good faith is indicative of maturity.

[bioticbooty]

15 questions for 15 friends

Tagged by @pigeontheoneandonly!

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: My birth name, no. My coming out as they gayest fucker without a gender you've ever met, yes, but oddly, after myself??? Because I decided to write a self-insert (SaOS) and writing my birth name felt WRONG (for reasons I didn't understand at the time) so I made a new name that felt "right," examined those feelings over the course of a decade, and when it came time to change my name, I already had one thanks to my weird Mass Effect-loving, fanfiction-writing, stumbling-into-an-epiphany-yet-completely-missing-it self. In other words, I named myself before I knew who I was.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: Saturday, April 6, between 7:30 pm and 9:15 pm, watching Star Trek: Discovery Season 5, episodes 1 and 2

DON'T LOOK AT ME

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: I have zero offspring and sometimes I feel a way about it and sometimes I don't.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: Track. And I am also going to include marching band because we walked for MILES with HEAVY INSTRUMENTS wearing SHITTY SHOES THAT ARE DEFINITELY NOT MADE FOR HIKING and WOOL UNIFORMS in the fucking HEAT (and also in the cold, in which case we were stuffing little heat buddies into the toes of our shoes).

I do not play a sport now. But I do go on little mental health walks and occasionally hike a volcano.

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: Not once in my entire life.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: How they look at other people. Which is such an incredibly autistic thing, but I fucking studied the shit out of how other people communicated with and looked at other people around them in an attempt to understand it myself because I was always missing these cues that everyone else acted as if they were immediately obvious to the point they didn't need to be said. Communication became one of my special interests as a way to understand and survive in social situations.

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?: Hazel. When I was 17 and on a picnic with a friend I was incredibly gay for (but who was tragically straight), she gazed into my eyes as the sun sparkled around us and said my eyes looked like sunflowers in a meadow.

Naturally, I fucking love sunflowers.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: Happy endings. Both are good, and scary movies can have happy endings too, but I like soft and kind stories more where people don't have to suffer in order to experience or earn joy.

ANY TALENTS?: Writing (though writing that makes me feel an imposter), cooking, building, and the ability to stand in a room and spatial reason the shit out of it without moving a muscle to come up with the perfect layout.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: Portland, OR

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: Writing, reading, painting, home improvement, gardening, photography, rock-hounding, traveling, being a professional asshole.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: Three cats!

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 5'6"

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: I loved history and literature the most at the time.

DREAM JOB?: I don't know. This is a complicated question. I don't like that jobs are tied to our ability to thrive. I like doing a lot of different things, and most of those things at the rate I like to do them are not sustainable for paying my bills. It's hard to divorce "dream job" from the hellscape that is living under late-stage capitalism, where everything we do is monetized and categorized according to how productive we are. In which case, the job I have now as a labor organizer, actively combatting this system, is my dream job. But I wish I didn't have to do it and I wish it didn't exist.

No pressure tags: @cr-noble-writes, @pushingsian, @therev28, @eletaniia, @galtori, @mrsd-writes, @rotschopf-thedrow, @swaps55, and anyone else who feels so inclined

[nedlittle]

genuinely i think it's important for adults, especially in the plague times, to play pretend in our day-to-day lives. when i rub my back down with tiger balm so i can sleep without pain, i imagine i am a valiant knight tending to an old injury i received from a dragon. when i go to the store to pick up eggs and milk, i am a lone cowboy riding into town on a mission. when i turn my collar up against the wind i am a femme fatale who's killed 4 husbands and is scoping out a 5th. when i stomp around in the snow i am a doomed polar explorer. if being a little bit silly about my walk to the pharmacy helps me remember that life can be full of joy and whimsy, then so be it.

[nokikissa]

that's the place, that's where I belong just throw me in there

[condemnhim]

Seeing what people write and draw of him could probably put Miguel into a coma

[spookykestrel]

Friends should never live far away :((

[the-traveller-through]

Hello. 

If you are reading this - welcome. You have stumbled upon my collection of tales, noted down for future recollection and others who cannot do what I do. 

I refer to them as tales, but mere stories they are not; they are accounts of my numerous journeys across time and space, realms and worlds again, and they are at least in part the truth. My accounts may contain holes, as for all my powers I am not omniscient and omnipresent, but I have noted down what little I can remember, limited though it may be, and faithfully reproduced them in these “tales.” 

I have asked some of my closest companions, and they have decreed that I start here, on this “website”, for out of all the worlds I have walked your kind hold the most propensity for creativity and imagination, and thus your kind will be the most likely to believe me and the tales I tell of my travels. Personally, I believe that the world I write this in should not matter, and one believer is as good as many, but I was shouted down by all of them, scattered though they are across different lightyears. Hence, I have capitulated to their wishes. 

You may wonder why I write these down. The truth is that nothing is eternal, not even the higher powers of which I hold myself accountable to. Though my kind do not age as you do - so much as crumble away into nothingness - my own time may run out soon. Therefore, I will begin to use this place to recount my memories; my tales, as some of you may call them, in little entries that will come and go as they please.

An introduction might go here, at this point. A name, a face, any identifiers that would make me more personable to you, or appear more real to you through the light-screens of which you read this text. 

But within the realms I walk, names are at once sacrosanct and sacrilegious. I have been told I share my birth-name with one of your planet’s seas; a middling one, important enough to be known and yet unimportant enough for those not within its immediate vicinity, and I quite like the sound of that; your planet’s seas are a lovely beautiful sort, with their greys reflecting your own blue skies. However, writing my birth-name here would do nothing for my tales, would not make them more believable to the likes of your minds, and would take your interest away from what I have to say and towards who I am. I do not claim to be an attention-seeker, and an attention-seeker I shall not be. 

My companions have told me, time and time again, that some people deserve to know what is out there for them beyond this. 

I do not claim to be the best fit for enlightening others. But I will try my best.  Regardless, if I am to do this - to recount what I have experienced - then I will need a name for you to refer to me in your minds, to ease your reading of my tales, and for you to remember me by. 

In your world, names were once used to refer to a human’s jobs. So I have presumptuously decided to name myself after my self-imposed job, here; I hope you will not take offence, and will continue to refer to me by my chosen name. I rather like the sound of it, and adding one more to my host of current names - some chosen, some given - is not a huge burden for me. 

It should, with any hope. cement my role in your minds for the foreseeable future. 

You may call me the Traveller.