#There is so much context with this drawing

[wormspoodle]

okay. au thing (?) i needed to get out of my head (its been sitting there for 2 months) its pretty half baked so bear with me

more context/ drawings under the cut:

im not sure if this has been done before, im pretty out of it fandom wise,, but!! this takes place during "Time Traveler's Pig" (s1 ep9)

the idea is that, while fighting over the time tape, dipper and mabel end up running into krampus and henceforth get taken by the krampus and the time tape gets dropped/ left behind in the process (classic)

ford hears the ruckus ofc and goes to investigate like he does in tbob j3 pages and also gets taken by krampus,, dipper and mabel see him and assume it must be a young stan or something bc at this point in the show they don't know anything!

they've never met bill, they only really know/remember mcgucket from the gobblewonker, and they don't know stan has a brother

so they just assume life was hard on stan and he looks different because he's younger (something still feels off to them ofc)

anyway story proceeds how it does in canon, ford is arguing at the krampus while dipper and mabel remember that they dropped the time tape and are also trying to plot a way out, mcgucket shows up and saves the day, and because dipper and mabel don't really know where to go from here, they decide to see if that guy is stan (which he is but not the one they're thinking of)

they all make their way back to the lab/shack for the time being, dipper and mabel find the time tape on the way back and it's damaged (another classic) so ford and mcgucket will have to fix it ofc

some conversations are exchanged, information is gleaned, dipper and mabel watch tv to pass the time and end up seeing on of stan's commercials on the tv and the dots start to slowly connect that something is going on here

those are the more. fleshed out concepts, everything else is pretty vague and undecided but ill also probably never revisit this

some more details/thoughts:

- ford is wearing no winter clothes bc im assuming when he grabbed the lantern to investigate the foot prints, he didn't think much and just threw on his boots or something, which is why he has to take refuge in that cave to stave off frostbite

- dipper and mabel don't connect that old man mcgucket is fiddleford mcgucket bc i don't think they a) think about mcgucket that much to make that connection at this point and b) assume he's just related and not the same person given how old old man mcgucket looks

-dipper does have the journal on him but he's keeping it hidden ofc just in case,, after they find out about stan he'd find out ford is the author probably but i don't want him figuring it out beforehand bc it would complicate things (i also don't think hed show ford his journal bc of. time/ space continuum reasons

- maybe bill will show up or something i dunno. dipper and mabel are armed with the j3 that knows bill is dangerous but they've also never met bill

- idk if they'll find out about the portal, idk if mabel will try and bring stan and ford together, idk what happens,, maybe the time police catch them before they do anything,, shrugging my shoulders

-this au doesn't really have a point i just wanted to draw it bc its fun for me to think about the implications !!

[callipraxia]

I’ll admit it - thinking of ‘but what will people think of me?’ has stopped me short of writing things before, in everything from writing actual content to writing part of a review on a friend’s story. “What will [Friend] think, seeing that I know that? Even if I explain the actually relatively innocuous reason why I know it, would they even believe me? This is an issue of how something is portrayed in media that I feel pretty strongly about, but in context, it might be better to just…drop it.”

I…tried actually including a detailed example of my next point here, drawing from Anon’s Robert Jordan remark, but it ended up breaking the thousand-word limit before I even got past the introductory explanations, so I guess I’ll write a separate essay about why I don’t really agree with the “dudebro is secretly obsessed with lesbians and BDSM” line of thinking, maybe link it back here later if I remember. In the meantime, the point was - if I start thinking “dang, I think Author X has an Issue with Y,” it’s usually a lot less because of what the author leaves in than what the author leaves out. As an author, one deliberately chooses to explore certain topics, including dark ones that reflect the issues that preoccupy us (isn’t Anne Rice’s work supposed to be kinda messed up? I mean, I’ve never read a word she wrote that I can recall, but aren’t they all, y’know, horror novels?). As distasteful as we might find it, incest and pedophilia and sexual assault and suicide and all those other words you can’t use on YouTube are real things that happen every day. There’s a plethora of reasons why any given author might want to explore such issues in writing, and at least half of ‘em have nothing to do with sex. I’ve never heard anyone imply that Dostoyevsky must have been really, really turned on by the thought of attacking pawnbrokers with axes, much less that he ever committed a murder in real life just for the heck of it. From what I’ve read - though to be fair, my reading on the subject is not extensive - Nabokov probably wasn’t really a pedophile, and Mario Puzo probably had nothing to do with real-life organized crime. I have heard a few people suggest Stephen King must be a perverted serial killer in real life to write what he writes, but those people were idiots. And so forth. Point is, an author examining evil through a certain point of view really should not lead to the assumption that the author has done or wants to do any of those bad things. That’s why we say that authors use their imaginations when they’re working.

Plus, well…nine times out of ten, nobody’s going to make you read a book. If you really can’t read a book without getting uncomfortable because you can’t stop thinking that X or Y means that the author might have wanted his wife to put him on a leash and spank him, you can almost always just…put down the book and go read something else. You can also do this if you’re uncomfortable with Anne Rice apparently having conflicting feelings about God - that isn’t a potential theme that bothers me, but I know people who would be upset for days about reading something that even hinted at someone Having Questions about the divine. Heck, I have a few books I 99% enjoy and I just skim over or entirely skip parts that involve actions I find uncomfortable - my one hard rule is that I won’t willingly even skim anything where bad things happen to pets, but even then, I don’t assume that everybody who ever earned a Newbury Medal is a bad person who likes thinking about such things. I just don’t read their books. Unless you are compelled to do otherwise for a class* or the like, just do thou likewise.

*I was, very reluctantly, compelled to read two books in my undergraduate Adolescent Literature class where bad things happened to dogs; it was the first and last time in my life that I’ve ever tried to get out of reading something, but the professor didn’t believe what I could bring myself to explain about just how negative of a reaction I knew I would have if I read any books with dying dogs in them. Now I still have one of those scenes lodged in my carousel of intrusive thoughts that drive my anxiety level up and make it really difficult not to engage in compulsive behaviors whenever they rudely shove their way up to the front of my brain, but I don’t think badly of Sherman Alexie because of it.

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[witherby]

If Punch line can trigger Jason easily what would happen is she ever met Harley?

Let's explore that!

Punchline: First Session

Masterlist is Here!

"I need your help."

Harley perks up, gasping, and rushes over to hug Batman tightly.

"I never thought this day would come," she says, jumping up and down and clutching a gauntleted hand. "Yes!! Yes I would love to be your therapist! We have so much to work on, starting with your parents. I really think you never internalized the event and haven't given yourself any space to grieve after —"

Her hands get squeezed gently, recapturing her attention. Blue eyes meet white lenses, and she furrows her brow.

"Okay, that's fine!" She sighs. "Can't say I'm not disappointed, but if one of your kiddos is looking for help instead, I'm still more than hap—"

"Not one of mine," Batman gently interrupts. "This is a...very delicate case, Harley."

"What's delicate mean in this context, Batsy?" She asks. "Delicate like schizophrenic? Delicate like CPTSD? Delicate like one wrong word away from explodin' and killin' everybody in a mile radius?"

"Delicate," he says, "like...this might hit too close to home for you."

"Me?"

Batman nods. Harley hums, equal parts curious and cautious.

"Any good psychologist worth her salt won't let a personal connection get in the way of providin' aid," she tells him. "If the patient isn't somebody I can help myself, I'll help ya find someone who can. When can I meet 'em?"

--

Your file lies scattered across the floor of the cave. Harley stares wide-eyed at your picture while she trembles on her hands and knees. Bruce, having changed out of his suit, kneels beside her with a steadying hand on her back.

"Oh," she whispers, "Brucie, she's so small for her age. And her age!! Sh-she's..."

Harley shakes her head. Bruce continues rubbing small circles in her back. When she leans against him for support, he holds her upright.

"How'd he keep a kid hidden for eight years?" She whispers, voice thick. "I know I fucked off to go play Happy Family with Ivy, but..."

"Nobody knew," he says. "Harleen, don't play the blame game, not for this. He kept her a secret for a reason; no one was supposed to know."

Harley lifts her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes before any tears can well up and fall. She takes deep, calming breaths, gathering her focus, then carefully collects the papers and stands with his help. She draws a pad and pen out of her pocket.

"I ain't promising anything," she says, looking up at Bruce. "This is...this is a whole different ball game, 'specially with that chucklefuck as the daddy. But I'm gonna try, okay?"

He nods. "Take your time. You were the first person I thought of, but don't force this if it's too much."

Harley gently squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. She walks past him and down the hall towards the containment cells, heels clicking quietly against the floor. She dug out her old coat with the name tag pinned to it and even threw her hair back in a low braid to appear as non-threatening as possible. The closer she gets to your door, the more the wonders if you would've been more comfortable if she showed up in her combat getup and mallet.

"Miss Punchline?" She calls, stopping in front of your cell. A cursory glance of your environment tells her immediately that you're under-stimulated. She writes that down. "I'm Doctor Quinzel. Do ya mind if I come in and chat with you a while?"

You cease all movement. You'd been sitting with your back to the door, gently stroking the head of the teddy bear Alfred gave you while muttering Mistress Mary's nursery rhyme, but when you hear her, you practically turn into a statue. Unless she actively stares at your back, Harley can't even see you draw breath.

"Miss Punchline?" She repeats calmly. "I won't come in if you don't want, but I'd really like to talk to you."

"...Popsy talks about you, sometimes," you say. Harley can't decipher your tone, but the words make her feel cold all over. "Says he used to miss his favorite gal."

"I'm sure he's mentioned me once or twice," she says, clearing her throat. "But I'm old news. Why don't you tell me about yourself? I'm gonna punch in the door code now, okay?"

You don't move. Harley unlocks your cell and walks inside, getting a better look at how sparsely decorated it is. The bed is clearly unused and half of the activities left here would cause an ordinary child to lose interest in about an hour without company. Overall, Bruce and his family are keeping you in a dreary room. If she accomplishes nothing else today, it's a guarantee that she's gonna get you better accommodations.

Harley walks around the room until she can see you face-to-face. Once she's in your periphery, your eyes snap to her and follow her every movement like a predator. She lowers herself to the ground, taking a seat a few feet away from you.

"There you are," she says kindly. Your smile is just as placid as the one in your photo. "I like ya make-up. The swirly pattern on your cheeks is very cute."

You don't respond, though your smile widens briefly. Highly receptive to praise. Your eyes don't leave hers, scanning, assessing, calculating. Harley doesn't feel like you're about to attack her, but you're clearly juggling something around in your mind.

"Bet you're thinking about mine," she continues. "Normally I like puttin' on the face paint, but sometimes my pores gotta breathe, you know? Well — the pores I got left." She glances down at her hands, paper white like the rest of her body from her dip in a vat of acid. With relief, Harley notes that your unpainted skin is a healthy color. Even though the bar's lower than Hell, it's nice to know that at least the Joker didn't immediately treat you to a dunk of your own.

"Punchline, I'm gonna be frank with you," she says.

"Nice to meetcha, Frank," you chirp, grinning mischievously. Harley lifts a brow.

"That was funny," she praises. "I know your, eh, Popsy, he places a lot of value on bein' funny. Used to say nothin' was worth the effort if it didn't amuse him at the end of the day. I'm sure you know that already."

"A giggle a day keeps the boredom away!" You say, pitch and cadence matching that of your father's. Harley knows that the grip on her pen is too tight. She breathes deep and forces herself to relax. "Ohh, hit a nerve, Frank?"

"I'm doin' just fine," she says. "What's boredom look like for you and Popsy?"

You separate your hands, fingers splayed wide, and make explosion noises.

"Do you get caught up in that explosion?"

Your smile doesn't change but your eyes get sharp. Harley makes a note.

"It's hard keepin' him entertained all day, every day," she says. "I would know. But I'm gonna tell ya somethin' your popsy probably never has."

Harley scoots a tad closer to you, reaching her hand out and gently taking one of yours. She can feel every bone in your hand and has to utilize all of her training to school her expression.

"It's not your job to make yer popsy happy. In fact, it's not your job to make any adult happy. Grown-ups shouldn't rely on their children for emotional regulation."

"Couldn't rely on you, either, could be?" You snicker. "Since you ran away."

"I left him because he was treatin' me like dirt," Harley says, a little more firm than necessary. "He's real good at drawin' you in, Punchline. Shows you an ounce of praise that makes you feel invincible, makes you wanna do anything he asks to get more of it."

Harley lets go of your hand to tuck a lock of emerald green hair behind your right ear, brushing gently against the shell. The edges are distorted, flatter than your left.

"He's also real good at draggin' you through the mud, makin' you feel like everything's your fault. Like you got no choice but to make it up t'him. Ya never wanna get on his bad side cause he really makes you feel it."

You tilt your head away from her hand, eyes dropping back down to the teddy bear Alfred gave you. You resume petting it, slightly faster and rougher than before. Harley makes a note.

"His anger's always more powerful than his joy, Punchline," she says, "but both of them are destructive. I wanna help ya break away from his cycle."

"No thanks," you say, "if I wanted to be a washed-up, third-rate party clown, I would!"

Harley feels a wave of pity for you. It's obvious you're just regurgitating your father's words back at her, and she's not surprised. Change doesn't happen overnight, especially not for you.

There's so much work to do, but Harley's not afraid. You may look and behave similarly to the Joker, but you're young and still impressionable and already starting to pull away from him without even realizing it.

"I can tell yer getting upset, and that's the last thing I want," she says, climbing to her feet, "so I think this is a good stopping point for today. But I'd really like to see you again. Would you be alright with that?"

You blow a raspberry at her, then cackle. Harley exhales sharply through her nose, giving you a fond smile, and pats your head as she steps past you and opens the cell door.

She can do this. She will do this. For you.

But, first thing's first.

"Brucie, you're kidding me with the furnishings! How's the richest man on the planet gonna put a kid in such a shitty room!? Don't look at me like that, mister. You brought me in t'do a job and I'm gonna do it right!!"

[signanothername]

Wait is killer not wearing pants in the latest drawing or am I looking at it wrong

Context

Help why would he not be wearing pants dhdhhdhdh

He is wearing his shorts™, but they’re 1- very very short, literally barely reaches the top of his thighs (you can see it in comparison to Color’s shorts in the linked post) and 2-pretty much loose, so when killer raises his legs, they fall a bit

That’s what’s happening there, plus, super sketchy, they get confusing when you look at it, so to ease your mind I outlined them in blue for you

Tbh even if he wasn’t wearing his shorts, he has bike shorts underneath his actual shorts (the outlined in red) so he’d be wearing pants anyway xgxggxgxgd

[last-airis]

my farmer oc Eden :)

Farmer oc Eden🗡⛏️

a little context about eden:

Eden is 28 years old when she arrives in Pelican Town.

Eden is a very impulsive person and often gets into trouble because of it. Eden may seem selfish because of the decisions she makes, but she is not. On the contrary, she always tries to help and fix things, but because she is so impulsive and overthinks so much, she ends up ruining everything.

Eden is a very strong person and a person who likes risks and new experiences, but what she really wants is to have a quiet life, to have a place to belong and not feel excluded, she is a person you can trust and she will always defend the people she loves.

Eden can be very stubborn about what she wants, when

she has something on mind there is no one who can stop her.

About her design, Eden is an androgynous person, at first everyone thought she was going to be a male farmer but they discovered she was a woman, Eden was never bothered by people thinking she was a man, Eden is usually a person who is not bothered by anything.

About her relationship with Harvey: It's a relationship that's progressing little by little, they're both going to get to know each other and they're two very different people but with little things in common. I have an analogy to describe them, while Harvey tries to fix the broken dishes he ends up cutting himself...while Eden tries to hold all the plates by herself and ends up breaking them. They both went through a long journey before having a relationship with each other, they both support each other and see the problems that each one has, they both support each other and move forward together.

About the drawings: In this drawing Eden has scars and her hair is a little longer, all of this is part of year two (when Eden arrives in Pelican Town she doesn't have any scars) the scar on her face has context but I 'll leave

:) In future post I will add more context (and small wips of the comic)

too much text... sorry

[zorilleerrant]

So the differences between these two cover a lot. They are both con men. They are both autistically obsessed with their special coats. They do pay careful attention to fashion trends and tailor their appearances to the space they're trying to infiltrate, something that seemed fun and easy to them to begin with. (Altho I do get the impression Captain Jack signed up initially out of some sense of duty or protecting his fellow sapients.) They're both family men who are terrified of endangering their families. The type of guy is likely to draw the same crowd in a lot of cases. The details vary a lot.

First, erotic relationships - while Constantine sleeps around whenever he's single (or, rather, used to when he was younger), he's a serial monogamist at heart. He falls fast and deep for whoever's caught his eye this minute, even when he's trying to keep it casual. He always expects it to be long term, and his overly intense expectations inevitably cause him to fuck something up. While he's open to sexual experimentation with his current partner (orgies, etc.), he can't really handle polyamory. Captain Jack, on the other hand, is capable of understanding monogamous relationships (it probably exists as a queer identity where he's from), but he struggles to engage in one. He meets people where they are, though, and so sometimes engages in relationships that are dispreferential to him, figuring he can fill that in elsewhere.

Second, killing - Captain Jack considers himself a soldier, even when he's doing civilian things, even when he's on the run, even when he's working for a very different cause than a war. War shaped him, and war stole away his limits. He has no hesitation about killing people if it's necessary. Even when he knows them, loves them, doesn't want to hurt them: when he knows it's necessary, he simply acts. He doesn't enjoy hurting or killing people, but he does consider it a tool always available to him. Constantine is capable of killing people, but just barely. Even when he knows it's absolutely necessary, he will hunt for every other possible option, often until the time is up. He's incapable of killing a child even when he knows that child will grow up to destroy the universe. Until his life or the life of a loved one is directly threatened, he has trouble acting. Counterintuitively, this means that Captain Jack feels directly responsible for any death that he orders or obliquely causes, while Constantine in much more picky about what blood he carries on his hands.

Third, trauma - Captain Jack exists to embody heavily dramatized impossible traumas that, while they have analogy to real people's problems, exaggerate and contort them until they're safe to deal with in a fantasy context. Constantine does the opposite. Constantine's traumas are almost exclusively meant to be very real, very concrete things that happen directly to real people, and where his reactions to them are realistic, even when they involve magic (in either causing or healing the trauma). Captain Jack's bad memories are symbolic, metaphorical, allegorical. Constantine's bad memories are relatable and believable. (Both of them are direct explorations of common queer experiences, though.)

Fourth, powers - Constantine is almost entirely self-taught. While he did obtain mentors and friends to help him expand his repertoire later in his career, this was after he learned everything that was dangerous with no guidance, oversight, or support. He's often said to be a relatively weak magic user, and most of his impressive skill comes from the fact that he had to learn loopholes and exploits to do everything he ever did, from the ground up, instead of following any established pattern of magic users. That and making terrible bargains with all manner of more powerful creatures, most of whom only ever had his worst interests at heart. Captain Jack, on the other hand, was taught rigorously by many different organizations. He was considered exceptionally skilled, a prodigy even, and always enjoyed easy support from his colleagues. Everything else is from one specific accident born from love.

Fifth, self-image - Captain Jack has lots of regrets and lots of wishes, but in general, he thinks of himself as someone who's trying to do good things. He doesn't think he's the worst person just because he's not the best person, and he always strives to improve, because he believes in himself. He's suicidal mostly because he thinks it's unnatural the way he exists, and because of grief. Constantine hates everything about himself at all times. He's trying, he's desperately trying, but he doesn't think he's capable of turning himself into someone who deserves to be alive. He has all kinds of internalized bigotry that he'd be horrified if anyone else said, but believes is true about himself. He firmly believes he is the worst person who ever existed and yet he's afraid to die.

Themes Constantine focuses on that Captain Jack doesn't:

addiction

religion

sexual abuse and recovery

poverty/systemic classism

solidarity and mutual aid

footie

Themes Captain Jack focuses on that Constantine doesn't:

exile/cultural history erasure

chosen family

the ethics of coverups

the universalism of violence/the universalism of kindness

ties through time and place

workplace sex

Themes that both focus on:

grief and loss

alienation from wider culture

power and responsibility

star-crossed love

how good and evil on a grand scale interacts with the personal

monsterfucking

You seem like you would know the answer to this question, are Jack Harkness and John Constantine the Same Guy? I know they're from different things and only have the vaguest dashboard osmosis idea about either of them but the instinct is so strong. What is causing this? Help

you've osmosed them into a single slutty bisexual disaster man that doesn't mind his own business and refuses to die

[ccycloneblogging]

Chapter 4 Doey Doodles

I'm placing these and the context under a Read More to avoid spoilers!

Please note that this is all for the Toon Logic AU and some half baked idea right now. I'm still figuring out what I wanna do for this.

On with the drawings~!

When Toon Doey first is introduced. Jer (Angel) would see him as a toon to protect - and she's still got a few of the Smiling Critters with her. (AKA - Cyrus, and Lunata. With some critters being hidden down in the prisons)

Misc. doodles based on some moments in the chapter - along with my favorite drawing of Poppy ever.

These doodles were based off a mini comic - but I just wanted to share these expressions because they were a lot of fun.

This man is a sweetheart, and his expressions are so much fun to play around with. The concept here is that Mimzy - a mini made of all different critters - has been spreading some information to help Safe Haven.

After giving them both floating hats... I had to do this meme. They're friends.

[saessenach]

Thinking many thoughts about Miss Andarateia Cantori tonight because what do you mean we get to be in her house for the entire game, in which she and her boyfriend/partner-in-crime run a gambling den, assassin guild ANd find the time to argue with the public administration while opposing a military occupation?? who does it like her??

Joke aside, I think she's an incredibly fun character, and I'm really happy that hers was the lens through which we saw the Crows this game. Whenever I see random posts and critiques commenting that the Crows were too "sanitised" or "found-family", I want to yell a bit, because DATV never claims that to be the case!! Obviously everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but what we see is anchored in a very specific context: not just Treviso under Antaam occupation, but also the Cantori Diamond, which falls under Teia's jurisdiction.

She's an elven orphan turned Guildmaster and Talon, who desperately wanted to find family in the Crows! While the other Talons resisted her attempts at every step (some more succesfully than others ksks), that implies 1) her approach towards her own House was probably not dissimilar and 2) it got her the Talon position in her 20s. Ergo, her modus operandi was probably fairly successful.

For all that she threatens to evict anyone who treats her like a landlord (lol), the Diamond is very much a reflection of her as a character. It's all completely in line with both her general characterisation in 8 Little Talons and with the point she reaches at the end of that story when confronting Emil. I don't think it's a coincidence that out of our two POVs in 8LT, she's the one discussing Crow ideology with their would-be-murderer:

and

and

Following this particular set-up, of course orphans like Jacobus are treated kindly; of course fledglings have time to gossip in quiet corners while training; of course she helps the Dellamortes however she can?? She decided these people are family to her, and she wants to do better by them than what she got. This is wildly compelling to me personally, because she's such a delightful mix of idealism and disillusionment, honesty and manipulation, compassion and retribution - and she's so fucking obstinate about it!!!

There's also the little connection with the Crows' beginnings, specifically in Treviso. Iirc, it's mentioned in 8LT that her base is Rialto (she's also got gardens there), so a part of me wonders whether the Diamond was an inherited property from a previous Cantori Talon, or whether she got it up and running between then and the events of the game. I think that between that little tibdbit and with Lucanis being named First Talon at the end of the game, it's pretty obvious that the theme of rebirth is very much the point in the Crows' plotline - a messy, hopeful and spiteful rebirth.

All of this is to say, what we get doesn't at all negate the other aspects we've seen from the Crows in previous games, but rather puts them into perspective. The game just goes on to ask - isn't there another way to do this? what else is there room for us to be? is there any chance we might find some kindness in this world? and one of the ways these answers are explored is through Teia's character (we start this series with Zevran's story within the Antivan Crows - an elven orphan bought from a brothel, who doesn't have the power to change this guild, and end with Lucanis, Viago and Teia, who is, specifically, an elven orphan picked up (?) from the streets, who remains one of the powerhouses of the organisation. I love a bit of narrative symmetry ✨)

And honestly, I find this entire thing delightful - it's cheeky and dramatic and a lot of fun, and it makes sense for these characters, if you only sit with it for a second and give it a bit of thought!

(PS the way she draws Viago into her orbit and the way their partnership works is another rant entirely, and they drive me absolutely insane nghhh)

[asteroidtroglodyte]

Regarding your addition to the pistachio post:

I don't understand the significance of straight lines on maps. Some of it is apparent from context, but I'd like to learn more about it. Could you explain further or point me towards resources on the topic?

Thank you!

Who draws Maps?

If you look at maps made by those whose eyes see the world through the lens of Science, you will find curved, jagged lines, tracing mountain ridge lines and river course ways, drawn with an attempt to accurately represent Nature and its fractal detail.

When people are rulers of their own Polities, they draw political boundaries that make sense according to local realities. These mountains and rivers that naturally congregate and separate populations are considered, and you have winding, jagged boundaries, like those found in Europe, or in the vicinity of Washington.

Cartographer is a trade name for one who draws maps, but even those who draw the maps are not typically those who set the borders. When Texas sought to enter the Union in 1845 as a slave state, federal law in the United States, based on the Missouri Compromise, prohibited slavery north of 36°30' north latitude. Under the Compromise of 1850, Texas surrendered its lands north of 36°30', rather than have a portion of the state as "free" territory. The 170-mile strip of land, a "neutral strip", was left with no state or territorial ownership from 1850 until 1890. It was officially called the "Public Land Strip" and was commonly referred to as "No Man's Land."

In Tordesillas, Spain, on 7 June 1494, a handful of men would sign a piece of paper, and in so doing recognize that half of the world belonged to Hispaniola, and half to Portugal. None of the hundreds of millions of Human Beings living and breathing and working and dying on those continents would be consulted in this matter.

If you mirrored California on the East coast of the US, it would stretch from New Hampshire to the Carolinas, and as far inland as Kentucky. I will freely confess that the autoImperialism we experience here Out West might pale in comparison to what is enforced upon, say, Africa and the rest of the Global South, but that does not make it not Imperialism.

Straight lines on maps are NOT drawn by the people who do the living and breathing and working and dying in a region. They are drawn by distant Powers, with no regard for Local Reality.

A straight line for a political border is something created for the convenience and expediency of an Imperial Administrator. Straight lines on maps are drawn by Outsiders; by people whose sole interest in a territory lies in what Natural Resources can be extracted from it.

The original post was about how a great many California farmers are wasting water trying to outcompete the Iranian Pistachio trade, instead of any number of other, better-suited-to-the-local-ecosystem crops. A choice not informed by Market Demand, or by Local Necessity, but by the political machinations of distant Washington.

This simple observation has profoundly altered the way I look at geopolitics. Once I understood who decides where the lines go; once i could see on the chart who gets to Rule Themselves and who does not, so much became clear.

I hope my words, and perspective, will also clarify things for you. Stay safe out there.

[sapphicslaylist]

Forgot to respond to this one. I’m not an expert on drawing them so much as writing, but I would recommend checking out blogs like @cripplecharacters (Do note: “cripple” / “crip” IS a slur. It’s sometimes reclaimed exclusively by disabled people) or else looking up a “how to draw scars” tutorial. The way I often depict Thorn’s scarring itself is different depending on context of the worldbuilding I do, so it varies. What matters most is that the severity & locations where scars are placed, and that you’re correctly studying how that would impact different forms of mobility (Heavy Scar victims, correct me if this is wrong!)

The notable one is always going to be the depth of wounding/lost skin in her hands. It’s cannonically a place which the viewer’s eyes are drawn; especially with shots like the Shifting Mound.

Think of the Shifting Mound as a form of “accommodation support;” her hands tend to go to the physically weaker areas of the disabled princesses. Second example of this, of course, is Wounded Wild. Shifty also canonically props both of them up/uses her minis to carry and/or hold both of them.

I recommend also replaying the route to see things like how she holds the blade; it’s often tilted to the side, and there’s apparent pressure when she tightens around it. It’s my personal belief that she gave up the “trust tug of war” for it out of physical weakness just as much as mentally fighting with herself.

There’s noticeable pull of scar tissue here in the grasp shots.

The handhold & door unlock are excellent at the specific ways in which her arm scars work.

I hope this helps!

STP: Thorn Scarring & Disability

I'm going to gently tap the fandom with a stick: scars are not just a simple cosmetic detail which can be ignored/removed "stylistically" or given to make characters "cool." They impact a person's daily life, confidence, and way of interacting with the world, and need to be handled with consideration. Therefore, as a disabled person with background in accessibility, I think it's my turn to cover this one.

Going to specifically address this with Thorn, but it applies to others as well (not just because she's the most blatant example, but also as she's a character who the fandom likes to "heal" by removing all traces of her scars. Going to address what this implicates below).

Some important details:

She is deliberately depicted with heavy wounds of a variety of different depths. It can be assumed that they have been accumulated and left open for a significant amount of time.

We know the ones along her hands are the deepest because of Narrator's remark wherein "[she] picks up the blade, slicing through what little skin remains" of her hands and wrists. It is very likely these are not only permanent, but also have the possibility of muting or eliminating tactile sensation in her fingers either temporarily or permanently. She would therefore interact differently with the world if written outside the context of cannon

Further mobility issues may result from the wounds along her limbs. Because scar tissue is less flexible than normal skin, this would further constrict movement.

Some of the shallower ones may heal, yes. But deeper scars typically fade, but not vanish entirely.

This inherently makes Thorn disabled, and removing her scars IS disability erasure.

And it isn't just about physical disability, either. Witch & Thorn deal with removing stigmatization surrounding feminine beauty, and removing that detail does also impede the body positivity which she carries for survivors. Scar victims, especially people with deep scars are often considered "ugly." This especially applies to women, who are expected to cover them up or face value judgements regarding their appearance. The game does the opposite, by placing her hands at forefront within the kiss scene. The reason the kiss is so important is because people who are "non-traditionally" beautiful are still worthy of love - something which Thorn struggles to accept with throughout her route.

Overall, I think that people need to understand that they're not merely a literary symbol. But even within that context, the message of Thorn's route is that you can't eliminate your past/go back to who you were before, and that's okay. Because even if scars fade, they aren't something we can simply pretend didn't happen. They remain a part of us throughout the rest of our life, but we don't need to keep bleeding in the present.

Anyways! I hope this explains it. And if anyone does want advice on how to write these out, you're welcome to ask me!

[yesimwriting]

I need to see some one on one bestie and Armand interactions! I bet he finds her humanity endearing even if he acts like a dick about it !! We need them bonding over art

a/n love this sm, he's so secretly invested but also so deeply unchill <3

this is the painting i reference in this fic by name, seeing it isn't necessary for you to get the fic but it's one of my favorite paintings so i thought it'd be fun to add it here :)

also i'm not saying reader has perfectly recreated a famous painting lol, it's more about the vibes/aesthetic of the painting

----

Everything passes in threes. The careful tapping of your thumb's nail against the pointer finger of your opposite hand; the way that your eyes shift between the ground, the wall, and him; even the rhythm of your heart feels like a trinity.

You're not exactly nervous, but you are tense, rigid in a way that you never are in Louis's presence.

There's something about being the source of your uneasiness, of being able to witness his presence embedding itself into your mind that's almost grounding. It's as consuming as the sense of rejection your silence is forcing onto him.

Armand shifts slightly, his hand moving away from his lap and onto the couch's cushioning. The gesture is meant to remind you of your similarities. Mortals are more eased by the small, insignificant movements than they realize. They perceive the pointless shifting of others as evidence of life, as proof of an intrinsic likeness.

The movement seems to serve its purpose, because you relax your hands, ending your three-tap pattern before allowing your arms to fall to your side. "Not being able to offer you anything to drink really has me at a loss."

The response, though cloaked in your usual humor, feels much smaller than the way you usually are. He supposes you're not the only one to blame for your uncertainty. Louis suggested that you spend an evening alone with Armand to help the two of you argue less...and apparently, Louis had warned you to be on your best behavior just as much as he had warned Armand.

Instead of pointing out the fact that you've never struggled to socialize with Louis despite being limited in the same way, he decides to reciprocate what you're giving him. "You could offer me an alternative."

Your eyebrows begin to draw together, but something about the barely there parting of your lips implies something other than surprise. If you were someone else, Armand might consider your expression a byproduct of morbid curiosity.

Your gaze flits away from him and towards the hands innocently resting on your lap. You're quick to dismiss your line of thinking, your body straightening slightly as you look at him again. "I think blood donating's more a third date kinda thing."

The framing of the sentiment, though clearly an attempt at humor, digs at him more than it should. He pushes against his instincts before responding. "Third? I didn't realize you were so easy."

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. It's an expression he's seen directed at Louis several times before. "There's a reputation." You relax slightly, your shoulders easing as you exhale. "So, what do you want to do?"

The question is a careful thing, as if you're doing all you can to make sure that what you're asking doesn't remind him of how little alone time you've spent together. He's never seen you have to think about how to connect with Louis.

When he doesn't respond, you continue, "We could go out and get some air, or we could stay here and watch something..."

You lift your hand just enough to tap your fingertips against your knee. Armand's focus moves away from you and onto the rest of your apartment. He's been here before in a variety of contexts, and he can't remember it ever seeming this organized. There are no work-in-progress pieces taking up your dining room table or paint swatches and sketches covering the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Or uh--anything you want to--"

"You've mentioned having a studio space before."

The interruption surprises you, but you're quicker to recover your expressions than you used to be. Perhaps it's the constant awareness of the fact that you're thoughts are nowhere near as private as you once believed. You nod once. "Yeah, it's the room just past the kitchen."

He turns his head enough to look at you again. "Can I see it?"

Your breathing falters, the air in your lungs stalling so briefly it would have likely gone unnoticed if Armand had been any less determined to take in your reaction. You've mentioned your studio space without being prompted before, but always with a certain level of guardedness.

"Okay," and then, as if realizing the smallness of your response, you tack on a much more definitive, "Yeah, sure."

You're quick to commit to your promise, looking away from him before moving to stand. Armand follows, making a point to remain a full pace behind you as you move through your living room and past your kitchen. You lead him down a short hallway.

You don't stall until you're in front of a door. "I uh--" Your mind is wracked with a flighty nervousness. "Just keep in mind, everything in here's a work in progress."

There's a vulnerability pressed into the syllables that's nearly enough to soften you. So often, your existence feels like a force capable of rivaling the sun. Now, though, thinking about what you've created and how he might perceive these extensions of your being, you seem...reachable. Much less like the first few rays of sunlight bleeding over the horizon at daybreak, and more like a girl of your age.

This version of you must be closer to what Louis sees when he looks at you. Perhaps the instinct that encourages his companion to keep him away from you isn't entirely wrong.

"I understand." His voice is devoid of sentimentality.

You don't seem put off by his blankness. If anything, his limited interest makes it a little easier for you to reach for the door's brass handle. You push open the door. Armand enters the space first.

The room is what's expected--a space absolutely brimming with life. A large worktable covered in sketches and small canvases takes up most of the room's center. Shelves and cabinets line the room's back wall. There are several incomplete works throughout the space, a few paintings propped up against walls and more textured pieces resting against any available flat surfaces, but none draw his focus like what's sitting on your easel.

The painting is familiar in a way that practically makes something inside of him ache.

"It's oil instead of acrylic," your explanation is careful, almost shy. "I'm trying something. The drying between layers is almost impossible, but I like the blending."

Trying something. This isn't even your perferred medium and you've stumbled onto something sharp and moving. It's still unfinished, and he can already tell that the woman you've depicted reading by candlelight is reminiscent of a time outside of your own.

"It's familiar," the reaction feels like a confession. He presses his lips together, a part of him relieved by the fact that you're a few paces behind him. "The lighting--it's similar to Georges de La Tour."

"Really?" You're more enthusiastic than you want to be. "Magdalene with Two Flames was one of my reference photos."

Of course it was. Leave it to you to be capable of accurately mimicking your influences.

You walk forward, stopping once you've reached his side. "This is the first time that someone that doesn't particularly care about my feelings is seeing it, so you can be as honest as you want."

Armand has to work at keeping his expression neutral. It's not enough to be the gifted artist that's sensitive about their work, you also have to be gratingly humble.

He keeps his gaze focused on the painting as he speaks, "You'd be more tolerable if you were less talented." Your skin flushes, blood pulling itself up your neck. "I don't mean it as a compliment."

"I know." Armand can feel how much you mean the response. "I think that's why I liked hearing it."

Something uneasy settles in his chest. You smile at him, your eyes bright and teasing like the both of you are now in on some joke together. "Searching for punishment?"

You straighten slightly, head turning away from him and towards your painting. "Searching for honesty." You're focusing on your work, on separating yourself from personal sentiment. "Though, I guess, sometimes that's the same thing."

There's nothing shocking about your prioritization of honesty. Mortals like to think that candor means something to them, that having the reality of a situation presented to them openly makes things easier. Your kind is much more protected by their obliviousness than they realize, but he's willing to humor you. "It's familiar in other ways, as well."

You're slower to understand his implication than you usually are. Armand can't quite bring himself to fault you for it. You're detached from what he and Louis are.

He turns his head slightly, allowing himself to watch you from his peripheral vision. Louis is committed to shielding you, to masking their differences from you as best as he can. You're not used to being reminded of the eternity they're meant to have.

You blink, your eyebrows briefly pinching together. "Right," this is mumbled more to yourself than to him, "...Because you would have been around when things were like this." You sit with the reminder for another moment before finally turning towards him, "Would it be really lame if I asked what it was like?"

There's a carefulness to your curiosity, a hesitation behind your interest. Your restraint is primarily rooted in how little time the two of you have spent like this, but there's something else behind your uncertainty. Louis loves you the way one loves a childhood blanket that's at risk of becoming threadbare. He doesn't want to lose you to his nature, so he does what he can to pretend it doesn't exist. But you're nowhere near as uninterested in vampirism as Louis would like you to be.

Perhaps this is the only thing that Louis isn't willing to give you himself. "Not really lame." The corner of your mouth tugs itself upwards at the opening. "As I'm sure you know, it was a time of great, artistic flourishing..."

He stops, his mind latching onto aspects of his reminiscence with a vengeful sharpness. A gifted young artist desired by vampires for their beauty and talent.

His unexpected silence forces your thoughts away from curiosity and towards something much more akin to worry. "It was also a time of great brutality."

You're quiet for a stretch of time that feels much more significant than it is. "I'm sorry."

He isn't sure if the apology is an attempt at expressing generalized sympathy or if you're feeling guilty for asking the question in the first place, and he can't bring himself to examine your thoughts for clarity. It should bother him either way. Your presence is enough to agitate the part of himself still susceptible to this kind of vulnerability, he doesn't need to add to that--not so openly, not with you right next to him.

Your proximity is a source of discomfort that's much easier to focus on. You are, by far, the gentlest of his afflictions. For once, he permits himself to lean into the warmth of this uneasiness, his hand extending towards you. He keeps his attention focused on the painting as he takes your hand.

Your shock is enough to briefly amplify your thoughts as an anxious warmth begins to crawl up your neck. The initial surprise quickly fades into a dismissible mental static, leaving a marginal concern in its wake. He presses into your thoughts. You're slightly worried over his shift in demeanor, and you feel a little out of your element, but you're not uncomfortable.

When no other sudden movements pass, you drag your thumb along his knuckles. The heat of your skin amplifies the gesture's soothingness.

He allows the silence to linger for another minute before breaking it, "What are you going to do with the painting once it's finished?"

The question seems to throw you more than the position that you're in. "I don't know, it doesn't really fit into the collection I'm working on." You pause, thinking through your answer. "Maybe I'll hold onto it...or send it to my mom. It seems like something she'd like."

Armand nods once. "Would you consider selling it to me?"

Your nervous warmth returns, blood shifting beneath your skin. "If you want it, you can just have it."

This is an argument that he knows you're familiar with. You're always resisting Louis's attempts at offering you anything you deem expensive, even if it's a payment for something you've made.

"You're an artist," he begins slowly, "You should be paid for your work."

You're not impressed by his logic. "Yeah, but we're friends."

"Are we?"

You weren't expecting an argument. "I think so."

There's a genuineness to your response that's almost hard to bare. Perhaps the financial argument could be reserved for another time, or maybe it'd be easier to gift you something instead. It's a strategy that Louis's used before. "Do you want to watch one of those shows you and Louis are always talking about?"

The question makes you grin. "Yeah." You turn away from the painting without letting go of his hand, pulling him towards the door. "I'm ruling out reality TV, because I don't want to lower your opinion on humanity any further."

"How kind."

You look back at him, smiling, "I'm very altruistic."

----

The television provides a comfortable background, the TV show you put on serving as both a source of sound and light. It also helps that this is a method of bonding you're familiar with.

As far as artistic merit, the show you were so excited to show him isn't exactly life changing, but he's experienced worse evenings than this one.

One of the main characters on the screen accidentally comes across an incriminating note that the audience learned about in the first episode. It's an incredibly predictable twist, but you're studying his reaction like there's something life changing about this revelation.

"This isn't realistic."

The comment makes you sigh. "It's not meant to be realistic, it's meant to be entertaining."

Armand instinctually turns his head towards you. The passive aggressive response he was ready to offer you feels a lot less significant now. You're close, closer than he's used to you being. Maybe there is something entertaining about this.

"It's inconceivable for this many things to be happening on the same street." The words leave him much slower than he meant for them to.

You don't notice his lap, your gaze briefly shifting away from him and onto the screen. "I'm sorry, supernatural being, are the events taking place on Wisteria Lane inconceivable to you?"

It's a relatively fair point, but he has no interest in letting you know that. "But it's not about the supernatural, it's about reality."

His phrasing seems to stand out to you. Instead of attempting to counter his response, you tilt your head slightly before relaxing against the couch's cushioning.

"I don't know," you whisper, the words soft in their distance. You ease further, your head shifting towards him until your temple is resting against his shoulder. The warmth of your skin burns through the thin layer of fabric dividing the two of you. He cannot bring himself to move. "You seem real to me."

He wouldn't put it past you to be able to speak him into existence. Armand turns his hand over carefully, his fingers intertwining themselves with yours.

----

chat does hand holding warrant a content warning

[feraltvman]

I̡̧̗̣͉̜͈̤̤̗̔͒ͫ͒ͥ͐̈̕͡͠ͅ Ẅ̵̧̥̯̠̱̣̰͎̥͉͋̃̀ͦ̉ͤͦ́̓́̿̋̄̚͞Í̻͉L̀L̖ Ļ̥̙̱̪̪̻̯̩͙͚̳̤̠͚̐ͮͫ̎̄ͥͧ̀͊̐͋͌̏ͯͭ̍̕̚̚̚͝I̸̡̛̳̖͖̜̣̻̲̗͍̰̯̫̫ͧͨͮ͋̂̎ͨ̋ͥ̈́ͫ͊͛̔ͮͤͬͣͩ͐̕͟͜͞V̯̏ͬĘ̴̵̛̪̻̙̞͈͓̯͙͍̤͈̫̊ͦͧ̈̆ͤ͑͐͒̒̕̚͞ͅ

TW: Body Horror/Mutation/Blood (black and white but still)/ Dismemberment/ Showing Bones/ Showing Organ/ Lots of eyes/ Lots of teeth

✨I was talking to @4thwallbreakerdraws2 about a WHAT IF- RTV and Cheri fused together? It was her idea x3 talking about why it would happen, what would take place....

I decided to draw a comic about it and RTV getting horribly mangled alive!!!

The context would be that- Broken Star is dead... RTV killed him off in the AU Battle somehow and without Star there, Làcheria could summon themselves down to the mortal planes bc of how part of their body was enhabiting Star's arms n' all that jaz.

It starts off with Cheri trying to get RTV to sign his body rights over to them, for the purpose of killing him without interference.... But eventually has enough of him and tries to kill him anyways

This bond: is pretty much world ending tbh- because once its over Cheri makes RTVs life a living hell

Hes never allowed to sleep until his body passes out from exhaustion bc Cheri will belt songs at the top of their lungs or even harm him to keep him awake just so he'll go into a week long Sleep Coma

Cheri will drool on him 24/7

Not allow him to use his new powers

Not allow him to fix the mangled body parts

Not allow him to do something as simple as put on clothes xD if he manages too- the demon will rip the clothes to shreds. They are keeping his mangled beat the fuck up ugly body on full display bc they know he hates it.

Cheri is torturing him daily and will never stop. They hate him x) and it drives RTV to his last breaking point.

Nobody survives in this world and Cheri is proud of themselves bc .... 🖕you RTV

Anyways theres this weird red dot on my forehead. I should probably get it checked out

*distant gun clicking

[psilliguykai]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR JASH !!!

No clue if this is any good lol - I started this evening and it’s midnight now, so it was admittedly a tad rushed, but I really wanted to get something out there for this :]

I know you’ll almost certainly never see this, and it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever bring myself to post it on the evil bird site in which you reside [/vsilly], but thank you Mr. Jash for all you’ve done for me and the rest of the community. Your music means so much to me and so many other people, and I know it’s helped me at least work through my own issues ^^ plus, massive inspiration and motivation for me to get back into art [and learn to draw people, which I’ve only done and started enjoying because of your music] !!

A little more yapping + original image/context under the cut!

Had a lot of fun with the colors and textures on this one. Again no idea if it turned out well [and I am fairly certain the anatomy is a little fucked lol] but it was super fun to work on :D

The text in the background is simplified Mandarin Chinese [Hanzi]. Literally all it says is “happy birthday to you!” Over and over lol. No big meaning or anything, just a fun visual feature :]

This drawing is actually based on the image below (hence Jouse, which I was very happy to finally have the chance to draw, as well as the weird cake lol). I tried so damn hard to find the original image and I couldn’t, so I’m using a meme-ified version @rinrin-5409 sent me this morning. Thanks Rin! :3

[galaxymagitech]

Guessing What Me From the Past Was Thinking (1/?)

Sometimes I go through my photos and find screenshots of random comic panels. And then I have to play Guess Why I Screenshotted That One. Is it funny? Fascinating? Trivia? Alluding to something I don’t know? Something I decided I wanted to draw? Highly disturbing? Who knows! My past self is a mystery.

Some highlights:

She’s just pretty. I think I wanted to draw this panel.

Dick is insane. This is proof of his insanity.

I’m not entirely sure why I have this screenshot. I guess I wanted to remember this random fact? Or maybe I was just confused about the huge security violation it would be for the GCPD to use a private lab.

I think at the time I thought this was a refreshing example of a villain who didn’t actually give the “join me” pitch. But Jason has given that pitch so many times, especially to his siblings. So this just kind of comes off as ironic. Or I guess it displays how much he cares about working with his family that he repeatedly does this, even after acknowledging its stupidity.

Ooh, trippy dream/hallucination sequence! I don’t remember which one. But I do remember desperately wanting to eat at this restaurant but being extremely confused as to how latkes were Irish.

Ah, Tim and Dick characteracterization fodder. Two for the price of one! Proof that Tim genuinely wasn’t planning on staying in the hero life and evidence that Dick is way more like Bruce than he wants to be.

I don’t know. I genuinely don’t know. Maybe I found it funny?

And here we have exhibit A: Dick’s guilt complex!

I’m guessing this is Dick, but I have no clue what comic it’s from or what the context is. Oh well! Wait—maybe it’s from the arc with Lui? Not sure. But I definitely dont know why I took the picture.

Also really don’t know why I took a screenshot of this one. Maybe I liked Tim’s internal narration?

[changingplumbob]

I had originally planned to forward one of the love chains today but my energy hit zero quickly. I appreciate them a lot 💓 and I'm hoping to pass it on in the next few days.

Today, much travel was happening. I bought some data for my phone so I could distract myself but in the end I got tired so fast I couldn't even add anything to my SBL note page because my brain was drawing a blank. For context, I can generally deal with going out for a few hours a couple of times a week but it does take me a day to recover from that, thanks chronic fatigue. Today I was out for six hours in one go with lots of walking.

I'm utterly exhausted right now. I don't know if I'll be up to writing tomorrow, I don't even know if I'll be up to playing any sims tomorrow. So if I'm quiet over the next few days, it's not you, I'm not mad, I'm simply recovering. Likewise if I normally comment or normally do longer comments I'm sorry but it probably won't happen, and my replies to comments may sound like I lost track of what I was saying halfway through. Thank you for helping me create this safe space where I can recuperate without judgement. Since I know some of you have anxiety worse than I did I just wanted to assure you any radio silence from me is purely me being tired.

[ladykatibeth]

In a lot of stories (especially older ones that Nosferatu 2024 draws from) the leading woman is the passive recipient of the story, things happen to her, rather than as a result of her actions. The leading man, in contrast, is the active force—his decisions push the narrative forward.

The leading woman is also often the source of driving motivation to continue (maybe to keep her safe, or maybe because she’s his emotional center) for the man, but not a partner.

Part of what compels me in Nosferatu is the flip of this dynamic gender wise. Ellen’s decision to call out to any entity in her loneliness is what ultimately sets the plot into motion. Her decision to marry Thomas is what drives the count to lure Thomas to his castle and then reap havoc in Germany. Not giving into Orlok’s demands leads to death, and her decision to sacrifice herself is what saves everyone. She has more power of force in the narrative than any other character.

Even her failing at her goal is active. She puts her all into convincing Thomas to stay. After not hearing from him for a while she has to stop herself from storming into the solicitors office to demand information. When she chooses not to act it’s not a given, it’s explicitly a choice. She could act.

Thomas fairly gets called pathetic and useless (with affection), because he’s the passive character the story happens to. There is a choice that Thomas makes which impacts the story which is leaving for Orlok’s castle, but even that’s somewhat coerced because his employment might be on the line if he refused. Still that wasn’t the only way Orlok could have gotten him there (a more direct kidnapping by Knock for instance).

Other than that, the impact of Thomas’s decisions are all tied up in Ellen’s previous action. Him marrying her only creates the plot’s conflict because she summoned a vampire. Also he goes in with zero knowledge of this risk, unlike Ellen. Thomas goes into Orlok’s castle completely unaware of any of the context Ellen would have for why he’s being psychologically tormented. He fails to kill the monster and ends up in more peril.

He escapes and returns but is so completely wiped out he can’t really do much for a few days after. Him being alive isn’t a detriment to Orlok’s plan or something Orlok’s plan hinges on. I don’t even think the contract actually did anything except give Orlok manipulation fuel.

He’s essentially a chip that Orlok uses against Ellen in the third act. Whatever choices he makes don’t make a difference, and the narrative mostly acts upon him, rather than his action creating the narrative. He’s a passive (though not undynamic) character.

He is Ellen’s motivation though. Ellen loves him so she marries him despite the risk. Ellen sacrifices herself to keep him safe. He is her emotional center, the person who helped keep the darkness at bay, he’s her emotional support while she fights against the antagonist, and he’s the comforting presence as she passes on. She’s the protagonist, and ultimately the hero.