#which is why it's such a shame

[resssistance]

Kateřina Mrázková and Daniel Mrázek / RD A Evaristo Carriego; España cañí Junior Grand Prix Final 2022 photo by Marco Mantovani   

[bitchofdarkness]

I hate how fandom has become "if you haven't created anything in this very specific time frame after the release of the show/movie, everyone will have moved on"

And call me old fashioned, but that's just not me. I sometimes take ages to create and publish. And I will love a show or movie for such a long time (years, babes, years) that I just can't relate to the fast consumerism that's going on.

Because, let's be real, it can get really lonely in a fandom if most have simply moved on to the next shiny thing. Is what's created less worth, just because it was created outside the hype? Why is it such a taboo for this new fandom generation to love an old or "late" fic or art?

It's so tiring and I'm too old for the 30-seconds-hype-tiktok-shit. Just tired. So, so tired.

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[aroaceleovaldez]

goofy fierrochase doodle hours

[canisalbus]

Imagine if Machete was Muslim instead of Catholic. His name would be something like Saif سيف, and Vasco would probably be something like Dhahabi ذَهَبِيّ

.

[curi0us-cherry]

Dreaming about cock while my lesbian flag hangs over my bed 💖🤍🧡

[fantasygerard2000]

It honestly feels like the discourse around these two is less about Disney not being "bold" or "creative" and more about people being salty they didn't get their goth GF and glowing twink

[lorebird]

In which Ford struggles so badly to relate to other people that he wonders if he’s really human at all. The more isolated he becomes, the harder it is to reconcile with his own humanity.

[sweetgaleria]

Help a college student graduate by answering a survey!!

Hey!! Are you over 18 and in the miraculous fandom? Then this is for you!!

Hi everyone, this is my last semester of uni, and one of my final projects to be able to graduate is to write a scientific paper. I'm writing an article about adult fans of children's animation, specifically Miraculous Ladybug. My goal is to understand what makes adults (like us) want to join fandoms centered around shows aimed primarily at children, and to do that I'd love to hear directly from the source! The survey takes around 10 minutes to answer, it's 100% anonymous and it would help me immensely!

>>Click here for the survey<<

I need at least 30 people to answer, but honestly the more the merrier! I've also made a little thank you gif at the end, so if you see it let me know! If you have any questions feel free to send me an ask, as well!

Please reblog so it can reach more people! Thank you so much!

[newvegascowboy]

Ok so i personally believe that interstate trade in the wasteland is alive and well, especially along the coasts, but there HAS to be some like. Linguistic weirdness happening in the wasteland. With radio communication, I'm sure there's a "standard english" that prevents a lot of people from getting tooooo granular of a dialect, but it doesn't take that long for languages to change, really. Where are the pidgin languages? The new expressions? The funny sayings? The things that no vault dweller would understand because they come from an entirely different culture?

You'd probably have a lot of languages that are related, like the romance languages, or even Esperanto, where someone can parse the meaning even if they aren't a native speaker. Lots of English/Spanish variants of course, but can you imagine giving the Appalachian dialect 200 years to marinate? Cajun? Minnesotan?? The people in the Commonwealth should be speaking like theyre from another planet. The sole survivor is talking like a Jane Austen novel, unable to comprehend the words a Bostonian mind has had 200 years to come up with.

[triglycercule]

"killer. what is this supposed to be?"

"oh, i commissioned one of my fans to draw art of us! isn't it totally cute??"

"well, it's definitely... something."

"... no, it's cute. but how'd you pay for it? last i heard, your balance was..."

"..."

💜/💙/❤️

[melooooo17]

@openphrase123 your fanfic(s but i mainly made art of the mira and siffrin one because i cant remember words for the life of me for i do not speak french) IS???? ? SO GOOD. SO GOOD IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH finally something to look forward to in the week fr

Mild spoilers for it ig!! But nothing too explicitly groundbreaking i dont think it'll kill your mom to look at these without having read the ff first

Don't mind the shit quality i??? I drew all these so fast theyre kinda shit and i have yet to fully acclamate isat to my artstyle so it's mid

Teehee me when i make shitty rushed fanart to show my appreciation that i cannot put into words for my faovorite games and also authors

peep the rant in the tags

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

"distant relative" i assume you are referring to my father?

[nexo-nex]

i have many problems with eah's soft reboot from around 2016, but one of my biggest gripes i have with it is the sideline of briar on merchandise/promo material when she is part of the main 4 core cast, tho she gets ignored or sometimes downright replaced by other characters like ashlynn or holly

[summerlycoris]

Puhpandas had a great idea recently (glitchtrapped Tony.) And I wanted to take a stab at the concept.

More specifically at the "What happens after." bit. Hint- Tony gets lost and ends up back near his old house.

Under a readmore because it could be triggering if you've been physically assaulted before. There's feelings in this that could touch on nerves.

********

He'd traced his steps, along a familiar road. Now he stood on the street, facing his old house. He felt all dazed, and confused.

Why?

Everything hurt- his back, his stomach, his neck, his arms. And something bad had happened to him. His head ached, but not nearly as much as his heart ached. 

'... Because it's not my home, it's their home, and I'm wanted no more…'

He couldn't go home. Because it wasn't his home anymore. It was someone else's now. He couldn't remember how to get to his Grandma's from here. He couldn't remember a lot of things.

(He didn't want to remember.)

What had happened? He'd gone to the pizzaplex? Gregory had been there? 

Did someone jump me on the way home?

He knew what really happened. But he couldn't believe it- didn't believe it- it hurt too much- He could feel something poking around inside his mind. Something he'd been trying to ignore. 

He didn't cry. Or sob. He just hurt. 

Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head-

He was on the swings suddenly, in the park that sat down between their street, and the next street over. He hummed a song absent-mindedly. One of those old songs that Grandma would play on her old record player. A song that his Mom sometimes sang along to.

I'm missing time? Did I got abducted by aliens?

Ellis would laugh with him about it next week, when they'd meet up at school again.

They used to play here a lot, when they were in elementary school together. Pretending the playground was a pirate ship. That the floor was a crocodile infested river- so you'd have to jump from circle to circle, never landing on the soft blue floor. Making the merry-go-round spin so fast, that they both would get thrown off it after a dizzy spell, and collapse to the ground laughing and carrying on-

It just made his heart ache more. His brain pounding against his skull.

He kicked his legs uselessly. He wasn't swinging. Not really. Just sitting. Just trying not to be still. He wasn't going anywhere.

The playground didn't have any lights that stayed on at night. It wasn't that kind of playground, where you'd need to worry about teens going there and doing bad things in the dark. This was a good part of town. Nothing bad could happen here. 

The only lights were distant street lamps, and the starlight filtering down.

What time is it?

Tony had a watch. Had a watch- it was missing now. So was his entry pass to the pizzaplex.

Did someone mug me?

He also had a different shirt than he'd worn to school- a Bonnie longsleeve? Hadn't they stopped selling these? Where did he get it?

Did someone… reverse mug me??

The sun was starting to rise in the distance. He could understand why they'd given him a new shirt- his old one. That had... gotten stained, hadn't it?

How long have I been here?

His arms and belly felt weird. He lifted his shirt and sleeves to look at them. Well... He wasn't gonna stain his new shirt, at least. He stopped looking- it just made him feel queasy.

Lights were coming on in the houses, one by one. He could see a light on over at Ellis's house, through the back yard. 

He could go there. And they could have breakfast together. They could pretend they'd had a sleepover together, like old times. Ellis could loan him a sleeping bag. A watch. A new head. And nothing bad would have happened to him and there would be nothing weird poking around in his head and his heart would stop aching and-

And Ellis's Mom was there. Standing in front of him.

How long has she been there?

He started a little, nearly falling backwards before clutching the chains tighter. 

"Tony- It's okay. It's Olivia, do you remember me?" She had her hands in front of her, in a way that should probably have been calming. 

He caught his breath, and felt panic start to ease out of him. He nodded. And she seemed to relax a little, too. 

"Oh, good. Sweetie- listen. I've rang your Mom. She's on her way now. And so are the police. Okay?" She looked at him intently, and kneeled down in front of him. While he kicked his legs and stared off into the distant sky. The stars were going out.

"Tony? Did you hear me?"

"Um. Yes. Sorry Mrs Martinez." 

He couldn't look at her. This is so embarrassing. Having to be picked up by his Mom like this. Had he and Ellis broken another vase trying to play skip rope indoors? That was a silly thing to do, Tony. You know better-

He could feel her eyes looking through him. 

"Do you… want to talk about it, sweetie?"

He shook his head frantically, and choked out "No- no- no-"

"Hey, sweetie. It's okay. You're okay now. Everyone was so worried about you…" 

Why?

She looked at him so pitifully. Had he said that out loud?

A car pulled up, on his old street. A familiar car. Mom's car. 

And she was there. So quick, he'd barely seen her race up to him. He thought she'd grab him, and swing him around in a spinney-hug. She used to do that, when he was little. 

Instead she stopped next to Mrs Martinez. It looked like she'd been crying earlier. She was still crying. 

His head kept hurting. Pounding in a rhythm now. He couldn't take it much longer-

She couldn't get any words out. Mouth gaping open like a fish's would. But he could get the message- What happened to you?

He went to answer, but felt… sleepy. Really sleepy. He was gonna fall off this swing any second-

But he didn't fall. Instead he heard his voice talking to his Mom. It sounded strange to him. Like he was listening underwater…

"Mom, I… I lost track of time at the pizzaplex. It got dark, and someone h-hurt me when I was walking home… please don't be mad…"

He went to sleep as Mom pulled his imposter into a hug.

[thepoisonroom]

'I flirted with the idea that instead of being trans that I was just a cross-dresser (a quirk, I thought, that could be quietly folded into an otherwise average life) and that my dysphoria was sexual in nature, and sexual only. And if my feelings were only sexual, then, I wondered, perhaps I wasn’t actually trans.

I had read about a book called The Man Who Would Be Queen, by a Northwestern University professor who believed that transwomen who were attracted to women were really confused fetishists, they wanted to be women to satisfy an autogynephilia. And though I first read about this book in the context of its debunkment and disparagement, I thought about the electricity of slipping on those tights, zipping up those boots, and a stream of guilt followed. Maybe this professor was right, and maybe I was only a fetishist. Not trans, just a misguided boy.

About a year later, on the Internet, I come across a transwoman who added a unique message to the crowd refuting this professor. Oh, I wish I remember who this woman was, and I wish even more that I could do better than paraphrase her, but I remember her saying something like this: “Well, of course I feel sexy putting on women’s clothing and having a woman’s body. If you feel comfortable in your body for the first time, won’t that probably mean it’ll be the first time you feel comfortable, too, with delighting in your body as a sexual thing?”'

-Casey Plett, Consciousness