then me at the end of the dungeon;

the way the other fuckin DPS turned to look at me as I ran out the door lmaoooo

Like I understand that the fantasy of becoming awesome and showing up the assholes who ostracized you appeals to Otaku but Jesus christ

Oh oh lemme guess, it's because they all think your signature ability is useless in their quest to defeat the Demon King (the purpose you were summoned to this world for), and even though anyone who thinks about it for two seconds would realize it's game-breakingly overpowered (because this world works on videogame logic), the only people who recognize your potential are the girls in your harem (a concerning number of whom are legally your slaves)?

I feel like a hypocrite because there is one (one!) series with this premise I like but in my defense it cuts out the misogyny, most of the party liked her and its just one asshole that got rid of her, and most importantly,

Lesbians.

YES!!! I've only read the first little bit of Roll Over And Die, but it's been amazing so far (and yet more proof that even a slop genre can become gold if you make it yuri)

Also it has a currently-airing anime.

You know technology literacy is dying because I saw this meme with 76k likes

F11 the full screen button? You’re scared of the full screen button? F10?? It opens the menu bar???

Computers are so scary what if I accidentally hit F12 in a steam game and it takes a screenshot. What if I press shift + F12 while in word and accidentally save my document 😖

If you had to learn what the F keys on your computer do through me reblogging this post, then I'm glad you did. Computer literacy is not a skill that gets taught anymore, and it is absolutely one that needs to be taught in order to be learned. Don't ever feel bad for not knowing something, but ☝️ don't ever stop learning learning about your environment, the tools you use, and especially the people around you

なし子🍐ヴィレヴァンコラボさんはTwitterを使っています 「🌕🐰 https://t.co/cLb8uPjkJa」 / Twitter

There’s also fresh blood on the bunnies hands and the naut’s helmet. More likely they killed him.

I did see the blood, but I suppose I was kind of just theory-crafting lol.

But also, the four girls have blood on their fingers, dresses, and mouths (at least the two whose faces we can see) but the girl FACING the audience has no blood on her at all, as well as a vaguely surprised/neutral expression whereas the other two girls whose expression we can see are smiling; implying that something about HER is different. So, I’m gonna continue to believe that the astronaut somehow got gore-magicked into a bunny girl, and is now the girl facing the audience, confused that they got turned into a space bunny!

Also note that in the second image, the one on the far left doesn't have any blood on her.

Servant: Your highness, a party of adventurers has answered your call for help.

King: Excellent. What are they like?

Servant: One of them is a dragon-lady.

King: Interesting. Those are rare around these parts.

Servant: Another is a goblin paladin.

King: Not a role you usually see goblins in.

Servant: A third is a purple-skinned tiefling.

King: I didn't even know they come in that color.

Servant: The last one is a sapient gelatinous cube.

King: What. How did these four even meet?

Servant: They met in a tavern two hours ago, apparently.

Queen: My love, please return to bed.

King: *pacing* Why would a gelatinous cube come to a tavern? Can it even get drunk? How did it fit through the doors?

You know, one of the most shameful consequences of scifi/game authors not knowing shit is cyberpsychosis, or Essence, or whatever in-universe asspull for a mechanical limiter on how much cyberware you can cram into a character sheet.

There is an easy excuse in real life! You may not be able to get both a pacemaker and a DBS device because they're both pieces of sensitive equipment that could theoretically interfere with each other, and nobody engineered them not to. Trivially you can extrapolate this to all cybernetics. If your various augs weren't Specifically designed not to mess with each other (and of course the various megacorps might take things a step further, making their shit actively hostile to mix-and-matching), you might have problems; and obviously, the more pieces of hardware you've patchworked yourself with, the worse things get. You'd have to be one real crazy motherfucker to tell a back-alley doctor to load you up with whatever they've got.

It's more grounded and more realistic and less shitty and it actively enhances the atmosphere of cyberpunk in a way that "losing your humanity" does not. we are missing out on much because none of these writers know anything about how medtech works

its been 9 years and I'm still obsessed with this line read

something about this made me scramble to make this edit

"Imagine," says the voice, "that you were underneath a blanket. It's a little small, so your feet poke out from underneath it, and your arms come out from either side."

"Okay," says the human, dangling upside down, suspended by a group of tentacles. "I got it."

"Right," says the voice, which comes from everywhere and nowhere. "Now consider a cat. The cat thinks you're kind of like a cat, but you're so big, he has some problems understanding that all of your body is really you."

"Am I the-"

"Yes. Now listen. Especially under the blanket, the cat doesn't really know where your body begins and ends. He sees your feet, and decides to attack them. He's only play-fighting, but his claws are real sharp, so it hurts. What would you do?"

"Well," says the human, gently spinning in the tentacle's grasp, "I'd try to tuck my feet under the blanket."

"Ah, but then it's even worse," claims the voice, triumphantly, "because now your cat sees Blanket Monsters and attacks them twice as hard."

"So you have to grab the cat."

"It's either that or burrito her," says the voice, squeezing the human in the grip of its tentacles. "And since in this metaphor the blanket represents the fabric of reality as you know it, I don't think you'd find it very pleasant."

"Fair enough," says the human, blood beginning to pool in her head. "Can you please put me down, now? I promise I won't attack you again."

"That's what the cat says every time, too, and yet..."

I love how all of them carry a completely different tone than the others

FUCK EM UP YOUR GRACE

Pop off, my liege

SLAY, ESTEEMED SOVEREIGN!

indescribable level of anime girl noise.

Blood Lips

(short thing I wrote up) (features a somewhat toxic lesbian relationship, and vampires, with blood) (also I'm too sleepy to edit but I want to put it out NOW so) (it's inspired by a couple posts linked at the bottom)

Ugh. The disgust with this doldrum report was marring my face.

“Leave.” I kept my gaze fixed on the mirror, counting the seconds of hesitation until the dimwit stuttered his acknowledgement and left.

I huffed, resting a couple fingers on the tender skin of my neck. The soft beat of my bloodflow, gentle breaths, get my face relaxed back to something prettier, more befitting my station.

When I focused on my reflection, my gentle, teasing little smile was back. The furrow had left my brows, giving my green eyes that intelligent charm I so enjoyed. The dangerous slant of my gaze had returned to its subtlety. I liked that most. I hadn’t once, back when I was confined by a society of fools. I had hated how people had avoided me and called me unsettling. I should have relished it like I did now.

A gazebo in a garden, surrounded by showers from the heavens that soaked the earth itself, and a voice that sliced between droplets. “Your eyes have nothing to do with how you behave. They’re prettier than all the emeralds in the world!”

My smile nearly twisted away at the memory, and I glowered at the rain outside the tower window. It was making me recollect … unpleasantries.

I reached over to the wooden case beside me and snapped it open. In that single moment, my body relaxed more than I could ever achieve simply by myself. My hand stroked the golden pendant of the necklace, its obsidian stone smooth under my thumb. Gently, I gathered up the black cord from the velvet-lined container and lifted it up. The flickering red light twinkled from the dark recesses of the gem, flashing images of the worlds beyond, dimensions beyond comprehension, sights that could never be envisioned by the mortal mind.

Simply looking into it had shattered the psyches of many fools, reduced them to blabbering idiots. My brain churned in its skull, attempting to process all of the images it could glean, and I silenced it. Why try to understand it now? I would grasp them soon enough. It had chosen me, after all. Only I could witness its depths without losing all senses. What more proof was there of my worth than that? What more proof was there that I could not, would not gain everything I strove for.

I kised the stone and set it back in its case. “Tomorrow.” I clasped it back shut.

The shuffle of feet on carpet, and a new burst of joy struck me. “Anastasia, I do love how you know to wait your turn.” I turned, paused at the sight in front of me. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

“My apologies, Lady Elowen.” Even now, the poor girl was panting soundlessly, tongue nervously licking her pointed canines. “There was an intruder, an assassin coming for your life. They were more skilled than I anticipated, and I could not avoid injury.”

I rested myself on my chair, crossing my legs, and looked at her in contemplation. “Come here.” I patted my lap.

“I will stain your nightgown, my lady.”

I let the tone of a smirk enter my smile. “Then why have you already crossed over?”

She half-crouched, half-leaned against me, her bloodstained clothes pressing against my clean gown. “Because they often stain when I feast, my lady, but you continue to wear such clothing regardless.”  Her mouth snapped open, four sharp fangs coming out.

“How bold.” I rested my finger on her lips. “But wait just one moment.” She whined, but I ignored it, letting my gaze linger on a deep cut on her arm. Red trickles continued to leak from it, signs that they had come prepared to fight a vampire and brought holy weapons to deal greater damage and slow her regeneration.

“How beautiful.” I touched her open wound and she whimpered in pain. My other finger slid into her mouth and pressed on her tongue. “Don’t bite now.” I continued stroking her injury, letting a few moments drag by and feeling her gentle spasms. “I find your effort on behalf of me beautiful, Anastasia. So very beautiful.” I dug my nail in, and she let out a hurt moan. I gazed into her crimson eyes as I released her mouth. “As reward, you may have as much as you wish tonight.”

She lunged forward, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh that hadn’t even fully healed from last time, and I had to bite back my gasp. I couldn’t stop my breath from hitching as I glimpsed the ecstasy on her face, the way all tension left her body as she eagerly dug in. Cute. Cute. Cute. So very cute. It’s adorable how she just loses sight of everything else for my blood. Only for my blood. I love her -

My hand began to stroke her head as she feasted, rivulets of blood winding down my clavicle. “What a messy eater you are -!” I shuddered as she paused to lick me before returning to my body.”Wh-what a good girl.”

She paused and detached her mouth, looking up at me with hazy eyes. “Love you,” she mumbled.

I tilted her chin up and gazed at those pretty lips, soaked in my blood, and kissed them. “When did I tell you to stop?” My hand grasped the back of her head and pushed her back in. “Keep going. I can take it.”

She clamped down, writhing as she sucked and sucked and sucked. I tried to maintain normal, steady breathing as I looked at her cute, pathetic, needy little face. I love this thing. She’s mine. All mine. All, mine. 

Oh, oh my. I am glad I chose to sit down this evening.

She drew back, eyes still dilated. “How are you feeling, Lady Elowen?”

“Like you might need to carry me to bed tonight.” I grinned. “But I did not tell you to stop.”

She shook her head. “You need your strength for tomorrow, my lady. My injuries have subsided anyway. I can use animal flesh for the rest.

Annoyance. “When did -” my dart forward made the world spin, and she had to catch me before I fell over the chair. I glowered. “When was a chicken an appropriate substitute for me?”

She hesitated, hesitated again. “My lady, the woman we confronted the other day … she spoke as if she knew you. Knew a different you than the lady I know.”

“She is unimportant,” I snapped. “A nobody with foolish ideals who once tried to lead me astray. She preyed on my isolation and told me that solace could be found in helping ohers. As if happiness could be found there.” I snorted “Do not let her claims fool you.”

“They never did!” Anastasia’s hands tightened, almost uncomfortably so. “My lady is perfect. But she spoke of another you, and I - I failed to strike her down then and there. I - I’m a failure of a servant.”

I stared at the tears gathering in her eyes. “My foolish little pet.” I reached out and wiped them away. “You’re all right. I know you’re weak, and stupid, and don’t know what to think. That’s why you trusted yourself to me.” I tilted her chin back up, and saw nothing but blind devotion in them. “I apologize for not explaining my anger immediately. It was my duty to comfort you, and I failed you.”

“No!” She shook her head vigorously “You can’t err! It’s my fault for letting such thoughts enter my head in the first place.”

“No, Anastasia.” I brushed away her hair. “Listen closely. There is nothing left between me and that woman. Nothing but a chasm that separates the two of us irreconcilably. She would reject me and the path I’ve chosen. But you?” I kept my gaze affixed on hers. “You are perfect. The world can scorn you for your nature all it likes, you can scorn yourself, but know this: I find beauty in you. Each and every one of your flaws only makes me adore you more.” My hand rested on her cheek. “Nothing else in this world can make me feel that. Take pride in being truly special.”

She shuddered. “Yesh.” She flopped atop me, and with a trembling hand I resumed stroking her head. “My lady?”

“Hmm?”

“That man from earlier, he mentioned that the astrolgers foresaw a familiar misfortune coming. Do you think it could be that woman?”

I chewed my lip. “Perhaps,” I reluctantly allowed. “They are fools in their own right, but they do know their craft.”

“You will be busy with your ritual, Lady Elowen.” She gazed up at me. “Would you permit me to kill her in your place?”

“Of course.” I pressed a finger against her fangs, feeling a pinprick of blood leak out and slide across her white teeth. “Fate can say whatever it want, but you are a vampire. A defier of fate. There is nothing that you cannot do, that we cannot do.” Oh, the exhaustion was starting to creep up on me. “Put your faith in me, as I put my faith in you, my dear servant.”

Her face broke into a joyful, feral grin as blackness swarmed my vision. “Of course, my beloved lady.”

re-posting bc reblogs got turned off etc

My ancestors, watching me dump an entire stick of cinnamon, two cloves, an allspice berry, and a generous grating of nutmeg into my tea, sweetened with white sugar and loaded with cream, while I sit in my clean warm house surrounded by books, 25+ outfits for different occasions, and 6 pairs of shoes, in a building heated so well I have the windows open in mid-autumn:

Our daughter prospers. We are proud of her. She has never labored in a field but knows riches we could not have imagined.

I like this so much better than the idea that our ancestors would be embarrassed or ashamed of us for being “soft” or some crap like that.

My ancestors, watching me stuff my face with fried chicken while studying: She eats like an imperial concubine and can afford to study like am imperial scholar. WE MADE IT

She eats like an imperial concubine and can afford to study like am imperial scholar

My ancestors watching me use my stand mixer while living in a small apartment and attending university: Thou hast kneadeth bread in FOUR hail marys??? FOUR??? And thou ist poor as a churchmouse, yet liveth in a fine cottage with four pounds butter and fresh berries in thy larder!! And two featherbeds! And thou attendeth the King’s college, as a lord!!

My ancestors being like:

Look at this fine young lady! She can paint she can sew and embrody, she sings and read

And without a wealthy father to pay for that, plus she is florid in the body! She doesn’t know hunger!

We did it!

Me: /wearily studying/

My Ancestors: TRULY SH— what? They? A little unorthodox, but reasonable I suppose. TRULY THEY PROSPER, FOR THEY LIVE IN A DWELLING WITH MANY ROOMS AND ONLY THEIR SPOUSE TO SHARE IT WITH! THEY HAVE DOGS WHO DO NOT PERFORM A FUNCTION! THEY HAVE MANY BOOKS AND DO NOT HAVE TO SPIN THEIR OWN YARN! THEY BATHE AT A WHIM WITH GENTLE SOAP FREE OF LYE! OUR DESCENDANT BRINGS HONOR AND PRIDE TO OUR LINEAGE!

Me: /yawns and sips my coffee/

My Ancestors: /cheer wildly/

Me: *hunched over at my desk nursing a headache.*

My Ancestors: “Truly, we prosper; see here, our infirm descendant need not even work on her poor days, but has the luxury to rest as she sees need! A doctor attends to her illnesses; her clothes are warm and free of pests; she cares for exotic and dangerous animals within her own home! We have found the height of luxury!”

Me: *treats myself to a pineapple and a bunch of bananas*

My Georgian ancestors: ZOOTH SHE HAS BOUGHT A PINEAPPLE! NOT MERELY BORROWED ONE! TRULY SHE HAS ACHIEVED FAR MORE THAN WE COULD KNOW!

me: [puts on warm socks and a blanket, is now warm regardless of the weather outside]

My impoverished Russian Jewish ancestors:

Me: [learns to knit from youtube videos]

My ancestors: Our descendant, the heir to all our hopes and fears for a far-off future… She can buy fine clothes woven and knit by automatons, with but a fraction of a day’s earnings… and she does… she has so much free time to do as she pleases… and she uses some of that time to do what we did.

One woman from rural Poland, who died from smallpox in 1717 CE, a grandmother at 35: I knit roses and peonies into my and my children’s gloves… it wasn’t much extra work to dye the red, once I had already cleaned the wool and spun the yarn, and to knit in the designs… and I wasn’t a gifted knitter but I was a good knitter, and I thought, well, it might not make a difference to how warm the glove is, but it made the children happy and it made me happy. I liked to make things beautiful when I could.

Another woman, a peasant from what’s now France, who died from getting kicked by a mammoth in 8995 BCE: [Patting her on the back] I made my family’s clothes too. Every day my sister and I wove and wove and tended our children. We went out of our way to make the cloth lovely. Not a trace of it remains anywhere on earth now… But it mattered to us. And she might not know our names, or know it was us, but evidently, it matters to her too. She has so much beauty available to her, in every direction, and she wants to make it where we once made it.

[everyone sobbing and high-fiving each other.]

A man from Britain, 1104 CE, sitting at the trans-temporal telescope, reporting on my doings: She’s stopped knitting and now she’s playing minecraft.

The other ancestors: Ah, yes, the dream of building. We know this one well. What vision doth she design now?

Telescope man: Looks like… Some kind of floating temple?

Everyone: [Goes completely apeshit]

Me: studying Marine Biology, out in the middle of the Elkhorn slough absolutely fucking covered in the most foul-smelling mud and swamp scum you can imagine, deliriously happy as I spot a tell-tale bubbling in the mud. I jump off the small dock and drive my entire arm into the mud like a Mortal Kombat Character ripping someone’s heart out of their chest, and pull out a 4lb, two-foot long Geoduck Clam and hold it aloft, triumphant.

My Homminid ancestors, who were doing exactly this with much smaller clams 900,000 years ago: *going absolutely literally apeshit over my flawless technique and the marvelous size of my quarry* CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! WHOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Winter Girlfriend with Pink and Yellow

I think I've made a horrible mistake. I showed up to the tournament and my opponent told me I didnt stand a chance against his Seven Strikes of the Falling Cherry Blossom technique so I fried his ass with chain lightning and now everyone is asking me about cultivation. I dont know jack shit about botany

They De-Tumblrized Ms. Frizzle

@transfagsculine​

#how do yall whitewash a white woman 

why would you leave this in the tags lmao

Allow me to explain:

Everyone dropping this pic

And talking about how the new frizz her is her niece, allow me to do a direct side by side instead

These are STILL not the same woman. Where is the icon fashion, the earrings (the chameleon, which might be in the new show idk I haven't watched it), the prominent hooked nose, the broader shoulders, the volume to her hair, the LIFE IN HER EYES

This frizzle looks like she's been called into the school board for inappropriate behavior and dress one too many times and has been broken.

Also others have said it before me but I couldn't find it in the scroll backs but they whitewashed all the kids too. They same face syndromed everyone to either be easier to draw or be more ambiguous so as not to offend or both or something, and it just makes me sad

Fuck it I did the digging cause I'm still mad

And that’s not even to mention what they did to the bus itself.

The old bus had a personality and life and fun and now it’s just… a bus.

HOW DO Y’ALL WHITEWASH A BUS?!

It's gives "anti abortion Jehova's Witness cartoon" now

Vector puppet animation and a shocking drop off in investment in kidvid is largely at fault, but international marketing is also to blame.

What's important to remember is that the whitewashy approach to character design in kidvid is a backslide.

Representation in cartoons had generally been on an upswing since the 1980s, even though efforts were often minimal, clumsy, or badly executed. Diversity helped sell action figures in the lucrative US/Canadian market and it was recognized as a prosocial value on the production side.

"Prosocial messages" are a major part of kidvid TV pitches and development, nearly every show has specific prosocial lessons the narrative themes are intended to work around, even if its an action-figure ad. These range from sincere expressions of the creator's intent (Gargoyles, OG Magic Schoolbus, OG He-Man (no, for real)) to the entertainment equivalent of carbon credits.

Slight aside. Actual ink-and-paint animation tended to lock characters down into more distinct tones because there were only so many standard paint colors. Which is why Kwame from Captain Planet, Roadblock from GI-Joe, and Tim from OG magic schoolbus all use essentially the same pantone.

Ralphie gets skinny because not only fatphobia, but I suspect because he would need slightly different rigging and would add just a teensy bit to the budget adjusting his animations when they could just copy-paste from one of the other identically built kids. If they need to put them all in spacesuits or diving suits or whatever, they just make the one body and slap the heads on, eazy-pezy.

Decals on the schoolbus mean they have to be tracked, they have to use different versions of the bus in flipped shots, same with Mrs. Frizzle's clothing patterns. Wouldn't want to spend time flipping Ralphie's "R' around.

And with the marketing for everything now being global, there's an impulse to average everything down to appeal to all markets to a general degree. Making stories oversimple makes them easy to translate. Humor varies culture to culture, keep it slapstick or quick quips that can be localized easily. Everything that makes the Chinese censor boards happy also makes US reactionaries less likely to kick up a protest, the incentive is to keep everything:

ALSO: These characters have the same face. They probably use the same eye and mouth parts for character animations.

It's all to do it as cheap and broadly appealing as possible, as determined by business weirdos who know nothing about art and care nothing about kids, and they're more than willing to leverage racism (or just ignore that its happening) for the promise of a tenth of a percent more profit.

And what's galling is that this kind of animation software doesn't have to make crap. It can be used to make amazing stuff and still be vastly cheaper than traditional hand-drawn, but the same quality at 60% of the cost is never going to beat 1/2 the quality at 5% of the cost for the money-men.

The path of least resistance rolls over a lot of people.

Reblogging for "the path of least resistance rolls over a lot of people"