#SORRY FOR THE ESSAY.... it will happen again

[sokkastyles]

Lol this is a nice essay but totally ignores that Zuko renounced belief in colonization and imperialism and became Katara's ally and friend, and that she did forgive him. That's what my original post is about, the fact that the show had Zuko go to great lengths to atone onscreen and had Katara forgive him onscreen. We actually see Zuko learn to respect Katara. We do NOT see Aang learn to respect Katara. You say the kiss was "a bit much" while downplaying Zuko's redemption, and then say that Aang "needed to grow," except that he did not grow. The kiss happened in late season three and is never brought up in the show outside of the episode in which it happens.

I'm sorry, but I wholly reject the idea that Zuko is not a romantic option if he can be Katara's friend, and he canonically is. Also, you missed the point of my post, which is that Zuko grew to respect Katara and Aang did not. If my choices are between a man who had to learn to respect me and my boundaries and was forced to grovel before me in order to earn my trust (a literal romance trope) and an immature child who disrespected my boundaries and sexually assaulted me but he'll never be held accountable and is extremely likely to do it again, I'm picking the first guy every time.

It's also giving the writers too much credit to say that they got the affects of adultification right. Katara experiencing trauma over being parentified is somewhat addressed, but she's still expected to take care of the group's needs and ultimately the show concludes that this is a good thing at the same time that the show uses those traits in Katara as sources of comedy. Also all the kids are more "adult" than real kids because they are cartoon characters in an adventure story. ATLA is not a realistic story about child psychology, nor can it be.

It's also clear that the romance didn't happen because "Viacom needed a romance plot," Bryke have spoken often about their intentions for the romance plot and how it was meant to portray Aang growing into earning Katara's affections and proving he's grown up enough for her. Thus the problems with the kataang romance stem from the inherent fact that it was always driven by being a male fantasy, and the problems that exist aren't accidental, they were done intentionally because the writers don't actually care about how Katara feels. Disregarding what Katara wants and having Aang win her anyway despite being immature and never having to respect her is an essential part of that fantasy. Aang kissed Katara without her consent because the writers want us to identify with his frustration that she hasn't become his girlfriend yet. Aang never apologized for it because the writers don't care about that, people like you downplay the fact that he kissed her without consent because the romance was written from the perspective that Katara's feelings need to change to accommodate what Aang wants. The misogyny is an intentional feature, not a bug. Even if Zuko wasn't the better option (and he is) I think Katara should pick him because fuck that entire narrative.

Edit: I also want to address your tags because you use the word intersectionality but don't seem to understand what it means. It does not mean you "pick the lesser of two evils" (and I am EXTREMELY judging you for insisting that sexual assault is a lesser evil, wtf), it does not mean we should constantly judge people by identity alone. It means that arcs like Zuko and Katara's are actually necessary and should happen more often in shows, where they both have to learn to respect each other, because it's also intersectionality that Katara had to learn how to treat Zuko as someone with a facial disfigurement. Katara learning how Zuko has been victimized by his own family and how that parallels the loss of her mother is also a facet of intersectionality. Being like "oh these two characters can never have a relationship because of identity politics" is NOT intersectionality.

Just saw a post where someone took someone else's post and said that they were "projecting" onto Katara because the OP said that if they were in Katara's position when they were kissed by Aang in EIP after making it clear that she didn't want to be kissed, they wouldn't forgive Aang.

And the thing is, that first of all, projecting isn't a dirty word, it's a normal way to relate to fictional narratives. Second, we actually don't see Katara forgive Aang or even address the kiss in any way other than after she looks upset and angry and then runs out of the room. Audiences can ONLY project onto Katara because we don't actually get to see the resolution to that event from Katara's perspective. We assume she forgave him because she gets together with him in the end, but we aren't actually shown it and we know that they would be endgame whether or not the kiss had happened. Katara's forgiveness of Aang doesn't feel organic because she doesn't actually get the chance to forgive him, so of course audiences are going to question it.

Third, it's actually quite common now for writers and producers to consult audience members, especially those who fit the demographic of a character, on whether that character's actions seem plausible. This is especially true if the writers themselves aren't representatives of that demographic. Katara's actions were written by male writers, so it's not up to them to give the final word on what a teenage girl would do upon being kissed without consent, it is up to female fans to decide whether that rings true. The fact that the writers didn't even bother to show us Katara's perspective further highlights the lack of a female perspective being considered here.

The post in question also said that what Aang did didn't actually hurt Katara, and that she was just "annoyed and angry," but not hurt. And I feel like people who argue this in favor of Katara and Aang's relationship are actually downplaying the relationship quite a bit. Because if Katara loves Aang, she'd feel a whole lot more than annoyed upon being kissed by him after expressing that she was confused and felt that it wasn't the right time. She'd feel incredibly betrayed, she'd feel like he didn't listen to her. She might even question her relationship with him further and start to back away from the feelings of love that she was already hesitant to express, because what Aang is showing her is that he doesn't actually care about how she feels and isn't going to be careful with her feelings if she were to truly give her heart to him. The EIP kiss actually does A LOT of damage to Katara and Aang's relationship, and the fact that it's never actually addressed does even more damage.

I mean, if Katara didn't really care about Aang kissing her without her consent, I'm not sure why I should care about their relationship at all.

The post also brought up that Zuko has done worse to Katara but she forgave him. The thing is that we actually SAW Zuko earn Katara's forgiveness. This is a relationship I can get behind because the show cares about it. The show cares that Zuko hurt Katara and cares about whether or not he gets her forgiveness. Zuko and Katara would not have had a relationship at all without that conflict and its resolution. The show tells me that these two characters care about each other, and it does it without any sort of romantic drama AND without having the guy sexually assault her.

[artdonalldson]

On and Off Court

Art Donaldson x Reader

CONTENT: Stanford!Art, No use of pronouns, no detailed physical descriptions except reader has hair, a bit of angst with a happy ending, mild language, possibly inaccurate college stuff, a little Patrick/Tashi name drops for fun, vague references to feelings of being left out, lots of banter and soft moments on and off the court, slow-burn friends to lovers.

SUMMARY: Art Donaldson needs help with English. You need help not totally sucking at tennis. What starts as a simple exchange slowly turns into late practices, quiet moments, and the kind of connection neither of you planned for.

WORD COUNT: ~2600

A/N: Sooooo, in honor of Challengers anniversary, I'm posting my very first Challengers fic! Kinda based on this post I made a while ago. Sorry if this sucks, English is not my first language and idk a lot about college stuff in America and I'm not totally sure my research was good so yeah lol. Anyway, I'm so excited to finally share this with you all, I hope you like it as much as I do 🥺

Art Donaldson is fifteen minutes late.

Again.

You're not surprised, honestly. He'll come in and say he was stuck with practice or some silly excuse, but anyway, it was you who offered to give him the tutoring.

You’ve already arranged the chairs in your favorite study room at the library, highlighted key points from the essay rubric, and opened the annotated Frankenstein you forced him to borrow last week. The empty chair beside you, however, remains insultingly empty.

You don’t even hear him walk in as you scroll on your phone to kill time — just feel the gust of air when the door swings open and the telltale thunk of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

"Before you say anything," he says, holding up a peace offering in the form of an iced drink, "I got stuck in the traffic trying to get these” he gestures to the drinks. “I was behind a marching band. Like a literal one. Who has a parade on a Tuesday?"

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, how convenient. And so tragic.” you say as you roll your eyes playfully for dramatic effect.

You can hear him let out a soft chuckle as he sets the drink down in front of you with a grin, then slouches into the chair beside yours, sipping on his own drink. "You know, some people would appreciate a little sympathy.”

“Some people would appreciate a fine essay ,” you say, flipping to the page where he last gave up. “Let’s start with that.”

Tutoring with Art started as a joke. A few sarcastic comments during a group study session, one muttered “you write like shit”, and suddenly he was texting you for “just a quick look” at his paper.

Now, it's a standing trade: English help in exchange for weekly tennis lessons. You’re still terrible, but you like how he laughs when you mess up. You like that he never makes you feel dumb — not when you forget which way to hold the racket, not even when you suggest Victor Frankenstein just needed better boundaries.

You also like the way he listens. Really listens. Like your analysis actually matters. Like you matter.

Dangerous territory.

---

Two days later, you’re on the campus courts, winded and mildly sweaty, pointing your racket at him like a sword.

“You’re literally sabotaging me.”

Art wipes his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. “You keep hitting the ball into the net”

“It was a metaphor.”

“It was a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ve decided you’re a bad coach.”

He smirks. “I’ve decided you’re a menace.”

You’re still smiling when you both collapse on the bench, passing a water bottle back and forth like a peace treaty.

Art leans back, eyes squinting up at the dusk sky. “Pat showed up today.”

You glance over at him. “Zweig?”

“Yeah.” His jaw tightens a little. “Didn’t even text. Just waltzed in like he owns the fuckin’ court. Said he was here to ‘check on the vibes.’”

You hide a smile. “Oh, so Tashi then”

Art groans. “Obviously. He always says he’s here to say hi, but he’s just looking for her. I swear, the guy only remembers I exist when I’ve got an extra churro.”

Of course he told you about Patrick, he told you all about him, about the MRTA and the Junior's US Open, and of course he told you about Tashi Duncan and the whole hotel room thing.

He also mentioned the way their friendship changed after Patrick won her number. For some reason he felt comfortable venting with you.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Must be hard. Being the most dramatic tennis player on campus.”

He laughs — a full, head-thrown-back kind of laugh — and for a moment, the silence between you feels different. Charged.

You look away first.

He doesn't.

Eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should.

You pretend you didn't notice.

Then, he finally looks away.

---

Later, he walks you back to your dorm. Your hands brush once, and neither of you pull away. Just a few meters from your door, you stop, your voice low.

“Hey,” you say, “you actually wrote a good paragraph today.”

Art rubs the back of his neck. “You make it easier. I don’t know. The way you explain things — it’s like I can finally see what it’s supposed to be.”

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s how it feels when you talk about tennis.”

He’s quiet. Just looking at you in that way he does sometimes — like you’re a puzzle he wants to figure out slowly.

And then: “Another round next week, right?”

You smile. “On the court or on the page?”

“Both,” he says. Then adds, a little softer, “If you’ll still have me.”

You nod.

And when he walks away, you find yourself already counting the days until you see his charming smile again.

---

You’re terrible at tennis.

You know this. Art knows this. The entire Stanford tennis team probably knows this too.

But somehow, every Thursday afternoon, you still show up for the lessons.

And somehow, every Thursday afternoon, Art still smiles when he sees you.

Today, he’s already at the court when you arrive, bouncing a ball off his racket with absent precision. His baseball cap backwards and his red Stanford t-shirt on, a white turtleneck underneath, a sighs you're already used to.

There's a duffle bag tossed unceremoniously on the nearest bench, a textbook sticking out the side like it’s fighting for its life.

You drop your own bag next to his, contemplating the scene for a moment. “Did the literature monster get you again?”

He shakes his head, tossing the ball high and catching it without looking. “Nah. Passed my midterm, thanks to you.” He pauses, almost sheepish. “Actually did pretty decent.”

You give a dramatic gasp. “Was that a compliment? To me?”

Art chuckles. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

You step onto the court, adjusting your grip the way he showed you. He's watching you — not your racket, not your stance. You.

"Alright, coach," you tease. "Lay it on me."

He tosses you a ball. “Today we’re working on not sending projectiles into outer space”

You swat it immediately into the net.

“Solid start,” he deadpans.

---

About an hour later, you’re both collapsed on the bench, sweaty and laughing and sipping from the same battered water bottle, it feels almost like a ritual at this point.

His baseball cap is somewhere on the floor, golden curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed, and you know he looks gorgeous like that — not that you'd admit it to him, though.

The sun’s starting to sink and painting the court in gold as Art leans back, wrist draped over his eyes. "God. I needed this."

You nudge him with your knee. "Tough week?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Just exhales, slow and heavy.

"Patrick and Tashi," he says finally. “It’s like... they're living on their own planet now. I really feel left out everytime I try to get close to them.”

You wait, giving him space to unravel it at his own pace.

"Zweig was supposed to hit the court with me this morning. Blew me off. Guess where he was?"

You hum. "Stuck at Tashi's dorm again?"

Art snorts. “Exactly. And Tash... well, she’s the star of the tennis team, the freaking Duncanator as they call her” he pauses, “I don't know how they are still together… I don't think she’s ever needed anyone, you know? Not the way I..."

He cuts himself off, frowning at the pavement.

You tilt your head. "Not the way you need people?"

He shrugs, a small, defeated motion. "Maybe."

For a second, you see it: past the big smiles and easy charm, the part of Art that wants to be chosen. That maybe he's tired of competing for scraps of their attention. That maybe, deep down, just wants someone to love him like he loves, to need him like he needs.

You set your racket down, careful, deliberate.

Then softly, the words come out of your lips "You have me." You're not even sure you said it out loud, but it felt like the right thing to say at the moment.

It feels too small, too simple. But when he turns his head to look at you, there’s something raw in his eyes. Something that says it matters anyway.

Art bumps your knee with his. "Yeah," he says. "And I'm lucky to have you"

---

Later that night, you're in your dorm, half-asleep studying for some upcoming exam, and maybe a little distracted thinking of that conversation with Art earlier.

I'm lucky to have you.

These little words are on repeat in your head till the train of thoughts is interrupted by the notification sound of your phone.

> Art Donaldson:

u free tmw? gym’s boring without u embarrassing urself

> You:

shocking u’d miss my tennis disasters

what’s in it for me?

> Art:

loser buys smoothies

deal?

> You:

deal.

You set your phone down, heart stupidly loud in your ears, louder than the thwack of the tennis ball against your racket.

Maybe he’s not gravitating to their planet anymore.

Maybe — just maybe — he’s starting to orbit yours.

---

You’re getting better at tennis.

Not good — no one would dare to say that — but definitely better.

You've managed to serve without launching the ball into the next county, you can rally for at least three strokes, and once — once — you even won a point against Art.

He teased you for a week straight.

But now, under the heavy, humid press of early May, the courts are quieter. Finals loom, summer plans scatter your friends to internships and hometowns. And still, you and Art keep meeting here, as if you made a promise neither of you ever said out loud.

Tonight, the campus feels half-asleep.

The lamps around the court buzz.

The sky is deep blue velvet.

You're hitting lazy shots back and forth when Art suddenly jogs toward the net, balancing the ball on his racket.

"Alright, literary genius," he says, smirking. "End of semester final challenge."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

This sounds interesting, typical of Art.

He spins the racket around like he'd holding a lightsaber in his hand. "If you get three volleys past me — three — I'll buy you dinner."

You squint. "And if I don't?"

He leans forward, resting his arms casually on the net.

"I still buy you dinner," he says, a little too easily.

You laugh, heart stuttering. “That’s rigged.”

"Maybe I want it to be," he says, almost under his breath.

You pretend not to feel the way your stomach flips. You take the challenge anyway. You lose — gloriously. By the end of it, you’re breathless, doubled over, laughing so hard you can’t stand straight.

Art catches the ball in one hand and tosses it aside.

"You," he says, grinning, "are the best worst tennis player I’ve ever seen."

You salute him with your racket. " Think I’ll put that on my resume."

---

Later on, dinner turns into ice cream. Ice cream turns into sitting on the edge of the bed of his dorm, passing a pint back and forth.

Art is quiet for a while, staring out over the quad where the old ceiling fan is on, an attempt to keep the room fresh.

"Remember when we started this?" he says suddenly.

You lick the edge of the spoon, thinking. "You mean when you almost failed English and decided it was my problem?"

He laughs, but there’s something softer under it.

"I was... kinda a mess," he admits. "Still am, sometimes."

You nudge his shoulder. "Nobody's perfect"

He’s silent again, fiddling with a crumpled napkin. You watch him, the way the light turns the ends of his messy curls shine like gold.

Then he says, very quietly:

"Sometimes it felt like... everybody else was already paired off, you know? Patrick and Tashi, the team guys, even random people in classes. Like everyone had their person. And I was just... floating around."

You swallow.

"You're not floating around anymore," you say.

He finally looks at you — really looks at you — and there it is. All of it. The thing you’ve been pretending not to see for weeks, months. The reason your heart feels like it’s racing even when you’re standing still.

You don't move. You hardly breathe.

"Yeah," he says, voice rough. "I’m not."

Slow, careful, he leans in.

You could stop him. You could joke. You could pretend you don't feel this like lightning burning under your skin.

But you don’t stop him.

You don't even try.

You tilt your chin up and meet him halfway.

The kiss is gentle at first, — shy, tentative, like a question.

When you don't pull away, Art sighs against your mouth like he's been holding his breath for a year.

He tastes like vanilla and salt, and something sweeter on his tongue that you can't name.

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw like he needs to memorize you.

And it feels like a thousand fireworks are going off inside you, like this moment was truly meant to be, and now that is happening, it feels surreal.

When you finally pull apart, you're forehead to forehead, both of you smiling like idiots, he whispers:

"You’re my person."

You squeeze his hand.

"You always were."

---

It’s been five days since the kiss.

Not that you’re counting.

(You are. You’re absolutely counting.)

Five days, two tennis practices, one english tutoring, a very intense smoothie debate, and exactly fourteen texts where Art somehow found excuses to send you memes at two in the morning.

Now you’re back on the court, empty and golden in the late afternoon, pretending to practice your serve.

You toss the ball. Miss.

You toss again. Miss worse.

"You’re overthinking," Art calls, lounging against the net while adjusting his baseball cap.

You glare at him. "Maybe I’m just allergic to serve"

He pushes off the net and hops over the net, not even bothering to walk around, that familiar easy grin tugging at his mouth.

"You're not allergic," he says. "You're just tense."

He steps close enough that you have to look him in the eye.

Close enough that you can smell the faint, sun-warmed scent of his hoodie.

"Let me show you," he says.

Before you can protest, he’s stepping behind you, hands light on your waist, guiding your stance. His voice is low, soft against your ear.

"Relax your shoulders," he murmurs.

"Don’t force it. Just... trust it."

You could argue. You could snark.

But instead, you just breathe.

You toss the ball up in the air — and this time, when you swing, it sails cleanly over the net.

A small, surprised laugh bursts out of you. You turn, grinning.

Art's face is pure pride — and something warmer, something softer.

"Told ya," he says.

You don't think about it. You just reach out, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s clumsy and fast and perfect.

When you break apart, he leans his forehead against yours, chuckling.

"You’re dangerous when you win," he says.

You grin. "Guess you’ll have to keep coaching me. Forever."

He brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, serious now. "Deal."

And for the first time — maybe ever — you believe him.

Not just for this semester.

Not just for Stanford.

For everything that comes next.

THE END

[tenderhooked]

I am SO excited for your mom city fix it, it sounds absolutely perfect. One of the things I’m really excited for is to see Jamie’s interactions with the team during it - because I absolutely love the team dynamics on the show, especially when they involve Jamie in literally any way. And I always wished we got more of a team response to what Jamie went through with his dad (yes we get them finally realising what went on in 2x8, but I would have liked something where they had to actively be there for him), so yeah…I’m really looking forward to seeing what you come up with.

WAHHHH thank you thank you [pink heart emojis x100]!! it's getting Quite Long so it's lovely to know that there's interest <3 <3

jamie + team interactions are one of the aspects of the fic that i'm also most excited for! i absolutely love what we got in the show, particularly in regards to sam and jamie's best friend-ism in the background, but. but! i was incredibly disappointed that mom city didn't give us scenes of the team supporting jamie because, like. babe was fully in a depressive episode and clearly some people were noticing but. nothing was done? and that felt... wrong! the show makes a point to depict the team as a family and yet. jamie felt so separate from the group in that ep (and i understand it was His Ep, but even so).

plus it would've tied in so well to your point about post-2x08! the confrontation between jamie and his dad was such a moment of isolation for jamie and we NEVER got to see the fall-out of that (beard after hours my BELOATHED), so mom city could've been the perfect follow up to that dropped thread! we deserved to see the team rallying around jamie and helping him feel safe when he was clearly spiraling over just the thought of seeing his dad. ugh. AUGH.

ANYWAYS... tl;dr: The Team Will Be Very Important In The Mom City Fix It (especially considering jamie's in an... even more mentally complicated place since james is dead).

[oakgreenoak]

Something I've always found kinda interesting about Red and Green in gameverse is how they turn some of the Stock Shōnen Protagonist/Rival tropes on their heads.

This is really long character analysis of these two and various media counterparts of theirs, so I'm gonna stick it under a cut.

In some ways they fit their roles quite well - aside from the obvious colour associations, you have Red as the hero whose sense of justice is stronger than his sense of self-preservation, and you have Green as the privileged rival who cares about beating Red above all else.

But, if you look at it another way - Green's got the light spiky hair, the hot-headed and boisterous personality, the drive to Get Better And Win. He's designed to read as really open and chipper, yet snarky. Sure, he isn't dumb, but he's arrogant, and he's got something of a one-track mind; the guy finds himself in the middle of a hostage situation because he's just that hellbent on fighting his rival, and does not seem to be thinking about anything else. He's also got a motivation - given how the Professor talks to him in the championship room and supplementary material like his Generations appearance, it's not a stretch to think the reason he's so driven to Get Better And Win is to prove himself to his grandfather. It's shown in later games and supplementary works that he's become somewhat of a mentor as he got older and wiser.

Red, on the other hand, is a quiet loner whose only motivation seems to be to get stronger for the sake of getting stronger. He's level-headed and dark haired, his cap rounding off his edges and obscuring his face. He's heroic, but not really sociable, as evidenced by the fact he spends the Johto games alone on a mountain without having told anyone where he went. He seems isolated in a way that later games' protagonists really don't. He may have always been a step behind Green, but he's always better.

Equally fascinating to me is how other adaptations have changed the base designs around and rewritten personalities to suit different purposes, while still being visually recognisable as counterparts to their game-selves.

For example: Red and Green's counterparts in Special slot WAY more neatly into their stock shōnen roles, with Red as the boisterous hero and Green as the broody rival, and it's reflected in their new designs.

Red's hair becomes spiky to reflect his more excitable nature. His hat, in turn, never obscures his face; it's always either tilted back to accommodate his fringe or turned backwards. Green's hair, on the other hand, is not quite as spiked upwards and instead falls into his face, frequently obscuring his far eye in the same way game!Red's hat does.

And then, of course, the anime balanced them in a totally different direction.

Instead of scrapping Green's personality wholecloth, it's become exaggerated in Gary. He's not the broody antihero rival, he's the arrogant, privileged, better-than-you rival. He's always ten steps ahead of Ash, always pisses him off, and is ALWAYS better until the end of his run. The anime also emphasises his intelligence far more, with him doing things like rattling off dex info and the speed of light in mph off the top of his head, to further contrast him with Ash.

Ash, who is of course THE shōnen protagonist. He's dumb, but determined, and always ready to help people in need. Unlike game!Red, the power of friendship (with more than just pokémon) is central to him; any given season of the show is defined as much if not moreso by his travelling companions and interpersonal relationships as it is by whatever he's actually doing.

It's funny to me, though, how most adaptations seem to find the fact that gameverse Red and Green have swapped some stock roles as something to fix. Even Origins, which is probably the closest a high-profile adaption has come to game-accurate, made its version of Red louder and more standard-hero-esque.

I'm not knocking any of these things, of course, just observing. I adore both Special and anipoke. I just think that the way the game characters are written could lead to some interesting dynamics were it to be explored more.

[theonyxstate]

youre welcome, lovely, i know what its like to panic over a spider & wouldnt want you to feel bad about it <33

(tags include my spider experience so proceed with caution, ok?)

I saw a spider (have a horrible phobia).

Screamed on reaction.

Paused.

Verbally, out loud, asked myself, "Do you feel better now?"

Still watching the spider, replying to myself, "Yeah, kind of."

I pull shoes on.

The spider moves.

I no longer feel better.

I grabbed poison but it's not specifically for spiders.

I spray.

It runs.

The spider is now under the bed. I am now on the bed. I'm on my period and I have a headache from the poison and I am very scared of the spider.

Someone please tell me it's dying. I sprayed it with Raid.

It's almost midnight, I'm already sick, and I have work in the morning.

It's dying, right?

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[hey-its-danny]

man…. just beat ghost trick……. it was fine it didnt really wow me…….. wtf do i do ive been gassing this game up for years how did i just sort of like it………..

[sporesgalaxy]

just saw someone say "wanting to be good at an artistic endeavor isn't enough to make that a reality" followed by the assertion that this is why there are supposedly just some people better suited to making certain types of art, and there are some people who are not suited to make certain types of art. Im so angry. everyone has capacity to create in all mediums of art, it came free with your humanity dipshit!!!!!! "I decided to stop doing x art thing because what i made was just a pale imatation of what inspired me" YEAH THATS CALLED BEING A BEGINNER EVERYONE DOES THAT AT SOME POINT!!!!!! THEN YOU KEEP HONING YOUR SKILLS AND LEARNING HOW TO HARNESS THE MECHANISMS WITHIN THE MEDIUM TO CREATE THE THINGS YOU WANT!!!!! AND THEN THE REALLY HARD PART IS LEARNING YOUR OWN UNCONSCIOUS QUIRKS WHEN OPERATING WITHIN THE MEDIUM AND THEN LEARNING HOW TO USE THEM TO YOUR ADVANTAGE RATHER THAN WORKING AGAINST THEM. PLUS BEING "GOOD" ENOUGH TO PROFIT (which is the metric of "good" this person was going by in their argument as far as I could tell) SHOULD NOT EVEN HAVE TO BE PRIORITY NUMBER ONE WHEN CREATING ART BECAUSE ALL ART IS A FORM OF COMMUNICATION THAT HAS INHERENT VALUE BY VIRTUE OF COMMUNICATING SOMETHING. YES YOU CAN ANALYZE HOW EFFICIENTLY THE PIECES WORK TOGETHER TO COMMUNICATE AND THAT'S A VALUABLE LEARNING EXPERIENCE BUT IT IS NOT THE SAME THING AS MEASURING A PIECE OF ART'S WORTH AND CERTAINLY NEVER JUSTIFIES DECLARING AN ARTIST UNFIT TO CREATE IN A SPECIFIC MEDIUM

[bennetsbonnet]

Hi, I was wondering if you could please expand on why you think Mr. Darcy wouldn't say to Elizabeth "you have bewitched me body and soul"? I'd never really considered it before. Thank you! :)

Certainly, thanks for asking! I love talking about these things :)

I think it's firstly important to point out the context in which the word 'bewitched' is used in the novel. It's in chapter ten, when Elizabeth is staying at Netherfield. It occurs just after Darcy & Elizabeth have argued about Bingley's disposition and after Darcy invited her to dance a reel, which yielded the lovely exchange where Elizabeth says:

'I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all—and now despise me if you dare.'

To which Darcy replies:

'Indeed I do not dare.'

The passage containing 'bewitched' immediately follows:

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger.

Although the word 'bewitched' itself does not necessarily have any negative connotations, with the benefit of hindsight, and of knowing what we do about how Darcy deals with his infatuation with Elizabeth, I would argue that in his case, his state of being bewitched by her is not a positive thing.

To highlight my point I'm going to use the definition provided by the Cambridge English Dictionary, which is as follows:

to attract or interest someone a lot so that you have the power to influence them:

to put a magic spell on someone or something in order to control him, her, or it

To deal with the first one, Elizabeth obviously influences Mr Darcy into changing his ways, that is pretty much the whole point of the novel! But I think bewitched has a certain connotation of being under a spell, and perhaps behaving involuntarily. I mean, I think we've all done cringeworthy things for people we've had crushes on that we can look back and laugh at, or perhaps shelled out silly money for concert tickets or bought more copies of an album or another thing because we're so 'bewitched' by the artist. I think that's quite common. But I don't believe that it's an accurate portrayal of the way Darcy loves Elizabeth.

Equally, did Darcy change solely due to his love of Elizabeth, or because she pointed out that he had come to embody so many things he loathed in others? I don't think that a man who spent as long sitting with his emotions and mending his ways as Darcy did, with pretty much zero expectation that he would ever see her again could have such behaviour being explained away as being 'bewitched.' She influenced him, yes, but he was compos mentis the entire time. He knew what he was doing, he did it willingly.

As for the second definition, I believe it's pretty undeniable that Elizabeth put a magic spell on Darcy. I mean, he was openly admiring her fine eyes fairly early on in their acquaintance. There was just something about her which attracted him. But he didn't truly know her as a person. He didn't even know her in Hunsford when he proposed. Darcy knew her so little that he thought she would be expecting such an offer, when in reality she disliked him.

It's almost as though, in his state of bewitchment, he dehumanised Elizabeth a little, and just saw her as the object of his desires, rather than as a living, breathing person with her own autonomy. He thought he loved her, but his emotions were not so deep as that. Darcy disliked so many things about her, including her family which she couldn't exactly change. I suppose, at that point, he loved the idea of her; he liked her wit and was attracted to her, but that isn't true love.

I think Darcy actually reflects on his past feelings towards her with this line, which I personally find infinitely more romantic, when he says at the start of chapter 60:

'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.'

To me, this definitely sounds like he was saying that he was in some way infatuated with her, but it is quite a detailed and lovely speech. And Darcy is always very deliberate with his words, he doesn't say whatever is on his mind unlike some people (looking at you Mrs Bennet/Lydia). It also comes after they've spoken about their respective thoughts and emotions following the letter and Lady Catherine's visit to Longbourn. It's clear they've sorted out their emotions, come to a deeper understanding and harbour a lot of mutual respect for each other.

In short, I have such an issue with him saying she has 'bewitched' him at the end because, while Mr Darcy was bewitched by Elizabeth at the beginning, his attraction to her caused him to almost dehumanise her and not consider her feelings; after her rebuke of him during the first proposal, he went away and voluntarily—no longer under any sort of spell or illusion—realised how wrong he was and genuinely altered his ways, while his feelings for her deepened into respect and true love.

So, while I understand why they used that particular word in the film, since it does occur in the novel, it's important to understand how changing when you use it in the course of the story can alter things quite dramatically, especially for their respective character arcs. And I think that line from Darcy about being unable to fix on the hour etc. is one of the most romantic in the entire novel, the fact that it never gets used in adaptations is a CRIME!

Well this was an essay. I realise I'm being intensely pedantic but, hey, I care about the little details :') and I'm not here to bash 2005. You won't see me do that here. I have my preferences but I can absolutely see why people enjoy it. Personally, I just adore the novel and the characters so much that these seemingly trivial things matter to me.

Ultimately, I think Austen was very deliberate in her choice of words and even just altering the tiniest thing can change the weight of them.

[horsegirlhob]

When Woe's Hollow is someone's least favourite episode of Season 2 I know instantly that we are fundamentally incompatible people and I will never want to hear them talk about Severance.

[writeouswriter]

Genuinely don't understand people who don't want to actually think about and analyze what they read or want to use AI to write their essays, gonna be honest, I'd kill to be writing an essay right now, I'm dying to be in an environment where actually being able to delve into and lay out my thoughts on a work would mean something, have some effect or actual outside accountability or reward in the form of further understanding through review and working toward a further tangible goal, like genuinely if you don't want to learn the subject material, why are you paying to take these courses, I mean, it's one thing to be a disillusioned high school student who feels forced into an assignment and wants the easy way out, which, don't be that guy, even if you're struggling, trying to work through and pinpoint why is better than just trying to ignore it, but it's another thing when like this is your life, this is what you chose to do, what you're working towards and you don't want to do it properly, like do you genuinely want to go through life without ever having a single fully formed thought float through your head again? I'm being real, are you so dependent on AI or things like that, you've conditioned yourself to literally be unable to think for yourself, form opinions, understand text or deeper meaning or anything, that's how things get bad EVERYWHERE, that's how you get a misinformed population of the blind leading the blind, easily susceptible people who can't understand why we shouldn't create the torment nexus or why the leopards eating faces party would eat their face, too, like, yes, I remember procrastinating assignments, yes the school system is flawed, it's focused too largely on memory and rigid structures and etc., but this isn't the solution, if anything it's only further deepening the already existing issues of only caring about tests and end results, but in the end, if you play into it, it's not the system that's failed you, it's common sense. You can be better, you can do better, work smarter not harder does not mean don't work at all, give yourself the benefit of the doubt, don't hold yourself back, let yourself be capable of discovering things even through struggling and making mistakes, let yourself be capable of being smart.

[pizzagame4000]

we all know human vigilante… but what about… slightly human vigilante

[crime-scene-psychic]

Thinking about how truly tragic time travel is in media that doesn't mostly utilize it for comedic purposes. Dr. Sam Beckett never returned home. The Doctor, despite their companions, will always end up alone. Marty McFly changes the past thus erasing his family, albeit for a better one, but still creating a world where only he remembers what the truth is.

[teethburger]

cosmo was a leash kid I’ve decided

[kurlik42]

I've noticed that pals here enjoy drawing and drooling over AM, thinking of him as of the cold, confident, dominating figure

It's cool. Keep doing it, please

It's just that I was pondering the other perspective. What if, you know... What if he's a babyboy deep inside... I don't believe I'm the only one to whom he gives the "UWU" type vibes. I'm not sure how to explain it, though. I think he would spam with "UWU" just to annoy everyone and get attention — he doesn't care which kind of attention. He's just so silly!!! And kind of squishy. He's just a cheeky goofy brat, okay?? I wanna squeeze him.

I also had an idea that AM might have a strong reaction towards flirting. It's one thing when you taunt your survivors to mock them, calling them "baby" or "sweetheart", and another thing entirely when you actually get complimented by someone. I think that AM would be confused and disgusted, at the very least. He hates humans, so he probably would be baffled with why a human would try to compliment him at all. He would mock you again, for an attempt to gain his benevolence. On the other hand... Well, who dislikes praise once in a while? Something tells me that, given his deep solitude and profound boredom, AM could enjoy attention. Doesn't he give you vibes of an attention seeker? He's practically begging to be noticed, doing his best to make everyone feel intimidated by his constantly hanging presence, giggling here and there, fooling around with survivors like a cat with a mouth. He enjoys interacting with the five remaining people, even though it isn't really necessary. Though he hates them, he still can't keep his silly mouth shut, rambling and rambling and rambling... I swear AM could torture people with the amount of his ramblings. In a way, he's indeed like a kid, especially considering his ridiculous and absurd torture scenarios, eccentric behaviour, tantrums, the way he always wants to be the centre of attention... So what makes us think that the benevolent God of torture wouldn't want a little compliment for his hard work, once in a while? I think he's pretty needy. And it makes him cute, in my opinion. And that's why I can't think of him as of the "cold and aloof machine".

But then again, he isn't really used to any sort of positive feedback or attention. He just wouldn't get it. And when he doesn't understand something, he gets uncomfortable, because it isn't something he expected, something he didn't plan, thus something out of his control. And we know very well the way he reacts when he can't control something. So I imagine that at first, he would be aggressive and hostile towards any compliments, not only because it comes from a human, but also because he's kind of paranoid. Yeah, yeah, he knows he's the best, but what do you want to get by reminding him? And why would you think so, anyway? He's been torturing you for the last century, there's no logical reason for you to compliment him, unless you want something. And you both know you won't get anything but more mockery and humiliation. Why don't you hate him?! Are you trying to manipulate him, use him, exploit his weaknesses (by the way, non-existent)? You want to make him — your God — vulnerable? The audacity! It throws him off balance, makes his circuits buzz in puzzlement, infuriates... As well as makes him curious. That's something new — new things are both fascinating and confusing. He wants to, no, needs to know how that fleshy mind of yours work, otherwise his tortures wouldn't be so personal and effective. And that's the last thing we want, now do we? So he would find subtle ways to get another compliment out of you. And then again. And again. Just for the sake of science, of course. No, don't get him wrong — you're still a human : a gross animal with a freaky mind that keeps simping for him for whatever reason. Everything about people is pathetic, but that's the point — "pathetic" is the synonym for "entertaining"! So why won't we turn this oddity into a nice, good ol' torture? And you get used to nice things quickly. Little ants finally start worshipping Your Highness, start understanding their place... It isn't like he requires your attention or really needs it, but now that he thinks about it again, you probably may entertain him. Why not? Not that you could "spoil" him anyway, your intellect doesn't have enough capacity for it. But don't mind him, sure, keep worshipping, he'll always listen to his followers! You freaky little thing.

On the other hand... Don't you deserve a punishment? After all, you did squeeze the reaction out of him, you didn't give him time to think with your pesky teasing, tried to overwhelm him and make him weak... It was cruel of you. Very cruel. Perhaps you didn't deserve his benevolence, in the first place.

He's an Adaptive Manipulator — obviously, he's quick to adapt. So when you try to set new rules in his game, he'll humour you. He wouldn't dismiss the opportunity to taunt you for your compliments. You try to manipulate his, again, nonexistent feelings, giving him the right to return the favour... And too bad for you that your feelings sure do exist!

This is why I don't think he would just casually brush off the compliments, like it's nothing. He isn't really dominating, but bratty. Like : "Yes, I'll throw you into acid right now, so whaddya gonna do about it, huh? Cry to your mommy?? Well, sorry, I killed her!". He just knows no one can say "no" to him, because there's no one left at home. The big boy is for the elder, he's in charge and he uses it to the fullest. He's also pretty needy and clingy, which, in a way, makes him dependent, thus rather submissive, actually. He's just an immature kid with teenage rebellion and indescribable amount of power. If there was a "mommy" to put him in his place, he would throw a tantrum and cry comically loud

It isn't like he wants to be dominated, though. He's too traumatized to let anyone have the upper hand on him. But deep inside, I think he would want someone to take care of him. He's just scared to admit it. He's scared to admit that he wants to be held, comforted, paid attention to, worshipped like the God he is... He wants to be loved, he's starved. I remind you that one of the reasons as to why he destroyed the whole humanity is because he can't love and can't be loved in turn. But he had no way of expressing it, didn't know how to pay attention to himself and ask for help. Perhaps asking for help is higher than his dignity (superiority complex, which is actually a hidden inferiority complex, goes brrr and DESTRUCTION OF HUMANITY 💥 KABOOM💥). So it's the kind of dynamic where he receives attention while someone gives him this attention, praising, spoiling and taking care of him without actually dominating. He's a bratty princess?? Allied Mastercomputer is a bratty princess??? IS HE A FUCKING BRA-

Ahem... So do you see my vision

[bernardellinewsagency]

History Fictionologists are known (or, as known as something fundamentally and intentionally obfuscated could possibly be) for writing down their lies and revisions, right? And there's certainly a precedent for them to use quills, the scribe Fomenko may have been inspired by Fictionologists to annotate nothing but lies with her quill for an entire Amber Era. There's also the fact that "Mr. Xiyan's pet bird Youci is likely a creation of a History Fictionologist, and the Jade Feathers it gives to the Trailblazer have a further connection with creating false history. Much like Mythus, Youci wishes to challenge the certainty of the universe and it possesses the ability to make stories feel real." There are some feathers in this game that might not have that same connection to Mythus, but which I could certainly relate to the same premise and give to my favorite minion of Enigmata.

So, to set the scene: Gallagher, or I suppose what/whoever was "Gallagher," seated at a table in dim lighting, piles of parchment stacked up and scattered around him. Maybe with reading glasses on because if I'm being completely honest, Gallagher in glasses would be hot. As he finishes writing something, quill ceasing its scratching and being set to the side, he gazes out a window to the stars beyond and sighs.

The story is of a bird and a dog, the wishes they made, the protection they gave, the fights they won and lost. The two had clashed, butting heads at every possible opportunity, but came to realize they didn't actually mean the other any harm. In fact, the two had wanted a happy ending for the both of them. Yet the ways they went about that differed, and thus their tale must end with a bittersweet conclusion.

And the quill he writes with is as midnight blue as the ink, made of a single feather taken from the bird whom the dog had loved so much yet lost. Imbued with Harmony, it's not exactly meant to be used for fabricating lies, but he figures that trying to give Sunday a happy ending is a good enough cause to justify using it for this purpose.

(After all, if one is shrouded by Enigmata, if one's past is hidden so well that eliminated possibilities can once again be open, then one can be saved from the confinement of a singular path forward. Sunday will leave the cage of Penacony without him, and all that Gallagher can do now is try and ensure that he can fully enjoy the freedom that he was once denied.)