#but aren't we supposed to do better?

[beevean]

Man reading abt the treatment Richter got from Annette disgusts me. Oppression Olympics are super annoying already, but also this brand of f/m shipping where you have the #girlboss being constantly on top of her dumb malewife who is 100% devoted to her (it was already kinda awkward seeing fandom treat Draculisa that way w the og show ngl). Its supposed to be a twist on the usual sexist tropes like fridged wifes or women being the unpaid therapist but in the end it feels like an attempt to pass an unhealthy dynamic as cute n progressive and wholesome. And this isnt getting into female abusers and such (Lenore die in a ditch challenge)

I just feel bad for show Richter bc he sounds like a legit nice dude who keeps being thrown around by the ppl who should support him bc white man bad :/

Yeah, it's just. They're just flipping the script without addressing the real problem.

You're not going to solve sexism by saying "this man totally gets pegged by his wife <3", implying that being penetrated is a sign of submission and thus respect. You're not going to fix the cliché of Brooding Boy Gentle Girl by making the girl an asshole in the face of the boy's genuine trauma. You're not writing strong female characters by painting a woman who deceives, rapes and enslaves a man as a totally awesome move god i wish that were me fr fr.

NFCV has this pattern that so far hasn't been broken. It starts with Lisa sassily talking down Dracula in the first two minutes of the show, and then it kept going with Sypha keeping Trevor in check, Carmilla painting herself as the only braincell in Dracula's castle and so much cooler than the stupid men, Lenore treating Hector like a dog and the framing being one of titillation, the unnamed woman St. Germain has the hots for being generically badass, Greta literally saying that it's a good thing she can keep Alucard's life in order, and now Maria and Annette being almost the same brand of Stronk Independent Women who treat Richter like an idiot.

This is why I rolled my eyes when I learned about Annette in the show. It's not about racism, guys, I'm just tired of this archetype. It's not feminist to say that only one type of woman can exist, and this type of woman has to dominate over her man and be as unpleasant as possible because "god forbid women do anything".

Richter is genuinely nice, from what I've seen. He's cocky when it's the right time to be, nearly what I would expect from the real deal (minus the PTSD of course). The trailers did not make him justice one bit :\

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[seafoamsol]

Hey, different post than usual, but this is just a PSA for people who may follow or have purchased anything from @/kagebros, or are looking to join any of the zines run by them @/allsparkzines. They have a history (and present) of tracing for profit.

I don’t think this one requires an overlay. It’s a trace of the yolopark bumblebee shockwave model kit promotional image, as a “sketch”.

Which they changed, once people noticed it! Changed most of it. They traced a different promotional image for the gun, which remained largely the same, even in the final piece (right).

Their matching Optimus Prime poster is a trace of the still from a [ Paramount promo video ], 36 seconds in.

There are several other examples that I can’t fit into this post without making it overly long, but if you have purchased or have been gifted anything from them, there is a chance it has been traced.

Regarding tracing as a tool:

Go hogwild! Trace all you want! Tracing is a very useful tool for learning shapes and forms, but like any other tool, it’s only useful if you use it correctly. The ultimate goal of tracing is to understand. It’s training wheels. Just don’t hide and lie about it, because as soon as you do, it becomes plagiarism.

Even within the finished versions of the Shockwave poster, it’s still clear where parts have been traced or copied without understanding. It’s a shame, because transformers as a franchise having so many toys makes it very easy to make references!

Here's an example of how I use them:

Luckily for me, the Cybertron toys and models are more or less exactly the same. I don't own the toys, so I have two images from a [ toy reviewer ] on top. Many angles to help me understand exactly what's happening. Granted, I could just ask my friend who does own the toy for him in the same pose, but tracing over that directly would make it too stiff and it wouldn't mesh with my style.

TL;DR: Kage traces, blindly and without disclosure, for profit.

[rabbitprayer]

No desire to convert to catholicism but the desire to kind of pretend that no schisms ever happened.

[transmascutena]

people framing their discussion about utena being groomed as her "making bad decisions" i am hitting you with several large rocks

[vampthropologist]

You know he has to flip for it!

No text + flat under cut

I've been working on this for a bit, and it is done! Two of my f/o's interacting for a silly meme. Ichimatsu's getting held by the scruff like a cat because Harv can't be normal /j/lh

[perenlop]

something that may raise some eyebrows. but i am sort of exhausted of censoring my own experiences and treating life before coming out as a part of me that shouldn't be talked about in fiction.

[feral-radfem]

All of y'all pretending like heterosexual women are the only ones who experience misogyny, or experience the most misogyny, are not (just) being homophobic, you're being misogynistic.

You're denying women's sex based oppression is real or it's severity. So maybe sit down and shut up and realize that we are still women despite the fact that we are not sleeping with men. You have the ability to make the choice not to sleep with men too. It's not an inaction unique to homosexuals.

I will spread any feminist praxis I want, and if it's insulting for me to reiterate the ideals we preach in these spaces because I'm a homosexual then you can go ahead and be insulted. SSA women have just as much claim to these spaces as you do because we are women and these spaces are for fighting misogyny, which we all experience. It's not just for tackling the misogyny y'all are uncomfortable with, it's for tackling all of it. Get with the program, ladies.

[wonderlandsakura]

I think I just gotta start writing the thing, so I'm gonna try to write a bit a day and we'll see how it goes:

Alice wakes up and looks out the window, and... That's weird, it's so much emptier.

Where's the port town facing the sea with their little red roofs and white walls that she can usually see in the distance?

Where are the smoking chimneys of big cargo boats out in the port, made small by the distance?

Where are the cranes, seemingly still ever time she looks, but somehow always hard at work, loading and unloading?

Where is the touch of modernisation?

Out in the distance, all she sees are trees that should not be there and rolling green hills with no roads with people and cars and trucks cutting through them, ever busy.

She opens the window, and the breeze blows in, but it's crisper, fresher, not carrying the smoky tang of vehicles and boats alike, something she never thought of, never noticed until now.

It's quieter too.

There isn't the sound of people and cars and boats in the distance, only the call of birds and the rustling of leaves, so much closer than before.

BANG!

The door startles her and she turns to see Marcus there, panting, anxious, his mouth gaping open, mouthing words he cannot find or voice.

She knows before he speaks what he's going to say.

They aren't in their world anymore.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Dorian Pavus

[br1ghtestlight]

living alone & sick for the first time and have come across a difficult question: who washes the dishes when you're too sick/tired to do them for days at a time

[im-still-a-robot]

Sailor Merope!!!

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao

[usercelestial]

*through clenched teeth* no matter how hard i try i will never change the minds of the purposefully misguided because they are choosing to look at things from one bad faith perspective to convince themselves that they are right and no matter how many times they're proven wrong, they will turn a blind eye and continue to claim a false moral high ground

[maddy-ferguson]

talking to new people again is making me realize that (this is gonna sound dramatic) i haven't lived in five years but what i have done is watch a lot of movies and read a bunch of books and believe it or not that actually makes me an interesting conversationalist in some ways (?)

[kakusu-shipping]

The Fight

Trying to pick up the pace a little bit, but I'm not very good at writing action so this might be a bit clunky. Please excuse me.

Mountain's Peak (Part 1)

Nepal Sanctum (Part 2)

Talk it out (Part 3)

In which we let it all out

Ramattra found his brother exactly where he expected to; Tucked away on the highest roof top of the Monastery's temples, an old withered place few monks visited simply for the egregious amount of single wide stairs clearly poorly placed by the original builders.

"Brother Mondatta is looking for you," Ramattra spoke with no worry of startling his brother, positive Zenyatta had already sensed his approach at least three levels down. The fact that he hadn't run was a good sign.

"He can look a while longer.." Zenyatta replied, relaxing from his curled up position to allow his legs to dangle over the edge of the building.

Ramattra sat himself down beside his brother, taking a moment to appreciate the view. The sun was setting, stars had started to dot the soft pink sky. From this high up, one could truly see on into forever if they desired to.

"You hit the human..." Ramattra finally pressed, giving a glance to Zenyatta, who curled back in on himself slightly.

"I did."

"You said you would only use what I taught you in self defense."

"I did not use what you taught me, dear brother. I used my fist."

Ramattra couldn't help the slight chuckle hearing his elder defend himself so sharply released. If he could still shoot back, then he couldn't be all that tore up about what he'd done.

"Mondatta will expect an apology when we finally return."

"I did nothing to him." Zenyatta once again uncurled himself, his legs once more dangling over the building's edge as he relaxed into the flow of conversation with Ramattra.

"To the human, Brother."

Zenyatta released a loud, dramatic sigh noise, clunking his head into Ramattra's shoulder. "I would rather be placed on cattle clean up for the next 7 years."

Ramattra chuckled once again, "And I would love to assist you with such chores, but that is not Mondatta's way."

"No... I suppose not..." Zenyatta's voice softened as he once more pulled his knee to his chest, placing a hand on the ground next to Ramattra for balance.

Ramattra found his hand placed gently over his brother's, keeping his sensors locked to the stars as he leaned his head atop Zenyatta's.

With the sunrise the brothers would make their way back down to the village, they'd catch Master Mondatta on his way back from his morning meditation, when the monastery is silent and the human is still asleep. Zenyatta would give his apology, and be given laundry duty in return, with Ramattra would happily assist with despite Mondatta's preaching on how one must face their misdoings on their own.

That would all come tomorrow. For tonight, the two sat peacefully on the temple roof top, hands intertwined in a painfully human way, counting stars until the sun arose the next morning.

That stare made everyone in the monastery uncomfortable. Bright red eyes that only ever saw the monks as who they were, what they had been made for, how they'd failed or succeeded at a task that had been forced upon them.

It was sickening.

Across from Zenyatta stood the human, shouldering off thick layers of cloth and robes and scarves until only one remained, tied tightly off at his waist by a cream orange cincture belt. He then removed the thick, straw woven snow boots Mondatta had made for him, stepping bare foot into the chalk drawn circle of the training area, holding his hands up in a ready pose.

He'd kept his eyes locked on Zenyatta, not in a glare of malice, or even his usual annoying fascination, but a neutral look that challenged him without words.

Ramattra's hand grabbed tightly to the back on Zenyatta's upper robe. He was shaking. He was going to stop this.

Zenyatta shoulder off his brother's grasp and the robe along with it, leaving him in only his pants and the red cloth he'd kept tied around his waist.

Stepping into the ring, Zenyatta stood wide and placed his palm against the human's, keeping their gaze locked.

"If you win, I'll leave. Permanently. And I'll tell every human I meet they're not welcome here." Emile spoke evenly, despite the rapid pulse Zenyatta could feel coming from their freezing fleshy hand.

He tilted his head in amusement, "And what will you get if you happen to win?"

This was the sort of confrontation that would usually draw this particular human to tears, so it was quiet the shock to see him hold together while speaking. "You can decide that when it happens."

'When' Zenyatta thought on, wrapping his fingers around the human's small hand. It was cold, and soft, and easily crushable in even the flimsiest of Omnic hands.

"Usually a match is called when one is forced from the ring, but that feels a touch too easy, wouldn't you agree?" The human nodded along with Zenyatta's proposal, "So we keep going until one of us taps, agreed?"

Zenyatta watch the human give a small nod once more

And then kicked them as hard as he could right in the stomach

Emile flew out of the ring, scratching to a stop along the stone flooring. He hacked and coughed, gripping onto his stomach. If he'd eaten anything for the past few days he surly would have hurled it up.

"Get up." Zenyatta spoke from the ring. The human did as commanded, pulling himself up on shaky legs. He did not glare at Zenyatta for landing the first blow, he did not look on in fear for how much stronger his opponent was, he did not bask in awe at how mighty a kick it was. He kept his neutral expression.

And that pissed Zenyatta off worse than anything else.

Blow after blow, the human continued to get back up. Even after he'd started spitting up blood. Even after his glasses were shattered on the stone ground, rendering him near blind. Even after he'd stopped being able to feet his fingers in toes in the cold and after his arm stopped moving and after his ankle had made such a horrible crack and swollen to the size of an orange.

And even after Zenyatta still stood perfectly pristine.

Emile hadn't landed a blow on his opponent. Zenyatta was starting to doubt he was even trying to. Had he even raised his hand once to the monk? Had all he done was stand there and take Zenyatta's blows?

Zenyatta clenched his fists, "Get Up." He demanded, as he had over and over again, to the human laying still on the stone before him. "Get Up and Hit Me."

Emile's form shook as he pushed himself up with only one arm, his white hair dangling before his face, tips red from his own blood. As commanded he got up on shaky legs once more and looked to Zenyatta with those red eyes that pierced into his history, a history he'd been trying so hard to ignore, to hide and run away from.

"Get up." Zenyatta demanded again after landing a hard hit right into the human's nose. It was broken for sure.

Emile did as commanded.

"Brother, that is enough-" Ramattra reached to grab Zenyatta, to put an end to this, but stopped inches away.

"It's not enough..."

The human's voice was ragged, breathless and broken and shaking. He sounded on the brink of death.. He very well might have been.

"It's not... enough...."

Blood mixed with tears down Emile's face, big wet eyes stared at Zenyatta, making the Omnic hesitate.

Ramattra wouldn't dare touch a human, but he made a motion like he was going to either way, "Human you cannot take much more, please just call it-"

"I CAN'T." Emile's voice cracked, he coughed, and took a step just to keep himself from collapsing, "I can't... it's not... enough... yet...."

The human but his hand on his wrist, and Zenyatta found himself mimicking the motion. His finger tips touched delicately at his exposed arm wire, one of many fragile pieces of himself he'd been forced to show to the world after nearly loosing his life before coming here.

He could still feel the human's cold finger tips on it...

"it's not... enough... to... ma...ke up.. for what... i..."

His body was too heavy, everything hurt, and the world was spinning.. In his last few moments of consciousness Emile braced himself for one more cold embrace from the stone steps of the battle field..

And instead found warmth...