Grasping at shadows

Here it is, folks! My new home. My queue will continue to reblog some stuff to darknessfactor for a while, but once that runs out? That’s it.

Dear Americans, identifying as a communist is just as offensive as being a literal nazi in a very big part of the world. The hammer and sickle is an offensive symbol that is banned in many countries, just like the swastika. Likely more people died under communist oppression than nazism, and there are people still alive who can tell you about it.

And no, don’t come at me with all this “but the core ideology was good!!” or especially “here we do not have this connotation so it’s not offensive!”. Your media, culture and standards are forced on the entirety of the rest of the world, and whatever you post in english is understandable for everyone else, if I am decent enough to care about issues like blackface (that literally have zero history in eg. my entire country which was never a colonizing nation), you should be decent enough and not make a hip cool internet trend about an oppressive ideology whose victims still remember the horrors and still suffer the consequences :)

My school has a Communist group. The group itself has done positive actions like worker strikes so cafeteria workers could get paid (a movement I wholeheartedly supported), but to wear the name so proudly would open old wounds for my Vietnamese family.

IT GIVES YOU A WHOLE DAMN REPORT ON YOUR WRITING AND WALKS YOU THROUGH HOW TO MAKE IT BETTER AND WHY IT IS SUGGESTING CHANGES. THIS IS JUST A TINY CHUNK OF THE HUGE REPORT IT GAVE ME ON THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ONE OF MY PROJECTS. I AM IN LOVE.

AND IT WORKS WITH SCRIVENER. AND IT IS AFFORDABLE.

This is what happens when you accidentally get off your horse right before a cutscene in Red Dead Redemption 2

When men want to fuck monsters:

he looks small, and lonely, and fragile

and jefferson, who has a son around spiderman’s age, can’t ignore the impulse to make sure he’s okay

so he finds his way to spiderman’s perch and settles down next to him

they sit in silence for a long time, spiderman staring up at the moon in thoughtful silence

it’s almost five minutes before he finally speaks

“i was there, you know”

jefferson doesn’t understand

spiderman hugs his leg to his chest, resting his cheek on his knee as he turns his face to the officer sitting at his side

“when peter died,” he says by way of explanation, and his voice is wavering with the threat of tears. “i’d only had my powers for a day, and i was so scared. i had no idea what was happening to me. but then he showed up.”

jefferson is baffled, his whole world turned on its axis. somehow, he’d never thought about who spiderman had been before he was spiderman. there was a part of him that had just kind of assumed he’d been different from birth. a part of him had bought into the lie that spiderman was indestructible, that he had always known what he was doing and who he was.

“he said he’d teach me,” says spiderman, voice bitter with longing. “he promised he’d show me the ropes and be there for me when i needed him. and then he died.”

“i’m sorry you had to experience that,” says jefferson, because he doesn’t know what else to say. and it’s the most natural feeling in the world to reach out to the young hero and wrap him in a hug.

he fits in jefferson’s arms like he’s always belonged there, and in a moment of clarity, jefferson feels everything click into place

“i watched fisk kill him, and i didn’t do anything,” sobs the child in his arms, the child that jefferson would recognize anywhere, in any life. “it’s my fault he died. i killed spiderman”