#turned into

[addictedtofiction03]

Who says that Ron isn’t a good friend? Here he is taking care of Harry without a second thought at the age of twelve.

The same boy who snuck out of his house in the middle of the night to save him for the Dursley Prison.

Who offered him a sandwich during their first train ride together.

The same person who sacrificed himself so that Harry and Hermione can move forward.

Why is it so hard for people to see this about Ronald Bilius Weasley?

[fluffyglass]

this was supposed to be funny but i kind of just feel sad

[eiochevart]

Ok then I’ll draw a tired Viktor I guess… if you insist…

[thestarlightforge]

What the Antihero, Your Villain, Has Left

12/31/22

***

It’s interesting how sometimes, the early stages of grief are anger, and these fade into sadness until sadness is all that’s left for a long time—and sometimes, it’s the other way around.

When I was a teenager and had a messy friend-divorce, a situation which left me extremely isolated and cut off from most of my close friends, it was sadness that followed fury. I was angry for years—about how they behaved, what they had said, their abandonment and betrayals. Until eventually, I just missed them—their memories lit in blues, shades of melancholy finally mixing with peace.

But even now at age 24, when you would hope such things would seem less material than in childhood—since adults, in theory, can choose where they go, where they live, and who they see—when I have to leave my extended family after holiday visits, I am left not with sorrow, but with wrath.

For much of my childhood, I simply cried when we left them. I didn’t cry much as a kid—my sibling cried more often—but when I got injured (Brittle Bones) and when we would leave: Those were the times I cried. We would get in the car, and I’d weep for hours. That kind of crying that’s so intense, you choke on your snot from the utter hopelessness. Sometimes, I’d barely get out a “goodbye.” Just had to hope they knew.

Some of those tears were angry, I’m sure, and sobbing can tear forth from the body as violently as screaming can. But in theory, crying is a more helpless, sad emotion, relegated to emasculation—while anger breaks out, from snide remarks to roars, imbued with some fool’s-gold version of power. Whether erudite or brutish, ire can feel like strength, like righteousness—like taking control back.

There is a black torrent of feeling that pours from waves of this realization: That other people could have chosen a whole different life for you, but they didn’t, and you couldn’t. That a world almost existed in which this endless cycle of grief you experience was replaced by a robust support system of family and community—no matter how broken or strange—when you were so young, you couldn’t even form memories of living far away. But it doesn’t exist.

You don’t know how things would’ve turned out in this other world. But from the little glimpses you’ve gotten every school or work vacation all your life, you feel like it would’ve been a good one. A life where, when disaster struck, family may have shown up more often (whether by will or ability). There would’ve been places to go, people to see, when fighting started or struggles arose. Friends to hold in good times and sad.

What or whom you might’ve missed out on in this phantom reality, you do not know—who you may or may not have become is anyone’s guess. But you would’ve been free of this bullshit, anyway.

It does not dignify abusive characters, of course. But I wonder, sometimes, if people who condemn antiheroes, or characters who struggle to do “good,” simply have not tasted much of disempowerment. There is an emptiness, a longing, a helplessness so profound it struggles to find description—and from that, a bitter, deep and primal rage—that is wrapped into the understanding that you almost had the love you deserved, but it was taken from you. That even if you manage to build new things, there are worlds of love you missed out on—worlds you didn’t have to miss, if only for a few different choices.

Tragic corruption arcs in stories are composed out of characters having blended culpability for this: Characters make some of these choices for themselves, usually after some are made for them. Redemption arcs come after and, as much as I love them, sometimes have a habit of individualizing the consequences of systems of oppression—characters accept blame for their own traumas, instead of anyone holding the people or oppressive world who hurt them accountable.

But either way, the best written antiheroes and villains emerge from shadows of love.

Even if someone hasn’t experienced this personally, art is meant to confer empathy—I don’t understand why the “complicated antihero/villain” phenomenon is so hard for some people to grasp. Maybe because they would rather stay in sadness. Because they want to believe they wouldn’t pick up the daggers, the magic or the poison. That they could never lash out so. That if confronted with the power to remake their world—to tear their love and justice from the jaws of those who took or would take it, or at least to punish them—they wouldn’t be tempted.

But as I sit in the back seat of the car, my parents driving us away from my loved ones once again, my disabled (24 y/o) “adulthood” be damned—away from the kinds of support systems that nearly all of my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents had close by all my life, while my parents, sibling and I lived elsewhere:

I understand.

[tinyschmeatgang]

i wanted to introduce you people to my main PC, Sabal <3

afab non binary (they/he)

drow

good Durge arc

Cleric of Eilistraee

they’re rather quiet and soft spoken, and very dedicated to their perceived duty. he’s rarely seen unwinding ever, only stopping to pray every morning. has deep friendships with everyone but shares a special connection with Minthara, whose strength is often a motivator, though they don’t always agree on everything. Jaheira also has a special love for Sabal because of [durge spoilers redacted] which he managed to overcome with much of her guidance.

quiet ≠ humorless though Sabal can be a little shit when they want to and it comes out most when they’re teasing Astarion lol boundless love and kindness doesn’t come totally for free ;)

so yeah if i post him in the future, this is the intro !! this post is very bare bones bc i didn’t want to get spoiler-y i just wanted to show you all their very very pretty face ~

[divine-ray]

[helloyesamwoman]

So. Hilda Mass am i right? (i'm so sorry)

[sleepanonymous]

Since I mentioned this earlier, I figured I'd post it. I'm not too big of a fan of this channel, but the editing of this video for Nazareth is super well done.

[nekorinnie]

[quietimtryingtostudy]

Guys

I passed 🥳

Officially passed high school yay

[kvothes]

so true

[addictedtofiction03]

Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley has arrived to his trial where we prove that he is a great friend, brother, son, uncle, husband and father.

He is also a great Auror. One of the best in his field. A master chess player. A top dueler.

Let the trial begin.

[hauntingrabbits]

comic

[bitchfitch]

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[river--ghost]

work all night on a drink of rum

daylight come and me wan go home

stack banana til the morning come

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say day

me say day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

a beautiful bunch of ripe banana

daylight come and me wan go home

hide the deadly black tarantula

daylight come and me wan go home

lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say day

me say day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

dayo

dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say day

me say day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home