#well. it's clear that art is occurring. but who's to say why

[unopenablebox]

i did really enjoy the insider but i have to admit that there were several points where my main reaction to what was happening on the screen was "oh dear, i guess it's time for some cinema", due to my fundamentally base nature which renders me unable to experience films correctly

[goodlucktai]

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

x

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind. 

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything. 

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients. 

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount! 

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all. 

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere. 

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two. 

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count. 

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place. 

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet. 

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor. 

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough. 

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are. 

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no. 

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.” 

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner. 

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily. 

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once. 

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move. 

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for. 

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away. 

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them. 

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food. 

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling. 

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away. 

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow. 

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist. 

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!” 

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm. 

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!” 

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him. 

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it. 

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do. 

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear. 

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot. 

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second. 

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart. 

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home. 

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back. 

They can try, anyway. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

As for the "Is Skully Secretly Jacked?" debate, I would like to bring up a point made by someone in the tags of the post that started said debate:

The twins do kinda-sorta look like twigs. Granted, they aren't human, but still.

And in my opinion, Vil and Rook both look like twigs as well.

[Referencing this post and this post!]

My response includes many example images that are MASSIVE spoilers for book 7 cards (which haven’t been released in EN yet!!) so please proceed with caution.

I think a lot of the characters definitely look like twigs due to their in-game live 2D models usually not accurately depicting their actual bodies. Just as an example, here are what the twins look like in live 2D:

... And here is what the twins look like in (Mermaid Fin SSR) card artwork. You can see there is a MAJOR discrepancy.

We also see this in Floyd's Club Wear card. His arms are much more defined in the card art and are noodle thin in the live 2D model:

It's not just the twins either. Another notable nerf between the card art and the live 2D models occurs with Silver and Sebek. I mean, just LOOK at their arms in the P.E. Uniform cards... and then how sad and limp they look in the actual gameplay...

Vil and Rook are entirely different cases. Both of them are typically wearing long sleeves, which conceals their bodies and gives the illusion of lacking muscle.

It was stated in the Magical Archives that Rook is beefier than Trey (who is quite strong from playing soccer as a kid and helping out at the Clover family bakery). It also makes sense for Rook’s character as a huntsman wanting to hide his presence (thereby making it easier for him to observe his prey). Showing off how big of a threat he actually is with his physique out on display defeats the whole purpose.

Without the arms covered, we can see how truly muscular Rook is—though again, the live 2D model is greatly toned down.

Vil, meanwhile, is in a separate category. He is strong too—this much is true! However, his build ISN’T jacked up like Sebek, Silver, Rook, etc. Why? Vil states that he dutifully trains to maintain his figure as a model but is also mindful that he doesn’t get too bulky, as that wouldn’t be aesthetically desirable for his work. You can still be strong while being lithe. Think about dancers, for example.

Vil has also demonstrated in side content such as the Sunset Savanna hometown event and Beans Day that he’s able to take down opponents far larger than him using tactics besides brute force. This includes using his foe’s weight against them to toss them and acting gravely injured to make his foe cocky.

And now let’s revisit Skully! I’d say he definitely doesn’t LOOK bulky, whether in his art or in the live 2D model.

For the sake of argument, let’s say he’s hiding massive arms under his suit. But like… where exactly?

Unlike the sleeves we normally see, the Nightmare Suits are visibly stitched. They can only be so effective for holding together. Just looking at the artwork, it doesn’t look as though Skully’s arms are straining to be freed or pushing back against the seams.

Okay, so what if Skully’s instead like Vil and has a lean frame that hides a surprising amount of strength? I don’t really buy this either because no lore supports it. Vil trains extensively because his career demands it and he is a tenacious person. What reason does Skully have to keep in such shape? He isn’t really described as an athlete or dedicated to health or something along those lines. Boy just LOVES Halloween. There isn’t a clear lore reason why Skully would want to get (excuse me for the pun) jacked.

So yeah, that’s why I don’t believe Skully’s secretly physically strong. He’s literally just… lanky.

[capquinn]

Bug and uncle Luke vibes

Jim and Cub vibes 🤭🤭

so true bestie. uncle lukey is such a kid at heart so he indulges bug's every whim. he's also that guy who just naturally migrates towards kids at parties and family events engaged in their silly conversations and games. in another lifetime he would've been a teacher <3

and there is nothing more cub-coded than this 😭😭😭😭 you and quinn thought it’d be a peaceful trip to the shops, leave the kids with their grandparents. what could go wrong? well...

Now, let’s be clear — Cub isn’t a naughty child. He’s the sweetest little guy you could imagine, polite, kind, always eager to help, and absolutely full of curiosity. It’s just that his energy knows no limits, and his curiosity is boundless. He’s not misbehaving, not trying to cause trouble. He’s just... exploring. He needs to touch everything, try everything, see how it works.

So when he stumbled across Bug’s paint set, well, it was only a matter of time before chaos unfolded. He’d been so into it, dabbing his little fingers into the colours, blending them together, and just having the best time — so lost in the textures of the paint — that it never occurred to him that maybe he should stop.

And Jim, having only been gone for a second, thought Cub was fine, sitting a few feet away. But when he looks down and sees his grandson sitting on the living room floor, absolutely covered in blue paint, there’s a flicker of mortification across his face before he laughs.

He’s raised three boys — equally rambunctious, equally curious — and honestly, this isn’t half as bad as the antics he dealt with when they were this small. So, even though Cub looks like a tiny, paint-covered disaster, Jim can’t help but love it.

Cub, of course, is smiling up at Jim, not even noticing the paint all over his little body, grinning ear to ear, completely content with his artistic endeavours. He has no idea why his grandpa is laughing, but he’s happy to join in anyway, his little giggle filling the air.

Jim, still laughing and shaking his head in disbelief, picks Cubby up, paint smearing all over his shirt, and carries him toward the dining room to find Ellen. She’s sitting at the table, watching Bug quietly draw, completely absorbed in her own art but the moment she looks up and sees Jim, with Cub in his arms, both of them covered in paint, even she bursts into laughter.

Jim, still chuckling, shakes his head. “I looked away for two seconds,” he says through his laughter, holding Cub up as if the mess wasn’t already obvious.

Ellen just laughs again, pulling out her phone in one smooth motion and snapping a picture before sending it off to you and Quinn with the caption: Grandpa was supposed to be supervising... maybe he just likes blue?

Jim looks at the picture Ellen just snapped, shaking his head with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He glances down at Cub, who’s still grinning cheekily, completely unfazed by the mess of blue paint covering him from head to toe.

“Is that right, Cubby? You like the colour blue?” Jim asks, his tone playful, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Cub nods enthusiastically, his little smile so wide it practically lights up the room.

“Uh-huh!” he says, his hands still sticky with paint as he tries to wipe them on Jim’s already-ruined shirt.

Jim chuckles and shifts Cub in his arms.

“Maybe you’re just getting ready to suit up for the Canucks one day, like your dad.” He pauses, glancing at Ellen with a smirk. “Though Quinn is gonna say I’m just trying to turn this into a team bonding exercise.”

Ellen laughs, her phone buzzing in her hand. She looks down at the screen, and as soon as she reads Quinn’s reply, she bursts out laughing again.

“What is it?” Jim asks, still bouncing Cub slightly, trying to keep him entertained.

Ellen holds up the phone, Quinn’s reply in bold letters: Tell Jimmy he’s out of practice. Can't handle one toddler?

[gloomuri671]

It's His Eyes

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Warning: smut, fingering, masturbation, noncon, first smut writing

Masterlist Next Chapter

Dear Diary,

It's his eyes.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul and I'd like to agree. Maybe that's why I'm in love with positions where I can see into his.

I saw him today while we passed each other in the hall. It was a brief moment, but we made eye contact. That single moment made my whole day.

My best friend, Sae Itoshi. We met in High School when he came to play in our country's team. It's too bad he'll have to stop playing with them when he's 18. I'll miss him. Teaching him our language wasn't as hard as his coach told me it would be. Maybe it's because Sae doesn't listen to the coach that much. Making plays based on "gut feeling" and just going with the "flow."

Maybe that's why we're good friends? Because I don't fit in as much as he does. It's the usual story, the homeschooled book worm prefers to step away from crowds because she's not comfortable. Yet Sae, who blends in well despite coming from a whole different country, would rather stick with me instead of his teammates at lunch. "They're too loud," he told me. "I know that for sure," I laughed. He ruffled my hair and looked over my shoulder. "They fuck in chapter thirteen," he said. I gasped and jumped, "I KNEW IT!" But then it occurred to me... "You spoiled it for me, you dork!" Maybe he hung around me more because I help him with our language? It helped me learn his a lot better anyways, so we're helping each other. "Wait you read?" I asked out loud. Sae gave me a look and flashed me his Kindle. My smile widened and I tackled him without a second thought.

Oh

But Sae...

Please forgive me.

I'm just a girl. Your eyes, they shine like diamonds in my dreams and we girls just love our jewels. In my dreams, you watch me as I play with myself. I never cease to shiver under your cold gaze. It's hard not to. Stroking myself - edging myself. "Please, please, please," I whispered.

"What?" You asked while scoffing, "I'm not a mind reader Y/n. You have to tell me what your asking for." So close! I'm so close! But I know my fingers can't reach the spot I barely graze as well as you could. Just the knowledge of that makes me go cold and miss my high. Yet it brings back a certain want and desire. "Touch me please!"

Slowly, you'd walk towards me ever so slowly talking your time. The anticipation, the need to have you here. Inside me instead of myself.. It gets me going. Waiting. Yet when I'd stop, you would too. So I don't, I don't stop. Your name runs off my tongue like a mantra. "I need you please," I begged. Your beautiful blue eyes never looked away from me, as if you knew what they do to me.

Yet when I'm finally at the edge about to tip off, you look away. You look down at me playing with myself. "No no no no," I whined, "Look at me! Please!" You don't by the way. You stare down at her instead. "I am," you claimed, "You're so beautiful." You fell on to your knees and kissed the inside of my thigh. "So beautiful." Finally, you look back up at me. My breath shakes then it leaves me. You're so handsome down there.

"Y/n."

Just like that, I'm woken from my day dream. "You okay? You zoned out on me." I take my eyes off the whiteboard in front of me and look into... Those dangerously beautiful eyes that haunt my days and lonely nights. Sae Itoshi, my desk mate in college. My best friend, one of my only friends actually.

I noticed I was staring and cleared my throat. "Sorry about that," I said, "These are the phrases Mr. Demetri gave me to go over with you..." Like nothing happened, we went over the next assignment in language arts. My fantasy long forgotten.

Forgive me, Sae. I can't stop thinking about you.

P.S.

Should I make it a series?

- Levina

[mollyjames]

Fascists love art. And that's something that might make you uncomfortable because it's something you probably have in common with fascists, but it's true. Fascists love art the same way they love sports. It is a quantifiable measure of betterment and superiority. They will talk quite knowledgeably about their favorite art; the history, the techniques, the themes... If they're particularly well educated, they might talk about the artist's personal life, and all the ways they exemplify the human experience. It is inspiring to them, much in the same way it might be inspiring to you. For them, art is a world with clear winners and losers. In a word, Objective.

It's also part of why I find the AI art movement fascinating. It operates on much the same parameters as the fascist and caters to their sensibilities, deliberately or not. AI art strives to create a visually pleasing objectively accurate depiction of its subject matter, with as many of the flaws removed as possible. Form and function in one. This is appealing to the fascist (who also loves computers) as it comes with the veneer of Objectivism. This machine has not only demonstrated the correct way to create art, but the art it creates looks a lot like the art they already consider to be objectively superior! How validating. (It does not necessarily occur to them that one hand washes the other.)

Of course in practice, what they are applauding is a laundering machine. And while it benefits the makers of these technologies to tout their potential, that we're only just scratching the surface of what AI is really capable of, it seems we've already hit the limit. After all, we chose the winners in Paris in 1748. If we need to, we can always choose new winners and call it progress. But it's all people.

It's only ever been people.

(I know I will likely get comments along the lines of "fascists don't REALLY love art, all they're really doing is-" etc, etc... And that's understandable and I think you could argue it. However I'm hesitant to say there is a wrong way to look at art. Rather I'd like you to consider that love of something, while wonderful, does not and never will justify evil.)

[soon-palestine]

To Minister of International Development Ahmed Hussen,

Ahmed,

Our Dear Cousin

We cheered for you when you passed your bar exam. We cheered for you at your beautiful wedding. We cheered for you when you had your first child, your beloved son. We cheered for you when you were elected as a Member of Parliament, and finally a Minister. We were so excited to see you represent Canada on a global stage. The New York Times wrote a historic piece on you titled "In Canada, an Immigration Minister Who Himself is a Refugee" - we could not have been more proud. When you shared your experience with systemic racism but highlighted how Canadian generosity changed your outlook on life through your TEDx talk we were delighted to see you share a piece of yourself with the world. We shared your work all over our social medias, we proudly announced your accolades, we celebrated you with full belief that you would be the change maker Canadians needed and deserved. Sadly, our hopes have been met with a different reality. Once, we were blinded by our admiration of watching you turn nothing into something, but today we are seeing a sobering truth.

Since you have been appointed as a Minister, hundreds of thousands of Muslims have been killed around the world with impunity. Now, we don't fault you for those crimes, but your consistent silence has been deafening. Although your role is to represent the interests of all Canadians while remaining secular, you have proudly shared that your faith and identity has undoubtedly played a part in bringing you to where you are today. With this in mind, we see clearly that you have failed in your role as Minister of International Development. You stood firmly beside Ukrainian people and supported their refugees when they were resisting an oppressive force, but when it comes to Palestine and it's people today, your recent statement lacked the condemnation and passionate stance we have seen you are capable of taking. Your statement minimized the plight and struggle of your Palestinian brothers and sisters, lacked depth and clarity, and did not name today's current situation in the most accurate terms an actively occurring genocide. Although we will never minimize the pain of any civilian or refugee, we are compelled to clearly state the stark difference between your statements for Ukraine and Palestine. With Ukraine you said "Canada stands united with Ukraine and all those around the world, fighting for democracy, human rights, and justice" but when it comes to the struggle of Palestinian people, you fell flat.

Our hearts were broken at your lackluster words when referring to a historically oppressed people. Sadly, we have realized that you won't live up to our expectations and your own promises to be a change- maker and leader. Where is your condemnation of the Israeli occupying forces murdering thousands of children? Where is your condemnation of the genocidal language and unfounded aggression of Benjamin Netanyahu?

As a refugee, how can you ignore the ethnic cleansing Palestinians have suffered for over 75 years? Why have you let your position of power stop you from using clear language to stand with the oppressed people caged in a concentration camp being carpet bombed daily? Children the same age as our own are being blown to shreds or left as traumatized and injured orphans, does your blood not move?

The world is changed through the words of brave people who stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. Decades of unprincipled statements that shy away from addressing the root cause of Gaza and Palestine from politicians like you is the reason why this genocide has continued, claiming the lives and livelihoods of well over 1 million people.

Page two. We write to you this open letter today as your family to simply say -wake up! Open your art and recognize this horrific illegal occupation for what it is, A GENOCIDE. Do not let personal gain, a reputation, and a seat at a colonial nation's table make you complicit to this inhumanity. Announcing Canada's aid commitments without addressing the root cause of this genocide does nothing to recognize the dignity and humanity of Palestinian people. It is a slap in the face to see you announcing humanitarian aid to Palestine when you haven't taken a clear stance against the use of our taxpayer dollars funding weaponry being used to kill innocent Palestinians. We don't need band aid solutions, we need this genocide to be recognized. We need you to speak to the liberation of the indigenous people of Palestine. Your party leader has failed Canada in many ways, the average Canadian's quality of life has tanked according to our shrinking GDP.

There is no re-election in sight for the Liberal party. Is this how you want your legacy to end? With a stain of genocide complicity? You won't have the golden opportunity of standing on the right side of history if you choose not to make yourself clear. We are devastated that today we as a family can no longer cheer for you, you no longer have our respect or admiration. For the sake of saving your legacy and preserving the principles we expect all of our family members to uphold, we ask you to please wake up, take a clear stance, and step down as a Minister to side with the oppressed! You are a humanitarian lawyer, fight for the oppressed! Leave your mark politically to restore our faith on who we know you to be, and hoped you to be. One day your children will see your work as a Minister and they will question you, how will you explain your complacency with a population of indigenous people being massacred?

We leave you with one final note, when we all depart this world we will take nothing with us. Rich or poor, educated or not, we will all be wrapped in a white cloth and placed in the dirt left to answer for all of our worldly actions. So we ask you: Do you fear your maker that you are returning to? We pray and hope you will come to your senses before it's too late. Your role in this government no longer serves you in this life or the next.

#FreePalestine

#EndTheOccupation

#CeasefireNow

[simplydannie]

‘True Colors’ art by djpixelskitten

Events have occured before the Trolls find themselves in a giant warehouse owned by the Mistress. Unfortunately, they have given the twins to their old manager. Taking them back, she resumes to mental abuse and hsing them as her guinea pigs. After hearing the truth from Branch, that Velvet and Veneer were not the ones to take the Trolls, instant regret enters them. Now they go search for their new friends… in hopes they can find them alive and well.

The Trolls made their way through the air vents of the facility…. it was huge.

Room upon room they looked, but their was no sign of them….Their was no sign of the twins.

“We got to find them fast. Who knows what Mistress is doing to them…or did.” Floyd said. The Trolls made the mistake of allowing that witch to take them away… They promised the twins theyd be there for them, they would never abandon them…and what did they do? Hand them over to someone who was abusive to them from the beginning.

Episode after episode, the wins grew worse and worse. The Trolls didn’t know how they could help Velvet and Veneer. The Trolls grow hopeless in finding a cure to this Troll poison. They grew fearful as more and more Trolls began disappearing. They blamed the twins for it… especially when Branch disappeared…So they allowed the Mistress, their old manager, to take them away because she said she knew how to help them. After finding Branch and a handful of Trolls, that’s when they all realized they made a mistake…Now here they were…desperately trying to find them.

“You think JD and Clay are having any luck?” Branch asked.

“Who knows. This place is huge! They could be anywhere….” Poppy began to say.

“Over here!” Viva cried out. The rest of them made their way to where Viva was looking….There they were, tied back to back on some sort of chair. The little Trolls scanned the room making sure it was clear. The opened the vent and made their way down to the two giant Rageouns.

“Velvet! Veneer! Oh thank heavens you’re alright! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Poppy chimed at them….no answer. Sounds were heard from the vent opposite them; more Trolls came out: John Dory and Clay.

“You found them! Come on! Let’s get them freed up and out of here.” John Dory said. He and Clay made their way to the door, listening for anything or anyone that might come in. Branch was the only one who stood silent, staring up at the twins….something didn’t look right.

“Vels, Ven! Come on guys! I’m so sorry I let that monster take you away…..again.” Floyd said as he desperately tried to undo the knots that binded them together….still no answer.

“…Floyd…” Branch said as he got a closer look at the twins.

“Poppy! Viva! Help me undo these knots!” Floyd said. Between the three of them, they desperately pulled and pulled.

“…Guys…” Branch began to say again.

“Branch help them out!” Clay called out.

“Guys!” Branch cried louder…all the Trolls stopped and looked at him. “…I think….We’re…..we’re too late…” Everyone turned to look.

Velvet and Veneer sat there….expressionless. Their eyes half opened, staring off at nothing….The color in their eyes having almost faded to nothing, dark circles looming underneath…Their skin looking paler than it was.

“Velvet…” Floyd said looking at the girl….nothing….He inched closer to Veneer. “Ven?” The boy didn’t turn to look at him at all…it’s as if he wasn’t event here. Floyd looked at Branch. “No…no we can’t be too late..”

“The poison…this can’t be because of the poison can it?” Poppy asked. What did she do to them? The Trolls looked around for clues, all there was in the room were some of the twins belongings on the desk nearby….The Trolls noticed vents near the floor, these vents were different than the ones they came in from…a wierd essence came from them.

“…She….she used more essence on them…She poisoned them even more.” Branch said with a horrified expression.

“Thats why she tied them up. To keep them from hurting themselves or each other as they went crazy...the episodes….Oh my gosh…that’s…that’s…” Viva covered her mouth as small tears went down her face.

“She practically tortured them…” Branch said. Now the twins sat their, practically zombies.

“No…No, I refuse to believe they’re gone. Velvet! Veneer! Come on we have to go!” Floyd cried out…..nothing…just silent breathing and far off expressions.

“…Velvet… You left your favorite cashmier sweater back at Gristles castle…Well, we kind of stained it..” Poppy said…Nothing…She looked at everyone else…they had to have them come back somehow.

“Come on kid…come on.” Branch heard John Dory say. Floyd pointed towards something on the desk.

“The locket! Get the locket!” He told the Trolls. Grapsing it, they flung themselves on Veneer’s lap…they opened the locket… Inside was a photo of the twins, and their parents.

“Remember this. You told me about this day…It was your guys 8th birthday. They took you guys camping. You said it was the best day ever.” Floyd said as he pointed at the picture. They tried putting it towards Veneer’s line of view, but he didn’t budge, he didn’t move. They moved over towards Velvet. “You told me that you made fun of Veneer that day cause he fell into the stream, little fishes getting into his pants. Remember? Come on you have to remember!” Floyd screamed out.

There was no reaction from either one of them…The poison continued to consume their mind…they were gone…there would be nothing left of them…Branch stayed at the desk as the rest of them tried to continue to get the twins back; anything they could bring up that would spark their interest. He looked at the twins belongs on the desk….He saw Veneer’s notebook. During their stay with them in both Bergentown and Vacay Island, Veneer carried a notebook with him. He always had his nose in it…Branch never bothered to ask him about it..

“Would you like to see what I did?” Veneer would ask.

“No.” Branch would tell him giving him the cold shoulder. Opening the book, Branch saw what the kid would do….he would draw…and he was pretty good. Pictures of his time with the Trolls, sketches of Bruce and the kids, Bridget and Gristle, his sister….Branch. He’s so cool, was written in Veneer’s hand writing next to a drawing of Branch. I have the coolest dad, another note next to a picture of Floyd playing a tiny guitat. Goals, Veneer wrote by a drawing he did of Poppy and Branch. A weird feeling began tearing at Branches heart…

“…I’m sorry….” Branch mumbled at first. He turned to face the twins…towards Veneer. “I’m so sorry….For everything….I didn’t listen either one of you…Especially you Veneer…” It was as if Branch was talking to stone as the twins continued to sit their motionless. “You both just wanted another shot at family…redemption in life…we could’ve given you that…but we didnt…..I’m sorry.”

They continued to stare at the twins, hoping for signs of life…something. Tears began forming in Floyds eyes.

“They’re gone….they’re really gone…I….I failed them.” He said.

“We all did Floyd….I have never failed anything as queen before…But this…I screwed up big time.” Poppy fell to her knees hugging herself. Viva went to embrace her sister. Everything seemed familair to Branch at this moment…this took him back…back when they were captured, about to be eaten by the Bergens that one night…before Bridget allowed them to escape. The hopelessness, the sadness, it all felt the same. Something in him began to wonder that maybe there could be one chance to bring them back…maybe, just maybe…. He began to sing…

The rest of the Trolls looked up at him. At first they were confused, but then they saw him looking directly at Velvet and Veneer as he sang…. One by one, they all began to sing their heart out, hoping that Velvet and Veneer were in there somewhere…listening…. they had to be….but as they continued to sing, there was no reaction from the twins. There was a moment of silence. Branch tilted his head down in defeat….until….he heard something…the voice was barely audible, but it was there…It was Veneers…it sounded like he sang a few verses of the song…The Trolls looked at each other, ears perked up. Branch sang again…..

….And again he heard Veneers voice….then Velvets…barely audible…but it was there. Branch hopped off the table and got closer to the twins…he sang louder and louder…right now he didn’t care if anyone outside would hear…he was determined to bring them back. The louder the Trolls sang, the more audible the twins became….they did it, they had found their voice.

In the blink of an eye the twins snapped. Color came back to their eyes, the dark circles gone. They blinked in confusion looking around the room. Veneer was the first to see the Trolls.

“….Guys what..…Branch!” He called out as he saw the small Troll amongst everyone else. The last Veneer remembered, Branch had been kidnapped.

“Hey, bud.” Branch said softly with a smile on his face, a small tear streaming down. Poppy walked over to hold his hand.

“What the…Why am I tied to chair with Veneer? To close for comfort! Get him off!” Velvet began to wiggle around causing a comotion…Yep, she was back. Together they undid the knots, freeing themselve. The Trolls were overfilled with excitement. Branch, Poppy, Viva, Floyd, Clay, and John Dory flung themselves on the twins, their force causing them to fall over. They held them as close as their tiny arms can in a warm embrace. Veneer happily held the little Trolls close…Velvet was a little less affectionate, but she smiled.

“We’re sorry! We’re so, so sorry! We should not have let you go!” Poppy exclaimed to both.

“Why did you?” Velvet asked.

“…We were afraid. You guys were getting worse…we let our fear win. We’re so sorry.” Viva exclaimed.

“Same. I walked out on family…and I let it happen again.” JD said.

“Me too…There’s just no excuse. We promised to take care of you.” Clay added.

“…I have no excuse…I promised your parents I’d take care of you…I failed them…twice….I let you get taken and abused by the same person…I’m sorry.” Floyd looked between both Velvet and Veneer. Veneer gave him a soft smile.

“I guess you can call it even then?” Veneer responded.

“No..No. Don’t ever think like that okay. We’re never letting you two again.” Floyd responded.

“Well that’s depressing.” Velvet replied earning an elbow from Veneer, but they all knew that was her way of being affectionate…of being thankful.

“And I’m sorry too…for being so cold and mean. I just couldn’t get over what you guys did to Floyd…but I shouldve been more open…I’m sorry…Especially to you Veneer.” Branch couldn’t help it, he squished Veneers cheeks together. “You’re art…is amazing by the way.” He said.

“Thanf youz…” Veneer said through squished cheeks.

“Okay, okay. Loving the bromance!! But we still have missing Trolls to find.” Poppy exclaimed.

“Right. You guys in?” Branch turned to Velvet and Veneer.

“Always. From here on out.” Veneer replied. Velvet shrugged and nodded in agreement.

“Why not.”

[keyintheeye-blog]

Victorian era AU

So, we can't delay any more! I have accumulated concepts and sketches on Victorian AU and I am ready to share them with you!!! YAY!!! FANFARE!!!

Let's start with the fairy flower crowns.

So, I thought it would be fun if there were flowers with meaning in the flower crown, and not just beautiful ones. And of course, there is more than one type of flower in the flower crown. To determine which flowers can be in the flower crown of Cosmo and Wanda, I used the "Language of flowers". The picture is signed with flowers and their meaning so that everything is clear.

I must say right away, yes, it's not that important, it's just a small detail, so if you are a person who wants to draw on the topic of this au, don't worry, it's not necessary to understand colors. Draw flower crowns as your heart desires.

Oh and hey! Look, I drew Jorgen in this Au

Of course, since he is also a fairy, he is just as sparkling shiny and with wings. And of course he cannot be left without a flower crown, but it is woven into his helmet. It seemed like a good idea to give him a Roman helmet. It suits him, because he is all so military, belligerent and definitely has some kind of dominant and protective role in this au. It's still in development, but I'll definitely think through this part more. Well, his wings are the wings of a large beetle, these wings suit him, it would be strange if he had butterfly wings like in the designs of Cosmo and Wanda, so yes, all fairies have insect wings suitable for them.

A little bit about Vicki

So, let's take it in order, otherwise I'm afraid that I'll get confused in my thoughts lol.

There is a manufactory/factory that is definitely owned by Doug Dimmadom (who else?). Child labor is used in this factory, because, well, have you seen children? Have you seen their little nimble hands? They are excellent workers to work with small details! So, Vicky, who is in charge of these poor children, also works there. She probably rose to this position, but it would be funny if her little one was noticed initially as a commander over the children lol.

What else about the Dimmadom family is there in AU? Well, actually not much. Doug is still a tycoon who owns a bunch of businesses, and Dale is probably also kidnapped by Vicky here. Why would she kidnap children for the sake of child labor if she is already in charge of children at work? Well, obviously, more money and power for a woman in this difficult era. We have not considered this in more detail yet

Other things

My dear co-author (@usagifuyusummer) also has good ideas for the storyline of this au! I think I can't reveal all these ideas, because well, work on them is still underway, but I can tell you a little about them.

There is already a pretty detailed idea of how Timmy got to know the fairies, and then got to know Cosmo and Wanda specifically (the first sketch). I don't want to reveal how it all happened yet, but after one situation Cosmo and Wanda followed Timmy everywhere in an attempt to help him (well, or have fun, we already know what kind of fairies they are) and after a long time when unexplained phenomena occurred, Timmy accidentally discovers these two fairies (yes, unsuccessfully falling into the bushes, with who does not happen)

Well, the second sketch as a reference to the work of the Urusami, lol. This art is gorgeous, if you haven't seen it, take a look. Personally, I was delighted with this picture!

And if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask them, I will be happy to answer!

Thank you all for your attention!!!

[pseudophan]

TW for discussion of homophobia.

Hi, Nora! In the spirit of pride month I want to tell the story about how becoming a demon phannie has deprogrammed my bigotry when I was a teen.

I grew up with homophobia being the norm amongst the kids. In my country it was quite precise though, a bit different from what Dan described in BIG. We didn't use "gay" as a synonym for "bad". Boys wouldn't be called gay for crying or liking theater or just being well-behaved. Not in my school at least.

No, there was a clear-cut definition that gays were only the boys who liked boys. But if you fit that definition, if someone knew you fit that definition, then god help you. You would be constantly mocked, bullied and beat up at school. The headmaster would call your parents and tell them to fix their broken little pervert. Your parents reaction could fall anywhere from a stern talk and calling you a disgrace to a beating and sending you to a military type boarding school. Treating a teen this way was perceived as completely normal. Nowadays the kids have thankfully become way more accepting despite our governments best efforts. But now you can also add a visit to the police station to the pile.

Sapphics just didn't exist, as always. That's why when I told my friends "I genuinely think boobs are more attractive than dicks - they are more esthetically pleasing to look at" the only reaction I got was confused laughter and strange looks. No, I did not realize what that said about me back then. It was just foreshadowing.

I remember my parents occasionally saying that it's a sickness and shouldn't be allowed to be demonstrated in any way. Peppering it with the usual "they can do whatever they want behind closed doors". And if people got beat up on the streets for being gay...well they just brought that on themselves by flaunting their sexuality, didn't they?

I lived with that worldview until I was 15 or 16.

Then I started finding out that some famous people were gay. But it only got me to the point of "I like his art, so I won't stop consuming it, despite him being gay". In my mind if you were gay and wanted people to tolerate your existence, you had to be talented in order to justify it. And have the decency to not act gay in public. Yeah, I know, bare with me.

When I found Dan's channel in 2015 I instantly fell in love with his videos. Soon I also started watching Phil and then the gaming channel.

My gaydar was non-existent at the time and, ironically, I was conditioned into thinking that gay people just like to announce that they're gay to everyone. So, since Dan and Phil never did, I just took their word for it. For almost a year I just enjoyed watching their content without a second thought.

Then one day I saw the compilations. The radio show clips. The old videos. That was all it took really. My brain couldn't compute, couldn't connect the "sick perversion" I heard so much about to what I was seeing on my screen. It wasn't unnatural, or disgusting or deliberately demonstrative.  It was fucking beautiful. They simply couldn't help being extremely adorable.

Starting from that day the thought "keep it to yourselves" never occurred to me. I just wanted to be a fly on the wall.

I never dared to write fanfiction or make compilations or, god forbid, directly ask one of them in a qna. I was happy to just lurk and snort that yaoi cocaine in silence.

In hindsight, Dan and Phil were the reason I didn't instantly hate myself after having the first crush on a girl and realizing I was bi in 2018.

Later I got into breadtube and realized just how insane and baseless all those conservative talking points were. But DnP were the sole reason I left that eco-chamber in the first place.

So thank you to Dan and Phil and thank you to all fellow demons 💜

fujoshi-ism saves lives is the thing

no but isn't it odd the way things work out.. the fact that dan and phil were able to help you like that is amazing, and also it's very funny that they did it through the power of rpf

[pikamemfo]

Re-read the succession war of HxH and was hit with the strong urge to continue procrastinating life so here we are! Here's a splatter of some random thoughts going through chapter one!

(Note: As this is a re-read, I might reference events that have occurred later in the manga!)

• Some beautiful imagery to kick us off—in general, the style of this chapter definitely invokes a lot of nostalgia both for HxH as well as the aesthetic of that time

• WHO IS THIS??? (Lmao, compared to Killua and other characters later on, there are less changes between Gon at his introduction and his current appearance but it is fun to see how Togashi refined and changed some his initial character designs, especially since his art style changes arc to arc.)

• It's really slight, but you can see the core themes of the story slid into a lot of the small dialogue moments. For example, here, Mito's grandmother notes that it doesn't matter why Gon sets out on his journey, just that he does, reinforcing the idea repeated at the World Tree where the alternative end is discussed, noting that the goal (Gon meeting Ging) didn't matter as much as the actual process of Gon getting there (by making friends, going on adventures, discovering himself, etc.).

• I love how spirited some of these panels are like the way Gon is jumping so animatedly or the adorableness of the foxbear tackling him

• To this day, I will never understand why 2011 removed this Kite flashback. It's the equivalent of not having Shanks lose his arm in romance dawn or not telling Yoki's story in Brotherhood. I don't even think the "We thought people saw 1999 and would get bored" argument works because they adapt pretty much everything else and this is such a critical scene to counter the "Gon's a psychopathic monster" takes floating around by offering a clear glimpse into the invisible trauma that helps form his, perhaps unconventional but also understandable mentality (not to say he isn't a flawed character, he is, that's the point—but there's a lot more nuance behind it than "Kid raised like animal. Selfish and primal. Only saves people he likes.")

• Kite is introduced with the perspective that anything that can threaten a human should be killed, regardless of how unfair or cruel it is (referring to the baby fox cub who had just lost its mother and therefore has the potential to cultivate a grudge against all humans). Although pre-emptive, this is a rational thought. It's why hunters existed in the first place, to acquire food and to protect against wild beasts. Gon of course, in this touching scene, resonates with this cub as someone who had lost his own parents and can't bear to abandon it to its death, even as it scratches angrily against him:

• As someone who has been abandoned (though right now, it's more metaphorical than literal since he thinks his parents just died instead of setting up a fun, peril-filled obstacle course for him to follow—Ging is a fantastic character who makes terrible choices, I promise 😭), he cannot bear to inflict that same pain to someone else which is why throughout the series, and especially in the next few chapters, he's always rushing in to support people who are left behind by others and taking detrimental risks to that end. Of course, this need to hold close, alongside a quality dose of fatherly idolization and a fear that Ging won't even look at Gon if his son doesn't meet an arbitrary standard of strength, are the qualities that are stressed to cause the fallout we see in the Chimera Ant Arc. It's hatred and brashness forged in the aftermath of love and hurt.

• Additionally, Kite plays such a pivotal role in Gon's goals, arguably more than Ging himself. Obviously he literally gives Gon the Hunter's License and his goal by telling him Ging's alive, but if it wasn't for meeting Kite, Gon probably wouldn't have decided to become a Hunter even knowing Ging's story. He goes because he looks up to Kite dearly, and Kite admires Ging so in Gon's mind, to earn Kite's respect, he may have to meet Ging's standards first.

• I love the depiction of Mito being a clearly nurturing character, but also flawed. Not the perfect mother you're led to believe in the anime. She is manipulative in hiding Ging's uh...life from Gon, which was not a choice that's morally up to her to make, and it's not solely out of love for Gon that she hides it either. She, herself, is hurt from Ging leaving her behind time and time again, and is scared Gon's going to do the same. And you know what, Gon does.

• And Gon's choice to leave is also not a naive decision. He knows full well that he's hurting Mito by leaving, which is why he apologizes, telling her that being a hunter must have been such an important job it's worth leaving behind your family (rationalizing Ging's decision), and says "like you said...I am his son, after all."

• But of course, Gon is wrong. As Killua shows, there is a need to escape strict familial oversight so you're able to discover who you want to be outside of the external pressure trying to box you into predetermined paths. But again, the end goal is not as important as this discovery process, and it's the people who care about you and affect you that matter in the end. Which is why characters like Kurapika continually find themselves drawn back to connections they try to hide and Gon returns back to Mito at the current end of his arc, perhaps a little more unburdened than when he left.

And that's a wrap for chapter 1! This was fun—as someone who hopes to write my own story one day, it's really cool to see how coherent the thematic throughlines of this story are written, as well as how a single chapter can clearly establish so much meaningful characterization.

[dimalry]

It's not about you being critical it's about misinformation:

{{ of his hands, stained blue from the places they touched on my waist, my arms, but somehow, never more than that. }}

{{ “Feyre, for Cauldron’s sake. I drug you, but you don’t wonder why I never touch you beyond your waist or arms?”

Until tonight—until that damned kiss. I gritted my teeth, but even as my anger rose, a picture cleared. }}

What you dr aw was very disturbing. And on top of that it was not canon while you tried to sell it as such. Rhys painted Feyre’s body to prove to her he's not touching her untoward. Yes he drugged but the alternative would've been her staying in her cell hearing the constant screaming. Her being in those parties while the next day she barely remembers anything was everything Rhysand could've done for her at that situation. And most importantly Feyre understood. And the reason her and Rhys work so well is she would go the same length if not more, to keep the people she loves safe and protected just like Rhys did.

I don't expect you to agree with me and I only bother because I really like your arts and it was huge shock seeing those arts. And even now your art is a headcanon not canon because Rhysand never touched her chest or any private parts of her. This fandom already suffers from misinformation and lies and people goes with it without their facts checked.

And most importantly Rhys apologised. He apologised through acomaf and he's still trying to make it up to her. He feels guilty for not being able to handle the situation better, not because he could do better. Saying the mmc raped fmc while that's the furthered from truth was what made me disheartened. No one's denying what happened UTM. But you showed a worse situation that it already is.

I'm not gonna make this ask any longer because I think me bringing facts wouldn't go anywhere since you have your own mind set and it will only adds to the toxicity.

But your post was anti and I think people who would rather not see these kinda post should have a safe tag. The "feysand critical" was fine but adding "feysand" tag wasn't.

I hope you have a good day

I understand and I‘m sorry about the misinformation. I never actually tagged the artwork as „Feysand“, only „critical Feysand“ and I‘ve removed the red handprints and kisses that suggest he had done more than canon states (when corrected)- I do not want my artwork about SA perceived as headcanon and my intention wasn’t to disturb anyone. I know I should’ve thought better.

It’s only tagged as acotar for now, but I‘ll probably take it down entirely. Or maybe just remove the drawings of Feysand and leave it only at Feyre hugging her knees- that should be accurate enough, since in canon she wasn‘t in good health like so many artists depict her as such. I think it would be fair to also correct artists who draw her like a super model utm.

I still think that SA had occurred and I blame it entirely on the author for handling it all so poorly. The apology in acomaf didn’t feel like an apology to me. I guess it’s different for everyone.

Thank you for your ask, have a lovely day as well 🫶🏽

[thalialunacy]

[a wee character sketch interlude for the @calaisreno May Prompt Party]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) 26: manipulate (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

-440-

Orchestras always tune to ‘A’ on the oboe, because every string instrument has an ‘A’ string. Oboes can play sharp or flat, just like any other instrument, but modernly every oboist uses a little electronic meter to ensure that their ‘A’ is exactly right.

As a child, his violin instructor had made him start every lesson by vocalising A4 out of thin air. Or, at least, attempting to do so; Sherlock has always had excellent intonation, but perfect pitch -- the ability to name the frequency of sounds one hears and vice versa -- is not on his resume.

So the exercise always felt fruitless, and aggravatingly so, because of course he never actually got the correct pitch. Close, and closer with time, but never close enough.

Years later, watching a tiny human named Rosamund drag herself to her feet just to fall back down time and time again, it finally occurs to him: That was the point.

-415-

Baroque: relating to or denoting a style of European architecture, music, and art of the 17th and 18th centuries that is characterised by ornate detail.

He finds himself in a tiny overcrowded music hall watching a small early music ensemble (3 violins, 1 viola, 1 cello, 1 contrabass, 1 recorder, 2 bassoons, 1 trumpet, 1 harpsichord, and 1 very murderous theorbo player) and it takes him far too long to realise why he's uncomfortable. Why there is a little twitch below his left eye.

They are actually using a historically accurate tuning.

Sherlock blinks, feeling around his jaw to see if it could be something else, but no, a part of his overly-trained brain rebels against all the sounds being pitched slightly lower than modern sensibilities. It's like a phantom toothache.

It's like before, when Sherlock would glance up from his microscope and observe John feeling poorly. In those days, Sherlock had nothing to offer, really, so he'd just had to let John's unhappiness bury itself under his skin as something else to ignore.

Now, though. Now he can do something about it.

-432-

Some theorists and musicians claim that the 432 Hz tuning has better effects on the human body, but there are no scientific studies that support the hypothesis.

He brings an exhausted John a late night (and therefor unattractively decaf) cup of tea. 'What happened?' he asks quietly, settling in across from him.

John shakes his head vaguely. 'I couldn't… I couldn't convince a mother to respect her child's pronouns.' He coughs. 'I am an old man who is shit at not stumbling over such things, but… She wouldn't even try.'

He meets Sherlock's eyes over the rim of his mug. 'Please remind me of this when Rosie is a teenager and I want to throttle her for reinventing herself every two days.'

Sherlock pauses, then sets his tea down and leans in until he can palm the soft pyjama fabric covering John's knee. It's a small gesture, but it works-- the creases in John's brow lose a little of their severity. 'I have no doubt she'll try our patience and sanity severely. But, John… You are already a far better parent than yours were.'

John stares at him and breathes out heavily. 'Fuck.' His free hand comes down on top of Sherlock's, absently palpating his knuckles one by one. 'But you can't-- There's not exactly scientific evidence, is there, to support that.' 

Sherlock clears his throat. 'Yes, well. I'm confident there will be.' 

John's lips twitch. 'Sherlock Holmes, are you saying you have faith in something?' 

Sherlock tuts, then decides he doesn't care about propriety in this moment. He moves until he's kneeling before John, holding his face in his hands and focusing on the tiny freckle under John's left eyebrow, knowing John will understand.

'Yes,' he says simply. 'Just one thing.' And then he leans in. 

[❤️]

[music to which this was written: Britten's Violin Concerto, Op 15, which I'm certain Sherlock would hate, but he's wrong]

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Coming back from Himself Who Isn’t can only be constituted as being a minor ordeal – bloody, effusive, viscous. Coating his skin each time he wakes is a cloying, clear film which dries to an opaque white. It is one of the first things Downey tries to scrub off because once it starts flaking, it starts itching. Drives him mad. And gods, when he says it coats his skin he means every possible inch of it. Sometimes, he wonders what the transformation appears like from the outside. A birthing process, perhaps. As if the human is born from the monster, the monster from the human. Or maybe it is some foul flopping about. Mangled flesh and breaking-rejoining bones floundering until they eventually take on a proper form of either man or beast. The second option, less appealing, not at all poetic or artful, is the more likely one in his opinion. Sinking to the floor in the bathroom, Downey starts a bath. Shivers through a rickety moment of his muscles still fixing themselves. His organs still realigning themselves, reshaping themselves into human stomach, intestines, liver, kidneys &c. Finding his medic bag by the sink, he riffles through it for disinfectant and bandages. His hands shake. Bits of meat (flesh) are caught in his teeth. He sucks at them, prods them with his tongue - they drive him nuts. He half wants to floss but knows that he needs to fix the shot-up arm first. Once he has cleaned up the bleeding bits he can put himself back together in all other ways. As he cleans the wound, assuredly an arrow, which Himself Who Isn’t must have pulled out (foolish creature that it is), Downey scrapes through his mind for memories. Which do not come. Because they never have, never will. No one in his family who had their own…Other Within has had memories. A man wakes and if there are bits of flesh between his teeth, blood on his body that isn’t his own, then he may assume carnage of some sort occurred. Downey, personally, feels no moral concerns about whatever it is Himself Who Isn't gets up to. If his Other Within has gone and killed a person or two, well, that is life. People die. Indeed, he is regularly paid bags of money to shorten lives. His only concern is that if it was a person, and not a goat or the family hound, then it will attract attention and Downey does not want attention. Vetinari will certainly be all over it like flies to a carcass in August.

I love Critter Downey.

Vimes: Your critter side killed a young woman.

Downey: And I should care why?

Vimes: Because it is tragic! She was eighteen! Had her whole life ahead of her!

Downey: Sure, most deaths are tragic. That's life. I didn't do it. Myself Who Isn't was hungry. Do you blame a bear for being a bear? A lion for being a lion?

Vetinari: Is there a way to feed your Other Side a goat? A sheep? Something that won't negatively impact my population count and give everyone nerves?

Downey: I guess.

[rmorde]

Trigun Manga Reaction

Now back with Volume 1 - Chapter 3

I like this. Simple pose but very interesting with the "imbalance" I guess with the tilted head, shadowed face, and slightly lower slope of one shoulder. It's not "stiff" and it's easy to imagine the wind blowing through Vash's coat and hair.

A thought occurs tho, Did Trigun predate Tetsuya Nomura's obsessive belts, belts, and more belts design quirk? Did Nightow and Vash started that anime fashion trend?

Uhuh. Says the people who tried to shoot a GRENADE at that same one guy.

I kinda put these three panels in a sequence because... we know Vash is a good guy. Of course, he's going to save the women but the emphasis on the Nebraskas reaction to his rescue is really interesting.

Vash gives them a side-eye. He's either gauging their capacity for mercy or already clocked in that they are capable of mercy and silently hints for them to wait just a moment.

Father Nebraska understanding and just waits as he smokes. Then confirms first if Vash is ready to rumble again.

Idk. It's a moment of humanity not only for Vash but for the Nebraskas too imo.

AND IT'S WEIRD! In '98, Father Nebraska tried to get a cheap shot on Vash while he was still carrying someone to safety.

Yeah, assholes. Vash is doing his best to keep the women in the clear while you guys just throws grenades willy-nilly into buildings who have people in them. Smh.

Ngl. This sequence confuses me a bit. But, going with what happened earlier, the Nebraskas were not targeting the women. The punch was intended for Vash - which he dodged easily. However, instead of running further away, he shielded the women from the flying debris that the punch caused.

WHICH AGAIN, I REITERATE, IS REALLY WEIRD FOR '98 TO DEVIATE FROM!

In the '98, they are bonafide bad guys but in the manga they're still bad but not "Muwahahaha I'll shoot the injured women Hahahaha!" bad . The Nebraskas have some semblance of honor here.

I guess this is why TriStamp has a much more nuanced presentation of these characters. It's closer to the manga.

Oof... Owww... Vash... 😢

Another gorgeous art. I like how Nightow's way of using perspective here!

Junior is established to be huge - a giant. He always take up so much space in the panels/pages like below:

However, when Vash finally "duelled" them seriously. Doesn't Junior suddenly "feels" smaller and Vash really big?

It's really cool how it instantly shows that Vash isn't goofing off anymore and the Nebraskas stand no chance in winning this.

Ragey Baby Girl no longer smiling.

Sigh. Gotta admire their one track mind.

Ngl. The line work here gave me Junji Ito vides for some reason. Vash's eye look haunting, cold, and really old.

Linework carrying hard on this page. Vash is obviously quicker with how much lines are there in his entire arm - convincingly too fast of a blur. Meanwhile Junior has less lines which makes his fist less blurry and, therefore, slower.

Clever use of the sound effects in the first panel.

I don't know what the fuck is going on in the second panel. I've been staring at it too long already and I still can't understand except it has something to do with Junior's arm?

Third panel is the crazy detail on Vash's eye. His glasses seem like he is looking at the side. However, on closer inspection, Vash is actually not looking away from the incoming attack.

The following pages is really great at building the tension on how would this duel end. The '98 anime captured it very well!

Looking cool, Vash!

Also, is it just me or does he always look for opportunities to show off his flexibility and long long legs. Must he really split here?

...

...

YES. YES HE MUST.

Oh. Ooooh! So that's what happened!

In '98, this conclusion was given to the bandit in Episode 1. His own enhancements crunching his body until he passed out and lost to Vash. However, they can't exactly rehash this in Episode 5. So, we have the "LOVE AND PEACE!" scene instead.

Admittedly, I prefer the "LOVE AND PEACE" conclusion more.

I like how, so far imo, Nightow just gives no fucks about anatomy in his art. I mean... Look at this! Even if we reason that it's because his coat is dramatically billowing with the wind, Vash's body is not proportionate. However, it doesn't matter! It looks cool and it evokes the right emotions just fine: fear and awe.

OMFG?!!! The trials these two are going through! These poor insurance ladies! Milly hanging on for dear life to that pillar. Meryl just screaming her lungs out EVEN WITH A MEGAPHONE!

AND IT WAS FOR NOTHING!!!! OML

Being considered as someone equivalent to a natural disaster shouldn't bring joy, but damn it... LOOK AT HOW HAPPY VASH IS!!! AWWW BABY GIRL!!!

Wow. They blame HER!!! How dare- Meryl beat them up! No, Milly. LET MERYL HAVE THEM!!! THEY DESERVE TO BE CRUMPLED LIKE TISSUE PAPER AFTER THROWING OFF GRENADES LIKE CONFETTI EARLIER AT VASH!!!

Awww. Their first interaction is SO CUTE!!!

In '98, it's funny and amusing. Ditto on TriStamp. But this one is sweet since Meryl and Milly kinda saved Vash in here.

I mean. Yeah, the townspeople are scared because Vash just beat the Nebraskas, but they are desperate for money. Desperation can override fear given enough time. Vash would've been hunted all over again.

I take it back. The insurance ladies climbing up to that bell tower was not for nothing. It was enough to allow Vash a moment to breathe and, as he rejoices, be free (even just for a while).

Wonder what exactly went through Vash's head here. Confusion? Fear? Dread?

HELL YEAH!!! BADASS LADIES IN LONG COATS! STRIKE FEAR TO THE HEARTS OF EVERYONE!!!

Oh. Some responses to the a couple of tags:

@alena-reblobs

Thanks! Glad you're having fun too because I sure am. I appreciate the warning and I'm kinda nervous because the action this chapter was kinda confusing to understand. Hopefully, it won't get worse (will it?) I agree that they are very cool nonetheless!

@eldritchneuro

Thanks for explaining! Paneling is always fun to study in mangas because they usually follow a 3 or 4 panels which mangakas creatively breakdown to evoke a feeling among readers.

Trigun is interesting because its from the 90's! So, some of the paneling are probably "prototypes" of the crazy ones we'd see in modern mangas.

I guess, Nightow's aiming to make the page very "cinematic" with slo-mo (sparse panels) and hyper focus on details (graphic weight). It draws us readers in to the story more effectively as if we are there too with the townspeople looking at the Humanoid Typhoon.

[lunior-art]

Several question so I can learn more information (tm) about your obsession with this movie, since everyone's is different <3

So questions:

How did you find the movie?

Do you prefer Nigel or Alex? (I'm sorry to ask this since they're both bae but deep down we all have a favorite)

Favorite scene and favorite line?

:D

-Sincerely, @fingerprint-insurance , citizen of the United States of @laurelwen

Get ready for the rant

1. from our favorite @theoryofwhatnow ‘s edit on tiktok. innocent little me found a Like Minds edit in the midst of Sandman edits and accidentally was sucked into a black hole of obsession. this also occurred during my school d&d session where my friend judged me HEAVILY

2. they really are both bae but Nigel. sorry guys i can’t escape the insane psycho twink syndrome however i do feel alex is more complex internally than Nigel. but i just really dig how tom sturridge looks

3. i think my favorite scene may be controversial but it’s when Nigel is found in bed with his mother (i’m NOT into incest i promise that isn’t why it’s my fav scene) Nigel just looks so scared and vulnerable in that scene. so much so that it shocked me when i first saw it. Nigel has always seemed calm and collected while always having something smart to say back but when his dad confronts him you can really see him. without the insane psycho part it truly seems like he’s just a kid. and of course my TRUE favorite part is when he sees alex rush in. you can clearly see how his shoulders relax as he says “Jack. You made it” while his voice breaks and he smiles a little (i’ve done this rant before but STILL)

Favorite line is “Well, I’m sorry, Jack, but you were the one who got inside my head”. this WHOLE time in alex’s perspective we are conditioned by him to believe that Nigel is the only freak. but THIS line completely flipped that for me and i realized. wait. in Nigel’s perspective, Alex would be such a freak as well (drugging him and trying to kill him should’ve been a clear indicator but i’m blind). anyway this specific line made me realize many things about their dynamic and that it’s not psycho x victim. nooo. it’s actually psycho x psycho and i love it

- sincerely, Lunior-art, recent inductee of the United States of @laurelwen