#there is nothing in the world i wished i had more than a smaller/rounder nose

[irrevocably-delicious]

Hey what’s up, that HTTYD 3 poster got me fucked up

So this official poster has been released for How To Train Your Dragon 3 and it has left me with... opinions. 

My first initial reaction was excitement! Oh hell yeah HTTYD 3 is coming out! I adored the first two! But then i saw...

SIIIIIGGGGGGGHHHHHHH I knew immediately that this was most likely a female night fury and fuck yeah shit fuck it is which is so disappointing. I could write a huge essay on how female characters are portrayed in media. I could write a massive blog about smurfette syndrome and how female characters are always just a pink, soft version of their male counterparts, or how female animal or anthro characters still have to fall into society’s beauty standards so we do crazy things like give ducks tits or large eyelashes. 

I COULD talk about why these things occur, and how this is a worrying reflection of how society views human females, that males are the default and females are the other... but I’m not going to do that TODAY.

Hi my name is India and not only do I have an animation degree, but I also have a degree in animal and veterinary science.

This design doesn’t just insult me as an animator. This design insults me as a scientist. 

Let’s begin. 

So if you asked me to design a female night fury for the poster, this is what I would have come up with:

Because from a superficial perspective? I would not expect that there would be an obvious difference between males and females. Night fury’s obviously take a lot of design influence from axolotls, who you can only sex by examining their cloacas. Many species of lizards must also have their sexual organs examined for reliable sexing, because colour and size variation in many species are not a reliable way to tell the difference between males and females. 

Someone paint this girl’s nails pink! Otherwise HOW WILL I KNOW?

But I digress that sexual dimorphism exists, and from an animation perspective, you need variation in the character design so people can tell your characters apart. Kids need to want BOTH toys goddamit.

Sexual dimorphism is most obvious and famous in many bird species. In birds of prey, particularly your fast birds of prey such as raptors, your females will be much larger than males. Colour variation in birds (and some reptiles) also occurs. But it is the MALE that is the most colourful and “beautiful” in order to attract their mate. Females are often shades of grey/brown and definitely not a colour that would make them an easy target in their environment.

The female peahen is a basic bitch.

So keeping these size variations and natural colour variations in mind, here’s another suggestion I might offer:

She’s larger! She’s a different colour! Toothless is the sleek, deep black almost blue colour, while she is more in that grey/brown area. I can totally tell the difference.

“But India!” I hear your protests. “Why can’t she be white?! You can have dramatically different coloured male and females in the natural world. Have you heard of eclectus parrots?”

And I would say “Yes! Yes I obviously fucking have! Of course I have heard of the eclectus parrots, who when they were first discovered, people thought they were two different species and kept wondering why they weren’t breeding when they put all the green parrots together and all the red ones together. I’ve course of fucking heard of eclectus parrots you wet petri dish!”

But here’s the thing about eclectus parrots. They live in the rainforest, so while they are different colours, there is still an element of camouflage to this colouring. The female blends into the green treetops and the male looks a lot like a delicious fruit. 

A white night fury... just doesn’t make sense? Judging by when we first meet toothless, and my bullshit knowledge of fictional dragon behaviour, it’s fair to assume that night furys hunt at night. Toothless is so dark that he is almost impossible to see in the night sky. This is where the tension comes from when Hiccup first encounters the night fury. He just sees blue flame and not the dragon itself, because it is so difficult to make him out against the dark sky. 

This female night fury would be shot down so quick. She would stick out terribly at night. She wouldn’t catch shit. All the sheep in the field would be like “Oh fuck, I can see Phyllis two miles away. We all better shuffle into the barn.” There’s a reason albino animals are so rare in the wild. They just stick out too much and often get eaten. 

“But what if female’s hunt during the day? Wouldn’t being white help them blend in with clouds and the bright sky?” 

THEN WHEN WOULD THEY FUCK? Would males and females just pass each other at sunset like fated star lovers? That’s stupid. That doesn’t make sense. This isn’t Ladyhawke. 

But I’ll humour you. Yes, yes, we see white birds all the time. And you’re right! That white belly really helps them blend in with the clouds and bright sky. 

But they’re not all white. Especially birds that have to hunt or eat on the wing. We see this kind of patterning a lot of sea birds. Their bellies are white, but the tops of their wings are dark grey/brown. This is so when they nest, or are maybe viewed by a LARGER bird from above, they will blend in with the land or ocean below. White against a deep blue ocean really stands out... But dark grey? Not so much. 

“But Indiiiiiaaaa” some protests again like an absolute idiot who is about to be slapped out of their ignorance. 

“Night Furys are so fast that nothing could possibly catch them! They don’t have to worry about camouflaging to avoid predators!”

Alright Dumbass McBitch! Do you know what the fastest bird in the world is?

It’s the peregrine falcon. GUESS WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE?

WHITE BELLY. DARK TOP. 

The peregrine falcon is actually probably a decent comparison to the fictional night fury actually. Small in size, bird of prey, HORRIFICALLY FAST. But they have this sort of colouring for similar reasons. The dark colouring isn’t just camouflage during flight. It also helps them blend into their environment when they are nesting. 

SO IF YOU SOMEHOW CONVINCED ME THAT NIGHT FURYS ARE ALSO ACTIVE DURING THE DAY I COULD CONCEDE A DESIGN LIKE THIS:

But it’s not just colour. It’s not just size. There are other things that worry me about the female night fury’s design. The first is that she seems to have fewer of those... antennae things? And the few she has are much shorter. We’ve seen Toothless use these and they seem to be similar to a cat’s whiskers in their sensory role. So why on earth would she have less? And they be much shorter? SHE NEEDS THOSE! Without them, she may have difficulty flying, orienting herself in the air or feeling the winds she will have to combat. The designers are trying to feminise her by making her seem sleeker and rounder... which functionally makes no sense... why not do the opposite? Giver her really long antennae! Have them constantly moving in the wind!

The other thing that I immediately noticed was how SMOOTH she looks. They took away almost all of her scales. And again... doesn’t she need those for protection? This is so odd to me because it feels like they’ve removed her scales in the same way that pin up artists never draw body hair. Body hair is seen as unsightly on women, so artists remove it, leaving their subjects smooth and shining.

Do... do the dreamworks designers think the scales are unsightly? Have they waxed this dragon? And replaced her scales with body glitter??? Guys.... guys...

Whyyyyyy

Also they made her nose a lot shorter? That’s stupid. Don’t do that. 

Which one’s the girl?? Their noses are the same length so I can’t tell. 

So I can actually greatly improve the original design by just remedying these things.

Oh yeah I made her claws bigger??? BECAUSE THEY FUCKING MADE HER CLAWS SMALLER. 

But already I’m like... less pissed at it. Like “Aw yeah it’s still white, but at least they didn’t mess with much else.”

I think in a perfect world they would have given me something like this:

BUT! They did not.

And I’m not complaining just for the sake of complaining. I promise. This poster irritated me so much because HTTYD over the past 2 movies has had some stellar design. ESPECIALLY with it’s female characters. Astrid and Ruffnut are such courageous designs to me, because they’re not your classically beautiful disney knock off. Ruffnut is harsh looking. She has angles. She makes gross faces. These are all privileges that have traditionally been reserved for villains or men. Astrid is introduced in the first film like she’s some incredibly beautiful bombshell... but she really looks like a little girl. She’s kind of scrawny. She has only the smallest hint of a bust. She has a weak chin and her ears stick out, but it doesn’t matter because Hiccup thinks she is stunning.

Catch this chin in a disney movie. It will never happen.

We’ve even seen excellent female dragon designs! But we weren’t even aware that they were females because it’s not plot relevant, but they were not obviously coded. They just looked like sweet dragons!

Stormfly is a girl. You can tell by how much glitter in on her body and her short, rounded spikes. 

I just wish the HTTYD designers took more risk with the female nightfury design. The design they came up with is lazy, predictable, functionally incorrect and... kinda sexist honestly. I will still see this movie. I will still marvel at all the other wonderful designs, but this has left a bad taste in my mouth. 

From now on I hope to see more female characters that look like Sadie from Mouseguard

And less like ... this fucking shit

Not even Bambi is free from my wrath. 

[himluv]

Dreamer

Solas makes good on his offer to help Riallan with her nightmares after Redcliffe.

Solas balanced the tray in one hand and knocked on the door with the other. It was late and the majority of Haven had resigned to their beds. The Breach was a disconcerting glow above them, turning the snow to a shimmering green sea. Beyond the chatter and cheer of the tavern, only Varric stood vigil at his fire; they’d nodded to one another as Solas passed him but said nothing.

The door opened and Riallan gestured him into the small house that had been reserved for her use. Solas had not been inside the building since she recovered from stabilizing the Breach after the Conclave. With one look around the room it was clear to him that she hardly used it. Aside from the slight rumple of the bed covers, the house was pristine.

“You brought tea?” She asked, taking the tray from him to set it on the small table beside the bed. She wore tan leggings with a loose white tunic and her bare feet were silent on the floorboards. Solas realized he’d never seen her so casual, so vulnerable, and instantly felt that he’d made a mistake. This was too invasive, too intimate, seeing her in her quarters in the middle of the night.

But he couldn’t rescind his offer without complicating matters even more.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “In case you needed help falling asleep,” he said.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said as she poured a cup. She raised a dark brow and held the cup out to him.

He declined her offer with a short shake of his head. “Thank you, but I can slip into the Fade without it.” He sank onto the rug in the center of the room to sit cross-legged facing her.

Riallan sat on the edge of the bed, the cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands. “What do I do now?”

He smiled at her nervousness. “Enjoy the tea and try to relax. Perform any of your usual bedtime rituals if you haven’t already, and once you fall asleep I will find you in the Fade.”

“How?” Her face was full of sheepish wonder, as if the need for an answer had outdone her bashfulness.

He considered the question. “Every mage has a unique resonance to their power.” He tilted his head. “Have you noticed that?” In Arlathan the air had thrummed with power, clashing and mingling like voices in a market square. But, not every mage in this time had a strong enough connection to the Fade to recognize the subtleties of those resonances.

She nodded. “It’s like a signature, but I can only feel it on strong castings.”

“Exactly,” he said. “As a Dreamer, when I walk the Fade I can sense those signatures. It is a simple enough matter to find yours.”

She looked down at her tea. “What does my magic feel like?”

“Like a summer storm.” The words were automatic. Of all their mage companions, Riallan’s power was the most distinct to him. Whether that was a side effect of her carrying the anchor, he was uncertain, but he knew her magic well. “Like thunderclouds and the threat of rain. In the Fade it will be even stronger.”

She didn’t look up from her cup, but he noticed her blush all the same. “Yours is like snow,” she said. “I can’t explain it, but that snow smell? The clean, nothingness of it? That’s what I feel every time you cast a barrier over me.”

He stared for a moment, surprised. He had not expected her to sense his power. Perhaps the anchor linked them in some way after all? She took a sip of her tea as he considered the possibilities, then shook himself from his wonderings.

“You should sleep, lethallan.”

She nodded, set the cup on the tray, and slipped under the covers. “Will I know when you’ve found me?”

He stretched out on the rug, preparing to sink into the comforts of the Fade. “Not if I’m careful,” He said. Solas gestured with one hand, dousing the candles and sinking the room into darkness.

“Oh,” she said. The word fell flat and heavy with disappointment.

“On nydha, Riallan.” Her name felt foreign on his lips. He was used to referring to her as the Herald, Lavellan, or even da’len. But there, in her room, sheltered in the dark, it felt wrong to call her anything else.

“On nydha, Solas,” she whispered, the Fade already coming to claim her.

He listened to her breathe, the darkness making the room feel even smaller, until he felt certain she was asleep. Journeying into the Fade was second nature to him. Before the Conclave he’d spent more time in the Beyond than he had in the real world. It was easier for him there. Easier to pretend that Arlathan had flourished after he’d sealed the Evanuris away. Easier to relive memories he’d give anything to experience again.

He opened his eyes and took in the scene of the little house that now belonged to the Inquisition’s Herald. A small family of humans knelt in a circle, praying. It sounded familiar enough that he recognized them as Andrastians, but their dark clothing and the dissonant quality of their voices rippling through the Fade left him feeling unsettled. Not all memories were worth remembering.

He moved on from the scene, searching for the electric hum of Riallan’s magic. With their physical proximity, he wouldn’t have to search for long. He felt a jolt of power and smelled the acrid tang of ozone, and then he heard her scream.

The nightmare had come quickly.

He stepped through the Fade and into her dream, then froze. Solas recognized the grey stone walls of Redcliffe castle, but this was not how he remembered them. Red Lyrium grew wild throughout the hall, sprouting like weeds from between cracks in the stone. Above him, through the crumbled ceiling, he saw the Breach, throbbing and swirling in unbridled fury.

He vaguely recognized sounds of battle, and turned away from the Breach to see Riallan hurtling spell after spell at lyrium-crazed Templars. She was drenched in sweat, her eyes wide in panic, but her mouth was set in a vicious, determined snarl.

This was what she’d faced? This was the dark future that haunted her every step since Redcliffe?

“Solas!”

He spun, for a moment convinced that she’d somehow spotted him, but then he saw what made her cry out his name. The door at the end of the hall had burst open, permitting a horde of darkspawn into the chamber. At their feet was his limp body, covered in red lyrium, corrupted red eyes staring out from his face.

“Enough,” he snarled, and bent the Fade to his will. His intent would be enough to guide the dream into something of her creation. Something familiar and soothing, that would be as a balm to her damaged psyche.

He watched as the cursed Redcliffe castle melted away to be replaced by a meadow ringed by tall spruce trees. It was warm and a little humid, but the breeze felt nice against his skin. Riallan kneeled beside a creek, washing her hands.

She was younger in this dream, thinner, with long hair braided down her back.

“Riallan!” A voice, weathered but strong, called across the meadow. She turned to look at the speaker, and Solas saw that she didn’t yet have her vallaslin. She was so young, all willowy limbs, still awkward as a fawn. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed this glimpse of her life before the Conclave.

“Coming, maela!” She wiped her hands on her pants and headed toward the center of the meadow. As she did the camp billowed into sight, as if through a fog. A dozen aravels sprawled across the glen, Dalish appearing to stand at their sides or walk through the camp. She smiled and waved at almost all of them, but reserved her biggest grin for the old woman who sat at a small fire at the center of the camp.

“There you are, ma’dirthalen.” She waved for Riallan to sit. “Come, sit. We have much to discuss.” By her robes and the ornate staff cradled against her shoulder, he could guess that this was the Keeper of the Lavellan clan. If memory served, Riallan said her name was Deshanna.

What she hadn’t mentioned was that the Keeper was her grandmother. But he couldn’t deny the resemblance. They shared wide green eyes that saw everything and delicate, arrow-straight noses. Deshanna’s lips were thinner and her jaw rounder, the lines of her face heightened by the large, branching arcs of Mythal’s vallaslin.

“What are we learning today, hahren?” Riallan eagerly sat at her grandmother’s feet.

“We are learning who you are, and who you want to be.” She lit a long, hand-carved pipe with a snap of her fingers and took long puffs.

Riallan didn’t understand, at least not at first. Then her brow lifted and her eyes shone with excitement. “I’m picking my vallaslin?”

Deshanna nodded. “You must choose carefully, da’len. This is not just adornment, but a commitment. A promise to the Creators that you would walk the world in their honor.”

Solas’ nose crinkled at that. How wrong these people were, how lost. They bore these markings in honor of false gods, received them as a testament to their determination and devotion. When all the Evanuris would see was property. It made his stomach churn.

But the young Riallan’s face bore nothing but pride and hope as she set to considering which of her Creators she would choose. He, of course, already knew the answer. Mere feet away from him in the physical world, Riallan slept, her face marked for Dirthamen.

He had seen enough, more than he should have. It was improper of him to linger in her private thoughts now that he’d banished the nightmares. He took one last look at her face, free of any ink, and wished he could convince her not to go through with the ritual.

But this was just a dream, pieces of memory stitched together to give her a reprieve from the horrors of her waking life. He would leave her to it.

He could have awoken, left the house and Riallan to her dreams and returned to his own little hut. But, he was already asleep, and there were wonders yet to discover in Haven’s memories. So he spent the hours in the Fade, with his senses tuned to the storm magic, just in case the nightmares returned.

“Solas?” Her voice was soft, as if she hoped not to wake him, but felt she ought to try.

He opened his eyes to see her standing over him, her face illuminated by a single candle. The Fade still clung to him, and before he could stop himself the question tumbled out. “Why did you choose Dirthamen?”

She blinked, then frowned as she took a step back from him. “You saw my dream.”

He sat up. “I did not intend to,” he said. “And I did not linger.” When she didn’t speak he feared he’d crossed some boundary. “Ir abelas, lethallan.”

She shook her head. “Don’t. I asked for your help and it worked. If I had any nightmares, I don’t remember them.”

He smiled and stood. “I am glad I could help.” He looked out the window and saw the barest tinge of pale blue on the horizon. “I should go,” he said. “Before others awake and begin to talk.”

She scoffed. “Let them talk,” she said. “I’m not some Chantry Sister to be locked away in a tower.” Riallan stopped, realized what she said, and blushed.

Solas chuckled. “I did not think you were, but you should take care with your reputation. Think of how the world would react if it thought the Herald of Andraste had taken an elven apostate to her bed.”

She cleared her throat, but didn’t look at him. “I see your point.” She sighed, crossing her arms and leaning against the footboard of her bed. “But even if they did think that, I wouldn’t mind.”

He froze, convinced he must have misheard her. Or that she misspoke, not realizing what she said. He stared at her, and the longer his gaze lingered, the brighter her face turned red.

She knew exactly what she’d said.

Despite himself, he felt the tips of his ears burn. He needed to change the subject, now. “You never answered my question. About your vallaslin.”

When she finally looked up at him, there was a tiny smirk on her lips. She saw his change in subject for what it was: evasion. “I didn’t, did I?” She walked him to the door, and the frigid air was a relief. It cleared his mind and banished the heat that had climbed to his cheeks.

“Perhaps the answer awaits you in the Fade,” she said as he stepped out into the cold.

He looked at her once more, taking in the pink of her cheeks and the mischievous glint in her eyes. He hummed, pretending to muse over her words. “Perhaps,” he said and turned to let the Herald to watch him leave.

[cummunication]

You’re not “doing it for yourself”; why I don’t support cosmetic surgery

"I'm doing it for myself, not anyone else" is a transparent excuse. Unpopular opinion: I don’t respect women’s choice to get plastic surgery as I think it is selfish and vain. I’ll admit I’m not a fan of cosmetic surgery. I’ll also admit there were many points when I was younger, and still are, where I wish I had the money to get a nose job, Botox injections, fuller lips, a butt job and a boob job. In today’s day and age, the choices are endless. Of course there are times (mostly due to societal pressure) where I’d like to change my appearance to conform to the demands of culture. But I have enough common sense and respect for my fellow sisters to realize that, by changing my appearance to look like everyone else and give into patriarchal pressure to stay “young and thin forever” and look like a Barbie doll, I am doing a disservice to other women. There’s also the fact that by women hindering their appearance to keep up with Instagram models, men too, start believing something is wrong with girls who have cellulite and don’t look like porn stars. Let me make something clear; I don’t believe there’s anything wrong in investing time and money into your appearance; especially if you got into an accident, have a disformity or just had a baby. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to have confidence and feel good about ourselves; however, 99% of those who get cosmetic surgery, do it for others and not themselves. You see, if big butts and boobs weren’t “in” then almost nobody would be getting their tits and ass modified. If large lips weren’t the latest trend, why would people spend hundreds of dollars every few months to get lip injections? My point is, they wouldn’t. They do it to conform to society’s pressure on women to always be sexy and please men. Women are so conditioned and brain washed these days to always stay “fuckable”. Anyone who spends that much money and tries so hard just to receive attention from the opposite sex is extremely insecure (which is a huge turn off). In other words, if you were on a deserted island with no mirrors you would never think twice to get eyelash extensions or laser hair removal. From my experience, people believe that by getting liposuction, Botox etc. that will make them more attractive which in turn, will make them happier. This is simply not true and all an illusion. I used to believe this also (so I’m not judging) and sometimes I still am convinced that if only I was shorter, skinnier etc. I would have a better life. Although it is true that attractive people do have more perks in life than unattractive people (unfortunately), it starts to become this moving target you will never hit. Once we get the eyelash extensions, then we are “too pale” so we need the spray tan. Once we get the fake nails then we need the long hair so we get hair extensions. It’s never enough and you are never satisfied with what you have. I’m not saying everyone that spends money on nails, makeup etc. is stupid; it’s normal to want to pamper and doll yourself up at times but once we all start trying to look like or be someone we’re not, we’re setting a bad example for other girls who don’t look the same way (especially the younger generation). If everyone starts getting butt implants then the people with normal or smaller sized bootys think somethings wrong with them so they to need to change since they don’t look like girls online without realizing those girls normally don’t look that way and felt the same. When we as women start changing ourselves we set a bad example and start a downwards spiral for other women because then they too start thinking they should conform. Not only is plastic/cosmetic surgery pricey and painful, it can also be dangerous. We are risking our health for short term gratification without giving any attention to how it will/could affect us in the long run.

“The most common complaints after plastic surgery include nausea, vomiting, headaches and prolonged pain. Inflammation will also occur around the area where the surgical procedure is performed. Extreme blood loss is an indication of something wrong during surgery. Studies have shown that people report increased satisfaction with the body part they had surgery on, but results are mixed on whether plastic surgery boosts their self-esteem, quality of life, self-confidence and interpersonal relationships in the long term. Plastic surgery has been linked in the past to depression, even suicide”. Many people can also become addicted to the instant gratification the modifications may provide. “Plastic surgery addiction is a behavioral addiction characterized by psychological compulsions to continuously alter one's appearance with cosmetic surgery. The amount of body positivity in the millennial generation is generally much higher than it has been in past generations. Millennials tend to be more accepting and open-minded. We are sometimes so accepting that we unintentionally encourage harmful behaviors. More than one of the girls mentioned that plastic surgery can be a “feminist act” because it’s “all about your body and making yourself feel better.” I think this is simply a false statement. Going so far as to spend thousands of dollars to make the tip of your nose smaller or your breasts rounder is a direct plea to society to make them love you. These girls say they’re doing it for themselves, but they go on to talk about how often they were bullied as kids because of the size of their nose, or how worried they are about what people might assume or say about their stretch marks. No amount of body positivity can cover up what they did because they hated something about themselves.” If we all just accepted ourselves as we are and didn’t spend so much time or energy trying to fix ourselves to please others then the cosmetic industry wouldn’t be profiting so much. We’d take our power back and as women could start using all that energy, time and money to actually make a difference in the world.