#&. that sounds like a gamble to me. ( memes )

[purrlockswatson]

Phantom of the Opera (1990), you did Erik proud

Alternate title: Christine, we have beef!

(Meme inspired by this post.)

I have not a bad word for this Erik (and not just because I can feel a certain friend of mine holding a chandelier over my head). The 1990 adaptation made some big changes to the story, but it perfectly captured the childlike soul of Leroux's Erik that is often lost in translation but vital to him. (When I was explaining POTO to someone outside the situation, i. e. my mum, two things I kept using as comparisons were a child and Gollum - not because he's a chaos gremlin, I was trying to describe how he has a skewered perspective of the world that isn't evil but doesn't follow the accepted moral system. But that's for another time.)

I found myself trying very hard not to resent Christine - a first time for me. I will defend her choosing the Compte de Chagny over Erik, she doesn't owe Erik love, no matter what he did for her. The problem is that she took on a responsibility she couldn't possibly carry.

Never, ever assume to fully understand someone. Especially someone like Erik, who thinks and exists on a different pane as most people. Christine was wrong, terribly wrong, to assume she 'knew his heart.'

When faced with a person so sensitive, so particular, when being the one person trusted by a person who trusts no one, don't make huge gambles like that. She shouldn't have assumed she knew what Erik needs better than he does - he told you he is happy with where they were, then stay there with him! Instead, she pulled the 'I can fix him' and shattered him completely. I don't hate her for being unable to catch Erik when he falls, I hate her for blindly promising to catch him and failing him.

(I do realise how much of the above describes myself and my worries about how people treat me, so fair warning, I may be a bit biased.)

An opinion: in every version, Erik emotionally manipulates Christine but here, Christine is the one who is emotionally manipulative. ('Manipulative' may sound malicious, but manipulators aren't always aware of what they're doing.)

In the second part of the series, she said at least three times 'If you love me...' Now, that is one of my least favourite sentences to see and hear in the best of times, but this is somehow even worse because Erik DOES do everything because he loves her. In other versions, there is the question of obsession against love when it comes to their relationship; in that context, I would accept her saying this. But here, Erik is not possessive.

As for Monsieur Carrière, I have beef with him too. An even bigger, tougher slice of beef. He is proved to be irresponsible: not once, but twice, he got in relationships and then left this partners when they have children. First time could be a mistake; the second time, especially when kept Erik's mother in the dark about his marriage, is inexcusable. Yes, he stayed with her till the end, but then left their son in a basement. Yes, he reached out to Erik in the end, but too little, too late. If Erik is emotional and irrational, it's because Carrière never gave him the guidance he should have.

Christine and Carrière love Erik, I don't doubt it. But it's still painful to see Erik fall down through everyone and everything that should have caught him: his talent, his parents, Christine.

If you'll excuse me, I need to cry in the catacombs and draw something miserable.

I talk about several other adaptations here!

[hotheadedhero]

The Velvet Weaver - Part 1

A/N: So, I see the occasional meme or story about Spiderman/Tmnt crossovers and it reminded me of a fic idea I had from years and years ago. After all this time, I have finally decided to write it

Michelangelo x Reader

Warnings: quite dialogue heavy (I haven't figured out how to do it effectively yet so sorry), sickeningly sweet reciprocated feelings, because, yes, I can write something other than angst, I swear

New York City: resident to a colourful array of personalities and no stranger to weird occurrences. Although, weird may be putting it lightly. You’ve bare witness to many peculiar happenings all across your beloved home, some scarier than others, the most terrifying of all being the attempted alien raid last year. It felt like a real-life doomsday; an end to everything and everyone you hold dear to you. People were ready to accept their fates but the strange spacecraft disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. No one knows how. Any explanation curated by the news agencies and the police may convince the citizens but you know better, you have your theories. Or, you have one theory: New York has a group of secret heroes. It sounds far-fetched but it isn’t that different from your current circumstances.

Just before the attempted invasion, something bizarre happened to you - something spectacular. Granted, that’s not how you felt about it at first but you like how things have turned out for you and this given name, ‘Velvet Weaver’. You were a bit dubious about the paper's choice of vigilante name at first but it made sense; you took inspiration from the spider that bit you, giving you your powers, and incorporated velvet accents into your hooded jumper. It was actually rather cute for a spider, sporting a ladybug design on its back. At the time of finding it dead in your shirt, you wanted to burn all the clothes you were wearing but you rather feel bad for the little creature now. Who knew that all it would take to overcome a mild fear was to be bit by one and gain powers?

Safe to say, your hometown has seen its fair share of oddities, so you’re willing to bet a gamble on not being the only crime fighter in these streets. You take care of the day and these theorised mystery heroes the night. It’s as though you’re a team. Granted, a team that’s never met each other but you’re doing the same job, fighting the same fight - share the same ideals as far as you can tell. Assuming you’re correct in guessing that there are multiple of them, you would love to meet them all someday. There’s a reason for the mask, the hidden identity, but it’s isolating. If there are people out there who understand, maybe it won’t feel so lonely anymore. Until you cross paths, however, you’ll just have to continue this little solo act of yours.

The alarm on your watch beeps, signalling the end of your vigilante-ing for the day. As good a time as any. With the flick of your wrist, you connect to one of the many buildings that litter this city and propel yourself into the air. Your other hand extends to shoot another stream of webbing, this to and fro exchange allowing you to swing above the crowded streets effortlessly. Gliding through the air, the rush of wind against your body is invigorating, a reminder that you are alive and free. The city sprawls beneath you, a tapestry of lives that fit into the system, one you used to be a part of and now look at you. Whilst everyone is down there, you get to enjoy the spoils of being up here, watching it all turn into a blur, honking cars and chatter fading into the background. You smile behind the mask when kids point out your swinging form and jump around with unbridled joy. This really is a great job. If not for saving lives then at least for the happy stomps of children that look up to you.

As you approach the pizzeria, you catch a glimpse of the neon sign flickering - Pete’s Pizzas. You land gracefully in the alleyway just to the left of it, your heart still racing as you quickly scan your surroundings. The streets are packed with people enjoying their spring break, laughter and conversation filling the air. You take a moment to catch your breath before quickly wiggling out of the shoddily crafted clothes you dub your hero costume in exchange for your uniform, feeling the weight of your dual identity settle comfortably on your shoulders. It’s a juggle, especially with college, but something needs to pay the bills and last you checked, ‘vigilante’ isn’t a recognised career choice.

“Velvet Weaver,” you whisper to yourself, a corny smile creeping onto your face. “Hero by day, pizza delivery girl by night.” Somehow you feel like it should be the other way around.

Shoving your costume into your rucksack, you dart into the pizzeria, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully. The familiar scent of melted cheese and spices envelops you, a comforting reminder of your second- no, third life. 

“Hey, just in time!” your boss, Peter, calls out, his hands dusted with flour. “We’ve got a big order for the downtown crowd. Think you can handle it?”

“Do I think I can handle it?” you echo quietly, moving your hair up and out of your face and winking. “You can count on me.”

He only shakes his head at your typical enthusiasm, setting the last box to this tower of pizza for you to take. You’re going to have to drive carefully if these stand a chance of remaining intact. It isn’t as though your moped skills need a check but times like this make you wish you had a car just for the convenience. One thing at a time, girl. You have enough going on in your life without worrying about passing a driving exam.

Stepping back outside with your hoard of cooked dough, you glance up at the skyline. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the city and you can only hope that the people of New York are making the most of it for those who can’t. You quickly pull out the order slip; the address is familiar, one you’ve delivered to before many times. That’s ideal. You can cut through the better-known shortcuts to avoid the rush. If only you could master the art of swinging whilst carrying pizza. You’d be there in no time. 

With the chosen route, you manage to miss most of the nastier traffic spots, getting to the building with some time to spare. As you step into the bustling lobby, you exchange pleasantries with the doorman - a gentle spirit whose oak-ish appearance still has you stumped for his age - and he greets you with a knowing smile.

“Hey, Cecil, how many have they got up there this time?” you ask as you walk past him, being mindful to raise your voice enough for his hearing aid. 

“Count your boxes again and take a guess,” he remarks satirically and slowly, although smiling enough that the wrinkles on his face almost cover his eyes. It reminds you of one of those dog breeds you can never remember the name of. “I’m surprised the floor hasn’t fallen through from the sheer mass of them.”

You snicker and raise the pizzas in your grasp. “Let’s hope these aren’t the last drop to the dam then, yeah?”

Fond of the joy you bring to his monotonous job, he quietly laughs with you before you have to disappear off into the elevator. When you reach the desired floor, you trudge along to the apartment in question, having it committed to muscle memory. You knock on the door, albeit trickily with the boxes, and it swings open to reveal a group of college students, laughter spilling out into the hallway. As they hand you the cash, you can’t help but feel a part of their joy, if only for a moment. It’s a fleeting connection, but it’s enough to remind you that while you may be a masked vigilante, you’re also just a young adult trying to make a living. This tightness in your chest threatens to throw you off your rhythm but you shake it off. The night is still young and you can already feel the pulls of the shadows calling you back into your other life, but for now, you embrace the slice of normalcy, knowing that soon enough Velvet Weaver will return to the rooftops, ready to face whatever challenges await her.

With a few deliveries under your belt, you make your way back from the next one, the city lights begin to twinkle around you. It’s looking to be a good shift, steadying into a quieter night with bigger gaps between each order. Just as you arrive back at the pizzeria, Pete’s gotten off the phone, slumping into his next batch of dough. Uh oh. You recognise that look all too well and it takes all your might to not cackle at the poor man.

“And who might that have been?” You know the answer but it’s always fun to question in your sing-song sort of way.

“As if you need to ask,” he grumbles, rolling out the base and saucing it. “It’s that little admirer of yours.”

The smile stretching out your cheeks only makes him groan louder and he hides himself in his task. This particular admirer he speaks of has been a faithful customer since before you started working here; one of Kevin’s regular drop-offs that somehow turned into yours. Shift patterns change around from time to time. What are you to do?

Dramatically, you fall into the nearest wall, draping an arm over your eyes with an exaggerated sigh, “Oh, Pete, my oh-most favourite boss in the world, do we not have your blessing?”

He raises a floured brow and points at you with the ladle, flicking drops of sauce on the counter. “You’ll get my blessing when this guy stops askin’ you to meet him in weird locations, not to even mention the fact that you ain’t once seen his face. I don’t like it.”

Well, he’s got you there, no point denying that. Despite the laughter you’ve shared with this one customer, not once have you seen what he looks like and he always orders his pizzas to be brought to run-down buildings. You’re also almost certain that he’s using a pseudonym, too. Who in the 21st century is called ‘Michelangelo’?

You would be worried about having some weirdo stalker on your radar if you didn’t think you could handle yourself. You know you can. No question about it. And even after everything, even if there are still doubts in the back of your mind, your “danger sense” as you call it - the title is a work in progress - has never once gone off around him. It only ever rings in your nerves when someone intends to inflict you harm. With all that said, he’s really just a sweet guy: playful flirt, very complimentative, a good spirit, plus he’s one of very few who gets your humour. One may or may not say that you’re developing a little crush on him but that’s strictly confidential, much like most of everything else in your haphazardly organised life.

“I’ll be careful, Pete. You know me,” you say, attempting to sound more confident for his sake.

Pete knows that you’ll do what you can to keep safe. That isn’t the problem. It’s everyone else in this damn city he doesn’t trust. He grumbles again and reminds you about speed dial for the hundredth time before you can disappear again with the order and scoot off. You know he worries and that this all comes from a place of care. You almost wish you could tell him about your abilities just to calm his nerves but chances are he’d only become more concerned seeing as you put yourself in harm's way every day. All the more reason to live a life of secrecy, not only to protect yourself but those around you, too.

The location looms ahead, its cracked walls and broken pillars giving it an eerie charm, but you brush off any lingering doubts, reminding yourself that you’ve faced far scarier things in your life than a creepy building. Besides, your instincts have never let you down before. You park your scooter just outside of the half-reconstructed car park, finding the irony in not using it, and carry the boxes the rest of the way. This must have been one of the structures that got damaged during the alien fiasco. Weird. This guy has chosen a few of those for these drop-offs, now that you think about it. A harmless coincidence, or does it mean something?

“It’s pizza time.”

Your voice echoes around the piles of work sand and concrete as you step further into the mouth of the ground floor. It’s a strange phrase and you’re not entirely sure how it started but it’s become the calling card to announce your arrival. One of the support beams has a small hunk of money beside it, so you walk over there and place the boxes down on a slab of concrete just to the right.

“My pizza hero!” you hear him bellow with excitement, making you smile. 

“Ah, well, you know me,” you say casually, “just saving the city one slice at a time.”

You hear him laugh as you crouch down to collect the odd assortment of change. It’s part of the routine: he remains hidden and you pick at the chump change he’s left out for you but you don’t mind. A paying customer is a paying customer. You’ll be more shocked the day he chooses or manages to use something larger than a 5 dollar note.

You haven’t even had a chance to count it before you hear him speak again, “Sorry, babycakes, I’m a dollar short this time round.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure I can make an exception for my favourite customer,” you muse, leaning back against the pillar. 

“You’re the best!” He shifts around behind you, and it takes a lot not to peak around and see him. “You sure I can’t make it up to you, though?”

“Can I see you?” you suddenly ask, not having a chance to think before the words blurt out of your mouth. Knowing that he’s just on the other side of this concrete beam is pulling at your curiosity more than usual. It takes a hot second until you realise and you breathe out a casual attempt at laughing it off. “I promise I’m not the superficial type.”

Despite how rude you feel, he’s quick to respond in his usual jovialness, “Aw, what? I was told this would be a blind date.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s what they meant when they called it that.” You shake your head but you’re not offended by his attempts to hide the true nature of his secrecy. That would make you a massive hypocrite. “But, hey, who am I to get into other peoples’ business? I’m sure you got your reasons.”

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll have that extra dollar next time.” 

“You better,” you joke, pushing yourself off from the tall, grey column. “Have a good night, Mikey.”

He wishes you the same and you leave a little slower than usual. Every time you walk away, you’re reminded of that Greek story about Orpheus and how he couldn’t look back at his wife until he left the underworld. It makes you wonder if, like that story, you would risk losing a faithful customer - someone you consider a friend at this point - by merely chancing a glance at him. You’d hate to tarnish these interactions over being nosy, so you prod along and scoot off, preparing for the rest of the night ahead of you.

Bright, blue eyes watch you whizz off and make a quick grab for the boxes before having to disappear, too. With each interaction you share, Mikey becomes more guilt-ridden. Personally, he sees no problem with revealing himself to you. It isn’t as though he and his brothers haven’t got human allies at all. Okay, so you may have a shock to the system but everyone gets over that eventually. Much like with everything else, however, his brothers’ words are final. “Keep anything about your identity to a minimum,” they’ll say, “and don’t eat all of the pizza!”. Right. If they didn’t want him to eat it, they should collect it themselves rather than leaving the leg work to him. At least, that’s what he would have said - all changed when you blessed him with being his favourite pizza delivery girl. A very pretty one at that. Even where his brothers warn him to be careful, he can’t stop himself from stealing the odd glance when you don’t notice.

You’ve only ever and continue to be friendly with him. He always tries in his best efforts to make you laugh during the short encounters because he reckons you just have the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard. The guy falls more and more in love with you every time you talk. That’s why it kills him a little more each time when he can’t just walk out in front of you and say, “Hey, it’s me,” with a big grin and open arms. Even as he jets back home on his board, twirling through various sewers, he tries to think of ways that this can happen.

Namely, he thinks about how the humans he and his brothers befriended became their friends in the first place. They met April after she was caught up in that subway station - an indirect save but a save nonetheless. Vern, granted, was via her and Raph trying to save his brothers from turning into green mulch. And then Casey after he helped April with those Foot soldiers. All instances that have something to do with danger and being saved. Are they only allowed to meet people under those circumstances? He doesn’t want to wish danger upon you. Not ever. It’s just one of those times where he kinda, sort of, maybe wouldn’t mind if it meant finally being able to reveal himself to you. He could totally rescue you and finally ask you out on a date! No more eye-sore buildings or abandoned warehouses.

The mutant slumps back into the couch when he arrives home and exhales lethargically. Living in the dream world there, Mikey. For now, he’ll just have to make the most of those few minutes he gets during each delivery. This pizza, however, will not be savoured the same way. He flicks the TV on and dives into the beautiful disc of flavour, barely catching the string of cheese off his lip when the news broadcasts its latest interesting scoop.

“... back on our ‘Velvet’ hour, New York’s very own costumed crusader has done it again, this time preventing a public bus from falling off the Brooklyn Bridge after a massive crash.”

Mikey leans forward in his seat as the screen cuts to a scrappily recorded viewing of the very events from earlier today. Sure enough, The Velvet Weaver is swinging around the side of the bridge, performing impressive acrobatic abilities, and shooting a sticky substance from her wrists to create a large blanket of webbing, preventing the bus from toppling over into the water. Heroics is one thing but he loves how this chick does it in style, truly taking claim to friendly badass in his opinion.

“And to think, her efforts are still unrecognised,” the reporter continues when they show her again and the camera pans out to reveal their guest, the head of the New York Police Department. “Chief Vincent, despite what you’ve said in previous press conferences about the dangers of this figure, The Velvet Weaver continues to prove that she is a guardian of the people.”

“With powers that can’t be mitigated whilst she roams around doing as she pleases. Police officers go through years of education and training before they are entrusted with people’s lives, yet this girl thinks she can handle that responsibility because what? She’s strong? She can climb on walls? One of these days, she’s going to mess up. What then? We can’t guarantee that she won’t go into hysterics, or even what will become of our people when that happens. We could have a super-powered breakdown on our hands. Either she can come quietly and reveal herself under peaceful pretence, or we will have to bring her in by force. For the sake of civilian safety and resources, we’d like to avoid the latter.” She then turns to face the camera, addressing it directly. “I believe I am being more than generous with these terms. The choice is yours.”

Chortling mockingly, Mikey blows raspberries at the TV and kicks back into comfort with his next bite. “Kinda hypocritical.”

“There’s nothing hypocritical about it,” Leo says as he comes for his box of pizza. “She doesn’t have just cause to be responsible for innocent lives.”

“Someone sounds jealous.” Their red-clad brother joins in, sharing a glance with his youngest as he takes part at the expense of their leader. He’s not particularly keen on this self-proclaimed protector of the city either but poking fun at Leonardo is much more fun.

“Jealousy has nothing to do with it, Raph. She’s a kid playing dress-up, not thinking about the repercussions of her actions.”

“And here I thought we were the only ones.” Donatello is the last to come for his food, leaning back in his chair with a slice. “That hypocrisy you were talking about, Mikey?”

“Yeah! What makes us so different?”

Leo’s head bloats up with the oncoming headache and he pinches the space between his eyes. Why do his brothers have to be so argumentative when it comes to these things? They know as much as he does why this is a problem. At least, he knows that Raph and Donnie do. He shouldn’t always have to be the one to spell it out.

“We are a team. We’re trained, we make plans. We don’t just rush in without thinking. She’s got no backup, no structure. It’s dangerous.” His fingers jut out with every reason he has to give, and he knows he could give plenty more. “She’s just out there acting on impulse, and that’s reckless.”

“You’re just mad because she doesn’t follow the rules.”

“Rules are there for a reason, Mikey.”

“Well, I think she’s cool,” he continues to defend, even when the other two don’t. He knows any word on his side was just at their leader’s expense, and when his brothers leave the debate completely, he mumbles to himself, “It’s nice to know we’re not the only crime fighters out there, ya know?”

Sure, there’s the police to consider but they’re more hardstrung on the do’s and don’ts than Leo is. What a shock, right? The only exception to the rule is how the chief has allowed them to continue protecting the city as they have done for the last few years. Maybe the same could be true for this new hero on the block if they can just talk it over. He has hope for that possibility. After all, there are a lot of questions he’d like to ask her. She must have a cool origin story or something.

Mikey is halfway into his pizza when his brainiac brother’s computer starts blaring. Guess that’s enough of lazing around. They’ve got some action for the night! Although, talk about bad timing. He hasn’t even had a chance to finish off his food yet. No time like the present, ay?

___

Honestly, I could have kept it as one part like I originally planned but it's become a longer story than I first intended, hence, I gotta break it up a bit

I'm going bed now

[sketchehm]

I'm glad my rambling helped made a new au idea :). I really don't know the Spanish streamers as well as sapnap, so I wouldn't want to make any au's when I don't know their personalities as much as I would like. I already talked about farfa a bit so I got some other thoughts. (Sorry in advance for blasting all these thoughts in your inbox lmao.)

Here's just some endearing thoughts about team mafia interactions that I've gotten from Sapnap's streams. A big one is conter honestly believing sapnap is better at Spanish than sylvee. Like everyone says it, but conter just believe it. Idk if it's because he's memeing about it or his favoritism blinds him but either way it's cute how proud he sounds when he's like "Your so good at Spanish, you get and A+!" (Poor sylvee got a B. I know she definitely understands Spanish better, but sapnap definitely has better pronunciation.) That whole interaction with conter/sylvee/sapnap/aquino was gold. I think conter just grew to love sapnap overtime and it definitely helps that he speaks English better than most of the mafia. Him being a tall guy with a bright green skin, and acting like a big brother probably gives him dejuvu (Sapnap's favorite that he says outloud)

Pirutastic loves sapni so much. Bro's always like "I love you sapni!" He's just consistently hyping him up and when he called sapnap the best Argentinan player when he was watching day 3 squidcraft clips it was so cute.

Serpias obviously another one of the big sapolos. Who also lost money to sapnap technically during the house of nightmares, but sapnap just happened to click him or else it would have been someone else lmao. He just loves his dumb rp boyfriend, and he's always ready to defend him.

Spreen's English getting progressively better throughout dedsafio was just so awesome. He was already good with being good friends with Karl, but I could tell throughout dedsafio he definitely got a better grasp on some words, and I just really liked seeing two different people learning languages better. (Spreen's english is def better than sapnap's spanish) Spreen being one of the people to defend sapnap when someone accused him of cheating during hunt and run was something I always remembered. He definitely has a good opinion of sapnap, and I think dedsafio definitely endeared him a lot more. With him wanting to dance with sapnap in the corner with his music, and just finding him funny was great to see. Both of them being gambling addicts is something to bond over I guess lmao.

Cris... I honestly don't know him that well, but I did love his video with sapnap. It was really funny, and it probably endeared sapnap to him at least a little bit.

Goncho is always getting playfully bullied by sapnap, but he even missed it on the last day of squidcraft and asked conter to do it. That was really cute, and I think he really appreciated it when sapnap helped him. With the team goncho had, thank fucking God that sapnap helped him. The people on the team were freaking out.... just a little bit. Poor goncho.

Sramilcar, I think really got endeared after the burping match with sapnap. I think he definitely liked him before, but sapnap just doing that with him definitely helped. He even made that meme and replied to sapnap about having another burping contest later. (Even though that shit almost made me puke with the sounds, it's the thought that counts lmao)

I do remember silithur would interact with sapnap sometimes, but I don't have any big ones of the top of my head. I do think it's cute when sapnap calls him sili during the dedsafio.

Shadoune just loves that gringo, and I remember he was really happy when George called and asked him to team with dteam irl at twitchcon. That whole trip to Spain it think is what got shadoune to love sapnap and dteam as much as he does. Sapnap is definitely his favorite for obvious reasons lmao. (Sapnap's actual favorite lol.)

I need to stop before I write a damn novel, but just things that have been bouncing around in my brain. Love those mafia boys even if I only understand like 10% of what their saying.

HIIII

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA

All your points, spot on

Tldr: they all love sapnap

I will add, the most significant memory I have of Sapnap and Silithur is during dedsafio and Sap goes something like "Sili is muy silly :3" it repeats in my head constantly LMAO

Also with Conter, it really is cause sapnap doesn't really have an English accent when speaking Spanish so it just sounds more fluent compared to sylvee pfft (my poor girl deserves an A+)

Man I really loved reading all this I have to say it again hehe

Ty so much anon I cherish this

[likeadevils]

I trust your opinion. If you were making bets about what TS11's themes, concepts and sound would be like.. What would you like& prefer? and what would you think Taylor would do?

thank you for trusting my opinion but i am god awful at predicting what taylor is going to do next. that being said:

i think something taylor learned with all too well, anti-hero, and cruel summer is to… trust her instincts, i guess? not that she hasn’t in the past, but she’s mentioned that those songs were her favorites of their respective albums, and she didn’t expect that the general public would enjoy them as much— at least, not to the degree that they have been. but they’ve all been #1s, and more impressively to me, they’ve all broken through into wider pop culture in a way that’s super hard to do nowadays. like can you tell me what’s #1 right now because i can’t. but anyways i think she’ll be following what she wants to hear a little bit more, and trusting that her and the general public’s taste is pretty aligned at the moment. so like, to boil it down into a bingo card prediction, the lead single is going to be taylor’s favorite song on the album

also, bingo square, the color will be white. no evidence just vibes

i think another thing taylor recently learned is trusting that not only her fanbase, but the wider pop landscape would accept complex ideas delivered with a complex vocabulary. in some ways i think she was really burned by me!— she had been taught that it’s the we are never ever getting back together and shake it offs that you send to pop radio, not the all too wells. and then me! got torn apart (deservedly or not), and then the world shut down and it’s not like she needs to find a tour off her next album so what the hell, let’s take out the immediate hooks and replace it with flowery language. and it was a massive hit! twice! but it’s not the kind of music she wants to make forever. so midnights was an added gamble— can you marry the hooks with the collegiate vocabulary? and you can! anti-hero was her biggest chart success ever! so i expect more dictionary/thesaurus starter pack memes in our future, no matter what genre it’ll end up in

that being said, i think she’ll be staying in pop. i maaaaybe could see a kind of pop rock thing happening— think like, the electric guitar she adds to don’t blame me when it’s preformed live.

regardless i do think she’ll be pulling in more rep influences— i’m not super in the buisness of trying to track down when exactly she’s been re-recording, so this is coming from swiftie brain rot not timeline brain rot, but if i had to guess i would say she was mostly recording rep over the summer and with the occasional ts11 track thrown in as well. but i could be wrong maybe she has three albums recorded. idk. i am very interested in what the rep sounds like though, i think that’ll be the biggest clue to what ts11 will sound like

i’m curious how auto-biographical it’ll be. honestly, i could see taylor creating a single character to inhabit and tracking their story throughout an album, which would parallel the emotions she’s going through, but not the exact situations. but that’s me projecting what i would need to do to process the fucking year she’s been through, and taylor has consistently been saying how much she gets from having people sing back the words thought she must be alone in thinking, so like maybe it’ll be intensely About Her, who knows

as for release, i’m a big post eras tour believer. like i know it’s been said a million times but god how impossible would it be to add another set to that thing. like we might get the announcement and lead single while still on tour, but not a full album

i’m also expecting a more talk-y rollout. i would bet we’re getting a couple of print interviews— not anywhere near 1989 or lover levels, but like, you know. rolling stone, vogue, maybe another time, that kind of thing. and in front of camera stuff too— zane lowe, a bbc live longe, some late night appearances, maybe going on kelly clarkson’s show. and maaaaybe a hot wings episode. maybe. i think taylor got a bit burned by the long roll out for lover, and regardless she had other priorities when it came to the midnights release, but it’s been a while and she does like to surprise people by doing something completely predictable. but also this is totally me being like pleaseeeee give interviews they help me with timeline research so much

i predict this every time but visual album!!! if i keep saying it one day it’ll be true!!! it just makes sense she’s been getting so into directing!!!

while we’re in the realm of things that would make me specifically go insane i just think it would be funny if she got paul mccartney to feature on a song. just to be petty. imagine your ex is releasing an album and she gets one of your favorite musicians to play on it. and after the sweet nothing debacle too. oh. so ouchie. also she would have paul fucking mccartney on an album that’s insane in its own right

while we’re throwing spaghetti at the wall. two word title. let’s get crazy maybe 3+ words why not (this is by far the least serious prediction if the title is more than one word i’ll lose my mind)

maybe some religious imagery for the visuals? i’m trying to think of aesthetics taylor hasn’t thoroughly explored. what’s coming to mind is stained glass windows and like, the wild west. this is not at all influenced by me being raised catholic in the american southwest what are you talking about

so to sum up i think i want a pop rock opera with a title along the lines of “the blank of firstname lastname” about a woman in the wild west that has climatic scenes in a cathedral?? i guess that’s the shape i want?? i was not aware that’s what i wanted when i started writing this post okay

[irkimatsu]

God damn it, that art of Husk literally drowning in whiskey... my fucking heart...

I started talking about Husk's alcoholism and my hopes for its future portrayal and it got long and a little personal, whoops

I would like more focus in canon about his alcoholism, more than quirky "ha ha it's eight in the morning and he's already putting whiskey in his coffee, the silly old drunk". My feelings and history when it comes to alcohol are complicated. I've seen how it destroys people who are in denial about whether they have a problem. Middle schoolers should not have to take care of their wasted relatives whenever the family party has gone to shit again, and don't even get me started on my mother's drunken temper. (She's bad enough when she's sober.) I grew up thinking that sort of thing was normal, that I'd have to avoid alcohol entirely to not end up like my family, and that even then I'd be looked at as a failure of an adult if I didn't get plastered and pass out behind a Walmart somewhere at least once in my life.

So normalization of alcohol in general already tends to get me a little weird, even if I've gotten better about it in the past decade. Still not a fan of quirky "tee hee, I can't deal with my dumpster fire of a life without wine" Facebook mom memes, but I know responsible alcohol consumption is possible, which is more progress than I had as a teenager.

But even then, Husk is not responsible. He has a problem. He's traumatized, I do not blame him for that, and like Angel, he's seeking comfort in substance abuse because he has no easy way out of the main source of his stress. They have made some allusion to it being a problem and him knowing it - "You're not going to find answers at the bottom of a bottle, I've been looking for a long time" - but I want more focus on it. Call attention to the fact that making an alcoholic spend all day behind a bar is an awful idea, and possibly intentional on Alastor's part to keep him too drunk to fight back. (Between the alcohol and winning his soul in gambling, preying on Husk's vices really does seem to be Alastor's Thing.) Make note of the fact that unlike Angel's drug addictions, alcohol use is so normalized that Husk couldn't quit if he tried - how is he supposed to, with everyone else in the hotel drinking regularly? Charlie and Vaggie can drink as much as they want, but Husk takes one shot and suddenly he's the bad guy? I can see that not sounding fair in his mind, because he's ignoring the fact that everyone else knows when to quit for the night...

And what if he did try to quit? How is he going to deal with it? The stress he can no longer drown, the withdrawal symptoms? Like with Angel, if you take away the unhealthy coping mechanism but don't do anything to help him with what he's unhealthily coping with, you're just going to make his mental state worse... I get the feeling he's been drunk for so long he barely remembers who he was when sober, he doesn't know how to be sober anymore, it might freak him out to adjust to being what feels like a different person, his whole mind working differently than it has in decades when it's no longer clouded by drink...

Alastor might not like his tamed little pet going sober, either. If he's thinking clearly, he might have silly thoughts about things like how to save himself. That won't do. Drink some whiskey, Husker, it makes you much easier to handle.

...this got longer and more rambly than I intended. I just want to see more of Husk's mental state, more than "ha ha quirky drunk". Really get into his mind, his trauma, what it would take to save him, to convince him it's worth trying to save himself.

And maybe I just like seeing him suffer a little.

[astralleywright]

Orympost I dare you. Consider me the sick fuck egging you on

me reading this ask

ok so. i love Orym so much and I truly have too many thoughts abt him to be contained in one post so let's just start with the trauma, the thing that defines Orym not just as a character but also discursively. this discussion often feels very surface level, not much more than a simple acknowledgment that Orym is sad bc dead family. which is a shame, bc the thing that really strikes me about Orym's grief is not simply that he has it but how deeply it has shaped him, consumed him. the death of his family often gets used as a reason no one should ever challenge him on anything ever, which is an incredibly unproductive and unhealthy way to view trauma, and also obscures the much more compelling and poignant truth; Orym is absolutely not handling his trauma productively or healthily. i have made a meme to further express my feelings on the matter.

so, i remember quite well the first time i watched Orym's resurrection in episode 34.

when he sees Will in the afterlife and says, the most sincere he's ever sounded (and he is so sincere all the time), "I really wish I could stay." and in that moment i realized; oh, Orym would rather be dead right now. Orym would rather be dead right now, because it would mean he got to be with Will and Derrig.

another moment i think about a lot: when he's talking with Uther, a member of the Gorgynei, in episode 42, about naming his sword and about their times traveling, and Uther says: "it's nice to have a home finally, after traveling for a long time. i hope you and your friends can find a home, or return to the ones you have."

and Orym says: "I'll think of a name [for his sword]."

it's a fun kind of synergy that Orym is a dex based character who is also, emotionally, so slippery and avoidant. always deflecting. he's defined by his steadfastness in battle and his stubborn refusal to change outside of it. it's notable how stagnant Orym felt, as a character, up until the Issylra arc. very intentionally so; he's likely been in a state of paralysis for much of the last 6 years. he really wishes he could stay. i don't think he's accepted that he can't.

or that there's reasons not to: of all of the many Orym moments i think about all of the time, the one i think about by far the most is his conversation with the Wildmother, all the way back in EXU, when she tells him, so lovingly:

"There is so much I would have you see."

that, more than anything, is the line that defines Orym to me. you can see glimpses of it, in his love for the Hells, his amazement when he's dancing with the spirits or watching Ashton blow 200 gold gambling; on the other hand, in his refusal to really engage with the gods debate (as stated by Liam himself) or his continued discomfit with some of his friend's oddities. there is so much world, so much beauty, so much love still out there for Orym to experience, if he would simply let himself. revenge is nice, i hope he gets it, but it will simply never be enough. it will not give him the capacity to love fully again, and if he gets the revenge and not the love he will end up empty, hallowed out, leading a life always wishing he could be somewhere else.

right now he's regressing, reduced down to nothing but that painful wound, abandoning even so much of his kindness and reason. the hells can help, and they should and they will, because they have so much love to give. but Orym will have to open himself up to it, to them, first. i really hope he does!!

[dianight]

I've done a reread of dunmeshi from chapter 52 (where the anime ends) and we just got confirmation that season 2 has started production.

A minor thought: it will be as good (if not better) than everyone insists it is. It is going to be annoying, but it's a good story and the praise is deserved.

Other thoughts, with spoilers:

Kabru is actually right in that the world ending was his fault for not letting Mithrun kill Thistle. While his reasoning at the time was solid, banking on Laios like that was a massive gamble.

We never see the demon eat Marcille's desire to arrange her hair, no doubt a tasty meal... So I wonder what other "minor" desires he could have eaten off her or Thistle.

All demons are part of the same being (hardly a being, more like a force of nature or even a concept) and they share memories yet are different individuals.

Even while in mortal danger, Laios never stopped trying to understand the demon to find a way to overcome it. They were just that delicious huh?

Thistle dying(?)/completely giving up is what lifts the spell that sunk the kingdom. I always assumed he dies right there, but a poll about who could be his caretaker after the story made me check to make sure and it's not confirmed. He just doesn't need anything anymore...

Marcille did nothing wrong. I know it sounds like a meme but given the circumstances it was literally impossible to get any other outcome. It was her or Laios.

After the demon eats Thistle desire to live (?) (the big one that looks like some manysided crystal) he grows in size from a goofy face to the form he keeps the rest of the series.

Just like the goat with Mithrun, eating Thistle alone was actually not enough to break through the dungeon and reach the surface.

The panel after Marcille carries everyone's corpses inside after fighting the rabbits and she lays down crying is heartbreaking. Did you even stop to think about what it would be like for me to be surrounded by everyone's dead bodies...? Her literal worst nightmare made real.

If all demons share their memories, is getting one of them enough to stop all others? Or do they now know their own weakness? Can anyone else even digest, let alone eat their hunger?

I'd like to see a sequel where Izutsumi goes beat up the sorcerer that transformed her.

Chapter 87 remains the best one in the series.

[bouquetface]

I hope you’re fine and I’m your new follower here.. I wanted to ask something about Aries cuz I’m not able to get these mixed signals of him..

Additional information :- Pisces Rising (Venus and Mercury), Scorpio Moon and Cancer Mars

So there’s my classmate, he joined school in July 2022. I thought to take interest in him by observing him everyday. He seemed mysterious. In August, I lost interest in him but during the same time, I presented a science activity in front of the class. He was watching me. And the next day, he started stealing glances at me. His friends used to nudge his elbow to make him see whenever I did something. In 2023, the next day after my birthday, he sent me a follow request on Instagram. I accepted it. We started chatting the next day. He gave a heart to all my messages. In April, for library period, he would watch me while I read the book or make eye contact with me longer. If I join his eye contact, he wouldn’t avert his gaze from me. When I get a little shy, I would stop making eye contact with him but he would still watch me. Whenever we talked to each other in class, he blushed. In May, there was an anonymous account about our school meme page. After some time, that person started using pics of me and argued that it’s bad to use them. That person told me that I’m attention seeking and said some few curse words to me. After few days, I got to know that person was that boy the whole time. He apologised on the chat. We got called to principle office and he got worried about me. And there was other bullying too as my senior bullied me so the boy felt sorry for me and asking that if I’m okay. And after few months, And every time I return to my class, after doing something, he would be the first person to look at me, sometimes blush and smile at me like the old times. And he still does in 2024, not bullies me again.

Hello,

I hate to be negative because I think you may like him. However, If I am to be honest, he sounds very immature.

An immature aries sun often has to be dealt with the same way you’d treat a child. They can be impulsive and directionless. And they can be bullies since they can be selfish and not realize when their playing around has gone too far.

A mature aries is straight forward and goes for what they want. Not a single aries I have ever known sends mixed signals. They are a no bullshit sign when they are serious. It’s my favourite trait about them. And they are deeply protective when they do care.

Truthfully, to me your description indicates, he is childish and playing around with you. He is not mature enough to take you seriously. Him and his friends may be playing some stupid game, finding the situation funny.

Aries is ruled by mars. His mars in cancer means he has a debilitated mars. Mars does not do well in cancer. Mars is the enemy of the Moon, cancer is naturally ruled by the Moon. This means his Aries house & Mars will not function as they should. Mars is a warrior, the planet should be able to be a go-getter. Assert themselves, be bold & clear, take action.

In Cancer, mars struggles to make these choices. The planets fiery nature is being drowned in the watery nature of cancer. This can make one an angry crier, hypersensitive, and defensive. A lot of this occurs in private as they do not like confrontation.

If he’s a pisces rising, Mars rules his 2nd House. He could make poor financial choices throughout his life. As his cancer mars will be in the 5th, making it likely he is reckless with money. He may even grow a liking to gambling.

Mars cancer people are not doomed though. They will have some bad experiences but can learn from it. For him, his pisces placements along with an immature aries placement, will likely make him pity himself. He will feel a victim of many things in the world. He will likely struggle to accept his self destructive ways. He will need to make the choice to change himself. This may not come until much later in life. A lot of astrology in our charts will not resonate until a much later age as it has to be activated/developed through experiences.

However, I am not you, I don’t live your life. Nor, do I personally know him. I am only reading this off the placements & experiences with him you have sent in.

You do know him so if you feel this doesn’t resonate with his true character, disregard this as nonsense. Either way, I hope you found this somewhat helpful.

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ SAINTS BLOOD by SEBASTIEN DE CASTELL / ch10 - ch18 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'three against thirteen is terrible odds.'

'i wouldn't know. i've never had that much money.'

'you'll try to kill me, of course.'

'then you'll be dead /and/ embarrassed.'

'i know it isn't your usual approach, but i'd suggest you consider surrender.'

'the last time i surrendered to someone they tortured me until there was almost nothing left of me.'

'there's always luck. and red, bloody rage.'

'you're killing her.'

'i'm not sure if you've noticed but the bad men here are pointing weapons at us.'

'i really need to find a new job. one that doesn't involve swords.'

'you don't reason with mobs for the same reason you don't reason with hordes of fire ants: they're too stupid to understand what you're saying and eventually they'll just swarm over you.'

'try not to get torn to pieces.'

'this is what you do, you know.'

'you throw yourself into fights you have no real chance of winning.'

'it's the only thing i know how to do that ever works.'

'it's a /staff/, not a stick.'

'say there, friend, why exactly have you chosen to tie that nice fellow to a post?'

'you would attack an unarmed man?'

'that was a remarkably foolish gamble.'

'something you need to see, going to make your day a whole lot worse.'

'so how long have you been riding around with a corpse strapped to your horse?'

'help me get the ropes off, will you? my hands are still too numb; i was tied up for hours.'

'i just didn't have any faith any more.'

'he was, in fact, a son of a bitch.'

'he's a little slow sometimes, but he usually gets there in the end.'

'would someone /please/ tell me what we're talking about so i can decide if i care?'

'she wants to speak with you and that is the only gift left that either of us can give her now.'

'we pray in the shadows that we may summon the light.'

'well, i'd sort of had my heart set on an extended discussion of just how terrible you look, but if you insist, we can move straight on to how bad you smell.'

'now i remember why i liked you.'

'see, when you put it that way i don't sound very clever.'

'his desires cannot abide mercy. he will destroy it unless you stop him.'

'i suspect he despises a great many things.'

'the only thing the gods ever call any of us is fools.

'are you too busy sleeping with men for money to bring me some tea?'

'there are still things worth saving.'

'i would have spared you this if i could.'

'do not touch me with those hands, those hands of violence — hands meant only for holding swords and shedding blood.'

'you know i could kiss you right now, don't you?'

'oh well. i've been cursed plenty of times in my life and nothing too bad's happened yet, right?'

'"arsehole" is a terrible name for any beast.'

'your nervous griping is taking all the fun out of this trip.'

'maybe if we found you a proper weapon you wouldn't feel quite so scared all the time.'

'of course you'd rather sleep out in the cold.'

'i hear the call of music, a soft bed, women and, most importantly, beer.'

'you can /hear/ the beer?'

'and here i thought you were on a mission to get drunk and bed the local schoolteacher.'

'i can do more than one thing at a time. i'm ambidextrous.'

'how about, instead of pining here in your little room, you go down there and be a fucking man for a change?'

'go ahead and tell me what's wrong with me.'

'of course some of it's real. i mean, it's a giant pain in the arse, so it has to be real.'

'walk in like a man, mind you, not some shade of the long dead.'

'if you're both so fucking cursed then i'm sure lightning will strike you down.'

'dancing. well there's a tactic that never occurred to me.'

[glapplebloom]

Something I’ve been doing for a while.

So if you've been on any social website with video, you may see meme animations based off some song but only one part of it. But what is the full context of it? So here are four songs that I’ve seen the memes first then found the full song.

Red Flags

The Meme is a date goes so bad, one of them is asking for help with Morse Code. The date asks if anything is wrong and if they can help, and not wanting to reveal their intentions for fear of something bad happening to them, decides to deny asking for help when a waiter comes up to see if they need it. So why is the date so bad?

In the full song, it's because she’s a fan of Human Centipede. A legit fan of Human Centipede.  The Chorus is her saying “Human Centipede” while she talks about why she likes it. And for those who don’t know what that movie is, the song perfectly sums it up with her explaining the plot. So hearing that and all the ways she likes it, the date thinks she’s going to kill him. Either by feeding him or reenacting the movie.

After the meme part, she convinces him that they would be a great couple. So convincing that they’re already talking about marriage on the first frikkin date. Of course, the wedding has to be themed. And the theme? Human Centipede. I’m amazed the most I’ve seen of the song was the blinking segment when Human Centipede was so meme worthy to me. Luckily others have been doing the beginning as well.

Open the Door

The Meme is someone thinking they got everything right for entry. But one mistake locks them out. This is followed by others asking to be let in despite looking like things you should not let in. Honestly, this is the most straightforward of the memes since the song is based off “That’s Not My Neighbor”. The game is all about checking if the person you’re letting in is a real one or a monster. So basically the entire song is about the meme.

Am I Hot or Cute

This Meme starts with a girlfriend asking her boyfriend if she’s hot or cute. The obvious answer is she’s both but she insists that there can be only one choice. And if he wants to keep dating her he has to answer. If you follow only the meme, you would think it ends with him getting a call from his mother (being it real or not depending on the video maker) and her thinking he’s lying.

In the full song, this story continues. He was lying. He texts his group of friends to ask if his girlfriend is hot or cute. They immediately think it is a trap and after explaining why it is, what is hot or cute and their thoughts, one of his friends said the only answer is what she thinks it is. In other words, they did not help. So he has to gamble into answering before she dumps him.

He comes back with his answer and the twist of this entire thing is revealed: she asked him this because he keeps calling everyone dude and she wants him to stop calling her dude. He agrees and she reveals what the boyfriend and one member of the friend group was thinking: hot and cute are the same thing. Honestly I want to remake the entire thing with ponies.

Why Aren’t You At School

In the Meme, a mother calls her son because she found out he was not at school. He claims that he is. She doesn’t believe him and he said that if you don’t believe me just come to my school. So she does. The meme ends with her going to school while the boy playing hooky tries to rush back to school.

That’s not what the song is about. The kid was at school. The school that called the mother was his girlfriend. This was an elaborate scheme to get the alcohol from his mother so they can celebrate their anniversary. Why couldn’t he just fake sickness like his girlfriend? Besides his mother knowing when he’s faking, even if she believes him she won’t let him out after. Sounds like a fool proof plan.

The mother arrives at school, sees her son being there, then when she drives back home the girlfriend will pick him up and they can celebrate. But there’s a flaw in his plan: since his girlfriend called his mother, when the mother called back to complain about the school she found out about the call coming from the girlfriend since she didn’t pick it up and let it go to voicemail. A voicemail that does not belong to the school.

So basically the jig is up and the boy’s mother calls the girlfriend’s mother. The two are most likely going to be grounded. So let this be a lesson to you, don’t complicate plans. 

[ronmanmob]

How Many Shots Would It Take You to sleep with Lieutenant Riley?

How Many Shots Meme

There were a couple'a things about Ron's situation that saved Pat Connolly's life when he asked - half way to having a skin full and only when most everyone else round the room had been subjected to their motley crew's version of Would You Rather - how much Ron would have to drink to go bed with their own Leftenant Riley. Their setting was one of 'em. The lads - Ron, Pat, Riley and Sam - had come upon a gem of a live jazz-come-swing performance and were ensconced front row round a table. The air may as well have simmered with the band's bassy rasp and Ron, about as carried away by it as the music man among 'em, just didn't have the pointed focus to level Pat with anything like the daggers he would've outside such congenial climes. That said music man had his arm round the back of Ron's chair helped matters too, and that was before even a glance was given to the publican's ABV.

So Pat asked.

And he did not die.

The question caught Ron jiving, a riff rolling up his spine like fingertips; making him shudder pleasurably the way only absolutely killer music could. It knocked a laugh free, pinned his attention on his mate across the table for a heavy second before the moment broke, the tension broke and he was all easy animation and affable charm.

"---Righ'...lissen" Ron said, whiskey's purr cut through his voice as he leant a hint left and confided more to Riley than to Pat - much as the latter could still hear him. "Lissen, I'm anyb'dy's aftah a couple'a Long Island Iced Teas, yeah? So if i's in y'want luv, tha's th'ticket." A rattle of laughter, low and smoky for all he was wanting for a fag like nothing else right this second, came up when he paused a half second. Then, straightening a bit to include Pat and Sam in his opinion-giving, Ron added,

"Fink th'fairer question's 'ow much this'n 'ere-", he nodded to Riley, "w'd need t'drink t'wanna take ME t'bed." Another beat of laughter bought a lopsided smirk up on his lips. "Bettin' is I'd be able t'light 'is sweat on fire b'fore then, so le's not giv 'im no ideas, aye Pat?"

His soused bodyguard and long-time pal threw his head back laughing at that notion, and Ron watched him - his smirk still lingering on his lips for all it'd started to dim. Ron didn't look round at Riley to see if he was laughing too. He let the music carry him off again instead; got caught up in the sound of it all and put Pat's joking bullshit out of mind. It was only when he settled back in his seat again that he clocked Riley'd not moved his arm away; that he'd not moved away at all for that matter. And that, more than most else, was what saved Pat Connolly's life.

Ron had warned him more than once about shit-mouthing in the direction of Him And Riley. Man knew what he was risking - knew Ron would find him if his fuckery cost him a friendship. He'd gambled this evening, at least to Ron's mind. And he'd won. But the house was never far off from looting back its take'a winnings, so they'd have a chat - Ron and Pat - come the morn.

@tarnishedhalo

[theotherwesley]

Title meme: the necklace with seven jewels

WIP snip from a strange little horror story that came to me in a dream, still much under revision.

---

And when she was alone with herself and her plainness, a drab dun bird in a drab dun nest, she thought about her handsome trader, setting out his enticing wares in port after port, dazzling all who met him in distant cities filled with other, dazzling people. If the trade-winds drift, or the trade-routes shift, she thought, what will keep my trader coming back to me? What have I got, that he could not find better in a thousand, thousand others? She looked at her home, and doubt filled her. She looked to her mirror, and fear filled her. 

Now on the edge of the plain town where she lived, there was an old, dry well that had not been in service for many years. It lay open and uncovered, choked with ivy, the disused bucket still hanging from its rusted chain. Sometimes when the wind blew, the old well told secrets– this was known. 

So it happened one day, on the doorstep of winter, when the faire had ended and the colorful stalls were packed away and the trader waved farewell from the deck of a ship, the plain girl wandered out past the town, beyond the rubbish heap and old middens, and up the hill to the old well, where she sat on the stones and wept. She could not bear to go back to her empty house, her vacant bed, and her cold, cruel mirror. So she stayed sitting on the well as the sun set, and the air grew chill, and the night winds began to blow. 

Why are you crying? the well asked.

 “My house is empty, my bed is vacant, and my mirror is cruel,” the plain girl replied, her eyes stinging with cold, “my lover is handsome, and I am plain. Someday he will surely leave me.” 

You are plain and he is handsome. Someday he will surely leave, echoed the well. Look down, and tell me what you see.

The plain girl wiped her eyes and leaned over the wall, and just then, the moon rose like a bright silver coin, tossed into the sky for a gamble. In the hard and colorless light, she could see her own shadow, her silhouette cast down, down in the wet, black mud of the well, and there, just on the edge of it– something glittered.

“I see my shadow. I see a pale glimmer.”

Send down my bucket, said the well, and the plain girl did. The chain rattled and clattered against the stones, but the bucket made no sound when it reached the damp earth at the bottom, as though it had been caught. 

Something tugged upon the chain, and she pulled it up, length by length. In the bucket, covered with black water, was a necklace of shining silver. It was like lace, like a spider’s web in moonlight, with seven, empty frames woven in. 

Wear this necklace, and do not show it. Each time you meet, say to him ‘you do not love me’. You must say it five times, and for every five, he must answer ‘I do love you’. When he does, a piece of his heart will stay with you, to keep and wear forever as a jewel.

“And what will happen when the necklace is set all with jewels?”

Then you will have his whole heart, and he will never leave you, said the well, and a cloud darkened the moon, and the night winds ceased to blow.    

The plain girl walked home, and clasped the empty silver necklace around her throat. 

When next they met at the market, she wore a plain spun scarf under her chin, so that nothing glittered, and nothing was revealed. The tents and stalls around them were full of color, her trader was more handsome and dear to her than ever, and in the crowd every face more beautiful than hers drove a splinter into her heart. 

You do not love me, she said thrice to him, though she did not think it true, and did not wish it to be true, but only feared one day it would be so. And though puzzled by her sorrow and more so her accusation, he answered “But I do love you. I do. I do!” You do not love me, she said twice again, and gently he replied, “I do love you, I do.” 

Around her throat, she felt the necklace sag, and swing a little lower, heavier by one-seventh.

[nephrastar]

Honestly convinced that, barring maybe tumblr, bigwig social media has collapsed damn near all of my social circles.

All this shit about figuring out the algorithm, all this shit about analytics, SEO, about view time, about follower count... I just fucking hate it all now. Social media basically turned the internet from a wild west with pockets of peaceful and interesting communes to a monolithic walled city where the only thing that matters is numbers. And if you get big numbers, congrats you get to be famous!! But only if you can keep those numbers going.

And let me tell you from personal experience-- 9 times out of 10, when you post something to social media at "the right time of day" with the intent of getting some clout, your post just... Does not get clout, most of the time.

Any post that goes viral is a benefactor of circumstance. In my almost 20 years of being on the internet, the one and only thing I've ever posted that went viral was a shitpost on Twitter of me memeing on a restaurant because they had a tip limit on their app and they along with many other food and adjacent companies were being criticized for not paying their employees a living wage. This was in 2022. Last year. I learned nothing from having hundreds of thousands of likes and retweets, and have not had anything nearly as popular since. I promoted my art Twitter in the replies, but you wanna know what that did?

Absolutely FUCKING NOTHING. I didnt make any money as a result of piggybacking that viral tweet. I didn't have people clamoring for what i had to offer. And it was then when I realized that getting big numbers anywhere will ultimately amount to jack and shit. And Jack had long since left town.

That may sound like i was upset that i didnt become internet famous overnight. I honestly wasn't, but there's a point to be made here-- the chances of your platform becoming big and internet famous are about as good as your acting landing you a breakout role in a Hollywood film. You're competing with hundreds of hours worth of content per second on most platforms, and depending on the site, their algorithm, which may or may not be controlled by real life humans.

Nobody can know for certain what types of videos will be hits on YouTube anymore. not even YouTube staff know what will be hits anymore because their algorithm is a machine learning AI, and creating any content at all with the intent of beating the algorithm or making faceless computers happy will lead to burnout. And when that content doesn't make the big numbers, you're probably going to feel like it's your fault when it's really not. this goes for any social media site that uses similar methods to "curate" their user's site experience.

And I've seen far too many people i know fall into this trap, which may as well be gambling. Getting good numbers so you can get that nice dopamine hit. Then maybe you hit a jackpot. Then you're just outright delighted. So you do the same thing you did before. But it doesn't make big numbers this time. Was it something you did? Ah well. Post again. Nothing. You adjust how you post and when to post. Maybe what to post, even. But still... Your content isn't doing well. You may as well be playing slots at a casino, except instead of losing thousands of dollars you're losing time. Time that, honestly, would've been better spent doing something you legitimately like to do.

The way i see it, make content like the algorithm doesn't exist-- make videos infodumping about your special interest like view counts dont matter, draw art and post it with the same energy a 5 year old has when they show off their macaroni art to their parents. Make the music you want to hear played during a thunderstorm.

Make the content that you want because you like the idea of it existing. At the end of the day, that content is FOR YOU! It has value because you poured your passion and love into it, and no amount of Algorithms or influencer courses or viral content will ever change that. And if that does eventually lead to you being notable and successful, then congratulations! You have a large audience that's cheering you on and encouraging you to do what you love.

[unforth]

For the meme thing Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi (from Thousand Autumns) playing chess, please?

Hi anon! You don't need to tell me who they are, Yanshen is one of my top five otps rn! I love that old gremlin and his boytoy, lmao.

(Qian Qiu, Yanshen, post-canon I guess?)

"Oh ho, looks like I've lost..." And, saying this, Yan Wushi stands up, his hands going to the belt holding his outer robes closed.

"What are you doing?" Shen Qiao knows better than to ask. Engaging with Yan Wushi's antics is the surest way to ensure he escalates. But he's unable to stop himself before the strangled question emerges. That's even worse - his tone will convince Yan Wushi that Shen Qiao is affected.

(Shen Qiao is definitely affected by the glimpse of under robe and pale skin beneath that's revealed by Yan Wushi's in-progress disrobing, but Shen Qiao wishes he hadn't revealed that he was affected.)

"Exactly what I said I'd do," Yan Wushi says smugly. "Remember the rules?"

"Of weiqi? Obviously I remember. I just defeated you..."

"Indeed you did. But do you truly not recall what I said when we began this game?"

Frowning, Shen Qiao replays the afternoon in his mind. They hadn't seen each other for a while, and after catching up over tea, Yan Wushi had pulled a weiqi board and a bag of qizi from his qiankun sleeve and suggested they play a game. Shen Qiao had agreed, and Yan Wushi had said...

Our usual rules, yes?

Not "the" usual rules; very specifically "our" usual rules.

Shen Qiao's frown deepened. "What are 'our' usual rules?"

"Tsk, tsk. Your memory must be playing up again."

Stop engaging, stop engaging, stop engaging... but it's so hard to enforce that stricture on himself when Yan Wushi has his belt fully undone and has let it drop to the ground, when his purple outer robes are hanging loosely over his powerful figure. "Should I prepare the board to play again?" is the closest Shen Qiao can get to distancing himself from Yan Wushi's behavior.

"I'll have to make sure I defeat you this time," Yan Wushi says thoughtfully. "I'd much prefer to see you disrobe than to do so myself."

The mental castigation imploring that he end this discussion is useless. "Why should I disrobe?" Shen Qiao asks.

"Because of the rules," explains Yan Wushi as if his emphasis clarifies everything.

And then he clarifies nothing.

Shen Qiao knows that Yan Wushi is trying to force him to ask. Shen Qiao absolutely does not want to ask. But Yan Wushi has now shrugged his shoulders, has now dislodged the purple to slip down his arms and pool about his narrow waist, is now leering at Shen Qiao daring him to react.

What choice, really, does Shen Qiao have?

If he asks, he'll have fed into Yan Wushi's shenanigans, and Yan Wushi will continue to remove his clothing in the most alluring way he can.

If he doesn't ask, he won't know, and Yan Wushi will continue to remove his clothing in the most alluring way he can.

Shen Qiao lost this so-called "game" the moment he agreed to play by "our usual rules" without clarifying what Yan Wushi meant by that.

"What rule?" asks Shen Qiao, resigned.

(Sometimes, resigning to whatever Yan Wushi has in store for Shen Qiao ends up infuriating; other times, it ends up delightful; still others it ends up...well, it ends with them in bed together. Shen Qiao still hasn't decided if that's infuriating or delightful but he also hasn't made much effort...any effort...to put a stop to it, so...)

"Well, a loser must lose something, correct?" Fortunately, Yan Wushi continues without expecting Shen Qiao to confirm that. "I'd never ask an honor daozhang such as yourself to gamble for mere money, so the stakes are one lose, one garment discarded." As if to emphasize his statement (probably to emphasize his statement), Yan Wushi let the robe fall completely from one arm, snagged the hem briefly with the other hand, then let it fall to the ground. Rich purple silk flowed about his feet like water.

"We've never discussed that." Shen Qiao tries not to sound like he's grumbling, but he can't repress a sigh.

"We did." There's a twinkle in Yan Wushi's eye and yes, damn him, he's got Shen Qiao completely ensnared. "The first time you and I played weiqi, I offered the stakes, you demurred at the time, suggesting that perhaps another time would be better."

"The first time? When I had amnesia?"

"I assumed that was because you were blind at the time," Yan Wushi continues, nodding thoughtfully, "the potential allure of stripping was presumably lost on you at the time." He stretches suggestively, and Shen Qiao would give a lot to be able to pretend there was no allure to the movement, no allure to Yan Wushi. "Our rules, yes?"

Yan Wushi gestures at the board, an invitation, a trap.

Shen Qiao heaves another sigh. "Fine..."

-

Hours later, they're lying entangled on Yan Wushi's bed; Yan Wushi is completely naked, Shen Qiao yet fully clothed. Being garbed in layers of robes did nothing to protect him from Yan Wushi's advances, though, and now they're both hot and sated. Shen Qiao lies atop Yan Wushi; his legs straddle Yan Wushi's hips, and Yan Wushi's arms encircle his back.

(If he'd wanted to protect himself, he would have.)

(He didn't want to protect himself.)

(He doesn't need to protect himself, not from Yan Wushi, not anymore.)

A deep, sinful chuckle interrupts the quiet evening afterglow. Yan Wushi lifts a hand, drawing patterns over Shen Qiao's back; with the fabric separating them, his touch feels far too distant, but Shen Qiao can't bring himself to move however much he'd like to feel skin on skin.

And then he realizes.

"You lost on purpose, didn't you..." Shen Qiao sits up enough to glare an accusation at Yan Wushi, and he's met immediately with a confirming smirk.

"I win," Yan Wushi announces.

Anger bubbles through Shen Qiao's mind, struggles toward expression...and then dissipates into nothing.

It's not like Shen Qiao had any actual complaints about how the day had gone. "We both win," he says.

Yan Wushi shakes his head. "No, definitely me. I got you."

That he does. Shen Qiao can't even explain how or why, but Yan Wushi does have him, and while he can't imagine Yan Wushi would ever admit it...Shen Qiao has him, too.

"You win," allows Shen Qiao graciously.

He can let Yan Wushi have this one.

*

As soon as I got this prompt I kinda knew it'd end up being a prequel to my first previous Yanshen ficlet, "A Game of His Own Devising." That one is Yan Wushi pov...and Shen Qiao finally gets to win. :D

Also, I started this ficlet yesterday morning; I wsa like 80% sure that Shen Qiao played weiqi in the donghua, but it's been so long since I watched it that I couldn't remember for sure and I was like "fuck it, I'm just gonna roll with it." But then yesterday evening I (finally) started reading vol. 1 of the official English translation...and Yan Wushi actually plays weiqi against Yan Shengyuan in the early chapters! So I'm feeling like I nailed it. I hope you're okay with me using weiqi instead of literal (western) chess, anon...

Anyway, I've only got one more ficlet prompt left (it's for Destiel...). Want a ficlet, especially for a danmei or cnovel fandom I'm in? Drop me an ask!

[tragedicna]

@aghostics  /  forgotten meme.

❛   take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act. ❜

            ❝  what does that mean  ??  ❞  ⸻  confusion clouds the bright blue eyes that look back at the elder  ,  whatever artyom just said to him was . . . mind — boggling  .  what is the other trying to tell him  ??  of course love exists . . . his mom loves him  ,  and he loves his grandfather . . . so whatever does the other mean  ??  this is so confusing . . . he knows artyom is trying to teach him something about life  ,  but must he do it in such a confounding way  ??  he doesn't get it  .             ❝  if i love my mom and my mom loves me . . .  ❞  feliks begins to sound out his child like thoughts  ,  ❝  and i love you  ,  ❞  feliks says  ,  using his chubby fingers to list off the people in his life  ,  he hesitates  ,  head snapping upwards to look at artyom  .  ❝  do you love me  ,  grandpa  ??  ❞  he asks  ,  suddenly unsure  .  what if this was artyom's way of telling him that grandpa no longer loves him  ??               ❝  do you not want to be with me anymore  ,  grandpa  ??  ❞  feliks asks  ,  insistent now  .  desperate to know  .

[jonathanxmk]

⸻ the coffee trap.

📍 : brown brew coffee ╱ after class — 𝄞 ⤷ with @doyunmk

responding to a message from one (1) lim doyun was always a gamble. aside from the god-awful memes the other sent, there was always some sort of "trap" set up at his expense. the words seemed harmless, 'meet me at bbs @ 4', but for jonathan it was a set-up for his social downfall. while, yes, this was one of his closest friends—the first one he ever made at lumera, honestly—the person he befriended was a venus flytrap for the non-social. and he was the fly who couldn't resist coffee if his life depended on it. a vicious cycle, he thinks, as he gently deposits juno on his bed and heads out of his dorm.

brown brew wasn't far, thankfully, the walk easy despite the navigating of bodies he had to get around to make way there. he knew this was only the first stop of the excursion, anyway—he wouldn't be out of doyun's metaphorical trap until almost curfew despite how valiantly he opposes. he presses the pads of the headphones closer to his ears as the sounds pick up, humming to drown out the sound to calm himself as he briskly makes way into the plaza. he spots doyun through the window before the other spots him, hair a beacon under the florescent lights that anyone could make out. the chime signals his arrival, but he slides up besides his friend anyway. he doesn't give a proper greeting, never has, but he does move close enough into his vicinity to allow doyun to latch as he was prone to.

still, he knew this was doyun's way of hanging out, all under the guise of luring jonathan into sense of false security. unfortunately, offering caffeine to a addict will make him fold in record time. "you're paying," comes the soft murmur to the elder, fox-like eyes scanning the menu with ease—as if he wasn't going to order the same thing he always did. on doyun's dime, of course. "a black c-coffee... and..." he fumbles as he makes eye contact with the girl behind the counter, shifting it away and titters on, "a tiramisu. uh, please." a part of him wished he had his companion with him to tuck into his shirt like usual. anything to help ease the the discomfort of being perceived. to distract from how he could still somehow hear the buzz of the florescent lights though his headphones.

"i'll find us a table," he quickly mumbles, turning on his heel and quickly shuffling away with a nervous gait. the one he picks is furthest away from everyone, quiet enough that he feels secure in slowly slipping the headphones from his ears with a soft sigh. it was getting harder, he realized. dealing with the noises. he could do this, though: hanging out. he could sacrifice the discomfort for a while... especially for a friend.