#thought piece

[pencopanko]

Antisemitism and Islamophobia are very similar (if not the same), actually

So I was scrolling down the #palestine tag for any updates and important information, and I came across this:

And I think we need to sit down and talk about this.

I am a Muslim. I live in Indonesia, a country that is predominantly Muslim and a lot of Muslims here also support the Palestinian cause. Hell, even our government supports it by not only allowing Palestinian goods enter the country without fee, but also by taking in Palestinian refugees and even acknowledging the status of Palestine as a state while not having any political ties with Israel. The topic of the Palestinian tragedy has been spoon-fed to us at schools, sermons, media, etc., so your average Indonesian Muslim would at the very least be aware of the conflict while non-Muslims would hear about it from their Muslim friends or through media.

However, there is a glaring problem. One that I keep seeing way too often for my liking.

A lot of them are antisemitic as hell. The sermons I would hear sometimes demonize Jewish people. Antisemitic statements are openly said out loud on social media. Some are even Nazi supporters who would literally go to anime cons and COSPLAY as members of the Nazi party. This is not just an Indonesian Muslim problem, no, but this is a glaring issue within the global Islamic community as a whole. Today, this sense of antisemitism is usually rooted in general hatred towards the Israeli government and its actions against the people of Palestine, but antisemitism amongst Muslims are also rooted in certain interpretations of verses from the Qur'an and Hadith mentioning Jewish people and Judaism (particularly the Bani Israil), but in a way that is more ridiculing instead of life-threatening when compared to how antisemitism looks like in the Western world.

As someone who prefers to become a "bridge" between two sides in most cases, I find this situation to be concerning, to say the least. While, yes, it is important for us Muslims to support Palestine and fight against injustice, we must not forget that not every Jewish people support the Israeli government. A lot of them are even anti-Zionists who actively condemn Israel and even disagree with the existence of Israel as a state as it goes against their teachings. A lot of them are also Holocaust survivors or their descendants, so it is harmful to think for one second that Hitler's actions and policies were justified. It's just like saying that Netanyahu is right for his decision to destroy Palestine and commit war crime after war crime towards the Palestinians.

As Muslims, we also need to remember that Jewish people (the Yahudi) are considered ahli kitab, i.e. People Of The Book along with Christians (the Nasrani). The Islam I have come to know and love has no mentions of Allah allowing us to persecute them or anyone collectively for the actions of a few. While, yes, there are disagreements with our respective teachings I do not see that as an excuse to even use antisemitic slurs against Jewish people during a pro-Palestine rally, let alone support a man who was known for his acts of cruelty toward the Jewish community in WW2. They are still our siblings/cousins in faith, after all. Unless they have done active harm like stealing homes from civilians or celebrating the destruction of Palestine or supporting the Israeli government and the IOF or are members of the IOF, no Jewish people (and Christians, for that matter) must be harmed in our fight against Zionism.

Contemporary antisemitism is similar to (if not straight up being the exact same thing as) contemporary Islamophobia, if you think about it; due to the actions of a select few that has caused severe harm towards innocent people, an entire community has been a target of hate. Even when you have tried to call out the ones supporting such cruelties, you are still getting bombarded by hate speech. It's doubly worse if you're also simultaneously part of a marginalized group like BIPOC, LGBTQ+, etc. as you also get attacked on multiple sides. This is where we all need to self-reflect, practice empathy, and unlearn all of the antisemitism and unjustified hatred that we were exposed to.

So, do call out Zionism and Nazism when you see it. Call out the US government for funding this atrocity and others before it that had ALSO triggered the rise of Islamophobia. Call your reps. Go to the streets. Punch a fascist if you feel so inclined. Support your local businesses instead of pro-Israel companies.

But not at the cost of our Jewish siblings. Not at the cost of innocent Jewish people who may also be your allies. If you do that, you are no different from a MAGA cap-wearing, gun-tooting, slur-yelling Islamophobe.

That is all for now, may your watermelons taste fresh and sweet.

🍉

Salam Semangka, Penco

[pinksbrickwall]

Rain World, Dark Souls, and the Value of "Bad" Game Design

So I've finally started Dark Souls, and I'm hooked. A few annoying bits aside, I would probably consider this game to be one of my absolute favorites. And as I fell in love with the game's unique atmosphere and approach to difficulty, I couldn't help but recall back to the first time I really got into Rain World. I know it's a huge meme to label any given game as the "Dark Souls of _," but hear me out, I think I'm on to something here.

More so than a lot of the surface-level similarities, (desolate, abandoned setting, infamous difficulty, emphasis on exploration) I feel like the main trait which these two games share is that of immersing the player through fear. Bonfires/shelters are scarce in both of these games, and that combined with the games' bone crushing difficulties led to me treating everything, from the creatures to the objects to even the landscape as a potential threat. And one aspect which contributes to this fear, which I feel is understated in discussion surrounding these games, lies in their jankier moments.

These games are messy as hell, both games having multiple sections where the means of traversal almost seems like an accident as opposed to an intentional choice made by a human developer. There are multiple sections in Dark Souls which almost seem untested, Pinwheel, the entrance to The Great Hollow, and the part in Anor Londo with the archers being an especially infamous example. There's a part in Rain World where, in order to clear a bridge in the Sky Islands, you're forced to make multiple blind leaps of faith as a result of the game's fixed camera. These perfections are flawed and frustrating, sure, but I believe there's also an exhilaration to be found in traversing a world that isn't necessarily built for you. Unfairness in a game, when executed right, can create memorability; sure, a game with a linear difficulty curve may be objectively well-designed, but who can forget the experience of beating Pinwheel in three hits? Who can forget the experience of getting snagged by their first pole plant? Who can forget the first time they found out about Ash Lake?

I think what these games do better than any other game I've played is lend the player a sense of autonomy, not just from the games themselves, but also from the developers who created them. Games which prioritize the convenience of the player may be more easily accessible, but personally, I always tend to gravitate towards games in which the developers may not necessarily have my back. Though games like Rain World and Dark Souls may be frustrating at times, every mistake, discovery, and improvement you make in those games are undeniably your own, and that to me makes all the frustration worth it.

[soapdispensersalesman]

[mogai-angel]

something i never liked that i find commonly in the mogai community, and generally more radically leftist queer spaces, (though thankfully less often now) is the pressure to disclose whether or not you're "tme", or in other words, transmisogyny exempt.

it's extremely regressive to expect people to indirectly expose their agab in the name of "intersectionality". it's part of a larger trend of even those who hold more radical views on gender subconsciously upholding a gender binary. it's just a slightly more veiled way of asking someone for their agab, or as all trans people can attest to being inappropriate, asking someone what's in their pants.

is there something to be said for the unique experience of those who are both transfeminine and affected by misogyny? absolutely. however, under true intersectionality, there's something to be said about every overlapping point of an individuals identity. they're all relevant in the appropriate conversations, however trying to list every intersection you personally fall under in a social media bio is futile.

it also completely undermines the unique experience of those who don't fall into the binary of being affected by or exempt from transmisogyny. gender isn't binary, sex isn't binary, transitioning isn't binary. for example, i consider myself both transfeminine and transmasculine. am i supposed to disregard one part of my identity in favor of the other? am i supposed to disregard the ways in which ive been perceived through different stages of my life?

the tldr: you can't progress past a binary by enforcing it under other labels, and there are ways to hold conversations about transmisogyny without expecting everyone by default to disclose their relationship towards it

[todaywasamaritale]

my manif-ex-to

someday i’ll turn that into the title of a song, actually. but this is a little something i thought i would post now, before the new year, because i think it’s been unfair to myself to keep all my thoughts and feelings about love bottled up. it’s like one-sided therapy. mostly because it all came to fruition last night when i couldn’t hold it together anymore, and i’m determined to go into the new year actually having no regrets. i’ll tag it as a vent tw, but i don’t think that’s what it is, exactly. below the cut if you’re curious,,

let’s start with the big kahuna: my first relationship has forever twisted my idea of love. by forever, i hopefully don’t mean forever. my mom always told me that there was no point having a relationship in high school, that it’s taxxing and draining and it distracts you and leaves you broken when you’re supposed to be securing your future. dec 23, 2023, i didn’t listen. i started going back and forth with someone who sweet-talked his way into my life, twisting not only what i thought love was supposed to be, but who i thought i was. it was all moving far too quickly to slow down, and by the time i got a wakeup call in august of the next year, when i told him that i didn’t feel like i’d ever loved him at all, he lashed out and called me a liar. needless to say, my efforts to preserve what friendship we had left went down the drain. i ended up blocking him little more than a year after we first started talking. he went to my friends to try and turn them against me, and together, they helped me realize that his blatantly ignoring the fact that i was asexual was abusive. i compiled lists of evidence, and we went to the platform that i had met him on to get him banned, forever.

i’ll never forget that day, ever. my mom didn’t know about any of it, i was supposed to be getting my math homework done. but as the messages flew back and forth in the channel, trying to get him gone, i started shaking. i still shake whenever i think about him. he was never told about any of it, and by the next morning, the decision was final: he was gone from my life, and the lives of others he would hurt.

he was sixteen at the time.

as i draw closer to the end of the year, he’s haunted my every move. i’ve tried to be fully rid of him, and for a while i succeeded. he managed to reach out on the one platform i couldn’t block him on, and from there, everything started to crumble. there’s no closure in slamming the door on someone who’s blind and deaf to your pain.

so, i did what they all told you not to do. i reached out to my ex. i said i wanted to talk, on call, with voices. i thought that this was rather smart of me, to make sure that he didn’t get the opportunity to ghost me or to run away. he just never agreed on a time he was free. in november, i decided i would back out maturely, trying to save face and appear cool and collected, giving him my insta so he could see how far i’ve come.

you cannot lie to the devil. and ever since then, the tumult has been building up, threatening to strangle me. closure didn’t come, and if anything, i felt more foolish than before.

i went to bed last night, and the answer ironically came to me in a dream. it was a dream i’d been having for months, it seemed like a pipedream, a fool’s errand. i was texting with him without care or fear, no carefulness or maturity in sight, and i was living in it. i was finally free to not care about him anymore, to not be afraid, and to just speak my mind without trying to appear a certain way. and as i woke up, i felt like i knew what i had to do

so, i’m doing what everyone told me not to do. i’m reaching out to my ex.

there are reasons why i have to do this, even if it’s not the most right or just option. first, i have to do this to change how i approach love. i haven’t seen love the same since. quite frankly, i don’t think i deserve it. my most common thought is that anyone who knew him would see me loving again and think i just do this on the regular, that i’m a serial dater, that maybe i was the problem. that’s the most common comeback anyone who dislikes me has thrown my way: maybe your ex was right. which is hollow and empty, but it feels like there’s truth to it. i have to be honest to him and myself, because it would be unfair to continue to make myself feel like i’m making the person i’ve fallen for uncomfortable. that’s the heart of what he made me think love is, making the other person feel uncomfortable. and i can’t have that. second, i have to do this to change how i approach myself. i’m the first to claim credit and stardom, the winner’s circle, the shiniest trophy, but i’m also the first to hold blame, to hurt inwardly, and to victimize in order to protect myself. once i’m free to show him that i’m myself, flawed and beautiful, it’s like showing the world that i can be that too. and it’s not a mask or a persona, it’s real. and if i can’t be real with myself, then how am i supposed to be real for the person i’m in love with right now?

as i have seen this different kind of love bloom in my chest this year, it almost feels like i’m watching it through a window. i want to break the glass, get to the other side, and although confronting this kind of trauma is difficult, talking it out helps tremendously. for anyone in a relationship that’s draining them, you will know when it’s time to go for your own safety and mental health, and you need to just run from that. you’ll also know when it’s time to go back once you’ve healed, and you’re strong enough to face your abuser. hey, if this freshly adulted autistic gay kid with an alarming amount of ptsd can do it, then i know you can.

i want to be able to love again. courage is doing it even when you’re scared. so ends my manif-ex-to.

[zeldasgard]

Why I was frequently gone

As you might have noticed I am not as frequently active as I once was when starting posting my art online a while back. I have never stopped drawing though, just I never posted some things or posted them way later. The reason behind it was fear.

The thing is… despite claiming since forever that I don’t care anymore what people think of me and that it’s been a while I have grown past that… deep down, I do.

The truth is that it is my love for a fictional character that started my art journey. Yes guys, it is Vaati that made me pick up the pencil. I feel like this is shamed a lot, when truly anything is good to get you started on your own path. This is also why my « yumeship » or whichever you wish to call it (I am myself not fond of labels, I only find a use for them to find like minded people and even so a lot of luck is needed because of how misused some are) is so important to me and a part of who I am. This is also why I keep drawing Vaati over and over. It is what got me started but also what keeps me going. And it goes well beyond Vaati. The Minish Cap was my first Zelda game and what re-introduced my depressed self to the fantasy genre, which led to important choices in my real life.

I am still deeply scarred by some things I have been put through because of false assumptions about my character because of my love for him and reduced to a flat, one dimensional image of "if she is like xxx/, isn't comfortable with xxx then she must be yyy!!!". I have been bullied for it on social media a little while ago and deeply wounded. I am scared now that anyone getting too close to me would judge me or hurt me again for something that is… harmless. Many times I do want to show more of my person and interests but those bad experiences made me very anxious about social media and personal one on one online interactions. One big issue with social media, and not only for the topic of “loving a fictional character” is that it is so easy to judge or assume who someone is based on their feed or one façade that they decide to show about themselves. We tend to forget that there are full complex living beings behind usernames, with way more going on in their lives than the breadcrumbs of it that they post on social media. No, I am not "delulu" about Vaati, yes I have a social life and I even have so many hobbies that it would be too long to list them all. I could yap all day about metal music, Tolkien's Legendarium, astrophysics... But this is not what most here follow me for.

There are some times when I want to rebrand, forget and leave everything behind. But that would be making choices motivated by fear and I do not want that for me anymore. Not everyone out there is an unstable bully after all.

This post already went far beyond what I originally intended it to. I originally wanted to share what I had learnt, what I am learning in order to make my artworks, my inspirations and all that, but clearly some things go way beyond art itself. Also to address my social media anxiety because of the experiences I mention here, and I fear that I couldn’t do that without giving all this larger context.

I now hope that with these small tickets that I plan on sharing (although this one isn’t but shhhh), I can slowly gain back some trust in social media and humankind in general and actually take pleasure again in sharing my art with you all. I actually like Tumblr as a platform and honestly I cannot wait to post all these artworks I have been holding back on.

Peace ☮️

[drphitheguy]

Hotline Ruina and Acceptance (and a lack thereof)

I've been playing Hotline Miami 2 & Library of Ruina lately, and it's got me thinking about their similarities. Both are settings that have incredible violence, interesting characters, and they're both very gloomy and kinda depressing, though Ruina is way more dystopian. But what I've been thinking about is how these series handle death.

A bit of a warning: there will be spoilers for both Hotline Miami and Library of Ruina, as well as mentions of death.

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D A N G E R S P O I L E R S A H E A D

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In Hotline Miami 2, we see into the lives of everyone involved in the story. The Fans, Beard (Jacket's friend from the first game), Manny Pardo, Richter, and even some members of the Russian Mafia. While the gameplay is still more or less the same as the first, you realize that the people you fight and kill throughout the game also have names, aspirations, and are trying to live their lives, no matter how egregious the cost. You also learn that they're all heading to a quite literal dead end. We also learn how 50 Blessings operates (the people who spurred the assaults on the Russian Mafia.) Basically, what ultimately happens is that this cycle of violence escalates so intensely that it leads to nuclear annihilation. Every character we've ever gotten to know and see the life of gone in an instant. And do you know what I felt? Hollow...but I also felt acceptance. I came to terms with the fact that all these characters made the decisions that brought them all to that point. And there's nothing that we the player could have done to change the outcome. Now let's switch gears over to Ruina shall we?

Library of Ruina follows up after the events of Lobotomy Corporation (which you should play beforehand) We follow Angela (the Library Director) and Roland (a washed-up grade 9 fixer). Basically Angela fills Roland in on her plan to become human. Angela created the library in an effort to find "The Perfect Book" to make her human. She intends to do this by sending out invitations to certain guests so that upon their arrival she will kill them and trap them in books. So throughout the game you fight all these guests and learn about them. You may get attached to them only to realize that you have to fight them. And THIS. SUCKS. It gets even worse when you end up fighting recurring characters that appeared in Lobotomy Corporation. Ultimately after a bunch of fighting, floor realizations, and one final battle between Angela and Roland having been blinded by revenge, the two ultimately come to their senses realizing that their conquests for revenge caused so much harm to The City (which already has a whole slew of problems, but that's another can of worms.) So Angela ultimately releases the light built up in the Library, releasing everyone who has ever been trapped in a book, effectively giving them all a second chance. Now how did I feel after this? Initially ENRAGED... then relieved (woo hoo Myo gets to live! :D)

You're probably wondering what the point of any of this is. It all comes down to a question that I've been asking myself the past few months. How come I can accept everyone's death in Hotline Miami 2, but not the deaths of certain characters in Library of Ruina? Maybe it's that not everyone in Ruina dies, maybe I'm comparing apple to oranges here, or maybe it's something else. Regardless, what do you think? I'd like to hear your thoughts on this.

[trashcanmedia]

•

Michelle Moulson (she/her) - REBIRTH VOL.2

@mmade.art

Michelle makes abstract work that reflects her life experience. Growing up in rural Manitoba to a fractured family, she learned by growing up on a farm. Michelle is passionate about the environment and tries to use waste materials in her practice. She is a multi-disciplinary artist working in collage, painting, photography, Linocut, designing and digital media.

Based in Winnipeg, Manitoba

•

“I am an emotional creature and that is very much reflected in my work.”

These pieces are from a collection I’m working on reflecting my childhood. The complex emotions of pain, hate, disappointment, lack of care.

•

What adds to the Sweetness of your life?

My wonderful husband. He is beyond supportive of my artistic career. I have a health condition that keeps me home a lot and he is supportive in every way.

How are you answering the cries of the earth?

I think it’s important that if you have had a trauma or life experience, that you deal with these issues. Sexual assault is something that hits home for me and I’m working on pieces relating to that. I also constantly dig through my recycling bin for things to use in my pieces. Reusing items is my favourite.

What are you learning about seeing and being seen?

I am learning that it’s okay to accept love and praise. To really let that sink in and be accepting. I am not very good with compliments and I’m learning to accept these things more.

What supports you taking a leap into the unknown?

I have a beautiful group of art friends I met in Venice this past summer at an art school I attended. They give me the courage to do anything. Having a supportive group who understands you is key in life!

•

Trashcan Media, Michelle Moulson, Beautiful Trash for Beautiful People, vol.2 published April 1st 2024 ‘REBIRTH’

[fishyfeelingssss]

two personal pieces I made about my crippled leg;-;

still reeling from all that’s happened to me and what my future holds. but beauty still remains… and one day it may not hurt so bad:’)

[cafrinn]

intro 12/2/24

hello! i am cafrin (funny way of spelling my name which i have recently become fond of). I created this blog in order to express some of my personal thoughts and opinions. I enjoy writing think pieces and I think having a place to share them would be beneficial.

I feel like I should give an intro to who I am for those who may potentially come across my work. to get to know me. maybe psychoanalyze why I think the way I do. maybe just to feel closer to me. idfk bruh. anywayssssss

I am a woman in my 20's (sigh). learning to navigate this time has been quite interesting. in order to put an ease to some of my current battles, i wanted a hobby and i've always wanted to blog. i'd like to think that my opinion matters to someone out there, maybe its even interesting. I study philosophy which has lead me to the aspiration of becoming a philosopher. will I ever be one? who knows. a girl can only dream. i think that's part of the reason I want to start this blog. every well known writer has to start somewhere right? i am puerto rican, which may come up. i am very proud of where i come from and i think it plays a big role in my identity. i do have one of those puerto rican flags you can put on your rearview mirror afterall. stereotypical i know. what else.... uhhhhh. i deal with a fair share of mental issues that i don't feel like entirely disclosing but i think the background i have gained from dealing with them influences my perspective on the world. some things I enjoy are; yoga, emergency intercom (and their respective careers/content), sleeping, fashion, weight lifting, monkeys, feminist theory, and buddhist philosophy. I can name more things if I thought harder but i dont feel like it. i also used to be very in-tune with astrology (virgo sun, taurus moon, aqua rising). there's the potential for a million and more things to write but then again there's always the potential for a million and more things in any situation. I'll leave it at this for now. hopefully you'll get to know me through my posts. until then, I hope you find peace in something around you in the near future. thank you for reading.

xoxo, cafrin

[ballowvalence]

have you wanted me the same way i've wanted you?

-

you casually mention you'll be playing with your band at a small hideaway cafe on thursday night to the group. i say i'll try to make it. i get there so early that you haven't even set up yet. you buy me a niche cola drink and we chat about nothing. eventually its time for you to play. i sit at a table and watch and marvel, sipping my expensive coke. you are so talented and amazing. i think you are special and that you glow.

you pick me up one night in your shoddy small car and we go catch a movie. it's not good. at the end we laugh at the credits together. we talk until they run dry and the ushers come in to clean away the popcorn. i am happy. i dont know if this is a date or we're just hanging out, but im having fun with you and that's all that matters to me. you drive me back home. theres a moment, a pause. i linger. but neither of us follows through. we say our goodbyes and that seals the finale of our friendship.

years later, in a dirge of loneliness, i message you while in a different country. i ask you whether it was a date or not. i don't know what im looking for. for closure, for reassurance that i can be wanted. you dont reply until the next day. "haha" you say. "if a bear shits in a forest, does anyone hear it?" that's answer enough.

-

you split your meals with me when we go out to grab lunch. we order two different dishes and share them. i refill your drink and you refill mine. we laugh about work. making you smile is the highlight of my day. we live near each other, so we bike home from work at night. your place is closest. sometimes i stay outside talking to you there for so long that my ass goes numb on my bike seat. it doesn't matter to me, though. id stay for as long as youd want me to.

my tire is flat one night and its pouring down. you get off your bike and walk beside me as i push mine, holding an umbrella above us. we stand close so we both stay dry. i can feel my heartbeat in my ears drowning out the rain. it is just you and me, isolated against the world. we joke about how shoujo this is. when we get to your apartment, you run upstairs and pass me down your spare umbrella from the balcony. i try not to think this means anything.

you're complaining at work during break about not finding any matches on bumble. i get up the courage to ask what age range you have on, suggesting that maybe you should widen it. i just want to know if you're in the net im casting too. i switch mine to match, and that night i see your profile. you're a chronic right swiper, so i know you didn't choose me, but we match. you make a joke, "miswipe?" and i laugh, then you unmatch.

one night i dream of you. it is my breaking point. i tell you that i like you. you say "how do you know?" so i tell you. you ask what i like about you. its too long to list, but i try. you are silent. i mention i had a dream of you. you tell me you do not like me like that. i do not tell you my dream was a cottage where we lived and grew old with a cat. it is only later i realise you probably think i was talking about a sex dream.

i ask you to stop being nice to me because it is hard to stop liking you when we are friendly as we are. you say sure.

we get a new co-worker and your contract is ending soon. i learn after i move that you are dating the new employee. she is pretty, she is smart, and she is funny. it makes sense. clearly i am not any of those things you wanted.

-

you join a stream im in and we start talking. you support my endeavors and are there every stream i join. i like to hear you laugh. having you around brings me joy. you cannot see me and i cannot see you, but in the moments between, we are having fun. we listen to music late into the night, and i watch you play on a second screen while i do work. you tell me your life and i listen. it is only after i begin to like you that you say you are seeing someone and that someone knows we are friends and that's all we are.

i speak to you every day. i know what you're allergic to, what your home situation is like, how you feel about your family, your job. you share pictures of your uniform, your haircuts, your day-to-day. i hear your voice when i think of the word "yum" because you said it all the time when preparing dinner while I'd listen. i tell you my real name and you tell me yours. we are very different but alike. i wonder how obvious it is to others that i am smitten. i never will cross the line.

you tell me you broke up with her. i console you. it is poor of me, but half a month later i tell you how i feel. you say you are not ready to be in another relationship. i understand. you fade away from me like fog in the dawn.

months later i see an article about allergens of food and it reminds me of you. i send you a link. you don't respond.

-

you match me on tinder. our first coffee date starts off as a disaster. the place you chose in under renovation. we wander three blocks to find another cafe. its overpriced and burnt. you don't even order a coffee. but once we get talking, past the nerves, it feels like we've known each other for much longer than we have. i walk you to your bus stop. you decide you aren't interested in me like that. i agree. i hug you goodbye. we stay friends. after that we begin to grab coffee every now and then, and talk and laugh. you are witty and progressive and a joy to be around. but i move countries, and we fall out of touch.

years later i return home, and wonder if you're free. i miss hanging out with you. you've moved states, but would like to catch up. we start chatting online daily. you tell me what you've been up to. i share my story too. we call. we send each other songs and videos and memes and thoughts and opinions, and i begin to think we're getting closer. but i understand that we are friends.

you stop responding as much. it takes days for you to get back to me. you start rescheduling and postponing sessions where we game together. you forget several. i ask what is happening. you say your girlfriend is moving back to your city. we've spoken for six months and her name never came up.

we have a hangout sesh scheduled in december. you will ask what day and i will answer and we will agree on the time. we will talk for two hours and maybe play a game. it is almost like we are getting coffee again.

-

is it really so hard to want me how i wanted you?

[zombehattack07]

ive got weird opinions on tomtord.

i hate them but i love them. i like the idea that they both feel drawn to each other but they both suck at communicating it. but i only see them having tangible chemistry at two points; as teens-young adults, and in the far off future. i think things got too messy with them. i think they got too afraid of their own issues. i think tord lost himself for a while, and when he came back he came back wrong. tom feels like a guard dog to me in the end; matt and edd are his only anything, and he's got to keep them safe. it doesn't matter what tord used to say that made him smile, or what happy memories they've got of one another. something poisoned that comradery right before tord left, and tom needs to fight for the people and the place he clung on to in the aftermath. they can't have what they had again.

not until the future. when tord is coming to terms with the broken guy that he is, when he's finally realized the hurt he caused in his own stupid path to "saving the world", and he knows now that he's been doing it all wrong. he needs help. tom doesn't have another choice; he's worn down and he's got no where else to go. they think they're going to kill each other the longer they work together. tom thinks tord is going to blow his brains out any day now. until they share a bottle and talk and it all comes out, that's when they realize again that they're both human. they're both hurting. they're both missing the stupid, simple life they used to have and they're missing their friends. they miss themselves. that's when they can love again. and maybe they can get it right.

(not without a few fist fights. nobody's perfect.)

[pinksbrickwall]

Flowey's Final Message: Undertale's Perfect Ending

One of the best things any piece of media can do, in my opinion, is leave a lasting impression. A lot of my favorite games/movies/albums are those which, upon finishing, impel me to lay down for a while so as to process exactly what it was I just experienced. And it's so poetic that, for all its bombastic characters, fun humor, and wonderfully absurd melodrama, the moment in Undertale which stuck with me the most involved nothing but a still white sprite juxtaposed against a black screen.

Flowey's final speech is just about the most devastating final note Undertale could possibly have ended with. Upon first completing the game and falling in love with the characters and the world, there was a certain melancholy upon seeing the game finally wrap things up with an elegant bow, complete with a montage of the characters I had helped and befriended living happy lives on the surface, their respective journeys having been completed. But even despite this melancholy, I was contented by the fact that, like with every other game, I could go back and re-experience these characters' journeys any time I wished.

Only for the game, in its final moments, to shatter any sense of security I may have had with a final, desperate plea: to let these characters I had helped throughout the game live their lives in peace, to leave the game behind without ever looking back.

And herein lies the central theme of Undertale: moving on. This final moment with Flowey is perhaps the greatest final test the game could have presented to the player--not a battle or puzzle, but a moral dilemma. You've spent the beginning and ending of the game helping characters to move on from their unhealthy obsessions, Toriel and Asriel both having to let you go by the end of their respective battles. Now, in the game's final moments, you must learn to do the same thing.

No other game has ever scrambled my brain like this, exploring the inherent selfishness in resetting the progress of the characters whose lives you had claimed to value, re-experiencing their journeys like puppets strung by marionettes. So much weight is put on a mechanic which I had completely taken for granted otherwise. Would the act of resetting everything back to zero inherently cheapen your relationship with these characters? Are you able to immerse yourself so deeply into this fictional world that you're willing to never return to it again if it would mean allowing its characters to live happily? In the end, as the game so eloquently posits, the choice is up to you.

[lamentingmidna]

"Penance"

a thought piece about the chimera ant arc, another timeline aside from canon, where the King and Queen live happily, but not peacefully.

***

The small farmhouse across the field of tall yellow grass, plains mowed and raked and seeded. The soil rich in smell, coupled with the fragrance of blood. At his feet, headless bodies, blood pooling from the napes of their necks, drenching the dirt in thick red.

“You’ve been here before.”

Meruem lifted his head. A small girl—as tall as Komugi’s youngest sister, and just as stout. She wore a small orange frock that was spattered with blood. Her neck was bruised, and her hands were in the early stages of decay.

But her face was just as it was before Meruem had killed her. Her cheeks were rosy in her youth, her eyes wide, her hair cut short, just past her ears. He had almost failed to recognize her without that fear in her eyes.

He started to speak. “You’re…”

“I have no name,” she said. “You never knew it. You never will.”

Her voice did not flow with natural human inflection. It lifted on words it should not have, as though she was automated. 

Meruem looked hard at her face. “You’re not angry with me?”

“What good would it do? I am already dead.” She said, her voice was breathy, without form or assertion. She sat on the floor with her legs crossed. She did not blink. “Join me.”

The two bodies lay on either side of him as he sat. “This is a dream,” he said, “since I don’t know your name, you can’t tell me. I suppose I can’t ask you about your parents.”

“No.”

The sun shone bright and burned hot onto the dry grass. The air was thick with humidity. The wind picked up and rustled it, the sound like crumpling paper. 

“Was it just like this?” Meruem asked her, “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

“You spent the morning looking down. I did not think you noticed.”

“I did. Briefly. I imagined it was the perfect weather to hunt, but I did not think I would remember much else.”

The girl’s chin lifted to meet his eyes. “That’s not true. This is a core memory for you.”

Meruem did not say anything in response. If this was, in fact, a dream, then something within him had manifested into the child he did not know. It was something he had read about, once, an analysis of dream study. He did not know he had the ability to dream.

“I am surprised I still remember what you look like.”

The girl’s face was still. He didn’t know why he expected her to smile at that—perhaps it was something a human might find funny. 

She spoke quietly. “Do you know, Meruem, why you are seeing me again?”

His name in the mouth of an inferior was not something he had expected, but it lost its power in the voice of the dead—it was as though someone else was being addressed.

“I cannot say for sure. I can guess.” 

She did not speak, instead she waited for him to do as he suggested. 

He cleared his throat. “You are my first human kill—but you were a young life, and I snuffed you out. There was no room for your potential because of me.”

She stared at him. The sun blazed above them, and the light did not catch in her eyes. “But you do not regret killing me.”

Meruem’s mouth began to dry. “Regret is not something I experience. Every choice I have ever made—including the wrong ones—helped me to become who I am today.”

“And you are?”

Her stare had pierced him in a way he had not anticipated. He could not look away. 

“I am…” 

He did not know why he hesitated. I am King. I am a spouse to my beloved wife. I am a friend to her, a colleague, a catalyst of change. I am changed. I am different. I am not who I was before.

The scent of blood overwhelmed him. He expected to smell the bodies on either side of him decomposing, and was unsure if they were still there. He could not bring himself to address them in front of the girl, though she was looking right in his direction.

Even Komugi’s focused stare had more emotion than this. He could not read this girl’s face, trying not to stare at her neck, nor the rotting flesh that turned her skin into a deathly, weathered gray. 

“I am a murderer.” He said. They were the only words that would fall through his tongue. “You were but one of many lives I had taken.”

The girl’s expression did not change.

“I did this.” He still did not look. “I killed and ate your parents right in front of you, and I spit it back out. Then I killed you. I did not think about it. I did not feel a thing.”

“You will not apologize, then, if you do not feel regret?”

“I can extend my sympathy, at most—I understand what I have taken from you. I know now that it was wrong. But I cannot apologize to you. It will not bring you back. It will not change what I have done.”

“No,” she said, “it would not.”

“And this is a dream.” He said, “You’re not really here. Even if it would assuage anything I felt, it would be meaningless. What point is there in assuaging myself when it is now etched into my memories? I will live with this forever.”

She cocked her head to one side. “And this is not regret?”

“No.”

“No,” she repeated, and muttered the word to herself. “No, no, no.”

The blood from her parents had dripped towards him.

The girl watched him closely. Her gaze had not left his own. “And Komugi?”

Meruem’s tail coiled towards himself. He could not quell the unease that was beginning to rise up within him. Something was going to happen soon, but he did not know what. “What about her?”

“She is a human you did not kill. She changed your mind.”

This was an easy and difficult answer. To state that he grew to know and love her was the truth, but wrong in the face of the girl he killed without hesitation. He knew that much.

“You thought of killing her once, too. Would you have regretted that decision? Or would she also have been a casualty in your growth of character?”

Meruem’s mouth was completely dry. He did not have the strength to deny the girl of that fact. 

“Who is a casualty? Who is not? If one life does not matter to you, does any matter at all?”

“Komugi’s life matters,” he said with a voice made of chalk.

The girl’s hands fell neatly into her lap. “And mine does not.”

Meruem could not tell if she was saddened by this, and knew that the comfort he offered was minimal. He gestured to the bodies on either side of him. “It mattered to them, didn’t it?”

The girl said, “They are dead.”

“But they were alive, once. As were you. You mattered to each other.” Meruem finally broke his gaze from her to look at them. Their flesh was still intact, as if the killing had happened only moments ago. “You were more than what my memories can make of you. To me, you were a victim. To them, you were cherished. Only now do I understand how much a life can mean. Only now do I understand the weight of what I had done.”

She did not follow the gesture to look at her parents. Her eyes had not left him. Not once. “You do not…” she said, “...this is not regret?”

“It is guilt.” He said. “I find it unproductive to wish I had not done what I did. I am not the only ant, nor human, who has killed—and I will not be the last. I am leading a nation of ex-murderers—I have to live through what I have done, despite the weight it bears on me.”

The girl looked at him, finally blinking. Her gaze fell to her parents at his sides. “They were my Komugi.” She said. 

Meruem sat with her, feeling the blood pooling around his legs. He silently mourned all three of them—a mother, a father, and their lonely daughter. 

“You are going to wake soon,” the girl said. “You still have not told me who you are.”

“Perhaps with time,” he said, “I will find out.”

 Meruem met her eyes again. She did not smile, but her face had caught the light. “In time you will understand me further, as you will be reminded of me for the rest of your life.”

He did not know why this hopeful look about her had been paired with an ominous parting, but he could not help but feel as though he was not going to speak with her about this again.

“Meruem,” she said, “please take care of me this time.”

[writingwhateveriwant]

Stanford Pines found himself questioning the nature of things constantly. It wouldn’t have been anything he didn’t feel equipped to handle if it hadn’t ever started being about him like it had been recently.

How would a normal person handle this? He found himself asking. Is this something that anyone could ever think was okay? It’s societally frowned upon, but what about it is objectively wrong?

Is there something wrong with me? Is there something wrong with them? He found himself asking these questions in his head constantly. He didn’t stop to consider that the fact he was so concerned about being a good person is, in itself, proof that he is doing the best that he can.

Incest isn’t inherently wrong. But Stanford didn’t know that. He knew it in his head, but not in his heart. Not in the little, nagging feelings inside of his chest and throat. Not in the moments where he walked past his brother and felt that wave of longing, shame, fear, and acceptance.

He had accepted long ago that he would never be considered normal or alright by most of society. But it’s frustrating when life throws just more and more unexpected parts at you.

“I just want to be normal,” He would think constantly, backing against the farthest wall from all of the strangeness from him combined. He’d pull at his hair and cry, thinking that everything would be better if he just didn’t exist in the first place.

But that’s not true.

And I’m disappointed in people for making him think that it is.

Open your mind. He’s trying to. I promise it isn’t easy to go against things you’ve believed for as long as he has. Take a chance.