#I also want a glow up but instead i'm on page 70 out of my 152 pages of assigned reading

[konjiang]

AU/Headcanon

People didn't realize how good sqh looked because he never cared for himself, nor did he have time to do so. But once he was no longer constantly stressed about getting killed by MBJ, he got into a better self-care routine. People began to notice that although he doesn't have the same sharp features as SQQ, he still possesses smooth skin and soft features. He almost looks like pre-abyss LBH with his big eyes and curly hair. SQQ would unconsciously squish SQH's round cheeks and pet his head because that's what he did to LBH when he was younger.

Unlike the other peak lords, SQH was approachable and more social, so the number of people, both human and demon, asking YQY for SQH's hand in marriage exponentially increased. YQY was able to swiftly and politely reject all of them until MBJ teleported into his office, handing him a letter and glaring at him until he opened it. YQY stared at the content of the letter, exhausted from the whole ordeal. He just sighed and told MBJ that he'd send an official response.

He thought he only had to chase off SQQ and LQG admirers. But now he has to do more work chasing off SQH's admirers. SQH went out on more missions and socialized with more people for trades than SQQ and LQG, so he's charming people left and right without even realizing it. He really hopes MBJ succeeds in courting SQH. YQY couldn't deal with rejecting people any longer.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary361

9/15-16/24

sunday - monday

sleepyyyy...

it's ... 1 pm ... i am trying to do an all nighter but i don't think i can do it... dang...

i worked on music and stuff, i played more sh3, i went back to the pc version i updated my drivers it seems to be a little better at least ummm...

not much else... i'm actually so tired suddenly it hurts almost, i just want to sleep, my skin feels gross, i just want to sleep.

i just washed my face. feeling a little better.

thinking about how the whole electroclash thing right now might be going up in flames faster than anyone thought. it's hard to say that seems like it would be sad because a lot of them might deserve to have their spot blown up i guess. deserve feels harsh but i don't know what other word to use. i guess i could say it's fate, it seems fated that this will go poorly. it's sad how good the music, how bad the scene seems broadly, or i guess, that it's not as popular as it could be, and there's people with people already into them, already getting eyes and stuff, like sam hyde and shed theory, so they go over to them to get more attention, and those people let them get that attention because working with new people doing new stuff is going to legitimize them slightly, it's just gross, unpleasant, on top of that there is of course the likelihood of sexual abuses. i don't like even having this in my head, but other people do and it's like the flu, it just goes from one head to the next. "explain the allegations" and then no one says a thing, messages deleted, you're like "what are you talking about" and then it's like, tweets from months ago, totally vague, deleted accounts, it's not even that it's 'shady' it's that there's so little, it's like, everything's kind of reaching a point of eternal if you know you know, and it feels like this doesn't stem from some conscious decision as much as like, okay, this is semi unrelated, it's also very related but this example is more about the dynamics of this, the hellp released a music video on dvd, no one has ripped it and uploaded it, someone ripped it, and is literally scared of putting it on mega and needs someone else to do it instead because... i dunno, they say it feels like instant gratification, and there's real fear, there were also multiple days where this person struggled to figure out how to rip a dvd. which is fine, or whatever, they don't need me to sanction what is and isn't okay but that's not the object i'm getting at, it's really just like, it feels like people are currently very bad at stuff i might describe as like, well i don't even know how to describe it. it's on one level almost a technical feeling failure, and then on the other, there's something that feels like willful ignorance, remaining confined to certain avenues of like, communicating, certain methods, almost like... yeah like they imagine the information will flow if they remain in a certain region, like twitter or whatever, the information will materialize, the truth will emerge, not realizing that not everyone knows, something might need to be surfaced at all. it's weird weird weird.

this song is good ,

i #likeit.

i also read this, it was posted by someone who i am in a server with but scarcely know:

i wasn't so sure about it until the ending, i was basically enjoying it, but the ending made it very beautiful, the three of these people as messages constantly traveling to one another, back and forth, never meeting, noncommunication, forever sending/speaking oneself without oneself, super-reduction.

here's a scan of 2 pages of a book of photos, titled "70's tokyo transgender".

i quite relate to her. i really love her outfit, and that collar.

i've just downloaded i saw the tv glow. i have a lot of friends who hate this movie, i think maybe i am going to agree with them and maybe that's no way to go into anything, i'd like to be wrong, or i don't know. i know too much about the film, there is this sense that, no matter what, what it does, i will not find it....maybe that is the final word on it, i will not find it. what it does, i will not find. or i'll see, and not sense, it's going to be like that. it might miss me, or upset me, i feel like though, the upsetting would mean it works? or it's proven something? we will see i guess. suddenly i am less tired. stupid how these things can go.

well i've watched the film. i don't know what to make of it, it's got so much around it, it's good i waited because there's less surrounding it, still, though, it comes with baggage, the way it was wheeled around and explained even before it came out, it carried that baggage, or some. it feels meaningless though, that's the feeling i get from it, meaningless, and it brings forth pity for owen, of course. i don't know, it just makes one feel bad. i also don't think the movie's as simple as people make it out to be, as in, i don't think it finds owen entirely wrong to be afraid and run away, to say this is reality, to have memories of parents, that part touched me a little, i remember playing in the snow, cooking with my mom, the mom is something hardly examined in the film, her death, it feels like that's part of the impossibility for owen i guess. not some guilt just, never attempting to begin dealing with things. maddy is the same way though, i don't think they really... i don't know. if you view maddy as correct, it poses the notion that to transition, and i guess that this intense metaphor taken up, this is all super-human, super-real, you transcend, maybe there's some kind of attempt at a dialogue between these notions and the notion that you're going to be you, also, that there's a history? are we to discard the histories? i can't tell. i can't, at least. but my history isn't so rigid anyways. i was a girl before, sometimes, i guess i was less afraid than owen, or i got over it quicker. the fear in owen is kind of, well everyone i know says it's cruel, by the end, it really is, it feels hateful, help me you need to help me i'm dying, i've seen people say 'they didn't help themselves', i can't understand that. it feels didactic, it's trying to teach you how to be yourself, if it were wholly committed, it would abandon the fuzziness of maddy's character, perhaps i'm too interested in nuance and hallucinating that fuzziness. i can't tell. my friend says he feels it's muddy too. i guess i'm at least not alone. the movie makes me think "i don't know" because i can't tell, am i supposed to see that, being what "i" "am" and experience recognition? because i felt what i recognized was some tulpa a bunch of trans people on twitter have, of how badly things could have gone. of some person unnamed, maybe a vague memory of a cluster of negativity, it feels like a meditation on that, rather than questioning why it was born at all. i keep saying i don't know. i said to my friend, it felt like someone's episode preserved in amber. i've been thinking about silent hill 4 lately, and how henry is nobody, he's so nobody it hurts, he's actual, because every one of us reacts incorrectly to things, at some point, we're obliterated by events, and we just travel through them, the terror and abjection, sad and grey transitory points, ambulate until you stop. it's only real when you're at that point of total evaporation. here, there is too much content, the suffering is too pointed, it's all about something. for others, is it the primary thing? sometimes, i feel so ugly i think i have to die. some days, i have to rescue my friend from a club while he's high on ketamine with my girlfriend's brother. in either case, i am the same, in either case, i'm nothing at all, i'm just breathing air, exhaling other stuff, spacing out and then focusing. maurice blanchot's thomas the obscure gets at the sensation of living. other books do too. clarice lispector is a luminary as well. this wants to explain to you how to live but it seems to not understand, or when it briefly does, i don't know, the fact it gestures at it, and walks past it, betrays the not understanding maybe. it would be in the non-sense of it. it's all too well put together. but i keep wondering, i don't know why it's so pathetic, or maybe i do, it's sad to see some affective range squashed down to one thing. i got disgusted at one part, where owne says, i have my own family, i love them more than anything else, then making a face while holding a cardboard box containing a samsung tv.

the face is "i just lied, or i am so disgusted by what i have said" or whatever, and it made me upset, because something bothers me profoundly about the idea of a person having children and resenting their children, maybe that's the point, that you become a worse person forever when you deny yourself. but it feels so cruel, it's this thing that's like, it's good you're afraid, it's good it's painful, because that means it's "actual" and "true," as if this isn't a cruel way of thinking, as if this isn't some nightmarish christian vision of the world that subjugates everyone to some terrible struggle of constant observation of the dimensions of your hell to enjoy some kind of truth, or that you are liberated after, it promises heaven, maybe not, maybe it does gesture at the process of the whole thing, as in, a process of pain or pleasure or nothing, of every day. it feels zeroed in on the transcendence, though. or some supposed transcendence. maybe i am not enough to know that feeling, maybe i am some minor thing, i can't tell. but as i think this film out more, or as i wander sleep deprived in circles around the pile of corpse-images that this film is, well i guess i feel worse. it reminds me of all the discourses people used to have on twitter, they still must be having them i've just stopped looking, the stuff like, it's too late, or the stuff like, you'll never be what you thought you would be (who ever is?), all that, it's all that, it's people's nightmares, it's like a figment you can imagine to torture yourself. it's like a folk tale, is the "repressor" a folk tale? it gestures at letting itself be purely about the abjection, the pain of not being able to, which might be more open, and freeing for people, to see some tragedy play out, without goal or social good in mind, it would make the moment where owen screams at the child's birthday go over better, screaming "mommy" out of pain instead of expressing pain to show you, you'd better not be this. there's a point where there's chalk on the ground, it says, you still have time left, but there's only so much filled in with chalk on that length of road. it's all limited. it's an insane vision of life, it's just a life lived under terror rather than... i'm not sure. when i attach things like this to philosophers, i promise i'm only trying to get at how they formulate things as a way to get past an issue. with bataille, he wants terror, he loves terror, and horror, wrongness, i do to, but he embraces it, surviving it, bringing to mind toreadors killed by bulls, this is one image, and the eye shot up to the girl in story of the eye, and she placing it in her vagina, life at the excesses, pregnant, bursting. the fear of schoenbrum is one which really aligns itself with the fantasy of the suburbs, that this is all just so, here are the bounds of possibility, to be queer is almost infinite youth but only if you admit it to yourself before a certain point. it is a little hideous, once again, it is cruel, cruel without...pleasure? if it seemed to hate anyone, if it had the desire to laugh, ever, outside of one or 2 times, if it laughed or were actually funny, would this solve some issue? if it knew what it was, if it knew this terror was as funny as it is pathetic, could it dredge something up out of itself? i can't tell.

i keep thinking about it, because i kept seeing people say, this movie really proved to me, what i am, this movie made me know, this movie saved me, this movie is going to save people. it might save people so the last one i have no issue with and maybe if it does it is valuable no matter what? i dunno, but i kept seeing people say, this will mean something, and i just think i have to come to terms with the fact it means nothing to me, which makes me feel cruel and terrible. because it makes me see a lot of people who feel that way, i don't know, i want to beg them to think of things differently, that the world isn't such a fucking nightmare, at least, not in those terms, it's not a nightmare of being too late, it's not a nightmare of fucking fomo, it's not a nightmare of twitter discourse come to life, it's a nightmare of these disparate visions wrestling in darkness, it is a nightmare of the fact that you are all the things behind you, or, they are the particles and history and context that add up to right now and as the event arrives, any, crossing the street to deaths in your life you are evaporated and that fine mist, the fine mist is made up of those things in miniature, impossible to taste, or sense, impossible things, they go somewhere from there, and you condense, it occurs again. it is that terrible wandering, dancing, leaping, whatever. it is a beautiful and wretched process. it does not care for that. it is locked inside a world of fearing what you missed out on in highschool, the people you don't know anymore, it is a dumb film. it is a dumb film.

though i quite liked connor o'malley. he was funny. his ability to be funny is muscular though, it is by force, a break-in, into an otherwise... whatever thing. one last note about that scene with the chalk, owen is standing right on the threshold it is so painfully, dreadfully obvious. laura palmer in fire walk with me expresses so many torments of being trapped in the suburbs so much better... or being trapped at all, being made to be someone. thinking of laura makes me want to cry. the film makes leaps at lynchisms (supposedly, i suppose i saw them but they felt so not-that (they felt how... direct to tv movies feel when they try something that can't work?? (donnie darko as directed by the sy fy channel??))) but doesn't know why lynch works. the soundtrack also, was a mess. the film ending with owen getting to watch their memories of their favorite kid's show as they remember it in a tv in their chest is infantilizing and hateful almost. yukio mishima made great art about the terror of aging, of losing the luster of one's flesh, the anxiety of losing yourself to time. he always knew the folly of the terror, he knew his own stupidity, constantly, you can see it in the book star, it's staring him in the face, his impending failure. so he kills himself. what else are you to do when you are afraid of such a thing, but die. this film contains a lookist heart. if it were 10% more evil, it would contain subliminals telling you to begin mewing.

i have to suh-leep now,

so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[kyrodo]

As far as story writing goes, it's always centered around fight choreography. Mostly cause I grew up with flashes like XIN, and Sonic T. Swordsman, and Savior Cat/Nightmare City and Fate Stay Night, and Kingdom Hearts, and Final Fantasy Advent Children.

So yeah, that's what my writing tried to center around. But I had difficulty balancing story and action sequences which aren't nearly as interesting on paper than when they're on a screen. I kinda wished I was good at art so I could make my own little animated scenes, but I tried to do it through writing instead cause I don't need drawing skill for that, I don't need to to know whatever x programs are that animators use. Etc. No research just whatever pops into my head. Unfortunately I still need a backstory. In fact I want to make a good story to go along with it. I just never found that balance. And Shadetail liking Lorelei from Black Tapestries, and Star Fire from Teen Titans, and generally any character with glowing green eyes and magic powers, plus the whole kitsune thing, that made a very compelling desire to have someone like her as a character in there, as a rival or an antihero. Swift being a brother to her like he was in rp with his own powers of a sort but not as dangerous as Shade. That and my character design overall, elements of fire and lightning, those are elements I want in there somewhere. I also feel having a character kinda like The medical hokage in naruto that kinda looks similar to the black cat lady from Bleach, but with red hair. Rena, also a very compelling idea for a character with the power of fire, and punches that can cause giant craters, and lunges that give her punches even more momentum. Full power house of a character that I wanted to be the mentor character basically. Kadan, a twin brother who practically has flipped eye and fur colors with mine, also compelling. Red marking, white fur, blue eyes or red. Basically a final boss type of character.

But I know more about what elements I want in the story than how I want the story itself to be. So it never gets written. I don't know how to start it. I don't know what setting I want. I don't know how to finish it. And making it last longer than 70 pages, I'm not all that creative when it comes to drawing things out more.

I still hold onto the desire to write my fursona's story, but I don't make it anyone's problem anymore.

[isolaradiale]

The dark hues of the evening blended to lighter, softer blues of dawn. With every minute, the creatures of the museum began to slow until they stopped altogether, all at once. Whatever they were doing, they dropped it, and began to move their way to the places they had been before the museum took a turn for the lethal.

The artwork climbed back into their frames, stepped onto their pedestals, and walked back into their display cases. A light rain outside washed all the street paint away, color emptying into the drains in the city. Landscapes let their prisoners out, shutting the windows to their world.

Those unlucky enough to earn a spot on the Wall of Shame reappeared in the lobby, their wounds appearing as colorful splashes of paint, and nothing more.

As the oranges and golds of the sun trickled in through the ornate windows of the museum, a blaring voice interrupted the stillness as the intercom museum sparked to life.

"Goooood moooorning, my lovely little visitors! The door to the museum will be opening shortly. Please make your way back to the lobby in an orderly fashion, and be sure to grab all your belongings!"

As Capella promised, the large wooden doors opened once again, releasing all the prisoners of the museum.

"Thanks for visiting the Tempus Museum! Janus, did you want to say any parting words?" "I'm mortified enough as it is, thank you." Came a muffled voice from behind, sounding much less enthused.

"Aww, somebody's cranky... Well, suit yourself!"

As if to add *Extra Enthusiasm*, as everyone exit the doors, they passed by Capella's invulnerable form as she personally waved everyone goodbye, stickers glittering in the morning sunrise. Janus was still sitting at the reception booth, head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

"Bye bye! Goodbye now! Goodbye! Buh-bye! Bye now!" was the chorus that trailed off as she spoke, bidding farewell to the museum's visitors...

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Thank you, everyone, for participating in our recent event: Canvas! As a reminder, you will receive event participation IF:

You've written a starter, thread, mini, or interacted with someone else using the event setting for parts 1, 2, or both.

You've written a 500 word drabble using the setting of the event for parts 1, 2, or both.

You did not have to participate in both parts to receive event credit (so if you only wanted to participate in part 1, it still counts!)

Remember that for participating in the event, you can give yourself 100 stars to use in the marketplace!

A few things have changed as a result of this event, also:

The Tempus Museum has decided to make its home in the Archimedes ward, for now, not far from the Theater of Calliope. Its structure and function is largely the same, but the Optimized Tools won't be there. The artwork won't come to life and attack you, either... during the daytime, that is. You can check out its full description on Archimedes' page!

Janus still takes his place as the museum's curator, and does his best to accommodate guests of the museum. It's not uncommon to see him taking and teaching courses and workshops in the museum, either! He's still polite and eager to help with anything involving the museum and its activities, but if asked questions about the Stars or Spirale, he'll politely explain that he doesn't want to get anyone into trouble. As in the event, on the odd chance that someone is hostile and violent toward him, they'll instantly be killed, and will respawn back in their room.

Thanks again for participating in Canvas! We hope you had a great time!

Frequently Asked Questions:

"Do the things we made turn back to normal?"

Yup! If you didn't destroy it in Part 2 of the event, whatever you made will turn back to normal.

"Will our artwork try to kill us at night?"

Nope! If you took it with you, it's of no danger to you. If you kept it on display at the museum, it's also no danger to you (or anyone else for that matter.) Only the original stock monsters of the museum come to life at night. But unless your muse breaks into the museum, you have nothing to worry about.

The monsters still have their damage invulnerabilities, so unless your muse has a death wish, maybe don't break into the museum without some serious planning. Shady art theft rings will buy your stolen artwork for a hefty price, though, so whether it's worth the risk or not is up to you.

The more often your muse breaks into the museum, the more the monsters will recognize their patterns. Breaking into the museum more than two times is almost impossible, and should be reserved only for the most cunning of thieves.

"What if we made weapons or jewelry? Can we take those back home too?"

Sure! Just know that the weapons will go back to being fragile, and will shatter if used in combat. Any jewelry will look very convincing, but if you try to sell them to anyone, they'll identify it as a fake. Not that they won't buy what you have anyway, but it certainly won't be worth the price of actual precious stones and minerals.

"Can we go back to the museum?"

Yes! It's open to the public from sunrise to sundown, unless there's a nighttime gathering at the museum (which you're free to come up with on your own if you'd like to use it in a setting for a thread.) You could also theoretically break in or sneak in, or hide until the place closes, but you run the risk of running into the guard patrols... or worse.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ (Epilogue)

As the visitors left the building, Capella skipped over to the front desk. Caelum emerged from the darkened corner of the lobby to join her, with the rubber stopper on his cane making soft thumps on the elaborate stone tile.

"Well, that was fun! Thanks for letting us use your museum, Janus." "You're... welcome, I suppose." "Good good! I'll come back here when I make more pieces to show off to the lovely people of our Spirale."

Punctuating this, her hands went up to playfully pat his cheeks.

"Ooookay! Well, until next time! And as for you, Dr. Caelum, I'll see you at this afternoon's meeting or whatever, right?" "Aha, yes I'll be there."

Saluting the both of them, her form vanished into a series of pixels, leaving the other two at the desk. Now that she was gone, the AI turned to give a pointed look at his father.

"...Mmm. Still angry, eh?" Came a chuckle, but the other didn't look so amused.

"You know, at one point, I would have congratulated you for feeling slighted. And I would have celebrated you experiencing such a thing. But you've been around for so long that these things come naturally to you now, don't they? Feelings like being angry... Now I just feel bad when you're upset like any other human."

Another more cheery laugh, and he walked himself over to the doors, motioning the other to follow. With the crowd gone, he could finally step outside and stand on the steps.

"...I am sorry for causing you trouble." "I know." "Good, I'm glad that came across." "I'm still irritated, don't get me wrong." "Yes, yes. I don't doubt it." "And I'm not sure if anyone will come back after such a thing. I wouldn't blame them. I just wanted a place to contribute to this whole thing, and now it's all..."

Sighing, he sat on the first step, watching the rest of the street illuminate in the warm glow of the sunrise. He only realized the old man beside him was trying to sit down when he gave a little huff of effort, and immediately helped his father down beside him.

"Ahh. Much better, thank you." "I could have gotten you a chair..." "Haha, that's alright. If you can sit on the steps, so can I."

For a while, the two sat in silence, watching the streets of Archimedes begin to wake up. Cars stirring, cafes opening, people walking their dogs.

"...Are you doing alright over there?" Janus asked, not turning his head.

"About as well as I can, mmhm." "You still have your migraine medicines down there, right?" "Mmhm. Dr. Lyra has been taking good care of my health, don't worry." "She's the nice one, isn't she? That's a welcome change from the other facility..."

A hand went to the Ai's shoulder, patting it reassuringly.

"Instead of worrying about my health, you should direct that concern inward, Mortimer. You have a place where you can walk around, do all sorts of things humans do. Talk to people, make friends. Play games, read books, paint your lovely canvases. You're not confined to the life we lived three years ago."

Silence followed for a little until the young man leaned against the older one. He must be pushing 70 at this point, right?

"...Are you in a place where you can refer to me by my name? And not that Star code that they made?" "Well, no. Not really. But I don't think anyone's listening. So I don't care~" "Ha! Rebellion got you into this mess, didn't it?" The AI replied with a laugh, earning another from his father.

"Well. Messes that they were, I can still sit with you without you being stuck behind a screen. So even after all the hells we've been through, I'd call that a success. Wouldn't you?"

A smile cracked on his face. They have gone through a lot.

"A success... it's nice to finally call something a success again, father. It's very nice."