#Sez rambles

[sezjackvo]

It is, yes. Though you raise two interesting points I’ve seen a lot in these discussions about Michaela and Francesca: the fertility storyline and catering to book fans.

We’ll go with the fans first because that’s a quick, easy answer. They’re catering to a wider audience now. Bridgerton is an international sensation and there are more than just straight white people in the world. It makes sense that the stories would adapt to accomodate this greater diversity to include that wider audience and rake in that cash.

For the fertility storyline, there are two parts to this concept: genre and the value of the story. Bridgerton at its heart is a harlequin romance. These stories are about the rush of falling in love, not necessarily about what happens afterwards. Gender swapping Michaela doesn’t affect their journey to falling in love so our genre and our story is intact. That said, it is also a feature of this series that we catch glimpses into the lives of our past heroes to see they’re doing well.

This brings us to the value of that infertility storyline. Having friends who struggled with infertility and seeing their constant disappointment and stress, wondering what was wrong and spending thousands of dollars trying to find a solution… It is a heart-wrenching, highly relatable story for so many couples the world over. To have such a story be central in a piece of mainstream media would do wonders to normalising something that can feel shameful for many. I can see how that story is deeply personal for many who have read the books. Having Michaela gender-swapped takes that away, and that’s upsetting because of how valuable that story is to the people who need it.

It’s not the same, but the story we potentially have now is one where these two women cannot have children full-stop. Even if they desperately want one, they cannot have one without male intervention or adoption, and, in a world ruled by inheritance laws, adoption isn’t exactly a viable option. This changes their relationship dynamic from being “what is wrong with us that we cannot conceive?” to “because I love you, I can never have children of my own”. That’s a big ouch. That’s a big trade. It’s relatable and valuable to a very different audience, and it’s also a story we don’t get to see very often.

It is different from what book fans expected, but this is always the case with screen adaptations, and it always will be. Albeit this is a bigger change than usual, a trade has been made and now we have to trust the writers have done their work and it was worth the cost.

At the end of the day, there is simply a choice: accept it is different and lean into the new adventure knowing it is not what you expected but remaining hopeful for a good story, or resist and miss what joy you might have had had you simply just watched the show for what it is: stories about people falling in love in the most dramatic fashion possible.

Don’t you see? This is so much better than “Oh shit, my husband is dead and his cousin is hot.” Now it’s “Oh shit, I grew up in a society that only values one form of relationship because a woman’s only purpose in life is to make heirs and my family are all ravenously taken by this idea of love that I’ve never understood and I feel broken because I just don’t get it so I resigned myself to just being content with a man who loves me but *oh shit* my husbands cousin is hot and I don’t understand and I don’t know what to do about that.”

[lazorbeanz]

I’ve finished reading all the issues!

I love them SO SO MUCH! They’re so hilarious I practically could not stop laughing the entire time 🤣 The writing is immaculate and is very Sonic Boom coded…especially with the unruly amount of fourth wall breaking.

Everyone is just so sassy and silly and cute it makes me love this spin-off even more! 💛💙🩷❤️

[holopossums]

hooooo boy hoo boy, i've been itching to write Krow but casually and without much work on my end to set things up.

so i'm now thinking about doing an ask blog for Krow, since people have become curious about him.

even though i went on record saying i wouldn't want to do an ask blog and i'm too old to run one in such a young fandom... but here i am, booboo the fool. i think i've changed my mind a little. it could be fun!

if i do this, then both younger Krow and older Krow would share the same blog, which would be super fun. same character, different points in time. they could even both answer sometimes.

i might just revamp the old roleplay blog that i couldn't manage to do much with to an ask blog because it's just too much damn work to set up roleplays in a traditional fashion. it's easier on me to just be like. come hither and ask any question, my character will answer. maybe even with art if you're lucky.

[kef-meister]

I Just Think They're Neat

When I stopped collecting cool rocks about several yonks ago (I was even subscribed to a magazine which came with samples - or at least pretended to give you samples - of neat rocks, minerals and gems), the inherent need to collect something didn't actuallydisappear - it just changed. Over the years I've collected, for example: marbles; specific Kinder Egg toys; blank 3.5" floppies; different Euro coins from different EU countries, and IKEA pencils (...I still have a jar full of these at the moment).

But my biggest collection didn't actually get kick-started by myself. it was a present from over a decade ago - my partner gifted me a whole box full of small figurines with my favorite Pokémon: Bulbasaur.

Fast forward to 2024, and they've reminded me that I should be nice to myself (and thus treat myself). Meaning I have another box incoming with different Bulbasaur-related items. Fuck yes.

The whole reason I'm telling y'all this is because I've spent the better part of my day trying to (re)organize just the top shelf of a three-tiered cabinet just to see if I can fit any more Bulbasaurs on the top shelf. I think I might need to reorganize it yet again. Now, a lesser version of myself might think I actually have entirely too many Bulbasaurs. That lesser version of me would be wrong. You are wrong, lesser me. Skill issue.

Obviously I need to start thinking of moving to a bigger place. /s

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

Makes them actually contend with the fact that they need to accept their losses in order to improve

Helps make them reorient towards proper training and improvement instead of relying on anarchy beryl

Manages to make them to contend with their gender identity without even trying to do this

Intentionally teaching them new skills

Crystal unironically making them better is still so insane to me

[quality-ghost]

as someone who only just got the new tagging system forced on them a few months ago: is there any way to get the site to remember certain tags for autofill purposes. because I swear the new system is 10x worse at it than the old one

[kiku91]

I wanted to share this real quick, because I really love the story telling here! This is a short student film called “Love Language” by EriFabrize on YouTube. (The comments are turned off, otherwise I’d be singing it’s praises there.) (TW: step-families, parent loss, parent death)

There is so much subtext here. The story follows a young anthropomorphic puppy bonding with her new stepfather who is a dinosaur.

Those who don’t know, I lost my mother when I was a thirteen and within a couple years, my dad started dating a coworker and several years later, married her. It took me years to call her my “stepmum” instead of “my dad’s wife”, not out of resentment, but it just didn’t feel right. Even now I only call her stepmum as a title, and address her by her first name. (It’s all fine, she never pressured me to do so.) Whether you get good or not so good stepparents, that transition is very uncomfortable, especially if your first parent is no longer in the picture. In the short film it’s left vague on whether the puppy’s bio father left or died, however they don’t even have proper pictures of their father. (I can relate to this, because 70% of the pictures of my mum were from before us kids were born.) When you don’t get a lot of time to process the change, you feel displaced, and lots of times when you vent, older people tell you to consider the parent who lost a partner and “they deserve to be happy” however that doesn’t help your feelings when you lost that person too, but you don’t get the same closure if you don’t instantly bond with the new partner. I’m rambling, but the big point, without giving away too many spoilers, is “Love Language” shows how step parents aren’t meant to replace or take over your memories of your first parents, but to have your own special bond and friendship. For me: growing up my bio mum would make doll clothes for me, and one time she made a beautiful dress for colonial day for me. She wasn’t great at passing on technical knowledge so when she passed away, I was stuck trying to figure out how to use her old sewing machine. Now it’s been almost 19 years since my mum passed, but in the last 6-10 years, my stepmum has been helping me learn how to use my mum’s sewing machine better so I can use it for cosplays and repairing my own clothes. (I tend to use clothing until it’s in tatters) It meant so much, and my stepmum knows how much it means to use my mum’s sewing machine, and if it’s a little too advanced for me, my stepmum will use her own machine to fix something for me.

My stepmum’s family is German, and as I learned German in high school it was amazing to have someone besides my dad (his German is limited) talk to me about the German language, and read my song translations (it was a thing I did a lot in high school).

My stepmum never tried to replace my mum, she first opened up as my friend, and over the years we bonded by the things above, and quietly snarking at my dad’s (I love you, man, but I think I got my autism from you) interesting oddities. My mum and I bonded through words of affirmation and touch. My stepmum and I bonded through gift giving and acts of service. I’m so lucky that she was so patient, and let our relationship grow naturally. Do I miss my bio mum? Absolutely. I have gone through all the stages of grief, and actually as I’m writing this, my mother’s birthday was Friday. (She would have been 69 years old.) But I’m glad we have media that shows that transition with stepparents.

[simonsaysbark]

Notzmo Simon Sez "Simon"

7/14/08 - 10/28/23

There's all these things I want to write.

I'm struggling. I'm a better writer than a speaker, but I'm going to ramble. Lots of words, and somehow, it's not even close to being enough.

Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted a Blue Merle dog. I know. I know. I'm going to get all my show friends and dog friends who shake their heads and say color doesn't matter. I know it doesn't, but- it did for me. It does. I love merles, I love how they look like fog in the woods on a Pacific Northwest Morning. They're swirls of grey and black with pops of tan or muted gold, all different patches. I adored them from afar. I grew up with an Old English Sheepdog, we had friends with merle Aussies and other merle dogs and man, did I covet them as a little girl. However my dog life went a direction I didn't forsee, to German Shepherds. Search and Rescue was my thing, my GSD's were wonderful at it, but the shop kinda took over my time. I showed Shepherds too, enjoyed that, but Matt wanted something a little smaller in the house.

So I did my research. I talked to folks, met dogs, and Corgis fit our lifestyle and our household. Cardigans especially. I could live with that, I've had herding dogs my whole life, they're a big dog with a giant heart and work ethic but with short legs. They had all the things I loved about Shepherds, and not so much of the things I sure can live without.

Plus they came in merle. Geninuely merle, a true pattern of the breed.

We ended up with two rescue Pems from rough beginnings, but man, I still wanted that Cardigan. I don't think I've ever told my Cardi folks how I sneakily went to dog shows, tried talking to some of the breeders a bit around my area. Most of them didn't have time those days. Me? I was too worried about making a mistake or being rude, coming across badly, and I was also hyper aware of how busy folks are at them and didn't want to push. I guess that was okay. Universe testing me, do you really want this breed? I did. The more I was around the ones I saw, the more I loved them.

So, I sent out a whole lot of email inquiries to folks, with pictures of my German Shepherds, with what a story of, what I did, that I showed, I trained. I think I had pictures of my dogs and my fenced yard, haha. I admit, I'm a little terrified to cold call folks, it's- it's hard for me. I told them I was willing to wait for the right dog to come along. I wanted something healthy, I wanted them to maybe try doing SAR or some dog sport, I wanted to try showing, but- I wanted a blue merle too. Years were fine. If I'm to be honest no one really answered, but I was patient and kept trying. Then I heard from Dona and Sharon, who-- had a litter and a pup that might fit what I wanted. It was way earlier than I expected but I was game. I told them, I loved working dogs, I love thinking dogs, I plan on doing all these things with my dog.

They picked him out for me, and he was everything they said he was right down to when I first met him at the airport and took him home, he snuggled and was calm and observant to everything, confident and thoughtful about his new life. He then snatched his leash in his mouth when I put him down on the lawn and took himself for his walk. I'd been warned he did that. He did it his whole life; he would carry his leash for the first few steps of every walk, just to let you know if he really wanted to, he could yank it out of your hand and do it himself just fine, thanks. He was housebroken in an instant. He only slept in a crate by the bed for less than a month before we found him curled up asleep in the big dog bed at bedtime and took a chance on him staying out and he was oddly perfect. I kept waiting for the terrible rotten teenage stages, but no. Simon never put a foot wrong, you could trust him flat out the house. He never made a mess or got into anything he wasn't supposed to. Period. Never chewed a single thing that wasn't for chewing. He played with my huge Shepherd, brave as could be.

And oh gosh. He loved toys. He loved fetch. Fetch. Ball. Ball. Ball. He was more focused and driven than some of my working line Shepherds I have owned. Way more.

I took a few pictures, posted them for myself on my blog that I'd had the Shepherds on... and was like huh, the camera really likes this little guy.

Little did I know what I'd let out of the box. Once he found that camera though, that was it. Folks ask all the time, did I give him treats? Did I train him to pose? Nope. Never. Not for pictures. I sure encouraged it, but to be honest, his reward was going out and posing on stuff and knowing he was awesome, throwing out his chest and strutting around Seattle like he owned it, taking walks in the woods and the crags and mountains, running through streams and dirt. Mud and filth and full tilt, but you never had to worry about him getting into trouble out there. He stuck close, and always kept an eye on where I was, even as a pup.

Simon snored in the bed. In the middle of the night he'd squish himself as close as possible, put his muzzle over my neck and his heavy, stubby leg over my shoulder and drool. He loved to cuddle. Cake was his favorite special treat in the world. His eyes would get like saucers over cake. I've shared so many dog friendly cakes. You could ask him if he wanted a bath and he'd make a decision on the spot, yes or no and hop himself in the tub on his own accord, which always made me laugh. He could swim like a otter.

I made so many friends from blogs and places that are long gone on the internet. Was overjoyed when I met other Cardigan folks on photo sites and blogs, because at the time you really... you didn't see them at all. Our online photo blog secret Cardi society and all that. My photography hobby and skill improved with him in massive leaps and bounds.

He was an internet star with followers before the net blew up into what it is now. I've thought about that over the years and to be honest, I'm glad it was that way because I got to know so many people on a one to one basis. We never did things specifically for money or fame like I see a lot of now. His fan base was organic and loved him just because he was a funny, expressive, and cool dog. Most of you who follow me didn't start following me for me, and I like that.

It was such a shock to me but a good one - I'm a bit quiet, but here I own this dog that's as extroverted as it gets, and it worked out. I was his faithful Nikon Paparazzi, he was my famous good looking actor. We would go places and people I never met before would ask me about my dog. He was a fantastic breed ambassador. People loved to hear what he was and learn about Cardigans. Many folks randomly recognized him from his blog, from Tumblr, from Flickr. I had people lean out of car windows or walk by us and snap a picture of him. Once I wasn't paying attention and he stopped mid stride when we were out in Seattle, and I nearly fell over him. As I managed to keep my feet (I said some naughty words, heh) I realized that I'd never saw the man leaning out the window with the phone camera in hand at the light by the theater snapping a shot. Simon sure did, and he was chest out, ears up, until the car behind the guy honked and the guy hastily waved at us and went on.

He helped me meet Cardi people, get involved in the breed with folks. I credit his presence for so many of my friends in this breed that I adore and who mean the world to me in Cardidom. Who helped me learn to show again after I lost my eye and was even more stressed about public moments because I didn't want to drop a dog on the floor off the table, or miss a cue. A big blue icebreaker. He oozed charm. He knew he was all that, but in the way that he didn't have to be in your face. Lady dogs loved him, it always cracked me up because he surprisingly wasn't into the girls. He was so easy to deal with around the ladies, and always polite to them. He'd give up food, treats, anything and was a gentleman- well, except when a ball was involved. (Dearest Kate... I'm sorry he ran into you like a Mack truck that one time we were all out playing. We all heard his big noggin crack into you like a football helmet, and he about laid you flat. I hope you get a chance to knock some sense into him in return, in that place where all good dogs go.)

Simon tried showing, because I wanted a show dog to show. To be honest, he has a few points but he never enjoyed it like Caleb. It really wasn't for him. He did it for me, because I wanted it, but his big ol' heart was in agility and fetching things and photographs. His second to final time in the ring still cracks me up to this day. I used a flat collar for agility and photo stuff and a thin chain for conformation. Well, I was in a hurry. I was late to the show, running to find my ring, so I left the flat on him. We whisked by the agility ring and he was totally on his toes and excited and happy and I was like "no, come on, let's GO." Oh boy. That was a mistake. He eyed me, eyed the ring, and gave me an absolute stink look. Simon has always been the sort to tell you he's not amused. He never pulled a punch when he thought you were being unfair. I was an idiot and blew him off because I was running on ring-jitters and coffee and panic because that's what you do sometimes.

So he got in the ring, he's on his toes and looking like a million bucks, gaits, moves out, stacks beautifully on the table and I'm like wow, wow, awesome, she's looking at us and he's showing off for everything he's worth. The judge moves us to the front of our class for the final go around and as we turn the corner in front of the judge's table, Simon looks up at me with an open mouthed sly smile, and I'm like "oh oh." I know I'm in trouble.

Without missing a beat he passes the judge's table right as she watches us go by, hikes his leg as high and obvious as he could and pretends to pee all over it, in mid-stride. He never peed a drop. Like in my horror and shock I kept looking- and there was not anything there. He made full on eye contact with the judge as he was faking it, that rotter.

Needless to say, we uh... well, we were dismissed without uh, getting dismissed, haha. As we left the ring, I looked down at him, he looked up at me and laughed as big as he could, tongue lolling, grin to his ears. He laid it out as clear as he could, and all I could do was walk away to find a place to sit with him, put his big head in my hands and say to him, "Yup. I screwed up. Sorry." He sat and eyed me and then I just laughed and laughed because he was absolutely right. I was rude, I made the mistake. It was my fault, and I apologized and he laughed with me, slurped me, and I was instantly forgiven. He never held a grudge with you for messing up. He really didn't. I never held a grudge with him, because most of the time it wasn't his fault, and when it was, he also apologized. He was easy that way.

That was our relationship in a nutshell. I love my dogs, I love all my dogs but Simon was different, he was as near-human as it gets. I hate saying dogs are human because I think- well, I think it takes away from the dogness that makes the amazing animals that they are. They aren't human, and that's important to respect... but in his case I'll make that exception to myself. I can't explain it. You could ask him to do something new to him, show him what you wanted, and he'd mull it over in his head and problem solve it. Food wasn't a motivator. Ball surprisingly wasn't his motivator either. It was the task, the thing, the puzzle of working the problem out. That's what he enjoyed more than anything. I wish I could say it was me as this amazing dog trainer. Nope. Nada. I've taught a whole lot of dogs to do a whole lot of things, but Simon was a whole other level. I've never had one like him. I'm pretty sure I'll never have one again.

He could do the funniest thing with his feet. Like, when he was just walking around the house he'd shuffle along the floor. You'd hear him scuffling his claws tik-a-ticka, tick-a-ticka. He was lazy and didn't care if you heard him. But- when he wanted to be a ninja, he could pull up his claws and walk effortless on his pads somehow, he was a master of stealth on the hardwood floors and you'd never know he'd gone by. Mostly so could open the gate and climb the cat posts and steal dry cat food in a heartbeat. Even when he was older and couldn't really climb like he used to, he'd stop every time through the back room and wait for his token piece of cat food on the way in from outside. I'd say "One cat food please?" and give him his tribute; only then would he trot out and let me shut the gate. He waited patiently for all the dogs here to leave their bowls and wander off after dinner and then he'd go grab them and stack them in a pile carefully within each other so that he could possibly get one extra crumb that might have been left behind.

He was supposed to be my dog, and he was, he loved me and would do anything for me, but he was Matt's buddy (even if he NEVER listened to him or heeled when walking with him, he'd drag him all over the place and it was both hilarious and awful but hey, that was between men, doing manly things.) He tested anyone who held his leash. It was a game for him, he would look over at me to say, heh, watch this. He found it amusing to see if someone else would actually ask him to mind his manners, and if they did, he would but if you didn't? Game on. He'd never try it with me though. He always loved men more than women when we were out and about. He desired those locker room thumps on the chest and the shoulder, not baby talk, coos, little scritches behind his ears. They watched the Patriots and the Seahawks together since Simon was a tiny puppy. Football season was his thing. Ball ball ball, on tv, to fetch, to play and amuse himself for hours.

I've never shared the last coherent words Matt said to me to a lot of people. I'm sharing them now because I'm sort of laid bare, but I've thought about them for years. It wasn't I love you, or anything like that. We didn't need to say that, because it had been said so many times while he was in hospice. That was understood. It was, "I'm glad for one thing. I won't be here when Simon... goes."

I understood that too. Our weekends of Simon, Caleb, cameras, and outings were such a special and happy part of our lives. Matt was the driver, the equipment wrangler, the one who found weird out of the way places for us to take pictures and then to eat weird food out in the middle of nowhere. He always got a dessert he could share with Si (Caleb isn't really a sweet-toothed dude.) Something we all loved.

Simon knew Matt was gone. He knew. He was depressed and sad and nothing I could say or do or take him out to play could change it. The other dogs adapted, changed, but for months, he kept looking for him. Simon loved me with everything he was and still loved to go out and take pictures with me, but I was not his football buddy, I was not his fellow sports fan. It was when my younger brother moved in with me for a while during the pandemic that changed things again. Simon adored my brother, and when my brother went away on a trip for a week, his anxiety went high. When he came back though, Simon looked at me and I said, "Yep, he'll come back. It's okay, it's not the same." That was it. That's all he needed and it was like a huge sigh and off he went, and was completely okay again after that. He never worried again. My brother is surprisingly not a pet person, but he loved Simon with all of his heart and offered to take him if something happened to me. That was huge. Thanks, bro. I know you meant it and it was a relief for me to know that in case of the unthinkable, he'd be with someone who appreciated him for who he was, obnoxious Simon barking moments and all.

Also, my brother taught him the dumbest game. Shuffling through the kitchen dragging him along as his front paws gripped your feet, splooted with his stubby legs trailing behind him. Not so much thanks for that to my brother- Simon wanted this game every morning before I had coffee. I blearily scooted him every across the kitchen floor morning because while the other dogs rushed outside to pee like normal dogs, Simon would hold it until he had his sliding fun first.

On one hand, he was this hard hitting, incredible working beast of a dog. People would say, "I want a dog like Simon." Well, no, most folks don't. There are very few people who would have loved living with him. Most of them just saw cute pictures and Simon posing. In the wrong home, he would have been terrible, and there were times he was tough to live with - I'm the first to admit it. For me, he was perfect. I loved his drive, his intuition, his bravery, his intelligence, but he never stopped during his whole life and I am grateful he was sharp as ever and still galloping along for the last years. He was as busy and active as he ever was to the end.

He wasn't easy sometimes around other strange dogs. Like, he didn't take crud from anyone or anything. If you were polite, he was polite and shook hands and moved along without fuss, but if you were rude or aggressive (even to another dog, not him) nope. He had no problem laying the law down. Was he fair about it? Absolutely, but he was serious. He did not ever appreciate an in your space, jumping up, untrained dog in the slightest, and had no tolerance for it. People who let unleashed dogs run up to us on a walk were eyed with a side eye and you could see him blow up and hear the low rumble- and if the dog got nasty... oof. Once during a photo session on the beach, Caleb - who was just lying right next to me and not engaging anything - got attacked by a awful loose dog who charged up on us. The owner was completely oblivious and yelling oh, he's friendly. (Of course, right?)

Caleb's no fighter, he just rolled over and was shrieking and being shaken. Simon was playing in the water out from us a bit and while I had dove in, trying to get the dog off of Caleb, Si came in so fast and so hard and so silent he slammed that dog easily twice his size off his feet and knocked him back from us. Simon absolutely thrashed that dog. To this day I swear he teleported. However, he sent that obnoxious dog running for their life and immediately stopped and came back to check on us, standing between us and the dog while staring bullets and laser eyes at it as it went running away back to mommy in the distance.

Simon loved cats though. Adored cats. Cats were his thing. He was the crazy cat dad dog. He would have loved it if we adopted a million cats and he was the one to decide we were keeping his Sophie, period. We had no say in that. She was his kitty, and has been all these years. Kittens, cats, ferals, non ferals, bottle babies, random barn cats, some strange cat on the street, it didn't matter. He loved them all. He never met a cat he didn't like, and cats liked him back. Or at least tolerated him more than most dogs. Even my mom's cat Rudy, who is uh, hard to like. Simon would let a cat hiss, spit, snarl, swipe and all he did was turned his head and waited for them to come to the conclusion that he wasn't dangerous. He raised so many foster kittens for me and taught them to be dog friendly. He adored puppies too. He was the best babysitter, and a combination of fair discipline and goofy play. He was the gentlest dog with food and treats, he had the softest mouth of any dog I've ever owned, he never once snapped at a treat or a person. You could hand him a dollop of frosting and he'd lick it off your fingers ever so carefully. He never got upset at a vet or someone trying to handle him, he was gracious about it.

Like I said, Simon rarely held grudges. Caleb holds grudges at the drop of a hat (oh boy does he ever) but I promise he usually forgets in a week or two. Simon? Not at all with the ones he loved. That's one of the reasons that these two boys have been together all these years so well. Other dogs would have probably buried Caleb in the backyard at times when his stripeyship wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. Sure, they postured, they puffed, sometimes they threw a punch and went to get a beer after, like good ol' boys do, but Simon forgave Caleb for being a doofus and Caleb got away with being a doofus because Simon knew Caleb never meant anything by all of his bluster. We never had a serious drag out fight between them even with girls in season.

Simon adored Caleb and Caleb loved Simon. They were just fine being apart, they weren't attached at the hip, but Simon loved Caleb like you love your little brother and also can sit on him when he's being unreasonable. He was so delighted when we apparently got him his own puppy, and he was a puppy himself at the time. Once after Caleb had been out for a while with a handler to finish his Championship, we went and picked him after like four months. By that time Caleb had been a big shot on an all girl campus and thought he was all that and a bag of chips. Stripey red dog's ego was running high, and Simon was just lying in the back of the car eyeing him with a quiet sigh, like he expected him to chill out anytime soon.

Finally after maybe half an hour of Caleb being unbearably snarky, Simon got up, leaned over, and grabbed Caleb's muzzle in his mouth. He held onto it as if to say "That's enough of that, bro. Manners." He never broke skin, he never hurt him. Just a brotherly dog dope slap.

Caleb realized in one shining lightbulb moment that he was headed back home, and he was way too big for his britches. Just like that, over and done, all was back to being pals. Simon let go, licked him on the head, and they slept in a pile all the way home.

In the end, there's only one thing I weirdly regret a little. Simon's photos won every category in the photo contest at Nationals... except Best In Show. Surprisingly, that was on Caleb and Tempe, but-- I think it's fitting. Si loved his pack here with all of his heart, and I guess he was like eh, they can have that one moment, why not. He was always generous with his toys and treats for the most part with his family of dogs. Except ball. Nope, all balls and toys all belonged to him.

I once went to Seattle with a wonderful friend of mine, Paige. We were taking some photos of Simon and her Cardigan Story. It was chilly and we ducked into a spot by the Bon, I think, to get out of the wind for a second. This young woman came up and asked us about the dogs. When we said their names she looked at us and said, "Simon? THE Simon? From Tumblr?"

Sure. The Simon. Yep. When she realized who it was she erased her friend's wedding pictures off of her phone so she could take pictures of him and herself for her dad who was also a huge fan. (This was when phones had limited storage, so it was a big deal.) I don't know if you're out there on on the net or follow us still, but... I want you to know that's made me smile all these years. Paige and I were walking back when she turned to me and said "I- all these people, know who he is here. Wow. I didn't think when you wrote about it- I was like, huh, no, that can't be real. I thought you were kidding."

I still run into people out there in the wild like that. It tickles me as much as it did the first time.

The Simon.

That sums him up. I have had a lot of dogs. He- he wasn't a dog. Well, he was, because yes, he did dog things, like pushed a chair across a room to pee on my kitchen table once as a young dog because he hated a Cardgian statue I'd placed on it. He ran off with an admiring posse of Cardi girls at a friend's house who showed him the grossest mud ever and rolled in it until he was black. It turned to concrete on his coat and stunk the back of my car up so bad we had to strip everything out because it smelled like swamp on hot days for months. He barked at full volume at the top of his lungs at the drop of a hat just to hear his own voice to the point where sometimes his name felt like Simon Shut Up, Dude. He fetched like a maniac. He loved his jolly balls until they turned into strips and refused the new ones until he had no choice but to give in and then he loved those to scraps. Also, he barked. He had to tell you every single day of his life about how his day was. Did I mention he barked? I think so.

He had the best bork. A roaring superbark from his chest, like a dog ten times his size. He used it all the time. It's so quiet right now here. It'll be quiet when we get up in the morning from now on, and when I come home from work because he led the morning chorus we're awake joy bark, and the evening song of you're home joy bark, and his bark was always one trumpeting about every thing he did. Simon Sez.

He was my best friend. I loved him. With everything I am, and the dogs and cats here loved him too. I'm absolutely shattered right now, and I have so much more I could say, but this is long and I need to stop because I could go on forever. Fifteen years with a friend and all the ups and downs and roads we've traveled and experiences we've had can't be summed in a Facebook post, but I've done the best I can. The short pack and I don't know what to do this morning. This is a huge hole- no, a chasm. I don't think it's the sort you ever fill up.

Thank you to Dr. Bill Larson and his wonderful staff took incredible care of him all these years from puppy until now, and all the other amazing vets and specialists who ever worked with him and kept him healthy and happy.

Thank you Sharon, thank you Dona, for trusting me with Simon for all these years and always checking in on us and being proud of your grandpup. I can't ever say thank you enough for taking a chance on me for my first Cardigan. I like to say we sometimes don't get the dogs we want, but we always get the ones we need. However, he was everything I could have ever wanted and needed in one wonderful dog. I'm ever so grateful for the fact that until the very last minute, he was active and playing and sharp as a tack.

Thank you, all of you who shared his life with me. So many of you love Cardigans or found Cardigans as a breed because of him. I can name a lot of you, and I appreciate from the bottom of my heart hearing all these stories of your dogs and your life with them. These wonderful dogs deserve it. There is no other breed I want in my life.

Thank you, Si for everything. Everything.

You were one of a kind. The absolutely perfect crazy blue merle dog that my inner little kid could have ever, ever wished for.

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #538 - "Lament"

Originally posted on September 3rd, 2010

Story, Script, Letters - Seb Script - HdE Art - Roy Stiffey

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005 | BotTalk

wada sez: This Crosscut spotlight is absolutely the funniest Mosaic I've read in ages. On deviantART, Seb said: “Well, my dictionary defines 'soliloquy' as "the act of a character speaking to himself so as to reveal his thought to the audience" (whereas 'colloquy' would be a regular conversation between 2 parties). Technically, Crosscut doesn't 'speak' here, which makes this a 'monologue' instead of 'soliloquy', but since the piece is all about big words, the latter one sounds way more 'literate' ;p”. HdE added: “With LAST STAND OF THE WRECKERS, Roche and Roberts gave us the horrors of war, musings on insanity, sacrifice, betrayal and a huge helping of death and destruction. With LAMENT, Seb and HdE give their audience... big words. And waffle. Lots of waffle. Mmm... waffles... [...] Our intention here was to put Crosscut over as being far-too-verbose and serious for his own good. But hopefully, you can still feel a pang of pity for him at the end.” See below for a mirrored version of Seb’s full commentary for the strip, originally shared to his own deviantART account, along with clean colors and even an Italian translation.

Now to explain the not-so-pure motivation behind this piece, sigh.... :) Mainly, there are two reasons:

1) I was always amazed (not always positively) by how TF fandom takes pride in (sometimes even competitive) knowledge of insanely obscure trivia, situations and characters from within the franchise. In 25+ years, said franchise has accumulated an insane number of somethings than can, depending on the case in question, be labeled as a character, "character", pitiful excuse for a "character", and pitiful excuse for a word "character". No matter, for as long as someone is "official" (appeared in some officially sanctioned part of the franchise), poor he/she/it "deserves some love", regardless of the fact that 2 minutes of someone's mental effort can result in a MUCH better "character".

This is only partly "derogatory", for I myself indulge in such things. I'm poking fun at myself as well. :D

Now, I knew this had to be pulled of with a Mosaic starring Crosscut - a (let's face it) pitiful excuse for a word "character" who appeared only on 2 panels of a Marvel TF issue from '86, the first one depicting him in a glow of energy while testing the Space bridge, the second one depicting him explode into pieces due to Bridge's faulty fuel line....but one thing had set him apart from all the others "hi-then-die" guys - he was NAMED.

So, the idea was giving that sorry li'l dude a back-story most profound, not knowing what it'll be. And it waited....

2) I had a discussion with HdE about overly serious and over-the-top writing bursting with pathos that can be seen in writing in general, and how a whole lotta NOTHING can be disguised with big, dramatic words. The talk (d)evolved into a hilarious exchange of pretentious and verbose pseudo-poetic ramblings, and thus the idea of Crosscut the Poet was born!

I compiled that pompous mumbo-jumbo, adapted it for the situation, added quite an amount of equally verbose pretentious fillers, distributed it among the panels and sent the draft to HdE. He Shakespeare-ized the ramblings even further (which I didn't think was possible, but it was!), added several additional juicy passages, and VOILA!

All the script needed was master Roy to bring this fragile beauty and innocent vulnerability to life! :)

...and here it is - a blank slate given the deepest depth imaginable. ;)

[sezratheconductor]

The Bikini

Hello everyone! Sorry that its been awhile, and I thank you all for your support and patience. This one may be short, but it definitely got my spark going again for writing! It was inspired from a commission I was able to get from @Whocares810 on Twitter which I'll share here when I can, between her character Brassberry, and my OC/Self-insert Sezra that you've come to know on this page. Please give them a follow over there if you haven't already. Without further ado, all aboard!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ears twitched nervously, the coolness of the bedroom floor seeping into the soft paws keeping her locked in the moment. She stared intently at the bikini lying on the bed, taunting her.

          “Everything OK in there?” called out a gruff voice.

“Oh, um, yeah I’m OK, just…thinking is all.” Startled out of her thoughts, she gripped the robe tighter around herself as she called out into the hallway.

“Ya sure you don’t need any help?” the voice asked teasingly only to be met with silence.

Brass stared quizzically toward the hallway.

“Sezra?” He knew that she was nervous about this for some reason, but she had insisted. It was the first time in a while that she got a break from the Station and had planned something as a result. She begged him to wait on the couch while she changed but that was almost 20 minutes ago. He started to move off the couch, concern growing on his skeletal face.

“Ya know if you’re that nervous- “

“WAIT!”

He stopped almost as quickly as he got off the couch, the sudden fear in her voice surprising him.

She quivered a little, scolding herself for being so childish and shouting at him like that.

“I, I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to see since it’s a surprise and all, and I’m just nervous since I’ve never worn anything like this before and I don’t know if I’ll like how it looks let alone you and- “

“Sez, deep breath, you’re rambling.” They hadn’t known each other for very long, and even then, she tended to keep a lot of things guarded up behind a wall. However, he knew her little signs and cues when something was wrong. He could hear her trying to calm her breathing, deep and slow like he showed her.

“C’mon Sez, ya know that no matter what, I think you’d look great in anything! Then again, I’ve only seen you in your uniform but hey! That’s pretty sexy!” He heard her giggle ever so slightly. He got comfortable on the couch again, resting a leather arm on the plush armrest.

“I do mean it though. I may not know what happened to ya in the past, but you’re something special. So, stop trying to hide that from yourself, OK? I won’t push you to do something ya ain’t comfortable with. But if ya don’t do it now, when will you?”

She breathed in deeply once more, forcing her paws to stop shaking as she listened to his comforting words.

“You’re right Brass. Thank you. Give me just a sec, OK? I’ll be right out. Promise you’re not going to move?”

The large skeleton chuckled warmly.

“I promise Sez.”

With her heart pounding, she threw off her robe and grabbed the bikini, slipping it on quickly. Tying the ribbon around her neck, she used her magic at the same time to tie the string on her back, watching herself in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place. Her nerves grew again as she stared at her body, seeing nothing but imperfections and hidden scars.

She shook her head, clapping her cheeks lightly. Not now. She couldn’t let those voices control her thoughts now, especially when she already made him wait for this long.

“So, I know I kept this as a surprise, but I thought since I finally got some time off, we could go out swimming. However, I didn’t have anything to wear since I hadn’t gone in years.”

“Ah, and that’s what ya want to show me huh?” A coy smile spread across his skeletal face, trying to imagine what she got. He had yet to see her wear anything but her uniform, and he was getting excited at the thought of being able to see her.

“Exactly! I’m just…. I’m just scared that you’re not going to like it. Well, more like me…” The words caught in her throat, stopping at the doorway. The fear, the humiliation, but most of all, the shame and self-loathing crept back into her mind.

Brass stared down the hallway again, struggling to find the right words.

“Sez, I promise you that no matter what, an outfit isn’t going to change what I think about you. Besides, I ain’t the thinnest monster out there, but that doesn’t change how you feel about me right? I know you’re scared, but I’m right here alright?”

Quickly wiping away a tear, she breathed in deep and walked out into the hallway, heading towards where the skeleton sat patiently. She felt the heat rise again in her cheeks, her ears pinning close against her hair, tail swaying nervously.

“OK, here it is.”

Brass, feeling pride for her taking the chance, looked up as the grey wolf came into view, her assets in plain view. He blushed almost immediately, stumbling over his words.

“I…oh…woah…”

“Um, what do you think?” She questioned sheepishly.

She stood nervously in front of him, hand gripping her arm behind her back to give him a clear view, the heat on her cheeks becoming unbearable. She was wearing a black bikini, showing off her curves that usually hid behind her uniform. The bottoms hugged her hips almost dangerously low, but the top was where the show was. The ribbon tied sensually around her neck drew the eye down to a keyhole opening, her breasts seeming to shape a heart as they seemed to almost bulge out. The silver streak in her hair curved playfully on top. A perfect mix of innocence and sexuality.

“What do I think?” He began, pulling out a cap seemingly out of nowhere.

“Think I been waiting my whole life for this moment.”

With a wide grin and chuckle, he placed the cap on, the caption proudly reading, Bikini Inspector. Though she still felt embarrassed, she couldn’t help but laugh a little as Brass, like a small child, grabbed the air between them, the smile never fading from his face as he continued to stare at her lovingly.

“Where did you even get that?” She asked as she moved toward his grabby skeletal fingers, the nerves easing as she knew he was staring at her, not through her. With his hand gingerly placed on her thigh, she drew in close, pulling off the cap and placing a tender kiss on his head, his smile as wide as ever.

“Goofball.”

“Only for you Sez, and in case you didn’t catch it, you’ve officially passed my inspection!” Pulling her into his lap, her warm fur tickling his bones, he buried his face against the beautiful pillows that only he could touch.

“Especially these babies!”

She laughed again, wholeheartedly as her Goofball continued to shower her with love. One day she’ll be able to confide in him about her past, but for now, this was enough. This little bikini, and that huge skeletal grin.

[kef-meister]

Autism works differently for anyone who might have it - but the universal experiences are the same: nobody seems to "get it" (by which I mean: understanding on a fundamental level) and those who allegedly do "get it" are very neurodivergent, or even autistic themselves. I'm nearing four decades of existence. It isn't all quirks and fun. Despite the experiences, despite the peer reviews - I'm somehow not "autistic enough". The people responsible for diagnoses by and large do not seem to "get it" by almost by design - because you cannot enter the work force if you aren't considered "normal", so please just become a cog in the capitalist hell-machine until you break down or worse. I hate that I feel I have to state that I have a "weird relationship with music" because my default background noise is silence or the sound of my own voice talking to myself about things in my head to help me process. I hate that I can't talk to myself in public; that I have to play a character in public. I hate that I can't focus on more than two video games at once; that I'm afraid of looking into new games half the time because I might fall so hard in love with the story, characters and the world that I literally cannot focus on anything else for weeks on end. I give far too many fucks, because I'm supposed to have opinions on everything now. I can have fun. I'll be your personal goddamned podcast if you ask me about my special interest. But overall it ain't fun.

Autism is Not “Fun”

(Brutal honesty ahead.)

I think when autistic people such as myself get defensive about certain behaviors or personality traits “not being autistic,” we’re not trying to gatekeep, we’re telling it how it is.

I myself get really aggravated when certain kinds of people who would have been vicious bullies towards me and other autistic peers back in grade school become adults that then turn around and go “omg, autism is cool now! So this innocuous thing I did as a kid MUST be an autistic trait.”

No, it’s not. Autism is not cool. It’s the furthest thing from cool.

Autism is painfully uncomfortable, autism is gross, autism is lonely, autism is isolating, autism is embarrassing.

Autism is slow processing, and looking stupid in front of your class because you don’t understand the material. Even if you’re considered “gifted.” Or not being able to debate friends because your brain isn’t working fast enough.

Autism is having a full crying meltdown in front of your whole class because the fire alarm won’t stop going off or because your science class is using balloons and you’re terrified of them. In high school.

Autism is seeing another autistic kid wearing headphones all day and thinking “god, I don’t want to be equated to that freak.”

Autism is throwing other weirdos under the bus in self defense because “at least I’m not that bad. Maybe if they bully him, they won’t target me.”

Autism is your whole class laughing at you because you’re “freaking out” for seemingly no reason. Then forgetting you even exist the next day.

Autism is picking your nose and eating it or chewing your nails because it’s the one habit you can’t break. And doing it unconsciously in front of your peers.

Autism is having college-level writing skills and first-grade math skills simultaneously.

Autism is constantly being seen as “stupid” or “not applying herself.” And also being on honor roll.

Autism is sudden, violent rage that gets you sent to ISS for verbally threatening one of your bullies.

Autism is the teacher saying your handwriting looks like “chicken scratch.” In front of the whole class.

Autism is fighting with your mom because she wants you to dress “appropriately” but the fabric of the jeans is too overwhelming and all you want are ugly sweatpants.

Autism is being a terrible and possessive friend because you’re so scared of being alone again.

Autism is not having voice modulation, and shouting when you’re nervous.

Autism is not understanding why the class is laughing at you when you mispronounce “Uranus.”

Autism is not ever being able to enjoy fireworks because your brain equates it to being shot at.

Autism is never going to loud concerts and missing out.

Autism is not being able to stand working in retail because your brain fixates on the music until it drives you bonkers. Autism is constant miscommunication with customers.

Autism is not liking the feel of deodorant, so you smell like BO until a teacher calls you out on it.

Autism is farting in class because you don’t know you’re not supposed to do that.

Autism is not knowing you’ve bled on yourself until ANOTHER teacher points it out.

Autism is not being able to look teachers in the eye, even if it’s for something good, because it feels humiliating.

Autism is knowing, deep down, there must be some kind of disconnect, some kind of reason that you only gel with the other autistic kids, but your parents and counselors not having enough knowledge to help you.

Autism is your friends not knowing that THEY are also autistic, or are in denial about it. Even as adults.

Autism is your parents being in even deeper denial about it, because you’re so “high functioning.” But your therapist saying you are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, autistic.

In closing, I don’t completely hate being autistic, I don’t want to be cured, but I’d never say I’m “glad” I have autism. Life has gotten easier not being in public school, but the workforce still sucks with autism. It is what it is.

[lazorbeanz]

Ugh Friday needs to come already I’ve a massive PHOTO dump that needs dumping

[sunshinecassette]

[kef-meister]

"It's not the heat that gets you."

There's a post going across my dashboard which talks about how awful the heat's getting - and reminding people "in the south" to be kind to people's suffering in the heat as a result of the climate crisis.

That's cool. However, Europe. Hi. I'm Kef and I live in The Netherlands - and anything past 78°F / 25° C can feel unbearable to me. My physical shape aside, let me introduce you to why myself and many others "can't deal" and can't just "hang a damp cloth in front of a fan". ---- 1. Climate

Up above is the "Feels Like" temperature data taken from zoom.earth - it shows that Europe lies much higher on the Earth's crust in reference to the equator than the US does, and my point with it is to show that, despite being Quebec's neighbors to the East, the temperature isn't as cold as it arguably "should" be.

2. Humidity In part thanks to the North Atlantic Current, things are considerably more warm and damp - but it didn't use to be as warm as it gets now. Entire countries in Europe are built around a cooler climate - right down to infrastructure - with the main focus being heat retention rather than dispersion.

Over in the Netherlands, many living spaces are rectangles with small windows, most of which do not open upwards and rather move sideways, like in this image taken in Amsterdam:

Shallow roofs. Heat rises, gets stuck. Brick retains heat. These living spaces don't air out easily despite the Dutch loving to complain about drafts. ("'Het tocht hier.") But it gets worse: no ceiling fans, no AC, no window fans. Imagine 70% humidity, 78° F without any of that.

3. Staying Cool I wish I was hyperbolic, but even in more modern housing it's not often you'll find windows suited for "window units" for either air conditioning or a fan - and speaking of fans, since the windows don't accommodate a decent unit to suck and blow, you're stuck with stand-alone fans - and they suck in a completely different way, since at worst they blow around warm, damp air in a warm, damp area. This is why 'swamp coolers', or hanging damp things in front of the fan don't work well. Terrible when it's already humid. And let's not talk about AC. People have to opt for installing heat pumps or mount units outside their house - you'll barely see window units here. While the portable units are awful, they'll have to do. I have one. It's half the size of a washing machine. I already don't want to use mine for environmental reasons, but I also don't want to suffer. Brings me to the next problem, though: 4. Whoops, All Electric With the push away from natural gases; towards 'green' energy; towards electric vehicles ... well, the power grid is fucked. underground all at once. Electricity is procured and consumed rapidly - we'll start seeing brown-outs in the next decade (article in Dutch); and new companies are already on a waiting list to be hooked up to electricity (article in Dutch). While the national government is aware and is taking steps (official statement, Dutch) - we can't exactly dig up all the power-lines we buried, and let's not forget that Amazon bought up half the electricity-production from the wind farm in the North Sea to "be green" - because if capitalism stands for anything, it's sustainability. /s In addition to the power lines, we can't easily fix the infrastructure built around a colder climate (no, seriously, the roads will melt and bridges and railways suffer from the heat expanding the metal too much) either - because it takes time and maintenance, and we're kind of running out of the former. 5. The Point There are places, countries, far better equipped to dealing with one specific climate over the other. Please let folks complain: let's not having a pissing contest over it and understand their plight; accept that the climate crisis is making people suffer (and worse - and I've not even tackled non-Western countries) and people ought to be held accountable. Take care of your homies. Stay hydrated. Condemn the push of "carbon footprint" onto the lower/middle class while the rich fly. Stay cool. You can make a difference, as long as you try. Eat the rich. It's not the heat that gets you, it's the humidity.

[sani-reverie]

When I decided to create a side blog on this site, I originally was planning to keep it private and not tell a single soul. But on one of my many introspective escapades, I’ve come to realize I’ve always kept everything to myself.

My interests. My joys. Thoughts. Feelings. Always suppressing or restricting. I’ve become rather skilled at it. I’ve been doing it for such a long time.

People have often told me I am exceptionally difficult to get to know. Unreadable. Mysterious. *hahah* I laugh at that last one.

When caught in self debate, my differing faces all coming together to say - ‘This isn’t important’. ‘You are not that interesting.’ ‘You should be focusing on other matters.’ ‘Stop playing around.’ ‘Don’t be selfish.’

I’ve kept myself locked in a cage for a very long time. It’s almost as if I experience senses of guilt, shame, or fear even, sharing things about myself. Expressing myself. As if it is something I should not be doing. That I am doing something so, so wrong.

I’ve come to realize, much of this “urgency” to distance and stay within my many walls stems from trauma I experienced as a child. I suppose at some point as a child, I determined I should not let others see me. It is better to be by myself. To live separated. That is how I “should” be. It’s how I could stay safe.

Even though I’ve become a bit better than before, sharing myself with others is still so very challenging to me. I’ve had a few times where I wanted to delete this side blog. Times I’ve wanted to erase all my social media. Many times I’ve shut down artistic ideas or projects suffocating my expression, stunting my creative growth. Hurting myself. Hurting others.

I find myself growing so very tired these days. Tired of keeping the lid on. Not feeling connected to others... I’ve been trying to tell myself that it IS okay to let others see. That it IS okay to share a space with others. To let others get to know me. I can still decide the hows, whens, and whys.

It will still take time to lower my walls. To not shut people down. But I think, I want to work on smoothing out this protective, imprisoning shell I’ve lived in for so long.

[scammydoesstuff]

Not to give a long-winded in a response, but I have a lot of thoughts about this. So apologies in advance, but I agree with you and below is why!

Folks who like to demonize Heisenberg also love to forget that his rebellion didn't begin the moment Ethan showed up and act surprised that he has so many bodies at his disposal. It's canon that Miranda overtook the village around 100 years before the events of the game. It's canon - Heisenberg says so himself - that he's been trapped in the village for decades. He's been at this for a while. It's hard to say how long exactly because Capcom didn't want to give us more concrete details for the more interesting characters, but his body collecting didn't begin and end with Ethan's arrival. It's been going on for years - decades. He's had time to amass his army.

A village's population can range from 500 to 2500 people. It's likely on the lower end in regards to the village in RE8, but, again, we're not talking about bodies gathered over the course of a single day. Who knows how this village's population fluctuated over the years? And, outside of that, who knows how far Heisenberg went to gather these corpses? Random folks could have stumbled across the village - Ethan did, after all, so it can't be that well-hidden or that far out of the way. Seems like, if they met a terrible fate with, say, a rogue lycan, they'd be added to the army. And who's to say he didn't find a few other cemeteries outside of the village that are close enough that his absence wouldn't have been noticed to snatch some more bodies from?

That all being said, the infinite number of bodies in the background of the factory always struck me more as an aesthetic choice than anything. It looks creepy and unsettling and that is more likely the intended goal with that design choice. It's more of a visual shorthand for the player (and Ethan) to see the extent of these morbid experiments and to provide a chilling atmosphere. Because, frankly, the way that background animation works makes no sense. That shit can go on infinitely and there's not enough people in the world to fill the factory at a certain point nor could that factory reasonably have the room for that many people at a certain point. Thus, I truly believe that the corpses we see in the background on the conveyor belts are purely aesthetic, not a practical representation.

So, taking that into consideration and the number of Soldaten you actually encounter in the factory, it doesn't really feel that outlandish. There's definitely implied to be more, but not the unreasonable number suggested by the background.

Also, regarding the death maze at the beginning of the game; it's ludicrously easy for Ethan to escape that maze when you really think about it. When watching let'splays, I've only ever seen 2 YouTubers/streamers die to the maze and it's because they flat out weren't paying attention or were fucking around, and if you're actually in that situation, I don't think you're doing either of those things. Everything mechanical moves very slowly compared to the living obstacles like the lycans and Urias, giving ample time to escape the traps themselves. It's heavily implied that it was mostly for show; that Heisenberg wanted Ethan to escape but had to make it look like he was actually trying to kill him. Granted, Ethan surviving anything in this game comes across more as his very strong plot armor and dumb luck most of the time, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say it's because he's capable enough to catch on to how easy it is to escape.

Regardless, Heisenberg was pretty clearly in control of the situation. Why else would he just...end it after the spinning log of death? If he does indeed have cameras (to "keep Donna and Moreau entertained"), wouldn't he have been able to see that Ethan survived? And if he was actually trying to kill Ethan, wouldn't Heisenberg have kept going? Since he didn't, doesn't it make more sense that, if they were watching, Heisenberg cut the feed as the death log was bearing down on Ethan to make them think he'd been dealt with?

And with all that in mind, if others were put through that before Ethan, doesn't it make sense that this might have been Heisenberg's way of saving a life that would have otherwise been taken by Miranda or the others? That he kept someone from suffering the way he had? Or, if not to protect innocent lives and to instead act in more of a self-interested way, then just to stick it to the crow bitch by denying her and Lady D another victim? A sort of mini rebellion while he worked on his main scheme while also presenting to them a loyal servant who would do something so callous as to torture innocent humans, when, in reality, he's helping them slip away? Maybe without ever informing the victim in question to keep up appearances?

I dunno...I fully admit the latter is certainly more wishful thinking and not likely to be true given the cruel nature of these games and Heisenberg not being nearly that charitable, but it makes more sense to me than 'bad guy is bad, so he must do bad things.' Particularly when they show frankly, zero examples of him actually doing the bad things.

Hell, Heisenberg never even actually tries to kill Ethan himself till their fight. Did anybody else notice that? Lady D put way more effort into trying to kill Ethan.

Going through the encounters Ethan has with Heisenberg: Heis stabs him before the family meeting scene, but implies through his dialogue that he knew Ethan would survive it. He fights to be given control over Ethan's fate and sends him to the maze where he can easily escape. He sends him to the Lycan den later on, but, again, implies he expects Ethan to survive and doesn't act surprised when he does. After having his team-up proposal denied, he could have easily killed Ethan himself there and then. We saw him toss the knife around with his brain and that knife could have easily gone right into Ethan's the second Ethan spat that "Fuck you!" but it didn't. Heisenberg instead left Ethan to Sturm, who he subsequently escaped from. And again, Heisenberg seemed to have expected that since he then goes on to bemoan Ethan refusing him over the intercom later just to antagonize him in the weakest way possible. He could have killed Ethan after he mutated, but instead just told him "don't come back" and knocked him into the water far below. He knows Ethan keeps coming back like the goddamn cockroach he is, but he never tries to kill Ethan himself.

Unlike Jack Baker, for instance, who hunted Ethan like a dog and never let up until Ethan would manage to escape him or Ethan would temporarily take him down, Heisenberg never tried to kill Ethan himself - always leaving it to something else, thereby letting Ethan get away somehow to claw his way back later - until Ethan gave him no choice and they had their fight.

So...yeah. I'm sorry to everyone who wants to paint Heisenberg as this black and white villain who is entirely irredeemable, but the game itself doesn't really support that. Capcom may have labeled him a bad guy, but they did a shit job of actually making him a bad guy. As much as I dislike her as a character, I cannot deny that Lady D was a much better villain and was written better as a villain. I never found her scary and I hate her personality, but she actually did villainous shit: torturing innocent women, mistreating her maids, and draining their blood for her own selfish desires and needs, and feeling nary an ounce of regret for her actions. She was a bad person, but a great villain that served her purpose as a villain well.

Same goes for Moreau. He initially comes across as this pitiful sad boy who is sad who you just wanna put out of his misery, but then he keeps going on and on about pleasing Miranda, his entire area is unpleasant to run around in, and then you get the journal entries about how he'd gladly experiment and mutilate the villagers all for his precious mommy and you're like, 'okay yeah, he's a monster too, holy shit. Fucking die already'. I do tend to like Moreau more than Lady D (he has my favorite line in the game, in fact), but he's still a bad person while being a great villain.

But Heisenberg? The worst Heisenberg does that we get to see or even read about is experiment on the dead and use them as his army and, frankly, I just don't consider that to be nearly as evil because they are already dead and therefore cannot experience what he's doing to them. He toys with the idea of using live bodies, which would obviously be so much worse and actually villainous, but we're provided no evidence he did so. And yeah, he talks about using Rose to kill Miranda, but we're never given an explanation of what the fuck he meant by that and seeing as how Ethan does use his daughter to kill Miranda at the end, which leaves Rose unscathed, I don't consider that evil. And yes, unknowingly or not, Ethan takes advantage of Miranda's power 'leaving her' which helps him kill her and which Rose caused. He absolutely uses his daughter to kill Miranda. It's just not in the way he or anyone might think Heisenberg meant,

And Heisenberg's taunting claims to use Rose to become more powerful comes across more like a child throwing a temper tantrum than a serious threat. He gave no indication before that moment of ever bringing Rose harm until Ethan rejected him. Not even in his journal entries. In those entries, he's still only concerned with killing Miranda and sees Rose as a way to do that. So him bringing that up during their fight is kinda out of nowhere and strikes me, at least, as him retaliating and trying to get under Ethan's skin. It's petty and definitely provides Ethan more reason to push forward and kill him because it's a low fucking blow, but it's not 'evil'.

And don't get me wrong. I know how all this reads: a Heisenberg simp defending Daddy. But that's not entirely it. Yeah, I'm definitely biased - I won't deny that - but I'm not saying Heisenberg is entirely innocent - we don't necessarily have evidence for that. Could Miranda have made him kill people? Definitely possible. Could he have killed in the past because of something as simple as someone pissing him off? Maybe? Could he have created the maze as a way to create more corpses without getting his hands dirty? Not impossible. The fact is we don't know if any of that is a thing because Capcom gave us no evidence for it, but we can't totally rule it out either.

I'm just saying he's not this horrific monster that some people want to say he is. What we're presented with in-game just doesn't support it. We're just not given proper evidence that he's done evil shit the way we're given similar evidence for Lady D and Moreau. Frankly, I wish they had made Heisenberg more of a villain. It would've made killing him more satisfying and well-written villains are great. I would've loved to have seen him be portrayed as such, but they just didn't. Like a lot of things Capcom did with this game and everything around it, it's just kinda disappointing.

And with that, this reblog is long enough. Too long, in fact. Sorry again for rambling. I can't help it. I don't post my opinions often, but when I do, I can't shut the fuck up.

Okay but real talk! I do not think it is apologism or villian fuckery or problematic stanning or whatever to point out that we never actually see Heisenberg kill anyone!!!! he just collects and defiles dead bodies (which is not great oc) and sure, his notes say he was considering using live bodies, but then he doesn't!!!! the audio recording and subsequent notes demonstrate that he found a workaround! yes, obviously it is implied w/ the whole death gauntlet under the cave church that he probs has killed people in said gauntlet....but like. i did not see it happen. neil was right, he only ever conspired to murder