[22 She/Her They/Them] Hello I'm Nova I like robots and space and a lot of other things. the sega saturn is the best sega console. icon by @vonkarn
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
If you drink beer while gaming you have the Mirthful Gamer's Heart.
If you drink hard alcohol while gaming you have the Riotous Gamer's Spirit.
If you drink wine while gaming you have the Sensual Gamer's Soul.
17K notes
·
View notes
Text
a hyena is called that because you go "hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii yeenaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!" when u see one
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
"tribalism" "your need for a tribe" just say in-group. ingroup. its so easy. in-group out-group mentality. you dont have to use such a loaded word. you dont have to bring a word used to paint indigenous settlements and cultures as Primitive and Animalistic. come on now. in-group. in-group.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
there's a fascinating type of post on this site which boils down to "what if, instead of being cliché, such-and-such work of fiction instead dodged all genre tropes in a way that instead made it really boring"
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
In the past fifty years, fantasy’s greatest sin might be its creation of a bland, invariant, faux-Medieval European backdrop. The problem isn’t that every fantasy novel is set in the same place: pick a given book, and it probably deviates somehow. The problem is that the texture of this place gets everywhere.
What’s texture, specifically? Exactly what Elliot says: material culture. Social space. The textiles people use, the jobs they perform, the crops they harvest, the seasons they expect, even the way they construct their names. Fantasy writing doesn’t usually care much about these details, because it doesn’t usually care much about the little people – laborers, full-time mothers, sharecroppers, so on. (The last two books of Earthsea represent LeGuin’s remarkable attack on this tendency in her own writing.) So the fantasy writer defaults – fills in the tough details with the easiest available solution, and moves back to the world-saving, vengeance-seeking, intrigue-knotting narrative. Availability heuristics kick in, and we get another world of feudal serfs hunting deer and eating grains, of Western name constructions and Western social assumptions. (Husband and wife is not the universal historical norm for family structure, for instance.)
Defaulting is the root of a great many evils. Defaulting happens when we don’t think too much about something we write – a character description, a gender dynamic, a textile on display, the weave of the rug. Absent much thought, automaticity, the brain’s subsconscious autopilot, invokes the easiest available prototype – in the case of a gender dynamic, dad will read the paper, and mom will cut the protagonist’s hair. Or, in the case of worldbuilding, we default to the bland fantasy backdrop we know, and thereby reinforce it. It’s not done out of malice, but it’s still done.
The only way to fight this is by thinking about the little stuff. So: I was quite wrong. You do need to worldbuild pretty hard. Worldbuild against the grain, and worldbuild to challenge. Think about the little stuff. You don’t need to position every rain shadow and align every tectonic plate before you start your short story. But you do need to build a base of historical information that disrupts and overturns your implicit assumptions about how societies ‘ordinarily’ work, what they ‘ordinarily’ eat, who they ‘ordinarily’ sleep with. Remember that your slice of life experience is deeply atypical and selective, filtered through a particular culture with particular norms. If you stick to your easy automatic tendencies, you’ll produce sexist, racist writing – because our culture still has sexist, racist tendencies, tendencies we internalize, tendencies we can now even measure and quantify in a laboratory. And you’ll produce narrow writing, writing that generalizes a particular historical moment, its flavors and tongues, to a fantasy world that should be much broader and more varied. Don’t assume that the world you see around you, its structures and systems, is inevitable.
We... need worldbuilding by Seth Dickinson
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Stop calling me gay boy call me bisexual boy so women know to hit on me
38K notes
·
View notes
Text
the idea of a nidoqueen dragon invaded my mind a few days ago and so i drew myself as one
304 notes
·
View notes
Text
y’all cannot fucking fight in the dragon war. tumblr users would do literally anything a dragon told them to if it purred in their ear and wrapped them in its wings
477 notes
·
View notes
Text
129 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don't know if you do requests for the Great Detectives, but I'd love to see how you think the Great Detectives would handle the murder of King Hamlet of Denmark.
This is a GREAT one! The big question is whether they all talk to the ghost of the dead king; I think I'm going to have to take that on a case-by-case basis, with whatever feels right for any specific detective.
So, in a series I do sometimes, how would various great detectives solve the murder of King Hamlet...
Sherlock Holmes: Well, obviously ghosts don't exist, so jot that down. But in Holmes's experience, living humans often pretend to be ghosts (or even make dogs pretend to be ghosts!) so who could this be? The young prince Hamlet, who everybody says has gone mad? Holmes deduces that he isn't mad at all, and is in fact conducting psychological warfare against his hated uncle; while Holmes disapproves, he concludes that the boy is completely right about Claudius due to his knowledge of the play The Murder of Gonzago, as seen when he's upset about changes in a production. The Murder of Gonzago is a play which premiered in a town in Denmark known for its manufacturing of poisons for pest control!
Hercule Poirot: Poirot is quite sad to hear that the monarch who invited him as a celebrity guest has died; why does this always have to happen when he goes on vacation? Polonius spies on the guy to see what he's up to, but Poirot is much better at snooping on people than he is, and nobody can keep anything hidden for very long. He gives a summation where he reveals Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately goes to attack his uncle and they struggle over a sword. King Claudius falls dead and Poirot bows out, because determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not his department.
Sam and Peter: Hear me out- if we bump Hamlet down from ambiguously college-aged to ambiguously high school aged, we can replace Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. These two nerdy kids are shipped in to cheer their friend (more like acquaintance) Hamlet up, and to his surprise, they respond to his depressing monologues by taking notes and asking for further details on why the world is so corrupt. Hamlet isn't so happy about them doing an investigation into "What is up with Hamlet's super hot mom?" but when they suggest interviewing Claudius to see if he has the face of a liar, he enlists them to help out with putting on The Murder of Gonzago. The rest of the play mostly goes the same, but they find the letter Claudius planted on them and show it to Hamlet. One of the last lines of the play is when Fortinbras is looking at everyone lying dead, but then Osric points out "Sam and Peter are alive!"
Phryne Fisher: Phryne is a dubious (if genteel) woman Laertes has taken up with, whom Polonius is doing everything in his power to drive away. Phryne doesn't care, but it does bring her attention to the fact that the man is apparently constantly spying on everyone in the castle. On whose behalf is he doing this? King Claudius? Is he afraid someone may assassinate him because of his brother's suspicious death? What was the official story about that, anyway? She exchanges sexy insults with Prince Hamlet, refusing to be cowed, and ultimately agrees to play the queen in his production of The Murder of Gonzago (where she gets a little too into the love scene.) When she turns and looks directly in Claudius's eye in the audience during a crucial line, she can see the answer to everything. Claudius tries to convince Laertes to kill her, saying she corrupted Ophelia into being a whore for a mad prince, but Laertes can't go through with it and kills Claudius instead.
Dale Cooper: King Hamlet's ghost tells him who killed him in a dream, but Cooper doesn't remember. He befriends Horatio and tells him that in order to understand the death of the king, it is crucial for them to study an old Icelanic poem about a man who feigns madness, because the answer to the mystery lies somewhere within. Horatio doesn't totally get it, but he figures Cooper must know what he's doing and goes along with it. When everyone is gathered to watch a production of The Murder of Gonzago, Cooper first steps up onto the stage, guided by a spirit in the form of a snake wearing a crown, to announce that King Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately stabs his uncle. Determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not Cooper's department.
Philip Marlowe: All I know is, most of this mystery involves him getting thrown off the palace grounds repeatedly and being told that a bum like him better keep away from King Claudius if he knows what's good for him. If he ever gets out of Denmark alive, Marlowe thinks to himself, he's never leaving LA during the winter ever again.
Sam Vimes: Vimes can actually interview the ghost, but that doesn't mean the case is closed. He's not worried about the ghost actually being a deceitful fiend, he just thinks there's a possibility he's wrong. After all, if Vimes was poisoned and his ghost found out some creepy relative immediately married his wife and took his job, he would also jump to conclusions! He spends a lot of time yelling at royal people and getting threatened with execution (Vimes doesn't know how his job ended up involving so many clashes with royalty, but so it goes), and is disrespectful of religion enough to spy on Claudius while he's having his remorseful confession. He can't arrest him, but he spreads the word around, and as the royal court dissolves into backstabbing and finger-pointing, Vetinari walks in with a full retinue (and more importantly, a list of all the debts Denmark owes to Ankh-Morpork) to evaluate the situation and congratulate Claudius on his "excellent decision" to abdicate. Claudius later dies of a totally natural snake bite in his ear.
Columbo:
Your Majesty, King Claudius, forgive My clumsy common nature. I am not A noble gentleman, nor do I live With such great honor as yourself- a thought, However, troubles me this night. For how Should some strange serpent come to bite a king? And why within his ear? It puzzles! Now, I beg that I may ask just one more thing…
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
The fujoshevik keeps commissioning socialist realist paintings of sweaty men in factories and cosmonauts holding each other tenderly
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Goodnight Burgertaur
Just a little Brioche taking a little snooze <3
(Check out my ko-fi! I have a shop and exclusive perks for supporters! https://ko-fi.com/bethdehart )
171 notes
·
View notes