#this was supposed to be vent art but then it evolved and here we are lol

[theriverdraws]

EverythingIsFineEverythingIsFineEverythingIsFineEverythingIsFineEverythingIsFineEverythingIsFine.

Everything is fine.

#this was supposed to be vent art but then it evolved and here we are lol #im good now toh #the owl house #toh #hunter toh #toh hunter #kikimora #emperor belos #my art

[gaiatheorist]

“50% Feminine.”

I’m going mad again, I’m listing probable reasons, but going mad isn’t reasonable, it’s something that just happens to me from time to time. This is one of the slow, creepy-uppy episodes, not one of the sudden, explosive ones, possibly less dangerous, but incredibly draining. It’ll pass, it always does, it had better do, it’s bloody horrible.

Standard disclaimer, I am at increased risk of harm, but I have no intent or ideation of deliberately harming myself, apart from drinking too much cheap-and-nasty wine, which is my standard maladaptive coping mechanism.

I woke up at 1.30am, and, after a brief discussion with my wonky brain, acknowledged that I was Awake-awake, and there was no chance of going back to sleep. This will have a knock-on effect for a few days, there’s a fair chance I’ll fall asleep in my dinner, but it’s mostly containable. (The madness, as well as the dinner.) Scrolling through Twitter, to see if I’d ‘missed anything’, I found a link to ‘My Gender Coordinates’, and decided to take the quiz, no better or worse use of my time than a Fakebook quiz to tell me what sort of sandwich, or shoe I am.

There are 35 questions, I can’t remember exactly how they’re worded, but it’s along the lines of “I am...” or “I consider myself...” about various character traits, or behaviours, you ‘answer’ on a sliding scale from double-thumbs-up to double-thumbs-down. There’s a ‘middle’ option, which, when I’m going mad, is always a bit tempting, I’m indifferent, I don’t care much about much when I’m in this state.(Until I do, and get all emotionally peaky, HATING an empty shampoo bottle on the bathroom floor, but refusing to move it, because it’s not mine, or finding myself close to tears because I think I’ve offended someone, and not quite knowing how to check.) 

The ‘results’ come out on a quadrant-graph thingy, Masculine/Androgynous/Undifferentiated/Feminine, I deliberately didn’t look at that first, because I would have skewed my answers, aiming for ‘undifferentiated’, I’m awkward like that. My results were that I ‘fall between quadrants’, no big surprise there, my dot was bang on the line between ‘masculine’ and ‘androgynous’, all in the top half of the square, ‘68.3% Masculine, 50% Feminine’, I don’t know how that works, it’s numbers, and maths and stuff, and my brain doesn’t work like that. (Haha, because I’m a girl, and girls are better at biology than physics. Bullshit.) 

What does it mean? In all likelihood, nothing, it does look kind-of scientific, which is why I answered all of the questions, instead of giving up at the first hint of a cartoon dinosaur, or a ‘pick which colour-scheme appeals to you’. (Cartoon dinosaurs are my new pet hate, I’ve recently had to wade back through the clip-art infested worksheets from the last mental health course, and I’m fairly certain I’ve imagined a cartoon dinosaur, but that’s a tangent I’ll try to avoid.) I have strong opinions on the concept of gender, for however-many years I’ve been writing on here, I’ve identified as ‘meat no-one eats’, my biological sex is female, and my uterus is certainly reminding me of that fact this week. My gender? Human. Probably. 

“Identified as”, how very modern, it’s not ‘really’ a new thing, to me, or the world, what I’m trying to do here is type out a safe-release, to vent, I suppose it all boils down to my resentment of being ‘told’. There are vague childhood memories of being told “Ladies do/don’t do...”, and I have a ridiculous rage-bubble of “Yes, and sloths poo once a week, what’s your point?”, too late one thinks of what one might have said. I’m no more a lady than I am a sloth, I’m probably leaning more towards sloth at the moment, I’m overdue a bath.

Working through the statement-ratings, I noticed I was pulling a face at some of them. All of them, to be honest, which surprised me, because, with a diagnosis of autism, there’s the preconception that my response would be binary-linear, black-or-white, always/never. It wasn’t, my response was invariably “That’s a stupid question.”, and they weren’t questions, for every single statement, I decided “Unable to answer without context.”, and had to imagine a scenario to contextualise “I am generous” or “I am decisive”, or whatever. ( I *am* decisive, given sufficient context.) I need to watch that I don’t fall into a psychopath/sociopath rabbit-hole here, my sometimes-linear approach could be viewed as psychopathic, and my bending/masking could fit a sociopathic profile. Too many personality quizzes in my teen-girl magazines, and an on-going desire to name and categorize things.

I was pulling a face at the statements that are usually associated with the concept of femininity, there really isn’t a male-brain/female-brain. (All brains smell horrible, I have smelled my own brain, wasn’t pleasant.) There are some biological differences, most notably the reproductive bits, but not really a great deal else, the ex used to say that humans were evolving to be more androgynous, but I see now that he was trying to justify the societally-imposed feelings of inadequacy that I was as tall as him, with more body-hair. He ascribed to the concept of androgyny when it suited him, lauding Bowie in public, and insisting I was ‘better’ at housework in private. A product of his upbringing, but deeply coercive-toxic. He enjoyed my androgynous-atypical nature up to a point, I was a trophy in more ways than just my long legs and pretty mouth, I confused the hell out of his ‘traditional’ family, though. 

The statements that made me screw up my face could have been coloured pink, they were the ones that ‘ladies do’, some, I consciously, deliberately-don’t, and some are just a natural hard-no, nature vs nurture in evidence. I have learned behaviours, and innate, natural tendencies, there was a bit of a domestic issue the other day when I noted my son being manipulative, and destroyed-devastated myself wondering if he’d learned-observed that from me.  I don’t think so, my avoidance-behaviours are quite different. I was pulling faces at the stereotypical ‘female’ traits, initially an “Ew, no, I don’t do that!” response, but, as I realised I was doing it, I wondered WHY I was repulsed. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with being kind/sensitive/compassionate, they’re human responses, not ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’, but even the quiz itself refers to them as  “Traits commonly found in people of the ... gender.” (Androgynous is referred to as high in male- and female-typical traits, undifferentiated as low in both.) Commonly, not exclusively.

Part of the issue is that I associate femininity with vulnerability and weakness. I choose not to ‘present as’ female most of the time, my sex usually isn’t obvious until people get close, and I don’t let many people get that close. (Even before the virus-distancing.) There are ‘historical and complicating factors’ behind some of that, but there’s also the gender-conditioning I grew up with, girls-should, and boys-should, I didn’t have particularly positive experiences or role-models, but, even aside from that, the general concensus was that male was stronger, better, more important, female was secondary and subservient. To do something ‘like a girl’ was an insult, but, by the same token, I was often criticised for not being ‘girly’, ever the outlier. I’m wondering how much of the non-femininity is reactive-protective, how much could be part of the autism, and how much is just ‘how I am’? 

Girly-females irritate me, vacuous conversations, hair-and-make-up, dependence on others, incessant diets and fads, I don’t ‘get’ any of it, and I don’t buy into it, I don’t see why I should, just because my genitals are in the more difficult-to-kick arrangement. (True to form, my son has more make-up and hair-stuff than I do, I can’t remember how he referred to my presentation a few weeks ago, but it might have involved goblins, and a bin.) Occasionally, people tell me I could be attractive if I made an effort, my go-to response is “What for?”, I do generally look as if I live in a tree, it doesn’t bother me. That’s not wholly a girl-thing or a boy-thing, I do know some very well-presented people of both flavours, but I’ve genuinely never overheard a group of men discussing razor-blades or underpants the way I’ve heard gaggles of women banging on about make-up and such. 

Women who talk in baby-voices, women who giggle and simper around men, women who don’t even try to pick things up themselves, I think what I’m saying is that I don’t like women who ‘act as’ women, and it is an act, my mother’s phone-laugh used to make me want to scream. 

Before I became annoyed at myself for placing more value on the traits more commonly associated with masculinity than femininity, I’d had a mini-argument with myself that it was impossible to rate any of the statements objectively. Am I kind? It depends on the situation, last week I helped a little old lady sort out a mis-delivered parcel, but the week before that, I’d sped up my walking pace, so I could get into the corner shop before the person behind me, it might have been the same little old lady, I wasn’t paying attention. I’d viewed the thumbs-rating as a never-always continuum, so, technically, all of the responses ‘should’ have been middle-option, for ‘sometimes’. (There might have been an explanation in the site somewhere, it was daft o’clock in the morning.) For each behaviour, I was thinking of a situation, which was wrong, I think I should have been rating least-likely to most-likely. The situation has an influence on the behaviour, if I had friends, I’d behave differently with them to the way I’d behave with a doctor, or a manager, or my son, and even that behaviour would depend on multiple external factors, it wouldn’t be static-consistent, it would be dynamic. We all do it, we’re socially conditioned to behave according to audience and environment.

I didn’t go to finishing school, I didn’t even go to university, there were no elocution or deportment classes at my rough-as-arseholes comprehensive school, and most of my childhood meals at home were eaten from a plate on my knee, on the sofa, in front of the TV. There were still expectations, though. Standing up if a teacher came into the classroom, not interrupting an adult speaking, letting elderly or otherwise infirm people on the bus first. I don’t remember my brother being given as many instructions as I was, though, and I think that was more to do with me being a girl than being two and a half years older, he did pretty much as he pleased, and was a ‘rascal’, or a ‘scamp’, whereas I was told to sit down (nicely), be quiet, smile, be helpful etc long before the wear a bra, brush your hair, show a bit of leg nonsense started. 

I’m fairly certain that the gender-specific conditioning is part of the reason my autism wasn’t diagnosed until I was 42. I’d had expectations drummed, and sometimes beaten into me all my life, everything was already an act, a performance, so I just assumed everyone else was ‘faking it’ all the time, over-riding gut-instinct on everything, and acting according to these confusing social scripts. The “What for?” streak in me is problematic for other people, I’m viewed as difficult, challenging, sometimes plain rude, and overly bold ‘for a woman’. I don’t speak much, but, when I do, I make it count, I’m tenacious and determined, and, most of the time, completely exhausted trying to remember and correctly apply rules and boundaries, scripts I don’t understand the reasoning behind, and constantly-consistently assess environments and audiences, to avoid ‘getting it wrong’. 

I am blunt at times. I can be articulate and eloquent, but sometimes a situation demands just-enough information to convey the salient point. I don’t tend to ‘waste words’, and am frustrated when people fanny about with “Does that make sense?” and “This might sound silly, but...” Anecdotally, I hear that from women more than men, we’re discouraged from being too much to-the-point, to go the long way around things, instead of straight at them, and to check for reassurance. I speak ‘like a man’, it’s more efficient. (”Does everyone understand what they are to do?” was my preferred meeting-closing-statement, I’m brutal.) 

I sometimes see the reverse-of-me in my son, he isn’t the least bit blunt or brutal most of the time. (He did shout “Stop it!” at me quite forcefully one day last week when I was having a meltdown after getting bin-juice on my face. He saves his command-voice for emergencies.) He ties himself in knots about communicating with people, and avoids most conversation, although he’ll babble incessantly to himself to process thoughts and ideas. (I have sores inside my ears that won’t heal, because I keep putting my earphones in to drown out his waffling about D&D plots and such.) He’s nervous-anxious where I’m bold, he’s scared of a million things that I’m not in the least bit concerned by, but then, I am an idiot. Biological sex is not gender, but neither of us are really binary-gendered. (I’m not going to suggest he does the quiz, he’s so incredibly indecisive it would melt his brain.) I never conditioned him ‘male’, he’s always just been another human to me, but he has had conflicting messages from his Dad’s side of the family, boys-don’t-cry, come-and-kick-this-ball, look-at-the-tits-on-that, and the girly-girl aunts and cousins. Confusing times, but he has referred to himself as a pan-sexual trans-humanist, and I don’t really know what that is. (He hasn’t asked me to use different pronouns, or a different name, so he’s still ‘him’.) 

I’m rambling. I’ve been pecking away at this for hours, but I do feel a little more settled for doing it. I didn’t go off on as many ranty tangents as I thought I might, which is reassuring, this episode of going mad has been mostly-irritable, and I don’t like it. Catch-22, there, as a female, I’m ‘supposed to’ be all pink and fluffy, and nice, but the lazy stereotype of a woman can also be a nagging old harridan, I’m straddling that line as well as the line between quadrants on the quiz. I bet you 10p that if I did the quiz again, I’d be able to skew the answers to place the dot dead-centre in the grid, but I might blow up the internet if I did that, and imagine the mess that would make.          

[tisfan]

Ring of Thorns

Title: Ring of Thorns Written by: @tisfan​ 3023 Square: S3 – Science and Magic Rating: teen and up Triggers/warnings: none Tags: space AU, fairy tale format, sassy Jarvis, bunnies, a truly excessive number of bunnies, pre-slash Created for: @tonystarkbingo​ Word count: 3919 Art from @gayspacesprinkles​ (unrelated to the bingo!)

Ship’s log: Stardate 5239.281.5

Woke from hypersleep on schedule -- thank you JARVIS. 

“You are welcome, sir.”

The Ring of Thorns is about two days on the sublight engines, which should give me plenty of time to make any course corrections. Course corrections. I say that like anyone has any idea where the best entrance is to the Ring. Several thousand cloaked glass arrows, left over from a war three centuries ago.

JARVIS’s records indicate that a single glass arrow has the explosive capacity to knock a good sized hole in the Malibu, which I have to say, is not an ideal solution. Even with crude calculations of where the bombs were originally seeded -- and let me tell you, that particular chart was not easy to procure -- we don’t know how much stellar drift has moved them. Dozens of ships have tried to fly into the Ring.

All have been, thus far, unsuccessful.

Pieces of the wreckage will add to the difficulty of successfully navigating the field.

I want it noted for the record, if I don’t succeed, I want you to tell Captain Amer -- no scratch that. I always know what I’m doing. This plan I’m gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. What am I even tripping for? Everything's gonna workout exactly the way it's supposed to.

Stardate 5239.282.9

“Set for separation, J?”

“We are set, sir,” JARVIS said. He was the ship’s AI, navigation, piloting, engineering, physician. He served to take the place several key members of a ship’s crew. He was not, however, supposed to be the only other crewmate on a ship the size of the Malibu.

He was, because no one believed Mr. Stark that they could make it through the ring to whatever treasure planet was tucked away inside it.

JARVIS went because he was an AI and because Mr. Stark was his maker. But even if JARVIS had entire free will and he had some, because he was the one steering the ship, he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. He could have refused to take Mr. Stark at all. Probably. He’d never really tried directly rebelling, and sometimes when he was feeling philosophical, he wondered if that was because he couldn’t rebel, or because Mr. Stark had not been wrong yet, and thus, rebelling was a waste of time. 

Mr. Stark would, after all, prove everyone wrong.

And JARVIS wanted to be there, to record all of it.

Truthfully, JARVIS himself wasn’t at risk; he had two backup units hidden away. But if something happened to this version, well, the story would never be told. And he couldn’t have that, could he?

“Remember, sir, close--”

“But not too close, I got it. We got this. Launch the dummy section.”

“Piloting remotely,” JARVIS said. He separated the dummy section of the ship, broad and ugly with the best forward shields that money could buy. He should know. He’d purchased them. And then Mr. Stark had improved them.

The dummy section looked like, in all honesty, like a flying brick. But that was all right. All it had to do was shield the smaller craft behind it. 

“Let’s plow the road, JARVIS,” Mr. Stark said.

“As you say, sir.”

Stardate 5239.282.11

“Well, that could have been worse,” Tony said. He was breathing hard, and his hands were shaking. Sweat dripped down the back of his flight suit. But he was alive.

 He landed the smaller, more maneuverable craft inside the docking ring.

“Allow me to inform you, sir, there are four glass arrows affixed to the hull--”

“You just have to ruin my moment,” Tony complained. “Can I get a countdown, or is that too much to ask?” He was already unlocking his piloting harness, grabbed a stim patch on his way past the console -- he’d need to be on his mettle if he was going to disarm bombs without detonating them instead and all the juice from his hectic ride through the Ring had dissipated.

“They are quiescent, at the moment, sir,” JARVIS told him. “But core deterioration suggests they are not supposed to be in an atmosphere with oxygen, and they will explode soon enough.”

“Wait, there’s life support in the hanger?” 

“It would appear so, sir.”

“Why?” The Ring of Thorns had been in place for several hundred years at least. There was no reason for life support to still be functional.

“I shan’t hazard a guess at this remove,” JARVIS said. 

“Can we vent the docking bay?” Tony had more than enough O2 in his suit, as he hadn’t been expecting any such systems to still be in place.

“No, sir,” JARVIS said. “I was able to override the security systems to get us inside by claiming emergency repairs. The system will not let us out until the proper codes have been entered. As well as sudden venting often disrupts seemingly stationary objects--”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to turn the room into a pinball machine. All right, I’m on it.”

Tony had removed three of the bombs -- truly elegant, lethal little things. They were no bigger than two fingers wide and about four times as long, concealed by a mirror-shield that bent light around it, showing up as flecks of black and the occasional flash of light in a starfield. No propellant, no heat reading, not even any traceable particles emissions. Old school explosives. Not quite all the way back to pipebombs with horseshoe nails mixed in, but still. Household chemicals.

Ions only knew what the people who made them were thinking when they mixed them up and set them loose in space to guard their station and their planet.

They were all dead, at least.

Theoretically. No one could get close enough to tell.

“Uh, sir,” JARVIS said. “You have company. Turn around very slowly.”

Tony didn’t quite raise his hands, but he was expecting to see someone armed and presumably dangerous.

What he saw instead was-- an animal? With white and tan fur covering its entire body, including a set of very long ears. Red eyes peered at him curiously and the creature took a few hopping steps closer.

“JARVIS,” Tony muttered, keeping his eyes on the creature, “what is it?”

“A Lagomorpha, particularly a subset of Leporidae. Known as oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus, or more commonly, a bunny rabbit.”

“Does it eat-- meat?” Tony was an awfully big meal, but as he watched the-- rabbit-- carefully, he noticed there were more.

A lot more.

“I daresay, sir, unless the species has evolved along another path,” JARVIS said, “they are primarily interested in grasses, fruits, and vegetables. A garden pest, as they were described in older zoology reports. And, to some degree, a pet.”

“People pet them?” Tony wondered, looking around. They were fluffy and sort of cute. Some of them sat up on their hind legs to look closer at Tony.

“Other people raised them for food and fur stock,” JARVIS continued.

Tony took a step forward and the lead rabbit thumped his foot several times against the deck plating. Other rabbits took up the signal and stamped as well, until the entire facility was ringing like being inside a drum.

Tony found himself on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. By the time the noise stopped, three or four of the bunnies were very close to Tony, noses wiggling curiously. One of them hopped all the way up to him, put a soft paw on his knee and poked its face directly at his chin.

“I’m not made of food,” Tony told it, and he went to shoo it away, but he touched it instead.

Oh. Oh, it was so soft. Oh, Ions, so soft. He let himself sit down, let them hop up to him, sniffing curiously.

“It seems they have never seen a human, either, sir,” JARVIS commented.

“Do, uh, we have anything we could feed them? What are they even eating around here?”

“A closer look at the scans, sir,” JARVIS said, “the hydroponics bays seem to have overrun most of the station. They’ve been living in a perfect bunny paradise. All the food they could want, and no predators.”

“Sounds lovely,” Tony said, and one of the bunnies hopped into his lap and proceeded to turn around a few times before flopping over and going to sleep. “Although, gotta say, a cargo bay of rabbits wasn’t what I was hoping to find.”

Riches, technological artifacts, answers. Especially answers. What had happened here, why had the people gone silent, or died? Why did they leave behind such elaborate traps?

“We could set up a fur trade, sir,” JARVIS suggested and Tony could have sworn that every single bunny in the room gave him the stink eye. All at once. It was chilling. 

“Yeeaaah, think I’m gonna go with no on that one, JARVIS,” Tony said. “Do you think there’s anyway to explain kaboom to them, because if I don’t get that last glass arrow off the hull, we’re all going to be in the fur trade.”

“You neglected to add lapine language skills to my databanks, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Smart ass AI,” Tony muttered, nudging the black bunny out of his lap. “Shoo. Go fetch. Something. Do you fetch? Yeah, go… go find a-- what to rabbits eat?”

“Strictly speaking, their diet is a mix of alfalfa and--”

“Whatever. Go… have a smoothie. Look, if you go into the galley on my ship, DUM-E will make you smoothies, go go.”

They didn’t go go or shoo shoo, but they did back up a little or hopped away as he stood up. He had to watch his feet as he moved back over to the ship, grabbing for the wrench. “Switch it up, JARVIS,” he said, and JARVIS triggered the color changing squares on the outside of the ship, one at a time, until Tony could physically locate the glass arrow, and only because he was looking really closely. The arrow changed colors, too, but at a slightly -- very slightly -- slower rate.

And then Tony was able to find it by touch, sliding his hand over the panel until he encountered a small projection. 

Once removed from the ship, the colors swirled again until what Tony held in his hands was flesh and floor and bunny colored. The biologics didn’t blend as easily, they weren’t mathematical or predictable, so once he had it away from the hull, it was a lot easier to look at. 

For something called a glass arrow, it was neither. More like a flat, thin package with a few grooves at each end. Not really accurate, but evocative, the imagery, he meant. Twisting the tail end, he slowly removed the detonation packet, wrapped in hyper thin plastics. Once that package was out, the arrow itself was rendered mostly harmless. Except that Tony would feel better getting all of it off the ship. 

He found a couple of rolling bins in the docking bay, emptied them of the tools they contained, and then loaded the explosives into them. “Can I space this shit, or is the airlock broken, too?”

“The south side airlock appears fully functional, sir,” JARVIS told him. Tony grabbed a couple of remote-automatics and affixed them to the sides of the bins. Station gravity would eventually grab anything floating in proximity to the station; it had taken quite a few murderers getting caught before they realized you could not, in fact, just junk a body out an airlock.

But you could fire one into the nearest star. Which is what the remote-automatics were for. Small, one shot of fuel, affixable to a trash or discarded object -- or even at some of the largest ring world systems, to move supplies through space -- to propel them away. Once in motion, they’d stay in motion until a larger gravity well swallowed them up.

“Bombs away,” Tony said, setting the bins into the airlock. He sealed the inner door, opened the outer door, and then flew the trash off into space. The nearest star was several weeks away by sub light propulsion. Unless it hit a few of its cousins while out there, in which case, he could expect a pretty pretty boom in a few hours.

“Always so observant, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, pushing away from the porthole. “You got anything for me yet?”

“Their mainframe systems are so old as to be little better than hand-cranked automobiles, sir,” JARVIS said. “I’m having difficulty navigating their systems without overwhelming them. That said, the system suggests you might find an interpreter on the eighth deck, C-section.”

“I am not delivering a baby on this station,” Tony swore and chuckled to himself. It wouldn’t take JARVIS that long to find the reference -- it had always been a bit of a challenge with them. Could Tony, in fact, find a historical or cultural reference so old that JARVIS didn’t have access to it.

So far the answer had always been no.

Tony grabbed several tools to help him around the ship; a crowbar for opening unruly doors, as well as more electronic overrides. MagmaTorch, if he had to go through the door. 

The vegetation was even thicker in the hallways. “Where are the plants getting food from?” Because really, dirt was a thing, even if Tony didn’t like standing on it. There was a thick coating of moss on the floor in places, and Tony found himself stepping around it. He did squat down long enough to take a sample, and send it off to JARVIS to analyze. 

“Sample shows a flourishing, if unusual, ecosystem, sir,” JARVIS told him. “The sample appears to be similar to compost. Organic waste, sir.”

“Rabbit shit?”

“It’s likely the first plants would have started in the hydroponics area; if they outgrew their containers, they would have likely encountered fertilizer and soil samples there. My map of the station shows that system-recycling was only a deck below.”

“Old human shit,” Tony rephrased.

“And bodies that weren’t spaced, food waste, biological waste.” Many places stored that up, condensed into cubes, packed into bags, and then sold to terraforming colonies. Probably the same sort of idea. It was being used for its intended purpose, then, if not necessarily its intended place. “The ship’s lighting system has stayed on, providing material for photosynthesis. Since the late twenty-fifth century all human space-going vehicles utilize solar lamps to prevent crew depression, mood swings, and the inability to digest certain foods.”

“Yeah, we’re made for gravity and sunlight,” Tony said. He paused to force a door to the companionway. The ladders stretched up and down several levels, slightly offset to prevent a bad fall from becoming a fatal flaw. Smart. “So they’re not in any immediate danger of being wiped out?”

“The power banks are currently still at half capacity. With such a slow rate of decay, even without intelligent interference, this colony could continue on without problems for another three or four hundred years.”

“What are they using to power this place?” 

JARVIS continued to analyze the station, providing more and more obscure data and facts. Frankly, Tony stopped entirely listening. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, but there were also interesting things--

He stopped in a long hallway with doors spaced equally, and pushed one open. Crew quarters, right? Had to be…

The room was empty. Not just of crew, he really was not expecting a skeleton -- or maybe he was -- but also of artifacts. It was just empty. Bed cubby with no mattress, desk with no terminal or ports. Closet with no clothes.

“People did used to live here, didn’t they?”

“Records suggest that this station had a population of approximately twenty-thousand human beings at the time that contact with the greater galaxy ended.”

“What the hell happened to twenty-thousand people? I mean, even if the rabbits ate them--”

“Let me remind you, sir, that rabbits are primarily vegetarian,” JARVIS said.

“Thanks, you might need to keep reminding me of that--”

He wasn’t going to be able to close that door again, since a handful of rabbits had followed him in, and he wasn’t sure how to get them out again. They didn’t really seem like herd creatures to him. And while they’d been surviving perfectly well on their own, he didn’t really want them to starve to death because of him. Right?

It was a working theory, at least. No rabbit murdering.

He made it all the way to 8th-deck, Section C. Finally. Plants. A lot of them, too. And more rabbits. 

“What exactly am I looking for here?” Tony wondered. He pushed his way through thicker plants, almost jungle-like in their sheer stubbornness to give way.

“I might say you’ll know it when you see it, sir,” JARVIS said, “which would be quite helpful, since I’m entirely uncertain--”

“Oh.”

That.

Stardate 5239.283.02

“I don’t believe the situation is going to change, no matter how long you keep staring,” JARVIS commented.

“Sarcastic, I like that.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Still. This is not something I want to jump into right away. I mean, when the station AI--”

“It’s not an AI sir, the station’s computer systems are significantly less advanced in all ways--”

“Don’t be petty. It’s beneath you.”

“As I don’t, in fact, have a corporeal body, sir, you might add that everything is beneath me. Or nothing is beneath me. An interesting question for the next time you feel philosophical.”

“Which does not answer any of my current philosophical questions,” Tony said. “Like who is this guy, why is he asleep in that thing, and will he die immediately if we try to wake him up?”

“Probably not immediately,” JARVIS said. “He’s hardly a vampire and going to poof into dust at exposure to sunlight.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon sir, I was looking up some of the various mythology typical to this station at the time. Did you know they believed the whole place was cursed?”

“Of course they did,” Tony said. “Also, why would I know that? How could I possibly know that-- cursed? What even does cursed mean?”

“A curse is the belief that powerful entities can take an interest in humans,” JARVIS said. “Faeries, witches, demigods and deities, for example. When these humans do something wrong, or offensive, or are in some cases, just being used as scapegoats for a powerful creature, that leads to a curse. A series of misfortunes that cannot be averted, except by a single act. Sometimes it’s ridiculously complicated, like when the moon loses her child if it happens in a week when two Mondays come together. And sometimes, all that takes to break a curse is true love’s first kiss.”

“Like that’s not complicated,” Tony complained. “So you’re saying I should kiss the guy awake to break the curse?”

“Much in the case of a week with two Mondays, sir,” JARVIS said, “you might want to take into consideration that your blood and cells are filled with--”

“Aesculapian nanintes,” Tony breathed. Which repaired injuries, protected him from disease and posion, and vastly extended his life span. Most infants born on Tony’s planet inherited some of them from their parents, but often required a booster injection every twenty years. And, in emergencies, you could share your nanintes with someone else, to heal their wounds.

Tony had gotten a booster shot last year, on his fortieth birthday, which meant his system was currently in top form.

“The fastest way to share nanites--”

“Is fluid transfer.”

“A kiss,” Tony corrected, directing a smug smile in no particular direction. JARVIS could see him.

“Indeed, sir, I’m so glad you thought of it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Flounder,” JARVIS responded. “Badly.”

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate with that one.”

Tony studied the casing a little while longer. The man was dressed entirely in white, except for a black cap where his left arm had been, he had long hair and just a hint of a beard. If Tony had to guess, he’d say the man had gone into some sort of healing tube while a replacement limb was vat-grown for him. Nanites could mend split skin and broken bones, but it wasn’t much good at regrowing parts entirely.

But Tony didn’t see any sort of vat system at all. Maybe they kept that somewhere else.

Theoretically, Tony’s nanites would keep the man alive, long enough to ask some questions, to find the bioregen chambers, or their historical equivalent. Get some answers, provide some aid. Something.

And, also, very quietly, to himself, where even JARVIS couldn’t hear him.

Tony might actually want to kiss the man.

He was stunningly, almost shockingly beautiful. His cheeks were just perfect, and the chin, with the hint of a cleft. Full, kissable lips, parted just a little. Long lashes. Tony didn’t know what color his eyes were, but he liked to think they were blue. Tony felt like he could see… everything.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Your brain is producing an increased amount of vasopressin, adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin.”

“Yeah?”

“And I believe you are experiencing mydriasis-- it’s a nerve reaction that causes your pupils to dilate,” JARVIS went on.

“Which means what?”

“Quite honestly, sir,” JARVIS said. “I think you are, as the poets would say, falling in love.”

“Yeah?” Tony found he didn’t quite care. It was almost like being drunk, a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling that just, made him generally happy. He wanted to share that with someone. A very specific someone.

He wasn’t sure how he knew which button to push, but the top of the tube slid away, and the man inside took a slow, stuttering breath.

“It’s all right,” Tony told him. “I’m here to rescue you.”

He leaned in, mouth open slightly, and kissed the man he hadn’t even really met. It was more than love at first meeting, it was--

A very nice kiss, warm, soothing, soft, with just a little heat in it.

The man pulled away, licked his lips as if tasting Tony on them and gazed up at him. “Uh… aren’t you a little short to be a stormtrooper?”

“What?” Tony blinked, then blinked again. “How-- how do you know Star Wars? That is Star Wars you’re quoting, right, late 20th century cinema? I-- I’m a--”

The man struggled to sit, and Tony helped him until he could swing his legs over the side. “So, uh, question-- who are you, and why is there a rabbit on top of my stasis tube?”

“Um, my name is Tony Stark,” Tony said.

“Bucky Barnes,” the man said. “Uh, nice to meet you. Great kiss by the way, hell of a wake up call. Is my unit waiting for me--”

“Uh, no, no, probably not.”

Bucky stared around the room, from the bunny to the greenery to the bunny, and then back to Tony. “How long? How long was I asleep?”

“I can’t say exactly, but-- it’s been at least three hundred years since we last had contact with this station.”

“Oh.” Bucky took a deep breath, and then another one, and a third. “Oh. I guess… I guess she won.”

“Who? Who did this to you? What happened here?”

“Hydra did this to me. Mother of serpents and dragons. A witch. It’s a long story.”

“I-- don’t think there’s any such thing as witches,” Tony said, hesitantly.

“Oh, there are,” Bucky said. “Believe me. There are.”

A/n -  art from @gayspacesprinkles​ isn’t it LOVELY!? Now stop screaming, I already have a part 2 planned for this.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winterironwidow #Tony Stark & Sassy JARVIS #bingo fill

[mcrmadness]

I really shouldn’t do this. Just thinking about people who are no longer a part of my life either because they decided to stop talking to me or because I decided it was better to part ways. And it’s making me sad and I hate it. Mainly because I’m again starting to feel invisible and lonely and apparently I then tend to torture myself even more by making me go and do things that I then associate with these people.

But I also hate it how I feel like I don’t have a normal concept of human relation(ship)s at all. Sometimes I wonder if I have played just too much The Sims games in my life (I started when I was 9 so I have played these games for 20 years) because I feel like the way I see the relationships is exactly how it is in the sims games. Don’t interact in a while and soon you get a message “you are no longer friends with X”. That’s literally how I feel friendships in my head. I feel like whenever there’s a long pause, that will mean that the friendship will be automatically reset back to 0 by time. Whenever there’s something we both like and have in common, it’s immediate green plus marks on the friendship and a positive moodlet. When we disagree or don’t have something in common, it will give red minus marks. And maintaining relationships feels as difficult as it is in the sims games too - tell them the same thing twice and it will be minus points. Tell them a thing they don’t like and it’s minus points, if you’re too close to 50%, maybe it drops from friends to acquintances. If you tell a succesful joke, you’re friends again. And right now I’m feeling like I’m “losing” all my friends because there’s been too huge pause with everyone and I feel sad about anything I associate with them because I feel like a friendship is over even when no one has said anything like that. It’s all in my head and it’s like a delusion because the second someone talks to me again, I forget ever even having such feels. But when the next pause comes, I again start to prepare myself for the moment where I’m left alone and never talked to again. Maybe I just have had this kind of situations so often in my life that I’m already preparing myself for that moment so that it won’t be that big of a shock when it happens.

I know it’s not healthy and it’s not RIGHT towards my friends to constantly be like this but can I change? Is there anything I could do to change this? I don’t always even recognize when I’m doing this, only lately I have woken up to this and it makes me feel bad because, like that one post I made several weeks ago, I’m really concerned that am I one of those unstable friends that will drive everyone around them into exhaustion eventually. Are people getting out of my life only to protect themselves? I feel like I’m always just too much to everyone and that I’m left alone in the end because I’m the only one who cannot escape me. I have to live with my brains and listen to all the shit it comes up. I’d love to cancel myself too if I could, but I can’t.

When my depersonalization/derealization was at its worst, I acually felt like I was invisible. Some days I was legit wondering if I was even alive. I was wondering if I was a ghost or idk, in a coma but just had no clue. I felt like people did not see me anywhere, I still can remember being to a grocery store and almost being run over by someone with a shopping cart and so many people almost walked against me and I just remember that moment so well as I got really frustrated and I was almost certain that I must be invisible, how else would people almost run over me with a shopping cart and they did not even look at me, as if I was not even there! Some days I thought maybe my minor car crash in 2010 put me into coma (yeah, Life On Mars uk much???) because I haven’t felt like the time would have passed AT ALL since that. I still feel like I’d be 19 and I’m supposed to be 29. Like, HOW???

And now I’m starting to have that feel of being invisible again. I have a nice amount of followers on Tumblr and this is something that I don’t really want to address at all because I appreciate every single one there and I could not care less about the number itself. But I’m starting to feel like... how could I gain more followers who would be interested in my stuff too? Like, I feel like talking to walls here. I bet no one is reading this post either. I so often feel like venting and writing down my thoughts but then I feel like there’s no point in that because I could as well write in a diary, which I hate, because as many people are going to read these as there’s people who can read my diary. Aka none. Not even me. I don’t like reading my diary and usually I also do not come back to these posts I put in Tumblr. Sometimes I browse my posts and am like “wtf have I been writing???” but I guess that’s the main point too, just to get it out of my system and I don’t need them back, mainly because they never really leave, they just evolve into new stuff I will vent here sooner or later too.

I am an attention whore who is afraid of being the center of attention. Sure if I tagged my posts more I might get more people to find me but I’m also afraid of being found or that my personal posts get reblogged. I don’t really want these to be on anyone’s dash except when it’s my original post. My social anxiety is afraid of notes and my HSP is afraid of the reactions I might get because of notes. But whenever I do something that I wish would get notes, I get none. And every time that happens, my perfectionism feels violated and I feel like a failure and that I suck at everything ever. Sometimes I am even shocked by the fact I post something like this and then suddenly remember that I have no idea how many people out these even is seeing these on their dash. What do they think? Do they see these and be like “oh god again that pathetic creature is whining some shit *eyeroll*” or do they just skip because idc.

I have so many times in my life felt like I am less than everyone else. It’s because when I was 13, my best friend turned out to be a narcissist (if that is possible for a 13-years-old) and we stopped being friends and eventually I made everyone else mad at me too and was alone, lonely and hated by everyone for a couple of years and your teens is the worst time for that to happen. I still don’t know if I was the villain or those girls. So I start feeling like a failure and worse than everyone very easily. AT some point I tried to get attention with my art but I didn’t succeed and I always felt like a failure then. “I should be better at arts, maybe I’d then be seen and approved.” During my worst time I actually thought I was relating to Garfield’ Jon so much and I legit thought I exist in this world only so that everyone else can feel a little bit better about themselves because there’s always at least one person who is worse than them. I literally felt like the meaning of my life was to make others feel better just because of how much of a loser I am. That’s why I feel sad when I see people getting asks all the time. I’m not really jealous or angry, I’m just sad because it just makes me remember how useless I am and how boring my life is and how bring absolutely nothing to this world and how... just invisible I am. I bet all ask posts have been on people’s dashes but no one just find me interesting enough to send questions. But I can’t blame them, because would I send myself asks if I was someone else and saw me on their dash? No. (Well, soon I will if no one else does, let’s see how out of my mind I will look for other people then lol.) I’d probably just unfollow my user because of what a pain in the ass I really am after all.

So whatever, a long post and useless blabber and just letting out some steam. I’ll go to watch some TV now and try to get over this. I’m also feeling like I hate Tumblr, I don’t want to come here to be disappointed because no one wants to know anything about me but I also can’t keep myself away from here because I want to know if I’ve got any asks because that would be some interesting stuff to do for my brains. So it’s like I have my hopes high only to be crushed in a minute and I keep doing this cycle every 5 minutes because I can’t decide if I should be a pessimist or an optimist.

Gosh, am I being selfish or what? I hate being selfish and I hate selfish people. But why am I still constantly talking about myself? Hypocrite much??? I wish I could unfollow the “blog” in my brains.

#mcrmadness' deep thoughts #oh look it's just me hating myself aka absolutely nothing to see here #personal #long post #rsd #or is that even rsd???

[autisticlaezel]

As some of you may know, I recently left a Discord server centered around swtor and kotor.

I did this for many reasons, but the two main ones were thinly veiled lesbophobia, specifically in intra community discourse, and lack of mod transparency, specifically regarding how one of the other server members were kicked, and the mods refusing to provide example or evidence of the behavior they accused said member of, as well as low key mocking them by exaggerating their statements.

These things made me feel unsafe which took away the fun of participating on there, and I left with a message in the general chat that detailed this. As it turns out, a lot of other members of this server had felt the same, but had been too afraid to speak up, and when they did speak up about their own discomfort and experiences with lesbophobia on there, it was treated as a personal attack against the mods and derailed into something it was not.

I wasn’t going to bring this drama to tumblr aside from the occasional vent post that didn’t name-drop anyone, but it’s come to my attention that one of the former mods has made a callout post about me and several other people who came forward during the discussion sparked by my leaving, as well as they person who got kicked. I’m not going to sit around and let someone spread lies about me and people I care about on a public platform, and I’m certainly not going to leave the accusations in her callout go unresponded to.

I also want to let you know that this is the last time I’ll address the drama related to the discord server. It’s stressful to me. It’s stressful to everyone else involved. It’s not productive, and everyone gets hurt.

I’ll put my response under the cut as it’s going to be long and screenshot heavy, but for transparency’s sake, this is the callout post in question.

I’d like to start my addressing my distaste for the abuse analogy Irene chose to use in her post. It’s incredibly manipulative, especially considering that several of the people she has chosen to mention have talked to her about their experiences as abuse survivors in the past. As a survivor of relationship abuse (as well as other kinds of abuse), I take offense in being compared to an abuser for standing up for myself and bringing attention to something that’s made me feel unsafe. It’s cruel, it’s a low blow and I’m incredibly angry that she thought it appropriate to make.

I’d also like to point out that she mentions in her post that a lot of people who agreed with her left the server. I’d like to remind everyone that the debate she’s referring to was, in fact, sparked by me leaving due to feeling unsafe, and that a lot of specifically lesbians who felt the same way chose to leave as well because they were being continuously spoken over when discussing their concerns about lesbophobia.

This was painted as derailment of a conversation about biphobia in the server and as well as Irene’s callout post, despite taking place in an entirely different channel, at an entirely different time, without any references to that conversation whatsoever.

This is the message I left with, and I’d also like to point out that this is the only time I’ve addressed any intra community discourse on the server, and that Irene thought that that was enough to name-drop me in a callout post. That said, I do agree with the other people name-dropped on there. 

For the same reason, I’m really confused as to why Irene chose to name-drop Dani in her post. Dani too hasn’t participated in intra-community on the server before I chose to leave, and after I chose to leave, she agreed with me in an incredibly polite and diplomatic way, expressing her own discomfort with the lesbophobia happening in the server.

This is Dani’s reaction to my leaving, as well as the message that she left the server with.

Irene claims in her callout post that we (the people name-dropped) engaged in “the derailing and targeting of a transgender woman with rhetoric and arguments taken from trans-exclusionary radical feminism.”

It’s important to me to point out that the discussions she’s referring to was not about gender, but about the concept of monosexual privilege and why it makes people uncomfortable. That she neglected to mention that in her post, and that she chooses to compare someone asking her not to call them monosexual to terf rhetoric once again strikes me as incredibly manipulative.

I will, however, for transparency’s sake post screenshots of the part of the conversation that any of us actually participated in in full, because I don’t expect anyone to take my word for it.

I’ve also chosen to censor certain members’ names and icons. This is done because I do not wish to place the transgender woman in danger in case this post ends up being read by the wrong people. Her statements are the ones censored with black. The other names censored are censored about they aren’t actually related to this drama, and I don’t wish to bring them into it if it can be avoided. Last I’ve censored Shannon’s icon, because it’s art not created by her, and she doesn’t wish to drag the artist into this either.

Here’s the conversation.

I’m sorry that this is rather long, but I don’t want to be accused of taking anyone’s words out of context, and frankly, I wouldn’t put that beside her.

Next, I’d like to address another claim in her post. She said that, and I quote:

The conversation evolved to the point where a cisgender lesbian told the transgender lesbian woman who was targeted, quoting, “Do you know what it’s like to be shoved to the sidelines of the lgbt community!?!? Do you!!?” And, really, that needs no further elaboration from me here.

Not only does she misquote that someone, she also misgenders them. The person in question, Mac, isn’t cis, and while I’m not sure that Irene is aware of this, speaking on things that she doesn’t actually know is really harmful. This is the conversation that she’s referring to. I’ve chosen to cut out the parts that weren’t the exchange between Mac and the trans woman they were accused of saying that to because there was multiple conversation going on at once, and the others aren’t relevant to this particular point.

Here’s what they actually said.

Irene has also chosen to name-drop Leilukin in her post, which strikes me as very suspect. Leilukin has only addressed intra community discourse in the lgbt+ community to talk about her experience as a lesbian in a country where gay sexuality is illegal. It’s also important to note that she was promptly ignored, and that Irene never addressed what she had to say, and then went to name-drop her in a post about biphobia and terf rhetoric.

This is what she said.

I mentioned my distaste for how Appo got kicked in my leaving message as well. I’d like to clarify what I mean by that, for anyone who weren’t involved in the server or weren’t aware of it happening. Kicking a non-binary person from a server with the accusation of terf rhetoric without clarifying what was meant by that for several days, without providing examples, without consulting the community and without talking to them about it first feels very strange to me.

It felt very clique-y, vindictive and based on a personal dislike for Appo rather them actually having done something wrong.

This is what was said about them in the server after they were kicked.

There were no examples provided of any behavior on their part that had actually been problematic. We were supposed to take the mods’ word for it, without any clue as to whether it was true or not. It’s also important to point out that they never actually said that calling a character hot or declaring a desire to date them was inappropriate, rather, they’d raised concern about the idea of discussing things of a sexual nature in the sfw in general after it was revealed to us that one of the server members was 14.

After several people expressed their discomfort with the liberal use of “terf rhetoric” outside of discussions about gender, this statement was posted.

Despite this, Irene directly correlated “terf rhetoric” (once again, due to a discussion on monosexual privilege) with another member of the server’s lesbianism in private messages to said lesbian (Shannon), while being incredibly condescending. It’s also worth noting, since Irene brought age into her original callout post that this lesbian only recently turned 20 and that Irene is 26.

These are examples of messages that she sent Shannon.

It’s worth nothing here that Irene is a cisgender bi woman, and is here talking over a non-binary lesbian about lesbophobia.

I’d also like to provide a couple of examples as to what the several people felt uncomfortable with in regards to lesbophobia. Unfortunately, a lot of the issues brought up don’t make sense without the context or the fact that they were repeated constantly, but here are some that absolutely do. It’s also important to note that there are several examples of similar behavior in the screenshots from the conversation of monosexual privilege as well as the messages Irene sent to Shannon. Qionnuala is Irene in this case.

Here they are.

As a closing statement, I’d like to say that I haven’t enjoyed making this post. It’s been stressful, it’s been aggravating and it’s been sad. It is, however, important to me to address an attack made on my person by someone with no proof or motivation other than me and others being lesbians daring to speak up about lesbophobia on a discord server.

#shut up charlie #drama blogging #don't reblog unless you're involved #long post

[twilightvolt]

I kinda was saving this for when i had the time to type everything out in one go, so let’s just get this over with before Smash drags me back into the depths of hell. XD

So, like, things happened back in 2017. a lot of things. graduated highschool, felt the winds of freedom as i stepped into the world of adulting and.....fell into a deep abyss of crippling depression as my life took a rather....wild turn to say the least. these feelings would linger and continue to haunt me throughout the majority of 2018. if you’d like to hear them or just need a refresher, my 2017 summary WITH that in depth description is on my DA that i no longer use cuz all i can think of when i go there is that year as a whole.

That’s not to say the year was cruddy, though. it really looked up by the end and it’s been one of the better years of my life as an artist. i’m about to go into that, so sit tight if you wanna actually read everything.

January: Arcus ~Collab with KLou

Things got heated at grandma’s after the holidays and we left in a huff cuz yeah, big fight the night before. it wasn’t something i ever wanna remember, but i gotta acknowledge it happened. thus began the struggles of living life as a nomad basically. From this point on until May, i won’t say much about our situation cuz honestly, time grinded to a halt after hotel life began.

February: Let’s Save the World

Believe it or not, this was a mobile drawing. i still didn’t have my tablet or my computer, so i tried using my phone for awhile. this was, of course, after i got Digimon Story Cyber Sleuth Hacker’s Memory for PS4, so this right here was my Dracomon babu Takumi, named after the former wearer of the goggles i equipped to him.

March: Let’s Kick It!

A brief moment of light as i fINALLY GOT MY TABLET BACK ONLINE! i felt like things were going to be different, we’d finally get somewhere and i felt like i could do anything again! this drawing, while super simple since it was just me around most of my current OCs at the time, was meant to represent me being back in business after around 4 or 5 months of being restricted to traditional work, a medium i, at the time, didn’t have much development in. (although, those months sure did help me learn how to draw that way in more than just sketching. so i’m actually kinda grateful i was stripped of the tools that i realize i may or may not have taken for granted.)

April: Spyro the Dragon

The Reignited Trilogy was announced and that’s why i drew that cuz literally everyone was doing Spyro fanart. i remember also doing a bunch of little doodles of other people’s characters in this same coloring style since some of the drawings i did before like the mobile drawing and my traditional work gave me inspiration on how to go about doing this new watercolor/marker like style that i started to experiment with throughout 2016 and ‘17.

May: Memories in Pieces

Remember how i said time grinded to a halt after hotel life began? yeah, this is where it reeeeaaally started to effect me. the days dragged on and blended together, we STILL could secure a home to house all of us and it just felt like my life was just....over. like, all the important stuff happened and now my story’s just done. it didn’t help that memories from the year before decided to come back and hang over me like an undying demon cloud. my anxiety and depression couldn’t have been higher. and yet i still managed to wake up. in fact, i woke up bright and early every day somehow. it felt like there wasn’t anything to believe in and yet....i still had hope that we could get through this. i knew deep down we weren’t gonna be completely out of luck.....but i still hurt at the same time.

I never uploaded this drawing anywhere, but this was, to put it simply, partly a new direction for a future project but also a vent art of sorts, representing the negative thoughts and regrets that never seemed to leave me alone no matter how much time has passed.

June: Digimon Atlas Adventures Ultima Vocal Collection

My second commission ever made since i opened that month. it was also the first time i really cel shaded along with made a logo since the year before. this day marked the turning point along with the end of my depression for the most part as the parents finally gave up and took...some of us down to Florida. a couple of siblings had jobs to keep up with, so they had to stay back in NY with.....eghh....grandma. to this day, i’m still hearing stories even if some of them eventually found their own place. i swear, the more i hear about what’s going on, the less i wanna go back to NY. >_>’

July: Drake ~Art Fight 2018

Oh yeah, we moved down to FL, but we were still in hotels IN FL, so there was change, but still pretty similar circumstances. we quickly found a place at some point, though. a cozy apartment complex that i’m happy to live in.

This is when Art Fight began....or rather when it was supposed to begin cuz they had technical difficulties for the first week or so. the day i revamped Drake for it was like i was saying hi to an old friend after parting ways years prior. it was a really fun experience that i’d gladly partake in again next year if i’ve got the time.

August: Gathers Under Night...

A very ambitious looking piece i did as an attack against a friend during Art Fight. it was my favorite attack i ever did and could quite easily be my favorite drawing from this year. after leaving hotel life behind me, i rarely, if ever, had war flashbacks or anxiety over the past. i felt like my life was finally getting somewhere again. for real this time. and that it did, thankfully.

September: Lost in Thought

A gift i made for a longtime friend and art senpai to try and cheer them up. i still look back at this and think “yeah....this is the style i’ve been longing to emulate. and i’ve finally achieved it.” granted, it took a lot from Kingdom Hearts II’s title screen, but where do you think i got my love of watercolor from?

At this point, i started to become a new person. i mean i already was considering the summer also involved me trying to become a little less total weeb at least in terms of music taste and also leaving my hoodie lifestyle for a good few months, but yeah. in fact, i think this was the month i buzzed off all my emo hair and really ended up resembling how i looked like back when i was little, anime cowlick and all.

October: The Lethal Protector

Oh yeah, Venom happened. i should’ve disliked that movie with all it’s flaws and unused potential, but instead i wholeheartedly stan it and i luv the portrayal of Eddie and Venom to the point where i forgive where it went wrong.

Yeah, i completely moved on from everything that tied me down at this point. i yeeted the past into the stratosphere and focused solely on what i wanted to do now. what my next move was. and i can thank these two losers for helping me stay focused on my craft. i also kept branching outside of Digimon. i wanted to be more than what i used to be.

November: My Favorite Ninja Frog

Didn’t do much this month, so all i had was a doodle of my starter partner for Pokemon Y. i never evolved him past Frogadier cuz i preferred him over Greninja. it was the tongue scarf, dude.

Why? ehh, it was most likely Warframe. i got into that game at some point cuz a friend persuaded me to do it. i don’t regret anything. i luv this game when i’m playing with friends.

December: Draw Your Roster Ultimate: The Winds of Reunion + Holiday Arcus

The Winds of Reunion cuz Wind Waker and the fact that everyone including Wolf, Young Link and even Pichu returned to Smash Bros. when Ultimate happened. this game cured my depression, cleared my skin and reignited my love for Starfox oddly enough since Starfox Zero AKA 64 with a new coat of paint and motion controls that weren’t as bad as you think didn’t exactly do it for me. i haven’t been so content with the way things are in a long time and i’m happy i finally got my hands on this treasure of a game. now, to wait for Kingdom Hearts III. ;w;

And now we finally get to the end of this long as heck recap. thank god Tumblr gives you unlimited characters, amirite? XD

Overall, this was a year of recovery and rebirth. it was a long and rough winding road, but in the end i think i’ve healed enough to finally get on with my life.

I’m not the same kid i used to be when i graduated highschool, and i’m definitely not the same kid i was when i was first starting out as an artist. my journey has been full of ups, downs and all arounds and it was all a much needed learning experience. even if i felt like i was suffering at times.

My future is mine to decide, and i’m not letting anything stand in my way again.

For the future i want to believe in.

#digital art #summary of art #2018 summary of art #digimon #Spyro the Dragon #venom 2018 #super smash bros ultimate #pokemon #year end reflections

[sancti-luminis]

From the air, the Temple of the Scions looked unassuming, even stark, uninviting.

It was plain stone and metal, without the grandeur of the Temples of Iacon or Tyger Pax.  The buildings were naturally shaped, following the cubical or hexagonal pattern of their native metal crystals, rather than the swooping, curving style favored by most Temples.  If the buildings had been true crystal, it would have looked much like a garden, ordered and repeating, pleasing to the optic.  Instead, they were the dull silver, green, and red of oxidized metal, the bones of Cybertron itself.

To the senses of one of Primus’ chosen, it shone.  The Temple was imbued with holy power, from the walls to the very ground.  There was nothing natural about it, save the base metals themselves.  Paladin, one of the oldest and greatest of Scions, dwelled here.  He was a geomancer--not the charlatan variety that practiced divination, but one that could call on the very earth and metal of their world and raise it to his will.  He had made this Temple, a home to all who had transcended mortality to serve Primus, out of the very bedrock of the planet.  As long as he lived, the Temple would stand.

As Galeforce landed in the courtyard, a sense of peace washed over him.  Here, all the mechs and femmes were like him.  There were no ephemerals with their endless questions, no concerns about hiding what they were.  Wisps, holy sprites, little blue-white puffballs with gently floating tendrils drifted through the gardens, congregating around an appealing formation of crystal.  Others floated around mechs and femmes they liked, often the ones that raised them into being, though not always.  One drifted around the tassel on his glaive, drawn by the prayers engraved on each strand.  It was not the High Temple in Iacon, the one he had lived in for much of his life, but it was nearly home.

His spark felt heavy as he sought out the Wild Garden.  He felt too much grief, and guilt, too.  Had he led the Scions to their death by not sharing the location of Grindor’s den, and returning with an army?  Had he been weak in letting Grindor live when he fled the blasphemed church in Kaon?  His thoughts whirled, tainting the very air around him with their miasma of misery and guilt.  Galeforce sunk to his knees in the gritty dust of the garden, staring blankly, unseeing, at a weedy formation of crystal.  The allure he felt when he was near Grindor, that was wrong.  It was deeply wrong.  He should have brought the information to Paladin right away.  He barely noticed another mech sinking down next to him, so lost in his own thoughts and inner conflict.

The other mech’s field lapped around Galeforce, gradually spreading over him.  Even rapids calmed when they met a deep, still pool.  Paladin said nothing, just vented slowly, in, hold, release.  Slowly, Galeforce began to respond to the aura of serenity Paladin exuded, his venting slowing to match the elder Scion’s, field calming.  His armor loosened, slowly relaxing from its tense state against his protoform, and he raised his optics to look at the Temple Master.

“Two Scions are dead at the hands of a Herald,” he said softly.  “I do not know their names, but I have an image of a blade.”  Galeforce offered it in a small databurst.  They were so close, side by side, even a comm would have been like shouting.  

“Sundust and Penitente,” Paladin answered, keeping his voice low.  “They told me they were hunting.  I did not know they were hunting a Herald.”  Optics still closed, he let the grief wash through his field.  He had known the pair, hotheaded and bold, though not as powerful as others.  They had dwelled in his home for a time, before they chose to make their lives in another place, together.  The two had not been poor Scions or bad mechs, but their rashness had led to this.  He wondered if they had known there was a Herald at the end of the monster hunt, or if they were seeking glory by keeping their hunt from some of the other known Herald-killers.  “May Primus grant them rest.”

Galeforce echoed the sentiment quietly, still vacantly staring at the weed.  He had grown calmer, more still, but Paladin sensed that the turmoil was lurking under ice.  “What troubles you?”

It was a long, long moment before Galeforce answered.  Paladin wondered if the other Scion would speak at all, or if he would bottle up everything again.  Damned ascetics.  They allowed themselves no outlets, and often burned out in spectacularly destructive fashions.  “I knew the Herald was there.  I have spoken with him, met him, eaten with him.”  He bowed his head, field closing in around his frame tightly.  “I did not know Sundust and Penitente knew of him.  I did not know they would come so close.”

That was something of a bombshell.  Paladin took time to gather his thoughts, process the emotions he felt.  Galeforce, spending time with a Herald?  Galeforce, who had fought a Herald, and triumphed?  Surely he would know better.  Or… if he was doing such a thing, there was a reason.  What that reason was, Paladin could not yet fathom.  He kept his field calm, radiating peace.  He would not impulsively leap to accusations and upset the younger mech, driving him to hide what he had been doing.  “You have been meeting a Herald?  Tell me about him.”

The bright curiosity in Paladin’s field was the only reason Galeforce did not get up and leave the Garden, and likely the Temple.  The Master genuinely wanted to know, he sensed.  “He is… he is like us,” he managed, at last.  “He is not an ephemeral.  He knows what it is to have the hand of a god on your shoulder.  What it is to see beyond the everyday, the creatures that walk between the worlds, to have abilities beyond mortal understanding.  He believes, but only because he must.  There is no faith.”  He gave a soft, dry laugh.  “There is no need for faith when the existence of the divine is responsible for your very being.”

“Do you know how Heralds are made?”  Paladin had not moved from his serene pose, sitting in the dirt of the garden.  Already, little crystals were sprouting around him, responding to the aura of his power.  “They are not made the way we are.  The Unmaker does not reach for a corrupted soul and exalt them.  He does not choose the most faithful, or even the most powerful.  I suppose He could, if He so chose, but He relies on shadows and trickery, preying on the weak.”  He smiled indulgently at Galeforce’s disbelieving snort.  “Yes, weak.  Not traditionally weak in body, of course, or even of will.  But their minds are vulnerable, open to manipulation.  There are whispers in their ears, hints of power to be obtained.”  Paladin glanced at Galeforce.  “It was my fear for many years Megatron would say the words.”  Paladin settled, armor and field smoothing out.  “Primus be thanked, he was too proud to utter them, if they were ever offered.”

“I never knew,” Galeforce murmured, field swirling in confusion.  It made so much more sense.  Grindor was not an obedient, willing servant to Unicron, as he was to Primus.  The Herald was a slave, a prisoner.  “It makes so much sense.”

“Some glory in it,” Paladin continued, nodding at the other Scion’s words.  “Some reject it, until the Unmaker grows too loud and forceful.  Those ones die, usually.  The Unmaker abandons them in a moment of crisis, leaving them to their fates.  It is why I do not advocate the wholesale slaughter of Heralds.”

The younger Scion started, hands tightening around the pole of his glaive.  He had to think back, and carefully analyze conversations.  Paladin had never sent Scions on a mission to hunt Heralds.  He had always sent them after the monsters.  Galeforce had thought at the time that one thing led to another--find the monsters, hunt them to the Herald that made them.  Or, as had happened to him, Primus had sent a Scion to face the Herald.  “You always sent us after the wraiths,” he murmured, low, astonished at the subtle misdirection Paladin had employed.

“I do not like sending you children to your deaths,” he said, shaking his head.  “The Unmaker’s arts are myriad, multifarious, constantly evolving, and undying. Each time they are beaten back, they will rise up again, stronger and more dangerous than before.  If one grows too deadly, Primus calls.  Until then, it is better the monsters I know and understand.  Our world, the intangible and the mundane, exist in a delicate balance.  It is so much more complex than good and evil alone.  We all exist as shades of gray, even the Heralds and Scions.  If we were to amass together, form an army, and annihilate every Herald, every pit bender, every voidwraith we came across, I believe, in the depth of my spark, we would create a vacuum that the Unmaker Himself could use to deadly advantage.”  The Master paused, considering, and continued.  “I believe he could use it to take corporeal form in the mundane world.”

Galeforce could not help himself.  He gasped, horrified and astonished.  It was a thought that chilled the soul, imagining Unicron in their world.  Paladin’s stance abruptly made more sense.  He was one of the oldest Scions, connected to their world to a depth many could not fathom, and none could replicate.  His armor rattled in a shudder, pricking up in fear, imagining such a thing.  It was a horror he prayed would never visit their reality, or any other.

Slowly, Paladin rose to his feet, brushing the little crystals that had grown around him away until he was able to move without crushing them.  “The loss of Sundust and Penitente is a grave one.  But I will not send more Scions after your… friend, Galeforce.  Not unless he hunts us first.”  Paladin placed his hand on Galeforce’s bowed head, a benediction.  “Who prays for the Fallen, Brother?  Perhaps it should be you.”

“Now,” he continued, grasping the other mech’s arm to hoist him to his feet.  “That is quite enough heaviness for one day.  Come join me for a drink.  Yes, yes, just tea, of course.  It is still quite cold, and we have been out of doors too long.”

The pair of Scions left the Garden, companionably side by side, returning to the Temple proper.  They did not notice a dark shape, lean and strong, climbing down from one of the ironwood trees, careful to not snag the bow at his back.  Their conversation had been overheard.  So the monster lives.

#The scion; Galeforce #the master; PALADIN #the herald; GRINDOR #mun writing

[jeremystrele]

A Conversation With Artist And Former Youth Prime Minister (!) Aretha Brown

A Conversation With Artist And Former Youth Prime Minister (!) Aretha Brown

Studio Visit

Bridget Caldwell-Bright

‘Time is on our side, you Mob’ (2018) by Aretha Brown – completed when she was in high school!

Aretha creates her pieces at a studio in Naarm (Melbouren). Photo – Jamie Wdziekonski.

New work from a group exhibition ‘Slime and Ashes’ at Westspace. Photo – Nynno Bel-Air.

New work from a group exhibition ‘Slime and Ashes’ at Westspace. Photo – Nynno Bel-Air.

Aretha with a new commission for a client. Photo – Nynno Bel-Air.

Her large scale mural works (and even some paintings!) require a ladder to reach the top. Photo – Jamie Wdziekonski.

Aretha in front of a previous commission. Photo – Jamie Wdziekonski.

A large scale mural in her signature black-and-white, figurative style. Photo – Jamie Wdziekonski.

Artist and proud Gumbaynggirr woman Aretha Brown has accomplished more than most 20-year-olds. She was first publicly recognised for her speeches at Invasion Day rallies in Naarm (Melbourne) in 2017, and her passion and desire for change has been inspiring to say the least. ‘It’s time for white Australia to sit down and just listen, just once, to what we have to say,’ she proclaimed to a crowd of tens of thousands. At the time she was just 16.

Aretha took to the stage to make a statement: that for too long have Aboriginal people been talked about, rather than talked to. She has continued to work to change this narrative, through her activism and community work, as well as her creative practice as an artist.

Later on in 2017 she was invited to attend the National Indigenous Youth Parliament, which brought together 48 young Indigenous people from across the nation to discuss ideas in a model parliament. Here, she became the first female elected as ‘Youth Prime Minister’ in the program’s history, and in the last four years has since gone on to be one of the leading young voices for First Nations people across the country.

Born into a family of creatives (her mum is an artist and her dad is a musician), it’s no surprise Aretha also has established herself as a talented painter and visual artist. She’s known for her distinctive graphic artwork, often painted on a large scale. Her perspective as a young First Nations woman is intrinsically embedded in everything she creates. ‘My culture is always going to come through in my work and I don’t try too hard, I try to let it come naturally’, she says. So far her work has been featured in exhibitions at the NGV Australia & The Ian Potter Centre and West Space, and it’s only just the beginning.

‘It’s hard to believe I am only 20 with such a platform already’, she tells me over the phone, after discussing what her plans are for the future. To say that this young person has a bright future would be an understatement.

Hey Aretha! How are you feeling around this week?

Aretha Brown: I find this time of year is always so strange. Invasion Day always falls right in the middle of summer where everyone’s on the beach, enjoying the sunshine, going on holiday and trying to relax, and then halfway through you have this day that doesn’t sort of fit in with how everyone else is feeling around you. It never feels great and I feel like I am always hypersensitive around this year with all the stuff that I am exposed to in terms of news reports around things like deaths in custody, people’s general miseducation as well as just the daily racism that isn’t necessarily overlooked throughout the rest of the year, but I guess it’s the sort of stuff that we become used to. And then at this time of year, it all hits at once.

You mention miseducation or having to educate as something that can be quite triggering around this time of year. What do you mean by this? 

AB: I suppose what I mean is that it can be really hard to navigate. When I’m having a tough time and want to vent or get something off your chest, you’re not able to do that and just have people understand and accept it. You’re also having to educate because there are so many people that just don’t understand what the day means to us. You can’t just say to someone ‘I’m feeling this way’ without having to say why or explain what the day means personally.

What do you wish people would do more of to show their allyship? 

AB: It all comes down to practical measures in a lot of ways, which I find to be most effective. I think a lot of it is also common sense, checking in on your First Nations friends and family is always a good idea, regardless if you are non-Indigenous or not, just checking in with them around this time can mean a lot. It doesn’t even have to be this huge gesture but something small like a text to say, ‘Hey how are you feeling, you’re in my thoughts around this time etc.’ is more than enough. Because a lot of people treat the day as a mass funeral, it’s a really sad day and there is a lot of grief involved, so I think when people treat it as such is really important. I think just treat your First Nations mates in a way that you would offer anyone support after grief.

Showing up obviously by attending rallies and events if you’re able to is also a really practical thing to do on the day. However, a big thing for me which is something I always talk about on my Instagram is changing your bank. It might sound like a really strange thing to do as an act of allyship but at the end of the day if we want to help Indigenous communities around Australia and also our climate crisis, then changing your bank is a really practical and helpful thing that you can do.

In understanding that mob and our connection to land are so inextricably linked you’re helping both aspects by doing one really simple thing. A lot of people don’t realise that where their money sits might actually be funding fossil fuels and the destruction of land across communities, which is obviously something that banks don’t tell you.

You’re often referred to as an activist. Is this a term you align with? Has the term changed for you over the years? 

AB: It was never a position that I appointed myself, it was always something that people labeled me which I have always sort of had a bit of an issue with. I guess in understanding that most Indigenous communities are matriarchal and exist with female leaders, and the idea of appointing one person the control and power over a whole community is such a colonial concept. So I have always had a bit of a problem with that term because it’s not something that I would ever call myself. For me it’s always been a student before anything.

A lot of my work with The National Indigenous Youth Education Coalition (NIYEC) is about changing curriculum within the education system in Australia, and so my position and status as a student as well as an Indigenous person is the most important thing for me because my experience in high school and further education has been so different to a lot of peoples. So I guess I would refer to myself as a student, artist and filmmaker now that I have just completed my first short film. So it definitely does change and evolve a little bit over time too.

Your community work is obviously going to intersect in a way with your creative practice, but how is culture or identity embedded in your work? 

AB: I don’t really have to try too hard, no matter what I do, it is going to be an Indigenous artwork. Which is both a beautiful and strange thing to think about at the same time. I am always going to be labeled as an Indigenous artist, my race is always going to be the prefix so I really don’t have to try too hard to embed my identity in my work. I think subtly is also a beautiful thing in a lot of aspects.

I am very proud and self assured of who I am and my position, but at the same time I find it hard to reject being pigeonholed into one aspect of my identity whether that be artist or activist, filmmaker. My culture is always going to come through in my work and I don’t try too hard I try and let it come naturally.

How would you describe your creative practice? 

AB: I suppose I would just say that my work has a sense of humour, which is really important to me. This short film that I have just completed is a comedy short, which is something I would really like to explore next. I think by virtue of being an Indigenous person, people assert a level of seriousness to my work and it takes people a long time to be like, ‘Oh this is actually really funny’. And I feel like I try to take the piss in a lot of my work. You know, I’m 20 years old, I’m a very light-hearted person and making people laugh is something I really want to explore next.

My last project was just bedazzling a bunch of stuff, so not taking things too seriously is really important to me. Even sharing memes and things on my Instagram, I always have joke with my friends about how people still think that there’s a level of seriousness and they make the assumption that because I am Indigenous there has to be a level of darkness or heaviness. But I really find oppressed groups to be some of the funniest people in the way they tell stories.

Humour is such a weapon of resilience so I think Indigenous people have such a unique way of telling their stories through jokes and cracking each other up and it’s something that we really stand out in. I take a lot of influence in my work from artists like Tony Albert, who I find to be really funny through his work.

What are you currently working on?

AB: I have been doing murals and painting for a very long time, which I love, but I think I have been doing the same thing for a while now it is time to expand and move on a bit.

I am really enjoying my writing and exploring comedy through other avenues like filmmaking. Bringing these characters that I have been painting into a more 3-dimensional world through other art practices has been exciting too, so I am keen to see where that goes.

What are you looking forward to or hoping to achieve this year? 

AB: I think it’s amazing I already have such a platform at such a young age, it just goes to show the steps that my elders and my leaders before me have taken for me to allow me to get to this position so early in life. I always have to acknowledge those before me, uncle Gary Foley, just thinking about some of those people that wouldn’t have been able to get an education or a job like my Grandma, but because of those sacrifices and the steps that they’ve taken, I get to be where I am today. That’s not to say that young mob today don’t have our own struggles, but you can’t deny it has been made a lot easier by those before me. So just being really grateful for that and going forward always acknowledging that in my work.

Other than that, I am hoping for more exhibitions, filmmaking and comedy! Oh and working on getting my license this year.

You can keep up with Aretha on Instagram here.

Bridget Caldwell-Bright is a Jingili and Mudburra writer and freelance editor based in Melbourne. She has worked on projects with Scribe, Allen & Unwin, Hardie Grant, Pantera Press and The Lifted Brow. She was also previously co-editor for Archer Magazines First Nations Edition and managing editor for Blak Brow, a Black Women’s Collective edition of The Lifted Brow.

[piracytheorist]

Yet another meme. I crossed some I didn’t like.

1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

Thetawaves - System of a Down The Sacrifice - Michael Nyman Donde Estas, Yolanda? - Pink Martini First Aid Kit - Wolf Sarabande from J.S. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 Russian Dance - Trepak, from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite.

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Colin O’Donoghue.

3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

From Kevin Brooks’ YA novel “Being”

Damn it, page 23 has only 9 lines. From page 24 then,

“I jabbed the gun against Ryan’s head.”

4) What do you think about most?

Exactly what my blog is about.

5) What does your latest text message from someone else say?

The payment code I sent to my roomate so that she could pay the electricity bill.

6) Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Clothes on.

7) What's your strangest talent?

I don’t think I have talents... just some practiced skills.

8) 9) Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Not about me, but once I gave my late uncle’s lyrics (that he had asked me to put into music or have someone do it) to a composer friend to write a piece on it.

10) When is the last time you played the air guitar?

Yesterday, I think, in the tune of Sweet Child o’ Mine.

11) Do you have any strange phobias?

That electricity may strike me if I wash the dishes while the boiler is on.

12) Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

None that I can recall.

13) What's your religion?

Agnostic.

14) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Walking towards somewhere, listening to music.

15) Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Both.

16) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

It is complex indeed. If I had to choose one I’d go with Blackmore’s Night.

17) What was the last lie you told?

I can’t recall. I don’t lie easily, or convincingly.

18) Do you believe in karma?

Maybe?

19) What does your URL mean?

It’s a combination of the words lilly (incorrect, I know, but I didn’t back then when I chose that url) and pond.

20) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

Lack of self-confidence/I actually think I’ve got a lot of stuff figured out in comparison to other people of my age.

21) Who is your celebrity crush?

Colin O’Donoghue, some three years now.

22) Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

No, but I would be sort of interested to. I never felt comfortable in a bikini.

23) How do you vent your anger?

Lol. I don’t, I guess. It just pents up.

24) Do you have a collection of anything?

When I travel, I like to keep all the booklets, the tickets, the receipts from things I bought, some coins...

25) Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Video chatting, if it’s possible.

26) Are you happy with the person you've become?

I’m yet to evolve and I hope I can get better at some parts.

27) What's a sound you hate; sound you love?

Drilling machines/ My cat’s purr.

28) What's your biggest "what if"?

What if I was born a man? Seriously. I don’t think I’m gender--fluid, but I’ve thought many times how different I might have been if I were a guy.

29) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Ghosts, no. Aliens, sure, it’s just that we can’t sense or see them.

30) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Right arm, a Nutella jar. Left arm, a tea light candle.

31) Smell the air. What do you smell?

Nothing. There’s a small sense of my cat’s scent around.

32) What's the worst place you have ever been to?

Public restrooms at the Greek borders to FYROM. I hadn’t peed in hours (we were having a road trip) but I kept it in for a few more because oh. my. God.

33) Choose East Coast or West Coast?

Don’t know the difference.

34) Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

Colin O’Donoghue.

35) To you, what is the meaning of life?

Do things and leave them better than you found them.

36) Define Art.

Creation, messages, beauty either in the inside or the outside.

37) Do you believe in luck?

Yep, and I actually think I’ve got lots.

38) What's the weather like right now?

Slightly raining.

39) What time is it?

12:20 am

40) 41) What was the last book you read?

I haven’t actually read a book in years. Headhunters by Jo Nesbo was the last one.

42) Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Nope.

43) Do you have any nicknames?

Duni or Duduna, for the way I used to mispronounce my name when I was very little.

44) What was the last movie you saw?

Moana.

45) What's the worst injury you've ever had?

I split my forehead open while playing in kindergarten and had a few stitches. I still have the scar.

46) Have you ever caught a butterfly?

No. But I have touched one’s wings once. I think I must have killed it back then.

47) Do you have any obsessions right now?

OUAT. With the way I’m all about it, it is an obsession.

48) What's your sexual orientation?

Mostly grey asexual.

49) Ever had a rumor spread about you?

About me specifically, none that I can recall.

50) Do you believe in magic?

I used to.

51) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Oh boy, that is ALL me. It’s one of the reasons I sympathized with Hook.

52) What is your astrological sign?

Cancer.

53) Do you save money or spend it?

I try to save it. I don’t spend that much besides basic needs (and chocolate).

54) What's the last thing you purchased?

That Nutella jar I mentioned above.

55) Love or lust?

Why not both.

56) In a relationship?

Nope.

57) How many relationships have you had?

None.

58) Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

Nope.

59) Where were you yesterday?

Home, visited the beach, attended a mini concert of a fellow student, back home.

60) Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

My eye pencil sharpener, a water bottle cap, the toes of my socks (those are light pink).

61) Are you wearing socks right now?

Lol I didn’t even read that question before answering the above! Yes, apparently.

62) What's your favorite animal?

CATS ^.^

63) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

Lol. Honesty?

64) Where is your best friend?

Outside with another friend. I didn’t have the mood to join.

65)   -- I don’t know why that one is missing. 66) What is your heritage?

What is that supposed to mean? I think I’m too young to have one yet.

67) What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

I’m not sure but I probably was here again.

68) What do you think is Satan's last name?

He doesn’t have one.

70) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

At the moment, probably yes because we would give each other a lot of time to spend alone.

71) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Get wet and then fired. But I would have tried to make the circumstances so that I wouldn’t have been late before that.

72) 73) You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Trust. Without trust, there is no love.

74) What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Dernière Danse by Indila.

75) What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

6234.

76) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Trust, building each other up, humor, lots.

77) How can I win your heart?

By having the above traits.

78) Can insanity bring on more creativity?

Of course.

79) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Probably come here to study music.

80) What size shoes do you wear?

I say 39. In UK that’s 6, in the US it’s 8.5, in Japan it’s 25.

81) 82) What is your favorite word?

I don’t think I can choose one, but I like ones that have lots of L’s in them.

83) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Red.

84) What is a saying you say a lot?

The one I’m looking for is, apparently, Haste makes waste in English. Though the literal translation from Greek is Whoever hurries, stumbles. So it’s more like someone telling the one who hurried “You had it coming”

85) What's the last song you listened to?

Listening right now: District 12 Ruins by James Newton Howard from the soundtrack of Mockingjay: Part 1.

86) 87) What is your current desktop picture?

This picture.

88) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

Drumpf.

89) What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?

Offline, how much time I’ve spent analyzing and fangirling over Captain Swan.

90) 91) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Healing.

92) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

If I could relive moments from my infanthood, I would go back and see my grandmother who died when I was 1. If not, that time that I saw Circle of Life performed live. 

93) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Erase the memory or erase the thing happening? If it’s the latter, I’ve got some things, but for the former, erase a really nasty arguing I had with my mother once.

94) 95) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Rovaniemi, Finland.

96) Do you have any relatives in jail?

None that I know of.

97) Have you ever thrown up in the car?

I have a very weak stomach when it comes to motion sickness, and when I was little they didn’t give me medication for some reason, so yes.

98) Ever been on a plane?

12 times.

99) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

Just fucking love each other for fuck’s sake.

#me for ts #meme #long post for ts

[rosawayneisawesome]

Riposte: Answers to the questions from Babeworld

We were SO happy with the answers to the questions. They were so insightful and beautiful – exactly what we wanted. What made them even more lovely is that neither knew what the other was writing, so it gave us a sense of intimacy and insight into how they each viewed their friendship as individuals. There were also really beautiful moments where they both describe the same event, such as moving in with each other, yet from their own perspective which creates such an interesting narrative.

Georgina’s Answers

Alright lids

I tried my very very best to hand write my answers but I have acrylic nails and joined up writing. It was hard! And I kept misspelling everything which I guess could be like hehe how authentic and cute but I deno i dont even have dyslexia I just make up spellings cos I know my iPhone will correct me. I can handwrite like a few sentences here and there cos I do like the aesthetic and my handwriting is kinda cute ngl.

Anyway

What about Ashleigh makes you feel joy?

Her tenacity.

How do you think Ashleigh has changed you as a person?

Ashleigh's effect on my personal growth as boring as it may sound has been in like, practical ways. Like teaching me where to apply for mental health help, showing how to access benefits (actually she did the whole form for me) and like taking me to my first AA meeting and holding my hand. With patience and just overall validating my addictions and illnesses she’s given me the tools to make positive changes in my life. Before we met I hadn’t really had many successful friendships having one year expiration date on close relationships before they begin to break down or require distance because I’m so mentally messed up (plot twist-ours became the latter). Relationships are tough, yeno?

What’s one of your favourite memories of Ashleigh?

This is tough because what may be surprising to people is that we’ve only known each other like a couple of years maybe less (I’m terrible with numbers so this could be a lie) but like in the grand scheme of things it’s been brief. And within that time we’ve had so many life altering experiences and relationships and artistic opportunities and traumas and episodes and living situations and laughs. So much happens. I think probably being able to watch her achieve things like a first in her degree, a place at RCA etc where we can cry happy tears at the sight of personal and professional growth.

Has your relationship evolved since you first met?

Definitely. In the beginning I feel like we thrived in codependency spending every waking moment together and sharing a bed. There was comfort in this new found friendship where there was a natural give and take. We wanted to help each other excel emotionally and academically and creatively- seeing each others potential. We were also in between turning points. For Ashleigh it was education and for me it was work. Now our relationship has grown up and matured. I’m content in that our life events won’t always align and it’s okay to explore things as individuals whilst never failing to come back together and return to that sister-like dynamic that is always there.

What were your first impressions of Ashleigh?

First impressions were weird because I was looking for a room in a houseshare where the deposit wasn't crazy and they allowed cats. I was in desperation mode and looking to impress haha. Ashleigh was my point of contact and her facebook pictures presented a mysterious and arty character. I was intimidated by her honestly. I thought she was too cool for me. Cool and well liked, seemingly without trying, and I was shy.

If you could take an attribute from Ashleigh and swap it with one of your own what would it be?

Definitely her admin skills. Anything that requires like problem solving and logic. She’s a pure wiz at adobe, can make a spreadsheet, will keep on top of emails and is productive 12 hours a day. That kind of like natural incentive to work and organise myself and others is something I was not born with. And this extends into her personal life- she has successful interpersonal relationships and life long friends and I truly believe it’s down to her ability of knowing how to compartmentalise everything as well as being a good friend/daughter/girlfriend. Me? I’d lose a friend down the side of a couch or leave my two years late smear test at the back of a bus.

If you could sing a karaoke duet with Ashleigh, what song would you choose?

Break Up Bye Bye by the Frock Destroyers to live out our cock destroyers fantasy

What is your favourite way to spend time with Ashleigh?

As nice as meetings at big institutions, hosting lectures and performing at events are- we can’t wait to get home for a maccies *ashleigh’s apple music recently played playlist plays softly in the background* discussing ideas, stories, aspirations and discourse.

What is Ashleighs hidden talent?

It is her creativity. She credits everyone’s influence but often can’t acknowledge the independent creativity that lies within her.  Within art institutions it’s easy to feel boxed off as a practical person or a conceptual thinker- it’s always logic versus creativity and sometimes we aren’t allowed to believe they can overlap. Her hidden talent is her artistic talent. Hidden from her by herself and hidden from her by the people that are supposed to shine a light on it.

Describe Ashleigh in three words

Tall, Traumatized, Gay

Ashleigh’s Answers

What’s the best thing about being friends with Georgina?

It’s rare to find a friend who you can admit your wrong-doings to and not be judged. It’s also rare to find a friend who helps you use these wrong-doings to become a better person: G is that friend.

Describe Georgina in three words

Trauma, poor and under rated.

What were your first impressions of Georgina?

This girl needs help. Nah I’m joking to be honest the first time we met it was in a weird situation - she was coming around to try and find a house for her and her son (cat) and i wanted to help a fellow poor girlTM in need so she moved straight in. She seemed standoffish and cold, but later i realised she was just overworked and underpaid. She grew on me like a weird rash, I'm pretty sure I did the same to her.

Has your relationship with Georgina evolved since you first met?

Meeting G went from us both being like “who is this bitch.” to “she’s my bitch”. From then on she’s become my art wife, best friend, carer and collaborator, and I would probably have to throw myself off a cliff if she were to cut ties. I think i see so much of myself in her, she’s become of the people i do look up to the most- in a healthy way i promise!!

what’s one of your favourite memories of Georgina?

I think when we landed our first commission and i told her and we both sat and were like ‘we got this. we can do this” emphasis on the we. Being estranged from your family and feeling no one understands you is so isolating, so to feel part of a community, even if it’s just two of you, was such a big moment for me.

how do you think Georgina has change you as a person?

Before i met Georgina I was ashamed to admit i grew up on a council block, ate pasta and sauce and wore primark trackies. She’s basically helped me embrace my authentic self (ew cringe) - but for real! Since meeting G i’ve become more politically engaged, able to express my blackness and owned my disability. She’s taught me to be unapologetically me, and for that I am forever grateful. Babeworld wouldn’t exist without her, she showed me that being an artist doesn’t have to be this firm set of middle class ideals- but rather a safe space for me to express and vocalise my feelings. She constantly uses her privilege (particularly of being white and non disabled) to stand up for me, educate others and give me the support i need to do it for myself also. I’ll come in all guns blazing if you try and be ableist to me now, and I have G to thank for that.

what about Georgina makes you feel joy?

It’s so important to have that one friend who you can just fully vent to. She is a born listener, and a born learner. She takes it upon herself to continue to educate herself about marginalised groups and find ways to support them. the world would be a better place if we had more Georginas.

what’s your favourite way to spend time with Georgina?

I would say a codeine-binge but I don’t want to glamourise prescription drugs taking so: A three course maccies with the footy on sitting nowhere near each other because we have bodily contact. The occasional awkward eye contact as we reach for the last crisp.

what is Georgina‘s hidden talent?

I’d tell you but it’s a trade secret.

if you could take an attribute from Georgina and swap it with one of your own what would it be?

Confidence. I have a weird overconfidence which i wish i could slice in half and give to her because tbh, mines excessive and hers is massively lacking. Someone who actually has as much talent as her deserves to snap her fingers like a princess.

if you could sing at karaoke duet with Georgina what song would you choose?

You don’t want me to sing trust me. Think dying cat meets teenagers during the voice breaking phase of pubity. But if you really want to hurt yourself like that it would HAVE to be The Best- Giggs. It features a scouse rapper and that accent sends me sideways.

[godlessriffs]

Comics: A Semi-Love Story

I love comics. Not all comics, mind you; most are aimed at a different demographic from any I represent, and many are straight up trash no matter who their target audience is. What I love is the concept of using pictures to tell stories the way writers use words and filmmakers use the camera. Like movies, comics is a visual medium requiring the artist to make decisions concerning things like shot composition, angle, lighting, and so forth. Like literature, comics can be created with easily obtainable materials by one person working alone (although small teams are much more common) for nowhere near what it costs to make even the cheapest motion pictures, the greatest expense being at the publishing end. It's a best of both worlds situation for anyone willing to exploit it.

What kind of comics am I into? My tastes are kind of unusual, although they didn't start out that way. When I was a child I loved Mad magazine, and I occasionally bought Cracked as well. The first actual comic book, in the sense most people imagine, that I ever sat down and read was the third issue of a four issue miniseries from DC called Tales Of The New Teen Titans. This particular issue told the origin story of the Changeling, the character known today as Beast Boy. It was a really great, epic story (and fortunately I didn't have to have read any other comics to understand what was going on in it), and the art was top notch (as it would be, since the artist, George Perez, was one of the best in the business at that time). That book became the gold standard by which I would judge the quality of all of the comics I would read for some time.

But it was ultimately my younger brother who got me really INTO comics. Some time during the late eighties, he started collecting Spiderman comics, and his hobby began to rub off on the rest of us. My father started collecting Batman and Green Lantern comics, and even my mother got in on it, eventually collecting Teen Titans and an older DC title called Ghosts. At first, I didn't think I'd get sucked into this myself, but when the family paid our first visit to the no-longer-extant Winston-Salem branch of Heroes Aren't Hard To Find at the corner of Burke and Brookstown, I did manage to find something that interested me: Marvel's Star Wars comics.* For a while I was content to collect those, but soon, spurred by fond memories of Saturday morning adventure cartoons like the Superfriends, I started collecting Superman, the Justice League, and a few other DC titles.

My tastes kept evolving, though, and I would eventually abandon the mainstream stuff as I began to cultivate a deep appreciation for the outré. I've mentioned this before in the context of music, and it applies here as well: it's in my nature to keep digging deeper, and I was always happiest when I'd discovered something cool and relatively unknown. In the eighties there was a boom of independent publishers saturating the market with comic books, most of them in black and white. These companies knew they couldn't compete with the big two (Marvel and DC), and for the most part they didn't try. Their subject matter spanned the gamut: there was sci-fi (from space opera all the way to hard science fiction), fantasy (some of it sword and sorcery, some of it truly outlandish), horror, crime noir, funny animal stuff, you name it. Superhero comics weren't unheard of (teams were more prevalent than individual characters), but the ones that did exist tended to be offbeat compared to the majors. I would have bought all of that stuff if I'd had the cash. The comics I did read went really well with the heavy metal I was listening to at the time. Some of them were reprinting old strips from the days of yore; I got my first taste of the original Buck Rogers strips reading Eternity Comics' Cosmic Heroes series.

That eventually led me to seeking out more adult material from the likes of Peter Bagge, Daniel Clowes and Los Bros. Hernandez, the spiritual successors of the underground comix, and ultimately to the undergrounds themselves. My tastes have become EXTREMELY eclectic. I do, however, still love superhero comics, but I'm really only into the ones from the golden age, and some from the silver. The child in me considers the current vogue for gritty, adult oriented superhero comics that aren't supposed to be fun to be wrong-headed and frankly kind of stupid.

Because my approach to comics was so different from that of the rest of my family, I ended up in a much different place than they did. Last I checked, my brother and my father still had all of their comics, but they don't really collect or even read them much any more. Neither one of them ever seemed interested in anything outside the superhero genre. My mother, meanwhile, eventually sold all of hers and only seems to have gotten into comics in the first place because the rest of us were collecting them. I was different. I've known for a long time that there's a fine line between collecting and hoarding, and I'm definitely not into the latter. I've never bought books I couldn't read, nor have I ever been afraid to sell or trade something once I felt like I was done with it. Then I would follow my appetites into ever new directions, and that eventually left me with a strong appreciation for comics as an art form. And because of that, I'm the only member of my family who still enjoys buying and reading comics.

Now, I need to vent about something. Namely, the common stereotype of the comic book collector as a loser shut-in with no social life who takes the hobby way too seriously and freaks out if you get near his precious collection. The ur-example would probably be the comic book guy from the Simpsons. And maybe you remember this exchange from Mallrats:

         Brodie: The usual vault rules apply; touch not, lest ye be touched.

         T.S.: You're such an anal-retentive bastard!

         Brodie: Hey, I tried to teach you to handle comics in the fifth grade, but no, you wanted to play little league instead!

I'm not going to deny that these guys are out there, but as one who has indulged in the hobby himself, albeit not with the same rabid fervor, I can see more or less where they're coming from. For one thing, if you're into Marvel or DC, you've got to read a LOT of books to make heads or tails of what's going on. So if these guys don't have social lives outside of a tiny circle of like-minded geeks, it might be because they can't find the time for them. I'm not sure exactly how much time and mental effort it takes to follow the continuity of the major "universes", but I can't imagine studying advanced calculus would be a much greater challenge.** Meanwhile, if comic collectors seem protective of their stockpiles to an excessive degree, you have to remember that these guys are sinking a lot of money into items that, for the most part, weren't manufactured with preservation in mind.*** Hence the bags and backing boards. And let's be fair - they're right to be a little bit paranoid. Because, and here's where I really climb onto my high horse, there's a flip side to this phenomenon that no one ever wants to talk about.

See, when handling someone else's property, you don't handle it the way you would if it were yours - necessarily. You handle it the way the owner of that property wants it handled. And you certainly don't abuse it or treat it carelessly. Because let's face it, it's generally easier to take care of your personal property than to replace it. Most people, in fact, understand this; it's basic etiquette, after all. But I've noticed, often to my horror and disgust, that when the property in question happens to be a comic book etiquette goes straight down the shitter.

It's insane. Comics are either priceless, irreplaceable treasures, on par with the original Declaration of Independence at the National Archives, or they're disposable junk, no more worthy of value than used toilet paper. There's absolutely no middle ground between the two extremes, and no cross-cultural understanding on either side of the divide.

True story: in my junior year of high school, I played Albert Petersen in my school's production of Bye Bye Birdie. During one pre-rehearsal meeting in the auditorium, Mrs. Santamore, the director and drama teacher, was discussing possible props for the teenage characters to use, and at one point suggested comic books. Now obviously in 1989 you couldn't just go to the drug store and pick up the latest Batman or X-Men issue and expect it to look convincingly retro; you needed something that looked like it was published in the fifties.

Now, at the time, Blackthorne Publishing, one of those black and white independents I mentioned earlier, was running a five-issue miniseries reprinting a strip from the fifties called Beyond Mars (so called because it was set in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter). The covers of these books looked fairly retro, not really 100% of what you would see in the fifties, but close enough for rock 'n' roll as we say. And at that meeting I just happened to have on me a copy of the second issue. So I took it out of my bag and offered it up as an example.

Mrs. Santamore snatched the comic out of my hands and, as she held it up to show the cast, grasped it between her thumb and index finger with a completely unnecessary amount of savage force. I could see new creases forming at the spine where she was squeezing it. I must have made a noise of some kind, because I later heard from two of the crew members, who were backstage at that moment, that they had heard it and immediately thought, "yep, she touched his comic book." To clarify, it wasn't that she touched it, it was that she was manhandling it in a manner guaranteed to damage it. Now, to be fair, that comic was only worth its cover price at that moment and it's probably not worth even that today.**** But come on! Even if I was just going to throw it away later, that's for me to decide, not her.

I've tried to explain this idea point blank to people who look down on comics, and completely failed to make them understand. Such is life, I guess.

Nowadays when I go to the newsstand or the comic shop and check out the latest releases, I'm as disappointed with them as I am with current movies or pop music and for the same reasons. More planning and care is put into the packaging and presentation than into the content itself, and modern technology is being used to make a product that's technically perfect but fails to engage my interest. To be honest, I have a deep prejudice against slick, overproduced... well, anything, but I happen to be living in a culture that's openly hostile to anything that ISN'T slick and overproduced. As with digging deeper, it's also in my nature to support the underdog rather than the already rich and successful corporate giant. Those cheaply produced black and white independents I used to read had a scrappy quality to them you just don't see in the major publishers, and a much more honest type of gritty edginess than you could achieve by, say, making your hero a drug addict or a member of a persecuted minority. I also love a handmade aesthetic, and I can't understand why every publisher in business today wants to use Photoshop to censor the human element from their product. When everybody strives for the same production values, everything ends up looking the same. Where are the risk takers? Unfortunately, I think I know the answer to that one...

Among the items in my current collection is Shadow Warrior #1, published in 1988 by an outfit called Gateway Comics (unrelated to the company of the same name that exists today). It reads like the beginning of something truly epic, like Tolkien but with a dash of Robert E. Howard. It's everything I love about independent comics. It's in black and white, with art that takes advantage of the strengths of the monochrome page; it's lush and exquisitely detailed. It's also slightly amateurish, but to me that just adds street cred. My favorite thing about it, though, is that everything in it was done completely by hand; even features on the cover such as the title, the company logo, the price (U.S. and Canada), and even the copyright notice. No technology more advanced than a pen or brush seems to have come into play until it was time to go to the print shop.

Sadly, no second issue of this book ever came out and the company seems to have gone belly up after the first one. I haven't been able to find any information on why this happened, but sometimes startup business ventures don't work out. (In truth, a lot of independent comics from the eighties that ran for quite a few issues ended before they could be brought to a proper narrative conclusion.) That said, I don't see why the creative team responsible for this book couldn't have continued to work on the story and meanwhile looked for other means of getting new issues published. Insufficiently committed, I guess. After all, I can't imagine that these guys didn't have day jobs; Shadow Warrior looks like a spare time project.

As for why Shadow Warrior failed, I can't imagine the lack of advertising helped matters any, but I have a sad suspicion that the very qualities about this book which attracted me to it in the first place had the opposite effect on just about everybody else. "It's not familiar enough; it makes me uncomfortable." "Its presentation doesn't look professional enough." "It's not in color; black and white is a rip-off." "It's too obscure; it won't appreciate in value." "My friends who love the X-Men will think I'm weird."

At any rate, Shadow Warrior was one among many risks that failed. It wouldn't have if there'd been more readers like me, but there you go.

Now I feel like reading some comics.

 * The Star Wars franchise at that time consisted of five movies, two of which were made for television, two cartoon shows, and one not very fondly remembered holiday special. Marvel's series, which had recently been discontinued, ran only 107 issues, as well as a few annuals and a Return Of The Jedi miniseries. (Which is odd; they began the series with an adaptation of the first movie, and when they adapted The Empire Strikes Back, it was also part of the main series. I have an idea why they adapted ROTJ separately, but that's a discussion for another time.) It was still possible for someone of even my limited means to collect the entire run, although I did get a major assist in the form of a gift from my uncle David, who had collected quite a few of them himself.

** Truth be told, it wasn't just my appetite for more unusual and obscure material that made me lose interest in DC comics. The continuity of the DC Universe was a convoluted mess, even after the company's efforts in the eighties to simplify it and bring it under control. (Beeteedubs, if you know what I'm talking about when I say that the Crisis ruined the DC Universe, congratulations, you're a geek. And an old geek at that.) Superman, in particular, was mired in tedious subplots that not only went nowhere when taken as a whole but barely left Supes any time to do anything heroic. I don't know from Marvel, but I don't get the impression their product was much better. I eventually realized that the big two had basically given readers a choice between reading comics and having a life. Something tells me this was no accident. After all, every minute you spend hanging out with friends is a minute you're not reading comics, and every dollar you spend on dates and cool clothes is a dollar you're not using to BUY comics.

*** Newsprint is notoriously fragile, and becomes more so as it ages. Even once it became apparent that people were beginning to treat comics as cultural artifact, not to mention collectable commodity, it still took a while for comics publishers to catch up. Around the time I started collecting, DC was experimenting with different printing formats. The familiar stapled newsprint book with a semigloss cover was called Standard Format. New Format was like Standard only with Mando paper in place of newsprint; whiter and of slightly better quality. Deluxe Format was high quality archival stock with a semigloss cover. And Prestige Format was semigloss interior, square bound with glossy cardstock; essentially a comic book sized version of the graphic novel format. Other companies were experimenting along the same lines, just not using that particular nomenclature. But most comics were still being printed the old-fashioned way. Of course, today pretty much all comics are slick and built to last, but unfortunately just because they're easy to preserve doesn't mean they're worth collecting.

**** Sadly, my copy of the fourth issue of Beyond Mars was ruined by a printing fuckup wherein half the strips were missing and the other half were printed twice. I never found out if that was an isolated incident or if the problem was endemic to the entire run, and I never got around to buying the final issue.

© 2017 Shawn Christopher Pepper

#comics #comic books #collectibles #superhero