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helly-watermelonsmellinfellon · 2 years

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Amber Heard's bootlickers are now whining about how many YouTube videos the trial is getting.

Many people, here and on Twitter, are claiming that Johnny's team had paid off all these accounts that have existed for years, to post the footage of the trial over and over.

Now they're saying it isn't fair and this shouldn't be televised at all because everything's making Amber look bad. BUT when claims were made about the other trial, these same people were going on and on about how you can't trust hearsay and since there was no video proof of how she behaved at trial or how overly favored she was by the judge, everyone should just be on her side.

And now we have video proof of how she behaves. Johnny fought tooth and nail to get it televised so that there are official videos of her listening to her own abusive recordings where she admits to a myriad of abusive behaviors toward him. Those are now public where everyone can watch at any time. No one can claim these are falsified. No one can claim these were fake leaks spread around the internet. The are real and are there. And yes, her admitting to hitting him, following him around, throwing things at him, cursing at him, withholding his medication or trying to force him to take more medication so he can't call out her BS, DO INDEED make her look bad. Cuz they're bad.

This woman has spent years making a mockery of abuse victims. She and her fans have been nothing but terrible about this. They don't like memes and critical posts being made about Amber, but had no problem when they were made in Amber's favor for the past 5 years. It's only wrong, uncivil, and uncouth now.

Now it's suddenly, 'they were mutually abusive'. Now it's suddenly, 'he's an actor too why isn't he being blasted'. Amber Heard is supposedly an A-List Actress and she sucks at it. She's being mocked for being unable to maintain a convincing facial expression for more than a few seconds before she goes back to smirking. She's being mocked for being incapable of pulling up some tears at least to make her ugly faces more believable.

The problem here is that Johnny, in person and in all these damn recordings of him, has remained quiet and level-headed as he speaks. She is always the one raising her voice. She is always the one hurling insults. She is the one who cycles through facial expressions as she struggles to find the right one for the situation and then just gives up and goes back to either smirking or being bored. Overly emotional people reliving trauma get red in the face and nose and their eyes get puffy and red as they cry. Even if she managed to mostly hold in her body's hyperventilation, it'll still be obvious. She's not affected at all. She can't even bother to try looking affected for more than a few seconds before she's smirking again.

Dumb memes from a small percentage of the audience is definitely worth dealing with if we get to have all this proof exposed in court and caught on camera. Y'all could handle improper memes about Johnny's situation for 5 years so you can deal with this.

#johnny depp #justice for johnny depp #fuck amber heard

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taggedmemes · 9 months

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SENTENCE MEME ⟶ IDK HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME / RAZZMATAZZ always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

"Big shot, so what?"

"You took the money but the money couldn't buy a friend."

"I want you to leave me alone."

"They say the devil that you know is better than the devil that you don't."

"You're a big shot here but nobody else knows."

"Go fly a kite until you're tangled in the hanging tree."

"Four in the morning but we've having such a lovely time."

"Mad as a hatter with a dagger and a dollar sign."

"Tip your hat and break your mother's heart."

"When the sun comes up you'll find a brand new god."

"You'll never gonna stop me."

"I'm never gonna quit."

"Lose yourself inside the city."

"Lose your mind inside the week."

"We can live while we're alive."

"Come inside, twist the knife."

"I'm a voluntary victim."

"Watch your colonial tongue."

"I'll watch you tighten the noose."

"Don't you lose all your control."

"You can't get into heaven if you haven't got a soul."

"They'll replace you with machines."

"Paralyzed by the sum of your parts."

"Abstract with a human heart."

"I'm captivated, but I'm so confused."

"Come and see the opening band."

"No one likes an opening band."

"Chances are they won't go far."

"Career is sure to end."

"Unfamiliar things will make us nervous."

"You've got the devil on your shoulder."

"You better shut your mouth just like I told ya."

"You've been controlling me through fiction."

"I got to break you like a bad addiction."

"I can't say no, I'm losing control."

"I'm having bad dreams."

"Nothing you can do will keep the bad things away from me."

"Despite your good intentions."

"I am just the new invention."

"Feels like you're running out of holy places."

"It's a miracle I'm standing."

"You're dragging me back."

"You're beautiful and evil too."

"You're sinister and vile."

"For you I'd die, or kill myself."

"I'd swing from the gallows and wave."

"I'd carousel into my grave."

"You're right down vicious."

"I can't help it, but I still wish I was with you."

"I'm a teenage beauty queen of sorts."

"I'm calculated, cold, without remorse."

"Only if you'd like me, I could fall in love with you."

"You're a holy quarantine."

"Could it be that it's only in my head."

"Give me something more for my wild imagination."

"Tell me that you're more than a sick fascination."

"You're with me all the time."

"I don't care about anything at all."

"I know that girls like you don't come with guarantees."

"You've got to spend your time, won't you spend it with me?"

"I hope we kiss goodnight."

"It might just end my life."

"I'll be a gentleman, or you can show me the door."

"I don't want to spend my life with anyone else."

"Pardon me if I forget your name."

"Is that any way to talk to me."

"Corrupting the young with your uncivil tongue."

"What a shame if you misspeak now."

"I need you here."

"There is no other place in the world I would rather be."

"Can't you stay right here forever, pretty please?"

"Where do you go when you're not home?"

"If I'm out of line, just show me the door."

"Don't hold your breath for goodness sake."

"You've got parliaments filled with parasites."

"Let's go paint the town on our way home."

"The blinking lights are breaking bones."

"Then you have that good old fashioned razzmatazz."

"You broke my heart again."

"Some things just cannot be fixed with sparkled tongues and politcs."

"In a fascist little paradox, we all become anonymous."

"I would say I'm sorry if I thought that it would change your mind."

"I know that this time I have said too much."

"I've been too unkind."

"I tried to laugh about it."

"I covered it all up with lies."

"I tried to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes."

"Boys don't cry."

"I would break down at your feet and plead forgiveness, but I know it's too late."

"There's nothing I can do."

"I would tell you that I loved if I thought you would stay."

"I misjudged your limits."

"I pushed you too far."

"I took you for granted."

"I thought you needed me more."

"I would do most anything to get you back at my side."

#memes #rp starters #rp meme #starter sentences #rp sentences #sentence starters #sentence meme #rpc

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y2kbugs-moved · 9 months

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Clone High is an adult cartoon whose creators (and likely writers) are in their late 40s-early 50s, and it is full of sexual humor and scenarios, these are things that are both true.

Teenagers also like the cartoon. It's easy to see why; the setting is familiar, the characters are relatable and the humor is edgy.

But if a teenager is going to watch the cartoon, they are going to have to understand they will be seeing a lot of sexual humor written by adults over thrice their age.

The argument that no NSFW content should be allowed would have some credibility if this was a cartoon aimed at children, such as, say, The Owl House. But when this cartoon frequently depicts teenagers in sexual contexts and often uses sex jokes, not to mention created and written by people in their 50s, there is no room to rally against this sort of content if it's already present in the cartoon itself.

Either you did not watch the cartoon, or if you did, you somehow blacked out at the many, many, many sex jokes it makes.

You don't have to be comfortable with this jokes. You don't have to like them at all, but when you know the show makes this content and you think posting NSFW content of this show is some moral affront to God, you are being hypocritical, mostly to yourself.

Ask yourself why you are okay with watching the cartoon and understanding that 50 year olds wrote the sexual parts of the show, but not okay when fans (usually teenagers, think about that) create content that is well within the show's rating.

There is also a massive difference between sexual content between two teenagers, and sexual content of a teenager and an adult. Obviously the latter is illegal and the show was callous enough to make it a whole joke, but the former is just how things are.

I do not even interact with or create NSFW content for the cartoon, I personally dislike doing this and abstain from making anything more than pg-13 jokes. I ignore people who create explicit content and move on with my day like any sane human being.

Unfortunately, as I have mentioned before, fans are using the opportunity to direct their entirely misblamed anger at NSFW content by suicide-baiting, which is simply the most immature, uncivilized, and ignorant thing you could possibly do. This is not the type of comment that would be allowed in a casual real life setting, but the internet's relative anonymity makes it easy to say these things. But just because it is easy does not mean it is okay.

See how well it goes for you if you decide to direct all your "KYS" at Lord-Miller. You know, industry professionals with a lot of money.

What is your justification for this? Is writing or drawing NSFW content of fictional teenagers somehow worse than telling people to kill themselves? What is your logic? What are you aiming to accomplish?

"But the sexualization is okay if it's parody". This is a double standard, where there is a justification for one case, but any other cases are of course, the work of the Devil.

The fandom could do better to not act like Salem, Massachussets during 1692-1693.

Feel free to discuss this with me like a rational adult. Name calling, memes and anything of the sort will be swiftly ignored, because it means you know you lost the argument and have nothing else to say, so therefore you retaliate with childplay.

#clone high

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dazaiapologism · 25 days

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your post is literally so right my dad is a former navy cryptologist and lived at like obvious spying on other country locations which i pieced together later and he LOVES star trek and gundam which i find so like silty but makes sense he’s literally that infamous gundam meme like it’s all gone past his head

sorry to hear it. they love it, they love seeing anything that gives them a foothold to believe their actions are part of a greater plan that positions the us as the superhero country saving the uncivilized clueless masses

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vindictively-violent-violet · 2 months

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what inspired you yto make fasist? did you anticipate the response he would get? why did you think he was a good idea

The outline of Fasist was simply just a caricature of british (and by extension every country that could be considered a superpower's) politics. Like he was just how I imagined people like Boris Johnson would be if they were allowed to speak the quiet part out loud with absolutely no repercussions, but he quickly turned into an example of a worst case scenario in Alternian society.

He's what you get when a what would ordinarily be a normal kid is born in a position of power. One that forces you to fight for your own survival and snuff out the chances of anyone else's. Since birth he's had to manage the delicate balance of being ruthless to survive, and to prove his worth in Alternia which is a planet that greatly values strength, whilst also maintaining some sort of brand, so if he were to win the heir race he wouldn't get mutinied immediately.

He originally was supposed to be closeted queer, but since then I have decided to change that to be up to reader's interpretation because I think the belief that all insanely queerphobic people are closeted queer is a harmful ideology. I decided it would be best to remove that from being a major part of his character and still keeping his malice. It is canon that he experimented with his gender and sexuality in the past, but whether he went back into the closet, or came to the conclusion he was neither of those things are up to you.

Ultimately this culminates in a mostly very ambiguous character in terms of how he actually feels about things especially with the current BREAD crisis. The only 2 parts of his real personality I've ever let slip is the most surface level parts of his character. He's selfish, and he's hedonistic.

I did fully anticipate the response he's gotten, as murder twinks are a very popular character archetype, and he's epitome of that being a wannabe dictator on top of it all.

As his actual role in the story, and why I think he was a good idea is the aforementioned him being the worst case scenario for Alternia, but I also think he holds some strange sort of middle ground when compared to other heirs, and also the BREAD crisis.

When it comes to heirs you have people like Writna and Fusoia that are good people, but I would argue wouldn't be good leaders for Alternia given the culture that surrounds it. Then you get people like Remora who is selfish and hedonistic like Fasist but that's the role that she plays. She's the stereotypical heir. Fasist himself is a man who (in his mind anyway) genuinely believes he is doing what's best for Alternia while also still following the guidelines for heirs in Alternian culture. A lot of his bs opinions he spouts aren't even his real opinions and he just says it uphold his brand. Alternia has a large population of rich douchebags and he appeals to them, while also being a funny meme guy that might appeal to other people for that reason. Think Elon Musk before he destroyed his own brand. When you think about it he's the best heir Alternia could have without any major societal changes.

Which leads to my point about BREAD. Currently we have 2 major factions in the BREAD conflict. BREAD who wants to destroy Alternia because they deem trolls to be uncivilized. PASTA who made a deal with BREAD that if they can “rehabilitate” trolls they get to live. Both of these factions are inherently wrong. BREAD wants genocide, whilst when you think about it PASTA wants colonialism. They're coming in here and shoving human values down Alternia's throat. I mean they're even sponsoring an entire revolution about it, and that's textbook colonialism. My point here is Fasist is actually probably a better candidate than either of those factions atm. If he wins simply nothing changes. I am by no means saying that the Alternian government is good, but I think revolution and major societal change should come from the inside, and untouched by any outside influence.

Fasist (upsettingly) as it stands is the he should win, so the other guys don't kind of person. Essentially what Democrats are in American politics. If a real genuine revolution loses then Fasist is the best bet. Which is the saddest thing ever when you think about it. I mean, Hope is fighting for a worse cause than fucking FASIST CISHET.

Okay that's my essay I'm gonna do real life things now.

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grapenehifics · 11 months

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Hiiii!! For the writer ask meme: 1, 22, 44 and 55???

(for this ask game)

Thank you, @kingdomvel, for distracting me from the WIP I'm battling with right now :)

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I mean, daydreaming is a very important part of the process and should never be discounted. But I also have terrible memory and have to write a good idea down pretty much as soon as I have it or else I'll forget.

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Titles are hard for me! I call things '__ AU' in my drafts folder for a long time until inspiration strikes. Most of my titles end up coming from a movie quote or a song title so far.

What is your favorite genre to write?

Look, I love a good rom-com trope. That is my bread and butter. But I had a fucking blast writing a couple of action scenes in An Uncivil War, and then I attempted basically a disaster movie fic with Jurassic Park (I'm still editing this one, and also looking for a title that I'm happy with, see answer above), and I personally, just as a fan of things in general, am really in love with heist/caper type movies, and I'm itching to try writing one. Also I'm currently drafting a baseball AU, and there was a sports element to Solsbury Hill, even if it wasn't the main focus, so sports fics too, I guess? (If I knew more about hockey I'd try my hand at a Mystery, Alaska AU because mm I am having small-town community sports thoughts.)

Just, um, maybe not all at the same time. LOL.

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

I have a truly embarrassing reliance on the word 'just'. I could cut out half the 'just's in my writing and still have too many 'just's. I have to consciously remind myself that there other jobs/settings than academia for modern AUs. And does every fic I write really need a scene where Anakin tells Obi-Wan that he doesn't care where he lives because as long as he's with Obi-Wan then that's his home?

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tyrannosaurus-trainwreck · 1 year

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I’m halfway through a goddamn Katya/Sofia fic thanks to this stupid meme edit and I feel like I made a wish on the monkey’s paw. >:(

Katya had been maybe sixteen when she realized that most men wouldn’t waste an opportunity to explain something--anything--to her. She knew why, of course. Her mother had been practical about Katya’s beauty.

“We’re all brothers and sisters under Stalin--” You never knew who was listening, even at home. “--but you have a chance to get a seat closer to the head of the table, if you marry well.”

Explaining things gave even nervous and shy men an opportunity to demand her attention, to keep talking to her.

It had been the thing that first set Goncharov apart, when she’d met him. He’d been ambitious, even then. Cosmopolitan, clever, driven. The import business was lucrative, but dangerous. Give the wrong person too small a bribe, smuggle too much of the wrong thing, come back a little too comfortable with capitalist decadence... there were many ways to fall, doing what Goncharov did. You had to have balls and brains both, and from what she knew he was doing it well. She’d thought he could be a useful contact to cultivate.

“Do you really need me to tell you?” he’d asked, when she’d feigned ignorance about something. “Or is it that you want me to tell you?”

It hadn’t been a transparent ruse; she hadn’t wanted him to think her an idiot. But he’d been watching her as she’d been watching the rest of the room, seen her weighing up her options, charting her course. Their positions had been reversed enough times in the years since--he’d known what she was up to because he’d been up to the same thing. She could see him even now, in her mind’s eye, looking at her and thinking what a pretty, fashionable, social-climbing wife could do for a man in his position.

Katya had been older when she’d recognized, with a startled flash of gratitude, that it worked with women, too. There’d been a freedom in the exercise of that power that she reveled in, a freedom that wasn’t there when she talked to men. She’d felt like a god, like a hypnotist, like a witch from a fairy tale. When it was another woman, she could give anything, take anything, and the next day, it would all be like it had happened in a dream.

It was a technique that worked even better in sun-drenched Naples. Katya barely had to thicken her accent, to make her phrasing a little more stilted, and men would believe practically anything. She could point to a fishing boat and say, “And what is that?” and they would trip over themselves explaining the ocean to her, as if perhaps they didn’t have maps and ships in Russia. It had paid dividends so far around her husband’s new associates--they were careless of the things they said to each other in front of her, provided they said them in Italian.

Sofia was not careless, and Sofia wasn’t in a great hurry to explain anything to Katya, and when the day’s business was done and Katya had a moment to herself, she found that it made her want to tear her hair out. Or perhaps Sofia’s hair.

That would at least break the glacial calm on that porcelain face, bring some expression into those dark eyes. And it would be very satisfying, getting a great fistful of those raven curls and giving them a good hard pull. Sofia might even make some noise, if she did that.

Katya had met commissars with less self-possession than Sofia. If the Italians hadn’t proven themselves inveterate chauvinists time and again, she’d have suspected Sofia of being one of Ambrosini’s assassins, though Goncharov had told her they did things differently here.

“They have a system,” he’d said, when she’d told him she didn’t trust Andrey around him. “Like a machine. If a man wants you dead, the word passes from one man to another until it gets to a man he’s never met, and you’ve never met. That’s the man who kills you--a stranger.”

It was uncivilized, apparently, to kill your own enemies. Katya wondered if they made love the same way.

Katya thought of giving someone a kiss, letting it pass from mouth to mouth until it came to Sofia from a stranger.

“How do they know why a man is dead?” she’d asked. “How do they know who ordered it?”

Goncharov had spread his hands and shrugged, mimicking Andrey’s response whenever someone brought up too many specifics for his taste. “They simply know.”

There was an art to it, in Russia. The giving of absurd alibis, the witnesses who were mistaken. Everyone saw a man or his right hand walk into the home of his enemy, but then when the police came no one had seen it after all. Enough money was paid, and then the police stopped asking. People knew to take you seriously, that you weren’t someone to slight or to cross. People knew there was fire in your blood, that you’d come for them. They knew what it was over, too--after that, they stayed away from your woman, or your money, or your family.

The Italian way seemed little better than putting it in the hands of their fickle god. She might as well go into one of the cathedrals and pray for Sofia to kiss her.

“You’re sulking,” Goncharov told her one morning. She hadn’t been sulking, but she still didn’t trust Andrey, and he was coming over after breakfast. Goncharov forgot sometimes that she could watch him, too. “I’ll call Mario and have him send Sofia over. She can drive you to the market.”

“And get what?” she asked. She was sulking now, just a little bit, because she didn’t like being accused of sulking when she wasn’t, and because she didn’t like the eddy of excitement and disappointment swirling in her belly. She could ride in the back while Sofia drove and look her fill. She could make Sofia carry her bags and translate for the merchants at the stalls. She couldn’t make Sofia pay attention to her. She couldn’t make Sofia look back.

“Whatever you want.” His gaze went to the flowers in their vase at the center of the table, bright, beautiful things unthinkable this time of year back home. “Something you’ll remember, if we can’t come back again. Something to write your mother about.”

Katya stopped sulking. Goncharov was right to keep the possibility of being recalled in mind. There were others who wanted what they had, and it was easier to bend an ear when you were there in person instead of basking in the Mediterranean sun. The Italians had a fickle God; she and Goncharov had a fickle Party.

“Fine.”

By the time she had finished dressing, Sofia was waiting on the front steps. Andrey couldn’t help but stare at Katya when she swept past, that thing she didn’t trust pulling his eyes tight under his thick brows as Goncharov kissed her cheeks. Andrey clasped her hands lightly, a combined greeting and farewell, and the band of her wedding ring shifted under his grasp.

Sofia checked her watch instead of staring when Katya came to the door, and Katya wished petulantly that she could show the same level of detachment. Sofia was dressed well but not extravagantly, and Katya couldn’t help but let her eyes trace the shift of Sofia’s muscles, the sway of her curves, the toss of her hair. Katya had dressed well and extravagantly, all reds and golds against the bright white of her dress, and Sofia found the scratched glass face of her wristwatch just as compelling.

It was infuriating. If Sofia had been Russian, she’d have understood what she was doing. Katya could have done something about it, if Sofia at least understood. They could have fought in the street. Katya could have slapped her and torn her braid and called her something indecent in front of everyone. Katya could have made Sofia hate her, if nothing else.

But no--the Italians did things differently. Katya would just look like a barbarian, and Goncharov would have to smooth things over if they wanted to keep the rubles flowing back to Novorossiysk, and it would either be like it hadn’t happened or retribution would come out of the blue, from nowhere. To not even have the luxury of Sofia’s anger--it was intolerable.

Katya envied the wind that tousled Sofia’s hair on the drive to the market. She should stop making a hell of paradise and tell Goncharov to ask Mario for a different driver. Mario had insisted, when they’d taken the house. The roads in Naples weren’t like Russian roads, he’d said. They needed an experienced hand at the wheel. And it was better for business to make sure the driver was discreet. Mario would arrange for drivers, as their friend.

Katya thought that he sent Sofia to drive them because Mario hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her that first night when they’d met over dinner, and he thought that what he couldn’t do, no man could do. Mario didn’t want trouble, not the unpredictable kind of trouble. Not over a driver. Katya didn’t know if it was because Italian women didn’t know how to love or if it was because Italian men ignored love affairs between women the same way Russian men did. Or maybe Mario just knew Sofia.

The market was drowsy and quiet when they arrived, and Katya tried to imagine what the streets in Leningrad looked like now. It had been such a long time since she’d been home. There wouldn’t be flowers now, she was certain of that. Her gaze fell on a patch of vivid red. Or pomegranates.

She remembered the first time her mother had given her one. She hadn’t known the trick for opening them yet, but she’d wanted the seeds so badly. She’d ripped it open with her hands, precious tart juice staining her nails and running down her arms. Her father had laughed and called her his little lioness before giving her a knife to do it properly.

Katya hesitated, hand resting on the plumpest one in the pile. There had to be limits to even Sofia’s stoicism.

“What sort of apple is this?” she asked, picking it up and turning it over.

“Apple?” Sofia asked slowly. She was probably trying to decide if Katya had said the wrong word or if Katya was playing a joke on her.

A joke, of sorts, but Katya would never admit it. “Da. What sort of apple? The skin is so thick. Do you need a special knife to pare it, as you do with your cheeses?”

“It’s not an apple.”

“Then what, if not an apple?” Katya tossed it in her hand, demonstrating its firmness. A persimmon of the same hardness would be vile, completely inedible. Her gold bracelet flashed on her wrist as her hand moved.

“It’s a pomegranate.”

“A what?”

“A pomegranate,” Sofia repeated, irritation creeping into her voice.

“What do you do with them?”

“You cut them open and eat the seeds.”

Katya picked out a half dozen and paid the boy minding the stall. After that it was easy enough to keep going. She knew what Goncharov would like. Fresh white bread. Some sort of exotic hard cheese ripened in caves by the sea, made with the milk of goats fed on herbs and sweet grasses by the same family since the time of the Romans. Jam from fruit that you couldn’t get in Moscow, wine that tasted like herbs grown in the sun, flowers that could fill a room with their perfume.

Time was fleeting, and fortune was more mercurial even than God or the Party. What point was there in denying yourself when someday the memory of past pleasures would be all you had left? She and Goncharov understood each other in that respect. They understood, too, that there were things a person could do to put a thumb on the scale and maybe keep fortune by their side longer.

“What sort of wine does Signore Ambrosini like?”

“I don’t know.” Sofia shrugged around the bags. “He doesn’t drink when he’s conducting business.”

Katya had a moment to think that it was perhaps Sofia’s turn to play the game, then dismissed the thought. Sofia’s attention was already on the next stall.

“Not even when things are concluded?”

“No.”

Katya tried to imagine it. It was a bad idea to get too drunk, even once things were agreed on and the papers were signed. Tempers could get out of hand, words misunderstood. But not drinking at all would be like spitting in a man’s face.

“Doesn’t that get in the way of doing business?” she asked. How could a man trust a business partner who wouldn’t even drink with him? A man who thought he was too good to share your vodka would never honor a bargain with you.

“Not that I’ve seen. It’s more professional.” Sofia shrugged again, paper rustling at the movement. “He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean to say. Keeps his temper.”

Katya shook her head at that. Perhaps being bred in the peninsula’s warmth let the people cultivate a certain cold-bloodedness. If they tried it in Russia, they’d freeze solid and break apart like a sheet of ice on a window pane.

#goncharov #unreality #katya/sofia #part one

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sroloc--elbisivni · 1 year

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Are you still doing the fic ask meme? If so 5 and 14 for Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Also have I told you I'm obsessed with that fic which was a transcendental experience and you write the BEST pre war Orion

no longer cursed but literally always happy to talk fics!

5 is “What part was hardest to write? and 14 is “Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?“ and mmmmmm i kind of have to answer these two things together. because the thing is. this is a fic about, among other things, the state sponsored extermination of the north american bison.

walk with me.

this fic flowed very easily on a prose words-to-page basis, though I did fuss over characterizing Orion because i not only did I want him to feel mutually intelligible with TFP Optimus Prime, I wanted to be extremely thoughtful about how I handled ‘this kid grew up alone.’ postcolonial theory has done a lot to unpack associations of words like ‘wild’ ‘uncivilized’ ‘savage’ ‘uncharted’ ‘settled’ ‘wilderness’ etc. when applied to land or people. I really try to aim for a ‘no real life tragedies’ rule when writing my silly giant robot toy stories, but I also want to tell stories with meaning and depth.

and when writing, as i called this, a homoerotic cowboy novel in space--well. historical cowboy novels, Westerns, take place in a land that has been forcibly emptied. to avoid that would be to perpetuate erasure. so i wanted to engage with that, and pick it apart, and show the underlying actions that create an ‘unspoiled, unsettled wilderness’ as carefully and thoughtfully as I could.

the fic is tagged ‘biopolitics’ for foucauldian biopolitics and also for necropolitics, these ideas that power is achieved/demonstrated by control over the individual body and over life and death. so we look at megatronus and orion, and their very different ideas over their lives of Where Food Comes From. getting food without a support network is hard. orion went from a survival subsistence lifestyle to living in a developed area where he could just buy energon without having to think about where it came from. megatronus as an energon miner always had to think about where it came from, but only his one specific idea of where it came from, and he saw the entire society as founded on his labor. and now for the first time he’s realizing. why did energon have to be mined, and not cultivated? why were the pathfinders killed? why do cybertronians in Aligned live almost exclusively in cities, such that there was a wilderness for OP to come down in?

ANYWAY that’s a long way of saying i wanted readers to learn that there are some really interesting ways of engaging with pre-war OP and Megs that aren’t just ‘Orion is completely ignorant and Megatronus has all the answers.’ they can have different opinions and perspectives that inform what they believe. i also wanted very much for more people to learn about OP’s covenant-of-primus backstory because i think it’s GREAT.

#sorry for rambling on i just. i was doing a LOT with that fic #and it's one of those things where it's so much harder to put it in plain language than in allegory #that i really feel like i did something right with it. i can't explain what it means.#talky talk #quetzalpapalotl #ask meme #fic talk

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loominggaia · 1 year

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Doesn't Tomato have his horns? If he does, why hasn't Ginger abandoned him? Also, how common is it for a Satyr to be raised by both bio parents like Cinnamon? Big fan of your work btw, please accept this meme as tribute.

Zeffer and Even after Connor went *missing*

First of all, thank you for the meme and the huge laugh that came with it! Too accurate lmao. I love this!

Tomato has had horns since he was around 9-10 years old, which is typical. But Ginger wouldn't dream of abandoning him! Terrible things happened to her right after her own mother abandoned her, and it left her so traumatized that she swore she'd never impose that tradition on her children. She wanted to raise her children more like the "civilized" folk do, in a stable house with parental support.

However, Ginger lived in a city before, and she knows the civilized folk can be just as uncivilized as the feral folk in the wilderness. She considers the city too busy and the wilderness too remote to raise a family, and wished to raise her kids in that perfect Goldilocks-zone; a town that was not too big, not too small, but just right.

She knew Drifter's Hollow was home the moment she arrived. It was rural enough that she could be self-sufficient, but not rural enough to be menaced by feral folk. It was urban enough to have basic amenities like a market and tavern, but not urban enough to be blighted by social decay. The Hollow was the quiet, cozy town she was looking for.

It's uncommon for horned satyrs to still live with their parents, and almost unheard of for them to have both parents in the picture. Typically if they're being raised beyond puberty, it's by their mothers only. Satyrs hardly know the meaning of the word "father" because that instinct is just not in the male satyr's blood. Their instinct is to wander, to spread their seed as far and wide as possible, for as long as possible.

Itchy is a rare gem in that respect. Part of him wants to wander, but another part of him craves love and stability, and the latter is what keeps his ass planted in the Hollow with Ginger and their kids. They give him the love and warmth he was denied in his youth. He wouldn't trade them for anything, because he already knows what it's like to be a homeless, wandering bum with no one to love. He'd rather die than go back to that.

Cinnamon's situation is also rare. Satyrs have a bad reputation for a lot of things, but one of those things is abandoning "defective" young prematurely. It's common to find sick or dead baby satyrs in the woods, usually just on the outskirts of town. Like, so common that many jurisdictions have task forces specifically to deal with it. Not all of these children have birth defects (satyr mothers may abandon young early for many reasons) but a significant number do, because these mothers know that such a child won't be able to survive on their own, meaning they'll be stuck raising them forever. They also know that being a healthy satyr is hard enough, and the world will be extra cruel to a disadvantaged one (Everyone knows the story of Erasmos...). So, they do what they believe is merciful and hand them over to the universe.

Ginger and Itchy did not do this. They never once even considered abandoning Cinnamon. They fell in love with her the moment she was born and only felt the urge to protect her. Itchy even powered through his phobia of water to clean the muck off her.

And as for Tomato...it's rare enough for male satyrs to stick around for their own kids, but it's even rarer for them to stick around for someone else's. Tomato may not share Itchy's blood, but Itchy was there when he was born and he was there every step of the way after that. Itchy, too, was raised by a man who didn't share his blood--wasn't even the same species--but he still considered him "grandpa" all the same. So, it makes no difference to him where Tomato came from, he cares about him as if he were his own.

This is all just a long-winded way of saying...Ginger and her family are very atypical. You'll meet satyrs like them about once in a lifetime. Their situation is so rare that when Itchy met other satyrs in jail, they all thought he was lying when he told them he was married. Like, they straight up didn't believe him because the notion of a married satyr was so farfetched to them.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

#funstuff #ask #asktomato #askginger #askliterature

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