#and if something sticks out

[prince-princess-bunny]

It is so hard to separate emotions when you had a complicated relationship with someone. My grandma was an awful person, so it was easy to cut her out, emotionally. But my dad is so much tricker. He was a monster, but when he was actually being a dad, he was a good dad.

Sometimes I’ll catch myself thinking how lucky I am that he introduced me to so much incredible art, and then slammed with the memory that is the same man that tortured his children. It’s been 10 years since he died, and, honestly, I still often struggle with how to feel. My biggest take away is that sometimes life is fucking complicated and you have to learn to make peace with that

after my grandma’s funeral, I got angry with myself for not having made more of an effort to form a relationship with her, but the major obstacle was that she always acted mean and disinterested in me. like her comments toward me were primarily snipes at my clothing, or my weight, or my work, or my odd mannerisms, and if got carried away and started babbling about something that interested me, she’d listen for a time until snapping and telling me to be quiet. and I do think a large part of this was the inherent discomfort some people have when confronted with autism. they get an ick.

I grew up always excited to visit my grandma, until I got old enough to realize that she didn’t seem to like me, and then I was old enough to have agency so I stopped visiting. and now I’m sad that she’s dead. I don’t really know what lesson to take from any of this.

[ciearcab]

gouache falin

[mightaswelljxmp]

hm ok so interestingly, bdubs’s courthouse is built on an odd number of blocks. note the roof of the facade coming to a point, but more importantly, the nine pillars….

you don’t use an odd number of pillars. like ever.

let me get this out of the way first: i get why you’d build with odd numbers in minecraft. i usually do it myself, to not run into problems like double doors or two-wide pointed roofs or frustrating spacing/symmetry between decorative elements. however. to not even out the design of something so unequivocally done in every other example of columns and pillars…. fascinating implications…

every other example guys. every other building with columns like this has an even number of them.

doing so sets the line of symmetry at an invisible point between two pillars, an even number on each side. but an odd total number of pillars makes the central pillar itself the line of symmetry. this does a couple things.

one, it upends the sense of community and equality. which i know sounds crazy, but really, a group of columns are all put there to hold up a structure. there’s no focus on one because they are all are working as supports.

symbolically, at least when first used in ancient greece, pillars represented people. and it makes sense for courthouses, especially, to want to show an even, fair, equal number of people on each side. no focus on any one, no inherent bias right off the bat just looking at it.

with an odd number of pillars, though, one will always be placed front and center.

and THEN. and then you walk in the courtroom itself (also odd-numbered blocks) and you are immediately opposite the judge, bdubs, located exactly centrally. and true, courtrooms are often set up like this anyway. but bdubs ups the ante and reaffirms that no, focus is on him by staging it all as a daytime court show, boom mic just over his head, cameras pointed in, spotlights on him.

literally by design, it was not built for justice. it’s built for show, for entertainment. and just look at the credits to know exactly what sort of message you’re supposed to be getting from this show.

the biblical story he used, with king solomon. it’s about king solomon. isn’t really about the trial itself, or the babies, or the women. it’s about showing (off) how wise and just he is. that’s the point. hm. interesting.

now, getting to the second point that etho also picked up on: it feels like a prison.

it’s not just the color palette. when your eyes naturally draw to the center point, you aren’t seeing an open space. instead of feeling like an arch or gateway or otherwise some kind of opening, the pillar there makes it feel closed off. the overall effect is that of prison bars. not pillars lining the entrance to a place of order or a temple. bars of a cage, a cell.

imagine the lincoln memorial were set up with 11 or 13 pillars. he’d look so much more trapped in there.

having a central pillar blocks the entrance. it’s not welcoming. you have to go around it; it’s immediately inconveniencing you. and when you go to leave, it’s there blocking you again.

this courthouse was not designed and built to be fair, nor accomodating, nor equitable, on any terms. even if unintentional, i wouldn’t call it so much coincidental as i would… subconscious.

after all, y’know. form follows function.

[kendyroy]

my favorite thing to do is take screencaps of logan idle in the background. this is one of my favorite ones because LOOK AT HIM. LOOOK AT HIIIM

[3twindragons]

[salamispots]

on to the next gift wip

[micamone]

hewwo

[chloesimaginationthings]

The tamest Afton kids’ fight in FNAF history

[contagious-watermelon]

Why do I keep seeing transmascs and trans men insisting or implying that all trans men are "female socialized," or "understand the female experience," or "navigated the world as a woman." Because yeah, sure, that can be true for some people. especially if you weren't gnc at all as a kid and didn't crack your egg until well into adulthood, it makes sense.

But they don't stop at saying they had that experience. It always comes with an addendum that trans men, as a group, all can relate to this experience. I don't know about the entirety of my demographic, but I never got even a little bit of what some of them talk about. I didn't even believe that women were scared of going out at night until I kept consistently seeing them say it, online or wherever, for years. I never realized catcalling was a thing until I saw some women complaining about it on reddit.

But they posit it as some sort of, you're safer than cis men, right? You know what it's like? Which, on top of being patently, demonstrably false in the case of myself and many other trans men, holds some unpleasant and often outright hostile implications about trans women. And they always deny it, but if you can't even conceptualize someone like me who grew up gnc, and never got the bulk (or any?) of whatever we consider to be 'female socialization,' what does that say about what you think trans girls went through, growing up? I don't want to speak for them, as I've never experienced that firsthand, but I can guarantee that (if you're even a little bit obviously trans) people don't treat you like a cis kid of the opposite gender. By and large, they don't get treated like cis boys.

It just makes me mad that we're taking this inaccurate framework that (ever so conveniently) puts trans people into the box of our assumed birth gender, and trying to fancy it up and use it with a faux-progressive veneer; never mind the way that transphobes use it to bar trans women from being athletes, or using the bathroom, or having access to any gendered resources they need. It would be bad enough to try and dust it off and use it even if it were largely accurate, due to the aforementioned connections to outright transphobia, but it literally is patently false. Not in all cases, obviously, but why are we trying to revamp this untrue, inaccurate generalization and pretend that we can make it 'trans-inclusive?'

[vidkun]

[umblrspectrum]

hi heres art so you pay attention to me now go read the tags

[starry-bi-sky]

Jack Fenton was a round kid. Jack Fenton was a round kid with big blue eyes and a pudgy face and a brilliant smile, with a big laugh loud enough to rattle your bones. He was a stocky kid, big and tough and strong as an ox. He was the champion wrestler at his high school. Then he grew up, and he's still big, and broad, with a square jaw and straight black hair. He can lift both of his kids with one arm and lift his wife with the other. His smile remains brilliant, he has eyes like the open ocean.

Maddie Fenton was a willowy kid. Maddie Fenton was a willowy kid with bright eyes and a round face and a mind sharp like a scalpel, with a smile that could convince anyone to do anything. She was a tough kid, thin and lanky and strong like bamboo. She was top of her martial arts class by the time she was twelve. Then she grew up, and she's still brilliant, and she's no longer willowy, with a pointed chin and eyes that look purple in the dim light.

Jazz Fenton was a thin kid. Jazz Fenton was a thin kid with bright teal eyes and a soft face and a mind like a rabbit's, with a silk-hiding-steel voice that could sink into your bones. She was a bright kid, social and bookish and brilliant. She jumps from interest to interest like they're lilypads, soaking in everything that catches her eyes. She wants to be a doctor, then a therapist, then a teacher. She's growing up.

Danny is.

Danny is...

Danny is a small kid. Danny is a small kid with pale skin and a chubby face and eyes that are neither round nor blue like the open ocean, with a quiet voice that sounds like the wind whistling through the trees. He is a quiet kid, shy and skittish and hiding. He has eyes like a lamb; big and sweet, and they will swallow you whole. His eyes are blue like a glacier, and they see right through you, curtained with dark, wet lashes. His hair is black like an oil spill, black like raven feathers.

Danny is a watchful kid. Staring and watching, silent. Observing. He stares at the stars, as his parents work, at the neighbor across the street as he tinkers with his motorcycle in his driveway. In a house full of suns, there must be a shadow. In a city covered in sunlight, the dark always goes somewhere.

Danny is an outcast kid. He is an ink blot on a white page. He is a dark storm cloud over an open field. The looming shadow behind the trees. He is young and sweet and scary, with gentle fingers that are slender and long. His laugh is neither big nor does it rattle your bones, and his mind is not quick like a rabbit's nor is it sharp like a scalpel. His mind is radiant, the nail catching on the loose thread and unraveling it all in meticulous precision, and his laugh is soft and warm and it seeps into the soil like rainwater, soothing the ground.

Danny is a kid with a face like a stone statue; sharp and cold and pale, smooth and tall and cutting. With hair black like the night, that wisps and curls behind his ears and at his neck, swooping in his swallow eyes. He squints in the light as if his eyes will never get used to it, if you listen to his heart you can hear it bleeding.

Amity Park is a city with a blue sky and white clouds and a bright sun, a postcard come to life. Pretty and safe, full of normal people and normal jobs and normal parks and normal schools and normal children. In a world of heroes and powers and magic and aliens, Amity Park is a place that your eyes slide right over.

Amity Park is not made for a child like Danny Fenton, and Danny Fenton is not made for a place like Amity Park.

[lucabyte]

A belief in Nominative Determinsim

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Do you like sci-fi and indie animation? Check out Monkey Wrench!

[whoslaurapalmer]

so in the book of bill there's a part where he gets a bunch of old ladies to make like, precious moments-style figurines of him called The Tri Angels Collection by PudgyLilDarlins, and I was immediately super amused and charmed by this one --

which I was then Compelled to recreate, out of model magic

[heartorbit]

always by your side