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#there are literally 80 of them
hawberries · 4 months
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It has been very hard to know what to say in the light of all the atrocities we've witnessed in Gaza these last few months, but harder still to stay silent. I'm heartbroken pretty much all the time, but I think we cannot look away; for all that it's worth, I will continue to march and learn and boycott and call for a permanent ceasefire.
Olive trees grow deeper than the occupation can reach. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free
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turtleblogatlast · 16 days
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Every single member of the Hamato family is equipped with the cantrip Vicious Mockery and 80% of its use is friendly fire.
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heynhay · 10 months
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will you break and take all the words from my mouth?
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kelocitta · 7 months
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In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-
Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.
To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)
And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.
Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.
The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.
They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri
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yangjeongin · 5 months
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HYUNJIN | 231116 • LALALALA @ MCOUNTDOWN
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blackthorn-faerie · 5 months
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Remember when “You’re My Best Friend” was playing on the record when Aziraphale’s bookshop was burning down? A headcannon of mine is that Aziraphale plays Queen in the bookshop because he associates it with Crowley’s driving: it’s terrifying. He’s trying to scare off customers.
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heavenpierceher · 5 months
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i think discourse on this site would rapidly become significantly less annoying if we replaced “fandom purity culture policing” or whatever the fuck it is people call it with “moral scrupulosity” which is the actual term for that behavior
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michaeljoncarter · 2 years
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the difference between dick and roy re: slade is that dick's first impression of him was as this crazy enhanced strategic mastermind who almost succeeded in single-handedly destroying the titans, and roy's first impression of him was that time he accidentally unleashed a plague of giant mutant rat creatures and had to come ask the titans for help before they turned everyone into giant mutant rats and took over the world
this is why dick's reaction to him is this
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and roy's is this
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purehatredandshame · 7 months
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I'm having a moment.
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stvnszlr · 29 days
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when the function got not just one but TWO underrated hairy smiley little drummers ‼️
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pup-pee · 15 days
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aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i havnt drawn in a little
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forgetful-river · 9 months
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Sometimes being in love is like getting your eye gored in a fit of purifying violence, sometimes it's not
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apollos-boyfriend · 9 months
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for when fanfic authors make characters that would never say anything worse than frick swear like a sailor for absolutely no reason
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battle-subway-ghost · 23 days
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>> Paris...? has connected.<<
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puppetmaster13u · 8 months
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Even More Meat Marionette Au
But a lil drabble <3 Because my ADHD snatched this au and isn't letting go.
  There were tunnels under Gotham. 
   Everyone knew about them, even if they were rarely spoken of. There were tales about them, some whispered in hushed voices from mother to child, others creeping across withered pages stained with age. Stories of creatures, of living shadows, of men going mad, wailing about the things beneath. 
   No one went into the tunnels. 
  Not purposely at least. 
   For one Bruce Wayne, he had fallen the first time- slipped into a well after a night of rain and into those dark caves with stone as black as night and just as stained with blood as the rest of the city. 
   No one had gone down for a long time, and no one should have gone down for longer still, but the rain had made the crumbling stones slick, the child reaching just a hint too far, and so down he went, nails scrabbling against unyielding rock and blood dripping from soft skin. 
   The child did not scream, even if his terror was sweet in the air as his blood mixed with the water soaking his clothes. He did not stay, just like the others before him, but the caves remembered the sweetness of the fear he brought. 
   No one went into the tunnels, not anymore. 
   Yet the child did. 
   Oh he wasn’t a child anymore, not to humans, but to the ancient caves, he was still but an infant. He’d eventually leave, and they’d still be there. They had been there long before, and they’d be long after even when the city turned to dust in the sands of time. 
   And yet… 
  And yet. 
   Yet he kept returning, night after night and day after day, running a hand along the stone that should have chilled him to the bone. His fear was still ever so sweet in the air, even if it was lessening over the time. It was… curious. 
   There was still the scent of fear, of terror coming from the human, but it also wasn’t. It was coming from him, but it wasn’t his own fear. 
   The emotion clung to him, but it wasn’t his. It was others’ fear, others’ fear he was bringing down to the cavernous tunnels. Others’ fear he was feeding It, unknowing or not. A gift, a meal, something for It and It alone. 
   It was only polite to return the favor, to gift the little human something to fight and terrify. As much as the spilled blood pleased It, the tunnels understood that it would be far better for Its little human to stay healthy, to be able to bring blood not his own. 
   The city was always full of corpses and the tunnels stretched far longer than humans realized after all, It could reach any who fell. Purposeful deaths, accidental, it made no difference to the bloodstained stone beneath. 
   It would call to Its little human soon enough, Its gift was nearly complete after all. Something to fly without the creaking metal or suits of wires. Something new, something It hadn’t formed before. 
   After all, what use would It have for a living body? What use did flesh and stone need to move? It had been here for a long time, and It would be here longer still, but perhaps, perhaps just this once another would last past the crumbling of life and bones turning to dust. 
   A gift, from the tunnels to him. 
   For one Bruce Wayne, who had returned to them with sacrifices of flesh and blood and fear each night. For one child who had fallen and returned to the depths of the tunnels, for one child that was Its.
This is a combo of my Au & @phoenixcatch7's and you need to check out their Possessed Doll Au because it's amazing <3<3
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now it's morning you will look at..... the all of them.......
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