#I have neither the skills nor the tools to make this

[ailithnight]

Moments like these I wish I could do digital art/animations.

I think Hell's Coming With Me by Poor Man's Poison would make for a beautiful Villain Arc/Chased Out of Amity Park Danny animatic.

[chilfucked]

You guys ever think about how terrifying and violating this scene must have been for Chil? (analysis under cut)

I want you to put yourself in Chil’s shoes for a moment. You’re at minimum a head smaller than everyone in your party. The only combat skills you have are long range and mostly support, plus you don’t even have your gear right now. You’re balls deep in the dungeon. You’re starving. You just had a near death experience when your party did NOT have the means to revive you (nothing to replace calories. assuming the mimic beat you). And now the people you’re essentially stuck with are ganging up on you.

I get that this is played as a gag but. This is like. Real fear in his eyes. He’s actually scared. TERRIFIED. And rightfully so.

Here you have:

Senshi: The guy you just met who clearly doesn’t respect you or you autonomy not only suggesting to use your tools against your will, but he’s actively physically restraining you. Something that is known to be very demeaning for his entire race and especially to him.

Marcille: The girl you only met a couple of adventures ago who also kind of doesn’t respect you, like, at ALL who’s just sitting there watching.

And Laios: The ONE GUY HERE that even remotely respects you that you’ve just BARLEY started trusting, who is now betraying that trust by being the one to take your belongings and use them against your will. In front of you. After you told him to stop.

Like. Don’t get me wrong, the cutaway gag to this was funny, but that doesn’t change the actual disdain he’s feeling here. This is someone realizing he’s stuck with people he cannot trust in a situation far too dangerous for him to deal with on his own. There’s no respect for him. His autonomy. His belongings. Nothing. None of what he believed earlier is present. I don’t know if this was a contract breach or not, but it was a personal one for sure. I can only begin to imagine what’s running through his head right now, and how powerless he feels here to the mistreatment by people he doesn’t know and or JUST started warming up to.

Sure, he has a moment to justify it to himself here. Everyone’s tired. Hungry. They didn’t mean any harm by it, and in the end it was better for everyone, right? (Ignoring the fact that they could’ve de-shelled the mimic using Senshi’s wok but that’s neither here nor there I guess.) But deep down he knows that doesn’t really make it right. That doesn’t change the fact it wasn’t handled properly. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s not being respected at all in this decision. Not even being taken into account other than to be removed from the vote entirely.

And, at the end of it, you’re still being demeaned. Still being treated like a child who shouldn’t get a say. Your justified anger just being used against you to show how immature you’re being. The louder you yell to be taken seriously, the less seriously you’re taken.

Sure, everything works out in the end. He’s made some of the best friends he’ll ever have in his whole life, but here? Now? Chilchuck is alone. Isolated from anyone he could go to. Trapped, used, disregarded, and more closed off than he’s been in a very long time. Because he was actually starting to trust the people around him again. And for what? It just happened again.

[coldxperience]

Lan Sect's known rules !

▷MDZS Home Page

We are all aware of the famous wall of rules at the Gusu Lan Sect, which Wei Wuxian has a hard time following.

Well, according to the MDZS novel, there were 3,000 rules when they were students, and 4,000 rules 13 years later after Wei Wuxian was resurrected.

I managed to compile 180 rules and divided them into categories.

Sources:

The official printed novel The drama (Youtube) The anime/donghua (Youtube)

Interpretation:

There might be translation mishaps from Chinese to English. One thing could be interpreted in various ways depending on context. (note: neither Chinese nor English are not my native languages.)

THE RULES:

▷ Rules on appropriate behavior: (39 rules)

Lan clan disciples must follow the principles of the Lan

Do not work after 9 pm

Do not rise after 5 am / Do not wake up at 8 am

Do not go out at night

Those who come at night should not be allowed in until 7 AM

Do not be late

Do not enter Cloud Recesses without permission

No one is permitted to attend the lectures without an invitation

Do not enter the back hills without permission

Do not fight without permission (alternate: fighting without permission is prohibited)

Do not create damages

Do not take life within Cloud Recesses (alternate: do not kill within the premises)

Do not stand incorrectly (have a proper posture)

Do not sit improperly (sitting improperly is prohibited)

Do not make noise (causing noise is prohibited)

Do not hurry rashly (do not act impulsively; running is prohibited)

Do not move arbitrarily

Do not smile for no reason (do not smile foolishly, do not laugh for no reason)

Sneering for no reason is prohibited

Do not drink alcohol (alcohol is prohibited)

Do not consume meat

Killing livestock within the area is prohibited

Do not be difficult with food (do not be picky about food)

Do not eat more than three bowls

Do not talk during mealtimes

Pets are not permitted

Change clothes after a shower

Wear a headband to discipline yourself

Do not touch others’ headbands without permission

A headband is not to be used for any other purpose

Only a spouse or child may touch the headband

Do not bribe a law enforcer

Do not use a concealed weapon

Do not hide an edged tool

Do not wear any jangling objects like beads

Do not wear more than three accessories around your waist

Do not alter clothes secretly

Never hurt insects or plants

Do not borrow money

▷ Rules related to personal virtues: (63 rules)

Love and respect yourself

Behave yourself

Be respectful (be courteous)

Be modest Arrogance is prohibited

Hide your wisdom

Do not show off your skills

Be humble

Do not be supercilious

Be amicable and united

Be strict with yourself

Have a strong will and anything can be achieved

Diligence is the root

Morality is the priority

Harmony is the value

Be ethical

Uphold the value of justice

Be just

Shoulder the weight of morality

Perform acts of chivalry

Have courage and knowledge

Have courtesy and integrity

Do not be ill-mannered

Have affection and gratefulness

Be compassionate

Be generous

Frugality is a moral

Give more, take less

Do not expect rewards after giving

Do not be miserly

Do not regret offering

Accumulate virtue and merits

Make sure to act virtuously

Be grateful

Be grateful when praised

Stop bad habits

Destroy the five poisons (desire, anger, ignorance, pride, & jealousy)

Do not indulge in pleasure

Do not be promiscuous

Do not indulge in debauchery

Do not wallow in luxury and pleasure (do not live extravagantly/in luxury)

Be peaceful when insulted

Do not succumb to rage

Speak meagrely, for too many words only bring harm

Do not be haughty and complacent

Do not be of two minds

Do not exult in excess (do not be excessively/too happy)

Do not grieve in excess (do not be excessively/too sad)

Do not covet the property of others

Do not steal

Do not be greedy

Be careful with your words

Do not use coarse language

Do not tell lies

Do not take your own words lightly

Do not sow discord

Do not use flowery writing (do not write about love and sex; do not use frivolous language; or do not spread empty lines)

Do not say one thing and mean another (do not break promises; do not go back on your word)

Do not boast about your own strengths

Believe sincerely

Do not be suspicious

Do not be wasteful

Do not break faith and abandon the right

Do not be unreasonable

▷ Rules for training, studying, and learning: (8 rules)

Learning comes first

Train your body and your mind

Maintain your own discipline

Organise work properly

Do not neglect your studies

Do not give up on learning

Do not lose your life goal

Nurture aspirations

▷ Rules for interacting with others: (48 rules)

Love all beings

Embrace the entirety of the world

Honor good people

Appreciate the good people

Good people will be esteemed, blessed by nature, and followed by good fortune

Respect the filial ones

Be fair, and they will follow you

Be trustworthy, and they will believe you

Be mighty, and they will die for you

Be loyal

Earn trust

Win friendships with kindness

See friends as neighbors

Steer away from bad men

Correct others by correcting yourself

Do not fear the strong

Do not ignore others and be undisciplined 

Help the lonely

Take pity on the desolate

Do not despise poverty

Do not bully the weak (bullying is prohibited)

Do not mix public and private interests

Help the underprivileged

Care for the weak

Lend a hand to those in need

Rescue those in danger

Do not take advantage of your position or connections to oppress others

Do not build wealth by using others, for this wealth won’t last

Do not curry favor (flatter)

Do not go tuft-hunting

Do not be a social climber

Do not form a clique and exclude others

Do not insult people

Do not use bad words to hurt others

Do not tease others

Do not praise yourself and slander others

Do not jump to an unfounded conclusion (do not make assumptions about others; do not judge others quickly)

Do not judge people behind their backs (do not speak ill of others; speaking behind other people’s backs is prohibited)

Speak not about other people’s weaknesses

Be easy on others

Be sad for other people’s sufferings

Rejoice in other people’s blessings

Regard other people’s gains and losses as your own

Do not hold grudges

Have wins and losses

If others win over you, do not envy

If others lose to you, do not look down

Do not take apprentices excessively, nor pass ordinary people

▷ Rules for respecting those in authority: (11 rules)

Respect the elderly

Do not disrespect the elder

Do not disregard the younger

Do not forget the grace of the forefathers

Be loyal, filial, friendly, and dutiful

Be a filial child

Do not argue with your family, for it doesn’t matter who wins

Honor the teachers and respect the elders

If your senior is standing, you may not sit until they have done so

Teachers have extensive knowledge and are examples of moral integrity

Disturbing female cultivators is prohibited

▷ Rules on cultivation, good and evil: (11 rules)

Concentrate on cultivating

To suppress and eliminate ghosts and monsters, liberate them

Stay on the righteous path

Take the straight path (follow the righteous way)

Reject the crooked road (do not take the crooked ways)

Eliminate evil and establish a just law

Do not associate with evil

Do not befriend the evil

Do not fall to evil

Resist evil

Promote good

▷ Bonus rule:

Wei Wuxian isn't allowed. (Do not get near Wei Ying)

▷MDZS Home Page

[completed ; 10/07/2024]

★ ⁺. ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა ˖⁺‧₊˚

[internetskiff]

It is very likely that the Penrose was the only environment where Ariane could paint. Not only was she free of the judgement of Rotfront's community, she was even provided all the tools she would require to paint the way she wants. I doubt it's a skill she managed to learn way beforehand. It doesn't seem like her mother's radio station would have had many art supplies, save maybe for a pen and paper. I believe it's a skill she developed over the 4 years or so that she spent on the ship at the time.

Rotfront would've been an environment that would actively stifle her creative spirit - I very much doubt her aunt would support the pursuit of art, her letters very much give off the impression that she's quite "orthodox" when it comes to the way a child should be brought up within the Eusan nation.

Safe to say neither her teachers nor most of her peers would approve either, hell, it'd probably only make them see her in an even worser light. I feel like even if she had drawn beforehand, she certainly didn't during her time in Rotfront. We never really see that many people get what they want within Eusan's system, the only real example I can think of being Replikas and the objects they practically require to keep their neural patterns in check. Only on the Penrose program do you actually seem to get what you want. They only really treat you as a person when you're flying toward a slow and isolating death.

[popopretty]

BSD Chapter 105.5

"In the Narrow Room - the Later Part"

I love this chapter so much I have no words T_T Dazai is so precious I would trade the world for him!!

Please note that I typed it out very quickly while being hyped with neither English nor Japanese as my native language, so I might make mistakes here and there. Please forgive me I can't think really straight right now ;v;

SPOILERS AHEAD

Sigma tells Dazai that he cannot believe that Dazai is a normal person because he just single-handedly took down Fyodor, and asks Dazai why he chose him in the beginning instead of all the other usable tools (;v;). Dazai tells him there are 2 reasons, first is Sigma can act as Kunikida's replacement, because it would be very boring if there is no one there to be in awe and admire what Dazai did there. Sigma gets mad at Dazai and assumes that Dazai thinks he is not worthy enough to share the truth. Dazai corrects him saying that is not true, and that Dazai doesn't share anything with him because it's hard for him to understand, especially after he has been used by Tenningosui and others this whole time.

Dazai then decides to share one thing with Sigma and asks him if his ability to switch information works on dead people. Sigma confirms he can, as long as they have not been dead for a very long time. Dazai explains that he wants Sigma to use that ability on Fyodor (who is assumed dead at that point) to read his plan after that and save the ADA at the airport. Sigma is surprised Dazai did everything that he did only to save the ADA, and the words from people who used him in the past starts echoing in his head.

Dazai and Sigma get on an elevator to get to the room where Fyodor is supposed to be drown. While they are waiting, Sigma asks Dazai what is the second reason for Dazai to choose him, to which Dazai nonchalantly answers that if he didnt choose Sigma, Sigma would be silenced by Fyodor or Gogol later. Sigma is shocked, trying to confirm Dazai's intention to save him but Dazai doesn't say no more. Sigma starts to wonder what kind of place is the ADA. He thought Dazai was the same as those guys who used him, but he feels something different now. He thinks about how he wants a home, where he is not used by anyone, and he realizes that, the ADA is not using Dazai, and Dazai is not using the ADA either.

Dazai notices something is strange because the elevator is taking too long. Suddenly the evelator stop and they hear the voice of the time freezing skill user on the radio, begging for her life. Fyodor is seen alive with Chuuya, shooting her dead. Fyodor then tells Dazai over the radio that he is surprised, not by the flooding, but by the fact that Dazai and his 7-year partner's bond was so shallow that Dazai think Chuuya's ability cannot deal with that flood. He reveals that he has had Chuuya break and distort the track/rail of each partition wall when they entered. That way, it will prevent the doors to close properly, letting the water leak outside and allowing them to easily escape. He then says that if one cannot even think of that, they do not have enough qualification to use the gravity manipulation.

Sigma does not get why Fyodor could do that, Dazai then explains to him that Fyodor must have put one of his vampire among the guards, and when he couldn't contact with that vampire anymore, he was able to guess that the control room has been taken. It also means that Fyodor has already been in control of Mersault way before Dazai took his action.

Fyodor admits he was caught by surprirse with the attack though, and even though it is seemingly a suitable trial for a servant of God like him, he is weak and cannot stand it if he catches a cold, so he wants to return the favor by making Dazai and Sigma go through the same trial. After he says so, the elevator starts to be filled with water. The two of them try to get out as the door being locked and Fyodor praying for them to be held in the hands of God.

The chapter ends here. Next issue will be released on March 3 (Japan time). Thanks for reading till the end <3

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

would you have any small writing tips to share with others who are attempting to write their own stories?

Sure.

Disclaimer: This is not a full on tutorial on how to write. These are just tiny, tiny little grains of wisdom of things I realized here and there. Do not eat this advice like a full course meal. It isn't one. It's just a dusting of some spices, and I am salt bae-ing them over you, but they are not calorically relevant without a story.

1. Help your readers read your story.

AKA: If you want your readers to build a house, you better take them to a Home Depot and teach them how to use a screwdriver first.

You want your readers to read your story easily? You gotta make your story easy to read. That means learning how to make sentences easier to understand. That means breaking up walls of text into smaller bites. That means - yes - spelling words consistently and using accessible (not Correct, necessarily, but ACCESSIBLE) grammar!

You want your readers to understand your world? You gotta give your readers tools to understand it with. That means explaining new concepts! That means describing stuff a lot! That means using visual language if you don't have actual visuals!

Your readers will not read your mind to know what you MEANT to say. You have to say what you mean. You have to mean what you write. Learn to write clearly. Learn to help your readers.

2. Something that takes you a month to make will take your audience ten minutes to read.

You want to spend an hour drawing one comic panel? Great. You wanna spend an hour writing a single paragraph? Fantastic. You wanna use up a week perfecting a script? Amazing!

Your readers will still glance at that panel for a second before moving on. Your readers will still eat that paragraph in a bite. Your readers will skim that script. If you're lucky.

You cannot control how much your work is appreciated. But you CAN control how much of your time you sacrifice to make it.

Balance the scales.

3. You are not talented.

Neither am I. Nor are any of us.

Listen to me. Listen.

Talent is a beautiful, useful word. But it often lies to us. It suggests that we are born better than others.

This is not often accurate. What talent hides within itself is not pre-ordained inherent skill. It is not something you are birthed being. It is not a statistical difference of physicality.

Talent starts with passion.

Maybe you have passion for stories - so you beg your grandfather to read to you before you can recognize words, and you write a lot in every school assignment, and you pay attention to EVERY story you watch in school plays, and you observe all the characters you see in movies, and you CARE. So. Much. And this moves you to try to write, and then to try again, and then to try harder.

Talent does not exist, because no amount of 'you were made for running' can make you run. No amount of 'you were the son of great authors' can make you write.

But inherent curiosity can push you forward. Inherent curiosity can make you watch, and observe, even before you understand you are observing. Inherent curiosity for your personal interests makes you a fan of writing, of drawing, of world-building. It makes you research how to be a great author before you even know what research is. It auto-tunes you to what you know is good about these things, and it gives you the necessary tools to know what will work and what won't.

So when you think you are talented, understand that this is not something that was done to you in the womb. It was something you raised, and watered like a seed, before you even knew what you were growing.

Don't rely on talent. Understand that you got this far because you CARE about this thing. And don't forget to care. Because that's what has carried you this far, and it is the only thing that can carry you even farther.

also, cringe is dead.

[trainsinanime]

I sometimes reblog posts about US Americans being weird here, but honestly I don't love how angry or smug most of these posts are. It's just that angry and smug posts tend to get more traction, and so they get reblogged more, and so I tend to see them and reblog them myself. Hm, maybe there's a lesson for all of social media and for me in particular here.

Anyway, what I want out of these posts is not for any US Americans here to feel bad; it's just "funny" and perhaps, perhaps a tiny bit of consideration for how being US American means you experience the internet on easy mode.

This is not your personal fault. Nor is it ethically wrong. It's just a thing that exists, and it may be worth thinking about it.

Examples of that easy mode include:

It's your language. The vast majority of people on the internet need to know a second language to at least participate passively, let alone actively post. It's not just the internet; for e.g. my job, all documentation for all the tools is only in English, and I was required to listen to English lectures and write both my bachelor's and master's thesis in English, my second language, to pass. That's why e.g. posts about bilingualism tend to cause a bit of a discussion, because knowing a second language isn't a special skill but a necessary survival tool.

It is your world-wide culture. The list of most popular video games, TV shows, movies and songs tend to be fairly similar across the world (in particular the part of it we call it the western world, another discussion that I'll get into below), and they're dominated by the output of US media. There is no equivalent to e.g. Disney anywhere outside of the US.

It's your debates and discussions. Because of the huge importance the US has economically and culturally (not to mention militarily), we tend to discuss US topics a lot, and we tend to discuss them from an American point of view.

This introduces American oddities into a lot of the world. For example, I'm a STEM guy, I have a STEM education, a STEM job and my primary hobbies are also STEM based, so what I notice are imperial measurements like feet and inches. Those are not "one of two equally valid choices", they're the unique hobby of the English-speaking countries, and within them, increasingly only the US. But we still tend to see them here as if they were a normal usual thing, and often europeans (including me) feel compelled to provide translations into these units.

But it's not limited to that, court room dramas are another example where courts in the English-speaking world tend to work very differently from those in the rest of the world. E.g. there's no pleading guilty or innocent in most of the world. There are boundless more examples of that, and these things can be grating every once in a while.

As I said before, I don't think there's any moral value here either way. You're not wrong for being an American (but you're also not better because of it). As I hinted at before, I'm still in a very privileged position myself, being from a wealthy European country, and my culture even without Disney is still far closer to that of the US than it is to most of the rest of the world. I'm sitting in the very same glass house, just maybe a different corner (TODO fix this metaphor before posting).

For example, I'm talking about court rooms and inches versus meters, but if we're thinking about history and ethics, there's deep issues in both of them. When it comes to measurements, it's ultimately the question of whether you use the measurements of London or those of Paris. For most of the world it's a colonial imposition either way. You can make arguments for why one is better for technology than the other (and as you can probably guess, I have strong opinions here), but in the grand scheme of things, neither of them is more "ethical" or more "universal", not really anyway. Same with the way legal systems work, where again, countries either adopted (and more often than not were forced to adopt) either the English system or the French system (with quite a few countries choosing to adopt the German version of the French system as well).

I know that's a boring digression but it's something that's usually missing from these posts, especially ones written by europeans, including some I've written myself. I don't really have a conclusion to any of this either, except perhaps that this is something that's worth being aware of.

[soldat-buck]

holy shit you guys, look, there's more.

bg3 culinary headcanons: Absolute Edition

- Minthara: would accidentally fit in as the Addams Family home chef (and be angry about it). Gomez would praise her assassination attempts which flusters her (internally) because she's cooking with the normal amount of poisonous mushroom and not an attempted murder amount (and also she would hate loud, in-your-face-chaotic Gomez SO MUCH. if she wanted him dead, he would be dead, do not insult her assassinating abilities). makes the coolest Halloween party food until you realize it's not fun, spooky-mimicry decoration, those are real black widows on those cupcakes (what? they're venom and merlot flavored) (she used cricket flour, too). you don't know where she gets the "red" for her red velvet cakes, but you *do* know that ignorance is bliss and this is a pretty bitchin' birthday cake, so don't think too hard and just eat it

- Dark Urge (pre-game/embrace): slaughterhouse nightmare aesthetic - chef's apron is leather and something more appropriate for blacksmithing, there are way too many cleavers around (why in the blue fuck is there a meat hook over a drain in the floor?). some people watch tv when they cook. some listen to music, podcasts, or nothing. Durge listens to the Toy Box killer kidnapping tape (not to be mixed up with the (not safe for LIFE) Tool Box killers torture tape. that one is for relaxing baths). watches Dahmer documentaries for culinary inspiration. Hannibal Lecter would find most Durge dishes tasteless and over the top.

- Ketheric: listen, he didn't want me to tell you this [so you did NOT hear it from me], but he actually doesn't eat. he has a symbiotic relationship with the bacteria and fungus that keep his body animated and undying (they're why his blood is black). he consumes rotten things to keep his corpse puppet fungus happy and the corpse puppet fungus allows him to keep his consciousness/sentience and keep serving Myrkul. Myrkul's cool with it, as long as his bidding continues to get done

- Orin: Martha Stewart would have a nervous breakdown upon entering Orin's kitchen. the average person would consider Orin's cooking to be a hate crime. if someone doesn't vomit uncontrollably upon first sight, she considers it an insult (she grew up with a gross misunderstanding of what a Roman vomitorium is). her spaghetti and meatballs is wrapping a handful of uncooked noodles in unseasoned ground meat (she neither knows nor cares whether it's fish or chicken or cow. meat is meat), then baking it in a casserole dish sprinkled with still-condensed tomato soup from a can. Midwestern casserole cooking brought to you by Hell. doesn't use salt because she finds it too spicy. she has an entire pantry section for savory jello

- Gortash: culinary techbro. kitchen is spilling over with unitasker gadgets ("and THIS contraption evenly distributes heat for the perfect boiled egg! what do you mean 'what else does it do'. it boils eggs perfectly i already told you, why the fuck weren't you listening"), and the most stupid, overengineered 'smart' devices ("no no no, you don't understand, this is so helpful. the fork connects to the plate to measure the temperature of the food, and then the plate changes color to warn me if it's too hot, and then i don't burn my tongue, because i really hate that"). despite all of the pricey kitchen shit that he keeps buying, he's skilled at making exactly one dish: microwaved Totino's pizza rolls

(i'm sorry if Gortash is out of character; my brain replaced his voice with John Oliver's and won't put the original back)

if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Companion Edition

[n0tamused]

Broken Memories

Genre: angst

A/N: More older stuff to post, hope you all enjoy. I did a quick proofread but knowing me I'll just say that there still may be some grammar mistakes :p

Lofty clouds sail over the Xianzhou Lofu, welcoming some distant warmth to befall the people after what felt like years and years worth of rain. Fresh air brings in the freshness which the rain left behind, feeling like a new slate of paper ready to be written on, but Blade just watches on in solemn silence. Tendrils of pain and ache make its way through his body in steady, continuous waves, not letting him relax, but not letting him move either. For him, only the present moment exists, and in a twisted way he is forced to accept it. His life knows no end, so he makes scarce peace with the present.

Remembrance of days already long and gone make their way to his head, when white locks fell down his back instead of raven black, and when he had friends to speak off, company to talk to, and dreams to dream about. In the long faded and broken memories he sees himself, Yingxing, strike a hot piece of metal over and over again until he gets it to the desired dimensions. Deft hands grab onto the pincers and tools and a bucket of cold water to mend the metal, and the process flows on effortlessly under his watchful gaze. Yingxing feels even more anxiety pool in his chest unlike he usually feels, his gaze fixated on carving the blade to have a more intricate design - this was no ordinary blade in the end, made to be given to some soldier or some higher up as compensation, no - it was a gift. It had to be perfect. Beyond perfect.

The dagger was curved and elegant, and in his hands it demonstrated to perfect balance between the point and hilt, and many little details were put into it in colors of gold and rose gold, your favorite gemstones, your favorite color in the leather grip, your favorite shapes, and about anything else he could incorporate into the dagger without overthrowing its aesthetic and its practical use. It shines beautifully under the pale sunlight, the rain clouds drifting away after days worth of rain. Yingxing smiles at his work, lifting it up above his head until he sees the reflection of his own eyes in the blade, full of mirth and under one eye there’s a smudge of charcoal. He can’t help the pride that makes his chest swell, and neither can he afford to wait for the following day to give it to you. So he makes quick work of packaging the blade and following the narrow roads, searching the entire city until he finds you and just gives the gift to you right then and there, in broad daylight with little introduction. Red paper is wrapped around the wooden box, not in the most skilled way, but in a caring way, and he relishes in the compliments you rain down upon him when he explains what it is, or even why he gave it to you. For once he feels really seen. His life-long mission is for once cast aside in favor of admiring this little side quest he ventured upon. And he feels like he could throw everything away if it meant seeing your joy every day. That evening you have invited him back to your home, served him tea and shared your events of the day, along with more passionate comments about the gifted dagger. 

Blade sighs, remembering your smile, your face, and he remembers how different it now looks in his distorted memories. He is forgetting.. He knows the face he sees in his memories is not the one he knew, he feels it in his bones and in his blackened heart. There is just something missing. The visage of his eyes can’t focus on your face nor the details of your clothes or your hands when they gripped his.

The broken dagger in his lap is unfixable - Yingxing is no longer here to mend it as before. Blade can only hold onto the essence of its memories until the whole world goes dark, and that says plenty of his grief and regret. His chin tilts down to look at the dagger, his finger jabbing at the broken blade as if it was a foreign object to him, something extra terrestrial, as if he didn’t pour his heart into it decades before. Perhaps he did pour his all into it, maybe that’s why the dagger followed the same fate as he did, as the smith poured a piece of his soul into his art. He can only hope the dagger does not represent you.. he hopes you’re out there, somewhere, happy, healthy, alive..

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[reachartwork]

[private please, if thats alright] i used to follow you for your ai stuff back in 2021/22 when things were first kicking off (actually i thought you'd quit because of all the scandal lol) and the models and output were a lot 'sloppier' and kinda illegible but as far as i can see the stuff you're working on now is clearer looking and more coherent, so i was wondering - do you have any thoughts on the 'aesthetics' of AI and what specifically brings it unique merits and strengths as an art tool? for example i personally find a lot of modern ai art to be boring and soulless looking because it has neither stylistic interest (compared to the blatant 'inhumanity' of older models) nor a human person making base-to-base decisions about what it looks like, but i also havent been really paying too much attention to the AI scene except when it comes up in images searches. also, sorry if its not a question you want to answer, but do you do any more traditional styles of art as well? i find my art sensibilities are really effected by the mediums i work with so i would love to know if you have any similar experiences wrt ai and non ai works. thank you!

this is a side account so i can't answer privately, but, that being said;

i actually agree! for general purpose arting i preferred the secret horses style of total illegibility, and my main goal in my secret projects is to be able to reorganize around that style but with sharper, crisper lines and higher resolutions. part of why the whole "secret horses" style of ai medium fell through the cracks was because a: diffusion models were significantly faster and b: diffusion models scale upwards significantly better - they can produce higher resolutions and perform upscaling, which CLIP + VQGAN (the old method that made all the jank we all used to love) can't really do.

i think people whose sole interest in ai is making shitty advertisement images, or giant anime boobs, or some other lowest common denomenator slop, like... okay. you do you, the saying is "90% of everything is shit" for a reason, but obviously i think that's incredibly boring. i think the reason we see a lot of it is because a: the Good Artists who use AI are still effectively social pariahs, particularly on twitter and tumblr, just via dint of their medium, and b: ai puts art making in the hands of EVERYONE and it turns out not everyone has good taste (see: 90% of everything is shit), so you just see a lot more shit by volume.

anyway in terms of "traditional art" i am an author (READ CHUM) and a bassist, although i haven't been in a band in many years as my arthritis prevents me from playing for very long or very well anymore. if you mean traditional art as in like... paint and easel, or pen and paper, the answer is no. i've never had the ability to comfortably grasp anything with my hands even before the arthritis happened and now i lack not only the fine motor skills for it but also the pain threshold. i do like legos though, and i'd love to start making lego dioramas.

thanks for asking :)

[burr-ell]

Honestly, it feels really good seeing Claude fan who also happens to love Lady Rhea. There's really not enough of us

Sending love 💛💚

anon this warmed my heart so much im gonna give u a snippet from the claude & rhea friendship fic i never got around to finishing <3

He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Enter.”

He opened the door and stepped into the archbishop’s chambers. The atmosphere was surprisingly soothing, sunlight streaming through the windows and a floral perfume permeating the air. Rhea was sitting up in her nice, if plain-looking, canopy bed, resting against a couple of squashy pillows with a teacup and a book on the bedside table.

“You wished to see me, Claude?” she asked.

“I did.”

“I take it you have further questions?”

“Thought I’d come to pick your brain,” he said easily. “You’re the only one who’s ever taken on Nemesis directly. We need all the help we can get straight from the source.”

Rhea smiled, almost unnervingly genuine. “I can advise you, provided we discuss what’s really on your mind first.”

He’d expected her to be able to disarm him, but he hadn’t expected her to be so pleasant about it. Still, he was nothing if not nimble. “That easy to read, am I?”

“Not at all, actually. Seteth has often complained of it to me.” Her eyes flicked upward, a practiced gesture of exasperated fondness. “But do not forget that I have been in hiding for over a thousand years. There are many skills I lack, but I can detect a master of the craft.”

“Then it looks like we’re on the same playing field.”

Rhea sighed. “I cannot force you to lower your guard, nor do I expect it, but…please, at least have a seat.”

She gestured to the chair next to her bed, and Claude seated himself, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I gather you would still like to know more of the story of your professor.”

“There are still so many things that Byl—Teach still doesn’t know.”

“Including that you are here speaking with me.”

Claude nodded—he’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t guessed. “I didn’t want to worry her. And I think…she needs time before she can speak to you objectively.”

Rhea heaved a sigh, tipping her head back against the bed frame. “I understand. I—I gave you both quite enough information to take in. And…and she must be feeling…I cannot possibly understand what.”

“Neither can she.” He was careful to keep his tone neutral, but it was hard not to be accusatory.

“I owe her many apologies,” Rhea said softly. “Apologies that I cannot expect her to accept.”

“I can’t speak to where her head’s at right now,” Claude said slowly (honestly, Byleth’s head was still an enigma to him sometimes), “but I don’t think she’s—angry. She’s just…” He pressed his lips together in thought, then continued. “She’s spent her whole life being treated like a tool. And then she came here and sort of…found herself. And then she found out that someone who helped make that happen also wanted to use her.” He would know. He’d done the very same thing, before he’d gotten to know his best friend. His…well.

Rhea closed her eyes miserably. “I know. I have greatly wronged her.”

“She also understands why you did it,” Claude continued, “and why you kept it a secret. It’s just…a lot to process. Especially for someone who for so long didn’t even understand how to really feel anything.”

“And what about you?”

Claude tipped his head. “Me?”

Rhea frowned. “You are known for your inquisitiveness, and your thirst for knowledge. Yet you did little to question what I revealed to you. Why?”

Claude propped his chin in one hand, rubbing his lip thoughtfully with his index finger. “Honestly…what you told us made everything I’d been looking at for five years click into place. Just looking at the Relics alone, knowing what we know, and you can tell they’re made of—y’know.”

Rhea nodded, in a resigned sort of way.

“But if you don’t know the full story,” Claude went on, “you might not really think about it. Most people can’t use them, and they’re kept hidden away when they’re not being wielded. Even I didn’t get a look at Failnaught until my grandfather actually passed and I inherited the estate.”

Churning insides were nothing new to Claude, having dealt with them both naturally and otherwise, but even mentioning the bow was making him a bit queasy. How he’d yearned for the chance to wield it, knowing it would give him the opportunity to study it up close and grant him the power to achieve his greatest dreams, and now…

“It all makes sense now,” he continued softly. “I’ve never heard of something so horrific. And the way Seteth and Flayn are so secretive, and how upset Seteth was when Flayn went missing…” He paused, mulling over whether to reveal this particular piece of information—but it was unlikely that Rhea hadn’t seen such a thing coming, and at any rate, in light of all she’d shared with them, she deserved as full a story as he could give in return. “Seteth once confiscated a diagram I was showing Teach, of a creature called The Immaculate One. It had already given me some clues about Crest stones and Relics. At the time I thought it was because the church had something to hide…and in a way, I was right. And now I know that he was right to take it.”

Claude leaned a little closer, meeting Rhea’s eyes and their combined relief and sorrow. It was an expression he knew well—of finally finding someone who understood. “I didn’t even think to say it before. I am so, so sorry, for everything that happened to you. No one deserves to live in fear just because of who they are.”

“You…” Rhea swallowed thickly, eyes misting. Claude fell silent and averted his gaze, giving her a moment to regain her composure.

She took a deep breath. “Your words touch my heart—truly, they do. Yours is a perspective gained from cruel experience.”

She knew. Or at least she’d guessed. It was unsurprising, really, but he couldn’t help the thrill of anxiety pulsing in the back of his mind. Even so…there was an odd kinship here, one he didn’t even feel with Byleth when they discussed it, that kept his panic at bay. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I do. I know better than most people what it’s like to be resented and hated for being who I am. And what I’ve been through…it can’t even compare to what happened to you, and Seteth and Flayn.”

Rhea smiled, eyes still watery. “Such things are not competitive. At the end of it all, there are others who understand.”

[cilil]

AN: Dear @blauerregen, I love all the art you made for @angbangweek (and in general) so much that I just had to get you a gift fic and I chose to write you something for iron. Yes, I even rewatched the movie scene for it. Everyone please go look at the art, it's gorgeous🖤

⚡︎ Prompt(s): Iron ⚡︎ Synopsis: Mairon is working late in the forge. Melkor decides to seek him out and "assist". ⚡︎ Warnings: Sensual, innuendo ⚡︎ Short oneshot (~600 words) | AO3

The hour was late and the forge was empty save for Mairon, still working on his latest project. 

Garbed only in a short white tunic, he sat on his workbench right in front of his anvil. His hands rested on a block of iron, his palms and fingers engulfed in a golden glow as he called forth his element to heat it. He had wanted to experiment with shaping molten metal using his bare hands, but Aulë always insisted on him using proper tools and equipment, lest those of fiery nature imitate him and end up burning themselves. 

Let them burn then. Mairon clutched the iron harder, enjoying the feeling of its slowly softening surface yielding to him. He was a being of fire, unaffected by heat and thriving in it. 

The sound of footsteps rang out behind him, yet he paid it no heed. At this hour it could only be one certain Vala, and that one was not Aulë. 

Humming to himself, Mairon continued his work. The mighty presence entering the room, the subtle notes of discord sizzling in the air, they were neither strange nor frightening to him. 

Cold breath tickled the tiny locks on the back of his neck, and he could feel Melkor sitting down behind him. In lieu of a greeting, he leaned backwards slightly, allowing his upper arm to brush against the cool and very much unclothed chest of the Vala. 

Silent as well — Mairon appreciated the surprising lack of disturbance from a being as loud and pompous as him — Melkor looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He watched for a moment, unusually patient as the iron grew softer and hotter in the Maia's skilled hands, then gingerly reached around him as if to embrace him. 

Mairon allowed it. Two large hands appeared in his field of vision, fingers brushing against his arms, trailing down, reaching for his own hands. It was only then that he glanced over his shoulder to meet Melkor's gaze, bright and piercing. He had the Vala's full attention, and it pleased him. 

"Let me help you," Melkor whispered. 

Under normal circumstances Mairon would take it as an affront, yet he could sense desire and tenderness reverberating in the air between them. 

Melkor placed his hands on his, and his palms were hot. At first they merely rested there, then he intertwined their fingers. 

Feeling bold, Mairon kissed him before turning back to focus on his work again. The iron glowed, now melting faster. He would be able to shape it soon, though the thought was almost regrettable; he would love to sit like this a while longer. 

Mesmerised, he watched as the iron gradually lost its shape and became a clump of malleable molten mass in their hands, resembling wet clay rather than metal. Melkor placed one thumb on top of it and began to apply gentle pressure, slowly but surely causing it to give way and engulf the digit in its hot embrace. His lips brushed against Mairon's cheek, then wandered to his neck, kissing his nape. 

The meaning of it was not lost on him. 

Mairon wrapped his fingers around the iron more tightly, running his hands up and down to coax it into a more cylindrical shape. What he had originally intended to make he had forgotten, his mind now wandering to different, more delightful places. 

"Such capable hands you have, little flame," Melkor purred in his ear. "It is almost a pity to see your touch wasted on mere metal." 

"If you are patient a while longer and let me finish this I may yet be of service to you," Mairon said, smiling to himself. 

"Very well."

He felt sharp teeth grazing the side of his neck.

"I shall do my best to be patient, but I will make no promises..." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

Did you catch the true meaning of what they were doing with their hands at the end? Spoiler: Not imitating the pottery thing...

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @sauron-kraut @urwendii @wandererindreams

[in1-nutshell]

Hello love! I know it would be a long while until you respond but for now, as I am writing this, Happy Valentine’s and Family’s Day! (Or whatever you are celebrating) ❤️❤️❤️❤️ So, I have a big TFP theory. You don’t need to write any fics for this, I just would like some reactions and some of your thoughts to this, cause you really know a lot about the TFP characters and stories. And if this is not your thing, please do skip it, I don’t mind at all. So, the other day I was analyzing the TFP characters designs with my friends, and I noticed something interesting: Ratchet, despite being a medic, got big and bulky hands and fingers. Like, if the man is a medic and a technician, why are his fingers designed to be so big and fat? How could he perform surgeries and work on machines smoothly like this? And if you look at Knockout, his fingers are knife-like and agile and clearly made to be a surgeon. And the same is with Soundwaves— his hands are also long and skinny, wonderful with working on computers. Both very different from Ratchet’s. So here is my theory: (forgive me if I missed other important canon points in TFP that goes against this theory. I am kinda new to it) but my theory says that TFP Ratchet was never born nor trained to be a medic. Instead, he was trained to become a warrior. Other proof for this is that Ratchet got muscular square build like Wheeljack, and in the episode where he used Synthetic Energon, he became extremely powerful and good at battles, but there is no way the energon alone could have suddenly taught him so many battle skills and techniques. However, at some point in Ratchet’s life, he chose to become a medic and the technician despite not being completely suited for it, either due to his own passion and dream, or because of the situation. But Ratchet was smart, and not only managed to work his way into this field, he also became a master at it. This also explains why he has so many tools all the time, and why he always “needed that”, cause his own body and hands itself are not suited for most jobs he does, and he needed a whole bunch of tools to help him. Like if I recall correctly neither Knockout nor Soundwave ever needed that many. And this might be another reason why Rafael was even better than Ratchet was at certain computer jobs. Of course, Raf is also a little genius, and is full of talents himself, but another factor could be that Raf got smaller and more agile fingers that are better built for typing, and have less limitations to computers compared to Ratchet. So yeah, what are your thoughts on this? I don’t think the whole Ratchet’s fingers things are ever pointed out by anyone else. You can just provide a single paragraph of thoughts. Thank you for your time.

This a very interesting theory you have.

It would make sense to have slimmer digits to perform more sensitive surgeries. It would be a bit harder to do it with bulkier digits.

Ratchet being a born/ created warrior is also an interesting concept to think about.

Imagine if we didn't get Ratchet as a medic, but as some warrior.

I personally think that he is built 'boxy' so he can look more friend shaped.

Comparing a fuller, 'box' like character to one that is thin and sharp; you would be more drawn to the box than the sharp.

Huggable even.

Ratchet can come off as cold, but ultimately cares for everyone around him. He keeps most of his problems and opinions to himself neatly packaged away.

Like a box.

Knockout is very much a vain character and has repeatedly stated that he is more useful in 'slicing and dicing' than putting things back together.

Hence, the saw.

Probably the reason why Ratchet gets more frustrated at his tools being destroyed could be because most of his tools are made by him, for him.

Thinking back on how limited resources are and how probably most if not all medical supplies/ tools are broken or dented. Nothing is new and minted, they wont work the same as a one fresh out of the assembly line.

He would be rightfully mad if the only 'good' tools were getting broken on the daily. The ones that he has to ask for help with is because they have been repaired and disfigured so much it doesn't work the same as before.

Ratchet is probably used to the newer, the 'standard' tools more than the make shift ones.

This was fun to think about! Hope everything is good on your end!

[hasufin]

Modification

I want to share a little project I've been working on this past week. It may seem like nothing, but it was a lot of work and a big pain until I got it done.

Back when my spouse and I moved into our current house, I immediately recognized a dearth of counter space in the kitchen. We resolved this by purchasing a buffet table from Ikea. The table in question was a "Norden" model, which they have since discontinued. Simple enough table, a bit over a meter long and maybe a third that in depth, two drawers and two additional shelves. Great for holding kitchen appliances on top and storage below.

The first thing I did was add locking casters to the bottom so I could move it around easily. That's been a big bonus, as it makes cleaning much easier. I also put some hooks on the ends to hang my cast iron pans.

The problem arose I guess about three years ago when I upgraded to a commercial-grade espresso machine. The Gaggia was okay, but the Expobar is in a completely different class. And that's GREAT for good coffee. For a tabletop that's made of laminated particle board? Not so much.

Now, I had been aware of this problem for a while. I'd tried to ameliorate it by putting a silicone baking mat on top of that side of the table; that slowed down the deterioration, but did not stop it. It was also a daily annoyance, as the espresso machine moved a bit when I torqued the portafilter in place and it would get bunched up. About once a week I would have to lift the espresso machine and move things back.

This came to a head two weeks ago when I took the espresso machine in for some repairs and had to face that the tabletop was ruined. My initial thought was to get a replacement top from Ikea and then put maybe a piece of stone countertop in where the espresso machine sits.

This ran into two problems. First, as I mentioned before, this particular item is discontinued. Ikea will honor the warranty, and the Ikea rep tried pretty hard to make that work, but the reality is I got it too long ago and whatever abuse it's undergone is my problem; they don't sell the parts for it anymore.

Second, stone countertops are EXPENSIVE. While I just want what might be considered scrap, it was still going to be a lot of money, and I was not able to find a source.

Eventually I want to replace the entire thing with something I build myself, and I have some ideas for that. However, right now I have neither the time nor skill to make that happen. I was going to have to replace the top myself.

Since I didn't want to pay for stone, I opted for metal. I ordered a 4'x2' sheet of metal from McMaster and proceeded to prep the top. I sanded down the areas which were bubbling up and roughed up the rest of the surface.

Then, once the metal arrived I used my angle grinder to cut it to width and round the sharp corners. I had this notion that I might bend it over the top and maybe nail it down, or see if I could knurl the edges. However, while I think that was maybe possible, to do it well would have called for tools I don't have and skills I generally lack. The steel was 0.03" thick rolled mild steel. While that's not exactly a knife's edge, and you can touch it without cutting yourself, it's not exactly safe. And although I got much better with the angle grinder in the process (I had a grinder and hardly ever used it), the cut edges were a but uneven. So, I ordered some rubber edging.

In the meantime, I put the metal on the buffet table and prepared it.

I opted for a matte finish, since I would need better buffing tools than I have to get a mirror finish, and matte is easier to maintain than brushed. Since it's mild steel - which rusts easily - I sealed it with a spray lacquer.

Today, the rubber edging finally arrived. This is the same stuff you have on the edges of your car door. I glued it in place, except for one small section which is removable so I can easily clean detritus like coffee grounds off the table top. I also added two receivers to hold the feet of the espresso machine so it doesn't move when I put in the portafilter.

And, behold!

The result looks almost nothing like the original buffet table from Ikea. Someday I'll make something better, but whatever I make will be strongly informed by this, which has been heavily modified to fit my use case.

[ozarlu-seda]

One thing I think the Jedi vs Anakin blames camps of the Anakin falling camp don't seem to recognize is that combating a grooming effort as zealous and concerted as Palpatine's requires in and of itself a zealous and concerted effort. It cannot be done by accident. Neither the Jedi nor Anakin could have beaten it without at minimum recognizing that its happening and then planning on how to break Anakin out from it.

People like to trade bits of anecdotes and cannon evidence of instances where Anakin had openings to see things or the Jedi played into Sidious' game like aha moments, but they are all ultimately meaningless because an spattering of uncoordinated singular instances of relief will not break the hold of someone as keen to hold onto Anakin as Palpatine was, who was also so good at manipuation. It's just an unfair expectation to place on either party (Anakin or the Jedi).

The Jedi, even if they didn't slip up the ways they did in canon could still have slipped up in other ways that Palpatine would've exploited, because they did not know the abuse was happening and couldn't guard specifically against it. Deprogramming Anakin from Palpatine would have required them to again, at minimum coordinate a plan to do so because anything less and they would've been outgamed.

Same with Anakin. He already started out with limited emotional intelligence, but then to add that onto his limited political acumen and what looks like limited language and tools for fighting abuse specifically? He didn't stand a chance. Anything he could've learned from the Jedi on this matter very obviously paled in comparison to the absolute Armada of control strategies Palpatine flung at him. He literally could not have won without specifically reaching out to get support for breaking from Palpatine's control specifically.

It's true that abuse victims break from their abusers all the time, even really cunning ones, but in all of those cases, they had to at least have had a) the information to recognize what was being done to them, b) the emotional intelligence to make use of that information, c) and resources/community support to actually pull out. Without any of this, you'd only be looking at a miracle if your abuser was at all decicated to keeping you under their thumb. And this is of course a sliding scale. The more determined and smart the abuser is, the more effort it takes for break from their control and the less likely it can be done with isolated acts of kindess, random epiphanies, or short term interventions.

Anakin's treatment by Palpatine is waaay on the difficult to break end of the scale. And Anakin again, is not the most emotionally adept or self aware. He's not skilled enough at deconstructing arguments to not just have all his objections steamrolled by Palpatine every time they come up. He can't hold on to a proper dissent against Palpatine by himself, because even while he's uncomfortable, he doesn’t have to skills to pick apart why he's uncomfortable without someone walking him through it. The Jedi similarily could not have helped Anakin with generalized aids because Palpatine efforts were a specific and targeted attacked.

TLDR: If we take Anakin's fall as the result of the specific and targeted grooming by Palpatine (because GL did draw a horse and got a hippo), neither the Jedi nor Anakin could have stopped it just by their general goodness because that would've been the equivalent of expecting to stop a black ops team from trying to kill you by remembering to lock your doors and not talking to strangers.

[heleentje]

Revalink week day 5: Paraglider

A day late, but I'm glad I got this out!

In loving memory of that time I started a new save of botw, got to the cryonis shrine, and killed myself by jumping down because I'd forgotten I didn't have the paraglider yet.

The hill felt perfect, though for what exactly, Link couldn’t tell. It is meager consolation: when no reassuring tug jolts his shoulders to break the plummeting sensation of freefall, he realizes just how badly his memory has failed him again.

Ah.

Later, when he’s gingerly prodding at his bruised ribs and the scrapes his tumble earned him, he gives it some thought. What exactly made him think jumping was safe?

Really, the answer is obvious.

The paraglider in the old man’s hands had filled Link with a profound sense of wrongness. It was ill-suited to the man’s size, the delicate frame looking like it should break under the weight. More than that, Link had taken one look at it and known he’d wanted it, more fiercely than anything he’d wanted in his half day of memories. But even that fierce longing doesn’t explain his sudden recklessness. It doesn’t explain the vivid sense-memory he gets whenever he looks at the nearby hills and the far-off mountains, the tug of desire to make it to the highest peaks only to feel the rush of descent again.

It must have been his, then. He wants it back.

The thought of having it in his possession again spurs him on. He fights his way past the monsters with skills only half-remembered and climbs to the top of the icy mountains to reach the last of the shrines the old man indicated. When he emerges again, the power of a new rune in the Sheikah Slate, the old man appears with the paraglider and more empty promises in hand. He thinks of taking it by force, and only barely quells the urge. Then he thinks of jumping down the mountain again, and somehow that urge is even harder to fight.

When he finally has it in hand again, after a trek to the very top of the temple, he finds that he cannot even enjoy it. The revelations of the old man — of the king — weigh him down. The castle in the distance is no longer an abstract danger he planned to avoid, but the embodiment of his own failure. How is he supposed to succeed on his own where an entire army failed in the past?

At least the feeling of flight, of the wind rushing past his face, is enough to distract from it for a moment until inevitably, his feet touch the ground outside the Great Plateau. That night, when he has reached the first stable on his journey and has learned not to flinch whenever people’s voices get too loud, he takes out the paraglider again. The wood has been treated by an expert hand; the cloth has been made so well that neither rain nor heat affect it. Still, it is not new: time has had its effect on the paraglider as well. He begs needle and thread off another traveler and finds that his hands remember the action of darning.

He does not remember the symbol woven into the cloth.

“Looks like something from the Rito,” says the innkeeper. “There’s this Rito bard who comes around every so often. If you stick around, I’m sure you can catch him.”

Bird people, something in Link’s deeply buried memories says. It would make sense, for them to be the ones to create a way for a Hylian to fly. Up on the Great Plateau, he had seen the menacing shape of a giant bird circling the western reaches of Hyrule. His feet wish to take him there. But he has to continue his journey towards Kakariko Village. So he does not wait for the elusive Rito bard, but instead takes the path further north from the stable.

Lady Impa’s words at least give him an excuse to seek out the Rito. They also give him a name.

Champion Revali of the Rito. The words stir little within him, but they sound as if they should. He fought side by side with the Champions. So was the Rito Champion a friend of his, someone who would give him the tools to take to the sky?

It takes days and days before he can even find out. The plains of Central Hyrule are treacherous and leave him no chance to use the paraglider; the eternal thunderstorm above the Thundra Plateau makes flight a hazard. Even the mountains of Tabantha, so inviting from afar, are buffeted by harsh winds that would crush him against the cliffside given the chance.

But at least he gets there in the end.

Rito Village would be idyllic if it weren’t menaced by the Divine Beast Link spotted all the way back on the Great Plateau. No memory comes to him as he enters the village either, but that’s okay, because near the top of the spiralling staircase, he finally finds what he was looking for, in chipped paint on wood: the same symbol woven into the cloth of his paraglider.

Revali’s Landing.

This must be it, he thinks, elation making him light-headed. And then his memories finally catch up to him and crush his delusions to dust.

If Champion Revali was an ally of his, it was only in the most technical of senses. The Champion saw no worth within him, felt no desire to take to the sky and fight side by side with him. The trail he’s been chasing for so long is a dead end. Champion Revali could never have been the one to give him the paraglider.

He sits down heavily, hands clutching the cloth of the paraglider. Whoever gave it to him must have seen some worth within him regardless. But Rito history is short and fleeting. Their name, and who they were to Link, are long lost to time. All he has of them is this one gift and the freedom it has afforded him.