#and if i could do anything maybe that would justify my existence. but i cant. i just fucking cant

[hauntingblue]

Justice for jolyne wdym emporio defeated pucci

[freakquarantine]

post game Vice and Astarion become vampire hunters sort of out of necessity methinks

[faggot4faggothour]

ohhh questioning the point of life again .

[soracities]

Hey! It has been on my mind lately and i just wanna ask..idk if it would make sense but i just noticed that nowadays ppl cant separate the authors and their books (ex. when author wrote a story about cheating and ppl starts bashing the author for romanticizing cheating and even to a point of cancelling the author for not setting a good/healthy example of a relationship) any thoughts about it?

I have many, many thoughts on this, so this may get a little unwieldy but I'll try to corall it together as best I can.

But honestly, I think sometimes being unable to separate the author from the work (which is interesting to me to see because some people are definitely not "separating" anything even though they think they are; they just erase the author entirely as an active agent, isolate the work, and call it "objectivity") has a lot to do with some people being unable to separate the things they read from themselves.

I'm absolutely not saying it's right, but it's an impulse I do understand. If you read a book and love it, if it transforms your life, or defines a particular period of your life, and then you find out that the author has said or done something awful--where does that leave you? Someone awful made something beautiful, something you loved: and now that this point of communion exists between you and someone whose views you'd never agree with, what does that mean for who you are? That this came from the mind of a person capable of something awful and spoke to your mind--does that mean you're like them? Could be like them?

Those are very uncomfortable questions and I think if you have a tendency to look at art or literature this way, you will inevitable fall into the mindset where only "Good" stories can be accepted because there's no distinction between where the story ends and you begin. As I said, I can see where it comes from but I also find it profoundly troubling because i think one of the worst things you can do to literature is approach it with the expectation of moral validation--this idea that everything you consume, everything you like and engage with is some fundamental insight into your very character as opposed to just a means of looking at or questioning something for its own sake is not just narrow-minded but dangerous.

Art isn't obliged to be anything--not moral, not even beautiful. And while I expend very little (and I mean very little) energy engaging with or even looking at internet / twitter discourse for obvious reasons, I do find it interesting that people (online anyway) will make the entire axis of their critique on something hinge on the fact that its bad representation or justifying / romanticizing something less than ideal, proceeding to treat art as some sort of conduit for moral guidance when it absolutely isn't. And they will also hold that this critique comes from a necessarily good and just place (positive representation, and I don't know, maybe in their minds it does) while at the same time setting themselves apart from radical conservatives who do the exact same thing, only they're doing it from the other side.

To make it abundantly clear, I'm absolutely not saying you should tolerate bigots decrying that books about the Holocaust, race, homophobia, or lgbt experiences should be banned--what I am saying, is that people who protest that a book like Maus or Persepolis is going to "corrupt children", and people who think a book exploring the emotional landscape of a deeply flawed character, who just happens to be from a traditionally marginalised group or is written by someone who is, is bad representation and therefore damaging to that community as a whole are arguments that stem from the exact same place: it's a fundamental inability, or outright refusal, to accept the interiority and alterity of other people, and the inherent validity of the experiences that follow. It's the same maniacal, consumptive, belief that there can be one view and one view only: the correct view, which is your view--your thoughts, your feelings.

There is also dangerous element of control in this. Someone with racist views does not want their child to hear anti-racist views because as far as they are concerned, this child is not a being with agency, but a direct extension of them and their legacy. That this child may disagree is a profound rupture and a threat to the cohesion of this person's entire worldview. Nothing exists in and of and for itself here: rather the multiplicity of the world and people's experiences within it are reduced to shadowy agents that are either for us or against us. It's not about protecting children's "innocence" ("think of the children", in these contexts, often just means "think of the status quo"), as much as it is about protecting yourself and the threat to your perceived place in the world.

And in all honestt I think the same holds true for the other side--if you cannot trust yourself to engage with works of art that come from a different standpoint to yours, or whose subject matter you dislike, without believing the mere fact of these works' existence will threaten something within you or society in general (which is hysterical because believe me, society is NOT that flimsy), then that is not an issue with the work itself--it's a personal issue and you need to ask yourself if it would actually be so unthinkable if your belief about something isn't as solid as you think it is, and, crucially, why you have such little faith in your own critical capacity that the only response these works ilicit from you is that no one should be able to engage with them. That's not awareness to me--it's veering very close to sticking your head in the sand, while insisting you actually aren't.

Arbitrarily adding a moral element to something that does not exist as an agent of moral rectitude but rather as an exploration of deeply human impulses, and doing so simply to justify your stance or your discomfort is not only a profoundly inadequate, but also a deeply insidious, way of papering over your insecurities and your own ignorance (i mean this in the literal sense of the word), of creating a false and dishonest certainty where certainty does not exist and then presenting this as a fact that cannot and should not be challenged and those who do are somehow perverse or should have their characters called into question for it. It's reductive and infantilising in so many ways and it also actively absolves you of any responsibility as a reader--it absolves you of taking responsibility for your own interpretation of the work in question, it absolves you of responsibility for your own feelings (and, potentially, your own biases or preconceptions), it absolves you of actual, proper, thought and engagement by laying the blame entirely on a rogue piece of literature (as if prose is something sentient) instead of acknowledging that any instance of reading is a two-way street: instead of asking why do I feel this way? what has this text rubbed up against? the assumption is that the book has imposed these feelings on you, rather than potentially illuminated what was already there.

Which brings me to something else which is that it is also, and I think this is equally dangerous, lending books and stories a mythical, almost supernatural, power that they absolutely do not have. Is story-telling one of the most human, most enduring, most important and life-altering traditions we have? Yes. But a story is also just a story. And to convince yourself that books have a dangerous transformative power above and beyond what they are actually capable of is, again, to completely erase people's agency as readers, writers' agency as writers and makers (the same as any other craft), and subsequently your own. And erasing agency is the very point of censors banning books en masse. It's not an act of stupidity or blind ignorance, but a conscious awareness of the fact that people will disagree with you, and for whatever reason you've decided that you are not going to let them.

Writers and poets are not separate entities to the rest of us: they aren't shamans or prophets, gifted and chosen beings who have some inner, profound, knowledge the rest of us aren't privy to (and should therefore know better or be better in some regard) because moral absolutism just does not exist. Every writer, no matter how affecting their work may be, is still Just Some Guy Who Made a Thing. Writing can be an incredibly intimate act, but it can also just be writing, in the same way that plumbing is plumbing and weeding is just weeding and not necessarily some transcendant cosmic endeavour in and of itself. Authors are no different, when you get down to it, from bakers or electricians; Nobel laureates are just as capable of coming out with distasteful comments about women as your annoying cousin is and the fact that they wrote a genre-defying work does not change that, or vice-versa. We imbue books with so much power and as conduits of the very best and most human traits we can imagine and hope for, but they aren't representations of the best of humanity--they're simply expressions of humanity, which includes the things we don't like.

There are some authors I love who have said and done things I completely disagree with or whose views I find abhorrent--but I'm not expecting that, just because they created something that changed my world, they are above and beyond the ordinarly, the petty, the spiteful, or cruel. That's not condoning what they have said and done in the least: but I trust myself to be able to read these works with awareness and attention, to pick out and examine and attempt to understand the things that I find questionable, to hold on to what has moved me, and to disregard what I just don't vibe with or disagree with. There are writers I've chosen not to engage with, for my own personal reasons: but I'm not going to enforce this onto someone else because I can see what others would love in them, even if what I love is not strong enough to make up for what I can't. Terrance Hayes put perfectly in my view, when he talks about this and being capable of "love without forgiveness". Writing is a profoundly human heritage and those who engage with it aren't separate from that heritage as human because they live in, and are made by, the exact same world as anyone else.

The measure of good writing for me has hardly anything to do with whatever "virtue" it's perceived to have and everything to do with sincerity. As far as I'm concerned, "positive representation" is not about 100% likeable characters who never do anything problematic or who are easily understood. Positive representation is about being afforded the full scope of human feelings, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and not having your humanity, your dignity, your right to exist in the world questioned because all of these can only be seen through the filter of race, or gender, religion, or ethicity and interpreted according to our (profoundly warped) perceptions of those categories and what they should or shouldn't represent. True recognition of someone's humanity does not lie in finding only what is held in common between you (and is therefore "acceptable", with whatever you put into that category), but in accepting everything that is radically different about them and not letting this colour the consideration you give.

Also, and it may sound harsh, but I think people forget that fictional characters are fictional. If I find a particularly fucked up relationship dynamic compelling (as I often do), or if I decide to write and explore that dynamic, that's not me saying two people who threaten to kill each other and constantly hurt each other is my ideal of romance and that this is exactly how I want to be treated: it's me trying to find out what is really happening below the surface when two people behave like this. It's me exploring something that would be traumatizing and deeply damaging in real life, in a safe and fictional setting so I can gain some kind of understanding about our darker and more destructive impulses without being literally destroyed by them, as would happen if all of this were real. But it isn't real. And this isn't a radical or complex thing to comprehend, but it becomes incomprehensible if your sole understanding of literature is that it exists to validate you or entertain you or cater to you, and if all of your interpretations of other people's intentions are laced with a persistent sense of bad faith. Just because you have not forged any identity outside of this fictional narrative doesn't mean it's the same for others.

Ursula K. le Guin made an extremely salient point about children and stories in that children know the stories you tell them--dragons, witches, ghouls, whatever--are not real, but they are true. And that sums it all up. There's a reason children learning to lie is an incredibly important developmental milestone, because it shows that they have achieved an incredibly complex, but vitally important, ability to hold two contradictory statements in their minds and still know which is true and which isn't. If you cannot delve into a work, on the terms it sets, as a fictional piece of literature, recognize its good points and note its bad points, assess what can have a real world impact or reflects a real world impact and what is just creative license, how do you possible expect to recognize when authority and propaganda lies to you? Because one thing propaganda has always utilised is a simplistic, black and white depiction of The Good (Us) and The Bad (Them). This moralistic stance regarding fiction does not make you more progressive or considerate; it simply makes it easier to manipulate your ideas and your feelings about those ideas because your assessments are entirely emotional and surface level and are fuelled by a refusal to engage with something beyond the knee-jerk reaction it causes you to have.

Books are profoundly, and I do mean profoundly, important to me-- and so much of who I am and the way I see things is probably down to the fact that stories have preoccupied me wherever I go. But I also don't see them as vital building blocks for some core facet or a pronouncement of Who I Am. They're not badges of honour or a cover letter I put out into the world for other people to judge and assess me by, and approve of me (and by extension, the things I say or feel). They're vehicles through which I explore and experience whatever it is that I'm most caught by: not a prophylactic, not a mode of virtue signalling, and certainly not a means of signalling a moral stance.

I think at the end of the day so much of this tendency to view books as an extension of yourself (and therefore of an author) is down to the whole notion of "art as a mirror", and I always come back to Fran Lebowitz saying that it "isn't a mirror, it's a door". And while I do think it's important to have that mirror (especially if you're part of a community that never sees itself represented, or represented poorly and offensively) I think some people have moved into the mindset of thinking that, in order for art to be good, it needs to be a mirror, it needs to cater to them and their experiences precisely--either that or that it can only exist as a mirror full stop, a reflection of and for the reader and the writer (which is just incredibly reductive and dismissive of both)--and if art can only exist as a mirror then anything negative that is reflected back at you must be a condemnation, not a call for exploration or an attempt at understanding.

As I said, a mirror is important but to insist on it above all else isn't always a positive thing: there are books I related to deeply because they allowed me to feel so seen (some by authors who looked nothing like me), but I have no interest in surrounding myself with those books all the time either--I know what goes on in my head which is precisely why I don't always want to live there. Being validated by a character who's "just like me" is amazing but I also want--I also need-- to know that lives and minds and events exist outside of the echo-chamber of my own mind. The mirror is comforting, yes, but if you spend too long with it, it also becomes isolating: you need doors because they lead you to ideas and views and characters you could never come up with on your own. A world made up of various Mes reflected back to me is not a world I want to be immersed in because it's a world with very little texture or discovery or room for growth and change. Your sense of self and your sense of other people cannot grow here; it just becomes mangled.

Art has always been about dialogue, always about a me and a you, a speaker and a listener, even when it is happening in the most internal of spaces: to insist that art only ever tells you what you want to hear, that it should only reflect what you know and accept is to undermine the very core of what it seeks to do in the first place, which is establish connection. Art is a lifeline, I'm not saying it isn't. But it's also not an instruction manual for how to behave in the world--it's an exploration of what being in the world looks like at all, and this is different for everyone. And you are treading into some very, very dangerous waters the moment you insist it must be otherwise.

Whatever it means to be in the world, it is anything but straightforward. In this world people cheat, people kill, they manipulate, they lie, they torture and steal--why? Sometimes we know why, but more often we don't--but we take all these questions and write (or read) our way through them hoping that, if we don't find an answer, we can at least find our way to a place where not knowing isn't as unbearable anymore (and sometimes it's not even about that; it's just about telling a story and wanting to make people laugh). It's an endless heritage of seeking with countless variations on the same statements which say over and over again I don't know what to make of this story, even as I tell it to you. So why am I telling it? Do I want to change it? Can I change it? Yes. No. Maybe. I have no certainty in any of this except that I can say it. All I can do is say it.

Writing, and art in general, are one of the very, very, few ways we can try and make sense of the apparently arbitrary chaos and absurdity of our lives--it's one of the only ways left to us by which we can impose some sense of structure or meaning, even if those things exists in the midst of forces that will constantly overwhelm those structures, and us. I write a poem to try and make sense of something (grief, love, a question about octopuses) or to just set down that I've experienced something (grief, love, an answer about octpuses). You write a poem to make sense of, resolve, register, or celebrate something else. They don't have to align. They don't have to agree. We don't even need to like each other much. But in both of these instances something is being said, some fragment of the world as its been perceived or experienced is being shared. They're separate truths that can exist at the same time. Acknowledging this is the only means we have of momentarily bridging the gaps that will always exist between ourselves and others, and it requires a profound amount of grace, consideration and forbearance. Otherwise, why are we bothering at all?

[i-think-were-alone-n0w]

ill speak my fucking truth, the TUA s4 ending was BULLSHIT.

alright alright, i get yall's issues ab five and lila, but i also understand it to some extent.

but one thing we can all agree on is how full of plot holes, unanswered questions, and how shitty of an ending we've got. also, it was so fucking rushed! hell.

to address the ending; why the fuck? why? why would our comfort characters cease to fucking exist? in all timelines, they've fought so hard to build good lives. it was bound to be ruined, but them to fucking cease to exist? thats wild!

and alright what about the other kids with marigold? (?) there were about what, 40+(?) born, right? where are they? this cant be real.

to address some other plot holes..

ray: what do you MEAN he just.. walked out on allison? they loved each other dearly, we sidnt get a fucking explanation?

sissy, SLOANE??: what, did these characters just disappear into thin air? if ray is alive, why couldn't sissy be, too? mostly after the big part harlan played in the third season. also, where the fuck did sloane go? so ben survived, but sloane just, what? disintegrated??? turned into pure marigold? hell.

ben?: why is no one talking about him? his love story was rushed, his motives were a bit stupid (not entirely, so i could excuse this), also he just fucking died and nobody seemed to actually care? klaus had little to no reaction and he was the closest to ben? what the hell is going on?

viktor: we ve gotten none of his backstory. we see a supposedly ex gf of his at the start, and they say he s getting every girl in town. what is he, afraid of commitment? a player? not able to sort his priorities? also, how come he didn't suffer any consequence after literally sucking those particles out of ben!? i mean, his body's got a fuck ton of marigold, and in theory when coming into contact with that bs particle; he should've what, exploded!?

reggie: how and why is reggie for once, supposedly nice? until now he played a role snd at the evnd revealed a facade and it being some evil plan. this time over though, what we see is what we get. he trusted viktor, he followed up on his word, gave him time, gave him chances, called so many times, and in the end, told his wife that he wishes to save it and couldnt believe it was her behind it. so why is he no longer evil? what's up with that?

jennifer: soo why was she inside a squid? what happened to her parents? how did she get that power? why is she destined to meet ben? erremmm.. so many plot holes w her.

commision: (i might be very wrong here and not remember the past seasons, feel free correct me if im wrong.) but ure telling me, that in NO timeline the commision still exists? lila and five have managed to travel through hundreds of them over the span of 6.5 years. and all of this, none of those timelines were helpful? or.. anything at all? i wish their arc wasnt so rushed, maybe more ppl would see through it. it didnt feel like 7 years. it felt like 2 months.

diego: throughout the season we see him getting clowned on for being a "failure" and being "fat" only for him to look the same, fucking ripped too, and be normal, react like a normal person would. he was a good, hard working father and good husband with pure intentions. what was all that for?

claire: i need to see more of her. we know klaus' been sober for 3 yrs, but its been 6. which menas that claure has seen that "bad, sick" side of klaus. we see her know how to recognise that he was relapsing. i wish we saw more of her childhood, her with allison and how she got so closs to klaus.

it all was so rushed. idk ill add more if i remember more chat.

if any of you want to see me address lila and five, i've made other posts. i think their arc was important, not necessarily asked for, but justified, too. i'll folloe up with more posts and answer questions. no hate here.. js opinions:).

[madeintimeland]

everything passes and impermanence is one of my greatest fears i cant seem to appreciate the moment enough but i still look back on good times and appreciate they happened and feel some shred of the same joy i did so why the fuck am i even worrying about any of it all when i am the sole proprietor of meaning in my life and no matter how deeply these thoughts take root i still find joy and want to do things i enjoy. the only true meaningless thing is the baseless thoughts my brain conjectures up. and i will say all of this but not take any of it to heart some part of me feels like its words in a debate and not a true ideological belief or something i have to act upon to make my life better and incorporate purpose and intent to my actions. my deepest core being feels impermeable but theres no knot that cant be untied or at least cut out and discarded. from this end it's so calcified it feels like the most solid immovable stone but perhaps it's just so crusted over from a lack of maintenance i cant even tell what's within. i dont even know what im talking about anymore. im dead sober btw that's the worst part i still feel scared to smoke weed again because if i did these thoughts would be ten times harder to fight off and not succumb to. wish i could acclimate myself to it like i did last time weed brought upon derealization existentialism etc but perhaps it's just not time yet. yet the desire remains. and look at that. desire. a fuel for meaning and purpose. it means something and i argue directly at it that it doesn't exist. so what is it all for except to torture my own undeserving self when i will never deserve anything until i discard the idea that i dont. it's all perspective and even the worst most corrupt evil people in the world find a way to believe they're in the right but i have the grace of being emotionally aware of other people enough that i know i want to act in a manner that upholds peace and goodness and maybe my own logic justifying my desire to be alive is in a way more valid than a violent bigot's. i have to hold a sense of validity to myself or else this argument falls apart because i will keep digging into why each person's individual perspective on things cant be argued against because inside of each person's mind is their own reasoning and beliefs and in this random twisted universe theres barely any universal truth. public opinion and consistent belief from multiple people is something i hold onto because it speaks that the aberrations in those beliefs are perhaps not "right" and even regardless i have my own free will to decide for myself and even more so affiliate with people who feel the same way and avoid those who dont. which holds true for anything i mean ideology interests personality etc whatever that's life you surround yourself with others you agree with. i want to be developed enough to try and hear others out to further develop those beliefs for myself and i think that places me in a higher moral position than others who hate senselessly and act without consideration towards others and i cant handle the idea that believing myself to be more moral than others is wrong It has to be or I'm gonna go fucking insane right here right now

[confuseddipshit]

its kinda far away from what i expected it to turn out, strayed a bit in the middle, but its here once again. as always, sorry for the lack of cut, mobile tumblr isnt that fancy. enjoy.

⚠️cw: few mentions of blood, nothing too explicit; maybe some emotional neglect? not much though. much lighter than my last poem. still have some grammar mistakes, but theyre there on purpose, i refuse to write I'm instead or im.

i had a normal childhood, you know.

used to be that one kid that get an A and stay sad for an entire week that it wasnt an A+. used books to escape from reality since i read my first letter, so the first time i read romeo and juliet, i was 5 years old. it was an old copy with some eldritch language that i couldnt quite grasp at the time, too many details passed unnoticed.

but besides the introversion and shyness that appeared out of the blue when i turned 4, it was pretty common. my parents never laid a finger in me, nor threatened to do so.

how i wish they had.

of course, i never gave them reasons to do so, but many do it without reason, let alone a good one, so sometimes i wonder what would have happened if i wasnt too tame.

if i had questioned more. had complained more. screamed and cried and asked for more. i wonder how long would it be before they had lost their temper.

pretty long, thats for sure. they were always so controlled.

i guess, thats the entire point now. the stoicism to which i was exposed since birth couldnt make much good for a child. never experiencing the bad sides means the good sides were, too, hidden; never being hit also means that i never felt desired.

see, i did feel loved sometimes. when my mom brushed my hair before school. when my dad would let me mess with his hair while he was watching the news. when theyd both hold my hands when we were walking to the market to buy some bread for dinner.

but there was a time where it all would come to an end. i couldnt feel desired when mom decided she was done brushing my hair, and i had to decide between learn how to take care of it or cut it at the age of 6. and i certainly didnt feel desired when my dad wouldnt lift and carry me anymore at the age of 8. (he couldnt for health reasons, but of course my 8 years old self could never compreehend it).

now im 19 years old. since i was 14, ive been craving something, but could never get close enough to see what it was - or i was too aware of it, and therefore too scared of not being able to hide that side of mine. i took out the blanket that hid it, some time ago, and came to the conclusion that i crave suffering.

not the emotional kind, that i have a lot. you cant go unharmed from "gifted child, parents pride and joy" to "burnt out queer young adult".

i crave the physical counterpart of it. i crave a reason, a good one, something that justifies the intense unhappyness, this indifference and apathy thats always creeping around the corners, hiding in plain sight.

i crave broken arms and black eyes, i crave bruises and crooked noses and raw knuckles. i crave a few broken teeth and a blood-red stained record in school, with a few too many fights and a few too little good grades.

i crave the disappointment and the freedom it brings when no one expects nothing else from you.

i crave intenseness and adrenaline. i crave jumpscares and fist fights, and damn right, i crave pain.

hope you liked it, all feedback is welcome, please like and reblog if you enjoyed, makes a lot of difference for the artist. tell me if i forgot some kind or trigger/content warning or tag, im kinda new to this.

-> you can request a story, if you have something in your head that you think its too weird to ask other authors, i love weirdness and will write for anyone and anything that i can read about so. pretty much every existent character :) thats it for today bye

[guiltedlily]

1.18.23

7.37pm

the word “villian” has been dancing around my thoughts for weeks now. ive watched so many people in my life become the villain yet ive always tried to stay “good”. i have this urge to let myself go, not be self-destructive, the exact opposite of that. i want to be able to feel myself as my own person and not the dumbed down idea of somebody everybody sees as a kid because i deserve that. it feels like im the villain for that when in reality im standing up for myself. 

i joke about a “villain arc” as if i havent watched others crumble around me and become the real villain. even if it wasnt technically real, i still remember their actions piece by piece. i remember being called the bad guy for being childish and destructive because i had nothing else. not that it was necessarily right, but of all people, me? i watched communitites, nations, rise and fall by a handful of people, i realized that the people i trusted werent moral, i had my world shattered in front of me so many times over. im not asking to be coddled for that, but it makes me wonder why i stuck out as a villain to some

its so freeing to let myself exist without feeling like i have to water myself down but its scary sometimes. for my entire life, ive been known as the dumb kid who feels things too much and too hard. for my entire life ive been treated as a child when i was cheated out of the chance to actually be one. i convinced myself it was “healing” but i was being pushed back further. in all honesty, i feel emotionally stunted in a way. all those years of being treated and seen as a child make me feel as though i need to behave like one, like i dont understand anything and need somebody to cling onto. ive spent years clinging onto others and i have lost them every single time. 

im allowed to be my own person and i do not need somebody to define that for me

thats the single biggest thing ive had to face with.. all of this. lose everybody, gain myself. i cant live in the shadows of everybody else forever and i needed to realize that. i allowed myself to be pushed into boxes and constrained because god forbid im anybody but who others want me to be. i dont think its much of a coincidence that i only started seriously considering my gender once i wasnt under the influence of other people in my life and appeasing them. my gender is just a small portion of my identity that id repressed; there are still parts of the stupid kid that remain inside me, but im trying to take charge and allow myself to be better than that and really grow

i still think a lot about the times id broken down in front of people. i dont know if “regret” is the right word, but it terrifies me. id spent how long having my emotions used against me, and the moment i get comfortable expressing them more freely, im back at square one. a part of me would like to believe that they wont do that; itd be awful to use somebodys trauma and breakdowns against them, right? im forced to look back at my brother and remember the person he is. im forced to realize that maybe he wont always have a soft spot for me, that maybe me speaking out made him turn on me. it shatters my heart to consider but its unfortunately something i need to be aware of

i can tell myself time and time again “he had some sort of reasoning to prod at people the way he did”, but did he? all because he percieved these people as “bad” and considered himself any better. time and time again, i have to realize that im not a stranger to familial wrath. i would believe he could justify anything he does, and thats horrifying in a sense. does it give you a sense of gratification to jab your finger into peoples trauma, or do you only care when it becomes a threat to those you supposedly care about? 

when i think about people, my mind is cluttered with questions to them. im perpetually curious and its never quite quenched. i could fill a notebook of questions that i will never ask and i know i will never receive that closure. i could know every single thing about their thought processes but it wouldnt heal

8.20pm

[linipikk]

I didn't intend to be the most dramatic person on earth last night, and somehow I still managed to put this into words minutes before I even knew about the new AI straight-to-video development... which is just worse.

What is the point of being an artist or tbh, a human, if what you do is "content" instead of a far cry to communicate the experience of being alive?

as an artist working in animation, I always have the same stock answer when people ask me about AI. "I like drawing, if an AI can do storyboard then good for them I will still like drawing more than anything else and it is still what I will do" but it is not enough. It never was, I just don't have the heart to explain to non-artists why art is important. "Justifying art" as if all the bright theorists in history haven't tried to do that for millennia.

It's not my intention to tell you the woes of my particular situation... but the fact is that I would love to not live here for personal reasons, most of them dealing with safety, and I just really like the changing of seasons... it does wonders to my anxiety to have every day be different enough that I feel the passing of time. As simple as that. And as an artist, I want to work on different things than the ones I find here, meet other story artists even.

So yeah, I probably chose badly my career and my passion, if such thing is a choice to begin with, because, in no place on this earth, I and what I do are worth enough to justify any sort of visa sponsorship, a topic I know more about than the some people in studios that review artists applications but I won't bore you about it here. I do have my beef with the whole system and if one thing hurts me daily is that to have the same opportunities as any of my peers in places with bigger industries I have to be exceptional in every way, while they just have to exist with the right letters on their passport. I can work my ass off as I've been doing and it will never reflect on my living situation and that shit hurts.

And it is not about quality. Here, we do the same job in way worse conditions than most of our professional peers in the big places and it doesn't reflect in any way. I am aware of the unions, deals, and contracts of people in the USA, Canada, and Europe. I know about their predicaments with the state of the industry and the outsourcing of jobs. We are the overseas productions they are losing. I hear their bad conditions and I do feel for them, and also I don't think they are aware of the conditions here anyway.

We are the cheap labor, not by choice but by necessity, and it is NOT like we are getting fairly compensated. I even pay for my own software. If you know something about specialized software is that they are not exactly cheap, and now let's add the currency exchange, another extra problem we have here. Because we still have to pay in USD. I am far deep in my rant so I will resume it with an example: Let's talk about Storyboard Pro: It costs 52 USD a month, but that is FAR from its cost in COP, I have to multiply every price by 4 (and yes, 200 thousand COP sounds as expensive as 200 USD) So I still have to spend in USD to do my job... but this is the trick: I get paid 10% of what the USA union for a professional storyboard artist with 4 years of experience makes in a month (as of last year data) even tho I still have to spend in USD and I still do the same job in worse conditions, crunch time, nonsensical notes... hell, not even a pizza party because we only have remote work. And I believe I am one of the lucky ones. And the kick is... that I can't do my best work in these conditions. I look at my work and I know it could be better but I don't have the time or energy to make it better. I can't hone my craft because there is no way to do it! I don't even get credits, I don't see a dumb title card with my dumb name. I don't even have that to show.

And thus, I cant find my place as a cog in the killing-yourself-slowly machine.

Maybe I did choose wrong my career and passion, and I started thinking that maybe I should change jobs. Easier said than done. Not that I already spent the last 12 years, my undergrad, my postgrad, and my jobs, the bad and the better ones, doing my damn best to art, not that I do feel joy, pride, and purpose in art. I have this illness that makes me believe that humanity's soul is in what we create and that art is a reflection of love. Then, change careers? To what? it is not like a 10-years plan is even believable by the way the world is going. A 5-years one also sounds like a joke.

It is so hard to try and try and believe in something when I can't see can't even imagine how it all goes. It shouldn't be this hard. and i try to think that I am the problem here, you know? a last mirage of control.

I holding on to hope with both hands on its neck, but man, I am losing my grip here.

very distressed about not finding my place as a cog (a job) in the killing-yourself-slowly machine (capitalistic society)

[the-wolvesallcry]

I haven’t stopped thinking all day about the bitter pain there’s in 3rd ascension early days fu yao//nan feng that are constantly told “you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to” “you can go away anytime this (/me/) starts to be an inconvenience for you” etc etc while on the other hand there’s hua cheng that for some reason gets awarded with companionship even though they’ve known each other for 3 days, even though he’s an extremely suspicious person and all xie lian is still “colder” / more detatched from them than he is to a highly probable murder ghost king SOOOOO prompt fic to enrich a bit that scene where fengqing* are like “you cant trust him you don’t even know him he might have evil intentions etc etc” and xie lian is like “I don’t have anything valuable to steal nor am I anyone valuable enough to kill” and then he doubles down with “he couldn’t even use me to lure other heavenly officials since it’s unlikely others would come to my aid” but not in a self pitying way just in a matter of fact way actually even worse, in an offering-comfort type of way that makes everything worse ofc bc it’s like he’s saying “see, I have 0 value you don’t have to worry about me I’m safe!!!” as if that’s a good thing (or at least as if others would perceive it as such) and obviously fengqing will try to argue that and maybe say something like “our generals might come if it’s serious” or something similar idk and then xie lian that is extremely dedicated to prove « he’s safe with san lang okay san lang is good san lang wouldn’t have anything to gain from him stop suspecting him » but still always not in a bitter way just in a matter of fact way he’s like “!!!let’s try, I’ll prove it to you!” and then sends a distress signal or something in the communication array AND obviously he gets ignored (for narrative’s sake we’ll set this pre-banyue arc bc the wind master might have replied if it was after that) and they can’t do anything bc 1. they’re already there with him and it’s be hard to justify leaving without revealing their identities and, even if they could early days 3rd ascension fengqing are still too attached to their pride and ego to fall for what they know is not real and (as per their perception) ridicule themselves by showing that they care + by reacting to a danger that doesn’t exist too so it ends up with xie lian being proved right and them having to see how xie lian is not even fazed by it because he had absolutely 0 expectations (from them most of all) ((to make this even worse from fengqing’s pov this all happens in san lang’s presence that then says “gege I would never use you” and xie lian smiles sweetly to him and says “I know san lang”))

[becca-e-barnes]

dbf dark Lee coming over to your place late maybe to have a little chat with your dad- on his way towards the bathroom he notices your asleep with your bedroom door creaked open he can’t help but go into and see that your little night dress rode up revealing those soaked panties of yours- IM A SUCKER FOR SOMNOPHILIA I CANT 😫 before he knows it his thick fingers are fucking that little cunt of yours and you wake up whining at the soreness

Warnings: Somnophilia, dubcon/noncon, age gap but reader is in her 20’s. Please do not read if those themes will upset you

But oh my god I’m WET like… This is so hot bestie

Just the thought of Lee walking past your room and hearing your soft little grunts and tiny moans. He only really means to look in and check that you’re okay and he’s content when he sees you’re asleep on the bed, laid on your front with one leg bent to the side.

He doesn’t really mean to but his eyes drift to your legs, half wondering how you’re even able to sleep like that but then he notices how far your nightdress has shuffled up and God, you’re practically dripping onto the bed, your panties are soaked through entirely.

Never in his life has Lee seen a girl this wet without being touched and he can’t do anything but pity you because he knows you’ll not be able to take care of yourself like he could.

So rather than moving on, he takes a quick look around to make sure he’s alone before stepping inside and kneeling beside your pussy.

He doesn’t waste any time, it’s not like you need to be eased into it after all. He gently hooks his finger under the thin slip of fabric that’s protecting the bed from your slick mess, pushing it to the side to expose your cunt to his hungry eyes.

Your little sobs of need don’t stop, in fact, they only get louder as his thick finger presses into you, a soft groan leaving him as your walls part to allow him entrance. Your body needs this. You’re desperate. It’s not wrong of him to take like this when he’s doing you a favour. At least that’s how he justifies it to himself.

A second finger quickly joins the first and it’s a real stretch for you. He huffs out a quiet moan at how your hole fights to accommodate him, your body struggling to fit him in and he can’t help but wonder how it would feel to have you stuffed full of his cock instead.

But no, this isn’t for him. No matter how quickly he’s getting hard, no matter how desperate he’s becoming at the thought of leaning over and tasting you, that would be selfish. Maybe next time though.

His fingers pump in and out of you, slow and methodical, revelling in the slick squelch that accompanies each movement. Your walls are fluttering, your high not far off.

But then you start to stir. Your body overwhelmed by the painful stretch and the blinding pleasure that comes with it. Your eyes open, your head registering the intrusion and you look down to see Lee sitting at the end of the bed.

“L-Lee what are you-“ you begin, flustered and dazed, trying to cover yourself but he shushes you, flexing his fingers

“Sit still. Gonna make you feel good.” He whispers, pressing the pointer finger of his free hand to his lips because he knows your father is still about somewhere.

“Lee it hurts.” You gasp, your hips grinding down on his fingers despite your better judgement.

“I know, baby, I know. It’ll all feel better when y’cum for me. I promise. Just lemme take care of you.” His fingers have sped up, rubbing against something inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Be nice’n quite though, sweets. Your dad’s around here somewhere and I don’t wanna have t’explain that I’m just givin’ his daughter what she needs.” His fingers crook just right, pressing into that sweet spot a little harder and you cum so hard you can hardly breathe. A mix of pain and pleasure addles your brain, making you quiver and shake and gush over his hand, your teeth sinking into the pillow to stifle your own cries.

“Tha’s it, good girl. Cum nice’n hard. Feels good, huh? Told y’it would. Just need a real man to touch you.” He smirks, pulling his fingers out when you’re done, standing up before rubbing them on a towel over your radiator.

“You take care now, angel.” He nods, loving how your chest is still heaving as he slips out of your room, closing the door behind him

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

A Bad Feeling Pt 1

Levi x Reader

Part 1

Paring: Levi Ackerman x Cadet reader

Warnings: 18+ attempted rape/assault, cursing, mention of injury, violence

Summary: Reader feels uncomfortable around a overly friendly captain. Are they just over reacting? Or is there something else going on. What will Levi do when he finds out?

***************************************************

A.n. ok so I literally wrote this in one go, it's probably trash but I wanted to post it anyway. Please lemme know what you think in the comments! Thank you!

"Y/n! captain Oro is asking for you" you did your best to hide the discomfort Armins words made you feel.

You smiled what you hoped was a convincing one and nodded. With a deep breath you made your way to Captains Oro's office.

Ever since you had been introduced to him those few weeks ago, he had taken a special liking to you. At first you had been excited, having such a highly skilled and well known captain take notice of you was one of the best feelings. Especially since your squad leader, Levi wasn't exactly heavy on praise.

Everyone loved Captain Oro, he was known for his strength and stamina on the battle field. He was both charismatic, and charming. Your fellow cadets practically swooned over him. You couldn't help but also get caught up in his perfection. At first that is..

Over time you noticed things about your meetings that put you on edge. An unnecessary shoulder touch here, a too low pat on the back there. Something was off. And although you had done your best to distance yourself from him, it was hard when your squads often had to work together.

But it was hard to say anything against him because even your cold blooded captain seemed to enjoy his presence.

Once you brought it up to your friend Sasha, about how you felt he was being too friendly. But she waved her hand and basically said you were worrying for nothing, he was just a friendly guy. And you were being dramatic.

Maybe you were overreacting? If captain levi approved of him, surely that meant he was a decent person right? Maybe he was just being really really friendly.

You decided to give him a chance and knocked on his door when you finally arrived.

"Come in" a muffled voice came from the other side.

With a click you entered the candlelit room. It was nearing sundown after all.

"Ah cadet y/n! Perfect, I was wondering if I might ask your opinion on something?" He smiled angelically and gestured towards a parchment on his desk.

"Of course sir" you nodded and approached him, reminding yourself of what sasha said. Just relax.

From the way the parchment was positioned you had no choice but to come to his side of the desk.

"Do you see this area here?" He gestured to what you now saw was a map. "What do you think of leading a squad through here instead of what we originally planned?"

The next 30 minutes you spent completely and professionally discussing strategies. Being the member of your squad that was best at this, made him asking for you completely justified. You felt bad for ever doubting his intentions.

"Thank you y/n, I think I have a better idea of what course we should pursue on our next expedition" he smiled sincerely.

"I'm glad I could be of service" you nodded and allowed a relaxed smile to pass your features. Feeling stupid you had judged him so harshly.

" If you wouldnt mind just one more thing?" You nodded as he pulled out a stack of papers.

"If you could look over this report of the last mission before I send it out? See if theres anything else to add?"

"Sure, I'd be happy to Captain" you grabbed the stack.

"And please if you can, return them to me tonight, I'll need them for the meeting bright and early"

"Yes sir, I'll finish it asap, good evening" and with that you exused yourself.

Tonight? It was already sundown. Well whatever, hes so busy he probably doesn't know what time of day it is.

You found a quiet spot amonsgt the crowds in the common room and got to work.

************************************

"Oi brat, it's passed curfew, go to your room now, we have important work tommorow" the unmistakable voice of your captain rang through the now empty hall.

You looked up in surprise and meet his usual scowl, not even realizing how late it had gotten.

"Hai, s-sorry captain, I'll go now" you gathered the report and quickly left, not wanting to receive another scolding for taking too long.

Oh crap you still had to deliever the report. Changing routes you snuck quietly down the familiar hallways. Not particularly feeling like running into Levi again. Something about him always made you act just a little dumber and it was definitely not because of your non existent crush on him...definitely not.. he was just intimidating is all.

*knock knock*

You waited patiently but there was no answer. Crap did he already go to bed? But he knew I was coming? Ugh what should I do? He needs these reports..

With a sigh you change direction again and head for his personal chambers. There was no way you were getting in trouble for not delivering these reports on time.

You smiled when you saw dim light flood from beneath the door.

Lightly you knocked, "Captain Oro, its y/n, sorry it's so late but I have the rep-" you were cut off abruptly when the door swung open and there stood Oro.

Except he looked nothing like the Oro you were used too seeing. His hair was loose from it's normal slicked back do, and the edges were dripping slightly. His shirt was loosely thrown on revealing a decent amount of skin. He must've just bathed.. you could see why the girls were so obsessed with him. He was, platonically speaking, a very gorgeous man.

You were taken aback but reminded yourself that you did knock after hours so of course he wasnt going to be all soldiered up.

"U-um s-sorry Captain, I have the reports" you averted your eyes and shoved the reports in his direction.

"Ah y/n, thank you, would you please put them on my table? My hands are still slightly wet." He laughed holding them up innocently.

"S-sure" god why were you stuttering so much, you fight goddamn titans for a living?! But somehow you were more nervous now than when a 10meter was clawing at you.

You entered the room and tried to avoid looking around too much.

You always wondered what the inside of the higher ups rooms look-

*click*

You whipped around, alarm bells suddenly back in full force.

"Captain what are you-"

"You're such a good girl, you know that y/n?" Oros whole demeanor changed and you cursed yourself for not trusting your earlier instincts.

"U-um" you really did not know what to say or do as he took a couple steps closer.

"Always so obedient for me, I think you deserve a reward don't you?"

Shit

"That's not...that's not necessary captain, I really should be going" you tried to lunge for the door but he was quicker and much much stronger.

"I don't believe I dismissed you cadet..." he purred pinning your arms to the door in the blink of an eye.

You were by no means weak, but your struggles were useless against him.

"Let me go" it took all your strength not to stutter in fear.

"How adorable, you know I love it when you follow my orders so well, but I think..." you shivered in disgust as you felt his lips near your neck and press down.

"I'd like to see you fight me as well" you whimpered as he sucked and bit down on the soft flesh.

"S-stop it, p-please" he smirked and looked into your fearful eyes with his lustful ones. "Stop? But that's not what you really want is it? You see I know exactly how girls like you are" he chuckled darkly and moved one of his hands to grip both your arms, while the other slid lower. You gasped when he cupped your breast. "S-stop! I'll, ill scream If you don't!" You felt a tear slide down your shaking form.

"Scream?" He snickered like you had told the funniest joke.

"Go ahead and scream doll, itll be very interesting to see what happens"

"W-what?" You were utterly confused.

"Think about it, if someone walks in on us, what would they think? Seeing a cadet after hours in her superiors chambers?"

"B-but I! I was bringing the reports i wasn't-!"

"Do you honestly think theyll care what you have to say? Who do you think theyll believe y/n? You a nobody cadet who's been fighting titans for 3 seconds? Or me, a selfless hero whos saved countless of scouts lives? All I have to tell them is that you came into my room and tried to seduce me. When I tried to restrain you, you screamed. Who do you think theyll listen too? Why else would you be here so late at night?"

"Y-You're..you're insane, you're not a hero, y-you're a coward who-" he grasped your jaw harshly causing you to wince.

"I'd watch that mouth of yours y/n" he squeezed harder. I am your superior after all, and we wouldnt want any nasty rumors going around that would have you suspended from the survey corps now would we?" He bent down and to your horror pressed his lips against yours.

Fuck fuck what do I do?!? Hes blackmailing me now. I cant fight him, hes too strong, think think think.

But your mind was blank when his cold lips pressed against your lips again. "Open your mouth" he ordered in a voice laced with animilistac lust.

You abruptly turned your head away desperate to get away.

"Heh, always such a tease" he traced a finger up and down your cheek, flipping over your lips. "I'll enjoy this-"

"CAPTAIN ORO, COMMANDER ERWIN REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE IN HIS OFFICE IMMEDIATELY" a voice shouts from the other side of the locked door.

With an annoyed sigh, Oro pulls away slightly, "Did he say why?" He lazily looks over in the direction of the door.

"NO SIR!"

"guess it can't be helped... Alright tell him I'll be there shortly" he yelled out.

"Hai" the footsteps recended and you stood deathly still.

He pulled away from you and you immediately pulled your wrists to you, they were an angry red, and it scared you how much strength he had so effortlessly displayed.

"Sorry doll, it looks like we'll have to continue this another night" he stepped away and began dressing normally as if he hadn't just been assaulting you 5 second ago. You quickly make for the door but his voice falters your step, "Oh and y/n?"

You dont look at him, but fear held you in place until he finished, "If you mention our little moment to anyone, you know what will happen" you nodded quickly, anything to appease him and get out.

When the door shut behind you, you felt the flood of tears break through.

D-did, d-did that really happen?!?

You held a hand to quiet your sobs and quickly dashed through the hallways.

You're heart thumped and you felt the need to vomit. You hadn't felt this way since the first time youd encounted a titan. All you wanted to do was get to the safety of your room, just through the hall.

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on you when a cold voice shouted out and halted your movements. Please not now, oh god any time but now.

"Oi cadet y/n are you deaf as well as dumb? I asked you a question.

"Why are you out past curfew?" he sounded definitely annoyed and you gathered all your strength to hold the sobs out of your voice.

Without turning around you answered, "I-I had to deliver some r-reports..I'll head to my room now.." you stepped forward hoping he would let you go but you were not so lucky.

"Oi brat, did you hit your head? I didn't dismiss you yet. Not to mention you haven't even addressed me properly, maybe some time cleaning up horse shit will remind you how to respect your superiors" fuck he was definitely angry now.

Still you didn't turn around, you couldn't..."S-sorry Captain Levi, I'll do better in the future.." you barely could even focus on the words coming out of your mouth, your heart was beating a mile a minute. Please just leave me alone!

"Hahh" Levi uttered in disbelief and severe annoyance, even the most novice of cadets turn around when being spoken to by a superior. "Are you trying to piss me off brat?!?"

"No sir..." still you didnt turn around, but gulped in fear when you heard sharp footsteps near you.

"Cadet y/n, you have three seconds to turn around and salute me properly before I throw you into the cells for insubordination" he ordered in his dangerously calm voice, that you never thought would be directed at you.

Having no other choice you slowly turn around, hoping to god the darkness of the room would be enough to hide your current state.

You kept your head down, letting your hair fall over your face, but gave a proper salute. Hiding the Wince that came when the tender flesh of your wrist had to bend.

Your eyes were trained on the floor. And you tried to remember how to breathe normally again.

"At least you remember how to-" abruptly his harsh scolding stopped.

Why did he stop?! Fuck did he notice something. No no calm down, he probably just is coming up with another punishment...right?

Wrong...

Levi was far from being done with dicisplining you but he caught sight of your bruised wrist and furrowed his brows immediately. He knew for a fact the last time you spoke in the hall those had not been there. He was quick to take in the rest of your demeanor and knew immediately that the reason you were acting disrespectful was because something was wrong.

"Cadet y/n.." he said suspiciously slow and not full of anger anymore.

"Y-yes?" Please dont ask me, please dont ask me, please dont-

"Look at me"

*******************************

Part 2 here

Okay so that's part 1! Please comment and lemme know what you think🥰also I'm super sensitive so please no hateful comments. Thanks for reading!

[marunalu]

I can't belive that fandom belives that Bakugou suffered in his life because he had a "quirk villian". When in all the manga besides his kidnap someone said or though that Bakugou's quirk was a villian one because if when you read the manga all kids and adults around him are praising him for his skills and quirk. Bakugou was a jerk because he wanted, he chose making Izuku's life miserable because he enjoyed it and they still have the face to tell that he was a little baby that do anything wrong.

Just an other day of bakugou stans coming up with stupid shit, to justify his shitty and abusive behavior. Sometimes Im really not sure if we read the same fucking manga then them?! Bakugous quirk is NOT an villain quirk?!?! The way he BEHAVES and he USES his quirk is villainous, that was THE WHOLE POINT why the lov got interested in him and wanted him to join them! Bakugou didnt say no because it was the morally right choice, but because he sees villains as losers and heros as winners! Would it be the other way around and their world had been dominated by villains people would worship, you can bet bakugou had turned into a villain, because for him its about which side is the winner side! Its not about what is right and what is wrong - its about winning! Thats the reason he hated and feared izuku so much, because izuku makes a WAY better hero then himself and he knows it! He explained himself, that izuku was scaring him shitless, because he cant believe a person can be so nice and heroic!

Hori confirmed that bakugou had a great childhood and was spoiled rotten by his parents and the people around him! He never missed anything in his life. He was neither abused by his mother nor was he shuned out by society for having a villain quirk! Like what kind of brain gymnastics need his stans to do, to come up with such bullshit?! Hori pointed out since the start that bakugou was literally worshipped since kindergarten by other people because of his quirk! Since the day he got his quirk people told him he will make a great hero - not because of his (lacking) heroic personality, but his QUIRK! HOW can readers come to the conclusion that bakugou suffered because of his villain quirk??? Seriously bakugou stans told me so often I need to learn how to read - maybe they should look in the mirror first, before accussing someone else?!?!

The whole point of my hero academia is to show a society that is obssessed with quirks and the more flashy your quirk is, the more you have the chance of winning an high social status. Hori pointed out OVER AND OVER again that something like “villain-quirks“ dont exist! Its not the quirk that makes you a villain, but the way you USE it! Peoples actions turn them into villains, not the quirk itself! By that logic ofa is a villain quirk because all might and izuku could destdoy WHOLE citys with it! No quirk in bnha is villainous! Not shinsos brainwashing, not togas blood sucking, not tomuras decay, not even afo itself - the quirk of the most dangerous supervillain on the planet! The thing that matters is HOW people use it - for good or for evil! Jeez, izuku was one of the first people who pointed that out!

So to make a short conclusion, bakugous quirk is not and NEVER was considered a villain quirk by others! He was WORSHIPPED for it!!! The problem is the way he is using it - because he is ready to HURT other people with it! A fucking EXPLOSION quirk!!!

[8gradient]

if there is one thing that the experience of art trauma and the subsequent process of recovery therefrom has offered to me, it has been a direct and immediate escape from that mindset.. cant strive for external validation via likes+reblogs if its too frightening to make anything in the first place, let alone post it.

so in coming back to social media as ive done the past year or so, i find that im not as concerned about it. notes are numbers on a screen. i like the idea of my work connecting with people, because i want to communicate emotion from within the pit of me. (what else am i meant to do with it? feel it? and thats all?) that i can see responses along these lines, see my own ideas reflected back at me with no direct prompting, and therefore know ive been successful in that task is a comfort.

but then who is to say that anyone can tell me whether ive succeeded in getting a thought out other than my self? what do i want people to say? is there a #series of words i could see in my notifications that would #justify all the work and anguish it’s taken to prepare myself to exist in an artistic sphere again?

am i waiting for someone to tell me ive done well enough?

#fav #inspiration #op i love this

does that make it worthwhile? im not altogether sure.

but i think its possible that thats not the right question here. i dont imagine that that makes it worthwhile for me, no. but ive been on the other side of it for a long time, mostly on this very blog, and, like. i regularly go through my insp tag. it actively helps me when i feel like i cant detangle my hands from nesting into each other with restlessness. when i see how other people have put down thoughts and emotions and i see how those efforts resonate with me, it makes me Want to try it again.

my favorite works of art of all time, pieces i think about years and years later, are mostly works that i would never have seen if not for the internet. i dont know if the people who made them remember uploading them, or even still have the work files saved, but it meant a hell of a lot to me that they did. even if the posts themselves (some of them ancient by now) break or get deleted, i will still have gotten something immense and filling from the experience of interfacing with the contents, even just the once.

so maybe thats what is worth it to me. this schrodingers connection that occurs when you share yourself in a semi-anonymous space this way. the emotional honesty of being able to say ‘i put myself out there, and you can do with that what you will.’ i think maybe that freedom from my own work is what i have been chasing. i think its enough

[kuipersorbit]

politics dont work on dsmp like you think they do: a badly written analysis

ok ive been seeing posts about techno being ancap because he teamed with quackity and purpled so I thought Id write something out to get my thoughts out there. (not only those, those are just the ones that felt like a punch to the gut) nobodys gonna see this but none of my friends are into this fandom (understandably) that i can talk to so here we go!!!

warning, this is p long!! there are 3 sections:

Anarchy v. democracy (differences to real life)

tubbo v. schlatt: minecraft governments

specific types of posts that we hate to see/dont make sense

Anarchy v. democracy (differences to irl)

So the fact that there are differences from minecraft rp to irl is pretty obvious, but i still see people talking like its not so heres some points. I see a lot of people defend c!tubbo and lmanburg for making a government, but I dont think they see the imact of government (even democracy) on the dsmp because it works for countries irl. so here you go: theres like 20 active members on dsmp. only half are in lmanburg.

why does this matter? because (as techno has mentioned in a couple of streams) thats a very small amount of people. lmanburg as a country could operate as an equal nation, as they could all fit at one table to talk. literally. Imagine someone in your household or in your friendgroup declaring themselves president and then actually having the power to make laws and exile people. weird right? It doesnt matter if the friend is well-liked or elected, they still have the power to control everyone else with no repercussions. Technoblade and Philzas perspective is this: nobody here should be given the power, because it always changes them and turns sour fast. they advocate for anarchy, which sounds crazy and violent, but what they really want is the friend group to be back on equal terms.

compare this to united states politics and then you open up a completely different can of worms. Those who argue for a system to hold people accountable and to make a system for orderly mass change are still justified. principles of anarchy built for large nations are still valid, but MUCH easier to achieve on a small minecraft server

tubbo v. schlatt: minecraft governments

SO. lets talk about tubbos rule. he seems to have good intentions at first, and is definitely not as bad as schlatt, but things start to go badly as he realizes he can get away with more and more. say we give him a by for exiling tommy because he was manipulated. (even though a government allows those systems to happen IN THE FIRST PLACE).

Technos execution is the first glaring red flag of his presidency. you could say that he was doing it as revege for?? two withers?? but then quackitys speech and the existence of a hit list immediately counter that. IF the execution was for JUSTICE they would have let him have a TRIAL. thats why its called the JUSTICE system. They have a pre-built courthouse and everything!! Another example of tubbos presidency souring is the destruction of phils house. they kept a man who constantly moves around in house arrest for the crime of?? being friends with someone?? as well as break his windows and loot his chests, the very same thing he condemned tommy and ranboo for. (ranboo is not innocent either btw, i have a whole nother rant about why i lowkey cant stand ranboos character, but thats for later.)

Not to mention pressuring ranboo to hurt people he didnt have qualms with, continuing to force a no-armor rule despite residents having reason to be wary, and selectively choosing who to be in his "cabinet", pushing people like Niki, who have been there since the beginning, to the side for QUACKITY of all people who has a very scuffed moral compass.

What did schlatt do again? he raised taxes, especially for niki (one of the only things he is very much at fault for), broke trees and buildings, enforced borders, killed tubbo, and exiled two of his competitors. Personally, I'd say tubbo and schlatt are equally bad here, schlatt just seems worse because he made his intentions known.

specific types of posts that we hate to see

we as in me. i hate to see em. Political compasses??? ew. bad. dsmp has only 20 people and no economy. (quackity wants to make one to gain power, purpled made a unsucessful real estate buisness for laughs early on.) People associating the syndicate/anarhcy with violence and chaos?? NO. BAD. they just want the friend group to be equal again. they just want a system where they cant be betrayed, ignored, and stepped on for no reason.

-extra snowchester point because this gets on my nerves. the syndicate was not expecting tubbo to be there. they did not go in any buildings without permission. they were very upfront about their goals and suspicions. not once was violence threatened, even after learning about nukes. also do not try me with "but techno has withers!!" EVERYONE can get withers. withers are a nuisance but destroy land maybe 4-5 blocks deep.

TUBBO and MANY OTHER SERVER MEMBERS have stolen and walked on technos land and he did nothing. He SAW tubbo, knew about connor, etc. and he did nothing. If youre upset about techno stepping foot on tubbos land, be upset at tubbo for doing the same to techno first.

conclusion

anarchy in a server is just "hey can we not?? dictate the lives of out friends??" and governments of ANY KIND have hurt people on all occasions. this is not the same irl. please know the difference.

IF YOU READ ALL THIS: holy fuck. thank you. this is my first long textpost here, i dont expect to get any traction or anything, i just wanted to put my thoughts in order.

[lovelivingmydreams]

What is a happy ending?

So someone (looks sternly at @rondoel) thought giving me insight in a certain OC of theirs and making me feel things is an okay thing to do. That I won't proceed to write a heartbreaking epilogue to my two part Virgil king story. This one not as long. But still. Enjoy:

What is a happy ending?

"Why happily ever after?" King wondered aloud as He studied their latest piece of art.

No one had ever answered that question for Him. Not in a meaningful way at least. And it never truly stopped bothering Him.

"Your majesty?" Anxiety asked carefully. Probably not sure if he had been meant to hear. King wasn't so sure Himself.

Oh well. He might as well finish the thought. Something interesting might come from it.

"Happily ever after. It's so... boring. Why does everyone like it so much?" He had wondered so often...

Anxiety shrugged. "Princey loved that crap. He hated it when I called out the flaws, though he could be just as bad with plot holes.

It's not realistic at all and... well boring is one word for it." His tone and face could almost be mistaken for dismissive, but King could swear He spotted fondness in the upturn of Anxiety's mouth and a slight wistfulness in the shine of his eyes.

King however was more interested in this more nuanced perspective on the story trope. Answers at last?

Anxiety noticed his king desired for him to elaborate and immediately started fidgeting as he tried to find the words to express his thoughts sufficiently.

"I suppose... everyone thinks that's what they want?" His nerves turn the sentence into a question. "When they are little it's an easy goal. You find the one who'll make you whole, or defeat the villain, or both. And then nothing ever bothers you again.

It's not how life works though... and growing up... I think everyone still has a part of them that wants to hold on to things being that... simple..." Anxiety trailed off and looked up at king curiously. His face strangely focused as if he was looking for an answer himself.

"Simple?" King urged wanting to hear more. Anxiety was so close to making sense. So close to bringing about that wonderful feeling when curiosity was sated. A story complete at last.

"Um... yeah... I mean even I feel a little... I don’t know... it feels right?

When you do the right thing, even when it's hard and you get the stuff you want anyway. And when people who hurt you don’t win. You want the world to work like that. If not for you then at least for the servant girl, who just wanted a night off, or the waitress who just wanted to buy her father's dream restaurant. Hard work, kindness, patience... they should be rewarded right?" Anxiety explained. Sounding frustrated. "And..." he let out a resigned sigh before straightening up and continued more decidedly. "Since the world doesn't work that way... why not escape somewhere where it does?" It was passionate. Perhaps in defense of Roman's favorite thing in the world. Then that fight and righteous defiance fell away in favor of a nostalgic fondness. "Thomas did it all the time growing up," Anxiety sighed before returning his attention to the painting that had prompted the question. A Father's Day movie night.

Hugs and snacks and movies with happily ever afters galore. All of Morality's favorite things.

King had to admit it had... stung to discover that Morality had taken up the role He'd given him even after he betrayed everything that title stood for.

Had he ever felt even the slightest bit conflicted when hearing Roman calling him 'Padre'?

Or was it supposed to be fine, since he thought Roman was the only half of Him who felt attached to him that way?

Had it truly never occurred to him that while he took in the confused Roman, he left behind a disoriented and heartbroken Remus who didn't understand why daddy was ignoring him.

What had he done wrong?

Why did he never get bedtime stories or hugs from dad? Why was he shoved away, scolded, ignored?

Why was he not allowed to play in the imagination with his brother?

The last thought had plagued both halves for years.

Even Roman who had stopped admitting to it to please Morality felt conflicted during story times and hugs to this day.

Telling Thomas that he didn't want anything to do with his brother had hurt more than the bump on his head...

But all of that was in the past. They were gone and their unresolved issues were a waste of His time. He had berated, tormented, Anxiety over this. He would not fall victim to such sentimentalities Himself.

"I see... escapism then?" He muttered, trying to get back on topic and not to show the... somewhat emotional turn His thoughts had taken.

Like His halves, His 'Padre' was gone. He probably never existed in the first place.

And Morality would pay for that betrayal and the way he abandoned Remus and how he made Roman fight to earn his love, only to abandon him as well. His suffering had only just begun.

Not because it still mattered. But... any excuse to justify and fuel His wrath even a little bit more was good enough for Him.

He'd probably avenge slights against his minister simply to feign kinship and watch the traitors squirm under his rule just a bit more. Not that he needed a reason to do anything. But justified rage was so much more satisfying to set loose. Because the targets would feel, deep down, they brought this upon themselves.

"Yeah... there's enough crappy stuff going on in the world right? Thomas... wants to use his talents to make people smile. And while that's cheesy, it's also... well it's him," Anxiety shrugged. King hummed in agreement as He framed the picture and put it away. He'd barely paid attention honestly. The answer was satisfactory. But there was a new question on His mind. As He mused over His minister's attachments to His enemies and how to sever them He recalled something intriguing about his recent behavior.

Anxiety had been pulling away from Morality. Why? What had caused a crack in 'the bestest most dynamicest duoest duo'?

And was this something he could use to forge an allegiance. Or to hurt Morality as deeply as He'd been hurt. Or, ideally, both?

King smirked to Himself as He laid a gentle hand on Anxiety's shoulder. He asked about a drawing of the young side and Thomas. He was pleased to note that His minister no longer shrank away every time He moved in his general direction. He might not be comfortable with His touch yet, but he was getting used to it. Something that would surely get to the others who still tiptoed around Anxiety's boundaries.

Maybe, at some point, he could be made to truly see things His way. To see the traitors for the villains they were. Just the thought of the chaos that this realization would unleash... It would be magnificent.

Morality had forgotten something important about 'happily ever after's.

Bad guys don’t get them. And the victor is always the hero.

It was only right that King reminded him of the shadow side of his favourite ending.

By making him live it.

Virgil knew that it was a bad thing that he found himself enjoying talking about his memories to the king and watching them turn into pretty cool paintings.

He was Anxiety, this was definitely a crisis. He can't relax now, not around the reason of said crisis... but if he doesn't relax a little his thoughts might do something really bad. And if he doesn't do whatever the king wants, then the king might do something bad.

So he had to balance on this weird edge of anxious, but cool with it.

The others were counting on him. To stay safe, to keep it together, to keep King distracted, to find a way to get him to lay off a little...

"Worthless." And... the thing is back.

"Dude, seriously, not now!" He snapped at his... shadow.

King just looked on intrigued. Great. Now the shadow had King's attention.

"Failure," it hissed. Right... King is not his biggest problem right now.

So far the shadow had only been mildly annoying even quiet for the most part. But clearly anxious thoughts made it remember it could be a pain in the behind. And worst thing is it got to Virgil even more because it laid out his true fears for King to see and use against him.

"You... you are just... you're just a thought. You can't hurt me." Virgil insisted.

Thomas could deal with his irrational fits. Surely he could manage this thing, right?

"Monsssster," the shadow hissed. No he didn't think that anymore!

"Guardian!" Virgil bit back. Patton said so, Logan said so, Roman said so, Thomas said so... why cant he just believe them?

He found himself struggling to breath again. The thoughts... they were real now... what if they could hurt him...? Can he die? What would happen to Thomas?

"Begone!" Virgil snapped out of his near attack at the sudden outburst from King.

What...?

He looked up just in time to see a flash of metal and shadow's dissolving figure.

"It'll reform later," King muttered as he sheeted his sword.

"It became too bothersome. You should not let your creations have power over you young one. You are their master, don't forget that," he instructed calmly, not looking at him.

Did he just...?

"Return to your business now, I find that I am in need of a break," he then declared as he walked away, still not looking back.

"But..." he came to a halt. "Should you wish to finish our gallery... I might be willing to indulge your presence later."

Virgil didn't quiet know what to do, so he bowed, just in case the king could see it somehow. "Y-yes my king. Thank you," he stammered hurriedly.

When he looked up, the king was gone.

And Virgil ran. He needed to find Lo and Pat before the shadows returned.

His thoughts were a confused mess... he hadn't imagined that right?

King had really stepped in to save him instead of letting Virgil's punishment, gift, curse, whatever run its course...

And then he left it up to Virgil to decide if and when they'd finish up.

There was probably some messed up reason behind it... but still.

Virgil wasn't stupid though. Even if saving him had been a purely noble impulse, King hadn't undone his 'gift' to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Telling him to put his foot down with 'his own creations' didn't really count.

King still messed up real bad and would have to do something pretty impressive to make up for all of that.

And Virgil was pretty sure that it wasn't just his pessimism talking when he thought that the king was no where close to wanting to make nice with any of them.

Or not for the right reasons anyway.

He shook his head. He can worry about all that later. Right now he has to find the others. Before King runs into one of them.

Virgil's trip down memory lane might've been deemed 'entertaining' or whatever, but he hadn't be around for whatever had happened to make the king be out for blood in the first place.

He didn't want to find out what King's idea of 'having fun' was when it came to Pat, Lo or even Janus. Whatever they did, it was still his duty to protect Thomas. Physically, socially, mentally and emotionally. Whether he wanted him to or not.

And not even King was going to stop him from fulfilling his purpose.

@antiredhuman you wanted to be tagged if I wrote more for this au so here you go! Hope you like it!