#stories from elsewhere

[cora626]

King of Suds Laundromat & Elsewhere Realty Co.

Let me know if you guys want the empty shell for upload. I will not share CC from other creators on my lots, but I can create a list with their hyperlinks.

Lot can be found here

[satoblue]

at your wedding — or technically — the gojo clan’s formal ceremony that was stiff with tradition, satoru had dropped into a deep ojigi (bow) before you. and it was scandalous — the talk of the century as word spread to every sorcerer across the country. it had been known and described as being too deep and too low for a man bowing to his wife — an act of defiance. the gasps that rippled throughout the room along with the disapproving clicks of tongues were the definition of scorned and displeased. bc his behavior was so improper and undignified — blasphemous, even. but satoru stayed there a moment longer than necessary — just to drive the point home. he specifically did this during the ceremony he didn’t even want to have. bc he hadn’t planned on doing a wedding for his clan at all, hated the idea — hated them. and he hated how they didn’t approve of your marriage because you weren’t a sorcerer. but once he threatened to cut them off entirely — they folded. those old geezers couldn’t risk being on bad terms with their own — especially not with the strongest. then and even now, his bow was a message — a loud and clear one. with a smug grin on his lips, the reverent action was a declaration: “she’s the only one i bow to. ever.” and you flustered of course — bc he made sure that day that everyone saw how you are the one he’d kneel and deeply bow for. the one person he will listen to forever — his goddess. that no one’s input or opinion or existence mattered next to yours. it was a vow — one that would be remembered and talked about — in awe and jealousy — for generations to come.

[cheesenchalk]

i never know how to phrase it but something about the way beatles biographers and people in general view paul's reflexive placating persona and determination to smooth things over as manipulative or duplicitous and john's reflexive barbed persona and habit of lashing out as brave and subversive despite both being equally defensive mechanisms to shield themselves from the world that resulted in them saying things that weren't true says more about how we culturally view kindness or friendliness as inherently untrustworthy or flimsy and anger and carelessness as more believable as someone's true nature than it says about either of them in actuality

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

the most annoying thing about digging through the The Americans tag is the oh-so-progressive people there complaining about how the show is actually failing to portray Marxist-Leninist theory correctly 💅

like did you really come to a US drama series expecting a dissection of the fine points of Communist theory. you will note the conspicuous absence of "inspired by real events" at the beginning of the episodes. you will notice also the immense focus on a small cluster of characters and perhaps, eventually, reach the understanding that this is a story examining relationships that it has chosen to set in the backdrop of the late Cold War. nobody ever claimed accuracy here and more importantly nobody involved with this show ever claimed it was politically revolutionary or instructional. the showrunners literally said it was "basically a show about a marriage" and the spy stuff is a metaphor. what's not clicking.

[jackattack20writes]

I kinda wanna do a “what’s the craziest possible ending for Gquuuuuux” post but first I just needed to say I had the realisation that I think with what Shuji said this episode that Lalah’s damselness in the Gquuuuuux timeline is possibly because of the other Lalah, also I do have to acknowledge that this could be me reading into it too much but I think one particular thing supports this reading.

So I don’t know yet how much influence OS Lalah has on the Gquuuuuux timeline whether it’s just getting char the RX-78 or as Shuji implied the entire thing but if it is the latter that explains a lot.

So firstly just generally it makes sense from what we know of her, that if OS Lalah created an alt timeline the most important things to her would be Char, Amuro and the other her. Now as there’s no confirmation Haro is controlled by Amuro or even what Amuro is up to at the moment but well there is some assumptions, so firstly we know that at the very least his father is alive from the cameo in the flashback so we can assume that Amuro also exists. Secondly we know he isn’t a Gundam pilot something that arguably would be the best way to protect him, leaving him as the boy he was before he got in the robot. So it would qualify as protecting him

Next is Char, so we know from Lalah’s visions that in at least one reality likely the one OS Lalah is from, Char died in place of Lalah. So what’s the most direct way to achieve that give him white base, the rx-78 and a military-trained new type partner, or as we see in Gquuuuuux, Sodon, the alpha psycommu equipped Red Gundam and Challia Bull. Which coincidentally also achieves the goal of protecting Amuro. So so far the changes match what a distraught Lalah would do if she was restructuring the timeline, but I think the real kicker is her alternate’s fate.

So when GQX Lalah first showed up there was understandable criticism for Lalah being reduced to a damsel waiting for Char to show up. And while I do think the criticism is still valid I think it’s going to be revealed that OS Lalah is the cause. So like the big reason we get for Lalah not leaving is because she’s waiting for char like she saw in her visions of the alternate timelines, visions that caused her pain. So my theory is that OS Lalah was the source of these visions and intended for GQX Lalah to get them with a dual purpose. As not only would the visions keep her on earth waiting for char but also as a perpetual punishment that OS Lalah could both inflict and vicariously suffer.

Now yes this is a lot of speculation but I think that based on the other big change to the timeline the visions that make GQX Lalah stay on earth also being from OS Lalah makes sense. And like I know I’d have self hate issues if I knew not only that I failed to save someone I loved from someone else I loved and then also found out that there were alternate realities where I saved him. And similarly OS Lalah seems to think that total removal is either the best way or the easiest to achieve as can be seen with the total removal of Amuro. So I think that at the very least OS Lalah did intend for GQX Lalah to never meet Char, even if I’m overestimating the self punishment aspect.

Also like I think this fits because I have a gut feeling that with Yomagn’tho being above earth and char being both in his red comet outfit and the red Gundam it’s highly likely that his ending in the series will be crashing to earth just like Machu did in ep 9 and Lalah’ll pull him out and drag him off into the sunset ala Shinji and Mari in 3.0+1.0 as a sign of sorts that they’re finally charting the path they want instead of one charted by OS Lalah’s fear, sort of ties into the ideas with Nyaan and Machu about finding your paths and place in life and how that place is often someone else rather than somewhere (like Nyaan and Machu are both yearning for someone else to be with them once they reach what should be their ideal home and they’re both more important to eachother than they really realise and I think are in part the home they’re looking for) and also I think fits as a quasi happy ending for char since I doubt Kycilia will make it out of this show alive so char’ll be able to set off into the sunset knowing that the zabi’s are dead and without the trauma that eventually channels into CCA.

[tales-from-hyrule]

Great Busts and Nonplussed Fairy Dust

PART IV

The dust cloud fell upon them as a cat upon its prey, leaping hundreds of feet into the air from its strange origins, then splitting into three swirling cascades as it plunged back down. Cironus’ yelp of surprise slipped into coughing and sputtering as the plume smashed into him, great rolling gusts of the stuff crashing into the beach and kicking sand and grit into the air. Sardon and Fat Fin were no better; while he couldn’t see either of them, Cironus could hear at least one of them smashing into the sand themselves.

“AUGH–Bro! Dad–what–”

Cries for Sardon and Fat Fin went unnoticed in the magical haze - at least, so far as he could tell. Cironus was, after all, suddenly distracted from listening for them as a sudden bout of vertigo slammed into him. It felt as if someone had grabbed the back of his head and lifted partly into the sky - or, perhaps, that said back of his head no longer seemed to exist.  In its place was some strange, airy void: indeed, when he tried to turn his head to check behind him, his neck brutally overcompensated, snapping his head about far more than intended and causing him to fight a wave of nausea. Cironus shut his eyes, grimacing against the roiling in his gut: if the rest of his family was going through half of what was going on, it was all too clear why at least one of them had fallen over.

Crouching low, Cironus shuffled through the blinding cloud and choking dust, kicking up sand as he tried to find the other two by feel. A sudden impact and a pained “OOF” stopped him in his tracks; his foot had made contact with someone’s fleshy middle, and they were pawing at the air, trying to grab whatever had just hit them.

“Sardon?”

“Cir?”

Cironus scrabbled at the sand, still half-blinded by the cloud, and grabbed his brother by the forearm. Something scrabbled at the back of his mind as he struggled to pull his larger sibling upright: his brother’s skin didn’t feel right. It didn’t have that slick rubber-like texture he usually associated with his family, nor did it have the appropriate suppleness as he tightened his grip around it. Cironus could actually feel bone beneath his brother’s wrists, a thought that was a shock to him: while it still had plenty of muscle surrounding it, there was usually so much meat encased around it that one would have to grasp fairly hard to feel anything like that. In a brief flash of irrationality, Cironus thought he’d somehow grabbed a gibdo that had stumbled a hundred leagues east of the desert, and he immediately let go.

“OW! Cironus, what the HECK–”

“Sorry!”

Still blinking silt and grit from his eyes, Cironus grabbed at his brother again, this time grabbing him under the armpits and yanking him upward. He grimaced at the texture, making a note to beg his brother to take a swim and clear whatever that was out from underneath - and the moment his brother found purchase, he let go of him to call out again.

“Dad?!”

“DAD!”

“Dad, where are you?”

“I’m right HERE.”

“Oh.”

“...Though I can’t see worth a damn in this cloud. Son - can’t you, I don’t know, play something to blow this shit away?”

“I…yeah? Maybe? Hang on–”

None of them had moved too far from where he’d been standing previously, so it didn’t take long for Cironus to find his guitar. For some reason, though, it felt strange in his hands - like he had somehow picked up an instrument a size and a half bigger than it should have been. Cironus shook his head, trying to clear the confusion from his head (it had to be the surreality of the situation at hand, right?) and worked the frets. The muscle memory took over, thankfully, and some degree of agency felt like it returned to Cironus as he warmed up a few practice licks. A moment later, a power chord blasted out from Cironus’ guitar, and sand, dust, and grit whipped away, rolling over the shoreline’s water almost as though looking for new prey to hunt.

“Good goin’, kid.” Fat Fin nodded appreciatively at Cironus, even if none of them could see it. To his brother, he said, “Sardon, point me at the water. I think that dust devil emptied half the beach in my eye.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was Sardon’s turn to blink in surprise as he wrapped his arm around his father’s torso to guide him seaward. He still couldn’t see worth a damn, but–

“Cripes, Dad, did someone tape a carpet onto your back? You feel like you’re covered in hair–”

His snark earned him a seaward plunge of his own.

========

Danmalaak sauntered over the beach’s lip, feeling even lighter than he normally did. Sardon had done the right thing, there, turning him loose like that; zooming over the countryside had helped him expend a ton of energy that had built up as he’d come back to shore. HIs brain no longer flying high in the clouds, he looked forward to getting a proper fish fry going on with that marlin. Sure, fish weren’t necessarily his thing, being the resident rock-biter in their group, but there was just that certain something that fish drippings added to a chunk of salt that set off all the happy signals in his belly. Plus, Fat Fin had complimented his cooking, so clearly he had some idea what he was doing!

As he reached the campsite, however, Danmalaak was surprised to see his friends gone and the fire put out. Everything was covered in a fine layer of sand, in fact; it was as if the entire campsite had been neglected for a solid day or two.

“I haven’t been gone that long, have I?” he murmured to himself. “...No, that can’t be right.”

So where were his friends?

Danmalaak’s thoughts were interrupted as something erupted from the waters: a massive figure, tall and broad, with great tan shoulders rolling as they came out of the sea. Water arced into the sky as the figure’s head whipped back, trailing in a great circle as it launched from its great, roping locks. 

“PHEW!” cried the figure, wiping the water from his eyes as he stood and turned around. “Can finally see again. Oh hey, Dan, back already?”

Danmalaak blinked.

“Uh, yeah, but–”

He was interrupted as another pair of figures erupted from the water: equally graceful, both slightly taller and even wider than the first. The way the water arced off their hair was uncannily identical, and Danmalaak was struck dumb the sheer synchronicity in which they moved.

“Phew. Can finally see again,” they both said, slightly out of step with one another as they turned in opposite directions.

“Hey Dan.”

“Danmalaak.”

“Uh…hi?”

“What’s up, Dannum?” asked the first, concern starting to creep onto his face. “You look like you’ve seen a poe.”

“Oh, uh, it’s…not that?” said Danmalaak. “It’s just, uh…”

“Probably wondering why we’re in the water,” said the tallest one.

“I mean, it’s us. Can’t be that surprised.”

Danmalaak gave a nervous cough.

“You’re, uh…naked.”

The tallest one looked at the goron like he’d grown another head, which was fair given that the goron was giving them the exact same look.

“...Danmalaak. Look at me,” he said, gesturing at his (admittedly glorious) chest. “Have you ever seen me wear anything.”

“Yeah,” said the one who’d come out of the water with him. “And you’re one to talk!”

“I’m wearing swim trunks!”

“Yeah, and you’re like the only one who does that! Every goron I’ve ever seen goes rolling around naked–”

“No they don’t,” said the first, “they wear those little loincloths–”

“FOCUS!” yelled Danmalaak. “WHY ARE YOU NAKED?! YOU’RE HYLIAN!”

There was a pause as all three of them stared at Danmalaak.

“None of those words make any sense–” ventured the middle one.

“MMMMMMM!”

Flabbergasted beyond all capacity of speech, the goron pointed at the three of them, crossing and uncrossing his arms wildly. They stared at him for a moment, completely unable to guess at his meaning…then slowly turned their heads towards one another…

…and saw zero zorca but three tall, heavyset and extremely naked Hylians between the three of them.

There was a momentary pause. Then–

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

“...”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

==========

“They just had to be loincloths, didn’t they.”

Sardon stared sourly into the fire. The three zorca humans were warming themselves around a newly-furnished campfire, unpleasantly reminded of the lack of proper zorca blubber to keep themselves warm. True to Sardon’s moping, they were no longer naked; their extremities were now carefully tucked away behind the finest of Eldin goron finery.

“They’re mawashis,” Danmalaak said, stoking the fire, “and you’re lucky I had them. You’re not exactly my size.”

“True,” said Cironus, idly yanking at the side of his own in a futile attempt to get some more give. “Can you imagine one of us trying to stick our thighs in one of his swimtrunks?”

“It’s riding up my ass,” said Fat Fin.

“That’s why I wear the trunks.”

“Yeah?

Fin eyed the goron. Danmalaak, in turn, glanced at him.

“Well, that and I wouldn’t be caught dead in those.”

The look Fin gave him was priceless.

“I mean…they were spares!” he continued, defending himself (if only after a brief shit-eating grin). ”Honestly, I’m surprised I still had ‘em in my pack to begin with. It’s not like I had my entire wardrobe on me when my boat sank, you know? Heck, I think I grabbed those off the back shelf of some Eldin caravan in case these–” he flicked the band on his own shorts– “ever gave out.”

“So we’re wearing your back-up undies?” asked Sardon.

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds terrible!” Danmalaak said. “...aaaand technically, you’re wearing the backup to my backups. Cironus is wearing the backups. Fat Fin’s wearing…well, my fat pants.”

Fat Fin shrugged. “Not fat enough.”

“Mind your business, Fin! And–look, let’s get back to the crux of the matter,” shot back Danmalaak, increasingly less willing to discuss his own personal undergarment hierarchy. “How in Hylia did you end up, well, Hylians?!”

“I mean, that’s the thing,” said Sardon. “We don’t know.”

“Yeah,” said Cironus. “One minute, we’re watching you burn off the excess energy from my song, the next…” He picked up a handful of sand from beside him and blew it towards the fire.

“Right, the, uh, magic cloud,” said Danmalaak. “You didn’t see where it came from?”

“Well, it wasn’t coming from your direction…so, there’s that?”

“Yeah,” said Sardon. “It wasn’t like we were looking in any other direction. And when the cloud hit, we couldn’t see anything until Cir played it off.”

“Nice,” said Fat Fin, offering his son a fist. He pounded it.

“Guys!” yelled Cironus. “FOCUS!”

“Yes, please!” said Danmalaak. “Magic cloud. Hit from nowhere. Blinded you. And you didn’t even notice you were human ‘till I pointed it out?”

“Well, it was hard to see–”

“I’m just keeping the facts straight,” he cut in. “The fact you didn’t notice is weird, yeah - but not because you’re, I dunno, unobservant, it’s because you guys are like half your height, lost your head…piece…things?”

“Tail fins?” ventured Fat Fin.

“You know what I mean. And it was like so second nature you didn’t even notice it. Like, I know there are some transformation spells out there? But the ones I’ve usually heard about are on the ‘OH DIN MY LIMBS ARE RIPPING THEMSELVES IN TWO’ side of effects, right? Like, you would notice being compacted into, well, half your height.”

“Hey, that’s right!” said Cironus. “Like, I felt really lightheaded when it happened? But I thought it was because I couldn't see anything.”

“Yeah, some serious vertigo,” agreed Sardon, rubbing the back of his head, grimacing at the hair sticking out where his massive mantle used to be. “That, and feeling really cold all of a sudden.”

“Lack of insulation, son,” said Fin, slapping his own middle. “Gotta eat up, get it back on.”

“Or, you know, wear a shirt,” muttered Danmalaak.

“Nah.”

“Anyways. My guess? You three got hit with a blast of fairy dust. You only need a pinch, it acts fast, and the effects are pretty random.”

“...and temporary, I hope?” asked Sardon.

Danmalaak paused. “I…don’t know?” he replied. “I mean…if it were just temporary, I’d imagine it’d wash off, and, well, seeing as I first found you guys in the water…”

There was a long, unpleasant pause as the four of them considered the ramifications.

“...Guys? I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a Hylian,” said Sardon. 

“Me neither,” said Cironus.  “Things were bad enough as is. I don’t need this on top of it.”

“Like, can you imagine trying to fit in with the other Hylians?”

“Heck, how‘ll you explain this to the rest of the pod?!”

Sardon gasped. 

“Oh NO!” he exclaimed. “What am I going to say to Sona?! She can’t see me like this–not when I’m like half her size!”

“You always were half her size.”

“Not the point! Do you even think she’d go for a smaller guy?!”

“Speak for yourself,” said Fin - who was gazing into the fire, a grin playing on his lips as he spread his arms wide. “I, for one, can’t wait to dip your mom with these things.”

“DAD!”

“What, you’re telling me you’ve never wanted to be the little spoon?”

“DAD!”

Danmalaak closed his eyes. The conversation was quickly spiraling away from him, a theme that was rapidly becoming the norm with anything involving these three. No wonder their matriarchs are in charge, he thought. One brain between the three of them.

“Is. There. A great fairy. Nearby?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Huh?”

“A great fairy,” he repeated. “Or even just a regular one? Someone you could, I don’t know, consult with. I mean, the operative word here is fairy dust. If that’s what we’re working with, they’d be the ones to talk to, right?”

Danmalaak had to admit, he was speaking faster than his own brain would allow. He was still a little uncertain of his conclusions, after all. His information on the subject was secondhand, coming as it did from the trade caravans he’d met on his travels, so it was all hypothetical to him. So far as he knew, there weren’t any Great Fairies out in the Alae islands he considered home. As he understood it, they loved receiving tributes of rupees from their adoring followers, and while Alae had a bustling port, nobody outside the local gorons stayed long enough to develop that kind of attachment. 

Still, it was the best theory they had, and if it kept Sardon and Cironus moving, it might keep them from despairing about their current predicament. At the very least, a Great Fairy would have some idea how to get them back to their old bodies, right?

“...You know what?” said Cironus, scratching his forehead and interrupting Danmalaak’s thoughts. “Now that you mention it, I’m fairly sure there’s a Great Fairy just north of us!”

“Oh! Really?”

“Yeah! Gimme a sec while I look over the map–”

The zorca-turned-human reached into his pack, once more trying to shake off the unsettling feeling of everything just feeling bigger than usual, and spread out the map of Hyrule he’d copied from Link before parting ways. Tracking his finger along the peninsula, he found Rimba beach, dismissed some intrusive thoughts relitigating whether it was shaped like a foot or a knife, and traced a few routes leading north until he found what he was looking for.

“There she is!” he exclaimed, planting a finger on the mark. “Great Fairy Cotera. Okay, my bad, her fountain’s northwest of here - but hey! It shouldn’t take more than a few days’ walk to get there!”

“Well, then!” said Danmalaak with a clap. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan - head up to this…Cotera, you said?”

“Yeah!”

“--and ask her to turn you back! Sound like a plan?”

He looked expectantly at Sardon and Fat Fin, both of whom nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” said Sardon, rubbing one of his shoulders as he stood up. “I miss my frills, you know?” Feels…I don’t know, weird not having something to wick the water off here.”

“Get used to it,” his father said. “‘Till we find that fairy, that’s the body you’re stuck with.”

“All the more reason to find her, and fast.”

“...Uh, speaking of - you guys don’t mind if we stop by Lurelin for some pants, would you?” asked Cironus, hefting the tuna (which, even as a dead marlin, had not escaped the magic cloud’s curse) over his shoulders. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m feeling really self-conscious just wearing the loincloth.”

Sardon smirked.

“It’s ‘cause your bits stick out now.”

“SARDON!”

Meanwhile...

[fictionadventurer]

Everything I learn about Rose Wilder Lane makes me more and more aware that she was a hilariously outrageous person who needs a movie made about her immediately.

After leaving Missouri, she moves to California and marries a real-estate guy who once tried to get her to help him con the railroad.

She gets hired at a San Francisco newspaper known for its yellow journalism, where she does things like writing a series of columns featuring the "real-life stories of a police detective" who, in real life, was a high-end jewel thief.

Her first book is a first-person "autobiography" of Charlie Chaplin that she (after a few interviews with Chaplin) completely made up, and that Charlie Chaplin immediately threatened to sue her publisher for.

Her second book is a biography of Jack London, which his wife only reluctantly allowed her to write because Rose presented herself as "someone who had never written for the newspapers before and needs a chance to break into the magazines." This book was also almost entirely fictional, and her publisher also almost got sued over it.

Third biography is the first-ever biography of Herbert Hoover, also a heavily-fictionalized account. (Doesn't seem to have been sued for this one. Steps in the right direction!)

Traveled as a reporter through Europe (to places like Albania and Poland) post-WWI. (If we want to talk about legal things that she did).

Wrote a book based on Laura's late-childhood pioneer experiences while Laura was writing the early books of the Little House series, and did not tell Laura about it. (Laura was ticked off).

Kept trying to insert a story into Laura's memoirs (and Little House on the Prairie) casting Pa as a member of a posse that hunted down the infamous (and never-caught) serial-killing Bender family (despite the fact that this was historically impossible). (It got to the point that Laura herself told this story to the public as an example of "a true story I couldn't out in my children's book." Despite the fact, I say again, that this was historically impossible).

During WWII, endured a minor incident (it involved one cop coming to her house) where the FBI investigated her as a potential communist based on a postcard she sent that was critical of the government. Turned this into a short story that presented herself as the righteously-outraged American citizen fighting against an oppressive government, and used this to whip up a nationwide media campaign against J. Edgar Hoover for spying on American citizens.

Flew to Vietnam as a war reporter when she was in her seventies.

[thelaurenshippen]

the onion bought infowars. I repeat, the onion bought infowars

[harrybirthdaytoya]

At one 1D concert I attended where I was very close to the stage, I was shocked when Liam made eye contact and winked at me less than 5 minutes into the concert. I wasn’t particularly attractive or special. As I watched him, I noticed he did it again, and again, and again, to any fan whose eyes he managed to catch.

That was Liam. Liam wanted every fan to have the best experience possible. He wanted everyone to feel noticed. He wanted everyone to know they were loved. I wasn’t a Liam girl but he saw me, and he cared.

Liam certainly had his flaws. I don’t deny any allegations. But I am devastated (and frankly, a little angry) that mental health, drugs, and arrested development from fame at such a young age broke him.

I will always remember Liam for the heart that was within him that I saw firsthand.

[cora626]

WIP for Elsewhere

Elsewhere is getting a laundromat and a realty company run by Joan and crew because there is overcrowding in the mansion HAHA

King of Suds Laundry and Elsewhere Realty!

[marsreds]

also, ngl, i was not expecting kaisei to be My Type™ the way he is? like. yesss king, there's something deeply wrong with you, lemme see you make it everyone's problem👏👏

[smile-files]

i cannot convey in words how frustrating it is to have so many ideas for stories i want to write. i can't count on my adhd brain to fixate on an idea long enough to bring it to completion; working on an idea is tiring and i often don't have the energy or motivation to do it at any given moment, potentially wasting a precious opportunity of fixation on it; and, of course, there are always other things to do and other things to worry about, so even if every box is checked off i'm often blocked off from working with the idea. this wouldn't be such an issue if i came up with a good story idea every once in a while: but no, i have so many ideas i find compelling, and i come up with more constantly, to the point that having them continue to be ideas stuck in my brain and not finished products is genuinely overwhelming for me

[daincrediblegg]

I am once again asking that more superhero movies are NOT made by James Gunn

[d-lanx]

backstage at bash in berlin

[athene-owl]

Seriously - as a Pokemon fanatic myself, wtf is with Pokemon fans insisting that:

1. Pokemon's success is solely due to it being perfectly designed game and character-wise

2. Every other monster taming series that doesn't blow up to the degree that Pokemon did is a fucking failure because it doesn't follow what Pokemon does????

I don't know how the fuck to explain this to some of y'all, but Pokemon's success was in large part due to pure luck. It came out at the optimal time, it was brought overseas and it struck gold. Of course it has a lot of great elements that helped it be so popular, but to act like it's success was due to it being so uniquely genius and perfect is a slap in the face to its predecessors. Pokemon had a capitalist juggernaut behind it that had the means to pump money into it and if you seriously think that it won by its own merits purely then I think you are very naive.

If it came out today, do I think it would be popular? Sure, I can see that. But it would not be guaranteed to blow up the way that it did in the 90's. Again, this is coming from a diehard, lifelong Pokemon fan.

And the absolutely bullshit idea that every series remotely comparable to Pokemon is a failure for not being Pokemon 2.0 is worse. OF FUCKING COURSE NOTHING ELSE COMPARES TO POKEMON'S SUCCESS. Pokemon is an established, centralizing, multimedia powerhouse which makes more money than any other franchise on Earth. We don't say that indie animation is lesser than Disney for not getting the same box office sales, but Pokemon fans LOVE throwing this idea around. To insist that capital success = artistic merit and flawless design philosophy is honestly just disgusting.

It's easy for Pokemon to dominate other franchises when it was one of the first to blow up on an international scale. Of course, when you can buy Pokemon merch of anything, it's gonna gather more focus and money than an indie game. When you have a prestablished fanbase of over 20 years, yeah you're gonna sell better than new franchises. So what - no other monster taming series should even bother? Because nothing will ever dethrone Pokemon, it can't.

I am so sick of watching unique and creative works with a ton of passion behind them get shit on for daring to not follow the Pokemon formula and their inability to outsell it being used as proof of their deficiencies. God forbid a piece of art have its own goals, intentions and meaning behind it.

And how hypocritical too, to ignore the serious design flaws in early Pokemon generations. Pokemon's first gen had a lot of weak designs and major flaws BUT it had the financial backing to continue on and define it's own style and formula over time. Watching Pokemon fans lambast new franchises for not having everything perfectly worked out in their first entries is laughable.

And can I just say how depressing this shit is? I am not a game designer, I will never make a monster taming series, but watching indie creators' works get disregarded for not being Pokemon is so disheartening. 99.99999% of artists will never make anything comparable to these giant media franchises. Our works will never gain even a fraction of these series' fanbases and success and enthusiasm. In my experience, this is something a lot of creatives struggle with - if I'll never be as successful as this huge thing that inspires me, if no one will ever see my work, if I can't create the single most original thing, why bother creating?

That doesn't mean our work is intrinsically worse or useless, its just the cold hard reality of living in a capitalist hellworld. Mega franchises established 35 years ago dominate the media landscape. They make money on brand recognition alone, they set the industry standards and if you equate that with them intrinsically being better, more worthy of success and shit on indie creators for not reaching those impossible standards then you're a piece of shit. And this attitude is so rampant in the Pokemon fandom, so unquestioningly pushed, that it drives me up the wall.

[divorceblogger]

cuddy loves the malpractice so much