#Proper Interpretation

[edorazzi]

Page 30 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Bri decides to reach out to the two weirdest guys in her life (and I get to adapt my all-time favourite PV scene)! ❄️❤️

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Weekly updates each Sunday! You can also read ahead early on Patreon, and/or buy me a Ko-fi if you'd like to support my work! 💖

[reformedontheweb]

May I appeal to persons who, although Baptists in principle, are yet members of Pedobaptist churches?

May I appeal to persons who, although Baptists in principle, are yet members of Pedobaptist churches?

May I, in the second place, appeal to persons who, although Baptists in principle, are yet members of Pedobaptist churches? This class of persons is much more numerous than has generally been imagined. Many of them are not themselves fully aware that they approximate our principles. They have derived all their knowledge of them through Pedobaptist channels, and such have been the representations…

[kagooleo]

here's a finished belated bday comm for @wyvernity of their soulsilvershipping :D!!! I was honestly really happy with the turnout for the piece so I did go a lil ham on their faves (～￣▽￣)～

i've still got 2 commission slots open on my kofi for both chibi and sketch pieces if anyone is interested :V

[basilbots]

I know people are talking all over about this new side of Sun’s personality and I just want to remind everyone that the fandom looked at Moon, who for the longest time their only canon hint of softness was his poster, and still turned him into a softie just suffering from a virus. I don’t think we need to worry about soft Sun not being portrayed anymore

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.

[wyvernity]

wip posting just to get something out there, and it's def a mixed bag!! the only thing more inconsistent than my posting schedule is my art style RIP

[vicsy]

charlos + wine

"I know your father is planning my murder right now," Charles says under his breath, then breaks into a fit of bumpy giggles.

It's like sandpaper to Carlos' ears.

He maneuvers Charles past the master bathroom door, then shuts it hard as if they're being chased by wolves. Carlos turns around to the sight of Charles leaning back on the designer bathroom counter next to the marble sink, warm and languid, his smile digging into the dimples on his cheeks, almost the same as when he hurriedly pressed a pristine, white cloth napkin to Carlos' ruined dress shirt and said, sweetly, to his mother's face across the dinner table – ah, I'm so terribly sorry.

"Charles," Carlos breathes out, awfully measured. He looks down at himself, the front of his shirt soaked in red; he looks up at Charles, at the silver of his collarbone, taunting, and then at his lips – parted, enticing. Red.

He is never hueless, a speck of color in the eyes of a charging bull with a knife stuck in his neck. Some of the red has rubbed off on Carlos, too. Perhaps it's just the wine sticking to his skin.

"Oops," Charles whispers. Tilts his head, neck bared, one of his beloved chain necklaces pooling in the hollow of his throat. A flutter of his inky-black eyelashes, a picture of tarnished innocence.

Perhaps not.

Downstairs, gathered in the isolation of a spacious dining room, a heated exchange in Spanish bounces off the walls, collides with the ceiling, making the floor beneath Carlos' feet vibrate and wobble. Charles' genuine sweetness is a perfect cover for the sharpness of his teeth; he bit the hand that's been feeding Carlos for decades without a second of hesitation once he felt it reaching for his neck. To Carlos, Charles' smile – bloody in the aftermath – was sugary and dauntless.

Or maybe it was the wine that spilt from the the glass held in his father's hand raised for a toast of mockery.

Carlos' jaw clicks. The lock on the door does, too, when he turns it without breaking eye contact with Charles, staring him down still as he undoes his shirt – a button, then a step forward; another button off and Charles hoists himself up on the counter with little grace. Carlos had gone up to change out of his ruined clothes, Charles following him purposefully, but now his vision tunnels on the distinct shape of Charles, unmarred by the heady scent of wine from a bottle that's older than both of them. His restraint fades. Carlos inhales, nostrils flaring. His shirt is gone, nothing but a handful of fabric fisted in his hand, and Charles' knees part, inviting, beaconing Carlos with a call that drowns out the rest of the noise.

"Ay, of course. Oops," he repeats, mimicking Charles slightly, eyes squinting and his breath momentarily caught. With ease, his body slots into the cradle of Charles' spread legs. He's leaning back, practically lounging, drawing out time like torn out strings. Carlos knows why, what purpose it serves. He reads it in Charles' gaze skirting over his bare chest, in the corner of his wine-stained lips when he tilts Charles' head up with a finger pressed under his chin. "It's better if you're quiet then, since you made a mess. Yes?"

Charles' defiance knows no bounds and Carlos envies him, wants to steal it for himself but Charles is in the one who relents in the end, cuts the rope before it snaps. The soft edges of him were never a curse in Carlos' eyes but he's failed to learn how to let go in time, an old dog that has run out of its tricks. And it's familiar – the way Carlos has to do nothing but Charles mouth drops open after time stretches into something unreal, just enough for him to slip the wine-soaked shirt past his lips and wait for Charles to clamp onto it, ostentatiously obedient. Carlos caresses his cheek with shaky patience, then passes his fingers through Charles' silky hair. His eyes flutter shut.

It's when Carlos moves, in the sliver of a moment when he's out of sight, pressing his face into the crook of Charles' neck and grabbing onto his waist. Downstairs, a storm brews and scratches against the door, but they're fused together now, uncaring. Carlos' lips mouth an absence of earnest words up the column of Charles' neck; he reaches down to unzip Charles' pants, wrapping deft fingers around his shamelessly hard, wet cock. Carlos steadies himself now, leaning into the habit with a few strokes. So predictable.

Charles' fingers dig into his shoulders like talons; another trap closes in, tears into his flesh but Carlos doesn't mind.

He'll blame it on the wine.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence (or more) fic about it.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Gee wiz that weird man I keep seeing seems like a nice dude I wonder what his deal is

[sarcasticmothdraws]

The ever looming feeling of "Hating Mischaraterization of your fav" alongside with "I have seen what is and isn't proper characterization post on my tl for 2 weeks now, at this point having the character write with a fountain pen versus a ballpoint will be enough for someone to rant post about."

These coexist.

(This ain't a thing hating on fanon vs canon type posts I swear)

[politemagic]

thinking about them again

[cuddlytogas]

there was some Twitter madness recently where someone left a comment on someone's art to the effect of, "Ed shouldn't wear a dress, he's a man!" which I do disagree with on principle, but unfortunately, it brought out one of my least favourite trends in the fandom

so, naturally, I had to write a twitter essay about it. and I already largely argued this in a post here, but the thread is clearer and better structured, so I thought I'd cross-post for those not on the Hellsite (derogatory). edited for formatting/structure's sake, since I no longer have to keep to tweet lengths, and incorporating a couple of points other people brought up in the replies

so

I want to point out that the wedding cake toppers in OFMD s2 aren't evidence that Ed wants to wear dresses. Gender is fake, men can wear skirts, play with these dolls how you like, but it's not canon, and that scene especially Doesn't Mean That.

People cite it often: 'He put himself in a dress by painting the bride as himself! It's what he wants!' But that fundamentally misunderstands the scene, and the series' framing of weddings as a whole. I'd argue that Ed paints the figure not from desire, but from self-hatred; it's not what he wants, but what he thinks he should, and has failed to, be.

(Yes, I am slightly biased by my rampant anti-marriage opinions, but bear with me here, because it is relevant to the interpretation of the scene, and season two as a whole.)

The show is not subtle. It keeps telling us that the institution of marriage is a prison that suffocates everyone involved. Ed's parents' cycle of abuse is passed to their son in both the violence he witnesses then enacts on his father, and the self-repression his mother teaches, despite her good intentions ("It's not up to us, is it? It's up to God. ... We're just not those kind of people. We never will be."). Stede and Mary are both oppressed by their arranged marriage, with 1x04 blunty titled Discomfort in a Married State. The Barbados widows revel in their freedom ("We're alive. They're dead. Now is your time").

But even without this context, the particular wedding crashed in 2x01 is COMICALLY evil. The scene is introduced with this speech from the priest:

"The natural condition of humanity is base and vile. It is the obligation of people of standing ... to elevate the common human rabble through the sacred transaction of matrimony."

It's upper class, all-white, and religiously sanctioned. "Vile natural conditions" include queerness, sexual freedom, and family structures outside the cisheteropatriarchal capitalist unit. "The obligation of people of standing" invokes ideas like the white man's burden, innate class hierarchy, religious missions, and conversion therapy. Matrimony is presented as both "sacred" (endorsed by the ruling religious body), and a "transaction" (business performed to transfer property and people-as-property, regardless of their desires), a tool of the oppressive society that pirates escape and destroy. That is where the figurines come from.

When Ed, in a drunk, depressive spiral, paints himself onto the bride, he's not yearning for a pretty dress. He's sort of yearning for a wedding, but that's not framed as positive. What he's doing is projecting himself into an 'ideal' image of marriage because he believes that: a) that's what Stede (and everyone) wants; b) he can never live up to that ideal because he's unlovable and broken (brown, queer, lower-class, violent, abused, etc); c) that's why Stede left. He tries to make himself fit into the social ideal by painting himself onto the closest match - long-haired, partner to Stede/groom, but a demure, white woman, a frozen, porcelain miniature - because, if he could just shrink himself down and squeeze into that box, maybe Stede would love him and he'd live happily ever after. But he can't. So he won't.

The fantasy fails: Ed is morose, turns away from the figurines, then tips them into the sea, a lost cause. He knows he won't ever fulfil that bride's role, but he sees that as a failure in himself, not the role. It's not just that "Stede left, so Ed will never have a dream wedding and might as well die." Stede left when Ed was honest and vulnerable, "proving" what his trauma and depression tell him: there's one image of love (of personhood), and he'll never live up to it because he's fundamentally deficient. So he might as well die.

This hit me from my very first viewing. The scene is devastating, because Ed is wrong, and we know it! He doesn't need to change or reduce himself to fit an image and be accepted (as, eg, Izzy demanded). Stede knows and loves him exactly as he is; it's the main thread and theme of season two!

(@/everyonegetcake suggested that Ed's yearning in these scenes includes his broader desire for the vulnerability and safety Stede offered, literalised through unattainable "fine" things like the status of gentleman in s1, or the figurine's blue dress. I'd argue, though, that these scenes don't incorporate this beyond a general knowledge of Ed's character. Ed is always pining for both literal and emotional softness, but the significance of the figurines specifically, to both Ed and the audience, is poisoned by their origin and context: there is no positive fantasy in the bride figure, only Ed's perceived deficiency.

Further, assuming that a desire for vulnerability necessarily corresponds with an explicit desire for femininity, dresses, etc, kind of contradicts the major themes of the show. OFMD asserts that there is nothing wrong with men assuming femininity (through drag, self-care, nurturing, emotional vulnerability, etc), but also that many of these traits are, in fact, genderless, and should be available to men without affecting their perceived or actual masculinity. It thematically invokes the potential for cross-gender expression in Ed's desires, especially through the transgender echoes in his relieved disposal, then comfortable reincorporation, of the Blackbeard leathers/identity. It's a rich, valuable area of analysis and exploration. But it remains a suggestion, not a canon or on-screen trait.)

Importantly, the groom figure doesn't fit Stede, either. Not just in dress: it's stiff and formal, and marriage nearly killed him. He's shabbier now, yes, but also shedding his privilege and property, embracing his queerness, and trying to take responsibility for his community. In a s1 flashback, Stede hesitantly says, "I thought that, when I did marry, it could be for love," but he would never find love in marriage. Not just because he's gay, but because marriage in OFMD is an oppressive, transactional institution that precludes love altogether. All formal marriages in OFMD are loveless.

So, he becomes a pirate, where they reject society altogether and have matelotages instead. Lucius and Pete's "mateys" ceremony is shot and framed not like a wedding, but as an honest, personal bond, willingly conducted in community (in a circle; no presiding authority, procession, or transaction).

That is how Stede and Ed can find love, companionship, and happiness: by rejecting those figurines and their oppressive exchange of property, overseen by a church that enables colonialism and abuse. Ed is loved, and deserves happiness, as he is, no paint or projection required.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY: draw Ed in dresses! Write him getting gender euphoria in skirts! Write trans/nb Ed, draw men being feminine! Gender is fake, the show invites exploration, that's what 'transformative works' means! But please, stop citing the cake toppers as evidence it's canon. Stop citing a scene where a depressed Māori man gets drunk and projects himself onto a rich, white, silent bride because he thinks he's innately unlovable and only people like her can find happiness, shortly before deciding to kill himself, as canon evidence it's what he wants.

(Also, please don't come in here with "lmao we're just having fun," I know, I get it. Unfortunately, I'm an academiapilled researchmaxxer, and some of youse need to remember that the word "canon" has meaning. NOW GO HAVE FUN PUTTING THAT MAN IN A PRETTY DRESS!! 💖💖)

[adultemophase]

a brief and very unwarranted visual analysis of these two shots (and maybe this is all fairly obvious but let me have a second)

Caitlyn is looking down over Piltover and the “camera” focuses on her from a high angle. In traditional filmmaking, either combined or separately, these can be used to indicate that a character is a villain and/or that they feel or are weak. Despite this, it also indicates that Caitlyn is very powerful. She also takes up a lot of visual space in the shot but the vast middle/background combined with her dark uniform make her appear smaller in contrast to the cityscape around her.

Opposite to the way Caitlyn is framed, the “camera” angle for Vi is more in line what we’d see for a hero - a lower angle, looking up at them, making them look powerful. However, this is contrasted by the fact that she (lmao clearly) takes up very little visual space in the frame and is not the focal point at all. Even without dialogue it gives a very clear sense of how she feels. Vi blends into the background and is entirely overshadowed by the bright mural of her late father and Jinx.

interpret however you please

[reformedontheweb]

Does infant baptism do no harm?

Does infant baptism do no harm?

Does infant baptism do no harm? I persuade myself that no one who reads these pages, will ever again urge that fallacious plea. Every departure from truth must be an evil, and this is one of the most melancholy of them all. Will you not, my brother, ascertain for yourself, its character, and renouncing it, return cheerfully to the word of God? It is “a perfect rule of faith and practice.” If you,…

[adaki]

Art of my creepypasta oc I did today :)

[scarapanna]

[WIP] Some more updates!!!

I've been quiet recently, but got a bunch of stuff in the works for y'all!!

I'm still working on those paper puppets for a little project regarding intertwined opposites (Possibly one of the most ambitious things I've ever worked on so far) and found a proper way to introduce that new au I'm working on!!

Here are two more paper puppets for the big pmv

And a few sneak peaks for the new au!!

(Doodles+notes alongside a silly little meme with a sprite edit of pewpaw)

I'm working on an info post for it, progress has been slow however since I wanna prioritize the pmv again (Started it on june, stagnated a long period, and went back to work on it. I'm dead set on finishing it this summer AND stubborn/silly).

[Personal reminder: Beetle stop starting wips when you're already busy/silly]

[summertimemusician]

Linktober 2024, Day 1, Mirror (Self)

Alright here we go again.

Technically a sneak peak of a bigger thing to come in the future that I'm repurposing, and the result of my final playthrough and readthrough before EoW dropped being Four Swords Adventures and that made me sad about Shadow Link again.

Note that this is for the Four Swords Adventures iteration of Shadow Link that might evolve into an LU Shadow, not Dark Link in either LOZ or LU, I have other plans for him.

This one shot was brought to you by Scars by The Crane Wives, Ribs by The Crane Wives, Ruin by The Amazing Devil and Two Minutes by The Amazing Devil because the author's playlist decided to be incredibly cheeky when they blacked out to write this like an ancient seers being cursed with visions and then called mad and hearing they've been put up for execution.

As always the nature of the relationship can be romantic or platonic, mostly due to the author's time constraints and further plans.

Anyway enjoy the reading!

It was cold.

The sort of cold after a wildfire, when everything's turned back to ash, the sort that left burned your vision white after the flames licked through your veins and left an ache in your bones. He shuddered, coughed black onto the stone floor, shaking with a muffled whimper.

It never got any easier, being dragged from the Dark World and into the Realm of Light, the goddesses' world itself revolting against an intruder, wanting the wound torn asunder into their oh so precious realm cauterized. To purge the intrusion and smite it where it stands.

Too bad for them (and for him), his master didn't particularly care about what the world wanted. Didn't particularly care that he hadn't grow accustomed to the pain or the cold, he had to stand up. There was work to be done.

(Shadow gritted his teeth, willed himself not to think about the prophecy of a golden haired princess- because whether he liked it or not, it was prophecy. As those with divinity running through their veins are wont to spill from their throats so carelessly- of violet eyes and a smile a third moonlight and hands holding a hammer.

It always hurt more, after one of the heroes liberated one of the maidens, or the jewels, the pain lingering for days afterwards and carving a home in his metaphorical bones. But just this once he'd take the cold bite of the Four Swords over the pain in the hole in his chest that Vio's betrayal had left, something that felt so much worse than every other time before.

Just this once he wished that maybe, just maybe, the hurt would be too much to bear, that he wouldn't wake up again-

Why? Why does it hurt so much but he's still here? He already knew the Light was uncompromising and unforgiving, but he thought them at least above curses.)

His ears twitched as soft, almost silent footsteps came up to his side. Someone crouching by his fallen form, setting a cautious hand over his own that Shadow couldn't help but draw away from with a hiss, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the world again, to your face, carefully blank as you guided him to lean against your side, a silver choker with a crimson gem winked mockingly at him, the shade closing his eyes and going boneless against your side.

Shadow was so, so tired.

He heard you quietly sigh, plucking his cap from his head and running your fingers through dark amethyst, smoke and mist made hair. "I told you so."

"Shut up." He grumbled, nuzzling further into the crook of your neck. One clawed hand curling against your free wrist, digging into the skin. Absentmindedly noting there were new scratches just above the metal.

It was routine by now, the warmth of your existence against his own a welcome balm, not quite of the Realm of Light where it's unpleasant, not too close to the Dark World where he felt like melting back into the embrace of the darkness, only to howl in agony at being dragged out.

Memories not quite his own bled into his mind all the time. How you'd shape ice into flowers for the princess in winter with nary a though, of blinking and from one second to the next you'd have whatever sword he had hostage if you though it was time for a break with a smile brighter than the sun.

His master had changed that though. It took months for you to stop trying to claw the collar out and to stop trying to fight Vaati.

(Funny how holding a mage's dragon as a bargaining chip is just as effective as kidnapping a ruler.)

Your gaze flicked to the polished obsidian of the Dark Mirror, to the gold, ornate frame. "The offer is still open, you know. Let me take the suffering from you."

"No." He scowled, leaning back to glare into your eyes, a hint of fangs poking out from a maw struggling to keep the shape of a human jaw, "You helped him. Helped them." Shadow spat, there is that hurt again.

You shrugged, a movement that's just slightly awkward as you flinch, "That I did." You confirmed simply, it almost made Shadow see red as he leaned away, knocking your hand from his head in the process, but if there's anything him and the heroes shared, was a lack of a desire to hurt you. It was a little grating to be honest, "Vio even offered to take me with him, to be honest."

"Then why didn't you leave?" He demanded.

Why did you stick around?

Your eyes shuttered, a hint of conflict in your pursed lips. Before you found your words, they come out softly, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you why. You'll just have to find out yourself."

You tug your wrist from his grasp, and Shadow lets you go.

(Stubbornly pushing down on memories and emotions that arearen'tarenotanymore quite his.)

You stand and turn away, pushing the curtains away from your sight, you turn your tired eyes to Shadow with an emotion he can't put a name to. "Just keep it in mind that there's more than one way to end this. Nothing is truly inevitable."

Shadow watches you go. 'There's nothing that can be done. He tells himself, hand hesitating above the Dark Mirror, briefly, it curls into a fist. The hero's original self stares back at him.

'… Does he really believe that?'

He shakes his head, and focuses on willing the Dark Mirror to show him his counterpart.

His chest still hurts.