#back when tumblr was doing that one piece promotion i saw that you could edit the clown image via someone's post

[sartorially]

There was nothing to be sad about. All ended well, didn't it?

[retronator]

The last 10 years of pixel art

Retronator the blog is exactly 10 years old right now (+ an hour or so more since I can’t seem to stop editing this post)!

I want to take this opportunity to look back at the teenage years of the 21st century and reflect on how the pixel art scene has grown over the years. I only promise a personal perspective, pieced together from my faulty memory and a bit more reliable archive of 1,700 posts on this blog.

2010

Social media sites emerged already in the late 2000s (Facebook launched in 2004, Twitter in 2006, Tumblr in 2007), but it took quite some time before they caught on, especially outside the US. I joined Tumblr in July 2010 and there were relatively few pixel artists active on the site. @jinndevil​ and @unomoralez​ go the farthest of those that I followed. The first post I reblogged was a Back to the Future piece from @megapont​ (via some blogpost share, since Megapont duo didn't join till 2013).

What was huge on the network however was sharing retro-gaming artworks by blogs like @it8bit​ and @gameandgraphics​. This included many pixel art pieces and it helped grow a community of fans that adored both old games and pixels.

2011

I'd put 2011 down as the start of the hi-bit era of pixel art games, championed by the release of the iconic adventure game Sword & Sworcery. Pixel purism of the initial pixel art movement was left behind by mixing pixels with high-res special effects like soft shadows and vignetting. Also, spaghetti legs started their fad period.

Artists such as @probertson​, @drewpixel​, and @merrigo​ started their days on Tumblr, gathering huge audiences over the years. Meanwhile, Retronator grew to a whooping 100 followers by the end of the year.

2012

Tumblr's fan spirits were going stronger and stronger, to which I threw my own logs on the fire by releasing Tribute, my biggest and most popular piece of fan art I created so far.

The highly anticipated FEZ got released (to critical acclaim and other more controversial consequences), further bringing pixel art in front of the mainstream gaming audience.

From newly-followed artists, @johanvinet​ was damn inspiring with his smooth animations. Anything GIF did immensely good on the Tumblr dashboard.

2013

This was THE year for Tumblr. So many new artists joined, it was hard to keep track. Anyone from established names like Mojang's art director @jnkboy​ and @konjakonjak​ of Noitu Love 2 fame (later Iconoclasts) to pixel art beginners such as @waneella​, now one of the most well-known illustrators in the scene.

The push for modern art direction with pixel art games wasn't stopping either. Not that amazing, more traditionally styled titles (with fresh color palettes) weren't present, as Chasm's debut on Kickstarter showed, but it was Hyper Light Drifter that really stole everyone's heart (machine) on the same crowdfunding platform. Gradients and smooth dynamic shading became unapologetically part of the pixel art (gaming) vocabulary from then on.

When Papers, Please got released at the end of the year to universal appraisal, a new example was set for showing that pixel visuals don't necessarily need to be the most polished, technically-impressive pieces of artistic expression, they can also be simple—the majority of detail-filling can be offloaded to the player's imagination.

2014

Pixel purist ideology was a highly debated topic. Dan Fessler, the background artist on Chasm, did a strong push against the tighter set of constraints which said you should only use 'clean' tools such as the pencil and color fill to complete your artworks. Dan instead only cared about clean results, pioneering in the process the technique of HD Index Painting that used the depths of Photoshop layer magic to get otherwise identical results. And there were plenty of others right around the corner that wouldn't even care about keeping the results married to traditional pixel art ideals.

Still, the majority of pixel art at this point was very orthodox. I started the Artist Feature series that showcased my favorite artists and none of them did anything controversial (nor they needed to). The biggest break from the old days was mainly highly increased color counts that allowed for subtle transitions without dithering, and free color picking without creating predefined color palettes. Octavi Navarro started his highly iconic @pixelshuh​ scenes, and the completely unknown @8pxl​ started her journey towards experimentation with pink sky gradients.

Even more importantly, Pixel Dailies were born on Twitter, following Ben Porter's 365 days of doing pixel art daily.

2015

I called 2015 The Year of Pixel Dailies in the end-of-the-year article in my newly started Retronator Magazine. The Twitter community really exploded this year, bringing in many new artists to the medium, with Pixel Dailies serving as a platform to raise visibility to everyone, old and new. I found out about @weilarddrake​ and @orange-magik​ this way, Slynyrd, @iceztiqarts​, @igorsandman​ … Other freshly-discovered people on tumblr were @kirokazepixel​ (one of the most prolific artists on the scene), @faxdoc​ (his learning journey was inspiring enough for its own article), and Talecrafter with @deathtrashgame​ (starting a whole new style of aliased, low-res painting without caring about individual pixels).

The discussion whether pixel art could survive past its nostalgic roots was still in the air, stirred by opinions such as A Pixel Artist Renounces Pixel Art. History is proving them wrong however, with pixel art stronger than ever in 2020. It's not a visual language people born after the 80s couldn't understand.

New-school voxel art pieces started trending with the advent of Magicavoxel, pioneering the development of pixel art's sibling in 3D. The first pixel art convention Pixel Art Park was held in Tokyo. And (important for me personally), I came up with Pixel Art Academy, an adventure game that would take my ambitions in pixel art education into the future.

2016

After 9 years in development, Owlboy released! Also Hyper Light Drifter! And Stardew Valley! And Kingdom! Pixel art games were not dying, they were on the rise.

Edge (the popular British video game magazine) published a special 200+ page issue called Art of the Pixel. It featured contemporary artists outside the gaming context, championing the aesthetic's transition from its video game roots into its own art form.

Pedro Medeiros of @studiominiboss​ started his famous series of GIF tutorials, subsequently encouraging many others to share their knowledge in the popular square format. Tumblr still saw new artists joining the platform, such as @motocross-arts​ and @apolism​ (two thirds of the Japanese trio The Ultimate Pixel Crew), while others like @6vcr​ started their first pixel explorations that year. @brunopixels​, an old-schooler on the platform like me, sparked the Octobit movement, a pixel art alternative to Inktober.

2017

Further new names on Tumblr included @guttykreum​ (outdoorsy perspective pieces) and @scrixels​ (one of the most consistent daily posters with over 1,000 artworks by now).

The annual Shibuya Pixel Art Contest joined Pixel Art Park at promoting the art form in Tokyo, Japan (and worldwide really). Lospec became the new go-to resource site for pixel art, picking up the mantle from PixelJoint and Pixelation that—while still active—stagnated technologically and feature-wise.

More than anything, pixel art games were everywhere. Maybe it only seemed to me this way since I was able to go to the Game Developer's Conference as press and had the chance to interview many many people in the scene, leading to over half a year of daily content on this blog. Indie games felt stronger than ever with so many of us full-on realizing our dreams of creating our own games professionally. The one that left the biggest splash on the scenes was no doubt The Last Night, announced front and center in-between AAA titles during Microsoft's E3 conference. The brothers Soret pushed the art direction even beyond the hi-bit era moniker, fusing 3D, shaders, and modern cinematography with pixels in an iconic combination that, like Sword & Sworcery's spaghetti legs, was so atmospheric that it couldn't be resisted by future imitators.

2018

Another game that pushed technological boundaries was Pathway, finally stepping into full light in 2018 and releasing one year later. I still think it has the most advanced pixel art graphics engine to date, using voxels and other tricks under the hood to deliver a completely dynamically lit environment while retaining the pixel-perfect 3/4 view aesthetic. Pixel art games were firmly part of mainstream gaming by now, with Celeste winning many awards alongisde pixelish Return of the Obra Dinn, further cementing the presence of pixels as an ever-evolving medium capable of expressing very different art styles.

I decided to focus solely on developing Pixel Art Academy in 2018, putting this blog on relative hiatus with very sporadic updates towards the end of the year. But I never let it die. I thoroughly enjoy writing about the scene and my interest in the art form only grows with time.

2019–2020

Ironically, the closer the years are to the present, the less I remember what things stood out most. Maybe it's because my brain hasn't had the chance to automatically prune my memories yet from the overload of information that is the interwebs these days. Pixel art seems so out there, so much of my everyday life, encompassing me on Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Facebook, Reddit, DeviantArt … Even on TikTok you see kids zooming out of their freshly pixelized Minecraft photographs they call pixel art. The medium is alive, and more than ever.

As for the Retronator blog, from its zero followers exactly 10 years ago, it grew to 100 after a year and a half, 1000 the year after, 10k when it was 5 years old, and 30k just last month. Tumblr is still the platform where most of you follow my pixel art reports and I don't intend to stop anytime soon.

Here's to the next decade! Thank you all for reading. <3

[cilldaracailin]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

And here we go again!

This is being posted a lot earlier than planned because of my previous post and how I had a good day, I decided to pull my posting date forward and go against my code of writing and posting and not finish my next story before I post this one but I am sure I can cope with that! ;)

I hope you all enjoy this one. It’s a good one, even though I am totally biased.

Thanks so much for all the lovely followers and likes and Tumblr love on all my previous blog posts!

Suze xx

*I do not know Taron but the other characters are all mine!*

1

“A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for anything.”

Robyn stood with her hand on the open car door, a troubled look on her face as she watched Taron snoozing in the front seat of her car, his head rolled to the side a little. He met her with a tired smile and tight hug in Dublin airport just after eleven pm, another apology on his lips as he squeezed her against him. It was late Monday evening, the day before St. Patrick’s Day and even though it was going to be another incredibly short visit, Taron had insisted that he was coming to spend the Irish holiday with his Irish friend.

“It’s such a late Taron flight and you are working right up until you need to be at the airport.”

“I am coming Robyn. I promised you.”

No matter how much she tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come to visit her, Taron refused to listen to her and now sat in her car, asleep, his whole body a little cramped with his position in the front seat.

Taron had taken on some work to keep himself busy between filming, doing some voice over work as well as prepping for his new role which he was thrilled to have gotten and his days were full and demanding and as predicted the screen test for his new role had been the weekend before he was due to come and visit Robyn. He had learnt the weekend previous that he was given the role he was desperate to get, his good friend and director Matthew Vaughan, putting Taron through a tough audition process to make sure he was absolutely right for the part and his Monday had been filled with phone calls and an impromptu script run through as the cast was finalised and Matthew wanted to be absolutely sure with his choices. Taron had to change his flight to the last one that evening so he could still go and be Irish for the day. It meant that once again, he was thoroughly exhausted and once Robyn had driven them out of the airport, he was asleep, Robyn talking away to her friend, not even realising he was asleep until she had been babbling for a while without a reply. She had tried her hardest to talk him out of coming but he was completely insistent and as Robyn now hunched down in front of the open door, as much as she loved seeing Taron, she was wondering if the forty-eight hours they got to spend together was worth it for him as his schedule started to fill up again and his very early starts and late nights started to take their toll on him.

She gently shook his knee and he immediately lifted his head, his eyes opening wide as he looked at her.

“Hey you.”

Groaning, his leaned against the head rest. “All I do is sleep with you.”

Robyn smiled and blushed a little but her grin faded a little as it took Taron a few seconds to realise what he said, his hands running down his face, almost too tired to be embarrassed and it wasn’t like him at all to react so slowly to something awkward he had said.

“I sleep with you too.” She replied. “And cwtch sometimes.”

“I am sorry Robyn. Not the way I wanted what was supposed to be our few days to go. Now it’s barely two.”

Robyn reached into the car and took his hand. “We have said many times before, that we would be happy with even an hour together. I will take our two days Taron. You know this.”

“Yeah I do but wouldn’t it be nice to have a couple of days together? Like New Years? Matthew wanted me to tell you he was sorry that our time was taken away from each other but he just needed to make sure I was suited for the actor playing my dad in the movie, that we connected and had a chemistry of sorts, even though the father son relationship in the movie is a turbulent one. Then once he was satisfied, he had to organise a read through. It’s such a significant and relevant story to the world today and he insists on getting everything not just right but perfect.”

“Taron you never have to apologise to me for your work. I know how important your job is to you and how much you wanted this part.”

“You are important to me too Robyn.” Taron’s voice was serious and insistent.

“You know I know that.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “But sometimes, life throws us a curve ball.”

“That was Matthew, not me.”

“And if Matthew was keeping you from me, then I know it was extremely important. Now how about we put a little smile on this sad face, and we go inside and just get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.”

“Being Irish?” He asked a small smile on his face.

“And I know a blue dinosaur who has missed you terribly. Perk up rocketman. You got here and have two days to relax a little.”

“I am always tired when I come to see you.” He complained as he got out of the car, his body a little stiff from the position he fell asleep in.

“Not true.” Robyn answered him as she closed the car door. “I was the one falling asleep in the car last time we saw each other.” She opened the back door and took his backpack out.

“I just want one time to come and see you and not be tired.”

Robyn hated the sadness and grogginess she heard in his voice. “Hey Taron, don’t get too caught up in the technicalities we face. We knew we were going to have a hard time in seeing each other. We can’t just go and spend an evening together or go for a drink when we feel like it. We have to plan our visits and I know it’s frustrating, believe me. There have been so many times I wished I could have physically seen you rather than talking on the phone but when it comes down to it Taron, I will take a phone call over nothing.”

“Me too Robyn.” Taron took his bag from her, yawning as he did so. “I am sorry. I’ve been in a shit mood all day. I shouldn’t be taking my annoyance over other things that are out of my control out on you.” Taron was still always so conscious of how his behaviour and reaction to the article had hurt her before Christmas and always made sure now that he didn’t burden her with his worries or if he did need a chat, try his best to keep from rolling his anger and upset onto her.

“You can still talk to me about everything though Taron, you know this.” Robyn locked her car and started to walk towards her front door.

He let a heavy sigh leave his body, following Robyn to her home. “This new film is going be tough and I am overthinking everything at the moment. The script read through this morning was challenging and there is so much to it, I know I am going to struggle with it at times.” Taron was on Robyn’s heels as she strolled in through her front door, going straight to the island in her kitchen to put his bag on it. “I also know it is going to be a very emotionally charged shoot.”

“Have you spoken to Matthew about all of this?” She asked him, as she pulled a cup from her press, placing it on her hot water maker, turning it on so water slowly filtered into the stripped mug.

“Yeah he knows.” Taron came to stand beside her, taking his hat off and throwing it onto the island. “We have a lot of time to prepare though and he is such a good friend and everyone one of the cast is so talented, I know we will do the movie and story justice but it is going to be so tough. Matthew has already told me to use him when I need to, ring him with any question.”

“I am glad you have him to lean on when you need too but even with him working on editing Kingsman, he is still getting ready for a new movie?” Robyn dropped a tea bag into the cup.

“Believe it or not but he is actually nearly finished already. He hasn’t stopped since we finished the re-shoots four weeks ago. He still has two weeks to finish it up completely before we start promotion and then the premier which by the way…” Taron pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and opened it. “Might as well pull these out now.” He handed her over two very crumpled pieces of paper. “Cashing in some vouchers.”

Robyn grinned as she took them from him. She opened the first one and wasn’t surprised to see the ‘go to a premier with me’ voucher in her hands and as she opened the second one, frowned a little. “‘Wear an outfit of my choosing’.” She read. “I think I might regret writing this one.”

It was the first time she had seen him smile since he picked him up from the airport. “Stella is helping me.” He assured her as he put his wallet back in his pocket. He watched as she placed the vouchers on the countertop and moved to open a drawer and take out a spoon. “And I won’t pick a black sack.” He knew she was making him a cup of tea and watched as she stirred the tea bag around a few times before taking it out. “And you have full control over your hair and make-up except that Stella probably will be doing it all.” Taron followed her as she took a few steps to the fridge to get some milk and back again to where the cup sat. “And I hope I have given you enough notice for work. I know you will have to take the day off, maybe even the Thursday before if you could.” Robyn’s silence was starting to worry him and once she had added the sugar and milk to his tea, she picked up the cup and handed it to him. He took the cup from her, the heat from the mug settling nicely into his hands. He blew on the liquid before taking a sip, closing his eyes as once again Robyn made his tea perfectly.

“And I will be there. I have already asked for the two days off Taron.” She replied to him eventually and he hoped she hadn’t heard the sigh of relief he made and he took another drink from the cup, the hot soothing liquid exactly what he needed right now after a long day of work and stress. “And I completely trust you with regards to a dress. Actually, I think I trust you more than I trust Stella and you will steer her clear of plunging necklines and princess dresses.”

“So, no plunging neckline then?” He asked with a light smirk on his face. “Ok I shall have to re-think my thoughts.”

“Taron Egerton I am trusting you with this dress and you need to remember this premier is so much more than Elton’s party or the musical. It is a much larger event and for your movie and is going to attract so much more attention.”

“Hey…” Taron put his cup down and stepped over to her. “I know Robyn. I think I know you well enough now to understand what you like and what you don’t, and I will steer Stella in the right direction too.” He moved closer to her and gently pecked her cheek. “Trust me.”

Robyn stared at him and despite the fatigue in his eyes, they were still bright and held that mischievous glow. “I should have put a voucher in there that lets me dress you.” She replied to him, watching as picked up his tea and he took a long drink from his cup, a smile on his lips. “Maybe I need to sticky tape one in.”

“Not part of the terms and condition chicken.” Taron winked her way and started to walk away from her. “Now where is cwtch?”

Robyn watched him walk away from her, through her kitchen and into the bedroom, laughing as she heard him talking to the blue dinosaur who sat on her bed. She leant against the counter and sighed. Every waking moment, the man currently in her bedroom was in her thoughts. She thought about him when she played the piano, when she took out her guitar, as she lay on her couch and as she stood under her shower, her shampoo still on the right-hand side six months later and lately she constantly thought about the shoulder massage she had given him back in London a few weeks ago, even more how Taron had just her roam her hands all over his chest and warm skin and if she was honest with herself she was desperate to do it all again, praying for the day that Taron produced his back massage voucher for her. She watched his movies with such a different view now and whereas before she would be engrossed in the movie, now she was engrossed in Taron watching how he moved, his facial expressions and his voice. As his work schedule quickly filled up, especially now that he was preparing to work with Matthew once more, time for speaking with each other was becoming a little bit trickier, Taron actually falling asleep on the phone as they spoke to each other last week. Robyn was just as busy and her rehearsals for RENT were lasting longer and getting later as they started to pull the show together, the musical society now adding Monday evening and Saturday to their rehearsal schedule to ensure the show was the best possible it could be and with two weeks to go until opening night, her days were pretty packed.

In saying that though, she didn’t look anywhere near as tired as Taron did. She hated seeing him so exhausted and had tried hard to convince him to stay in London and take his two-day break at home, but he was having none of it. He was adamant that he was keeping his promise and spending St Patrick’s Day with her. Once she saw him sauntering out of arrivals and towards her, her whole body filled with a blush and red-hot heat flushed through her. Taron just had a knack for doing nothing and making her feel fuzzy butterfly feelings in her stomach and she melted into his arms as he hugged her tight in the airport. Her love and affection for him deepened further into her soul each time they saw each other, and Robyn knew that although she loved Taron without a doubt, there was now the little problem she was facing of how she was actually falling in love with him. She enjoyed his company, compassion, and caring nature as well as his terrible jokes, infectious laugh and how he made her feel like the most important person in the room when she was with him.

“Hey rocketman are you hungry? You came straight from your read through, you must be starving.”

Robyn stopped in her bedroom doorway and was immediately met with flashbacks from the first time Taron stayed with her. Sprawled out on the duvet on the right side of the bed, Taron lay on his stomach, cwtch the blue dinosaur cuddled under his right arm, fast asleep and breathing deeply, the right side of his face nestled into the pillow. If she had of been thinking straight, she definitely would have taken a picture, but she was a little concerned at how once again an exhausted man slept on her bed. Robyn knew he was naturally going to be a little run down the busier he got but it seemed to her that at times, his exhaustion or overused muscles were erring on the edge of extreme and it worried her a lot that he was going to get really ill from it all.

She knelt on the floor beside the bed and lifting her hand ran it down his cheek, his growing beard at the longest she had ever seen it and it suited him well, the dark hairs coarse under her fingers. He didn’t stir as she gently swiped down his nose too or even when she moved to place a lingering kiss on his temple. Getting to her feet, she walked around to the end of the bed and a little awkwardly, pulled his boots off, dropping them on the floor. It was bringing back too many deja vu moments for her and she sighed sadly. It seemed morbid but she was ever so grateful that she had met Taron in the way she had and was so thankful to have him in her life, even when he could frustrate her beyond belief, test her patience and good nature but when he looked so innocent as he slept, she only felt her natural mothering nature coming through and wanted to sit with him and just cuddle him tight. His mam’s words still resonated with her since the first time Robyn ever spoke to her and it was that Taron needed someone to look after him, someone he could rely on and she not only wanted to be that person in his life but she felt an overwhelming need to be there for him no matter what.

Deciding she was getting into the slightly uncomfortable staring situation as she usually found herself in when the Welshman was resting on her bed, Robyn left Taron sleeping with cwtch and walked back out to her sitting room and dropped onto the couch. She had literally spent the weekend sleeping and had caught up on many hours of missed rest that she wasn’t tired enough to sleep but shaking her head, Robyn stood back up.

“Gorgeous man sleeping in your room.” She reminded herself and picked up her laptop she had left on her couch before she went to meet Taron at the airport. She made sure all the doors were locked and with Taron’s bag and hat in her other hand, walked back into the bedroom. She dropped his bag in her closet, hat on her make-up table and once changed into some comfy PJ bottoms and a t-shirt, she settled herself on the left side of the bed, turning on her computer to do some browsing for a while. Taron had told her himself, he had a talent for sleeping anywhere and for a long time and having seen it first-hand herself many times, she wasn’t at all surprised at how deep he slept beside her, long soothing and calming breathing filling his whole body but she was still a little worried about him. Pushing her worries to the side, Robyn talked herself out of her reservations about him and knew that it was just a tiredness from working nonstop over the weekend that had him drained. She shuffled a little closer to him, smiling as she could hear his breathes as he slept, grinning as hugged the dinosaur closer to him, his body moving in his sleep to find a more comfortable position, a quiet little sleepy sigh leaving his lips. “Enjoy your cosy duvet sleep rocketman.”

Cwtch was still buried under his arm and he still lay on his stomach eleven hours later and he woke up to a wonderful scratching sensation on his head.

“If only I could wake up like this every day.” He happily moaned as Robyn dug a little deeper into scalp.

“It’s only ‘cos I couldn’t throw the cup of water over you, no matter how much I wanted too. I know how tired you were yesterday so didn’t think it would have been fair to wake you up with a start, especially when your tiredness is not really your fault.” Robyn knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed, her right hand still in his hair. “Though I probably could have gotten away with it by saying it was a traditional St Patrick’s Day tradition.”

Taron laughed. “I think I need to be a little wary of you today. I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of Irish traditions that are not actually traditions.”

Robyn grinned back at him as she took her hand from his hair. “Nope. I will be good. I promise. Only good and proper Irish traditions and the first one is breakfast.”

“Breakfast hash?” He asked hopefully, remembering how good their breakfast out together had been last year.

“Nope.” She saw his face fell a little.

“Full Irish?” He chanced, his stomach rumbling a little at the thought of some food, never mind a full Irish breakfast.

“Nope.” Robyn answered him.

“Oh.”

“But I have pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Taron lifted his head from the pillow. “I like pancakes.”

“Irish pancakes.”

“Like potato cakes?” He asked, praying she said no. Taron would eat anything but for breakfast, he really wasn’t in the mood for potato cakes.

“Nope. Irish pancakes. Green, white and orange ones.” He was so relieved that he wasn’t getting potatoes for breakfast but quickly became confused again with her answer. “Why don’t you get up and ready for the day and all shall be revealed to you when you come out to the kitchen.”

“So secretive chicken.”

“Have to keep you guessing Taron.” Robyn ruffled his hair a little and stood up. “You know where everything is.”

Taron watched as she walked out, tilting his head a little as he caught a glimpse of her outfit, doing a double take. His Robyn, who always wore jeans, was in a green skirt with tights and knee-high boots. His insides did a wonderful flip and he buried his face into the pillow. “She is not yours.” He spoke to himself. “She is Robyn.” He stupidly inhaled and his eyes rolled behind his closed lids as that comforting scent of Robyn’s perfume and shampoo filtered through him. He was so shattered yesterday as he walked through the glass doors of the airport, that even the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other was a chore and he was starting to think that he should have just listened to Robyn and stayed in London but as her beautiful face came into view, he knew he had made the right decision to travel so late. He had signed his work contract for Matthew and was under obligation now to be available when he was needed and his friend had apologised for the terrible timing for the script read through but Taron was a professional actor and while he committed to his work schedule, he also kept his promise to Robyn and just arrived a little later and a lot more jaded then expected.

He gave his body a long full stretch, hearing some of his joints cracking as he did so and got to his knees, before climbing off the bed, stripping himself of his hoodie and he walked into her closet and to her bathroom. It was a shower he desperately needed and it not only helped to wash the previous days sweat and worries from his shoulders, but also to wake him up, Taron just standing under the wonderful pressure of the water. Robyn had left two of her soft blue towels on the towel warmer for him and he felt so at home in her bathroom, knowing where everything he needed was, though he was still getting used to the frosted window, not thoroughly convinced it wasn’t see through.

Once dressed, he wandered out to the kitchen and a delightful smell of food met him. Robyn was at the hob, her back turned to him and he stopped walking as he took in her outfit, only now noticing the black cropped top she wore too, the tiniest sliver of skin on show above her skirt. It was a look he had not known he needed to see Robyn in and the pop of colour from her short green skirt, was the perfect tribute to the day that was in it. As he walked over to her, he noticed some green streaks in her hair and as he leant against the counter beside her, his hand immediately went to her hair.

“So, we have moved to green now?” He asked, her hair so soft between his fingers.

Robyn concentrated on not burning their breakfast so didn’t turn to him but still answered his question. “I was inspired by the hair chalk again and sure it is St Patrick’s Day.”

“Any more left?” He asked her.

“There is a some on my make-up table.”

“Another traditional Irish activity?”

“Throwing everything I have your way rocketman.” Robyn carefully placed the last pancake on the plate and turned the hob off, finally turning to face him. “So, you hungry?”

“Do you even need to ask?” He titled his head, trying to read Robyn’s face which was a mixture of shock, confusion with a hint of a smile.

“Taron, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” He answered grinning as she frowned at him. “My St Patrick’s Day clothes. You don’t like?”

“It’s very green and don’t get me wrong, green is stunning on you, but I mean, this is a lot of green.”

“Robyn you told me that dressing green was a pre-requisite to be Irish!”

“I didn’t mean everything had to be green though.” She took in his dark green trousers and green check long sleeved shirt under which he wore a light mint green t-shirt. “It’s a lot of green.”

“I am being Irish.”

His reply made her laugh. “Well you definitely pass the dress test.” She took a step closer and ran her hands down his wonderfully fitted shirt. With his strict training schedule on the downlow because he was finished filming Kingsman, Taron was a little less focused on his diet and gym attendance and Robyn was instantly attracted to his somewhat less lean and bulky physic, his shirt sitting on his frame perfectly, his green eyes almost illuminating in reflection from the green thread from the check pattern on his chest. “And I like this. A lot.” Robyn moved her hands from his chest to his jaw. “You growing out a beard?” She asked, his cheeks lifting to a smile under her thumbs.

“Just being lazy. Haven’t really had a reason to shave.” He closed his eyes as Robyn’s thumbs ran the whole length of his jaw.

“It really suits you.”

“My mam had been giving me a little bit of grief over it. Think it makes me look older than I am.”

Robyn grinned, imaging the lecture Taron had gotten from his mam. “Well I like it, a lot.” She confirmed. “Even with all the green Taron and the tiredness, you look good.”

“Well then I have full permission to say so do you.” Taron’s hands came to rest on her waist, his thumbs sitting neatly in the gap that her crop top left. “Robyn in a skirt?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“It’s my go to Patrick’s Day skirt and actually I wear this to work sometimes.”

“It’s not a little short for work?” He asked, trying to keep his blush in.

“I said sometimes.”

“Well, I wish I had of gotten the real memo about the subtle touch to the green though. You are wearing one green thing.”

“May I remind you that you were not told to wear all green. It wasn’t specified all green rocketman and as an official Irish person, I am not obliged to actually wear head to toe green.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“Another one of those Robyn’s rules?”

“Sure.”

“You have a lot of rules Robyn.” He smirked, his thumbs grazing the skin of her waist ever so lightly.

“Ahh but Taron, rules are meant to be broken!” She lifted his hands from her waist and kissed them both on his knuckles, one at a time. “So, breakfast?” She let go of his hands and picked up the plate of pancakes and showed him. “Green, white and orange.”

On the plate were a stack of pancakes, a selection of each dyed the colours of the Irish flag. He took them from her after she gestured for him to do so and he watched on amused as she pulled a bowl from her fridge full of chopped up fruit, but only fruit in the colours of green, white and orange, kiwi’s, green grapes, melon, mango and pineapple in circles and squares mixed together.

“Is this your normal St Patrick’s Day breakfast?” He asked her, noticing a little tint fill her cheeks. “Robyn, did you do this for me?”

“Maybe.” Her voice was quiet, and she avoided his eyes. She had wanted to do something really special for him even more so when he made such an effort to get to her, ensuring he made it on time too and knowing well, that he wouldn’t have eaten great yesterday, she needed to make sure he had a substantial breakfast.

“For me?” He asked again.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“And this is an Irish breakfast like none other.” Taron walked past her and put the plate of pancakes on the breakfast bar and then took the fruit from Robyn. “Syrup?” He asked with a grin and already knowing where it was, walked past her to get the bottle. “So, are we going to let these go cold?” Taron felt so blessed at that moment in time that he had someone who was willing to go to so much effort just to make him breakfast and as his stomach rumbled hungrily, he was ready to get stuck into his meal of pancakes and fruit.

Without a word, Robyn grabbed two plates she had warming in the oven and once they were settled on the kitchen stools, a glass of orange juice for Robyn, a coffee for Taron, they tucked into their colourful breakfast, Taron almost shovelling the food into his mouth he was so hungry. He hadn’t had much to eat yesterday and Robyn was the queen of making him breakfast and as he soaked up the last of the syrup on his plate with a piece of green pancake from Robyn’s, he licked his lips in appreciation.

Robyn could only watch on as the man sitting beside her, ate every single thing in front him, his hunger fully satisfied as he drained the remains of his coffee. “Good?” She asked him as he reached for the last piece of mango from the bowl of fruit.

“So good.” He answered with his mouth full. He swallowed the fruit. “If this is just a taste of St Patrick’s Day, I am super excited for the rest.”

“Lots planned for today.”

“What you got up your sleeve Quinn?” He lifted his arms to she could take his plate and followed her with his cutlery, putting them in the sink. “I wash, you dry.” He gave her a little nudge away from the sink. “It’s our way.”

Not arguing with him, Robyn left Taron to fill the sink with hot water and bubbles, roll up his sleeves and start to wash their breakfast dishes. She grabbed a tea towel and helped him dry.

“So, chicken what have you got planned for us?”

“Well the parade starts in about forty minutes, so we can walk down to the town to watch that and then the duck race.”

“You get me my duck?” He asked her.

“Yep. Number two two zero two.”

“I am going to win.”

“Yeah you and the other two thousand or so ducks in the race.”

“I have my lucky Irish chicken with me. I am going to win.” He insisted.

“And then we have the ceílí.”

“A ceílí?” Taron stopped washing a plate and turned to her. “A proper céilí?”

“A proper one. There is one in the GAA tonight and I got us some tickets. You can meet some of my other friends, if you would like to go.”

“Of course I want to go. That sounds brilliant and I would definitely like to meet your friends.”

Robyn grinned at his enthusiasm. “Thought after the duck race, we could go to the GAA, have some food and get you your Guinness and then the céilí.”

“Lots of Guinness.” He agreed as he wiped around the sink. “You mind if I use some of that green hair stuff that you used? I feel like I am not quite green enough.”

“Be my guest. You know where it is. I will finish up here.”

Taron made his way back into the bedroom and took a seat at her make-up table, grinning at the green eye shadow that was left open beside a make-up brush. “Robyn’s rules.” He mumbled as he reached for the bottle of green hair colour. Thinking it best he just stuck with the tips of his hair, as Robyn did when she coloured his hair blue, he squeezed the green hair dye onto his fingers and with a generous amount, coloured his hair a dark green colour, making sure he did a thorough job, getting every strand. “Happy St Patrick’s Day to me.” He grinned into the mirror.

“Looking good.” Robyn leant against the door frame watching Taron as he put a thick covering of green dye on his hair. “You up for some tattoos?” She waved a white packet his way. “Temporary tattoos.” She added. “Wash off with water. If you are going to be Irish for the day, you might as well go the whole hog.”

“Definitely.” Taron stood up and followed her into the bathroom, washing the hair colour from his hands. “You going to use some?”

“Of course. I just use the shamrocks though, not the Irish flags, or the ones that say ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’.”

“No?”

“Nope. I have a t-shirt that says that.”

“And you are not wearing it today because?”

“Irish people just get kisses on St Patrick’s Day without needing to ask for them.” She gently pushed on Taron’s chest after he had kissed her two cheeks. “Enough! Enough!” She laughed, pushing him a little harder. “We need to get a good spot for the parade and with this messing, have no chance. Now which one do you want?”

Taron placed the shamrock transfer tattoo on Robyn’s right cheek and after she had done the same for him, he slipped his shirt off asking for a flag on his upper right arm, just above the scar. “I can still have it and keep it hidden.

“Well Taron I don’t think you can get any more Irish.” She said when she had dried off his arm and he pulled his shirt back on. She was a little worried by his wink and giddy saunter back to the bedroom but didn’t pay much attention to him as she tidied up the mess from the tattoo’s in the bathroom.

“Can I be any more Irish now?”

Robyn looked up and her mouth fell open in shock before she started to laugh. “Oh dear Taron. I think I might just be regretting asking you to come over.” Taron had a large Irish flag wrapped around his shoulders and as he walked closer to her, stretched it, the flag a little longer then the length of his arm span. “Any more surprises for me?” She asked as he wrapped her up in an Irish flag hug.

“Nope I am done.”

“For someone who has been working so hard, you have had a lot of time to plan all of this.”

“I have been looking forward to today since you asked me. I’ve been prepared for a while.” Taron replied. “So ready to go? We need a good spot for the parade. I need to see everything.”

“You are going to be bitterly disappointed by this parade Taron. Trucks and children.”

“Trucks and children?”

“You know how small Kilcreen is. Our parade is mainly the school children and trucks from the warehouses.”

“Don’t care. I still need to see it all.”

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

[officerjennie]

I'm all for expressing how much feedback is important to keep a fandom rolling, for keeping creators creating, but I gotta be honest. I'm not at all for saying people don't appreciate content if they don't interact with it in a specific way. Sorry. I'm a writer, I also do art, I know how much it sucks and hurts and actually makes one not wanna create when you look at the interaction on tumblr - I've even discussed it with other writers and artists. It's a real problem.

But, in the end, people have legitimate Reasons beyond not interacting with some things. Maybe they aren't comfortable with the artist or writer for personal reasons. Maybe they have crippling anxiety (and don't try to tell me anxiety couldn't affect this, because anxiety can literally affect ANYTHING and it's prevented me from interacting in ""acceptable"" ways in the past). Maybe they're stressed to the point where they don't have the expendable energy left to comment or reblog.

People can come up with reasons for how these aren't "good enough" reasons to not interact, and maybe the reasons are good enough for them. But it doesn't mean that the person behind the screen that isn't "truly appreciating the content because they're not interacting with it in the correct way" isn't legitimately struggling for the above reasons, or other reasons. Or, hell, maybe they don't like to comment on things.

Does it make me happy? No. The lack of interaction hurts. Sucks. Has made me want to stop doing art altogether. Has made a lot of people I know think there's something inherently wrong with their works, despite their work being quite good. Has made people withdraw from the fandom. But, in the end, we're not owed interaction. We deserve it for sure, I at least think so, but it doesn't mean people are required to give it to art or writing or gif sets or edits.

Anyway, this is probably controversial, but I just think telling people that they have to interact with content in a certain way in order to appreciate it is just...incorrect. I don't think it's gonna encourage more feedback. Maybe it's a bad analogy that could be torn to pieces, but look at twitch streamers - tons of them have lurkers on their streams. Even small communities. You could have one commenter while 30 or more lurk and listen, and some massive streamers might have a thousand people interacting while thousands more just watch. I've not really seen a streamer tell their lurkers they shouldn't lurk tho.

Point I'm semi trying to make: yes, we all wish lurkers would become commenters and rebloggers and people who promoted our works. But hating them and telling them they're interacting wrong just doesn't work. If I had been told, back when I was just lurking in the fandom, back when I knew Nothing about fandom culture (when I didn't even realize fandom was a community), that I wasn't truly appreciating the content because I wasn't leaving comments, flat out my depression and anxiety would have taken over and I would not be in this fandom. I would not have created Anything.

This is my experience and my opinions tho. I can't tell people to not tell lurkers to not lurk or else they don't really like what they're seeing. I'm just tired of always seeing this side, or the only other side I see (the "get over it, creators" side).

So. Yeah. This is my half awake ramblings on this topic.

Quick edit: this is not meant to be anti fandom. I love the fandom I'm in. Just wanna be clear since I saw someone reblog and tag it "anti fandom". Not my take, but they can have that take if they want.

[neversidekick-blog]

Flamethrower’s Alleged Harassment

What’s going on?

deadcatwithaflamethrower has suggested she is the victim of a targeted campaign of harassment, and along the way she’s used some antisemitic dogwhistles, which would be problematic on its own, but is especially insidious IMO given the topic of the alleged harassment.

I am positive that I am one of the people she says harassed her, though I maintain I did no such thing. 

I’m going to attempt to provide the fullest accounting of these events possible, with the caveat that I simply don’t have copies of a few key pieces of evidence.

If you’re going to follow along, I ask you read all the screenshots and quotations carefully, because the details do matter if you want a complete picture.

The first two sections are background info for those unaware of a few relevant facts. The issue of alleged harassment follows.

Jewish Snape

Flamethrower has written a long, serial HP fic called Of a Linear Circle. In it, Severus Snape is portrayed as Jewish. While his Jewishness is touched upon in multiple chapters across multiple parts of the series, this is how it is introduced:

“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

Severus rolls his eyes and taps the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t obvious?”

Nizar gives him a baffled look. “What does your nose have to do with it?”

“It’s a…stereotype.” Severus grimaces at Nizar’s continued look of confusion, but he still meets older adults who’ve never heard the word used that way. “Racism.”

“Oh. Idiots,” Nizar mutters. “Besides, if you wanted to see some truly horrific examples of nasal protuberances, you’d find yourself a Viking who’d had their nose broken four or five times.”

I applaud including Jewish characters in fic, even in the case where they are not Jewish in canon. Positive portrayals of Jewish characters should be encouraged throughout fandom.

Picking Snape to be the character from Harry Potter to reframe as Jewish is a complicated choice, because of the vile and enduring antisemitic stereotype relating to Jewish people having large, ugly noses. 

Consider the following quote spoken by the Marauder’s Map in POA:

Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.

Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.

Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.

Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.

Leaning into a stereotype is a difficult choice. It’s not bad, but it should be handled with some thought. IMO you either need to ignore the canon association with Snape’s nose, or you need to deliberately deconstruct it.

Flamethrower did neither. This by itself I would not say is antisemitic, merely clumsy. She went to great efforts to portray Snape’s Jewishness positively, and I honestly applaud that.  

But I know I’m not the only person who encountered it and was uncomfortable with the antisemitic stereotype being on display so clumsily. Not that I thought it meant flamethrower or her fic were antisemitic, just that this particular use of a stereotype was uncomfortable. 

A Thread about Hebrew

Of a Linear Circle is heavily concerned with linguistics. It features discussions of many languages, including Hebrew. One of those discussions contains an error, a faulty transliteration. This is a minor mistake, and in a fic with so many linguistic discussions, some mistakes would happen for even a true polyglot.

The problem is that when a Jewish fan commented with a polite suggestion of a fix to the error, flamethrower proceeded to Goysplain both Hebrew and the Shoah to her.

It’s not a good look. It’s arrogant and condescending. By itself, though, it’s not antisemitic, just an author being a little too defensive and overbearing. But it’s there, and more than a few Jewish fans noticed it because flamethrower has promoted the fact that Snape is Jewish in this fic.

Where the Harassment Supposedly Begins

At some point, a Jewish fan (who implicitly identifies herself as such later), leaves a comment on the chapter of flamethrower’s fic with the potentially upsetting antisemitic nose stereotype.

The request is for a tag or warning of some kind for the comment, just so it doesn’t take readers by surprise. Perhaps requesting the fic as a whole be tagged with “antisemitism” is a step too far and would seem bizarre, but the gist of the comment is a request for a content warning. Flamethrower could have sorted out a note or a less inflammatory tag if she cared to do so, but she never replied to this comment.

The fact that she didn’t reply to this comment doesn’t matter really. She gets a lot of fic comments, so the idea she missed one or didn’t feel like replying isn’t the issue. 

But this comment was left on August 10, and when it received no response for a week, I believe the same fan sent flamethrower an ask on the same topic, which is where the saga of supposed harassment begins.

The Ask

The text of the ask was as follows:

HI! I LEFT YOU A COMMENT RECENTLY ON YOUR FIC OF A LINEAR CIRCLE, BUT I CAN SEE YOU WERE VERY BUSY AND PROBABLY DIDN'T SEE IT. I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND ME ASKING, BUT WOULD YOU MIND TAGGING IT FOR THE ANTISEMITIC HUMOR IN IT? I KNOW IT WAS MEANT IN GOOD FAITH AND YOU HAD A JEWISH FRIEND CONSULT, BUT NOT ALL JEWS ARE COMFORTABLE WITH JOKING ABOUT STEROTYPES, AND FOR THOSE OF US THAT AREN'T, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD BE VERY KIND. THANK YOU!— queried by heatherly84

I consider this fairly innocuous and polite. As I said above, perhaps the reasonable outcome wasn’t the exact tag suggested, or even a tag at all--maybe a note in the intro notes of the chapter warning for it would have sufficed.

But this is how flamethrower responded:

So, because you had a single moment of twinge due to a child character’s self-consciousness regarding their appearance and their religion as they struggle to come to terms with stereotypes they face every day…you want me to add a tag to my fic that will see it immediately black-listed as anti-semitic even though it’s absolutely nothing of the sort.

No. No, I will not.

I am not here to gatekeep your internet experience. If that moment made you uncomfortable, you should a) think about what the character was going through instead of expecting it to be the author being a dick, and b) click your back button.

EDIT: No, wait. I’m not done.

What really gets me here is that you are asking me to tag a scene as anti-Semitic when this underconfident Jewish-born child, already dealing with horrible stereotyping, is promptly reassured by an Adult that there is nothing wrong with his faith or his appearance, and said child shouldn’t put stock into the people doing the stereotyping.

You want me to tag something as Bad that is meant to be enouragement for anyone in that position, a common theme in YA lit.

Are you sure it’s the perceived anti-Semitism that’s the problem, or is it something else entirely?

I saw the ask and flamethrower’s response shortly after it was posted on her tumblr. To say I found the response troubling is an understatement.

Flamethrower condescends to a fan asking, not for any substantive change or edit to the fic, but to a mere content warning.

Flamethrower presumes to tell someone how they must feel about the handling of antisemitic stereotypes in a fic, which would be bullshit even if she didn’t handle this particular antisemitic stereotype so clumsily.

Flamethrower accuses the fan of some secret and malicious motive because she, the author, is overly defensive.

Particularly considering the topic of antisemitism, I found the response wanting, so I decided I should say something.

The Submission

In an attempt to convey to Flamethrower that the concerns about the antisemitic stereotyping of Snape’s nose wasn’t the concern of a single fan, and to try to open a dialogue and point out some other missteps I felt she had made in the general region of Jewish representation in fandom and antisemitism, I decided to send her a submission.

I am an ancient member of fandom from the days of usenet and livejournal, and to be honest I just never got tumblr, so I had to create an account solely for this purpose. I’m sure that makes me sound like a bizarre dinosaur, but it’s the truth. And I created this account and wrote up a submission to flamethrower and sent it in.

Admittedly, my tone was a little sharp in a few places due to very genuine frustration, but as I tried to make clear, I was trying to appeal to her to do better, not simply condemn, and definitely not harass.

The following is the full and exact text of my submission to flamethrower: 

I feel that you're being deeply disingenuous. You introduced Snape being a Jew in your fic with the following lines:

“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

Severus rolls his eyes and taps the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t obvious?”

And a Jewish person rather politely asked you to mark it as referencing antisemitic stereotypes, because holy fuck you made a character whose nose is remarkably large in canon Jewish and leaned into that in. Sure, you followed it with a joke about Viking noses, but that's not the deconstruction you seem to think it is. It's just a handwave that accomplishes nothing.

That, by itself, I could maybe give a pass, but then there's this comment thread: https://archiveofourown.org/comments/113294382 Someone tells you they're Jewish and gives you a bit of helpful advice about a bit of Hebrew linguistics that you have absolutely and totally wrong; it's not something, as you suggest in your replies, that varies with regions. It's universally understood, but you talk over the person whose cultural language you're using as if you know better.

But the part that really crosses the line is that you say the following in your scramble to throw shit against the wall to insist you could be right:

Then there are the parlances common to specific groups that are just fucking GONE because of the Holocaust, and we don't have any way now to know how they might have said certain words.

You Goysplain the Shoah to a Jew.

If you actually care as deeply about positive representations of Jewish characters in fandom as you say you do, maybe listening to actual critiques from actual Jews should be a thing you do, instead of reacting defensively and shutting them down.

Also, please never refer to a person as "Jewish sidekick" again, as you did in that thread. Unpacking the baggage there would take a separate submission. I'm taking the time to write this out, perhaps foolishly, because I hope you're sincere about caring and will actually listen. Shutting down the voices of Jewish people is not a part of portraying Jewishness positively in fandom. I hope you can see that and will listen and do better.

She posted and responded to this. I don’t have a screenshot of her response, nor do I have the full text because of how quickly she deleted it, but I do have a partial quote of her response:

However, you did accuse a Jewish woman by proxy of Goysplaining, which I find incredibly insulting on my best friend’s behalf. (She wants her name left out of it for anxiety reasons, and given how this is probably going to turn into a huffing and puffing Drag Down The Evil Witch Goyim thing, I don’t blame her.)

This bit of rhetorical gymnastics on her part served an interesting and infuriating purpose. I objected to her refusing to listen to actual Jewish fans trying to tell her things on multiple occasions, and I also criticized her use of the “I can’t have done anything wrong, my best friend is Jewish,” defense. Here she doubled down on that defense, essentially saying the person she has referred to on multiple occasions as her “Jewish Sidekick” insulates her from all possible problematic statements re: Jewishness.

The rest of her response was equally inane, but as I can’t quote it directly in her own words, I can’t justify saying more about it.

A Second, Unpublished Ask

As I mentioned above, I’ve never really used Tumblr. The difference between submitting posts and submitting asks confused me. I knew the original request for a content warning tag was an ask and that I’d done a post. I was afraid I should have sent an ask instead.

I was also rereading her response to heatherly84, and I was annoyed that she didn’t get why the joke about Snape’s nose wasn’t okay.

So I sent in an ask before my submission was posted and responded to.

I don’t have the text of my ask, but I give flamethrower permission to post it in full if she chooses. I recall saying two things:

1) In the form of a question, I tried to walk her through understanding why the joke about Snape’s nose could still read as antisemitic.

2) I acknowledged I’d sent the submission, and said I would prefer she respond to it, since it was more detailed.

Perhaps I committed some terrible tumblr faux pas in submitting a post and an ask on the same topic closely together and that constitutes harassment.

I suspect the former is true but the latter is not.

Flamethrower Deletes Posts and Claims Harassment

In a matter of minutes after flamethrower posts my submission and her response, she deletes it. A new post goes up.

I have to assume the combination of two asks and a submission is what she is saying is harassment. You’ve seen the text of one ask and one post, so hopefully you’ll agree one ask was very polite and the post was slightly terse but A) not harassment, B) not an ad hominem attack, C) and a list of reasons why she was wrong to do certain things, not a list of reasons why she as a person was awful. I maintain the unpublished ask is in the same vein, and she is free to publish it in full if she chooses.

Then she begins posting more, and her claims about what she was sent escalate.

Here we have what is called a dogwhistle: she’s not saying evil Jews are conspiring against her to make her look bad. However, in response to criticisms of potentially antisemitic behavior, she falls back on the trope of “devious” Jews in a malicious conspiracy. This is problematic, and I will say flat out it is antisemitic.

She also misrepresents what was going on: Jewish fans asking her to listen to them without being condescending. Jewish fans asking for a single content warning.

I believe at this point I sent either another ask or submission, with the gist being, “If you’re going to post about things I submitted to your tumblr and characterize them a certain way, I would appreciate it if you reposted them so viewers could judge for themselves whether what you’re saying is accurate.”

Continuing to engage was a mistake, clearly. 

Her vague posting with the context hidden continued.

And she ends by going full non-sequitur. 

She never raised not wanting to attract white supremacists and Nazis as a reason to avoid a warning tag. 

She condescended and attacked and told a Jewish fan her reactions were invalid.

If flamethrower cared about Jewish representation in fandom, opposing antisemitism, and Jewish fans, she could have compromised with some sort of warning in some fashion.

Even if she were absolutely opposed to a warning of any kind, she could have not condescended and invalidated the experiences of Jewish fans trying to speak with her.

Even if she couldn’t do that, she could have avoided deleting all context and then going on a posting spree that suggests an evil Jewish conspiracy is harassing her.

The only conclusions I can draw from all of this are as follows:

1) Engaging with flamethrower as a person who cares about Jewish fans is a mistake, because she cares more about presenting herself as an authority on Jewish experiences to non-Jewish fans than she does to listening to any critique, no matter how minor or polite, from a Jewish fan.

2) Flamethrower is happy to oppose antisemitism in the shallowest possible way to pat herself on the back and seek congratulations from others, but the second she’s in conflict with actual Jewish people, she resorts to vague and just barely deniable antisemitism herself.

3) Flamethrower is unable to accept anything she perceives as criticism, no matter how kindly it’s presented, because she’s too invested in presenting herself as the absolute expert on every topic she has passingly researched for a fic. Her defensiveness over a trivial topic is merely odd, but on more serious topics, it becomes problematic.

4) No one has harassed flamethrower, and nothing she is construing as harassment is part of a “setup” or conspiracy.

5) I probably don’t know how to use Tumblr properly.

Edited to Add: What I Think Is a Lie

I have been refreshing flamethrower’s tumblr nearly non-stop since this began, as have several people I know. Unless the offer of a different tag occurred in a private message, I am confident in saying it is a lie, particularly given her instant negative reaction to the very idea as shown above. If screencaps are provided, I will of course retract this and apologize.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (3/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Shoutout to my spectacular beta @resident-of-storybrooke 🧡 I’m the worst writer and send her multiple chapters at a time instead of just the one, and she gets things back to me in record time! 

We get some background information on Emma in this chapter to further set up the story, and I thank you for reading! I’m really, really excited about a lot of the things I have planned for this story!

I promise they interact in all chapters after this

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Tag list: @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“What are you getting David for his birthday?”

Emma looks to her right where Ruby is stretched out on her yoga mat, doing a stretch that definitely isn’t anything that’s taught in a certified class. She can’t tell if she’s gotten stuck that way or if she’s simply given up on getting some early morning exercise. They really have to start going back to spin class sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow.

“I bought him some new dress shirts.”

“That’s boring.”

“Have you not gotten him anything, Rubes?” She swipes her blush against her cheek waiting for Ruby to answer. She doesn’t. “The party is tonight. You know that, right? And we’re about to be at work all day editing.”

“Why do you think I’m asking so that I have time to get Graham to go get something on his lunch break?”

“You have no shame.”

Ruby falls onto her mat, star fishing out on the floor before propping herself up on her elbows, her bun coming undone so that it hangs messily on her shoulders. “I know. So, what should I buy him? He’s turning forty. Is he having a midlife crisis? Should I get him some hair dye?”

“Only if you want to be murdered.”

Ruby grunts before rising from her mat and stretching out. “Eh, it might be worth it. I think I’ll just get him a Shake Shack gift card. I’m not his sister. I can get away with a semi-shitty gift.”

She chuckles as she grabs her brush for her bronzer and runs it across her cheekbone, blending it in. “It’s not semi-shitty if he takes us to lunch with it.”

“True. Alright,” Ruby claps, picking her mat up, “I’m going to go shower, and then we can go to work. Ten minutes tops.”

It’s twenty minutes, which is actually less time than Emma was expecting, before she and Ruby walk out of their apartment, walking the three blocks to their train station and swiping their metro cards to get through the gate so they can take the ten-minute ride to the studios. They rarely have to go into the actual offices before ten. The only time they have to be at work earlier than that is when there’s an early game and they have to make their way across Manhattan to get to the fields. That’s a bit of a bigger commute. But this morning the weather is relatively nice, the trains aren’t crowded or full of people in T-rex costumes, and she and Ruby get to the office and through security before they have to be there.

She leaves Ruby on the seventh floor before going up to the tenth to the editing room, her eyes having to adjust from the brightness outside to the dim lights inside the room that’s really only lit by screens.

“Anton, how the hell do you live in the sunlight after staying in here all day?”

Anton twists in his chair to look at her before turning back to the screen that he’s working on, clicking on a few keys as he speaks. “It’s only dark right now because I’m trying to get the lighting right on this edit. Something is wrong with the shadows. Get Ash to set you up. You’ve got over eight hours of footage to go through, so this probably isn’t going to get finished today.”

“He’s only talking in about an hour and a half of that.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to get the filler and then your notes. It’s a whole thing when you have a big segment like this. You’ll get used to it.”

She nods even though Anton isn’t paying any attention to her, before stepping into the room and around some of the editors she’s never worked with until she’s sitting down at Ashley’s workstation, picking up the pair of headphones that she uses and rolling up to the screen as she watches Ashely piece together several clips to promote whatever tennis tournament is going on right now. She thinks it’s the one in Palm Springs, but she hasn’t really been able to keep up with things lately.

“Sorry about that,” Ashley apologizes, flashing her a smile. “Alexandria had a late night last night, and I didn’t get into work in time to finish this up until you got here. But now my attention is all yours.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s teething is all. It’s miserable for all of us.”

“I bet. I remember when Leo was teething. David aged about fifteen years.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs, patting Ashley’s arm. “I won’t tell you any other stories about miserable babies. Let’s talk the interview.”

Ashley nods and clicks around on her computer until she’s pulling up Emma’s file, all of the hours of footage broken down. Emma has a basic understanding of how all of this works, but it’s mostly above her knowledge and paygrade. That’s why she’s glad to have people like Ashley and Anton, especially when they can easily throw out shaky or unusable footage to narrow things down even more. She tells Ashley that she wants to work on the main interview first, to make sure she can show all of the pieces she wants, and then they’ll work on finding the filler footage and the music to be played in the background. This is the first time Emma has ever worked on an edited segment that’s more than one minute, so it’s all a whole new world to her.

“This is good,” Ashley murmurs, her voice a small whisper outside of the headphones. “Like, really good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be this open before.”

“Jones? Jones is an open book.”

Her brows raise before settling back down at a regular height. “You are literally the most knowledgeable person on this subject in this building, and you think that Jones is an open book?”

“I mean, yeah. He’s baseball player, first and foremost. He’s young, hot, likes to spend his money and go out with every woman with big boobs and a pulse.”

Ashley actually laughs at that, rolling back in her chair before rewinding the video to a part where Killian is talking about his nieces and how they collect bobble heads, particularly his, and scatter them throughout their house for their parents to have to pick up. Emma remembers laughing at that, remembers thinking it’s sweet, but she’s not entirely sure why Ashley is showing it to her again.

“I know you probably hate him for asking you out like that, which was kind of a dick move, but anyone with eyes can tell he’s a sweet guy. I mean, he spent his injury break learning how to bake and sitting with his nieces so that they didn’t have to go to daycare. Yeah, he kind of had a period where he was pictured with a lot of girls, but that was when he was twenty-four and on top of the world. I mean, when you were twenty-four, you’re telling me you wouldn’t have been all over a pretty baseball player if you met him in a bar?”

“I hated all men at twenty-four.”

Ashely shakes her head from side to side, chuckling at her again. Emma hates to admit it, but Ashley is right. She knows that he’s not a bad guy, that’s not some sleazy player. No, he did not make the best decisions in asking her out last year, but in a move that surprised her, he very kindly apologized. And she really should not judge him over that time when he was pictured with girls all the time. For one, he probably dates as much as every other guy, but his dates happen to be publicized. She hates when women are shamed for dating, and here she is judging someone else.

His incessant flirting in all of his interviews and him asking her out have likely framed her view on him when she should know better than to judge by what appears on the surface.

She should also know better than to let a few pretty words make her trust someone.

“I met Sean at twenty-four.”

Emma sighs, curving her lips into a smile before patting Ashely’s arm. “And you two are wonderful. Let’s keep editing before we get distracted by you showing me a million baby pictures.”

“Dammit, Emma,” Anton groans from his seat, “the first rule of the editing room is that you don’t talk about baby pictures.”

After letting Ashley show her new pictures of Alexandra and those adorable chubby cheeks, they finally get around to some more editing, cutting questions that have repeated answers and editing out Emma’s laugh or weird coughing sounds so that she doesn’t look like a total maniac. There’s this part in the film where Killian is standing with his back to the camera and in front of a large set of windows that show off the field, and it looks like it could be a part of the Hall of Fame. It’s a gorgeous shot, and it’s where he’s talking about his hopes and dreams for baseball as well as wanting to get to live a normal life full of everything that his brother has.

Frankly, it’s beautiful enough to make her tear up.

They may just be her, though. As much as sports are about the statistics, about the executions, it’s also about the emotions. In the grand scheme of life, a baseball game doesn’t matter. These men getting paid millions of dollars to play a game don’t change the world. Except that they do. People live and die by the game, by the unpredictability, by the fact that it’s human beings out there pushing their bodies to limits that most people can’t reach. It takes everyone away from the world for a bit, lets them cheer for a happy ending, and even though the losses can be crushing, for just that little while, people feel hope.

Killian Jones coming back from injury, no matter how minor, to win the World Series, gave people hope.

It’s that thought process that guides her in helping Ashley and Anton edit the segment, and even though they only get about halfway through editing, they stop for the day so that Ashley can go home to her family and Anton to his while she walks down three flights of stairs to get to her office shoved into the corner of the corporate floor. There’s literally not even room in there for her to have an extra chair for someone to sit with her, but considering how little time she spends there now, that doesn’t matter. And it’s a step up from the cubicles.

Damn, her segment is going to be good.

This is…she knows she complained about it, and for the right reasons, but this is huge for her career. Right now, she’s more than happy doing post-game interviews and the occasional mid-game updates, but one day she might want to commentate or have her own show. One day she might want to move onto things other than sports. She’s getting ahead of herself, she knows. She simply can’t help it.

She’s excited, and she actually can’t wait to come into work tomorrow to get it all finished.

After sending a text to Ruby asking her if she’s almost ready to go, she logs into her computer and waits for her email to load, figuring she might as well get some more work done while she waits. Ruby’s timing at work is always so unpredictable when they’re not working together, so she has absolutely no idea when they’ll be able to leave to get on the train to Astoria. If only David was in the office today.

She doesn’t have much to sort through, just a few emails asking about the segment, another few talking about food that’s available in the office (she really hates that she missed those), and then another two from Walsh that she immediately deletes. They could be work related, but they’re most likely not.

Dating someone she works with was an absolutely horrible idea that she’ll probably never do again. Walsh is definitely an asshole, one that’s worse than all of the others, but he kind of ruined that workplace peace that she had for awhile. They’d both been stat checkers together, spent their days going blind reading spreadsheets and becoming friends, and when they both got promotions to journalists  (ones who actually got to write articles) at the same time, she was pretty sure that it was fate or something crazy like that. They got to have the same job, the same schedule, and she was in that phase of infatuation in a new relationship that it made her stomach constantly feel like it was in those pleasantly painful knots.

Then she interviewed and auditioned for the on-air job to work with the Yankees.

It’s a moment that’s changed her life in an immeasurable amount of ways, but the first and most obvious – before Killian Jones 2k18 – was that her boyfriend of over a year resented her. He resented her, belittled her for what she did for a living, and it all felt so painstakingly familiar that she had to break up with him before he damaged her beyond repair too.

The fact that he was cheating definitely helped that decision.

So for him to still work under one hundred feet away from her in the office and still send her emails on a regular basis is a pretty big sting.

There is no one who got more enjoyment out of her being asked out on live television than Walsh Osborne.

Ruby: I am in the bathroom curling my hair. Meet you by the seventh floor receptionist desk in ten.

Emma: Where did you get a curling iron?

Ruby: The makeup room in the studio.

Of course she did.

Closing out her computer and slipping her booties back on, she leaves her office and locks it up before making her way through the cubicles, specifically going out of her way to avoid Walsh’s desk since she knows he’s still in the office, and waits by the receptionist area with David’s present in her hand. There’s no one sitting there, all of the calls being forwarded through the machine, and she idly wonders where in the world Jacob is.

“We have got to get whatever curling iron it is they use in hair and makeup,” Ruby sighs as she walks into the room, heels that she was not wearing this morning now on her feet and her hair curled into perfectly styled waves. “Seriously, it’s fantastic.”

“It’s, like, over three hundred dollars.”

“We can split it. You ready to go? Graham is going to meet us there.”

“Does he have David’s present?”

“Yep.” Ruby loops her arm through Emma’s elbow, pulling her closer, before walking toward the elevators. “He wins the award for the best boyfriend today.”

“Who is he in competition with?”

“Your non-existent boyfriend.”

She pinches Ruby’s arm, but she doesn’t say anything as the elevator opens and they walk inside. It’s always such a pain to go to David and Mary Margaret’s townhome from the office, if only because of the amount of times they have to switch trains, but it gives she and Ruby time to talk about their days and scroll through their phone, checking up on everything that they’ve missed while working.

(She usually finds time to look while at work. Knowing what’s happening in baseball players’ lives is important to her job, right? It doesn’t make her creepy if they put it online.)

Plus, it’s a Friday afternoon, and that’s always the best time to see people dressed in odd costumes and eating full on turkeys on the subway.

Seriously. That happened once. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving.

By the time they get to the townhouse, it’s past six, and she can see cars parked up and down the street, Mary Margaret’s SUV sitting right in front of their home. She insists on driving everywhere, even when she comes into Manhattan, and Emma will never understand that. But she guesses that they live a bit outside of the most crowded parts of the city and the Mary Margaret is always toting Leo around to school and soccer practice or moving all of her crafts that she takes to her classroom. Emma loves her sister-in-law (it’s easier to say than foster mom’s son’s wife), but she is one of those people whose entire life could be found on a Pinterest board where Emma is more thrift store mashup even with her life being more established lately.

Not that there’s anything wrong with living life like that. It’s simply not Emma’s cup of tea.

“So, how many fortieth birthday themed things do you think Mary Margaret has in their house?”

“I mean, obviously forty.”

“Obviously.”

Graham is sitting on the front steps when they walk up, a small envelope in his hand as he stares down at his phone, and Ruby whistles, making him actually jump from his seat.

“What the hell?” he grumbles, clutching his hand and the envelope over his heart. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“It depends. Am I the beneficiary of your life insurance plan?”

“Oh my God,” Emma chuckles, shaking her head from side to side as she adjusts the box underneath her arm. “You two are disturbed.”

“Only my girlfriend is.” He stands from the steps and moves closer to quickly press his lips against Ruby’s. “You two ready to go inside?”

“Were you too scared to go inside without us, babe?”

“If I’m honest, yes. I’m not entirely sure what kind of party awaits us.”

“You and me both.”

Emma steps up the stairs and opens the door, knowing that it’s unlocked and that she can just let herself in. She immediately hears the sound of people talking, most noticeably Leo in his high-pitched voice, but everything looks as normal as it always does. The living room is still neatly arranged, a mixture of white and gray furniture, most of it antique, all scattered throughout. The dining room has place settings arranged, but no one sitting there, so she walks to the back of the home where the kitchen is to find everyone all standing around the island eating off of the veggie place that’s set out.

Huh. So maybe David turning forty means that everything is low-key. That’s a refreshing change of pace.

“Emma,” Leo screeches when he sees her, hopping down from the countertop and running toward her, pushing her back with the force of his hug.

“Hey, kid,” she laughs as she moves David’s present so that she can hug Leo back. He’s getting so big, is nearly as tall as she is now, and he’s only ten. She can’t imagine what he’s going to be like when he gets older. She doesn’t really want to. She’s that aunt who gushes about remembering the day that her nephew was born and grossing him out by talking about it. “Why are you letting all of these people eat my food?”

“Because you don’t like vegetables.”

“I definitely do.”

“You never eat collards, and I always have to.”

“Well, that’s because I don’t like collards.”

Leo scrunches up his nose, his face twisted in disgust like he’s eating those collards, before he grabs her hand and starts trying to tug her back to the entryway. “Come on, Emma, I want to show you my new Captain America shield.”

“I’ve got to go say hi to your parents, but why don’t you go get it and bring it down to show me?”

“Okay.”

He nods his head and then runs upstairs, his footsteps loud, and she turns back toward the kitchen to start talking to people who most likely don’t have Captain America shields in their bedroom. Well, they could. He’s kind of a big deal.

America’s ass and all that.

David is swiping a carrot through a bit of dip, and she takes the opportunity to put her present on the table before wrapping her arms around David’s stomach. He’s so incredibly warm, as always, and she appreciates the solid nature of him as his hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his lips pressing into her hairline.

“Happy birthday, old man.”

“Excuse me. I am in the prime of my life.”

She rolls her eyes, unable to help herself before pulling back and patting his chest. “Sure, if you think so.”

“I do. I’m glad you made it today.”

“And miss your  birthday so that I have to hear it every day at work? Never.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“It would,” Ruby adds in. “It would be one of those things that you’d bring up every opportunity you get. You’d feed it into her earpiece while she was on air so that she’d do that thing with her nose where it scrunches up all weird to make her look like a mouse.”

“I do not do that.”

“You do, sweetie,” Mary Margaret adds in, opening up the refrigerator and grabbing a bowl of what Emma sincerely hopes is Mary Margaret’s pasta salad. “It’s so, but it does make you look like a mouse. Or like you smelled something bad.”

“Well, I am next to a bunch of sweaty men. I could smell something bad.”

“True.”

“And Ruby, you can’t say anything. You talk in my earpiece all of the time.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to talk about assess in pinstripes.”

“Eh,” she protests, clicking her tongue and tilting her head to the side. “I think it might be.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman Emma doesn’t know says, breaking Emma out of their little bubble to remember that there are other people in this house. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh,” she sighs, her mouth suddenly dry. She’s not conceited, she doesn’t think, but it’s been awhile since she met someone who wasn’t in her circle and didn’t know about her job. “I’m a reporter for the Yankees. Emma Swan. It’s nice to meet you – ”

“Jasmine Anwar. I teach with Mary Margaret.”

“She’s my teacher,” Leo adds in, running back in the room with a shield that’s nearly bigger than his body. “But I get to call her Miss Jasmine when she’s here, which is super cool because my friends don’t get to do that.”

“That’s our secret, though, Leo.”

“I know, I know. Emma, look at my shield.”

“Leo, it’s time to eat,” Mary Margaret says. “You can show off your shield afterwards, okay?”

“I thought we were eating cake afterwards.”

“We are.”

“So, when can I show off my shield?”

“After the cake, Leo,” David sighs before clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

Inside the bowl was, indeed, Mary Margaret’s pasta salad, and in the oven was a tray of baked chicken, rolls, and macaroni and cheese. It’s the kind of meal that Ruth would make on the weekend or whenever David came home for a holiday, and for someone who eats cereal and Chinese takeout when Graham doesn’t feel like cooking, this is absolutely the best case scenario for her.

Thank goodness for David turning forty and Mary Margaret deciding to keep it low key with just a few friends instead of everyone from both of their offices.

(His thirtieth birthday was insane, especially when she thinks about the fact that Mary Margaret planned it while seven months pregnant.)

Most of the conversation halts with everyone eating, just a few murmurs here and there, but then Ruby gets a glass of wine in here – possibly two – and while Ruby can deal with liquor no problem, red wine gets to her. It’s the strangest thing, but Ruby’s already loose filter becomes, well, looser.

“No, do you guys remember the time,” Ruby hiccups, sipping on her drink while Emma very gracefully shovels more macaroni and cheese into her mouth, “that we were out in LA for work, and David nearly got arrested for walking out of a Walmart with a boxed fan because he threw away the receipt at self-checkout and they checked him at the door?”

“This is not that great of a story, Ruby,” David huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his beer bottle up to his lips.

“But it is,” Graham protests. “It was a twenty-dollar fan, man. All you had to do was pay for it again, but instead you were one more protest away from getting taken off to jail.”

“I paid for the damn fan. It was on the security video.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she slides her plate onto the coffee table, “but we only know that because you literally demanded to speak to the manager, had to sweet talk your way into the security office, and we spent three hours inside that building all because you can’t sleep without a fan in the room.”

“To be fair, you and I did have a great time while we were waiting. We bought that purple hair dye and streaked your hair.”

“Which was really dumb because I had to be on camera the next day.”

“It washed out.”

“Really? Because I swear I still have purple in my hair if it’s in the right light.”

She tugs at strands of her hair to prove a point while laughter bubbles in her stomach. God, she loves her friends. They’re the actual best. She doesn’t know how she got lucky enough to have them in her life.

“Your purple streaks are probably what made Jones ask you out. He saw that you had a wild side and couldn’t pass that opportunity up.”

She takes that thing about loving her friends back.

She groans, sinking down further into the couch and wishing that she had Leo’s Captain America shield to hide her face so that no one can see the blush that’s rising from her cheeks. Today is apparently a day to bring this up once every hour. It might as well go on her grave stone at this point.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic.

It can at least go in her obituary.

That doesn’t make it any better.

“Emma, can you get me Killian Jones’s autograph?” Leo questions, looking up at her from where he’s very enthusiastically scarfing down another plate of macaroni. He’s not going to have any room for cake at this rate.

“I’m not sure if I can, kid.”

“But you know him! He asked you on a date!”

She’s going to dye all of her hair purple, change her name, and move countries. That’s even more dramatic, but she seems to be on a role with being dramatic tonight.

Italy would be nice. There’s lots of pasta there.

“I’ll ask, kid.”

“I want it on a hat.”

“Leo,” Mary Margaret scolds, “use your manners.”

“I want it on a hat please,” he corrects before shoveling more food in his mouth. “Can we have cake now?”

[andyonthewold]

Paint to play

By now every Warhammer 40,000 player will have heard that we have a new edition—9th edition—coming. And by now people will have heard of one of the most controversial decisions. Leaked pages from the new rules book include a rule that punishes people who don’t paint their miniatures.

It’s ridiculous. This stupidity must stop.

Now, first of all, I make no apologies for couching this in terms of “punishes people who don’t paint”. That’s exactly what it is. People are writing lengthy opinion pieces concerning “it’s not punishing people who don’t paint, it’s rewarding those who do”. That’s exactly the same thing. The rule is aimed at people who don’t paint, it’s aimed at making them paint, and it does so by not providing a reward if they don’t paint. Whether you take 10 VP from people who don’t paint or give 10 VP to people who do, the net effect is exactly the same.

Secondly, let me address a common misconception. There is a perception that the two sides of this debate are People Who Paint And Support The Rule vs People Who Don’t Paint And Oppose It Because It Disadvantages Them. Take a look down my Tumblr and you’ll see that this is bunk. I paint. In fact, in recent years, I have painted far more than I have played. I paint, and I hate this rule. I will never enforce it in any game I play. I will never play in a tournament where it is enforced.

The fact that the “you must paint” train has gained a hell of a lot of momentum recently, and tournaments have been enforcing some variation of these rules for a while, pretty much made me withdraw from tournament play. And that’s the larger effect of these rules: a lot of people will leave the tournament scene altogether. Some may even feel driven from the hobby itself. And why? Why do people get so uptight over people who play the game but don’t paint the miniatures? There is serious anger out there about this issue.

Most people would agree that there are, broadly, three sides to the Warhammer 40k hobby. I would argue further that the three aspects form separate, though related, hobbies. They are, of course, playing, painting, and the lore. The great Venn diagram of Warhammer 40k looks like this:

Fig 1: How this hobby works

Nobody cares—let me repeat that: nobody cares—where you fall in there unless you play but don’t paint. Like this:

Fig 2: Who we hate

This can be proven by a simple thought experiment. Imagine you walk into a Warhammer store and see a friend from work. They’re holding an Imperial Knight kit and looking at the Armiger boxes.

“Hey!” you exclaim, “I didn’t know you play 40k!”

“Oh, I don’t,” they reply, “My parents gave me the St. Celestine model for my birthday and I just loved it, the detail, the quality, it was amazing. So now I build anything I really like the look of. But I don’t play, that doesn’t interest me.”

No problem, right? You wouldn’t think any less of someone who buys models for the sheer love of making them and has never played the game because it just doesn’t interest them. Let’s be clear, the models are beautiful, and a joy to paint. You wouldn’t hold it against them that they don’t play, right?

And the exact same scenario plays out if your colleague is there to buy the latest Horus Heresy novel and they explain that they’re a fanatic for Black Library and just love the console games, but have never had any interest in the modelling side because they just don’t want to. Let’s be clear, the novels are pretty great, and the universe GW have created is enthralling. You wouldn’t hold it against them that they don’t play, right?

Combine them and it’s fine. A person who reads the novels and paints miniatures but doesn’t play the actual tabletop game is fine.

Let’s extend: Imagine your friend has an army and is playing. A Space Marine army in a blue-and-yellow livery with a snake emblem on their shoulder pads. “The Emperor’s Vipers”, your friend explains. “Oh awesome! Who is their parent legion? Who are they a successor to?” you ask. “Oh I never bothered with all that. I just came up with the colour scheme and emblem and started playing.”

Slightly odd, you might think, but you wouldn’t fly into a fit of high dudgeon and lecture them on how coming up with a backstory for your chapter is, like, part of the hobby. You wouldn’t quietly pull them to one side and advise them to spend some time writing because a lot of people just won’t play them if they don’t have a detailed history for their homegrown chapter. In fact, you’d find it quite unreasonable for a person to demand a player be removed from a tournament because they don’t have a self-published glossy Codex: The Emperor’s Vipers tome.

The only one that is demonised is Play-but-don’t-paint. Paint-but-don’t-play is fine. Read-but-don’t-play is fine. Play-but-don’t-read is fine as long as it’s Play-AND-PAINT-but-don’t-read.

And this is not new. I’ve been playing since Rogue Trader. I don’t remember this attitude in RT, nor in 2nd. In fact, during the 2nd Edition of 40k I played many games and a couple of tournaments hosted at my local Games Workshop store and saw unpainted armies by the dozen. Nobody cared. As I remember it, 3rd edition (or maybe it was in the run-up to 3rd) was where this really came in, along with a dark period in Games Workshop’s history when the Tyranny of Goblin Green came about. Ask the longbeards if you’re too young to know.

It was a dark time for painters but a curiously colourful one for base edges.

So that’s the “what”, what’s the “why”? Why do people get so bent out of shape over this?

Let’s be clear, the root cause is Games Workshop themselves. Read the rules books, White Dwarf, their website, and they are very clear: as far as they are concerned, painting is “part of the hobby”.  Games Workshop has paints and brushes and all kinds of painting-adjacent products to sell, so of course they want to promote the painting side.

That explains where the idea comes from, but not why the question causes such irrational anger. I mean, try it, try arguing against paint-to-play and people get really intense about it. There is a way to find out why: keep on arguing.

Stock photo of an argument. Please don’t do this.

See, the paint-to-play argument usually starts off quite calm and rational. Proponents will usually start with the Games Workshop argument: painting is part of the hobby. If you chose to play, painting is just part of that. This argument falls apart almost instantly. Simply put, you do not get to decide what my hobby is. And I want to be crystal clear, here, it’s not that you have no right to make that decision, it’s that you simply cannot make that decision. You cannot decide what I do for a hobby any more than you could decide whether or not I like bananas. If I decide that I want to play Warhammer 40,000 and also decide that I do not want to paint, you don’t get to decide that painting is my hobby. You simply have no means whatsoever to make that decision. Your input is not only not required, it is not possible.

Proponents may fall back on the Games Workshop position, that—how is it phrased in the rules book? Something like—there’s nothing like seeing two fully-painted armies going at it on the tabletop? Okay, fair enough, and I even agree, but that’s an opinion, it’s a preference, it’s aesthetics. It doesn’t mean I must paint if I have chosen not to.

Proponents might then move on to attempting to show that, in fact, painting is vital to gameplay. This is nonsense. They may cite WYSIWYG rules: how are you to know what a figure is if it’s not painted? Well, call me weird if you want, but you could look. Back in the day, Warhammer 40,000 figures were a bit more eclectic. Without paint it might have been difficult to tell an Apothecary from a Chaplain from a Librarian, simply because there was no definitively established look for those types.

Think you could pick Kribins out of a lineup?

But two things render that argument moot.

The first is that the modern range is far more developed. A Space Marine Apothecary looks like a Space Marine Apothecary. You’d be very hard pressed to find a Chaplain that could, even in poor light, be mistaken for a Librarian.

The second is the question of imagination. When designing a new Chapter you are free to make stylistic choices. The Emperor’s Vipers from our thought experiment are a non-Codex Chapter. Their Chaplains wear white, to symbolize their purity. Their Apothecaries wear blue, the ancient colour of healers from their home planet. Their Librarians wear black, as a mark of their shame for violating the Edict of Nikea and the chapter’s belief that the Emperor’s word is eternal. If you couldn’t tell these guys apart when they were unpainted, them being painted the wrong colours is going to really confuse you.

And bear in mind that only Space Marines can possibly suffer from this. When your opponent brings an Eldar (I know, they have a new copyrightable name, but I’m old school) army there is no way you’d look at a Grim Reaper and think to yourself, “Is that a Swooping Hawk? I can’t tell, it’s not painted.”

An ordinary Seraphim, yesterday.

The normal reaction to the dismantling of the WYSIWYG argument is to then rely on a slippery slope argument. If you’re not going to paint, why bother sticking the models together at all? Why not just throw down a sprue? Or an unopened box? It’s the same thing as plonking down a load of grey plastic, right?

This is stupid. You can’t measure range to and from a sprue of unassembled figures. You can’t assess LOS or cover or unit coherency. You can’t remove casualties from a squad. You can do all of those things with models that are assembled but not painted. Assembly is vital to gameplay.

You might also hear “Why not just use wadded up tissues or empty Coke cans?”. My response to that is “I’ve played those kind of games with no problems.” It’s not a reason to require paint.

Let’s not forget that the 2nd edition Warhammer 40,000 boxed set came with a two-dimensional cardboard cut-out Ork dreadnought.

This was a real thing, and it was fabulous.

Proponents may try to show how reasonable they are. They don’t demand Golden Demon standard, they will say, just tabletop-ready. They don’t demand your entire army be painted, it’s enough that you can show you’re working on it. If you have a good reason for not painting, a disability or something, they’ll allow it. They will talk about how easy it is, with the new contrast paints, to produce a painted army. We’ll get back to the arrogance of these in a moment, but first we should note that these arguments are merely red herrings. It’s not about how hard it is, or whether you have a good reason, you have decided not to paint and that is your decision alone. Your reasons are irrelevant.

They may also play the reasonable card by pointing out that a lot of tournaments have been using paint-to-play rules for a long time, but are still free to use or ignore this rule as they see fit, as are you in your personal game. If this is the case (and it is, let’s be fair) why have the rule at all? And why is it being celebrated as if it were the end of a dark period in GW history?

We must touch on “net listers” because proponents surely will. Net listing is a boogeyman that proponents bring up a lot. The urban legend is of multiple players ruining tournaments by going online, seeking out the latest overpowered army lists (mostly posted by other net listers), buying the relevant models, assembling them, turning up and wiping the floor with the opposition thanks to their net list, winning the big prizes, and then recouping their investment by selling the army on eBay. Big money big money big money.

The Grand Tournament’s new banner.

Doesn’t take a genius to see the titanic hole in this argument. We’re not talking about blackjack in Vegas or high stakes poker in Atlantic City. Nobody is getting rich traveling the country dominating Warhammer 40,000 tournaments. Most 40k tournaments are for bragging rights, maybe a small trophy, or a Polaroid with your army on THE WALL OF CHAMPIONS at your local gaming store or on your gaming club website. If there is a prize it might be a small amount of store credit, or a boxed set. Maybe everyone chips in $5 to the pool and winner takes all. It’s small fry. People still play 40k almost exclusively for the fun and for the love of the game. Even the few “high stakes” 40k tournaments are for prizes in the $1000 range. The biggest tournament I could find with a search on Google had a $1500 prize. Is it possible that there is an underground tournament scene with 5 and 6 figure pots on the line? Sure, maybe. But the people who enter these tournaments aren’t looking for a fun Saturday afternoon with like-minded individuals. Their experience is not going to be ruined by some dude rolling up with the grey hoard.

And let’s compare and contrast with the “tournaments already ban unpainted armies” argument from above. If a tournament has paint-to-play rules, net listers are already out. If they allow unpainted armies, they are free to ignore this rule, and net listers are in. Net listing is a non-argument.

By this point in any online discussion you should be seeing a change in tone. I’ve slipped a few in here, did you notice? Pay attention because the truth is coming out. I used “why bother sticking the models together at all?” I described a person setting out an unpainted army in terms of “throwing down” and “plonking down” their armies. I described an unpainted army, not as an army, but as “a load of grey plastic”. I described a person arriving to play as “some dude rolling up with the grey hoard”. This type of phrasing is common in the latter stages of the argument. It is an attempt to paint (pun very much intended) the person with the unpainted army as careless, uncaring, slovenly. They don’t come to games, they “roll up” or “rock up”. They don’t set out their army, they “plonk it down” or “throw it down”. Their army isn’t a collection of figures, it’s a “load of grey plastic”. Proponents will take it further. They will tell tales of unpainted units being “chucked in a heap” on the table, the player moving them as a heap, removing casualties and “throwing them aside”. Of course these stories are crap. As the meme goes, “this didn’t happen so hard it actually made some things that did happen unhappen”. But it plays into the perception that people who don’t paint don’t care. The core of the “reasonable” argument above is that it’s easy to paint to their standard and you, not doing so, clearly cannot be bothered to put in the effort. You’re lazy. You probably have BO (trust me, they have those stories, too, of the stinky, greasy-haired, individual with the heaps of grey plastic stuffing pizza into his face and burping and farting their way around the store). You probably live in your mum’s basement and download illegal copies of the Codex for printing. You probably don’t even buy GW figures, you use a 3d printer. The only thing stronger than the stink of bullshit is the stench of ad hominem.

This one’s easy. Ask anyone who has been playing for a while and most will admit, however reluctantly, that one sure sign of a bad opponent is the presence of a meticulously painted army. I’m not saying everyone with an ‘Eavy Metal standard army is a cheater, a rules lawyer, a sulky loser or an insufferable winner, but I am saying that an awful lot of this type of player have well painted armies. Most of them do not play “the grey hoard”. I’ve often stated, and its amazing how many people agree with me on this, that if I were to rank every single game I’ve ever played in terms of how much fun they were, or on how I would rank my opponent as an opponent I would happily play against again, most of the top ten were opponents with unpainted armies, and most of the bottom ten had beautifully painted figures.

It follows that, as the game has evolved and more and more tournaments and gaming groups have brought in paint-to-play rules punishing unpainted armies (I’m sure you’ve seen those strategy cards with Duncan’s face on them giving an advantage to people with a painted army against an unpainted army), and given that the “it’s not hard to paint, especially with contrast paints” argument is correct (if irrelevant to the larger question), people who value winning games more than having fun are most definitely painting their shit.

BTW: “Paint your shit” is another emotional term used  by people trying to convince you that they have the right to impose their beliefs on other people.

But we’re getting there. We’re getting to the truth.

Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

Proponents are already, as their “reasonable” arguments get dismantled, starting to talk about their opponents as the bad guys. And of course, the other guys must be the bad guys because we’re the good guys, right? It’s an emotional reaction to any divide. And the discussion is most definitely becoming emotional. The discussion is becoming emotional because the reasons for the discussion are emotional. Some proponents are upfront about it, some will only admit it once they’ve been backed into the corner, but sooner or later you will hear the root cause:

I deserve this.

The phrase may be “It’s insulting when one player puts down a fully-painted army and their opponent rocks up with a load of grey plastic.”

The phrase may be “I put in a lot of effort in painting my army and it’s a slap in the face when someone plonks down a grey hoard.”

The phrase may be “It’s an insult to see this douche throwing down unpainted plastic when you’ve spent time making your army fit for the tabletop.”

The phrase may be “If I can manage to paint my army it’s insulting that you can’t be bothered to do the same.”

What the person is really saying is “I deserve your effort.”

And there’s really two levels: the pro and the amateur.

The first is “I honed my craft over many years, I watched all of Duncan’s videos, I bought all the White Dwarf issues, I learned at the feet of the masters, and I developed my own techniques, and here you are, you infuriating oik, without having even cracked a single pot of paint, and we are at the same table, at the same stage, of the same tournament. By you not putting in the same effort, you are insulting me. I should be rewarded for what I have done. You shouldn’t even be here. How dare you?”

The second is: “My painting sucks. My figures look like somebody ate a starter paint set and a bunch of figures and shat out the results. I did this because I believe in The Hobby and that Painting Is Part Of The Hobby, but you didn’t and here we are at the same table, at the same stage, of the same tournament, and you are proving that my effort was wasted. By you not putting in the same effort, you are insulting me. I should be rewarded for what I have done. You shouldn’t even be here. How dare you?”

I don’t know if there’s one of those long compound German words for “the feeling of self-betrayal that starts inward and turns outward into irrational anger when you realise that the effort you put in wasn’t matched by other people, and you get nothing extra for having put in the effort”, but there ought to be. It certainly applies here.

By-the-by, lets return to the arrogance I mentioned in the “reasonable arguments” section, because it’s a vital clue. They’ll claim “They don’t demand your entire army be painted, it’s enough that you can show you’re working on it. If you have a good reason for not painting, a disability or something, they’ll allow it.” The arrogance here is breathtaking when you stop and examine it. The sheer hubris of declaring—and doing so as if it’s reasonable—that you are the arbiter of whether or not a person is worthy of playing the game, as if they are but supplicants, lined up before you, presenting their humble efforts, and you must cast an expert eye over the figures they’ve painted since last we met and decide whether the progress is enough before holding out a thumb like Caesar’s to decide each gladiator’s fate. Get out of here with that crap.

Caesar, with that crap, at a gaming tournament yesterday.

And it’s not peculiar to Warhammer 40k, or to Games Workshop, or to wargaming. That attitude is everywhere. The phrase is “pay your dues”. In the music industry, artists who explode onto the scene because of some chance encounter are often looked down upon by artists who “paid their dues” by playing grungy pubs and dingy rec club halls and having to load the band’s equipment into Steve The Bass Player’s rusty old van and hoping to have enough petrol to drive home and then having someone from a bigger band spot them and give them a shot at opening for them when a scout from a record label happened to be at the gig and even then they were a minor signing for the label and didn’t really get much support and yet here we are, playing the same arenas, our records on the same radio shows, our records climbing the same charts. By you not putting in the same effort, you are insulting me. I should be rewarded for what I have done. You shouldn’t even be here. How dare you?

Pay your dues.

Paint your shit.

Let me be crystal clear: You do not deserve my effort in painting. The effort I put into painting is put in because I enjoy having a painted army. I enjoy the challenge of coming up with a way to convert ordinary Games Workshop models to represent Forge World models. I like having a unique army. I decide this. You don’t.

When we face each other over the tabletop, what you deserve from me is my gaming. You deserve that I play my best, that I am not distracted, playing with my phone or chatting up the ladies. You deserve that I have knowledge of the rules (unless we’re playing a starter game, that’s different) so we don’t have to suspend play every time I need to look something up. You deserve that I play fair, according to the spirit of the rules, and in the interests of us both enjoying ourselves. You deserve that I am gracious in defeat and magnanimous in victory. You deserve to have a good game against a decent player.

And I deserve the same from you.

[blondecarfucker]

Creatures of the Night (Part 1)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: You're a videographer, and you get the opportunity of a lifetime as you're invited to direct and film the News of the World documentary. But you don't expect to fall for the photogenic drummer.

Fic Note: I've been thinking about this for a few months, really - ever since I was about to complete my last fic. Now that it's complete, here it is! There's only three parts to it, which I know it's short compared to my last fic, but hey, sometimes there's not as much story to tell. This is a shorter, more intense one. That being said, the chapters are gonna be longer than usual. Hope you enjoy it! I'd love to get some feedback since I haven't really explored this mature, more wild side of the band. And if it's the first time you're stumbling upon my writing, hello and welcome! I have a masterlist in my bio with a huge, long Roger fic called Bed of Roses, and a few requests and challenges - the one for the song Ocean Eyes is a personal favorite. I can't put the link here or Tumblr will make this post disappear - I'm sorry.

Chapter's notes: HELLO EVERYONE im quite proud of this story and i hope you enjoy it as much as i did. its inspired on the documentary so theres a bunch of bits and pieced from there here. not much to say now, so here it goes!!

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: mentions of sex, drug use, cursing

Part 1 - Waxing Moon

The first time you ever saw him, you knew you could never forget his face.

It was the prettiest face you've seen, alright, but that didn't seem to capture it just right - it sounded too childish, too mundane. His face was different - his skin reflected the light beautifully, like marble, little imperfections only adding to the texture, making it more interesting. You wanted to photograph him.

But he was even better being filmed, the way he'd smile when thinking about what to say, the way his messy, bleached hair bounced back the light and burnt the film made him look angelical, a halo around his head - you couldn't wait to see how it looked on the cutting room.

You were a videographer on Tiswas, a dumb gig you've only accepted cause it payed better than your last one, but it was good for your portfolio - Sally James, the host, was unbelievably beautiful, and you had almost no supervision, so you could easily film her in a more cinematic, artistic manner, something you'd never be allowed to do as a cameraman on television news - or cameraperson, as people said uncomfortably when they realized you were a woman operating the camera.

It took awhile for people on TV news to take you seriously - a tiny, young women in oversized clothing and hair pulled back in the middle of old, strong man - but you were their best videographer before you were even hired, getting the job after selling them footage from Woodstock when you were only 19. In the middle of a stoned, drunken haze, you were still cold blooded enough to film the whole festival, almost getting lost from your friends as you tried to get clear audio, doing more artistic work as you filmed during an acid trip. Your parents would kill you if they knew you took your expensive video camera to the festival, but it got you a job.

And what a job. It was you the editor in chief chose to film the signing of the Beatles Agreement, and you followed George Harrison around as he tried to find the room where all the Beatles agreed to end the band that you loved maniacally during your teenage years, trying not to shake as you filmed the reaction on the streets. You wanted to scream along all the desperate girls in their mid-twenties.

But back at Tiswas, the very short interview was cemented in your memory as one of your favorites just because of him. You knew who Roger Taylor was before you've filmed him - you saw his face on the videos for Queen, but you didn't really care for him or the band, really. You almost liked them in their Killer Queen days, just because you loved glam rock, but you felt indifferent to their opera rock - you felt like Bohemian Rhapsody was a bloated mess, and it's success only made the band go on with their overly edited stuff.

But during the lighting test, still makeup-less, a bit shy, having to promote an album alone, probably thinking about flirting with Sally - dazed and confused, photogenic and beautiful - that was the first time you really saw him, no distractions.

So when you got home, a year after the interview, to a voicemail inviting you to direct a documentary for Queen's News of the World Tour, you thought of him, his bright smile permanently marked on your film, even before you thought of the logistics of the job.

A week later, you met the only other crew member that would help you do your job - Josh Barnes, another twenty something videographer that didn't have a portfolio as impressive as yours, but did have a messy curly hair and odd clothing, so he grabbed your attention. You were informed you'd share hotel rooms during the tour.

But Josh wasn't the only one grabbing your attention then, cause that was the day you met the band and the tour crew, and you could swear the band members forgot your name as soon as you told them, Roger only spending a fraction of a second longer looking at you once you were introduced. You wondered if he remembered you.

They set up to perform one of their singles, We Are The Champions, so you can have some footage of them on studio, and you can't help but enjoy the melody, glad it was simple - you could only hope you enjoy the rest of the songs they play on tour, or else it would be a painful gig, since you'll be filming their every rehearsal and every show for the next few months.

You feel like you're being watched by some of the people higher up than you, people that definitely could still fire you on your first day, so you're quick to establish a dynamic with Josh, explaining what you intend to do that day and delegating him tasks.

But once you two go inside the recording booth, where the band is talking and waiting for you to start filming, you realize there's no room for two people to work - one of you would keep appearing on the other's footage. So you tell Josh to stay outside and clear your throat to get the attention of the band.

"Can you take your places? I'm trying to decide how I'm gonna film this", you say, and they exchange glances before getting to their places - you were sure Freddie held a laugh. You knew you were considered bossy, but hell, you always got the job done flawlessly, so be it.

"So Freddie and Roger can't move, since the drum kit and the piano are too heavy to move around quickly", you said, more to yourself them to the rest of the band. "Brian and John, can you lean on these amps?" you ask, and they do as you tell them.

"Sorry for bossing you around already. As a director, that's basically my job. But, if you pay attention, now you're all forming a triangle on the room, so I can fit you all in a well composed shot if I stay behind any of you", you explain, and Roger raises his eyebrow to Freddie, almost asking for confirmation - you heard that Freddie was more of a visual artist as well. He nodded lightly back at the drummer.

So you position yourself behind Freddie's shoulder and start a countdown, so the band understands you're recording. They start playing, and you walk along them - Freddie was looking down as he played the piano, so the lights weren't as flattering, and Brian and John were done with their bits once you focused on them, so you were quick enough to film Roger, basically doing a 360 around him.

You filmed him as you were in front of the drums, and then started to go around them. You wish you had Josh along with you so you could do some closeups - his hands twirling the drumstick on his left hand, the cigarette hanging from his lips, his profile against the black foam covering the walls. But you didn't have another videographer, so you had to do a very conscious effort to stop filming him and go back to Brian and John, now playing their instruments, while you're still dazed by his strong scent - cologne and cigarette smoke, even stronger once you were behind him, his shorter hair on your viewfinder.

You were happy to get his profile later, as they sang the vocals, and a few closeups of his long fingers twirling the sticks in the middle of closeups of John strumming his bass, contre-plongées of Brian on the guitar and shots of Freddie playing the piano against the light.

"She's very decided", you heard Freddie say once you were all outside the recording booth, a small distance between you as you packed. "I like her", Roger said, his voice much raspier than you remembered. "Feels like she knows what she's doing", he completed, and you smiled as you zipped your equipment bag shut.

The other day on studio, you felt like Roger was being funny specifically for your camera - ordering a coffee with one and 3/7 sugars, and saying a song sounded great since his part hasn't been recorded. You watched him tense up as you kneeled down beside him on the mixing desk, turning his face away from you.

It didn't help your work that the whole band was camera shy. John was sweet, and was able to give good answers even in the most improbable interview situations, like the time you interviewed him on a car. Brian was quite honest on his answers, unlike Freddie, usually sarcastic, and Roger, who never really properly answered what you asked. But in every candid shot you tried to get, every spontaneous moment, they shut down, still not used to your presence.

Roger was more open to you and your camera once he was drunk, posing with his bottle of wine with John by his side on studio, giving proper answers to your questions on the album's launch party, a glass of champagne on his hand.

He got used to having you close to him eventually, since one of your favorite angles to shoot was the view from behind his shoulder when Freddie was not on the piano, trying to fit in the small space between Roger and the gong behind him. Roger was tense at first, feeling you mere inches from him, but relaxed as you got used to each other's movements, a choreography where you knew the moments you should go a little further away from him so he could turn to the side and sing, a natural flow developing between the two of you.

Once, during your lunch break, you were talking to Josh when you heard music, so you dropped your sandwich, got your camera and ran to the rehearsal stage in mere seconds, only to find Freddie on the drums and Roger on Brian's guitar, the Red Special, and as soon as Freddie saw you - the camera already on - he almost stopped drumming, but he went on as you and Roger nodded together in encouragement, smiling at each other once Freddie drummed, and you quickly turned your camera to capture Roger's smile again, taking a few seconds to remember you should try to properly compose a shot, moving around to include John on the foreground.

You were happy no one was checking your work but Josh, because it would be embarrassing - you did film Roger more than you should, having as much footage of him as you had of Freddie, the frontman, the one in a gloriously sparkling Paco Rabanne leotard instead of hidden behind the drums.

But Roger was just so goddamn photogenic - his shyness in front of the camera appearing in form of joking around once he realized you were filming, pretending to pick his nose, showing his tongue, taking his robe off dramatically in the dressing room.

It was him on the center of the frame when you filmed without thinking much - in every shot of the band discussing during the rehearsal, or in shots of him and Deacon driving there, or even when you filmed candid moments; it was almost as if you responded unconsciously to his movements, always focusing on him.

You were torn between just thinking that Roger was a good model and actually being attracted to him. You only realized how frustrated he got you once you were already on tour with them, in America.

He sent one of the roadies to tell you that he and Freddie would rehearse Get Down, Make Love. You were in your shared room with Josh, and you'd usually sent him to film this - it wasn't super important, just some extra B-Roll - but he was napping, snoring soundly. Poor guy stayed up later than you, since you gave him the task of organizing the footage and taking care of the equipment. He almost never complained, a sweet boy that always did as you told him, always looking a bit too pretty on his shorts and band shirts, always too respectful to openly flirt with you, but always giving you the space to do so, reminding you he was single in every opportunity he had - nearly boring, but cute, nearby and accessible.

One time you were truly pissed with him - he only caught audio of the band arguing once you were not around to film it, forgetting to take the lens cap off - and he apologized and apologized, never even talking back at you.

So you didn't wake Josh up and went to the venue, across the street from the hotel, to find them already playing.

At first, you got them on wide, but without the lights, it just looked flat. So you started filming closeups.

Roger pouted in concentration in an extreme closeup you did, and you realized your breathing was heavy, right as you watched him lightly rub his lips against the mic groaning "Get down", his face only dimly lit on one side, and you subconsciously pressed your thighs together, kneeling on the side of the drum riser. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to zoom out, your hands a bit shaky as you got up and walked to Freddie, so you could film him and calm down.

But you were so frustrated, you just needed someone to touch you and to be touched as you wanted, needed to touch Roger, but you didn't knew anyone on the cities you were visiting.

That night, you stayed up as Josh organized the footage and the equipment, putting new film into the two cameras with his long fingers - quite similar to Roger's. Once he was done, you decided to take a quick shower, and left the bathroom still wrapped in a towel, the first move you made on him.

That was the first night you fucked Josh out of desire caused by Roger - the first of many.

You couldn't flirt with Roger - he had a gorgeous girlfriend and pretty groupies everywhere you went, so he definitely wouldn't care about you, who never wore any makeup or looked twice in the mirror before going out.

So you enjoyed some careless sex with Josh, and you enjoyed his friendship - you went to the movies together and he asked for advice on his career from you.

You two had agreed on going to a carnival, and he challenged you to climb the ferris wheel before the staff called the cops. It was fun to do these things on tour - you'd never see anyone from any town ever again.

But before that, you needed some footage of Queen's after parties, so Josh followed you around as you tried filming the band having fun, but the only one being more receptive was Roger. Surprisingly, there was no girls around him, but that was probably just him being smart - you could bet he sent home the midwestern girl he was going to fuck as soon as he saw the camera, not wanting to get caught cheating on his girlfriend.

Eventually you had enough footage and called it a day, and told Josh to go organize the footage before you left. "Are you coming with me to the room?" he asked. "No, I'm getting a drink. I didn't enjoy the free booze as much as I should have until now", you said, and he smiled in response before leaving.

"Y/N", you hear a too well-known voice say as you lean on the bar. Roger is walking towards you.

"Roger" you answered, and turned to ask for a drink. But Roger's hand on top of yours distracted you.

"Didn't thought I'd see you in an after party", he said, leaning into the bar as well. You've been this close to him before, but never without your camera between you. You were not used to see him like this, raw, with no viewfinder intermediating the rays of light between your eyes and his, your lips and his. It felt like a step closer to touching.

"What do you mean? I always come", you answer, trying to play it cool, as if you weren't moving your gaze from his eyes to his lips oftenly.

"Yeah, but you're always behind that goddamn camera of yours", he says, and looks at the space behind you, checking to see if you're alone. "And there's always your minion breathing behind your back", he tells you.

"Didn't thought you were watching me", you said, shrugging.

"It just feels fair, considering it's your job to watch me", he says, then looks to the rest of the party. "It's quite voyeuristic, if I may say so", he says, and you laugh.

"Never thought of my job with a sexual undertone before", you lie, tapping your fingers against the bar.

"Really? I actually started to enjoy the feeling of your eyes on me", he smirks, and you feel the blush on your cheeks. Touché.

"Just looking for a nice shot", you answer, looking away from him.

"That's a pity. I guess you're not interested in having a good time with me, then", it's his time to shrug.

"Define 'a good time'", you ask, and he smirks. You quickly think of Josh, waiting for you in your room, but a brief second - and a quick flash of Roger's smile - is all you need to shut the thought off.

"Open your mouth", Roger tells you, and you frown, confused. "Here?", you ask, and he laughs. "Yeah, here", he answers, looking for a small ziplock in his pocket. "Just trust me, alright?", he asks, and you open your mouth lightly.

"Tongue out", he tells you, and you do so. You watch as he picks up a small paper square with his fingertips. "Are you okay with it?", he asks, and you nod a yes.

So Roger's index soon touches the tip of your tongue, leaving the small piece of LSD there to dissolve. He quickly does the same, and calls the barman, ordering Perrier water, which the barman quickly pours in two glasses. Roger passes one of them to you, and raises his glass for a toast.

"A good time", he says, and you repeat it, receiving a quick smile from him before the two of you chug the water down.

It doesn't take very long before you can feel the effects on your body - lights get more intense, and time seemed to slow down a bit. You saw Roger's pupil dilate, and he pulled you to the dance floor.

His touch felt like lighting, electricity gluing your skins together, and he pulled you closer to the sound of Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, the castanets looping on your brain, Roger's eyes turning completely blue, his hair shining like the sun, blinding you, and you just needed to dance because there was so much energy contained inside of you, and every time you felt him touching your skin, you felt more energy accumulating, and if you didn't dance it out, you would burst into spontaneous combustion.

Yet you needed to feel his skin against yours more and more, and you pulled him closer so could feel him, his smell, his saturated colors, and you ached for his touch, turning around and dancing with your back glued to him, his hand wrapping around your waist to keep you there, close, the loud music bonding you together, melting the two of you against each other, buzzing through the air.

"I fucking hate this song!!" Roger screamed into your ear, but you couldn't stop dancing for a second, so you kept moving, grinding your hips against his.

"Hey, c'mon, let's find my room so I can pick a decent song", Roger managed to say, his breath burning your skin, but you enjoyed the feeling and craved more of it, more of his touch.

"But I can't go somewhere quiet!", you told him, still dancing to the playlist full of shitty hits. "I'll sing to you", he said, and you considered, still dancing, now to Feels Like The First Time.

He started screaming the chorus, and that was good enough for you, so you followed him to the hall. You kept dancing maniacally as he tried to remember his floor, eventually being guided there by one of the crew members, trying to ask where his suite was as he sang high notes to the rhythm of the Foreigner song to keep you satisfied, dancing alone in the hallways.

Once you got to his suite, he turned the radio on, and Immigrant Song has just started. You both started screaming - his voice almost in harmony with Robert's voice coming through the radio - and he jumped into bed, offering you a hand so you could jump along. You did, and you jumped in bed, the water mattress squealing under your weight as you babbling the lyrics, random words coming out of your mouths about ice, snow, midnight suns and Valhalla.

It was followed by Dark Lady, and you kept jumping and screaming on his bed for hours to every song that the radio played, stopping only when you realized you were hoarse, the Stairway to Heaven intro giving you time to recover your breath.

Roger jumped out of bed to get you a bottle of sparkling water on his mini fridge, and you sat down, feeling the effect of the drug passing. He opened the bottle and had a sip before passing it to you. After giving him a weak smile, you drank half of the bottle in only a few seconds. He layed by your side.

You put the bottle down on the ground and lay down with him. His pupils are still big, but smaller than the last time you noticed, so the effect is getting weaker on him too.

That doesn't stop him from lifting his hand, moving it closer to your lips, his warm hand encompassing your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You don't resist the temptation, moving your own hand to his hair, his teased strands tickling your palm before you entangled your fingers on them.

He slowly pulls you closer to him, and you never saw the blue of his eyes in such close proximity.

Cause you were never this close to kissing him before.

And a glimpse of sobriety hits you - you're about to kiss Roger Taylor in the middle of an acid trip.

That's not how you want it to go; it doesn't feel right, now that you really thought about it.

"Roger, this is not right", you say, and he freezes. "It feels right to me", he says, staring deep into your eyes, relaxing, getting closer to you again.

"It's not that I don't want to kiss you, or sleep with you. I do", you blurp out, almost regretting it, scared of rejection even as he's leaning in for a kiss. "So what's not right?", he asks, frowning.

"I don't want to fuck you while we're tripping. It's gonna be fucking terrible", you say, and he laughs. "I mean it, though. I want it to be good. I'd rather not have you than have you like this", you tell him, and he laughs again.

"You're really that decided, aren't you?", he asks, and it's your turn to laugh. "I guess I am", you say.

"Since we're not fucking, or even kissing, can I still touch you? Your arms, your hair. I'm not tripping as hard, but my skin is itching. I need to touch you", he says, and you nod.

So, with Roger's callous fingers brushing against your soft skin and his husky voice humming Led Zeppelin, you fall asleep.

-

The sunlight makes you see red before you even open your eyelids.

You feel cold, the AC too strong for your liking - Josh wouldn't change the temperature, he knew how you liked it.

So you opened your eyes to find yourself on an empty bed, much bigger than yours. The only sound in the room comes from someone brushing their teeth.

Roger Taylor is only in a towel, wrapped low around his hips, leaning into the sink, his signature halo of hair now wet.

You let out a scream.

The memories from last night hit you at the same time he turns around and looks at you, concerned.

"Hey, you alright?", he asks, and you nod, feeling your legs ache from the exercise you had, jumping like mad for hours.

"Yeah, just couldn't remember everything at first", you said, and he looked down at himself. "Oh, don't worry. We didn't do anything. You had some interesting reasoning behind it", he said, and you blushed.

"Roger, I'm so sorry. All this has been so unprofessional, thank God there's not a show today", you say, and he interrupts you. "It's alright, Y/N. There would be nothing for you to do anyway, since I've spent the morning locked here", he said, and you gasped.

"All morning? What time is it?" you ask, and he points to the clock. "Three in the afternoon. Relax, you said it yourself, it's a day off", he shrugged, and went back to the sink.

"Josh is probably concerned with me, doesn't even know where I am", you murmured. "Is he your boyfriend or something?", he asked, and you nodded a no. "So there's no reason for all this. Besides, the whole crew probably saw you with me, so there's a huge chance he knows your whereabouts", Roger completed.

"God, and we didn't even do anything", you say, getting off bed. "I'm sorry for all this, Roger. I'll go to my room", you said, looking for your shoes. "God, I haven't had such an intense trip ever since Woodstock", you said to yourself, and Roger coughed. "Since when?" he asks, and you repeat, looking at him. "Woodstock", you say, proud, and he walks toward you.

"There's no way in hell you're getting out of this room without telling me this story", he said, and you smiled.

You told him about Woodstock, and the Beatles, only stopping so you could take a quick shower on his bathroom, putting on some of his clean clothes. He wanted your company, and you never realized how lonely he could get, never getting to know anyone who had a more interesting life than his.

He ordered room service for the two of you, a weird pizza full of pineapples, and you took it to his balcony, watching the twilight over the Badlands National Park, a breathtaking view you couldn't believe you were getting to experience, just like you couldn't believe you were experiencing listening to Roger Taylor complain about pineapple on his pizza. "I hate the Midwest so much. How can you fuck up pizza with fucking fruit? I expect this in California, not here", he complains, and you laugh at him.

He looks at you, and for a moment you see him as saturated as you saw last night, his blinding hair and deep blue eyes. "I have an idea", he says, putting his plate to the side and going inside the room.

He comes back with a Polaroid in his hands, and you instantly cover your face. "I don't like to be photographed, thanks", you say, but he kneels down in front of you, trying to get to the same level as your eyes.

"C'mon Y/N, it's just fair. You're filming me all the time!!" he complains, and you sigh. "That's my job, Roger".

"Hey, hey, it's fine", he says, moving your hands down and away from your face. "I just want to see you the way you see me", he tells you, positioning the camera so he can watch you through the viewfinder, his free hand moving a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want to see you", he whispers, letting the camera slowly move down as he caresses your cheek with the hand that was on your hair.

He brushes his thumb over your lower lip again, and this time, you lean into him.

And even though you're sober, you could swear you feel the same electricity connecting you as his plump lips move against yours.

---

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[icarus-suraki]

So I dreamed that I was spending a week in Russia on a study abroad trip. My brother went too, but we were sent to different places and I was sent to a fairly small town. There wasn’t a lot to see or do there, so I remember walking around quite a lot among these half-ruined buildings and overgrown empty lots--though at one point, my host family took me to a kind of mountain park (which has appeared in a dream before) where we saw some elk, so that was cool. 

But before I even left the states to go on this trip, this musical group (whose name I don’t recall) released a new album and was randomly sending out these absolutely massive posters as a promotion. I opened my suitcase and discovered one was in there--and it was really huge. Like, the thing was in three horizontal pieces and accordion-folded several times. Like, you could use this thing as wallpaper. And it wound up being a superflat illustration of a whole pineapple against a dark blue (Tumblr-blue, almost) sky. But if you looked very carefully in one small upper part, there was some tiny light blue on dark blue text, which was a poem of some sort. I don’t remember what it said, but I remember there was a lot of chatter online and on the news (even in Russia, though I was online rather a lot in this dream) about this album and the posters and the poem. 

For some reason, I copied down the poem in Morse code by poking holes with a compass (as in, used in geometry) in the wood of a telephone pole. Then, when I came back to it later, I wasn’t sure I had done it right, so I got up close to it and literally tried to (wait for it) edit the post. I succeeded in highlighting the text, but I couldn’t convert it back into the Roman alphabet, so that was frustrating.

Anyway, in between posting the post on the post and coming back to edit the post (I’m not over it, no), I was walking in some thin woodlands (the sort of relatively young forests that show up in a lot of the neighborhoods I grew up in) that bordered on some vacant lots. There was a porch swing in the middle of one of these patches of woods--I think a house was not too far away--so I sat down on it. And pretty soon thereafter, I started getting irritated with my collar.

As in, it was like a pink plastic belt, but it was a dog’s collar. And there was a blackened, dried (salted?) pig’s heart threaded onto it. And, for some reason, I had to wear this thing. And it, as I recall thinking, was much better than the larger, wider collar I had had to wear before, which had some large thing wrapped in fabric on it. But it was still annoying. And I only had one day left of the trip, so I figured I’d take it off. 

Now, I hadn’t seen any bears, but there might still be bears around, so I made sure that I swung the belt around my head and flung the preserved heart off deeper into the woods (over a random chain-link fence) so if a bear or some other animal found it, they’d be farther away. Just whipped that thing out into the trees. Satisfied, I went to edit my post.

(There was an intermission in here somewhere where I was watching a video online of a techno/industrial dance contest in Japan where there was a lot of post-production cool stuff that made the dancers kind of move into and interact with abstract shapes of black and magenta, among other similar things--yellow and black, or a mirror image of herself.)

Eventually I went back to my host family’s house, the inside of which looked a lot like the house I grew up in crossed with my grandparents’ house. Two very large men were leaving as I was walking in and one stepped on my foot and I was terrified of them, but he was really apologetic and I tried to say sorry in Russian and he said sorry in English and we stood there a bit going “Sorry sorry sorry” at each other.

Anyway, I was in the bathroom, washing up a bit (and being surprised at how blonde my hair looked for some reason), thinking about how tomorrow was my last day on the trip and how good it would feel to get back to the states and not have to be on my best behavior all the time. 

And I turned around and there was a silvery-white deer standing in the corner of the bathroom behind me. 

[elizas-writing]

Thirteen Reasons Why is Torture Porn; Using Graphic Violence to Make a Point

CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, rape/sexual violence, physical assault, and everything the Thirteen Reasons Why crew were told NOT to do by mental health experts

If you are in a crisis, don’t let a poorly written TV show tell you what to do; call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or the Suicide Crisis Line at 1-800-784-2433. Surround yourself with people who will support you without judgement and are willing to take the extra step to understand. If you’re struggling to find regular mental health resources, check out here for more options. You still have a life ahead even if it takes some trial and error to figure out what the hell to do.

So Netflix released the second season of Thirteen Reasons Why, and, what a shock, people hate it for upping the graphic violence and rape. I have no plans to watch it myself after reading through all the triggers, but suffice it to say that so little was learned from the first season. Plus, I’d rather not subject myself to that much distress for a TV show I knew there was no point in continuing after the first season. Everyone’s accounts across Twitter and Tumblr of the new season seem to match up, so I’m going off of that for this piece.

If you haven’t seen my review of the first season (with and without spoilers), I found that it definitely went too far to make a point and had really confusing characterizations, but there were select scenes, when they were done right, were kinda worth the wait-- keyword being “kinda.” There was a germ of an idea begging for good writing, but got sucked into shock value for the sake of shock value. And the second season offers no promises to improve.

Of the multiple graphic scenes of this season, the one which sparked the most outrage was the final episode “Bye” as Tyler (a serial stalker) is brutalized and raped by his male classmates. As a result of being pushed too far, he brings practically a whole arsenal of guns to shoot up the school during a dance, but Clay peacefully disarms him before he can go through with it.

So apparently the creators saw the criticism of season one and thought, “So, you want to see more graphic violence, rape, and terribly confusing characterization?”

In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, creator and showrunner, Brian Yorkey, wanted to explore more of Tyler’s psyche and “how a troubled man might be driven to consider this very difficult choice” after the bullying and ostracization he experienced in the first season. While I’d never wish rape on anyone, even fictional people--and a bunch of characters who mistreated him are total hypocrites--, Tyler is still beyond redemption for never understanding how his behavior destroyed Hannah’s sense of safety. The show puts him through that much brutalization to force audiences to feel sympathetic towards him while never critically analyzing why his stalking and coping mechanisms were wrong and unhealthy, regardless of what else was going on in his life.

It also promotes the dangerous idea that social outcasts and/or victims of bullying are likely to eventually become school shooters, which completely ignores factors like toxic masculinity or racist associations-- as was the case for shootings like Parkland and Santa Fe from this year-- which contribute to a white male sense of entitlement. Even though the lapses in logic are all over the place in the show-- particularly Clay having an emotional breakdown with Tyler, even though he made things worse in the first place by sharing revenge porn--, people had every right to distance themselves from Tyler as much as possible.

He’s a creep in how he objectifies his female classmates, constantly collects sensitive photos for blackmail, and his main outlet for anger becomes shooting guns at bottles and live animals, because society as a whole tends to only show men how to be emotional through anger and nothing else. This doesn’t help that when he testified, he apparently wanted to befriend Hannah to take photos of her to which she rejected (rightfully so) and thus his stalking began. It’s already so back-and-forth among viewers if Hannah committed suicide out of revenge or actual mental health deterioration, and subtly putting blame on her for rejecting Tyler is up there as one of the worst things they did to her. Not to mention throughout the second season, Tyler is anonymously putting up polaroids around the school of incriminating evidence in the case, particularly with Jessica, who is already stressed as is coming to terms that she was raped by Bryce.

It’s upon these scenes that I realized Netflix’s Thirteen Reasons Why can’t decide who it’s supposed to be for. It’s not for teenagers with how unrealistic and unidentifiable the characters are, especially coming from an adaptation of an 11-year-old book with an outdated understanding of teen mental health, bullying and suicide. It’s most definitely not for mentally ill folks with a history of suicidal thoughts because it’s so graphic, violent, and triggering, and on top of which, is grossly inaccurate on how depression works. Are they making it for the same people who can stomach Game of Thrones easily?

Above all else, does graphic violence have any point in film or television?

As mentioned in their first Beyond the Reasons special, the writers argued about needing that authenticity for Hannah’s rape and suicide scenes “to be painful to watch,” but it’s really not worth it if it has nothing else to say besides “look at this excess violence; you need to feel bad.” If you need to spoon feed your audience an explicit rape or suicide scene to emphasize how horrible those things are, it’s bad writing. They made the same mistakes with Tyler’s brutalization, which like I said, only exists to make you feel sorry for him and almost forget he’s an irredeemable character.

Film and television are super creative visual mediums; there are ways to convey an emotion or theme without triggering content or alienating your supposed intended audience.

I mentioned this before in my first review, but Perks of Being a Wallflower did incredibly well in portraying child molestation and an attempted suicide without going too far. The scenes of the molestation are cleverly cut and mostly in shadow where all you can see is Charlie’s aunt rubbing his leg and hear her whispering “Don’t wake your sister.” And when he’s mentally breaking down and suicidal, the camera just pans to the knife slowly before immediately cutting to the police breaking in, and then Charlie wakes up in the psychiatric ward. It’s a gut-wrenching scene every time, but it’s also smart in remembering the intended audience and walking that line before it becomes too much. It’s a great depiction of an anxiety attack where everything overwhelms you at once, and sometimes there’s gaps in your memory in what happened while in that state of panic. It’s never addressed what happened between the police arriving and Charlie waking up in the psychiatric ward. But it doesn’t need to give those answers; what matters most is that Charlie is safe and finally going to get the help he needs.

A scene can be way more powerful in what it omits rather than what it explicitly shows. What you imagine might happen can be more exciting and/or terrifying than what any director could have put on the screen themselves.

Early horror and thriller films are among the most successful of this, especially if they’re directed by Alfred Hitchcock, the Master of Suspense. Sure, these films seem pretty cheesy when we in the 21st century are used to seeing much more violence and body horror, but they have their mark on cinematic history for a reason, and for an audience in the 1960s, this was horrifying. Take the famous shower scene from Psycho.

Instead of showing the knife penetrating flesh, it’s all edited in near-rapid cuts of “Mother” missing, Marion screaming and trying to defend herself, and shots of her feet with blood dripping into the water. It focuses more on the vulnerability of the situation, when there’s no chance for escape as you’re cornered against the wall and how quickly it all happens before you can react, complete with fast-paced editing and those high pitched violins. That kind of defenselessness freaked out actress Janet Leigh so much that she couldn’t take showers again without locking the doors and windows and leaving the shower door open. Hell, that still tends to be a common reaction for a lot of people who see this movie, and all without needing to show actual stab wounds.

And this trick in omitting some elements and highlighting others works well across genres for any scene motivated by any strong emotion. There’s probably about 50 different Disney films I can cite that do this well, but the one that sticks out the most is Tarzan.

Aside from Phil Collins singing, some animal noises, and a baby cooing, there is no spoken dialogue for the first 7 minutes, which is a really long time for an animated family film. Yeah, the song kinda hamfists in the themes of family and love from the get-go, but it’s otherwise a great introduction. You see these two families just starting out before they’re cut short by tragedy; one with the death of a baby gorilla and the other with the death of Tarzan’s parents, both at the jaws of Sabor. The former is only indicated by the sounds of the baby gorilla’s screams echoing in the jungle while we only see the aftermath of the latter through Kala’s perspective when she finds Tarzan.

Obviously with it being a Disney family film, they’re not going to actually show Sabor tearing up a baby gorilla or the human parents. As such, they have to rely on context clues for the audience to pick up and piece together everything else with their imaginations. When you think about it long enough, it’s a really dark beginning on how quickly unexpected tragedy can destroy everything you hold dear. And it’s all accomplished without going too far.

Does this mean we need to omit graphic violence entirely for a film? Not necessarily as it very much depends on what the film is and your target audience. But omission is a great practice in a story to explore what else you have to say besides “Look at this traumatizing shit. You should feel bad.” Of course, we’ll always have mindless films which just exist to be violent, and historical narratives and/or social commentaries in some cases need violence to portray the reality of a situation. But when you’re making something about mental illness with intent to help those like your characters, it helps to listen to what your audience and mental health experts actually want to see in such a narrative. And like I said before, the Thirteen Reasons Why creators completely ignored criticisms of season one and continued making the same mistakes just to milk their product beyond the source material. It has nothing else to say or do besides being needlessly gritty as opposed to creating likable characters or understandable motivations.

The only exception to this rule I can even think of is Deadpool 2.

I know it seems counter-intuitive to compare Deadpool 2 and Thirteen Reasons Why given the former’s more excessive violence, but bare with me here. I stand by that Deadpool 2 is way better at handling themes of suicide and violence in two hours than Thirteen Reasons Why ever did in 26 episodes.

The major differences? The intended audience’s expectations and well-written characterization.

Most everyone going in already knows what Wade Wilson is like. And this is definitely not the first time he attempted suicide in such grandiose and gratuitous fashion. The first film established itself as a wildly violent parody of superhero films, and the sequel continues that by poking fun at recent trends of these films going darker and grittier. In any other film, this would cross the line, but because it’s Deadpool, the excessively grotesque violence is to be expected. It succeeds in capturing the shock and dark humor (i.e Wade blowing himself up with his apartment, knowing fully well he can’t die) while still maintaining the weight of his emotional turmoil.

We actually get to know who Wade is and why he acts the way he does. There’s no drawn out mystery or fact-checking other sources or confronting side characters we don’t care about. We get his perspective alone, and that’s all we need to see his grief over Vanessa escalating to self-destructive behaviors and how he tries to find some family and meaning in life without her, even though her death is retconned in the end anyway. It’s all played for laughs, but you can’t help but feel sorry for Wade because he loved Vanessa so much, and they were a wonderfully sweet couple.

Another thing Deadpool 2 does significantly better than Thirteen Reasons Why is not forcing gray morality where it doesn’t belong, particularly when Wade tries to save Russell. It doesn’t matter if his actions lead to a horrible future; he’s just a traumatized kid who needs a proper family who will guide him. A lot of X-Men films try to play the heroes as the bigger people who are above murder and revenge. Yet Deadpool 2 doesn’t punish those like Russell with understandable hatred and motivations. It is very upfront that if you harm children, you deserve whatever hell comes your way-- which really hits home as Russell was put through metaphorical gay conversion therapy.

Meanwhile, I can’t even be bothered to care about anyone in Thirteen Reasons Why. The second season out of nowhere piles on excuse after excuse to justify the characters’ actions without them ever facing guilt or consequences. Anyone else with a remote chance at sympathy is just put through more emotional torture without rhyme or reason. I don’t care who has a drug problem, who’s gay, who dated who, the he-said-she-said, etc etc. If you’re trying to preach the ever-tired “it gets better” bullshit, when does it actually start to get better?

Sadly, Thirteen Reasons Why can’t find that point, and I don’t trust it will given how little the creators learned from the first season’s criticisms. They don’t care about creating a narrative to help mentally ill teens. They have nothing else to say or do than to make money and shoe-horned in so much graphic violence under the guise of being “authentic” to compensate for a tired Degrassi knockoff which would’ve disappeared if it wasn’t based on a well-known YA novel. Graphic violence in media is a tool to be used carefully, and of course it will vary project to project. But if it just exists to pad your “deep, meaningful” story instead of developing characters, motivations and relationships, then it’s cheap, lazy torture porn, and it’s bad writing.

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[philthevaliant-stuff]

Steven Universe So Far: One Sentence Summaries For Each Episode! [The Way I Saw It At Least] (Post-April and Pre-May Episodes Edition)

Thankfully, my Crohn’s flare-up hasn’t truly stopped me from updating the one-sentence summary episode guide to Steven Universe before next week! But it’s gotten so long that I’ve had to put a ‘Read More’ link to save your dashboard from overloading! :P

Gem Glow: His first episode. Laser Light Cannon: Amethyst loves being used as ammo. Cheeseburger Backpack: Now available to buy online! Together Breakfast: His first Memetic Mutation. Frybo: Steven defies Broadcast Standards and Practices. Cat Fingers: WOMP WOMP. Bubble Buddies: A ship sails. Serious Steven: Strawberry Fields Forever. Tiger Millionaire: Better than John Cena, that’s for sure. Steven’s Lion: A companionship is formed. Arcade Mania: Meat Beat Mania too much for the UK, apparently. Giant Woman: His first encounter with a fusion. So Many Birthdays: In which Rebecca Sugar reveals her diabolical plan to make everyone watching cry their eyes out for the first time. Lars and the Cool Kids: Whatever you do, DON’T insult Steven’s mum! Onion Trade: In which everyone begins making theories about Onion being the actual Big Bad of the franchise. Steven the Sword Fighter: “Where there’s life, there’s…..” Lion 2: The Movie: Lion is a well-behaved movie patron. Beach Party: Garnet fails at telling lies. Rose’s Room: Nightmare fuel comes as standard. Coach Steven: The song will never get out of your head. Joking Victim: His first work experience session. Steven and the Stevens: Steven makes the Time Lords cry. Monster Buddies: Sponsored by CHAAAAPS potato crisps. An Indirect Kiss: The ship travels at a fine lick. Mirror Gem: Where the franchise changes course and becomes a drama. Ocean Gem: His first close encounter with other Gems. House Guest: Healing spit, we hardly knew ye. Space Race: Ground control to Major Tom, your circuits’ dead, there’s something wrong. Secret Team: Sssh, Secret Team! Island Adventure: Makes the Steven/Connie ship look like a raft. Keep Beach City Weird: At least we got to talk with Ronaldo afterwards, even though he wasn’t prepared for it in hindsight. Fusion Cuisine: Steven gets into the biggest amount of trouble yet. Garnet’s Universe: Estelle works that microphone for ten minutes. Watermelon Steven: His first business deal. Lion 3: Straight to Video: Pass the tissues. Warp Tour: The Dorito debuts. Alone Together: The ship reaches maximum speed. The Test: Time to cry your eyes out again, fans! Future Vision: Wild Beedrill appeared! On the Run: Amethyst makes the Crystal Gems guilty and the fanbase cry. Horror Club: Or ‘Do You Want Fries With That Doughnut?’ Winter Forecast: The ship gains an icebreaker. Maximum Capacity: Amethyst unintentionally causes controversy. Marble Madness: The Dorito debates with Steven. Rose’s Scabbard: You can fit any piece of music with the final scene. Open Book: Cartoon Network buggers up continuity and Rose’s Room makes the situation worse. Shirt Club: Steven gets away with referencing the Kennedy assassination. Story for Steven: His origin story. The Message: Steven inspires a Youtube musician. Political Power: MAY-OR DEW-EY! Say Uncle: Uncle Grandpa tries to inject one last bout of comedy into the show before it all goes down, only to divide the fanbase in his attempt. The Return: “It’s the end, but the moment has been prepared for…” Jail Break: His final stand.

Full Disclosure: The ship steers through jagged rocks. Joy Ride: The Dorito’s driving vehicle is discovered. Love Letters: A mailman wishes to become Garnet’s American Boy. Reformed: “Physician, heal thyself.” Sworn to the Sword: The ship gets equipped. Rising Tides, Crashing Skies: Or ‘Keep Beach City Weird: The Animated Series’. Keeping it Together: The Dorito disturbs Garnet. We Need to Talk: Pearl’s salty 90s period. Chille Tid: So disturbing a Hiatus had to be reinstated. We Are the Crystal Gems [1/6]: The National Anthem of Steven Universe Lovers. What Are Gems? [2/6]: In which Steven becomes even more cuter in chibi form. How Are Gems Made? [3/6]: Amethyst debunks dozens of fan theories in one lecture. Fusion [4/6]: "The Answer" in ballet form. Unboxing [5/6]: His first TubeTube video. Lion Loves to Fit in a Box [6/6]: Beach City gets hit by the cat video bug. Cry for Help: The Dorito distributes dissension in the ranks….or does she? Keystone Motel: A handy guide to understanding an autistic person’s mindset, so I discovered. Onion Friend: In which everyone begins making MORE theories about Onion being the actual Big Bad of the franchise. Historical Friction: Jamie provides the fanbase with ideas on how to make an “Ember Island Players” version of the show. Friend Ship: The Dorito dislikes dusty old Gem tech. Nightmare Hospital: The ship’s secrets are brought to light. Sadie’s Song: Steven becomes increasingly popular on Tumblr for a week, and makes Cartoon Network history at the same time. Catch and Release: The Dorito comes out of her chip-based shell. When it Rains: Peridot panics over precarious precipitation. Back to the Barn: Peridot and Pearl pettifog, pummel, and pacify. Too Far: Peridot practically plows predicaments into a Hiatus. The Answer: Ruby, Sapphire, and Garnet's origin stories. Steven's Birthday: The ship departs after refueling [OR: The reason Steven had his own week-long event]. It Could've Been Great: The Turning Point of Steven Quartz Universe. Message Received: Steven rocks the hoodie look. Log Date 7 15 2: Peridot's player gets pawned and perused.

Super Watermelon Island: In which Cartoon Network UK cocks up big time and completely spoils the episode for everyone else. Gem Drill: Our cinnamon roll journeys to the center of the Earth. Same Old World: Steven can show you the world...! Barn Mates: I always wear a leak on St. David's Day! Hit the Diamond: Romance in the Outfield. Steven Floats: It does exactly what it says on the tin. Drop Beat Dad: Such an important event, even the Crewniverse had to check it out! Mr. Greg: His first musical [OR: Pearl's salty-tearful reconciliation]. Too Short to Ride: If you know where to look, you can actually Cheep Peridot right now! The New Lars: Matthew Moy makes up for lost time. Beach City Drift: The ship gains the ability to run on land [OR: Ronaldo auditions for Top Gear]. Restaurant Wars: Ronaldo is finally accepted by (a vast majority of) the fanbase. Kiki's Pizza Delivery Service: Steven uses up his pun quota for the season. Monster Reunion: Leaked from the servers, still sponsored by CHAAAAPS potato crisps. Alone at Sea: No fish were harmed during the making of this episode. Greg the Babysitter: "Meh." Gem Hunt: The ship survives the wilderness. Crack the Whip: "Stop, you're making me giddy...!" Steven vs. Amethyst: Pearl makes good use of traditional seaside shops. Bismuth, Part 1: Rainbow is the new Gem. [OR: His 100th episode!] Bismuth, Part 2: Vengeance is an old vice. Beta: Bow ties are cool! Earthlings: Two heads are better than one, but all bets are off when you and your co-worker's jobs are to protect episodes from being leaked. Back to the Moon: On the moon, no one can hear a thousand Tumblr moms scream. Bubbled: In space, no one can hear a thousand Tumblr moms cry.

Kindergarten Kid: Corruptius Geminius vs. Doritus Clodius Know Your Fusion: Smoky Quartz and Sardonyx take over the Network from the Titans for 11 minutes. Buddy's Book: Jamie's fledgling theatrical career begins to pay off. Mindful Education: Two months' worth of summer adventures finally take their toll on the ship. Future Boy Zoltron: Featuring Neil Gaiman in a role you won't see coming! Last One Out of Beach City: Pearl attempts to roleplay a popular AU version of herself. [OR: Pearl's salty night out] Onion Gang: We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun, but the wine and the song, like the seasons, have all gone. Cooking With Lion [1/5]: "But, Your Honor, he stole my act!" - Francis Gem Karaoke [2/5]: All singing, no crying. Steven Reacts [3/5]: Even Steven can't stand Hiatuses! Video Chat [4/5]: Skype Chats Between Gems. Steven Song Time [5/5]: Or "Summer of Steven: Epilogue" Gem Harvest, Part 1: Steven ditches his Knife for a common or garden Trowel. Gem Harvest, Part 2: Steven and Lapis take to the air and some Steventhusiasts take to petitioning Mr. Enter for an Animated Atrocity entry. Three Gems & a Baby: Peace and goodwill to all Steventhusiasts, and love for the cinnamon roll... Steven's Dream: Three days into 2017 and the entire Stevenbomb gets leaked - that's gotta be a record! Adventures in Light Distortion: The Shorty Squad gets two new members. Gem Heist: Steven is obviously a Mysterious Cities of Gold fan. The Zoo: Ronaldo's not so stupid now, is he, Steventhusiasts!? That Will Be All: Blue and Yellow make Green melodies. The New Crystal Gems: Connie helps to promote the second wave of Funko Pop vinyl figures. Storm in the Room: "Why don't you ask her yourself?" Rocknaldo: In which it's beddy-bye-bo's time for (a vast majority of) Ronaldo's fanbase. Tiger Philanthropist: Tiger Millionaire raises his fists, Purple Puma raises the roof, and Lars raises up a stink! Room for Ruby: Lapis and Peridot regret not watching "The Wrong Trousers" the night before. Lion 4: Alternate Ending: This episode not being leaked in the first place is the actual alternate ending! Doug Out: In which the thoughts of a Super Mario/Steven Universe crossover game that never will be make this blogger cry to sleep. The Good Lars: Jenny plays a mean melodia. Are You My Dad?: We love our bread, we love our butter, but most of all we love each other! I Am My Mom: There's nothing I could do, a total eclipse of the heart.

Stuck Together: Forever's gonna start tonight. The Trial: TEAR DOWN THE WALL!!! Off Colors: Every now and then Lars gets a little bit tired of listening to the sound of his tears. Lars' Head: Every now and then we get a little bit terrified of Hiatuses, and then we see the look in the show's eyes! Dewey Wins: As the ship sinks, Steven learns the definition of the word 'Repercussion'. [OR: Not actually a repeat of 'Off Colors' this time!] Raising the Barn: Onion sets his stakes high by cornering the agricultural market. Gemcation: Steven projects his angst, Pearl projects her hatred of reptiles, and Ronaldo projects his voice. Back to the Kindergarten: The Shorty Squad get their Ground Force on! Sadie Killer: Steven is a bad, bad boy, apparently. Kevin Party: Rebecca Sugar finds some inspiration for her next story meeting, but can the ship be salvaged in time? [OR: I don't care what you say, Steven doesn't look anything like that boy from Aberdale!] Steven's Secret Rap Career: His first official/unofficial fan video. [OR: The franchise transcends cultdom, thanks to MKatwood.] Lars of the Stars: In which the next Gem to debut has a little Chaos in her. [OR: As 2018 gets under way, the fans petition for a Captain Lars miniseries.] Jungle Moon: Stevonnie gets caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom. Your Mother and Mine: Garnet wipes out the canonicity of every Steventhusiast's theories and fan media in a matter of minutes. The Big Show: Pearl misses an opportunity to visit Empire City with Steven. Pool Hopping: Square Mom spends some quality time with her favourite cinnamon roll. Letters to Lars: It may be all change, but the next batch of episodes will still be released the good ol' fashioned Stevenbomb way!

[styleemag]

1000 years by your art

Viola aka @pitypagn aka @faheej is a 16 year old SHINee lover, currently living and studying in Budapest. Being a prolific and extremely talented young artist, she has something  yet to draw and say about her ultimate K-pop favourite - 5HINee.

Tell us, please, about SHINee Fanzine project. How did the idea emerge? Who are the participants? How is the process organized? ^▽^

The fanzine started with a tweet by my friend Gib (Twitter @cat__boy ). He wanted to participate in a SHINee themed zine but there wasn’t any around, so he thought of creating one. (By the way, it would be really nice if more zines and artist collabs were organised in the fandom! We haven’t seen many collaboration zines, mostly individual artists’ artbook and older theme collabs by korean shawols that hasnt happened in a while.) I messaged Gib that i would support the idea and so did his friend Flo (Twitter @omjkt_), and we became an admin team of three. For our theme, we went with something I had in my mind since April; a project that celebrates SHINee’s 10th anniversary by making a collection of fanarts themed around their songs. The name ‘10 years by your side’ is also referring to their song '1000年、ずっとそばにいて・・・’ (1000 Years Always By Your Side). 

Gib and Flo organised the technical aspects like choosing a printing shop, looking up printing requirements, shipping options, setting up a Tumblr page with all the necessary information, asking a friend to translate to korean and making the actual application form. It’s a big work and involves a lot of discussion, so I’m glad we could work it out; three is a good number for organising a zine, especially for first-timers like us as we can discuss and ask each other things effectively, split up work, point out things that the others forgot and such.

About the participants; we decided to invite some artists and open applications as well. We came up with a list of about 20 people — mostly SHINee fanartists known in the fandom — who we would like to work with and simply invited them through Twitter. It was a really rewarding part of the organisation process as it got me to talk to some of my mutuals i really look up to but we haven’t talked because of language barriers; someone whose art I really adore actually told me I made their day with the invitation and I found out we’re birthday twins with another artist! Also, good language exercise, hehe. While inviting artists, we also promoted our application page, where we received over 120 replies (which is incredible) and ended up choosing 15 artists from them, making our number 36 with admins.

To distribute the songs, we made a document of the list of songs we wanted to include in the zine (so they make a coherent timeline of SHINee’s music and visual concepts through the years) and sent it to artists so they can sign up to the song(s) they would like to draw, or add others that they had in mind. Currently, everyone is working on their pieces and us admins are in the making of the design of the printed zine. We also have a chat with all artists to get to know each other and share work in progress pictures.

For what’s still to be done; after all the designs and artworks are edited into one, we will start printing and selling towards the end of the year. Until then, we will update our social media (@shineefanzine on Twitter and Tumblr) on how things are going and possibly previews of the artworks!

It seems like you are doodling all the time, cause you often publish works done in notebooks, on working sheets of paper. It creates a unique atmosphere of understatement, so what does it say about you, in your opinion? 6v6

Haha that’s actually not correct! It’s true though that my sketchbook is a checked spiral notebook (that’s probably 10+ years old), so I understand why it seems so! I kind of wish I could draw more in school but it’s simply not the best place for me as I’m occupied with other things, and I like to make more focused drawings lately. Which is also why I haven’t really used that sketchbook (and updated my Instagram where I put traditional sketches) in the latest months. I might get back to it again, as I need to make some studies and I can’t continue my summer break drawing work ethic with finished digital pieces almost every day.

Understatement is a really nice way to put it though, I’m glad it seems so! There are multiple reasons for my sketchbook, one is that I feel too pressured having to draw something nice if it’s on some expensive special paper. Also, it’s easier for me to sense depth, proportions and sizes (aka how close i am to the paper) if it has patterns on it, although when the print ink is too strong, it’s not very good for drawing. The notebook I have has a good paper and lightly printed so it’s nice to draw on. This is the technical part, and what I think this says about me…simplicity? Since I started doing digital, traditional art became secondary for me and that’s great in the quality that it provides me more freedom in it, in some way. That it doesn’t matter if I draw something badly in traditional as it’s not as important to me. This is more of an image I would like if people saw when they looked at my Instagram, that it’s carefree, not looking for perfectionism but has its own beauty in sketchiness and stationary tools. Also that the first and most important thing you need for art is, well, doing art, not professional art supplies.

Be it a pencil sketch, or a digital masterpiece, your artworks are professionally done. Do you have plans to follow an artist’s career?  ㅍ_ㅍ

Thank you so much!! I do! Since a little less than a year ago, I decided I don’t want to study anything I’m being taught (mistake of going to a school known for its math) and it would be much nicer to occupy and surround myself with art and artsy people. I am planning to start taking art courses later this year or next year, learn to make a portfolio and look up some art colleges. At this point, I would be the happiest to be an illustrator but animating sounds good too, I will have to see yet where I will go!

What role does fashion play in your life? Do you use it as a tool, an artist’s medium? `ㅂ´

I’m probably not fashionable enough to say that, haha. Or rather I’m not satisfied with my own fashion because I don’t have the wardrobe I would like to have, my own personal issues getting in my way. It interests me though, and I do have the nagging feeling to do better, the room to improve, the inspiration. I like simplicity, gray and dull colors, oversized clothes, simple and clean designs that are great in their quietness. I would like to be like that.

Fashion in my drawings is a bit of a different topic I know, but I would like to mention since even though I’m usually preoccupied with people in my drawings, it can be really meditative and nice sometimes to sit down and compose an outfit and fiddle with details. Also high fashion, it can be quite an inspiration for me.

What thing, or maybe person, impressed you most of all recently? ㅎㅅㅎ

Eastern Europe. It has an exciting aesthetic that isn’t celebrated enough, at least from what I could see. I really love the folk wear, and it feels like home. I would like to make illustrations based around it as well as my own country’s historical fashion, it’s beautiful. The other side is the ~dark~ post socialist aesthetic, big blocks of panel houses made of concrete that don’t age well. It has a grim and heavy feeling but it’s also something uniquely here. I don’t know, maybe only the grim feeling might appear in my art style, maybe I will abandon it for lighter aesthetics but it’s interesting nevertheless.

We are thankful to Viola ( @faheej​ ) for her fabulous creations and the talk. Design by Anna Maria ( @sh5untik​ ).

[maddiicake]

A Decade in Review

I actually wrote this at the beginning of the New Year--and, technically, New Deacade--, but I figured I’d also have it here for those who follow me on Tumblr and not on DeviantART

So, heads up, this is going to be a super long post, so I will put the extent of everything under “Read More” below, if you’d like to continue.

Thanks for your time

A Decade In Review

Well, the more I think about it... the title should be: "The deterioration of an individual through their slow painful spiral into the fiery pit of failure". Anyway... I don't really do the "Art Progress" meme things that people make for New Years Eve/Day, mainly because, for me, there wouldn't be a point. For other artists, yes, I'm sure it helps very much to show where they started off and where they are now. (Though, I did make this one way back in the day, but haven't made any since then). But, for someone like me, whose had a stagnant art quality for half of this decade now, all the pieces I would put together would just look exactly the same quality-wise xD So, I just like to take the time and write out everything together in a Journal. All in one go; no drafting or edits (unless, of course, there's grammatical errors that I spot after posting). I don't have any Resolutions for this upcoming year, especially since I didn't complete any of my resolutions from last year (except for the "save your money" one). But, very rarely do people follow through with their Resolutions--and, of course, it's awesome when they do. But, since a decade has passed... and since I've been a figure on the internet for a decade now, I'd just like to take the time and reflect on everything that has occurred since 2010:

~

2010

I actually wouldn't exist on DeviantART for another year (and wouldn’t be on Tumblr for another year after that). However, I got my start on Ye Ole FanFiction.Net. Yes, I was a writer before I was an artist. In fact, even before our home was wired with the internet (which was around 2008/2009), I would do nothing but stay up late and write. Before I got my first computer, I would have tons of notebooks with nothing but fan-fictions written in them. And, after getting my computer, I would transfer those written works to be a little more polished in a Word Document; and, from there, I would continue on with the story I was working on. You don't have to worry about killing trees when everything is on a file xD Of course, dumb little me didn't think to separate each chapter into different Documents. So, now there is a 800+ page document still on my computer of a "saga" of a Pokemon Mary Sue. That story was never posted, and will never see the light of day, unless, of course, I hit some special Milestone (probably a YouTube Subscriber because me going through it could only properly be done in video format--with my commentary and cringe over top of course xD). But, you know what was posted? My Ouran Host Club fan-fiction: "Fitting In". Still in that "Mary-Sue"-ish OC, phase, but I wanted to make this character more interesting and believable. So, with my anime crush, Kyoya, paired up with my Ouran OC, I set out to form my story. Completely unbeknownst to my parents, because they (specifically Mom--go figure) frowned upon me just reading fan-fictions. Because, in my mother's own words: "It's other people's fantasies". (Looking back on that now, her reason makes absolutely no sense). But, I enjoyed writing and enjoyed the series. So, after my parents had fallen asleep, I would write a chapter through the night and then posted it. Somehow, after a few chapters... my story got pretty big: tons of faves, followers and reviews--it was insane! Here I was, just being a geek, like everyone else, and enjoying the fandom. And yet, for the first time in my life... I felt what it was like to be truly supported. It wasn't support for something I didn't have interest in or was coaxed into doing (like with my parents). This was something that I enjoyed, even if it was just for fun. And people actually liked it. They actually supported me for what I liked. From there, it just continued to help me press on and keep moving forward. So, while balancing out my last year and a half of high school, I challenged myself to upload a chapter every week. And, I succeeded. I remember one Review from a user that said: "I literally got home from school and rushed over to my computer, because I knew there would be a new chapter!" Little did they all know that I actually would write the chapter all in one sitting. Yep, pulled an all-nighter the day before just to write out the chapter and then post it. I eventually did tell my parents. This was after my story had gotten a pretty good amount of following and faves to be considered--in the Fanfiction.net society--a Fanfiction worth the time to read. Dad was actually really happy and proud, even going to tell my mother about it just to "show me off". It felt nice to have his support--awkward, yes, but still nice. Mom, of course, didn't care; not that I was surprised in the slightest. But, even if I had one parent's support, the whole mass of support for individuals over the internet was able to compensate for the lack of support I received from my maternal unit.

~

2011:

Still writing early into the following year. I had attended my first anime convention at the beginning. mostly because J. Michael Tatum--the English voice for Kyoya--was a guest, but also other Ouran English DUB actors, including Vic Mignogna. While I was aware he played Tamaki, it wasn't until I sat in on one of his panels that I realized how popular he was among the anime community. He got many questions regarding this series called Fullmetal Alchemist. Because of how everyone seemed to know of this series (except me, of course), that was the first thing I would look into after crashing at home at the end of that weekend. Like with everyone starting out, the search results provided me with the original Fullmetal Alchemist series from 2003, so I started with that. Needless to say... it was definitely a 180 turn from Ouran, with how dark and depressing that it seemed. By the time I got to the episode with Lab 5, I didn't watch another episode for months. Long story short: Chimera!Tucker scared the absolute sh*t out of me--didn't help that I was watching the episode at night either. Parallel to those months, however... I was writing my newest Fan-Fiction, "Fire and Ice". Completely taken full interest in the Fullmetal Alchemist series, I created my newest OC, Danielle. Now, I made the mistake of jumping the gun with her creation as well as her story. Because I was still very very new to the series, and didn’t quite get a grasp on the canon character's personalities to be able to portray them In-Character well enough. Not to mention that I didn't quite understand the "Rules" of the FMA universe when it comes to creating an OC. But that's where DeviantART comes in. I made an account in the fall of that year and would post every so often. I used dA more as a secondary account just for the more visual references of my stories. So, in other words, I was promoting my main account (FF.net) by broadening expanding myself to other sites. dA being more visually oriented for creators, while FF.net was more for the story/world-building end. So, with two accounts on opposite spectrums of one another, I continued to create my stories and characters. Of course, Fullmetal Alchemist was a very popular fandom, and with the Brotherhood series being new, the fandom was more hyped up than ever. I kept to myself mostly, because I was more on FF.net than dA. However, after a while, I wanted to interact with the audience I had gained from being on dA. So, I would draw my characters and scenes from my story more often. Granted, I didn't have a tablet at the time, and would scan my sketchbook drawings in to post them. I would even try to go the extra mile to scan them in and re-purpose them digitally with GIMP (the only program I had at the time); again, though, no tablet, just a mouse. I started talking with other newbie artists and writers in the fandom, and we all started to become really good friends. The majority of us, of course (even myself at the time), looked up to the "FMA OC Matriarchy". Not naming names, but I'm sure a lot of you know the individuals I'm talking about. Inspired by their own detailed digital works, my fan-fiction was put on a hold as I began to become engrossed in drawing. 

~

2012:

The year that marks my actual start as an artist here on dA. Or, if you want my actual take on it: The year that marks the beginning of my "downward spiral into the pit of no return or reformation". At the beginning of the year, I had purchased my tablet with my own money: A WACOM Bamboo Connect. In fact, it's the same tablet I use to this day, even though I have downsized to a much smaller version. Because my mindset at the time (and, to this day, still is): "You can have the most expensive equipment, but it's the artist themselves that makes the quality of the work." From there, along with a pirated version of Easy Paint Tool SAI, I was ready to take the next step into improving myself as an artist. (If anyone is curious... THIS was the first thing that I drew with my tablet). But, despite all that.. 2012 was rough. I picked A LOT of fights, even having the audacity to stand up to the "FMA OC Matriarchy" when there was a fight between the FMA OC groups. I saw their leader and the rest of them for who they truly were. Individuals, who still to this day (based on what I've seen from the 2nd-in-Command), that put on an act to make themselves appealing, welcoming, and "friendly" to their audience, while they're actually nothing more than self-entitled individuals who get upset because someone so dares to not like the pairing between their figment of their imagination and a fictional character. And that's when I vowed: "I will knock [her] off her throne." This said in regards to the leader of the Matriarchy. Because people, who are looked up to, shouldn’t be behaving in that sort of way! They shouldn't be acting like their word is law and whoever goes against them or disagrees with them should get their head chopped off, metaphorically speaking. Outside of the internet, they're nobodies. They don't have power over anyone when they're no longer hidden behind a keyboard and screen. The number on their profile is just that--just a number. It doesn't mean anything. And, in my mind, they all needed to be taken down a peg and realize that OCs, art, fandoms--whatever--should NOT be taken so seriously! We were all here to enjoy the same thing as them, and they had no right to treat themselves like they were queens, who governed what went on in the fandom. Of course, being a petty teenager... I did (and even drew) some things that I shouldn't have (i.e. making a satire of the Matriarchy as "Mean Girls" at the lunch table). And, I didn't really explain myself to anyone when said: "I'll knock [her] off her throne." I wasn't (and still am not) very good at explaining myself or feeling (or even understanding other's feelings and social cues). All in all that entire year was a roller coaster with on and off fights between myself and the Matriarchy--namely their leader. By the end of it all, I just wanted to quit and give up drawing all together. All I could think about was "There's no way I'll be able to surpass them and knock them off their thrones..." I always have, and still do, believe that I'm not one to be worshiped or put on a pedestal. I make it a habit to tell others that when they gush over me or my art: "I'm just a geek like you ^u^ There's no difference between us." Because I don't want to be treated the same way the Matriarchy was/is treated. I don't want to be seen like them at all, because I was nothing like them. I didn't take things seriously, I didn't treat others like they were lower than dirt to me--I wasn't an "Art Thot". I wanted to be the person that could actually BE A PERSON to my audience; not some high-and-mighty white-tower dwelling jerk like the Matriarchy. But, yet, there I was... dragging out the last of the year; trying to figure out how to not be like any of them, when it seemed like the only way to take them down a peg was to be like them. At least, to be able to surpass them. My mental state took a drastic turn for the worst as I began to become obsessed with these girls. I couldn't stand seeing them. I couldn't stand my friends talking to them (and I still can’t), because I felt like they had no idea what the Matriarchy was like--the way I knew them to truly be. I would constantly tear apart my art and look on it with disgust, because all I could see was just a big comparison between my work and theirs. I wanted to give up. "There's no way I'll pass them". I wanted to show everyone else so badly that there's someone out there that they could truly look up too. Not just as an inspiration for art, but as someone who actually cares about them and others. The days were so bleak, hopeless, endless... ending it all would have been too easy, and giving up seemed too cowardly. I was stuck. ...But, then I met AAV-sama. I had never seen them before at all. They weren't a watcher, didn't fave my works, didn't comment--nothing! It was just an out-of-the-blue comment on my profile: "Hey, wanna RP?" Now... I hadn't RPed on dA for a long while since then. But, I figured that getting back into writing would help take my mind off of everything art-related. So, we talked over what to RP, and they sent the starter. Little did I know that the beginning of that RP would be the start of something amazing.

~

2013:

The start of my last year in high school (graduated that spring), and would start my first year of Community College for an Art degree. I knew what I wanted to do with my life going from there. It's just, when you have little to no support system in real life, it's very very difficult to get on your feet from there and keep moving forward. Meanwhile, in the world here on DeviantART, I was still drawing little things here and there; working more on improving my ability to draw backgrounds as well as composition. I would still only post occasionally--about once a month or so--, because I was completely engulfed in the world of writing in the Notes section of dA. :devaav-sama: and I were still acquaintances and nothing more than RP Partners at the time. But, she would often share what was going on in her personal life, and, eventually, I would open up as well. From there, our acquaintanceship took a turn into friendship. She helped me find inspiration and creativity, and helped me remind myself of the love for the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom. And that would come the start of our little passion project: The Mustang Conspiracy. New OCs were made and had their own story in Next Gen of the FMA03/Shamballa universe.  All the while, AAV, and I became closer and closer while excitedly gushing over scenes we made and even episodes and characters in the FMA series itself. A year after we started creating out series, I created the first picture of our own "Golden Trio". And, with the creation of these new OCs, I met other individuals, who I would become friends with. With these new friends, we all cooed and gushed over our OCs, and even made AUs of our OCs interacting with one another. Like with my Ouran story, I once again felt that love and support--support I knew I would never be able to have outside of the internet (parents/mother). I didn't (still don't) have any friends outside of the internet, so I would often have a tendency to be possessive or overprotective of my friends here online. I liked the feeling of being loved and having friends, and I didn't want it to go away. ...But, ultimately, it did.

~

2014:

Like with the other years, this was no different of a roller coaster. In the real world, I was passing with 90s and A's in my classes. Of course, Mom's response to my Math final grade, which was a 92%, was a big: "You can do better". (Mother, we're not an Asian family, could you PLEASE let up on the high standards...? -___- ). Anyway... Like always, I found my escape from my toxic family life to the love and support from people who liked me for who I was online. Of course... There were the same emotional disputes between I and the Matriarchy, mostly brought up because I couldn't stand to see my friends interacting with them. What took me by surprise and baffled me the most is that one of my friends became friends (and still is to this day) with the Matriarchy's "2nd in Command". My friend's art was less to be desired, and was far from being among the ranks of the Matriarchy because of it. So, needless to say, I couldn't wrap my head around the reason why the Matriarchy would allow someone like her to be friends with them when they were out of her league art-wise. The Matriarchy didn't ever do that. it was just them, and if you're not in their league, then you're not one of them. There was only one logical conclusion to all of this... They were taking my friends by lulling them into a false sense of security and making them their "friends" just so that they could turn my friends against me. Ultimately, planning to leave me in abandonment and cutting off my support system online so that I would be left with nothing. My friends didn't know them the way I did. I KNEW those people weren't to be trusted, they never were, but I didn't want to make my friends up-happy. Yeah, I can be possessive because of my over-protectiveness for my friends, but... I didn't want to be the one to make them feel upset. So, I kept to myself the majority of the time and bottled it in. And we all know what happens when you bottle things in.... you become a ticking time bomb until you eventually explode, even on the smallest of things. Sometimes, like how it was with me, the bouts of intense anger were in scattered spurts. Now, many of you may remember the time over the summer of the Ferguson shooting, which lasted until the end of the year. Being raised by an extremist (mostly the maternal side) Conservative/Republicans, my family, of course sided with the Cop. Me, not wanting to be kicked out on the streets, I did what I always did when politics came up in my family--which is 90% of the time. I agreed with them and let it absorb me to the point that I had to be like that and think that way to appease them. Clearly, the internet didn't seem to agree, and I was called a "racist" and all but one friend left. She wouldn't last long, but I cherished the fleeting moments we had together. Meanwhile, I continued to draw FanART, OCs, and such for the rest of the year, as well as continue working on The Mustang Conspiracy.

~

2015:

AAV was all I had during this year. Our friendship had grown to the point that I couldn't imagine a day where I don't talk to her. We had gotten to the stage where we exchanged personal contact info, and have messaged each other little "Good Morning" messages every since day since then. She was my everything. She made me feel like I was everything. If I didn't have her, I probably would find the nearest overpass to jump off of, or work on finding a good sturdy tree in the middle of the woods to tie a noose to. All in all, life wasn't worth living anymore without her. After everyone else had left, she became my one and only, and... it got to the points where I would unhealthily obsess over our friendship because of the constant fear of abandonment nagging the back of my head every single day. Even while working on our story, we took the time to set up a separate Note just for a "Creative Workshop" to further build our characters and make them more well-rounded. Now, during one of my "bleak" moments, I recall the very first time I came across the a certain Community on YouTube (not naming what kind, because I would like to keep myself and my family safe). No joke, I had searched "terrible people on DeviantART", not because I want to find other people deemed "terrible" just to laugh at, but because I was feeling like I was the terrible one. The Community was still in it's early days with only a few channels that would talk about pedos and bullies on the internet--though most of the videos at the time were just talking about pedos. Seeing those videos and watching these users deliver calm and collected speeches about users committing crimes towards children on DeviatnART, among others just laughing at lol-cows doing dumb things, it gave me a light of confidence and inspiration. They handled themselves so well, and were well respected within the Community. So, I made my first videos--not the best, just screenshots of anime characters used as expressions set to my voice reading from a script along with music, all thrown together and edited on Windows Movie Maker. Like how I got big trying something new to a new audience the last few times... this was no different. Except, well, I didn't really feel the love and support as much. However, I did start to realize that the majority of my audience really enjoyed my jokes and the way I handled situations. And, it made me reflect to the days where I would do theater. Being on stage and performing for an audience, making them laugh or impacting their lives just because a character I played happen to inspire them... it was the best feeling in the world. Up there in front of hundreds of eyes watching you, and entertaining them... it's the greatest feeling in the world. Performing was my life, it was (and still is) where my heart is and what makes me truly happy. So, while I couldn't do theater as often, making YouTube videos was close enough, and I could work on those and post them at any time; not having to worry abut a weekend-only schedule or any other time constraints. So, I started small by making jokes about bratty teenagers stirring up trouble on DeviantART, and even clicked with some of the minor channels; doing some collaboration videos with them as well. Of course, there was a group on YouTube called the YTTrollPolice. In reality, they were just kids stirring up trouble, but they would go far beyond random trolling to DoX threats. I was their first target, and, through the collabs with the others, they went after them. I shut my channel down--the others in the community did as well--, just to avoid the target and threat to our personal safety. Kids or not, we couldn't take any risks. The YYTP kid eventually found me dA and stalked me there, even after his account was banned. Taking my mind off of everything, I went back to drawing and interacting with AAV. Then... I met another user in the FMA fandom. It was a rarity these days, especially since the FMA fandom was slowly starting to die out (mostly because of me, since I was the one who made everyone--including the FMA OC Matriarchy--leave the fandom, never to return again). While I was still hesitant, as well as having those "abandonment fears", I decided "What the heck? It could just be a one-time conversation." Well... it wasn't a one-time conversation. We started talking and chatting on and off from there, and even became friends. I did my best to encourage her, because, well, I was just like her starting out. And, with practice and effort, she'd be flying on her own. Seeing every new piece she made--a HUGE improvement in such a short amount of time--, I felt what I believed to be pride. Not the selfish kind. No, I was proud of her. She looked up to the Matriarchy just like I once did. But... instead of saying anything against them around her, I encouraged her. I made sure that she didn't follow the same path that I did. And, one day, she sends me this excitement-filled note about how the Matriarchy's 2nd-in-Command +watched her and they started getting close. She had done it, and with my recommendations, she became friends with my former friends. Because despite what had happened, they were good people (or so I thought until 2016). Not only that... she also gave me hope. By giving me the name "Saki", she helped me find hope that I could turn around and become better. And, with that hope, we became closer and our friendship grew from there. Of course, with that fear of abandonment still at the back of my mind, I enjoyed our friendship for as long as the amount of time the bomb had on it. Because, at that point, my mind always saw all friendships that way--they were all the same and ended the same. So, it was best to enjoy the present until the inevitable moment when that bomb would go off. Near the end of the year, I received a Note on dA from a user I had never met, seen, or interacted with before. They and their friend had a Joined-channel that talked about brats on DeviantART and made fun of them. This user said that I was one of the ones, who inspired them to get in to the community. I let them know about the situation and why I left; they understood, but we started to chat, and they welcomed me into their group of friends. (For the sake of continuity through this journal, we'll call them "The Group"--Again, keeping it vague for my and my family's safety). We would just have fun chatting, geeking-out, and having streams reading bad fanfictions. During one of those streams, I got a message from a user, who was helping me with updates from the YTTP. According to them, the kid that made the DoX threats and stalked me and the other old users form the Community had the real police called to their house, and they ceased all intent with their "Troll Police" habits. And, like I said in that stream: "Now that they're gone, I think I'm going to start making videos again."

~

2016:

The beginning marked the year of when the story of The Mustang Conspiracy was put on a hiatus. I had finished Community College with an Associates in Arts and was working on where to go from there, and AAV was in the process of going back to school for her own degree. So, with personal life taking up a bit more of our time, we put the story on the shelf; however, we still worked in our "Creative Workshop" for our characters, for when they would eventually come back. Aside from that, I was working on starting up again on YouTube. I had made two accounts this time: one for my Art/Speedpaints, and the other strictly for "those videos". Posting my drawings, as well as the quality of my art, was an an all-time low; and it would be that way for another year and a half. Had I known that becoming absorbed in the Community at the time would take a huge strike to your art, I wouldn't have thought twice about going back. But, I felt like I could be someone within that Community. After every video, I felt just absolutely amazing. It was like everything I had bottled up for years could all come out full force just in one video. People liked me and supported me, that's what mattered the most. Sure, it wasn't the same like and support I used to feel, but it was support regardless, right? It was best not to complain and be happy with what I had. So, from there, I continued on with making videos. Meanwhile, on DeviantART, I decided to open up commissions. I had only done so here and there when people asked about how much I would charge for (X kind of picture) back in 2013. I wanted to make it more like a professional info sheet, since I was nearing the point where I would be seen as a "professional" (quote unquote; because I didn't--still don't--see my art anywhere close to be seen as "professional" ^^; ). But, I digress... I set up my sheet, and some people from The Group even commissioned art from me. Until mid-May when one of my former friends (one of the ones that left in 2014) began going to my commissioners and saying that I "traced" my commissions. How did I find out about this? One of my "friends" form The Group sent me a message asking if I could get in a call, and she laid out what was going on. My "friend" from The Group was also friends with my commissioner, and they (my "friend" from The Group) was in a message with my former friend via Notes. I explained to my "friend" from The Group about the situation from a few year ago, and (during this time) they had my back (note from present me, this was a bad mistake to do. You DO NOT divulge any information like this to people from The Community. This reason will be explained in the later in this section as well as the 2019 section). Of course, what was I to do? I was a small DeviantArtist with an even smaller YouTube following on both channels. But, I had enough of being treated this way and made a video about my former friend and what was going on presently. To my surprise... the video blew up in just a short amount of months. Many of my other friends came out to say that they agreed with me and had disliked this individual's behavior even before this occurrence. Though, had I known about it at the time, I wouldn't have made a video, I would have filed a lawsuit. Because, in terms of legal definitions, what my former friend was doing was a form of Tortious Interference. Of course, that was a term I didn't know about until early 2019, so there was no way for me to know that what my former friend was doing was a liable court of law offense. But, what was done was done. Of course the Matriarchy found out (go figure; they're all connected to each other). But, regardless of what happened to my former friend, I didn't care. At the time, I felt like she deserved it. Little did I know that that unsympathetic callous feelings was just the beginnings of the toxic environment of the Community getting to me. My channel started to get big really quick, and, looking back now, I see that many of The Group were more than likely upset or jealous of this. Because, in August of that year, they were quick to turn on me instead of sit down and talk things out like friends are supposed to do. They quickly dropped me, started spreading rumors, even went so far as to tell my former friend that I was going to make another video on them. I was labeled as "toxic", had hate-art made of me defaming my character, and they even made an alt account to spam my name in the comments and notes of one of their former friend (because "Saki" is such a "mean-sounding word" apparently...). The time bomb had gone off, but, unlike the other times, I wasn't even ready for it. And, up until the end of the year, I was a mixture of mad an upset, going through all sorts of emotions on the spectrum. How stupid I was to not see that I was falling in with the "Wrong Crowd". How I shouldn't have even attempted to restart my channel. How I shouldn't even have grown close to these groups of people. It would all end the same. It always did. Yet... I wasn't ready for it. Now... 2016 is a year that the majority of people despite, mostly for the results of the USA's Presidential election. Personally, I don't care for politics, but there were other things on my mind that day. See, that morning, the very same day as the election results, I had received a call from my doctor about my recent biopsy's results: Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma--Thyroid Cancer. Sure, it's not as serious a cancer like Breast or Brain, but it was cancer nonetheless. So, I was scheduled to have a total thyroid removal at the end of November, and would be put on a super restricting "iodine diet" for the majority of December that would last through the entire holidays. Christmas Dinner was torture; only able to eat a very small selection of things, while watching my family eat such amazing and delicious foods. The following week, I was quarantined in my room because I was completely radioactive. Despite craving that delicious food from Christmas, I felt like I would throw up if I ate just a cracker. My week of quarantine was was literally nauseating, completely miserable, and, above all else, absolutely boring. I could only entertain myself with my phone, because I didn't want to touch anything else--it would just be more to thoroughly clean immediately after use. January 1st Midnight of 2017 was spent in my room listening to my family excitedly cheer "Happy New Year". Needless to say, out of all the years this decade, 2016 was the worst.

~

2017:

With the residuals of what occurred between The Group and I gradually sputtered to stop, I took the time to stay off the internet a little and focus on my real life. I had to do something with my life. I know what I wanted to do with it. But, the thought of my parents not agreeing with my decision and not being proud of me held me back far too much. Despite having an Associates in Arts and wanting to go in a field that was about The Arts, my parents' (mother's) constant comments of: "Digital Art Degrees are a hit or miss when it comes to getting a job", "You'll never make it out in the Art field", "They're called 'starving artists' for a reason", and then she would proceed to offer ideas for jobs that required either a Science degree or a Medical degree. And... I believed her. Through her constant comments, she had coaxed me to reluctantly work to something she wanted me to be. I mean, she was right: I needed to find a job that would support myself financially, and if getting a Graphic Arts Degree wouldn't do that, then, well, I wasted 4 years of my life in Community College. So, with my mind thinking "Back to Square One", I set out to look for a part-time job. And, in February, I did. It was a short-shift job, but it paid a decent amount to get by for a while. Meanwhile, I paid less time online; only making a few videos for my channel now and then, but also wanting to get my Art/Speedpaint Channel off the ground with videos that are years old (and videos that, to this day, I still have yet to edit and post), as well as posting art when I could (once or twice a month). There wasn't much else that was eventful for the rest of the year; not until a week before Christmas. On our home's doorstep was a package from Amazon that contained an "Adult Coloring Book" titled: Calm the F*ck Down and a pack of Prisma Coloring pencils (which, by the way are not a cheap brand of pencils). Who had sent it, we weren't sure. I know I hadn't ordered it, and I didn't have an Amazon account at the time, so the assumption of it being on my "Wish-list" was out of the question. But, it was a week before Christmas, so it was probably from an out-of-state relative. Little did I know that the individual, who sent it was not either of the two, but someone who I had known, yet hadn't met in real life. And their reasons for sending me the package? Malicious, devious, and text-book level of a psycho. I wouldn't know the identity of said person for another two years. All in all, this year brought new people for me to befriend and meet as well. Of course, after everything that happened, I was very very hesitant to pursue friendships with them. What was the point anyway? They would all end the same. At this point, I had already begun to accept who I was: A narcissistic, selfish, heartless, backstabbing, toxic, indifferent annoyance, harassing, ungrateful, apathetic, hurtful, manipulative, bullying, dramatic, sensitive, arrogant, petty, spiteful, over dramatic, drama whore, lying, shady, sociopathic bitch. People don’t change. I can't change no matter what. But, that’s okay. I’ve come to accept it. And I'll keep doing my best to protect everyone else that I care about—those very VERY small few that are left. The more I can protect from getting close and affected by the monster, the better. Nobody in this world deserves more of that. I tossed those Placebo-Effect pills away, so I could stop lying to myself once and for all that "I changed" and "I'm a better person now". There was no way that, after all that happened, that was true. There's no point in denying it or hiding anymore. I am who I am. I don't like it, but that's just the way things are, and I will forever be that person--No. I'm not even human after all that I've done. I'm a monster, and I'll be that way forever. My Cancer wasn't able to get rid of everyone else's suffering--suffering by the fact that I exist--, and I wouldn't be able to give them that release and make things right once and for all.

~

2018:

At the cusp of this year around January-February, I had noticed that the friend in the FMA fandom (the one who had given me my new name as well as hope to become better), hadn't been interacting with much as she used to. I found it strange, and I didn't want to assume anything, so I messaged her via Tumblr and asked if I did anything to upset her. Because, after the knee-jerk reactions of the Community, I had come to prefer talking things out with an individual and fix problems in a civil manner. Well, we did talk things out in a civil manner. But, long story short, she didn't want to be friends with my anymore. Her reason: Because she didn't want me to make a Video about her. Where did she come up with that reason? I never made any mention of it to her, and the only reason why I made the videos on my former friends because they actually did something to me and were going out of their way to commit Defamation per Se and Tortious Interference--among basic libel and slander. She had done nothing to me that would make me want to even consider making a video on her. However, despite my best efforts of trying to reassure her, I eventually had to reluctantly respect her wishes and let her go. We un-watched each other, and that was that. But, something was odd... Not only did he un-watch me, but also blocked me. Un-watching, I could understand. But blocking as well? That didn't make any sense... After months of having the worry drive me insane, I eventually came to the realization that tore my apart. I didn't want to believe it, but, after analyzing everything that occurred, nothing else made sense except what I had realized. She was USING me. She was only friends (and "litter sister" to the 2nd-in-Command) with the entire Matriarchy because of me. And what thanks did I get? NOTHING! She gave me false hope that I could change and be better--lying through her teeth the entire time. Not only that... she PRETENDED to be my friend. Like everyone else, she knew my weak spot: Friendship. All that mattered to me. Having the support group to escape to when my parents (mother) didn't give me any and tried to drag me away from the things I loved and enjoyed. They knew it. She knew it--it was her plan all along, wasn't it?! She used me. She. USED. Me. Slept her way to the top, so to speak, without any effort; just rode along on my coat tails until she had no use for me anymore. ...And I was stupid to fall for her feigned innocence and let her get away with it. I stupidly turned around, thinking nothing of the situation until she plunged her knife deep enough to the hilt right through me. ...I know that's an extreme jump to conclusions, but what else was I supposed to think? I thought I was numb after all the other things I had to go through in the previous years. But, after what she did... I couldn't remember a time where I went through that much pain; pain that lasted for months afterwards. Meanwhile, in the real world, I was taking each day by day and doing my best to act as normal as I could around family, despite everything that occurred/was occurring online. I quite my part-time job, and spent the summer looking for a better one; eventually landing a full-time job (my current one) that paid really well and had good benefits. Sure, it took a lot of time away from working on art, especially when the Holidays came around and there was so much overtime I was working between 55 and 60 hours per week. I tried to manage as much as I could with my online status and stay as active as I could though, even if my quality of art never increased because of the lack of motivation and little time I had in between with work in order to put some art together.

~

2019:

And, now we come to the final year of the decade. I focused more and more on my art and developing it enough to where I became a better Mimicker Artist. Even though there have been many more times where I had to politely put others down when they remarked about "[my] style"; it was a similar reply I would have to make to comments like those before. Other than  that, though, there were many ups and downs, like there were every year. Midway through 2019, I met some new individuals, who had left when the Community became too toxic, and got in a call with one of the former friends of The Group (We'll call this individual "J"). Through the call, which lasted about 3-4 hours--there was a lot they had to unpack and let me know--, J informed me of everything The Group was saying and doing behind closed doors on Discord. Even going so far as to get their (former) connection, who had easy access to the Deep and Dark Web, to go after people they they didn't like. One of those people, included myself. Remember when I mentioned that Amazon package I received during Christmas of 2017? It was them. Their reason: "Make [me] so stressed out to the point that [my] cancer comes back in a more severe case and kills [me]." The moment J told me that, I let everyone in the call know that I had to step away for a minute. Then, I muted my mic, and promptly went to the bathroom to throw up. Even if it was way passed midnight after the call ended, I couldn't get any sleep because I was shaking so bad. These people--people, who third-party viewers call "drama whores"--, were more than just that. "Drama whore" was a huge understatement. These people... were psychos. Thankfully, they hadn't done anything else since then (Especially since their little Deep Web friend stopped interacting with them and The Group is against him now). But even so, the fact that these people went out of their way to have me killed just because I was making fun of them for being immature and stupid... it was more than just the epitome of "insane". Who does something like that? Who thinks that the way to "get back" at someone for making fun of you on the internet is to have them killed? Again, thankfully, nothing else has happened since then; but, of course, if it does, I'm calling the police. Back in the real world, I managed to sway my parents to let me go to an Art-Collage. Sure, had I let in on the fact that I wanted to go into Theater or Graphic Arts, they (Mom) would have shot it down immediately and gave me the speech I always got. So, I managed to settle on a Film Degree, which was more like my Plan C (a field that still interested me, but not 100% what I loved), still mostly out of the fear that they wouldn't accept me for a field that I actually wanted to go into. And, for the majority of 2020, I'll be working on saving up to attend that school; hopefully able to get some grants or scholarships so that I won't have to worry about paying the rest of my share after the FAFSA amount is taken out. At the end of the day, and year, at least AAV and I are still as close as ever, and I wouldn't trade her for anything else in the world. I've said it before and I'll say it again: life isn't worth living without her. She's all that I have left in this world that matters. She's the only one I can trust that won't leave or abandon me. To this day, it still baffles me that she didn't drop me and leave, like the others had, when we had our first petty spat. So, if anyone could be considered a "true friend", it would be her. Of course, I still can't get close to others, and I wouldn't even dare try to attempt a new friendship. I try to be nice and civil when others ask: "Can we be friends?" I give them the short explanation of why I can't get close to others anymore, and, luckily, they understand. I know it's wrong, and I should give people a chance, but, after all that's happened, I can't risk anything.

~

Anyway, so that's my entire Decade in review. It's crazy to think how long it's been since then and how much has happened... The years and events may have changed, but I and everyone else haven't. I know I certainly haven't. Like I mentioned in 2017, I began to accept who I was, and eventually fully accepted it through the entirety of the next year. And, like they have been for almost 10 years, my thoughts never changed on the Matriarchy, and it absolutely disgusts me whenever they (especially the 2nd-in-Command) acts mature and friendly for "brownie points", and saying lies like: "...inspiring others from a healthy approach to pursue whatever they aim for, because it can definitely be achieved. ..." (Not to mention that she has no idea what having an actual reason for anxiety feels like). Well, there's one thing I can agree with her on...  there's people that I used to look up to that I shouldn't have. That includes her and the rest of the FMA OC Matriarchs. Because those people are nothing more than self-entitled, immature, holier-than-thou individuals, who act like their word is law, everyone else is lower than dirt underneath them, and use their mob mentality on others for some stupid petty "block brigade" on Tumblr just because someone doesn't like their OC with Ed. Even when I was a small barely-100-watcher DeviantArtist, I saw them all and their true colors and thought that way of them. 10 years later, and my mind still hasn't changed. Because people don't change, no matter how badly they want to--I'm a bright and shining example of that. My goal concerning them is the same that it's always been: "Knock [them] off their thrones." My mind hasn't changed about them. And I still wholeheartedly believe that what they did, have done, are doing is NOT the right thing to do. And I will keep working my tail off until I surpass them and take them down a peg. No one that "looks up to" you should be treated in the ways that they have done over the years. If you're looked up to, be an actual adult for once as well as a good role model. Of course, I am far from being the latter. Little me from 2010 might look at my art and say: "Wow!" But, I just have to say in response: "Kid... forget all you know about art. Go get a degree in the medical or science field. You don't want to go down the path I had to take." Present-Day "Me" isn't someone that 2010 "Me"--or anyone else for that matter--should look up to. I'm not worth anyone's time. I'm a "lost cause" after all, and I'm not someone that should be seen as "inspirational". Not after the things I've done and said over the years. And, through this entire decade, I began to see that the world is nothing more than a dark and cruel place full of people, who will turn against you the moment you disagree with them or abandon you when they have no use for you anymore. (That's not me being "edgy" -__- That's me being realistic). But, then again... had I not pursued this path and found the FMA fandom, I never would have met my best friend, AAV. She's the highlight of every New Year in my life, and, while the world may seem bleak to me the majority of the time... she finds a way to light it up in her own special way. So, even through these ups and downs, I'm happy to have her in my life. She means everything to me, and I wouldn't trade anything else in the world for her. No, we're not a couple--like many have assumed and publicly stated on that rumor--, she and I are just friends. Best friends, yes, but friends nonetheless. But, other than that, I'm going to keep working on art here on dA, because, with this new decade, there will be a new batch of up-and-coming artists. And, while I don't really think I'm someone worth looking up to, I still want to help them work on their craft and make something of themselves. Even if that one former friend used me for her personal benefit... I still enjoyed seeing how happy she was once she was able to start flying on her own, so to speak. It was an amazing feeling, and, knowing that I helped someone achieve that, I just can't help but feel so proud of them. And, I really want to help other beginner artists out and climb up their own mountain. It's okay if some aren't as fast learners as the others; it's the lessons we learn along the way and the mistakes we make to learn from. Anyway... here's to 2020 everyone!

[officialdeathbycinema]

Star Wars Official Trailer Analysis

OK! So i've watched...and re-watched...and rewatched...and analyzed this two and a half minute piece of cinema hypeness, and i've a few things to say if you don't mind...well, I really don't care if you do mind or not because it's 2:10 in the morning and i've been trying to bring my thoughts together on not only a trailer, but two movies as well, so fight me.

So we open to see an Imperial Officer looking silhouette staring at an assembly line. This could be Ben Solo, but for all intents and purposes, i'm going to assume this is the previously unseen "Rose" character, only officially depicted in Funko Pop! form. I'm honestly kinda interested to see what we see in this character, considering she's been so prominently featured in toy sales but no real promotional material for the movie itself (As i'm typing this however, I looked back and it really is just Ben).

Six seconds in and we transition, the change in scenery accompanied by Ces- I mean Snoke's voice over towards Ben, giving the audience a taste of what we have in store when it comes to the new Emperor-type Big Bad. We see a bunch of AT-M6 Walkers in a line for a span of three seconds, which then transitions into an overhead location shot of what i'm going to assume is Snoke's actual lair, which we see Ben and a good number of troopers walking in formation, presumably on the way to see the Supreme Leader (HA, Rocky and Bullwinkle reference!) at thirteen seconds in. Then a profile shot of Ben with his helmet on at fourteen seconds, which leads into him reaching down and picking up a new saber. This being essentially the same saber design, only sleeker, blacker, and more refined.

After that, a few seconds of black, followed by the blasting sound of a saber igniting and we see Rey on Ahch-To. We're gonna skip ahead to thirty-five seconds in, and watch Luke Skywalker take back his saber from Rey. But at thirty-eight seconds, we hear Rey say the line "Something inside me has always been there." Ok, that's a pretty cut and paste line, so i'll move on because that's probably one of the least interesting things to talk about in this trailer. Forty-one seconds into the trailer and Rey is entering the temple tree, where the books are held. Now in the first trailer we saw the insignia of the "Grey Jedi". Think of them as the agnostics of the Star Wars universe. That's obviously an oversimplification, but we can get to that topic later. Maybe when the films come out, but later. Forty-seven seconds in and she's training with a saber, and I'm really wanting to assume she's been here for a few months, and not just a week or two after the first film when this scene plays out (*cough cough, make Rey not a Mary-Sue anymore cough cough*). The force is apparently so strong with Rey that she can make the ground crack beneath her, which prompts Luke to say, in my opinion, a very interesting line.

At fifty-two seconds we hear Luke say the line: "I've seen this raw strength only once before. It didn't scare me enough then, it does now." Couple that with imagery of a building burning, more burning, and Luke's robot hand emerging from debris like he's in The Evil Dead, and people are going to assume one thing. They're going to assume that he's talking about Ben Solo. I however, do not think this is the case. Sure he underestimated Ben, but he wasn't scared of him because he was family, not because he had darkness in him. No, he's not talking about Ben, or Vader, or even Starkiller. No, I think he's talking about Sideous. Because if you remember the original trilogy, Luke was very, VERY headstrong when it came to defeating the dark side, and in turn didn't take the Emperor as a serious threat until it almost cost him his life...but now that he sees that same pure, raw power, it TERRIFIES him. But then it plays into the whole "Old man doesn't want to train young pupil for something that happened to them personally until they reluctantly give up" cliche that this series seems to want to jerk off like Ron fuckin Jeremy...but I digress. From one minute and three seconds in to one minute and eight seconds in, we hear Ben say the words "let the past die" while he subsequently DESTROYS his Darth Fanboy helmet (Which is what i'm going to be calling it from this day on forth). He could be talking about his time as an agent for the light side, or this could be a potential scene beginning a redemption arc for Ben where he tears away from his Kylo Ren persona. But then again, a redemption arc wouldn't be that fun when you can just kill the character before that happens in the slightest....or just have him evil, you know, because evil apparently isn't cool anymore, everything has to be "tragic and misunderstood"...AGAIN, I digress. Then comes a starship battle, and boy HOWDY is Ben one hell of a pilot. He says the line "Kill it, if you have to", which is in relation to the previous line of "Let the past die"...and then at one minute and fifteen seconds, we see General Leia....which basically is an "oh fuck" moment because I'm basically just calling it that she's gonna kick the bucket HARD in this movie, and the news of her playing a "pivotal role" is highly exaggerated.

One minute, seventeen seconds: Mommy senses baby through force, and vice versa...or IS IT? My whole thing about how the trailer is edited is weird, because there are some obvious weaving techniques being put in here to deceive the audience. So how I think this scene is going to play out is that Ben is ordered to destroy the Resistance base on that particular ship, which he does. But you know, since Snoke's whole thing is manipulation of Ben, and losing his mother (since it was explained in the last movie that his bond with Leia was far stronger than his bond with Han) would essentially put him in a state of darkness, making Snokes job WAY EASIER. So Snoke tells Ben "Hey, I don't like this Resistance ship. Blow it up." to which Ben replies "Alright, you've not really sent me astray before, why would you do it now? It's not like you're a manipulative dickbag that looks like a scrotum wrapped in one of Hugh Hefner's robes.". But then Snoke "fails" to mention that Leia is on that ship. She senses him, but since he's STILL not mature enough in the ways of the force (and sometimes this series throws continuity into the wind like Nana's ashes on a late summer evening), He doesn't sense her until it's too late. He doesn't sense her persay...but he senses a lack of her. He feels that classic disturbance in the force. He doesn't know why until later...and he doesn't know that he had just killed his own mother, a woman he loved so dearly, and the reason he was so conflicted about going fully dark side. But now that she's gone...Snoke can take him, and Ben is so distraught...that he listens, and fully accepts his role as not Ben Solo, but Kylo Ren.

BUT THAT'S JUST HOW I WANT THE SCENE TO GO DOWN, I DON'T THINK THE WRITERS ARE GONNA BE CLEVER ENOUGH TO DO IT THAT WAY.

One minute and thirty three seconds...Porg.

One minute, thirty seven seconds, Poe Dameron vs Ben Solo dogfight which is no doubt gonna be really cool. One minute, forty seconds, Finn vs. Brienne of Tarth in a giant Aluminum onsie...I mean Captain Phasma. Probably gonna be really cool, I just want more character growth in Finn since he had a pretty weak arc in Episode Seven (well, at least it was stronger than Rey's).

There's some more lines said by Luke which are pretty uninteresting, but at one minute and fifty-seven seconds, we see our first look at Snoke, and boy was I accurate in my description. You guys remember that scene in Deadpool where they basically just let TJ Miller riff at Ryan Reynolds for three uninterrupted minutes? Yeah, that. But my sister did raise a pretty good theory for this scene earlier, and she said that Rey might be experiencing one of Ben's memories...even though she's probably not.

Two minutes and three seconds, black screen with Rey's dialogue leading us into the most misleading part of the trailer which has the #Reylo shippers up in arms. We hear Rey say the words "I need someone to show me my place in all of this." and then we see Ben raise a hand towards the camera. Now upon first glance, we assume he's offering to take Rey under his wing...but these two shots aren't even in the same scene. The lighting is all wrong for this to be possible for one thing, two the tones of each shot are different as well. The light that is facing Rey camera left is pure, and unobstructed. She's in the temple tree on Ahch-To, presumably talking to Luke and convincing him to train her. But when the camera is on Ben, he's obviously in the tail end of a battle sequence. He COULD still be talking to Rey, but no, the line given is in a completely different scene. So no #Reylo shippers, your beloved character parallel fetish fodder is not canon yet, keep writing your fanfiction. Now that last paragraph could potentially label me as Anti-Reylo, but then again not only do I not care if I am labelled as such, I just don't care about the delicious death threats i'm BOUND to get from subsequently posting this analysis on Tumblr once i'm done posting it to Facebook.

Anyways, the credits roll three seconds after that, we're promised a film on December 15th, and the first week of tickets are probably already sold out as i'm writing this. But overall it was a decent trailer as far as analytical material goes, and I don't really think we need another since the movie is two months off.

So yeah, weeee Star Wars...I think the internet is just RUINING this new trilogy for me.

[ambrosiaswhispers]

My Things

Okay I did a little list recently for fics in response and I thought why not promote my own things a bit. ‘Cause I can. I also thought I’d give you a little bit int my process as well. All questions have been asked of my in one way or another.

Why write in the first place?

I love to write- honestly if I couldn’t get my words out on paper, I’d most likely end up a bit on the crazy side. I’ve always had a vivid imagination. I wrote my first story in crayon when I was about 5 or 6, it was about a unicorn jumping over a rainbow to eat birthday cake...Yup, unicorns and birthday cake - I wasn’t a complicated kid. lol. 

I had my first real issue with insomnia when I was 10 and the counselor my parents had me talk to suggested a journal. I never wrote about myself, I always wrote about brave girls, who saved themselves from the villains and feel in love with the guy the always stood with them. I worked on original pieces, but never showed them to anyone.

What was your first fic?

I wrote my first fic when I was 15, rebelling against my parents and posting it online - they never did catch me for that part. I wrote the fic off an anime called “Ronin Warriors.” It was about 12 parts and I’ve recently re-read part of it - Whoa, hello OCs with tragic backstories and Mary Sue-ness. Yikes. LOL.

How does your process start?

Normally it’s a “conversation that I overhear” in my head. It’s a line of dialogue or ‘scene’ that I see so clearly that I have to write it down and figure out how the characters got there. I use a voice recorder - always helpful, but if anyone heard my recordings they’d probably lock me mental hospital. I may or may not use different voices when I record.

Kastle/Daredevil

This is a fandom that I fell flat on my face for with no warning. Okay so it actually happened like this: 

My husband says, let’s watch the second season of Daredevil and I’m like, I’m afraid of what the Punisher will look likes. He’s like don’t worry, I saw a clip, he’s good. We start watching and I’m like, I can watch this without being worried, about shipping anyone because they are moving Karen and Matt together and I’m indifferent. The first interaction of Karen and Frank and I make this squeaking noise and my husband says, “Don’t ship Karen with the Punisher. He’s in love with justice, bullet-flavored justice.” He looks at me and laughs, “Too late?” I nod and he hands me my notebook – this is true love, fyi.

 Most of what I’ve written for this ship are in bits on Tumblr: here. There’s a few of my fic recs in that tag as well. I have a little bit of everything mixed in there. 

On AO3 I have one complete piece and one chapter piece that I started that my laptop promptly ate... rude, by-the-way.

The Unchosen Door  - This is really a ghost of Kastle piece and is more about Frank and his family. Fair warning it is sad. This wrote itself, I blinked and I was staring at it on my screen - I had to edit, that was about it. Summary: “He was home. They were home. They were safe. He was going to get her to take the damn day off to spend with him and the kids, but something just seemed wrong..... "The horrorcore of what might have been was behind an unchosen door. An unopened, black door marked with a bullet hole and a white skull." A moment that could have been, about Frank Castle and his family.”

From Dusk Till Dawn The Series

I love this series and writing for it, currently rules my brain and most of my heart. I’ve got a soft spot for those crazy brothers and that whole world really. this is one and only fandoms that I ship all over the place. Normally my brain says: “That; we’re shipping that” with this series it’s like I’m a cat high catnip and I’m chasing a lazer pointer. Seriously, it’s a problem. LOL.

SethKate

No secret I write more in this ship than the others. I honestly identify with Seth’s voice more than anyone and that makes it click somehow. The dynamic fascinates me.

Rules of the Mexican Honeymoon series So this series has a follow-up story written after each season and I had a plan for it, which Seth promptly ignored and ripped out my heart with all the angst.

Please; This Is As Far As We Go    The Post-Season 1 story became a 5 part Mature piece and I even posted an Explicit version: here  with an extended sex scene. The epilogue was not everyone’s favorite. It’s really not my fault... I “heard” Seth whisper, “Four more minutes.” and that was that. Summary: “There are two phrases that seem to chase their conversations like a snake swallowing its own tail: Please and This is as far as we go.Seth and Kate deal with the aftermath of Season 1 and the loss of their families. This is my take on Seth and Kate's "Mexican Honeymoon" I may leave it as a one-shot. If I do extend it the rating will likely go up.Rating has gone up, 'cause well, Seth Gecko.” Proudest writing moment: The beach scene in the fourth part.

Four Minutes of Self-Destruction The Post-Season 2 part... So this piece was so bitterly painful for me to write that I actually got a little depressed. It was hard to live in Seth’s head for that one. Summary:  “This is Seth dealing/not dealing with Kate's death. Post-Season two and pre-Season three. Seth is not emotionally equipped for any of these things. Richie's trying to be a supportive brother and trying to help. Seth finds Kate's cross at the Bloodwell and takes it back to Bethel.” Proudest writing moment: Confession in the church

Without Condition The Post-Season 3 part. This is the only part where we get to hear Kate’s thoughts in this series.I really tried to pull in ties from the previous parts to make it feel richer. The Epilogue was pure fluff. Summary: “ After Amaru and preventing the apocalypse Kate is trying to figure out how she belongs into her skin and what the hell 'four minutes' means. She wants to reclaim her body and she wants Seth to help, but she's afraid she won't be able to handle it.” Proudest writing moment: Kate’s POV - I really felt like I captured her voice in those moments.

Without A Fight (…but there is a fight) So this one is one-shot originally a Tumblr prompt. I loved the fact that it felt raw to me. I’m sucker for characters in the rain trope. Summary: “Original prompt from Tumblr: "Could you write Sethkate - she's mad at him because he almost "let" Amaru kill him to touch her, and she would have just had to watch?"Kate wakes up from a nightmare and can't shake her anger. Seth's a big part of that rage and not always the way he thinks. In the back parking lot of Jacknife Jed's things come to a head. Proudest writing moment: Angry Kate prose at the beginning.

Hey Bartender So I wrote this AU one-shot, as a distraction from “Four Minutes of Self-Destruction.” I normally don’t write AU pieces and this was just a smut piece basically. I thought it was fun though. Summary: “AU piece: no culebras, no kidnapping and many of the cannon characters are still alive. Essentially we have modern setting in a bar with Seth as a bartender and Kate as a college student. Past that this is a smut fic. PWP – essentially. I do hope that you enjoy it. There is a mention of a suicide attempt.” Proudest writing moment: Seth has a lot of things to say and I think it ended up sexy.

Die By Dawn This multi-chapter piece set post Season 3 and the concept is rough. I started writing this piece and during the writing of the 3rd part lost my grandfather to complications from cancer. This is piece that I’m writing to heal and is still in progress. Summary: “After surviving Amaru and the end of the world, they find out Kate has limited time to live, because cancer is a bitch. How do they say goodbye? How does Kate want to spend her last days? Seth's not dealing with this very well. Richie and Scott are not having it either. Kate's somehow is the one that is going to get everyone through this. Warning for: cancer, impeding (but not immediate) character death, grief stages, and potential adult situations.” Proudest writing moment: Without spoiling anything Richie’s POV in part 5 - it was a labor of love to make perfect.

Love Is... This is an AU multi-chapter piece from a Tumblr prompt is being writing with the help of my dear friend here. So I write comedy? Yes... apparently I do. This is loosely based on Jane the Virgin. I just love this piece I smile everytime I work on it. Still in progress Summary: “Originally a Tumblr prompt: "Anonymous said: Me too for being curious about SethnKate prompts idea. I got one for you. Jane the Virgin au...Seth hijacks Kate's pregnancy. Poor Kate winks Seth is pissed till he meets his baby momma haha" Seth never planned on any of this: not the sweet little, virgin church girl, who's got more attitude than people expect; not her moving in with him and his family and certainly not his baby she's intent on having. He's going to have to figure out how this woman and his child are going to fit into his life; does he even want them to?” Proudest writing moment: Can I love the whole thing? Maybe Richie’s summary of the events to Eddie - yup, probably that so far.

RichieKate/Kichie

It’s the moment he closes his eyes and prays with her in the RV and the expression on his face when he sees her at Jackknife Jeds - when Mavado brings her out.

Right Call So even though this ended up kinda a smut piece. I really liked it- I think it’s a got heart. I felt like I got Richie’s voice too. Summary: Kate gets hurt during a job and wants ice cream... Richie wants Kate... Seth leaves to get Kate ice cream and....PWP, Smut.... good lord this ran away with me. "...but it did things to him when he caught his scent on her. Humans liked to pretend that part of their nature didn’t exist, but it did. It was just expressed in different ways now: ring on a certain finger, offering a girl your shirt after sex, sharing a shower and washing her with your soap, getting her addicted to your favorite foods, and of course the ever cliché hickey on the neck." Proudest writing moment: Richie’s voice in general - but I loved him whispering scripture onto her skin. Points if you can guess where in the Bible it comes from without googling it.

Seth/Kate/Richie Honestly never written or shipped a poly-relationship, but there is something about the way they both react around her that made it click in my head.

Ever Mine; Ever Yours; Ever Ours Currently this is a two-part bit of OT3 fluff. First time I’ve ever written the idea of a three-way pairing. Side note I grew up with girl who lived in a type of household - so in my brain it’s not outside of possible. I am planning on more to this and some more mature things as well. Summary: Okay this came out of nowhere and simply could NOT be more domestic OT3 if I tried. Seriously, it just hit me from left field and now I have Gecko babies running around in my head. OT3 for reals though - in a fluffy, domestic way, but very much OT3. Okay other than that, no warnings needed, it’s fluffy nonsense.A non-crime Gecko story - all about family Proudest writing moment: First time I got brave enough to share a visual board.

Okay so this turned out longer than I planned. I guess I’m gonna do this in more than one part.

Yikes so many words about my words... Be Blessed guys. I’m working on all my pieces write now.

Love to my Loves!!!

[anne-lida]

The old “predictions” memos

I highly doubt that anyone would read this because this is stupid. But I’m also tired of keeping these memos in my phone and I’m afraid if I didn’t post these soon, I might be going insane.

I’m sorry.

I can’t call myself as a “theorist”, but I also can’t deny that I kept thinking of possibility of what will happen in Venom movie ever since the teaser came out (or maybe before that). So I made these embarassing memos that contains my “predictions”. Some of them were already posted, and most of them were too stupid that I kept them for myself until after that SDCC 2018 event.

Apparently, at least one of my stupid predictions is right.

So, without further ado, I’m going to show you my memos.

As you can see, all of them were last edited before SDCC. Also, I’m too lazy to even crop the images. But know that these predictions--which were based on the first two trailers and... other stuffs--were truly made before SDCC.

The first two memos (”Movie Prediction”) were actually made before the teaser was released. But they became some kind of base for both my post about the teaser  and the trailer.

In these ones, I predicted the movie based on “Lethal Protector” and “Planet of the Symbiotes” comics. At that time, I thought having Venom without Spider-Man in his origin story is near-impossible, especially when both said comics have Spider-Man in them. But apparently it’s not that tricky. XD

I also predicted that the movie will contain origins and story of rejection for both Eddie and his Symbiote.

Also, I’m not sure if this was already confirmed, but I predicted that in the end, either Eddie will be divorced by Ann Weying or Ann will be dead. I hope none of these are true.

The villains... obviously there’s Life Foundation. I doubt that the Jury would be included. Carnage may or may not be included. And as I said in the memo (and kinda confirmed in SDCC), one of the villains would be: A. the more powerful, yet more monstrous and violent version of the “hero”, and B. created by accident or experiment-gone-wrong.

And obviously, this Symbiote would have more personality than the one in Spider-Man 3 (and CMIIW, I don’t think that any of Venom animation adaptation even have Symbiote-with-personality, either).

The “Thought on Trailer” memos were started as a draft for my post about the trailer and continued for more than a month. Also these memos is the main reason I want to post this.

I already posted most of the part 1 in Tumblr. The point is--as mentioned near the end of the memo--most of the characters will be based on “Lethal Protector”, but the conflict will be based on “Planet of the Symbiotes”... I guess.

And about “his hand was extended by Symbiote”, I didn’t post this because I was too overthinking it. I thought no one except me would find this important and maybe I was just seeing things.

It was kinda blurry and covered by shadow. But I saw part of his arm was covered with gooey Symbiote. And this is from the teaser.

Just like what I mentioned in previous memo, there was something different with the Symbiote in this movie (although I’m not sure I was thinking about “limb-extension” at that time XD).

Also, I originally wanted to post the “Edit2″ part--which mainly talked about “The Clothes-Timeline Theory”.

This is a stupid(-ly simple) method, but it kinda helped me to figure out the true timeline of the movie. For example, day 1 Eddie wore an Illuminati shirt with dark green jacket, while day 2 he wore gray jacket (or hoodie?). So every footage when Eddie wore Illuminati shirt happened before the footages when he wore gray jacket.

If I still have time before next trailer release, I might post the full version of my clothes-timeline theory (consider this as a prologue for the theory).

So far, I don’t think I was right for this part. I think I read somewhere that mentioned multiple (which I assume more than two) Symbiotes would be fighting against Venom, which means that the subjects should’ve survived during the experimentation.

...or maybe the first batch didn’t survive, but the second batch (after Eddie and maybe including Donna) did survive.

That could work.

Also, one thing to note for the next trailer: we haven’t seen Eddie’s “office life” yet.

Move to the second part of “Thought on Trailer” memo...

First of all, correction: it was Eddie himself who opened the plastic cover in the teaser.

I thought I saw a scientist wearing lab coat with triangular logo in this picture. Few days ago, I noticed the ring and I suddenly realized that only Eddie that wears ring in this movie because he’s married to Ann. Then I found this picture from the trailer where Eddie was wearing Illuminati shirt. The triangular logo in the teaser is apparently the bottom part of the Illuminati.

This is one of the clothes-timeline theory benefits. We know that the scene where Eddie opened a plastic cover (which I guess would reveal a dead body part of the failed subject) was a part of Eddie discovering LF headquarter scene.

Second of all, I also heard that amongst the Symbiotes that would fight Venom, one of them is female.

If she is the same female we saw in the trailer (which means that “Donna” survived), either I apparently don’t have enough pieces to figure out how a Symbiote bonds to Eddie, or I called this stupidity because she should’ve have chased Eddie from escaping in the woods, yet I don’t see any Symbiote traces on that chasing scene.

Did you see it?

I already posted one of the BTS videos at the end of my trailer post. The other one is this:

A post shared by Mike Monteiro (@mikemonteiro) on Jan 23, 2018 at 12:54pm PST

In this video, he was wearing gray hoodie, the same hoodie he wore in the apartment fight scene from the trailer, before the motorcycle-and-car chase.

Which means that those “fighting for control of his body scene” happened before the apartment fight scene, since it was shot at daytime while the fight scene happened at nighttime.

Also, about the video when he was beaten up, it basically a non-CGI version of “we are Venom” scene... I think. I can’t quite remember if this is the one that I meant in the memo, but this is the closest thing I could find at the moment.

Basically, he was thrown off his motorcycle, he rolled across the ground and hurt all over the place, one of the LF men caught him, and... you know what happens next.

As I mentioned, I predicted that there will be a casuality or two as a cause of Venom’s attack. People from SDCC said that the LF man at the end of the trailer would be eaten at his head.

I... kinda didn’t expect that. I expected a more innocent person that could make biting his head would be a crime--actually, biting anyone’s head is already a crime. CMIIW, but I’ve never, never seen Eddie as Venom (not just the Symbiote itself) bit someone’s head in the comic.

I don’t know.

After the scene where Eddie asked the Symbiote to “only hurt bad people”, I can’t quite predict what will happen next. I feel like I don’t have enough pieces of the last third of the movie.

About the second paragraph of the image above...

I forgot if this is from the teaser or the trailer (or both), but this is a scene where an office suddenly went whooOSH...

...and all workers and monitors were blown away, I don’t know why.

But what insterested me is that in this image below, there were the same office monitors and both rooms have the same color tone. Which I assume that Ann would be in this office when the wave happens, whether she works there or not. And I wouldn’t be surprised that there would be a fight against the “monstrous” main villain here.

Then there was this image from the teaser, which I’m actually still unsure whether this happened in hospital or somewhere else (but obviously not in LF HQ). But since one of the people in the background was wearing white coat and the doors on the right were quite big, I assumed it is hospital.

And about the memetic scene of Eddie slowly transformed into Venom in the hospital. I started to think that was actually the first time he transforms, not the second time.

The main reason why I thought that this is actually the first one is that process looks much, much painful than the “we are Venom” scene. Usually, the first transformation looks very painful because he’s not used to it. Also, I think since this "incident” (of course there would be chaos after this scene, what else do you expect?) happens in public hospital, LF might be able to track him down and know that Eddie is the one who took Drake’s “property”.

Move to the last part (and last memo before SDCC came).

I think in this part, I mostly commented on the articles about Venom in CBR.com. And yeah, I think the trailers and the exclusive photos have strong mystery theme in them. Honestly, I like that kind of promotion. XD

But then, since we’re playing mystery game here, ever since after the trailer came out, I felt like, “Okay, Sony, stop right there. Don’t give me any more clue. Don’t ruin my fun in solving this puzzle.” Yet, on the fandom side of me, I would be very mad if I can’t see new trailer ASAP.

Anyway, back to the memo.

This is the main reason I post this super long rambling.

The latest part was quoted from this article.

Honestly, I have nearly no idea about Drake’s story aside from the “Lethal Protector” comic. From what I get from that quote, I thought that it is possible that Drake would become the “monstrous” main villain.

I’m not sure if this is confirmed or not, but I heard that in SDCC, it was said that Drake would become a host for a Symbiote named Riot. Either way, I’m still shocked and excited about this.

Although I’m fully aware that I’m not the only one who predicted this, if this is officially true, I would be so happy.

Still... if they’re really going to reveal the fact that Drake would become Riot in next trailer or other things before the movie comes out, I might be disappointed. For me, this is a very big thing that would be better if they didn’t reveal it before the movie release.

But if they’re really going to (or already) reveal such big thing this soon, doesn’t it mean that they’re hiding a bigger secret?

Well, maybe we’re going to find out in August, I guess.