#digging the perspective work!

[shadowxamyweek]

Whenever we talk about ShadowxAmy in the context of Shadow's immortality (whatever form that may take), I feel like a lot of autonomy is taken away from Amy.

We always talk about what Shadow would do, how Shadow would feel. We talk about their greif and rage and sorrow. We never talk about how Amy thinks or feels about the situation.

Worst still... there seems to be this general unspoken assumption she'd just... let whatever happen, happen?

Like, do we not think that The Amy Rose, rascal and romantic, would do everything in her power to stick around? To spread love to every corner of the globe, to share that love with her partner- why keep that to a singular lifetime? She's taken her fate into her own hands more than she can count. Why would taking her life in her hands in this way be any different?

Amy Rose wants to live. She wouldn't just let anything stop her.

[amelikos]

At least, I don't think Sango and Onyx were lying or playing along when they said they were willing to hear Amethio's side of the story. Because both of them cannot lie at all. Sango will spill all of her organization's secrets accidentally because she is just too straightforward and simple, and Onyx is just a bad liar in general.

Sango came off as mocking when she said she was willing to hear Spinel's excuses back in HZ016. Compared to her more serious tone when she said she'd hear Amethio out. It felt different etc.

[puppyeared]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[hunxi-after-hours]

collecting some of the thoughts in The Disappearance of Rituals on performance, communication, and authenticity:

Chapter 1: "The Compulsion of Production"

"Digital communication is increasingly developing into communication without community. The neoliberal regime encourages communication without community by isolating everyone as the producer of him- or herself. Producing is derived from the Latin verb producere, meaning presenting or making visible. Like the French produire it still carries the meaning of presenting. Se produire means 'to play to the gallery'. The colloquial German expression sich produzieren probably has the same etymology. Today, we are constantly and compulsively playing to the gallery. This is especially the case, for instance, on social media: the social is coming to be completely subordinated in order to garner more attention. The compulsion of self-production leads to a crisis of community. The so-called 'community' that is today invoked everywhere is an atrophied community, perhaps even a kind of commodified and consumerized community. It lacks the symbolic power to bind people together" (13).

Chapter 2: "The Compulsion of Authenticity"

"The society of authenticity is a performance society. All members perform themselves. All produce themselves. Everyone pays homage to the cult of the self, the worship of the self in which everyone is his or her own priest" (16).

"Taylor's moral justification of authenticity ignores that subtle process, within the neoliberal regime, by which ideas of freedom and self-realization are transformed into vehicles for more efficient exploitation. The neoliberal regime exploits morality. Once it is able to present itself as freedom, domination becomes complete. Authenticity is a neoliberal form of production. You exploit yourself voluntarily in the belief that you are realizing yourself. In the cult of authenticity, the neoliberal regime appropriates the person himself and turns him into a highly efficient site of production" (18).

"With the rise of the cult of authenticity, tattoos have also become fashionable again. Within a ritual context, they symbolize the alliance between individual and community. In the nineteenth century, when tattoos were very popular, especially among the upper classes, the body was still a surface onto which yearnings and dreams were projected. Today, tattoos lack any symbolic power. All they do is point to the uniqueness of the bearer. The body is neither a ritual stage nor a surface of projection; rather, it is an advertising space. The neoliberal hell of the same is populated with tattooed clones" (20).

"The culture of authenticity goes hand in hand with the distrust of ritualized forms of interaction. Only spontaneous emotion, that is, a subjective state, is authentic. Behaviour that has been formed in some way is denigrated as inauthentic or superficial. In the society of authenticity, actions are guided internally, motivated psychologically, whereas in ritual societies actions are determined by externalized forms of interaction. Rituals make the world objective; they mediate our relation to the world. The compulsion of authenticity, by contrast, makes everything subjective, thereby intensifying narcissistic tendencies" (23).

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

so i'm writing an 8th year fic and h&d are taking a muggle studies class together in which they read one of shakespeare's plays, and i'm trying to write a final project (for which they are partners) but like. hogwarts academics don't seem all that uhhhhh rigorous to me (like we see the students complaining about having to write a foot of parchment which is essentially ONE PAGE HANDWRITTEN) and i'm a little worried that my assignment is too rigorous.

it involves a lot of like. thinking analytically and using your imagination wrt the motivations of people unlike yourself, and that's not rlly something they do much at hogwarts as far as i can see. BUT it is muggle studies, and like. they could definitely all use some practice at those skills, following the recent implosion of their society.

[transgendercastiel]

it’s so hard out here as an abedison disliker

[talentforlying]

one of these days i'm going to write up all that i've changed from azzarello's bullshit era and the one (1) piece i've kept from milligan (and also changed) and the only thing currently stopping me is that it is going to be so, so inside-baseball incomprehensible. and i almost never want to go reading/screencapping azzarello and milligan to add references but i Want to add references.

canon is goop, just know that we continue to ride the bus down "hellblazer ended at #250 and looks like swiss cheese before that" street.

[curiositykilledtheradiostar]

My rebutal to the argument "if wolf 359 doesn't have romantic plotlines then explain Jacobi and Kepler" is simple. it's unresolved homoerotic tension not romance and that's an entirely different beast. It's not a plotline it's one way to interpret the subtext

[ihamtmus]

the majority of the people who were upset with aziraphale for lying to crowley at the bandstand in season 1 did not understand his character or his situation. and many of them are upset with him again after season 2. because they still don't understand his character or his situation. btw.

[loverboypercy]

god bless the folks that run self ship servers bcs i cannot imagine how you could possibly deal with sharing rules

[spider-man-2o99]

After seeing your Xina post I am reminded that Spider-Man 2099 (especially the 90's run) is a case study on how a strong side cast is often a underestimate aspect of a strong comic run. Miguel's entourage is more memorable than his rogue gallery and gave him tons of stand out moments when he was out of the spider-man suit.

YEAHH YOU GET IT

Spider-Man 2099 (1992) may be set 100 years after the modern* day, but, at the crux of it, all the people in the book still act and talk like people. Even characters like Xina, who didn’t show up until about ~20 issues in, feel just as distinct and memorable as characters who were around from the start.

Hell, George O’Hara is dead before the book even starts, and yet his character still influences Miguel to a certain level just for having raised him-- the Young Miguel O’Hara side-stories aside, we see this guy in like... maybe one or two scenes in the whole main run. But. Those two scenes were all it took to establish everything we needed to know about him and who he was.

Everyone plays off each other so well that you could imagine any and all of these characters interacting with that fluid, tongue-in-cheek easy-breeziness. Not every person in the side cast is a home run, but a lot of them--enough of them--are that, even having reread the ‘90s run as many times as I have over the years, I still find it an honestly just entertaining comic book to sit down and read if you like its style.

[mantisgodsdomain]

We are going through the Hbomberguy video's Queer Video Essayist List to see if anything clicks and having the fun experience of taking all of five minutes to realize "wait a minute... we already know all this stuff! this guy's just saying it in a longer format!

[fabled-fiction]

Hiiii!! Can I request a hobie brown x fem reader where the hobie swings by the readers room and just cuddles with her because he’s tired from patrol and the reader loves it because he only has a soft spot for her! And it’s just very fluffy!

Open Window (Hobie Brown x Reader)

Summary: Hobie didn't realize how strung out he was until a certain someone crosses his mind.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: MINOR SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS

A/N: I tried writing in a fem reader and then realized as I was writing I neglected that. I tried going back it but it felt forced, I hope this still suffices!

It felt like he never slept.

When could he afford too? It seemed like every step forward he took in taking down Osborn and his regime, they took three. Every running start he had they moved the finish line.

It was exhausting to be honest.

And now on top of his own problems on his earth, this stupid watch wouldn’t stop beeping with anomalies that needed taking down and tethering back to their Earths.

Hobie could feel the bags forming under his already painted ones.

His head had been reeling recently. Jumping back to his Earth after coming from the Spider Society was never easy no matter how much radioactivity was coursing through his hardened veins. He had a theory that despite having the wristband that helped him jump back and forth, he needed one for his head. The shift in perspective, and what could be perceived as art styles of the different Earths were making his vision hazy. 

Perching himself onto the top of a billboard, Hobie hit the side of his head with the edge of palm. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough or in the right spot he could knock the buzzing in his brain out long enough for him to make sense of where he was. 

On occasion it almost felt like he was back in that stupid spider tower, or another unfamiliar Earth.

Shaking his head, he took a glance about the neon lit streets of his Earth.

Wait, he recognized this street…no wait. No yea he recognized where this street lead to. 

Pulling the edge of his suit wristband back, he pulled up the time on his watch.

4:32:02am

Hobie knew exactly what he needed to rejuvenate, to put the rock back in his roll. 

Standing from his perch, he felt his bones begin to ache as they realized where they were about to be. Pulling his mask back over his head, he was about to flip when his watch started to buzz.

The holographic face of Gwen popped up.

“Hey! Hobie, Im glad I caught you. You got a seco-”

“Sorry Gwendy, can’t talk right now.”

“Wait! I n-”

He couldn't swing fast enough.

There was a warm purple light coming from your window, leaking through your curtains like a holy light.

He’d have to lecture you about leaving your window unlocked for anyone to crawl into later, it didn't matter that you were on the 14th story of your building. But as of right now, as he peeled your window open he saw it as a blessing as he tumbled head first into your room.

Hobie hadn’t realized how long it had been since he had seen you.His spider work had always been number one, taking down the rising regime of fascism in his city. Even the Spider society jobs have seen more of him than his own bed. It almost felt like he was more Spiderman than Hobie Brown, his heroism taking priority over everything else.

Well, almost everything else.

But now as he stumbled about, throwing his sneakers and guitar in the corner of your room the only thing on his mind was you. More specifically crawling into your bed that seemed to always be WAY more comfortable than his.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed you.

Hobie was so preoccupied with getting out of his Spidersuit that was growing increasingly more annoying by the second, he hadn’t even realized you were now leaning against your doorframe.

Sometimes you thought he played up these so called spider senses. There was no way he let you sneak up on him as many times as you have.

“Where..I know you ‘ave it somewhere in ‘ere.” He mumbled to himself, digging through your drawers with little regard to your neatly folded clothes there were already in there. 

Placing your cup of water on your nightstand, you perched on the edge of your bed and watched as your once clean-ish room transformed to match the thought process of the sleep deprived Spider in front of you.

You knew what he was looking for, Hobie had a tendency to leave shirts in your room whenever he stayed over. He said it was for convenience, it made it easier to switch from Spiderman to Hobie Brown. You couldn’t count the amount of times on your fingers when you had done laundry and realized nothing in the basket was yours. He almost had a full drawer in your dresser.

“Try the very bottom drawer.” You yawn, a few joints popping as you stretched out whatever you could stretch out.

Hobie turned his head to look at you for only a moment, and you hadnt even realized that he had discarded his mask somewhere into the clothed chaos that was hurricane Hobie.

Falling back onto your bed, you let out another big yawn as you made yourself situated. You could hear Hobie shuffling about your room, making himself more than at home as he slammed the window shut. A very loud click of your window lock followed by a thunk of a thwip made you chuckle.

“You seriously need to considah lockin’ your window. Could’a been an unsightly fella.” He muttered as he reached to fully close your curtains.

“Well I know who to call if I see one of these so called unsightly fellas.”

There was a grumble that came closer to your bed, and what you swore you was the gulping down of YOUR glass of water followed by the creak of your mattress.

It was like a second nature to the both of you even though you hadn’t physically seen eachother in what felt like months (in reality it was only a week but you too were too clingy to admit to each other it had felt longer). Molding into one another was easy for you too.

Hobie’s arm easily found its way over your waist, pulling you as close to him as he physically could. The minute he had his head resting on your chest he swore he could feel the color coming back to him. Feeling your hand run over his wicks, and eventually come to rest on the nape of his neck made him break into a hazy smile.

But then his stupid watch started buzzing. Didn’t he take it off?

He tried ignoring it for a moment, hoping whoever was calling him would get the message.

When you had started to pull away was when he had enough. 

Ripping the watch off his wrist, he threw it across the room and webbed it to a random wall. Before you could even protest that he had yet again left webbing that would take months to come off, he wrapped his arms around you and flipped around so that you were laying ontop of him. His arms basically locked around you, and solidified that you two would not be moving for the rest of the night.

He needed this, and he could tell based off the way that you melted into him that you needed this as well.

“Hobie shouldn’t you have answered that?”

He could deal with the consequences later, right now he was exactly where he needed to be.

“Nah.”

[waitingonher]

because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 

“whatever.” 

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

[robsheridan]

Hard to believe Nine Inch Nails' classic The Downward Spiral is 30 years old today! Here is some detail photography I took of the original album cover painting by Russell Mills for the 10th anniversary deluxe edition release, which I had the unique honor of designing, and somehow that is now 20 year old.

Everyone has that one album that hit at just the right moment of adolescence to change their perspective on music and get them through their teenage angst. The Downward Spiral was that album for me, released as it was in 1994, when I was a freshman in high school (and an absolute banner year for music/films/games all around). I must have stared at the artwork for hours over those years, without even much detail to draw from on its tiny 5” CD slip case. So five years later, when I found myself inexplicably working for Nine Inch Nails, it was surreal to see the actual original painting in the flesh, hanging as it was at the time in Trent Reznor’s office at Nothing Studios, New Orleans.

I was struck by how much dimension and texture there was in the artwork that never translated on that tiny slipcase printing, how much detail was happening in the physical materials of the art: Flies, moths, wires, blood… I had been staring at this “painting” for so long, yet suddenly it was like I had never seen it before. I also noticed that it had aged - the wires had wilted over the years, drooping down from their original position as captured in the original album cover (interestingly, judging by the photo posted today by NIN, the piece has since been restored); a tooth was missing from the other main piece.

That experience stuck with me and it was the first thing I thought about when the task of re-imagining the album package fell upon me in 2004. I wanted to re-photograph the artwork, subtly updating the cover to show that ten years had changed it physically, much like our perceptions of art and music and memories change over time with perspective. I also wanted to dig into the previously unseen details of the work and explore it with my macro lens, so that fans like me, old and new, could have new layers of texture to pore over for hours while listening to a legendary album.

Happy birthday, old friend.

[justwhumptypethings]

realistic ptsd in whump from someone who has (undiagnosed) ptsd

tw: flashbacks, mention of sh, whumpee in denial

whumpee who can trigger a flashback in themselves just by thinking about it, sometimes entirely unprompted

after that happens whumpee feels like this can’t be a flashback and they can’t be triggered bc there was nothing that triggered it they just thought about it

whumpee’s flashbacks and the subsequent panic attacks aren’t loud and noticeable, to the outside perspective it looks like their just staring off and breathing really slowly

flashbacks aren’t as much hallucinating that you’re back in the whump as it is just feeling the sensations you felt

like literally ANY mention of it makes whumpee freeze up, this works especially well if they aren’t dealing with their whump and are instead like. ignoring it and hoping it miraculously goes away

whumpee who’s body physically reacts to it whenever they try to talk about it, breaking out in goosebumps and shivers

whumpee who’s ptsd makes it virtually impossible for them to make progress in recovery

whumpee who has a lot of trouble grounding themselves out of their flashbacks and asking for help during their flashback bc it doesn’t look like you’d expect a flashback to look, they aren’t crying curled up in a ball or anything, but they can’t think or breathe

maybe whumpee ends up taking up sh to ground, digging their fingers into their palms or scratching at their arm or biting at the inside of their cheek

whumpee who’s caretaker doesn’t even realize they’re having flashbacks or trauma responses because they don’t look how they expect them to

somwtimes things trigger them or make them anxious that wouldn’t have before and it doesn’t actually necessarily put them back into the whump but instead just make them deeply uncomfortable. for ex if your whumpee was kept in a cage now they are claustrophobic about hugs. but it doesn’t necessarily remind them distinctly of the whump, like they aren’t like ‘oh I’m claustrophobic because I was kept in a cage’ it’s more ‘why is this freaking me out?? I’ve never been claustrophobic before’ and it’s not obvious it’s happening bc of the whump

whumpee in denial that anything is actually happening to them. it can’t be ptsd. why not? it cant