#THE ONLY ISSUE WITH THIS. is that i would need to remember what i was like as a kid. but i do not hold those memories fjfkdl

[adulthumanproblem]

Meanwhile engaging with what's deemed "problematic" has forced me to think about my stances more and especially think a lot about consent, what it means and who can and can't consent

Engaging safely in problematic issues has made it possible for me to recognize things like manipulation and abuse much more easily, and has allowed me to see that these things aren't just done by "bad people", and neither to they need conscious effort to happen. You can be an abuser without knowing, wanting, or meaning to

Engaging in dark fictional content will not desensitize you, it will make more resilient towards real life problems

You know how in superhero where a person with new powers has to actually USE those to be able to control them? It's like that. Fiction allows you engage in harmful topics in a safe and controlled manner, so that you can face them irl without breaking down immediately. It's like stretching a muscle

And lastly, censorship has never helped anything or anyone ever. It harms people and makes them much more susceptible to abuse and propaganda and things like that

Does abstinence only sex ed reduce the number of STIs and pregnancies? Nope. They're having sex anyway, but unsafely because they never learned safe sex. Did the Tumblr porn ban reduce the amount of porn? Nope. But now you get confronted with porn whether you want to or not because the content isn't tagged for properly to avoid censorship, and artists get banned for drawing a nonsexual nipple

You're totally allowed to not like something in fiction. But always remember that fictional characters cannot be harmed in any way. Real people can. Harassing and doxxing and sui baiting real people harms REAL PEOPLE

And also, just from a logical standpoint: would you rather people did these bad things to real people? Do you value your precious fictional characters more than real people? Who is truly the immoral one here?

Just block what you don't like. I blocked most people who ship a pairing I don't like, even though I've never interacted with them. Curate your own goddamn online experience and stop harassing people over how they play with their dollies!

"Proship will desensitize you to-"

You tell people to kill themselves—adults and children alike—without thinking anything of it.

Anti-ship rhetoric has desensitized you to child exploitation, harassment, and suicide.

Stop worrying about imaginary, hypothetical problems and confront your own disconnect from empathy.

[psychemochanight]

I was thinking about the last comics that came out, and... I have two thoughts that have nothing to do with each other, but I'm going to mix them up here anyway.

First, It makes perfect sense that Dick h has the blood type that can give the most, but receive the least. (Empathy: It means you give blood until there is nothing left to bleed).

A long time ago, I had read a fic where Bruce commented on this, actually. I don't remember the name because it wasn't from ao3, but I want to look it up again sometime.

Dick told Bruce that he wasn't his son (because he wasn't adopted), but when something happens, and Dick needs a blood transfusion, Bruce is the donor.

Clark and Bruce are talking, and Bruce tells Clark that there is only one person in the League who can donate blood to Dick... Bruce himself, since they both are O-

He tells Clark that Dick has more of his blood than John Grayson's running through his veins. That's his kid, his son.

Which brings me to my second thought, which is that Dick's parents, according to the new issue that came out, had him training 10 hours a day from the age of three.

A typical workday is usually 8 hours a day, and many adults find it tiresome.

Dick has been training 10 hours a day since he was 3 years old.

And he seems to think this is okay, or something to be proud of.

Also, there's another comic where Dick says he sometimes wishes he was just a kid, watching the show, not being part of it.

And it's terrifying to see how this is always overlooked, how his situation is romanticized. Like, there's talk that Bruce should have done better, that he shouldn't have let a kid take such risks, that if he loved him he wouldn't have let Dick be Robin...

What about his biological parents? Mary and John?

I firmly believe that his parents loved Dick, I really do. But I also think they are simply terrible parents.

Sure, at that time it was normal for children to work in circuses with their parents, for acrobats not to have safety equipment... But the Graysons were known for going further. For their extremely dangerous stunts.

And Dick trained that since he was 3 years old.

Even in the older comics, where it's not specified that he's been training since that age, even if it had been since he was 7 or 8, it's still horrible. He was a kid. He should have been among the children in the crowd, not up there risking his life.

Shit, his parents should have used a net just to have a chance of surviving, to live for their son.

Maybe the trapeze act was their way of showing love. Maybe it was all they knew. Maybe they just wanted to share their life with their son.

But still, Dick shouldn't have been exposed to that. What if he was the one who fell, not them? How would they live with it?

Also, what psychological consequences did Dick suffer? They are always attributed to Batman, but were they really due to his time with him?

Sure, being Robin meant doing your job well or dying... But being an acrobat did too.

Dick always lived with the thought that if he does something wrong, he will die, that someone he loves will die.

It's no wonder he's a perfectionist, as much of a "control freak" as Batman himself.

It would also explain many things, such as the type of response he has. When you face a dangerous life of constant stress, your body loses its ability to react normally to stress, even if it's because of small things like an exam or something even less important. Adrenaline is pumped anyway, because your body recognizes the situation as a survival situation... And it makes you addicted to adrenaline.

Damn, even his heart stopping in the last issue makes sense if we could connect the dots.

They're two totally separate things for two separate comics, I know. Just... Damn.

[darksturnioloqueen]

Masochistic!Reader x Family Photo

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of Sadism.**

Sadistic (Sadism - The Act Of Being Sadistic)

Deriving (getting) pleasure from inflicting (causing) pain, suffering, or humiliation on others.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: agreeing not to work (be bought), talking about control, Sadistic!Matt taking control, hair grabbing, head shoving, going in dry, hair tugging, face slap, punching, paid for sex, Sadistic!Matt feeling, mention of torture, addiction, withdrawal, deceit, thoughts of purposely making someone angry, remembering Sadistic!Matt x Gun, being pinned to the bed, roughhousing, being force tickled (my biggest fear), mention of cheating, shoving, constant punching, fresh bruises, punched in the face, anxiety, questions about domestic abuse, mention of hurting you, ignoring boundaries, and making you bleed, angst, hating Matt. ⚠︎

Matt stayed the whole night. That was an entire week ago. You were kind of hoping he would stay over more since he completed two nights without any issues. He didn't. You wanted to ask him to stay again openly, but you really weren't in the mood for the battle you knew it would be. You were waiting for him to try again, knowing it was a lost cause.

"Matt?" You poked your head in the sliding door and called out. He was expecting you.

"Hi." He came around the corner and immediately pulled you into him. Matt was being a little more affectionate lately, which you loved, but you felt like it was going to come at a cost. His grip on you was never subtle. He always held you tightly. Possessive.

"What's gotten into you lately?" As much as you loved living in the bubble of last week, you needed to know what was happening.

"I have to go out of town for a few days." He let you go. You looked up to see him looking disappointed.

"Oh. Is everything okay?" You sat down on his couch as he sat in his chair.

"Yeah, just a business trip. It won't be long." His voice was shifting flat.

"Is that why you asked me over here? To tell me that?" You noticed his change in demeanor. He was slowly becoming stern.

"Yes." Was all he responded. Matt had so much more he wanted to tell you, but the words were choking him.

"Matt?" He looked in your doe eyes and smirked a little. "Talk to me." You coaxed him. Every conversation was one where you had to beg him to talk. It was exhausting, but this must be important to him since he brought you over to tell you in person.

"Do you need money?" He asked, avoiding eye contact with you. Bingo! There it was—the real reason. You have become a Sadistic Matt pro by now. You could read between the words he said and figure out the real meaning of his question or statement.

"I won't work while you're gone." You smiled softly. His jealousy made you giddy. Matt sat up straight. He was taken aback by your statement. He liked hearing you say it, but something in him wasn't sure if he should trust it.

"Pet." He breathed out.

"My Matt." You knew he would like that even if he wouldn't admit it. He did. He was always the one in control, but he liked it when you knew when to take a little back. He also liked the fact that if he didn't want you to take it, he could take it back even rougher.

"Do you need money?" He stood up, put his hands on the back of the couch, and leaned down into your face.

"I... Um... I think..." You rambled.

"Spit it out." His voice was cold. He wanted control. He wanted you.

"I could use some." You found your words. Matt smirked and leaned down in to kiss you. He had never kissed another person before. You were his first kiss, and if he had his way, you would be the only person he had ever kissed. He didn't think he would enjoy such an intimate physical touch, but your lips on his was euphoric. It wasn't pain, but it aroused him. He could feel his body getting more demanding as he gripped the back of the couch, turning his knuckles white. You left your hands in your lap because you didn't want to push him.

"Get up." He broke the kiss apart and backed up, allowing you to fill the space. You stood up and felt your knees shaky. You never truly knew what he had on his mind. Pain was always on his mind, but the act that he wanted to explore to achieve said pain was always a mystery to you. "Turn around." You did as you were told. You trusted Matt completely. He used you often, and so far, there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. Without wasting any time, he grabbed your hair and shoved your head down.

"Matt." You shrieked, surprised.

"Shut up, Pet." His voice was cold, but you knew it was because of his focus on your body. His fingers slid up your thighs and hiked up your skirt. You left your head down, afraid to lift it, hands gripping the back of the couch for balance. You felt Matt lining himself up to go inside you. He didn't want to wait for you to be aroused. He wanted it to hurt going in. As he shoved your head down again with his right hand ruffled in your hair, his left hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you backward into him. He rammed inside of you.

"Ugh." The rough sensation of being filled up so fast had you screaming.

"Fucking take it." He fisted your hair tighter, tugging the roots. His hips pulled back only slightly just to be snapped forward into you. He was relentless. The pounding he was giving you made you feel limp. As your legs grew tired and your body started to sink, Matt wasn't about to let it happen. His arm wrapped around your waist kept pulling you into him more, making you feel it deeper and deeper.

"Matt, please." You screamed out. Over the last week, you both exercised, being more vocal in bed. It was the only time Matt would really talk to you without being coerced.

"Fuck." He groaned, leaning forward into you. He felt you becoming wetter from the pleasure. He pulled out of you and spun you around.

"Wha -" He pushed you down on the couch with a slap to the face. You bit your lip, watching his towering stature mount on top of you. Without missing any time, he started riding you. His chest was flat against yours as he rocked up and down. His mouth panting in your ear. You giggled on accident as you realized what this was.

"Pet..." He groaned, upset with your giggling. You giggled more. He propped himself up on his hands and looked at you. Matt pounded into you uncontrollably, never dropping eye contact with you. You saw the words in his eyes, but you waited to see if he would say it. He bit his lip feeling blood about to spill as he pounded harder. You scrunched up your nose, feeling the pleasure he was created by sliding in and out of your walls. "I'm going to miss you." His words held pain. You felt yourself blushing; him saying it out loud made him that much cuter to you.

You giggled. "I know." Matt threw his head back, exposing his neck to you while bouncing in and out of you on the couch. "Punch me." His head shot down, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Punch me." You whispered again. Matt couldn't resist the invitation as he balled a fist and collided it with your sides. He hit you a few times with medium pressure. Just the necessary amount to provide himself with enough arousal to shoot his cum deep inside you. Your side burning from the power strikes caused your body to flush out its own orgasm.

"Fuck." You both said at the same time. Matt looked down at you with eyes that glistened. You giggled again, finding his need for you adorable.

"I'm going to miss you too." You assured him. After cleaning yourselves up, Matt paid you. It felt weird accepting money from him, but you forced yourself to do it because it would make him feel better. You said your goodbyes and took the fifteen-minute drive home. You sat on your couch and immediately got on your computer.

Matt was losing his mind. The more serious he felt about you, the more fucked up his head got. He wanted to trust you; he had to know if he could trust you. After you had accepted that purchase, something in him snapped. He never wanted to lose you; he learned that. In his mind, the last week had been torture. All while causing you pain, he had been feeling his own. Fucking you was the only time he wasn't worried about you leaving him. The webcam was a great idea in theory, but now it had become an addiction for him. If he couldn't see you in the frame, he immediately became convinced you were going to leave him. It was like having withdrawals.

He accidentally came up with this plan while he was stressing out over you. He paced his living room, watching the blank webcam, thinking about grabbing his gun one more time. Luckily for both of you, you appeared with a bowl of cereal in hand and started watching TV. Matt couldn't drop the plan, though. He decided he needed to put you to the test. He lied. He didn't have a business trip.

The next day, you thought about turning the webcam off just to mess with him. Making Matt a little angry was fun for you, but you decided against it because you remembered the look he gave you when the gun was inside you. The pain behind his eyes was unbearable for him and for you to witness. You knew Matt already had a painful past that you knew little about, so you would have to think of a way to play with him that didn't involve reopening old wounds again. Your phone started ringing beside you.

"Hey, I'm out front."

"Coming." You smiled and jumped out of bed. You had been so invested in spending time with Matt that you hadn't made much time for yourself lately. You thought this would be the perfect time to change that. "Gahh!" You hollered as you ran out the front door and jumped into the dark brunette's arms. He effortlessly caught you.

"What, no love for me?" Your eyes lit up as the replica got out of the passenger seat of the car.

"No way!" You gasped and squirmed to be set down. Once your feet were on the ground, his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

"I missed you guys so much." You gushed.

"It has been a while." They followed you inside. "Woah."

"Super pink." They were already making fun of you, just like old times.

"Hey, I'm an adult. I can decorate, however - I - want." You sassed.

"Mom wants to see you. She and Dad wanted to come, but Aunt B needed help moving a couch or something."

"I'll visit soon. I want to make more time, I've just been busy." Your mind flashed images of Matt like a mini-movie. Matt was a very demanding relationship. Unless he was out of town for his own thing, he required your obedience all the time. You didn't mind. You lived alone, and you felt like you were meant to be with Matt. There wasn't an issue on your part. However, your family has been wanting to see you for a while. You have lied your way out of almost all the visits, but since Matt was gone, you realized you didn't have to lie this time. You were free to accept.

"So what have you been up to, little sis?" They both walked around looking at your house.

"I just like work. I live here." You motioned around the room. They kept looking at things, picking up and putting down random items.

"Do you do anything for fun?" They were being extremely nosey.

"Yeah. I live without two older brothers being all up in my business." You joked. You noticed they were walking into your room, and you followed. They continued looking around at everything.

"It's nice here."

"Yeah. It's quiet." You sat on the bed.

"Where are we going for dinner?"

"Oh, we could go to the Storming Crab." You suggested.

"I hate seafood. You know this." You giggled, and without realizing it, the oldest brother tackled you onto the bed. He started wrestling with you. You were laughing and fighting back. Roughhousing with your brothers was always something they did. Since there were two of them, they loved pinning you down and annoying you.

"Aren't we too old for this?" You giggled, trying to break free.

"Come on, you'll always be our little sis." One held you down, and the other started tickling you. You hated it.

"Okay, stop! Stop!" You laughed. Your head fell to one side, and your eyes fixed on the little red light from the webcam. "Fuck! Stop! Stop!" You begged more seriously. They kept going, ignoring your pleas. "Please!" You yelled one more time. You heard a loud thud. You looked to see your brother being ripped off of you.

Matt.

"What the hell?" Your other brother grabbed you and dragged you closer to him, away from Matt.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Are you seriously cheating on me again?"

"Cheating?" The brother holding you loosened his protective grip.

"No, Matt," you started.

"Bro back the fuck up." Your older brother shoved Matt back—big mistake. Matt threw a punch at your oldest brother. You closed your eyes. You heard them fighting. It wasn't until your other brother let go of you to join that you decided to open your eyes again. He walked over and started trying to break up the fight, only to be brought into it. Matt slammed his fist over and over on your brothers. You had to stop him.

"Matt!" You yelled, joining the knot of people. As you struggled with the three boys, your shirt lifted a little, exposing some fresh bruises.

"What are those?"

"Nothing." You pulled your shirt back down. Just as Matt was about to throw a punch, you put yourself directly in his hand's path. His fist struck your cheek. Matt instantly felt his body fill with arousal. "Matt, these are my brothers." You said, holding your cheek, hoping he would hear you.

"You know this guy?" Your brother asked, his jaw clenched. Matt stood like stone. You pressed up against Matt and turned around to look at your brothers.

"This is my boyfriend, Matt." You admitted. "Matt, these are my brothers. Cole and Elliott." You introduced them. Matt looked down at you. "I wouldn't cheat on you." You whispered. His breathing was heavy. Matt was frozen. He didn't know you had brothers. And if he had known, he probably would have never wanted to meet them.

"Boyfriend?" Elliott asked.

"Yeah." You sighed. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out." You felt your eyes brimming with tears—your anxiety building.

"How about you take Cole to get some ice, and we all just take a second." Elliott was younger, but he was the more reasonable of the twins. You looked at Matt. You had to make sure he would be okay. He smiled apologetically at you. You nodded and grabbed Cole's hand, leading him to the kitchen.

"Okay, why haven't you mentioned a boyfriend?" He went right into the questions while you grabbed an ice pack.

"It's still fairly new. He is different."

"Are you okay?" He leaned against the counter.

"What? Yeah." Your voice leaped.

"I saw the bruises. Does he hurt you? Do you need help?"

"I promise, I'm all right." You smiled. Matt did hurt you, but only in the best ways. Your family obviously knew nothing of your secret sex life. "Please be nice." You begged. Cole set down the ice pack and pushed off the counter.

"Alright." He shrugged. You went back to the bedroom to find Elliott on the bed and Matt in the computer chair.

"Does he talk?" Elliott asked you, only half joking. You knew Matt wouldn't talk to someone he didn't know or care to know.

"Yes." You chuckled. You sat on Matt's lap and felt his erection from punching you underneath you. Matt put his hands on your hips and gripped them tightly. It wasn't a sexual thing this time. It was his way of showing he was uncomfortable.

"How long have you been dating?" Elliott inquired. They were concerned older brothers at this point. A controlling man who showed no remorse for accidentally hitting their younger sister was labeled her boyfriend. They did not like it one bit.

"Roughly -"

"Four months, one week, and two days," Matt said flat. You bit your lip, trying to hold in your grin. That was your Matt.

"You abuse her?" Cole interjected.

"Cole!" You yelled.

"Never," Matt answered through gritted teeth. As hypocritical as it sounded, if a man ever laid his hands on you the way he did, he would kill them. Even though Matt loved hurting you, ignored certain boundaries, and even liked watching you bleed, he did it out of love. With love.

"How about we all hang out tomorrow afternoon? Let's give things a chance to cool off a bit before we try to get to know one another." You suggested. Your eyes begged Elliott to have your back. He, of course, couldn't resist the power of his little sister and nodded.

"That sounds like a great idea."

"I'll talk to you later." You whispered to Matt and stood up. You were shocked he had made it here within minutes. After some thought, you realized it was close to fifteen minutes. He left without saying anything, which you expected.

"Is he... always that intense?" Elliott chuckled.

"Yes. Yes, he is." You bit your bottom lip. Not only did you know Matt wasn't ready to meet your family, but after this, you weren't so sure you were ready either. "You guys can crash in the living room. I'm going to bed early." You raised both your hands; you were shocked that tonight had happened the way it did.

Cole and Elliott made themselves at home in the living room. "A boyfriend. Who knew?" Elliott joked with his counterpart.

"Did you see her bruises?" Elliott's face contorted, thinking about it. He didn't like the idea of his baby sister, you, being beat up.

"Let's just get to know him. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding." Elliott closed his eyes to fall asleep. Even though they were no longer discussing it, they both had a silent, mutual understanding: They both hated Matt.

I did normal Matt Sturniolo tags on this chapter because it is pretty light. If you are reading this for the first time the other chapters are NOT light. Proceed with caution.

[ghostcreaturetypething]

Imagine you are a child. A youngest child. Your mum died when you were a baby. Your dad is…grief-stricken, obsessed, more of a drill sergeant than a father. But you aren’t alone. You have this brother. And he’s only four years older than you, but from the moment your mum dies he steps up as your parent, and he does his best but…he has the same parents you do. One dead, one whatever the hell John is. He has very little experience to go off as to what a good parent should be. But he feels like he needs to be one for you, so he tries, and he tries, and he’s your brother and he’s your mum and he’s your dad, and he’s sort of all you have, honestly. And he’s annoying, and over-protective, and however old you get he only ever sees you as his baby brother. Or his kid.

But you can’t complain about your parents to your brother because he is your parents, and your sibling, both. So in that you sort of are alone. But you don’t know any different, so you grow up thinking that that’s what a brother is, and then you grow up a little more and realise no, he was always trying to be more than that, and then suddenly you are both adults and you aren’t the baby hiding under your brother’s wing anymore, but you’re still stuck with him, this brother who insists on putting you first in everything he does, just like a mother would — but he’s not your mother, or your father, he is your brother, and he’s only four years older than you, an age gap that seems to get smaller and smaller the older you both get. And your brother — he’s flawed, and he has daddy issues, and he gets angry too easily and sometimes he hits things, which would all be very well if he was just your brother.

But he’s not just your brother, is he? He’s your parent, he had to parent you, he’s spent his life parenting you, which you never asked for, but he did it anyway because that’s just the kind of person he is, and for most of it he was a child himself and god he did his best and it wasn’t always enough but you are so grateful to him, anyway.

And now you’re both adults, two boys all grown up but he, he is…Not. Actually. It happened so incrementally, just like growing up, that you didn’t really notice until it was too late. But suddenly your strong, capable brother is a child. Which, to be completely honest…you don’t really know how to deal with. And, I mean, it does make sense to you, you suppose, because you’re clever, and you went to school, and you’ve always loved research, so you know how these things work now, a little. Your brother is a child now because, simply, he’s fucked up. From the trauma. The trauma of your childhood, right, but of course it wasn’t trauma when you were living it, it was just your life, and you didn’t know then that your brother was having to be someone so much older than his years because he’d been like that for as long as you could remember, but now he isn’t, and you are left with the child he should have been, who needs taking care of but still insists on taking care of you no matter what, and sometimes he kind of…can’t. Not like he used to. Because while you grew up, your brother grew down, and your brother who is your parent is suddenly somehow a child still — no, not still, he was never a child, but he is now, throwing tantrums and pouting and messing around, ever immature, frozen at the age you never got to see him be because you were a baby and then you weren’t a baby but by that time that person he was for such a short time was gone. Your brother stopped being a child at four years old. And now you’re finally old enough to try and parent him back…and he seems to need it. Your brother who never got to be a child is now very much a child, but he’s also still your parent, this child, and you are in your twenties and you have grown into a clever, sensitive, caring, capable young person and your brother…your brother has grown backwards. And you want to take care of him. But it’s hard, and he doesn’t let you, doesn’t want to let you, and he’s still the only parent you have so sometimes, deep down, you still want him to take care of you, and he does, and he does, and he does.

But the older you get, the less you need him, the younger he gets, the more he needs you — until you do need him of course, and then he is there, always there, reverting back to the person who saved and loved and cared for you as a child. And it’s sort of difficult to reconcile the two versions of him in your head. And you find yourself getting exasperated with his childish antics and then you find yourself smiling at him fondly as a glimpse of a much younger person shows through the shell of the soldier your brother was forced to become and then you find yourself getting angry with the overprotective controlling superior officer he tries to be and then you find yourself deeply grateful for the unshakeable big brother who saves your life over and over and over again.

And it’s disconcerting. And it’s difficult. But you owe him everything and you love him even more and so you just keep living with it. With him. And you don’t mention it. And he doesn’t, because he’s him and he never mentions anything. And you wonder if he even notices that things he used to face without fear, blank as a brick wall, make him flinch now. If he realises the steady, dependable big brother he had to be when he was too young to be depended on is now a mess of turbulent, childish emotion. If he thinks back to his littler self and envies him his competence. You hope not. You hope not. You know now the weight he carried. At least a little. And you think, infuriating as he his…he deserves to be a child at least once in his life dammit, just like everyone else. So eventually, you begin to catch yourself smiling at him more and more often, and you begin to grow desperately fond of the parts of him that are still young, the parts littler you never got to see. And sure, he annoys the hell out of you sometimes. But you are grown now, and you are understanding, and patient, and kind. And you love your brother. So you don’t mention it. And he doesn’t, because he’s him. But you make allowances for him, and you step in front of him now sometimes, and you let him be who he is, as long as he’s not hurting himself. Basically, you step up. Because you can, because you’re older now, and you’ve realised that, in some ways, you are actually more grown up even than your big brother. And so you try your best to look after him. Just like he used to do for you.

[mimorobo]

I caught myself staring at your stop-motion art again and I'm curious about some parts of your process because this whole medium is fascinating and really impressive! And I think you're neat!

How do you plan out your animations? Is there storyboarding? (Especially for something like your TSunderswap amv that has a lot of shots, and some longer ones!) I also love seeing how you ease in and out of movements, do you just do those by feel? Crazy if true

I think I remember hearing that your puppets have a wire skeleton underneath the felt tops. Does that wire ever get brittle or harder to work with after bending them so much?

Would you ever try making puppets from different materials? 👀 Mostly because I think a mimirobo claymation would be news of the century

Auughhh my goooshh THANK YOU!! I think YOU'RE neat!!? I love your art!! It's so GOOOOOD!! So this means a lot!! :DDD Stop motion IS really impressive!! And I'm glad you also find it so interesting!! If done right I think it's one of the best mediums when it comes to storytelling, you can show so much with so little. And there's something so... Touching? Personal? I'm not sure what but you can really feel something in it...

Ok, to the questions!! Most of the time I don't really plan it out, I have a rough idea on what I want to happen and that's it. Straight to the animation table! I usually get carried away as well, keep animating more to it and add different things going on. Sometimes I play it out, just get up and act what I want to happen, it helps sometimes, I know what would feel more natural or better. (It mostly makes me look crazy tho XD)

Yes!! The TS!US had storyboarding!! Not sure if you could call it that... Mostly just a messy comic thingy which I made while listening to the music I wanted to use and imagining scenes for it!!

I lost the paper a while ago, but here are some pictures!! You can probably recognise a few scenes, most didn't make the final cut unfortunately :(

I'll definitely keep doing storyboarding for longer videos like this, keeps me more organised and I actually know what scenes I need to do. (Also I can skip a few scenes and then come back and do them later! Power of post production!!)

And yes! I do easing in and out a LOT! One of my favourite parts to do when I'm animating actually. I'm glad you like it!! And again, yes, it's all done by feel XD

Yeah the puppets all have a wire skeleton sort of frame underneath. The wires haven't been a problem really, AND I HOPE THEY NEVER WILL. Maybe they're just not old enough yet? Or I haven't used them enough for it to start to be an issue? The only real problem is that the arms sometimes fall off, the wire slips out of its place!! Which is annoying... But I have changed wires before, so it's not a very hard fix if it does become a problem!

OH PUPPETS FROM DIFFERENT MATERIALS!!? That'd be so cool!! Apart from this I've only worked with LEGO, whiteboard animation and some random objects. So CLAYMATION sounds epic!! I actually even did something really quickly!!

Here's a lil lizard guy, not exactly from clay, but close enough! :D

Wanted to try out what it'd look like... I really like it!! His tail kept falling off tho XD But I think doing stop some motion with clay would be awesome!! Thanks for the idea!!

[v3nusxsky]

Our home

*authors note~ my first ever agathario x reader fic! And I must say I’m loving writing for them*

Trigger warnings~ Rio as death?, mentions of child death, Agatha’s default is sex rather than working through emotions? I think that’s it

Prompt~ pocket full of sunshine

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Death hears everything, from the start to the end she’s there hovering. Waiting. Her mission, to keep the sacred balance of nature. Without death, there would be no life. A concept many seemed to struggle to grasp. Life being seen as the light in the world and death well, she was the most hated being around. Every path led to her, she knew that, but that never made her job any easier. Day after day she took and left behind her a trail of darkness and grief. Most of the time Rio was okay with what she had to do. Only one soul over the centuries has cut deep to take. That soul being hers and Agatha’s son. Life and death could function together but never at the same time.

Trailing through the luscious green blades of grass as her cape trailed behind her effortlessly Rio couldn’t help by sigh. Their place was beautiful in every sense. A little stream ran along the edge of the grass leading into a thickly covered forest. Bright shades of colour stood out between the blades of grass as the flowers, Rio’s younger lover planted, began to grow. Agatha was known to sit underneath an old oak tree next to the cottage you all shared with a spell book, just watching as you danced around the beautiful piece of land in an almost childlike innocent way. Rio would care for the landscape feeling at one with the earth was something that always brought her peace. Days like that were a common favourite but today none of the nature brought her joy. Magnificent butterflies fluttered by and yet deaths shoulders were hunched over as if the whole world rested on them.

Trudging through the cottage door, the shoes Rio removed earlier dropped to the floor with a thump. “Is that you my love?” A voice that Rio would recognise anywhere called from the kitchen. Finding the source of the noise, Agatha was stood over the stove, her brown wavy locks perfectly placed over her shoulder to avoid the stove, white shirt and black slacks that seemed to cling to her in the right places. A sight of which, would normally send death into a feral frenzy of need for the witch. But not today. “It’s me” she sighed before stepping into the kitchen to join her lover. “Oh” Agatha mumbled shocked as death herself practically threw herself into the witches arms, burrowing her head into the shoulder covered in hair, breathing in the scent that only Agatha possessed.

“Rough day” was all Rio provided for the woman as she felt arms wrap around her, body instantly dropping its tension at finally being held. Agatha’s skilled fingers made no issue of taking Rio’s hood down to skilfully play with her dark locks of hair. Even the slightest touch always had an effect on death. Touch was something she never had the pleasure of experiencing until Agatha. Agatha was the first one to see her. Not death. Not the darkness that followed Rio. Even when Agatha saw Deaths form she didn’t run, opting to trace the bone on display. Rio still remembers how Agatha kissed every inch of her for the first time muttering praise and loving words as she went. The way her skilled fingers traveled her body as if they knew every spot.

Only when Agatha gently guided Rio’s head to look at her before making quick work of pressing their lips together in a simple kiss, did Rio’s stomach drop. Agatha was doing what Agatha does best. But something in her gut just wouldn’t let her focus on the sensations Agatha was attempting to provide. Rio couldn’t help but pull back and sadly shake her head at Agatha, a silent signal to stop, before turning to leave to the sitting room.

There haven’t been many times where the offer for hours exploring and playing with each other’s bodies have been turned down. In fact, Agatha loved to focus on her need for the women in her life rather than face her feelings. When Nicky passed she had to face overwhelming emotions that truly she didn’t want to. It was unusual for either woman to turn away from pleasure. Both being touch starved most of their lives, it sort of made sense.

You skipped into the kitchen happily carrying a basket of spell books. You’d been practicing a new spell Agatha had taught you for the last few hours only to find Agatha frozen with an odd look etched onto her face. “Love are you okay?” You murmured gently hoping to not spoke the woman as you stepped closer. Your confusion was evident, when you left for the garden Agatha had been her usual self. “Hello sweet little pet” Agatha attempted to tease you, her attempt to hide her own emotions, “Rio’s home my love, she could use our sweet girls comfort while I finish up here.”

After a quick glance you soon spotted Rio’s form curled up on the sofa, so naturally you felt the pull to join her. “Hi” you muttered shyly hoping to gain her attention. Only when her brown eyes snapped towards yours did she greet you, “mm hello baby witch” she murmured quietly. It was rare to see Rio so affected by something other than Nicky, Agatha and recently you. You had only joined the women’s relationship recently, still learning how you fit in the dynamic yet feeling so in love with both women you couldn’t help but do anything for them. Seeing Rio so clearly sad made your heart ache. So much so that you carefully walked over to join her, slipping beneath her body with an unpracticed ease, allowing death to curl up on your chest like a cat.

You both lay like that for a few minutes until Rio shifted to lay more comfortably in your arms. Your hands immediately found their home, rubbing soothing circles on her back as you hummed a tune Agatha taught you. One that seemed to be soothing death. You heard a muffled “I love you” come from the woman in your arms and then a simple request. “Aggie?” Clearly whatever was shaking death to the core, she needed both of her girls to face it. “Here as always my dear” Agatha stated as she strolled into the room with three cups steaming hot tea. Within a matter of minutes Rio was sandwiched between you and Agatha. A perfect bubble of love surrounding you three as time flowed freely onwards.

“I took a baby’s soul. Like Nicky’s should’ve been” Rio mumbled into your chest, Agatha behind her body, rubbing Rio’s side comfortingly. “I’m a monster” Rio whispered as her body shook with silent sobs. “Hush now you are not a monster my love” Agatha sternly said, “it’s your job my love, you are our girl. The one who works to keep the sacred balance. The original green witch. And for that you Rio could never be a monster. You are what you were made to be.” You couldn’t help but wrap your arms tighter around Death as if she would disappear on the spot. “You never were a monster. Neither of you were. You were what the world made you to be. I’m so lucky to get to love you both. Live in such a beautiful place, that you created Rio! To hold someone as precious as death is an honour. And the day you come for us we will go willingly with you. You aren’t bad Rio. You’re ours and we love you.”

For a while Rio soaked in the scent of her lovers, basked in their love and just let herself be. You and Agatha owned every inch of her soul and mind. No matter how the world views her to be, she’d always have her most important people. Her lovers. And that was all you all needed. Each other.

Word count~ 1319

[serenpedac]

Dismiss the invisible by giving it shape

“Some of what keeps us human is to be outside on a dark night, gazing up at stars and galaxies and simply wondering.”* 

This quote made me pause, because of how I feel the same, but also because it made me think about M. M, who sits on the rooftop at night, watching the stars. M, who would choose to be human again if given the option, even though they don’t remember their human life. I feel like M’s human life is not often discussed, which makes sense, as we know next to nothing about it. However, that doesn’t mean it’s meaningless for who they are now, as a vampire.

On an old version of this post, @/agentnatesewellwas wonderful enough to point out that there’s a Patreon special in which M says they feel like they can rely on the stars, because they are a constant, they stay the same. The night sky that they watch those nights at the warehouse is still the same they would have seen when they were human. Maybe M used to look up at the sky as a child, mesmerised by those twinkling stars. Night after night, they would learn to recognise more of the patterns to be found there. And among all those stars, there are the Pleiades, standing out as a bright star cluster.

Six of these stars can be easily seen with the naked eye, but in the myth of the Pleiades, there are seven sisters. The brightness of one of the stars is variable, so models suggest it was brighter many centuries ago, only to then "disappear", giving rise to this legend (side note: see here for an interesting article about how the similar legends re the Pleiades in different cultures may have a shared origin). Although it's not hard to spot several more than 6, some time to adjust your eyes is needed. 

I can imagine that after their turning, overwhelmed by their senses, they go outside to find whatever quiet they can. As they look up at the sky, that once-familiar cluster catches their eye and suddenly, they see that seventh star so very brightly! And not only the seventh, but so many more, their blue-ish light scattered, veiled by an interstellar dust cloud. Their attention captured by the spectacle, they can forget about the loud, fast, itching world for a while. It’s a moment of peace. 

Adding in @/serially-wayhaven's idea here that it might have been N who tells them later about the myth, because I love that so much. As N tells it, there’s this feeling of remembering that M has, as if they’ve heard the story before. Some subconscious part of them remembers having heard this story when they were a child. Even if they don’t remember it, their past has left an imprint on them.

It's often talked about how looking at the stars is looking into the past, but what isn't talked about is how the universe we see reflects its history. In the very early universe, there were small fluctuations in density, called primordial density fluctuations. These increased in size because of the inflation of the universe, and under the influence of gravity, dark matter accumulated into them. These dark matter "wells" also drew in "regular" (baryonic) matter that condensed into galaxies and stars. The structures we see in the universe on large scales, of galaxies being clustered together and being spread across filaments, are all the result of these initial density perturbations leaving their imprint.

The dark matter that can't be detected directly, but underlies the structure we see in visible matter, creates a neat parallel to how M doesn't remember their past, but it did leave its mark on them. It's still visible in them in some way, whether it's through their Greek accent or the fact they can play the saxophone (among other instruments). Much like we can deduce information about the underlying dark matter distribution in the universe from looking at visible matter, we might be able to piece together more about M's past by gathering those crumbs.

* David J. Eicher in Astronomy Magazine, issue August 2024 The title is from I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping at Last

Other parts in this series: [ N ] [ A ] [ F ]

[transmutationisms]

hi caden id like to hear more about swedens responsibility vis covid if u wouldnt mind elaborating? also sorry i accidentally unfollowed sending this lol x

hi flutters welcome back 💖 yeah so broad strokes off the top of my head lol but sweden was a particular focus toward the beginning of the pandemic because the government basically said they didn't need to do 'lockdowns' (at least what was meant by 'lockdowns' lol) and would focus instead on social distancing measures because most of their excess death was concentrated in nursing homes & other institutions & elderly populations, & so wasn't a concern to most of the population.

this kicked off a lot of really annoying back-and-forth where people who learned the word epidemiology in february 2020 were simply assuming prima facie that every single country in every single situation must always use the same disease mitigation methods with no regard for local factors, but then on the other end of the popular discourse were a lot of people who simply did not care about elderly & disabled people dying and acted like death was the only possible negative outcome of covid anyway so there was no need to protect anyone else. meanwhile the consensus in professional epidemiological and public health circles was shifting, sometimes for understandable reasons but also often because they were also kowtowing to government pressure to minimise the significance of the disease etc etc.

anyway sweden did not actually strictly maintain that policy for the entire pandemic & the whole thing is a little bit absurd on the level of granular detail because there would be like, people from the usa acting like sweden was being so uniquely reckless and in reality all the swedish government were doing was saying the eugenics part slightly more directly, slightly before the uk and us got fully on board with just announcing no one gaf about nursing homes. obviously i think this is morally abhorrent lol & additionally, it's just bad fucking policy because you actually can't confine an infectious disease to a nursing home or a prison or a hospital anyway—if it's circulating in these places it is also going to enter the general population. which it did & still does & which is analogous to how people are still acting like they can protect themselves from bird flu by masking as though the problem is whether they individually catch it & not the fact that it is circulating & mutating constantly lol.

anecdotally i have also noticed a lot of long covid papers use swedish data (when they're not using va/ons/israeli data), and i think this is not great because almost every study i remember seeing with swedish long covid data was using chart diagnoses, which is not intrinsically unhelpful but is a distortion of medical reality just as much as self-report outcome surveys are, & i virtually never see a paper even discuss the ramifications of these different definitions for more than like one disposable paragraph. but that's not really on sweden per se it's just a methodology issue.

[yuisdad]

One thing I find weird is that, while I think it’s perfectly fine to critique and even dislike Vivziepop based on her actions and what she has said and done, the amount of detractors constantly posting about her, especially to fans who do know what she’s done and are just enjoying HH and HB, are weird. Because when I hear that a creator is a shitty person, I just block them on social media and don’t respond to whatever “drama” they’re in, because their life isn’t a soap opera and I want nothing to do with them. I would see a few HH or HB blogs that seem like their critiquing the shows, but when reading their posts it becomes very clear that they just hate almost everything about both shows, which made me confused until I remember parasocial relationships are a thing.

The worst example of this was someone who made an entire Twitter account dedicated to documenting every single bad thing she did, regardless if it’s something actually bad or relatively harmless. And, no matter what your opinion of Viv is, we can all agree that’s still creepy, right? This is close to lolcow behavior, which I thought we learned not to do after Christine Chandler and Rosa Rey Ramsey, but I guess if a target’s considered “acceptable”, you’re free to document every single bad thing they’ve ever done and keep reminding them of what they’ve done until the end of time.

I don’t even like Viv myself, hence why I blocked her, but I just needed to vent because this isn’t the only fandom that has this issue, but it still needs to be called out regardless. Because for people who claim to not like Viv, they’re surely dedicating a lot of their time talking about her, instead of just going “ew” and moving on like a normal person.

[screwpinecaprice]

I was trying to eat noodles neatly and for some reason I got sad midway. So I drew them messy eating a biscuit and a strawberry to combat sad noodle blues.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[naamahdarling]

.

[quietwingsinthesky]

there’s a progression in there, somewhere, of even going from ‘the master might kill me any day now :(‘ to ‘the master is going to kill me :) she’s not going to let someone else do it after all this time’

[lesbiansanemi]

I'm so tired

[dandyshucks-moving]

there's this one photo I've seen floating around a few times with the words "I wish we could've met as kids, you would've loved the softer me" and I think about it every now and then

so ... art ʅ(๑ ᷄ω ᷅ )ʃ

[meek-shall-inherit]

love (hate) when im Thinking about my childhhod and im like "yeah it was pretty normal and good ithink" and then i fuckingg Rember