#ignore this I'm just talking to myself

[elvenbeard]

That short moment of fear when you open a video and there is only one audio track (of your commentary, not the gameplay you actually want to show) even though you’re 100% certain you set up everything correctly... then turns out VLC media player just decides to play one audio track (the first) and not all of them at once by default and thankfully everything is there in the video editing software. Crisis averted.

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[invinciblerodent]

This is going to be very ranty and disjointed, probably borderline incomprehensible post, but with the "return" of Dragon Age Discourse (and really, did it ever go anywhere?) and me repeatedly seeing the complaints and dismissals of DA:I as a "chosen one"-type of a narrative, I just.... I keep finding myself thinking about the relationship of truth and lies within the game.

Throughout the course of DA:I, the idea of a malleable, flexible personal identity, and a painful confrontation with an uncomfortable truth replacing a soothing falsehood, follows pretty much every character throughout their respective arcs.

There are some more obvious ones, Solas, Blackwall, The Iron Bull, their identities and deceptions (of both those around them and themselves) are clearly front and center in the stories told about them, but this theme of deception (both of the self- and the outside world) is clearly present in the stories of the others as well.

Like, for example, ones that come immediately to mind are stories like that of Cullen, who presents an image of a composed and disciplined military man, a commander- all to hide the desperate and traumatized addict that he sees himself as.

Dorian grappled with the expectations of presenting the image of the perfect heir to his father's legacy, the prideful scion of his house, his entire life (he even introduces himself as the result of "careful breeding", like one might speak about a prized horse)- all while knowing that his family would rather see him lobotomized and obedient, than anything even just resembling his vibrant and passionate self.

Cassandra calls herself a Seeker of Truth, and takes pride in that identity- only to learn that in reality, she has been made a liar, a keeper of secrets, without her knowledge or consent, and it is up to her to either uproot the entire organization and painfully cut out the abscess it is to build it back from the ground up into something respectable, or let the information she had revealed sit, and continue to fester.

And this theme continues and reframes itself in, among others, things like Sera's own inner conflict between her elven heritage and her human upbringing, or in Cole being caught in this unconscionable space in-between human and spirit, between person and concept, etc.

The Inquisitor isn't exempt from this either.

I feel like this is where the core of the many misunderstandings of this plot come from, why so many people continue to believe that Inquisition is a "chosen one" or "divinely appointed" type of story, because I think many might just... not realize, that the protagonist's identity is also malleable, and what they are told in the setup/first act of the game is not necessarily the truth.

The tale of the Inquisitor is the exact opposite of that of a "chosen one" story: it's an examination and reflection of the trope, in that it is the story of an assumption that all wrongly believe to be the truth, and thrust upon you, even if you protest. The very point is that no matter who you choose to say that you are, you will be known as the Herald of a prophet you don't even necessarily believe in, and then that belief will be proven wrong, leaving you to cope with either a devastating disappointment if you believed it, or a bitter kind of vindication if you didn't.

There's a moment just after Here Lies the Abyss (when you learn of the lie you've been fed your entire journey in the game) that I don't often see mentioned, but I think it's one of the most emotionally impactful character moments, if you are playing an Andrastian Inquisitor who had actually believed themselves chosen (which I realize is a rather unpopular pick, lol): it's when Ser Ruth, a Grey Warden, realizes what she had done and is horrified by her own deeds, and turns herself in asking to be tried for the murder of another of her order. As far as she is concerned, she had spilled blood for power, and regardless of whether she was acting of her own volition at the time, whether she had agency in the moment, is irrelevant to her: she seeks no absolution, but willingly submits to any punishment you see fit.

And only if you play as an Inquisitor who, through prior dialogue choices, had established themselves as a devout Andrastian, can you offer her forgiveness, for a deed that was objectively not her fault- not really.

You can, in Andraste's name, forgive her- even though you, at that point, know that you have no real right to do so. That you're not Andraste's Herald, that Andraste may or may not even exist, and that you can't grant anyone "divine forgiveness", because you, yourself, don't have a drop of divinity within you. You know that you were no more than an unlucky idiot who stumbled their way into meddling with forces beyond their ken.

You know you're a fraud. You know. The game forces you to realize, as it slowly drip-drip-drips the memories knocked loose by the blast back into your head, that what all have been telling you that you are up to this point, is false. And yet, you can still choose to keep up the lie, and tell this woman who stands in front of you with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes, that you, with authority you don't have, grant her forgiveness for a crime that wasn't hers to commit.

Because it's the right thing to do. Because to lie to Ser Ruth is far kinder than anything else you could possibly do to her, short of refusing to make a decision altogether.

There are any number of criticisms of this game that I can accept (I may or may not agree depending on what it is, but I'm from the school of thought that any interpretation can be equally valid as long as there's text that supports it, and no text that contradicts it), but I will always continue to uphold that the Inquisitor is absolutely not- and never was a "chosen one".

They're just as small, and sad, and lost, as all the other protagonists- the only difference is that they didn't need to fight for their mantle, because instead of a symbol of honor, it acted as a straitjacket.

[infiniteorangethethird]

maybe unpopular opinion but probably one of the least useful pieces of advice I've ever got as an auDHD person to the question of "how tf does one make friends" was to go and join clubs/groups that do hobbies I enjoy. Not only does this not actually answer the question of how to make friends (yknow, how to approach people, how to start a conversation, how to appear friendly enough that they don't immediately reject you for existing, how to actually keep them as friends later on, etc), but also the chance of me choosing to force myself into the discomfort of "making smalltalk with random strangers" is absolutely nonexistent when the alternative of engaging with a hyperfixation is not only socially acceptable but even encouraged

[transyashiro]

hey you're a good artist and a generally good person but highkey throwing out posts regarding transandrophobia and trans men who may use the term that are really long and inscrutable to anyone not already involved in whatever discourse carousel is not really fun to see. i talk to trans guys in my real life and i've literally never even seen the word "transandrophobia" outside of tumblr. i don't think it needs litigating, and you're more likely just exposing an audience that very likely may not be familiar with whatever is going on there to some random, kinda extreme opinion for which they have just genuinely no reference point.

(that and, like, intersectionality exists and is useful and none of those posts ever use the word intersectionality ever so idk how useful their analyses actually are without that)

i'm pretty sure many transfems who follow me and all happen to be on the same damn site are aware of discussions of transandrophobia and transmisogyny in general, or ""discourse carousel"" as you called it, happening here. i can see my notes, you know. those of them who are uninterested in these posts for whatever reason can simply ignore them. and i genuinely don't give a fuck about trans guys who might find any of this offensive or worth getting defensive over. also, i happen to be a person with opinions and at the end of the day it's up to me if i want to make my position clear by reblogging something (that i know will resonate with a good chunk of my followers too, whom you for some reason decided to paint as ignorant). not sure what you were hoping to accomplish by sending me this, it's not like anyone's forcing you to follow me, nor is it your position to tell me what to put on my own blog

[good-to-drive]

Abuse, Silence, And Why Kevin Can Fuck Himself

I recently finished watching Kevin Can Fuck Himself on Netflix, and, aside from being the most brutally honest portrayal of domestic abuse I have ever seen, I discovered a beautifully written examination of narrative as power and silence as abuse and how this manifests in our larger culture. 

Without going into too much detail, the show is filmed in two distinct styles that are interleaved throughout each episode to tell a cohesive story. Allison and Kevin’s relationship as seen by the rest of the world is told through a multi-cam, laugh-track sitcom that depicts a very typical “goofy husband, shrewish wife” mainstream comedy. Allison’s life through her own eyes is told through a single-cam drama/thriller about Allison planning to murder Kevin to escape his abuse. 

It’s an absolute masterclass in screenwriting, but more than that, every episode explores the difference between truth, fact, and reality, and how none of these things are quite as much or as little as story. But while the process of transforming the chaotic and plotless reality of life into a story is as involuntary and essential as breathing, misogyny and the degradation of women is just as ubiquitous in our society, and a story that exists at the expense of another person’s lived reality is a refutation of their humanity. 

It's also just a great show for anyone who likes to engage with history (or reality TV or true crime or “real life stories” in general), because while we have to tell ourselves stories about her own lives, we have to tell ourselves stories about other people as well. Eternal silence is narrative death, and the perpetual silence of an unspoken narrative is often the last death we can visit on someone whose story we’d rather ignore. 

I also pulled up some books – Lolita and Disgrace – that dealt with similar themes, but from the perspective of the abuser. And what strikes me the most is that, across three beautifully written stories about narrative and silence within a culture that normalizes abuse, Allison, who began her story within a state of narrative death, was the only point-of-view character who had any chance of surviving. 

One of the main themes of Kevin is that a compelling story is often a story that reinforces what we already believe or like to believe, and while the story may be factual and true it often also exists at the expense of someone's lived reality. The exact same series of events can be a silly joke or a harrowing tale of abuse depending on the lens through which we view it, but historically we've only been willing to see the multicam, laugh track, sitcom perspective on unbalanced relationships.

The alchemical process of turning a series of disjoint facts and experiences into a narrative creates something new and compelling, and erases much of what previously existed. In this way, it’s entirely irreversible. We spin our experiences into a very thin thread, a story we can tell ourselves that elicits something within us, something we need in order to live with the complex, uncertain, and unsatisfying reality of life. In think in many ways the thing we elicit in ourselves is truth. But truth is both more and less than fact, often more a reflection of our own beliefs and desires than the events of our lives. And in telling that truth we may never stray from the facts, but we almost by definition cannot give voice to another person’s reality.

There's a scene in season 2 of Kevin when Allison is hit by a door – a la the classic excuse – because of Kevin’s carelessness. And while he absolutely did not hit her, the way it's written is such an incredible allegory for how Kevin has curated their story and curated their friends' and family’s perceptions of their story such that even if she tells everyone the exact, unvarnished truth of what's happening to her and begs for help, they will only be capable of seeing the laugh-track, sitcom, “Kevin is a harmless goofball and his wife is a total shrew” perspective on the events of their lives. 

As so often happens with abuse, their friends and family saw Allison being hurt because of Kevin. But the alchemy of creating a narrative around Kevin and Allison is irreversible, and the series of events they witness can only be spun together to a joke, an accident, a silly, childish mistake. Allison’s reality, Allison’s pain and fear, is completely elided. Like a lost sound in the middle of a sentence, her experience goes silent, and their larger understanding of her relationship never has to change. And you feel so acutely how Allison lives her entire life in that silence. 

Storytelling is human, it’s essential, there’s no other way to engage with our own lives. And it’s not lying. It’s never lying to tell the truth. But it doesn’t reflect every reality, either, because another person’s reality can’t be reflected within our own narrative, because that’s what it means to be another person. To spin two different threads.

And because narrative is the essential process by which we understand our reality, denying someone their own narrative, or denying that this narrative be heard, is inherently abusive. To allow someone a voice is to give them humanity, and to suppress it is to strip that humanity away. 

Disgrace, by J.M. Coetzee, follows the story of a professor, David, who rapes a student and then fails to protect his daughter, Lucy, from being raped by intruders in their home. He destroys his daughter’s life  – not through failing to protect her, but through twisting her rape into a story about why the rape of his student wasn’t wrong. The main theme of the book is generally considered to be exploitation, but Coetzee doesn’t deal with the exploitation of the rape. That’s too direct, too immediate, too easy for the reader to understand as misogynistic and wrong. Rather, Coetzee delves into “the innocuous-seeming use of another person to fill one's gentler emotional needs” (Ruden).

The rape is how we understand David as a fundamentally exploitative person, a person who denies others their humanity by converting them into a vessel for his own desires, who erases their voice in order to speak through them and give himself the things he needs. And that’s how we recognize that the way he absorbs and claims the stories of his daughter and his student is another kind of violation of their humanity. Another way of turning women into vessels for men’s pain and fear and need. 

What’s fascinating is that David's student finds her voice – files a complaint against him – and is eventually able to continue with her life. The woman he raped is less damaged by him than his own daughter, because she was the woman he couldn’t permanently silence. 

In Lolita, another brilliant novel about abuse, dehumanization, and storytelling, Humbert turns to the reader at the end and says, “Imagine us, reader, for we don’t really exist if you don’t.” 

It’s not that Humbert knew he was fictional, but that he knew everyone was fictional. Believed the entire world only truly existed in his own mind, because anything beyond that was irrelevant to his needs. He coped with the collapse of his ability to dehumanize Dolores (who he called Lolita) by demanding that his voice be resurrected. Demanding immortality. Demanding his narrative exist in another person’s world, and thereby be given the existence and humanity that Allison and Dolores and Lucy and David’s student were denied. 

Pushing his needs, finally, onto the reader, because we are the only person he has left, and a person like him can only exist through the use of another. In that way, Humbert was powerless. In that way, Kevin and David were powerless, too.

In Disgrace, David’s dream is to write an opera, and at the end of the book he realizes he’ll never finish his magnum opus. He’ll never be able to terminate the process of converting himself, his world, into a story. But he does learn to decenter himself in that narrative. And it’s when he loses all fear of death, and any conception of the self, that he gains the ability to give dogs – who he generally equates to women – a voice within his opera, his life’s work. 

It’s in death that we discover our true unimportance as human beings, that we learn to let go of vanity and our conception of the self entirely. And David had degraded women so thoroughly in order to justify how he used them to meet his own emotional needs that it was only in losing all value for his own life that he could gain the ability to see them as equal voices. To actually put those voices into his own life story. It's at the cost of himself that he allows other people to truly exist, in the death of the self that he finally allows the world to exist outside of himself. It’s almost a positive character arc. Almost.

When Kevin finally loses the ability to abuse Allison, he, like many abusers, loses all desire to live. His world was built on a structure of superiority and inferiority, on beings and vessels, on the inherent value of men and the inherent meaninglessness of women’s lives. The system on which he based his entire reality has been destroyed by Allison’s declaration of the self. And, if he was a being because she was a vessel, then in losing the ability to treat her as a vessel, to fully and completely dehumanize her, he has lost his own humanity. 

It may be perfectly summed up here: “Become major. Live like a hero. That's what the classics teach us. Be a main character. Otherwise, what is life for?” (Coetzee).

If you’re not to be a main character, if there indeed is no split between major and minor characters, between people and the paper dolls that populate their story, between living beings and the vessels into which they pour their need – what is life for?

Nothing. At least, not for people whose narrative must exist at the expense of another. 

And that’s why I say that only a narrator like Allison could survive this kind of story. Despite beginning her story trapped in eternal silence, her reality fully elided no matter how immediate and obvious it became, Allison was the only point-of-view character of any of these three stories who didn’t establish her power through the degradation of another. Who didn’t conceptualize the world via being and vessels. Whose narrative didn’t exist, by necessity, at the expense of another person’s humanity. Whose thread could exist in a larger tapestry without destroying her sense of self.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s not generally a likable character. She’s misogynistic, cruel, selfish, jealous, desperate, afraid, and in pain. Like anyone in an abusive relationship, she’s not at her best, and she’s often pushed to do things that are ugly and disturbing because she’s simply been pushed too far. 

But, for me, the power in her character is in how her last scene never felt like a final scene. Her story didn’t have to be killed, her conception of the self didn’t have to be killed, in order to reveal the brutal reality of stories twisting and intertwining without any inherently superior truth or narrative among them. Allison’s story was one of declaring herself. And that’s why it didn’t feel like it ended at the end. Instead, this felt like a beginning.

[subsequentibis]

i've had this thing for a little while where i'm like. fuck! a lot of the artists i look up to have really thin, precise lineart. i need to start using thinner lines so i can get the accuracy and detail and realistic, correct anatomy, and it makes you have to get better at colors because the color has to carry the piece more when the lines give them more space between, and it's made me a lot more critical with my work because i instinctively go for big thick linework, and my usual strokes look sloppy and disconnected when i use thin lines.

and then i realized it was also making me miserable and not want to work on anything, which was really getting in the way of doing art in the first place. so i cranked that brush size back up and it just feels good and easy and flowing again, and like. yknow. there's working towards improvement and then there's stalling yourself out because you're too focused on arbitrary measures. i think i'm gonna be happy with my thick lines for a bit.

[beargregor]

Chef greg delivery just for you. it's a wonder I hadn't bearified him yet, he's my fave greg too 🔪

gays literally only want one thing (to be chopped up and eaten by a depressed man) and it's fucking disgusting

[kindaorangey]

recently i've been thinking about rowan omondi in terms of the "supportive black best friend" trope. i've had this idea for a while that it would be interesting to see a story that deals specifically with the psychological effects of being the designated "support friend", especially in cases where that character addressing/expressing their own emotions and advocating for themself would be stigmatised because of their race... and obviously, rowan fits into this neatly, actively repressing and refusing to talk about his feelings because he isn't usually given this sort of support by his friends, it's usually him who's supporting them. and i guess on a metatextual level, once he begins to address his own emotional repression and step down from that support role, you could view it as him becoming cognisant of his own role as the "supportive black best friend".

[bayetea]

seeing non-black people critique rick's portrayal of black characters is interesting sometimes. only like 30% of the critiques I see make any sense to me to be honest

[nanihirunkits]

okay maybe i actually am able to work some magic in photoshop sometimes

[megamindsupremacy]

okok my brain not braining rn but.... smth smth stan starting to figures tbings out when SHERMIE calls asking ford to watch the kiddos like

stan: hello? if this is the irs you can talk to me in person!

shermie: ford blah blah blah kids blah summer blah blah

stan: (why tf is my brother calling this ford guy????? and familiar with him?????) uhhhhh...

OH HEY i hadn't even read this ask when I wrote my response to that other one so I guess we're just on the same brainwave with "Shermie is the one to ask Stan to take care of the kids"

Stan is so confused because like. Shermie is his brother. He knows Shermie is his older brother. Everytime someone mentions Stan's brother they're obviously talking abut Shermie. Right? So why is Shermie calling up Stanford (how does Shermie know Stanford exists? So why does his brother Shermie somehow know who Stanford is? Does he know Stanley stole this random dude's identity? Except, no, Shermie thinks Stanford is his brother, which is super weird. And Stan is so absolutely baffled about this whole thing that he finds himself agreeing to Shermie's request before he can think through "taking care of a couple of kids for an entire summer"

[taamlok]

i looked around in the frosty modding tool and

waaaay easier than blender oh my god

my big goal once i get my sea legs i'm gonna try tweaking the wardens lighthouse theme to be more lords-y. idk if i can add items but i could definitely remove some of them and swap the wardens logo for some of the lords paintings (they're so pretty, i want to find the graffiti texture of the gang from the endgame and possibly put it in the lighthouse somewhere too) do not get your hopes up for this because it's a pipe dream project at best

my medium goal is to do a recolour set of taash's armours. it will take 10000 years but i'm determined to get them in more parrot colours

my small goal is a LoF recolour of a few armour pieces, specifically shadow's hold and a couple warden armours, plus a vi arcane recolour of kirkwall's finest

[tj-crochets]

Still no craft updates on account of I feel Bad* but I did get like half a beanie crocheted this weekend? I also have a bat that's haunting me. In that there's a bat design I desperately want to turn into a plushie not in that I am being literally haunted by a bat. As far as I know I am not haunted by a bat but to be fair I'm not confident I'd know? *my heart rate got high enough that made me cough but my asthma was flaring up enough that cough launched me into an asthma attack, which raised my heart rate even more, so basically I used my emergency inhaler and then was on the floor for a while. Feels bad! Do not recommend. I'm okay though just tired

[pumpkinrootbeer]

imo there is something to be said for how Lip is consistently placed in the position of protector/parent. Obviously we see him take care of all his younger siblings, especially Liam. But beyond that from very, very early on in the show we see him have a strong vested interest in protecting kids, like when Karen is going to give the baby up for adoption; "Now, uh, do you check the, uh, families for, you know, um, alcohol and drug abuse? Make sure they have enough income to feed it and stuff?", "But they're still good families right? You make sure they're going to decent parents?"(s2.8)

Or in s3.4 when he convinces Mandy to help him rescue her half-sister, Molly. "She sounded desperate. Let's see if we could get her, let's see if we could help." and "If she ran, it was probably for a good reason, no?"(s3.6). Of course there's the entirety of season 4, where he's not only willing to drop out of college to look after Liam but then is afraid to even let Liam out of his sight for almost the rest of the season. And then, obviously, there's Xan in season 8 & 9, a complete stranger but still a kid in need who he then helps without question. He also gives Xan and her mom ten thousand dollars.

Also in s4 (sorry just a really good Lip season in general), it's Lip who realizes something is wrong with Ian and goes looking for him (s4.5) and then it's Lip who takes care of Fiona after she breaks parole (s4.10). On top of which, the only reason Lip is even going to college, despite vocally saying he doesn't want to numerous times, is because it'll help his family if he gets a good job; "Except the little ones Debbie, and- and Carl, and- and Liam, and, my sister Fiona. I could be there for them but I'm not. You know, 'cause I'm here. 'cause I'm told that, that's something I could do for those kids, in a big way, in a real way.' (s5.8)

This perception that Lip both doesn't care about Fiona (or the rest of his family) and doesn't do anything for them is such a misconception. Obviously, there's everything he does to help in s4, from picking up Fiona in Wisconsin to stealing food and cooking dinner every night, but there's how he does try to help Ian, like in s7.3 when he convinces Ian to take his meds. Or in s9.6 when he does a gig as a sober coach to get Ian money for his commissary account in prison. And, then, of course there's how Lip is the reason Fiona goes to AA in s9, both by convincing V to not enable Fiona, "What kind of friend do you want to be? The kind that sees her drunk at the Alibi every morning?" and also by telling Fiona, "Get to a meeting."(s9.12).

I think it's also worth mentioning that Lip only kicks Fiona out once she starts being a danger to the kids in the house, "I'm not letting you stay here! Not with Franny, and not with Liam. No fucking way."(s9.12) Keep in mind, the previous episode he had to body block Fiona to keep her from yelling around and at Xan.

It's just such a wild misreading of the text that Lip is callous or selfish in regards to his family, and especially in the context of Fiona and their relationship. When people say that Fiona always took care of Lip and he never gave anything in return, or that he pushed her to take care of their whole family and never stepped up, I think they're just willingly choosing which parts of the show to engage with and which to ignore.

Obviously there's the age gap, she's 5 years older, (in s8 Lip says he's 23 and Fiona says she's 28) so I'm not sure how much you guys wanted a 4 year old to pitch in when you bring up what she was doing at 9. But beyond that, when Lip got old enough to help, he did. We see him helping throughout the show, we see him stepping up and caring for everyone including Fiona. And it's not just Fiona he was helping, he did Kev and V's taxes, he was the one who came up for the plan to keep Debbie out of jail in s1 when she stole the baby. He helps JimmySteve throughout season 1-3.

And at the exact same time, Lip ends up having to solve most of his problems on his own or he just never brings them to Fiona in the first place. When she does find out he has something going on, her advice usually boils down to telling him to fix it; "So what are you going to do?"(s2.5) "Make it right with Ian."(s2.6) "You want to piss away every single chance you get, including this job, that's your business but don't drag me into it."(s7.10) It's also interesting how in her big "I was nine" speech in s7.12, Lip is the only one she doesn't mention.

Honestly the only character we see actually looking after Lip during his struggles with alcoholism is Debbie throughout s6 and 7. ("I don't want you to end up like Frank" being the reason he goes to rehab, "Do you need us to hide the beer?", "He's trying to get sober Frank!", and of course her confronting him in s7.11 when she finds out he's been drinking and makes sure he's going to a meeting.)

I wanna make it really, really clear that I'm not blaming Fiona or anything other character. I honestly think it's actually really compelling story telling that Lip is the sibling Fiona has a completely different dynamic with and that he's the one she consistently leans on. Not to mention, Lip clearly struggles to accept help and is pretty closed off emotionally. (Almost every big scene we see regarding their family he shuts down and goes silent.) But! I do think there's just this wild misconception with Lip's character that he's ungrateful, selfish, and uncaring towards his family. Yes he's prickly and rude and arrogant, but he's also incredibly caring and that's been a consistent character trait since day 1.

[queen-scribbles]

.