#[[ sadly cameras do not exist in his main verse ]]

[phoenixfiiire]

happy sinday know that joshua would send your character nudes in modern after you've paid him

in ffvii he'd sadly probably do it for free; he doesn't have a good grasp on exchanging money for goods and services

[owlsinathens]

First Line Game

tagged by @ferrame thank you very much 😘 Reading your first lines was a pleasure!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors.

Most of these are posted fics, except for the last two which are seriously in progress :)

Oh and I'm only including one of the kink bingo ficlets, or that'd be all there is 🙈

1. Dressed (Theon hosts a costume party)

“Let me see what you’ve got so far,” Robb says, curiously peeking over Theon’s shoulder.

2. Lights, Camera... Eggnog (A nude calendar shooting and the consequences)

The crisp December air smells nicely of wood fires and snow, and Jon takes a deep breath as he makes his way over the slippery cobblestones in the main building’s yard.

3. Winterfell Night (A Jaime/Brienne ficlet)

The sounds of light footsteps on frozen snow have Brienne’s shoulders hunch around her ears.

4. Another Christmas Carol (Theon, three ghosts and an eventful christmas)

The house looks just the same as it always has.

5. The Office (Shenanigans in a corporate setting)

Theon leans back in his chair, letting his gaze sweep over the view outside the window.

6. Persimmons (Dany/Yara mini ficlet)

Cities have proved easy to conquer.

7. Tuesdays (Uh... well. This is. Um. Shameless porn is what it is)

Evenings have become the bane of Theon’s existence since he’s moved to the capital.

8. True Love's Kiss (the Tangled Greysnow AU no one asked for but I did it anyway)

A long time ago the Lord of the North, whom people called the Wolf, went to war, leaving behind his newlywed bride.

9. Lie on Your Back and Take It Like a Man (PWP. OT3)

“You look scared.”

10. Greysnow Ficlets, Chapter 15: Steve (purest crack)

The box is huge, and Jon can’t contain his nervosity at what might be inside.

11. Law of the North (Theon is sentenced to die, Jon saves him, Theon isn't amused. Stuff happens.)

The day dawns as bright and beautiful as only a summer day in the North can.

12. Keep Following (Theon kink bingo, OT3, basically Jon and Robb bickering about who gets Theon)

“It’s my turn, you had him for the whole weekend!”

13. The Horny Kraken Prince (A Little Mermaid AU, only with tentacles and NSFW)

Impatiently, Theon lifts a tentacle to shove a strand of wet hair out of his face.

14. Let it Greysnow, Chapter 7: Mulled Wine (Seasonal ficlets. Jon wants wine, Theon wants to annoy Jon)

“Give me that damn wine.”

15. The Kraken Prince and His Horny Husband (a tentacly wedding night)

“Are you telling me where we’re going now?”

16. I'll be whoever you want me to be (Law of the North verse: Theon visits the brothel and picks the wrong whore. Theon/Satin)

Theon blames the lack of lights downstairs.

17. Tighter (Theon-in-a-corset mini ficlet that took on its own life)

Theon braces himself against the wall, the warm stone like a living thing under his palms.

18. I Do (I Really Don't) (Fake Marriage AU, currently posting that one)

Jon hadn’t thought about his wedding day too often.

19. The Superhero AU (WIP I'm going to focus on next)

The cold, wet air hits Theon’s face like a damp cloth, making him shiver in his fashionable but sadly impractical coat.

20. As of yet untitled WIP that tells the whole story of Tighter. If I can think of a title soon, I'll post the first chapter ^^'

“What a long day!” Sansa lets herself sink into the large chair by the fire, exhaling a grateful sigh.

Tbh I don't see any other pattern than the sentences being short and relatively uninteresting. I'm more of a last-sentence-gal lol

Tagging @salty-wench, @evax3, @attaining-fic, @selkiewife, @florentium, @callmejude, @capraiaso, @littlerockerao3, @northernfieldsforever and @estrangedandwayward if you like!

[inhumanbeing]

How to prove the Multiverse Theory, by Sandeep S. Poplar

If you’ve heard the following rant before, its probably because you know me. I implore that if this is the case, you not reveal my identity. Also, since you already know it and don’t need a refresher, skip down 13 indentations. For the rest of you, I know that this may seem wordy, but please don’t skip paragraphs just because you want to read it faster. I assure you that you will miss important information if you do that.

Cheers- Sandeep

The multiverse theory states that any option, variable, alternate choice that could have been made, or different possible outcome of probability, can in and of itself cause a split of universes, timelines, dimensions, or parallels(depending on whose explanation of it you are reading). Simply put, each possible order of variables of choice and probability turned on or off can be represented by a universe, and there being so many variables needing so many positions of true, false, or otherwise, the multiverse is infinite.(anything you can think of exists).

I submit that Douglas Adams has inadvertently proven the theory to be true, though his methods of its existence cannot be proven. Seeing as each fiction that has a multiverse entails its own description, it makes it hard to pinpoint exactly how it would look if one were to travel the multiverse. (See Mr. Adams’ description of the WSOGMM for his opinions on it.)

To begin, I will start simply by explaining the variables that take part in affecting the truth of the theory. First of all, one of Douglas Adams’ most well known comedic pieces from his Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, the Improbability drive, is the absolute crux of my proof. The actual in-depth description of its concept is entirely unnecessary, but all that is necessary is how it was built.

It wasn’t.

It came into it’s own existence merely because it did not yet exist, and for it to just suddenly exist would be a truly improbable thing to happen (being that causing improbable things to happen is/was its main directive). This is a representation of my first variable, being any self inventing physical item that, upon creation, caused itself.

Next, the second variable required is the multiverse itself, or rather to state that, in the same world as the one in which the self created item exists, also exists knowledge of and/or access to the multiverse.

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy has both these things.

It is not necessarily that Mr. Adams is the one who has created the multiverse by stating these variables in his fiction, but rather that his writings are just a perfect example of one of these universes realized as a fiction in our own universe. He has brought these two variables into attention, that any and all universes they exist in force the rest of the theory to be true.

How?

Assume for the moment that we know the theory is true. Great! Why are we here.

Now assume that it is instead false, and that ours is the only universe. Well, all of the self inventing variables will have none of that nonsense! They will simply create themselves, and thus their corresponding universes to exist in. Now, if this were the only argument, that universes with self inventing variables create themselves, then it would be assumed that only universes with self creating variables exist. Not necessarily a multiverse, but more of a many-verse.

HOWEVER, I still have another variable! The mere mention of transit through, access to or from, or knowledge of the multiverse is in and of itself a multiverse-scale variable. A choice, a function, a point of probability, what have you. It is none the less a variable on, or a variable off. Not exactly helpful if you don’t already exist in one of these universes,unless we do, in which case, arguing about it’s reality isn’t necessary and we can all go home.

In any fictionally conceivable universe where both the “selfinventingitem” and “knowledgeofmultiverse” variables are turned on (of which I remind you there are an infinite number of these universes by statement of theory), the self inventing item creates it’s universe as a reality, but in order for this to be its universe proper, it must make true the multiverse theory, especially if it is a major element of the universe history and design, e.g. the universe in which The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy takes place. This thereby also creates all other variables as options, being things contained by the theory itself and being required in order to actually have a multiverse, and thus, “creates” the multiverse.

A pre-emptive argument: “But what if there’s a universe where the theory isn’t true?”

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Simple.

It’s not that the theory isn’t true in these universes, but rather that no contact has been made with the multiverse, or that there is no discernable proof of it, though not for lack of trying in just as many cases as there are of those actually not trying. These universes are infinite and shall remain infinite, as you quite literally can not enter them without creating a version of it where you didn’t enter.

More on this strand of thought, you can only ever actively be in half of the multiverse, and only ever have been in three quarters of it.

Assume for the moment that Thomas is immortal. Absolutely nothing can kill him. Now assume that he lives in a multiverse that only has one variable: he either does or does not exist. This means there are only two universes, one with Thomas, and one without Thomas.

Now, let’s give Thomas the ability to choose to go to the other universe, but if he doesn’t, he must stay in his universe forever. Note the word “choose”. We have created two more variables, Thomas leaves/stays, and Thomas enters/never arrives. So there are now four universes. Universe one:Thomas exists, and has never left. Universe two: Thomas doesn’t exist and has never arrived. Universe three: Thomas did exist, but left. Universe four: Thomas didn’t exist, but he showed up. He has at some point existed in three of these universes, but can only actively exist in two of them. He will never be able to enter the fourth universe.

This concept proves true with any two universes, effectively doubling each other. Even if my math is wrong, which I assume it most definitely could be, it is at the very least impossible to visit all infinity of the universes in the multiverse, as there will always be those that “youdidntenter”.

Finally, i would like to go over my personal belief of how travel through the multiverse will happen, if it ever does. I have no math behind this, but i do believe that i’m hitting the right area logically.

It stems from the 4th wall. In any work of fiction (works of fiction being representations of a universe as thoughts from a creator in ours, but the true reality in theirs), if there is a character who talks to the audience, or recognizes that they are part of a work of fiction, it is said that they are breaking the fourth wall, being the wall in front of them unseen by the audience, but assumed to be there. This is the most common way that any fiction recognizes its place as a universe, or rather that the characters recognize it, and this isn’t just a one and done type deal. This is, (or could definitely be) happening constantly in the multiverse. Not to say that one universe looks at another and the latter acknowledges that, but that all universes are looking at each other, save all the universes where there are no works of fiction.

I think that the only way for us to “move about the cabin” so to speak, would be to break the fourth wall ourselves and somehow open a way through the screen/pages/other forms of media that only exist in other universes(with the handy help of some super science machine of course). Or, we could write a very detailed story about somebody else doing that, and let them come to us. Either way, science-up a wormhole through the medium of fiction itself, and pop a chandy.

Furthering this topic of the fourth wall, it is altogether logical to assume that we too can break the fourth wall wherever we are. Stop what you are doing, look in a random direction where nothing in particular is, and crack a winning smile. There is a universe that exists where your life is a tv show, and your character just looked straight at the audience and smiled.

Since infinity is as infinity does, any point in space and time, facing any direction, is in some universe the camera angle for the fiction analogous to our reality. This also means that in an infinite number of universes, there are fans of the shows which we are infinitely represented in. Sadly, according to the frighteningly true rules of the Internet when it comes to alternate versions of things, there is also an infinite amount of, ahem, “fanart”. Absolutely any one person, with absolutely any other person. Or multiple people. Or things. Or themselves. And since the fanart are in and of themselves fictions, they are, sadly, also realities. Jack Harkness, eat your heart out…

[trevorbailey61]

Sparks

O2 Institute, Birmingham

Sunday 24th September 2017

Friday morning - throughout the rest of the week, the topic of conversation was open. True, during the season, Monday would gain structure as we reflected on the football from the previous weekend, analysing how what seemed like a home banker against Queens Park Rangers had gone so horribly wrong. From the beginning of May, however, Monday would be like any other day, open to the ebbs and flows of the big wide world outside the small one in which we lived. Friday was different, winter, summer there was only ever one topic of conversation and that was Top of the Pops. It seems incredible now to think that a 30 minute programme of either promotional films or artists miming to their records could be so influential but for its prime time slot on a Thursday evening, the whole family would sit around the telly and absorb what was generally youth culture. With the only criteria for an appearance being to have sold a lot of records, there was the occasional act that our parents would appreciate, Englebert Humperdinck, Lena Martell, the Band of the Royal Dragoon Scots Guards, but mostly it was ours and we were indulged this weekly fix so that we could sound knowledgeable the following morning. The late nights desperately trying coax something listenable from Radio Luxembourg may have given us the music but TOTP added the visuals and our discussions were as much about what we had seen as heard.

For the artists, TOTP was a huge break; massively increasing their potential audience such that a successful appearance would lead to a surge in sales that drove the record further up the charts. The pressure was on, in just two or three minutes they had to make a big enough impact to be the subject of those Friday morning discussions. Many were young, very young in some cases and in the days before they were all stage school graduates, knew little about how to project themselves through a lens. Performing directly to the camera made you look desperate, trying to ignore it made it look as if you didn’t care and soon lost those potential sales. The ones remembered now are those who managed to get it right but the repeats of full shows shown on BBC4 show how many didn’t, excruciatingly bad performances that meant the chance had been lost and the audience would remain selective.

Occasionally, an act so out there would appear that it was difficult to quite believe what you were seeing. “Did you watch Top of the Pops?” we would excitedly ask each other the following morning as we sought confirmation that we had actually seen what we thought we had. These would often draw the most negative comments from our parents which, of course, made them all the more appealing to us. The appearance of Sparks on the show was one of those transformative experiences; once you had entered their world there was no way of leaving it. The singer, full on gender blurring glam rock with a thick main of black curly hair and a gold scarf tied loosely round his neck, was a whirl of hyperactivity even within the tight constraints of the stage. Peering through the camera rather than at it, his penetrating gaze drew you into the weird falsetto of his voice. Even his flamboyant charisma, however, was upstaged by the figure sitting alongside him. His fingers moved over the keys as his eyes darted from one side to the other, seemingly in continuous disapproval of the exuberance at his side. The most provocative part, however, was the small moustache that rested on his upper lip, the thing that, apparently led John Lennon to phone up Ringo Star to exclaim, “It’s Hitler with Marc Bolan”. The parts had been rehearsed and developed for years but now they had also had a killer song. Even though the impression made by “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us” has lasted for over forty years, it remains a song that is remarkably difficult to sing along to. The rollercoaster changes in pitch, awkward tonal variations and verses stuffed with words make it difficult to grasp, however many times you hear it. Despite the number of times I have listened to it, I still get little further than “Zoo time is she and you time” before my stuttering karaoke ends.

Russell Mael has no such problems. He will celebrate his 69th during this tour but he retains both the energy and the voice of his younger self. As he sings “I ain’t going to leave”, he raises his right arm in a gesture of defiance; the skin may hang a little more loosely from his frame, the lines on his face are harder to conceal but towards the end of a set in which he has worked harder than many less than half his age, he still has enough left for this intoxicating anthem to youthful swagger. One of the many remarkable things is that unlike many of his peers, his hold on those dense, complex and idiosyncratic lyrics is so secure he manages the whole set without the need of a single prompt. We last saw the Mael brothers about five years ago on the “Two Hands, One Mouth” tour where Ron’s keyboards provided the only accompaniment to his brother’s vocals. This time they have arrived with a five piece backing band so that they can recreate the glam rock stomp of their early years. They fizz through the strange vocal variations of “Propaganda” before unleashing a fearsome “At Home, At Work, At Play”, louder and with an intensity that it has rarely seen before. Shimmering strings and a steady disco beat gave a wondrous setting for the regret of “When Do I Get to Sing My Way” and for artists so seeped in irony, “Never Turn Your Back on Mother Earth”, makes its point clearly and directly, its relevance now sadly greater than when it was recorded. The irony returns for “Dick Around”, a compellingly arranged and dramatic overture to indolence and the disco thrill of “The Number 1 Song in  Heaven” is as infectious as ever, also providing the opportunity for Ron to step out from behind his keyboards, roll up his sleeves and indulge in his one moment of what I suppose we now ought to call grandad dancing. After throwing everything at  “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us”, they take things down a little for “Hospitality on Parade” and the first encore “Johnny Delusional”, a product of their recent collaboration with Franz Ferdinand. The wild glam rock nostalgia returns, however, for “Amateur Hour”, a final moment of clever infectious pop where the thrill is as great as ever.

The point of the “Two Hands, One Mouth” tour was to reflect on their long career; it began with an overture that consisted of their signature melodies and the only new song included formed the title for the enterprise. This time, however, there is a new album, their 23rd, and with arch, witty lyrics, stomping beats and Russell’s still haunting falsetto, “Hippopotamus” is one of their best. The songs have already made their mark; despite its recent release, they are already familiar and are greeted by the audience with the same wild enthusiasm as the hits from all those years ago. Starting with “What the Hell is it This Time”, the urgent synthesised strings take us immediately into the mind of God, not the omnipotent and vengeful God of the Bible but one who in old age can no longer disguise his irritation at the petty things people bother him with; “My girl has left; My dog has left; I’ve cracked up my car” and “His plate is filled with famine and with clean wholesome air; If Arsenal wins; He really don’t care” which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite lines in any song. Russell’s energetic performance may be his way of arresting his own drift towards becoming an elderly pop statesman but age forms the theme that unites many of the songs on “Hippopotamus”. Even the apparently random word association of the title track, the first song as far as I know to mention “Titus Andronicus”, can be seen as a reflection on the confusion and declining short term memory of age; “How did it get there? How did it get there? How did it get there? I don't know”. “Missionary Position” covers how the thrill of making love is lost through routine and familiarity whilst the playful “I Wish You Were Fun” takes this further to explore how even those things we once liked about another person can be lost over the years. With “Édith Piaf (Said It Better Than Me)” they return to the same theme as “When Do I Get to Sing My Way” but whilst then the singer could still aspire to become the torch singer, now he knows that he will never achieve that level of emotional clarity; “Live fast and die young, live fast and die young, live fast and die young; Too late for that, too late for that”. The most haunting song, however, is the one that at first seems the most throwaway. Introducing the song, Russell sets the scene by starting a story that he is unable to finish as he can’t remember what he was saying. For once, the band are left in the shadows at the back of the stage and Russel’s tender vocal is accompanied only by Ron’s piano. The effect is to focus the attention onto the words, an insightful account into the onset of dementia, a gradual withdraw of the person from the world around the. It emphasises that their unorthodox and at times just plain weird approach to songwriting always had a serious intent.

The last time we saw Sparks was at the same venue and arriving just after the doors had opened, there were few others around so that we were able to find a place close to the stage. This time was different; walking through Digbeth at about 6:30 we could see that a lengthy queue had already formed, the interest and excitement palpable as we took our places. Whilst there are a few younger people around us, the majority of the audience are of an age and a recent appearance on Newsnight together with the release of a new album has both helped to remind people that they still exist and also that they still make fascinating music. A repeated “Home; My Baby’s Taking Me Home”’ forms one of the songs heard towards the end of the set but whilst it is stretching things to view this as some sort of homecoming, the time they spent in the UK in the early 70s did help to shape their music and introduce them to an audience that understood it. Early on, Russell mentions that Birmingham was the home of Muff Winwood, the producer who helped to create the sound that was so startling on that ToTP appearance all those years ago. If this was to help him engage with the audience, however, he didn’t really need to, they were there from the moment they walked on stage leaving the brothers both surprised and moved by the warmth of the reaction. There is really no one else quite like them, a masterclass that shows that they remain as intriguing and relevant as ever.