#GOOOOOOD SHIT

[littleplantfreak]

“tell him he looks sexy with his hair pushed back” absolutely not i’m going to hide his hair gel actually

[thisdoesnthaveend]

"You don't have to make stability for us. You are my stability. Any day with you, no matter how strange is ultimately... a good one."

Harlivy in Harley Quinn (2021) #43

[xamiipholia]

Since it’s been a year since Burning Shores came out, some thoughts on Seyka:

TL;DR: Great character, really happy with her as a love interest for Aloy. They do some really interesting things with her that I never really see addressed so I wanted to talk about them.

She is tangibly shown to be much more of a match for Aloy through gameplay. Compared to other npcs, she solves things faster, does more damage, is a much more formidable melee combatant, faster climber - she even has a fucking Valor Surge using her Focus that does pretty significant tear damage to large machines like Slaughterspines. Environmental storytelling- Seyka’s skiff has at least 2-3 Tiderippers’ worth of parts, meaning she’s been out on her own killing the things to build boat motors, and she has some ambient dialogue that strongly suggests she’s fought and killed Slaugterspines before. Is some of this npc tech advancements in Burning Shores? Maybe, but it feels intentional. 

Seyka has a natural probing curiosity about the old world that for the most part Aloy’s other companions didn’t have without some significant hand-holding from Aloy to get them started, and some of her close friend (but not base team) characters just don’t have at all. I don’t mean this as a moral judgement, everyone is different and has different strengths and priorities , but it’s absolutely critical that a partner for Aloy have that kind of curiosity - it’s such a big part of her character. While she lives in this new world, she’s never going to be entirely a part of it. Like she says, she finds belonging in individuals, and not really the tribes. I don’t really see Aloy settling down in Meridian or Mother’s Heart. She needs to have a life of exploration and discovery and Seyka seems cut from that cloth too, whether she was always that way or being marooned gave her a fresh perspective.

Seyka did risk death using the focus and decided to do it anyway- in Rheng’s notes he calls for capital punishment for her. The threat is never *too* present but honestly I think that’s a broader critique of the series and pretty consistent with the writing of conflicts in Horizon. I agree they could have played up the dramatic tension a bit, but this is a person who weighed the risk of a military execution by a totalitarian state and immediately decided it was worth it to save her sister and others. I think Aloy can intimately relate, given what she went through for Beta.

Even though it’s a DLC, she has a TON of screen time, probably comparable to Kotallo in HFW, and Horizon does SO much storytelling through gameplay and ambient dialogue. I think she’s given a LOT of narrative space to breathe. She’s also has her own musical cues and leitmotifs that do a ton of foreshadowing work through the DLC - in terms of musical cues and framing she’s very associated with the acoustic guitar, and the flute melody in ‘Her Sky, Her Sea’ has for Aloy and Seyka the same function that ‘It Can’t Last’ does for Ellie and Dina in TLOU2 - next time you play Burning Shores, listen for it. That and the guitar cues from ‘The Idea of Home’ and ‘For His Entertainment’ do a lot of emotional work. It’s great stuff.

Okay and lastly- YMMV on this one - I’ve def talked about it with friends before but I don’t think I’ve said it on Tumblr. I’m a firm believer that meta narratives and the way that stories are situated and created in our own world matter and that art deserves to be taken seriously and dissected. I love Horizon, but it, and Aloy as a protagonist, are absolutely drenched in white savior and colonial storytelling tropes. Every time I play Frozen Wilds, all I can think of is Jack Sparrow going “and then they made me their chief”. There’s a lot of iffy stuff in the games, as much as I absolutely love them. We’ll have to see how H3 goes, but Burning Shores is MUCH better about this and honestly Seyka is a huge part of it. The story centers itself on a queer woman of color who is pretty tangibly presented as Aloy’s equal with her own strengths and weaknesses throughout the story and takes the lead just as often if not more than Aloy does, which I find really refreshing. It doesn’t entirely fix Aloy’s white savior issues but I think it’s a really good move for the narrative that continues the themes found in HFW about community and connection.

Horizon Zero Dawn: The Frozen Wilds (2017)

[breadboylovin]

thank you tgirls for inventing music

[oatmealexistentialism]

Unspeakable things

[asteraceae-blue]

[frogaroundandfindout]

The JLA wants to destroy Vic, claiming he’s nothing more than a dangerous computer program now. Gar and the other titans disagree (JLA/titans #2)

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Broken Things (Resident Lover)

Pairing: Very much platonic Mia and Miranda (I am rotating them and their dynamic in my head) Rating: G for General Audiences Warning: HEAVY SPOILERS for Miranda's route, mostly implied but this won't make much sense if you haven't finished it. I recommend also getting the cult ending for maximum clarity. Summary: For two people that hate each other, Mia and Miranda have more in common than either of them want to admit. The night before an important (but heartbreaking) ritual, they share a few moments together. Alternatively: do you think they ever talk about being the only two to really know the MC? I think it hangs over them, equal parts comforting blanket and burial shroud. Exploring their dynamic a lil bit. Also, this is probably the longest thing I've written in one sitting in ages, so... cool. Noice. Just over 1.2k words.

------ ------

If she had bothered to knock, there would have been no answer at best, and a flurry of feathered rage at worst. No point in entertaining that formality; not tonight, the eve of another undoing. Few things had any point tonight. But Mia had never been one to overthink things, never one to bother drawing up reasons for her behavior. That was what made her so charmingly irritating. Or just plain irritating, if you asked the headmistress whose office is now being invaded.

“I’m not in the mood for company,” Miranda warns from where she sits at her desk, the barest hints of exhaustion bleeding into her normally veiled expression. Even Goddesses get tired, it seems. Cruelties stir in the back of her throat, vile words and heavy hexes, but she doesn’t waste any energy on letting them spill out. Simply swallows, hard, and crosses one leg over the other. A stiffness occupies her bones this evening.

“I know,” Mia answers, without any snark, carefully setting down a couple glasses where there’s room. The bottle in her other hand has already been opened, the contents mixed with other things, and hastily sealed again. For once, Mia bothers to wipe the condensation off the bottom before setting it down. “Neither am I.”

This time, her lips curl up at the edges, but the downturn of her eyebrows betrays the bitterness she feels. Another thought dances on her mind, and her mouth makes it halfway open before she discards it, playing the movement off as an exaggerated sigh. Pushing Miranda’s buttons is easy… achieving anything else is Herculean. Part of Mia wonders how far she’s already pushing things, not because she cares about the consequences, simply because she can’t tell.

Leaning her weight against the desk (avoiding the side table like a single touch would kill her), Mia grabs the bottle again, popping the cap off with a flick of her thumb. Almost immediately the smell of strong whiskey drifts around the room. Miranda’s nostrils flare, briefly, the purse of her lips growing tighter. But she says nothing as Mia pours drinks for the both of them, eying them closely to make sure they’re filled evenly. A moment passes, then two, before Mia nudges one of the glasses closer to Miranda.

“I don’t know why I keep you around,” the headmistress says, bringing a little bite to her words to show dominance, her posturing a sad show of deflecting vulnerability. They both know exactly why Mia is still alive, why she’s here, in this town, in this day, in this life. Why she doesn’t slip out the door without a word and disappear forever. All the same reasons keep Miranda here, urging her hands to continue pulling strings, weaving and undoing and weaving and weaving and unmaking with the same heart that compelled Penelope to do the same.

Mia chooses not to point it out. Bites her tongue, nurses the mixed whiskey like it was her last. Lets the burn linger on her tastebuds. Breathes in deep, turning her gaze to the dark sky beyond the office window. A few tiny figures move across the campus grounds, returning from parties or maybe more clandestine affairs, utterly unaware that everything was going to be reset tonight. None of them have even an ounce of worth in her eyes, nor in Miranda’s.

“Nobody else has a clue, do they?” Mia muses, somewhere between a sneer and a giggle. Both halves sound forced. For a moment, she basks in the silence, only to remember she wasn’t one to find comfort in such things after all. A glance towards her companion reveals a raised eyebrow, Miranda not yet parsing her words. The details of the reset were a closely guarded secret, to prevent dissent, but most of her flock understood that something important lay past the dusk. What they didn’t understand is all the more fundamental, built into the very cause they pursued. “They all think they know what we’re missing.” More bitterness in her voice this time, acidity on a slow-drip to her veins, a scoff kicking out some of the weight from her chest.

Something clicks, then, an idea alongside Miranda’s tongue. Dimitrescu imagines her daughters. Beneviento’s grief haunts everything she makes, but the feelings fold into different shapes. Followers flood their senses with Mother’s goals, with her purpose, but they are driven by their devotion to her. Not to her. All the lives in the world, vast and uniquely faceted, and only the two in this room have a clue.

“You don’t love her the way I do,” Miranda whispers, nail guards finding places to pinch her own flesh. Slowly, she uncrosses her legs, and finally reaches for her glass. If there’s any fragility to the way she holds herself now, Mia is kind enough to ignore it, and uncaring enough to leave the pain without relief.

“Mmm, and you don’t love her the way I do,” she breathes. Neither of them are lying. Oddly enough, nor are they challenging each other. Just declaring their surviving differences in this moment of alikeness. “Salut,” Mia adds, ignoring the huff (of irritation or amusement, she cares not to differentiate) from Miranda, but cracks a smile when their glasses raise in sync. A toast to the heart of their shared world, to the central victim of the reset.

There’s no hiding the way Miranda recoils at the concoction, almost a snarl with glinting teeth, the strength of the cheap whiskey hardly diluted by whatever was added to it. Hardly her drink of choice. Yet she runs her finger around the rim of the glass, mirroring the way her tongue flickers across her teeth, savoring the misery of it all. Hauntingly familiar, the closest Mia had ever come to recreating a cursed relic from their past. At least it will get us drunk fast, she had once said, with this same grimace, the icon of their love cheering on the words. Teasing gently about her obsessions with efficiency.

By the time the memory moves beyond her eyelids, the glass in her hands is almost empty. Mia hums a halfhearted tune, pouring another round for Miranda, before pushing herself up from her perch. A few wrinkled papers get left behind, without anyone batting an eye. Everything was pointless tonight, remember? Beautiful nothingness, even stale blood gushing like ichor, almost all things rendered equal.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some poor decisions to make,” Mia suddenly chimes, face twisting up into a visage of mischief, brushing the last of the dust off of her mask. One hand snatches up the bottle, the other smoothes over her leather jacket, subtly ensuring she could still feel the presence of her switchblade in one of the pockets. WIth unabashed glee, she waltzes through the doorway, off to draw blood and make merry with the worst of what the university has to offer.

She only hesitates for a microsecond, as she goes to close the door behind her. Glances back to meet Miranda’s gaze, all-knowing and piercing as ever, the two of them exchanging silent assurances. Their beloved would be remade, eventually, no matter how long it takes. No matter how many times they have to start over. A determination only matched in each other, as universally true as it is unspoken.

[bardinthezone]

"Your machine gets inside my head. It gets inside and it.. changes my mind and you din't even phink to ask."

".. I din't think about it like that--"

"No, you were too busy thinkin up cheap shots about the deep south!"

This whole scene is stellar. The Doctor is so far out of his element, just like Rose. He's so used to drifting, disconnected, that he can't imagine Rose having an issue with any of it.

.... fuck, I had more to say and then Rose called her mum as she stood 5 billion years in the future and her mum had no idea. ow.

[marsixm]

follow me on this mental journey for a minute, im "allergic to corn" and try to avoid it, except so much shit in america is made of corn. now, i know cheetos are made of corn, and a tiny bag of cheetos is 1. 55¢ and 2. the perfect snack to keep me from withering away during my job, so i eat them somewhat often. no real issues. maybe minor stomach grumbling but i get that from 90% of food. im also allergic to wheat and soy and a number of other things. okay?

so i tried some doritos the other day, first time in a while, thinking its fine, theyre like cheetos. the next day i feel Bad, but again, i feel bad a lot! im not POSITIVE its connected.

so yesterday and today, for lunch, i made homemade cheesy gordita crunches. no you CANNOT tell me nothing. bitch. obviously the crunch taco shell is made of corn. i even actually got the doritos flavored one.

next day, again, feel bad!

so now im positive its the corn, but why the fuck can i eat cheetos? well it turns out when they make cheetos, they dont use the whole corn. they are not putting their whole cornussy into it. they take out the "germ" which is good, that sounds gross. so i think the germ contains the main allergens? im trying to research this on the notably worse than it used to be website known as google. ive made questionable progress, but mark my words, i am studying the corn. i am learning. i am understanding my enemy so i may conquer it. the corn will no longer be a mystery to me....

[originemesis]

// I'M SO FUCKING SAD-

-not about adam- SIR PENTIOUS MY BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYY...let him forever be known as rizzlord.

[xhanisai]

DUDE THIS IS WICKED!!!!

Godfrey FanArt

[theirloveisgross]

.

[breadsquishbhm]

been thinking about the bolognese im gonna make for @cheeseburgersinparadise’s stuffing challenge for like 2 days straight now 👀👀👀👀

[normaltothemax]

@therebetterbepie from here

“Okay, but come on, would I really wanna be with someone who listens to that song so often? I mean, Jesus, I’ve got enough of my own issues. I’d rather not have to deal with that flavour of baggage too. Plus it’s not even that good of a song.”

[lover-of-mine]

I made a tiny pink crochet moon and I made it with a magic circle in like, 15 minutes AND I AM UNSTOPPABLE.