#(....oft times quite literally)

[spiinsparks]

         ||. it’s 3am and all i can freakin think about is that any person who wants to romance this idiot is gonna have to deal with whatever the equivalent of an emotional one-night-stand is (we’re not here for the actual thing in this house) bc he’s a dumb teenager who’s too independent to consider yknow maybe a proper commitment to someone doesn’t actually mean ... getting shackled down

[atamascolily]

I saw an incredibly interesting theory on Reddit that has unfortunately been deleted by the mods, so I wanted to discuss it here because I've never seen it anywhere else. OP began by pointing out that there are 13 timelines in Scene 0 in Magia Record, and the ending implies that the main anime timeline is Homura's 14th loop overall.

This contradicts Urobuchi's oft-repeated statement from a con panel in 2013 that that the number of loops was "approaching 100", which a lot of fans take to be canon, but was never clearly defined in the original series. (For what it's worth, Urobuchi has also gone on the record saying he didn't think too much about the mechanics behind Homura's time travel, so I suspect this is one more example.)

If there are truly 14 timelines, then it would go along way towards explaining why there are 14 Clara Dolls: each one would thus be a metaphorical--and quite possibly literal--representation of one of Homura's time loops. You could also make a case for a possible 15th timeline after Madoka's wish resets the world to account for the "missing" 15th Clara Doll; I personally believe that "Ai" is the Homura we follow for most of Rebellion, so that isn't strictly necessary, but you do you.

As a bonus, it would also retroactively explain why there are 14 "strings of fate" binding Madoka and Homura in episode 11 - this might have originally been metaphorical, because the animators didn't want to draw so many strings (though I suppose they could have), but it would now be literal as well.

I know a lot of people are emotionally invested in the idea of 100+ loops, but this idea makes a lot of sense. Up until now, the exact number of loops has not been a major plot point (and only 5 are explicitly shown in the anime), but it will be interesting to see if this comes up in any capacity in Walpurgis no Kaiten.

[copperbadge]

oft-goes-awry

... someone needs to buy Ephraim a lot of Williams College merch. Because we are the Ephs. After founder Ephraim Williams. And I think he'd enjoy wearing all the purple cow stuff.

Huh, that's quite timely and interesting actually. There's literally a passage in the story I just posted a scene from, concerning Ephraim and school:

He had some trouble at school sometimes, but his teachers couldn't deny that he was a good, earnest student. He could have gone to college, but he had a good job at the garage the family owned, doing detailing and van art, and his parents made it clear they'd like him to go to college but weren't going to demand a degree at the expense of his mental health. Besides, he brought in business. 

And I'm noting that Williams College has a one-semester maritime program at Mystic-Seaport where you learn maritime history and law and culture. Now who do we know who has a penchant for boats...

Noah and Ephraim are, especially as younger men, sort of like planets in orbit; they do separate, sometimes for long periods, they just always come back into proximity. And Ephraim's well smart enough to go to college, it's just that up until he was a little older, he wouldn't handle the stress and the strangers well. But if, say, Noah were to do the Mystic-Seaport semester, possibly even as a guest lecturer given his qualifications, Ephraim might tag along and find that he likes Williams and is comfortable enough there to stay. (I realize that the maritime program and the actual school are not in proximity but presumably Noah would have business at the school at times, and might end up getting Ephraim housing there on the cheap.) He's really only ever experienced UCSC, which is massive, so he might find he's actually okay at a school like Williams, which is about the size of my own undergrad. It's possible that with his portfolio, he might even be able to get into the Art History MA program without an undergraduate degree. Especially if Eddie or Grandmother Patricia decide Williams could use a new endowed scholarship program for nontraditional students.

Noah at that point will be touring anyway, doing stand-up, so there's no reason for Eph to stay either in Santa Luna or Fons-Askaz. Say Noah's 23 when he finishes up the guest professorship, Ephraim would be 26, graduate two years later -- and given the story I want to tell about Noah in his late twenties, that would time out nicely.

I'll have to tuck it away for consideration if/when I get that far. I like that idea. The Banana Slug and the Purple Cow return to the Little Country By The Sea. :D

[forestfiresandfics]

Foils and Mirrors

Another oft misconstrued literary technique is that of the foil. It may just be me misconstruing it though, considering I have to periodically look up the definition because I’ve gotten it confused again. Character foils are two characters who interact and by their interaction, their differences are highlighted. TV tropes describes it as ‘the foil behind a jewel to make it shine brighter’ but another way to look at it would be the way yellow shows up better on a black background compared to white. Foils are defined by their differences. Mirror characters are defined by their similarities. 

While I don’t think it’s wrong to call 3rd life Grian and Martyn foils per say, I think a more interesting reading is them as mirrors. And really, the two aren’t mutually exclusive. I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Third life features a lot of parallels, both in plot and character arc, and the Desert Duo and Renchanting are often pointed to when it comes to discussions of this. I think it’s worth also including Flower Husbands in that list as well. And every day I consider adding Cleo and Bdubs to that list as well, but I haven’t quite decided how well they work, so for now I’ll focus on just the three groups. I will often in my writing and musing and comments and stuff refer to these three pairs as the ‘red-green’ pairs, because they spend a protracted amount of time where one of them is on their green life and the other is on their red. Scar and Grian are the most extreme example of this, spending 5 and a half episodes like that. But the timing of it aside, what’s maybe more important is that each of these teams entered into the battle of the red desert as one red and one green each. A pivotal moment in the story where we also see everyone mirroring each other. 

I think it’s fair to view Desert Duo and Renchanting as mirrors, with the flower husbands acting as foils to the others. Each share enough in common that it’s worth discussing all three groups, but while the desert faction and the kingdom share basically the exact same plot lines and traits, the hobbits serve as something of an alternative option—what they ‘could have been.’ Also fun, is that the Flower Husbands spend nearly, but not quite, equal time with both other groups: doing their job well as foils in the context of contrast-via-interaction. They discuss their statuses and their plans, and as far as the reading of ‘desert duo: protagonists’ and ‘renchanting: antagonists’ go, the flower husbands are ideologically neutral for most of the series. They make friends where they can, call out bullshit where they see it, and it wasn’t until they were thrown into the war that they actually participated in taking sides. 

So what are the similarities between each, and what are the differences? The similarities come first. All three groups are red-green pairs. All three pairs have some kind of strong partnership, all three pairs have a scene where the red of the relationship offers fealty with a trinket (flowers for the husbands, flowers for the desert, and depending how you see it either the rabbit’s foot or the axe for the kingdom). As I suggested before, Desert Duo and Renchanting have even more in common. Both partnerships began because of a debt, both leaders are businessmen, both leaders are red and indentures green, both of the indentures are the “brains of the operation,” both indentures grumble their way through the partnership at first before becoming devoted, and both sit on either side of the server wide war—not just as participants but as the ringleaders. There is also literally even a scene where Martyn tells Ren to put his clothes back on (“me lord? Fancy putting your armour on?”). Frankly this is just scratching the surface, it’s insane how perfect mirrors they are. 

This similarity between the two main groups on the server really highlight the tragedy (lowercase t) of the death game, how these two groups ended up mortal enemies simply because of the world they live in, despite having more in common than differences. And the flower husbands as foils in my opinion ALSO make it sadder. While renchanting and desert duo are messing around with complicated hierarchical relationships and testing loyalty and ordering their partners around, the husbands are working together out of trust and respect. Scott starts out with his fellow greens in rejecting the partnership at first, but he demonstrates what mutualistic relationship should look like, not to mention a relationship that doesn’t make itself the whole server’s problem.

This is already getting long so I won’t get into this next bit too far, but while the red-green pairs foil and mirror each other, each pair also serves as a foil for themselves. Scar is confident while Grian is timid, Ren is trying to do a lot all at once while Martyn is organized and keeps him in line. Jimmy is friendly while Scott is matter of fact. All the reds end up acting as cloudcuckoolanders with the greens to bring them back down to earth and on track. They are all somewhat odd couples, they are very different from one another, and the juxtaposition of these differences highlights each other’s traits as well as their strengths and weaknesses. These partnerships are all advantageous, and they can each fill in for the other’s weaknesses. All three partnerships wouldn’t have made it as far as they did without each other. Not that this makes them idillic partners, they each have their flaws as well, but that’s not really the point. They each help the other shine, like the backing of a jewel. 

Masterlist

[nildespirandum]

Thank you to everyone who has been patient during dry spell, and who has continued to send well wishes and kind thoughts. I cannot tell what it has meant to me.

Story is 18+ only

Tags found on AO3.

The cold hallways of Skadi’s great fortress, where it stood as guardian between the realms of the living and the dead, were predictably stark and massive, all hewn from meteoric rock by a combination of the crude strength of giants and draugr and the magicks of Hel. While nothing to the splendor of Asgard’s palace, or outhouses if it came to that, Loki silently admitted that there was a rough grandeur to both its scale and the gleaming texture of the stone which, along with a few floating orbs of glowing ice to give light, were as close as there came to anything hinting at decor.

No doubt Skadi considered interior design beneath contempt, which was just as well for Loki was certain her taste would leave everything to be desired.

Leaving his cell had been insultingly easy. No guards stood outside of it nor was any elaborate spell or clever cantrip used to keep him within. Loki had touched the blank side of the lock’s hasp on the interior with the tip of a black claw, scraping it in circles to cause the lock to pick itself. The spell was one that he had created in his youth when he and Thor were oft times sent to their rooms to ruminate on their misbehaviors.

As if Loki were ever inclined to guilt or Thor to thought.

Loki peeked out, as did Nora. She no longer even came to his shoulder, so she stood under his arm.  They each looked up the hall and back, and then at each other.  With her head tipped back, Nora’s throat was rather appealingly displayed to him, making him wonder how hard he could bite the side of it with his fangs before it would cause her the unpleasant sort of pain…  And could he make her enjoy even that….? 

And could he…?

Closing his eyes to take a moment to gather his thoughts from where they had sunk, Loki realized that not only had the transformation to this primitive Frost Giant form done wonders for his poor, wounded cock, additionally it had woken in him the Jotun enthusiasm for mortal flesh.  Combined with his own - and here he beat back the word that wanted to come to the forefront of his mind - fascination with Nora, it would make for a dangerous distraction.

“Are we going to go for it or…?”  Nora was still looking at him, brows raised, soft mouth wet and ever so slightly open.

“I don’t know that this is the time or the place,” Loki said, trying to sound unwilling though he knew his tone was more smarmy than disinterested.

“I mean, should we go, you big weirdo.  I know some people are turned on by dungeons but they probably aren’t literal dungeons.”  She frowned slightly.  “Though it wouldn’t be an option for most people back home, even if they were into literal, actual dungeons.  In which case I’m not sure-”

He could tell that her nerves were getting to her and that she would go on like that indefinitely if not stopped.  Carefully, he did not quite touch her lips with one of his newly grown black talons, since he was unsure how sharp they were, and nodded.  

“Right, yes.  We should get on with it, then.” 

Also, wrong. For in his case, literal dungeons seemed to be a turn-on, presuming Loki was interpreting that human expression correctly.  He’d certainly spent enough time in them to develop not a fetish or rather, at least a lack of squeamishness about what was appropriate or even enticing to do within one.  

He held the cell door open, allowing Nora to slip under his arm, and then carefully shut it.  Despite that care, the metal on metal on wood of it seemed to ring out like a carillon in the still and silence. 

Peering within each cell as they passed proved that they all were as empty as the hallway.  At its end nearest to the metal gate that separated them from the stairway up and out there was a massive lock-up that looked as if it were designed to hold dozens.  

Within was the only other prisoner they had seen, who seemed to be asleep or unconscious beneath a pile of furs in a back corner.

Nora pointed towards the pile, then made a gesture towards the lock on the cell door.  

Absolutely not, Loki thought, walking on.

Her now so tiny hand hooked around his wrist, as her fingers could no longer come close to closing on it, and pulled.  Where before her touch had been warm now it burned.  Burned through tough, blue skin, through muscle, to bone, where it seemed to ignite his marrow, lashing him with fire on the deepest level possible.  

He was wonderstruck how much he craved the pain, the ache.  Wanted to know how if her cold little hand caused that much fire what might her mouth do?  Or Bor help him, the sure venomous wet between her lips, between her legs. 

Turn him into a pile of tumescent ash, Loki rather suspected.  

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” Nora whispered.  

“As someone with far more enemies than is the average, I can assure you otherwise,” he whispered back, leaning down close to her ear, trying not to sniff her skin.  Even when blue and bedecked with horns a prince should keep a little of his dignity.  

“Still, Skadi is… her people are…” Nora stopped and looked down at her dress and frowned.  “They aren’t very respectful of their prisoner’s persons.  It would feel shitty to leave someone here.”

Her voice was less than steady, less than Nora.

Not liking to consider what that might mean, Loki tucked her tone away for later questions when they were free. “That may be so, but she wards the borderlands between the living and the dead and trust me, there are plenty of true criminals, necromancers, graverobbers, and multiple fashions of the ambulatory dead that she has good reason to hold imprisoned.  Also,” he added, “this is not a prison break, it is more in line of espionage, which means the fewer involved the safer.”

“If someone is being held here at least it would be more of a distraction for the guards to be chasing them and us,” she countered, sounding more like herself.

“That never really works the way one thinks it will.  Besides which, don’t think I don’t know that you simply want to release whoever it is for a bit of revenge on Skadi and her hamfisted chambermaids.”

“And you, of all people, have a problem with that?”

“On the contrary, in more typical circumstances I would be all for it, but we are on a mission, as you might recall.”

“Normal circumstances?  What normal circumstances would… never mind, I just remembered who I am talking to, which considering the current state of both of us doesn’t say good things about my sense of reality.”

That was, Loki thought, feeling the weight of his horned brow and again noting her sartorially created cleavage, an understatement.

“Plus, I’m not sure I wish to be rescued by such noisy people,” came a voice that most kindly might be described as sepulchral from the pile of furs, which shifted about and then fell off the figure that rose from beneath them, stretching tall enough that skeletal fingers scraped the ceiling. “What good would come of it, if I were to then be talked to incessantly?”  Dark, blue-skinned, and of a size of an Asgardian, with glowing green eyes, and a decidedly undead thinness draped in a shroud rather than a shift, it took Loki a moment to recognise the woman for what she was.  

“Disir…” he let the word trail away, sliding his foot to the right and shifting his shoulders so his vast body was between her and Nora, though he trusted Skadi would not hold such a creature in her fortress were she not sure of being able to keep it contained.

“One of,” she nodded, “Hlökk.”  She moved towards the front of the cell, her motions quick yet stiff, as if from the cold.  Rather, he knew, it was from her muscles being desiccated, her sinews dust, her entire self animated by will and spite rather than life.  With a final, swift jerking motion she stood all but resting against the cold iron bars.  Close enough that her papery blue flesh began to wither from its influence.  Standing effortlessly on the tips of her toes, she peered into his face, a smile of cracked teeth and parched lips flashed, and then retreated.  

“I have not seen a Jotun of your type since I was a young girl newly in the service of Bor, and they were ancient and few then.  Those last died upon my sister’s spears, or so was thought.  But you,” she, without Loki’s scruples, took a deep, sniffing breath, leaning her head back and opening the corrupt cavern of her mouth like a cat to taste the smell of them upon the air.  

“You look of Jotunheim yet smell of Asgard, giant.  Or is that her?”  Quicker than he could see Hlökk stepped twice to the right so she could aim her nose towards Nora.  “No,” the Disir dismissed.  “Mortal. Full of death and decay. But you, you are-”

The Aesir had few enemies that they feared, for to die in battle against a worthy foe was their greatest good.  The cannibalistic, ever-dying, never-dead Disir, cursed by Bor to crave the flesh of those they formerly served, were at the top of a very short list.  Though only a handful in number, stories of their enormities and disgusting habits had been used to keep naughty Asgardian children from creeping from bed late at night for eons.

Naughty Asgardian children other than himself, of course.  The boogeyman or haint had not been born that could have kept young Loki from wandering the halls and secret rooms of the palace under cover of friendly dark.    

“Keep your nose to yourself, Disir, this is one god you will not gorge upon.  Come along,” he then said to Nora, gesturing towards the stairwell.  She frowned and seemed inclined to argue when the Disir ran her long, dehydrated tongue over her lips.

A sound like dried leaves being blown across stone.

“Aesir and Jotun flesh as one.  A delicacy untried by me or any sister of mine….”

“Right,” Loki knew there were bars and his magic between the Disir and his becoming her supper and he did not care.  Lifting Nora’s little self into his arms, he ignored her protests and took three long strides when behind them the Cursed One whispered.

“The Bók Lífs og Dauða .”

“Wait,” Nora said.

Loki took another step.

“What else might Odin’s Trickster changeling want in the hall of his most implacable enemy?”  The words were spoke soft and thoughtful as were, “How helpful might it be for one to know just where the Giantess kept such a treasure.”

Loki whirled about, stalked back to the cell, realized he was still holding Nora who was now within reach of the Disir should it choose to reach its spindly, iron-muscled arm through the bars, and quickly put her down and placed himself back between them.  He realized it was a false gallantry since he was what the nasty thing was interested in getting her teeth into.

“Let me guess, you know where the Book is, and in return for your freedom you will tell me where to find it?”

Nodding, glowing green eyes managing to look amused, the Disir said, “And you give me one of your toes.  I am well past starved.”

“Absolutely not!”

“What the fuck?”

Loki and Nora’s protests tangled together.

The Disir leaned against the bars of the cell, picking at her gray and broken nails, “Ragnarok is coming early season.  I would think one little piggy would be small enough payment to put the Twilight of the Gods off by a few hundred millennia or more, Odinson.  Your father’s favor would be the least of your rewards for such an act.”

He looked down at Nora, who spoke in a quick whisper.  “Do you know who she is?  What is she talking about?  Why does she want one of your toes?  What the hell is wrong with everyone in space?”

It was a good question.

He had a better one, for the Disir, “Why should I trust you?”

The Disir spoke, this time in Ancient Asgardian rather than the All-tongue, so Nora could not understand.

“Trust is for naifs and babes, I shall give you my Word of Bond upon mine and my sister's unlives.  Take it, Trickster, or walk your little mortal through the endless halls of Elvidner until she freezes or you are caught and she is dragged to Skadi’s bed to die serving there, and you back to the witless brutality of this pit, that shall end in your skinned body being hung from the battlements.”

With a sigh, Loki answered back in the same language, “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I’ll still have nine more.”  He reached towards the lock and then halted, “I choose which one I give up.”

The Disir inclined her head.  Graciously.

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[a-song-of-art-and-fire]

The Kingslaying

"The Kingslayer. The false knight who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend."

A rather gruesome little diorama for this, our spookiest of months! I've said before how much I love all things Robert's Rebellion, and Jaime's kingslaying is right up there. I think it's a fantastic aspect of GRRM's writing that we're told outright at his first appearance that he's "the kingslayer", and write that off as 'well he must just be sneaky and treacherous as all Lannisters are", and it's only two books later you learn he had complex, nuanced, straight-up heroic reasons for doing it. The heady mix of seige, betrayal, potential patricide, actual regicide, and mass human sacrifice to achieve twisted apotheosis into draconic godhead... it feels like 6 different Greek tragedies crashed headlong into one another, and seeing it all though a haze of steam, hormones, and septic delirium is just... *chefs kiss*.

This diorama was actually pretty thrown together compared to my usual standards. My ASOIAF minis are from a war game, so they need to come up with a lot of distinct units for multiple armies, and the books being pretty low fantasy only really give "late medieval man-at-arms" or "conscripted peasant levy". As such, you get some fairly weird and wonderful units, such as every Baratheon soldier having Robert-style warhammers, or in this case a whole unit in Jaime's lion helmet. For me, this translates to a lot of alternative Jaimes.

I am a bit phobic with Jaime, as I once had to swap his hands very last minute, luckily here he's young and straightforwardly right handed. I don't think the close up is at quite the right angle, but you can see his green eyes under the visor, I'm pretty happy that they look quite frightened/panicked. I added the cloak as well, got to have that iconic "It was that white cloak that soiled me, not the other way around" vibe. This is also the first time I've given him his oft-mentioned gilded sword, I love the blood on it forming the Lannister colours.

Talking of the blood... yes, it's a lot. In my defence, it's actually semi transparent in a way that doesn't show well in photos, but does make it marginally less intense. I also know Jaime actually pulled Aerys up and slit his throat, but I had a hard enough time posing these figures, i thought that would be beyond me. I also like the literal nature of stabbing him in the back, and Mark Addy's delivery of "What of Aerys Targaryen? What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back" is burned into my memory.

Aerys himself is a random wizard miniature I had kicking about, I had to do quite a bit of resculpting to get him right. He has the scabs on his hand, but the Howard Hughes fingernails were beyond my sculpting skills. I made the falling crown myself, again, seven tiny dragons felt a bit ambitious.

[windsfavored]

@marchingasone &&. said... there's not a single word as the 11th harbinger drapes himself over a comfortable chair, reclining sideways as if it's the most comfortable bed. downtime is rare, but even childe will take a break when needed. it doesn't matter if it's scaramouche's office, nor does it matter if scaramouche is already in said chair. childe is comfortable. "you're too busy," childe utters quietly. "it's no fun when i'm constantly having to chase after you."

the  scratch  of  a  pen;  the  steady  ticking  of  a  clock.  all  sounds  the  balladeer  equates  with  productivity.  though  it's  true  the  position  he  occupies  is  oft  equated  with  being  a  terrifying  force  on  the  battlefield,  the  existence  of  a  harbinger  just  as  often  dabbles  in  matters  of  POLITICS  and  its  associated  pitfalls.  most  prominently,  paperwork  —  of  which  kunikuzushi  frequently  spends  the  time  an  ordinary  person  would  WASTE  on  sleep  tearing  through  with  mechanical  efficiency.  sign  this,  read  this,  reject  this.  it's  tedious  work;  by  this  time  of  the  night,  his  chair  begins  to  feel  more  like  a  PRISON  —  though  he  rejects  the  urge  in  favor  of  pushing  himself  even  harder.  the  balladeer  isn't  a  person,  after  all;  he's  closer  to  an  object,  a  tool,  a  weapon  to  be  wielded.  his  body  experiences  no  fatigue  —  it's  only  his  mind  that  festers  with  weakness.

but  alas,  the  words  are  blurring  together  now.  kunikuzushi  puts  his  pen  down  and  pinches  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  groaning  softly.  just  a  minute,  he  thinks.  unfortunately,  just  a  minute  is  all  FATE  needs  to  drop  a  massive  distraction  in  his  lap  —  quite  literally.

❝  ...  and  you're  irritating. ❞   are  the  first  words  out  of  his  mouth  —  evidently  the  sixth's  equivalent  of  a  GREETING.  he  drags  his  hand  slowly  down  his  face.  it's  a  bit  awkward  sharing  the  chair  like  this;  childe  appears  sprawled  out  like  a  gangly,  orange  cat.  talk  about  undignified.  (  frustratingly,  there's  a  part  of  kunikuzushi  that  isn't  exactly  UNHAPPY  to  see  him.  )  ❝  perhaps  you  haven't  realized  it  yet,  but  i'm  not  here  to  entertain  you.  ❞  he  wrinkles  his  nose;  a  look  of  disdain  that  would  appear  far  more  intimidating  on  less  GENTLER  features  —  though  the  balladeer  does  try  his  very  best  with  the  face  his  creator  burdened  him  with.  even  so,  even  despite  the  (  surface  level  )  frosty  reception,  it's  quite  telling  that  he  doesn't  shove  him  away  immediately.  ❝  don't  you  have  your  own  obligations  to  worry  about? ❞   tragically  it  seems  as  long  as  the  eleventh  feels  inclined  to  BOTHER  HIM,  kunikuzushi  simply  cannot  tend  to  his  own.

...  well,  he  could  try.  but  truth  be  told,  he's  feeling  awfully  BORED  himself  —  and  childe  gives  him  an  excuse  to  blame  someone  else  for  his  lack  of  productivity.

deciding  he  may  as  well  see  where  this  takes  him,  the  balladeer  asks,   ❝  you  found  me  —  so  what  do  you  ACTUALLY  want? ❞  hopefully  something  the  slightest  bit  interesting.

[delululover]

I just love how the "Only Friends" team gave us so many spoilers but still managed to clown us and keep us in the dark.

I mean from the so many contents we got during the filming time we all had an idea in mind about each couple's dynamic

For instance I myself thought

TopMew are gonna be the sweet boyfriends going on dates, having fun, having healthy conversations when in reality they are barely talking, Top sees Mew mostly as a prize/challenge, Both are fighting for the power dominance in the relationship, they don't have any trust on eo, Mew is determined to do the "right thing" by offering his affection as a reward for quitting addiction which we all know never works. Their relationship in overall is a mess with just a "boyfriends" tag which is kind of blinding both them and the people around them from seeing how not good for eo they are

SandRay are gonna be the friends to lovera type of couples where one is totally sure about his feelings and the other ia clueless but refuses to let go of their "friendship" and acts like a possessive cat whenever someone tries to get with his "friend" (I may even be correct with this prediction)

BostonNick I thought will be the couple we will see the least of, won't have much plot to their relationship except sex and Boston will totally ignore Nick out of bed which (Idc if anyone disagrees) he is not, Boston is totally leading Nick on emotionally and we are seeing fair share of their scenes, infact if anything they are the creators of most of the drama in the series and their mess is probably gonna take the longest to solve. Definitely not a short running pair and has a lot of things going on in their "situationship" or whatever.

So as the episodes are coming out I am eventually realising that what we saw/the source of our assumptions were all based on the first few episodes. They gave nothing away and spoiled next to nothing. I am totally clueless about what is going to happen after episode 5.

And yeah don't say that "well your fault for thinking they will give everything away before the original episodes release" I am not saying that they will or they should. But the amount of "ongoing shoot" content we were getting I was a biiiit confident that I have figured out the show. Ik very arrogant of me but that's the thing the Western film industry is so secretive about their projects that it makes us think that getting some behind the scenes will be able to spoil the fun for us.

Anyways kudos to the team for this amazing marketing. They are literally keeping me on the edge of my seat.

Ps I am quite new in this bl fandom and ofts is the first show I have fully been invested in so that's why is amazes me. Most of you probably find this post stupid and old news. Please ignore if you do thanku.

[bleaksqueak]

Hiii!! If I may ask a question, when you add noise to your drawings, how big does that usually make the file size? I've noticed that for me it quite literally triples the file size to the point of not fitting in an email and such things, and I've been wondering if I'm maybe doing something wrong :') (I use CSP and save my art in png)

Also I absolutely adore your art and it always makes me so happy to see it!!!

Hey there! I don't work in CSP, but thankfully this is something I can answer since it's the same across all platforms. The main factors that determine how big a file is are: Dimension, DPI, and how much detail (tone, value) you've crammed into those pixels. Noise will fill up the canvas, so there's no way to avoid the file size increase if you want to use it. However! You can always selectively erase some areas to have a cleaner look on your focal points. Patches of clean negative space/color can do the same to help lighten the load.

With that said, It's generally an understood fact of digital art that you'll have a main lossless file (your png), your working file (.psd/.procreate/.whatever file extension you're using in csp), and your display/preview file (a smaller file oft saved out as a jpg) So if you're emailing art to a client, you can always send a preview saved out as a smaller format, and provide a drop box or google drive link, or a number of small temp hosting options to upload a larger file. Depending on the file size, you can use tumblr for that too in a pinch. You can upload a larger png and set it to post privately, then copy the image url over and give to the other person. At least, this used to work... not sure if anything has changed, but it worked in a pinch for me a few times in the past when Gdrive was having some issues. And don't forget, you can always compress the file into a zip/rar if you need to! So tl;dr, you're doing nothing wrong, that's just how digital art files work. If it's a problem when sending the file, there's other options to make sending the lossless full-size file easier and is perfectly common practice with artists. (And thank you so much by the way!! Today only just started but I've had such kind words already that I'm going to tackle today with the fist of a very strong rat.)

_———————_

Edit

the way this lined up on mobile… A SIGN

[miirshroom]

Meet the New Boss Same as the Old Boss

Saw this comment on Reddit:

Having a bit of a sleep deprived day, which has the side effect that random pieces of conversation will remind me of musical lyrics that I haven't thought about in years. It's clear to me what Radahn's theme is: meet the new Elden Lord, same as the old Elden Lord. As presented in the DLC, the god Miquella's reign of "compassion" is a farce - you can't build a compassionate future on a foundation of violence. The measures that need to be taken are such that if you don't eradicate your enemy they will only become more radicalized. And if you do carve a bloody path and eradicate the enemy rather than just subject them to slow torment, then keeping your own people united and under control requires the creation of a new enemy - it never stops. History shows us how hard it is to stop being at war once a country starts it.

Radahn represents more than one kind of stagnation. In the Lands Between it is the stagnation of arresting forward progress. In the Shadow Lands it is the stagnation of wrenching a wheel up out of its track to watch it spin in place - repeating cycles of the past. Take it as extremely literal that Radahn is emulating Godfrey - he is repeating the same story again.

Rather than inflict the rest of my thought process on some random Redditor, I'm just going to post it here: "Won't get Fooled Again" by the Who.

We'll be fighting in the streets With our children at our feet And the morals that they worship will be gone And the men who spurred us on Sit in judgement of all wrong They decide and the shotgun sings the song I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution Take a bow for the new revolution Smile and grin at the change all around Pick up my guitar and play Just like yesterday Then I'll get on my knees and pray We don't get fooled again A change, it had to come We knew it all along We were liberated from the fold, that's all And the world looks just the same And history ain't changed 'Cause the banners, they all flown in the last war I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution Take a bow for the new revolution Smile and grin at the change all around Pick up my guitar and play Just like yesterday Then I'll get on my knees and pray We don't get fooled again, no, no I'll move myself and my family aside If we happen to be left half-alive I'll get all my papers and smile at the sky For I know that the hypnotized never lie Do you? Yeah There's nothing in the street Looks any different to me And the slogans are effaced, by-the-bye And the parting on the left Is now parting on the right And the beards have all grown longer overnight I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution Take a bow for the new revolution Smile and grin at the change all around Pick up my guitar and play Just like yesterday Then I'll get on my knees and pray We don't get fooled again Don't get fooled again, no, no Yeah Meet the new boss Same as the old boss

I've decided recently to lean into the concept that Elden Ring is intentionally structured as a crime scene investigation story, so the cherry on top here is that "Won't Get Fooled Again" was the theme song for the police procedural drama CSI: Miami in the 2000's. And while I was mostly into CSI: Crime Scene Investigations back in the day I did remember that the lead detective of CSI: Miami is named "Horatio Caine". As in the friend listening to the monologue that Hamlet delivers in a cemetery (where a pair of clowns have been exhuming the dead in the process of digging a new grave plot):

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.

[spongebob-connoisseur]

Slappy meeting boo berry ,when? 🫐

BOO BERRY AND SLAPPY‼‼

Oh jeez I wonder why I never thought of these two interacting before. Never the less, here's how i imagine theyll get along.

Slappy can be a little shit sometimes but he's relatively harmless (most of the time). He's usually around for a good time and nothing more. Boo Berry on the other hand is just a little guy trying to do his best and promote his cereal. He is literally one of the most good natured Peter Parody. He often gets pushed around and ignored but he has some tricks up his sleeve as well.

I think Slaps and Boo will get along quite nicely actually. I mean Slappy definitely knows how it feels to be pushed around the same way Boo is. I think he'd stand up for Boo in his own silly macabre way and he'd probably enjoy hanging out with him. I can also see them having fun pulling pranks on the other parodies as well. They're both silly little guys <3

Also Slappy is kinda gluttonous. I don't think he'd ever turn down an opportunity for free food (especially sweets!) so of course he's going to be pretty happy trying some of Boo Berry's cereal and Boo would be quite happy that someone is taking the time to appreciate him.

Slappy is friends with all of the fish skeletons at floaters cemetery so it isnt a huge jump that he'd be friends with a ghost. But boo berry is just too good natured. Boo's only real crime is pouring the milk first in cereal. Slappy on the other hand.. Well I think Boo is going to be turned oft by how unsettling Slappy is but hes just too polite to really do anything about it. He'll put on a smile and try his best to overlook Slappy's odd tendencies. Slappy on the orher hand will adore Boo Berry regardless, but it would be a lie to say he didn't get some amusement weirding out Boo. But it's not like he'd go deliberately out of his way to disturb boo. It's more of a habit thing but he definitely treats Boo more gently than any other Peter Parody. Also I imagine Slappy has a tendency to becoming clingy to anyone who treats him decently so fair bit of warning there.

I think they'd bond over watching The Patrick Show together while eating cereal💙

[susandsnell]

Nolancrow, 🌀

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write either a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🌀 for a random number instead.

🌀 — from the number generator on google: 39 — heartache

One way or another, he would subject Bane to the toxin before their makeshift fiefdom’s clearly numbered days were through.

Crane knew himself well enough to understand that it was not purely scientific curiosity driving the quasi-suicidal impulse, a poor academic though it might make of him. He’d leafed through his own possible motives with the casual interest he might one of the psychology journals he’d stocked up on before mail service from the mainland was cut off, along with everything else.

Leverage, if he were to insist on his own mind for strategy, for contingency. One never knew when next the winds would change, what hat they’d have to don and allegiances they’d have to profess. We plant and sow, but only the good Lord gives the harvest, he had heard repeatedly as a boy, and loath as he was to recall the decrepit drawl, the best wisdom oft came from one’s enemies. Should Bane decide to turn on him, should the League’s progressive implosion since the death of Ra’s Al-Ghul accelerate, should the military or a miracle or the Batman (dare to dream, just where had he been?) show up – he would require the upper hand through the targeting of a weak spot.  Resentment through experience offered a less flattering reason for the burning desire. He understood most humans carried the base impulse to sling stones at a Goliath and emerge victorious, driven not the will of any God, but the will of the ego, by the pageantry of defeating that which incited primal fear – that which is bigger and stronger. Bane was more cunning by far than the schoolyard bullies of yore he had been made to endure, and more competent than the ruffians he’d had to neutralize during his stint in the drug trade. But a bully was a bully, highfalutin speeches notwithstanding, and muscle memory and scar tissue had bred in him an instinctive antipathy towards the burly. The axe forgets but the stump remembers; hence why it’s better and more fun besides to strike first.

Fun; the third possible motive. In the ensuing ruckus of the fall of Gotham (not that it ever stood, but who was he to deny himself an opportunity to tip the hat to Poe?), although Judge Crane had risen to the occasion, the Scarecrow had found unfortunately scant opportunities to stalk and strike. Inflicting fear with the bang of a gavel had its charms. But like taking a new lover while still longing for the old one, the magic just wasn’t quite there. 

What a sight it would make, Crane thought more than once, to see several hundred pounds of mercenary writhe and quail before him.  (He’d writhed above him once, keened a bit towards the end, but that had been but the purchase of some short-term insurance and the scratching of a mutual itch between allies, and nothing more.)

And wouldn’t it be hysterical to hear the thundering reverberations of such a skilled orator be reduced to screams of abject terror? He often reminded his people’s court that Bane has no authority here, but what greater delight could be wrung from making that statement literal – from making fear the true equalizer by inflicting it on a false one?

He'd assured the League his stores had been destroyed in the wake of their revolution, a half-lie, of course. He’d managed to salvage enough to be safe, enough that it could be replicated when the time was right. And the possibilities promised, were just too tempting to resist.

Administering the toxin was easy enough; as was ever the case for anyone who made it big in this city, the mask was the key. 

He knew the man’s hideouts; knew where he slept. Knew that the cannisters resting at the back of that skull held the analgesic gas piped into his lungs to keep those old injuries this side of tolerable. (Bitterly, Jonathan rather felt he could have used one of those in his adolescent years. Ah, well – this would be the next best thing.)

He also knew just which of their lackeys were corruptible, and which were easily cowed; a small slip of the hand into a tray scheduled for night-time delivery, and it wasn’t even his head that’d roll when the smoke cleared. As for what would happen when Bane inevitably put two and two together; well, that could be finagled later. Right now, standing over the hulking man’s prone, shaking form, donning the sackcloth once more, it was all about drinking in the moment. And what a moment it was; huddled over himself, that filtered voice whimpered and wailed and pleaded – not for mercy, for like himself, Bane had never known any. No, what he murmured over and over was not an ode to his tormentor, but a refrain of despair. 

“Talia,” he pleaded, once-powerful hands now outstretched as if in plea – as if to hold a limp frame. “My love, I beg you- ”

Talia, he said, and Talia, he repeated. A woman’s name - easy enough to guess the rest, before the endearments started pouring forth amidst the simulated grief. The Scarecrow tilted his head; a mockery of sympathy. Feeling audacious, he even petted his head.

“It’s such a shame she had to go the way she did, isn’t it? All that intellect, that conviction, that stubborn resolve…gone in a flash of fire and smoke, buried under debris.”  (He had felt no love for Rachel Dawes, of that he was certain, but her convulsions under the toxin’s influence were a kind of kiss - and there was something close to grief to be found in one’s beautiful nemesis dying at a hand that wasn’t one’s own.)

Bane agreed by way of a wail, which made him sputter a laugh at the sheer incongruity of his state with his persona. 

It wasn’t defeat Bane feared, nor was it betrayal, plague or even his own naked vulnerability. It was something far simpler - something that Crane was almost sure he himself had abandoned to his solitary, miserable youth - give or take a flash of red hair and a snarl of determination that swore he would only ever be alone. 

Heartache. 

[agonizedembrace]

evelynn knew the day was an inevitable ; the blood moon would take what it claims as its own, and it seems time decider sooner rather than later.

it was always a fickle game that she played with the priestess, shameless groveling down on her knees. begging to let them merge, to become one and to not let them win. however, time and time again, she was met with utter denial ; and as attractive as evelynn found the ordeal, it was frustrating all the same. their time was ending, once again, and all she could do is sit there aside, as a judging gaze casted from above.

evelynn answers to no one. she never has, and will likely continue to. unlike the human who claims to be -- she is free.

free is what the priestess believes, but with each passing night that she strives to keep evelynn away, the blood moon lingers closer. hungry. it's an itch that the demon cannot rid of, a haunting that cowers on her shoulders. the grim reality that only evelynn's aware of : that her soul is nothing close to free, and days are numbered till it is lost forever.

how bitter it is, to finally meet with akali again, just to know that her soul is well within the blood moon's grasp. evelynn would've strayed from this path, had she never caught wind of her being around again.

her own soul ( it doesn't exist, she screams to herself, just like her emotions she fights to keep burried so far away ) yearns, destructively so. to be loved and to love ; each denial pangs further into her fury towards the very means that drew the two together once again. why is it that their bodies can connect, lips that brush the most intimate parts of one another -- but their souls cannot?

she knows deep down that she is still resented, at least to an extent. the fire that burns in the human's gaze, how there's still that twitch in her hand that the demon knows wants to reach for her kunai. evelynn isn't human, and she'll never be -- so why should she ever deserve the love from one? why does she even want that?

the questions plague her mind, become her only thoughts, as the human smiles weakly up at her. death always comes too soon. doesn't matter by her hands or another, it reaps what it sows, and evelynn can only enjoy the slow moments of food. but nothing of this moment is of good flavor. it tastes bitter ; it grants her a stomach ache and a throbbing chest. she won't admit it, either, but there's tears to her eyes.

the blood moon beckons.

they danced around for far too long. denied their fate with stolen glances and lingering touches ; created a game with no true victor. for how could evelynn say she's winning, even now, as akali wishes for her death? as the blood moon is about to consume the human's soul, for it to never be reborn again?

evelynn knew this was coming. she always has. should its priestess not merge with a demon, it would eventually consume the human as divine punishment. and as oft as she'd beg for akali to give in -- her stubbornness was her own downfall.

as it is evelynn's.

for as stubborn she is, she is equally selfish.

her lips tingle with the memories of the priestess' own on hers. she yearns for a simpler time, one where she wouldn't be hunted down by the very one she desires ; one where they can share a smile without the world quite literally seeks bloodshed at every moment. why, after all this time of knowing who she is, is there a desire for something soft?

' let me die. ' the priestess pleads with her eyes. there's a love that burns in them, unmistakable and it ruins evelynn further. ' please don't do this to yourself anymore, eve. '

without a doubt, it is agony that resides in evelynn's being. she has gone on this far, begging and pleading for akali to listen. to allow them to share something more than pretending they're more than nothing. and so bitterly, as one hand gently caresses the cheek of who should be her lover, does evelynn raise the other with sharpened claws.

a final sight ; the last hurrah.

evelynn will force them to merge, if it means one day they can love.

she will take akali's soul. she'll take her body, she'll devour her until there is nothing left -- if it means that one day, whenever that is in the distant future, she will be reborn again. that she won't be taken by the blood moon. evelynn will give her own - a last pathetic chance, desperate to have something.

the brief look of betrayal that shines in the priestess' eyes. the knowledge that evelynn is too selfish -- too much in love -- to let go. to not oblige to her wishes. that her last sight, her last memory is being consumed by the very demon she's fought off for so long.

evelynn consumes. consumes like nothing else matters on this plane of existence. nothing does, but the fact they will meet again. her figurative stomach churns, desperate to enjoy the meal, but far too distraught at the pained screams of what was meant to be a lover. screams that grow weaker.

they merge, finally.

and all evelynn feels is sick.

[sheikitoff]

ocarina of time as fearless

If you're not deeply versed in Swiftian Lore, you probably think this was her first album, and understandably so. It's the album that Love Story and You Belong With Me are on, the album she first one the aoty grammy for, the album that gave rise to That VMA Incident- in other words, although it's her sophmore album, it's the one that broke out of the country music charts and into the Pop Sphere. Even if you've never listened to the album, you know it, at least to some degree. (Sound familiar?)

Yes, I've been trying to avoid making these analyses about the meta status of these works in pop culture, and instead about the contents and themes of the works themselves, but it's hard to talk about Ocarina without acknowledging its colossal footprint on games as a medium. While Fearless wasn't quite as pioneering as, say, inventing lock-on targeting, it did have a massive impact on the music industry, not only from a commercial perspective (revitalizing the country music market from its death throes), but from an important artistic perspective: she was a teenage girl who wrote her own songs, and in the last few years we've been seeing how significant an impact that had in the number of young female songwriters who cite Swift and this album as what made them realize they, too, could pick up a guitar and write their own stories.

(Also, this album includes the lyric "I don't know how it gets better than this", which is exactly what everyone said when Ocarina first came out xD )

Okay, onto the real analysis!

Fearless is an album about growing up, and reconciling the idealized vision of adulthood (or late adolescence) you've dreamed of all your life - the pastiche made up of images from teen movies and tv and magazines - with the uncomfortable and often disappointing reality you find upon your arrival. it's about making a beeline for adulthood and then looking back and wishing you could tell your younger self to stop and breathe (literally - there's a lyric on the album that goes "count to ten, take it in / this is life before you know who you're gonna be"). OOT is also, obviously and devastatingly, about growing up, and specifically about wanting to grow up and then getting there and realizing it's nothing like you thought it would be, and it cost you something you can never get back.

Fearless starts out with the title track, an ode to the excitement at the beginning of a first relationship, the siren call of young love; the whole world is wide open before you, and even the most mundane of things ("there's something 'bout the way / the street looks when it's just rained / there's a glow off the pavement) can seem magical. you want to bask in the moment and to hightail it to happily ever after all at once. taylor describes this feeling as "fearless", and one of the examples she gives of this fearlessness is "with you i'd dance / in a storm, in my best dress / fearless". it's kind of a perfect encapsulation of the exact brand of fearlessness that comes with youth: you can be that fearless in large part because you don't yet know what there is to fear out there. there are much scarier things in adult life and relationships than ruining your clothes in a storm, and there are much scarier things in hyrule than the stalchildren in hyrule field at night; and by the end of their respective album and game, both taylor and link will have learned that, however much they might wish they could go back to a time they'd not yet had to learn those lessons.

one of the oft-discussed kind of metanarrative features of OOT is that kids spend the opening section desperate to reach Adult Link. You'll hear people (mostly younger people, and people who haven't played since they were much younger) talk about the jump to Adult Link as "where the game really starts", or something along those lines. It's kind of trite to even point out how well this maps onto being a kid who can't wait to grow up, who sees adulthood as "when life really starts", and how central the difference between a child and adult's perspective on childhood is to the game and its themes. everyone somersaults and sidesteps across hyrule field as they try to book it to hyrule castle, and yeah, part of that is because hyrule field is so damn big and empty, but it makes for a nice little microcosm of what OOT is saying about growing up, as you hightail towards a destination you might not like once you get there.

even amidst the lows of growing up, there are always highs, too; both fearless and OOT let you bask in moments of triumph. there's a reason "love story" and "you belong with me" are still hailed among the best of pop music (fittingly enough, the former sees Taylor "sneak out to the garden to see you", just like Link sneaks into the castle garden to meet with Zelda; yes, I've been giggling about that since it occured to me.) but you can't freeze time in one, perfect moment, and even the cutesiest love songs start to develop a bit of a sad undertone: "hey stephen, why are people always leaving? / i think you and i should stay the same." while link's big "coming of age" moment obviously happens when he blinks and finds himself seven years older, his actual coming of age story starts at the very beginning of the game, as the darkness of the larger world encroaches on the idyllic kokori forest, poisoning and killing the deku tree; and in his child link travels, he encounters more of this darkness, be it darunia's depression or princess ruta’s deceased mother. notably, the darkest dungeon (pun not intended) of the whole game can only be accessed by child link. it's also likely the last extended bit of time you'll spend as child link in this game; some things you can't come back from knowing.

fearless charts a number of losses that come with growing up. on “white horse”, taylor laments the loss of the fantasies that come with childhood naïveté (“now i know / that i’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale”). this bears some similarity to the transition between acts one and two of OOT, as link and zelda’s grand plan to save the kingdom crashes down around them and they discover they’ve been outwitted since the very start; they fail, something stories and prophecies never prepared them for, and the consequences are more horrifying than they could have imagined (hyrule castle town post-time jump, anyone?) another fearless track, “breathe”, mourns the end of a friendship - not because you moved away or changed schools and lost touch, as with countless childhood friendships, but because the people you’ve grown into are just too different. it’s one of the less common elements of coming of age narratives, but one of the most heartbreaking parts of growing up: “never a clean break, no one here to save me / you’re the only thing i know like the back of my hand”. while link doesn’t lose a friend quite in the same way, there’s a similar kind of heartache in his friendship with saria, both in the realization that she hasn’t grown up and never will, and the discovery that they both have destinies that lead them apart, and must say goodbye.

“tell me why” and “you’re not sorry” both document the loss of blind trust, from a place of anger and of sadness respectively; then “the way i loved you” and “forever & always” each grapple with memories, how they can hold you back and how they can betray you. the former sees taylor unable to emotionally invest in a new relationship because of the intensity of a former one, which she misses in spite of herself: “my heart's not breaking /

'cause I'm not feeling anything at all.” in the latter, taylor is dismayed and angry to find that promises she and her partner made to each other meant less to him than they did to her. what’s particularly interesting about the latter song with regards to OOT is how it frames an emotional imbalance in a relationship in terms of memory: “back up, baby, back up / did you forget everything?” one of the most horrifying implications of everything link goes through in OOT is that, at the end, no one remembers but him, and none of the people he forged friendships with have any recollection of it at all; even navi leaves him. so much of OOT maps onto real parts of growing up, albeit in a fantastical and exaggerated fashion, and this has always evoked to me the experience of learning that someone you cherish your memories of doesn’t feel the same way, or remember nearly as much of your time together in childhood.

as we can see, the second half of the album is pretty much all sad or angry, until the very last two songs, but even those have caveats. "the best day" is a heartwarming tribute to her mother, but with a bittersweet twinge, as her recollections go from her mother taking her to a pumpkin patch to her mother consoling her as she cries about school bullies, and while her mother manages to cheer her up, taylor still notes that she “don't know how long it's gonna take to feel okay”; growing up means your problems aren’t as easily fixable, and your hurts last much longer. the final song, change, takes the inevitability of change, responsible for so much of the heartbreak throughout the album, and frames it as a source of hope, that if things can change, they will change again. it’s an anthem against giving up, but the song is premised on being stuck in a present that makes you want to give up (“you know it's all the same, another time and place / repeating history and you're getting sick of it”). in the final verse of the song, taylor goes from future tense (“these things will change”) to past tense (“it was the night things changed”). the music quiets down, and then the instruments kick back in more triumphant than ever (cue OOT end credits.) and yet the triumph here doesn’t hold a candle to the highs of “love story” and “you belong with me”. it’s the end of the album, and yet there’s less resolution here than there is on earlier tracks. real life doesn’t really have happily ever afters, not because happiness doesn’t exist but because life carries on where a movie would roll credits; all we can look forward to is the inexorable approach of change.

[princepsfianna]

Obsession over a random art project.

So I recently saw this video and am quite literally obsessed with it. I've re watched it like twenty times and can't get the ideas it's planted out my head. It's just such a fantastic work of art! I love the French revolution and Robespierre more specifically. The French Revolution and it's consequences, really it's just too early to say but they are positive! I'd encourage everyone to watch this because God damn it is just so good. It does kinda contain existential themes and quite a bit of depressive thoughts as themes throughout though so be warned. As I oft do I wrote a not great poem based on revering Robespierre because I've nothing better to do at this ungodly hour.

"Oh, Robespierre, surely it's a lie! Surely, it is a lie that you can die? Robespierre, what glory is your name? And how high is it along your fame?

Alas, it's been some two thirty years, Since I saw the brave, Robespierre! (idk if they rhyme lol) His bold eyes with hope was gleaming, Yet now all we see are tears streaming.

His life on this land, alas it's over But not yet is done the carryover What glory and what sorrow, Is his name, sung till morrow

And though they tell us, That they brought nought but guts, That their cause was a failure! We know that he was but a saviour!

Glory, Glory! Robespierre, Glory, Glory! Robespierre! Death, Death! To traitors, And a curse upon the invaders.

--

Our forefathers who drowned, In their own blood against the hound. Now we, their sons, shall do as them! Till from Esk till Tay, we fufill their dream!

We, the children of Scota and Brighid, Strong shall we be, never more pitied. Faithful to revolution, armed agianst the hun So we might deserve the Saltire when it's done!

So long as we have boyhoods flame, Then we shall never forget our name, Scottish lads, long broken are they Shall arise, true and tall from the fray!

So that from Éire till Cathay, We yet might see on that day. Shining, republics of virtue Gleaming from here and far too!" The little "--" shows the exact moment I switched from praising Robespierre to focusing on the scottish context and lads like Thomas Muir and the United Scotsmen. Muir, I love Thomas Miur like one would not believe. he was in my opinion the first man to revive the Scottish nation after it's usurpation with the acts of union as a truly national and not religious or royalist motivation. Glory, Thomas Muir for his land lives and shall be a republic from as I said Esk till Tay.

We have achieved a great duty in these critical times. After the destruction of so many years, we have been the first to revive the spirit of our country and give it a National Existence.

Thomas muir, 1798/99

Follow thee, follow thee, wha wadna follow thee? Charlie, Charlie! Wha wadna follow thee? Long have ye lov'd us, an' trusted us fairly! King O' the Hi'land hearts, Bonnie Prince Charlie! 1820s/30s-ish.

[roleplaybook]

My previous post was about ghosts, too — because that’s the main complaint I see from the roleplay community! I’d also like to touch on dealing with ghosts — ie., keeping your sanity in check when it happens — in a future post. Check out the ghost tag if you’d like to see everything I’ve written on the topic.

Without further ado,

Who Ghosts?

The truth is, most of us, at one point or another. Some of us are deeply ashamed chronic phantoms. Others are proud poltergeists. The shorter answer is this: anyone can be a ghost.

It happens, and sometimes it’s outside our control. This, however, seems to be the rarest form of ghosting, even if it’s the most understandable and one of the most legitimate reasons.

Hell, if you want to get really fuckin’ literal about it (and dark), one day, each and every one of us will “log off” for the last time. There’s a good chance you won’t know it’s your last time, so yeah — in theory, you’re probably going to “ghost” a couple people who won’t know what happened to you.

Hopefully not for a good, long time, though! So, who is more likely to ghost?

The Anxious

That is absolutely not to say anxiety is a red flag in the roleplay community. In fact, I think you would be very fuckin’ hard pressed to find a collaborative writer who doesn’t suffer from anxiety. Maybe this is part of the reason ghosting is so very prolific — but when anxiety is the root cause, the thought process tends to be something like this:

Oh, shit. It’s been a while since I replied, last. My writing partners muse be so tired of me. I should apologize, but I doubt my words mean anything at this point since it keeps happening. Is it awkward to just post, now? If I say something, are they gonna be mad at me?

Alternatively,

I have no idea how to reply to this, but they’re going to blow up at me if I ask them to edit their post — I just know it.

The Depressed

I just can’t scrounge up the energy. What’s another burned bridged? I’ll eventually lose their interest, anyway.

The Oft-Scorned

Yeah, no. Last time I told someone I’d lost interest in the plot, they stalked me across the Internet, doxxed me, threatened my life, and blew up my socials for a month. I’m just gonna dip. ✌

The Distracted

Didn’t I have a post I owed…? Wait, what’s this show? This is— ope, annnnd hyperfixated.

The Too-Kind

It doesn’t feel kind to be ghosted, and maybe it’s ultimately not kind — but these people really do have the best of intentions.

It’s gonna make her so sad if I tell her outright that her writing isn’t quite up to par with my standards. Better to just disappear.

The Oblivious

I’m guilty of this one.

Oh, shit — yeah, makes sense they’d check in. It’s been a while since I replied, last. I’ll let them know I am still totally interested in this plot. Because I am! I AM INTERESTED. I’ll totally reply, I just need a few more days to gather muse. I’ll definitely regain interest in this and it’ll be great.

AKA, some of us need to learn to tell when we’re lying to ourselves and stringing people along unintentionally.

The Takeaway

Ghosting reflects more on the ghost than on the ghostee.

If you’d like to read more about ghosting outside the collaborative writing context, check out this article from Psychology Today.