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likealittleheartbeat · 2 months

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I try to generally be constructive and engaged with the show I love on here, so on this day, I’ll just say that one of the most thematically important aspects for me from the original ATLA is Aang’s emotional core of real shame for running away when he was hurt by the monk’s decision to send him away. People who feel the kind of deep-seated shame that Aang feels from this decision can understand how that kind of all-encompassing shame is not built around a simple failure or a lie they tell themselves; it’s constructed from real misbehaviors and transgressions of their own sense of ethics—lashing out, telling lies, attempting to hurt others intentionally—that then have consequences (abuses, abandonments, or deaths) which seem to far exceed their expectations or even basic logic.

The combination of the misbehavior with exaggerated existential punishments (along with a lack of support and amend-making in the immediate wake of the events) is what transforms a sense of guilt (I fucked up) into shame (I am a forever fuck-up). Then shame, that sense of being a secret monster ‘no matter what I do or how good everyone thinks I am,’ invites all the avoidance strategies (Aang puts on big smiles, makes lots of jokes, constantly tries to make everyone happy, hops from town to town without building deeper connections). One doesn’t want to acknowledge one’s true feelings or let others in to see those feelings and experiences because it’s too painful to face the grief at the same time that you have to look at yourself for being responsible—even when you recognize it wasn’t totally your fault. It’s just that if you had just been good, less emotional, less human, then maybe the world wouldn’t be so messed up. Of course, in a zen view of things, the world will always be messed up in the same way it will always be beautiful. These are constant facts that always coexist in balance, and this is the truth that Aang learns and that undergirds the whole series.

So I always loved that Aang ran away. It was his sin and his salvation. And it becomes this constant tension for the series—he gets hurt in Bato of the Water Tribe and starts to run away from Katara and Sokka, he runs away to the Guru in the Crossroads of Destiny and his best friend is attacked, he and the gaang retreat after the Day of the Black Sun failure, he runs away to meditation in Sozin’s Comet when everyone wants him preparing for war. Aang’s reluctance to be a hero and the attachments and petulance for which he gets criticized are what metamorphasize to become his most noble attributes. They allow him to empathize with others shame and, ultimately, wield the kind of compassion that can deconstruct the power and perfectionism of imperialism.

So yes, Aang ran away from his temple 100 years ago. It wasn’t the mentally healthy choice. It wasn’t the ethical choice. It wasn’t the wise choice. It was human and emotional and shameful and real. Aang is a better character for it. ATLA is a better show because of it. And we are better people when we understand these kind of tragic emotional experiences that people are trying so hard to grow through.

#aanglove #vague posting about the nf adaptation lol #I won’t go off in my posts but I will in my comments #only 17 minutes in tbh #and already amazed at realizing how cool it was that the of series wasn’t told in a linear style lol #I do think the casting department went off for the nf series tho #the kid playing aang is so perf #and all the actors fit their parts so well #but the show doesn’t understand or seem interested in depicting colonial violence at alllll #and the language of the fire nation wanting to ‘take over the world’ is so much more marvel than a colonial rhetoric #and then aang just wanting to ‘go get some air’ to clear his head…😑#we aren’t allowed to have problematic protagonists anymore I guess #only people with perfect mental health strategies allowed in young adult fiction #because we view fiction from a moralistic standpoint now instead of an empathetic one #but 🤷🏻‍♀️

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irradiatedrosegarden · 1 month

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sometimes you just gotta lick the homies

#(and blatantly admit your dishonesty to them. yknow. normal friendship things)#friendship is a really strong word tho. at least for these guys #purposely gonna be vague about their relationship for now but i will say that they both consider killing the other on multiple occasions :)#and also they slow dance and kiss but that's unrelated #oh oh oh i should say for those who don't know - daisy (my courier) is a trans woman and uses she/her pronouns #she's got a bit of a beard here but that's bc the only sharp things in the sierra madre are knives #and lies #but those aren't great for shaving #:)#new vegas #dead money #fallout new vegas #fnv #dean domino #daisy correa #courier six #irradiated art #i loveeeeeeeee dead money so much i am kissing the entire dlc on the mouth #dead money <33333333 #forced cooperation between a group whose only motive to help the others (at least initially) is that if they don't they die <3333333 #a fuckn casino heist <333 !!!!! hello. insane dlc concept. insane execution (/pos). i love it to bits it makes me so sad and so so so hyped

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legogender · 18 days

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dr s2 is really great so far

#ONLY 2 EPS IN NO SPOILERS PLEASEEEE #ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #artsbotz #ninjago spoilers #so vaguely.#trying to do at least one doodle per ep. for fun #id like to rewatch the whole show at some point so it cld be fun to do that too for old eps #i probs wont post them all individually but im excited abt watching it again #me: heh... guess ill watch the new ninjago season. im kinda over it tho / me five minutes in: [passed out from excitement]#very fun . we WILL get the therapy arc. i can feel it coming #sorry abt the zane pic but that line rlly made me giggle bc i wasnt looking at the screen when it happened. the possibilities

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solargeist · 1 month

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I'll also take some credit for the religious trauma. Mine is more of the cult flavor I think tho

-Lunar

we’re rly in this together

#Ask #I was only vaguely religious growing up aksnsjsk so not baptized and not super educated on it #I had a picture of Mary in my room as a kid but got rid of it after being told ppl that pray to her go to hell 😭 AND I FEEL GUILTY SOMETIME #I can’t get super into religion bc intrusive thoughts don’t allow me to pray and I go crazy #two seconds away from committing to being a nun if I spiral enough #I enjoy talking abt religion and values n stories tho TBH just not with bigots AKDNDJSKSK #especially when it comes to the beauty of nature and the universe and stars and helping ppl and animals 💥😤#intense anxiety and ocd and going crazy but I luvvvv humanityyyyy humans r sooo cuteee sometimessss

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starryyskies · 4 months

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Hello, I ran into your art several months ago, and I am currently looking for the old Music Man fanart you did. I'm pretty sure you're the one who posted the Sundrop fanart of "you got cock?" I'm sorry if I have the wrong person or if I'm a bother, I've been searching for a few hours for the art but I'm not finding it since you moved all your art. If it's not any trouble and if you still have it, are you willing to repost that Music Man art? I was just wondering, I understand if you cant!

LOL I might be the wrong person, let me find the only music man art I made

#LOL good times #All good that im not the right person if you do find the pic tho send it to me I wanna see #I hope you find it tho ik how frustrating it is to try and find a pic you only remember vaguely #ask

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youssefguedira · 25 days

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wrote this instead of doing any of my actual tasks <3 tw for brief mention of animal death (by hunting)

Yusuf has been dreading this since the moment they left for Akkala. He had made as many excuses as he could to stay in Goron City for as long as he could, but every one had run out in the end, and he could no longer put off the inevitable.

The first time he had walked this road, his father had accompanied him with a platoon of guards, still cautious, still reeling from the attack that had taken Yusuf's mother. The second time there had been fewer, but still many.

In the years after that, the number of people sent with him had decreased even further until it was only two or three guards, enough to keep him safe. His father stopped accompanying him on these journeys after he turned fourteen and there had been no sign of their worth.

Now, only Nicolò.

He follows, keeping a respectful distance away from Yusuf, but closer than he had walked before they had gone to meet Nile, to ask for her help. He doesn't ever ask to stop, or to slow down, letting Yusuf set the pace. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his sword and does not speak.

What is there to be said? Nicolò knows what lies at the end of this road, even if he does not know what it will mean for Yusuf.

Yusuf can feel Nicolò's eyes on his back. It is bad enough that the whole kingdom knows he is a failure: he does not need Nicolò to watch him fail and say nothing.

The sun is low, casting the landscape in burnt orange. It would be beautiful were it not so horribly familiar. There is a cabin nearby, and not far from it, the Spring. They will stay in the cabin tonight; they will leave for the Spring in the morning and spend three days there, then return to Goron City and after that, the castle.

Yusuf thinks about returning, about his father's inevitable disappointment, and feels sick.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says, sounding uncertain. He is not yet used to calling Yusuf by his name. “We are not far, yes?”

Yusuf had forgotten that Nicolò does not know every cursed inch of this road the way Yusuf does. “No, not far. In a moment you'll see the cabin.”

Nicolò says nothing. Yusuf glances back just long enough to meet his eyes before looking away.

What is Nicolò thinking? Yusuf can never tell.

Yusuf catches sight of the cabin a moment later. Dread sits like a stone in his stomach.

When they get closer, Nicolò takes hold of his elbow, gentle. It startles Yusuf all the same - he hadn't realised Nicolò was that close to him.

“Let me go first,” Nicolò says. “To check. But stay close.”

Yusuf nods, and lingers barely a handspan from Nicolò's back while he surveys first the outside, then the inside, of the cabin. Once he's satisfied, he gestures for Yusuf to enter.

“You should rest,” he says, and he is being so gentle with Yusuf it almost hurts. Perhaps Andromache has told him what this will mean for him: she has accompanied him before.

Yusuf shakes his head, because sleep means dreams, and dreams will be worse. “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to find something for dinner,” Nicolò says.

“Let me come with you,” Yusuf says. Anything is better than sitting in this cabin alone with his thoughts.

Nicolò looks at him for a long moment. Perhaps he takes pity on Yusuf, or perhaps he thinks that it will be easier to keep Yusuf safe if he stays with Nicolò. Either way, he nods. “All right.”

----------

Finding something for dinner means that Nicolò leads Yusuf a little way into the woods, far enough that the foliage and the dying sunlight makes it difficult to see, and bids him hide beneath a tree, in a space formed by the roots, while Nicolò crouches beside him with his bow, nocking an arrow in one smooth, seamless motion. From his vantage point, Yusuf can see a small clearing with a few fallen trees.

“Do not move,” Nicolò instructs him in a whisper, “and do not make a sound.”

Yusuf rests his head against the tree and watches the leaves move in the breeze. It is quiet enough that all he can hear is their rustling, the sounds of birds and animals calling to each other, the rushing of the stream nearby. After a moment, and with nothing else to watch, Yusuf begins to watch Nicolò.

He has gone as still and as quiet as the trees around them, barely breathing, his shoulders rising and falling only slightly, like he has become a part of the forest. Faron Woods is much further south from here, but Yusuf supposes that this forest must be somewhat similar to where Nicolò grew up. He wonders who taught him to hunt; who taught him to be so comfortable in this place. Why he left it behind to travel to the castle and work for the king.

There are a lot of things Yusuf wonders about him. He cannot tell if Nicolò is aware of Yusuf’s watching; he must be. Still, Yusuf cannot help but watch.

It happens faster than Yusuf can track. Nicolò goes entirely still, and draws his bow swiftly, silently. Yusuf holds his breath and so does the forest.

Nicolò lets the arrow fly.

Yusuf doesn’t see whether it finds its mark, but Nicolò looks for a moment and then stands. “Wait here,” he says to Yusuf, and then heads for the clearing. When he returns he’s carrying something behind his back, the arrow in his other hand. Blood drips onto the grass.

“You can wait inside while I prepare it, if you prefer,” Nicolò says haltingly. Yusuf shakes his head, and so he sits on a log outside while Nicolò skins the rabbit, arms wrapped around his knees and chin drawn up to his chest. Nicolò keeps his back to Yusuf, shielding most of it from view.

Who taught him this? Yusuf wonders. It is a part of Nicolò he has never seen before.

When it is done, he takes it back inside to cook over the fire, and they eat it alongside the bread and cheese they brought from Goron City, across from each other at the cabin’s little table.

“When do you want to leave, tomorrow?” Nicolò asks softly.

“I don’t,” Yusuf says before he can stop himself, and then adds, “I don’t know. Early, probably.” The thought bursts the little bubble he’s been in since they arrived. He doesn’t want to leave, could stay here for the three days they’ve been allocated and return to his father without even having tried and it would change nothing.

“Just after sunrise, then,” Nicolò says. “It is not far, you said?”

Yusuf shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Not far.”

----------

The water is freezing.

It has always been freezing. But Yusuf knows well enough that if he stands in it for long enough, it will start to warm. It reaches to around halfway up his thigh; when he was younger, it felt deeper.

The stone in front of him offers nothing. No sign, no indication that anything is listening to him except for the water and Nicolò, who has been standing at the gate of the Spring for however long he has been in here. Has he been listening? Has he heard Yusuf pleading for something, anything, dreading the moment he returns to the castle and his father looks down at his left hand and sees nothing there?

What does Nicolò think of him now? If he did not see a failure before, does he see one now?

His legs may be going numb. They tremble beneath him, struggling to hold his weight. How long has he been standing here?

“Tell me what I am doing wrong,” he begs the stone. His voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else. “I know I am not the one you wanted, but I am trying. I am trying. I have given everything. I do not know how much more I have left.”

The stone says nothing.

Nicolò says, “Yusuf.”

Yusuf hears him without listening, falls to his knees in the water and does not even feel the chill.

“Please,” he pleads. “I cannot return – I cannot give anymore.”

There is a splash behind him, and then there is Nicolò, pulling him to his feet, pulling him from the water. Yusuf tries to hold fast - he cannot leave now or it will have been three days in the Spring with nothing to show for it.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says again. His grip is gentle but unrelenting, and he is warm. Yusuf, shivering as he is, can’t help but lean into it. “You are exhausted. You are going to freeze. Come with me.”

“I can’t,” Yusuf says, even as he lets Nicolò take his weight, lets him guide Yusuf out of the Spring. “I can’t.”

There is a small paved area where their camp is set up. Nicolò has kept the fire going, or restarted it, while Yusuf was in there, and he half-carries Yusuf over to it now. Yusuf’s legs buckle under him the moment Nicolò lets him go, and he sinks onto something soft laid over the paving stones. He blinks, and there is a bowl in his hands, warming even if he does not really taste it.

“It was never supposed to be me,” Yusuf says without really meaning to.

From across the fire, Nicolò watches him.

“It was supposed to be my mother,” Yusuf whispers. The only sound between them is the crackling of the fire. Yusuf is so, so tired. He has never said this to anybody else, not even Andromache, but he cannot keep the words from rushing out of him now.

“It came to her when she was nineteen,” he says, “and that’s how they knew it would happen in her lifetime. So she trained, and she mastered it, and we were ready. And then she was killed, and because I was the oldest, it came to me.”

He does not like thinking about this. He has not thought about this in years. They do not speak of it anymore.

Nicolò is still watching him.

“I was asleep when it happened,” Yusuf continues. “I dreamt it as it happened, but I didn’t know until later. The moment she died, I woke up screaming. They told me afterwards that I was– I was glowing, bright enough that nobody could look at me for long or get close enough to see what was happening to me. They just had to wait until I came out of it. It felt like I was burning.” If he closes his eyes, he is there again, twelve years old and terrified.

“That’s how we know it should be me,” he says after a moment. “Who can do it. Because I did, once, but never again, despite all of this.” He waves at the Spring, the water, the stone.

Exhaustion tugs at him. His eyes will not stay open, but he cannot let himself fall asleep, not yet.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he tells Nicolò. “There’s still time.” It cannot be late yet; the sun has gone down, but it is not quite dark. “Don’t let me.”

“You have to rest,” Nicolò says. It is the first thing he has said to Yusuf since he pulled him from the Spring, and Yusuf cannot tell what he is thinking.

“I can’t fall asleep,” Yusuf insists.

“At least let yourself warm up first,” Nicolò says. There is a pile of dry clothes in his hands - where did he get them?

Nicolò convinces him to change and to sit back down, to rest a little while longer. This time he steers Yusuf to sit down on his bedroll instead, and Yusuf’s grip on his arm goes tight.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he says again.

“You cannot go on like this,” Nicolò says. “Sleep, and I will wake you in a few hours’ time.”

Yes, a few hours. That, Yusuf can afford. “Promise me,” Yusuf says, but his eyes are already closing unbidden.

Nicolò says nothing.

----------

When Yusuf wakes, it is still dark outside, and there is a cloak that is not his own draped over him. Nicolò is crouched over the fire only a short distance away. He catches Yusuf’s eye, but doesn’t say a word.

It all comes crashing back at once: the water, the stone, Nicolò. Yusuf sits up.

“You didn’t wake me,” he says.

Nicolò watches him for a long moment. “You needed the rest,” he says finally.

Suddenly his consideration stings. “That wasn’t your decision to make. What time is it?”

Nicolò glances at the sky. “It will be sunrise soon.”

Yusuf’s heart sinks. Sunrise means return, means return to the castle and his father with nothing. He gets up, pushes Nicolò’s cloak aside. “You should have woken me.”

Unexpectedly, Nicolò pushes back. “You would have only made yourself ill. You were barely conscious. I would not have done it if–” “That was not your decision to make,” Yusuf snaps. “I am not a child, Nicolò. I am capable of handling myself. I have lost hours.”

Nicolò does not say anything. Yusuf almost wishes he would keep pushing, but he does not. He simply folds himself back into the same blank expression he always carries, and again, Yusuf cannot read him.

“If the sun will rise soon, there is not much use in staying here for much longer,” Nicolò says eventually, quiet. He doesn’t meet Yusuf’s eyes. Guilt twists his stomach.

Did Nicolò know? Did Andromache warn him? Or was he just worried?

Yusuf nods.

They pack up their camp in silence, side by side. By the time they set off on the road back towards Goron City, the sun has risen, and the early light turns the world around them to gold.

Yusuf walks, and Nicolò follows behind him, as always.

#neon writes #the zelda au which lives only in my head #spring of power baby! if this seems vaguely familiar setup wise its because ive moved the vague plot of the mount lanayru ficlet here #this is a fairly early stage in their relationship booker is the 3rd champion they find (before andy who's the last)#so like. yusuf is warming up to him (hence him actually talking to nicolo) but is still. going through his whole deal #he'll apologise i promise hes just having a rough go of it the springs are a bit of a touchy subject #spring of power btw. nicolo on the other hand has not quite realised the full extent of whats up wrt yusuf and the springs #and his father generally. he doesnt think yusufs a failure tho thats just yusufs brain #anyway ive been replaying age of calamity and Wow botw zelda is the character of all time. for sure. obsessed with her #so i'm channeling that into this. feat. the reveal of what happened with yusufs mom #anyway. enjoy <3 #the old guard #kaysanova #fine main tag. whatever. this is for me and the 2 people who have expressed interest in this au #it haunts me daily

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whaliiwatching · 9 months

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Caught up to the fic!! Absolutely fascinated by all the queer/punk/poc history here, since I don't know much myself. Very sweet chapter as well.

Unrelated question - mostly - but why is it common fanon to depict Noir as the more scarred up of various spiderpeople? Naturally everyone has their fair share of fights, though the only we see sustaining any marks is Peter B and his misaligned nose. Personally, I've taken it as Noir Peter not healing as cleanly due to it being Spider God stuff over Weird Radioactive Healing Factor stuff. Thoughts?

thank you so much!! i’m glad you liked it, & hope the ending was satisfying for ya <3

short answer: hot

long answer, plus a map of my idea of noir’s scars: under readmore :)

i’m not a devout spidey comic/movie fan or a doctor. this is based on conjecture and minimal research!

when i came up with my unmasked noir ideas, i wasn’t influenced by fanon—i hadn’t seen any other fan art, not even when itsv came out. but i can think of a good few reasons that scarred noir is a popular headcanon: evidence of what he’s been through makes him feel more tangible/relatable, the visual difference enhances his thematic individuality as distinct from other spider-people (especially other Peter Parkers), self-consciousness can explain why he doesn’t take off his mask in itsv even around other spiders.

all perfectly valid and interesting reasons! but the first two reasons are doylist and the last one is missing a crucial question: why does he have scars? unless a wound is severe, gets infected, or gets lucky, it won’t usually scar. facial injuries especially need to be really bad to leave a mark. and of course most if not all other spider-people have the healing factor. so what gives??

i like the spider god’s curse influences healing factor idea; it opens up some nice angsty possibilities regarding an inability to Be “Fixed;” no matter how much he tries, he can’t erase/forget what’s happened to him. but i also enjoy the bandaging someone up after a fight genre of fic, and am annoyingly pedantic, so my personal working theory is that the healing factor is not a doctor with ten plus years of experience and an accurate understanding of human anatomy. when a bone really badly breaks, it has to be reset or it’ll heal wrong. to me, the healing factor doesn’t know what ‘right’ is, only ‘fast’ and ‘effective.’ it’s an accelerant, not a substitute for medicine.

so let’s establish the baseline. modern spideys either receive modern medical attention or the injury is superficial enough that they don’t require it. even poverty-stricken peter parkers get rushed to the hospital, because fictional doctors Don’t Care About The Money and/or peter is dolled up in spider gear and who’s going to ignore a visibly beat-up celebrity hero?? plus i honestly believed peter b’s nose was just genetics or smthn. my nose is misaligned and it’s never been broken to my knowledge

to compare, noir lives in 1933 and, far as i can tell, doesn’t rlly garner the same fame and respect from the public as modern spideys do. in the 30s, medicine was meh (they had x-rays but didn’t rlly consider radiation much of a threat, penicillin was still in its infancy, polio was a huge threat, etc) but was also, more importantly, far too expensive for most people suffering during the Great Depression. whatever treatment noir receives after a fight, if any, would look way different from ours. that means his healing factor, which can’t differentiate scars from normal skin or a misaligned bone from a whole one, would be inefficiently assisted or left alone. it would leave its history behind.

on the infectious disease side of things, it’s probably much easier for even noir to recover from less physical ailments like the flu and pneumonia—spider healing factor likely remembers and codes for immunity better than regular immune systems—but without modern drug therapies he’d still be worse for wear, ie internal scarring. mans would have a shorter-than-average parker lifespan if not for the pseudo-immortality of the Spider God

anyway. all this to say, here’s my personal map of parker’s scars. crop tank and daisy dukes to keep tumblr off my ass <3

(tbh this is more for my reference than anyone else’s, i’m sick of looking through my art of Just His Forearms to keep my details consistent, but maybe someone will find it interesting lol)

#spider man: into the spiderverse #spider noir #peter parker #fan theory #also only kind of #general medical history for the 30s is weirdly hard to pin down #half the sources were locked under subscription and the other half were frustratingly vague #but i did my best 👍👍👍#it’s a lot more like deadpool’s healing than traditional spidey healing #he can’t regrow a limb tho lol #the 70s were much better for medical breakthroughs like the mri #and hobie has a community that loves and supports him so he probably doesn’t scar often #but noir is mostly alone. aside from aunt may and a couple of Not Doctor friends..#well. y’know #anyway thanks for the interest!!! i love it when peopel give me the opportunity to be overly scrupulous about things that dont matter

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