#so there was no real necessity

[untitledgoosegay]

re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"

this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?

some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.

take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.

and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.

people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.

that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Honestly Singed is just the dinosaur cancer meme guy if he was in denial. “Yes I want to make this man into a steampunk werewolf cyborg for….cancer research. I replaced his hands with knives out of love for my daughter. I’m gonna set him on a prison so I can see how cool it is when he cuts through them like a knife through butter I mean as a test. For…..healing? Yeah, healing. All for science.”

[cent-scratchnsniff]

something bad did indeed happen to that man. spent abt 25 minutes trying to find a better picture of that one (1) offical piece with his eyes open that wasnt compressed or tiny

[fernlessbastard]

ok hot take. we all hate capitalists. I know. I do too. I really, REALLY hate capitalists.

that being said C!Quackity is the definition of a capitalist. like in a fully "I made the money, I deserve it because I took the risks." "its not my fault that some people dont work as hard as I do." "las nevadas is a company, the only government is the corporation which Quackity owns." way.

he is sat RIGHT at the bottom right corner on the political compass, and he is not budging. obviously, thats not to say hes a homophobe or a racist or generally a bigot, but hes very much a land hoarding, greedy, individualistic, profiteer type guy.

him and wilbur have gotten into several arguments about this, as with pretty much all of the ways Quackity runs his goverment, and shots have been FIRED.

I think the main argument from wilbur would be: "was it your fault that you were homeless after you ran from schlatt? do you really belive that youre the only person who has ever needed to run from financial abuse?" and "if it hadn't been for my policies about taking in all we can feed, then you would have starved to death in the woods. according to your philosophy I should have told you to piss off because you wernt profitable."

and then quackity responding with: "you change your ideology like youre a kid playing dressup, dont act like youre better than me because you woke up and decided that being a marxist suited your situation best, you just want something to argue about." and "you only took me in BECAUSE I was profitable. maybe not through labour but you would have used me as a bargaining chip any day of the week."

anyways, they've both been heads of state and both of them are well versed in political science and economics, which leads to both some very fun conversations and some less fun arguments. (wilbur might enjoy it a little)

ok so yes I agree with that take in the context of the smp, but it's also important to point out that minecraft "capitalism" is what those capitalists who want to convince you it's good claim capitalism to be. Food is abundant, shelter has little requirements to be functional, you can literally just dig a little into a hill and you're set, and then make a farm from things you can find anywhere. Anyone can mine, anyone has access to anywhere that isn't already someone's exact base, food is easily accessible and renewable, etc etc.

What Quackity's doing is he's actually providing a luxury service which isn't at all necessary. And Las Nevadas deserves to earn a profit from people using its facilities, cause they've been carefully and deliberately made to provide entertainment. Quackity doesn't have monopoly on food, shelter, land, resources, etc. Anyone could make their own small version of LN if they had the want and time to. So it isn't fair putting cQuackity in the same box as idfk bezos or musk, cause in cQ's case it's deserved, earned, and not a monopoly that causes everyone but him to suffer. Translating that into real life is just simply much more difficult than taking it at face value

As a sidenote I think that while Quackity is like that on the outside, he still wouldn't ignore someone needing help. Like, he's definitely got that built up resentment of "I had to work for all of this so hard, I've gotten through so many hardships. Why should someone else have it easier??" but then when the push comes to shove he's still end up helping, even if just a little bit.

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

I do not think evangelizing on the double standard of women being expected to wear makeup everyday to grown women is actually productive or respectful (provided they are not judging me for not wearing makeup), we can all make our own decisions on how to walk through this world, however, it is true that whenever a woman in my daily life equates making themselves decent and presentable with having a coat of natural makeup on, I do have to viscerally repress the urge to shake them by the shoulders and scream that they've been had.

[someobscurereference]

Insane over the awakening trio again. We fought a war together, saved each other multiple times, and I know for a fact I can trust you with my life. We have never learned to socialize normally so we can't interact in a normal environment for five seconds without dunking on each other. I would follow you through time and space and abandon everything with you. You are the living reminder of every awful thing that have ever happened to me. Our traumas make us hurt each other at every turn. We're the only ones who know what lead to each other becoming Like That. Our jobs are barely in the same area and we don't even hang out that much outside of necessities. You are all I have left. I cannot fucking understand you. I am the only one in this entire world who has the ability to even try to.

x

[frogaroundandfindout]

“Jason was right about one thing Alfred. I let this happen to Gotham. It falls on me now. I didn’t work hard enough. Or fact enough or—”

“I’ve tried to be him before Alfred. And I failed. I didn’t like what I’d become.”

“An honest mistake. No one can be him. But someone can represent what he stood for. The ideals that made Batman—Justice, consequence, and iron clad resolve to protect. And there is none other that has the wherewithal to uphold those ideals better than you Richard Grayson.”

Dick blames himself for Damian getting shot by Jason and Gotham going to hell. He has a responsibility to both now and he failed to protect them. With Alfred’s support, he decides to take on the cowl but finds a suit missing and a note from Tim in its place. Battle for the Cowl #2

[whatudottu]

What better way to practice new prosthetics then to piss of the bitch that got you to need them in the first place!

In other news, my pirate ocs Gali and Ido (with a third Meridi not present) who are the two sides of the fulmini cult escapees :P

A bit of backstory under the cut since they're the only fuckers I have WITH a backstory! Which btw does detail cult shit so :P big fat warning for that-

The inciting incident on Petropia that introduced it's modern underground population to the surface named the Surface Craze was in all due part because of fulmini interference at the behest of the High Override, who saw what was initially just a planet entirely made of quartz-like crystal the Override Fleet could use as a power source. Having instead found that the planet was not only populated but by a species of the living variant of that same quartz-like material - electrical properties and all - but that additionally they can regenerate their crystalline body so long as they have the energy to pull from.

Seeing this as a solution to the fulmini's energy crisis - a perpetual machine at it's finest - the High Override sought to heh... acquire some petrosapiens for themselves. To their collective benefit, a community of petrosapiens had found their faith and world shattered, previously having been extremely devoted to the Sugi religion (derived from the ancient texts of Thuugi back when their tongues were long enough to be bitten off). Instead of needing to drag away dissenters who fought tooth and nail against the invaders, this community had already shifted their faith onto the false prophet of the High Override, which already had them fall into the Coupled Override head over heels.

The cult has now expanded it's pool of prey, and like the unwilling fulmini who gives the High Override their tithe (their minds, their central colony), the petrosapien cultists pay with their arms.

50 years (or the closest equivalent) into this arrangement, 50 years Petropia spent experiencing the surface for the first time in generations, Ido was born into the cult far away from the planet she should have known as home. Any doctor worth their salt had enough brains and stubbornness to not fall into faith-based trust of the Coupled Override, so between the lack of those and the remainder pseudoscience physicians left to echo chamber themselves, when Ido began developing Excessive Compression Disorder (ECD, a nerve-equivalent disorder that causes tension fractures throughout a petrosapien's crystalline structure) despite the rather obvious visible signed she went undiagnosed and improperly treated. At the age of 200 - a petrosapien's coming of age, and 50 years after Petropia's destruction - it was Ido's time to pay her tithe and begin her offerings to the High Override.

Gali - her sacrifricant - was to sever her arms below the elbow, as was procedure. What wasn't was the near explosive response from external pressure, or the last compressive force needed to completely shatter what had already started to break.

Cutting people's arms off is technically already a violent act however, though the lower arms survived the procedure as expected, the elbow and even upper arm had scattered shards of glass-fragile crystal in a visceral radius and physically severed through the sacrificant's central colony; then Gali was abruptly severed from the High Override after they felt as if a limb began necrotising. Sacrificants nor executioners really need an active memory to do their jobs, so Gali didn't need to have memory for however long their colony was one with the High Override's. Forcefully amputated from the larger system like an infection without any of the memories of being apart of said system however, kind of rewinds a colony back to the people they remember being long before any interference.

While Ido was caught staring wide-eyed, fearful, and newly lacking the limbs she thought she could regenerate easily - her arms try and try but they shatter like glass, crumble like sand, and she violently shudders like gravel grinding into each other - Gali regained access of their long unused senses and found a sea of hostile enemy combatants staring back. With all the training of a military general with none of the present self-awareness to realise they were the cause of the currently very panicky rock's lack of arms, Gali almost like a flick of a switch reverted to the many rules of engagement regardless of the fact that they were sporting exposed central colony that may or may not have been another's with their own collection of memories.

Seeing to rescue someone who had all their rights to fear them, Gali and Ido fled to the stars.

With a few language barriers mixed with someones learning they haven't spoken much longer then anyone thought they did, discovering how planets that were meant to be each other's home have been destroyed and irrecoverable, and learning the before and after to the horror story that is the High Override and their cultist network of external nerves and collective colony, Gali and Ido may or may not have gotten arrested :P

And they probably would have been tried for crimes neither of them could particularly understand not having learnt any of the common universal languages, up until the point the prison ship was raided by a collective of pirates only working together for equal cuts of the profits (the Plumbers used a prison ship to transport the Annihilargh while they still thought it to be a threat, what's to say they wouldn't simultaneaously transport prisoners - aka, the fucking point - with some high sought-after McGuffin). The pair would meet Meridi, a galvan with a penchant for mechanics and especially the kind that deceives an observer like - for instance - an android suit.

Meridi isn't here but gist is, she pilots both her own ship and an android resembling a human, and spies a pretty prize of walking talking taydenite. Instead of scoring a deal, she takes into consideration (perhaps with a cold calculation rather than a warm sympathy) the condition of ECD affected crystals and how much effort it would take to actually refine it and deems turning Ido into pocket change isn't worth it. In fact, further taking note of the explosive volatile footwork of crystallokinesis with the additional muscle of a fulmini veteran, actively helping Ido (and Gali by proxy) would potentially turn out more of a profit.

Gali isn't in dire need for hiding, but Ido uses shadow and a human-mouth jaw mask as tools to conceal what price her skin costs, while Meridi attempts to make prosthetics for a species that doesn't have nerves that also takes into account the unstable electrical currents produced by the compression of crystalline motor functions.

A bit of a tangent in a very long not-even-bothering-to-summarize backstory, I want to talk about petrosapien prosthetics, at least ones that can have 'motors' like Ido's arms (not like Chio's leg). With no external muscles to help strap in and extend the remnant of tendons humans have running through limbs, petrosapien exoskeletons do not offer the same interconnectivity and do not have easy ways to extend what had been cut off. Myoelectric limbs again by human standards also do not fit petrosapien nervous systems either, especially since the only nerves they have are in their equivalent of the central nervous system which also interacts with internal organs, the peripheral nervous system of a petrosapien operates with the highly structured yet individually unique non-standardised crystalline formations and compression. What Meridi does however is take material from Ido's crystal to create the joints in a conductive copper rod prosthetic (insulated in rubber to prevent harm to others), where Ido's compression triggers electricity to run down to remotely compress the crystal joints, which compress under the pressures of electricity and send the signal to be compressed again until motility is achieved.

And that is a lot of context :P woops- I either make no backstory or I make this convoluted piece of moving puzzle pieces, the duality of man I suppose :P

[cave-monkey]

A fic!

Summary: It's Stone Monkey's first night with his new troop. Except the troop doesn't see how this is their problem. Alternatively: The Six-Eared Macaque teaches the Little Stone Monkey how to build a nest. Some things are more than instinct; some things require a little care.

[1eeminho]

....conservative and right wing parties got the most votes today in germany i feel so so sick where tf are we going how could it come to this

[dennisboobs]

Dennis says the L word

[problemnyatic]

my favorite thing tumblr does is and forever will be someone showing up on a post or in someone's askbox like "You like the fictional character? Even though they killed all those people? Innocents are dead because of them you sick fuck" Like i don't know how to explain to you that none of that actually happened. Yeah the idea of something like that is horrifying; fiction is a place where we can imagine good things and also bad things and think about the implications. Because by definition it is not real.

[theboombutton]

Just finished The Silt Verses episode 41 and am now inconsolable at 3 in the morning with work in 6 hours. Yes I know better than to listen to The Silt Verses at bedtime, but the dark and the quiet and the lure of a new episode got to me.

And there's another one waiting. I can't afford another hour of wakefulness that might bring me to meltdown again. I am weak, but also exhausted. I think I can force myself to save it.

The thing is, it's not even the deaths that got to me. It's the millennia of lonely hungry suffering; and the hope of kindness, and a friendly face making the signs of their private languages, long forgotten. To remind them, even after all the centuries, that they were once loved.

I'm gonna have a pickle and some water before I give myself a cry hangover.

[b4kuch1n]

Hello! As you guys have seen, I’ve been figuring out the dip pens recently for a project, and I’d love to draw a guy of your choice as practice!

Head Over Here (Or Input The Link In The Picture Above) To Get A Slot

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UPDATE 20/06/2023: 3/3 slots filled. Thank you so much for your support, and please stay tuned for the next round!

[shadows-of-almsivi]

Mory, the notebooks you write in, do you bind them yourself? Or do you know of a good bookbinder who does? And which materials are your favorite? uwu

I do indeed bind my own journals, yes, when I've the time and materials available. It's a wonderfully meditative craft, one that was taught to me young; the Temple in Balmora never had any shortage of books needing rebinding or pilgrim's handbooks needing assembly. To this day the motions are all deep muscle-memory to me. I can't imagine how many thousands of pages my hands have laid and stitched and cut over the years...

On Vvardenfell, the tradition was to 'bind like with like'; a tome on Telvanni architecture might have its covers bound in preserved mycelium, for example. This tradition extended to the binding of holy scripture, though in a more metaphorical manner, spawning endless ecumenical debate...

Some argued that Truth was most often symbolized by water, and thus the skins and resins of dreugh ought to be used to honor the sacred truth within such writings. Others, more pedantic than I, pointed out that the sea's waters were under the purview of Sotha Sil, and that therefore fish glues like isinglass should only be used to bind books of Lord Seht's influence and studies, suggesting that the skins of cliffracers be used for the writings of Vivec so as to honor the Lord of the Middle Air. And then would come the bickering over whether utilizing such winged vermin would be a profaning insult, and perhaps some sniping over just what Mardyn suggested we glue these Homilies Of Blessed Almalexia together with if he was so smart, and some barbs about milking starlight into gluepots would get slung at Mardyn until he shut up and finished those binding boards...

The intellectual rigors of academic theology.

In Cyrodiil, when gold was plentiful, I would send for fine Nordic isinglass for my bookbinding, made from great sturgeons native to Skyrim's White River. Now, finding myself in Skyrim by the very banks of the White, I may buy the same isinglass for a pittance, but I dare not. You see, Nordic isinglass is the finest glue for bookbinding... Unless it freezes, whereupon it cracks and becomes hopelessly brittle. Look here, my journal is like a willow in Sun's Dusk: one hard frost, and the leaves start falling. I'll have to make another soon...

Hmm. Bookbinders, bookbinders... Now that's a difficult thing to answer. Here, I've only a few persons I would trust, none of them bookbinders. These are times of war, and it is child's play for any paid-off stationery clerk with an enchanter's kit to lace those cheap journals with hidden dictation enchantments for the purposes of spycraft. If you would keep your writings private, dear, it pays to remember this. All sides pay well for information.

(It's been years since I've seen any amulets or rings bearing useful enchantment-detecting properties, and even then they were perilously expensive. Don't despair, however, for a book may only be enchanted once, which can be turned to your advantage. For but a little gold (or a few rats, if you fill your own soul gems), you may have some small enchantment placed upon your new journal by any local artificer. Something cheap and inconsequential. Muffle, perhaps. It doesn't matter. If the enchantment takes, then no further enchantments may be placed upon it, and you can rest easy knowing that no spies have tainted it. If it doesn't, then you will know to burn that book immediately, or fill it with vulgar invective and waste some shadowy investigator's time.)

As for my favourite materials, oh... Fawn skin, I think, for the cover, tanned in alder-leaf and Pelletine sumach liquor in an iron pot for a year, and dressed with oil rendered from a young female badger (be wary not to get cheaper badger oil rendered from the old boars, the stench is terrible). The leather's color becomes like that of gathering storm clouds, quite beautiful. Brass for the cornerplates, engraved if I can get it. Linen laceweaver's line for the thread, of course, at least three-stranded but still quite fine, or else the spine will bulk out too far.

As for the paper, I've never had anything quite as pleasurable to write and sketch upon as this kind I found in a Khajiiti trader's stall; made from well-worn cotton rags, torn up by their children's little claws and beaten into fine little wisps, mixed in with flaxen scraps. You wouldn't imagine such fine and smooth paper could be moulded from old rags and thread-ends, but for my money there is no finer. I'd happily pass up nobleman's vellum for this, it cradles the ink so generously and never bleeds at all.

[brionysea]

love this shot. it's like mike is inviting them into his mind/game ("alright, wheeler, i think we found your hub") + max and dustin are the ones who step into frame. i am staring at the implications