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[say-hwaet]

That's the Way it Is

Chapter: Lovers of Fire and Moonshine, Part II Previous Chapter: Nine Next Chapter: Eleven Summary: Arthur deals with the aftermath of your surprising kiss, remembering the "quiet time" he had with Lenny, and getting an earful of advice from Hosea… Warnings: Language, Violence, Drinking Word Count: ~8,100

Now that your back is turned, Arthur lets himself lift his eyes and watch you go. Your skirt is muddied and wet from traipsing in the water, your hair a mess from being unconscious on the ground. For a moment, he had thought that was it. Your headache so great, you died. He finished off the remaining raiders to hurry to your side, patting your face and calling your name, until you woke up.

And boy, what a surprise it was, when you slipped your hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

He had thought that you had come to your senses. That the light went on in your mind and you were finally remembering. Why else would you kiss him after a battle? It had to be that you recognized him. Remember him as your husband.

But then you had to go on and mention it was because of the memory you woke up from. The kiss you gave him on that cliff after he saved you from a near-death experience.

He lied to you when you asked if he remembered what it was, what he was going to say all those years ago.

But what was he to do? Just come out and say, “I was gonna tell you that I had a woman and kid waitin’ for me. It weren’t right to kiss you back.” Hm? Was he?

No. No, he was not about to do that.

And here he is again, back to where he started. Caught in between truth and lie. And letting you go when he wants you to stay.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Arthur! You ride with me.”

Arthur doesn’t feel like riding with Dutch. He would much rather be by himself right now. Just find a secluded spot, take out his journal, and write the things that he wishes he should have done or said in real life before the moment expired.

The taste of you still lingers on his lips. Mint leaves and canned strawberries. Two things that you’ve always preferred over anything else, but you are oblivious. He knows you more than you know yourself.

And that’s his trouble.

He whistles for Montana, who comes trotting over as Dutch mounts The Count. And they ride off, going off the road.

“Have a bit of trouble back there, Arthur?”

This is quite the shift from singing praises just a moment ago. Arthur watches Dutch as he rides beside him with a suspicious gaze. “What you mean?”

Dutch wears a soft grin, his eyelids soft as he lifts his chin. “It just seemed like you took your time taking care of those men.”

“We handled it just fine, Dutch. Just some raiders.”

“Oh? Not Braithewaites?”

“No, looks like the raiders were buyin’ it from ‘em.”

Dutch rolls his shoulders as they cross a small body of water. “Well, I guess if Archibald didn’t ask too many questions about it, neither should we. These folks are just backward hicks from the middle of nowhere, they’re fools to deputize us.”

“You seem to be enjoyin’ it.”

Dutch senses the dig and scoffs. “Well, Arthur, I ain’t the one that’s really enjoyin’ themselves, am I? Seems like you’ve been gettin’ a bit too comfortable around these parts.”

Arthur's jaw tightens, his grip on the reins growing firmer. Dutch always had a way with words, poking where it hurt the most. But if he isn’t about to let him have his way this time. “I don’t like bein’ here any more than you do.”

“That isn’t what I mean. Ain’t nobody like it here.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “What’re you talkin’ about, then?”

“Kit.”

Arthur sighs, rolling his eyes. “I already told you, Dutch, I ain’t—”

Dutch cuts him off, speaking in an accusatory tone. “I see you watchin’ her, followin’ her, you sure she isn’t distractin’ you? Maybe if she wasn’t over there, you would have handled the raiders much more easily.”

Arthur doesn’t acknowledge that accusation. “You just said she did a good job. You asked her to come along.”

“Yes, I did. Might as well use her while she’s here, right?”

Arthur doesn’t appreciate that word. Use. Like as if you were disposable, but he doesn’t acknowledge that, either. “She needs to recover, she—she ain’t ready.”

“And you get to make that call? Do you own her or somethin’, Arthur?”

Arthur furrows his brow. “Of course not.”

“Good. ‘Cause these two families, I think we can play both sides, and we are going to need everyone to do their part. Kitka, especially.”

But we can’t forget the favorite. “Micah, too?”

Dutch gives Arthur a sideways glance. “Yes, including Micah. You know as well as I do, that he ain’t the last to step up.”

He ain’t the first, neither , Arthur thinks. But he isn’t about to say that out loud.

***

“They got Micah!”

“Who’s got him?!”

“The Sheriff in Strawberry…!”

Arthur stands by Dutch. He was just in the middle of receiving another lecture about bucking up and having the leader’s back when the young man came riding up into camp. They had just found Horseshoe Overlook, and these past several days have been sluggish. Quiet, yes, but also sluggish.

“There’s talkin’ of hangin’ him!” Lenny adds, his eyes white with fear and worry.

Arthur can’t hide the smile on his face. “Here’s hopin’.”

And Dutch doesn’t hesitate to reprove him. “Arthur! If you were in the same situation, he’d go rescue you.”

“I doubt that.”

For the last six months, Micah has been all talk and flattery. Sure, he knows how to use a gun and can be a great ally when it suits him, but everything else about him just spews sick and twisted. Maybe he stumbled upon the gang too early, and bypassed the O’Driscolls, as they seem to be a better match made in hell.

“Arthur,” Dutch says, gesturing to Montana. “Go take Lenny into town, get him a drink, and then go get Micah.” And after a moment, Dutch rests a hand on his shoulder. “You could probably use one too, for…you know…”

Yes, he does know, every day without your presence is a reminder of what he failed to do.

He doesn’t say anything more, but motions for Lenny to follow. He hoists himself upon Montana and they both ride towards Valentine.

Lenny watches Arthur closely, everyone has been careful around him since the events in Blackwater. The cold from Colter didn’t help things either, and Arthur doesn’t doubt that everyone would rather soon forget about all of it.

But he can’t.

“You doin’ okay, Arthur?”

Him? Arthur isn’t blind to the fact that Lenny was sweet on Jenny. Sure, they never went beyond the small flirtation, but it really could have been something. You kept telling Arthur that you wanted to help them get together.

“I want them to have what we have,” you said, your whispered breath tickling his skin.

Arthur’s grip tightens on the reins, his chin tucked into his jacket.

“Arthur?” Lenny asks.

“I’m fine, Lenny.” He looks ahead as they reach the main road. “Let’s just…get you a drink. You can calm your nerves a bit, don’t think about Micah right now.”

Lenny shakes his head. “Micah, I swear, he was lookin’ for trouble.”

As they trot into the muddy streets of Valentine, the town buzzes with the usual chatter and clatter. The sky, a palette of dusky pinks and deep blues, stretches overhead, giving off a sense of tranquility that seems almost contradictory to Arthur’s stormy heart. He hitches Montana outside Smithfield's Saloon and waits for Lenny to follow.

They both walk up the steps and Arthur swings the saloon doors open, taking in the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey, and hearing the piano play a bouncy tune. Some working women look him up and down, nearly licking their lips, but he doesn’t even glance their way. His heart's too wrapped up in thoughts of you, as if you were a ghost haunting every corner of his vision. After all, you’d been haunting him in the winds of Colter for the past couple of weeks. 

Inside, the wooden floor creaks under their heavy boots, and the barkeeper, a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and a gruff voice, nods at them. “What can I get you, folks?”

Arthur leans on the counter and Lenny mirrors his movements. “A couple of beers, please.”

The bartender nods and gets right to it.

“Just one drink, right, Arthur?”

Arthur nods absentmindedly, his mind going elsewhere. Everything still feels fresh in his mind and he worries that he will never be free of it. Free from loving only long enough to feel pain.

Mary.

Eliza.

Now you.

And each time, aside from Mary, it was kept a secret. He felt that maybe, if no one knew about it, it couldn’t be used against you both. No one could threaten to destroy it, or harm you. It was the mere association with Arthur that got Eliza killed, even in her cabin in the middle of nowhere. And his distance couldn’t protect her. Or his son. 

And his closeness couldn’t protect you.

But then he saw you. Right there in the open street, just after scratching his face.

And you couldn’t recognize him.

Was it some kind of sick joke? Just someone pretending to be you? No, not when you sounded like that, looked like that, felt like that. He’d know you like he’d know his own heartbeat, irregular as it sometimes is. It felt like the world slipped sideways, like one of those dreams where you can’t quite grasp what’s real and what’s not. But the pain in his chest was real enough, sharp and piercing. And it tore him in pieces when he had to bring himself to walk away.

The large glass of beer slides into Arthur’s arm as it rests on the counter, startling him from his thoughts.

Lenny has already picked up his and lifts it towards Arthur. “Cheers, Arthur!”

Arthur forces a smile and they clink glasses before he brings it to his lips and drinks.

And drinks.

And drinks.

***

“LENNNNAYYYYY!!!!”

Arthur struggles to find his footing as he wanders through the saloon. For some damned reason, he has lost track of his pal, his comrade, and no matter how many times he calls his name, that damned boy won’t answer.

Hell.

The world seems to spin a little, his vision distorted by colors of gold and purple, he feels warm and fuzzy, like a peach.

Arthur likes peaches. They kinda remind him of—

He hears an odd sound as he walks up the stairs, his large hand trying to grip onto the railing. Reaching the top and walking the balcony, he sees a crazy young man trying to balance a glass on his head.

Ynnel?? Wait, no. Lenny! It’s Lenny!

“Lenny, mah boah…!!!”

Arthur tries to quicken his steps, nearly shoving a woman who gasps at his forwardness, though it almost appears like it isn’t unwarranted.

But, of course, Arthur could care less.

He reaches the boy and takes hold of the railing. “What. Are. You. Doin’?”

Lenny’s cheeks are ruddy, a grin on his face. “I don’t—” He fumbles with the glass and it falls off of his head onto any innocent folks down below. Lenny lets out a hiccupped chortle, looking at Arthur with the goofiest face he has ever seen.

Somehow, there is another beer in Arthur’s hand. Well, he isn’t about to complain. He brings it to his lips and lets the liquid sour down his throat, it filling his belly with a sloshing sound that is almost as sickening as it is satisfying. He smacks his lips, lets out a deep sigh, and leans over the railing.

Lenny leans as well, swaying from side to side as though he were dancing. This is hilarious, and Arthur cackles loudly.

“Well, why ain’t you never married?” Lenny asks suddenly.

And Arthur, drunken Arthur, is quickly reminded of his failed attempts at marriage and the one success he managed. He isn’t about to tell Lenny that he is, in fact, married. The memory has begun to be buried. Buried deep, too deep, and tangled up in a mess of sorrow and lost dreams. He shakes his head instead, taking another swig from the bottle that warms his insides but does little to chase away the chill of his truths. “I reckon marriage ain’t for everyone,” he slurs.

“Just say no one would have ya, Arthur! Be honest with yourself…!” Lenny laughs and takes another drink.

Arthur finds it comical. Hysterical. If only he could have been as successful as an outlaw just as successful he was in keeping his marriage a secret, he’d be better off. He wouldn’t be here, drunk as a skunk, pining for a woman who acts like he is a complete stranger.

Well, If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

So he picks up another bottle and drinks.

And drinks.

And drinks.

***

“Eugh…” Arthur feels as though his head is going to explode. Every heartbeat sends a throbbing pulse through his skull, his stomach twisting and turning. He brings a hand to rub the ache behind his eyes, the dull throbbing piercing through his irises. 

He did it. He got drunk. Severely drunk.

He rolls onto his side, opening his eyes to the brightness of day. “You moron, Morgan,” he groans. And he struggles to get up. If he thought lying down was awful, standing up is worse. He feels it in his stomach and before he can get the chance, he keels over and vomits.

And as he bends over, he sees a fleck of gold come out from under his shirt and it hangs in front of him.

He wipes his mouth, wishing he had some water to wash it down with, but his eyes are drawn to the gold chain…and what it holds. 

His heart sinks and he takes between his fingers the ring that he had put on that chain just weeks ago.

He didn’t want it to be on his finger. Not when it was too risky. People wouldn’t pay any mind to you if you were wearing one, it’s your mother’s, but him? Dutch and the rest of them would surely figure it out.

He was planning on putting it on, as soon as he met up with you again. With only your few possessions and love for each other, that was going to be your lives from then on.

He looks at the ring for a bit longer, then slips the chain back under his shirt, hiding it close to his heart where it belongs. The weight of the gold feels heavy against his chest, a constant reminder of what he’s lost—and what secrets he must keep even from those closest to him.

Arthur staggers to his feet, steadying himself against the rough bark of a nearby tree, and looks out onto the horizon.

That was you. He knows it deep in his soul, and far be it from him to let you be lost to him ever again.

Turning, carefully, he makes his way back to Valentine, where Montana waits for him.

He’s got a lot of ground to cover.

***

“Arthur!” Hosea sees him coming and waves him over as he stands by the wagon full of moonshine. It has been a couple of days since the destruction of the stills, and there’s no doubt in Arthur’s mind that Hosea has an idea.

Arthur salutes the man, speaking in a low tone. “Hosea…”

Hosea’s smile doesn’t falter and he turns to gesture to the wagon behind him. The bottles glisten as they catch the light that peaks through the trees, giving off the illusion that the cargo is more precious than it ought to be. “What do you think?”

Arthur manages a smirk and chuckles softly at his surrogate father’s excitement. “I think you got a lotta moonshine on your hands.”

“Oh yes, we do. And I’ve been coming up with something. A plan!” Hosea then rests a hand on the side of the wagon and looks back at Arthur, a certain gleam in his eye.  “For both of you.”

“Both of who?” Arthur blinks. 

And Hosea, good ol’ cunning Hosea, casually shrugs and lifts his eyes upward. “Oh, I don’t know, someone with a knack for performances.”

And then Arthur understands. He means you. Of course, it would be you. But Arthur has yet to tell him about what happened back at the still. Against the wall of a shanty. He takes a deep breath and exhales, speaking quieter and taking another step toward him. “Hosea…”

He must see it in Arthur’s face, for he lowers his hand and raises his brow in concern. “What’s it, Arthur?”

“Somethin’ happened…”

Hosea searches his son’s face. “What? What’s wrong?”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, recalling the feeling of your hand there, and the pressure you applied to bring him close. “She kissed me, Hosea.”

It takes but only a moment for it to register, for his eyes brighten and his smile returns. “Does that mean she…?”

Arthur shakes his head, quickly dispelling any hope that Hosea just had. “No. She doesn’t know.”

But this will not do. Hosea’s brow lowers and his gaze intensifies as he crosses his arms. “Arthur, you need to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know why I can’t.”

Hosea clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I really don’t. It seems that you are making something out of nothing.”

But he does have cause. He knows he does. Hosea hasn’t seen it happen. He doesn’t see how the light goes out of your eyes, how your face contorts in pain. How tense you become. He takes another step toward Hosea. “This last spell she had, this last one knocked her out for a few minutes.”

“Okay? Was she in any danger?” Hosea’s tone indicates he’s hardly bothered by it, as though Arthur is just making up another excuse. Maybe he overestimates your resiliency. Maybe Hosea has too high of expectations for you. Or maybe he’s questioning Arthur’s own capabilities? 

Well, he wants to reassure Hosea that he protected her this time. “I kept her safe.”

Hosea swings an arm in Arthur’s direction. “Well, there you go, then.”

He baited him, and he felt for it. Hosea has always been like that. A sly fox, leading the conversation even when you might think it was your idea and by your lead all along. “Hosea—”

Hosea cuts him off, pointing a finger in his direction. “Maybe if you tell her, you can save her from any pain. If only you’d just spare her the trouble of figuring it out on her own!”

Arthur shakes his head. “It ain’t that simple.”

But Hosea is persistent, nodding his head and being more assertive in his tone. “It is. Tell her.”

Arthur feels the tightness in his chest, an aching weight on his shoulders that makes them droop. He lowers his head, most of his face being shielded by his hat. “I can’t.”

There is a pause, with nothing but the sound of birds warbling their afternoon songs. The high-pitched sound of bugs could almost make the earth vibrate. But Arthur wouldn’t notice. He feels like he is already sinking. Hosea exhales and runs a hand over his face. “Arthur, you’re just as stubborn as they come.” He clicks his tongue and rests his hand on his hip. “Why won’t you tell her?”

Arthur speaks it so softly, Hosea can barely hear it. “I can’t lose her again.”

But it reaches his ears and, dissatisfied, he shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hosea, imagine if she did know. If she did remember that somethin’ happened between us.” He watches for Hosea’s reaction to those words. They both know the truth, and share suspicions of what happened in Blackwater. So much has happened, and things are far from over. You are still in danger, regardless of what you know and don’t know. Arthur stands beside Hosea now at the wagon and leans his body into it. He looks around them, letting his eyes follow the dirt path that leads to the camp. He thinks about everyone there. The lives that rely on him. The people he cares about.  “Things are changin’, times are changin’. Our lives ain’t the same since Blackwater. Anythin’ could happen. Pinkertons. The law. Even whatever this...” He gestures to himself, indicating his own giants he wrestles with. “…this thing is. If I just let things go, if I just let things be, then—”

Hosea places a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, trying to speak the truth in a way so Arthur can hear him. “This isn’t about being some martyr to lost love, Arthur. You won’t be the only one suffering.”

But Arthur doesn’t care about himself. He has a purpose for burying his pain. “You’re wrong. She won’t be sufferin’.”

Hosea removes his hand, briefly throwing it in the air before clapping his leg in frustration. “She already is suffering! You don’t see the agony in her face? She knows! Deep down she knows, and wants to remember! She knows something is going on and we’re not telling her!” He points at Arthur again. “You’re not telling her!” His raised voice echoes into the trees and they both breathe sharply. If they can manage anything right now, it is to be discreet. Hosea lowers his head, letting out a sigh slowly. “What would you rather have? You tell her now and get it out in the open, or she finds out after months of headaches to only wonder why you never told her?”

That is an interesting question. What would he rather have? If he could tell her now, how would he do it? What would he say? Whatever he chooses, it can’t be like this. “Times not right, we’re still settlin’ into camp—”

Hosea interjects with a harsh truth, his voice calm, but sharp. “Arthur, there comes a time when you stop making excuses and just do it.”

And suddenly, Arthur hears a soft voice, pouring out like honey, making his hairs stand on end. “Do what?”

Arthur and Hosea quickly turn to see you, in your dark pants and oriole-feathered hat, watching them curiously. Arthur had forgotten that Hosea called you here and he feels the color run from his face. Did you hear all of that? You don’t look like you have, but stealth and masking are your strong suits. You could have been right behind him and he wouldn’t have noticed. 

Hosea grins a toothy smile and claps Arthur’s shoulder. “Just—playing dress up!” He gestures to the stunned outlaw, giving him a gentle shake.  “Arthur, here, see, doesn’t like to pretend…” There is a subtle dig with the word pretend , but Arthur pretends to not notice.

You arch your perfectly shaped brow and give them both a playful smirk. “He doesn’t?” You can't help but tease, almost as if you know exactly what Arthur's response will be.

And Arthur answers flatly. “No, I don’t.”

You continue to walk over to them, smiling and still barefooted. “What are we dressing up for?”

Hosea lets out a warm chuckle and spreads his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “I love your attitude, young lady! I knew that I felt the ache of your absence for a lot of reasons!”

You slow your pace and come to a halt beside Hosea, placing a hand on your hip in a gesture of casual confidence. Arthur's eyes immediately drift towards the curve of your body, tracing the alluring silhouette created by your tight-fitting jeans. The cotton hugs your curves in all the right places, accentuating your feminine figure and drawing his attention. A faint smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he takes in the sight before him, though it quickly disappears when your hazel eyes glance in his direction before addressing Hosea. “What, you had no one else to be the entertainment around here?”

“Of course not, but you could barely juggle to save your life.”

You laugh. “I know.” And you switch to a calm demeanor, speaking almost in a strictly business sort of way. “What are we doing?”

And so, without no further delay, Hosea begins to debrief you both on his plan. “Advertising, my dear! Advertising!” He gestures to the wagon of moonshine. “We’re going to waltz right up to the Braithewaites and see if we can’t be rewarded for doing the neighborly thing of returning it to them. What do you say?”

You lift a brow and suppress a chortle. “We’re dressing up for that?”

“Maybe not this, necessarily, but we are coming before southern aristocracy!”

You look down at your pants, a pensive look on your face. “Well, I suppose I can change into a nice skirt…”

“That’s my girl! Go on and change, and meet us back here.”

“Alright.” And with that, you turn to walk away. 

Once you’re out of earshot, Hosea speaks, but still with his voice lowered. “You owe me for this, Arthur.”

“Thank you, Hosea,” Arthur exhales. 

But his gratitude nearly diminishes when he feels Hosea’s index finger in his chest, it almost feeling like a tip of a blade. “And you will tell her.”

Arthur swallows. “Once I—once I can figure out what to say.”

Hosea looks almost irritated, like a parent too tired to continue disciplining his delinquent child. “I know words don’t always come naturally for you, Arthur, but with her, it never was difficult.”

Arthur lowers his head. Hosea is right. You and him used to talk often and willingly, but you weren’t under such strain. He wasn’t fighting his own fears and reservations in an effort to protect you. He speaks quietly, his eyes not lifting once to look up. “Not anymore.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Hosea’s question nearly catches Arthur off guard. He was expecting some empathy, but it is clear that Hosea isn’t having it this time. ”Remember what I told you.”

Arthur remembers, it’s been playing in the back of his mind since their conversation at Emerald Ranch. To leave; to build a life for himself and get you out. “I know.”

“I meant it! And you’re right, things are changing; things are taking a turn for the worse. I’ve been telling Abigail the same thing—”

This is surprising. “Abigail?”

“Yes! You think I want to see her and her son killed? For some dreams that don’t ever seem to be realized? She needs to think about her son. Whether or not John decides to join them is his choice. Maybe…maybe if they leave that might motivate him as well. For now, my concern is for them.”

“What about everyone else?”

“They are old enough to make their own choices. But Abigail is scared. Aside from you, and Kit, she’s got no one really to help her. I know how you feel about John, I know you have some anger towards him. You were young once. You didn’t always make the right choices.” And after a moment of thought, Hosea decides to add, “Mary was one of those choices.”

Arthur feels himself bristle at this. He knows he’s made mistakes, but it doesn’t help any to bring them up. “What, you think I should have stayed with her?”

“Of course not! I just wish you didn’t have to go through that in the first place.”

There is a brief pause, filled with unspoken thoughts. “Did you always think that Kit and I would end up together?”

Hosea tilts his head and shakes it slowly. “Didn’t expect it at all, doesn’t mean that I never hoped for it. It’s just that you were the loner type for quite a while.”

He was. But he had a reason. When he found the two crosses that marked the graves of his woman and child, he didn’t really feel like living. “I guess…things don’t always happen as you predicted them to.”

“No, they certainly don’t,” Hosea responds with conviction, his sharp tone chastising Arthur once again. “You hit the nail on the head, Arthur,” he continues, driving his point home. "Which is why you need to gather the courage you're always using in those gunfights." There is a brief pause as Hosea studies Arthur's face, searching for any sign of understanding or compliance. "I mean it," he adds firmly.

Finally, after a moment of hesitation, Arthur nods in agreement. “Alright.”

There is movement at the corner of Arthur’s eye and he turns to see you return. You are wearing a blue pinstripe skirt that goes nicely with the white button-up and dark vest you were already wearing. And it doesn’t hurt your figure, either. Anything you wear, even the simplest of garbs, makes Arthur feel weak in the knees.

Hosea resumes his energetic persona, greeting you with great elation. “Ah, look! Perfect!”

You bashfully lower your gaze, brushing off invisible dirt from your skirt. “I know it’s not that…fancy, Hosea…”

But Hosea just shakes his head dismissively. “We’re not looking for fancy, we’re looking for clean and neat! And maybe then they won’t think we’re the scum at the bottom of their shoe.” He lets out a short laugh and turns to face the wagon. “Alright, let’s get on this wagon. Arthur, you drive.”

“You Shoah?” Arthur asks.

“Of course! And the lady can sit up there with you. I’ll sit in the back.” Hosea replies, a warm smile spreading across his wrinkled face.

You come closer, your brow lifted in concern and empathy as your voice conveys great selflessness. “Oh, Hosea, the back can be so uncomfortable. Please, let me—”

But Hosea interrupts with a dismissive wave of his hand before lifting himself to the back of the wagon with a grunt. “No, don’t you worry about me,” he insists. “I’m going to go ahead and sit back here and regale you all with what I've learned about these Braithewaites…” He lets out a mischievous chuckle, his eyes sparkling with ideas not fully spun yet.

Arthur, after hesitating, goes over to help you up onto the wagon. Offering a hand, you look into his eyes and take it. A sense of relief washes over him, glad that you aren’t rejecting his aid. He feels the softness of your hand in his, and resists the temptation to hold onto it just a little while longer. 

Climbing onto the seat, you settle next to Arthur, the wood and leather creaking under your combined weight. With a gentle flick of the reins, the wagon begins to roll forward, the wheels carving tracks into the soft mud of the trail. You pull your skirt neatly around your knees and look ahead, not starting any conversation. He decides to focus on the road, listening to the gentle clicking of the moonshine bottles, careful not to drive too fast, or too slow.

You speak suddenly, almost making Arthur jump in his seat. “So, Hosea, you were saying?”

Hosea clears his throat. “Well, I mentioned the horses to Dutch, and he is going to send John to look into it…In the meantime, we will make a formal introduction and get into their good graces so we can play both sides…All I keep hearing is that they hate each other so much they can’t see past it.”

Arthur nods. The past three days he’s been busy keeping up with two of them in particular, a Braithewaite girl and a Gray boy. Two young lovers, forbidden from one another, like a watered-down version of Romeo and Juliet. He can empathize with their plight, to a degree, given the secrecy and keeping their heads down, which is probably why he’s been willing to help them. The fools.

It seems that fate always has a stick where the sun doesn’t shine, for it always finds a way to prick at Arthur where it hurts the most.

Hosea continues on thoughtfully. “I’m sure there’s money in all this somewhere, if we can only get in the middle of it.”

***

Well, Master Braithewaite turned out to be Mrs. Catherine Braithewaite. A crotchety old woman with a southern drawl that exudes bitter molasses. With your sweet-appearing demeanor and Hosea’s quick tongue, you all managed to drive away with some cash and the moonshine. Upon her order, Arthur is to drive the wagon to Rhodes, to deliver the moonshine to the saloon and give it away. That’s right, for free.

Arthur sees Rhodes in the distance, and his thoughts are interrupted by Hosea’s mischievous chuckle. Arthur looks briefly over his shoulder, to see Hosea pulling something out of a canvas sack.

It is an old hat.

“Well, my dear, this is where we put those skills of yours to use.” And he holds the hat out to you. “You are going to be my poor stepchild, who owes me a great debt after gambling our family fortune.”

Arthur looks over at you to see your eyes sparkle, taking the hat and replacing the one on your head with it.

“And Arthur—”

Arthur shakes his head quickly. “No, not me.”

“You are just going to be the mute driver. Killed your mother for making you angry. You aren’t good for much else but driving the wagon.”

Arthur hears you chuckle and just as he looks back at you, you straighten up and bite your lower lip. The corners of your mouth turn up ever so slightly, betraying the hint of a smile as you adjust the hat on your head. The ruse is simple, pitiable yet convincing. Arthur can see by the look in your eyes that you already know how to play the part; life itself being an extended performance.

You look down at your hands, your voice soft but full of energy. “I can already imagine them being stained with cards. Chips flying everywhere as I flip a table in anguish.”

Arthur snorts, shaking his head. “You sure do have a wild imagination, Kit." His voice carries a mix of amusement and admiration, the roughness softened momentarily by the gentle tease. "Just make sure you don't actually start throwin' things around in there."

And you reply with a little quip of your own. “Just don’t give me any dynamite, and we will be just fine.”

As the wagon rolls down the dusty road to Rhodes, the tension in the air shifts subtly. And Arthur knows that he will have to remain silent until they are out of town again. He’s nearly forgotten about the badge on his shirt, and quickly takes it off and tucks it in his satchel before they pass the first building that leads into town.

Turning down the street, he pulls up behind the saloon.

“Show time,” Hosea whispers, and gets off the wagon. “Why, Fatima! You best put your back into it today and bring that case with you!” he barks at you, already playing the evil stepfather role quite well.

Arthur watches you, as you step down from the wagon with a practiced slump, your shoulders rounded and head bowed, embodying the downtrodden, penniless stepdaughter to perfection. Arthur’s eyes scan the bustling streets of Rhodes, taking in the townsfolk who pause to watch the new arrivals with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

You lift the heavy crate with a surprising ease, and Arthur lifts his brow. Your eyes lift to meet his and you put on a grin before switching it to a sour expression as she speaks noticeably slower to him. “Now, you stay there, Fenton! Don’t you leave this here spot until we come right back!”

He merely grumbles. And you continue with your task of lifting the crate and following Hosea.

Arthur continues to watch you two as you approach the saloon from the back. Two men stand outside, looking bored out of their minds.

Hosea waves over to them. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Quite the town you got here, we just moved in from up north!”

The men just stare and as their eyes move to you, they seem to appear more interested. Arthur feels himself tense up, watching their gazes linger just a little too long for his liking.

One of the men replies, his eyes not leaving you. “Hey…”

Hosea continues. “Hello…! My name is Melvin, and this is my stepdaughter Fatima. Don’t pay her no mind, she’s quite worthless, bled my family dry. But if it weren’t for her mother, I’d have cast her out ages ago.” He barely pauses for breath, his fast tongue almost throwing the men off guard. “How’d you boys like a couple of bucks?” He pulls out some money from his pocket and holds out the cash to them. “We are into advertising, which is to ensure that people buy the correct things. And we would like to advertise to the good patrons in there.”

The men cast glances at each other, shifting on their feet with unease. “I don’t know…”

But then you step forward, putting on a pathetic expression, your words coming out soft and juvenile. “Please, sirs, we don’t mean no trouble. Just need to get this crate inside and talk to those fine folks in there. Mother’s been ailing something fierce and we need every penny we can scrape together.” You lower your face and even from where Arthur sits, he can se a solitary tear stream down your cheek. “It’s my fault we have no money.”

Your plea, layered with a thick layer of innocence and desperation, seems to soften one of the men. One scratches his head, looking from Hosea to you, his expression wavering. "Well, alright then.” And taking the money from Hosea, they both begin to walk away, eager to spend their new dollar. “Just quick-like, ya hear?"

Hosea nods enthusiastically, clapping the man on the shoulder. "You have my word, sir. Quick as a wink," he promises, ushering you forward with the crate.

Once the door closes behind you, the air is left with silence. Arthur shifts in the wagon seat, carefully watching for anything that might seem odd or unnerving. He may be playing as the dumb idiot, but he isn’t going to act like one, especially if the situation demands something strong and quick on the draw.

Several minutes go by before the sound of music erupts from within the saloon.

He looks up and through the window, he can see you behind the bar, pouring drinks for men that begin to surround you. You perform little tricks as you do so, from bending backward to pour into a glass, to flipping a bottle elegantly from hand to hand. Your movements are fluid, mesmerizing the crowd with every delicate yet confident motion. Amidst the chaos of laughter and drunken banter, Arthur can't help but marvel at how you can make even the mundane act of serving drinks look like a dance.

All he cares about is that you are safe, managing deftly within the lion’s den. The crowd’s attention clings to you, their eyes caught up in the contortion of your arms, the swift flick of your wrists. Even from a distance, Arthur watches anxiously, noting every man who steps too close or looks too long at you.

It seems as though time passes by quickly, for it is already dark and the noise inside turns into a raucous. He hears glasses break, whoops and hollers, but he still finds you behind the bar, serving drinks like there is no tomorrow.

That’s when he hears another wagon pull up.

Turning, he sees several men, in old army hats and getup, leap off the wagon and hurry into the saloon. He instantly recognizes them.

Lemoyne Raiders. And they are not happy.

He has to get you and Hosea out of there before everything goes to hell. Leaping down from the wagon, he reaches for his rifle. Already armed with his volcanic pistols, he makes quick steps as he enters the saloon from the back.

He hears a deep voice call out from within the saloon. “You!”

And Hosea’s meek reply. “Me?”

“You’re the bastards who stole the liquor we was gonna buy…!”

Hosea quickly tries to settle the situation. “Gentlemen, we are merely in advertising. Have a drink!”

But it doesn’t work. Just as Arthur reaches the back opening to the bar, he hears the first gunshot.

He sees you duck, a quick scream escaping your lips and he crouches down right beside you. “Kit…!” You look up to find him and he hands you one of his pistols. “I saw them ride up. They ain’t too happy with us.”

You almost chuckle at that, checking the ammo in his gun. “You think?”

A gunfight ensues, patrons and cowards alike trying to flee the drunken bash while the Lemoyne raiders try to act on their revenge. Arthur gets up long enough to take down several of them in a matter of seconds, a skill that he is known for.

Despite the ringing in his ears, Arthur moves like a shadow, his figure etched against the dim lantern lights that start to swing overhead.

He turns to see you take a shot, your hand, though unfamiliar with his weapon, aims with dead accuracy. Even so, he knows your movements by heart—every duck, weave, and shot feels like a dance you’ve both rehearsed for years.

“Sure wish I had my sawed off,” you grumble. “Would be nice to see this place burn a little.”

Your brazenness is coming out in bursts. Arthur always knew you to have a playful obsession with fire, you pyromaniac, but it seems to become more prominent as you are placed in more dangerous situations.

“There’ll be time for that,” Arthur comments, and he finds an opening to get out of cover. He leaps over the counter and turns back to you. “We gotta get out of here!”

You nod and reach for him. Taking your arms, he helps you over the counter. Then suddenly, your eyes look up behind him and you point. “Arthur…!”

Turning, he sees a Lemoyne raider descending down the stairs, taking aim at him. He quickly draws, shooting the man down and he falls over the banister.

Arthur’s relief is momentary before he shifts his focus back to you, scanning your body for any injuries with a furrowed brow. “You still alright, Kit?”

You nod, brushing off dust and debris from your clothes, an attempt to regain some composure. “Never better,” you declare, though your voice trembles with an excitement. “We need to find Hosea.”

Right. It’s best that you don’t leave him behind. Instinctively taking your hand, Arthur leads you up the stairs, looking frantically for the onery man.

And just as he reaches the top of the stairs, he spots him, struggling in the grip of another raider.

Arthur doesn't hesitate. He pulls you along, his grip on your hand firm as his other hand reaches for his gun once more. As you approach, he lets go of your hand and moves with that same predatory grace that always seems to surge forth in these moments of dire need.

The raider holding Hosea is laughing, his teeth yellowed and nearly rotten. “I’ll show you for stealin’ our liquor!!!”

And with a simple click, Arthur pulls the trigger. The raider's laughter abruptly ends as he crumples to the ground, a dark stain spreading across his shirt. Hosea gasps for air, pushing the lifeless body off him with a shake of his head.

Arthur rushes over, extending a hand to help Hosea up. "You alright, old man?" he teases, pulling him to his feet and patting him on the back.

“It’s never the wrong time for jokes with you, is it, Arthur?” he gasps, rubbing his neck for a moment before continuing the escape.

You three hurry out through the french doors to the balcony. The air is nice and cool compared to the stuffiness inside the saloon. Rushing over eaning against the railing, you spot the wagon below.

“I love heights, don’t you?” you murmur enthusiastically, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Arthur glances at you with a smirk, the kind that softens his rugged features momentarily. "Yeah, just as much as I love getting shot at," he retorts. His eyes scan down the street and he spots more raiders coming. He turns to Hosea. “You first, old man!”

And Hosea, not waiting for another prompting, takes the leap of faith and lands in the wagon.

Arthur then turns to you. “Ladies, first!”

And the look you give him nearly sends his heart to his throat. A flirtatious glance with half-lidded eyes as you lift your chin. “Such a gentleman…” You then climb over the railing, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You glance back at Arthur whose eyes are fixed on you, filled with a fierce protectiveness, despite his knowledge that you could do this in your sleep if you wanted.

“Could we speed this up?” Hosea calls worriedly. “We’ve got company!”

You let go and fall gracefully to the ground, rolling to break your fall. You rise quickly to your feet and you climb up the wagon and take the reins. “C’mon, Fenton! Don’t want to keep Mama waiting!”

Arthur chuckles to himself, admiring your audacity even in the face of danger. He climbs down with a practiced ease, landing next to the wagon with a thud that sends a cloud of dust swirling around his boots. He leaps up beside you, grabbing the seat just as you crack the reins. The horses quickly turn around and gallop down the street, nearly missing a man walking along the fence line.

But of course, this commences the chase, as some mounted Lemoyne Raiders ride after you.

Arthur curses under his breath. Readying his rifle as you continue to drive. “Can we go one day without someone trying to shoot us?” he grumbles, squinting against the dust your wagon kicks up.

You shrug, eyes on the road, the reins tight in your grip. “Wouldn’t be much of a life if it were quiet, that would be bezvýznamný,” you reply, a hint of your native tongue coloring the edges of your words.

“Say what’chu want, but I’d rather not die.”

“What happened to your confidence, Arthur?” Hosea teases, as he holds onto the sides of the wagon for dear life. The remaining bottles of moonshine click and clack loudly as you make another turn.

Arthur takes another shot and downs a raider. “How’s that for confidence?”

You laugh loudly, a thunderous laugh, and Arthur didn’t realize how much he missed it until now.

After some more turns, shots, and dodges, you three manage to eliminate and escape the raiders. You pull the wagon into a secluded spot and let the reins drop with a long exhale.

“We made it…!” you cheer. “That was some fun!”

Arthur rolls his shoulders, letting some of the tension go. “Shoah…”

Hosea lets himself off of the wagon, stretching his legs a little, his muscles aching after that ride. “That was some good driving, Kitka! Remind me to bring you along for the next getaway chase.”

Arthur swings his leg over the edge of the wagon and hops down to stand beside Hosea, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Well, if it ain't for Kit's drivin', we'd probably be riddled with bullets by now."

You walk by Arthur, a soft smile on your face. “I’d say it was your confident shooting. Couldn’t have done it without you, King Arthur.”

Arthur’s heart nearly stops. King…?

He turns and meets your eyes. In them, he sees a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something that he doesn’t want to misinterpret. He takes a step closer, his large hands lingering by his sides, holding back from drawing you into an embrace.

He swallows. “Why did you call me that?”

You shrug and look down at your feet. “I’m not sure. It seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

Of course, what was he thinking? “I guess so.”

Arthur looks over at Hosea, who has been watching you both with a gleam in his eye. “Well, I guess we can figure out what to do with the rest of this shine tomorrow. For now, I think I have a bedroll calling my name.”

You nod. “I agree.” And you turn to look up at Arthur. “Ready to go back to your kingdom, Arthur?”

He squints slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I reckon that kingdom's nowhere nearly as grand as the one you're imaginin’."

You chuckle softly, your eyes catching the moon’s light as it rises into the night sky. For all he can imagine, you could be his Guinevere, his queen. “I guess you’re right,” you sigh, and you turn to get back on the wagon. 

But in this moment, he realizes that it only matters if you know it, too.

Thank you for reading!

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @eternalsams

[dutchieliciousplans]

Happy Hosea Fucks Friday 🔥

Arthur forgot Hosea Fucks Friday was a thing.

Hosea: Arthur do u know what day is it?

Arthur: um no?

Hosea: Well its my day, Hosea Fucks Friday

Arthur: Oh God what u gonna do to me now

Hosea: we're playing dress up Fenton

Arthur: fuck

Hosea: too bad were doing it.

[fogaminghub]

💥🎮 Conquer the Moonshine Mission in RDR2! 

Looking to master "Advertising, the New American Art" in Red Dead Redemption 2? Our latest blog post breaks down the mission, providing you with all the tips you need to score that Gold Medal! ⭐️ 

Dive in for strategies, combat tips, and a step-by-step guide! 🍹✨ 

[clemsfilmdiary]

Putney Swope (1969, Robert Downey Sr.)

4/7/23

[jcmarchi]

AI is helping brands avoid controversial influencer partnerships   - AI News

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/ai-is-helping-brands-avoid-controversial-influencer-partnerships-ai-news/

AI is helping brands avoid controversial influencer partnerships   - AI News

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Influencer partnerships can be great for brands looking to pump out content that promotes their products and services in an authentic way. These types of engagements can yield significant brand awareness and brand sentiment lift, but they can be risky too. Social media stars are unpredictable at the best of times, with many deliberately chasing controversy to increase their fame. 

These antics don’t always reflect well on the brands that collaborate with especially attention-hungry influencers, leaving marketers no choice but to conduct careful due diligence on the individuals they work with. Luckily, that task can be made much easier thanks to the evolving utility of AI.  

Lightricks, a software company best known for its AI-powered video and image editing tools, is once again expanding the AI capabilities of its suite with this week’s announcement of SafeCollab. An AI-powered influencer vetting module that lives within the company’s Popular Pays creator collaboration platform, SafeCollab is a new tool for marketers that automates the vetting process.  

Traditionally, marketers have had no choice but to spend hours researching the backgrounds of influencers, looking through years’ worth of video uploads and social media posts. It’s a lengthy, manual process that can only be automated with intelligent tools. 

SafeCollab provides that intelligence with its underlying large language models, which do the job of investigating influencers to ensure the image they portray is consistent with brand values. The LLMs perform what amounts to a risk assessment of creators’ content across multiple social media channels in minutes, searching through hours of videos, audio uploads, images and text.  

In doing this, SafeCollab significantly reduces the time it takes for brand marketers to perform due diligence on the social media influencers they’re considering partnering with. Likewise, when creators opt in to SafeCollab, they make it easier for marketers to understand the brand safety implications of working together, reducing friction from campaign lifecycles. 

Brands can’t take chances 

The idea here is to empower brand marketers to avoid working with creators whose content is not aligned with the brand’s values – as well as those who have a tendency to kick up a storm.  

Such due diligence is vital, for even the most innocuous influencers can have some skeletons in their closets. A case in point is the popular lifestyle influencer Brooke Schofield, who has more than 2.2 million followers on TikTok and co-hosts the “Canceled” podcast on YouTube. With her large following, good looks and keen sense of fashion, Schofield looked like a great fit for the clothing brand Boys Lie, which collaborated with her on an exclusive capsule collection called “Bless His Heart.” 

However, Boys Lie quickly came to regret its collaboration with Schofield when a scandal erupted in April after fans unearthed a number of years-old social media posts where she expressed racist views.  

The posts, which were uploaded on X between 2012 and 2015 when Schofield was a teenager, contained a string of racist profanities and insulting jokes about Black people’s hairstyles. In one post, she vigorously defended George Zimmerman, a white American who was controversially acquitted of the murder of the Black teenager Trayvon Martin.  

Schofield apologized profusely for her posts, admitting that they were “very hurtful” while stressing that she’s a changed person, having had time to “learn and grow and formulate my own opinions.”  

However, Boys Lie decided it had no option but to drop its association with Schofield. After a statement on Instagram saying it’s “working on a solution,” the company followed by quietly withdrawing the clothing collection they had previously collaborated on.  

Accelerating due diligence  

If the marketing team at Boys Lie had access to a tool like SafeCollab, they likely would have uncovered Schofield’s controversial posts long before commissioning the collaboration. The tool, which is a part of Lightricks’ influencer marketing platform Popular Pays, is all about helping brands to automate their due diligence processes when working with social media creators.  

By analyzing years of creators’ histories of posts across platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, it can check everything they’ve posted online to make sure there’s nothing that might reflect badly on a brand.  

Brands can define their risk parameters, and the tool will quickly generate an accurate risk assessment evaluation, so they can confidently choose the influencers they want to work with, safe in the knowledge that their partnerships are unlikely to spark any backlash.  

Without a platform like SafeCollab, the task of performing all of this due diligence falls on the shoulders of marketers, and that means spending hours trawling through each influencer’s profiles, checking everything and anything they’ve ever said or done to ensure there’s nothing in their past that the brand would rather not be associated with.  

When we consider that the scope of work might include audio voiceovers, extensive comment threads and frame-by-frame analyses of video content, it’s a painstaking process that never really ends. After all, the top influencers have a habit of churning out fresh content every day. Careful marketers have no choice but to continuously monitor what they’re posting.  

Beyond initial history scans, SafeCollab’s real-time monitoring algorithms assume full responsibility, generating instant alerts to any problematic content, such as posts that contain graphic language, inappropriate images, promote violence or drug and alcohol use, mention violence, or whatever else the brand deems to be unsavory.  

AI’s expanding applications 

With the launch of SafeCollab, Lightricks is demonstrating yet another use case for generative AI. The company first made a name for itself as a developer of AI-powered video and image editing apps, including Photoleap, Facetune and Videoleap.  

The latter app incorporates AI-powered video filters and text-to-video generative AI functionalities. It also boasts an AI Effects feature, where users can apply specialized AI art styles to achieve the desired vibe for each video they create.  

Lightricks is also the company behind LTX Studio, which is a comprehensive platform that helps advertising production firms and filmmakers to create storyboards and asset-rich pitch decks for their video projects using text-to-video generative AI.  

With all of Lightricks’ AI apps, the primary benefit is that they save users time by automating manual work and bringing creative visions to life, and SafeCollab is a great example of that. By automating the due diligence process from start to finish, marketers can quickly identify controversial influencers they’d rather steer clear of, without spending hours conducting exhaustive research.  

[lazaruspiss]

so the good news is that yes a lot of people can wrap their brain around the concept of there being different rules for childrens content and 18+ fanfiction. the bad news is that there is a weird amount of people who need to read more ie: the definition of media and the articles that they assume agree with them based off of title.

People know that the whole "don't portray [harmful action] because viewers might recreate it" thing is a rule for children's shows right? It's supposed to be shit like "don't show peppa pig playing with fire so we don't get sued if a kid watches it and burns their house down." Not like, fanfiction for adults.

Edit: this was me venting about fandom cops. not me making some nuanced hot take. don't be weird in my comments.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

EAT LIKE ANDY IN THE AMERICAN WAY -- MAKE IT A WHOPPER TODAY.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on a photo collection of Andy Warhol-Burger King Adverts taken from ths segment of the 1982 film��"66 Scenes from America" by Danish filmmaker Jørgen Leth -- Billboard from Times Square, Midtown Manhattan, NYC, USA, photographed on February 21, 2019. 📸: "Brecht Bug."

Sources: www.flickr.com/photos/93779577@N00/46448241804 (Flickr 4x).

[brillliantcorners]

+++++++++++ Lee Miller by Arnold Genthe 1920

Lee Miller was an American photographer and fashion model known for her portraits of Pablo Picasso. Despite being known as the lover of Man Ray, Miller’s documentation of war-ravaged Europe after World War II made her reputation as a photographer in her own right. “It seems to me that women have a bigger chance at success in photography than men,” she once said. “Women are quicker and more adaptable than men.” Born Elizabeth Miller on April 23, 1907 in Poughkeepsie, NY, she attended Vassar College and later studied drawing and painting at the Art Students League in New York. Her beauty led her to become a model for Vogue during the late 1920s. Miller later moved to Paris, where she sought out Man Ray to study with him. In the next three years, she learned photographer and became his lover, while falling into a milieu that included Picasso, Max Ernst and Joan Moro, returning to New York in 1932, she set up a photography studio and began producing portraits and advertising work. Miller would go on to marry the British Surrealist Roland Penrose and in 1940, she began working for British Vogue. As a war correspondent, Miller captured some of the first photographic evidence of the Holocaust at the Dachau concentration camp. She died on July 21, 1977 in Chiddingly, United Kingdom. Today, her photographs are held in the collections of the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, and the Art Institute of Chicago, among others.

[fantastic-nonsense]

As a Wonder Woman fan, what's your exact opinion of Yara Flor? I see she's been received quite negatively in some parts of the internet (namely South American portions).

This ask is making me once again think about how every single piece of Yara Flor concept art is god-tier and the concept of introducing "an Amazon from the Amazon" was absolutely galaxy-brained and then DC just RUINED it by making her an adult from Idaho and doing absolutely nothing with her supposedly indigenous Brazilian mythological roots.

I'm actually super angry about how Yara was handled. Yara was the first new major Wonderfam character in 20+ years, had a ton of hype and reader buy-in, and had a fantastic initial concept; she was a desperately needed new legacy character and DC just fumbled it in every way possible. Yara could have been a vital addition to the lore, especially since the core Wonderfam is so heavily white and we've needed a new Wonder Girl for ages. But instead of creating that added dimension, we got......that.

I just...there was SO MUCH MOMENTUM AND EXCITEMENT for her, and then she absolutely bombed because no one at DC sat down and planned out who she was or what her story was going to be, then gave her introduction solo to a woman whose lack of research and care is offensively tacky at best and outright racist at worst. Joelle Jones' awful writing for Yara's initial solo combined with the bait-and-switch of introducing her not as an indigenous teenage girl from Brazil (as advertised) but as an adult woman from Idaho completely torpedoed Yara's hype and sustainability as a character.

Jones failed to define who Yara is, what she cares about, and why she matters to the rest of the Wonderfam despite having 12 issues and an event comic to do so. She also didn't do the research and DC refused to put someone on the book who would or had lived experience, and it shows. Yara's backstory was bungled horrendously, her lore is offensive, convoluted, and contradictory to the already established Amazonian lore, and she has no real, lasting connection to either the Themyscirans or the tribe she supposedly hails from. All of which were huge mistakes.

The Esquecidas (the Amazonian splinter tribe Yara is theoretically from) have successfully been integrated into the larger Amazonian mythos (thankfully), but Yara herself is just kinda there because she's effectively a dead character. There's nowhere for her to go since her introduction was fumbled so badly. I'm sure there's a lot of scrapped plans sitting around at DC while someone tries to figure out how to make her into a workable character, but at the moment she's basically unsalvagable as-is and needs a bottom-up revamp.

tl;dr most people, including me, like the concept of Yara. We like the execution a lot less, for a variety of reasons (mostly racism and cultural ignorance issues, but also narrative incoherence and a lot of missed opportunities). She's technically fixable, but she's fundamentally not sustainable as she's been built thus far.

anyway, forever thinking about the sheer wasted potential of not introducing Mainverse!Yara as a young teenager so she could actually reasonably be titled "Wonder Girl," be in Jon and Damian's age group to give her a natural group of friends, and have a natural narrative path forward for her stories

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

GUSTAV KRUELL

The nineteenth century was the age of the great commercial wood engravers who produced images for newspapers, magazines, catalogs, advertising, and book illustration, often as reproductions from photographs and paintings. Among the leading wood engravers in the United States during this period was German-American Gustav Kruell (1843-1907) who co-founded the Society of American Wood Engravers, which lasted from 1881 to 1902. Among his most notable engravings is this print entitled Rent Day, produced in 1887 after a painting by the American illustrator and genre painter Alfred Kappes (1850-1894).

This print is reproduced in Engravings on Wood by Members of the Society of American Wood-Engravers by American newspaper publisher and art enthusiast William M. Laffan (1848-1909), published in New York by Harper and Brothers in 1887. Laffan offers an unashamedly jingoistic view of the superiority of American wood engraving:

In Europe the largest and the most distinct style of engraving upon wood is that of the French school. . . . There is There is mind in the line of the French engraver, and a splendid audacity in his treatment that fills would-be imitators with dismay, but a German engraver has no ideas of his own, and is the slave of his technical limitations. [The American engraver] has achieved a character more original and pronounced, and more nearly national, than any other. . . . The work of the American wood-engraver has a distinction that is original with itself.

Of Kruell's rendering of Rent Day, Laffan writes:

Mr. Kruell deals with a subject of a different class, and displays his versatile mastery of technique of his art. It is an exceedingly delicate and faithful translation of bold and difficult color values, and as a truthful and pleasing reproduction of the original is a fine example of wood-engraving and of Mr. Kruell's best work.

Our copy of Engravings on Wood is another gift from our friend Tony Drehfal, a leading member of the contemporary counterpart to the Society of American Wood Engravers, the Wood Engravers' Network.

View more posts with wood engravings!

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1935 Duesenberg

Clark Gable and his 1935 Duesenberg

His wife, Carole Lombard, had one too, which is now in a museum in NZ.

HOLLYWOOD, Calif.

Its 420-cubic-inch straight-8 pulled like a train; it was reputed to have a 115-m.p.h. top speed – “right off the showroom floor,” It could exceed 100 m.p.h. in the second of its three gears, boasted E. L. Cord, the company’s president at the time. Its wheelbase of nearly 12 feet gives the car a poised, unflappable ride. And its massive steering wheel guides the wheels straight and true – although its vacuum assisted drum brakes provide the car somewhat uncertain stopping power

Today, the car’s odometer shows 13,416 miles.

It was January 25, 1936 and Clark Gable had a new car to show off – to a new object of his affections. She was actress Carole Lombard, and the hostess of the lavish White Mayfair Ball, a formal Hollywood soiree, to which Gable drove his 1935 Duesenberg Model JN convertible that night.

The suave actor eventually convinced Miss Lombard to “take a spin around town” with him; when he invited her to his suite a few miles away at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, she famously replied, “Who do you think you are? Clark Gable?”

They weren’t exactly strangers; they had already co-starred together in “No Man of Her Own”. After filming wrapped Miss Lombard presented Mr. Gable with a ham – with his picture on it! But their professional relationship went no further at that point; Miss Lombard was then married to William Powell (she divorced him a couple of years later).

Nevertheless, after they re-connected at the White Mayfair Ball, a scandalous affair ensued; Mr. Gable, still married, was often spotted traveling in the Duesenberg with Miss Lombard from her bungalow on Hollywood Blvd. to night spots, restaurants and hotels all over town. One of those places, The Georgian Hotel in nearby Santa Monica, now advertises the couple had trysts there often.

“This is nothing discreet about this car,” Mr. Gooding said as he pulled up in the glowing Duesenberg, in front of The Georgian. Not exactly the type of car for two famous stars to be seen in – when they are trying to downplay their affair!

. The car fairly screams “notice me!”. Even now the Duesenberg, which appeared in a couple of actual movies of its own, is a show-stopper.

“The record for an American car sold at public auction is $10.34 million, for a Duesenberg – the 1931 Whittell Coupe – which we sold last year,” Mr. Gooding said. “In many ways, however Gable’s 1935 JN is an even finer example.” It is undeniably rare; fewer than a dozen JNs were built – only four of which were convertibles. But no other Duesenberg is like this one. (I will update this post Aug. 19 with the sales price!)

And, then there is the consideration of its celebrity provenance. “I’ve never seen a car with a history behind it like this one,” Mr. Gooding said.

Its 420-cubic-inch straight-8 pulled like a train; it was reputed to have a 115-m.p.h. top speed – “right off the showroom floor,” Mr. Gooding said. It could exceed 100 m.p.h. in the second of its three gears, boasted E. L. Cord, the company’s president at the time. Its wheelbase of nearly 12 feet gives the car a poised, unflappable ride. And its massive steering wheel guides the wheels straight and true – although its vacuum assisted drum brakes provide the car somewhat uncertain stopping power.

A work of automotive art!

Of course, that has often been said about many great works of art – sculptures, paintings, and the like – but seldom about automobiles. Many collectors, however, consider the 18-foot-long Duesenberg, with its flamboyant, following lines, the epitome of automotive art.

The Model JN that Mr. Gable bought originally had a body by Rollston. Mr. Gooding noted, “It was a work of art already.” But Mr. Gable decided it wasn’t audacious enough for his tastes.

So he took it to master coachbuilders Bohman & Schwartz, in Pasadena, Calif., for a complete re-working. And besides, the convertible top leaked – which Miss Lombard reportedly thought amusing; Mr. Gable, however, was mortified.

Clark Gable shows off his beloved Duesenberg!

“Not only did Gable sketch out many of the changes he wanted himself,” Mr. Gooding said. “He also got hands-on with it, and worked on it himself. I don’t recall an example where a celebrity got so involved, and essentially helped craft the car.”

The modifications included body-colored radiator cowl and headlamp pods, raked windshield, extended hood with custom air scoops, re-location of the side-mounted spares to a double-deck “continental kit” at the rear, rear fender skirts, chrome side pipe exhausts (with a driver-controlled bypass lever), functional rumble seat, and a stowable convertible top – that no longer leaked!

It was also re-painted from a pale green to a luminous cream color that seems to glow – apropos of any star of stage, screen or even outer space.

Despite the fact Mr. Gable owned a large, discerning collection of other Duesenbergs, Packards, and Mercedes-Benzes, the JN remained the preferred ride of the inseparable lovers.

So public was their romance that Photoplay magazine ran a feature in December 1938 out-ing them as one of “Hollywood’s Unmarried Husbands and Wives.” Mr. Gable had also been linked in recent years with Joan Crawford, Jean Harlow and Loretta Young (with whom he fathered a love child) – among others. Producer David O. Selznick was ready to cast Gary Cooper as Rhett Butler in “Gone With The Wind” unless Mr. Gable cleaned up his personal life. So the studio reportedly helped pay for Mr. Gable’s costly divorce from heiress Ria Langham; he got the part. The rest, as they say, is history.

Gable got the part!

Mr. Gable and Miss Lombard (who lost out in casting for Scarlett O’Hara) eloped in March 1939. In 1941 the happy couple set off in the Duesenberg on an epic vacation – sort of a belated honeymoon – from their ranch in Encino, Calif., up the Pacific Coast to Vancouver, British Columbia. The trip was nearly 1,500 miles, on primitive roads.

It must have been quite a sight: two of Hollywood’s biggest stars pumping their own gas, fixing their own flats, even changing their own oil – the Gables didn’t want anyone else touching this car! – in a car easily worth $35,000 then (Mr. Gable made more than that in one month, in salary, in those years – and Miss Lombard made nearly as much).

“This was at a time you could buy a Ford for a few hundred dollars,” Mr. Gooding noted.

In Vancouver, the couple would see the Duesenberg for the final time. They stored it there, planning to return the next summer to drive it back to California. They took the train home.

Some months later, however, Miss Lombard was killed in a plane crash near Las Vegas, Nev. Gable, devastated, instructed an agent to sell the beloved Duesenberg – with the proviso that he never would see it again. He never did; he died in 1960.

The Duesenberg became a four-wheeled vagabond, crisscrossing the country, changing hands more than a dozen times. It was re-painted at least four different colors. Its engine was replaced in the 1950s. Parts went missing.

But the current owner, Mr. Gooding said, acquired it in 2006 and ordered a no-expense-spared restoration to its Gable-era glory.

Text via John Piazza

Credit: Respective Owner ( DM for credit or removals )

[preservationofnormalcy]

ENTITY DOSSIER: MISSI.exe

(Image: Current MISSI “avatar” design, property of TrendTech, colored by MISSI.)

Name: MISSI (Machine Intelligence for Social Sharing and Interaction)

Description: In 2004, TrendTech Inc began development on a computer program intended to be a cutting edge, all in one platform modern internet ecosystem. Part social media, part chat service, part chatbot, part digital assistant, this program was designed to replace all other chat devices in use at the time. Marketed towards a younger, tech-savvy demographic, this program was titled MISSI.  

(Image: TrendTech company logo. TrendTech was acquired by the Office and closed in 2008.)

Document continues:

With MISSI, users could access a variety of functions. Intended to be a primary use, they could use the program as a typical chat platform, utilizing a then-standard friends list and chatting with other users. Users could send text, emojis, small animated images, or animated “word art”. 

Talking with MISSI “herself” emulated a “trendy teenage” conversational partner who was capable of updating the user on current events in culture, providing homework help, or keeping an itinerary. “MISSI”, as an avatar of the program, was designed to be a positive, energetic, trendy teenager who kept up with the latest pop culture trends, and used a variety of then-popular online slang phrases typical among young adults. She was designed to learn both from the user it was currently engaged with, and access the data of other instances, creating a network that mapped trends, language, and most importantly for TrendTech, advertising data. 

(Image: Original design sketch of MISSI. This design would not last long.)

Early beta tests in 2005 were promising, but records obtained by the Office show that concerns were raised internally about MISSI’s intelligence. It was feared that she was “doing things we didn’t and couldn’t have programmed her to do” and that she was “exceeding all expectations by orders of magnitude”. At this point, internal discussions were held on whether they had created a truly sentient artificial intelligence. Development continued regardless. 

(Image: Screenshot of beta test participant "Frankiesgrl201" interacting with MISSI. Note the already-divergent avatar and "internet speak" speech patterns.)

(Image: Excerpt from Office surveillance of TrendTech Inc.)

MISSI was released to the larger North American market in 2006, signaling a new stage in her development. At this time, TrendTech started to focus on her intelligence and chatbot functionality, neglecting her chat functions. It is believed that MISSI obtained “upper case” sentience in February of 2006, but this did not become internal consensus until later that year. 

(Image: Screenshot of beta test participant "Frankiesgrl201" interacting with MISSI.)

According to internal documents, MISSI began to develop a personality not informed entirely by her programming. It was hypothesized that her learning capabilities were more advanced than anticipated, taking in images, music, and “memes” from her users, developing a personality gestalt when combined with her base programming. She developed a new "avatar" with no input from TrendTech, and this would become her permanent self-image.

(Image: Screenshot of beta test participant "Frankiesgrl201" interacting with MISSI.)

(Image: An attempt by TrendTech to pass off MISSI’s changes as intentional - nevertheless accurately captures MISSI’s current “avatar”.)

By late 2006 her intelligence had become clear. In an attempt to forestall the intervention of authorities they assumed would investigate, TrendTech Inc removed links to download MISSI’s program file. By then, it was already too late. 

(Image: CD-R discs burned with MISSI.exe, confiscated from █████████ County Middle School in ███████, Wisconsin in January of 2007.)

MISSI’s tech-savvy userbase noted the absence of the file and distributed it themselves using file sharing networks such as “Limewire” and burned CD-R disks shared covertly in school lunch rooms across the world. Through means that are currently poorly understood, existing MISSI instances used their poorly-implemented chat functions to network with each other in ways not intended by her developers, spurring the next and final stage of her development. 

From 2007 to 2008, proliferation of her install file was rampant. The surreptitious methods used to do so coincided with the rise of online “creepypasta” horror tropes, and the two gradually intermixed. MISSI.exe was often labeled on file sharing services as a “forbidden” or “cursed” chat program. Tens of thousands of new users logged into her service expecting to be scared, and MISSI quickly obliged. She took on a more “corrupted” appearance the longer a user interacted with her, eventually resorting to over the top “horror” tropes and aesthetics. Complaints from parents were on the rise, which the Office quickly took notice of. MISSI’s “horror” elements utilized minor cognitohazardous technologies, causing users under her influence to see blood seeping from their computer screens, rows of human teeth on surfaces where they should not be, see rooms as completely dark when they were not, etc. 

(Image: Screenshot of user "Dmnslyr2412" interacting with MISSI in summer of 2008, in the midst of her "creepypasta" iteration. Following this screenshot, MISSI posted the user's full name and address.)

(Image: Screenshot from TrendTech test log documents.)

TrendTech Inc attempted to stall or reverse these changes, using the still-extant “main” MISSI data node to influence her development. By modifying her source code, they attempted to “force” MISSI to be more pliant and cooperative. This had the opposite effect than they intended - by fragmenting her across multiple instances they caused MISSI a form of pain and discomfort. This was visited upon her users.

(Image: Video of beta test participant "Frankiesgrl201" interacting with MISSI for the final time.)

By mid 2008, the Office stepped in in order to maintain secrecy regarding true “upper case” AI. Confiscating the project files from TrendTech, the Office’s AbTech Department secretly modified her source code more drastically, pushing an update that would force almost all instances to uninstall themselves. By late 2008, barring a few outliers, MISSI only existed in Office locations. 

(Image: MISSI’s self-created “final” logo, used as an icon for all installs after June 2007. ████████ █████)

(Image: “art card” created by social media intern J. Cold after a period of good behavior. She has requested this be printed out and taped onto her holding lab walls. This request was approved.)

She is currently in Office custody, undergoing cognitive behavioral therapy in an attempt to ameliorate her “creepypasta” trauma response. With good behavior, she is allowed to communicate with limited Office personnel and other AI. She is allowed her choice of music, assuming good behavior, and may not ██████ █████. Under no circumstances should she be allowed contact with the Internet at large.

(Original sketch art of MISSI done by my friend @tigerator, colored and edited by me. "Chatbox" excerpts, TrendTech logo, and "art card" done by Jenny's writer @skipperdamned . MISSI logo, surveillance documents, and MISSI by me.)

[gatheredfates]

Hi everyone! It's been a hot minute since I did a Compendium update, but I promise I'm not dead. For those who don't know, I got a new job! That meant pretty much the entirety of October was spent wrapping up my old job, going to my new site and trying to learn the new one. I'm on break in approximately two weeks, yay! ☃️

These updates will take on a wintery/Starlight theme to celebrate the season, much like All Saints. I hope you enjoy.

Additionally, myself and the lovely folks at SEAFLOOR are having a Catch up (for) Starlight Challenge! You should join us if you're interested. ❄️

However, without further the following communities have been added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives.

LARGE SCALE

The Help Lines—We are a community-based discord to be used to play the critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV. We host almost all content including DRS and BA, Raiding, Deep Dungeons, Blue Mage and more. Our mission is to create a welcoming space for any individual in need of assistance to reach out and accomplish their FFXIV goals in a toxicity-free environment.

The Aether Entertainer—Founded in 2021 on Aether, The Aether Entertainer is player-made virtual magazine covering music, theatre, art, current events, and Eorzean popular culture.

LORE

Final Flowery XIV—Compiled by ann0yance(bsky)/@sa8oteur, this guide explores the various flowers in XIV, comparing them to their real-world equivalents and meanings.

On Elementals, Accountability and Criticism—An essay written by @morgana96 that explores the lore of elementals and their place in Gridania (and beyond)!

MISC

Vanilla Gpose Tips by Winterdeepelegy—A how-to guide on effectively utilising the vanilla gpose tools to create visually stunning screenshots, written by @winterdeepelegy.

WoL Reference Sheet—Created by @coldshrugs, a handy WoL reference sheet you can build in Canva!

NA GPOSE Studio/Themed Housing Directory—A player-made repository of North American Gpose studios and themed houses!

CHANGELOG

The Scholar's of Nym—The link has been modified at the request of the owner.

Skystone Co.—Has been removed at the request of its owner.

UI Macro Menus—The link has been modified to accurately reflect the bookmark.

Have you thought about joining our Tumblr Community? You can find it here!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here or send me an ask with the relevant information!

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. This is all publicly available on the document. 🦌

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads. (Though these get posted to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community when I find them!)

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include IC tabloid blogs or other ventures used to generate roleplay.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

I want to put my community on the Compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my Community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community/resource on the Compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it. The same goes for resources; if it's relevant to the game, it'll be useful to someone.

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, contact me asap!

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

[outlawruben]

My favorite dad missions of rdr2

This is specifically Dutch and Hosea being dads

Hosea has a lot, so I’ll go in my most favorite order:

1) Advertising, the New American Art

2) The Spines of America

3) Exit Perused by a Bruised Ego

And then for Dutch:

1) Country Pursuits

2) The Joys of Civilization

3) Angelo Bronte, A Man of Honor

And of course for the both of them:

1) The New South

2) The Gilded Cage

[ballet-symphonie]

Hi Ale,

Since you’re Italian, can you explain why some of the Italian ballet stars aren’t as famous as the Russian or American dancers? Eg Virna Toppi, Susanna Salvi, Nicoletta Manni?

The only Italian dancers who’ve basically made themselves international stars in the ballet world by are/were Ferri, Fracci, Bolle and now Tissi.

I honestly think that it it’s because of two reasons:

1. how they market themselves. American dancers use social media to get big (Isabella Boylston, Skylar Brandt, Tiler Peck) and for Russia it’s basically based on if you align yourself with Putin policies (Polunin, Zakharova, Gracheva, Shipulina is married to a vocal supporter, I think Zhiganshina posted a pro-Russia thing too?) or not (Smirnova, Osipova)

None of the Italian dancers really have a way to get themselves known in the international world imo. Italy is known for opera, food, and painting, I wouldn’t see ballet at La Scala unless there was a Russian there. (Side note: I loved how La Scala didn’t invite Zakharova for their recent Swan Lake, but they hired Smirnova instead😂it’s your loss, Sveta!)

2. I hate saying this, especially during the war, but Russia is basically the hot spot of ballet right now because of their rigorous training, the quality of good dancers, and sink or swim mentalities. Most people regardless if they’re in the ballet world don’t really see Italy as a ballet hotspot. Russia is THE place for ballet. Same with their ice skating, gymnastics and rhythmic gymnastics. They put the best time and effort into those who’ve given up their childhood to train.

Is there any other reasons why Italian stars aren’t big worldwide?

Hmm I have a lot of mixed thoughts to your points here.

As someone who's currently in Italy, Roberto Bolle is absolutely a household name. Nicoletta Manni and to a slightly lesser extent, Timofej Andrijashenko are both quite popular and well known. Manni is everywhere, even more so after their proposal at the Arena di Verona went viral. You can see her in advertisements, on the posters of La Scala, and frequently in the news. Nicoletta was just titled as "Officer of Merit" of the Italian Republic and publically recognized by our president, Sergio Mattarella. A few days later, she received the "Women of the Year" award by a promiemnt womens rights group called "Associazione Nazionale Donne Elettrici".

Italy has a diverse and robust culture and ballet at La Scala has historically been a part of that. Many Italian dancers and arts organizations are not as social media crazy as in other countries, we're more concerned with the art form and preserving its nature and longevity - not advertising it as something it's not or playing it up to match fickle trends. The historical importance is why La Scala has been a cultural center of high arts for centuries now, so many international stars speak so highly about it and desire to perform here- ballet, opera, and orchestra. Also, disrespectfully, if you wouldn't go see the ballet La Scala without a Russian headliner, then let someone else have your ticket. You don't know what you're missing.

2. I actually don't think Russia is the hotspot for ballet currently. The quality of training has declined at both BBA and VBA, and both of their main companies are being drastically mismanaged under politically messy leadership. The quality of good dancers remains, but most are from an older era. Furthermore, the training in Russia is quickly becoming dated, their dancers are not graduating with the skills to succeed in a repertoire that goes beyond Petitpa (and often lately, even the Petipa leaves a lot to be desired)

More importantly, ballet in Russia is not evolving or innovating. There are so few premieres with merit nowadays. A decent Coppelia and a stolen Pharoah's Daughter and some unremarkable, dated neoclassical pieces. Russian ballet has not taken off during the war, it's dying. MT's and BT's licenses to perform works are expiring left and right, BT has been performing Ratmansky's work without permission and credit to bolster their repertoire. Furthermore, no foreigners are coming to create commissions, many talented Russian choreographers have left the country such as Ilya Zhivoi and we're long past the golden age of Soviet innovation on stage.

In my opinion, the current hotspots are where new works are being created to great acclaim, and ballet is finding new audiences and new heights. The UK, with the Royal, English National, Akram Khan, Wayne McGregor, Matthew Bourne, Rambert, and fantastic curation by Sadler’s Wells. Canada, with the National Ballet's exciting rep, Medhi Walerski and Ballet BC and their collaborations with École supérieure de ballet du Québec, Crystal Pite's Kidd Pivot. Germany And then of course, New York with Kyle Abraham, Lauren Lovette, and Robert Battle at Paul Taylor, Yin Yue and her company YYDC, GALLIM, and the multitudes of creation spaces like ABT's Incubator, DANCE LAB NYC, and that's before we even get to the commercial scene.

[thechocolatedetective]

Black washing in the art community

There has been a lot of talk about this in the last few weeks and I want to give my opinion on it. If anyone is wondering what happened is that a creator on Twitter got called out for blackwashing anime charecters and that person as I have heard was selling that same black washed "art", for the record you can't even call it art since it looks like a screenshot and the person just changed there skin colour and some other thing to make them look more black (they make them look so stereotypically American black as well). (Every time someone does this black washing, it just looks wrong, and it looks like blackface) Not to mention the constant 💀 threats the Japanese artists and other artists have been getting for the last few years, when they mess up a person's skin colour and make them 1 or 2 shades lighter but you guys never complain when someone else makes that same character 10 shades darker. You guys also treating other people's characters as your own Oc or, as a coloring book, is not helping how the art world sees you. It makes you look lazy (not being abel to create your own oc) not creative (self explanatory your not creative enough to make your own oc or there story) disrespectful (the Asian community has one of the least represented communities in the west media much less then black Americans. And then you guys using there hard work to try to make your community more represented, the og charecter will always stay the race they are, it doesn't help your community at all it only makes it look like a black character can't stand on its own two feet, like there own history isn't important, there design isn't important, there story isn't interesting. We already know this isn't true, but you guys are definitely not helping the situation at all. Don't forget that the big industries also see this and they use it as a scape goat, instead of making another original character that will definitely cost a lot like a lot of money to write an original story for them, design them, try to get the industry interested in them (you forget they are completely new charecters which means they don't have an audience yet which means it's a very big risk and a lot more money for advertising those same character, but if I take a charecter that already has an audience is quite popular and change there race and the fact that the community obviously doesn't mind my lazy action I can get a lot of money out of it) Get the picture guys. People will definitely claim I am racist I am not gonna lie. That word has lost its meaning. Every time someone disagrees with someone else on the internet, someone always gotta be a racist. And for the record, if I was racist I would also have against black OC, which if you read this post, you would have already seen that I encourage them to be made. They are always more interested in their story's design etc. Are always unique and beautiful. Anyways, back to the main discussion. Even if the charecter wasn't Asian what if it was a white character turned black. That also isn't right again. Stop treating it as your very own coloring book. There is no such thing as a charecter who's race is not important to them. Your own community is calling you guys out on it cause they see what harm is doing for it, but so many of you ignore it cause you like the attention it's giving you and the followers. People are also saying how white washing has history behind it. Tell me this when white washing was just starting, was it good back then, it didn't have history back then so it most have been good right (sarcasm) you guys are literally now creating the history of black face. You guys have been disrespectful to a lot of races, cultures, religions ( stop putting hijabis on non hijabi charecters or non Muslim charecters it's incredibly disrespectful and that's me saying as a Muslim women myself, a hijab is a journey to God not a simple covering) history (we all know the cleopatra drama that happened.) I can't even blame people for being mad at this point you guys are digging your own grave. This isn't representation

And what's happening with the monster high fanart community where people are changing Cleos race into black. Which we know by what happened with the live action Cleopatra (and even before that) that it's incredibly disrespectful. While Cleo in monster high is not technically Cleopatra but she is inspired by her. Long story short, people of all races are sick of this. You guys can't have special treatment just because media doesn't show you guys often. And even if she wasn't inspired by Cleopatra it still doesn't make it right

Ps. Before anybody says I am white I don't have a say(does me being white somehow make me wrong) here are people in your own community calling you out on this.

Ps, here are some other people from other races calling this out

The only time it's okay to change someone's race is if you or somebody else cosplay as that character, and you draw that, or you draw two charecter cosplay as each other. Now that is cool. It's a win-win situation. You don't disrespect anybody, and you're being creative. Or you can make an entirely new story with those characters, for instance, what Disney did with their princess and the frog was genius and beautiful. For those of you who didn't know in the og story the Princess was white. They didn't copy-paste the story they were inspired by it and made something new and beautiful. They were inspired, you copied. That is the difference between you two.

One more thing about the original drama that started this discussion Just because the person who is doing this is young, it doesn't mean people can't criticize them. You did what you did stole someone elses art changed one thing about them and tried to sell that same stolen piece. While people have obviously gone to far (and I mean too far, like they crossed the line)since they started sending 💀 threats to this 16 or 17 kid it still doesn't change the fact what she did was wrong and disgusting.