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#yes I know about all of the alternatives
etakeh · 1 year
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You know, every so often I think I should update my pirated copy of CS2.
Then I see things like this, and remember that I don't need it more than I need it, you know?
Dated 3/22/23
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starry-bi-sky · 22 days
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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of
Flesh and bones and they're all scared of
A lost little boy who has lost his heart
Fear's not enough, they have to
Tear him apart —-------
There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 
He’s adopted.
He can’t remember anything else before that.  
‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 
What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 
When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.
(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 
The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.
It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 
The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 
His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.
(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 
(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 
They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  
(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)
Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 
He turned back around and went inside.
—-------
Where do we go
When the river's running slow
Where do we run
When the cats kill one by one
—------
One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  
He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 
It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 
He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 
Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 
(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)
After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 
He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.
—------
Hazel beneath our claws
While we wait for cerulean to cry
Unsettled ticks run through time
Enough for the hunt to go awry
—-----
There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 
He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 
Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 
(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 
(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  
He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 
A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 
He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 
His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.
Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   
—-------
Harpy hare
Where have you buried all your children?
Tell me so I say
—-------
When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 
Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.
He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.
Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 
(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)
(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)
(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  
—--------------
It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders
And they will never
Hear me here listen to croons and a calling
I'll tell them all the
Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow
Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare
—-------
More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 
Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 
His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 
They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 
It is a fast dream. 
His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.
His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 
The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 
The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 
His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 
(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 
—---  
She can't keep them all safe
They will die and be afraid
Mother, tell me so I say
(Mother, tell me so I say)
—-------
When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 
The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 
(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 
(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   
Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 
(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)
—------
Seeker, do you ever come to wonder
If what you're looking for is within where you hold
Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path
You'll soon forget
Home
—---------
When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 
When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.
‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 
He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.
He ends up calling himself Phantom. 
(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 
----------
Home is where we are
Home is where you are
Home is where I am
-----------------
Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#amnesiac danyal al ghul au#songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart#musician danny has my heart and soul#yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks#implied good mom talia al ghul#danyal is a momma's boy send tweet#dpxdc ficlet#dpxdc prompts#dp x dc au#dp x dc fanfic#danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au#no beta no edits we die like danny fenton#poc danny fentons#i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense#ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later#morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it#since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous#phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe#not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him
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sergle · 9 months
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There's something about like. A certain genre of posts / Online Opinions about insecurity/depression/misery/complaints that are so unhelpful that they wrap right around to being straight up hilarious. and it's the ones that are more or less written to the tone of "Feeling bad? That's gross!" Like, just so you know, don't voice your insecurities/ have low self esteem, because that's offputting! You're gross and weird. Don't be insecure about that, though. That would be stupid if you felt insecure about people disliking you for being insecure. Not attractive. You should be thinking about being as attractive as possible. You shouldn't make comments about suicide, even if you're suicidal! Keep those thoughts entirely to yourself. Make sure nobody around you knows you're thinking about this. It would Make Them Uncomfortable. It's better to keep these thoughts in your head where they can fester. Don't post OR talk to friends with complaints about you feeling miserable or depressed. Tbh people who are sad/upset a lot? Kinda a red flag! You are probably miserable because you're a bad person and you've brought this on yourself. If you don't have friends, it's because you're awful to be around. Easy! Solved the problem for you. And no, there is no nuance to this, got it? So, make sure to feel bad about feeling bad, but don't feel bad about it, because, well, that's just gross. And annoying! You might've wanted your brain rotted thoughts to be Peer Reviewed, you might have just needed to vent- you might've been hoping for some comfort, to get things off your chest. Well, don't! Don't talk about thoughts or feelings that are negative with your friends, you'd be burdening them and that's only meant for THERAPY. #SponsoredbyBetterHelp #MentalHealth like, DAMN. that's so helpful. you're so good at helping. I um really liked the part where these are all hard and fast rules that encourage keeping feelings bottled up and keeping your friends at arm's length. That's really funny of you.
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no-light-left-on · 1 month
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I often wonder about the quote-unquote logistics of Corvo the Black/Emily the Butcher endings. Emily makes more sense to me, in a way, carving her way through the empire only to come back with blood caked under her fingernails and realising that she did everything her father refused to do 15 years ago. but why did Corvo have a similar choice?
what happens to the statues later? does Emily keep her father trapped in stone? does Corvo look at his daughter, frozen in the moment and considers freeing her? is he at his deathbed when he finally reaches out and cups Emily's cheek, freeing her into a carcass of an empire that he gutted for her, in her name, in the name of her mother?
when I first heard of the endings I thought that if you reach very high chaos, you are locked into this choice - Corvo or Emily tries to free the other and the stone just doesn't budge. they are trapped. the quest is over but the world knows that the bloodshed was extreme and this is the punishment they have to face
#li.txt#dh#dishonored#kinda like the high chaos brigmore witches ending#there is no reason for corvo to kill daud if you finish BW in high chaos. but he still does. because the world Knows#but the very Active choice of the player and by extension the character to take the throne and keep their last family locked in stone....#its certainly a choice. and it makes me wonder about many a thing#i really wish we got more info#karnaisbear mentioned that itd be cool if we got comics expanding on alternate endings and like arkane. arkane can we please get those#I just really wanna know What It Was Like to live under the rule of Emily or Corvo in the very high chaos endings#and the fact that it seems like they can still free the other person? that adds so much more angst and tension to it#is there a time limit? do years pass and does corvo grow old and weary and thinks that yes#he has done his job and he has done it well. and the empire is righted and he can hand it back to emily now#and he cups her cheek and it remains cold marble#and all he did was for nothing#and he cries#(can u tell ive been reading thru the corvo the black tag)#not to mention something similar to that but with emily!!#imagine she grows old! older than corvo was when he was frozen!#the century is coming to a close when she finally frees him and she is older so much older and corvo will have to live with losing her#in every single impossible way he has lost her#and then he gets to bury his daughter#these tags got so dark wtf
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essektheylyss · 9 months
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It is the year 2031. The second season finale of the Bells Hells animated series, episode title, "Red Moon Rising," has just been released. I open a new project in Premiere Pro. I title the project "LudinusDaleth_AMV". I drag "WageWarsGetRichDieHandsome_TheMountainGoats.mp4" into the timeline,
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spectrum-color · 1 year
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Just thinking about how much Robin Hobb had to do to force her OTP back together at the end of Fools Fate and being salty. It required:
-Burrich to be depicted as a decrepit old man when he’s like in his 50s and conveniently die, gifting Fitz with his family (!) as his last wish
-Fitz to finally realize and accept what “no limits” means with Beloved after an entire trilogy where this is a central theme and raise him from the dead because he refuses to live in a world that he isn’t part of, and then for this to not matter at all because Beloved decides actually he’s just an obstacle to Fitz’s true love Molly (?!) and leaves
-Fitz not being allowed to choose what he wants, because when he tries to choose Beloved he’s told no that’s not actually what’s good for you
-Molly not being able to choose if she would be ok with her ex bringing along his queerplatonic life partner because it’s already been decided for her that of course she wouldn’t
-Fitz getting lost in a Skill pillar for a month so he can’t have a rational discussion with Beloved about it as Prilkop the conveniently located agent of Clerres tells him all about how of course their Path is finished and staying by his Catalyst will only do harm
-Prilkop convincing Beloved that he should go back to Clerres, a place where he was physically and sexually abused before running away, because apparently it’s his job to fix them, and this actually working (!!!)
-Literally everyone in Fitz’s life, up to and including Burrich and Mollys eldest son who Fitz never speaks to on page again after this, pushing him to pursue her and telling him not to take no for an answer
-Molly and Burrich (actually Nettle) being granted Withywoods and a noble title by Patience so they no longer have to deal with the obvious issue of the class divide
-Molly magically accepting that he let her believe he was dead for 16 years and abandoned their daughter because he was upset she married someone else because her role in this book is to be his prize for completing the quest
-Neither Fitz nor Molly ever mentioning or even thinking about Burrich, his foster father and major formative influence and her husband of many years and father of her sons, except for a few passing references
So yeah, in a series where the characters generally act in believable ways even when it’s frustrating, this whole plot was just contrived as hell
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radioactivepeasant · 1 year
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Link looked down at his bracelet, then at the city around him. He'd slipped between worlds again, like he'd done dozens of times before, but this didn't look like the Gerudo city Impa had described.
"Uh...kid? What are you doing in my dad's map room?"
Jak stared at a nine or ten year old kid he knew hadn't been there five minutes ago. Damas wasn't due back for the rest of the afternoon, but honestly Jak didn't think even that would give him enough time to explain a random painting of a child appearing out of a crack in the wall and then solidifying as an actual kid.
@sonicasura you caused this 🤣
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bumblingbabooshka · 6 months
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Odd and Recent Planets
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around-your-throat · 6 months
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who even cares
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crossbackpoke-check · 9 months
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Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming
#liv in the replies#patrice bergeron#boston bruins#brad marchand#do you ever think about how brad marchand said that when bergy retired he would retire or are you capable of normal thought i'm not at all#please say a gratitude for both my sanity& y'all that this poem (which has been saved in my camera roll with the vague idea of using it for#??? ​long) & not one of the poems i had saved for carey for a really long time & remixed & everything with another poem until i found a poem#that absolutely murdered me in cold blood but there is an alternate universe where i did& then had to explain my unhinged thoughts to you.#anyway how are we feeling about bergy retirement. pspspspsp sara & luna are y'all doing okay like. the doc title for this one was#patrice the hockey player means a lot to me but patrice the person means so much more#which is why the end line of the other poem was so *%"@^)! (you love / what you are) because patrice does. like he is a whole ass good huma#& now since no one asked i need to tell you all the details about everything also y'all please clap i made an edit with NO baby pictures#although i did find one & save it & minimal genres of photo i always use in edits because they're my taste & aesthetic but anyway.#when i saved the first photo and marked it as one i wanted i accidentally wrote “how will he know they love him” which is not the line but#makes me feel feral about patrice & the rest of them all had hurtful names too but also. the third picture is literally a CELLY like brad#just scored a goal & he is clinging to bergy for dear life with that shit i saved that as “oh the agony on his face for unendurable”#& yes it is one of my cliches to have a draft day picture but in my defense the lifelong bond that patrice has/d with boston deserved to be#there even if i put in the love story & YES that picture is from the 2011 playoff right below it shared joy & pain & i couldn't tell you#when the brad marchy photo for together forever is except for the fact that i saw it & just the gut punch of oh my god the way he looks at#things men will praise you for is the stanley cup. duh. but i love the contrast of “some deed” being the stanley cup but then#bergy's choice to do noble deeds (ends up still earning praise &that's my note to his efforts outside of hockey we love a supportive captai#should also mention the first two i came up with & had the photos i knew i wanted for were the first and last one alskaldk but i KNEW i#wanted chara somewhere in the paragraph about leaving & then while i was looking found the one of bergy playing tuukka on accident & yes#i do have to make goalie jokes every time. no reprieve . no dice/no deal/no goal goalies have no rest/reprieve etc etc the one that killed#me though was looking for a patrice award pic & i wanted basically the one that i got for “how will you know any will praise you” & instead#also got the picture of patrice winning the some community hero award for charity work that he does & i love him mama & of COURSE that puck#is from bergy's 1000 game who do you think I am (if you guessed sleepy and emotional about patrice you'd be right) and ALSO please be ready#for all the patrice posts/bruins posts that have been sitting in my drafts to be released on this occasion of patrice retirement#I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT TUUKKA ALSO RETIRED THAT’S WHY HE WAS ON WISE OR SIMPLE NO REPRIEVE AND THAT LATE OR SOON WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE#CHARA BECAUSE CHARA LEFT FIRST TO GO TO THE CAPS AND THEN LEFT IN RETIRMENT HE LEFT SOON BUT NOT FOR REAL THEN LATER LEFT FOR REAL (RETIRED)
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stirdrawsandreblaws · 3 months
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screaming crying coughing up blood every time i have to fucking defend genocide joe bc ppl wanna lie and say he isn't responsible for most of the best domestic policy we've seen in decades
his foreign policy is dogshit, yes, and he should rightly be called on it and primaried out, but we can criticize the shit he's actually done wrong instead of making shit up about him ~not doing anything good~
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skrunksthatwunk · 4 months
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sometimes you need to go back and listen to the music you liked when you were 13 because it's good for you. and no im not talking about like emo nostalgia in this case we have enough posts about that. im talking about dad rock. actually im just talking about barenaked ladies
#idk if i'd call barenaked ladies dad rock per se but every once in a while i'll hear a song and go MAN. I REMEMBER THAT#i had so many oc animatics in my head about this one....#anyway skrunk lore moment but i had a really intense bnl phase for like 8 months in early middle school which explains a lot about 13 y/o me#in a neutral way but like. yeah. anyway go listen to box set for me.#you don't have to listen to anything else even though i still have a great fondness for a lot of it bc it's one of those things where it's#so familiar to me that i don't even know if i think it's good or not. but box set goes hard and i'll stand by that#in the car and hello city and i'll be that girl and spider in my room AND CALL ME CALMLY and blame it on me and alternative girlfriend and#the flag and when i fall and the king of bedside manor and am i the only one.... ohgh#AND YES IT'S BASIC BUT IF I HAD $1000000 IS COZY. IT'S CUTE OK#OH and it's all been done for all your immortal/reincarnation ship needs. well. a certain vibe anyway#and alcohol. and OH MY GOD I FORGOT JANE. AND INTERMITTENTLY and break your heart.... waaaaaaa#man they have way way more albums than i thought they had#i can only really speak for gordon born on a pirate ship and maybe you should drive actually but. i like those#or i Did like them. havent relistened but even looking at the titles is making me giggly like... i forgot some of these#ALSO SHOEBOX IS A FRIENDS SONG?? WHUH?#or maybe it was used in friends? idk. no thoughts on friends but they did music for just the dumbest shit. ignore that for me please#ANYWAY. going to go listen to all of that now bc im having a moment. if you listen to it and don't like it um. don't think less of me lol <3
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diluc33rpm · 3 months
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the romance/relationship system in bg3 is genuinely some of the worst designed shit i've ever seen in any game with that feature but at least the memes we get out of it are funny. once saw someone comment something along the lines of 'patch note: waving at gale will no longer cause him to buy a house for the two of you to retire in' and i've never recovered since
#i love gale he doesn't deserve (most of) the incel slander#but it's painfully such a good riff because it really really does feel like that#the player choices being a b/w alternation between 'hey there' and 'YOU SHOULD KILL YOURSELF... NOW!' normally is already comical as is#the fact that it carries over into interactions with the party members who you're presumably trying to be close with is... something else#and what makes it worse is it ISN'T jokey hyperbole. anyone remember 'send a mental image of you kissing him or HIS HEAD ON A PIKE.' c'mon#trying to chat and vibe at the refugee camp celebration and the sum of conversation i get is one (1) line asking how they're doing#because going any further than that elicits marking you down for the path of boning take it or leave it#it's genuinely so hard to get to feel like you can deepen a relationship with the characters in ways that aren't trying to pursue them#yes! halsin! i really want to know you better! i just don't want the ass!! why is trying to hit the only option other than up and leaving!!#99% of the time i expect nothing from media creators in terms of writing interactive relationships#larian are beyond parody in that they've somehow managed to do worse than the already suboptimal majority#we're just going to impose the roadblock of do you want to fuck y/n right off the bat. good luck finding a way to talk around that if not#the obscuration surrounding where exactly the checks are really does not help at all either#when the shit's got even the allos complaining about it you know it's BAD#shame because i was excited for character scenes given that's a lot of what's hyped up about the game#but no it's all just the romances. 'what if i'd like to breathe in someone's general direction-' well now have you heard of our romances?#fish fear them party members fear them and tav is going to have to walk alone on this sinful earth#conservative bigoted relative at the family reunion withers era was a fucking time before they tweaked that line speaking of#just so crazy they can get away with this shit#baldur's gate 3#bg3 liveblog
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aroaessidhe · 1 year
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2023 reads // twitter thread  
Lucha of the Night Forest
YA fantasy about a girl struggling to survive with her sister in a land overtaken by a forgetting drug, who makes a deal with a forest god to escape
spooky fungi magic, forest, sisters, lesbian MC
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tardis--dreams · 3 days
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Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes
#also my colleague (the girl i had my shift with) is the exact opposite of me in all aspects. asked me if I'd ever worked in customer service#because i couldn't care less about being fake friendly to assholes and don't care if they like the service or not#like bitch those people don't have any other choice but drink our fucking coffee it's not like I'm competing with anyone#or like they pay us in any way. i get paid for doing the dumb work i have to do not for stroking some dumb ass doctors' egos#they come out of their rooms once an hour to get coffee and we have the cups on the table and i wouldn't even Think of#HANDING them the cups and smiling sweetly at them and asking 'coffee? tea?? :))'#I'll just assume these grown adults will get their stupid coffee or tea when they want some. it's not like they don't know where it is#(and i AM friendly and smile when someone is coming in our direction but why the fuck do you need to get so disgustingly friendly with them#if someone held up a cup asking if i.want some coffee I'd leave immediately even if i came just for coffee. it's creepy)#anyway. she's nice. I'm not.#there's normal people who will get their coffee and maybe ask if the milk in the little jug is cow milk to which I'll happily reply 'yes#:)'. then there's the other people who see the oat milk and make it clear they are the most insufferable people on the planet#(and i pity their patients so much. not much to choose from i guess but if i had that as a doctor I'd happily just die)#like everyone who took oatmilk could do it without making a fuss about the cow milk on the table. the cow milk lovers could never#'the oat milk is in front of the actual milk. this is unacceptable. i hate such healthy bullshit' lol okay#'OAT milk?? I'll leave this to the horses! THANK GOD you have actual milk!'#my favorite was the one who really took personal offense with its sheer presence. as if it had killed half of his patients lmao#'we had 50 patients with xyz problem. ALL of them drink oat milk. they cannot see the connection. it's really unhealthy'#at this point i just said i didn't care and stopped paying attention and he started complaining to his doctor colleague about how#oat milk is advertised to be healthy and how it's actually the opposite and i just find that very funny compared to the first comment#from that one guy who doesn't like such healthy bullshit. you guys need to find a consensus on the oatmilk issue i think. no one takes you#seriously if you contradict yourself like this. also i couldn't care less about the healthiness of the milk alternative of my choice. bitch.#next week I'll end up killing someone. i hope they all die from their cow milk. (but not the ones who took cow milk and didn't say anything#about the oat milk. they can continue living as they didn't annoy me)#void screams#some of these doctors were actually quite nice (most of them even). one even brought an applicant to us telling her to get some coffee#(which we are not allowed to give to applicants. but i don't care. I'd rather they get something than some of the asshole jury members#who hate oat milk (which is not the issue. the issue is them making it everybody else's issue that they don't like oat milk))
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