| Art Tag! | Art Blog! | Scorpio | Level 6 Bisexual | INFJ | she/her | trying to figure out what the fuck I’m doing and reblogging a bunch of memes along the way
I've been keeping it off my face as much as I can on video, but I'm livid about the TikTok ban.
I have about 100,000 followers on that app. I joined during the pandemic. I was lucky to find a community full of incredible people, many of whom I now consider lifelong friends. Because of the community I found on that app, I found space to experiment with my gender presentation. I was able to come out as nonbinary (to feel SAFE ENOUGH to come out as nonbinary) because of that app.
I've seen a few Tumblr posts in which people gloat they never got into TikTok. Good for you. You won't suffer emotionally, and that makes you feel superior. But if you have no concept of what that app has meant for more than 170,000,000 Americans (that's half of all Americans!), many of whom do not have access to community in physical spaces, kindly sit down.
The ban constitutes the largest mass layoff in American history. We will lose billions of dollars in our domestic economy. Over 7 million small businesses are shuttering because of the ban. You will feel the effect of that whether or not you were on the app. If you can't grasp the significance of that, again: kindly sit down.
The language of the TikTok ban has set a dangerous precedent for the American government to shutter any tech platforms they deem "dangerous" for arbitrary, undisclosed, nebulous reasons. This will affect Americans' ability to organize, spread information, and protest. They have effectively banned our right to assembly in digital spaces. This is the greatest infringement of free speech that has ever occurred in the United States. If you can't grasp the significance of that, either: kindly sit down.
This is bigger than "never falling for the TikTok craze." This is an enormous governmental overreach sanctioned by our own Supreme Court. It's bigger than teens doing silly dances you can sneer at from your smug high horse.
I hope in season 6 Marinette commits even more crimes. I hope she steals a cellphone in every episode. I hope she breaks into every house in Paris. I love when Marinette is an illegal perpetrator. God forbid women have hobbies. Is it a sin to let girls have fun?? I didn't think so. Your honor my client can do whatever she wants because I said so. Her boyfriend loves her for it he can bail her out of silly crime jail it's fine.
Back on my miraculous shit again and what’s the point of being able to draw if you don’t draw crossovers
In other news it’s been 10 years since I started watching miraculous and also 10 years since I first listened to Heathers so this just makes me feel old
Aaaaand (after a small delay) the fourth and final bonus Sketch-a-Wish from my 2nd Patreon anniversary - a frequently requested scene from Uprooted, featuring Sarkan (the Dragon) and Agnieszka!
Phew, I'm art-pooped after this one. 🫠
We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine.
(little bit of canon divergence where the cops show up after our love is god)
"Oh my God." That doesn't even cover it. And after what JD just professed to her, his still arms wrapped around her shaking body, it doesn't feel appropriate anymore. Like she needs to wash her mouth out now.
His arms are still around her now, pulling her body close against his, his breath tickling the back of her neck. It's warm, especially in the coolness of the late October morning, but it doesn't do anything against the goosebumps on her skin. Nor does it stop her shivering. The shivering comes from deep, deep inside her, like something slipped beneath her skin and started rattling her bones like prison bars.
"It's all right," he whispers in her ear, his unsteady voice betraying him. Despite what he says, he's lost control of this. She can't guess what his plan was after this, but she can bet it wasn't hiding behind a hedge until the cops disappear.
She doesn't know if he even had a plan to begin with. Everything she thought she knew about him is gone now. The boy whose hands are wrapped around her arms isn't her boyfriend. He's not the same boy who walked her to Heather Chandler's house and who held her as she cried in the hall.
He can't be.
"It's going to be okay," he tells her again, like he's willing her to believe it. Like he can change her mind with just his words, make her believe his reality.
Well, he can, she realises with a shudder. He's done it before. Pushed her and moulded her and lied to her, and she swallowed every little thing without blinking.
Not again, she thinks as she grits her teeth. He's not getting inside her like that again.
"No... it's not." She forces the words out of her tight throat, choking on a sob as she spits them out. She wrenches herself out of his arms and falls forwards onto the grass, her palms pushing into the ground and fingers digging into the soil. Her whole body shakes, a cough rattles through her, and she's treated to the image of something thick and white dropping onto the ground beneath her. The taste is foul and hangs around in her mouth, making her gag eve more as the tears stinging her eyes and blurring the cemetery around her.
She turns her head, slowly, slightly, and sees the fuzzy outline of a cop shining a torch on Ram's body. Maybe Kurt's. She can't see. All she can see is the torchlight on the grass, and the blood that almost looks black, and she retches again.
She doesn't even feel him pull her back against him. She doesn't even know how long they've been sitting like this. Doesn't know how long it takes for the shaking to settle, for her stomach to stop twisting. The world just comes back into focus at one point, and she realises that she's sitting with her back against JD's chest and his hand over her mouth. His cheek his against her hair, his head turned, no doubt watching the cops until it's safe for them to leave.
Holy shit, leave. After all this, she's meant to just go home. Alone. And she'll come into school tomorrow and it'll be Heather Chandler all over again.
Her little remaining strength flees her body, and she sinks right into JD.
She feels, rather than sees, his smile, and then his lips are pressed to her head.
"It's okay, baby."
Out of instinct, she melts a little at the pet name.
Then she remembers where they are and her skin crawls even more.
“None of this is fucking okay, JD.” She wriggles out of his embrace just enough to look at him, her eyes burning into his. “Nothing about this is okay, we just killed two people!”
“Shush!” He holds up one hand and peeks over the hedge again. A flash of indigence runs through her, and she has to wonder where he got the fucking nerve.
“Do not tell me to shush,” she hisses. But given the circumstances, she keeps her voice low and her body down, pressing herself into the ground until her handprints are borne into it.
Seconds, minutes, hours pass. Days could pass and she wouldn’t even notice. Kurt and Ram’s bodies would rot and decay just yards away from her, their cheeks would turn white, then blue, the abs they proudly showed off in locker rooms deflating like old balloons. Their eyes would leak, puss and blood and God knows what spilling down their faces. And they’d crap themselves too, that happens to corpses. The jeans they picked out specially for tonight would be covered in their own shit.
Back in kindergarten, Kurt had crapped himself. Veronica liked to say he was still full of shit for years afterwards.
The picture in her mind sharpens, turning from a painting to a photograph, and she retches behind the hedge. Her back arches and her fingers curl into the grass, the picture blurs before her. Dimly, she’s aware of a hand on her back, fingers in her hair, but she can barely focus on anything beyond the ringing in her ears and the sting in her mouth.
The sky looks different when they finally stand up. The clouds that were once a heavy dark grey have faded to a pale silver, patches of blue between them. The sun as well, higher in the sky and casting a faint, watery light on the cemetery. It won’t be long before school starts. Oh God, she has a math test today, how the hell can she focus when-
What the hell is wrong with her?
“Are you okay?” JD’s hands are still on her shoulders, concern shining in his dark eyes. The same eyes that were empty not too long ago. How do they go from nothingness to the gentle worry she sees now? How are they the same eyes? How is this the same person, now carefully stroking her cheek and asking if he should get her some water. It’s like forcing a round peg through a square hole.
He frowns when she steps away from him, and a laugh bubbles up inside her. Jesus Christ, how is she laughing.
“Stay the hell away from me,” she hears herself say. Her voice is strained and tight, like she’d screamed herself hoarse before. She had, just not out loud. She wraps her arms around herself, trembling hands around trembling arms. “Just stay the hell away from me JD.”
“Veronica-”
“No, I mean it!” He stumbles backwards, as if her words are one of his Ich Luge bullets, confusing creasing his face. She doesn’t know where that came from when she can barely keep herself upright, but she’s glad it did. She holds a weak hand up, pushing against the air between them. “Do not come near me, JD. Not after....”
After you lied to me. After you just killed someone. You lied to me and made me kill them.
“Not after this.”
“Where are you even going?” he asks when she turns around.
“Home!”
“Seriously?” he asks. “School starts in an hour.”
“I’m taking a sick day.” That might not be a lie, given the puddle of her puke that sits on the grass. She’ll probably take a shower too to take out the dirt caking her hands and legs. Maybe if she turns the heat up high enough, it’ll wash the blood off her.
“No you’re not.” She turns slightly and sees him behind her. Part of her wants to turn around and slap him until he leaves her alone, but that doesn’t work with JD.
“And you’re going to stop me?” she asks. The cemetery gate is within sight. Bile rises again at the sight of the cop car, but the police are down at the murder scene, far too busy with the tragic gay suicide pact to notice two dishevelled teenagers leaving.
She got away with murder. Again.
“Look, Veronica.” He appears in front of her then, his hand on her elbow. She wrenches it out of his grip, much to his surprise, but he doesn’t press on it for now. “You’re in no state to go home now. And if you do, your parents will just ask where you were and what you were doing and why you’re not in school right now. Are those questions you want to answer?”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
“Look, you’re exhausted. I’m exhausted. We were up before dawn to do this. I parked the car a little down the street. Why don’t we hide out in there and catch up on beauty sleep, then we can sort this out.” He squeezes her hand and gives her the crooked, dimpled smile she fell so hard for. God damn butterflies manage to flutter even now. How they survive in there, she doesn’t know.
“Come on, Ronnie.”
“Don’t call me that,” she mumbles.
“Oh I lost Ronnie privileges?” he teases. She shakes her head, wincing at the pain in her skull. For a moment, she has to wonder if this was all a terrible dream, and the real reason she’s mad at JD is because he didn’t buy her a coffee this morning. Only something so trivial can match the cheeky grin on his face, or the way he plays with her fingers. Only something so trivial could be the reason for her melting heart, or how her fingers curl around his without a second thought.
But it’s not a dream. Two boys lie dead in a cemetery.
“I’m going home,” she says again, but when she pushes past him, the realisation slams into her that she doesn’t actually want to go home. Because he’s right. The words are sick to think, but he’s right, her parents ask a dozen questions at the best of times, and all the rest in the world wouldn’t make her think of a good lie. And her not being in school the day Kurt and Ram are found dead is an open door to anyone who wants to push it. And... she doesn’t want to be alone.
Her legs move before she can think, and her back hits JD’s chest. All at once, her exhaustion rushes to meet her, and she suddenly feels the shadows beneath her eyes. JD’s arms around her are both a welcome and unwelcome presence. His lips on the back of her head less unwelcome. He murmurs “come on baby” into her ear and she’s too tired to be disgusted. All she can operate on is her instincts, and her instincts are pink cheeks and the urge to smile.
They climb into the car together, JD in the front seat. He pulls her down and she lets him, so that her head sits in his lap and her legs are curled up in the passenger seat. His hand lays gently on her stomach, fingertips tickling the skin, and in her half-conscious state, it actually feels... nice.
But just as she’s about to fall asleep, Kurt and Ram flash beneath her eyelids, bloody holes in their chests, and wonders if she’ll ever sleep well again.
I am once again thinking about the song ‘seventeen’ & how ‘our love is god’ & ‘dead girl walking’ are easy to hail as the most romantic jdronica songs & in a way they are because they’re about the raw passion & love between the characters & ‘our love is god’ especially really drills in how willing jd is to do anything for veronica but ‘seventeen’ is perhaps the most tragic song in the entire show
like ‘don’t you want a life with me? can we be seventeen?’ it’s about how they’re damaged but could still have a chance. ‘yeah we’re damaged but your love’s too good to lose’ is such a painful line because they could have healed together they could have moved forward. this is probably the last moment in the play where there’s a chance at a happy ending for them. but even now there’s not really a chance because veronica is deluding herself about just how damaged jd really is & jd is in desperate need of help veronica is incapable of giving & in a way it’s actually her love that corrupts him because he was suppressing everything until he met her as we see in ‘meant to be yours’ when he says ‘you changed my heart & set loose all that truthful shit inside.’
like. I know it’s a comedy but heathers is such a tragedy
discord vent channels are insane, within the span of an hour youll get one person talking about the psychological horror levels of misery they live in and immediatley after someone else will be like i got a papercut :(
texting my coworker “hey! how are you feeling” and reading it 40 times to make sure i didn’t accidentally type how are you sex cum penis ass cum porn 1080p hot cock
Big pet peeve is when people say that America ‘steals’ foods and shit like “It’s not the same as AUTHENTIC [insert food]” or claiming that America hasn’t made anything original as though the hard work of thousands of barbecue pit masters and soul food kitchen moms and endlessly brave immigrant chefs just isn’t valuable enough to constitute a cultural cuisine. The style of food we eat today was built on centuries of families who were hopeful enough to live and love in a country like this and we cannot take their efforts for granted so sit the fuck down and enjoy your meal before I remind you that German chocolate cake was invented by a guy in Texas named Sam German.
Just started imagining a Necromancer using their magic to create undead for the sole purpose of creating a musical number and they need back up dancers for their song solo.
