Trying To Convey Subtle Expressions On A Character Who Has No Eyebrows Is Always A Fun Challenge 🥲

Merriman Falls

I want to speak up about something important, not just for the person suffering in the center of this, but for all of us who love creating and engaging with art and writing. It’s deeply troubling to see an artist harassed simply for using long-established sci-fi design tropes, like a white suit or a cybernetic spine, especially since she was just having a good time in her own page without bothering anyone. These concepts are not proprietary elements. They’re part of a wide, rich creative language shared across decades of storytelling, from Ghost in the Shell to Alita, Mass Effect, The Matrix, and countless others. Suggesting someone "stole" an idea based on this kind of common imagery is not only unfair, it’s actively harmful to the spirit of artistic creation.

Let’s be clear, tropes like white futuristic suits, cybernetics, or cloning are not original concepts (much less the texture or color of a character's hair), they are building blocks. Policing who can use them and accusing others of theft over vague similarities only serves to create fear, exclusion, and hostility. This kind of gatekeeping has real consequences. It's exhausting and emotionally devastating for creators, especially for people who already have to deal with real life struggles. Turning this into a battleground over who’s "allowed" to have fun with an idea or a character concept is cruel. This artist provided receipts, showed that her character predates her joining the fandom, and yet the harassment continues. That’s not about plagiarism, it’s about control, and it needs to stop.

These spaces should be a place for creative freedom, connection, and play. When we start acting like gatekeepers of tropes or aesthetics, we lose sight of what makes these communities special. It's okay to share similar ideas. It’s okay to be inspired. It’s not okay to weaponize vague resemblance into public shaming campaigns.

Support each other. Let’s do better as creators.

Statement and realtalk:

I have to adress something open to you, something that is going on on bluesky atm.

It is one of the reasons why my chronic illnes is flairing bad up and noramlly I would not adress this on my blog, this blog is not about drama but I feel forced to do it:

(also I don't want you to harass anyone I mentioned in this post, I just want to view my side before they try to ruin my reputation even more. I want you guys just to know my side.)

I got accused of stealing the design form Ava from other artists, coz she has a white suit on and red curls. I proofed afterwards with a statement that she exsisted LONG before I joined the Avatar fandorm. But they don't stop talking openly about my name in bad manners, dragging my name to the mud. So here is my open statement I posted on bluesky already:

Just want to say: I see you, and I see your bullying behavior towards me. How you speak about me being evil while you call me a copycat and an entitled European. You step on me even though I just PROVED that my OC is not stolen. You never stop, even a person is already on the ground. You are evil. I'm not going to stop drawing a character in a white Lab coat just because these people don't like it. I can only advise you: if you see people publicly trashing other people, keep your distance from them. Don't support bullying. I didn't do anything wrong by having my character wear a white suit in a sci-fi franchise. It's a common trope in sci-fi, just like Ghost in the Cell and Alita: Battle Angel—just examples. Pinterest is full of such examples. So why shouldn't I have a character with a white suit? It's obvious in a sci-fi movie. Why can't my character have red curls to look like me? Is that forbidden now, too? Am I no longer allowed to have red curls?

Ava is a cloned human with a cybernetic spine. She doesn't even have a kuru. She's a test subject and won't have much to do with the suit once she's out of the lab. One of the core aspects of Avatar is the aspect of artificial bodies, so its also not really something only one group of people can claim, as their "IP". I hate to openly discuss this and address it. But I won't let the perpetrators continue to bully me. They'll just continue to show their true color by continuing to publicly drag my name through the mud. I suggest we just leave each other alone from now on. I'm working on my sick note, and she's working on hers. You two should just start behaving like adults again, not like 10-year-old elementary school bullies. My proof that I designed Ava before I joinded the fandom: bsky.app/profile/ritr... Her character sheet with more infors to her origin story outside of the Fandom: bsky.app/profile/ritr... I don't know what else to say, except that I want you to stop, because I'm not going to stop drawing Ava. Just leave me alone to enjoy myself. I've been warned by so many people independently of these people, and I always form my own opinion. But they've clearly shown me that it's true: they systematically exclude people, publicly drag their names through the mud, and bully them. This has to stop. I don't want anything more. And because my name was also publicly dropped, I'm now also publicly speaking out names: It's about the bullies: Celbizarro, kingsevil, hypodriive, mapiezaddy, sabasquatch I could drop more names, but I'll leave it at this point. These people are together on an Avatar AU Discord and are united against one person. It's an echo chamber of bullies, and I want people to understand that. I'm not going anywhere. I'm peaceful and just drawing a red-haired woman in a white suit. Inspired by many sci-fi universes out there. People need to understand that similar concepts that aren't even that original, like a simple white suit in a sci-fi universe, red curls, or a clone in an Avatar universe, don't necessarily mean that anything was stolen. No attempt was ever made to clarify this with me privately or to ask about it. Why do people embrace my idea of ​​painting cloned creatures and humans? Quite simply, because it seems to have been forbidden by a certain group, and you can't forbid something so simple. It's meant to prove a point. side note: I didn't encourage anyone to be inspired by my AU. These are just people who support my idea, and I'm not saying it's unique, but I'm not going around accusing everyone of stealing it either.

here again my screenshots, that I had ava since 2018 and designed her suit 2023:

(If you wonder about my screenshot. I have a German PC I had to translate it with Google lens so everyone can understand. So I added the original and the translated version. Also the created status is newer than the last edited, coz I moved all my files to a new storage. But edited means, when I worked on it the last time in my art program. Last acces is when you view a picture in big.)

I have more old pictures and artworks from her to prove my point. I never ment to steal anything and I never did. It looks similar coz Avas look is a common look in the sci-fi franchies.

Here is also pictures, that shows that I drew white suited characters quite a while already:

Its just a trope I really enjoyed already since ages.

And here my OWN design for an adapter for her cybenetic Spine:

Also more proof how old Ava my OC is already

Even with her new suit already:

The oldest pictures I have from her:

I joyined the Avatar fandom 10 month ago on tumblr and bluesky btw (my bluesky acc is older than that, but I was not active or part if the fandom.)

The thing is, I just want my peace and I want you guys see this before you hear their bully words from somewhere. I want you to know my side. I never wanted to do harm or have a fight. I am a chronic ill person and this blog is my safe space.

I just want to be in peace!

I blocked all these people above and just want them to let me alone. They don't need to like me, but they should stop dragging names from others through dirt. Thats the worst behavior and they call ME evil and I am just trying to defend myself and try to have fun. Nothing more than that.

I hope you are not mad about me, that I shared this openly on my blog this time and I hope its the last time I have to do that. What else can I do more than just proof that my OC Ava is an old OC of mine that I've now turned into an avatar AU to have a little fun with it. Without any ulterior motives, without stealing anything, because I didn't need it, I already had the design finished, yeas ago.

I hope this is enough for me to get some peace and that I finnaly can enjoy the fandom now and they let me do my own thing. I just want to have fun with you guys drawing about my characters and enjoying the fandom. Nothing more.

Thanks to everyone who read this long post till here. I know its silly that I was even presured to adress this childish behavior of these people. Stay save and happy.

Signfromeywa/ -> RiTroxart.

-Pandora-

Atolla Jellyfish

Attenborough’s Life That Glows, BBC

Odysseus in Epic is like "I'll do it again!!" 😂😂

Epic The Musical Odysseus: I will throw another infant off walls to make it out alive with my men!

Odyssey Odysseus: I shall fight an immortal 6-headed dragon to save my men from this sacrifice and make it out alive with my men!

Tarzan (1999) dir. Chris Buck and Kevin Lima

What a fantastic piece once again girl!! I'm glad you're getting praised for it because your brilliant writing really deserves it ❤️🫶🌹 And once again thank you SOOO much for the mention! It always means so much 🫂❤️

I have to admit, while I may not be familiar with all the figures and details referenced here, the emotions you’ve portrayed, the loss, grief, and the emptiness left in the aftermath of battle come through so clearly. You’ve captured these feelings beautifully, and despite not knowing everything, I still have a vivid sense of what’s happening.

I especially love how you delved into the aftermath of Achilles' revenge. You’ve portrayed such a raw and realistic emotion, the emptiness that lingers after vengeance is taken. Because no matter how much blood is spilled, the one he’s lost remain gone. The way you depicted Achilles’ heartbreak, his yearning for the loved one that can never return is so powerful.

The way you described his sense of emptiness is truly devastating. That feeling of nothingness is one of the hardest to bear, and you conveyed it with such depth! I also love the contrast between his feelings for the slave woman he left behind and the overwhelming grief for Patroclus. And it's also very touching that this feeling of him as his other half could be interpreted as both romantic (with the symbolisms of the empty cold bed and more) and as profound brotherly lovee, both extremely meaningful and absolutely crushing for Achilles at this moment. You also showed the pain of him not being there for Patroclus death quite well. As well as his guilt for not crying for his wife and son in contrast to that which it's so tragic!

The scene where Achilles pleads at Patroclus’ urn was especially gut-wrenching. His desperation in offering up his reasons as if striking a bargain, despite knowing it’s hopeless... It shows how his mind is completely under the grief at this point...

Achilles’ interaction with Antilochus was incredibly touching. The tenderness between them, the way Antilochus calls him back to reason with such affection is beautiful. The embrace, the gentle way he wipes away Achilles' tears, and even his soft plea for Achilles to be there for him… it’s all so sweet. You showed their closeness in such a tender way, and it was especially moving to see how Achilles was pulled from his despair when he realized Antilochus could be lost too. The moment Achilles' protective instinct kicked in was so well done!

Their connection by the prophecy of death is so tragic tho... but still so meaningful! I always find it profound when a character’s will to live is reignited because of their care for someone else. Here, it’s all the more tragic because both Achilles and Antilochus are staring at their own potential deaths. Yet, their shared vulnerability and need for one another’s presence give this scene so much emotional depth!

Completely unrelated, but Achilles’ plea to Antilochus really reminded me of Caleb begging Dilla to stay, and their reconnection after years apart. It struck me with the same vibe!

Love the short scene with Odysseus at the end as well! His desperation to return home after years of war, mixed with the uncertainty of Achilles’ mental state despite the death of the strongest warrior of the enemy... It’s bittersweet and so very human.

Your attention to detail really shines through too. The way you mention older characters like Nestor feeling the cold more deeply adds a great touch of realism! You are so good with such charming little details!

And you end up with a very nice duality as well! Achilles’ regained spirits is contrasted by Nestor’s look of grim reality, reminding Odysseus that while the young fight and die, the old are left to mourn and witness the fading of their legacies...

Once again amazing girl! Another powerful moment described so well really fantastic work!! ❤️❤️❤️

The Lament of a Life (Achilles and Antilochus short songfic)

If someone asks me how the lament of Achilles looks like my answer would be the amazing aria with music composed by Vivaldi:

The lyrics go on a repeat like this:

So today is a bit chilly and so I was inspired by this amazing song and made this! (Sorry itis a random inspiration I had this morning from this piece thus the title "song-fic")

***

His eyelids were heavy. He didn’t feel like getting up anymore. His bed seemed cold and inhospitable and yet he didn’t feel like moving out of it. His eyes opened slowly and looked to the side. It was empty. He looked outside his tent. Also empty. There was nothing left; he didn’t have the subject of his revenge anymore; he had given it back. Hector’s body was buried and celebrated. His revenge had come to an end. And yet, he felt empty. Nothing mattered. Achilles, the Best and Noblest of all the Greeks was no longer feeling anything mattered. What would it matter now that the subject of his vengeance was gone, if the subject of all the affections he could offer to a human being was also gone? His soul was in turmoil throughout the process. He thought on Briseis, the woman that he felt so strongly for; merely a slave and yet so important for him, had started this domino of reactions which led him to the strike; his refusal to fight. Then his refusal led to this terrible result; the death of his other half. The flame that flickered inside him was gone, the moment Patroclus’s eyes turned glassy from death and he wasn’t even there. During Patroclus’s last moments…he wasn’t there! He remembered his wife; a woman he barely knew and yet she gave him a son, a son he adored despite his young years, a son that he never knew and a son that never knew him back. He could be lamenting for them; they wouldn’t see him again possibly. Given the prophecy, he was to die in war. Possibly neither his wife nor his son, were included in the prophecy. He should be crying for them. He should be crying for the people that were around him and yet…he was feeling weak; unwilling to even get out of his bed and eat because of… He slowly forced himself to sit up and he looked at the magnificent urn with two handles that was always within eye gaze from him. The intricate patterns were cold; just like his bed that could not give him warmth.

“Come back…” he whispered in a voice chocked deep in his throat

Tears oozed out of his sea-blue eyes; his throat burning anew.

“I did what you asked…I offered you a burial…come back…! Please…come back to me!”

His hand was shaking as it was reaching for the cold, golden urn; his other fixing the covers upon his naked chest, in a vain attempt to generate some warmth within.

“Please…” he whispered again, “Come back…!”

“Achilles…”

The young and soft voice didn’t surprise him neither made him react. Antilochus was standing right behind him, undoubtedly had entered his tent a little while prior, enough to hear his foolish and childish lament.

“He won’t come back…” the young man said as a matter of fact, “You offered him a burial. He is in the land of Hades now… He will not come back”

More tears arose from Achilles’s eyes as he clasped desperately the covers against his chest; his face buried to the pocket created by them as if his own eyes wanted to confirm what hurt so much was indeed the organ that was pumping his blood, giving him life inside. Yes, he knew. His cut hair was also a proof of that but hearing it again was somehow destroying that foolish illusion that if he begged hard enough, goddess Persephone would have mercy and send back Patroclus to him; his soul to talk to or at least restore his body to hold one more time…

“Soul of my soul…” he mumbled in lament, “My dear as my own heart…”

“Shh…” Antilochus whispered in tears, hugging his shoulders affectionately, “I know… I know… Please don’t do this to yourself… I know it hurts but…he’s gone… No matter what you do…how much you melt…he won’t come back…”

“Heart of my heart…” Achilles lamented again, “I want him back…! I want him to come back…”

“I know…” Antilochus said again, caressing his golden locks with his hands

Achilles seemed almost aged at that point in his sorrow. Antilochus almost felt tempted to look for white hairs in his golden head.

“And I am sorry that I cannot offer you any consolation… Forgive me. I am not him; I cannot take your sorrow away…”

Antilochus softly raised Achilles’s head, cupping his cheeks and making him look deep in the eyes. He moped the tears from his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I know I am young and foolish…but, please, take one bit of advice from me; stop looking at it! Stop looking at that urn! It will only hurt you more… You need to come back to us too…we need you…”

He looked away.

“I need you…” he whispered shyly, “You are my hero, my idol… I need you back, strong and healthy…maybe some of your previous happiness back… Please…please my dear…we all need you. Above all I do…”

Achilles looked at him and for one moment he looked like a hurt animal facing the peasant that had released him from the hunter’s trap. However then he laughed; it was a dry, humorless, lamenting laugh.

“Don’t be foolish!” he said self-pettily, “No one shall need me! I shall die! I know I will!”

“Don’t talk like that!”

“You can’t deny it, Antilochus! I know it to be true! It was predicted for me! I will die! I will die in this war! My mother told me someday I would die in this war if I decided to fight! I shall never go home! I shall never see my wife and son! I will die now! I know I will and I don’t care! Nothing matters anymore!”

“Don’t say that!” Antilochus retorted again

“I know the truth” Achilles insisted, “I decided it for myself. I know what my fate is! That urn Im staring is waiting for me! I am to die!”

Antilochus looked away. He seemed hesitant; his arm rubbing his upper arm as if he was about to make that confession no one has heard before.

“I’ll tell you a secret…” he whispered, “So am I…”

Achilles seemed surprised and shocked for the first time in that conversation. Suddenly the lament gone; now there was fear in his eyes. Fear for yet another loss.

“My father was hiding it…but I overheard him. An oracle once told him to beware of an Ethiopian. At first I didn’t know…but my father tried to hide it from me. I know now that I am to die somehow by someone from a foreign land… Maybe today maybe tomorrow maybe here maybe at home… I know though that I will die like this…and…”

He swallowed and looked back at Achilles. The elder man gasped seeing tears to Antilochus’s eyes.

“…And I am scared! I am scared, Achilles! I don’t want to tell my father that for he would be ashamed of me and my cowardice but…I am scared! How can you take it, Achilles? How can you live knowing that you will die…?”

“Antilochus…”

Antilochus quickly mopped his own tears, sniffing his nose, trying to find his composure.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, “I don’t know what came into me! I just…”

He sighed.

“We need you back” he finally repeated, “You are our strength and our courage. When you are out there we are afraid of nothing!”

“Antilochus!”

And Achilles did something the younger prince never expected; he embraced him.

“Antilochus, dear to my heart…don’t say such things please. Don’t you say that you will die! I will not let you! I…I will protect you!”

“You…you will…?”

“I will!”

Achilles kissed the top of his head and held him close. Maybe for the first time in weeks he didn’t think of death and burials. Right now he was lamenting a life; this young man who was there apparently sharing his pain and fate. No, he wouldn’t see yet another young person close to him die before him in battle!

“I will protect you! I will not let anything happen to you I promise!”

The two men remained there for quite some time, neither wanted to count the time. It was a shared lament for their short lives; a lament that was different than the one for the dead souls. Who would die first? If both of them were destined to die in the war against Troy, who would die first and who would watch the other die? Neither wanted to be the last. Neither wanted to see the other die. What weird and sad fate! Achilles was almost rocking the youth in his arms so worried of his upcoming death while he was almost welcoming his at that point; oftentimes kissing tenderly his temple. Antilochus was trying to evoke some of his warmth to Achilles for he was afraid for his upcoming death; his welcoming of it. He didn’t want to hear fate yet alone his willingness to accept it. It was a weird way to connect that autumn morning. And yet he felt that at least Achilles might have found a reason to postpone his will to die. Antilochus broke the embrace first, standing up.

“Look at us!” he chuckled softly, “Looking like children playing at the gymnasium like this! We have a war to fight! I am sorry…I took your personal time, my lord Achilles…”

“Wait!” Achilles’s voice made him stop, “Stay…please…”

It was a request; a pleading.

“Please stay with me longer…” he almost seemed worried, afraid

“Are you afraid of the dark and shadows?”

“Yes…” Achilles admitted, “More like those inside my heart… Please stay a bit longer…”

Antilochus smiled softly.

“Of course, my lord…” he whispered, “I would be delighted”

*

Outside the tents, the Greeks were already preparing for the events of the day. The kings were to negotiate their next step again given how the mourning period for Hector was over, how the killings would start anew. It was a sad prospect and they knew their own forces wouldn’t last long. The spies were also informing them on movement on Troy’s part to call upon more allies to arrive to the battlefield. Odysseus was thinking all this as he pranced about the camp. He blew some warm air to his freezing fingers. Autumn was in for good. Soon winter would arrive again.

“Yet another year to the foot of Troy…” he thought miserably, “Yet another year away from our homes…for the sakes of this war…”

He was also worried on Achilles. That last lament period shocked everyone. Achilles had just collapsed and then turned into blind rage. People were afraid on his sanity; that his mind would break. An out of control Achilles was much more dangerous than they would have thought. And their army needed their support. Before the Trojans had Hector to even the odds. Now their strongest warrior was gone. It would be their chance to have higher spirits and yet they didn’t. Achilles was a mess. Once more they seemed to square one… He could only hope he would snap out of his grief enough to fight. His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he saw old Nestor. Nestor was suffering more than the rest of them from the cold; he had a bear skin over his shoulders to keep his old bones warmer and yet he refused to stand back. Odysseus smiled.

“Good morning, my friend” he said

“Good morning” Nestor replied, “It turned chilly!”

“Yeah…” Odysseus agreed, “Sometimes I envy the young!”

“Speaking of which…my son left the tent earlier this morning. He said he wanted to check on Achilles and I didn’t hear from him since. Have you seen him?”

“No” Odysseus replied thoughtfully, “But I was heading there myself to check on things. Maybe he is still there”

As if on a queue they heard light laughter coming from the direction where the Myrdmidons had camped.  The distinct, clear laughter from Achilles made a small smile creep to Odysseus’s lips.

“It’s the first time I hear him laugh in weeks…” he sounded almost hopeful, “Your son is a miracle-worker!”

Nestor smiled back.

“He is…” he whispered thoughtfully, “He is…”

Odysseus’s smile dropped when he saw a shadow in Nestor’s eyes. He didn’t need to ask to know there was something ominous hanging over the two youths.

Yet another time he looked at the cloudy, gray sky and wondered to Athena how all that was even justified…if the youth were to perish and all the others would live…

***

So yeah...Achilles being depressed and Antilochus giving some consolation! TT_TT Achilles hoped to see Patroclus's ghost again (which is what inspired me from that amazing Aria as well!)

Also I wondered if Antilochus knew the warning Nestor got to "beware of an Ethiopian" if he would know or sense the warning was for himself instead of his father...what if he feared it all along...maybe that would be the connection with Achilles!

Set after the mourning period of Hector! As you can see I kept it a bit "homeric" in the essence that I love tenderness in his writing and then leave it unravel!

a small thanking thing in a way too for @smokey07 for honoring me with a mention! Anoher thankng for @h0bg0blin-meat for his sketch to one of my silly headcanons about Achilles and Patroclus! Still makes me giggle my friend!

Also I want you guys check out my brilliant friend's art and mentions on our characters trust me you won't regret it! Many parallels of the epic cycle were added unconsciously to our story! Hahahaha! @artsofmetamoor

My analysis on Achilles and Patroclus can be found here

Antilochus needed some love too there! Hehehe others write scary stories for October but I was like "nope I shall mention ghosts in angst!"

James Finch appreciation post ➔ The Princess And The Frog (2009)

Pocahontas (1995), dir. Mike Gabriel and Eric Goldberg

ARCANE | The Open Vent Concept Art | Nick Carver