The funny thing about folks recommending Pillowfort as a less bad alternative in the face of the latest Tumblr update is... okay.
Let's set aside the fact that Pillowfort is a ghost town that's perpetually about six weeks away from bankruptcy. Hand-wringing about "note stealing" notwithstanding, the actual problem with Tumblr's new interaction model is that second-order engagements (e.g, commented reblogs of commented reblogs, replies to commented reblogs, etc.) are now very difficult for the author of a reblog chain's root post to even be aware of, much less meaningfully interact with.
Pillowfort's "solution" to this problem is to be so institutionally gunshy about anyone ever having an interaction they didn't explicitly opt into that most types of second-order engagement are simply not permitted at all.
Like, I get that we're grasping for alternatives where no good alternatives exist, but from the perspective of fixing the real, functional problem, responding to Tumblr's new interaction model by migrating to Pillowfort is like treating a broken ankle by cutting off your leg!
Don't freak out! Everyone freaks out, but she's made of immortal wood, so she's fine and not even in pain anymore.
(The wood still rots...)
And, and she got it after we all learned that amp-you-shon doesn't work so she didn't get her hand cut off. Dile says she'll grow it back when she's cured.
(You let out a sigh of relief.)
(She had it in the hand, it wouldn't have effected the chest if she got puppeted early enough.)
...
Uwah...
Bonbon, it's okay! She's waiting for you in Bambouche. You'll-
She's not. She won't be there! I left her, I left her behind! I'll never get to say sorry!
That's not true. You'll make it. No matter what, we'll all get you home. I promise.
You can't promise that!!!
(...They're right.)
(You can't guarantee the Director will ever be defeated.)
(What… can you say to that?)
(You can't lie and say it'll all be okay.)
(You know you can't… protect them…)
Writers: here’s your daily reminder that if your OC had an emergency tourniquet put on them outside of a hospital, they MUST have it removed IN A HOSPITAL.
Not only will the bleeding restart and the restoration of blood flow be absolute agony, but allowing sudden blood flow after a long stagnation can and often does cause cardiac arrest thanks to a sudden, extreme drop in blood pressure.
It’s dangerous to use a tourniquet. Severely dangerous. It’s also horrifically painful and only the baddest of bitches would be able to do it to themself (it’s supposed to be impossible but we have high expectations here). The person getting one will almost NEVER willingly allow it to happen. Besides, it has to be MUCH tighter than you’d think. Quite literally as tight as you can get it. It will often cut flesh. Putting it on is pure agony and taking it off is worse. No one wants to go through that.
The main commonalities that can't be disentangled between me and blorbo:
We have hearts filled with love. And thus, filled with a lot of grief.
Anytime he says "You/They should've left me to die in that lake" is my "I should've died at the hospital".
Idk if I'm feeling not just the freakiness of the 14th approaching but also (for the first time...?) feeling something spooky about the anniversary of the major surgeries coming up later this month, which coincided with the cousin of the same age having her first child.
She gave birth to her kid the day before I had that first 8am surgery to remove the malignant tumour. Words cannot describe how much it messed me up getting the text from her that morning saying "We're praying for you!" :'))) I blocked her, her husband, and that whole family on every platform coz heaven forbid I hear another "God has a plan" given how the good lord purposely withheld the info from me for 31 years that I am autistic and have ADHD. If the cancer had began to touch my humerus bone, they would've had to amputate. I escaped that. There's def spooky medical trauma surrounding that.
I had no partner, best friend, or soulmate with me. I was alone. And, it was reaaaally gross having to be spoonfed food and offered a straw to drink water, by the person I hoped to get away from long-term, while they transfused the blood back into me (the transfusion took 8 hours)....so that I could even move enough and hoist myself up to sit up in the bed, with my one good arm. This is very convertible into some Belos haunting Hunter kinda shit.
The physical pain had started right after my 30th birthday too. Idk why it's only hitting me harder near the 3rd anniversary tho. Is it coz now my body knows I've moved to a new better country, thus it feels safer to fall apart? Classic C-PTSD. But trauma can rly be like.
But eh. I know it's my heart and soul screaming out for something predictable even though my brain's like no if you did die then you wouldn't have made a lot of amazing new things happen.
Idk, maybe you guys have to help to distract me on the 23rd and 25th
content: hero x villain whump, magical whump, suffocation mention, burns mention, frostbite mention, amputation mention, temporary side effects, gore, medical whump
“Next!” Medic called as they helped guide one of their team members out — they’d used their light magic way too much and had gone temporarily blind. They had a white cane for these sorts of occasions, but they were always grateful to be taken by the hand and led out of the medical room.
It’d been a busy day. Another team member had nerve damage in their hands from their electrical magic, yet another had burns from fire magic. One of them kept coughing up salt water; at some point, their lungs would fill up with it and make them suffocate, which they were warned of, but decided it was a price they were willing to pay.
And the next patient… Oh dear. Hero. With yet more giant holes in their palms.
“Hey, Doc…” they said awkwardly as they shuffled into the medical room. They were a nature magic user, except using their magic constantly left them more injured than if Villain had actually gotten in a few hits. The thing was… Those things they summoned? The vines and thorns? They had to be pushed out through the skin, leaving it inflamed and susceptible to infections.
“I told you to leave,” Medic said as they closed the door and went to check out the wounds. “This line of work isn’t for you. Your magic is debilitating.” The holes in Hero’s palms were deep and dirty. They had to wash it out.
“I didn’t think you were serious.”
Medic gave them a look. “You know I was serious. Hop off the table and come with me to the sink.”
Hero did as told, without saying a word. They were shaking a little. If Medic had to guess, washing out the dirt from the wounds wasn’t exactly Hero’s favourite part either.
“We have more than enough people on our team,” Medic went on as they turned on the tap and started with removing all the dirt. Hero winced and squeezed their eyes shut. “Villain and their little minions stand no chance. So really, we don’t need your services.”
“I saved a mother and her child today,” they said through gritted teeth. “They would’ve been crushed by debris if I wasn’t there.”
“I’m sure the team would’ve taken care of them.”
“I’m needed.”
Medic turned off the tap and guided Hero back to the table to sit. “You’re sacrificing too much,” they said as they dabbed the wounds dry. Then they grabbed a generous helping of gauze and stuffed it into one of the holes before wrapping it up in bandages.
“That’s what a hero does, no? I’ve been chosen. I can’t just go on with my life as though I wasn’t blessed with some otherworldly powers.” Their hand was shaking as they endured Medic’s not necessarily rough but stern handling.
“You’re ridiculous. You have a bigger saviour complex than even your ego. I’m telling you: this line of work isn’t for you. You’re sacrificing too much.” They stuffed gauze into the other hole, wrapping that up as well.
“I’m never gonna give up, you know. Not now, not twenty years down the line. This is my purpose.”
“You magic users are all the same,” they grumbled. “Always with your ‘purpose’. I’ve had to cut off Teammate’s hand after they got bad frostbite from using their magic too much. I had to watch them cry and writhe and curse me out for doing it. That’s when they finally realised they couldn’t do this. When will you realise?”
Hero was quiet for a long moment. “Maybe I won’t be able to do this forever. But for the time being, I can. And I’ll never forget how that mother looked at me.”
Medic sighed. “Of course.”
They were silent for a little while before Hero hopped off the table. “See you next time.”
“Keep the magic usage to a minimum!” they called after them. “And tell them to send in the next one!”
Been watching Sonic Prime today with my sisters and felt like drawing, so made this meh-level drawing based on a fun (read: horrible) idea I had, like, last night/night before
Meet "Spikes" and "Tiny" ("Tiny" isn't supposed to be that much smaller than "Spikes" but I had to make him smaller to keep from being disproportionate)
I was gonna say that they were like Rouge and Knuckles (cuz the kicking fighting style of "Spikes" and the punching fighting style of "Tiny") But then my sisters pointed out that "Spikes" looked like Gadget and "Tiny" looked like Barry- Also a (slight) spoiler fact and explanation below the cut
No, they don't have tails. Nine had them surgically removed as soon as he was able to. See, these two are the foxes who bullied Nine all those years. 'Course, only the foxes know this (helped by the fact that they don't give their true names - they go by the nicknames "Spikes" because of his bangs and "Tiny" because of his little ears, which is why - despite their lingering bully habits - Rebel allows them to join the Resistance (when they do, Rebel [and Renegade and Scar, somewhat] stamp out their bullying tendencies with her no-tolerance policy)
