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Tormented, known as Ash or Ashley, has foregone many of the necessary roles of a leader. He has shed the more feminine aspect of his name, "ley", and monikers a identifying signal of his own mental state. As the creator of NCM, and the guide of rebellion against, YCM, Ash displays an ordinance of control, perspective, and outcome that comes from collectively bringing together a group of liminal agents, on the outskirts of jouissance, desire, and familial bonds. By forgoing his own appearance, "clothes", in this sense, and constructing a more mythical narrative behind his persona through personality, title, and model, Ash exposes the ontological boundary between being and becoming, between appearance and performance. In this essay, I will expose the nature of this gap that Ashley illustrates, illustrating that it is not his "clothes" that matter, nor his it the words that he delivers; it is through the community which recognizes his "clothes" and performance which sustain the illusion. Instead of Hans Christian Anderson's "Emperor's New Clothes", Ash's own ontological leadership is much more along the lines of him wearing clothes, and we all call him naked.
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Been on a bit of a Ratchet & Clank kick lately. Sadly no PS5 means no Rift Apart, but at least I've done some related drawings, including a new OC~
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that's a whole lotta love for tamamo cross, i know just the pick for you agnes digital -
By Simping for Hina · Posted
TAMAMO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS TA MA MO CROSS -
“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.” -Matthew 18:10 (NIV) She didn’t know how it happened, the exact sequence of steps that ended up with Melissa kneeling where Barleby had fainted, cradling the Slakoth in her arms, but it sure had happened. “You tried your best, at least,” she said. She still wasn’t sure why this all had to happen, but since it had, she hoped Bartleby could rest easily knowing that. It was a notion that felt parallel to her own experience. She wondered what Bartleby dreamed of. More specifically, Melissa wondered if Bartleby did, in fact, want to be fighting “alongside everyone else” as the Constable (or the Constable through Kasayee) had said. This skirmish had, to her, seemed more like a facet of a Pokémon’s honor-bound nature, regardless of what Constable had said. Besides, even if the desire for self-improvement did lay somewhere within Bartleby, she knew where that path tended to end up for Slakoths. Slaking, after a vigorous middle evolution, epitomized “It wasn’t worth it.” It was a worrisome thought. At the same time, it was all she could do as Bartleby’s de facto caretaker -- she hesitated to use the word “trainer” -- to support whatever endeavors he did want to undertake. Fen said something encouraging, even if she seemed to struggle with some of the terminology. Melissa was no beast tamer, no matter how many animal faces a cherub had. Not that Melissa was about to correct her. They’d designated Bartleby as the team’s pet, even if the implications of that meant so much more. Melissa stood, still holding Bartleby in her arms. All in all, there was a whole mix of emotions still running through her, all coalescing into something akin to, “Thank you for your visit, Constable. Hopefully we have not kept you too long, and we would like to see you and Kasayee again soon. Right now, this one needs even more rest than he normally gets, so if you would excuse us…” She gave whatever curtsy she could with her hands full, and disappeared up the stairs to make a suitable bed. Hadn’t that always worked, a good night’s sleep? She would bring him dinner later, whatever she and Fen figured out that he wanted.
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