CONCEPT CARTOON GIRLS

Some of these I would never have known had I not seen the tags. Like, what do you mean that first one is Luz Noceda from The Owl House?? And the concept art for Anne Boonchuy from Amphibia?? I mean, I see it, for sure. The art style has barely changed. But that is not Anne. The rest aren't unbelievable but almost all of these took me a bit by surprise.

Original art from the ‘bible’ ND wrote up. As you can see, a lot more faithful to the 80s designs, though that She-Ra has a bit of a Greco-Roman slant. Fun to see elements of their later designs in these, though–Glimmer’s asymmetrical hair, She-Ra’s winged shoes… you love to see it. Non-original art from the pitch below the cut, bc we might as well have the higher quality ones on hand.

Keep reading

best friend squad in she-ra’s new transformation sequence /OG she-ra homage

I can’t stop thinking that the little wings are also a reference to Hermes, the greek god of boundaries, roads and travelers, commerce, thieves, athletes and shepherds. He is also a divine messenger and a guide of souls.

And her looks in general is similiar to stereotypical depictions of Valkyries, the old norse female beings who choose those who may die in battle and those who may live. Valkyries are sometimes connected to ravens or horses.

Lesbians wearing a crown

Blonde warriors with swords

all the me cakes for adora on her birthday

SHE-RA GOT NOMINATED FOR AN EMMY?!!!!

Never in my life did I expect an animated show about lesbians to be nominated for an Emmy. Especially now that the’re confirmed lesbians.

today on international lesbian day let’s remember that one time a lesbian kiss and lesbians loving each other saved the world :’))))

The prom/dance episode that helped ship them or cement the ship in

Major Networks: Kids just can’t understand complex themes and subjects. You have to dumb everything down for them...

Avatar: How about the theme no one is truly evil. Everyone can be redeemed. You always have a choice. Friendships last more than one life time... all while having the world almost burn into a fiery flame and our main protagonists having to wonder if they truly believe in all the themes I just mentioned.

Over the Garden Wall: What about having a show where it’s just big metaphor for the after life and it’s kids wondering in the grey area between life and death. Along the way they learn how to truly treat each other as brothers... and make it only slightly scarring.

Gravity Falls: I love what your doing with the sightly scarring bit but what if we adding the theme of all good things must come to an end, You don’t know everyone’s situation, and life is a mystery so go out and solve it. Also let’s add some codes for kids to crack... because they’re smart.

Steven Universe: Okay but what about the theme love conquers all but also show the hardship war and destructive love has on people and how it can hurt people even thousands of years after the fact, but it’s never too late to try and make it better... also make it have queer representation.

She-ra: See, I like what your doing with that queer representation... but what if we showed that abuse victims don’t have to continue the cycle even if it seems like they reached a point of no return, they can become better. Also show that everyone has the power to be good but not everyone will choose to be good, and you can be selfish sometimes... also let’s show an wlw that has no mentions of homophobia... because lesbians with swords.

Networks:.... what?

In an interview, Noelle said about Adora, “she’s convinced that it would be better for her to die than for her friends to get hurt, and honestly, she’s kind of been trying to do that for a while.”

What “trying to do that for a while” means is that this isn’t behavior particular to season 5 and, oh hey, Adora has actually been suicidally self-sacrificing in EVERY season finale.

Season 1:  When the Horde is invading Bright Moon, Adora tells her friends to stay back defending the castle and goes to meet the army all on her own. But she’s been doubting herself even more than usual since the disastrous aftermath of Princess Prom and the confrontation with Catra in the First Ones temple, and as a result, her She-Ra form is severely weakened and she gets beaten up pretty badly. It’s only because her friends step in and support her that her confidence and She-Ra’s power return, enabling the Rebellion to fight off the Horde. 

Season 2/3 (developed together as one arc): Catra breaks reality, and Adora has every intention of throwing herself into a portal and trapping herself in a pocket dimension in order to repair the fabric of space and time before everything collapses on itself. The only reason she isn’t able to do it is because Angella steps in and does it in her place. Adora is unable to prevent Angella from sacrificing herself and has to watch it happen, and she’s clearly dealing with a lot of guilt over it in season 4 because she believes it should’ve been her. 

Season 4: Following her First Ones programming, Light Hope tries to fire the Heart of Etheria using She-Ra as the weapon’s trigger, so Adora breaks the sword to prevent massive universal destruction. Breaking the sword in her She-Ra form could have potentially caused her harm (it didn’t, but it’s not like she could’ve known that). But really, this one is more metaphorical than literal. Even though this is a triumphant moment of Adora breaking away from a forced destiny and refusing to be a weapon and saving the universe, she still makes a huge sacrifice and loses something vital to her. By severing her connection to She-Ra (as far as she knows), you could say she “kills” She-Ra in a way, and because her sense of self is so completely wrapped up in her ability to be She-Ra, she “kills” a part of herself too. As we see in early season 5, this action has severe emotional consequences for her. 

Season 5: In order to prevent Horde Prime from using the Heart and destroying the universe, Adora chooses to host the Failsafe, which turns her body into a conduit through which Etheria’s magic will be released from the Heart and returned to the planet. She makes this decision knowing the process might kill her, even with She-Ra’s protection. When she finally makes it to the Heart, she can’t access She-Ra because she’s been poisoned, and she still intends to see it through to the end, knowing she will definitely die, but at least her sacrifice will protect her friends and save the universe.

And those are just examples from the season finales. We could definitely pick out other moments throughout the show where she’s way too quick to put herself in danger and sacrifice herself for others. (“Why are you like this?” Catra asks her, in frustration and desperation, and the reasons why deserve their own detailed analysis.) 

Of course, Adora doesn’t succeed at this thing she’s been trying to do for a while. Because she chooses to live, because she finally lets herself want and have something for herself, and because of the Power of Love, baby. 

Still, these aren’t the kind of issues that go away overnight, and Adora’s going to be spending quite a long time working through them. But she’s going to be okay, because she’s surrounded by people that love her for reasons that have nothing to do with what she can sacrifice for them, people that will take her by the shoulders and say, “oh my fucking god, please care about yourself the way we care about you,” and at some point, it’ll actually sink in and they’ll finally make her understand what she’s worth.

GFs supporting GFs

Catradora and Harlivy became canon on the same day!   👌

Throughout the entire show we’ve always seen characters being asked what they really want when they’ve followed the path they thought they were supposed to, but lost track of who they are. Since the start of this season everyone has asked Adora what she wanted - after the planet is saved, and without needing to be She-Ra all the time. 

And this is what she wanted the whole time 🥺

I deeply appreciate how ATLA depicts all the main characters responses to trauma. Aang’s, for me, however, stands out for its rareness in media. And we are not hammered over the head with the idea that Aang (or any other characters) repeatedly act certain ways because of a single traumatic event. Sure, there are key moments in our lives when a certain event comes to the forefront, but no one experiences the world as constant flashbacks. Rather, we see only in retrospect the way our sarcastic sense of humor or our heightened friendliness were protective responses to a deep emotional injury. Being able to understand Aang’s approach to loss is essential for the show. The structure of the series is founded on his arc (despite an incredible foil provided by Zuko). Our little air nomad initially confronts the loss of his people with a full-on meltdown in the episode “The Southern Air Temple,” where Katara’s offering of familial belonging soothes him. But this kind of outburst is not Aang’s primary response (and actually the literally out-of-character apocalyptic tantrums align with Aang’s overall process of grieving). Instead of constantly brooding (hey Zuko!), Aang leans heavily toward the monk’s pacifist teachings and toward his assumed destiny “to save the world.” He becomes overtly accommodating and joyful, constantly trying to see “the good” in everything with a perfectionist’s zeal. This is not to ascribe his bubbliness only to his trauma. Rather, he comes to emphasize this part of his personality for reasons related to the negative emotions he struggles to face.  Book 1: Water

In the first season, Aang is simply rediscovering his place in the world. “Water is the element of change. The people of the water tribe are capable of adapting to many things. They have a sense of community and love that holds them together.” This is vital to Aang as he initially faces his experience. He won’t get through this if he is not prepared for his life to change. Even if he hadn’t been frozen for 100 years, his world would never be the same. This fact involves eventually finding new people that he feels safe with. After such a massive loss, he’s learning who to trust, and also often making mistakes; not only does he find Sokka and Katara (and I’d argue he’s actually slow to truly open up to them), this is the season where he helps save a fire nation citizen who betrays him to soldiers, befriends the rebel extremist Jet, and attempts to befriend an actively belligerent Zuko (his moral complexity had only JUST! been revealed to the kid!). He’s constantly offering trust to others and seeking their approval in opposition to the deep well of shame and guilt he carries as a survivor of violence. This is also the season where Aang swears off firebending after burning Katara in an overeager attempt to master the element (one will note how fire throughout the series is aligned with, above all else, assertiveness and yang). Aang is so eager to be seen as morally good to others that he refuses to risk any possible harm to them.  And asserting himself carries a danger, in one sense, that he might make a mistake and lose someone’s positive regard, and, in another sense, that he is replicating the anger and violence he’s witnessed. He has no relationship to his anger at this stage of his grief, so it comes out uncontrollably, both in firebending and the Avatar State. It’s through the patience of his new family that he can begin to feel unashamed about his past and about the ways his shame is finding (sometimes violent) expression in the present. Book 2: Earth In the second season he begins to trust himself and stand his ground. Earth, after all, is the element of substance, persistence, and endurance. The “Bitter Work” episode encapsulates how Aang must come to a more sturdy sense of his values. First, there is the transition of pedagogical style. While Katara emphasized support and kindness, Toph insists on blunt and threatening instruction, not for a lack of care towards Aang. Instead, it’s so Aang learns how to stop placing the desires of others above his own–to stop accommodating everyone else above his own needs. Toph taunts Aang by stealing one of the few keepsakes from the monastery that he holds onto. This attachment to the lost airbending culture is echoed in the larger arc with Appa. And, by the end of this episode, it is Aang’s attachment to Sokka that allows him to stand firm. This foreshadows the capital T Tragic downfall in the “Crossroads of Destiny.” Aang gives up his attachment to the other member of his new found family, Katara, despite his moral qualms. Although he has access to all the power of the Avatar state, his sacrifice is not rewarded. Season 2 illustrates Aang coming to terms with his values. He is learning about what he stands for, what holds meaning to him. Understanding himself also includes integrating his grief, and there’s a lonely and dangerous aspect to that exploration. We see Aang’s anger and hopelessness over longer stretches rather than outbursts in this season. It’s hard to watch and hard to root for him. That depressive state leads to actions that counter his previous sense of morality, as he decisively kills an animal, treats his friends unkindly, and blames others for his loss. Letting these harsher feelings emerge is an experiment, and most people discover their boundaries by crossing them. Finding ways to hold compassion for himself, even the harm he causes others, is the other side of this process. Our past and our challenging emotions are a part of us, but they are only a part. Since Aang now has a strong sense of community and is learning to be himself rather than simply seeking validation, we also see him having more healthy boundaries with new people. He’s no longer befriending villains in the second season! He’s respectful and trusting enough, but he’s not putting himself in vulnerable situations nor blindly trusting everyone. Instead, he’s more likely to listen to his friends’ opinions or think about how the monks might’ve been critical towards something (they’re complaints about Ba Sing Se, for example). By knowing what he cares for, he can know himself, the powerful, loving, grief-struck monk. And he can trust that, though he might not be everyone’s favorite person, he does not need to feel ashamed or guilty for who he is or what he’s been through. Book 3: Fire However, despite a sense of self and a sense of belonging, Aang and the group still find themselves constantly asking for permission throughout their time in Ba Sing Se. It’s in the third season, Fire, that initiative and assertiveness become the focus. And who better to provide guidance in this than the official prince of “you never think these things through,” Zuko. It’s no longer a time for avoidance or sturdy defensiveness. It is the season of action. Fire is the element of power, desire, and will, all of which require us to impact others.  We see the motif of initiative throughout the season: the rebels attempt to storm the Firelord on the Day of the Black Sun; Aang attempts to share his feelings and kiss Katara; Katara bends Hama and a couple of fire nation soldiers to her will. In each of these examples, the initiators face disgrace. Positive intent does not bring forth success, by any means, only more consequences to be dealt with. This is perhaps Aang’s biggest challenge. He is afraid that his actions will fail, or worse, they will succeed but he will be wrong in what he has chosen. The sequencing in the series, here, is important. We have already seen how Aang has worked to care for (and appreciate) the well-being of others and how he has learned to care for his own needs. With this in mind, he should be able to trust that his actions will derive from these wells of compassion. But easier said than done. Compassion can also trap him into indecision, hearkening back to his avoidant mistake in the storm, in which the whole mess began. Aang’s internal conflict, here, becomes more pronounced as the finale draws nearer. I think it’s especially significant that we witness Aang disagreeing with his mentors and friends. He must act in a way that will contradict and even threaten his sources of support if he is to trust his own desires. Even the fandom disagrees about the choice Aang makes, which further highlights the fact that making a decisive choice is contentious. There is no point in believing it will grant you love or admiration or success. For someone who began (and spent much of) the series regularly sacrificing himself just to bring others peace, Aang’s decision to prioritize his own interests despite the very explicit possibility of failure is the ultimate growth his character can have and the ultimate representation of him processing his trauma. (This arc was echoed and made even more explicit in many ways with Adora in the She-ra finale.) The last significant time Aang followed his desire, in his mind, was when he escaped the Air Temple in the storm. To want something, to trust his desire and act on it, is an act of incredible courage for him, and whether it succeeded or failed, whether anyone agrees or disagrees with it, it offered Aang a sense of peace and resolution. Now I appreciate and love Zuko’s iconic redemption arc, but Aang’s subtler arc, which subverts the “chosen one” narrative and broke ground to represent a prevalent emotional experience, stands out to me as the foundation for the show I love so much.