#but also everything else

[toughbunnyforever]

trying out human things. its boring

#i actually can't think about chainsaw man too much without getting incredibly sad #specifically about them #but also everything else #csm #chainsaw man #angel devil #aki hayakawa #akiangel #out of touch #out of time #blah blah #my art #digital art #digital illustration #sketch dump

[apollopleasant]

Gentle Reminder

That there is no person that doesn’t have at least a bit of bad in them, and no organization that doesn’t have corruption in it.

Especially organizations that have a lot of power, which have a tendency to attract corrupt people that want to abuse that power.

You can have an organization/movement that genuinely wants to do good, and lots of wonderful people in it, and you will still have a couple of people that want to corrupt it.

#Apply this to basically anything #Mainly about politics and other organizations #But also everything else #Nuance is important bc we can recognize that it may be the fault of corrupt ppl #not an entire group of ppl as a whole

[whatthebleep]

it is a truth universally acknowledged that the longer a thing exists and the larger it grows, the more rules people will begin to try applying to it, creating factions around the arbitrary rules, creating divides, sometimes losing fans or supporters of that thing, because what once felt like some open field of exciting possibility then begins to feel like zoned off sectors you have to navigate around.

#fandom #but also everything else #a reminder that you can limit your engagement #if its whats best for you #you can enjoy without engaging #marauders fandom #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #lily evans #harry potter

[meikuree]

previous reblog made me look up my compilation of quotes/passages that struck me when I read The God of Small Things, which I’d previously posted only on dreamwidth. below the cut, for enjoyment and curiosity (cn for mentions of gore and sexual harassment):

The nights are clear, but suffused with sloth and sullen expectation.      But by early June the southwest monsoon breaks and there are three months of wind and water with short spells of sharp, glittering sunshine that thrilled children snatch to play with. The countryside turns an immodest green. Boundaries blur as tapioca fences take root and bloom. Brick walls turn moss green. Pepper vines snake up electric poles. Wild creepers burst through laterite banks and spill across flooded roads. Boats ply in the bazaars. And small fish appear in the puddles that fill the PWD potholes on the highways.

--

Yet Estha’s silence was never awkward. Never intrusive. Never noisy. It wasn’t an accusing, protesting silence as much as a sort of estivation, a dormancy, the psychological equivalent of what lungfish do to get themselves through the dry season.

Once the quietness arrived, it stayed and spread in Estha. It reached out of his head and enfolded him in its swampy arms. It rocked him to the rhythm of an ancient, fetal heartbeat. It sent its stealthy, suckered tentacles inching along the insides of his skull, hoovering the knolls and dells of his memory; dislodging old sentences, whisking them off the tip of his tongue.

---

Other days he walked down the road. Past the new, freshly baked, iced, Gulf-money houses built by nurses, masons, wire-benders and bank clerks, who worked hard and unhappily in faraway places. Past the resentful older houses [...] Each a tottering fiefdom with an epic of its own.

---- It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that it purloined. Over the years, as the memory of Sophie Mol (the seeker of small wisdoms: Where do old birds go to die? Why don’t dead ones fall like stones from the sky? The harbinger of harsh reality: You’re both whole wogs and I’m a half one. The guru of gore: I’ve seen a man in an accident with his eyeball twinging on the end of a nerve, like a yo-yo) slowly faded, the Loss of Sophie Mol grew robust and alive. It was always there. Like a fruit in season.

--- She waged war on the weather. She tried to grow edelweiss and Chinese guava.

--- Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house-the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture- must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for.

--- His cremation was attended by all the boxers in Bengal. A congregation of mourners with lantern jaws and broken noses.

----

Ammu loved her children (of course), but their wide-eyed vulnerability and their willingness to love people who didn’t really love them exasperated her and sometimes made her want to hurt them-just as an education, a protection.

---

When she looked at herself in her wedding photographs, Ammu felt the woman that looked back at her was someone else. A foolish jeweled bride. Her silk sunset-colored sari shot with gold. Rings on every finger. White dots of sandalwood paste over her arched eyebrows. Looking at herself like this, Ammu’s soft mouth would twist into a small, bitter smile at the memory-not of the wedding itself so much as the fact that she had permitted herself to be so painstakingly decorated before being led to the gallows. It seemed so absurd. So futile. 

other shorter lines I put in admittedly for much more superficial reasons like “hey! a pretty sentence!” (too short on time to put borders between different passages, sorry)

Pappachi’s Moth was held responsible for his black moods and sudden bouts of temper. Its pernicious ghost-gray, furry and with unusually dense dorsal tufts-haunted every house that he ever lived in. It tormented him and his children and his children’s children. They were a family of Anglophiles. Pointed in the wrong direction, trapped outside their own history and unable to retrace their steps-because their footprints had been swept away. When he was in this sort of mood, Chacko used his Reading Aloud voice. His room had a church-feeling. He didn’t care whether anyone was listening to him or not. And if they were, he didn’t care whether or not they had understood what he was saying. Ammu called them his Oxford Moods. Ammu said it was all hogwash. Just a case of a spoiled princeling playing Comrade. Comrade! An Oxford avatar of the old zamindar mentality-a landlord forcing his attentions on women who depended on him for their livelihood. Memory was that woman on the train. Insane in the way she sifted through dark things in a closet and emerged with the most unlikely ones-a fleeting look, a feeling. The smell of smoke. A windscreen wiper. A mother’s marble eyes. Quite sane in the way she left huge tracts of darkness veiled. Unremembered. She had wanted a smooth performance. A prize for her children in the Indo-British Behavior Competition. Shadows followed them. Silver jets in a blue church sky, like moths in a beam of light. They were presents for a seven-year-old; Rahel was nearly eleven. It was as though Ammu believed that if she refused to acknowledge the passage of time, if she willed it to stand still in the lives of her twins, it would. As though sheer willpower was enough to suspend her children’s childhoods until she could afford to have them living with her. Centuries telescoped into one evanescent moment. History was wrong-footed, caught off guard. Sloughed off like an old snakeskin. In its absence it left an aura, a palpable shimmering that was as plain to see as the water in a river or the sun in the sky. As plain to feel as the heat on a hot day, or the rug of a fish on a taut line. So obvious that no one noticed. A pair of actors trapped in a recondite play with no hint of plot or narrative. Stumbling through their parts, nursing someone else’s sorrow. Grieving someone else’s grief. [...] inside, map-breath’d ancestors with tough toe-nails whispered to the lizards on the wall. That History used the back verandah to negotiate its terms and collect its dues. […] on the day History picked to square its books, Estha would keep the receipt for the dues that Velutha paid. The glint of Ammu’s needle. The color of a ribbon. The weave of the cross-stitch counterpane. A door slowly breaking. Isolated things that didn’t mean anything. As though the intelligence that decodes life’s hidden patterns-that connects reflections to images, glints to light, weaves to fabrics, needles to thread, walls to rooms, love to fear to anger to remorse-was suddenly lost. He tells stories of the gods, but his yarn is spun from the ungodly, human heart. [...] Something to do with Death’s authority. Its terrible stillness. They were both men whom childhood had abandoned without a trace. Men without curiosity. Without doubt. Both in their own way truly, terrifyingly adult. They looked out at the world and never wondered how it worked, because they knew. They worked it. They were mechanics who serviced different parts of the same machine.

#personally? i liked the shade thrown at the oxford graduate uncle and the rhodes scholarship #and the last bit about men who had been abandoned by childhood #but also everything else #the god of small things #books #arundhati roy #meikuree talks

[summer-soul16]

#summer in my blood #summer girl #summer #it feels like childhood #but also everything else #it’s literally magic #and no one can convince me otherwise #summertime #summer quotes

[kalux-sims]

For neither the first nor last time.....fuuuuuck I hate the TS2 body mapping. It's the worst.

#especially the feet #but also everything else

[bewaitingbelow]

this weekend has felt apocalyptic...

#.pst #re: my own anxiety #but also everything else

[sasukeless]

this moment is so beautiful but also feels so bittersweet after what happened two pages before... they are so dear to me tho

#I cannot begin to express how in love with the artstyle i am #but also everything else #witch hat atelier #mine

[khizuo]

"leftism is when i get everything i want and everyone treats me real niceys" — people on this website

#my text #about the recent discourse #but also everything else

[mumble-muse]

lord in heaven can I be chill for five seconds?

#this is about dating #but also everything else #😅

[lxghtbound]

hello scout is feeling very transgender vibes atm and idk what that means overall but ok

#ooc #i dont really know what he wants #aside from screaming to the world #that he is in fact transmasc #but also enby #but also everything else

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

#yes i want things to be free like ??? that is not a weird desire #'but but it costs money to keep up' ok and? how is that my problem #the government has plenty of murder dollars they could reallocate a few to make internet services universal if they wanted #also these companies were perfectly capable of supporting themselves before the internet got drowned with ads so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #edit: muting notifs on this post bc new additions have kind of petered out #so no one feel bad about adding something someone else has said‚ it is not bothering me im just trying to keep my #notifs page cleanish lol #also since i saw some people are being redirected to read my tags: firstly hiiiiii this is a special secret message for you:3 #secondly i have learned since making this that the reason they were able to support themselves previously was because #of investors bankrolling everything #and theyre now finally realizing that theyre never going to actually make a profit and arent as willing to invest #however thats just a minor correction and doesnt change my overall point #once again. so many murder dollars #so thats why im just adding it here in the tags rather than making an actual correction #anyways . love yall 💕 #origibberish #bigger gibbers

[the-teapot-collection]

the fictional characters are seeping into my bones and rotting me from the inside out

#one piece #jujutsu kaisen #bungo stray dogs #yes this is about those three things #all at once #but also everything else #like beowulf #why beowulf? no clue #hes just in here too now

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

#imagine you're a boy who's going to die. you're in love with the girl you've been watching from afar. you know your fate. #you just want to help her‚ but then there's the announcement and she's here in front of you‚ kissing you‚ risking her life for you and you #think‚ i could live and i could love. you think she loves you when she hands you the berries‚ when she puts them in her mouth. #then you both survive and you go back home and nothing is real anymore. you have nothing. no family. no friends. no love. just an empty #house. a drunk for a neighbor. the love of your life walking into somebody else's arms. you think‚ i survived the games. i could survive #this. and you also think‚ i should've bit down on those berries‚ should've felt the juice burst before i died. #and then the third quarter quell announcement rings in your ears and you think‚ she will live and i will die as i should have in the first #place. the girl you love kisses you on the beach and somewhere you heart stirs and your mind revolts and you savor every touch she has ever #given to you‚ in front of the cameras and off. because you are a tribute and you are always being watched and snow's presence looms and #you think‚ i know she cares. but you get taken. you get drugged. you get tortured‚ your mind altered. the girl is a mutt‚ a murderer. she's #everything you despise‚ your mind stirs. your heart revolts. you gain more awareness but cannot distinguish reality from fiction and you #have never known katniss' love. the war ends. you heal. you come home. you plant primrose for her. years down the line‚ you grow in love #more than you thought possible. but some days‚ you cannot tell fiction from reality so you ask the love of your life‚ you love me. #real or not real? and she says‚ real‚ and kisses you. #and you sigh and kiss her back and revel in this. a home. a life. a love. #lit #the hunger games #everlark #otp: real or not real? #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #text #tais toi lys #thgpost

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

#fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #fandom things #tumblr things #i may have said this at some point #i'm sure i have #but whatever - just in case #i don't say this with the presumption that i'm so amazing and people are clamoring to save my fics #but just if anyone is so inclined that's all #ftr i don't intend on ever removing my fics from ao3 or deleting fandom things from this blog #i've always shared my fandom things with the intent of keeping them shared bc that's the whole point of posting #but the fandom atmosphere and ao3 constantly being under attack who knows what can happen #not that this applies to anyone but should all else fail you can also reach out to me and i will personally give you a copy #at least of fics bc i save everything #not so much the tumblr things but this is a good reminder to myself that i should do that for the things i care about #that i've made or done and only posted here #anyway sorry i have now used up my quota of the putting words into sentences doing for today #i have plans to stare into the void now

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 6 and look who showed up

(1)(2)(3)(4) (5)

#stranger things #platonic stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #cw pregnancy #sorry to rob you of the meet cute but steve's got a lot going on. sometimes he needs a tinder date #someone said on my first mombin 'steddies will insert eddie into everything' kshjsdjsdjs #yes i will. i would be betraying myself if i didn't #ALSO #there is a teeny little plothole/inconsistency somewhere in this #it's like. easily explainable #i want to see if anyone else notices it #it's not that the car is backwards btw let's say that was just a crazy u turn