#or... y'know what? i think i made my point

[kowai-kabuki-tanuki]

"what if no one GETS it?"

Ok here's a tangent about writing: I often hear people hold up Miyazaki as an example of a filmmaker who doesn't constrain himself with "western" story structures/hero's journey formulas/beat sheets.

This is definitely true to some extent--he doesn't really ever write a screenplay, just goes straight to storyboards. He's a master of THEME and storytelling for sure...This is just me unpacking my thoughts about story structure and maybe I'm just superimposing a formula on him. Anyway.

Kiki's Delivery Service.

I think that a big chunk of the audience for this movie...y'know, kids...probably don't "get" a lot of the story. Even as an adult, I still feel like I'm always picking up different things when I watch it.

But I do think it follows a fairly direct arc? It's got an inciting incident, (she leaves home) rising action, (starts a delivery business/has adventures) but I think the last third(?) is where it gets interesting to me.

There's a pretty long section where she has a Crisis. She loses her powers and she has a whole dark night of the soul™️ where she doubts herself. She’s despondent, but when she goes to see the old women that she helped earlier and they give her a cake, that’s the turning point of the whole film?!

Even though Kiki’s struggled and she's depressed, these old women bake her a cake because they're grateful for her and they love her! It's not like some huge epic moment—but that's the thing that pushes Kiki into the finale. (WAH THIS SCENE SOMEHOW ALWAYS DESTORYS ME) Having been reminded that she’s made a positive impact on the world, Kiki musters her own inner strength and goes off and saves Tombo.

So in this quiet Crisis scene, Kiki completes her character arc. The Climax that follows (her flying again to save Tombo) is where she SHOWS how she's grown/changed through the story.

The Resolution™️ is everything after she catches him midair—she can fly again, she leaves her childhood uncertainties behind, (This is the stuff with Jjji—I love that she keeps him with her even if they can't talk anymore) and she writes to her family.

So...even if the movie sort of seems like a bunch of unconnected situations, I'd say that it actually follows a pretty clean structure?

Miyazaki doesn’t put in a blazing sign, or state the theme in a denouement. But it’s still there. (I feel like I never see other people talking about the scene with the cake?) So, yeah, some audience members will miss it and everyone has their own interpretations of his movies. But that’s ok! Not everyone has to leave the theater saying, “Kiki’s Delivery Service” is about x or “Spirited Away” means y.

As a writer, I worry that if I don’t make my point absolutely crystal clear, that I’ve failed to an extent. But I want to remind myself that a story can be opaque or vague or even confusing and still 100% land with the audience.

There’s value in theme and story arcs even if it goes unstated and even unnoticed in the final film. A person who watches Kiki, but doesn’t think it has a structure (with an antagonist and a protagonist goal) can still love the film. But ALSO, they DID receive the film’s message, even if they don’t yet (or ever) consciously understand it.

Creators don't have to bop their audiences over the head to make sure everyone “gets” what they are trying to do. It can still resonate. And, like, maybe the movie is better if it leaves some stuff up to interpretation.

[nubeesart]

Day 3 AND 5: Mammon/Leviathan

idk I just figured this could be something that happens from time to time. Trying to divide your time between 7 demon brothers can be difficult, specially when one of them is feeling a little bit too impatient to wait for his turn.

@obeymetournaments's obey me month list can be found here.

[mortalscience]

[fictionalcreator]

@forgetme-eternally-blissfully

Y'KNOW WHAT I just realized that some well-adjusted people may have not spent hours of their precious free time looking into the effects of White Room Torture and I should probably make some attempt to cite my sources? Idk how much you know but! At least for the benefit of anyone who might still be reading at this point. Not that I can get super specific 'cause it's mostly stuff I encountered years ago that has embedded itself in my brain.

First off, isolation/sensory deprivation fucks with people. Sometimes in very immediate ways. Also, it's remarkably easy to get people to hallucinate. We practically do it all the time.

I recall I think someone here on tumblr or on youtube who went cave diving and, in the pitch black darkness, heard some running water. Their brain interpreted one of the water's gurgles as a duck quack? Or because they could hear the water, their brain associated it with ducks? And they hallucinated the impression of ducks. They couldn't really "see" the non-existent ducks, but it was like an afterimage when you close your eyes. A lingering impression of presence and motion.

Your brain is very very good at filling in the gaps. It does so constantly. Half of our vision is neural guesswork. When your brain lacks stimulation, it does what it does best, and starts filling in the gaps.

Another thing I remember was an interview with someone who spent way too long in solitary confinement. It's part of a series hosted by a youtube channel featuring partially anonymous interviewees over VR chat, so I make no claims about credibility, but it's a hell of a story. One of those that you kinda wish someone just made up. The jist of it is: solitary fucks you up. (hey did you know that the US prison system uses solitary confinement as a punishment for some inmates? and that most other countries consider solitary confinement torture?)

The interviewee talks about going through a very intense process of (I think the term is) derealization? Coupled with progressively more intense hallucinations, until the hallucinatory scenery completely overtook their sight and partially overtook their other senses as well. Breaking out of the hallucinatory space was also in and of itself a painful process. At first, the people he initially spoke to upon getting out of the room didn't register as "people," but rather something like demons, and it was hard to understand what they were saying.

Hell of a thing! And a fuckin tragic thing to happen to real human person. Alas! No matter how terrible a thing it is, I can't stop coming back to his story...inspirational in several ways. Things to do to my beloved characters, and fueling my resolve to not support this country's fucked up carceral system. Anyway!

Tragically, one of the things I remember is eminently un-searchable. It's a clip I think I saw in, like, the hospital lobby? Of some interviews with inmates who had been in solitary confinement. One talks about how the only reason he didn't go insane in solitary is because he learned meditation and practiced it regularly before life in prison. Another apparently did not and told the interviewer that he was the son of god.

(I laugh because otherwise I would cry)

The last thing is just perusing the wikipedia page for White Torture (aka White Room Torture). Which is just a more purposeful form of sensory deprivation and isolation. The captor may go to lengths to do things like make the room and food monochrome, soundproof, constantly lit at an even level, varying meal times to prevent a pattern from building, etc. Basically doing everything in your power to make the person as understimulated as physically possible. (It's most well-documented in Iran [not officially sanctioned by the government] after a journalist was detained and later wrote about the experience, but it's also recorded in different forms in the US and Venezuela.)

I also remember reading somewhere that one person who went through this was grateful for the fact that they had ants in their room, and that observing and talking to the ants helped a lot.

So yeah! Ever since learning about how much sensory deprivation fucks you up, I have had a need to inflict it on my fictional ragdolls.

Do with this information what you will

Rapunzel AU!

Cale has been inside of the tower for his entire life. His hair is long, much longer than his brother's. His brother doesn't have a name. Cale knows they're brothers though- because they both have red hair, even if Brother has short hair and Cale does not.

Ever since Cale was 12, he'd been dreaming of a different world. He went to sleep and woke up as someone named Kim Roksu. This Kim Roksu was not in a similar situation as he was- Kim Roksu wandered the streets and ate food from the floor and hid in the small cabinet in his uncle's house. Kim Roksu was weak and strong.

Kim Roksu is a friend to Cale. When Cale wants to see the outside, he sleeps, and he dreams.

Kim Roksu figured out how to communicate with Cale after several years of simple body swapping.

Somehow, they are similar! They both agree that being trash is the best. Kim Roksu because it's easier being a bad person than a good person, and Cale because Brother won't let him be trashy and he wishes he could throw a fit without Brother punishing him.

"Your brother keeps you in a tower?" Roksu asks when he learns.

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who stays in a tower." Cale kicks a rock on the sidewalk with his barefoot, sending it skidding across the dirt road. "Ow, my toe." Roksu complains blandly.

Sharing a body, they also share the same sensations.

"You barely felt that and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up." Cale retorts. He wants to say more, but he swallows those words and tucks them into his chest.

'The bruise over your eye hurts more but you don't complain about that.'

He bites his lip and looks down.

"Do you think," he asks quietly, "if I asked Brother to let me out, he would?"

Roksu, disembodied and floating over his body, frowns. "You haven't asked before?"

Cale smiles bitterly in Roksu's body. "... I did, once." After, Brother said he was going to be leaving for two weeks, and told Cale to ration his food well. Cale knew better than to think it was a coincidence. He didn't have Roksu yet. It was very lonely for a long time.

Roksu doesn't say anything.

"If," his voice trembles, "If I got out. If I left..."

"Cale." Roksu stops him. Cale winces, expecting to be reprimanded.

"You are trash. Trash does whatever they want, no matter what anyone says. If you want to leave, then leave." Roksu's translucent body floats over to stand in front of Cale. Sternly, he says, "Don't worry about useless things. Worry about making a plan and executing it."

Then, abruptly, Roksu turns and ignores him. Cale laughs and folds in half, a childish grin splitting his malnourished cheeks. How can someone be so blunt but so shy? Kim Roksu frowns, but it looks like a pout. Cale rubs away a tear and looks up at the back of his friend. No, the person who sometimes feels more like a brother to him than his real brother.

"And will you help me?"

Roksu rolls his eyes. "Don't ask something so obvious."

Cale smiles and looks down. "Right. Obvious, isn't it?"

Something like receiving help wasn't obvious to either of them. Yet, when it came to the two of them together, it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious with Brother, who he shared blood with. But Kim Roksu, who was abused and beaten down at every turn, chose to welcome a wandering soul into his body and share everything with him.

'You're the one who shouldn't want to be here,' Kim Roksu said when they first started talking and Cale asked why he didn't try to force Cale out. 'When you're in control, I can relax. Why would I want you to leave? That's so difficult.'

They learned that Kim Roksu really could force Cale out when his uncle kicked Cale, sending Kim Roksu's body sprawling onto the floor, then stomped on his arm so hard they heard a clear snap. For Cale it only hurt for a short moment. Roksu threw him out so fast you could imagine that he had practiced beforehand.

Every day and night, Cale slept to try and enter Roksu's body, check on him, share the pain, but Roksu kicked him out every time. It wasn't until four weeks later that Roksu let Cale back in.

Even that much pain was a lot for being four weeks after the incident, but while Cale was struggling to keep his cool, Roksu floated around him and spoke as if nothing was wrong. When Cale started sweating a few hours later Roksu kicked him out again.

'Don't be stubborn,' he said when Cale returned the next night. 'Just say that it hurts. If you still want to stay after you admit that it hurts then I won't kick you out.'

It was a very Kim Roksu thing to do.

"Brother," Cale asks one day at 15, impatiently brushing his hair. He gets scolded lightly, and Brother takes the brush from him. "I read in a book about something called a phone. Do you have one?"

Brother gives him a blank look. Then, as if it had been a lie, his expression changes into something kind and gentle. "Fone? Can you show me the book?"

Cale and Brother roughly root around in every book for anything like the so-called 'Fone,' coming up short.

"Maybe it was a dream," Cale excuses it like that, rubbing his neck. Brother looks at him, worried.

"It must have been. Get some rest, Cale." A kiss to the top of Cale's head, Brother hugs him and promises to bring him more paint. "I'll be gone for a few days this time. Do you want something?"

"Ah," Cale smiles, pressing his face into his Brothers neck to hide his face. "Could you bring me -------?" Brother freezes.

"... you-"

"I learned it from the books! This time I really did, Brother. Please?"

Slowly, Brother releases the tension in his body. "... If that's what you want. But you have to close the window if you're going to mess around with alcohol."

"Yes!" Cale jumps with joy. Then he suddenly runs to a bookshelf, changing the topic by talking about a book Brother brought to him last time. "-and I'd like to know if the sequel is out yet."

"I'll do that." Brother smiles. "You've been asking for more things recently, Cale." Brother settles a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

"It's because of my reliable older brother!" He grabs onto that hand, keeping it there, resembling a naive little brother who only has his role model in his eyes.

He sends his brother down the tower using his hair, and watches that spot of red disappear in the distance.

His face drops.

"... Bastard."

Cale turns on his foot. It's time to see Roksu.

[baladiumdrive]

My take on FFXVI's ending - a fancomic

Here's my sad final fantasy xvi fan short comic on which I spend more time than anticipated

[skrunksthatwunk]

i lied kuwameshi time NOW

[concert-bflat]

Thinks about how. Gloreth only starts looking at Nimona differently/strangely when her parents call her a "monster". Just throws that label with such a negative connotation on her. Gloreth fucking fights for Nimona immediately in the beginning saying that she's her friend and never once looks at her with ridicule until her mom just holds her by the shoulders and tells her she's a monster, straight in the eye, straight in the face. And just the word is enough to cause the change.

Nimona's getting fucking attacked and prodded and Gloreth doesn't even feel sorry for her just because she's now re-contextualizing everything around her but with that word. I'm so sick. She looks not in hesitance but at disbelief before she runs away. She sees Nimona trying to defend herself from literal Danger in any way she can (she's just a kid and she's fighting with people who won't listen, never will, people that she can't get through) but just sees that as more proof of her being violent, monstrous. She sees her friend all alone, with the odds and the world stacked against her despite them being. so similar but just tells her to go back to the shadows.

And like. Of course she believes those words calling Nimona a monster and takes them to heart. Her parents, the ones she would probably trust most are the ones that told her that. And she's young, she doesn't know much about the world or much better. And of course, her parents and the whole village don't know any better. They didn't see what she saw. They don't know or feel the need to know much more than the definition of the word "monster". But it hurts. God it hurts. It's wrong. It's not fair. It's really not fair.

And it causes this whole legend that will stay with Nimona to ridicule her for generations and generations and birth this system that she's trapped by and causes everyone to be so brainwashed. The one that makes people scared and build walls. That births unecessary distrust.

God. Even in the scroll illustrating Nimona and Gloreth, Nimona is portrayed as such a bigger and scarier threat than she ever could be or would be, until Nimona internalized and gave into those images and despair of course. It's not fucking fair.

Thinking about how when the villagers saw Nimona as a "normal" person they were happy for her just living her life and playing with her friend, she was just another kid being happy like she and every ("normal", apparently) person deserves to be, and they were allowing her to be happy then when they find out what she really is they hate her. They call her a monster and drive her out immediately. They don't look into the details that contradict the stigma, they just feel betrayal when they weren't even the ones who were betrayed (Nimona couldn't fucking help being who or what she was. And she was her own person. She was still. A someone. Why do things have to be different now?). I'm so sickkk.

Thinks about how Nimona feels so hopeless as to just. Accept and yield to that label. That label that was passed down to Gloreth. To the whole world. Such simple but awful words. Aughhhhhhhhhhh

Another post I saw talks about how this is a movie about how hate is taught. And oh my god it is. Hate it taught. It's done so simply yet so, painfully effectively. So devastatingly. And that hate teaches people to hate the world back. God I fucking loooove this movie

Also Nimona's such a Creature /pos /affectionate she's so relatable I fucking love her and I'm insane okay that's the post bye

[mildcicada]

[the-acid-pear]

Coincidentally "ohh doggy!" Is the same thing that comes to mind spotting you out in the wild of my dashboard

Don't have any fucking doggy reaction pics only kitty cat and horsey so have this crude edit. Wags my tail at this ^_^ correct reaction too. If you catch me around you gotta do a Tommy Wiseau and hit me with the oh hi doggy!. It's the morally correct choice.

[fazmid]

I don't necessarily support the reading that Crowley somehow wasn't aware of his own romantic feelings at all until confronted by Nina/Maggie but indulging for a moment bc it's really funny to imagine a reality where Aziraphale has known about his own feelings since 1941 and thinks they're on the same page of mutual unspoken agreement not to do anything about it while Crowley has no idea. Like Aziraphale truly said "you go too fast for me Crowley" with all the devastation of someone who knows what he's really saying and it went clear over Crowley's head. Can you fucking imagine. What did he think they were talking about

[teenagefeeling]

am i seriously starting to see jokes about asexuals on my dash again??? i chose the wrong time to accept myself.....

[dabidagoose]

Oh. My god. He's a DRUID!!

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[deeisace]

Still boggled over that my dad wants to change my birth certificate to say he's my dad

Like, wtf man, I'm 28 on Wednesday, and now you say that?

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ ah-ah, barbie, you're so fine! ❞

special treatment : thighs edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : kamo choso + itadori yuuji + higuruma hiromi + ryomen sukuna

☾₊‧⁺...cw : pussy eating, facesitting, somnophilia, dirty talk, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, desperation, oral fixation, squirting, creampie, choso being whiny, yuuji being a little shit, yuuji is 21yrs & a college student, hiromi being pussydrunk, sukuna being whipped

✧ k. choso : poor choso, ever since the first time he's gotten a taste of what's between your thighs, he's begging you every day just to eat your cunt. but today? today must be a bad day, because choso is desperate. his already between your thighs, whimpering and whining as he mouths at you through your underwear, tears in his eyes as he begs you to give him a little taste. once you do, his eyes are rolling back just from the first lick.

"you taste so good, fuck, so good, thank you, thank you, mmph, so delicious, i can't get enough." "can you cum again? i know it's been 4 times already, but please? please, please, pleaase, pretty thing, i need itttt..." "oh my goddd, you're cumming? yes, yes, cum on my tongue, pretty please, i'll fuck you so good after, just keep cumming, don't hold back." "stop-stop running away, i know your pretty pussy is all sensitive b-but i just, i can't stop...but you know you can say the safeword and i'll stop, right? ...what? you-you like being overstimulated...? fuck, fuck, okay, let me make you squirt on my tongue then i'll fuck you good, okay?"

✧ i. yuuji : yuuji's always been a smug little shit whenever it came to teasing you. what starts off with him tickling you and blowing raspberries into your stomach turns nto hot kisses against your stomach that let down to the waistband of your underwear as he pushes your shirt up higher on your body. he can't help but grin up at you when he notices the wet spot on your panties from his little kisses.

"d'awww, bunny, y'so cute! look at how wet you are. is that 'cus of me? ehehe, i know, i know, teasing is mean, but i can't help it...you're just so adorable." "y'know i can practically feel your heartbeat whenever i kiss it? mhm, i can feel that, pretty girl. don't cover your face, baby, you're so cute!" "your thighs are so soft. i could stay between here forever, fuck goin' to classes or missions, i'd rather just eat you out until you pass out." "open up these legs a little more, let me get my fingers in there...thereeee we go, such a pretty lil' bun, aren't you?" "you're so messy! did i do this to you? yeah? aww, my pretty girl likes meee! i felt how you squeezed on my fingers! so cute!

✧ h. hiromi : ever since you made a comment about his nose, saying 'doja is right about big noses' in passing to him, hiromi has been curious. curious enough to the point where he looks it up, seeing the video of said woman. so, you wanted to sit on his face and grind on his nose, hm? you've never sat on his face before but he was sure to change that.

"i don't care if you think i'll die, i want you to sit on my face. i'm giving you the chance to either have control of your pace or let me do what i want with you. so, what's your decision?" "see? it's not that bad, angel, you forget your husband isn't some weakling...now c'mon on, get yourself right over my mouth, let me taste you." "god, you're so beautiful like this. i need you on my face more often, you're dripping all over my mouth...such a good girl for me." "heh...i knew you said my nose was perfect for sitting on but i didn't realize it would get you this riled up. go ahead, sweet thing, you can keep grinding that clit on it...just like that, just let me make you feel good." "good lord, i never wanna leave between your thighs. so fucking sweet, shit, angel, you've got me wrapped around that pretty finger. c'mon, let me devour you all night, i'll let you get up when i'm done."

✧ r. sukuna : getting sukuna to lay on his back without him instantly taking control of the situation was easier than you thought. hell, even crawling up higher so that you were hovering over his face was too. but little did you know, sukuna was intrigued, liking the side of you where you would just take control of him, knowing that only you had the right to do that...especially if it meant he got to eat you until you soaked his face.

"you know i should kill you for thinking you can just sit on my face like i'm some kind of personal chair. i am the king of curses, not a piece of furniture...what? ...hm. i guess you do look...good over me like this." "...huh? sorry, i wasn't listening. when are you going to sit on my face? you keep blabbering, but i can see the way that sticky cunt is dripping for me. are you gonna just let it go to waste?" "oh. shit. you've been holdin' out on me, haven't you, diamond? shit, i can see all of you from down here...nah, keep grinding on my face, little one, use me for your pleasure...let me see you cum on my mouth." "such a fucking slut. my mouth is coated in your cum, but you still wanna keep going? my tongue that good for you?" "no, no, i'm not letting you back down until you beg, diamond. tell me how badly you want me to fuck your pussy with my tongue...hm. good enough."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter this work

[jvzebel-x]

🦋