#again its important to talk about the harm that viewing art as something to be good at rather than as an inherent act of humanness does

[changeling-artchive]

Reposting this here as well to have all my (can i call this analysis? Its little more than disjointed thoughts) analysis and art under the same sideblog

Im constantly thinking about the like. Aclimatization period c!alan must have had over Second and the colour quartlet.

(and what being "raised" by/with an Animator (and one with c!alans past) would mean for the color quintlet behavior/life view wise)

Like. Second's existence, (specifically them talking to him (and as such, showing their sapience) in a way he really cant denie with plausurable ignorance (like with victim, Chosen and Dark)(and god there was so many signs, so many ways c!alan could have snapped out of it (the 'ignorance') but doing so would subconciously mean he would have to come to terms with what he has Done and he was never in a position that required him to do it so he didnt (plus he wasnt very. Mature? In the beguining i think. Teenage. Anyway)) (something something we quantify animal's inteligence with how well they showcase it in a way similar to us) really was c!alan's first case of having to actually comprehend that he brought a Person to life, and coexist with it (them. them not it)

Like. That shift, from thoughtless cruelty to (a big break in anything stickfigure related to) helper and friend? That would have not been easy or seamless, i think.

(and depending on if c!alan has taken the time to comprehend + processes what he Did to Real People in the past, he would be more or less bound to fall into familiar thought processes, if never actions)

He must take its (their) opinion into consideration now. Take its (their) time with the color quartlet into consideration, Its (their) enjoyment of the art process. Give it (them) breaks, regarde them with agency, be a friend to them

[it would be so easy. So tentalizing to tame him. He'd never do it, of course, Never Again. But the instinct is (barelly) there, to reach into that uper task bar section upon entering on the art program. an extention. Stop it. Stop It! Stop thinking like that theyre a person!]

Of course with the time + experience theyre truly friends, i think. Their bond is very equal and playfull in the shorts where he appears

And all of this in just c!alans side!

Ive not even talked about Second and the colour quartlet into all of this, how their perception of autority and self-expression and conflict resolution and how the world works and how relationships works and Everything would be all but Based on themselves and c!alan behaviour! Theyve only ever known the computer and its habitants (until the discovery of sentinent (probably sapient too) life forms with minecraft (the villagers, piglins..))

(Their actions and perception of the world must be so so diferent and weird to a born/outernet-raised stick)

(^ ooh snap i derailed a bit here back to the post)

How does bondary-setting works, with something with so much control over you?

(on that vain, how much control c!alan thinks he has over the colour quintlet/gang vs how much control the colour quintlet thinks c!alan has over them vs how much control a born/outernet-raised stick thinks c!alan has over the colour quintlet is Vastly Diferent on all sides (and the conflict(?) diferences in perspective(?) Of that is so so delicious why hasnt anyone done aything with that yet))

The colour quintlet had very specific/hard rules over their existance/place in the computer (rules that have been getting laxer and less important/respected as time goes on (the light saber, and the lava parkour are good examples of harm being done to the computer, Actually). But how? When did the rules started being trespassed and met with Not-Animator Consequences, was it just the development of their bond (c!alan and the colour gang), that led to the rules being discarded? (theyre tottaly relaxed around alan. They trust him and playfight with him. (he deleted/attempted to delete them! Their first interaction was with c!alan's total dismissal of their life, how did they colectivelly reached this point!?)) What (life) lessons did they (color gang) learn on the way to now that are not normal/shared with born sticks cause of their way way diferent uprising?! (Aahhhhhh this keeps me up at night)

(i am maybe giving Too much importance to their relationship with c!alan, they most probably have learnt/lived most things solely by/with themselves as a group)

[nightzskii]

I'm not deleting every post uugh

★ EDIT: Finally making a new pinned post ❜

SHORT INTRO; Hello! I'm panda/nightskii who alsp goes by maxwell (max for short.) My age will always be in my bio but my birthday is April 6th. I go by he/him and also they/it but I really don't mind just he/him!!! This blog is centered around art or just me reblogging important or self indulging posts! Yoyo ^_^

LONG INTRO UNDER CUT!

AN INTRODUCTION — @nightzskii

Hello, and welcome to my blog!! ^_^ I'm nightzskii [otherwise known as max/maxwell or panda].

— I use other names like Rock, Nini, Len, Craig, and many others that I'll say you can use! I'm a name hoarder, I love names.

☆; My activity on tumblr isn't much, I don't post and when I do it's not really for this blog.. I gotta get used to posting again..??! I might make a blog for all my ocs and characters and their reference sheets. I'll try to respond to mutuals/friends when I can faster than I would with strangers, but sometimes my ability to do such a thing is nonexistent. It's not on any of you!

☆; I'm Black and Puerto Rican! This is what I know because my mom told me. I CANNOT SPEAK OR UNDERSTAND SPANISH!!!?? I can say a few words [only like. two.] and understand SOME phrases, but I lost my ability to understand Spanish since I'm always around people who speak ENGLISH. I do want to relearn however, but I also want to learn Japanese!

☆; I do have disorders that effect(affect??!?) my daily life and how I perceive and understand things. I struggle with some social clues, but I'm not going to force anyone to use tone-tags, I'll just guess and respond!

☆; YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHY PAST POSTS HAVE SYSTEM STUFF IN IT!!! It's because I AM a systsm. I don't use this blog for system stuff anymore however, and I'll be @'ing most blogs I have that's NOT private! Including my altermate's blogs. I am the main host and have been here for the longest!

☆; YOU CAN USE THEY/IT OR ANY OTHER PRONOUNS BESIDE [SHE/HER] ON ME!! I may be seen using he/him for myself, but I'm not that picky on pronouns. I'm agender, and I do NOT care what term is being used for me, including feminine ones! You can call me any word with fems in mind. I don't care.

☆; Any carrds, rentrys, etc I have will be linked/put inna masterlist that I gotta fix. Thank you for your time on this part!

MY BOUNDARIES — @nightzskii

★; DNI [pro] proshippers/anti anti/compshipper/darkshipper/etc, [pro] Zoos/[No]Maps, Anti Mogai/lgbtqa+phobic, Racist/Colorist, Sexist/Misogynistic, Ableist/Discrimatory, Kink/Nsfw blogs, * Violent Syscourse/[Pro] endos/non traumagenic, [Pro] Ddlg+varients, HARMFUL TransID/Radqueers + anything in that corner, Pro harassment/Pro Misinformation, Villainization + Romanticizing Disorders, Violently religious, GENUINELY WEIRD stans & Fans, Anti age/pet regression. PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

* VIOLENT syscourse/[pro] endos/non traumagenic ((Let's not harass or be rude to each other. help.))

★; If you make jokes you can't make [examples being making a joke about being; a black slave when you're white, r//ped (a) when you weren't, m//lest//d (o, e) when you weren't, anything historical when it's not YOUR history] then please DON'T INTERACT EITHER! I can appreciate a "dark joke" when it's something you can actually joke about.

★; If you use AI to steal/generate/etc peoples actual hard working designs, then don't interact. Stay in your cage

★; IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ME OR FEEL UPSET ABOUT WHATEVER I DID/DO/HAVE DONE/ETC, TELL ME! I don't mind talking about it and I'd rather to not strain any friendships if its something that can be talked about!

FINAL NOTES — @nightzskii

☆; I do have old blogs STILL flying about that was WAY BEFORE I FOUND OUT I WAS A SYSTEM! Some of those blogs were made by myself before i "molded" [fused, but I don't know I should use that word???] with the old OLD host at the time who ALSO ran those blogs. OUR VIEWS FROM IT HAVE CHANGED BY NOW! If you find it and link it back to us, feel free to @ the blogs its so funny looking back.

☆; I will NOT talk much about being a system with other disorders on this blog. that's for a different one!!

— BLOGS I'VE MADE! ❜

@dazyskiie-luv [writing] & @nightzskiiauz [my aus/stories]

@bluestoneau & @horrorrversee [au]

@twisteddescendants & @kufflesdiamond & @huntersscythe [twst]

@stars4-max & @hoardzskii [personal]

@moon-loves-genders [have to fix it!!] & @wat-da-hell-iz [inactive currently] & @dabackroms [inactive currently]

@vampbitesfr & @howlin4uu [monster rp accounts, inactive currently! refixing.]

— SYSTEM BLOGS! ❜

@snowdinne [MAIN SYS SIDE BLOG.]

@haruutalks & @cinooscatcafe

@ventifool & @scarafool

@ecplises-mailman & @devildomduzt (all blogs for now!)

[trans-xianxian]

crazy to me when people are like "wanting people to reblog your art is a toxic trait" like girl what are you talking about this is a blogging website......

[wolfstar-in-color]

August colorful column: AUgust special - The World Needs Your Highly Niche AU

During August, here in Wolfstar in Color we decided to celebrate AUgust - or, the existence of Alternative Universes in fandom. Because of this, we invited @fforsythiaaa​ to talk a bit about AUs from a literary point of view - and let me tell you, folks, we are beyond amazed and inspired by her words.

So we invite you to read the column that follows. If you want to know who @fforsythiaaa​ is, here’s a primer from herself: “I post about wolfstar, fanfiction as an art and experience, and whatever words, fanart, thoughts, tips, or anecdotes that I can't let go unshared.”

Read under the cut for the full column!

The World Needs Your Highly Niche AU

@fforsythiaaa​

I don’t remember when I found out that fanfiction came in AU flavor, but looking back, that was definitely the moment I fell head over heels for the fandom. Reading wolfstar come together, fall apart, orbit around each other, or weather the storm in a thousand different settings is amazing. It’s romantic to think that they would find each other no matter which plane of reality they’re on, and it’s satisfying to see their core traits manifested in so many different contexts. And considering JKR’s harmful views and actions, as well as how her views make it into the text, I’m finding myself much less inclined to interact with fics that are even canon-divergent. 

That said, there’s one thing that gets me so, so excited, and that’s when I see someone refer to a fic as a “highly niche” or “weirdly specific” AU. Stories that are specific to time, place, culture or identity are my favorite kind. It’s Remus and Sirius as scientists doing fieldwork together in a fellowship program in the mountains! It’s Remus and Sirius as communist organizers in 1920s Chile! It’s Remus and Sirius in a rural town impacted by the opioid epidemic! It’s Remus and Sirius as an architect and a contractor at odds on a very important and difficult project! (I made that one up, but if you write it, please, please tag me.) You’re telling me I get to read about these two starcrossed idiots and learn stuff at the same time? Count me in.

“But no one will want to read this,” the author will post. “It’s too specific, no one will be able to relate, and people won’t be interested in this kind of premise.” 

To which I say, unequivocally, I WANT TO READ YOUR HIGHLY NICHE AU. And what’s more, I think your highly niche AU is going to make the fandom a better place.

Let me start by saying that I completely understand why you think no one would be interested. People like stories that they can relate to; fewer people can relate to a very specific setting; therefore, fewer people would like a very specific story. Right?

The main problem with this logic is the assumption that people can only relate to stories that they have some prior experience with. With every story, the reader is learning about the time period, the place, the norms and rules and societies, and the characters. As readers, this learning is what makes reading fun, and as wolfstar fans, learning about these characters is the reason we read fic in the first place. So my logical conclusion is that the more we get to learn about Remus and Sirius and the world they inhabit, the more we enjoy reading. And in a highly niche au, there’s a lot of learning to do.

Full disclosure, I did not make this idea up. There was one post that made me think of Viktor Shklovsky, a literary critic who coined the term “defamiliarization.” They wrote something like: “I’m worried that all the details would be distracting for the reader and interrupt the story.” Shklovsky basically says that that’s the whole point. 

For extra credit, you can certainly read “Art as Technique” in its entirety, but I’ll dig up my literature degree and give you the gist. When you think you know something, you don’t really see it or perceive it. Think about a stretch of sidewalk you walk on every day. How much time do you spend noticing weeds growing up through the pavement, or where the concrete was repaired with a different material, and how much time do you spend just walking to work? Your brain skips right over the details to be more efficient. Art is meant to make us perceive the world instead of skip right to knowing it; it’s meant to make us notice those weeds and that concrete. Shklovsky says that the technique of art is to make objects unfamiliar so it takes us longer to perceive, to understand. In poetry, each unfamiliar word or detail is a rock in the path that makes us walk more slowly and look more carefully at a road we thought we knew. 

In your super specific AU, that niche setting that your readers aren’t familiar with is part of what makes reading enjoyable. You’re making us walk more slowly through Remus and Sirius’s story so we can perceive their character and conflict differently; that gives us more time to enjoy the story. You’re making us think differently about what the human experience can look like. 

That’s where I start making my argument that branching out from coffee shop and college AUs (which I also love dearly) is a positive step for the whole fandom. We know that representation of people outside the dominant culture is really, really beneficial (that’s another post, and also the whole point of Wolfstar In Color; if you want some Cliff notes to share with the class, check the classic Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie TED talk). When we’re in the habit of hearing lots of different stories instead of only one, we’re in the habit of being curious about each other; it’s much easier to build compassion, understanding, and solidarity when we genuinely want to know more about other people. 

But my push for highly niche AUs is not about filling AO3 with a thousand million stories that perfectly represent the lived experience of every individual reader (unless…?). It’s more about filling the fandom with enough different types of stories that people start thinking, “you know what? If their story belongs here, so does mine.” 

That’s how we make this space feel safe enough for people to participate, whether as writers, readers, or tumblr posters. It’s a much more effective way of demonstrating that the fandom values diverse voices than just saying platitudes about how everyone’s voices matter. Sometimes your existence is radical enough. We need it, and we want to hear about it.

So the next time you think about writing “literally no one asked for this highly niche au,” come back to this post and think again. I’m asking for you to give me an opportunity to learn new things. I’m asking for you to add one more reason for a budding author to think that maybe their fic belongs here, too, and maybe their experiences are more valuable than they thought. I’m asking for you to give me an opportunity to discover new facets of human experience with this painfully tragic and romantic pair as my companions. Here it is: I’m asking.

[offda-rails-art]

Been a while since I’ve enjoyed art. I finally finished my story-no color becuase paint is expensive and I can expand more by doing what I love most-sketching. Slight gore warning, like typical horror movie gore⚠️

Thank you for anyone following me recently, even though I haven’t been very active. I hope this makes up for it. Peace and love. Lochlan’s story part one👇

The countryside of Hennessy had a horrible storm roll in. It poured endlessly all night and into morning. The seemingly endless pounding rain made everything a muddy slippery mess, and with that the tracks were overflowed with water. Travel for any engine was dangerous so it was decided that everyone would take the day off and wait out the storm inside. Old Red, Donner, and Cracker Jack had already been in the roundhouse that night and early in the morning they were told “no work for today. Too dangerous.”

Lochlan had still been on his job pulling a long train all night. Something that had been expected to be finished by early morning was delayed by the rain. Lochlan went along the tracks carefully and managed to deliver his train by late afternoon meanwhile the rest of the engines back at the roundhouse were confined to their berths all day. And with that the group of 3 were very bored.

Lochlan backed his way into his respective berth, he was soaked from being in the down pour all day. He was also visibly tired from his tedious journey of start stop all through the wet slippery tracks. Before the poor big engine could get a word out Cracker Jack piped up. “About time! Reds been going on and on about silly stories. We’ve traded back and forth on interesting ones of our own. Well, Donner and I at least. Reds giving the whole “Wild West romance, forbidden engine/human love” spiel again.” Cracker Jack groaned.

“My recounts of pistol packing cowgirls are not romance stories! I’m simply making it clear that women are just as dangerous as men! That’s all!” Red growled quick to defend himself. His face turning slightly pink.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that you old fart.” Cracker Jack smirked. Even Donner gave a slight chuckle in agreement.

Lochlan smiled and shook what water dripped down his face off. Cracker Jack grinned up at Lochlan expectantly. “Suppose you have anything of your own to share?” Cracker Jack asked, his grin widened hoping that Lochlan would have a story to tell. At least one that wouldn’t put him to sleep. Or any about his love interests.

“Me? What kind of story? I don’t do much that interesting.” Lochlan sighed and tried to think of anything worth telling.

“Lochlan. You’re huge. You see the world from a different point of view everyday. You do the more than any other engine on the railway. You’ve been everywhere, you must have something?” Cracker Jack retorted. Lochlan frowned and clicked his tongue in thought. A loud crack of thunder boomed in the background and shook the roundhouse. The 4 engines jumped at the sudden loud noise. The natural fearful reaction to the loud noise gave Lochlan an idea.

“What about a scary story?” He smiled and knew exactly what to share. The other three raised their brows in interest. Cracker Jack noticeably grew attentive.

“Yes! I think we can all agree that horror over a whole romance novel is sure to help pass the time!” Cracker Jack grinned. It took Red a second to process the slight dig made at him. He only grumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Good! I have just the one! It happened the very first week I arrived here.” Lochlan grinned and cleared his throat to begin.

When Lochlan first arrived at Hennessy he was immediately tasked with pulling long trains of heavy and important cargo for distances many other engines couldn’t travel. He traveled from late at night till very early morning so naturally his rest time in the afternoon was spent in any noisy bustling yard he could manage to get a break in. Most of the time Lochlan couldn’t sleep with all the noise. He didn’t mind not napping but peace and quiet was something he could definitely enjoy. It seemed that wouldn’t be an option for a while with his break schedule. So, Lochlan decided to eavesdrop on his human counterparts. They did after all have interesting things to share. While in a yard one afternoon the prefect opportunity to eavesdrop came in, a group of engineers decided to take their break not far away from him. They sat down on some old flatbeds and joked around for a while. The oldest man in the group began talking about his past colleague who was a Native American. He recounted all kinds of interesting things his colleague shared. From ancestral meanings to cultural symbols, but then he brought up something strange. Lochlan grew curious and listened in best he could. The engineer asked the others if they ever heard what a “wendigo” was. The two men shook their heads. Lochlan listened in as the man explained to them what it was, and the reason for bringing it up.

The engineer grew serious before beginning, “ a couple years back a rancher went missing out by his home just a good ten miles from the south side of Hennessy. No one knew how he could possibly go missing, he was in touch with the locals and was a very smart man. He knew the wildlife and his homeland well enough to where an animal attack was ruled out. He carried a gun on him all the time to stay safe and no one would want to harm a lonely rancher with not much of anything to give anyway. Robbery and murder was ruled out too, especially after his home was found kept well with nothing out of the ordinary or missing. He just seemed to have vanished along with his horse and dog. The sheriff decided he could’ve left unannounced for private reasons and perhaps he would turn up soon. It wasn’t until a week later a hunter stumbled across what was left of the poor rancher. He was so severely mangled that the only thing that showed proof it was him was his hat, horse and dog. Whatever creature that did that couldn’t possibly be a bear, or even a pack of wolves. Only the rancher looked like something had eaten parts of him. His horse and dog were for the most part untouched, the possibility a rabid bear attacked him was brought up due to the massive claw marks and slashes embedded in his horse and dog. And how badly the man was shredded. But what bear could be that big? A search for whatever rabid bear or sick pack of wolves was put out but nothing was recovered.

No one wanted to admit but they were scared. The scene was so brutal it seemed almost impossible another living thing could do that. It was swept under the rug and everyone tried to forget about it in hopes it would just go away. It seems there’s no answer for what happened right? Well your wrong, that’s were this “wendigo” comes in. Wendigos have an insatiable hunger for human flesh, they crave taunting people and torturing them until giving them a brutal horrible death only to feast on their scared poor souls. They tower above the tallest pine trees, make blood curdling screams, and can strip the flesh from your bones instantly. He wasn’t attacked by a rabid animal, he was murdered and eaten alive by one of those foul beasts. Only something that big and mercilessly brutal could’ve done such a thing. And why eat just the person? An animal would’ve taken all it could get. Dog and horse would’ve been part of the main course as well.”

The two other men who listened in shuddered upon the end of the tale. Lochlan was intrigued but was interrupted by his crew coming to fetch him from his break. He needed to get back to work and couldn’t listen in anymore. He sighed and set off to collect his train, he had plenty of time to ponder what he just heard on his long quiet journey.

Lochlan enjoyed the unexplainable, everything had an explanation. An answer. While the story of the wendigo was interesting to him he couldn’t help but believe it was simply a tall tale. Even with how big and goofy the engine could be, he wasn’t gullible. The only way he’d believe something is if he witnessed it first hand. And as far as he knew he never saw any forest animal that towered over pine trees or had a specific desire for human flesh. But for some reason something inside him wouldn’t let go of it. The story was kept in the back of his mind and not forgotten.

Lochlans first week on Hennessy’s railway was almost over. He already gotten familiar with the area and his routes in the short time he was there. His job went swillingly and it was something he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his days doing. Oh, and no strange gigantic monsters hungry for human flesh appeared. There was one route Lochlan hadn’t traveled yet, and the unkept longer line of tracks was only taken if necessary but no reason was ever really given as to why it wasn’t used. But with only almost a week of experience on the railway he had a lot more to learn and explore.

While Lochlan pulled a long train of cargo with the morning newspaper edition, important mail, and dairy that needed to get to its destination quickly in order to not spoil he came to a stop when he realized his normal route back into Hennessy was blocked. Someone had derailed and a big mess of tar trucks were scattered everywhere. Lochlans engineers grew frustrated and argued with the crewmen in charge of cleaning up the wreck. “Listen pal, it’s going to take all night to clean this mess up. You’ll just have to wait until morning to pass through or go through the south side.” The agitated worker groaned and pointed up ahead to a route Lochlan wasn’t familiar with.

“Well. We most certainly ain’t got time to wait. I’ve got the morning paper to deliver and dairy that will spoil! Come on big feller we’ll just have to go through the south side which will still delay our schedule because some incompetent idiot can’t operate an engine worth Jack shit.” Lochlans engineer growled and made his way back to his cab. Lochlan looked on curiously up ahead at this new route. The grass ahead was severely overgrown, and by the looks of the track no one seemed to have been down it for a decade. His cow plow would come in handy to shove away any overgrowth that littered the track up ahead. Lochlan puffed down the track without incident. He sliced through any overgrowth that littered his path, and was thankful for his bright headlamp because it seemed any lights that lit up the track before had been left not repaired. Lochlan had come upon something odd as he plunged further down the unused route. A herd of deer were stopped close by the tracks, what was odd to him was that the animals didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. It was normal for the forest animals to hurriedly clear the way when any loud engine chuffed close, to the animals an engine was another predator to run away from. But the large herd of deer stood stalk still, their backs turned towards him and their heads cocked up looking into the distance at something. They didn’t dare move and their fear was focused on something Lochlan couldn’t see. Lochlan raised a brow and chuffed by but the deer didn’t move. Even as steam whooshed out and his own massive frame rumbled on the rails shaking the ground. The deer seemed to care less about him. It was one of the most peculiar things he had seen, but he had no idea it was about to get worse.

Tumblr limits posts and I have to many illustrations to do one part. So I’ll have to skeet part two in another separate post. Stick around for the second part if you enjoy so far. Thanks so much for people who’ve stuck around my blog and actually wanted to read my stories. I really really appreciate it.

[rosesloveletters]

As we approach the anniversary of Heath Ledger’s passing, I would like to use my platform to discuss a few things I find increasingly important that we, as fans, keep in mind: Do NOT mock his death. Do NOT harass his family, friends, etc. (don’t ever do this, but especially not this week or the day of.) Do NOT use his death to signify your online presence. Those of us who appreciate this hard-working, loving, giving soul deserve the freedom of expression granted to us, given that we remain within the bounds of positivity, consideration for others and for Heath Ledger himself. 

(image: Heath photographed for The West Australian on June 9th, 2001.)

I implore you to treat everyone with respect and to honor Heath in a way in which you would honor a loved one; be kind, courteous, respectful and tactful whenever you are discussing his passing and remain conscious of others and their feelings regarding this subject. It is a subject of sensitivity for many and I ask that you consider how others might feel when approached with the topic. Do NOT pass around photos of him that the paparazzi took on that fateful day. This is a blatant disregard for Heath and his privacy; He was unable to consent to having those photos taken, for obvious reasons, and I am certain that he would not have consented, given his distaste for the paparazzi and having felt as though his life was ‘on display’. 

Remember to treat him and others with respect. It is the bare minimum of common courtesy when dealing with such a raw topic; Heath would be honored by how most choose to remember him and I think that he would be humbled by the legacy he’s left behind.

On another, more important note, we must to remember a few things regarding the late Heath Ledger: 

He did not die because of his role as The Joker in ‘The Dark Knight’. 

He did NOT die of a suicide. 

Heath was struggling with insomnia, illness, his break-up with Michelle and (presumably) depression (though I don’t believe that was ever officially confirmed) at the time of his passing and we must remember how sensitive a subject this is, for his family, loved ones, friends and fans alike. 

For more factual information on his passing, I recommend visiting these links provided: 

Friends and Family Remember His Final Weeks 

Some important quotes from this article to take into consideration: 

“Gerry Grennell, Ledger’s friend and dialect coach who lived and worked with the star while he was shooting The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus in the final weeks of his life, spoke with PEOPLE in 2017 for a cover story on Ledger, nine years after the actor’s death. He recalled his friend being “exhausted, emotionally and physically” while battling a lingering pneumonia-type illness.”

“Grennell said the star’s mood was low. “He missed his girl, he missed his family, he missed his little girl — he desperately wanted to see her and hold her and play with her,” he added, referring to Ledger’s former girlfriend Michelle Williams and their then-2-year-old daughter, Matilda. “He was desperately unhappy, desperately sad.””

But in his final weeks, Grennell said Ledger knew he was spiraling. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from taking the pills. “He said, ‘I got to stop, it’s not helping, I’m not well, it’s making me feel more upset,’” Grennell continued. “It wasn’t helping with the relationship issues, it wasn’t helping with missing his kid, it wasn’t helping his sleeping — and he knew that.”

“Being such a social guy, having to be a bit of a hermit, or wear hats and glasses was super annoying,” he added, describing the lengths to which Ledger went to avoid the paparazzi. “His happiest I remember was times like when we were in Bondi on the beach catching waves, and nobody really looking his way, and when he moved to Brooklyn and could walk around with nobody bothering him.”

Heath Ledger’s Father Kim Speaks of Son’s Death - Trigger Warning: Kim Ledger mentions seeing EMS removing Heath’s body from his home in new York. This video and its message is EXTREMELY important; if you choose to view no other material listed here, please watch this short interview. 

Statements Made by Heath Ledger’s Sisters

Heath Ledger’s Sisters Clear Up Rumors About His Death In New Documentary

Some important quotes from this article to take into consideration: 

Though the doc doesn't elaborate on the "demons" that plagued Ledger's final days, it does change the narrative about his mental state at that time. According to the actor's family, Ledger's role in The Dark Knight didn't depress him, as so many tabloids had reported. It energized him."It was coming out that he was depressed and it was taking a toll, and we were going, 'What?'" Bell said. "It was the absolute opposite," Kate Ledger added. "He had an amazing sense of humor, and I guess only his close family and friends really knew that. But he was having fun. He wasn’t depressed about The Joker."

That's about as far as the film delves into Ledger's death. Instead, I Am Heath Ledger chooses to focus on his life. It may not be a complete picture of the actor, but after nearly a decade of rampant rumors and tabloid gossip, it's nice to see Heath through his own lens.

Speculation into Heath’s passing has been vast, leaving much to the media to exaggerate and perpetuate; there is very little evidence or proof that lends to the fact that Heath was an ‘addict’ as has been portrayed, however this statement can be found on his Wikipedia page: 

“Ledger was "widely reported to have struggled with substance abuse.” Following Ledger's death, Entertainment Tonight aired video footage from 2006 in which Ledger stated that he "'used to smoke five joints a day for 20 years” and news outlets reported that his drug abuse had prompted Williams to request that he move out of their apartment in Brooklyn. Ledger's publicist asserted that some reportage regarding Ledger and drugs had been inaccurate.”

When discussing his death, please keep in mind that a large portion about his personal life has been over-exaggerated and therefore, research is key.

Heath’s private life is not something we should pry into and we should be respectful of the fact that we simply do not have the information to conclusively determine certain theories. It is among human nature to ask questions and want answers, but it is our responsibility to know what is appropriate and how we should go about researching such a topic. 

Do not pry into Heath’s private life; be mindful of the information you choose to share and treat him as you would treat any other person. Just because he is a “celebrity” does NOT mean that every detail of his life should be public access. Treat him how you would want to be treated; you are not entitled to his private life, nor is anyone other than those he was closest to. 

We have countless interviews and testimonies to his character from family and friends, those of which prove to be the most accurate. 

Check out this video: Famous People Talking About Heath Ledger to hear some of these positive testaments to his character.

Drug abuse is a very serious matter; I do not condone Heath’s decision to abuse prescription drugs, nor should any fan; his death provides a testament to the dangers of prescription pills and we should remember to be mindful of their effect. Prescription drug abuse is a serious matter and we should not overlook the seriousness of it.

If you or someone you know is suffering from Opioid drug abuse, visit the link provided for the CDC’s help and resources

Please remain respectful while researching his passing and use discretion. Information perpetuated by the media has proved time and time again to be harmful to those in the limelight and Heath was a victim of that as well. Respect the fact that we do not know of his private life and accept that we do not have the right to know. There is a large amount of information present, providing speculation into this subject and I advise you to research with caution, as some of it is damaging to Heath’s character. 

Most importantly, use this time to remember Heath for the incredibly gifted and talented soul that he was. As fans, it is important not only to understand his passing, but to keep his legacy alive through the ways in which we choose to honor and remember him. 

Heath Ledger’s death was a tragedy. His family and friends still grieve his passing and his daughter, Matilda, is without a father due to his premature death. Please be respectful and courteous of this and honor Heath in a way in which he would be proud of. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this lengthy post. With much controversy surrounding Ledger’s death, I felt it necessary to speak out on a couple of things, especially with the anniversary of his death coming up. Please feel free to add onto this post any way you would like, especially if you find more information that is factual and important to share within the community.

 I will reiterate: BE RESPECTFUL. BE COURTEOUS. BE KIND. Do NOT harass his family and friends. Do NOT mock his death. Do NOT share offensive/upsetting images or media that is damaging to his character, now or ever. Respect others who choose to use this time simply to remember this wonderful man for all that he was and do not discuss his passing with anyone who might be triggered by the mentioning of it. 

This community is a loving, caring and amazing place where we choose to remember Heath in our own ways and keep his memory alive through the creations and art we all share. Build each other up and listen to one another; treat each other as if you are looking at Heath directly and show the world the same kindness he showed while he was among us. 

Thank you. 

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Here’s a pet tax!! This times he’s nuzzling against my arm!

Btw here’s your excuse to talk more about Dice. Or,,,any of Fling Posse! Have fun!

Oh, you enabler, you. Thank you for this opportunity and for the bunny picture.

A collection of thoughts on Dice and why he may very well be the most important character to Ramuda. Put under a cut for some slight TDD spoilers.

Dice’s Personality Traits

Compared to the other two nosy Nancies that make up Fling Posse, Dice himself is the king of minding his own business. While he does display definite interest in his friend’s lives - see asking Riou about his favorite food in the ARB event “Riou’s Kitchen” or discussing Gentarou’s latest story in FP/M chapter 7 - he tends to avoid discussing topics that make others feel uncomfortable.

This can make Dice appear oblivious, but Dice is much more emotionally observant than most characters give him credit for. Let’s take chapter 14 of FP/M for a great example of this. I’ll link it here, and I encourage you to read through it again paying careful attention to his facial expressions.

Dice begins the chapter deep in thought and adopts a solemn facial expression for the next few pages. Something is clearly preoccupying him.

However, the moment Ramuda appears, Dice begins acting much more animated and begins playing along with Ramuda in an attempt to cheer him up. Note that Dice observed Ramuda acting out of sorts for the entire battle in the previous chapters and hasn’t seen Ramuda awake since (according to chapter 15). He’s likely greatly concerned. It is arguable that his reactions are entirely food motivated...

... except for the fact that he returns to his previously somber state the moment Ramuda is no longer looking at him. Dice also doesn’t immediately accept Gentarou’s suggestion that Ramuda is trying to keep up appearances for their sake.

At the restaurant, Dice begins to play up the cheerful glutton again and attempts to directly cheer up Ramuda by operating under the assumption that Ramuda is disappointed by their loss.

When Ramuda goes to leave, the art emphasizes Gentarou’s concern, but the silhouette of Dice (and the lack of any bulging cheeks or cups carried up to his mouth) in the final panel indicates that he has once again returned to his more serious state. In this scene, Dice recognizes that something has gone terribly wrong.

Each member of Fling Posse is a performer putting on an act, and as noted by Ramuda’s reaction to Gentarou invading his privacy, Ramuda feels most comfortable when each actor plays his part. Dice is aware of this and thus acts the cheerful idiot for Ramuda in these scenes because he recognizes that Ramuda needs that stability.

If I may demonstrate another quick example, take a look at the scene from FP/M chapter 12 and compare how Dice acts without (first image) and with a visibly distressed Ramuda (other images) in the room.

The FP/M mangaka also says (in the afterword of volume 3), “I think [Dice] might have a good poker face and be able to control his facial expressions even when he’s flat out broke. But his posse doesn’t seem to understand that.“ Dice’s poker face is a boon here when he can use it to help the ones he cares about.

For Dice does care very greatly. Dice minds his own business and doesn’t make any overt actions as long as his friends are capable of handling situations on their own. However, the moment he recognizes that they are in over their heads, he takes swift and decisive action (which, in turn, can be harmful to others).

Take this scene in FP/M chapter 10 as a great example. Prior to Gentarou grabbing Hifumi, Dice was firmly a bystander, but he immediately leaps in when the situation escalates. Notice that he removes Hifumi from harm’s way but also serves a shield for Gentarou and focuses his attention on Gentarou’s wellbeing.

He then offers Gentarou physical reassurance with a hand on the shoulder and an out to the situation, which would have allowed Gentarou to move on as if his mask had never slipped if it were not for Hifumi’s next comment. Dice also shuts down Hifumi before it can escalate any further.

Although Hifumi is attempting to justify himself because he doesn’t understand Gentarou’s reaction and doesn’t see what he did wong, Dice recognizes that this statement also denies Gentarou the right to express his feelings on something which is clearly an enormous deal to him.

By labeling Hifumi’s comments as “disrespect” and “hurting people” while simultaneously stressing that this topic is “important”, he allows Gentarou the right to feel upset at Hifumi’s comments. He also continues to use defensive posture in order to keep Gentarou physically safe (which must be an intentional choice on the artist’s part, as Hifumi mirrors this pose a few pages later as he begins to defend Doppo). Even though Dice’s reaction crosses the line when he, in turn, begins to hurt someone else, removing Gentarou from the situation, validating his feelings, and making Hifumi stop is exactly what Gentarou needed but was unable to provide for himself.

Dice is a damn good friend and an exceptional person. If you ever find a friend like Dice, don’t let them get away from you.

Saving Ramuda’s Life

Let’s switch gears for a moment to take a look at what goes on in Ramuda’s mind. As a disposable pawn for the Party of Words, Ramuda has an atypical view of the world. He genuinely enjoys the company of others and can form real bonds, but his primary motivation in life is fully self-centered: keep himself alive. Every order he receives comes with the caveat of, “Failure brings death.” The fear of death is enough to drive him to betray his closest friends in TDD, even Jakurai, who clearly means a lot to him.

^ TDD chapter 13. Ramuda receives an order from Ichijiku to handle the Jakurai side of things in the TDD breakup and reflects on the time that Jakurai saw who his true personality and not only accepted it but welcomed it.

Bear with me if you’ve seen me talk about this before, but Ramuda’s ability to feel emotions is considered a fluke. Ichijiku describes it as a “malfunction” and a “nuisance” for his job. She also describes Ramuda himself as a “failure” and “worthless”, sometimes to Ramuda’s face.

Ramuda internalizes this. Notice’s Ramuda’s reactions to slipping up and having an emotional outburst in TDD chapter 9 and FP/M chapter 8.

The former of these features Ramuda looking frightened (either due to concern of losing his life for revealing more than he should have done or fear that Jakurai will consider him as “worthless” as everyone else does), insulting himself, and self-harming. While the insults and self-harm are as stereotypically cute as the rest of Ramuda’s facade, the core idea remains that he believes showing his true personality is as idiotic and worth of punishment as everyone else believes. The lack of self-worth is ingrained in him.

The slightly more grown-up Ramuda in FP/M does not react as dramatically, but I really want to draw your attention to the question, “Was I spooky?” It’s worded in a deliberately silly manner because of Ramuda’s speech style, but he is asking his supposed friends if the real version of himself is frightening. Tell me, Dice. Does seeing me scare you? Do you want to run away now before it’s too late? It’s an innocent question on the surface level, but considering the about face his last friend turned after learning more about Ramuda’s real life and job, this question demonstrates that Ramuda’s view of himself has hardly changed for the positive since then.

(Also please observe Dice’s reaction. The pause is him getting into character in order to cheer up Ramuda after a clear emotional upset.)

Therefore Ramuda is a person running entirely on self-preservation but with no sense of self-worth. He sees himself largely the same way Chuuouku does and expects everyone else to do the same. This greatly limits his worldview and prevents him from considering possible other options besides, “Do or die”.

If most of the other cast members found themselves in Ramuda’s shoes, they would have the knowledge and ability to consider other options such as running away, asking for help, or fighting back. Yet Ramuda never considers any of these. He does not have the life experiences the other cast members have to consider making any of these options. He has never observed them or had an outside source present them as options to him. Once the order comes down the pipeline from Ichijiku, it is set in stone. He can hate the order - take a look at another illustration from TDD chapter 13 - but he considers its execution inevitable.

This is why the order to hypnotize Jakurai in FP/M chapter 11 hits him so hard. Now “do or die” has become “die or die”, and his only decision comes down to the nature of his death.

Yes, this situation could have been avoided by talking to Jakurai. Jakurai gives him multiple opportunities to speak up before and during the battle, but Ramuda doesn’t have the ability to recognize those as options for help. In Ramuda’s book, people don’t help him. “Help” doesn’t exist.

In fact, the entire TDD situation could have been avoided as well if Ramuda had trusted his friends, spoken up, and explained the situation. Jakurai (not to mention Ichirou and Samatoki after a fashion) would almost certainly have helped, and that seems to be what Jakurai was waiting for. Once he pushed Ramuda too hard by accident and caused an outburst, he stepped back and waited for Ramuda to come forward on his own terms. But that’s utterly foolish, because Ramuda doesn’t operate on his own terms either. Ramuda doesn’t have his own terms. He lives and thinks the way the Party of Words wants him to think, and if the Party of Words does not want him to speak up and ask for help, then he will never, ever be able to.

The beauty is that Dice is not Jakurai. As mentioned above, Dice minds his own business up until the point a friend of his is over their head, and it’s when Ramuda starts to pull out the True Hypnosis Mic in order to kill himself for Chuuouku that Dice finally acts.

As is the case with Gentarou up above, Dice acknowledges that he doesn’t fully understand the situation but offers physical reassurance, advice, and the implicit argument that Ramuda’s real strength is something of value. Dice writes the word “help” into Ramuda’s dictionary with genuine love and affection.

While Ramuda still can’t consider any option other than “do or die”, it is Dice and Gentarou’s intervention that imbues him with enough self-worth to even consider placing his own wants and needs above Chuuouku’s.

It is this that lays the groundwork for The Loneliness, Tears, and Hope of a Puppet and gives Ramuda the basic agency to even consider acting for himself and, contrarily, acting in line with consideration for other people. It’s this that allows him to avoid ruining Jakurai’s life a second time and this that allows him to accept Gentarou and Dice’s promise of friendship. In the drama track itself, once again it is Dice and Gentarou intervening and challenging Ramuda’s preconceived notions in order to save his life.

Gentarou absolutely plays a vital role in this as well, but it is Dice that chooses to make the first move. Had he not said anything, Ramuda would have used the True Hypnosis Mic and died onstage in front of the audience.

It is sometimes the tiniest of actions and the smallest pieces of support that make all the difference. Sometimes all it takes is someone being unafraid to reach out and flip a die over so it lands on a different number.

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “Willful Disobedience”

Clervalstein yearning goes brrrrrrr

Anyways- uh... so as I said at the beginning of pride month, my goal for June is to write at least one directly Clervalstein related AU segment each week because gay. 

This time around, I was inspired to write about the events that led to how Henry would eventually find Victor and the Creature on the mountain, so in terms of timeline, this takes place before all segments I’ve written except for “Home Again” and “Same Scars, Same Stitches.”

A couple of fun little tidbits about the making of this segment (feel free to skip over them and get right to the segment below the cut, this is just me rambling about some inspiration):

1. The whole bit with Victor drawing and the Creature mimicking him by drawing as well was somewhat inspired by the “Forbidden Friendship” scene from How to Train Your Dragon. I listened to that specific track from the movie score a few times while I was in the process of thinking about this idea!

2. Another bit of musical inspiration actually came from the Chronicles of Narnia, specifically the track “Evacuating London” from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. If you time it just right and you’re somebody who can actively read and listen to music at the same time, it should somewhat line up with the last few paragraphs (excluding Henry’s bit at the end) - starting at where Victor says “I’d give anything-”, then with the little piano part being timed with the paragraph that starts with “It was intricately detailed-”, then the major swell in that half of the song should line up with the paragraph where the Creature begins feeling the need to disobey Victor’s most important rules; then comes the part that begins with a bit of bells and eventually vocalization, and that entire half of the track should align with the Creature carrying out his plan at least most of the way. Of course - all of this depends on your reading speed, but I would definitely recommend listening to the song after reading at least and imagining those parts of the segment along with it if you’re interested in a little peek into my crazy writing process! 😅

Anyways- this is another wholesome segment, so no warnings needed to my knowledge!

As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated!

~~~

Sunlight warmed the cold stone of the mountain ridge upon which Victor sat. His sleeves were rolled up on his arms, as the heat from the summer sun was felt much more intensely up on the mountain top despite the cool alpine breeze. Heavy clouds capped the peaks beyond though the sky was primarily a clear blue, and mist drifted through the valleys below. Though the view was magnificent, the sketchbook that sat on Victor’s knee contained no trace of the mountains. His eyes darted from the open page to the horizon, but it wasn’t the horizon he was searching for. As he stared over the peaks beyond, it wasn’t the view itself he focussed on, and instead an image that was clear in his mind. With a slight smile at the thought, he turned his gaze back down to the page and continued his sketching. It wasn’t long before the smile faded as the sound of quiet, careful footfalls upon the stone broke the calm silence, and he became aware of a presence directly beside him. He instinctively scooted himself about a half inch away as the other figure slowly sat at his side, his brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate harder on his sketching. “What are you doing?” came the inquisitive voice of his creation, and he felt the looming figure lean over in an attempt to view what he was drawing. With a further frown, Victor covered over his sketch with his other hand and turned away.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he grumbled in reply. The creature tried to get a better look, but Victor’s hand covered over too much of it for him to be able to see. He sat there for a moment longer, his mind wandering and his gaze flitting about from view to view as he tried to decide what it was he should do. Now that the cabin was finally completed, he found himself with a lack of activities to keep him busy, and though his creator was certainly better company now than he had been when he first arrived to the mountain, he still wasn’t much of a conversationalist and was often preoccupied with his own thoughts or projects. Out of ideas, he hummed something softly to himself, some tune he had once heard Victor singing one day many weeks ago. Victor lifted his eyes at the sound and glanced over at him, but the moment the creature returned his gaze, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his sketching. Quieting himself at his creator’s reaction, the creature sighed and stood, walking back toward the cabin. Victor almost felt bad - almost - but he kept drawing, now absentmindedly humming the same tune. After a few minutes, he became distracted by the sound of footsteps once again, but this time the creature sat a ways away from him. He went quiet, trying to ignore his creation and keep his focus, but he heard the scratching of another pen on paper, then a pause, then more scratching, and he felt himself being watched. With an exasperated sigh, Victor dropped his pen beside him and looked over to the creature. “What on earth are you doing?” The creature looked up at him, his expression blank.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he answered matter-of-factly. Victor stared at him a moment, then frowned.

“Back talking me? That’s new.” The creature blinked, but didn’t answer, instead turning back down to the piece of paper that lay on his knee and continuing to draw something on it. Now thoroughly curious, Victor stood, walking over to him and standing behind him to look over his shoulder. The creature made no efforts to hide his drawing, and Victor could clearly see the rough beginnings of a person sitting in the exact same pose he had been sitting in. “Are you… drawing me drawing Henry?”

“Ah, so you were drawing someone named Henry.” Victor blushed furiously.

“Oh you sly bastard,” he muttered. The creature glanced up at him. “How clever of you, to get an answer out of me like that.”

“That was not my intention, but I cannot say I am disappointed by the result,” the creature responded simply. Victor sighed, sitting down beside him before flopping dramatically onto his back. Now trying to think based on memory, the creature gazed off into the distance before looking down at his paper and continuing to draw. “May I ask who this Henry person is?” he asked as he drew. “I hear you speak the name often. He must be of great importance to you.” Victor wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell his creation to mind his own business and stop prying into his personal life, and yet… he couldn’t be angry - not while Henry was the topic of the conversation, anyway.

“Henry is… was my…” He paused, carefully thinking about how to choose his words, “closest friend.” There was a length of silence as he felt an ache in his chest from the thought of Henry, and the creature took a moment away from his drawing before returning to it.

“Tell me about him,” he suggested as he sketched. Victor sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, holding his sketch of Henry over his heart as he stared into the sky.

“Where to even begin with him,” Victor uttered quietly.

“Describe him to me.” Victor lifted his sketch up and stared at it, before holding it out to the creature. The creature glanced up, and looked at it with a curious expression. Victor gave him a curt nod, signaling that he was welcome to inspect it closer, so he gently took it from Victor’s hand and inspected it closely.

“He’s tall, but not too tall - just tall enough that I have to look up in order to look into his eyes. And he’s always well dressed - I don’t think there’s ever been a day when he wasn’t looking his best, though I suppose I might be a bit biased on that.” For a moment he wondered just how much further he should go with his description. How could he describe someone like Henry without giving his true feelings away? He hesitated, then sighed with a smile. His creation already knew one of his secrets, and, after all, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere or seeing anyone else, so what harm was there in completely venting his thoughts? “He has the most thoughtful hazel eyes, toffee brown around the edges and streaked with emerald green that deepens toward the pupils, the kind of eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long.” The creature’s pen went still and he looked up toward the horizon, trying to imagine what Victor was describing. “And his hair is long - not quite so long as yours, but ends just past his shoulders - and lays in tangled waves always kept tied back, though a few strands never fail to set themselves free. When the sun hits it just right, I could swear it was made of fire,” Victor breathed as he pictured it in his mind. “It’s the kind of brilliant auburn that takes your breath away, that seems to gleam with its own radiant light. Sometimes I swear he’s more angel than man, and perhaps if angels do exist, he may well be one of them.” The creature smiled, but the smile soon faded as his mind drifted to Paradise Lost and further to his past. He blinked the thought away, then turned his eyes back down to his art, setting Victor’s drawing of Henry down at his side. “He’s covered with what must be thousands of freckles, mostly concentrated on his cheeks but they expand over his face and at the very least his arms, chest, and back. I would liken them to… dark stars against a bright sky,” Victor explained. He raised an arm up and began tracing lines in the air as he continued. “I used to try to find constellations among them, and sometimes I thought I nearly could. Orion, Andromeda, Lepus, Lynx, Pegasus, Phoenix, Vulpecula,” he muttered each constellation as he imagined himself tracing the lines between freckles on Henry’s skin, his chocolate brown eyes seeming to light up with wonder as he grew to be lost in his own imagination.

“He barely sounds real,” the creature interjected nonchalantly, hardly looking up from his drawing as he began to focus closer on it. Victor grinned and chuckled softly.

“I tell myself that every day,” he murmured with a hint of sarcasm. “Surely no man could ever be so perfect, and yet there he is-” He paused, reaching higher toward the sky and extending his fingers to feel the breeze between them, “as real as you and I.” His hand dropped back down to his chest as he heaved a sigh. “There’s no man on earth as generous or as compassionate as my-” He stopped himself, blushing hard as he realized what it was he was about to say. “As Henry, I mean. Just… just Henry.” The scratching of the creature’s pen stopped again, and Victor glanced over at him to see him staring ahead in clear contemplation of the implications of his words before returning to his art. “You know,” Victor began, returning his eyes to the sky. “I can just about guarantee that if it were Henry who made you instead of me, you would have turned out ok.” The weight of his words hadn’t set in before he said them, but now that they were out, they sat heavy on his chest like lead. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled unsteadily. “If it were him instead of me, William would still be alive.” At those words, the creature froze, as rather than a weight to him they felt like a dagger slowly piercing between his ribs and etching each letter directly onto his beating heart. “And to think… Even if it wasn’t him who made you, if it were him who found you here, perhaps your night terrors would have all but ceased by now. And maybe, by his grace, you would be at peace.” They sat in contemplative silence, both somehow altogether calmed and unnerved in each other's presence. “I’d give just about anything for him to be here,” Victor mentioned, breaking the silence and lifting himself up onto his hands. “And I know all it would take is one letter. He’d drop everything to come here. But that’s… that’s just it. That’s the problem.” He sighed, fully sitting upright. The creature glanced over at him. “I can’t let him just… ruin the rest of his life for me. I don’t know how I could live with myself knowing that I held him back because of my own mistakes.” His eyes dropped to his other side. “And yet… I barely know how I can live with myself without him here.” It was at that moment that he felt something being laid gently on his lap, and when he looked down, he saw the drawing the creature had been working on.

It was intricately detailed, each line placed carefully onto the page with such precision. Though it was only simple line art, Victor could clearly see the image of himself sketching from earlier on the page, but standing in front of him was another figure - Henry. He was exactly as Victor described him, tall and well dressed, with long hair tied back and a few strands that drifted over his face. Though there was no color, his eyes seemed just as gentle and full of wonder as Victor remembered them to be as he stared off to some distant land. His face was covered in tiny dots, freckles, each so meticulously pricked on that Victor could clearly trace some of the constellations he described between them. Tears welled in his eyes as he placed his fingers gently on the drawn image, running them gently down the drawing’s cheek, wishing instead of cool paper that it was the soft, warm touch of Henry’s face. “Did I do him justice?” the creature inquired quietly, trying to read his teary expression. Victor sniffled and smiled.

“You… you’re quite the artist,” he managed to answer. Gingerly, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll be back later. I need to take a walk and… clear my head,” Victor mentioned, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Will you be ok on your own?” The creature didn’t answer for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into the distance as he thought deeply, but soon he snapped his attention back to the present.

“Yes, of course. Take your time, Victor.” Victor sighed and nodded.

“I’ll try not to be too late to return.” His creation watched as he wandered off and eventually disappeared into the trees, before returning to his thoughts. It was strange - in all the months that he had been there, the creature had never once considered disobeying Victor, especially out of the fear that he might abandon him again. Suddenly, however, he felt the strong need to disobey each and every one of Victor’s most important rules. He hated to see his creator so struck with longing, but even more so, he considered the positive ramifications of what his carefully formulated plan might bring. Sure, Victor might be initially upset, but with how much he desperately wanted this Henry person to be there with him, surely it would be well worth it in the end.

The first part of his plan was simple. He would need to break Victor’s trust, and search through his personal belongings. He made his way back to the cabin and slipped into Victor’s room to find a mess of folded papers lying on the bed stand - each paper being a letter he had received from a Henry Clerval. Though all he was searching for was an address, the creature couldn’t help himself and decided to read through some of the letters. As he did, he became even more certain about his decision. Not only was this man exactly as Victor had described, but the connection between them was clearly something so strong that it should have been unbreakable. To his luck as well, the creature managed to find amongst the scattered papers a letter Victor had intended to send as a reply to Henry but never had the chance to send, dated from a time before his creation.

The second part of his plan would be the most time consuming, but also the most critical, and this unsent letter would prove to be the perfect resource. Retrieving his pen and a small stack of paper Victor had stashed away, he began crafting a letter of his own. With as much precision as he could muster, he forged Victor’s handwriting and did his best to copy his style and choice of language. A few hours were spent on this, most of that time spent on crafting one single sentence until he was sure it was perfect before finally continuing on with the rest of the letter. After he completed it, he spent a few more minutes checking it once, then once more to ensure it was in fact as accurate as he could make it, before then spending a little more time practicing forging Victor’s signature and finally signing the note in his creator’s name.

Finally came the most dangerous part. With only his own memory of his travels from Ingolstadt to guide him, he would need to find and deliver the letter to someone who would be able to ensure that it reached Henry safely. Of all Victor’s rules, perhaps his greatest was that the creature was to never descend the mountain, and above all, was never to enter civilization or interact with any other human beings. Each of these would need to be broken in order for his plan to succeed. For a moment, he hesitated. Would Victor become so cross with him over this that he would abandon him once again? Where would he go if he did? What would he do? Who could he turn to? Still, it cut him sharp to think that he might be squandering this small chance to bring his creator some joy after all his sorrow if he were to abandon his plan now. His mind was made - no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to ensure this letter was delivered, and hope that Henry would arrive some day soon just as Victor said he would.

He would need to be swift in order to ensure that Victor would never know he had even left, so he quickly yet cautiously put each letter back in its rightful scattered place as though they had never been touched, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. With a deep, shaky breath, he could feel a new sensation pulsing through him - a rush of adrenaline that raised his heart rate and widened his yellow eyes. Letter clutched tightly in hand, exited the cabin and broke into a sprint. Down the mountain he ran with superhuman speed, leaping over logs and boulders as though they were mere hurdles. Though he should have balked at sheer cliff faces, instead he lept from them and skid down their sides, ignoring the sharp pain of the rock scraping at the soles of his feet and the palm of his empty hand. Letting his intuition guide him, he continued his swift journey to Geneva. Though the place held painful, dreadful memories for him, the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him overrode the thoughts, and he raced toward the location of the address. Slowing to a walk, his chest heaved and ached from exertion, but he slowed his breathing as he came upon a fence that outlined one of many pastures that outskirted a large house on a hill beyond. In one pasture, he could just barely see a figure on horseback, cantering through a field with his wavy, tied hair flickering ember orange in the sunlight behind him. 

“Can I help you, sir?” came a sudden voice from beside him. He jumped at the sound, instinctively hiding his face in the hood of his cloak.

“I- ...yes. Yes, I believe you can,” he stammered in reply. The stranger, a servant from the Clerval household, gave him a curious look as he held out the letter. “This is a letter for a man named Henry Clerval. I am of the impression that this is his residence?” The servant smiled as he took the letter.

“Ordinarily I would have sent you in the direction of Ingolstadt in Germany, but as luck would have it, master Henry returned home just yesterday.” He inspected the folded letter curiously. “May I ask your name?” The creature froze, gripping his cloak tighter around himself.

“I am but a simple deliverer of this message, kind sir. My name need not be of any concern. As for the letter, I am under the impression that he will understand who it is from once he has received it.” The servant nodded.

“I understand. Thank you - I will see that it’s delivered to him promptly.” With that, the man turned and started off toward where the man on horseback was riding, glancing back at the creature in confusion for a moment before continuing with a brisk pace to the one he would be delivering the letter to. The creature waited a moment longer to watch for the rider’s reaction, smiled, knowing he had made the right decision, and began his sprint back toward home.

“Master Henry? Sir?” the servant called in the pasture, letter held carefully in his hand. Henry’s hazel eyes lifted as he turned his head and gently pulled back on the reins of his mount. The mare he rode slowed to a trot, then to a walk as Henry carefully turned her in the direction of the servant.

“Yes, Marc? What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, sir,” Marc replied. As Henry slowed his steed to a stop at his side, he looked down curiously at the other man, who held the letter out to him. “This arrived for you just now from an unknown deliverer. He said you would know who it was from when you read it.” Now thoroughly intrigued, Henry took the letter and opened it. His eyes widened as he beheld the handwriting, and slowly his other hand lifted to his mouth as his jaw dropped while he read. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Tears welled in Henry’s eyes, dripping down onto his freckled cheeks as he looked up from the letter, his expression of shock turning to a tearfully happy smile.

“No, Marc, everything is much better than I had anticipated.” Marc gave him a confused glance. “Will you help me ready a supply pack and ride with me? I will need to be leaving at once.”

“Of course, sir,” Marc replied with a curt nod. “May I ask where it is we are headed?”

“The base of Mount Montanvert.” Henry turned his mount, his eyes resting on the distant mountains. “Be prepared to bring the horses back here for me once we arrive there. I might not be returning for quite some time.”

[blankd]

Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months.  However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet.  It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes.  Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family.  It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic.  People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie.  Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers.  There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved.  Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family.  PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL.  Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up.  No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not.  But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm.  Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought.  Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all.  Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies.  I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover.  It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is.  If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize.  Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

[transgendeerboy]

Instead of saying "this is a problematic author" can we just start saying "this author has different views than me"?

This was a question posted in a book lover group that I'm in. First of all, the question and the explanation that preceded it (you can pretty well guess what was said. We've all heard it) comes from a place of immense privilege. No one who is a part of a marginalized community would ask something like this, I think. That said, I do appreciate that the OP listened to what people in the comments were saying and I think they took some important things away from the conversation. At any rate, I'm just copying my comment here, mainly so I don't lose my emotional labor. Don't mind me.

I feel like this question is at least somewhat about JKR and that's one I feel qualified to speak on, so I'll say my piece here. I have very mixed feelings about it.

I'm trans. I also have a huge Harry Potter tattoo. I've been a fan since around the time the 4th book came out and those books mean a whole lot to me. Can I separate the art from the artist? Yes, to a degree, I can and I do. At this point, that primarily means enjoying fanart and reading and writing fanfic. But loving what that series means to me does not mean supporting the author. I don't buy the merch, I don't buy her new books, I'm done with her. I'll give her credit for creating something that helped me get through some difficult times, but I won't give her any more of my money or any more of my support. I'll call out her bigotry whenever I get the chance. When someone says something like "I support JKR" I know that what they're really saying is that they don't support people like me.

With her specifically, it's a little more difficult than with some other Problematic Authors™️ because she's still alive and collecting money where someone like HP Lovecraft is not. Buying stuff written by a dead problematic author is different than buying stuff written by a living one.

As far as book discussions go, I have no issue discussing Harry Potter. It's actually really easy to talk about because it's both very engaging and very full of problems, plot holes, and inconsistencies. It makes for interesting discussion. But when people start posting author quotes or praising her, I'm out (and depending on my state of mind, I'm probably feeling kind of alienated in a group that's meant to be for all book lovers). Again, I'm done with her.

All that said, there are also a lot of people who are less easy-going about it than I am and imo that's perfectly valid. She is still out there doing a lot of damage to our community, so for those who feel like all her past work is tainted by the harm she's currently doing, I get it and I fully support anyone who feels that way. Its not "toxic cancel culture" or whatever. It is people protecting themselves and their loved ones who may be affected by her hate.

There are better books. There are better authors. There's no reason to cling to that one.

[tobias-fell]

yeah but its the book we like? the plot twists? how it was written? not the author? it doesnt mean we like the books we like the author. we support the characters, the lore, not jk. its a bit inconsiderate to assume if we liked the story we like the author? and yeah sure it's not the only story with dark lords and magic but its the only one some people know. some people arent exposed to much books, so they just know about the harry potter pjo hardy boys nancy drew stuff like that.

idgaf about jk rowling, she's a disgrace to the humanity especially with the clout she has. but there are still so much people who write about hp. draw about hp. its still a classic? you cant just say we cant interact with certain people since we like a book series thats decently written?? im a mutual of yours and i dont think im about to stop interacting with you since i find it a decent story.

again, not the author. i dont find her decent one bit. its the story. theyre different things. sure, she made it but it's a story. a different world. a fantasy that people make fics about, art, they paint their doors and windows about it. idk if you get where im coming from this is really messy im sorry

im not a hate anon, im just really confused.

I AM NOT ASSUMING THAT YOU LIKE THE AUTHOR BECAUSE YOU LIKE THE BOOKS

I AM SAYING THAT SUPPORTING THE BOOKS SUPPORTS THE AUTHOR, WHETHER OR NOT YOU LIKE HER

SHE IS ALIVE

SHE IS HURTING PEOPLE AND SUPPORTING HER SERIES ENCOURAGES HER DO THAT

Is that better? Is the caps lock getting my point across? I do not want to sound mean, but I honestly don't know how better to explain this.

This is not just a teeny thing that can be ignored. JKR is a real person who has caused real problems in the real world for other human beings, and she has openly admitted to seeing any and all positive interaction with her work as support. She sees it as incentive to keep doing what she's doing. She thinks her fans secretly agree with her. And I say her fans, not Harry Potter fans, because you cannot say ''death of the author'' when she is alive and hurting people.

I do not give a shit what people will do with HP when she'd dead or unable to hurt anyone anymore. But right now, JKR and the harm she causes are both intrinsically connected to the Harry Potter books.

Not to mention that the books are bigoted too. The goblins, the treatment of Fleur, the casual date rape drugs, the tokenized & flat characters of colour, the homophobia with the werewolves being a metaphor for AIDS... the list goes on. These are in the books. I am all for reading and examining problematic media, but that is not the same thing as treating it like fandom, especially not when the author is alive and hurting people.

If you're truly a mutual of mine, you know my views. Vulnerable people are more important than a book series.

I can ask whoever I want not to interact, especially when it's something I've explained over and over. Especially when it's something that has affected my life. I'm not going to go into how JKR's brand of transphobia mirrors my mother's, because the whole of tumblr does not have the right to have those details, but trust me when I say this shit matters.

Supporting Harry Potter means giving JKR more relevance and voice in this day and age. If you are willing to do that, we will not get along.

Finally:

"Some people don't know about many books other than Harry Potter" is a strawman argument. I am not criticizing 11yos with a Hedwig plush who had a Harry Potter birthday party and play on pottermore. I am criticizing the only people who will actually be able to see my blog: people who also have access to the bad things JKR has done, both in and outside of Harry Potter.

I am tired of seeing Harry Potter everywhere. Every single HP fan in my real actual life is an open transphobe. I want to be able to have my nice little book blog where I talk about books that make me happy, and I do not want to have to talk about Harry Potter. I do not want to have to see things relating to Harry Potter. I do not want to interact with people who think Harry Potter is harmless.

Can you not let me have that?

[lavender-hemlock]

Clearing the Air

Good morning darlings, I hope you’ve had a delightful year thus far. 

Honestly no one is, we’re all suffering. The next episode release of 2020 is coming out soon, my bet is on aliens. 

As much as I would like to joke my way through this to make it easier, this won’t be. I have very recently had very serious issues be brought to my attention as to how someone in this community behaves. At first I was going to keep quiet because in the end- this was my friend. I care so much about the sake of others, when really I was letting behaviors go that are unacceptable. 

I believe the power of a callout post should be used seriously, and never be used for personal abuse of power. A lot of the examples I use will be from my point, and it is personal. He is very aware how stressed and tired I have been, so to treat me this way was unwarranted. 

I have only decided to step forward due to more than one girl stepping forward about these behaviors that are detailed in the list below. This post is for awareness of his behaviors, and his ideals on rape. 

I also do not appreciate being spoken badly of RECENTLY only to have a heart to heart with another girl on the lies being told so that we would not speak to each other (This is referenced below under the list of points.) 

-- The accused is Kazex Voss. Every line in this post has screens embedded for evidence and clarity.

_______________________________________________________________

Here is the list of what he is being held accountable of. I am not the sole subject of the below, and I am also not the subject of one or two of them: Screens are linked for evidence, if a screen is more important to note- it is bolded or posted. Screens are `mostly` in order under their number for subject. 

*The way I have used male and female is how he kept describing gender. 

1. Using personal trauma as a plot device. 

Ex. rape. Writing rape plot to someone who is confirmed to be a victim of traumatic events pertaining to rape and abuse [Scrn Link]. 

- Excusing using rape as a plot device to have “females” overcome their trauma [Scrn Link].

- Another screen of him describing his point of view as a “male” compared to “females.” In here, he addresses my question head on by describing he does not understand because he is “male.” [Scrn Link].

- Another screen of the problem of his “rape therapy” villain. Me asking him directly if he does this to other girls. 1st opportunity to be honest because I already knew the truth. [Scrn Link] (related to the below)

- (related to the above) Next day where I confronted him 1 more time to be honest with me if he does this to other women. Evidence of him doing this to other women, lying, and then agreeing [Scrn Link]. 

- Him saying, “In real life rape is wrong, but are you going to tell me what to write? [Scrn Link]

- More context.

2.  Manipulation.  

 Lying to two people and turning them against one another to hide his secrets and lies so that neither question the other about the subject’s habits.

- Claiming I’m perfect in order to switch blame despite me addressing him on the subject of his rape RP and his bias against how fast I respond to him. 

[Scrn Link]

-  Abusing guilt tactics to encourage more for what he wants out of a “friendship”. You don’t treat friends like this. There are "standards” you can have for a friend, but you don’t use it like this. [Scrn Link.]

- Justification as if I am the one who has let him down for him writing a book. Addressing past issues I kept personal because it did not merit a callout. 

[Scrn Link.]

- how the fight started, more behaviors. To which this inspired my main issue (Point 1, and Point 4.) Notice how this went from me bringing up an issue of rape, and behaviors, to suddenly I’m in the wrong. [Scrn Link].

- Justification for belittling someone, plus context of “he knows what kind of person he is” so he didn’t need to claim anything I questioned or accused him on. [Scrn Link]. 

-- Acknowledged he was gas lighting throughout our argument. Dismissive.

[Scrn Link].

3. Belitting someone over their content, ideas, or writing to make them feel inadequate. 

-- From the other girl who addressed me today, the same that told me I “disliked her” as addressed below. 

2 & 3: have been used to isolate another girl and keep her from approaching others, or myself. Either because I am one way or the other. It has also been confirmed by both girls (the one experiencing rape plot as well), and then the other girl that was isolated have both expressed they were told to keep their ships secret. Even as far as telling one of the girls to take down their screens they took together with the excuse that she could “post them later at the right time.” 

4.  Taking IC to OOC and blurring the two together. 

5. Encouraging poor behavior to pander to his wants by comforting, nurturing depression/discouraging any “toxic” behavior such as boldness or growth of a spine to tell him when something is not okay. 

-- One of the latter screens: probably an important summary of my entire issue that me doing this post, or even making an issue with him was never about just ME. Posted as an image since I feel it expresses the ENTIRE post.

----- To end this discussion of points and evidence, I will address that he did apologize, but evidently this is not being taken seriously since as of last week to today, I am being lied about by him. I will refuse to accept that treatment in case there is anymore confusion of my character. 

_____________________________________________________________

This is an awareness that no matter how much you can know about someone- you don’t. Lies are just pretty words to be used to get their way, and when questioned, this subject will ask that you don’t ask why they lied in the first place. 

I am by no means a perfect person. I have been depressing, stressed, or confused when told that everything is fine- and its not. Nothing he ever told me was ok, or just a mistake and he’s “sorry”.

Why did I come forward now? Why not when I found out another girl like the dates of the screens? 

This is an open inquiry that if you have been told that I dislike you without a probable cause for me to dislike you, please reach out to me. I have recently been confronted by one of the girls in an open discussion that she was informed that I did not like her by Kazex. 

I was confused by this, because while I was adverse to talking to her because of the things he told me- I didn’t hate her like she thought I did. 

We talked and lined up our facts- and we were both told things to make the other question ever speaking to each other. He told her to secretly ship, and he told me that she was this flaky person so we both wouldn’t question the other or speak.

Let this not happen again. 

Love your fellow gamer. Please take other’s judgement as a grain of salt rather than fact (unless proven otherwise based on your own judgement), because everyone has an opinion. We’re all one community, and it is people like this that seek to isolate you or keep ships “secret” so that their target does not think there is competition. 

I was led to believe that no matter what, he would always try to ship with Haine because she was the only ship he wanted. This was not what I wanted or the case, and neither did it work to flatter me. I don’t understand everything that was shown to me, but I refuse to be held accountable for not saving someone else the trouble when this is actively happening. 

I hate doing this. I hate that among everything I ever stood for, stood with others for, that I have to call out someone I used to think the world of with many of our adventures for the eyes to see. 

Let this be the wake up call he desperately needed. It’s not okay to treat women like this. It’s not okay to turn people against each other because females “can’t co-exist.” This is not RP, this is not art, and this is harmful. I’m sorry to anyone else who may be keeping quiet, among those who have come towards me to talk it out. 

There are many more screens, much more context, and evidence. I tried to keep this as un-biased and relevant as possible to keep the points clear with context to support so that others are aware that this is how he is. 

Let this post be an awareness that this behavior is not okay. Let it be a warning and a consideration on how you treat others. Let others see how you can be, and change. You’re capable of being better, as I can also improve, because I am in no way a perfect person. 

Thank you to those that have come forward and spoken to me. 

[umbrahighpriestofgiratina]

Divided I Fall

IT'S FINALLY DONE! I am so sorry this took so fucking long, it took me like a year to write because my art brain forcibly took over my body for a stupid amount of time but now it is DONE and you can SEE it with your EYEBALLS. Anyway... This, This is a project I have been planning for YEARS but took some stuff lining up just right for it to sift to the top of my oneshot backlog. It is, to keep it simple and not spoil too much, an origin story for a character that's shown up in my stuff before.

As one important note before I begin... This fic stars a character of a fakemon species known as Vahirom, created by @kynimdraws on Tumblr/kyleenim on Twitter, used with permission. If you steal it I will be offended on her behalf and personally boil your toes. Got it?

ANYWAY:

Divided I Fall

Zygarde had a dilemma.

Unova had too many humans and they had it too good. But there was nothing they could do to thwart them without letting the other Legends in on his game. What to do?

As they stewed on this, lurking on the edge of civilization, they looked up, and there they saw it.

A meteor, careening down toward the nearby hills. It crashed, sending out sparks of light and a shockwave, which Zygarde weathered easily. They were a god, after all.

"Lots of those since AZ broke the sky," they muttered.

They slithered through the earth until they got to the impact crater, emerging in its center to find, surprise surprise, a meteor. However, it was one they could tell was a Metionite, a kind made of an extremely rare, alien ore.

It was then they got an idea.

An awful idea.

Zygarde got a wonderful, awful idea.

They started burrowing their own cells into the Metionite, pumping it full of energy. Godly energy. Draconic energy. The Meteonite contracted and curved until it turned into a small gray orb.

Zygarde tapped it.

And it burst to life.

--------

What am I?

What is this place?

Those were my first thoughts as I gazed around, wide-eyed, until my eyes fell on a strange green and black titan.

"Who are you? Who am I?"

"I am Zygarde, the guardian of order, and you are my creation!" the titan said in a booming voice.

"You created me?"

"Yes! For one purpose!"

The titan pointred a claw to the southwest. "There's an infestation of these pests called humans around thataway. Deal with them for me."

I looked in that direction. Seemed simple enough.... But something didn't feel right.

"...Very well."

Tubes extended from my shoulders and attached to my tail as my wings flared. I took off.

-------

I arrived to find strange structures,domes, blocks and pyramids, and walking among them strange creatures. Were these the humans Zygarde mentioned? "Deal with them." What did that even mean?

I got closer and as I did they started acting strangely. They seemed... Afraid?

"You creatures! What are you?"

They were making loud screams now. They didn't seem less afraid. Maybe they couldn't understand me? How DO I talk to them then? Come on, think think think-

~-Think!~

Thehumans stopped, gazed up. I had communicated by... Thinking really hard?

~Uh... Humans! I mean you no harm! I just wish to... Deal with you!~

The humans started murmuring among each other before a more elaborate-looking human came forth.

"You, great dragon! What do you propose as a deal?"

Oh, I can understand THEM fine. But good question...

~Let me think.~

What do I even tell this person? I guess... If they were afraid of me, they had other things to be afraid of. That wasn't good. Maybe...

"If you give me shelter and a home, I will aid you however I can. Is that a satisfactory deal?"

The elaborate human slowly blinked several times slowly before rapidly nodding.

":We will accept your offer... B=but my warriors will keep an eye on you."

I looked to the "warrior" humans he spoke of. They were trembling. Everyone was looking at me with unease,

This would take some adjusting.

-------------

I was in my own corner of the city, surrounded by more of these warriors. They were taking shifts watching me, but they all seemed scared. Almost as if they felt if I tried anything they couldn't stop me.

I didn't feel like doing anything that needed stopping... but then I wasn't sure WHAT to do. I had made the deal with the humans but I wasn't sure how to enact i-

Just then I heard a roar, in the distance. The warriors looked to me, then to the source of the sound. They seemed confused that it wasn't me. Soon another warrior rushed up to them.

"T-there's a Scolipede trying to take over the farmland!"

"O-one of those? Why?"

"They're immensely territorial! It claimed the farms as its own!"

What was this beast? The humans needed help. But they wouldn't let me help...

...Then again they couldn't stop me.

I activated my tail turbine and lifted off as the warriors panicked, and I jetted off to where the other warrior had came from.

---------

When I arrived there was indeed a large, purple, insectoid Pokémon rampaging about. Several warriors and their Pokémon were trying to pierce its chitinous armor, to no avail. It was much bigger than the humans, that's for sure.

...But it was much smaller than me.

I flew ove4r to and landed right in front of it. It looked up but seemed unphased.

"What do YOU want?"

"I want you to stop bothering these humans."

"Why should I? This is MY turf." "No it's not. As far as I can tell the humans were here first." "Well it's mine now."

I narrowed my eyes. "Leave. Now."

The Scolipede scoffed. "Make me."

"If you insist."

I flicked him with a claw.

He went sailing back into a tree with a very loud thud and collapsed, unconscious.

Humans started gathering around, looking on in awe. Then they started cheering. It was only then I realized the magnitude of what I'd done.

-------------

Things changed after that rather quickly. Or, they did from my perspective anyway.

The humans, after that, regarded me as a protector. Not only that, they gave me authority. It wasn't much at first, I started as captain of the warrior, but as time went on and I helped the humans more and more I ascended to the right-hand mon of their rulers.

They called me Vahirom, or more commonly, the Iron Arbiter.

They adored me. And I grew to adore them. They cared for me and I cared for them back. And after time things changed. I learned how to alter my form to be like them.

It started simply, firsty with mimicking their speech, but then I started to learn how to alter my physical form, this way and that way, until I had come to resemble them in my own way. It was at that point the Iron Arbiter was both a dragon Pokémon and a human.

And someone didn't like that at all.

One day they returned, while I was alone, sitting on the throne the humans built for me. I looked up into their glowing green eyes as they glared down into mine.

"What is THIS? This isn't what you were supposed to be doing! And why do you LOOK like them?" They stomped a foot on the ground.

I sighed. "It is less intimidating to them than my natural draconic form. And why do YOU look like them? Don't you have forms that are oh so superior?" They winced, and in an instant cells swirled around them to return them to a more traditional serpentine form. "Only to subvert them, manipulate them. You do it for sick kicks! You were supposed to DESTROY them, not help them!"

"There is no need to destroy them. They are flawed yes, but have kindness and charity in their hearts if you know where to find it. I seek to bring that out in them. "You're wrong! All humans are a sin against the natural order! MY order! They need to be purged!"

"Your view is dangerous. And I will not have you threaten my people."

I grew and stretched and bent into my true, draconic form.

"You may have given me life, but I am not yours. They are not yours. Leave, or I will force you to."

Zygarde hesitated, then let out a long, pronounced hisss before disintegrating into cells and vanishing.

I sighed again, then resumed my post.

-----------

Decades passed, that turned into centuries. I saw many humans and their Pokémon come and go, and cherished them all dearly while they lasted.

But then one day two were born that would change my life forever, for better and for worse.

They were twins, born to the current queen and king. They were shown to me soon after they were born. They were lumpy and chubby as human babies were but they had fire and lightning in their eyes from the start.

And thus their parents named them Tentay and Pethakhon, Ancient Unova's words for fire and lightning. As usual, I was assigned to be their guardian. I did not realize then how special they would be to me - and how that would be my downfall.

-------------

The children grew quickly. Their tiny grasping hands grew inquisitive, groping for anything they could reach. At first, I let them pull and tug at my human form, but as they grew older and nimbler I allowed them to play on my dragon form as well.

Eventually they started to talk.

"Say mama!" "Say dada!" their parents clamored. But every time they both pointed at me and said "va va!"

They didn't care. They just laughed.

When they got old enough to learn, I was their teacher. I taught them.... Well, not everything I knew, I was too ancient and powerful for that, but I tried to teach them a good amount. And I definitely tried to answer their many questions.

"How old are you?" asked Tentay. "Older than you can comprehend."

"What's your favorite food?" asked Pethakhon.

"I do love corn cakes."

"Do your parents let you stay up past bedtime?" asked Tentay.

I had to pause and think about that one. My only "parents" were Zygarde and the stars, so...

"I don't listen to my parents. I do what I want."

The twins gasped and looked at each other eagerly. "You can DO that?" they said. I chuckled. "I can. You probably shouldn't until you get older."

The two visibly deflated.

"Not fair..." said Pethakhon.

"I guess we have to listen..." said Tentay.

"No way! We can't!" said Pethakhon. "But we gotta! Or we'll get in trouble!"

"Nuh-uh! We can do it!

I chuckled. By all means this was amusing.

And yet. Something deep inside felt off.

------------

It came suddenly, swiftly.

The king and queen fell ill, from a terrible disease. They were isolated, only taken care of by a select few.

It was too little, too late.

A grand funeral was held, several ceremonies, a feast, a fitting sendoff. But none of it filled the hole in all our hearts.

Especially not the twins'.

I visited their room afterwards., They were huddled in a corner together, curled up, sitting only a few inches apart. In human form to fit in the room, I pulled them into an embrace.

"I know better than to say it's all right, but... I am here for you."

"But... Mom and dad... They're gone forever," said Tentay.

"They're never coming back... What's gonna happen to us?" said Pethakhon.

I sighed. "I have seen many leave forever just as they did. I can escape it, it is both a gift and a curse, but for your kind it is inevitable. But it is not truly the end. You two will grow to be great, and your children, and your children's children, and so on. I assure you of this. You can pick up the pieces and carry on in their stead. They would want you to."

"...Okay, Va." said Pethakon.

"...I guess so, Va," said Tentay.

They nestled into my arms further. I patted their heads.

We stayed that way a while.

--------------

The two started to near adulthood for their kind, and thus I started teaching them how to rule. . ~Now, you two, I have a question.~

They both shifted in their seats in the courtyard we were in. Teenagers were antsy about being taught. Especially when their teacher was an ancient and powerful dragon.

~Say that there is a famine. What are your main options for dealing with such a thing?~

"Simple," said Tentay. "You spend the royal budget on improving the crops."

~Ah, but such a solution would be expensive... And could be unsustainable."~

"Then we improve the harvest infrastructure over time!" said Pethakhon enthusiastically.

~Yet that could take a long time. Too long. People could starve.~

"Well my method is clearly better!" said Tentay. "It gets more immediate results!"

"You're wrong!" said Pethakhon. "MY plan won't doom us all later!" "It MIGHT not. It will definitely make people starve."

"We have to consider the future!" "The future is NOW, Pethakhon."

"Moron!"

"Imbecile!"

The two continued arguing like this until they finally noticed me waggling a claw mockingly.

~Now now now. Have you considered these solutions aren't mutually exclusive?"

The two of them stared at me. Then started sheepishly rubbing their heads.

"You have a point..." said Tentay. "That could work.." said Pethakhon.

~See?" I said. "If you work against each other nothing gets done. But if you work together...~

"Yes, we understand the moral, well done," said Pethakhon. "Why must we learn things we know already?" said Tentay.

~Because with you two it bears repeating.~

The two blinked and staredbefore rubbing their heads sheepishly again.

"...You have a point," said Tentay.

"We'll. We'll work on it.." said Pethakhon.

I simply smirked.

------------

They quickly became adults, true kings of Unova, and soon their first test was upon them. The ruler of a desert kingdom smack dab in the middle of Unova was a Volcarona by the name of Heliana. Shee was called before them for a diplomatic meeting, and we all assembled on the border between the desert and greener land.

"Why hello there!" said Heliana, floating before us.

Tentay and Pethakhon stared then turned to me, each whispering.

"She, uh, is a little hard to--" Pethakhon started to say.

"She's a Pokémon, but she can't speak telepathically, so we can't understand her," said Tentay.

"...That." said Pethakhon.

I chuckled. ~Don't worry, I can translate. She just says hi.~

The two nodded and turned back to Heliana.

"Right, hello," said Pethakhon.

"Shall we get down to business?" said Tentay.

"Oh, yes, yes!" said Heliana. "There was a matter of grave importance I wished to speak of with you! It was... Oh, hm, what was it..."

"She isn't very professional," Tentay whispered.

"Shhh!" said Pethakhon, nudging him.

"Oh! I remember now! It was wood!" said Heliana.

"Wood?" said Pethakhon. "My kingdom doesn't exactly have many trees," said Heliana. "I want cedar in particular! I'll offer you our finest textiles and minerals in return!":

"Hmmm. But we need the cedar for-"

"Shhh!" said Pethakhon. "She's making us a great offer!"

"More like a ridiculous one. We can't give her all that cedar!" "But we need the minerals and textiles!"

"She hasn't even specified WHAT minerals and textiles! Think before you leap!" "Well ask her!"

"Fine!"

Tentay took a deep breath and looked Heliana straight in the compound eyes. "You're being awfully vague about what those "minerals" and "textiles" are... Could you be more specific?"

"Oh! Lots of iron, copper... and Silk! Me and my babies spun the silk ourselves!"

"Wait, the silk comes from-" Tentay started to say.

"Sounds great!" said Pethakhon. We'll-"

"No. We need that cedar."

~Now now you two.~ I said. ~Put your heads together. Your wants and needs aren't mutually exclusive.~

They stared. And blinked. And... Well they didn't literally put their heads together but they did start mutually putting their hands to their chins thinking.

"There's some places we could grow... Cedar groves?" said Tentay.

"Yes! And we could loan those groves out to you!" said Pethakhon.

"They would take a while to grow normally but our Grass-types can make them grow faster!" said Tentay.

"Excellent!" said Heliana. "It's a deal! And Hekla and Katla will get started on the silk straight away!"

"Hekla and Katla?" said Pethakhon.

"Who?" said Tentay.

It was then two Larvesta emerged from Heliana's fuzz and divetackled Tentay and Pethakhon each with cries of "Friend! Friend! Friend!"

"My children!" said Heliana. "They spin the finest silk in all the land!"

"Well they sure are cute," said Pethakhon, holding up Hekla to get a good look at her.

"Easy little one," said Tentay, cradling Katla.

I just smiled.

---------------

I was in my throne room, and human again. I was alone, and it was quiet... until I heard a telltale slithering again.

"...Hello Zygarde."

The serpent congeals in a flash from their cells before me.

"You're still doing this. Why are you still doing this."

"They appreciate my help. And they are clearly better in my hands than yours."

The snake withed, their form rippling.

"Look, if you can't stop yourself from messing MY order up, I WILL."

I scoffed. "How?"

"You're awfully fond of those two humans, aren't you?"

My eyes widened. I clenched my fingers on my seat. "...Petty threats will get you nowhere."

"Oooh, I struck a nerve, didn't I? Don't worry, I won't do anything to them... Physically anyway. Unless you try to warn them that is, in which case I can always arrange an accident...."

I shifted to dragon form, knocking several things over in the process. "What are you planning, Zygarde?"

"How does the saying go, something something for me to know and you to find out?"

I roared and slashed at them with a claw, but before I made contact they scattered into cells and disappeared from whence they came. Guards rushed into the room shortly after. "Arbiter! Is everything all right?"

I panted heavily, looking at where Zygarde had gone, before turning to the guard.

~It's... It's fine. Just spooked by a shadow.~

--------------

From there it became apparent something was very quickly going wrong.

It started small at first. The brothers being more snippy with each other than they were before. But it soon blew up into full-on arguments, and everything I had raised them to do was falling apart before my eyes.

I knew exactly why.

I stalked the halls of the castle until I found a hound, ducking and weaving through the corridors.

"You!"

The hound stopped, looking smug. "What is it?"

"What are you doing to them?"

"Oh nothing much. A lie about one here, a rumor about the other there, did you realize exactly how easy it is to turn them against each other?"

"How... How dare you!"

I fired a metallic burst, a small-scale version of my Origin Flare, but they were already gone, and the brilliant beams of light only sank into the corridor, reducing chunks of it to rubble.

It was then I panicked. As long as Zygarde could keep spreading their lies...

...There was nothing I could do.

------------

Soon enough came a day that would come down in history as a fateful one.

The two of them were having a particularly heated, particularly philosophical argument about the future of the kingdom. Said argument was happening in the throne room, right in front of me, a dragon silently watching as their two human charges escalated to potential civil war right before their eyes.

"Do you really think your deluded visions would ever lead this kingdom to greatness?" said Tentay, "Your ideals will only bring ruin!"

"Your plan is built on a flawed foundation," said Pethakhon, "and faulty delusions of truth!"

It was becoming all too clear for me.

They would not reconcile this time.

I would have to choose one.

...But I couldn't.

I couldn't possibly-

One side of me wanted one. Another wanted the other.

But I couldn't choose.

I couldn't I couldn't I couldn't I couldn-

CRACK

-------------

When I awoke, I could not move. I had reverted to the God Stone I use to sleep and could not get out.

But I could see everything. I could see Tentay and Pethakhon beholding two dragons that I quickly realized had split off from me, by sheer will to leave neither one behind. I could also see I had rolled off to the side, where no one could see me.

But if those two pieces of me were out there... What was the rest of me doing in here?

As I wondered this I witnessed the argument between the two brothers escalate further, and eventually they stormed out of the room.

Time passed. Day turned into night. Then the serpent came.

"Well well well, that was an entertaining show. I knew your powers were unstable but I never expected them to do THAT. Oh well, it works out for me plenty - those two idiots you were so protective of will decimate humanity by their actions, and those bits of you that spawned for them will only help.

I wriggled in my prison, trying desperately to escape and put Zygarde in their place. They noticed and chuckled.

"Oh how foolish. Don't try too hard to escape dear. You don't know what schisming off so much of your power has done to you."

Their form rippled.

"And besides. It's too late for you. I've already won."

He gave a hearty, echoing laugh as he dissipated into cells and disappeared.

----------

Throughout the night, I continued to wriggle and squirm. I HAD to fix this, I HAD to prove Zygarde wrong, I HAD to-

And then I broke free.

And then I felt it.

I could tell I was not the being I used to be. I felt weak. I felt empty. There was a gnawing hunger and emptiness at the bottom of my soul that I could not overcome.

I staggered through the hallways of the castle, in confusion and pain, when I came upon two guards, who recoiled at my approach.

"H-Halt! What monstrous kind of P-Pokémon are you?" said one.

I looked at that guard. And I hungered. The emptiness gnawed at me as I yearned for something to fill it.

I lunged.

The other guard screamed as my fangs sunk into his compatriot. I started devouring him, purely by instinct, rending flesh from bones.

"M-Monster! Monster!"

It is then I snapped back to my senses and realized exactly what I was doing.

I tried to say, "Wait, no, you don't understand!" but all it came out as was staticky buzzing. Then the guard fled.

Overwhelmed with grief, shock, and horror, it was then I did the same, leaving the tall pyramid castle I had called my home for centuries and never turning back.

-----------

I holed up in the crater I had first crash-landed in from thereon out, never emerging. Still, I saw many things.

I saw Unova burnt by a deluge of fire and electricity.

I saw Unova rebuild, become more technologically advanced, more close totheir Pokémon, then further away, then closer again.

I saw people settle the area where I lived, and grow to fear me as others had.

I saw one bit of kindness from a boy from those people.

I saw the white dragon that split from me return, join with me once more, filling my emptiness but causing her unbearable pain that racked me with guilt.

I saw all this, but one thing remained the same, for the most part.

I was alone. And I was unsure if that would ever truly change.

So all I could do was mourn all I had lost.

***

Bit of a downer, huh. But I hope you enjoyed it! WILL Kyurem's situation get better? We'll have to find out later - I've got other shit I've really got to get to writing.

[tortoisenottortoise]

Am I the only one who likes seeing muscular women in media more than muscular men?

Alright so, this one will probably end up much shorter and a little more ranty than I'd like, but this is kind of personal so be fairly warned. 

 Recently I've seen a few complaints about the new He-Man show and honestly, I fully understand and empathize with them. Whilst I haven't fully seen the show, from what I've viewed I can personally speaking agree (or at the very least understand) where most criticisms come from. I think it's incredibly shitty that the writer basically lied to his audience about how the show would run. Now normally I'd be fine with a twist such as He-man dying, but he's an important part of the show and the way the marketing & merchandising for it was running kind of comes across as him basically using He-Man's name to get people into the show. I also feel like it's fine to view Teela as obnoxious and annoying, nothing about her personality-wise seems likable to me. I also heard a few complaints about Orko's (I think that's his name, don't crucify me) backstory and how his character was handled.Yet as the title suggests one that didn't stick with me was the criticism of Teela and a general trend towards the criticism of women in media as being "masculine". 

I've heard over and over that Hollywood representing strong women by giving them masculine traits is a bad thing and yet... I kind of don't get it? It feels odd to say, almost like I'm the dumbest man alive for admitting something which most people on the internet seem to be so sure about, yet I just don't understand where this is coming from. I've seen this thrown at She-hulk, Wonder Woman, Abby, and many other characters, yet when inquired it usually loops back around to, "Yeah they have muscles", and that's about it. This type of criticism in specific seems to overly focus on the appearance of said characters. It's the one critique I just can't get behind and it feels like at best it's a shallow criticism that fails to get its point across, and at worst it's actively demeaning to women who desire to or show masculine traits. But first, let me break this down into sections.

Section 1: Muscles =/= Masculinity (In my opinion at least)

Oh boy, I feel like this is a section that might rustle some feathers, but I'm going to try and explain myself best as possible. I simply do not view muscularity as a feature that is inherent to or should be inherent to men. I'm not going to pretend as if muscular men aren't more saturated in media and art, nor as if they're societally treated as masculine, but one of the reasons I fail to understand this criticism is that I see muscles beyond the horizons as being just a masculine trait. 

I believe that muscles should instead be seen as a sign of hard work and determination. As someone who's currently trying (and struggling) to stay healthy and fit, it's much harder than a lot of media portrays it to be. It's a test where you push yourself to the limits, not just for the sake of doing it, but so you can improve as a person. Whenever I go to the gym and see a muscular gal or guy walk by, my immediate thought isn't, "how masculine" or anything like that my thought is, "wow! They worked hard to get like that, I should work hard as well!". 

This interpretation tends to feel like it's just simply taking a piss on people who actively work hard to achieve higher levels of strength. Especially when society places and enforces these unrealistic standards onto people. If you don't have a six-quintillion pack nor can bench press a fucking house then you're worthless, of course, that is unless you actually attempt to pursue said standards which in that case you're automatically dismissed as cheating your way to gaining your muscles instead of putting any work in. And that's just for men who often don't have to deal with traditional idiots who are stuck in the year 1950 where I can't walk on the same street as them. My skin crawls when reading tweets from older men talking about how weightlifting women are "ruining their fertility" and I absolutely hate it when people in my life treat these women as if they're mythical creatures from a fairy tale, or when females who have trained to such a degree are simply dismissed as being inferior. 

Obviously, I don't think the people who say this are like that, but whenever I hear this type of critique I can't help but think of the culmination of all these experiences I've gone through. But then again, this might honestly just be because I'm personally attracted to muscular women.

  Section 2: Body type diversity

  Another reason that I tend to like muscular women in media over muscular men is simply due to the sheer oversaturation of muscular men. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem if anybody likes muscular men. I totally get wanting to shove your face in between some man titties or get inspired by their physiques. In all honesty, almost everything I said earlier can directly apply to men, but one of the reasons I bring up body type diversity is that there tend to be much less muscular women than men. I

f anything, I'd have to say that muscular men are almost treated as the default when it comes to things like superhero comics, movies, video games, anime, etc. In a similar vein, the default for women tends to be slim and curvaceous, you get the drill. Whenever someone who doesn't fit into either body type shows up and isn't treated like a joke/gag or a character to rip on, I can't help but be happy about it. As much as I have no clue wtf is going on with TLOU2, I can appreciate that Abby's portrayal doesn't seem to exist solely as a joke meant to demean women for working out. I'm excited when an anime protagonist is a fat character who can go beyond just being a "fat guy" and is treated the same way a normal person would be.

 Regardless of what you think about whatever trait you're criticizing, there's probably someone out there who fits it. If you're not into it or dislike it, then that's fine, but I'd rather have that expressed than it being actively made out as a harmful trope as opposed to just literally another body type that some women have.

  Section 3: Muscular women inspire me more

Ok so, we've now blown into a full-on personal experience, buckle up boys, girls, NBs, anything in between, and I feel like I'm forgetting someone so apologies! But yeah, muscular women in media tend to be a lot more inspiring than people seem to give them credit for. This comes down to a mix of both the qualities I outlined earlier in what makes the characters inspiring but also plays into the idea of body diversity. 

One of the traits that make amazons seem more inspiring is their inherent rarity/lack of screentime. As I stated earlier, whilst I do enjoy my fair share of man-titties, it kind of gets to a point where it's more depressing than inspiring when all you see is just super-models shoved in your face whenever you walk into a theater. If for every Goku I could find ten other guys who were on the chubbier side then I'd be able to take more from when I see Goku and other characters with his body type, yet it's so saturated that it no longer becomes something to aspire to, but simply the norm.  It's not that you can work to become muscular or skinny with hard work and effort, you have to be muscular or skinny unless you want to be deemed a failure. Being chubby often isn't presented as a starting point but just treated as a defect. As someone who spent years battling with my own self-perception, that's just not a good message to get across.

Now, this obviously isn't to say that people can never make muscular characters. After all, it's their story so they can put whatever they want in it. The aim of the game isn't to stop people from making a specific type of character, but to encourage a diverse set of people to make a diverse set of characters. This is the reason why I view muscular women as so inspiring. Instead of coming across as just "the norm" or "the standard" they stand out from the crowd and despite knowing what they have to deal with, are still ready and willing to work out and improve their bodies. They had a goal in mind and set time aside to achieve said goal, that's something I can get behind.

  Conclusion:

This will be another short section, but I just wanted to mention it because it caps off my thoughts on this post in general. What originally started as me just not getting the reason why people disliked Teela's design somehow turned into a passionate rant and I'm A) not sure if it fits on this particular subsection of the community, B) scared I'm going to get ripped to pieces, and C) somewhat unsatisfied with all that I said. At the end of the day, this probably won't be seen by too many people, but to those who do see it, I hope you have a wonderful day. I just wanted to talk about something that was near and dear to my heart and hoped that I made it clear why I view things the way I do. 

P.S: Can we stop having this double standard where we act like women whose arms show the slightest hint of definition are "unrealistic" whilst men can look like tree trunks and be considered normal and healthy? please and thank you!

[doctorstephenvincentstrange]

Doctor Strange & Worth: MCU Meta

So this has sat unposted in my drafts for the longest time, but I’ve decided to dust her off and let her see the light of day, after all. These are just some of my thoughts regarding Stephen’s character development and journey in the Marvel Cinematic Universe film: his growth from someone who cannot see the true worth in himself or anybody else to someone whose eyes are opened to the beauty of everything. Not to mention how that eye-opening allows him to evolve from someone who cannot love to someone who loves fully and truly, and how Kaecilius plays a vital role in opening his eyes to the error of his ways.

Without further ado, let’s get into it! 

Let’s start with the beginning of the movie.

Stephen flounces around the hospital like he owns the place and flexes his overbearing, boastful personality without a second thought. Like, most people have at least a smidgen of consideration for others and some degree of self-consciousness or ‘filter’ regarding how they treat others, but Stephen has zero. He talks down on staff members, orders people around like inferiors regardless of their status, and acts as though he is God almighty and the hospital would go to the dogs without him, overestimating his self importance. He legit acted like an overgrown child that’s yet to be struck with the reality everything is not about him. Stephen seizes every possible opportunity to show off even when inappropriate, and does all he can to assert his correctness and prioritizes it. It’s clear from the get-go that Stephen has some kind of overinflated sense of self.

All this would certainly seem to indicate beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a generic arrogant, selfish bastard 101, but let’s skip ahead a bit, just for a sec.

This line isn’t him joking around, rather, it’s the confirmation that Stephen truly thought his own behavior was endearing. As much as he liked himself, he was convinced everybody else did, too. He genuinely, sincerely was convinced that his antics were somehow winsome and charming. And of course, having been in a position of power as a Chief Surgeon and his state of world renown, there’s no way anybody would have told him otherwise. Nobody would really be frank and honest with him — I mean, yeah, sure, Christine was, but seeing as she was the only one he was on friendly terms with who he held in high regard and was frank with him (exclude Nick, and all probable others Stephen smugly thought very little of, and their opinions), there’s no way he’d take one person’s word over that of the masses. And it’s just obvious how overcrowded he was with sycophants that overfed his deluded ego and made it harder for him to wake up to his own self deception revolving the ‘charm’ he was convinced that he possessed.

Just look at the way he hits on her! Look at the denial! We did too have fun! 

You know how people say “the bigger they are, the harder they fall?” 

Yeah, this story really does live up to that.

The lie Stephen was living was cut short when he lost it all and his fall from grace leaves him at the mercy of people’s honesty. All those “people skills” he thought he had do him no favors, and suddenly anybody and everybody can speak freely to him, and he’s not getting sugarcoated responses. He’s no longer treating people as his inferiors however he pleases without lash back.

And Stephen, who only knows his worth through the reception and acknowledgement of his talent and the amazing feats he had achieved with his hands in the neurological field, now feels the weight of worthlessness crushing down upon him. There are no more CCN interviews, no more speaking engagements. In his own mind, he is useless. And without any worth, there is no reason anyone would want anything to do with him. He cannot accept, within his narrow mindset, that anybody could ever love him in this reduced state. For that reason, he insists that Christine Palmer — that unlike TV reporters or other sycophants, has stayed by his side all this time  — must only linger beside him for her own self gain and reputation. It must simply be an act of pity, because that’s how Stephen sees Christine’s acts of selflessness and her work— nothing but her looking down on other people to boost her own sense of self, as he has.

And when Stephen goes to Karmar-Taj, he’s completely out of his element and in a setting that is absolutely foreign to him, but navigates all the same, the only way that he knows how to. His thoughtless, proud tendency to view all else as beneath him really comes back to haunt him when it threatens to close the door to magic — and miraculous change and healing for him — forever. 

By the time Stephen realizes he has misjudged the Ancient One and Kamar-Taj, and that magic is indeed very real and potentially his one last shot at reobtaining his former life, it is too late. He beseeches the Ancient One to teach him the ways of magic, but she has already seen enough of his arrogance to determine him an ill fit for a pupil..

In the end, it is because of Mordo convincing the Ancient One that even a man such as Strange still has worth and he may be of use in the future, reasserting their beliefs that all life has value, no matter how misguided it may be, it need only be redirected and put on the correct path... does the Ancient One agree and allow Strange to return, for a chance at redemption and potentially salvation. 

And so, Stephen begins studying magic. And unsurprisingly, being wrong about magic isn’t enough to hamper his antics. He’s the same old Strange.

In this scene, Wong tells Stephen when he’s not ready to learn something yet, but Stephen completely challenges and opposes him, going so far as to break the rules of the library Wong protects just so he can continue with his self advancement and conquest towards superiority (and hopefully, healing). He challenges his lessons, preferring to teach himself and refusing to acknowledge that even his teachers could possibly have any superiority to his abilities. 

 And it’s so hard for Stephen to make sense of, the backlash he receives for these behaviors. He can’t understand how he’s apparently ‘made for the mystic arts’ but is also being told to mind his pace and take everything bit by bit, step by step and not just rush headlong in impatiently as he always has. In his own mind, he’s not doing anything wrong by breaking rules or pushing limits —  it’s all about the results, after all. And this, this is for the most important result of them all... his hands. It doesn’t matter how dirty they have to get, he wants to fix them.

In the medical world, when Stephen showed off, people clapped & praised him because what harm could there be in pushing the limits and crossing the boundaries to save someone’s life? It was okay if he wanted to do something unconventional and risky (like remove a bullet from someone’s brain without a visual) because the ends justified the means, and he always delivered. It didn’t matter what he had to do or how ruthless he was, treating all around him as mere tools at his disposal to achieve what he wanted, without considering what might be at stake. Boundaries were never of the essence to Stephen.

But when he pushes the boundaries of magic and tries out the Ancient One’s Private Collection just to pursue greatness and feed his own ambition, he gets retaliation from both Wong and Mordo and is reprimanded about all the consequences he didn’t think of and other lives he wasn’t considering as he never has been before. And Stephen can barely collect himself and for the first time in the film, is speechless and out of witty remarks to snap. He is just so put off because he’s never been put in that position before, being held accountable for the liabilities of his pursuits for greatness. Simply put, he had never been made to consider the eggs he was breaking to get his omelet, and now, he is.

And he still doesn’t get it. “They  really should put the warnings before the spell,” he says, because clearly it’s not his hastiness or ambition at fault, but the book.

And he doesn’t get it, and he most likely would have never gotten it or opened up to the Ancient One, Wong, Mordo, or even Christine. No, he had to see it for himself. And see it, he does; in fact, it ends up staring him straight in the face.

They didn't spend so much screen time drawing parallels between these two over and over for no reason, this was what it was all building up to. Here, Doctor Strange meets his ego’s match. Kaecilius wants to save the world by granting everyone eternal life, preventing all its inhabitants from feeling suffering ever again. A bit like "doing work that will save thousands for years to come," no? 

The influence and efforts of others finally pay off as Stephen begins to apply their thinking, and questions what the cost will be if Kaecilius does that for the whole world, and if that accomplishment would really be as amazing as doing what he can in the immediate moment to spare the/ benefit the lives of individual people... kind of like “saving one drunk idiot with a gun,” right?. And Kaecilius dismisses Strange's interjections, repeats the same words he said to the Ancient one in the beginning... they’re just insignificant specks in an indifferent universe, just sacrifices that must be had to achieve what must be done. He even tries to reason with Strange, and appeal to the very reason he’s in that mess in the first place... his hands, and his deep desire to have them healed and restored.

And for the first time Stephen is looking the devil in the eye, and sees himself.

 “Just look at your face!”  And in that moment, Stephen rejects the man he has been, and can see clearly his flaws for what they are. His ego trip may have blinded him, but in that moment, he got on his own level and saw himself for the first time the way that others saw him, and it wasn’t someone he wanted to be and he recognized the wrongs of his ways. How ambition and the conquest for betterment can consume someone completely, until they’re so blinded in their pursuit for self worth, that they disregard the worth of all the other lives and people around them — it’s all ends that justify the means. It's not actually about doing what's right. It's about accomplishing the greatest feat possible for oneself — this is Kaecellius' ego unleashed, not a sincere quest for world salvation.

And everything bad he didn’t want to become that he saw in Kaecellius, gives way for new direction in all the inspiring goodness he sees in the Ancient One, her final farewell, and her sacrifice of her life to save his and Mordo’s own.

And in the end, Stephen finally understands what the Ancient One, Wong, and Mordo, and Christine were all on about. It’s not about what change you can create for other people to benefit yourself, Stephen; it's about the change YOU can make to benefit other people, who are so many in number and so much larger than yourself. It’s not about the strength in your hands, and what they can do; but the resolve of your heart, and the strength of your will.

And he learns, because the Ancient One teaches him...

He uses his own lifeforce to fence off Dormamu from earth, because even if he suffers, everyone else will be safe. He tests the worth that the Ancient One claimed she always saw in him; that could achieve things greater than he ever dreamed, greater than his medical ambitions. The goal-oriented, ruthless man we saw in the beginning becomes someone who learns true purpose and ambition. His life that was hollow and empty, becomes truly fulfilling.

And the most intriguing piece of irony of them all?

After exhausting countless resources, plenty of doctors, libraries, and research archives seeking a way to heal his own hands, he found nothing but failure. But using only his own willpower, he who felt helpless and powerless against his disabled hands, managed to save the entire planet and all those living within it.

Because it wasn't his hands that gave him value, nor was it his work. There was something greater, but he was blind to it in himself, and everybody else, seeing all based on what they could accomplish — their educational background, their medical accomplishments  — a worth greater than him, in the world all around him that he always disregarded and failed to see. Something beautiful, precious.

And parallel to earlier events, when Stephen once again pushes the boundaries of magic, but this time, not in pursuit of greatness of for the betterment of his own hands... he is not received with a vocal reprimandation. On the other hand...

And here we are, at the end.

Stephen says it again. “You know, you really should read everything, because the warnings come at the beginning of the books.” He pokes fun at Kaecilius, at himself, at their likeness with a humility unlike yet before.

And Wong laughs. When Stephen went through so many different things trying to make Wong laugh — like he always had his other co-workers— he didn’t. 

But when he put himself and his heart into it, he did.

And no longer is Stephen on the same path as Kaecilius, surrounded by subservient followers, who only did as he told them because of what he was after and the results he promised to be able to deliver on. Now, he surrounds himself with those who genuinely care for him for who he is. No longer is Stephen so blinded by his need to be the greatest person in the room, that he can't see the worth of those around him — of love, of friendship, of companionship.

[howdoyousleep3]

you lean into me like you know

A/N: Hi so I’m feeling super wack right now and it’s really hard for me to write or to even get to that point, but this is something I wrote a while back and didn’t have the courage to share and then never finished it entirely to the extent I wanted to. There isn’t explicit smut but it’s implied or glossed over. The vibe I had in my head was very retro, not modern day, “The Outsiders” vibe. It is very different than what I normally post but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I’d love to hear your thoughts. 

After his second year of college Bucky comes home for the summer. His heart desires to stay in the city, yearning for the chaos, but he acknowledges how important it is to come home for his Ma. It’s a mild June morning, air already growing sticky, and it’s the first time Bucky sees Steve Rogers. 

Seeing Steve makes him realize he’s never seen sunlight before. Looking at Steve makes Bucky hopeful again, makes him want to smile, makes him want to be a good person. He’s the most beautiful thing he has ever set his eyes on and Bucky wants to fucking break him. Perfect little Steve Rogers with his rosy cheeks, golden blonde hair, his seemingly-always broken glasses, his full-ride scholarship, and his perfectly-keen artistic eye.

 It’s disgusting.

 Bucky’s pretty sure he’s in love. 

The sight of Steve makes Bucky short of breath and that isn’t even because of the cigarette between his lips. He sucks more nicotine into his lungs to shove down the growing ache in his chest and throws it to the concrete so he can stomp on it like he wants to do his own heart.

Once Bucky sees him coming out of the library that afternoon he sees Steve Rogers everywhere. He most definitely doesn’t blame that on the fact that Steve takes up every empty space in his mind, fantasizing about every which way he can make Steve cry. He sees him in the grocery store, walking down the road, at the local diner; Bucky sees him everywhere and it feels like he is drowning. 

He’s never been in love, not even close, never wanting to do more than fuck and move on. The foreign feeling in his chest and brain makes him comprehend why history is full of people who go mad over love, spend their days mourning, harm themselves, even die, for love. Bucky’s a tough kid. No one messes with Bucky Barnes. But one Steve Rogers is slowly cracking him open and Bucky’s doing what he can to protectively keep all the pieces of himself together.

The first time Bucky talks to Steve is a critical moment. If he’s shattered inside without even having heard Steve’s voice, he can’t imagine what hearing it will do to him. It isn’t planned. Bucky has no warning. He is standing outside the diner sucking down another cigarette, his date for the night (Sherry? Sarah? Stacey? Shit.) waiting far too patiently inside. It’s a decent summer night aside from the rain that’s been meandering down from the sky nearly all day. Bucky registers the bell on the door signifying the entrance or exit of someone, but he has no intention of lifting his head to acknowledge them. People usually like it more when Bucky doesn’t notice them.

“You know those things are awful for you,” a deep voice says to him and he’s ready to square up with the person who belongs to said voice when he looks up and—

Ah fuck.

He’s looking over at Steve, perfect little Steve Rogers. If Bucky felt like he was drowning before, he’s dying now, hanging on by a thread. Bucky opts to not immediately respond and instead takes in the kid and savors the moment. Steve is so small up this close and Bucky wants to squeeze him, wants to hurt him, wants to touch him. He swears he can smell him but that’s incredibly unrealistic given the distance between them and the humidity. 

He can see a smattering of summer freckles starting to form across the bridge of Steve’s proud nose and he aches inside at the sign of youth. He just knows that that smooth creamy skin would bruise like a peach, all sweet, under Bucky’s chaotic grip. Bucky’s palms begin to sweat and once again he finds himself flicking the butt of his cigarette to the ground, blowing out smoke into the heavy air between them, smashing and grinding what’s left of the cigarette unnecessarily into the pavement beneath his feet.

“No shit, kid,” Bucky manages to bite out before heading back inside the diner, narrowly avoiding brushing shoulders with Steve, bell ringing, hands shaking, breaths rushing. Bucky’s core, his equilibrium, have completely been compromised. If Bucky imagines that the body beneath him later that night, the one he’s fucking into, is comprised of bony joints, a strong jaw, and eyes that take him to oceans he’ll never in his life visit, he can’t be blamed. This is Steve Roger’s fault.

The next time Bucky talks to Steve he is more prepared. He knows it’s coming because he is the one who initiates the brief conversation. He needs to get his feet back under him, needs to be the one with the upper hand, needs to hear Steve Rogers’ disproportionately husky voice hit his ears again. 

He finds himself at the local market indecently early all because his Ma wants fresh green beans from Mr. Walter. He is very aware of the fact that Steve sells his art at a rickety old table, simplistic and pure, sitting behind it all in a near-broken wooden chair. He’s so compact that the splintered chair sees no strain and Bucky’s heart does that achy pull when his eyes land on him. He swears to himself he’s in one of those romance films they show at the drive-in on weekdays for cheap. It makes him nauseous.

He pretends to pick and sort through a barrel of peaches, fingers barely detecting the fuzziness of their skin, eyes trained on the soft blonde. Steve Rogers looks just that, so soft, so gentle, plain white t-shirt and faded jeans, knees tucked to his chest to balance the worn sketchbook on them. Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to feel pain, to counterbalance the warm twinge beneath his ribs but it barely works. Bucky realizes with a wave of panic that he could watch Steve Rogers draw and sketch and focus for the rest of his life.

Bucky has a plan, knows what he is going to say, can only hope what little Steve Rogers replies with. Thick shaky legs take him right up to Steve’s table and before his lips can even part the wind gets knocked right fuckin’ out of him. His words die on his tongue as his eyes rove over the worst thing he could have ever seen—himself.

Amongst all the sketches and drawings, even a painting, there to the left lies a rough sketch of Bucky. He’s standing outside the diner, the point of view of the sketch drawn from within it, and a cigarette hangs between his lips. He looks brooding, dark on the paper, side profile gutting. He’s never seen these emotions splayed across his face before and how dare Steve Rogers, of all fucking people, showcase it to the world.

His brain tries to catch up with his limbs and mouth as he listens to himself mumble, “What the fuck, Rogers?”, fingers reaching to touch at the paper reverently. That wasn’t what Bucky was supposed to say. Bucky’s supposed to make Steve Rogers blush and stammer, conceal an erection, think about Bucky when he closes his eyes at night. He gets the blush and stammer, cerulean eyes wide as he damn near falls out of his seat in an attempt to snatch the sketch from Bucky’s reach and view.

“Fuck, I didn’t…Bucky…” he mumbles and a noise bubbles up in Bucky’s chest at Steve saying his name. Steve is quick but Bucky is quicker, pulling the sketch out of reach. Steve’s small arms are no match for Bucky’s longer ones. Bucky takes a second to appreciate the sketch up close before blinking over at Steve who looks like he is about to burst into tears. He’s fidgeting where he stands, arms crossed over his wisp of a chest, both face and neck a splotchy red mess. His eyes are downcast and Bucky can actually hear Steve wheezing. Bucky wants to wrap him up in his arms and kiss his cheek, to press his lips right there on Steve’s temple like he’s almost damn sure would make him blush. Bucky has absolutely not ever done that or felt this way before. His fingers twitch.

“How much?”

Bucky watches as Steve’s head shoots up, a look of sheer surprise and embarrassment flowing over his features. He stammers and chokes on his words, the strong crease between his brows prominent.

“Fucking Christ, Rogers—how much?” Bucky says in as much aggravation as he can muster, which is a miracle considering his veins feel like thick honey full of adoration. Steve quickly shakes his head feverishly.

“No, it’s…no. Nothing, s’free.” He still won’t look up at Bucky, picking at the hem of his shirt, and Bucky already wishes he could see those eyes again. How can he long for something, someone, when they’re right in front of him?

“I-I usually sell them for like…t-twenty dollars. It’s cool though, I—”

Bucky raises his hand dismissively, Steve snapping his mouth shut with a click, and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He tugs out a fifty-dollar bill and tosses it on the table. Steve doesn’t look up at him. Bucky wants to cradle the sketch close to his chest, to show it to the world, to frame it in glass and get it signed. Instead he turns and says, “See ya later, kid,” and walks away. 

He walks away a fluster of emotions. 

He’s still uneasy and off-balance, angry, but his entire being feels like it’s letting out a sigh of relief. Bucky refuses to think of why his thoughts are forming the way that they are and instead folds up the sketch and places it in his back pocket with shaky hands. He’ll keep it on the table next to his bed and smooth out its creases as he looks over it every night before he sleeps. Bucky doesn’t think about how it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him.