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.smth about extremely repressed and suicidal trans girl having the “evil” version of herself tell her that she looks good in a dress. and then she tells that reflection that she wants her dead. Yeah
I see your “Rocky swears like a sailor but only in pitches humans can’t hear/refuses to teach Grace what those words mean” and raise you “Rocky swears like a sailor and now has to explain to Grace that ‘bad bad bad’ isn’t actually a sequence you play on your Eridian speech piano in polite company.”
Grace is both horrified and amused to realise that a more accurate translation for what Rocky’s been saying is “shit shit shit”.
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Happy pride month everyone always remember that the sinkhole has an ecosystem large enough to house not only insects but likely several species of small birds or mammals
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this one kinda hurts when i see it every pride month. im glad to see an art piece of mine still circulating, and with nearly 100,000 notes too! it just hurts that im separated from it. everyone in the notes thinks im gone. im still here, but my potential community and connection is lost because im forgotten in place of the art. yeah, my deactivated profile does add to the profoundness of what i was saying, but i am still removed.
(obscuring username as not to single anybody out + not negative. just in case someones shy) but this is actually what we did with our journals at first too. we used lighthouse for some time, alongside discord/simplyplural. but with simplyplural being left and not wanting to be as on our phone/computer, we switched to paper.
for people with higher system counts, there are actually really good paperback journal 'packs' you can get at most stationary stores. if buying a 10/15$ journal seems too intimidating, you can get these packs for like, 10 dollars total, and each one only has about 40ish pages.
this way if you have parts that dont front as frequently, you dont have anyone worrying about 'waste' while still providing them their own space. these are just a few examples.
something unexpected this ended up helping with was actually our individual memories too. i noticed some people asking 'how do you journal if you're blurry/have bad memory as a part?' and, well, that's actually why i started doing it. i wanted to remember more than just 'feeling bad' whenever i fronted, so i carry my journal with me and write down basically like, everything.
even just passing thoughts like 'i kind of wish we had beef strips at home for dinner' or 'im really excited for artfight this year'. when you're trying to recover as a system, especially as a part thats been heavily slotted with a lot of 'negative' emotions, its important to give yourself the space to express more than those things. if you only ever remember yourself as being 'angry/bad' then you wont develop much past that, and you start to internalize that shit and really hate yourself.
journaling has been a great outlet for me to vent and draw my own stuff, but it's also given me some dignity and the space to feel like a person outside of just being like. traumatized. i sort of use it as a vault of everything about me, good and bad, important and trivial.
also like, importantly, from both an eco friendly and anticap standpoint, you can really just use stuff you have lying around the house already. i think personalizing your journal is important, but you can also do that without going out and buying 56347875 things. personally i got really into junk journaling alongside writing and drawing, because it gave me a spot to put a lot of the cool stuff that other people would think is trash.
I'm reminded of that one part in Frederick Douglass's autobiography where he gets to the north for the first time and assumed, since they didn't have slaves, that everyone was about as poor as non-slaveowning white southerners. And they weren't! There were poor people, sure, but there were lots of people living very comfortably or in luxury.
He mentions how angry it made him, that not only were thousands and thousands of people suffering to create luxury for a few, but that slavery wasn't even necessary for wealth to exist. That's really stuck with me.
screenshot of a tweet by @pot8um: “Does anyone have that recent study that determined all 8 billion of us could be easily housed and fed with only 30% of the current global labor output and that our collective suffering is manufactured by capitalism...”
reply by @jasonhickel: “Yes: sciencedirect.com/... [a url that is cut off in the screenshot]” and an attached image of text:
“With this approach, good lives can be achieved for all without requiring large creases in total global throughput and output. Provisioning decent living standards (DLS) for 8.5 billion people would require only 30% of current global resource and energy use, leaving a substantial surplus for additional consumption, public luxury, scientific advancement, and other social investments. Such a future requires planning to” [text is cut off here].
Second image transcription:
Poverty is not an intractable problem that requires complex solutions, long timeframes and large increases in production and throughput that conflict with ecological objectives. The solution is straightforward. We need to actively plan to shift productive capacities away from capital accumulation and elite consumption in order to focus instead on the goods and services that are necessary to meet human needs and enable decent living for all, while ensuring universal access through public provisioning systems. We have framed this work around the concept of human needs, following the recent literature. However it is important to underscore that this approach is ultimately about far more than just satisfying material requirements for human well-being. Achieving decent-living for all is critical to enabling broader human capabilities, individual and collective self-realisation, full participation in society and politics and, ultimately, freedom.
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Spoiler: >! Lamb is living through their wishes in Heaven after they died !<
Cold sweat dripped from the face of the cult leader. The new leader for all the lost souls. The one who saved them from the clutches of the Old Faith. The Lamb. The Great Lambert. His name was praised. He was loved.
Everyone knew that the cult he was building, although managed by him, bore the name of a completely different being. The One Who Waits. A powerful God who had patronized the Shepherd throughout his entire journey.
The followers prayed to this God, just as the Lamb commanded them. They gave him thanks for sending them such a merciful hero. Such a good-natured little sheep.
Rivers of faith flowed into the world of Narinder. Every day he felt better. With every enemy killed, with every chain destroyed… His freedom was so close. All thanks to this little creature. This kind Shepherd, whose gaze always expressed only compassion and devotion. Even when the God was angry with him, the Lamb always accepted any words. He went all the way… And that end had come.
Kneeling before the black cat, Lambert's face was calm. When God told him to give up his life, he was ready to accept it… After all, his life did not belong to him. He had been resurrected by Narinder from the very beginning. So only the God of Death could decide when he should die.
But…
"Lamb… Why are you crying?"
Lambert raised his hand and touched his face. Tears were dripping from his eyes and flowing down his soft wool. He himself did not know why this was happening. Should he be crying? He was just doing his duty. Just serving his God… Just like before… So why…
The Lamb could not utter a word. The sounds stuck in his throat. Only loud sobs came out. He began to quickly rub his face and tried to smile, but in vain. His expression still looked very sad. No matter how much he wanted to look worthy before his God… He was scared.
"You're afraid to die, aren't you? Despite all your injuries… Every time you returned here… you were never sad. It hurt, but you kept serving me… But now it's different. When you give up the Crown, you will die. For real. This will be your end…"
The dark eyes of the little creature lifted. He was no longer trying to hold back, but simply looked at his God with wide-open eyes. He nodded shakily a few times and lowered his gaze. Suddenly, he felt a bony hand touch his head. Cold fingers ruffled his white wool. This only caused even more sobbing.
"My faithful servant… You have done so much for me… I understand your feelings. Do not be afraid. Your death will be painless. Quick… I will make it so that it is like a dream… Do you trust me, Lambert?"
Something new sounded in the ever-impassive voice of the God of Death. Gentle, warm. Was it care? Caress? Compassion?
The Lamb raised his head. His little hands grasped the finger on Narinder's black hand. Through his tear-clouded eyes, the fire of faith still burned. Lambert nodded and pressed himself closer to the cat's bony palm.
"I will accept whatever you wish… I hope your freedom brings you joy… Take care of my followers, okay?"
A small smile appeared on Narinder's face through the veil. He lowered his hand and slowly wiped the remaining moisture from the Lamb's face. Then he carefully grabbed him and pressed him to his chest. Little hands immediately clenched on the fabric of his clothes.
"I promise you that it will be so. Close your eyes, Lambert. It will all be over… It's time for you to rest…"
The little sheep lifted her gaze upward. Taking one last look at her God's face, she lunged forward and pressed her face to his robe. The Crown rose from her head. Darkness enveloped the Lamb's gaze. Darkness. But…
There was no cold. There was nothing. For a few moments, Lambert felt as if he was hanging in weightlessness. Somewhere where there is no wind, no earth. In a different place than anywhere he had been before.
Then he opened his eyes. A huge meadow stretched before him. Different flowers grew around him. Their scent tickled the Lamb's nose. He almost sneezed but held back. His large black eyes looked around in bewilderment.
"Where am I? Wasn't I supposed to die? And where…"
He raised his hands up. The Crown was not on his head. Lambert tried to open a portal, but that didn't work either. Magic didn't even appear in his hands. For a few seconds, he just looked at his hand, and then felt a strange sensation at the bottom of his body.
The wind blew, allowing the Lamb to realize that he was standing completely naked. No cloak, no robe was on him. Lambert's face flushed. Usually, even on holidays, Lambert did not undress with everyone else. He tried to maintain his majesty. But now in this strange place… He couldn't even find anything to cover his body.
His head jerked around in search of shelter. This meadow stretched in all directions. It seemed endless. All-encompassing. The Lamb started to run. His footsteps echoed on the grass for a long time. He ran forward, but the meadow did not end.
"What… What is this…? How…"
He began to pant. Strangely, when Lambert was a God, he never felt tired. Even after battles with the Gods of the Old Faith, he stood on his feet and was full of energy, but now…
He plopped down on the grass and began to take sharp breaths. His white-wooled chest heaved up and down. Lambert closed his eyes for a moment. Immediately, footsteps were heard nearby.
On instinct, Lambert briefly turned his head to the side. His gaze caught… a cat?
A black cat with three eyes calmly looked at the Lamb's face. His cheekbones looked somewhat gaunt, and his body was hidden under a white robe. For a moment, Lambert's breath stopped in his chest.
"Na… Narinder? M… Master, is it really you?! But how…? And where is your…"
The cat stepped closer and pressed his finger to the Lamb's lips. This made his cheeks even redder from embarrassment. Then he realized… The finger on his lips was not bone. It was a finger covered in flesh and soft black fur.
"Hush, Lamb. Don't make noise. Silence has reigned in this place for so long…"
His calm, steady voice made Lambert fall silent and take a breath. Narinder sat down next to him on the grass. Close. Their shoulders almost touched.
"… My God… You… What is this place? How did I get here?"
Lambert's voice sounded quiet. Hesitant. His head still ached a little from the long run, and his body felt as heavy as cast iron.
"This…? Hah, well, this is the place you deserve… For everything you've done…"
The Lamb tilted his head. That explained nothing to him. What does that mean? Deserved? He should be dead! His consciousness should have disappeared!
But Lambert would not dare yell at his God. Even if he looked so… mortal now. His body was almost the same size as the Lamb's body. He even radiated warmth that the Lamb had never felt before.
But something unexpected happened. Suddenly, without any warning, Narinder turned and shifted to the side. His knees pressed into Lambert's sides, and his arms wrapped around his neck.
"So this is what you wanted, huh? Hah… I never thought you could be this…"
Despite the slight chuckle in the cat's voice, his cheeks also began to flush. Still, they could not compare to the Lamb's face, which was burning with a full fire. He wasn't even breathing, just staring blankly at his God's face. His brain seemed to shut off at that moment.
Too bad he wasn't given time to realize what had happened, because Narinder immediately closed the distance between their faces and pressed his lips to Lambert's. Needless to say what was going on in the little sheep's head at that moment.
The former Shepherd's hands immediately rose and rested on the God of Death's shoulders. Lambert didn't even realize the moment when his mouth opened and kindly accepted Narinder's tongue. All this was accompanied by moans and a little tremor that ran through Lambert's body.
Finally, when their lips parted, leaving a thin bridge between their mouths, Lambert found the strength to speak…
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
Yes, of course. That was the most obvious reaction. Although the God of Death had been polite with the Lamb before, it was limited to pats on the head or rare hugs. NEVER HAD THERE BEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS!
Looking at Lambert's flustered face, the cat laughed softly and covered his mouth with his paw. His eyes sparkled as he continued to giggle. Then he raised his hands and grabbed the Lamb's face.
"You wanted this, didn't you? I wouldn't have done this if you hadn't dreamed of it. So stop pretending to be an innocent little sheep… You're quite a pervert…"
The Lamb blinked for a second, then jumped to his feet and shook his head. His feet stamped on the ground from the nervousness that filled Lambert's body.
"WHAT?! I'm a pervert?! What are you even talking about?! I didn't… You kissed me! And you were sitting on my lap! And you… And you…"
He ran out of words. He was still staring in shock at his God, who was slowly licking his paw like a real cat. The tail behind him contentedly made small loops in the air. Then he deliberately licked it so that the Lamb could see his pink tongue. The same tongue that had just been in his mouth and…
"AAAA! Go to hell! I'm leaving! Tell me how to leave! I need to get back! This place is some kind of…"
But before he could move from his spot, an unknown force made him fall forward. Lambert couldn't even react as his body flew straight towards the cat.
His eyes went dark for a moment, and then he realized that he was lying right on top of Narinder's body, pinning him to the ground with his hands. Narinder seemed to have expected this and didn't look surprised.
"Getting straight to the point, huh? Hah, fine… Just be careful… I still don't like being treated this way…"
Lambert didn't hear what the cat said. All his attention was focused on the body beneath him. So soft… So weak… So…
Desired…
"To hell with this place… To hell with everything… This is a dream… Just a dream… And if so, then…"
Thoughts raced through the Lamb's head. Then he took a deep breath and grabbed Narinder's robe. Surprisingly obediently, he lifted it so that Lambert could pull it off in one quick motion. Then he tossed it further onto the grass and fixed his eyes on the dark fur in front of him. First on the chest… Then lower… To the place between his legs…
"Wow… So you decided not to hold back after all, huh, Shepherd? Hah… Damn, I'm embarrassed… Don't stare so much, at least…"
Narinder's voice sounded quieter than before. His legs twitched and clenched, crossing as if hiding the most intimate place. Although the Lamb had other plans. His hands instantly moved lower and spread them with all his might. There was little strength in this new body… But it was enough to prevent the cat from holding back Lambert's fingers.
"Hey… Since this is my dream, I can do anything I want, right?"
"I thought you were already doing 'anything' you wanted… Hah…"
Lambert moved a little closer. Narinder felt something press against his thigh. Something warm and hard. The cat swallowed. Of course, it was expected, but…
"Ngh…! R-right there…? W-wait, Lam— Aaah~"
Lambert let out a chuckle. Hearing such sounds from his God? Hah, yes… That was something new. And the Lamb, who was sitting astride the cat's body, definitely liked it.
He continued to move. Slowly at first, enjoying how Narinder's breathing became more and more ragged. Finally, he stopped restraining himself in any way. His body moved roughly, almost like an animal's (although he was one). Narinder turned his head to the side. Tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. But the moans coming from his mouth proved that he was happy… Not to mention how fiercely his legs clenched around Lambert's waist.
"More… Ah… More… You… Ah… Lamb… You… so…"
The cat couldn't even finish a single sentence. He was constantly interrupted by new thrusts from the Lamb. This continued for some time, until Narinder felt a new sensation.
"You're close, aren't you? You… Right now… Yes… Inside…"
His black legs began to tremble convulsively as he felt his womb fill with Lambert. He let out a long moan. His head tilted back, baring his neck. His palms rose into the air, like a cat lying defenseless on the ground. The Lamb's head fell onto his chest and buried itself in the dark fur.
A pleasant feeling of warmth spread between the two bodies. They lay in each other's arms for a long time without moving.
Finally, Lambert raised his head and looked at the black cat's face. A wide smile shone on the Shepherd's face. He tilted his head and asked in a high, happy-sounding voice.
"Mmm… Wonderful… But… Why aren't I waking up?"
Narinder just tiredly shook his head and looked at the blue sky. His lips curled into a slight grin, and then he touched the Lamb's face and ran his hand down his cheek.
"You already know the answer, don't you? You've always been a smart follower…"
"Of course! I know that for a long time I've been…"
---
Dead.
The God of Death watched as the body of the little mortal before him bled out. The corpse's eyes were closed, and a happy smile was frozen on its face. Large tears dripped from the black cat's muzzle. A bony hand covered the sight of the dead Lamb.
"I hope you are happy there… You really deserve this… My Lambert…"
And if I said Megamind through its three subversions of Superman shows a deeper understanding that the point of Superman is that he was loved and taught to love by good, present parents, and because of that he is able to return that love to a world even if it doesn't always accept it, and he is not corrupted by his power, than many other films either subverting or playing the superman story straight.
Megamind has three Superman subversions. One is obviously Megamind himself. He was not raised loved by the world, but rather was loved by those hated by the world. Because he was still raised with love, he does care about other people, hence his character development. But because he didn't receive wider love growing up, his own is misplaced at first.
Metro Man was not loved growing up in a way that mattered. His adopted father was clearly very absent, and while we don't know much about his family, their relationship seems superficial. Because of this, his sense of duty to the world is also superficial, hence his boredom.
Hal wasn't raised with power. He gained it and was shown how to use it by a 'space dad' who only taught him power and not love. Hence, he sees it only as a grasping means to an end.
All three of these subversions, in their negative space, create the silhouette of the superhero that they are parodying. That silhouette is of a space child that came to earth and was cared for very deeply by the world, and taught love through his experience of love, and because of that holds fast to his duty to the world. Which is Superman.
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