#FUCK YOU NEGATIVITY AND NIHILISM

[peaches2217]

I have been demeaned and belittled more by customers today than I ever have in my eight years of customer service, and considering I work a short shift today (and it’s only HALFWAY THROUGH), that’s saying something. Y’all know what that means:

Obscenely fluffy Mareach scenarios when I get home! Because if I’m gonna lose this much serotonin, I’m gonna turn right around and replenish it to survive another day!

[spacelesscowboy]

hey. genuinely. it feels so fucking joever

[anotherpapercut]

I HATE trying to read about philosophy on the internet because absolutely nobody understands what the fuck nihilism is it's insane

[blueish-bird]

writing a Part 1 CSM fic where everyone’s just hanging out, but I can’t work on it for too long or it makes me sad and lonely and a little hopeless because. at least they have each other and an apartment/home and know how to make food lmao.

[valkyurii]

I’ve noticed that most people who hate her fight but still manage to beat her solo only do it: A, out of spite (she’s an optional boss and doesn’t give you much in terms of reward aside from runes so it begs the question why even bother if you hate it so much?), and B, by cheesing her, either with stunlock strats or at range. They’ll cheese the fight and then act like it’s some kind of flex when actually they just straight up can’t fight her normally. I understand that not everyone wants to learn her fight and would rather write it off as cheap and unfair, but given that there’s quite a number of people who actually can fight her and do it well without cheesing the fight would kind of make you think otherwise, right? Anyway, her fight is definitely not the easiest, but apart from literally one attack she’s actually really not that bad at all once learned.

I'm just wondering about Malenia's bossfight. I've never seen, neither on YouTube nor anywhere really, a person who is competent at fighting Malenia, Blade of Miquella, who also hates her.

I'll clarify: sorry to say this, but being able to beat her doesn't mean you're competent at fighting her. Being competent means learning most/all of her mechanics and being able to defeat her solo. Dodging waterfowl, the phantom attack, spacing, timings and all of that.

Everyone who I have seen hating on Malenia just never learned how to fight her and got frustrated because the rest of the game is just more forgiving than she is.

If you're a person who hates Malenia and also competent at fighting her please let me know I'm very curious about your reasoning behind it.

[britcision]

I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. chapter map.

The Gate to Hell

You’re not sure what it is about airports, that somehow makes them feel like a special little extension of the circles of Hell. Or maybe purgatory, is more the like. All you do there is wait, and wait and wait, praying that soon it will be time to move on.

It probably doesn’t help that you’re absolutely fucking dreading your destination ahead.

Frankly, it will be a miracle if you survive this weekend with your sanity intact.

And then, there’s this dude behind you. You keep seeing him out of the corner of your eye. He just keeps pacing back and forth, rolling his stupid bag with him, and you just want to whirl and tell him to be still or sit the fuck down.

Instead, he comes to stand next to you.

You give him a glance. And then, you’ll admit, a double take, because he is stupidly handsome, even while frowning, staring churlishly at the flight monitor as though it had personally insulted him. And, to add insult to injury, he is tall. And well dressed in jeans and a button down and a nice sports jacket. And you inwardly sigh for some indefinable reason that has to do with longing and your acceptance that the universe does not bestow such gifts upon you for free.

“Nice dress.”

You blink, not having expected him to speak to you.

“Thanks.” It’s a 50’s style robin’s egg blue halter swing dress, your favorite color. You needed some bright color therapy, to face the hell you’re about to be stepping into.

“Is there a sock hop in San Luis Obispo I’m missing?”

You guess with your cat-eye Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses, you do look rather on brand.

From his sardonic tone you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. “All the cool kids are going.”

You kind of deliver it like a dig, and you see the corners of his mouth twitch. “Ah. That explains everything.”

You look him over. He…really is ridiculously handsome, if you’re being honest. High cheekbones. Trimmed beard. Piercing eyes. Casually well dressed. A bit older than you, not that that’s ever stopped you.

“I hope our flight’s on time.”

You check your phone app for the airline. “Supposed to be.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got an app for that?” The way he says it, just this side of snide, like you fucking millennials—it kind of pisses you off. And maybe you’re overly sensitive to patronizing comments from older men, but with your history you have a right to be.

“Do you have a problem with me?”

He stands up a little straighter. “What?”

“Like what’s your deal? I was just standing here minding my own business, while you’re creeping around behind me—”

“I was not creeping. I was trying to see the board.” He gestures at the display screen by the gate.

You look him up and down. That’s a tall drink of water, if you’re being honest. “Because Mr. six foot six over here can’t see over my head—”

“I’m only 6’1”—”

“Okay, 6’2” in your shoes, and then you come up here, give me a backhanded compliment, and make fun of me for having the means to keep track of what’s going on with our plane?” You glare at him. “Holy shit, are you trying to neg me?”

“I don’t…even know what that means.”

“Ok, boomer.”

“I am not a boomer.”

“Whatever.”

Then he has the gall to step away—in front of you.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re going to butt ahead in line too?”

“On a flight that holds eight people?”

“Wow. Ok, be my guest.” You wave him on, and he rolls his eyes. Then you have to stand there, and look at his stupidly broad shoulders in that nice sports jacket, and his dark softy waving hair that just brushes his collar…you’re not going to look at his butt.

You’re not.

Your eyes slide down.

Fuck, but that’s a nice caboose.

The Fight Or Flight Response

As you sit in your backseat of the plane, there is one seat left beside you, and when you see who boards last you want to throw yourself down the stairs before they close the door.

“Anyone want to trade seats?” he asks, bent over practically in half, he’s so tall and the plane is so small.

Crickets.

With a resigned grumble he settles into the seat next to you, as though the world might end if he has to spend a handful of minutes in your general proximity.

Then, of course, the universe further conspires to embarrass you by sending you a defective peanuts bag, which you cannot for love or money get to tear open.

“Dear god, tear it at the notch,” grouses the rude man beside you, driven insane by you fighting with it.

“There is no notch.”

He’s there with his big hand extended, making an annoyed give it here gesture. It’s distracting, truly, how long and elegant his fingers are.

“Give it here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Give. It. Here.”

You’re so disgusted with this whole day, you hand it over. Then watch with smug delight as he can’t get it open either. Finally, he uses his teeth in his frustration, undoubtedly spitting all over it. When he tries to hand it back to you, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

With a sigh, he offers you his less molested bag.

You take it like accepting his sword on the battlefield.

You both make faces as you quickly find that the seasoning on the nuts tastes like hot trash, and you reckon it’s probably a metaphor for how the next few days are going to go.

This is going to be the weekend from hell.

“So what brings you to San Luis Obispo?” the man asks resignedly, almost like he can’t quite stop himself from talking to you. There is an exhaustion in his tone that would have pulled at your heartstrings, if you weren’t so generally pissed off.

“You don’t have to try to talk to me.”

He shrugs, throwing up those big, beautiful hands in a gesture of annoyance. You can’t help but stare at them—they really are a menace.

“Just trying to be pleasant.”

You can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes you at hearing that. He frowns over at you, and you cover your mouth, hiding your smile. You know you must look like a crazy person—but it’s just too ridiculous.

“Was it that funny?”

You sigh, and for some reason you feel better after the involuntary outburst. Okay. Maybe you can make an effort. No one is ever in a good mood at the airport, after all. “I’m actually going to Paso Robles.”

“Row-bulls.”

“It’s pronounces ro-blays.”

“Everyone says Row-bulls.” 

“Well, not the fucking Spanish who named it.”

He looks away again with that thunderhead of a frown. Why does he have to look extra handsome, when he’s pissed off?

You sigh again. “Look, I’m sorry. I swear, I’m not always such a bitch. It’s just…this fucking wedding I’m going to.”

This catches his attention; he turns to look at you like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “Not…Keith and Anne’s wedding?”

“How do you fucking know Keith and Anne?”

“Keith and I share a mother.”

“Holy shit, you’re Frank?”

“Who are you?”

“I was engaged to Keith, years ago.”

“Oh my god, you’re y/n.”

You can sense by the way he says it that you’re infamous in the family’s lore. It’s been a long time, but still, it fills your heart with a familiar leaden despair.

You close your eyes, and look away.

“You’re just as horrible as Keith always said,” you say to the window.

“I find you equally disagreeable, I assure you.”

waiting for death the car

“There was supposed to be a car,” Frank grouses the second you exit the airport. Patience is clearly not his strong suit.

“The flight was early.”

“But it seemed so long.”

It’s a good dig, truth be told, and the corners of your mouth twitch despite yourself. You sit down on a bench, and to your surprise he sits on the other, though on the side closest to you. “So what the hell are you doing here?” he asks. “Didn’t Keith break your heart?”

“Shattered it into bits.”

“Well?”

“I was invited.”

“And…you’re a masochist?”

“Look, I’m not…whatever Keith must have said I am. I was practically a fucking child when he started dating me. It was not…” It was perfectly legal, of course, but the imbalance of worldly experience, looking back, had not been kosher.

You feel the tide of all the pain and insecurity that man caused you raise up in your heart. Usually you’re pretty good at shoving that shit down down in the deepest dungeon you can, like a healthy person, but the wound is feeling a little fucking raw at the moment, considering.

“Keith is an asshole who only cares about himself. I am aware.”

You sigh, and the tide miraculously recedes. Goddamn. It almost feels like he’s on your side.  “Okay, yeah. There you go.”

“Why do this to yourself?”

“You know, before he broke it off, we had a fight the night before because I told him I would never get breast implants, of all fucking things, and Keith told me I would never amount to anything without him.”

“Sounds like something asinine he would say.”

“I wanted to go back to school, and he didn’t like it. He wanted a Stepford wife, and I was becoming alarmingly aware of the world outside his own making of it, the way children do when they grow up. If you’re wondering why he dumped me.”

“That tracks perfectly.”

“He invited me to be a shit and rub my nose in it, so…I’m here as a fuck you. I wanted to show him I’m doing fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“You do seem rather well adjusted.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

This, surprisingly, makes him smile a little.

A few moments of slightly less awkward silence pass before he asks, “So what did Keith tell you about me?”

“Oh, he told me plenty.”

“Such as?”

“What does it matter?”

“Don’t do that,” he snipes. “Don’t dangle the tidbit then refuse to deliver it.”

“Fine. He said you’re a grouch who hates everyone.”

“Oh. I was afraid he might have said something untrue.”

You glance over at his ridiculously well-sculpted profile. He glares ahead, his brows furrowed, and you strangely get the sense that maybe…he’s a little sad for it.

At fucking last, the shuttle car from the hotel arrives.

Tbc...

[dalesramblingsblog]

I don't know that I was prepared for just how cynical Boom would be about the state of the world. I mean, it's brilliant, and I love it to bits, this is not a criticism in any way. If The Star Beast was Davies subtweeting Hell Bent's subtweet of Journey's End, Boom is clearly the product of Moffat watching the past eight years and realising that sometimes "Be kind" is an insufficient response to injustice and you need to get a bit angry about it.

It's barbed in a way that we only fleetingly glimpsed in stuff like His Last Vow ("Having problems with Rupert Murdoch? Shoot him in the fucking face") or World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls ("Pain... pain... pain"). And it's also worth noting that we get the same cynicism about the state of British healthcare that we got in that earlier two-parter, very consciously framed in reference to The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances both in the "killer ambulance" conceit and the constant references to Villengard.

Of course, the ending has a lot of that trademark Moffat sentimentality, but nobody writes it quite like he does so I don't count that as a negative at all. Despite his reputation, Steven Moffat is never going to write an out-and-out embrace of cynicism and nihilism; Moffat could never write Midnight, and Davies could never write Hell Bent.

But there's something heartwarming and not a little fascinating in seeing the two of them trying anyway.

(Credit where credit is due to Gibson and Gatwa, of course. The two of them knock it out of the park. Also a few hours after using the phrase "Robert Holmes would be so proud" in my initial response to Space Babies, El Sandifer's review of the episode ended up using the same phrase. Probably goes without saying but I hadn't read that piece beforehand, and if it was put up on her Patreon before being posted to the Eruditorum Press site, I swear I didn't see it lol.)

[emcandon]

the problem with creating a DnD character who's very good at keeping secrets is that i've had a lot of fun artfully not-really-lying to my party but i am also DYING bc i want to TALK ABOUT HIM and must HOLD MY TONGUE bc too many members of said party are on tumblr (hi guys, you remain perfect)

things that can be shared:

washed-up Leyendecker dandy

started the campaign seeming like the fancy mom friend who's going to keep everyone clean and cheerful in this haunted fucking house

has, over the past few sessions -- and the ghosts and the vampires and the bones and the steady realization that he has maybe possibly inherited some curse magic that has a lot of emotional baggage attached (ﾉ ᐕ ）ﾉ︵ ┻━┻ -- gradually started to reveal that he is less "a nice man" than he is "an occasionally nice nihilist crackpot who is brightly advocating for king-killing"

the only character who can use thieves' tools. negative dex.

(friend playing the rogue in another campaign WAILED when i explained this; listen, listen, it's funny, it's funny)

took a level in cleric; immediately threatened god ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

rolled a nat 1 ᕕ( ⌓̈ )ᕗ

has been throwing gold at all the party's expenses with what is either "too gay to math" frivolity or, uh, more of that nihilism probably ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

accidentally on purpose telepathically pissed off the new NPC -- but like, as a persuasion check to make clear they were actually all on the same king-killing side

was ready to be a colossal bitch at the increasingly reckless warlock until she proved to be, in fact, secretly very sad! uh oh! shit! oh no! he apologized to her out of nowhere instead.

i love him. he is in his 40s and too arthritic for this.

[papenesque]

i'm gonna have a bpd rant

the actually bpd tag is a fucking mess. it's a self-harm melancholic echo-chamber with a constant stream of high-octane trigger content. everyone's repeating horrible sentiments about how they'll never be good enough, how their fp doesn't care/love them back, etc.

we're all sick and making each other sicker. invest in a journal, god please!! and don't utilise it as a medium for self-harm!!! don't do it!! BE NICE TO URSELF 😭😭😭

it's okay to talk about one's hardships every once in a while sure, but when the ENTIRE tag is just trigger content designed to further the incorrect overly negative sentiments in one's head, that harms not only you, but other people. imagine having a breakdown/feeling shitty about yourself and then the first thing you read when you open tumblr is "they don't love you as much as you love them" like ?? 😭😭 ofc blocking the tag is an option but idk this is supposed to be a community?

idk i actually dont mind having bpd ! its such a large part of my fabric, so tightly woven into the creation that is me that i couldn't imagine any other way. life without an fp feels like genuine hell and yes i struggle deeply with self-sabotage, don't get me wrong, but I WANT TO GET BETTER. i AM getting better. life with bpd does not mean a life locked to sadness and one-sided love. it means a life with potential, like every life. we as a community need to start sharing sentiments about improving one's self, loving one's self. and the actually-bpd tag makes that insanely difficult because the norm is sadness, the baseline is nihilism. we need to like not do that.

i promise you're amazing. i promise your fp doesn't think any of the horrible things your mind brews up. you'll find love & every day is a new day where the sun rises and the moon sinks in their never-ending waltz ok it's gonna be ok 😭🫶

[justalittlesolarpunk]

this is 2 questions, but they're both a little depressing, sorry

any tips for just keeping up hope? things just seem so awful as of late. ik bad things happen all the time, but it just seems like things are genocide on top of environmental collapse on top of genocide. how can you stay hopeful?

and any tips for enacting change as a minor? i don't have any income to spend on supporting causes, i'm not allowed to go to protests or rallies or anything of the like, i can't vote. i feel so useless. i know there has to be something i can be doing! i just don't know what.

again, sorry if this is. not the sort of thing you'd like to answer, i'd understand completely. feel free to like. ignore this i suppose

your blog seems lovely, it's nice to see someone determined to fight for a better world. i hope you have a wonderful day.

Hi. Thanks for getting in touch, and please don’t apologise for your questions. I’m sorry to hear you’ve been struggling, and I want to start by saying that what you’re feeling is a normal, healthy result of being a caring human being in a world full of cruelty and suffering. This is a really difficult time for the planet and its people and so I’d start by saying you’re allowed to feel dispirited and hopeless, especially as a minor looking around and seeing this is the world you’re growing up in.

This will probably be quite a long answer so I apologise for that, but you’ve caught me on my favourite topic - hope. To begin with, I have a little mantra that I repeat to myself which is that while despair as an emotional response is valid and to be expected, despair as an ideological orientation is not acceptable. What this means is that I allow myself and others slack and compassion at times when the feeling that everything is just too fucked to fix takes over. But I don’t permit myself to stop that from making me act. I take inspiration from people who have survived and are surviving incredible adversity - from the indigenous people who chose to keep living, to keep preserving their language and religion and culture, to keep fighting for their land and bringing children into the world even after everything they recognised about it was gone. We aren’t the first culture to face an apocalypse. Similarly I think of the low-lying islanders and other people in the Global South or the Arctic Circle seeing their means of subsistence or their homes being destroyed by climate change. I know this doesn’t sound at all hopeful on the surface, but I remind myself that these people don’t have the luxury of nihilism or despair. They have to keep trying, again and again, rebuilding the dams and re-roofing their houses and planting again the crops that they lost to extreme weather. If they give up, they die. They don’t need my tears and they don’t want my pity. And so reminding myself of the solidarity I owe them sort of resets my brain into getting-stuck-in-mode.

One of the most important things I have done and would recommend others to do to keep the despondency at bay is to act, to get up each morning and make the choice to do good, even if it’s just being kind and friendly to the people I see that day, or signing an online petition, or planting something in the ground. Sure, these actions won’t change the world on their own, but they contribute. And more importantly, they change you.

The second biggest thing is to control your media diet. That means getting serious about reining in your doomscrolling. The news and social media are full of appalling images right now and I’m not saying you should look away, or pretend it isn’t happening, but you have to remember that you becoming emotionally numbed out and vicariously traumatised doesn’t help the victims of war or environmental disaster. So balance out the negative news by actively seeking out things that are going well in the world. Remember that every day countless people get up determined to make things better. Visit Positive News, The Good News Network, The BBC’s Uplifting Stories Page, and similar sites. Follow Sam Bentley and Zahra Biabani. Read Rutger Bregman and Hans Rosling and Jon Alexander. Remind yourself that the good things happening in the world aren’t cancelled out by the bad ones any more than they cancel out the bad. Look for signs of care in the world around you: see how the old friends at the train station hug tightly when they’re reunited, or how the schoolboy helps his friend with his jacket, or the crowd parts to let the old woman through. These things seem small but they are the groundwork for everything we can achieve together.

I have hope because even in the midst of appalling scenes in the Middle East, aid workers are going in with food and medicine, risking their own lives, journalists are drawing attention to the situation, Israelis (even some with families held hostage) are calling for an end to the bombing, groups of Palestinian and Israeli communities have been working together for decades and will be the first to pick up the pieces when the dust settles, and because thousands are marching for justice and peace all over the world. Sometimes the moments that reveal the worst of humanity show us its best too. ‘Look for the helpers’ is a cliche but it’s genuinely useful.

Hope is also something you work at, a skill to be cultivated like any other, and I have found the writings of Rebecca Solnit hugely helpful in cultivating my own practice of hope. In terms of the environment, solarpunk shares origins with hopepunk, a genre that is all about triumphing (or even just trying your damn hardest) in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. You don’t have to become a perfect optimist overnight, you don’t even have to be an optimist at all, you can just hope out of spite. Because the last thing that the corrupt politicians and the war criminals and the fossil fuel billionaires and the media commentators want you to think is that things don’t have to be this way and can get better.

Watch the Earthshot Prize Awards Ceremony even though it’s weird and corporate. Get newsletters from MSF or the UN agencies doing good work on the ground. Watch the birds out of your window. Revisit those good news websites regularly to check out the latest stories. Listen to podcasts that imagine a better future (I am working on a resources masterpost so check back in for that). Bake a cake for someone you know who is having a hard time - maybe that someone is you. That’s ok too. We cannot change the world alone but we can hold and soothe some of the pain in it. And take care of yourself - remember that, as Audre Lorde said, self-care is an act of political warfare. Make joy your resistance whenever you can.

This kind of ties in to your second question - how to make change as a minor. I know you don’t have a lot of power but you can still make a difference. See if you can make an environment society or a group of socially conscious students at your school. Talk to your friends about climate change and social justice issues (studies say this is the single action you can take as an individual that has the greatest likelihood of contributing to systemic change - ahead even of giving up flights or going vegan). Talk to your parents if they’re receptive. Talk to siblings and cousins and the guy behind the supermarket counter. Surround yourself with people who want to make things better, if you can. You’d be surprised how much change you can make even just by asking people or institutions to do better - can your school improve its sustainability, for instance? Write to elected officials even though you can’t vote (they don’t need to know that! You don’t need to tell them your age!) and sign petitions if you can’t go to protests. Sneak out to a protest if you feel like rebelling (though make sure a trusted friend knows where you are and follow safety guidelines available online).

Give yourself some grace to mess up and fall short and fail. It’s beyond unfair you have to be worrying about any of these things, but you are, and that’s because you have a big heart. Take some time to cry in your bed if you need it - I know I have over these past few weeks. Then when you’re ready, get up, wipe your eyes, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

[ghnosis]

my spoiler-free review of RHRH, a neutral-to-negative take

most important point: I had fun at the ghovie

there are not plot spoilers below, but if you want to go in totally totally blind, don't read below the cut!

important note: I don't care for the Chapters. I don't watch them, they're not my kind of humour. I was curious to see how Tobias would spin the ghovie - most people aren't aware of the Chapters or of the entirety of the backstory, and most people won't care about that stuff. my biggest question going in was how is Tobias going to make the die hard fans happy AND make this an accessible experience for the more casual fan?

spoiler alert: in my opinion, he didn't! the Guardian review is evidence of this, though its tone is typically pissy. RHRN is weighted towards the big-time ghestie.

there was a brief attempt at the beginning to explain the legacy of the Emeritus family, but it outright states that Nihil was "the first one," which ("my father's father's father-") isn't the case. oversimplication for the sake of runtime, sure, fine, but I have OCD and this stuff bugs me.

as a concert film, RHRN fails for me. eyeing the runtime and my knowledge of shows, I figured RHRN would start with 25ish minutes of silly Chapter skit stuff, then 2 hours of ritual. I assumed this order would be good for physical/streaming sales - if you put all the stuff nobody but the die-hards care about in the beginning, it's easily skippable. nope! the chapter/skit stuff is throughout the film, breaking the immersion of the concert experience.

I use Green Day's Bullet in a Bible as a measuring stick for this sort of thing: watching Bullet in a Bible does feel like seeing an enhanced experience of a Green Day show. watching Nirvana on MTV Unplugged feels like (I imagine - I was a toddler at the time) seeing Nirvana play live. hell, watching Riding in Vans with Boys feels like seeing blink-182 live. I want a concert film to give me a better angle of the show itself than I could ever possibly see live, plus some behind the scenes stuff. I don't feel like RHRN provides a good ritual experience. one thing I personally think about a lot in this fandom is the multimodality - we can't all afford to go to a ritual, especially as Ghost plays huger and huger arenas. if you were hoping RHRN would be like a recorded ritual, it is not. this feels like a big missed opportunity to me.

the sound mixing is not what I would expect from a film like this. I saw RHRN in a theater where I also saw Dune II and a few Star Wars. I literally had a headache leaving Dune bc it was too loud. but RHRN was too quiet. there is no sense of "wall of sound" in the recording, which fucking sucks; this is a mixing/editing issue. every time I turn on American Idiot or Bullet in a Bible, my ears get blown clean off. hell, every time I turn on Impera, my ears get blown off. this is possible! it just wasn't done here.

the film editing is erratic. shots were sort of stapled together - one moment it would be a Dewdrop solo and then two seconds later he was somewhere else on stage entirely, or ghouls had moved around behind him in a way that broke my flow. for a stage show as choreographed as Ghost's, this seems weird at best. I'm willing to concede that I have OCD and stuff like this might bother me way more than it bothers you... but I heard murmurings of similar opinions as we all left the theater.

the camera doesn’t linger on an individual Ghoul or Papa as long as it should. the distribution of Ghoul time on screen is also... odd? Dewdrop takes center stage, with Phantom/Aeon a close second. Mountain lovers got great food. there was.... okay? Cumulus content. I felt a distinct lack of Cirrus, Aurora and Swiss. we were denied any shimmies!!! as we were leaving I heard someone say "I starved." there was not enough swiggity swooty.

the erratic editing also means you really can't focus on your fave ghoul, because the close-ups keep moving around. Dewdrop hand lovers, you will eat. Rain only gets a big-deal closeup during "Con Clavi," which is to be expected but is also a bummer. we do get the classic Dew pissy pick throw, a middle finger, and a flash of YouSuck, but the ghoul on ghoul interaction isn't really present in the film. each ghoul felt isolated to me; the interaction is what I love at a Ghost show.

the crowd shots are gorgeous but are also inauthentic to my experience as a Ghost fan - lot of really conventionally pretty gender conforming white women in the audience. "it's hollywood, blah blah-" shut up. the experience of looking around my theater at all the beautiful true humanity was way more fun than the crowd I saw on screen. any Ghost show I've ever gone to has literally every possible segment of humanity in it. SHOW ME THE QUEERDOS TOBIAS. WE PAY YOUR MORTGAGE. there *is* one person in makeup and braces who I loved, and there's one long shot of a face literally just like :O during I think Cirice? which, mood.

credit where it's due: there is a truly cool effect where Häxan (1922) is showing interspersed/on top of the band playing "Year Zero." this ruled. it felt like it took editing hints from Bram Stoker's Dracula, the movie of all time for me. "Twenties" ruled. "If You Have Ghosts" was fucking haunting - that (opera?) singer was incredible. wished I saw her name!! cello ghoulettes 100/10. skeleton dancers 1000/10. they put their whole pussies into it. there are a ton of waving Plushias and Popias and they all look as off-brand as possible, which is great.

tl;dr. RHRN fails as a concert movie for me, but going to get my little popcorn bucket and sippy cup, and picking an outfit, and seeing all the ghesties in our finery at the theater was fun!!! the air in the theater felt like the air before a ritual. hearing people giggle at the jokes, even jokes that didn't land for me, was fun. hearing the reaction to the plot stuff was fun. if you are a casual Ghost enjoyer, I don't recommend seeing the movie - but if you hate the Chapters but like Ghost, I don't think the chapter parts will be too much/too prevalent for you to enjoy it. try to go when the theater is full, so you can get the best experience possible.

[thekidsarentalright]

i feel like the bridge of love from the other side, specifically the lyric, "inscribed like stone and faded by the rain / 'give up what you love, / give up what you love before it does you in'", so wonderfully expresses one of the biggest overarching themes in so much (for) stardust, and i wanna talk about it!

with that lyric, when you first hear it it sounds horribly, horribly depressing and bleak. give up what you love before it does you in? what a fucked up sentiment, honestly- that you have to give up the things you love before they ruin you. for a lyric on an album about nihilism and feeling like you're watching the world ending before your very eyes, and trying to find how to cope with that, it's very fitting!

except, the lyric doesn't really mean that incredibly depressed explanation. because that phrase, give up what you love before it does you in, although inscribed like stone, although it is a sentiment so pressed into pete/us/society/the world at large, that even the things you love aren't worth it, that they'll ruin you too- it's faded. it might have a presence, it might be hard to ignore sometimes because it is inscribed still, it's faded. ignored. not honored, not tended to. not upheld.

and i think that is so much of what this album is. we have inscribed in us so much nihilism, so much negativity and pessimism, and why wouldn't we? there is so much bad in the world, at times even the things we love can and will hurt us, it's easy to wonder what the point is. it feels easier sometimes to just give up caring and become cold and closed off. to let the nihilism fully consume us, it's almost as if that's what the world wants us to do, after all! but this album is literally saying yes, yes it's easier to do that, it's easier to believe everything is meaningless and hurts and maybe those things are true, but that doesn't mean you give up. that doesn't mean you listen to what you think the world is telling you. that doesn't mean you can't make your own meaning, live a fulfilling life with the pain and sadness walking beside you, and find things that maybe don't make the pain go away, maybe these things don't make anything 'better' ever, but maybe they make things easier. maybe you can eventually learn how to live with the pain and meaninglessness in a way that isn't crushing, because you have things you love to help. even if those things do you in, you have to keep going, despite, despite, despite. and ride your own melt. take pleasure in the details.

[marsamoo]

Ask and ye shall receive: why is "this is war" life series coded? 👀

First of all, thank you for asking me, I am literally in love with you now.

Second, massive info dump warning below the cut.

OK so!! First of all, the song slaps. The actual music itself is such a vibe. It's kind of that weird space between positive and negative - like, "we're going to die, so fuck it". Like you're on a battlefield, about to charge in and fight for your life, and you're probably going to die, but the adrenaline is pumping and you're surrounded by people you know, so why not charge in with everything you've got?

The lyrics themselves as well!! I feel like they work quite well with secret life.

It's very secret life to me, because that's the season that feels the most chill. Like, it doesn't have the same horrors of war as 3rd life or last life. The players aren't clawing each other apart, fighting to stay afloat. They know they're going to die, but they don't care. It's like...a mix of nihilism and optimism.

Leader = Gem (she led the zombie apocalypse and the quest to the end)

"The liar, the honest" works with the dynamic of secret tasks in secret life. Are they two different groups of people, or are they the same? Liars to some will be honest to others, and vice versa. Who can you trust?

Pariah = Pearl (Pariah means outcast, calling back to Pearl's double life thing), but it could also be Scar, because they're two sides of the same coin

Victor = Scar (the winner of secret life - but did he really win?

Messiah = could fit anyone related to the canary curse, but if you want to get watcher lore-y, I could also link it to the secret keeper

Nothing is certain. Is it a truth or a lie? Are going to live or die? Will your allies betray you? Will you make it through the night? No one knows! The only thing that's certain is that you're going to fight to the death, so get ready.

This (to me) feels like a moment of hopefulness. It's the mid-game daydream when things are still peaceful and the death part of death game doesn't feel real yet. It's the hopeful "maybe things will be ok. Maybe we can just stay paused in this moment forever and no-one has to die."

It's the promises, the wishful thinking, the 'I won't forget you's, the 'we'll be okay's, the 'maybe one of us will win'. The little white lies that you know aren't true, but you say them anyway because you want to believe it.

But time marches on and tensions rise (symbolised by the "moment of truth, moment to lie" motif echoing in the back) until doomsday arrives and then it's too late to care about your little wishes because someone is running at you with an axe.

TLDR: The music invokes such in me, and it really gets that "we're going to die, but I don't go care" vibe that's somewhere between nihilism and optimism. I really associate it with secret life because of the lyrics, but also because that (to me) is the season where the horrors of a death game are felt much less. It's no longer fear, just...acceptance and resignation.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk and listen to this goddamn song please :)))

[mariana-oconnor]

The Retired Colourman pt 1

Absolutely no idea about this one whatsoever. So that's fun.

“Did you see him?” he asked. “You mean the old fellow who has just gone out?” “Precisely.” “Yes, I met him at the door.” “What did you think of him?” “A pathetic, futile, broken creature.”

Holy shit, Watson. Say what you really think.

You remember you're publishing this, right? You know it's going to be read by people?

“Exactly, Watson. Pathetic and futile. But is not all life pathetic and futile? Is not his story a microcosm of the whole? We reach. We grasp. And what is left in our hands at the end? A shadow. Or worse than a shadow—misery.”

Starting out strong with the nihilism here. We're barely 100 words in and already the existential dread is strong in this one. Not that I necessarily disagree, but yikes. And again I say yikes.

"He made his little pile, retired from business at the age of sixty-one, bought a house at Lewisham, and settled down to rest after a life of ceaseless grind."

ACD really wasn't fucking around with this one, huh?

He's really leaning into the horror of the mundane existence. Yes, you'll work all your life to try to retire comfortably, but even then, even after all of that mindless effort beats you down and you're finally free of it. Even then, things can still turn to shit.

Life's the laugh and death's the joke, it's true.

"And yet within two years he is, as you have seen, as broken and miserable a creature as crawls beneath the sun.”

All these descriptions of him are just making him turn into Gollum in my mind.

"Ernest was frequently in the house, and an intimacy between him and Mrs. Amberley was a natural sequence, for you must admit that our unfortunate client has few outward graces, whatever his inner virtues may be."

That seems highly unfair. Clearly you're seeing him at a low point in his life, first and foremost, and all she had to do was either not marry him or not cheat on him. It's not that hard... She seems to just be a rather horrible person, all told. Unless none of this is true.

“Well, the immediate question, my dear Watson, happens to be, What will you do?—if you will be good enough to understudy me."

It's not that I don't have faith in Watson's detective skills, but...

No, it is that. It's definitely that. I have no faith in his detective skills. I might even have negative faith in his detective skills. This can only go badly. Poor Mr Amberley. First, your wife cheats on you, then she absconds with your life's savings, then you go to a detective to help her and all you get is a series of insults that will be published to the entire world and the detective's best friend.

And so it was that on a summer afternoon I set forth to Lewisham, little dreaming that within a week the affair in which I was engaging would be the eager debate of all England.

I'm guessing it's a bit more complicated than a cheating, thieving spouse then, huh? Unless you make such an utter hash of it that you turn it from a personal matter into some sort of incident of national security, which I'm not saying you couldn't, but it seems a little extreme.

Apparently even though this is literally a Watson investigation, we're not going to get a first hand account of his investigations, we're going to get him telling Holmes what he discovered.

“Cut out the poetry, Watson,” said Holmes severely. “I note that it was a high brick wall.”

I mean, I was thinking it too, but I wasn't going to say it... And I'm not sure what you expected, Holmes, this is exactly what you always complain about him doing.

“He seemed to me like a man who was literally bowed down by care. His back was curved as though he carried a heavy burden. Yet he was not the weakling that I had at first imagined, for his shoulders and chest have the framework of a giant, though his figure tapers away into a pair of spindled legs.”

Look, he's Gollum to me forever now. I can't change that.

Gollum with a prosthetic leg, I guess.

"The garden was all running to seed, giving me an impression of wild neglect in which the plants had been allowed to find the way of Nature rather than of art. How any decent woman could have tolerated such a state of things, I don't know."

Some women don't like gardens, Watson. And also, that's coming dangerously close to victim blaming. Unless this guy turns out to be an abusive dickhead, I'm going to ask you to refrain from implying that the absconder's conduct was justified. Particularly not because the garden was overgrown...

"'When did I ever refuse one of her requests? Was ever a woman so pampered? And that young man—he might have been my own son. He had the run of my house. And yet see how they have treated me! Oh, Dr. Watson, it is a dreadful, dreadful world!’"

Got to say, in spite of my sympathy for the fact that his life clearly sucks right now, Mr Amberley is not endearing himself to me. I can't tell quite why. He's perfectly within his rights to complain about all of this. Maybe it's the tone? Maybe I'm back on my vibes bullshit... Watson clearly doesn't like him very much. There's a definite sus vibe here...

“He showed me his strong-room, as he called it. It really is a strong-room—like a bank—with iron door and shutter—burglar-proof, as he claimed."

That seems quite intense for someone whose house is a rundown mess. Everything is falling apart, except the strong-room.

"He had got back from the theatre about midnight and found the place plundered, the door and window open, and the fugitives gone. There was no letter or message, nor has he heard a word since."

While the disappearance of the wife at the same time is suggestive, particularly given her key, it is also purely circumstantial. We have no proof that she is the thief nor that she herself has not come to a sticky end.

“No doubt! No doubt!” said Holmes. “A tall, dark, heavily moustached man, you say, with gray-tinted sun-glasses?”

Holmes... are you stalking your bff again? You know it's weird when you do that, right?

"What of Dr. Ernest? Was he the gay Lothario one would expect?"

Presumably not if he was having an affair with the wife...

Sorry, couldn't resist. Language, you evolve so beautifully sometimes.

"With your natural advantages, Watson, every lady is your helper and accomplice."

Holmes just saying 'Watson, use your natural charisma and raw sex appeal to seduce women into giving you information.' Watson is such a bard.

Maybe he could talk to the gay lothario as well...

"I can picture you whispering soft nothings with the young lady at the Blue Anchor, and receiving hard somethings in exchange."

Hard somethings, huh? Is that what they were calling it in 1899?

This is... Holmes just wants Watson to slut it around town, apparently. Pimping him out to the girl at the post office and the wife of the greengrocer. The scandal.

"As a matter of fact, my information confirms the man's story. He has the local repute of being a miser as well as a harsh and exacting husband."

So, yes... bad vibes.

But it's date night, apparently.

“He would not have telegraphed to you if he did not know something. Wire at once that you are coming.” “I don't think I shall go.”

Now that is definitely sus. Why would he not want to chase up every possible lead. This is his wife and his life's savings. Something is up if he doesn't want to look for either of them.

Is this a real clue, or is this something that Holmes has set up deliberately to get the man out of the way?

“Whatever you do, see that he really does go,” said he. “Should he break away or return, get to the nearest telephone exchange and send the single word ‘Bolted.’ I will arrange here that it shall reach me wherever I am.”

Clearly he's involved in something nefarious if there's fear about him running away. But why contact a famous detective if you're in some way involved in the crime you're asking for their help with. Unless you're utterly convinced you're intelligent enough to outsmart them, which I guess, maybe...

I have no clue at all where this one is going. All I have really gathered from this story is that life is terrible and that one must keep ones garden in good repair else one's spouse may steal one's money and run off into the night.

Or maybe he bricked her up inside the house somewhere and he's painting over the scratch marks from where he dragged her kicking and screaming through the house... Probably not. That seems kind of dark.

[hellboundwrites]

Can we have more info on the yearly ritual you mentioned in the Halloween post?

Of course ! Keep in mind that I'm going to improvise a bit for this one though ;)

TW : mentions of death and grieving

--

The Halloween ritual is not mandatory, or else the presence of every ghoul would be demanded.

Since the Clergy has Papa IV at its head, traditions have been a bit swept under the rug. Copia only cares about having fun, and the Clergy doesn't mind opening the church to new events. Old traditions, like the Halloween ritual, don't actually promote the Clergy. They're only destined to a close audience of members and are quite secretive. Therefore, they aren't an effective way to welcome new believers in the ranks.

The ritual being only one of many, it doesn't have to be lead by the Papa, who only directs the major events of the year - much to Copia's relief. He delegates to another, lower representative. Years ago, when he was still a Cardinal, the Halloween rituals were his responsibility, therefore he considers that he has done enough. If you ask Imperator about her son's lack of interest in traditions, she'll tell you that Terzo started it, and well, she's not entirely wrong. Terzo still had his old-fuck of a father and his devoted ghouls to keep him in line, though.

Anyways, the most faithful members of the Clergy, like older ghouls and Siblings of Sin, choose this ritual over what they consider is a futile celebration. Dressing up for Halloween might be a good public stunt to preach the Infernal Gospel, but it doesn't serve a religious purpose and doesn't honor the Lord in respectful ways.

It is believed that it is during Halloween that the walls between realms are the thinnest. But that is not entirely true. It actually extends to the entire day of November 1st to the following night on November 2nd, when the ritual ends. November 2nd is the Day of the Dead in many cultures, and the day during which a lot of people around the world pray, mourn and celebrate the deceased. What better opportunity to recharge your magic ? The high members of the Clergy, the ghouls and everyone who's able to manipulate magic will feed off this solemn and sometimes negative energy. So much pain, some much grief, so many voices calling for a God that won't respond...

In some cases, they find souls wondering the earth. Ghosts, spirits, entities that have escaped the attention of the Lord. Like magnets, they are attracted by the whirlwind of energy that floats above the abbey. They wander here by themselves, never knowing what awaits for them : eternal damnation. Some ghouls, because they have a foot in both realms, are expected to be here to catch these creatures and send them where they belong in Hell.

From the night of Halloween to the night of November 2nd, the chapel stays lit and open, with hundreds of candles decorating the walls and illuminating the dark stained glasses.

The priest or cardinal in charge will conduct a mass in the morning. You are free to come and go whenever you please during these two days, light a candle, say a prayer. But the most devoted members of the Clergy will eat, sleep and pray at the chapel without ever leaving, guarding it and welcoming others. Some are in charge of cleaning off the wax, replacing the unholy water, offering meals and warm clothes...

It is at most, a quiet and peaceful event, in opposition to some more gore or explicit rituals they're used to do. Most people find it quite boring. But some will visit for the warmth and the feeling of belonging that being around so many other believers can offer. Some others, like Omega, by duty. Alpha for example, will stay the entire ritual, both to regenerate his elements and show gratitude to the Lord.

On November 2nd, just before midnight, they'll roll Nihil's old-fuck corpse at the altar and pray for him while he watches. Unfortunately for everyone, the ritual also makes his ghost stronger and more attached to the abbey.

Of course, that's when you can find the least amount of people in the chapel.

--

I'll write more about my headcanons for rituals and other religious acts in future projects. Hope that my poor english wasn't too bad here.