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tied-ash · 5 months

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Danganronpa: Reversed Time (DRDT Opposite AU)

DRRT is the opposite AU of Danganronpa Despair Time! It's basically just all of the characters in DRDT having their opposite personalities - or at least, they're all just wildly out of character.

So ya! Here is everyone, left and right.

Ace Markey - SHSL Jockey Ace is an incredible jockey, having won dozens of awards for his talent... However, people tend to find his lack of response a bit unnerving. Ace seems to have little to no emotion or expression, being neutral in many circumstances.

Veronika Grebenshchikova - SHSL Horror Analyst Veronika Grebenshchikova is constantly looking for the thrill of being scared, leading to her interest in horror fiction. However, upon attempting to share her findings, many of those who are close to her have taken quite the disdain for such topics. So she is less inclined to share anything in terms of horror, embarrassed about her past tendency to get carried away when talking about horror.

Arei Nageishi - SHSL Bowler Arei Nageishi made her debut in the bowling world as a teenager by winning multiple bowling championships. Though she may look cute, she doesn't make any effort to try to impress anyone. With good sportsmanship, many find themselves relating to Arei in some way, especially in the way where she doesn't find a need to constantly integrate with others, and is fine standing off to the side.

Julia Rosales - SHSL Effects Artist Julia Rosales, famously known for being Maribella Rosales's daughter, specializes in theater special effects and has worked on famous musicals and plays in her life. However, many of her notable roles are actually with her mother in movies, even if they do not correspond to her ultimate. There are rumors saying that Julia does not like this line of work, but she and her mother have denied these claims.

Rose Lacroix - SHSL Art Forger As the ultimate art forger, Rose Lacroix is able to paint copies of famous masterpieces that are so realistic that many mistake them for being the real deal. She owes this talent to her photographic memory. However, her memory can also be seen as a curse. Unable to relax, Rose seems to constantly be thinking of something, even if that something is unpleasant. She can often be seen trying to keep herself busy, as if she's trying to not think, but failing.

Alexander Matthews - SHSL Rebel Despite his looks, Alexander is very passionate about what he does. He earned his ultimate by constantly projecting his voice against what he deemed as wrong, often breaking the status quo. However, his passion has a habit of going south, as he gets angry with many people. Just know that if his jacket goes around his waist, he truly means business.

Levi Fontana - SHSL Personal Stylist His appearance may be intimidating, and good for reason. Levi Fontana is not afraid to say what is on his mind, even if the ways he says it are unprofessional. Her goals seem to differ from day to day, but he likely does have good intentions, even if the ways he does these are a bit... unconventional.

Teruko Tawaki - SHSL Lucky Student The protagonist. Despite being the ultimate Lucky Student, it seems like the only luck Teruko has is bad luck. Accidents constantly plague Teruko and those around her. Despite this, Teruko holds a strong trust for many people around her, trying to find the best in people. Sometimes, she even tries to justify people's wrongdoings, especially for her peers.

Hu Jing - SHSL Zither Player Hu Jing is an incredibly talented musician who specializes in the zither. It's said that whenever she plays, she can bring tears to those even the most unemotional. However, it's not like many have had the opportunity to hear such a song, as Hu is an incredibly cruel person. Having unknown motivations, she seems to love bringing people to their worst. Hu possesses a very nagging personality, and once she sees a target, it's hard for her to let go.

Charles Cuevas - SHSL Chemist There's no doubt that Charles Cuevas is very educated and talented in his field of study. However, he does not see that as an excuse to be cruel or superior to others. He is incredibly patient with others, being the perfect teacher. It's said that if he gives you a lesson, then you can understand the material within the night. Some do complain that he can be a bit condescending, but very few feel this way.

Arturo Giles - SHSL Plastic Surgeon Arturo Giles is a plastic surgeon who specializes in cosmetic surgery. Despite this, he is a very caring person who doesn't seem to see the difference between ugly and beautiful. If he does then he simply does not show it. Seeing nearly everyone as equals, it's been said that he sugarcoats things to a concerning degree, especially if others would call the person in question "ugly".

Eden Tobisa - SHSL Clockmaker Tired and sarcastic, Eden is seen as a rather unapproachable clockmaker. Though she is increasingly skilled in her work, she seems to dislike customer interaction and avoids it as much as possible. Instead, she gets absorbed into her work, avoiding interaction as much as possible. Eden is rarely ever emotional, relying on logic much more than necessary. However, it still has it's payoff, doesn't it?

Min Jing - SHSL Student One of the top performers, Min has rightfully earned her title as the ultimate student. Or, that's what the public seems to think. However, much of her talent actually relies on last-minute preparations. Despite this, Min truly knows what she's talking about; she just focuses on the main ideas rather than individual points.

Whit Young - SHSL Matchmaker It's easy to mistake Whit for anything else aside from a matchmaker. Trying to make light of things and crack jokes, he often finds little to no positive responses. Because of this, he seems to have a severe lack of confidence, often second-guessing himself. Oddly enough, this guaranteed even more success for his clients, seeing as how he found a need to back his claims with facts instead of focusing on his intuition.

David Chiem - SHSL Motivational Speaker David is a motivational speaker who has motivated many people with his speeches. As one would expect, David is very optimistic about just about anything. Though many people suspect him to be very pessimistic and lazy, many sources prove this to be wrong. However, more rumors seem to have popped up, claiming David to be more self-absorbed than he let on. Just like the past rumors, these claims are unreliable.

Nico Hakobyan - SHSL Pet Therapist As the ultimate pet therapist, Nico possesses an incredible ability to work with animals, working with their owners to grow a stronger bond. Nico loves their job and especially loves seeing how happy the owners can become. They seem great with customers, striking up friendly conversations with them. However, looking beyond the surface, it seems that sometimes Nico has never heard of the word "enough".

MonoTV A strange robot with a television for a head. MonoTV is the mascot and "host" for a strange TV show called "Danganronpa: Despair Time". It makes sure that people know it's in charge, being oddly responsible and almost acting like a "parent" to the more chaotic cast members. Also, it claims to be a cat, despite having an appearance more like a dog.

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bogleech · 1 year

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I tend to just assume all my artwork, little fiction projects, comics, flash animations and other created work is just old news to anyone even passingly familiar with me but....I get the feeling very few of you know more than 1% of it as I look over the folder where I keep what’s probably less than half of all I’ve held onto.

This folder doesn’t include ANY of Mortasheen or Awful Hospital, each of which are another several thousand files themselves. I’m thinking of sorting a bunch of this other stuff into various zip files I could share on my patreon with accompanying notes, explanations and sketches wherever applicable, maybe also include the raw digital art files? I’ll probably still have to leave out some things that are just too boring and stupid, or really personal commissions/gift art, but there’s still gotta be a thousand things I could share. Here’s some random miscellaneous thingies:

For a while I was illustrating various mythological vampires, ghouls and other undead for a book collab with C.M. Kosemen (All Tomorrows, etc.) that fell to the wayside when he had to work on a much bigger project.

Another book project that didn’t get off the ground was going to be a cartoony look at truly obscure real world animal groups, like this Aspidosiphon. This was going to be a collab with biologist Ross Piper after his book Animal Earth, but didn’t really go past the “floating ideas around” stage and some sample art.

I illustrated a couple dozen enemies for the game “Crystal Catacombs,” in some cases influencing the final in-game designs. Had a lot of fun doing this, though the game never sold enough to get many royalties.

I started but unfortunately never completed a visual novel style game a few years back that was another Silent Hill homage, told from the perspective of a monster manifested entirely to torment a single human. Multiple characters/creatures exist as these very quick low-resolution doodles and a ton of story notes.

I illustrated creature cards for a board game, Chimera Island, where you mixed and matched different heads, bodies and tails then basically argued a case for what would make a given creature successful in the randomized ecosystem. Friends and I played an early copy of this game once and found it really really fun, but then the creator totally rehashed the mechanics after some other group’s mixed feedback, we found the new version extremely difficult to figure out, and I think the whole project got scrapped or it released to poor reception, I can’t remember, and I don’t even know what happened to that single fun prototype :[

There’s other unfinished or half-finished projects, and there’s just hundreds and hundreds of miscellaneous things that serve no purpose. There’s also tons locked up in Adobe Flash files from when I used that as my drawing software, but I no longer have any cracked software that can open those. There’s assets for multiple whole platformer games, for instance, that uh...were also commissions by people who gave up or moved on to other projects before any of it saw the light of day. At least I still got most of the pay, when pay was actually promised (I was a bit trusting)

#art

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orcboxer · 2 months

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having painstakingly looked through every palworld creature design, I can confidently say I ain't interested. I wanted my negative first impression to be wrong but lord amighty it does not look better up close.

I was an absolute pokemon kid growin up and I love seeing people's fakemon and fangames and the idea of a poke-like game appeals to me, so I have a lot of thoughts. if you feel defensive of palworld then uhhhh don't read this because tldr I think it looks awful

I thought it looked bad when it was announced so I wasn't paying close attention, but lookin through the pals quickly killed what little interest might have been lurking in me. like I don't wanna be unfair to anybody tryna make pokemon-like games, but these things weren't made with love I can tell you that for sure. there's maybe like 5 that look pretty good and original but the rest.... where do I begin

So first thing, the ripoff pokemon designs. I thought people were exaggerating but oh my god, they weren't. I would be disappointed to see one knockoff pokemon model, but there are dozens of them holy shit. Like at least half the dex is badly-tweaked pokemon models. This alone is enough to completely turn me off to the game because creature design is the heart and soul of this genre so if you ain't even gonna bother making your own damn creatures, what's the fuckin point? Even on some of the more "original" designs, I can point to at least one element that was straight up copy/pasted from an existing pokemon.

Second thing, recycled models within the game. Why do so many bird pals use the same (ripped off) body model? Why do so many pals suffer from same-face syndrome? The first pal I saw was Chillet, I thought it was cute. When I looked through the pals, I kept thinking "oh that face looks like Chillet. oh hey that face looks like Chillet. that one too." The overall effect of this is that a majority of the designs are forgettable, they blur together and feel indistinct from one another. the dex feels increasingly hollow with each reused asset. if you got 10 bird designs and 6 of them look the same, you really only got 5 bird designs.

Third thing (sort of. it's related to the other two), I noticed that there are no object-mon designs in palworld, which I would guess is intentional. I get the feeling that the devs were like, "object-mon are stupid, everything has to look like a creature," which is a common discourse topic in poke-like fan communities, and I think that maybe this played a part in the reusing of assets, because making animalistic creatures that look both natural and distinct from each other is hard! Trying to fill a whole dex with no inorganic-ish creatures is a daunting task, and at a certain point you either need a lot of time, or a lot of artists, otherwise you get same-face syndrome and heavy asset recycling. (I personally enjoy object-mons, as they're reminiscent of yokai, it's like hey here's a mundane object that has been inhabited by a little spirit! I think it's cute.)

Fourth thing, the silhouettes are too busy. Chillet works because it's simple and distinct. Most pals, though, have too many features going on at once, and you couldn't really play "who's that pokemon" with them. Again, this is a consequence of trying to mix-and-match the same pool of assets instead of designing from scratch. In order to make them look more distinct from each other you have to just add a bunch of unnecessary frills and appendages that makes for a cluttered visual impression.

Fifth thing, varying degrees of detail? Some of those pals have smooth, almost textureless skin/fur, but then others like jormuntide have super detailed texture? (also I know I've seen jormuntide's face before, it's from a different game on the tip of my tongue but I can't place it right now, but that's beside the point) You generally want to keep your creatures relatively consistent in terms of like, level of texture detail. It's like some of them are just higher resolution. Which if I'm being honest makes me think they stole assets from more than just Pokemon.

Finally, edginess. Maybe this is just me being too cynical but it feels like this game hates Pokemon. It feels like middle schoolers making jokes about hurhur what if somebody killed Barney the Dinosaur with a gun. The whole making them work in factories and butchering them? Who is the target audience here? There's a pal called Hangyu which vaguely resembles a noose and its dex entry says it was used to execute people by hanging them and also ripping their skin off....Come on man.

in terms of pal design, I give palworld 2/10 because Chillet is cute

#orcspeak

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in-death-we-fall · 1 year

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Fell In Love With A ghoul

Some people spend their whole lives searching for their soulmate. But as Murderdolls prepare to gatecrash the charts with their cover of ‘White Wedding’, Joey Jordison and Wednesday 13 explain why they’re made for one another…

Words: Dave Everley Photos: Roxy Erickson

(docs link) (Clown article x x)

Wednesday 13, frontman with the Murderdolls, is an avowed Mötley Crüe fan. He owns all 11 of their albums; he'll even defend their traditionally indefensible later, minor works with all the passion of a man who has divested large chunks of his earnings into the band's output at one time or another. He has, he estimates, read their infamous biography 'The Dirt' eight times.

Now Mötley Crüe were undoubtedly dunderheaded arse-clowns of the highest order — and you can't help feeling that Wednesday 13, despite his unshakeable affection for the band, knows this. But they were also absolutely fantastic, if only for one particular reason: in the midst of the soulless, self-obsessed circle jerk that was the '80s rock scene, they were utterly, gloriously unique. Yes, they were as dumb as fence posts; yes, their behaviour veered between the mischievous and the truly cretinous; yes, they spawned a whole shower of shit that took years to mop up. But they were out there on their own.

It wouldn’t be inaccurate to call Murderdolls a Mötley Crüe for the ‘90s, if only for the reason that, in the midst of the soulless, self-obsessed circle jerk that is today’s rock scene, they too are utterly, gloriously unique. Whether you’re of the opinion that they’re a knowing tribute to the days when bands’ agendas extended no further than having as much fun as possible as often as possible, or simply the latest in a long line of shit-kicking party bands that began with the New York Dolls, there’s no debating the fact that they’re out there on their own as much as Mötley Crüe ever were.

And for that reason alone, the Murderdolls deserve your attention.

On paper, Murderdolls shouldn’t really exist. Or at least, they shouldn’t exist on the scale that they do. A modern day cock rock outfit put together by the drummer from Slipknot, a band who, love them or loathe them, at least managed to sneak a form of extreme metal to the top of the charts? Riiight.

Except the Murderdolls do exist, and they are successful. Their sole album to date, last year’s glam-Goth opus ‘Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls’, has sold 50,000 copies in the UK – half of what Slipknot sell, admittedly, but done with only a fraction of the hype the latter band has been fuelled with over the past few years. Their new single, a snarling version of Billy Idol’s ‘80s hit ‘White Wedding’ looks set to bust their B-movie indebted noise out to the masses.

In a sparse but stylishly furnished room deep in the warren of corridors that make up the West London headquarters of Sanctuary Management – handlers of Murderdolls, as well as Iron Maiden, Guns N’Roses and dozens of others – Wednesday 13 sinks into an expensive leather sofa and proceeds to empty the contents of his less expensive leather trousers onto the glass-topped table in front of him.

“Man, too many pounds in my pocket,” he says good-naturedly, his attempt at an English accent as successful as that of most visiting American musicians (that is, not at all).

Two days ago, Murderdolls played the main stage of the Download festival. They hung around the site for another 24 hours, soaking up the atmosphere and generally drinking themselves senseless. Wednesday started “partying” at three o’clock yesterday afternoon. He didn’t stop until the small hours of the morning. He woke up at eight o’clock. It’s now two in the afternoon. There’s not even a whiff of a hangover. Bastard.

“I don’t get them,” is his cheery response. “Never have.”

The Wednesday 13 sitting here, laid-back and grinning, couldn’t be further removed from the sneering, spiky, B-movie anti-hero that appears on Murderdolls records. That Wednesday 13 is a sneering, spiky B-movie anti-hero with arsenic and embalming fluid running through his veins. This Wednesday 13 is Joseph Poole, a 26-year-old Mid-Westerner who still lives in the same “tiny as fuck” North Carolina town where he’s spent most of his life and who hadn’t so much as set foot on an aeroplane until Joey Jordison paid for him to fly to Des Moines to join the Murderdolls.

He looks nothing like you’d imagine him to. He’s fleshier for a start – not fat in the slightest, but not the sunken-faced cadaver that leers out from photos. He looks younger too, though that could well be on account of the fact that he’s not made up to resemble death warmed over. Only the array of tattoos that adorn his arms – “horror movie shit” like Bela Ludosi, Linda Blair, the Bride Of Frankenstein, Herman and Lily Munster, ‘Hellraiser’ – equate the man sipping Diet Coke and beaming effusively with the dreadlocked ghoul who fronts the Murderdolls.

Actually, Wednesday 13 isn’t really anything like you’d expect him to be, full-stop. Back home in Landis, he lives in a suburban home with his longtime girlfriend and his five-year-old daughter, Zoe (“We’re like ‘The Addams Family’,” he smirks). He admits that he’s shy, that “when I talk to people, I don’t really look them in the eye” (this is true). He’s not embarrassed to admit that his relationship with his parents is “awesome – my parents were always super-cool”.

What was your childhood like? “Dude, I lived in a trailer until I was 13 years old. I didn’t even have my own room until I was 10 or 11.”

And how were you supporting your family before that call came from Joey? “Delivering magazines. I had to drive an hour to my job, so I’d get up at 4:30 in the morning, leave at five and be there at six. I drove a big delivery truck. I had to go to grocery stores and put ‘National Enquirer’ and ‘TV Guide’ and all that shit in there. That sucked.”

Ever think of jacking it in and moving to New York or LA to get closer to the action? “I always thought it’d be cool to live in New York, but I never had the money, and I never had a band that was willing to pack up and move. I really lucked out when I got a call from Joey. The last fucking dude on earth I thought would call me would be the drummer from Slipknot.”

Before Joey Jordison entered his life, Wednesday 13 fronted the Frankenstein Drag Queens From Planet 13. Formed when he was 19 years old, the Drag Queens combined the twin influences of Alice Cooper and Ed Wood. Between 1996 and 2001, they released four albums of schlocky, snotty punk rock (several songs from these records would be reworked and re-recorded for ‘Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls’). Their schtik – wigs, dresses and zombie make-up – was as becoming as it was dumb. Still, in North Carolina – a pig’s squeal away from Bible Belt country – that’s one hell of a statement to make.

“When we started out, it was complete war,” is his memory of the Drag Queens’ early days. “We didn’t want to be friends with anybody. Every show was a fucking battle. I’d just say shit to the audience to get a rise – if they were drinking beer, I’d shout, ‘Beer is for fags!’. Then they’d start throwing shit at us, and I’d take my guitar off and jump into the crowd.”

Did it ever get physical? “All the time. At one gig, a guy in the audience threw a beer at me. I dived in the audience and tackled him, and started beating the shit out of him. I was wearing a pink dress and platforms at the time. This was in a new town and there were 100 or so people there. I thought they’d beat the shit out of me, but they ended up cheering me on.”

Remarkably, Wednesday managed to survive those early shows relatively unscathed. Even more remarkably, local club owners seemed to like the band’s mixture of outrage and antagonism. The buzz around the Drag Queens began to spread across the state.

“Everybody in town hated us, because we actually got gigs. The club owners kinda dug us. They were like, ‘We’re sick of all that other shit – this is fucking entertaining, let’s book them’. All the other bands hated us for that – ‘They’re fags, they’re wearing dresses, they don’t know how to play music’.”

What did your parents think of what you were doing? “My mom always sewed my clothes for me. She sewed all my dresses up.”

And your dad? “I dunno. I’m sure any man doesn’t want to walk around a corner and see his son standing there going, ‘Hey Dad, I got this new dress. Like it?’. But now I think he’s proud – he’s seen that I’ve stuck to my guns with it all.”

What was the best thing about being in the Frankenstein Drag Queens? “The very beginning was awesome because it was so fresh – I was working in a furniture store, making five bucks an hour, so I took out a loan to pay for the recording of the first record. The record came out, and we felt like we were above everybody else. Then two months later, the drummer quit. But by the end, nobody gave a shit – where I lived, it had really died. That’s why when Joey called I thought, ‘Fuck it, I’m going to do this Murderdolls thing’.”

There’s a track on the ‘White Wedding’ single called ‘I Take Drugs’. In reality, Wednesday 13’s recreational pursuits extend no further than an impressive capacity for alcohol.

“I’ve never done drugs in my life,” he says with a shrug that says ‘Why should I have done?’. “I guess I’m chickenshit. I’ve taken aspirin, but that’s all. I’ve never taken coke or E. I’ve probably smoked six cigarettes in my whole life. I don’t need it.”

It’s a strange admission from a man who shamelessly admits to a lifelong obsession with the most debauched of genres, cock rock. In fact, Wednesday 13 is so obsessed with cock rock that he’s possibly the only person on the planet right now who could not only namecheck long-forgotten Welsh glam tarts Tigertailz, but also take the time to describe their logo (he does both today). He might not be Mötley Crüe material, but he might just have sneaked into fell Sunset Strip darlings Faster Pussycat.

Have you ever dated a stripper, Wednesday? “Yeah, and it was one of the worst things I’ve ever done too. She tried to kill herself in front of me. I broke up with her, so she ran into my kitchen, pulled out a butcher’s knife and cut her arm open in front of me. I grabbed the knife and grabbed her arm – my fingers went into the cut, and I actually touched her bone. I threw her into the car and drove her to hospital. When we got there, there happened to be a cop in the waiting room. There was some very quick explaining done.”

Ever filmed yourself having sex? “Never. But mirrors are cool.”

Ever been arrested? “No. And I don’t want to. I’m not the kind of guy who walked around going, ‘Fuck the police’. I’m totally pro-cop. I’m so pro-cop, it’s actually ridiculous.”

That’s not a very rock ‘n’ roll thing to say. “Fuck that. I think that being a cop is one of the bravest jobs ever. I couldn’t imagine pulling over some car at three o’clock in the morning, knocking on the window, not knowing who’s in there – you’re fucking with death. I’d never have the balls to do that job. I’m pro-cop all the way. And I don’t care what anyone says.”

What do your neighbours in North Carolina think of you? “Well, the guy on the left is a priest. He’s a nice guy. He helped me take my garbage out the other day, then tried to persuade me to come to church. I had to tell him no, in the politest possible way. The guy on the other side, I just know to say hi to.”

What’s it like being a father? “It changes you. I never planned to have a kid that young, but I would never take it back. My kid is my life. I’d do anything to protect her. I never forget who I am and that I’ve got responsibilities back home. When you go on the road, you turn into a monster, then you come back home and you’re back to normal, Mr Nice Guy.”

What does your girlfriend think of what you do? “She’s known me since I was 15. She’s got bright red hair and more tattoos than I do. She loves it. But when I get home it’s different. I’m just the family guy.”

Unlike Wednesday 13, Nathan Jonas Jordison – Joey to the rest of the world – is everything you expect him to be. Thanks to the phenomenal rise of Slipknot, and the volumes of press that have been written in its wake, it’s difficult to shake the feeling that you already know him inside out.

You don’t so much interview Joey Jordison as try to keep up with him.Sitting in the same position on the same sofa that was, until 20 minutes ago, occupied by Wednesday 13, the drummer and guitarist (he played both on ‘Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls’) will spend the next half hour machine-gunning out answers to a barrage of questions as quickly as they come in. He’s loud, assured, articulate and passionate. In fact, the only thing that’s surprising is that he still lives with his mother, in the same house in Iowa that he’s been in since he was two years old.

“It’s a real humble place out in the country,” he says. “I like the quiet. I like getting away from the busy streets and the noise and the chaos. It’s nice to go home to some peace and quiet, cos there’s none of that on the road.”

As we speak, Jordison has at least three projects on the go (there’s Slipknot and Murderdolls, plus an unnamed extreme metal project he’s working on with Necrophagia frontman Killjoy). His explanation is that he gets bored “very fucking easily”. Back home, he has three guitars placed strategically around the house (“one in my room, one in the bathroom and one downstairs”). Ask him what his greatest obsession is, and he replies, “music”. Ask him how he switches off from music, and he looks puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

Do you ever stop thinking about music? “No. It’s the only thing I know how to do well. I can spin upside down on a drum riser in front of 20,000 people with Slipknot, but I can’t go to the mailbox and figure out my mail. I have no sense of normal reality at all. Today I went out shopping. I walked to the fucking store, then I couldn’t figure how to get back. I have to be pointed in the right direction. That’s why I have to have an assistant with me all the time.”

As much as the Murderdolls are an equal partnership – and both Joey Jordison and Wednesday 13 are adamant that it is – there’s no doubt that it’s Jordison who provided the initial impetus. He’s the one who took the raw materials – specifically The Rejects, the glam-punk band he played guitar with intermittently during the ‘90s – and shaped it into something new. He’s the one who marshalled the personnel, calling Wednesday out of the blue and flying him to Des Moines to see if his dream could work. He’s also the one who, by dint of his status as a member of one of the biggest metal bands on the planet, gave the Murderdolls an instant profile.

Are you a control freak, Joey? “Yeah. Well, maybe not a control freak, but I definitely like to have my opinions. People respect me because I have strong opinions. But it’s not about ego – it’s about the end result. That’s all I'm concerned with.”

Are you friends with the people in your bands? “Every one of them. The Slipknot dudes are like my brothers. We’ve been through everything together – we started with jack shit and we became one of the biggest metal bands around. With this band, I don’t know everybody like I know the guys in Slipknot, but I love them all to fucking pieces.”

Does it bother you that the Murderdolls are still seen by some as ‘Joey from Slipknot’s band’? “I don’t think people see it that way anymore. When we first toured, all you’d see is Slipknot shirts. You don’t see that now. Now it’s kids all in red and black. Murderdolls is a fun band.”

What about a party band? As in a band who like to party? “Oh yeah.”

How much alcohol do you get through a week? “Wednesday got through a bottle-and-a-half of Jägermeister last night.”

What about the other trappings of rock ‘n’ roll? The sex, the drugs… “Certain guys in the band like the groupie thing. I don’t necessarily. Wednesday certainly doesn’t.”

Why don’t you like it? “I’ve kind of gone through it already. It’s not even really that good. It doesn’t… (pause) I mean, I’m into making girls do weird shit.”

Such as? “If a girl’s got a cool trick, she can come on the bus for entertainment purposes rather than sexual purposes.”

Give me an example of the sort of entertainment you’re talking about here. “A girl came on the bus once and fucking smoked a cigarette through her pussy, then blew it out of her mouth. I was, like, ‘I wanna see that’.”

You’re friends with Marilyn Manson. What does a night out with the two of you involve? “Actually it’s not as crazy as you might imagine. We might be round his house, watching TV, having a couple of drinks, talking about music. It’s not like you think – chicks and drugs and shit.”

The most common misconception about the Murderdolls, usually held by people who either don’t like the Murderdolls or have never heard them, is that they’re stupid. Murderdolls aren’t stupid. They’re stoopid, like Kiss were stoopid, like Mötley Crüe were stoopid. Yes, that might occasionally involve what Wednesday 13 calls “our idiot tendencies”, whether that means getting cross-eyed drunk on red wine and falling asleep in the lavatory of an airplane (as Wednesday recently did on a flight back from Japan) or starting a bar brawl in Germany (as Joey did when the band were last in Europe).

But ultimately, the Murderdolls are a rock ‘n’ roll band, and that’s precisely what rock ‘n’ roll bands are supposed to do. And now, more than ever before, we need rock ‘n’ roll bands who are willing to do rock ‘n’ roll things.

And that, once again, is why the Murderdolls deserve your attention.

Murderdolls are currently touring the UK with Stone Sour. Check Out There for details. Their new single, ‘White Wedding’, is released on July 14 via Roadrunner.

Gig Of The Week

Murderdolls/Stone Sour

Dates: Birmingham Academy July 9, Glasgow Barrowland 10, Manchester Apollo 11, London Brixton Academy 12. Admission: £16, London £18. Support: Elviss.

Some and see us because… Corey Taylor (vocals, Stone Sour): “Where else can you see five idiots kicking ass and getting naked? It’s going to be great playing with the Murderdolls, they’re a great live band. We can’t wait to get back because Donington was awesome. I got some comments about looking like Joe Elliot backstage, and it was weird playing with Metallica in the background. But that was crazy shit, and I got very drunk.” Wednesday 13 (vocals, Murderdolls): “You will see a rock show, not a nu-metal show with baggy pants, and you will see a group of pretty guys – us. It’ll be cool to play with Stone Sour. I sat down with Corey for the first time at Donington and we talked about movies and shit.”

Look out for… Corey: “A couple of songs that aren’t on the album, and Jim doing his weird goose-step walk. I’ll say no more about that.” Wednesday: “Toothpaste and toothbrushes. Fire and blood. That’s all just part of our show.”

Don’t go to the toilet when… Corey: “We’re playing. Hold your fucking piss. If you go while we’re onstage, I’ll fucking kill you.” Wednesday: “We’re playing. You could miss anything. There’s no telling what we’ll do. You could miss my big, giant gun. Which, incidentally, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting through customs. I know people.”

If you see me in the bar afterwards… Corey: “Buy me a Jack and Coke. Everyone knows that. We love hanging out and goofing off, when we’re not getting drunk and stripping.” Wednesday: “Buy me a shot of Jägermeister. Absolutely definitely come and say hello. I always hang out with the kids.”

Brett Callwood

#if you want anything else from this scanned lemme know #interview #murderdolls #wednesday 13 #joey jordison #ben graves #eric griffin #acey slade #kerrang 963 july 12 03 #corey taylor

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n0tamused · 1 year

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Can you make xiao headcannons? It could be about anything you prefer but if you aren’t sure then an idea is daily life

A/N: A very late response to this, my apologies! I do hope you like this regardless. I did a mixed bag of some headcanons for Xiao here.

Pairings: Xiao x Gn! Reader (headcanons)

Xiao, the heroic, youthful, or demonic, looking man on top of Wangshuu Inn?

One would say he doesn't do much at all, other than sit there and bask in the elements around - not caring whether it's raining, snowing or if it's a blazing sun outside

Xiao cares very little as for what the ordinary, mortal lives think of him. As long as he's fulfilling his duty, protecting them - he is satisfied, and needs no other opinion. He's been doing this for over 3000 years, he knows what he's doing.

Some days are more peaceful than others, and he does laze around, enjoying the warm southern breeze that carries that specific smell that remind him of times long gone

Xiao is able to both reminisce about the long and recent past while standing guard, in his own peculiar way.

The look in his eyes grows duller, softer like silted waters, but he's not losing himself in those murky waters. Some of those memories would be downright terrifying to someone else, as they hail from a time darker than even the Archon War.

When on duty he is as meticulous as anyone would expect, and just as cool and distant when interacting with others, should he really have a need for it

Yet, every now and then he does run into more... domestic things that he couldn't have predicted or escaped. Like aiding a half blind eldery to collect the bamboo shoots, being mistaken for their grandchild due to his height, or helping a child find a way home or get their toy back. These are all people of Liyue, or they just happened to be on those grounds. Xiao is a sworn spear of protection to them.

For his close ones, the ones that are still alive, he makes sure to check in every once in a while, or at least send some things their way so they know they're on his mind

He's not the one to write letters, and has a penchant for a sort of "acts of service" type of show, so if he really must send some paper, he makes a talisman to make up for the lack of words on the paper. Or anything of that sort, even infusing a little bit of his power into the pieces so that it would last longer

If you're someone he truly does care about, or you simply don't want to leave him to rot in his solitude, the act of visiting the old graves and tombs of old comrades and friends with you warms his heart in a comforting way that's still unfamiliar to Xiao

He enjoys listening to you talk about the people he seldom has time or the will to interact with, even if he finds some of their interests weird or pointless, he likes to hear all the variety of personalities and jobs. So much has changed over the years, and so much has also stayed the same. He likes to hear how the Harbor has grown, inside and outside.

During Lantern Rites, he would hope you'd join him, he even goes through the "tedious task" of acquiring a Xiao lantern that the two of you can set into the sky when the time comes. You would do so from one of the mountain tops surrounding Liyue, and both of you can watch the your lone light join the other dozen ones

It's a magical moment to him, no matter how keen he is on rejecting that claim later on. In that moment he's not the Vigilant Yaksha ridden with Karma, he's not general Alatus, he's not a bird with a broken wing nor is he some random immortal soldier. He's just.. Xiao.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #Xiao imagine #xiao headcanons #genshin comfort #genshin x gn reader #yaksha #general alatus #n0tamused.writes #n0tamused.headcanons

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mirjam-writes · 4 months

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What about you? What writing are you happy about this year?? Is there anything you want to brag about?

Happy Yule, solstice, Christmas, Festivus, (belated) Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Doctor Who Day! And anything else you might celebrate, or happy Monday if you don’t!

Thank you so so much for asking 🧡🧡

This was quite a writing year for me. I wrote only four stories, but I'm quite proud of all of them. To Love Somebody was my first foray in rare pairs. An angsty backstory for Shadwell, and what made him the way he is. It has an hopeful ending, and I'm quite proud of the structure, and how much I managed to squeeze into the small word count. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun is a short and wholesome outsider pov story I wrote for an event. I was surprised how much people liked it! It was also my first attempt on present tense, which continued in A Stable Relationship, one of my FTH stories for this year (the second one will probably be a bit late, and be completed in January). I had fun writing it, and it turned out to be a good one, and the only one of these oneshots that was Explicit. It was set in horse riding world.

The reason why I wrote only three oneshots, and why my second FTH piece is late, was of course my favourite story of all time: Be Still My Soul trilogy. A human AU story set in the sad moments of Finnish history.

Despite the class differences, landowner Azirafel Fjäll and sawmill worker Anton Crowley have been friends since childhood. The Great War rages over Europe and the Empire of Russia is in the firm grip of a revolution. The echoes of these fateful events carry over to the Grand Duchy of Finland, vaguely sauntering towards independence. Azirafel and Crowley find themselves on the opposite sides of a conflict that will eventually lead to a bitter civil war, tearing the country apart.

Is there a possibility for them to find their own side, or will this be the end of their budding love story?

I started writing the third part in January, and finished it just before S2 aired in July. It finished posting in October, and it's now complete and done, though I'm still commissioning art for it. This story took over my life for over two years, and it's my baby. I've had such a hard time to let go of it! It also has its own blog @be-still-my-soul-fanfic where I posted dozens of posts about historical and cultural facts. The story is written in a way you don't need to know anything of the Finnish history beforehand (my American betas made sure of that). It's a lovestory, not a history lesson, BUT if you want to learn more, there's a lot of extra info available 😅

I think it's the best story I've ever written (and probably ever will). Many readers have agreed, but it's angsty with very heavy themes until the happy ending, so it's not for everyone and I think posting it just when S2 aired cut some of the potential readers. The third part of the trilogy is now five kudos shy of 100 kudos, and I'm hoping it could get past that milestone before new years. 😂 So yeah, my own personal favourite gets the least interaction of them all. Oh well.

I'm gonna sound a bit self-absorbed, but I'm proud I finished it and it turned out even better than I hoped. My dream would be to print a physical copy or to record a podfic of that, but both might be a bit too much work.

For the next year I have two zine fics to finish, and I have applied to a third one. I have one event fic in the works as well, but the FTH story will be the one I'll concentrate until it's done. It's an oneshot human AU which somehow grew limbs and now it's 7.6k words and nowhere near done 😱 That's my holiday project.

Thank you for asking!! I was so delighted to get a chance to ramble myself 🧡 There's never enough chances for writers to gush about their own work because it always feels a bit self centered. That's why I like to wander around Tumblr and give people the perfect excuse to do that! Peek at the #writer's favourites tag if you want to see other fanfic writers sharing their favourites! And feel free to use the tag yourself if I forgot to ask someone (I was very much not organised when going through the blogs and I'm not good at matching blog names with writer names 😅)

I hope you'll have a magnificent new year 🧡

#writer's favourites #my writing #good omens #ask #good omens fanfiction

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notyour-valentine · 1 year

Text

A Fair Exchange X ~ Aemond Targaryen x Reader/OC (Angst)

[Navigation] [Moonboard Masterlist] [House of the Dragon Masterlist]

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Summary: Harrenhal was a strange place with strange people and one should always keep an eye open

Warning: bullying, blood, mention and threat of violence and death, mutilation, mention of torture and death, childbirth, injury, misogeny. Expect canon conforming tone and language. (18/21+)

Notes: This is one for the easter egg hunters and book nerds haha

Wordcount: 5248 words

[Series Masterlist]

Previously

Part X

She kept her hand on the small of her back as she walked her across the courtyard in certain strides.

“You must be hungry.”, the woman, Alys, said.

She nodded faintly, unsure of how to respond. You are a beggar, she reminded herself. Act like one.

That was easier said than done, but she thought with keeping her gaze down and her mouth shut she couldn’t make that many mistakes.

But even with her eye down, she took in her surroundings.

Harrenhal was a great castle, too great, some said, a fierce structure, a warning, but at the same time it was also a home.

Ser Harwin’s home. The place he had been born in and the place he had died.

Her skin stood with goosebumps and her throat tightened.

Even the corridors inside the castle were black as coal, as if they too had been charred as Alys guided her towards the kitchens.

They were large and noisy, with at least a dozen ovens and pots so large her whole body would have fit inside them.

“Oi!”, one of the cooks shouted as soon as he saw her.

“Get that filthy rat ou’ of ma kitchens!”

As he barked at her, he waved his meat cleaver.

“She’s no where near your stew!”, Alys snapped, her hand tightening around hers as she walked her right past him.

“Ya think to highly of yourself, wench!”, the cook argued towards the back of Alys’ head. “As soon as ya milk’s dried up, they’ll be rid of ya, I tell ya!”

The words were far from kind, but she couldn’t blame the cook however, nor any of the others that worked her that glared at her with disgust.

The sight of her was hideous. Her feet were dirty to the ankles, her dress was in tatters, and she didn’t exactly smell of roses.

Alys did not seem to mind.

“Give me a bowl of broth.”, she ordered one of the female cooks, as round as a barrel herself. “And some soft bread for her to soak in.”

“Alrigh’, but get her out of here - what is she has lice?”

Alys snorted in amusement, but did pull her out of the other side of the kitchens to a small nook in front of a window.

From here, she could see the towers and her eye tracked the path Balerion had flown all those years ago.

The Black Dread had earned his name.

Everyone that passed them, gave them suspicious looks, or rather gave them to her, wrinkled their nose or shook their heads.

If they knew, she thought, they’d all bow and curtsy.

But it was safer that they didn’t. She’d take the looks over chains any day.

Alys let her look in silence, but her eyes never left her, only when the fat little woman came with some food.

“Here ya’ go.”, she said, handing her a brown bowl with stew in it, broth and cooked vegetables, with little chunks of meat.

Nothing much, nothing special, but the smell made her mouth water.

Forgoing the spoon, she was a beggar after all, she moved to raise the bowl to her lips, but Alys slender fingers coiled around her wrist.

“Not too fast!”, she warned. “You’ll burn your tongue and upset your stomach. When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

Unfortunately, she had a point.

Still, she shoveled down the solids first as if there was no tomorrow, not minding the broth that splashed on her lips in the process. It had been so long since she had proper food and her hands weren’t nearly as certain as they had been when she yet had two eyes. But she was too hungry to care.

Both Alys and the cook, Mawde, as she now knew, watched her.

“What’s ya’ name then?”, Mawde wanted to know.

She froze, a piece of carrot still in her mouth. For once she made the attempt to chew properly as she needed the time.

She couldn’t give her name, that would be too obvious but all others she could think of were Valyrian names too - those of her mother, her aunt, her grandmother, her cousins. Everyone in her family had a name that came from Old Valyria - everyone except Joffrey.

“Freya.”, she lied.

Alys huffed softly as if she found the name amusing.

“So why are ya here then?”, Mawde demanded to know.

“Alys brought me.”

Why, she could not say. But she would never forgive that woman her kindness.

“In Harrenhal I mean.”

Because my dragon took me to the Isle of Faces.

She cleared her throat, trying to think of a lie that would convince them.

“I…ah…I was thrown out of my home. Yes. That’s what happened.”

“Why?”, Mawde demanded to know.

Why indeed?

She chewed a piece of meat until it had fully disappeared.

“My father died, and my brother threw me out.”

Mawde sighed deeply.

“Well that’s the way of the world, ain’t it? But aren’t you old enough to be married?”, she wanted to know, before reaching out and cupping her breast.

She flinched so hard, the spoon clattered to the ground.

“Woman enough too.”, Mawde confirmed.

Her face burned like dragonfire.

“Leave her be, Mawde.”; Alys said. “Go on, you’ve got work to do.”

She did not ask any questions, and instead let her eat in peace, always watching her. And seeing too, it seemed.

Once she was finished, Alys got up, but nor before reaching out with her thumb and wiping away a few droplets of soup that still glistened around the corners of her mouth.

“Now let’s see about giving you a little wash and some rest. You need it.”

Both sounded more than welcoming.

“I’ll make sure you get a proper bath tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”, she asked, looking up at the dark-haired woman. “I can’t stay until tomorrow.”

“You have to!”, she insisted. “You need to rest, and besides, unless you want to pass Chett again, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for a change of guards.”

The thought of being anywhere near that man again, made her stomach turn. At the same time she only wanted some food, enough to last until Tyseleys returned.

And then we can go home.

After a kitchen, Alys took her up a tower’s spirally steps.

Given her condition, they were daunting to her, but with one hand on the wall and Alys clutching her arm and supporting her back, she made her ascent.

Still she breathed a sigh of relief once she had reached the right floor without slipping.

The room Alys showed her was modest - a small wooden bed, a fireplace, a table with a basin and a chest, nothing more.

But much more than she could have hoped for.

There were also countless candles, and a window that allowed her to look out at the Kingspyre Tower.

Alys poured out some water from a carafe into a basin and handed her a washcloth.

“Here.”, she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

The water was cold, but no colder than the one that had awaited her in the lake.

As soon as she had slipped out of her dress, she began to wash herself from head to toe, watching the water turn dark and grimy far sooner than she would have thought.

I really was filthy. Even after that little swim.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the slightest of movements reflected in the mirror on the desk and spun, finding Alys standing next to the door.

In her arms she held some clothes, but she seemed to be in no rush to move or speak.

Her cheeks began to burn when she wondered just how long Alys had been standing there, as her hands shot out to cover herself.

She hadn’t done anything wrong, but still - the thought of a near stranger watching her made her skin crawl, especially in this state.

Alys only smirked.

“No need to fret.”, she told her, finally moving away from the door. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Although she probably was right about that, she still moved away and kept her hands in place.

Alys put the clothes down on the table and unfolded the towel.

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep standing like that.”, she warned.

Her attempt to take the towel from Alys was swarted when the woman began to pat her dry herself more diligently than her mother or the maids had done.

She was also incredibly gentle, not scratching or rubbing to hard once.

“There we are.”, she mused, as she had finished, dropping the towel to the floor as she reached for the pile once more.

First came the smallclothes and once more Alys glossed over her attempt to dress herself, opting to brush the fabric over her skin and tying each button and lace with her own hand, taking her time as she rolled brown stockings up her legs.

She hadn’t been dressed like that since she had been a small child, or since had nearly died.

It made her stomach coil but at the same time she didn’t want to insult the woman who was helping her so by arguing.

So she kept her mouth shut apart from occasional thank yous.

After the smallclothes, came a simple brown shift that Alys lifted over her head before fastening at the waist.

Next was a thick woollen dress of maroon. She took her time as she tied the laces on her sleeves, before tightening the belt at her back.

“Much better.”, she praised and if to prove her words, she turned her around to glance at both of their reflection in the mirror.

The sight of Alys standing behind her took her breath away.

It wasn’t like the resemblance was uncanny, but it also wasn’t deniable. She wondered if Alys saw it too, and if she did, what she would make of it.

“Come!”, she asked, pulling her towards the bed. She sat down and began to push at her shoulders to turn her.

“Why?”, she wanted to know.

Alys tilted her head as if she had something curious. “To wash your hair of course.”

That did make sense and so she let her.

At first, Alys merely unbraided and untangled her hair with her fingers before brushing it out.

Then, she asked her to lower her head towards the bowl of water she had in her lap, soaking the strands and running through them with her fingers.

From here, she could look up at the woman.

It was difficult to tell how old she was. Older than her, for sure, but by how much she could not tell.

Undeniably, Alys was a pretty, with fine features and catching, watchful eyes and a smile that gave her the sweetest look.

She was more womanly than she was, with wider hips and bigger breasts and a softness to her face and being. Just like there was a softness to her touch and voice.

Her fingers massaged her scalp as she worked the grime and sweat out of her hair with near heavenly patience.

The feeling made her eyes flutter shut as she felt her exhaustion seep into her bones.

No, she couldn’t dare fall asleep. Not yet.

Besides, it would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?

But she did allow herself to close her eye.

As Alys fingers worked through her hair and over her scalp, her mind got wings once more.

She tried not to think of her dream, and of the woman in the dungeon, and so she focused on home. She imagined the way her fingers would trace the carved dragonscales in the stone, the smell of her mother's perfume and the sounds of her little brothers' laughter and Jace's hugs.

Home.

The thought made her chest tighten and so she cleared her throat and opened her eye once more, blinking away tears.

Even If her hands hadn't betrayed her, Alys had been watching her.

"This reminds me of my own childhood.", She mused. "Of the stories the washerwomen would tell me and my brothers."

“You have brothers?”, she asked.

Many girls, many women had brothers and yet it felt like a string she could clutch, something that connected them.

“Oh yes.”, she mused. “Though not entirely the way you do.”

That confused her for a split second until she remembered the lie “Freya” had told earlier. About her brother throwing her out.

Undoubtedly Alys remembered that.

“I remember the stories all too well - Florian and Jonquil, Duran Godsgrief and Elenei.”

She squirmed slightly at the mention of the reason for Storm’s End. Never again would she look at that place again. The thought alone made her skin crawl.

The next heroic tale Alys listed was little better.

“Serwyn of the Mirror-Shield.”

A dragonslayer of old. It was natural for her to despise them, the same way a wolf feared the shepherd. But the next hero made up for them all.

“Symeon Star-Eyes.”

Her smile gave her away, and Alys returned it just as sweet.

“You like that story?”

“I do.”, she admitted, nodding to the best of her capability, as Alys wrapped a cloth around her hair and helped her sit up.

“My brother only ever liked the warriors. Serywn, the Winged Knight, the Last Hero.”

Her voice ended in a hum, as she carried the water away, only to return with a comb.

“But sometimes, he’d ask for the girlish stories for my sake.”

“That was kind of him.”

Alys nodded as she began to detangle her hair, before working at it with a comb, gently, cautiously, as if each strand of her hair was spun gold.

“Oh yes. Especially since he was doing it for a bastard.”

Her head shot around to look at the other woman. Her mouth dropped open, closed, opened again, as her mind rushed to catch up with her words.

“You are a Rivers?”, she asked.

Bastardy implied a highborn parent, father more like, and here at Harrenhal, there were but a few highborn men, and hardly any not called Strong. And that would mean -

Her mind went to Ser Harwin, but she asked after Larys Clubfoot.

“Is Lord Larys your brother?”, she wanted to know.

“We have the same father, but I had the better mother.”, Alys explained.

If she too was a child of Lord Lyonel, that would make her not just Larys’ sister but Harwin’s too.

Ever since she had recognised where Tyseleys had taken her, he had been in the back of her mind, but this newfound piece of information had him bursting to the forefront of her memory.

He had been a large man, a strong man with a loud laugh and rough, kind hands. There was little about him that had been soft and quiet and forgettable, and that translated to the memories she had of him.

This had been his home, the woman combing her hair with such gentleness was his sister. He had been born here and he had come here to die.

She bit the inside of her lip to keep the tears of falling.

When he had announced he was leaving, she hadn’t understood, not truly. Looking back, she knew that Jace had, but she had thought he would be gone for a night or two, or perhaps a week for an exercise with the City Watch.

Even his words of farewell hadn’t revealed the reality of their situation to her. She had been too foolish to grasp it. Otherwise, she would have said something, done something - anything!

If she had known they would have sent him away forever, she would gave gone to the King and begged. He never could have said no to her.

But she hadn’t understood, and so he had left and then he had died.

His words echoed around her mind as if he was kneeling down in front of her once more, one hand on her cheek, the other on Jace’s.

“Be good to your mother!”, he had told them. “And while I’m gone it will be up to you to protect her, each other and the little ones. Can you do that for me?”

He had not just said it to Jace, or maybe he had, but they had both nodded, and he had kissed her forehead, before stroking Jace’s cheek.

That was her last memory of him, her last promise. And in a way, as she now realised, her first oath.

To protect mother, to protect each other and to protect the little ones.

Her throat tightened so much, even breathing became a chore. Alys did not seem to notice.

“The Last Hero was my brother Harwin’s favourite.”, she said without any sign of sadness in her voice. “But then as a man he took an interest in Symeon Star-Eyes.”

She chuckled to herself.

“The other midwives were quite surprised when he came asking for stories about him.”

“He did?”, she asked, as she suddenly felt incredibly cold.

“Oh yes. He wrote it all down too and - well, it’s easier shown than done.”

“What is?”

Alys only ever smiled and promised her that she would find out once her hair was tended to.

Never before had she felt such a desire to rip it all out by the root, but Alys took her time to comb and pat and braid it until it was finished to her satisfaction.

Then, she took her by the hand into a different part of the castle.

It was a round room in a tower, with a large bed, two chests, a fireplace, and a desk.

A thick coat of dust hung over the place, but apart from that it looked as if it had been abandoned just yesterday.

Her heart thundered in her chest as her fingers brushed over the end of the bed. She recognised the sword sheath, and the dagger that lay at the bedside.

She didn’t have to unfold the cloak that hung over the chair to know that it had secret pockets on the inside, that had once been filled with toys and sweets. And she didn’t have to turn the belt to know that the leather had the most delicate of imprint, three strands, to symbolise the three arms of the Trident that also bore the colours of House Strong.

She had never been here before, but she knew it all.

It was as if at any moment, he’d walk in through the door, pick her up in his arms again and ask what he had done to deserve such a high visitor. Then he’d sit her down on his knee and ask her about her lessons, about her siblings, or just her day.

She could talk and babble about the most girlish of nonsense and he would listen as if she had made the greatest discovery known to man.

He’d always made her feel bigger than she was, stronger, smarter. Not nearly as small and forgettable as others did.

Her eyes swam with tears she could not easily blink away.

“Here!”, Alys said, kneeling down on the floor and picking up a large box from under it.

“He had taken up wood carving again, why I cannot say.”

When she opened the lid, her heart clenched.

There were at least two dozen, of different shapes and sizes.

On some he had practised the carving of an arm or a leg, on others the proportionality, on thirds he had tried to get the face just right.

Some were smaller versions of the finished product, or rather what the finished product would have been.

Her hand trembled as she reached inside and picked out one of those. It was yet cloakless, but judging by the different kinds of fabrics at the bottom of the box, he would have worked on that too.

The arms and legs couldn’t move, for that he was too small. But she could see the hair, could brush her finger over where his eyes would have been if he had been any other hero. He wore carved armour, even a little belt of rope.

There was no sword though, since of course Symeon Star Eyes did not fight with a sword, but rather a staff.

Her hand clasped over her mouth.

Everything was there, even the ones she herself had forgotten.

What kind of man would remember all that about a toy?

Now there was no fighting her tears.

And they didn’t come as elegant as clear pearls that silently ran down the cheeks of beautiful maidens in the stories.

They came with loud sobs that shook her entire body and brought her to her knees, her hands clutching the little wooden carving, still unadorned and unpainted, but perfect all the same because she knew what it meant, what it would have meant if he had gotten a chance to finish his work .

Her cries weren’t the weeps of a High Lady, but the wails of a hurt child, and all her fears, all her shame and agony, her doubt and regret, her grief - all of it burst from her chest with them.

She had cried until her whole body ached, long after all her tears had subsided, slumped down on the floor beside his bed, in his sister’s arms, clutching the toy knight with all her might.

Alys had pulled her into her embrace for comfort, had stroked her hair and whispered soft words of comfort as she had rocked her back and forth, but she hadn’t heard them.

Then she had wiped her cheeks and embraced her once more.

“You must be exhausted.”, she had said and given her water. And then she had told her to get some sleep.

It had been late already.

There was only one bed and so both Alys and her lay side by side under the blankets.

Her body ached and the place where her eye had been throbbed in agony, but in spite of all the exhaustion, she could not sleep, not with the wind howling so.

“Some believe it is the way the stone was misshapen thanks to Balerion’s flame.”, Alys whispered, her lips so close to her ear that she could feel her breath.

“Only dragonfire burns hot enough to reshape stone, even if wildfyre can break it and throw it a thousand feet in the air.”

She heard the smile in the other woman’s voice.

“Some say it is ghosts. Do you believe in them?”

“Not really.”, was her response. She was too tired for a conversation, too tired for anything.

She just wanted home, and her mother’s embrace.

“Then you are a little fool.”, Alys told her with an amused giggle. “Just because you cannot explain something, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

Instead of leaving it at that, Alys continued.

“Most people cannot explain why some can ride dragons and others can’t.”

“Because they have the Blood of Old Valyria.”

Very nearly she had said we, but caught herself just in time

“Westeros used to have dragons in the olden days, Urrax and the like. And they must've had riders too.”, the woman mused, still unwilling to let the conversation go.

“Maybe.”, she murmured, her eye already closed.

“But you are right about the blood I think.”, Alys said, drawing lines over her arm. “The Blood of Old Valyria is laced with fire, and the Blood of the First Men is laced with Ice. So it is said.”

She didn’t know what to respond to that, nor did Alys ask for one. Instead, she shifted and drew the blankets over her once more, her hand finding her shoulder.

“Sleep now.”, was the last thing she heard before she drifted off into the realm of her dreams.

When she woke, she found herself in a different position to the one she had fallen asleep in. Instead of laying side by side with Alys, the older woman was now laying on her back, and she found herself with her head resting on her chest.

Wide awake, she immediately wanted to pull away but then realised that the other woman had wrapped an arm around her, with one hand finding the back of her head and cradling her as if she was a child.

She felt Alys’ other arm wrapped around her as if she feared she would slip away in the night.

Her heart thundered in her chest.

She was no stranger to sharing a bed. The first year of her life, in those moments when she had not been rocked by her mother, Ser Laenor or Ser Harwin, she had been placed in a cradle with Jacaerys.

To him, she had come with her nightmares, more often than not sharing a bed with him and Lucerys both, or she had found her way to her mother’s bed, falling asleep in the warmth of her arms and the softness of her embrace.

Later, she had sometimes shared a room or bed with Baela or Rhaena but even in her own room on Dragonstone nocturnal visitors were no rarity.

It was a coin toss to whom Aegon or Viserys would bother - Baela, Rhaena or her, although Joffrey had a clear preference for Baela.

But this was…different.

Alys was a stranger to her, and yes, she was grateful for everything the woman had done for her, but she was holding as if she were a child and not a woman grown.

“You’re awake!”, she said, with nothing but softness in her voice.

Detangling herself was a challenge, and for a split second she thought that Alys was trying to hold onto her, but then she sat up and looked at the other woman.

“Good morning.”, she told her with a smile.

“Morning.”, she mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Alys sat up and took her hand in hers, stroking the palm.

“How warm your skin is.”, she mused, tracing the lines. “Like fire burning under the skin.”

Alys’ hands felt cold.

“Although that is what one ought to expect,”, Alys said, as she continued tracing her lines, “from the blood of the dragon.”

Her dark eyes snapped up to catch her reaction just in time to see her mouth drop open at a loss of words.

If she knew, that meant her entire charade, Freya and her lies, were useless. She could have trapped her in here, lulling her in a false sense of safety, with perhaps Lord Larys men already at the door.

They could be waiting there to drag her to King’s Landing in chains.

Jumping up from the bed in a jolt, she was ready to dash for the door, but Alys pounced on her like a panther, pushing her up against the wall with ease, one hand cupping her cheek.

“Shh, no need to be afraid!”, she insisted. “It’s alright.”

She pulled her head away as best she could, glaring at the woman.

“You know who I am.”

It no longer was a question, and her voice trembled as she said it.

“Of course I do!”, she insisted, still smiling softly. “I was expecting you - and well, just look at you.”

There was adoration in her voice and a fascination in her eyes as her hand moved to her chest, plucking one strand of hair that had rested on her chest to twirl it between her fingers.

“You needn’t fear me.”, she said as she laid the strand down gently, only to take both her hands in hers.

“We’re blood, after all. Family.”

The word left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Alys left her no time to respond as she pulled her into a hug like she was long lost sister.

Still her heart was thundering in her chest.

“I’ll take care of you.”, Alys whispered into her hair. “You’re safe with me, now and always. I won’t let anyone harm you, I swear it.”

If she had wanted to harm me, she thought, she could have done so a thousand times over.

And she hadn’t. That had to account for something.

Alys pulled back only so far that she could look at her again. She smelled of pines and ashes, and of sweet incense.

Her hands cupped her face and then, she leaned forward, pressing a fluttering kiss to the spot where the corner of her lips met her cheek.

It was as fleeting and faint as the brush of a butterfly’s wing, but she felt it long after Alys attention had returned to her eye, not the one that was wide with concern and fear, but the other - the one that was gone.

Confusion didn’t allow her to resist as Alys gently pulled her eyepatch away to reveal the empty socket.

There was no shock in her eyes, no fear, but instead she could see Alys’ own eyes widen as if she saw a treasure and not bleak emptiness.

“Oh!”, she gasped, as her thumb brushed under her eye. “What a wonderful, brave thing you have done, my sweet!”, she mused as if in awe.

“What a heroic sacrifice.”

There was nothing heroic about it, instead only desperation, and her scoff made Alys tilt her head.

“You do not think it heroic?”, she asked. “My sweet, don’t you know that greatest heroic act of all is one of sacrifice, one of self-mutilation.”

“No?”, she asked.

Alys looked at her in utter disbelief.

“Do you not know of the hero of many names?”

Her eyes caught the reflection of the candles and began to glitter.

“He is one of many names. Neferion, some say, Eldric Shadowchaser, Yin Tar, Azor Ahai, Hyrkoon the Hero.”

None of these names ever sounded familiar.

“He was the greatest hero who ever was, and the greatest hero who will yet be.”

“But if he was, how can he be again?”, she wanted to know, unable to follow Alys words. Last night, they had spoken of heroes she knew, but this…Alys might as well have spoken a different tongue.

“It is written - that one day, after a long summer, stars will bleed and a cold sigh of darkness will fall heavy on the world, and then a warrior shall draw a burning sword.”

Alys said it in the same way the High Septons held their sermons, with ceremony and pomp and in the expectation of a revealing and astonished reaction.

All she did was blink.

She had never cared for prophecy or history, that was Daemon’s world, but not hers.

“And that man, that Eldric the Hero,”, she knew she had jumbled the name already but there were simply too many for her to remember. “He took out his eye?”

Alys smiled softly as she gave her hands a squeeze.

“He sacrificed more than his eye, sweet girl, and the willingness to do so and the capability to see it through, is a rare gift.”

Out of all the things to call the loss of her eye, a gift was not one of them.

Alys eyes wandered from her empty socket, lingering on her breasts and then lower to her stomach.

And she smiled, her fingers brushing just barely above the fabric of her nightgown.

“What are you doing?”, she demanded to know.

“You’re not with child.”

It wasn’t a question, but the insult made her cheeks burn.

“No I am not!”, she spat. For that, one had to do certain things which she hadn’t done, nor had they be done to her, even if the entire realm, Alys included seemed to believe that.

She pushed Alys away and ducked under her arm.

“Whatever you’ve heard-”

She was cut off before she could even properly begin her tirade.

“‘Tis not what I heard.”, she said dryly. “It is what I saw. I saw it in my fires and my friend saw it in her dreams.”

An icy cold chill ran over her arms as she backed away.

Baela and Rhaena had been raised in Pentos and sometimes she shared stories from that place. Sometimes Daemon entertained visitors from then and at least twice before a Red Priest had been among them. They too claimed to see things in their flames.

“She dreamt of it years ago!”, Alys continued, “A dragon landing at Harrenhal with blood yet seeping from where is one eye should have been, so much it would create a river that would run and run, widen and thin, but would keep going!”

Her voice trembled as she stared at her, into her.

“Through winter and summer and winter again it kept running and no matter how cold, or how warm it got, no matter if the ground itself cracked with frost, nothing could freeze that river of blood.”

Alys smiled, but it was no longer sweet or comforting or soft.

“And last night, when you were you sleeping in my arms I looked into the flames and there I saw you with a babe strapped to your cest and the Conqueror’s crown in your hands.”

By now her back was pressed to the cold wall, otherwise she would have shrunk away further.

“I do not have a child.”, she reminded Alys.

“Not yet!”, Alys argued. “But you will. A boy!”

She smiled as if she could see it already.

“I’ve heard the songs they will sing about him. Little boys will cry out his name in their game while great warriors will think of him before heading into battle. Little girls will lie awake in their beds and dream of him while young Maidens hope to gain a suitor of his likeness, while weeping to the tales of his sacrifice!”

Alys stared at her with expectation, but her entire skin was crawling with a burning to run.

“This is ridiculous.”, she hissed through clenched teeth. “I do not have a child. I do not have a son.”

Nor will I, she thought, even if that wasn’t certain.

“You cannot change the paths the Gods have chosen for you. Your son - your blood - I’ve seen it in my flames. And she has seen it in her dreams!”

In her fear, the words came out less like the firm statement she had intended for them, but rather a high pitched squeak of desperation.

“You are delusional!”, she hissed.

Alys face hardened.

“Did not Daenys dream?”, she demanded to know, as her voice grew dangerously low. “Don’t you?”

Her stomach coiled as if it wanted to form a knot of its own as her mouth went dry.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Feverdreams. Nothing more.”

Alys grinned grimly.

“Of course they would tell you that!”, she sneered, “frightened fools that they are. I-”

She did not wait for Alys to spin her lies and her web of madness. Instead, she used the chance to barge through the door.

Alys followed hot on her heels, but her fear made her faster.

“I am on your side! You will remember that when the time comes and you’ll come back to me!”, she called.

Like hell, she thought as she ran down the stairs as fast as her feet could take her, two, three steps at once, more falling than running.

And she ran until she was out of breath, until dizziness made her head spin and her feet ached from the time she had twisted her ankle and kept running.

But she had fled without any plan and soon found herself in a corridor all too familiar to her now.

She knew she should run, leave Harrenhal as soon as possible before Alys decided to reveal her identity to the guards.

And yet, she was here now. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she’d need more than a nightgown for flying and weapon would not hurt.

Her sens of flight and urgency made her act without hesitation as she reached for the deep, dark blue.

It pooled at her feet, and so she fastened it with the belt, wrapping the leather around her waist twice to make it fit.

Then she found the dagger, and the box with carved figures.

Alys may talk of blood and family, but Harrenhal wasn’t her blood or her family, not without Ser Harwin.

Her home was Dragonstone, and that was where she belonged, not here, not on that island of stories and myth, nor drowning in her dreams, or another woman’s madness for that matter.

And she had made a vow, hadn’t she? To the one person that tied her to this place.

To protect her mother and to protect her siblings.

There was no way she would be able to fulfil that from afar, and she would fulfil it as diligently as he would have done. As he should have done, if the world was a better, fairer place. But it wasn't and so she made a second vow and promised the stone walls of this ancient and cursed place that she would do what he couldn't.

Part XI

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts xx

House of the Dragon Taglist

@crazylokonugget @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @rapoficeandfire @sabii5 @itsdanajane16 @cynic-spirit

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chaoskirin · 2 years

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AI-Generated Art

I wanted to reserve judgement of AI-Generated art until I had more info, and now I have it.

AI art should be a novelty. It should be something we have fun with. It shouldn’t threaten the jobs of real artists--the works of which are essentially stolen (read: “trained on”) by the AI generator.

Yes, to make it clear, all the AI are you make comes from dozens of pictures at a time fed into an AI system or network, then mashed together to your specifications. The AI doesn’t magically know what “Cat sitting on the beach” looks like, and doesn’t create that art out of a vacuum. It looks for art tagged “beach” and art of “cat” and then puts those things together. Then maybe you decide you want a palm tree with a shadow over the cat, and the AI recognizes the words “shadow” and “cat” and “over” and finds art that would fit those specifications.

Then you’re like, “well, I can’t get a commission from my favorite artist Margaret Artbomb, so I’ll just ask the AI to make this art in her style.”

And because she’s known for drawing cats on beaches under palm trees, you get a near-exact stylistic match that doesn’t exactly line up with any of her other art.

But it has trained itself on her art, and has used elements of her art to make yours.

Then you advertise this work of art as being for sale, even though you didn’t make it, and you essentially stole another person’s art to put yours together.

The problem is that some dudebros on Twitter (and elsewhere, I’m sure) think this is art:

As it turned out, he EXACTLY trained this request to an actual artist, Greg Rutkowski, who has said “don’t fucking use my art to make your AI shit.” ...except he said it a lot nicer. I’m just angry.

Not only is this straight-up theft, but it REALLY shines a spotlight on why some bros think commissions are too expensive, and they won’t pay an artist their due for real art (that actually has soul and isn’t anatomically questionable.) If these were real pieces, they would have taken ME at least 6 hours. Probably more because I don’t do realism a lot.

But this guy spent an hour and a half tweaking settings, and he was like BOOM. ART. Sure, and how many man-hours went into the production of the source art these came from? Hundreds, probably. But sure, claim this shit is real art.

And before anyone is like “yeah but parody” ... no. If you think this falls under the copyright exception for parody, you’re an idiot, straight up. Parody is derived work, and the US Supreme Court has ruled that you can’t just take someone’s art, mash it up how you want to, and call it an original work. Look up Rogers v. Koons.

If you want it in plainer terms, if you’re asked to write a report from school, and you go to an encyclopedia and copy/paste what you need in a different order from the original text, then turn that in, it’s STILL PLAGIARISM. Even though it doesn’t read exactly the same as the source, you have taken exact elements from the source, which you did not write yourself, and claimed that writing as your own without references.

You can’t do that. It’s the exact same situation with AI art, and I am DESPERATELY hoping courts realize this when, inevitably, people start trying to sell AI-generated art.

This isn’t debatable. It doesn’t matter how much you play with settings or tweak your request. You did NOT do that art, and you shouldn’t be able to claim it as yours. You shouldn’t even be able to post it without permission of the artist(s) you stole it from.

So don’t fucking do it.

#ai art #ai generated art #not bestiary

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rjalker · 2 months

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stickytreephilosopher for your free donation scammer blocklist. Has been terminated at least 3 time in the last five days making new accounts to scam people so they can profit off genocide.

They send copy-pasted asks to any blog they find with asks turned on asking for donations.

Never give money to strangers who appear in your inbox asking you to look at their pinned post, this is the oldest trick in the book for bots and scammers.

When in doubt, copy the ask and paste it into the tumblr search bar. You'll see dozens of other people getting the exact same message from multiple blogs every time the last one gets taken down.

Real people who need help do not go around spamming hundreds of strangers' inboxes.

#free blocklist #Zionist blocklist #Free Palestine #From the river to the sea Palestine will be free

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practically-an-x-man · 3 days

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more thoughts about Wish:

Chris Pine has the best voice acting in this movie by far. Dude could be a legitimately scary villain if the animation wasn't so goofy

I'm telling you dude, the man is acting his ass off but the script and animation style are just ruining all the emotion he's giving

Alan Tudyk is also putting in the work but the script is not working in his favor

Evan Peters needs more lines. His character is legitimately interesting, a young guy who just gave up his wish and is now weirdly lethargic all the time, but they don't explore it enough

Speaking of the animation, it felt very inconsistent. With the King especially we'd get like... one cool moment (like him stopping the globes during his solo song) but then it's immediately cut by these goofy Nimona-as-Ballister type motions

The facial expressions are generally overblown, past the point of "animation stretching the rules" and into "this just looks goofy"

Like I said before, it feels like a patchwork of a dozen other, better Disney movies. My dad and I were watching this going "Tangled. Brave. Frozen. Peter Pan. Mulan."

The third act is like... Rise of the Guardians meets that one scene in Trolls where they sing True Colors

The music is just inconsistent. I think it mainly comes from the fact that they had a pop singer/songwriter do the music rather than a musical theatre composer, there aren't any consistent themes or leitmotifs and it leaves everything feeling very disjointed.

Some of the songs on their own are decently catchy but they just feel like they're trying way too hard

The dialogue is the same way. It serves a purpose but it doesn't quite feel natural or human. Some characters are worse than others and the VO work plays a role but the script itself is just awkward

I think they've just set up too many characters here. If they took two people out of Asha's friend group it would leave more room to develop the others. As it is, I don't remember their names and I have no idea what they want

Except for Asha since she's the main character and Simon because he's the only one who stands out from the rest (again, really interesting character! drastically underutilized!)

Feels like the talking animals are only a thing because it's a Disney movie. Valentino I understand, animal sidekicks are a classic, but the chickens and squirrels and mice are just too much

As a whole there's just... no substance in it. It feels like they've tried to make The Disney Movie and just started making it without even deciding on the themes or characters' journeys at all

It is a heaping pile of deus ex machinas. Every single problem in this movie is resolved in some cheeky little deus ex machina, solely for the sake of a stupid joke or a cheap reference to another Disney reference

If you're gonna copy Lin-Manuel Miranda's composition style anyway... just hire Lin-Manuel Miranda. At least he knows how rhyme schemes and leitmotifs work

This movie is so fucking trite it makes me legitimately angry

Good points I guess (because I refuse to dish on a movie without pointing out something decent about it):

Some of the songs are kinda catchy

There are a few powerful moments of animation, mostly with the King

There are little gold character moments here and there: the King's desperation for power, Simon's character as a whole, Asha's selflessness sparking the initial wish, etc.

Some of the voice acting is legitimately good!

The concept itself is interesting, a King who hoards wishes to make himself more powerful. It had the grounds to be a much better movie, it just didn't act on them very well

The diversity in this movie is genuinely good! We see various demographics of people - race, gender, physical build, disability, etc. - and there's not much "Disney same face syndrome" like we've gotten in other movies.

#out of the two wish-themed movies with harvey guillen in them... yeah no i'm just gonna watch puss in boots

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davidmariottecomics · 9 months

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Keep it Forever? Me and Physical Media

Hello friends!

I swear that this blog isn't just me advertising that I've got some stuff up for sale on ebay (but also, I totally do).

As I think I've made pretty abundantly clear, I'm a big proponent of physical media. At a guesstimate, I probably own something around 2-3 dozen VHS tapes, 50-ish records, 100+ video games, 100-150 CDs, probably 200-300 DVDs & Blu-Rays, and more books and comics than I could reasonably count. And that's not even getting into toys and plushies and other physical collectables that Becca and I have strewn across the house or in storage. I am a person who likes to own things. And I'm starting to hit the point where I also need to be a person who doesn't own all things I have.

Why Physical Media Matters

While I'm pretty sure I've written about this before, doesn't hurt to reiterate why I am such a big proponent of physical media and owning the things you like.

1. You own the thing. This is probably the single biggest point of physical media to me. You own it. Definitively. You can go and pick up this object that you have and use it. You aren't subject to the terms, conditions, and service changes of companies. If I want to watch Bratz: The Movie or play Super Smash Bros Melee or read The Lady from the Black Lagoon, I can. I don't have to see if it's currently on a service that I'm paying for or even available digitally. I don't have to worry about limited time availability. I don't have to worry about increasingly clueless executives who in trying to maintain the wealth of stockholders basically erase projects from existence, nor do I have to worry about changes of ownership or site design or functionality or licensing agreements that can take your purchases and just blip them away.

2. Preservation. Piggybacking right off of that, some things *only* exist as physical media. Or, at least, only officially do. I mentioned Smash Bros Melee because it's a Gamecube era game that only exists on/was released for Gamecube. The game only exists as long as there are people who have working copies. There are books that I own, that, similarly, are no longer in print and have never been made available digitally. While most physical media can eventually deteriorate, there are things I have had for the majority of my life (and some things that pre-date me, honestly) that're still in really good shape because they've been cared for and it's important to me that these things exist and it's cool that I can do a little bit to help that.

2.5 - As an aside, I do just want to say that I am in favor of digital archiving as a tool of preservation. Between the things that only exist digitally and the things that can have a longer preserved life by being converted to digital, I do think it's an important part of the preservation conversation too. With sort of an asterisk of just because I think most works shouldn't be lost, I don't know that it means they should be digitally accessible if it comes at the expense of the creator(s). Preservation = good. Piracy = still bad.

3. Tactility and greater use. This one goes especially for books and comics, but I like being able to hold things. I like having my reading material in print so that I can, y'know, consume it on the beach without wifi or power or whatever. While a lot of my physical media is dependent on technology still, there are certain things that are more usable in more ways/places because they're physical.

Why I'm Clearing Some Out Tho

On the other side of all of this, there are some very compelling reasons not to keep all my physical media. And these are some reflective conversations I'm having with myself. Some stuff's easy, right? Things that are redundant--whether they're exact duplicates of something I already own and somehow acquired twice or, like with some of my Transformers, I don't actually need 6 mildly different variations of Bumblebee--are easily put as something that can go. But once you get past that, for me at least, a lot of it comes down kinda to the Marie Kondo "does it spark joy" method.

Potentially unfortunately for me, a lot of stuff either does spark joy, or sparks almost a sort of FOMO. Tied to preservation, there are some things that while I haven't really engaged with them in heck, maybe a decade of owning it, I worry that if I got rid of it, I wouldn't have it when I *do* want it. But there are also some things where I know it is no longer meaningful to me to own this thing, but I think it might be meaningful to someone else.

I know I've written about this before, but I'm not really a Funko Pop guy. I have owned a few that I've thought were neat. But even the one I'd say was my favorite, I found tucked away because it had been on a low bookshelf behind our living room furniture before our last big cleaning/reorganizing session for that room, and I don't think I had realized that I hadn't seen it in such a long time. It wasn't just that it had been tucked away, it was that I hadn't thought to see if I knew where it was in months and months. And so, we're parting ways.

It is tough--at least for me--to be at the intersection of genuinely believing in the good of physical possessions (and, yes, I recognize the faults in them too), wanting to be a person who does preserve things, and honestly, believing in some part of me that the reason I have all this stuff is I might want or need it in the future. That there could be a reason I held on to the Steve Oedekirk Thumb movie collection that'll somehow be relevant to my job or to finding a treasure chest or something. But also knowing that I need to make some space. And that I could use some extra scratch. And that there are things that I bought with enjoying them in the future in mind, but that I now don't think I'll ever return to.

Loss and Regret

Nothing that I'm trying to get rid of do I feel like I'm going to regret parting ways with. But I've heard and--to some extent--have experienced that feeling of great loss in the past. I think all of us have had or know someone in our lives who has had some variation on the experience of "my [parent] threw my [toys/comics/books/important childhood memories] away and I used my adult money to try to get them back." Or, closely related the "I [lent out/went on vacation with/otherwise left the house with] my [toys/comics/books/important childhood memories] and they're now lost forever."

I've had a couple of those experiences. The summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college, I lent a friendly acquaintance who was going to the same college as me a bunch of my Gameboy games because they had just found their Gameboy and wanted to get back into it, and I was mostly playing my DS and only my Pokemon Gameboy games at that time. I'm fuzzy on the details, because it has been a decade now (whoof), but as I recall, said acquaintance didn't remember to bring my games when they came to college and somewhere between when they moved into the dorms and their first extended trip home, their family moved and the games were "lost in the move" and if they were ever found, I was never told. And there were some really good games that I miss even today.

Another time, we were living out at the ranch and a lot of our stuff was in storage in the barn (yes, I lived on a non-working ranch and, yes, we had a barn). Now, sometimes that meant things got a little gross. There was dust and the occasional bugs or mice that found their way into things. But overall, it was actually pretty secure. That is, until the barn flooded once. And I lost a ton of meaningful stuff: books and comics and toys. In particular, I remember that the flood lead to the death of my Marvel Legends build-a-figure Galactus, which was quite the loss.

And my third big loss/purge is when the ranch was being sold, I had to go back to the ranch, and to the barn, and go through and try to parse at least some of my stuff down. At that point, I was in college and knew I only had a storage unit to work with to hold this stuff, and I was distraught with changes to my life around the ranch being sold, so I know there are things that basically got thrown away that I probably could've kept or saved or gotten to someone who would appreciate them, but in a wave of angst and just deep tiredness, some stuff just got tossed and because it's been a while and I was a little hazy at the time, I still don't entirely know what all was lost in that either.

I bring all of this up because, like I said earlier, I know that I and many of us have that experience of losing the things that mattered. And I know when I posted about selling some Transformers not too long ago, I had a couple people reach out to say "hey, I don't want to see you lose something that matters to you if you just need money." I wanna reassure folks that, no, it isn't just that influencing my decisions here. I'm really trying to be thoughtful in my decisions. So, don't worry. ;D

Next week: Inspired by a conversation on Becca's Twitch stream yesterday (viewer discretion advised on this last stream: there's some language and a spooky drawing and a slip of some NSFW art for a sec), I'm going to talk about manuscript wishlists and like ways to maybe find agents and editors that'd be a good match for you!

What I enjoyed this week: Blank Check (Podcast), Craig of the Creek (Cartoon), Honkai Star Rail (Video game), My Adventures with Superman (Cartoon), Barbie Dreamhouse Challenge (TV show, my friend Sina's in the finale!!!!), The Broken Room by Peter Clines (Book), Crime Scene Kitchen (TV show), Dumbing of Age (Webcomic), It's Walky/Joyce & Walky/Shortpacked (Webcomics), Solve This Murder (Podcast), Batman: Wayne Family Adventures (Webcomic), Praise Petey (Cartoon), Queen of the Damned (Movie), this very cute Superman drawn by Fernando Luis Cruz during a Superman conversation on Becca's last Twitch stream, this hunky boy Superman drawn by Gigi Dutreix on said stream (and the hunky lady She-Hulk too), The Prank Panel (TV show), Chainsaw Man (Manga)

New Releases this week (8/9/2023): Nothing from me! Sorry! But...

New Releases next week (8/14/2023): Brynmore #2 (Editor) Godzilla: The War for Humanity #1 (Editor) Sonic the Hedgehog #63 (Editor) Toldja I had a bunch in the pipeline!

Announcements: Becca will be tabling at Cartoon-a Palooza in Temecula on 9/15 & 9/16. It's a cool free all-ages little con, so come on out and see them! I'll be around too, I'm sure!

Wanna support me? Consider joining my Patreon! Not only do you get the blog, but you get neat extra stuff like Patreon exclusive blogs, sneak peeks on other stuff I'm working on (and sometimes full original comics posted there), and coming up this week, the first of my sharable scripts and pitches! And even more at higher levels! Or, you can buy something from my webstore! Some of the stock on that stuff is running low and not going to be reprinted anytime soon, so prolly a good time to check it out!

Also, at time of posting, I still have not pulled Kafka in Honkai Star Rail, but when I do (boy I hope I do), I'll let you know. Pic of the Week: This is just a very nice picture of Nadja. But those Supermans are also kinda the pic of the week!

#comics #collectibles #physical media #dvds #cat pictures

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colognedecigarette · 11 months

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ey mates. i found this post from a terf talking about their commonly used abbreviations and terms. i'll copy-paste it here, unedited (except the formatting for easier read), so yous know better what to look out for + how they think/justify the use of these terms. i'll put an archive link later in case the read more link breaks. also, this post is full of anti-trans and anti-nonbinary bullshit so ... just be aware of that.

post source is gendercriticalthinking. am not making a whole blocklist bc ... would you believe me if i say that i tried but gave up after the first, like, dozen names bc it got too depressing? lmfao. (feel free to click on the link and peruse the notes yourself though. whenever you can take it.)

archive link.

* TIM and TIF stand for "Trans-Identified Male" and "Trans-Identified Female". Basically, TIMs are what others usually call "trans woman", and same for TIFs and "trans man" (although these terms also cover non-binary-identified and neo-gender-identified people as well).

TIM/TIF are used instead to more accurately reflect the reality of the people in question without sidelining their beliefs/identities: we understand you identify as trans, but calling males "women" and females "men", even if there's a "trans" in front, does not accurately convey reality, and we oppose that.

* OSA and SSA stand for "Opposite-Sex Attracted" and "Same-Sex Attracted". Therefore, the label OSA people covers straight and bisexual people, while SSA covers gay and bisexual people. Basically, SSA women/men are what others usually call "wlw/mlm".

Because people who believe in gender identity and use "mlm/wlw" consider some males to be women and some females to be men, the "men" and "women" in "mlm/wlw" do not accurately convey the reality (similar to the above) of the sex and sexualities of the people in question, as a male who is OSA but identifies as trans would be considered by some to be a "wlw". However, OSA and SSA place the emphasis back onto the sex and sexuality of the people in question, which is, again, a more accurate description of reality when talking about people and their sexualities.

* TRA stands for "Trans Rights Activist." However, this is mostly used to mean "people who agree with/support gender/trans identities/neogenders/etc" rather than "people who are engaging in actual activism for those beliefs." The term gendie is essentially used the same way (although it has more of a connotation of "trans/nb/neo-gender-identified people" rather tham "people who support gender identity but may not necessarily identify as trans/nb themselves") and it has been used frequently more recently, although I and others feel like it's a bit juvenile and derisive.

* Gender ideology refers to the beliefs above, e.g. the validity of gender/trans/non-binary/etc. identities. This is usually used to refer to the beliefs about gender that are exclusive to liberals: that you can change gender/sex, that gender/sex are not binary, that everyone has a gender identity, that misgendering someone or pointing out their "biological" (a redundant word) sex is at best highly offensive and at worst a hate crime, etc. Whereas, gender or gender roles/stereotypes are usually used to refer to the more historical/"classical" concept of gender which lines up with conservatives' beliefs: you know, the whole "women like pink and should wear makeup and are naturally submissive, but men like blue and should be muscular and are naturally dominant" crap.

Although they seem different, they're actually one and the same, or at the very least the liberal/new gender ideology is firmly founded in classic sexism. Both conservatives and liberals believe wholeheartedly in gender: that it applies to everyone without exception ("all women must be feminine and all men must be masculine", and in gender ideology's case add on "feminine women and masculine men are cis while gnc people are trans, you must be either cis or trans" aka you must either enjoy your gender role or want to transition because you dislike it), that it must be rigidly enforced and supported to maintain order and understanding ("A girl who likes boy things?!? That's an affront to nature and must be corrected, girls should like girly things!!!" or "A girl who likes boy things?!? That's clearly a sign she he must be trans, because boys like boyish things!!!"), that it's genetic/inherently true rather than something that is imposed upon people due to misogyny ("Women are submissive to men because God made them that way to be men's servants" and "Everyone has a gender identity, it's something you were born with in your brain, and how you feel about your body [which you can change] and your gender [which you cannot change] determines if you're cis or trans. You must be one or the other."), etc.

* GNC stands for "Gender Non-Conforming", aka what technically applies to most people on Earth, to the dismay of the gender fandom. It's usually used, however, to refer to people who are very noticeably/starkly/deliberately GNC in almost every way and proud of it, such as butch women.

* Gender critical (oftenshortened to "GC" ) is an adjective that most-accurately describes how people like me view gender/gender roles: they suck. Get rid of them. We are, you could say, "critical" of the concept of "gender". Not all gender critical people are radical feminists, but because rejection of the misogynistic concept of gender is a defining belief of GC people, we are nearly always some variety of feminist.

This means we don't really fit in with either of the two most-common/vocal "sides" of the trans debate: conservatives who see a male person in a dress and makeup go "This is disgusting! Stop wearing that right now! You're a man, so dress like one!", liberals who see the same guy go "This is so gender! I'm sure you're a trans woman because of how you present yourself! You're dressing like a woman, so that's who you are!", and gender critical people who see him go "This is awesome, keep being you! It's wonderful that you enjoy being a GNC man! What you enjoy or wear does not define who you are, and who you are does not define what you should enjoy or wear!"… or at least we would more often if the previous two groups didn't end up causing most GNC people to either be closeted/repressed, or believe they must be trans and therefore not a GNC man/woman but instead a gender-confirming trans woman/trans man (or some type of enby, same difference: "you don't obey the gender stereotypes belonging to your sex so you must not be that sex/gender" instead of "gender stereotypes are stupid, and your sex is your sex").

* TWAW is short for "Trans Women Are Women," a common chant and circular-logic-nonanswer from gender ideologists, the popularity of which in stark contrast to the lack of saying "trans men are men" (something only ever said after first saying TWAW, never on its own) surely has nothing to do with the coincidental fact that the beloved, supported, face-of-the-movement group are males and the forgotten, neglected, secondary-to-men group are females.

* While these are of course words used commonly by everyone, I think it would be helpful to lay out the gender-critical definitions of gender and sex here: "gender" is short for "gender roles/stereotypes" (see "gender ideology" above) whereas "sex" is used to refer to the biological realities (chromosomes, gametes, hormones, secondary characteristics, etc.) of being female or male.

Basically:

- Conservatives believe gender and sex are the same thing (or at least use the words interchangeably, as well as believe your gender should match your sex) and therefore believe "female = woman = feminine" and "male = man =masculine".

- Liberals believe gender and "biological" sex are different things (yet often confusingly use the words interchangeably or subconsciously believe they are the same [as seen in their frequent slips of the tongue when talked to] but claim to believe they are different because they want to be good allies) and therefore use "woman" and "man" to describe gender (because they believe "woman = feminine" and "man = masculine") while using "female" and "male" to describe sex (but again they often and confusingly use male/female as synonyms of man/woman, and again likely because they want to be good allies and believe anything that might contradict TWAW is horrific and transphobic).

- Gender critical people believe gender is an archaic, misogynistic system that is long overdue for being tossed out while sex is an accurate, scientific term (therefore making "biological/birth sex" redundant, it's like saying "meat-eating carnivore") to describe the reality of being a human. Women are adult female humans and men are adult male humans. "Feminine" and "masculine" are outdated, arbitrary, sexist concepts and should not be associated with anything: not clothes, not behaviors, and especially not one's sex. Your sex is just biology. It should never determine your behavior and lifestyle: neither to say your sex and behavior/lifestyle must match with gender, nor that if they don't match then your sex/gender must change to make them match.

#radfem dogwhistle #radfem terminology #psa #anti-trans cw #anti-nonbinary cw

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