#a concept i’ve been working on for like a year

[comradekatara]

please please please tell me about your avatar sokka au (only if you want) sokka as the avatar sounds SO interesting because it's just like. he's sokka and also how does aang fit into this...

@adeusdelta asked: Hey I just saw your post about the idea of an avatar Yue au. So basically I’m curious if you’ve ever talked the other possible aus you find more compelling (sokka, azula, etc.) and if you have, would you mind linking me to the posts? I’m curious to hear on your take on it!

so i have a post on this and how i don't really think that "other avatar" really work all that well, but i do think that sokka and azula would be the most compelling alternate avatars, simply because they both function as dark mirrors to aang in a way that would make the story infinitely more cynical. like sokka as the avatar with azula as a deuteragonist of sorts (the avatar and the firelord, edgelord version) is actually fascinating to me and i have been thinking about that concept specifically, um.... a lot. mostly because katara, still as the narrator, but instead of the object upon whom she has pinned all her hopes and dreams being this fantastical, mythical figure, it is instead her miserable bastard brother, is just an absolutely fascinating character study to me. her one thing, her one claim to specialness, is now wholly undermined by the fact that her brother is literally the most special person on the planet. her role as hero, discoverer of the avatar, teacher of the avatar, best friend of the avatar, narrator and catalyst of this sweeping tale of revolution, is basically just reduced to being "the avatar's little sister." and unlike aang, who is an idealist who wants to save the world out of a vision of hope and beauty, sokka is a cynic who wants to fix the world because he considers it his burden and his duty. he doesn't care who he has to hurt to get his way, and katara isn't powerful enough to stop him, she just has to trust that he'll make the right call every single time, because there is simply no one who can keep him in check (besides his past lives). it's terrifying. avatar sokka is lowkey a horror story.

more specific outline under the cut (in no chronological order; trust me, i tried to move my bullet points around so that they'd flow better, and this stupid fucking website wouldn't let me. whatever):

sokka genuinely hates being the avatar and considers it the greatest curse of his existence. he tries to advertise it as little as possible

nonetheless, word eventually gets out, as sokka develops a reputation for being ruthless, deadly, and unfuckwithable. he uses his reputation to control everything he thinks needs fixing, especially azula and the fire nation

azula watches sokka kill her father without blinking (he simply explodes his heart using waterbending) and immediately decides never to test her loyalty to him as his firelord 

katara is rightfully wary of sokka simply accepting azula’s offer to puppet her, but sokka is just like “well azula is ruled by fear. before me her unquestioned loyalty was to ozai, but now that I have killed ozai, I have proven myself to be scarier than him and so she will devote herself to following me.” and katara's just like “um that’s literally sick and twisted????” she understandably doesn’t know how to feel about her brother killing the most powerful man in the world and puppeting his teenage daughter, but, admittedly she also sees the incentive.

eventually and azula and sokka just become actual friends. sokka uses logical proofs and verifiable data points to illustrate to azula why her ideology is dogshit. even though she’s still reasonably terrified him, azula actually gets to grow and learn and heal through her partnership and eventual friendship with sokka

for years azula keeps asking sokka to track down zuko so they can reunite. she’s like “i’ve followed your every order to the letter and all I ask in return is to reunite with my brother” but sokka only remembers zuko from that stretch between the south pole to the north pole where he was trying to hunt him down and capture him, so he is very dismissive of her requests. and azula keeps insisting that if he KNEW zuko he would love him because he’s such a sensitive sweetiepie, but sokka’s like “uhhh im pretty sure he’s a stupid bully” and largely just ignores her. finally he actually grows fond enough of azula to actually honor her request and track zuko and iroh down in ba sing se. 

toph and katara are the only members of sokka’s team avatar, but he still knows yue, suki, jeong jeong, and pakku (he never meets bumi or piandao) 

he finds toph before he gets to the north pole, so when they go to the north pole together he is basically just carrying her on his back the entire time. she hates it there and can’t wait to leave

azula never gets the chance to claim ba sing se, so iroh and zuko remain there indefinitely, since sokka is still under the impression that it’s a functional city state that requires no intervention until much later down the line 

he figures out the presence of the white lotus through frequent communication with yangchen, his favorite past life. yangchen teaches him politics and airbending

he visits yue in the spirit world almost immediately after the war ends. he notes sadly that she seems somewhat terrified of him. she didn’t know that he was the avatar while she was still alive because he thought it best to keep it secret to everyone except those with a dire necessity to be in the know (obviously word has since gotten out) 

he learned firebending first, then airbending, then earthbending, then waterbending. it’s in completely the wrong order, which yangchen chastises him for when she teaches him airbending in the spirit world

sokka doesn’t really waterbend much because he’s afraid of encroaching on katara’s domain. as for katara, she absolutely hates that the one thing that made her special in a way that sokka wasn’t is actually not even that impressive now and she HATES that the mystical figure she has been searching for her entire fucking life is HIM and she HATES that it’s not her WHY ISN'T IT HER…

she also hates that sokka lied to her about it for their entire childhoods because she assumes it was his patronizing way of sparing her feelings, even though he doesn’t think that being the avatar is anything remotely good, and only hid it from her because he was scared and ashamed. and he knows that eventually there will be a reckoning (in the form of somehow being a better firebender than zuko despite being completely untrained) but in the meantime he just wants katara to think he’s Normal

so at first he feels weird about waterbending because he sees that as katara’s “thing,” but eventually he starts doing shit with waterbending that katara literally can’t, and so (in his mind) it’s fair again. like he starts isolating individual atoms in H2O molecules to make H2O2 and shit, and katara’s just like "HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT." but then he starts bloodbending (he bloodbends azula, for example) and katara is like nvm i'm glad i’m a normie :) 

he never meets hama but develops his own mode of bloodbending, he invents metalbending independently as a way to break free from handcuffs, and he develops all kinds of other niche sub-bending categories as well

sokka’s firebending is like azula’s on crack. he just shoots a tiny bit of fire out of his fingertips like a gun and hits someone right in their neck and they double over in pain and boom he’s won.

he starts off not really knowing any earthbending because he doesn’t exactly have earth at home, but then once he meets toph, he realizes the potential of the element and gets really obsessed with expanding that potential as much as possible

and air is his worst element. because it’s the element of freedom.

he has to reveal to jet that he’s the avatar because he accuses him of being a firebender. jet doesn’t believe him at first, but then he sees him go into the avatar state to hold back the water from the dam for long enough for the whole town to evacuate 

when he first calls the kyoshi warriors a bunch of girls, kyoshi herself screams at him for like an hour. lesson learned. 

he reunites with hakoda only after the war ends, at azula’s coronation. hakoda learns that he’s the avatar once ozai is already long dead. hakoda doesn’t recognize him at first, and instead assumes that he’s somehow kya’s long lost son that she had with a fire nation noble. he then immediately realizes how stupid that is, but is still completely shocked by the revelation of who sokka has become and what he even is. 

katara goes back to the south pole to be with her family, but sokka stays in the fire nation to oversee azula, with toph at his side. when toph asks him if he doesn’t also miss his family, sokka very matter of factly states that as the avatar, what he wants doesn’t matter. he’s not a person with desires, but rather a servant of the world, a vessel through which peace can be achieved. 

azula is a very good firelord. she is also unwaveringly loyal to sokka and will do anything to achieve his vision. sokka basically replaces ozai in her mind. but with more banter between them 

she asks sokka if they can’t retrieve iroh and zuko from ba sing se, but sokka doesn’t really think that having more evil family around will be a good influence on her. he goes to ba sing se to scope out the situation for himself, and decides that they’re pretty much harmless, but that if azula wishes to see them, they must meet in a third, neutral location 

zuko finally learns that sokka kills ozai, and is so enraged that he tries to fight sokka. it goes very poorly, but out of some faint fondness for azula, sokka doesn’t hurt him. iroh just expresses his gratitude and appreciation (on both accounts). 

despite azula being their ostensible ally, katara cannot fucking stand her. the feeling is mutual

sokka and toph, however, get along fairly well with her, and mai and ty lee also (mai doesn't understand why the avatar enjoys her presence so much, but she doesn't take it for granted either)

a couple years after the war, sokka starts taking an interest in more global politics, widening his focus from simply the fire nation. he goes home for the first time, revisits the north, and starts to tour the earth kingdom in earnest. that is when he starts to learn of and work to dismantle the police state of ba sing se and other unjustly hierarchized social systems, such as in the north pole. the nwt in particular is a sore spot for him due to his relationship with yue. 

sokka uses spies from within the white lotus to keep tabs on the white lotus so as not to repeat the platinum affair, which yangchen warned him about. eventually he stops trusting his own spies and sends toph in there instead. 

sokka also develops a very tender affection for kuruk, who reminds him of hakoda and who is the only person who can even somewhat get through to him regarding sokka’s somewhat toxic, self-dehumanizing ideal of what and who he should be. he thinks kyoshi is sweet and admires her ruthlessness and similar approach to the self (as a vessel rather than a person). he dislikes roku and thinks he has no redeeming qualities, and tells him as much the first time they ever talk. he talks to aang sometimes, but seeking advice from a kid who was captured by firelord azulon and died in prison (yes) always hurts his heart. 

he feels a responsibility to the entire world and claims that he must remain impartial in all matters, but he would still lay down his life for katara (or toph) if it came down to it. that childhood conditioning doesn’t go away, it just gets worse as his responsibilities grow.

in conclusion: avatar sokka is sooo sick & twisted that i can actually kind of justify it as a compelling AU. like, aang's role in it is somehow even more tragic, because this narrative would necessarily dial the cynicism up to 11. sokka and azula as the avatar and the firelord duo in question would be absolutely miserable, just as katara's narratorial status being undermined at every turn would be miserable, just as an aangless world would be miserable. and guess what. i <3 misery

[whipitgod]

I Panicked

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

oneshot - wc: 2.3k

summary: post fall hannigram, fits in the same universe as ‘pushed in’ but its not necessary to read that to understand this one. Hannibal gets a bit introspective as he thinks about how his life turned out, Will just really wants Hannibal to stop stabbing him

warnings: canon typical violence though non-graphic (will gets lightly stabbed), somewhat crack-ish as per usual, and a decent helping of some tooth rotting domesticity

a/n: YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO AMAZING!!! thank you for all the love on the destiel fic! this was fun to write because I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while so it was good to finally flesh it out, i hope you all enjoy it!! if you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

All things considered, Hannibal had never expected his life to turn out like this; he had been, for lack of better phrasing, well and truly domesticated. They had settled into a small home in rural Argentina after pulling themselves out of the raging water Will had thrown them into, the nearest town no less than 30 minutes away; which Hannibal had initially taken issue with before seeing how at peace the younger man had been in the countryside.

Will had flourished in the new environment much to Hannibal's delight, the ex-profilers joy making it hard for Hannibal to be upset about their living situation. The home is nothing like how his home in Baltimore had been, the one they reside in now was single story and unassuming. White in color and surrounded by trees with a lake a couple hundred yards back behind the house, the home reminded him more of how Will's home had been in Wolf Trap. Hannibal found it difficult to complain about the home when it was shared with the younger man, whenever he felt the need to his mind would supply him with memories of Will walking through the back door after spending all day down by the lake fishing, the dog Hannibal had got him when they had first arrived at the home following close behind him.

Hannibal really had never pictured his life ever being anything like this, the concept of finding a shelter and choosing a dog for someone would have made him laugh a decade ago. He reasons that he had never had anyone to do it for before, because when they had arrived in Argentina almost three years ago Hannibal had barely batted an eye while he made quick work of locating a shelter about an hour away from the home to find a dog for Will.

Despite all this he still has his moments, he reminds himself sometimes that nobody is perfect; everyone has moments of weakness and lapses in judgment. Hannibal tries his best to maintain his composure and not let himself do anything too impulsive but sometimes the flood of emotions he gets in the face of the domesticity he and will now shared got the better of him; he had never been good at reacting rationally and it was apparent in how he tended to handle his emotions.

His most recent lapse in judgment had surprised even him, even now a week later he’s still a little unclear on why he had reacted to the emotions he shared with Will the way he did. He really had no reason to do what he did but Hannibal had never been a very reasonable man despite how much he tried to claim he was.

2 Weeks Ago

“Jesus Christ Hannibal, why did you stab me!?” Will’s hand presses against the wound made by the small paring knife Hannibal had been using to prepare dinner.

Hannibal, to his credit, feels at least slightly bad about the turn of events and responds with a flustered, “I'm not sure, I panicked,” the cannibal reaches to move Will's hand so he can inspect the wound, “my sincerest apologies Will.”

Will lets out a disbelieving sound akin to a laugh, “Panicked about what!” His tone is sharp, and he lets out a hiss as Hannibal prods at the wound, “We were just talking about our plans for tomorrow!”

Hannibal freezes momentarily at the words; why had he stabbed Will? The man honestly isn't quite sure, he supposes it might have something to do with the domesticity of the situation and the overwhelming rush of emotions he got whilst listening to Will talk about their plans like they were an old married couple.

“I believe I had meant to kiss you,” Hannibal meets Will's eyes briefly as he says this, “again, I sincerely apologize.”

Will just sighs at this, “It’s fine Hannibal, just help me stitch this up,” he shakes his head muttering a frustrated, “I can’t believe you stabbed me.”

“Of course, dear.” The older man pulls his hands away from where he had them still pressed against the wound, turning slightly to turn the stove off; Hannibal can’t believe he stabbed him either. Will begins walking towards their bathroom, hand clutched to his side and his gait a little uneven betraying the pain he was in; Hannibal really isn’t sure how he was going to make up for this one. The cannibal trails behind him, instructing him to remove his shirt once they had reached the somewhat small room.

“You’re unbelievable,” the words leave Will with a surprising amount of fondness, “Remind me to stop standing so close to you while you make dinner.”

Hannibal lets out a light chuckle at this, shaking his head slightly, “I will try and refrain from stabbing you going forward,” He inspects the wound on Will's lower stomach, sighing softly, “You don’t need stitches dear, but let me clean and bandage it.”

“Little victories,” it’s said with a teasing smile, “and I've heard that before Hannibal, it feels a bit hollow when you keep stabbing me.”

The older man huffs an affronted sound at this, lips curling down a bit, “I haven’t stabbed you in four months.”

“It’s fun that you keep track,” Will spots the guilty look gracing the cannibals features and sighs, he reaches up and places a hand on the man's cheek feeling the slight stubble there, “I know emotions aren’t easy for you, and for what it’s worth I'm proud of you.”

Hannibal scoffs quietly at this, shaking the man's hand off, “Don’t patronize me Will.”

“I'm not,” urged Will, “I really am proud of how well you’ve adapted to our life here; I know it wasn't easy for you.”

The cannibal offers him a small smile at this before patting the bandage that now adorned Will’s abdomen, “Good as new.”

Present day

Hannibal shakes his head at the memory, all things considered, Will had gotten over the man's slip up with a surprising ease; Of course nothing is ever truly easy with Will. The ex-profiler had a tendency to hold onto things to use them as leverage, bringing up Hannibal's misdeeds whenever the couple would argue. The most recent incident had been used to strong arm Hannibal into a fishing trip, the younger man lamenting how Hannibal never partook in the activities that he enjoyed; saying that the cannibal owed it to him to join him on the fishing trip after the older man had stabbed him.

Hannibal had decided not to argue, having learned that with Will he had to pick his battles carefully. The fallout of the cannibal denying him would be worse than a day sat on a boat under the hot sun; at least that's what he had thought up until he had seen the life jacket Will was insistent on having him wear. He thinks back on the argument the life jacket had caused with a huff of retroactive annoyance.

1 Week Ago

“Good lord, what is that?” Hannibal chokes out whilst looking at the neon orange life jacket that Will is holding out for him.

“You’ve never seen a life jacket?” Will's tone is sarcastic as he waves the life jacket in front of the cannibal's face; the older man staring at it like he’s trying to set it on fire with his mind.

“Of course I've seen a life jacket William, don't be ridiculous,” Hannibal waves a hand in its direction, “but why in god's name is it that color?”

“In case emergency search and rescue has to find your body in the lake.” The younger man says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world and Hannibal finds the statement a bit unsettling.

His brows furrowed as he finished processing what Will had said, “Do you plan on me ending up dead in the lake?”

“Depends,” Will shoves the life jacket to Hannibal's chest and the older man lets it fall to the floor without sparing it a glance, “are you gonna be this irritating all day?”

“Very funny dear.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Will, deciding the conversation is over, turns away from Hannibal to finish organizing his tackle box and assorted fishing gear, not sparing another glance to the man even when he starts grumbling quietly to himself; Will only picks up on some of it, not really paying attention.

“We’ll see who ends up in the lake,” there's rustling behind will and the sound of the life jacket being picked up off the floor, “could call it payback for the dress shoes I lost in the ocean.”

Will looks over his shoulder at the man and sends him an annoyed glare, effectively silencing the cannibal.

Present day

Hannibal hated that life jacket; he hated that Will hadn’t worn one as well even more. The fishing trip wasn’t all that bad, though he’d never admit that to the other man; he had complained too much to then turn around and say that he had had a good time. He had found fishing to be rather peaceful, the calm waves rocking the boat accompanied by a comfortable silence, well partial silence. Once Hannibal had stopped complaining there was a comfortable silence, and even though he would never admit it to Will, he knew that he had complained for quite a while.

Hannibal startles slightly at the sound of the back door banging open and the thud Will’s boots made as he entered their home, he hears the paws of the dog following shortly after, the dog never far behind will.

“Honey I’m home!”

Another thing Hannibal would never admit to was how much he enjoyed when Will would enter the house like that, finding a lot of pleasure in hearing Will call the place they resided ‘home’, the phrase always implying that it was their home; a space that they shared. The younger man enters the kitchen, setting the fish he had caught during his trip on the small island, before shifting his eyes to where Hannibal sat and sending the man a smile, eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of it.

“How was your trip dear?” Hannibal stands walking over to where Will is standing at the island starting the process of cleaning the fish. His hands reach out landing on the counter each side of Will’s waist as he peers over the man's shoulder at the fish in front of them, “By the looks of it, it went well.”

Will cranes his neck to look briefly at the man, eyes softening before he leans in and steals a chaste kiss; Their affection had become startlingly domestic compared to how it was when they had first arrived. They had behaved like touch starved teenagers for the first couple months, every kiss turning into something more. The two, now a few years into living with each other, expressed more casual intimacy than Hannibal had ever thought he was capable of. Quick kisses in greeting, or the gentle kisses Will would press to his cheek before he would rush out the door becoming a part of their routine; Hannibal frequently pressing kisses to the top of Will’s head when he would walk behind where the man was sitting, inhaling deeply as he does, taking in the smell of their shared shampoo.

The memories as well as the current position they’re in is horrifically domestic and Hannibal kind of wants to stab him again, though he stamps the thought down as quickly as it comes. Emotions swirl inside of him and he’s unable to pinpoint all of them though he’s able to pick out happiness fairly easily, the emotion had become commonplace after their years of living together; Hannibal had never thought it would be possible to feel as deeply as he does now.

“It was good,” Wills hands now working with a skill that had taken decades to acquire as he guts and cleans the fish in front of him, “how was your day? Do anything fun?”

Hannibal pauses for a moment considering, “It was good, though rather uneventful.”

Will let out a curious noise urging Hannibal to continue, “Oh yeah? Why's that?”

“The day somewhat slipped away from me; I haven’t even begun preparing for dinner.”

Will snorts at this, “Oh no, how will we ever survive,” his tone is teasing, and he laughs a bit as the words leave him, “we’ll starve before you manage to get dinner together.”

“I know, what a horrible twist of fate,” Hannibal presses a kiss to the side of Will’s head before continuing, “we managed to elude the FBI’s grasp for years only to succumb to hunger.”

Will’s shoulders shake with silent laughter before he sets the knife in his hand down, wiping the fish viscera off of his hands before turning in Hannibal’s arms, the man having yet to move them from the island, keeping Will caged. Will doesn’t attempt to touch the man, very familiar with his obsession with cleanliness, instead he leans his head forwards and rests it against Hannibal’s chest. The man's hands move from the counter then landing on the small of Will’s back, fingers toying with the waistband on the back of the younger man's pants.

Will heaves a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension releases from his body now that he’s wrapped in the other man's arms. They stay like this for a few minutes, Hannibal rocking slightly, a soothing gesture that makes Will’s shoulders slump even further.

The ex-profiler starts to laugh, the sound vibrating against Hannibal's chest prompting the cannibal to pull Will back slightly to look at his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” more laughter leaves him, “I was just thinking about stabbing you.”

“Excuse me?!”

[wendylianmartin]

Hi Wendy! I was wondering how long it took you to create/have the idea of Junk Wing? I love the concept of the story and the polyamorous relationship:) Did you get inspiration from your old comic Spread Your Wings? Also I'm starting a fanart of Brooder😚hope you like it when it's finished🫶You're amazing btw

Omg I’m so excited to see your fanart!

Thank you so much! It’s something I’ve been working on for about a year and a half now. The idea went through a lot of changes but the main trio has remained pretty consistent. I’m still developing it even now so I’m curious to see what kind of story it will be when I finish castle swimmer and actually start making it. And it wasn’t inspired by spread you wings, I just happen to really like bird people stories so I’ve had multiple ideas haha. Thanks so much for your interest!!

[wherewolf]

𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐛

[thebroccolination]

THE EX-MORNING SERIES CONCEPT

By now I think many people have heard that KristSingto’s upcoming series is an original script that was written for them. What we also have confirmed is that it was written about them.

[source]

KRIST: This series was written by P'Backaof and directed by P'Lit where they created this script from the start deliberately for the two of us and they got information for the characters etc. from KristSingto directly. In the series, the name for P'Sing is Tamtawan, and my name is Phatapi. And Tamtawan Tamtawan and Phatapi are KristSingto themselves.

INTERVIEWER: Does that mean you play yourself?

KRIST: [laughing] Yes, we act as ourselves, so it's not difficult at all.

Today, Aof elaborated on his part on Twitter:

[source: @backaof]

[translation: @_beinglistener]

And Jojo added:

[source: @jojotichakorn]

[translation: @_beinglistener]

So, two gay men are the leading creative minds behind KristSingto’s comeback series. Time to study up on your KristSingto history, kids. \:D/

Long live sanctioned RPF. 🎉

[kiiingsnake]

finally remembered that this was something i could do

[deathsmallcaps]

Ok I’m probably not the best person to say this, but I’ve been seeing a lot of (as of right now) accurate insults on how the CGI approach for the Live Action Little Mermaid movie, but please be mindful that you don’t take things too far, and *especially* don’t start going after Halle Bailey (Ariel’s actress) and to a lesser extent, Ariel the character.

Antiblackness is still an issue in a lot of fandom spaces, and it doesn’t just come out as using nasty slurs or stereotypes. It manifests as drawing Black characters lighter and/or with more white features, it comes out as removing Black partners from ships, and it starts out as plausibly deniable insults that get the door open to microaggressions and outright nasty comments.

I’m not saying that all discussion of the movie should be stalled, or even if it turns out to be an artistic failure, that it doesn’t merit discussion. I’m saying that you shouldn’t extend your vitriol to the characters and actors.

If you really feel the need to insult her, it might be worth a little introspection. Ask yourself, “Do I resent that they changed Ariel, or that they changed Ariel in this way?”. You’re not irredeemable if your personal answer isn’t kind. Just be more careful, try and observe how that sort of world view affects your behavior to others, and then course correct.

A lot of little kids would love to see another Black Princess. A lot of little kids would love to have a Black mermaid as a main character. Hell, a lot of adults would love those too. Black fantasy characters have long been excluded, transformed, killed, merely in the background, relegated to stereotypes, villainized and have hardly ever in the spotlight, especially in major productions.

Don’t make it harder for kids (and adults!) to see themselves on screen. Don’t ruin their wonder. So don’t make unkind comments. Keep it to yourself. Frankly, Halle looks beautiful, and I can’t wait to see the sparkles in her fans’ eyes as she swims across the screen.

[imidori-ya]

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros is literal hot garbage and I will die on this hill.

[persephonaae]

Hrm

[chainsaww]

i was the only person in class tonight so i got to complain to the prof the whole time yippeee

[boomerang109]

unrelated to the mental breakdown but i think i need bangs again

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

[strawberrysturniolo]

i love the whole ‘best friends who ‘accidentally’ had sex’ type of concept and it really fits chris 😭 like imagine attending the end of the summer cookout marylou and jimmy have every year, you and chris decide to have wine coolers because why not?

next thing you know….

never grow up // chris sturniolo

summary: you and your childhood best friend reunite after months apart. after a couple of drinks, secrets start spilling, leading to lust that has been put on the back burner for years part 2

Chris and I have been inseparable since the day we met. With us living on the same street growing up, we were always together. If there was a picture taken of one of us as a kid, chances are the other one was in the background trying to photobomb. 

Watching Chris and his brothers make the move to LA was hard. I sat back and supported my best friend, but it sucked knowing that our fault routine of being together after school and having sleepovers was coming to an end.

It all happened so fast. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. 

The love I have for Chris is unlike anything else in the world. I love Nick, and I adore Matt, but it’s different with Chris. We connect in different ways. We trust each other differently. I’ve never had a friendship like it, and I don’t think I ever will. We always joked about being in each other's weddings. He wanted me to stand with all the groomsmen, and I told him he could stand with the girls. 

We had our lives planned together, and I never thought I’d have to see us fade away from each other. 

We try to talk as much as possible, but with his ridiculous sleep schedule mixed with his work life and time zones, it’s mostly scattered snapchats that keep us from forgetting what the other person looks like. 

A tradition growing up was going to his house for the end of the year cookout. When we were little we would play in the pool, seeing who could collect the most shark toys and torpedoes that we launched into the bottom, and as we got older it turned into chicken fights, then us floating around the pool, asking each other questions about life. 

“Do you ever think about what would happen if your husband didn’t like me?” he had asked me on a sunny day in Massachusetts when we were 16. 

“Yeah,” I said, dragging my hand through the water to cool myself down. “I’d tell him to fuck himself, and if he doesn’t love my best friend like a brother, then I want no part of him. You’ll always come first.”

He gave me that classic, cheesy grin of his and then splashed a wave of water against me, knocking me from my float. 

He’s not coming this year. He’s busy at work in LA. I can feel him drifting away. 

As I help his parents set up some of the food trays, I hear their side door open by the kitchen. I don’t bother looking up, knowing guests have been coming and going all day. It isn’t until two arms wrap around me from behind that my eyes shoot open. 

“Miss me?”

Chris. 

I spin around, staring at him with my jaw dropped. I can see his mom out of the corner of my eye, smiling at us. She must have known about this. I’m sure he told his mom. 

“Oh my god,” is all I can bring myself to say. My eyes start to well with tears. I haven’t seen him since last Christmas. I missed his birthday. He missed me. Our times were always off. 

He squeezed me as our bodies clung to each other. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry, Sunny.”

Sunny. The nickname he gave me when we were little, which came from Sunshine. We were 8, swinging on a playground. He had a bad day. We played together after school and he told me whenever he feels sad, his day always gets sunnier with me around. He always was able to make me feel loved and appreciated as his friend, and as we got older, that only grew. 

I know he loves me. He just needed to chase his dream. That doesn’t mean he loves me any less than he ever did. 

“I missed you so much,” he says, holding me even tighter than before. 

“I missed your voice.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I need to make an effort to call you more. I’m just so-“

“Busy,” I finish for him. “I know.”

His face falls. “Yeah.”

I don’t want him to feel bad for what he’s doing. He deserves something so amazing. He’s worked so hard for it. 

“You’re here now though,” I smile. “Can we just pretend like you’ve been here and you never left?”

He smiles softly, nodding. “Yeah.”

I sit by his side for hours, smiling at him as he fills everyone in on what’s he’s been up to. He’s the talk of the town. Everyone is amazed to see him and his brothers do such big things. 

Everyone erupts into laughter when Chris tells his stories, and when Matt and Nick add on more anecdotes, the house is filled with pure joy and love for these boys we watched grow up. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Chris says, excusing himself. “You want anything?” he points to me. 

“Whatever you get for yourself is fine,” I nod, adding on a thank you before he leaves. 

He comes back with two Pepsi cans. I notice they’re already opened, but I don’t think anything of it. Knowing Chris, I fully expect him to have drank some of mine, and that’s him trying to be funny. 

My face puckers at the taste of wine in my can. 

He emptied the Pepsi out and poured wine in it instead. 

He smiles next to me, trying not to laugh. 

A memory of us from when we were 14 comes back to me, and I know that’s what he’s trying not to laugh about. 

“Chris! We can’t take their wine!”

“My parents have like 20 bottles. They never drink. These are all Christmas gifts from other people. I promise they won’t notice,” he assured me. 

I watched as he poured the glasses half full. It seemed like far too much. 

“Try it,” he said, nudging a glass to me. “It’s disgusting.”

I took a hesitant sip. This was fucking awful, but I found myself drinking more at the idea of the thrill. We were doing something we weren’t supposed to, which made the alcohol taste even better. 

A half hour later we were both stumbling up to his bedroom, and I managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up, almost missing his toilet. 

He held my hair back and apologized for giving me alcohol. He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone we drank. And he never did. 

“Doesn’t taste as bad now, huh?” he asks, snapping me out of my memory. 

I roll my eyes and take another sip. He’s right. 

Once everyone leaves for the night, my family stays back to help Chris’ parents clean up, and my parents were offered a plethora of leftovers.

When Chris showed up, it was a no-brainer that I would be staying here tonight, so he led me upstairs while everyone else said their goodbyes. 

“Shhh,” he hushed me as my giggles flooded the hallway. I’m definitely tipsy, but I’m completely coherent. I think most of my giggles come from the fact that he’s back in Boston. I’m just giddy and happy. 

“Sorry!” I apologize anyway, even though he’s not bothered by the sound of my laughter. He smiles at it. He loves it. 

He lays out a pair of pajamas for me like he always used to. It’s an old shirt from our high school with his lacrosse number on it, and a pair of his boxers. 

I find myself thinking about the girls he had been with that were jealous of what I had with him. Me and Chris had never even kissed, so to think he would be accused of so much more with me was ridiculous. He never failed to stand up for me though. He could have the number one girl, someone perfect for him, and he’d say goodbye to him if they said one bad thing about me. 

We will always be rooting for each other no matter what. 

“Tomorrow we should actually do some stuff around town,” he says as he changes into something to sleep in. “I’ve been traveling all day and I’m so fucking tired. I just want to lay in bed.” He finishes his statement and flops down on the bed, laying his head next to my thighs.

“I really missed you, Chris. A lot,” I respond, ignoring his suggestion. 

He sits up next to me, looking down at me in his clothing. “I know, Sunshine. I missed you just as much. More, probably.” 

I felt safe with him again, a feeling that had been lost as we spent months and months apart. I craved moments like these, where we would stay up together and laugh. 

The mood in his room shifts when he says, “What ever happened with you and Aaron?”

He knows what happened. I told him before I told anyone else. 

He broke up with me with no explanation, and I was left heartbroken and confused. I wanted nothing more than a hug from Chris, but 3,000 miles kept that from happening. 

“We’re not talking anymore,” I remind him. I really don’t want to be talking about boys right now, but it seems that’s the topic of conversation that is interesting to him most. “Any girls that have your attention in LA?”

He shrugs. “Not really. They’re cool, some are cute, but I don’t know. I don’t think I wanna do anything with any of them.”

Chris has always been very anti-relationships, but that never stopped him from having his fair share of fun. He always made sure they were on the same page that it was just benefits, sometimes not even friends. I am curious what turns him away from exploring with girls in LA. “Why not?” 

“They just don’t have what I’m looking for. I want someone who understands me and what I want, but only a few people get that,” he explains. “I don’t know. I don’t want to waste my time with someone if I know from the jump that it feels like a waste. And I think about you, and how we are, and I don’t think I’ll ever be that close with anyone else. I don’t want to be. I don’t want to think about someone ever taking your place.”

“You can set limits,” I suggest. “But don’t keep yourself from meeting people because you’re worried about me feeling replaced. I won’t ever feel that way. I just want you to be happy.”

“Well, that’s not the only reason you’re a problem in it.”

There’s an ache in my chest at the thought of me being a part of a problem in his life. 

“What?”

“I just– There have been issues before… in the past… where girls have felt threatened by you,” he says, looking down at his fingers, where he picks at the dead skin nervously. “That’s not your fault by the way. It’s dumb. I just… I don’t know.”

I pull his hands away from him. “I love you, Chris.”

He smiles at me and says, “I love you too.”

Somehow, his feels different. 

I check the time on my phone, putting in beside me and announcing to him, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

Just like we always did, innocently of course, I placed the softest and quickest peck to his cheek closest to me. 

I did this as a kid, mostly because Chris would freak out if his mom didn’t give him a kiss goodnight. He insisted that it kept the bad dreams away, and he would ask me to do the same for him when he spent the night at my house. 

So I kissed his cheek like always. 

I tried to.

But Chris moved his head.

His lips graze mine. There isn’t much contact, but there’s enough for me to know that we just kissed, barely. 

He knows exactly what he just did, yet he’s looking at me like he’s shocked. 

I’m not drunk, but maybe this is acting as liquid courage. That’s what I tell myself when I fully grab my best friend’s cheeks and press my lips to his. He lets out a deep breath against me, holding the back of my neck and fisting a handful of my hair. 

What are we doing? I’m kissing my best fucking friend. My best friend of 15 years. 

I’m lost in my own head, completely out of it until I feel him lay on top of me, pinning my arms over my head with one hand as he kisses down my neck with the other. 

I lift my chin, giving him more room to kiss me.

He finishes placing wet kisses to my skin, then puts his lips back on mine. His full lips overtake mine, but we form a rhythm that has my chest tightening. He kisses me slowly, but the more tongue we add to the mix, the louder it sounds. 

We make out for some time. I lose all track of it. I don’t even know if I’m in reality anymore. My hips aimlessly lift up to try to find something to create friction against. I almost forgot who I was kissing until he pulled back and said, “We’re entering dangerous territory here, Sunshine.”

“What do you want to do then?”

He falls silent, and I fully expect him to lay down next to me and pretend this never happened.

He does the opposite. 

“I would never be doing this if it wasn’t something I had thought about for years.”

My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest. 

Everyone who watched us grow up together is in this house. 

And he’s pinning me down to the bed kissing me in the same room we used to play in. 

“Then do something about it,” I taunt.

He loves this invitation.

Going zero to one hundred, Chris sits up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it beside me. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. Hell, I’ve seen his bare ass. This is different though. So much different. 

He puts his lips back on mine as his hands slide to the bare skin under my shirt. Without a second thought, I remove it, completely forgetting that I don’t have a bra on. 

His eyes focus on my body, his jaw slacked and his cheeks turning red. 

“Holy shit.”

I instinctively try to cover myself somehow. He grabs my arms and pulls them back down. 

“No no,” he shakes his head. “Let me admire you, pretty girl.”

He kisses me softly down my chest, flicking his tongue over my nipples before sucking them into his mouth, all while he’s rubbing his hand on my inner thigh.

I shift my hips, positioning his hand right over where I need him the most. He stares up at me in awe as I give him this sign of approval, and without wasting any time, he dives his hand into the boxers around me. His underwear. I mimic his movements, dropping my hand through the waistband of his shorts and swiping my thumb over the tip of his hardened cock. He winces at my touch, gasping out of desperation. 

“Please,” he whines. “Don’t start something you can’t finish. I’m begging you.”

I yank his shorts down, having the same reaction to his dick that he did to my boobs. I lay below him in shock, mostly baffled by the fact that he’s hung, but also the fact that we’re in this situation. 

When he gets nervous from my staring, he places soft kisses to my lips again, like he’s trying to put my attention elsewhere. 

“Sunshine,” he pants. “I can’t… If we’re gonna do this… I can’t wait,” he breathes out. “I need you now.”

I stroke him slowly, watching his stomach heave. “Have me then.”

In an instant he has my boxers and underwear on the floor in one fluid motion, spreading my legs and laying between them.

“Can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me,” he whispers. He touches my dripping folds carefully, then licks his finger clean. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Always have been.”

I’m in my most vulnerable state. Not only am I naked in front of a man, but this is the guy who has watched me grow up. He has seen me through every stage of life, and now he’s about to be touching me, fucking me. 

“Chris,” I say his name quickly, urgently, like I’m running out of time to say anything.

He looks down at me, pausing from where he was lining himself up between my legs. 

I love you.

He smiles and says, “I know,” before putting my legs over his shoulders and pushing himself inside of me. 

My fist clenches a nearby pillow as my body adjusts to him stretching me out. Chris gasps out in pleasure and shock from this entire experience. He drops his face into my neck, letting me hear his soft moans as he feels me clenching, throbbing around him. 

When I give him the okay, he starts thrusting into me slowly, both of us silent, letting the sound of our skin finding each other ring in our ears. 

I’m having sex with my best friend. 

He places a kiss on my thigh, where it rests next to his face. Then, he pushes one of my legs out, spreading me open more.

“Fuck!” I cry out, the sound quickly masked by Chris’ mouth, where he places his lips over mine again to shut me up. 

“Gotta be quiet, Sunny,” he warns me. I nod, and he puts his hand over my mouth, making sure I keep the volume down. 

His dick hits every spot perfectly. His body clings to mine as our orgasms are in sight. I find myself begging for him, moaning his name, something I never would have expected from us. 

Chris sits up on his knees, pressing my knees to my chest as he pounds into me, his face staring down with a dominant gaze, watching his dick fill me as my cum drips around him.

“Fuckkk,” he groans. “Such a dirty girl.”

All self control leaves me when I don’t bother hesitating as I respond with, “Yours.”

He nods, speeding up his pace. His thrusts become sloppier, much sloppier. “All fucking mine,” he reminds me, then pulls himself out of my pussy and strokes himself through his orgasm, letting himself finish on my lower stomach.

He quickly gets a towel and cleans me up before he places his head on my boobs. My hands dig into his hair, running my hands through his loose curls. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Sunshine, you know that?”

I smile to myself, but I also know that we completely fucked up us ever having a normal friendship after this. 

My best friend and I fucked. 

And he doesn’t do relationships. 

“You’re my favorite,” I whisper back. 

He places a kiss to my stomach, and I can feel the smile on his face when he does so.

I don’t smile. I know that with our decision tonight, we lost one side of our relationship. 

We either become romantic and it gets fucked up and we lose a friendship too, or our friendship becomes awkward and crumbles because of this. 

Neither of us thought about that before we got ourselves tangled up in each other, and I’m doing everything I can to forget about that fear and focus on the boy I’ve been in love with for years laying on my chest. 

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilo @draculaura123 @jellybeanbby @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts@sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @ratatioulle @kiibichio @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld

[marlynnofmany]

Have you heard about mole genders?

I’ve heard of this concept in sci-fi, but thought it was absolutely made up. I know some fish and frogs can change genders, but not in cycles like this. Wild. If I slapped this down in some alien world without explanation, I’d laugh in my own face. But no, real biology IS that bizarre.

Image descriptions:

A series of tweets from @NaturalCalendar that say:

Hello lovely Nature Noticers. It is time for today's thread! Follow me, and we'll delve deep into the subterranean and subversive world of Talpa europaea, the common European mole. We'll begin with a bombshell - there are no female moles.

Genetic researchers have recently discovered that female moles have reproductive organs unlike any other mammal. If measured by the standards of other species, there are no fully female moles. Instead, there are males and individuals that would be considered intersex.

So, lets look at how this works. Female Moles are called Sows. Sows have both ovarian AND testicular tissue They also have vaginas that disappear between breeding seasons!

Most of the year, female moles look and behave like males. They have masculinised genitals, with no external vagina + an enlarged clitoris. When this point in the year arrives, mating season begins. At this point the Sow's testosterone levels drop + they develop a vagina.

As is typical for mammals, Sows are equipped with two X chromosomes and Boars with an X and a Y chromosome. Unlike any other mammals Sows simultaneously develop functional ovarian and testicular tissues united in one organ, the 'ovotestis'. This is unique to Moles.

This testicular tissue does not produce sperm. It does however, produce large amounts of the sex hormone testosterone, meaning that Sows have similar testosterone levels to the Boars -except during mating season.

Scientists have hypothesized that these high levels of testosterone provide an adaptive advantage for the mole's underground life - providing added muscle mass for Sows who need to dig burrows and fight for resources for their offspring.

This is a dynamic process - the ovarian tissue that makes eggs and gets larger during breeding, then regresses. Outside of breeding season the testicular tissue, expands until it’s larger than the ovarian end - flooding the Sow's system with testosterone.

This explains why female moles have male-like genitalia... But it doesn't explain how patch of testicular tissue forms in female moles even though they do not have a Y chromosome. Up until recently the Y chromosome was thought to be fundamental to male sex determination.

In 2020 a team of molecular geneticists studied the female mole's ability to produce testicular tissue without a Y chromosome. They found that changes in the structure of the Mole's genome that lead to altered control of genetic activity.

But what does this mean? In short the female mole shows us that evolution doesn't work in the way that we have assumed since Darwin - their DNA changes within the living organism.

Since Darwin, it has been generally accepted that the different appearances of living organisms are the result of gradual changes in genetic makeup that have been passed onto subsequent generations - but Moles experience changes in the regulatory regions belonging to sex genes.

The researchers found that female moles do not have a Y chromosone but they do have a triple CYP17A1 gene. CYP17A1 is involved in the formation of steroid hormones + the triplication of this gene in the mole creates a dynamic sex regulatory system.

This dynamic process appends additional regulatory sequences to the gene and leads to an increased production of male sex hormones in the ovotestes of female moles, especially more testosterone.

What the intersexual mole shows us is how important the three-dimensional organization of the genome is for evolution. Nature makes use of existing developmental genes and rearranges them to create a characteristic such as intersexuality.

We see in the mole that evolution is not a linear process, arranged around the principle of Euclidian geometry. It is rather a topological process - a structure cast in rubber that is responsive and adaptive to the environment.

The mole also reminds us of the complexity of sexual development. The shifting sexual characteristics of the mole shows how the process of sexual development can, and does result in a wide range of natural variations.

[maniculum]

One of the things I’ve noticed working in a bookstore is that a surprising number of people are completely unfamiliar with the normal way books are organized.

(I mean, in the part of the store where we keep the used books, I frequently have to assure people that the books are organized at all, but that’s because we have way more books than we have shelf space and there’s no way to handle that without it looking a bit of a mess.)

On one hand, we get customers who are apparently a completely blank slate in this area. I frequently have to walk people through, like, “Okay, it’s organized by subject / genre, then by author. Oh, ‘by author’ means in alphabetical order by the name of the author. No, their last name.” (Most of the people I give this talk to are, I think, college kids — it’s a bit strange to me that you can reach that age without knowing how bookstores work, but then again, I can kind of see how these days it’s possible to mostly get your books online where you just use a search function.)

One customer responded to the above explanation with “oh, it’s the Dewey Decimal System!” and I had to be like… no. Similar in broad concept, yes, but the Dewey Decimal System is a very specific thing (involving… decimals) and it’s really only used in libraries, not bookstores, because it kind of requires you to label the spines of your books, which bookstores generally don’t like to do for obvious reasons.

On the other hand, we also get customers with pre-existing incorrect assumptions, which are so often similar that I think they’re being imported from other media (though I’m not sure what).

People seem to expect the organization of Fiction to be much more granular — e.g., “where’s historical fiction?” “oh, that’s just in with general fiction.” I think some of that comes from movies (people ask where the “rom-com” section is, and that’s definitely a movie thing), but I’m not sure that’s always the reason.

(Admittedly the fiction organization is a bit more granular in the Used Books area than it is in the New Books, but that’s because there are certain genres that we get tons of from people selling us their old books, but we don’t buy enough of on purpose to justify giving them their own section in New Books.)

At the same time, people have the opposite assumption about Non-Fiction — i.e., they expect there to be one singular section labeled “Non-Fiction”, which is not the case. I’ve had multiple conversations that go like:

Customer: Where can I find non-fiction books?

Me: You’ll have to be more specific.

Customer: You know, non-fiction.

Me: [gesturing at the signs hanging from the ceiling that say things like “science”, “philosophy”, “art”, “history”, etc.] All of these are non-fiction in their own special way.

I try to be nice about it, but I don’t think I always succeed, just because I’m so often legitimately surprised and confused when someone just doesn’t know How Do You Books. I’m getting used to it now, but I’ve been working there for almost five years, so there’s been quite a long adjustment period in between.

Anyway. Just some observations.

[girlgerard]

i’ve been thinking a lot about gerard’s character they developed in the last leg of this tour and the way i believe it really solidified what we might have coming for us in the future.

it’s really sweet, if you look in the comments of some of the videos from brisbane and osaka, you can see people who’ve obviously been my chem fans for at least 15 years saying things like ‘i’ve watched every video from this tour and this is the first show where i really saw the spark come back’ and ‘that’s the gerard way i remember’ and other cheesy shit like that. and the thing is they’re totally right!

this whole tour developed more fluidly in intensity and meaning than in any of their previous gigs. mcr has always been a band to change with their time and creative drive, but this was a different type of transition to me. you could see as characters started to be built, from gerard DIY’ing his own costumes in europe to increasingly meaningful outfits with whole backstories in the USA all the way to one consistent character with a uniquely terrifying stage presence in the last leg.

that last character, at least to me, is totally gripping. she’s unexplained, she’s scary as hell, she’s near-undead, she has this commanding presence gerard hasn’t really done since early-mid black parade. in every single performance they’re so in-character and it’s such a BLAST

importantly, this character also showed up in the shortest, least-publicized part of the tour. imo she wasn’t meant for cameras, really.

to me it’s so clear that she’s a result of gerard earnestly solidifying where they might want their next artistic endeavors to go - that kind of serious direction, maybe even that character specifically.

he’s talked about how he always has stage characters that reflect his music and, broadly, things they’re working through in their life. the revenge stage character was a mix of both demo lovers which can have a ton of different interpretations, the patient was a joan-esque personification of grief and existentialism, party poison was a pop-art way of dealing with your own artistic/literal death. it makes me wonder why this character, the only truly consistent character this whole tour, came about, and if it’s related to gerard’s nightly diatribes on war and later-tour statements on (presumably) queer/trans rights.

it also makes me think that we have a lot coming in the future. a character that solid and a direction so suddenly bottlenecked into such a specific concept, such a mychemicalromance concept, especially out of a tour that was originally supposed to be a casual celebration of music, i think points towards something new.