#Consciousness of Shock

[xpuigc-bloc]

Consciousness of Shock

Victor Brauner

1951

64x80 cm.

Wax encaustic on hardboard

Guggenheim Museum

The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice, 1976

[quo-usque-tandem]

Consciousness of Shock by Victor Brauner

[d8tl55c]

orange with a diamond sword.

rage.

shiny blue tip towards green's neck

where he lies knocked down in the grass.

orange takes perfect care of this sword - it's his best. even a brush of the tip cuts.

all see him, and remember

and flinch.

orange raises his sword over his head.

it would be a killshot.

the rest are too shocked, angry, worried by how angry, stalled by cognitive dissonance to act.

the blade falls.

he stabs the grass, deep through the roots and soil and stones below.

orange storms off, leaving his best sword behind.

red sees.

remembers.

follows him.

blue is frozen down in the flowers by the pool.

yellow gathers blue. his scattered pieces, so to speak, come back together briefly from her coaxing.

green, trying to salvage it, approaches them.

laughs- wrong- jittery, measuring in his mind the distance orange's sword was from his neck... less than a short blade of grass

(tasted horrible)

but the show, the show, the show must go on.

he smiles, opens his arms wide with bravado.

"it was just a-!"

"get back," blue barks.

he's angry, but it's wrong.

he's angry and something else, something which rises and intensifies and sharpens the details as much as it swirls them.

it's just green, green and his insensitive gags, and a nice cherry forest under the sun.

it feels too warm, too bright, too dangerous.

"but," green approaches.

blue backs up.

green has less of blue's trust than that zombified hoglin.

yellow steers blue away, glaring at green.

"just LEAVE IT," she says. less loud than the others, but the most stern.

green wilts, alone in the clearing.

"we need a break."

red finds orange hiding behind a cherry trunk a few minutes away, trying not to mutilate too many flowers.

upon eye-contact,

they remember their own thing... in the desert. the lush caves. it got bad before. good on him that he left to cool down.

red is twitchy, too. can't unflatten the cat ears, so frustrated.

what to do?

red offers a duel.

orange accepts.

1. normal duel?

or

2. cat duel? lol.

mostly unserious from the beginning, they crouch to all fours and leap and swipe at each other. tussle and roll and work up to that genuine, playful competitiveness.

it always devolves into tickling. red gets orange to laugh. orange retaliates by scratching red under the chin. this instantly paralyses him. /pos

that was fun, and red is happy now

but...

orange wishes it was this easy with green.

he huffs sadly. still furious!! mostly sad.

orange tries to get up and do something.

red, purring, pins him to the ground for a snuggle.

orange struggles.

red deliberately-accidentally kicks him in the head while readjusting.

so instead of jumping into some fool plan

they get comfortable

and talk.

red is a little better at hiding it... (or suppressing it...) but he wishes it was that easy for green too.

if you try to hold green back,

he might just drag you through the mud with him.

blue is more fragile.

he never liked pranks, much less...

he can't even think about it. everything's fuzzy. focusing his eyes makes him more dizzy.

the pink looks darker, swims together into a uniform texture, red red red and the trunks are the same dark purple of the brick and he's falling-

yellow doesn't know what's going on, but she suspects that blue understated back then,

"oh yeah! and i got knocked into the lava pool, haha. wow, that hurt."

so she's approximately half-ready when he stops walking.

she halts too. "you okay?"

blue squeaks.

yellow steps in front of him.

he grabs her shoulders, like she's a ladder dipping into the-

ah. lava. yep, definitely some unresolved trauma there. she spots the bark color of the cherries and nods, theories forming in her mind.

the blue sky sure is a different color.

. .. ...

oh!

Yes!! there are zero cool colors in the nether, except for that dark teal fungus biome.

"hey, blue."

blue is still clinging to her shoulders.

"check out the sky right now."

he trusts her, so even while unsteady, his head jerks up. "whh...?"

slowly, his eyes begin to focus through the clouds.

it's overcast, but only the Minecraft version of cirrus clouds that let the deep blue atmosphere peek through.

it's a perfect Minecraft Overworld day.

the delicate pinks and greens of the trees compliment an endless pool of sky.

this is the opposite of the hard, brutal Nether.

blue's grip on yellow loosens.

she gets worried for a moment- but it's then clear it's because he's started to stand on his own again.

she pats his shoulder - his "good side," he jokes, the one that spent the least time cooking in service of the baby piglin - and leans against him.

he leans back.

a few minutes pass.

"i need to get that checked out," he laughs softly.

"yeah," yellow sighs. "you really do."

[yeommijeong]

I like me better when I'm with you

Mr. Gu & Yeom Mi Jeong Episode 8, My Liberation Notes (2022)

[zuko-always-lies]

Zuko and the Day of Black Sun (warning: this will not be the most positive post about Zuko)

Zuko: Because the Avatar's not dead. He survived. Ozai: [Shocked and horrified.] What? Zuko: In fact, he's probably leading this invasion. He could be on his way here right now.

Ozai: [Laughs.] Oh, that's just beautiful. And maybe he can pass down to you the ways of tea and failure. Zuko:But I've come to an even more important decision. [Closes eyes and momentarily pauses.] I'm going to join the Avatar and I'm going to help him defeat you.

Zuko's actions in the DoBS are actually very odd, when you come to think of it. Zuko knows that there's an invasion force trying to take advantage of the DoBS. He's pretty sure that Team Avatar is leading the invasion. He knows Ozai and the Fire Nation are uniquely vulnerable. He knows Ozai's location. All Zuko needs to do is find a way to get Team Avatar to where Ozai's hiding, to lead them there somehow, and the war is won. People have (rightfully or wrongfully) criticized Zuko for refusing to kill Ozai when he had the chance and dumping the responsibility on Aang, but Zuko didn't even need to kill his father himself. All Zuko had to do is find a way to help the invasion and get them to the right location, and Team Avatar would take care of his daddy problems for him. Hardly the easiest task, given the level of distrust he's earned from them, but hardly impossible either. And Zuko is not known for refusing to do the impossible.

Yet Zuko doesn't try to help the invasion. He doesn't even take advantage of the eclipse to rescue his beloved uncle. He instead chooses to use the time to mouth off at his awful father, while very clearly acting like he knows the invasion is going to fail.

When I first thought of about, I thought Zuko was being stupid and mislead by his emotions. He was so focused on his (justified) feelings of resentment toward his father that he missed a golden opportunity to win the war. Or maybe Zuko was so focused on doing what he thought Iroh wanted him to that he lost track of the situation.

Yet the more I think about it, the more I realize Zuko was actually being really smart. Zuko needed Team Avatar to lose the DoBS. After all, if Aang finds and kills Ozai on that day, and the invasion defeats the Fire Nation, then

Zuko doesn't get the emotional catharsis of personally telling off his abusive father to his face

Zuko doesn't get to prove himself personally to his beloved uncle by rescuing him (since the Gaang would almost certainly free Iroh once they find out about him)

Zuko doesn't get to join the Gaang and prove himself "redeemed" to them

Zuko doesn't get his glorious, special destiny of joining with the Avatar, teaching him firebending, and befriending him

Zuko doesn't get to become friends with the Gaang, like he so clearly desperately wants

Zuko doesn't get a chance to face his sister again, beat her, and prove that he's better than her

Zuko generally doesn't get to be a hero, doesn't get to be the main character, doesn't get a special quest and mission, doesn't get a chance to be the person who helps restore balance the world. At most Zuko gets to be an opportunist who changed side at the last moment.

So yes, Zuko desperately needed the invasion to fail. If it doesn't, Zuko gets none of the things he desperately wanted. Zuko writing off the invasion and showing zero interest in helping it was actually very logical on his part.

[talesofwhimsy]

I'm 100 pages into Moby Dick and they just got on the goddamn boat

This book actually kinda fucks hard it's great?

[professorjirt]

it’s occurring to me that Frodo has had a near death experience, been near dead, or just straight up momentarily dead way too many times

[jedidiahjartin]

Do people ??? Actually want me dead ??? What???? Like I know a lot of people don't like me but wanting me dead is. Something else

[headphonemouse]

Ch. 427

Shin Yoosung pulling out premature grey hair on my head tackled the boy immediately.

I can't believe I forgot about kdj's premature grey hairs. Post epilogue dokjoong bald4bald

[dolcinos]

i have usuk size kink brainrot all the time but it gets especially prevalent when i think about them after alfred porks up, lol.

big, tall, fat american and his scrawny, short british bf send tweet

[areadersuncertaintyprinciple]

Mrs. Dalloway captures the sense of rupture caused by a catastrophic war

Beneath the seemingly mundane surface of a single day in London, Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway paints a haunting portrait of a society fractured by the trauma of World War I. The novel's exploration of this rupture goes beyond explicit references to the battlefields, weaving the threads of displacement and fragmentation into the very fabric of its narrative.

One of the most potent tools Woolf employs is the fragmented narrative structure. The novel leaps between the consciousnesses of various characters, creating a kaleidoscope of thoughts and experiences. This fractured form mirrors the shattered state of post-war society, where traditional structures and expectations lie in ruins, leaving individuals adrift in a world that no longer feels familiar or coherent. Clarissa Dalloway, the novel's central figure, embodies this internal fragmentation. Haunted by the ghosts of a lost past and grappling with the hollowness of her present, her stream-of-consciousness reveals a mind struggling to find meaning in a world irrevocably altered by the war.

The novel's temporal tapestry further underscores the sense of rupture. Flashbacks and shifts in consciousness disrupt the chronological flow of time, creating a feeling of disjointedness and dislocation. This temporal disorientation echoes the profound loss of continuity experienced by those who lived through the war – a past that haunts the present and casts a long shadow on the future.

The contrasting perspectives of the characters further highlight the social ruptures caused by the war. Clarissa, clinging to pre-war values and traditions, represents the privileged upper class desperately trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Septimus Warren Smith, a shell-shocked veteran, embodies the trauma and disillusionment borne by those who witnessed the horrors firsthand. This stark juxtaposition reveals the chasm that now separates different segments of society, a consequence of the war's devastating impact.

Woolf's masterful use of the stream-of-consciousness technique allows readers to delve into the characters' raw and unfiltered emotions. Their internal monologues, chaotic and fragmented, mirror the psychological fractures caused by the war. Clarissa's anxieties, Septimus's paranoia – these intimate glimpses into their minds reveal the profound emotional ruptures that lie beneath the surface of everyday life.

Through its fragmented form, disjointed timeline, and contrasting perspectives, Mrs. Dalloway delivers a powerful and multifaceted portrait of a society grappling with the aftermath of a catastrophic event. The novel's exploration of rupture is not merely a historical artifact; it resonates deeply with our own fragmented times, reminding us of the enduring consequences of trauma and the ongoing struggle to find meaning in a world forever changed.

[sundays-mutt]

my life is so cyclical. i find a hobby. i write self insert fanfiction for it. the cycle continues. how long? who knows. until i die perhaps!

[teethbomb]

hrrnnggg digital circus…

[breaddo]

my favorite thing about not knowing anything is when someone is like "SURELY you know [blank]" and they've immediately lost. my ability to not know jack shit about anything pop culture is endless and you should be afraid of me

[moodr1ng]

"this social psychology experiment proves humans are inherently cruel and domineering!" "no this other social psychology experiment proves humans are inherently kind and cooperative!" everyone learn that singular experiments cannot be taken as conclusive proof of anything + consider that perhaps literally no amount of social psychology studies will ever "prove" any kind of inherent, all-encompassing moral truth about all of humanity and will only ever be an example of possible group conduct in certain conditions, in a certain culture and time, among certain people

[ceruleanfuckup]

So I had a fantastic date tonight.