#I would source the reference pictures if I remembered where they came from...

[mysticdargon]

I made the start of a few references for the OMU crew characters, though they seemingly never got finished. So consider these an indefinite WIP lol!

The first one is for Arius, Hunter and Tayen's (eventual) adoptive child. The second is Hunter and Tayen themselves! then Aneko, Tayen's old friend and self-proclaimed sister in everything but blood.

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You have some kind of nightmare and Bucky wakes you up but he’s still a prick and you have a fight.

Warnings: Flashback, mention of experiments, hydra facility, creepy stuff and I probably forgot something so forgive me. -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my fist language so I apologize for eventual mistakes.

-> Masterlist

-> Part three ; Part five

-> Nonie (04)

A little you was sitting in the corner of your room. The place you called home was clean and sterile, empty of any unnecessary comforts - not that you knew what the word truly meant. The only source of light was coming from the single light bulb hung from the ceiling, and your bed - big enough to at least fit you - was pushed against a wall, it’s thin mattress covered in white sheets.

The walls were bare; you were not given anything normal kids your age had to at least make it seem more than just a prison. It was naked of any type of decoration, no pictures or paintings… just plain grey. And you loved it.

One day, your usual routine was changed. Up until then you had been alone, the only people you talked to were the scientists and Mrs White who came in to see how you were doing and tell you all about the process they were making thanks to you. But that day, you remember the sound of that huge, scratched iron door open and an Hydra agent escorting a girl into the room.

Not a word was exchanged before you and the new person were left alone. To be honest, you were curious but also confused - why did they brought her in all of a sudden? Was she another special girl? Were you not good enough anymore? You didn’t like that idea.

You watched as she went to sit on the other corner of the room, her head low, and you spent the whole day listening to her sobbing. Why was she crying, you did not know. How could she cry when she was in the safest place on earth?

Ungrateful. And she was evidently older than you, maybe sixteen or even seventeen - she should have understood her worth already at that age.

In the days that followed, you learned absolutely nothing about her. She never spoke and she spent most of her time confined to her side of the room - she wasn’t even given a mattress, and she did nothing to let you know if perhaps she was tired of sleeping on the floor. All you heard were her hums at night, melodies you didn’t know.

But for some reason, you liked having her there.

Eventually, days turned into weeks and your curiosity towards her only grew and it almost became an obsession - you wanted to get her to talk but never succeeded. Each day, like a clockwork, the girl was escorted out of the room by Hydra agents and each day, when she would return, her demeanor grew more unsettling.

“And so today Mrs White gave me a candy. She said I deserved it after I found where those criminals were hiding.” You said, hopping onto your bed as you stared at her - she was finally given one too, and now she did nothing rather than lay on it as days passed by. “Did she ever give you a candy? The one that looks like a bear - have you ever seen a bear?”

At your questions, all you could hear was nothing except her breathing. There wasn’t even a window in there. “Oh, yeah. You don’t talk. Mrs White says that when people ignore you, they are being extremely dis- dispec - I don’t remember the word she used. But it’s not nice!”

Nothing. She didn’t even blink, sometimes you had to walk over there to check if she was still breathing. “Whatever.” You sighed. “I’ll bring you a candy next time I’m done with a successful mission. Maybe you’ll talk to me. Or I can steal one - maybe I could. I don’t know. What do you think? Do you want a candy?”

Silence.

“Alright. Then I’ll bring you one.” You smiled at her. “But you need to tell me your name, I can’t keep referring to you as the ‘new girl’, it’s been… I don’t know. But surely more than a day!”

The girl stayed silent. Her eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“Mrs White says my blood is fundamental for whatever they’re working on, you know? We’re here to save the world.” You continued. “She said there are some people who don’t want that, like Natasha Romanoff. The prodigy of the Red Room, have you ever met her? She came here a few years ago and taught me how to shoot properly. And now, turns out that she’s been corrupted.” You sighed “You’re a great listener, at least.” You turned around, giving your back to her. Maybe she just didn’t like you.

Still, no response. Not even a hum of acknowledgement.

Your frustration mounted with each passing day, your attempts to communicate with her were always ignored and you were met with nothing but silence.

“Is there something wrong, kid?” One of Hydra’s agents, Ezra you had learnt, asked you one day as he was escorting you back to your room after another evening of restless training. You had to be at your best, they said, all the time.

“No.” You sighed, as your body felt like burning - that day they had gone heavy on you, but you managed well. You were the only survivor, as per usual. “When can I go outside? I want to help on the field.”

“Soon enough, kid. We have a problem in stars and stripes to take care of. Mrs White believes you can do it.”

You felt a sense of pride in you at his words. That man, they called him Captain America, was a heavy problem for the world. He was the one who kept ruining any attempt to make the world a better place, always stepping in to cause chaos. He needed to be eliminated and you wished it would be you to do so, after all you had the skills to do it.

“Then I won’t disappoint her.”

Once you got back to your room with the biggest grin ever, you saw Nonie - as you nicknamed her - sitting on her bed with her back on the wall, staring straight ahead of her. You sat right in her line of view, which was on your mattress, crossing your legs one over the other. “Guess what?”

Blank stare.

“I’ll kill Mr Captain America one of these days. I know I’m not as skilled as Winter is, but I can do it. I know I can.” You started to ramble convinced that she wouldn’t pay attention to you since she never did, but soon enough, too focused on your own words, you felt a hand on your tight.

A cold, almost imperceptible touch. She had walked towards you, kneeling down in the end as her legs were too weak to hold her light weight for longer than a few steps.

You stared into her soulless eyes for a moment, before she shook her head.

“No? What - what do you mean no?” You looked at her dumbfounded. “You don’t want me to kill him? Nonie, I h-”

But before you could continue, she crawled back to her bed in the same position she was in. You stayed silent too, for a moment. For a long, tense moment.

“So you can understand what I’m saying! You can hear me!” You realized, getting up. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Nonie made a movement with her pale hand to tell you to get closer to her - which you did without second thinking. Those few steps felt like happening in slow motion and once you were right in front of her, she raised that same hand to her mouth; her fingers grazing the edge of her lips.

You frowned, but you didn’t have the time to utter a word that she stuck out her tongue - or what was left of it.

≈

“For fuck’s sake - Emma!” Your eyes snapped open at Bucky’s voice, your heart racing in your chest as you sat up in bed, your forehead almost colliding against his.

You couldn’t help but dream about her, giving what you and Dean had saw just hours prior. She always came back into your memories one way or another, whether it was with a nightmare or just with a simple thought during the day - she was always there, in the back of your mind. And no matter how much years had passed since then, Nonie wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Bucky spoke again with a sharp tone. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve been trying to wake you up the whole night.”

You blinked in confusion, caught off guard by his harsh tone and the fact that he was sitting so close to you. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I had a nightmare.”

Bucky’s expression unexpectedly softened, though you could still sense some irritation. You knew he had trouble sleeping too, and waking up in the middle of the night due to someone else’s problems wasn’t really ideal. “Nightmare, huh? Great, now we’re both awake.”

You closed your eyes and took a breath for a moment as you tried to find the right words to say. You never meant to disturb him but you could not control how your mind worked - and Wanda wasn’t even there to help you. Sometimes you gave her permission to get inside your head and erase the bad memories for one night so you could properly rest, but she wasn’t with you and so you had to do it alone. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, his demeanor softening ever so slightly. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He admitted gruffly. He better than anyone could understand how you mist be feeling, and he could have approached it better. “It’s been a long day and I guess I’m just on edge.”

You huffed. “Believe me, I know.”

Bucky exhaled as he was still sitting on your bed, the situation becoming awkward. He got up, but didn’t leave quite yet. You saw some uncertainty in his eyes before he spoke again.

“Food always helps me with nightmares.” He cleared his throat, his tone softer than before. But not much, he was still Bucky Barnes after all. “Come downstairs with me. Dean left some pizza in the fridge before leaving.”

You noticed you were hungry now that he mentioned food. Once you and Dean got home after the investigation, still unsure of what you saw - or, rather, still hoping your mind had played an awful joke on you, you went straight in your room. You had left the task to explain things to Sam and Bucky to Dean.

“One thing I learned about Dean is that he becomes a mad man if someone touches his food.” You let out a small chuckle, getting up the bed.

“He left it for you.” Bucky admitted.

“Oh.” That was surprising. “I was going to eat it anyway but I will feel less guilty knowing it was already mine.”

Together you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, the silence was oddly comfortable for once. You sat down while Bucky took the pizza box from the fridge and tossed it your way. Action you thanked with a smile.

He rummaged through the cabinets searching for something to eat himself. He sat on the chair beside yours with a box of homemade biscuits - wait, homemade biscuits?

“The old lady that lives on the other side of the street brought these over today, when you and Dean were at the Miller’s house.” He explained after reading your expression. “We’re invited at her niece’s birthday party this weekend, by the way. I said yes.”

You being invited to a party full of strangers wasn’t really on the list of the things you liked to do since you were as social as a rock but what you wanted went into the toilet the second you became an Avenger. Like that time you and Pietro were sent on a mission on a yacht - you were scared as hell of the sea after a certain God of Mischief made you watch Titanic changing the finale with your face instead of Rose’s. But that was another story.

“Great.” You sighed.

“So, the investigation. How did it go? You came home quite traumatized.” He raised a brow, and you didn’t miss the judgement in his tone.

You stiffened for a second, your mind went inevitably back there just as soon as you were starting to think about something else. “I wasn’t traumatized. I just… if you had seen that, you would have understood.”

Bucky scoffed. “What? Seeing the breakdown of an hysterical old lady after she lost her daughter doesn’t seem so terrible compared to what we’re used to, come on now.”

You frowned. That was the last of your concerns, you weren’t a therapist or something but a breakdown was certainly not that woman’s biggest problem. “Dean didn’t- he didn’t tell you everything?”

It was Bucky’s time to frown. “He told us what happened. You two arrived there, the woman was obviously grieving her missing daughter and she had a break down after asking one too many questions which led to her kicking you out.” He reassumed everything Dean had said. “Isn’t that all?”

You gulped. Dean kept his mouth shut about that, and you wondered why. Bucky knew what Hydra was capable of, but that? That was something beyond imaginable. Still, before talking to Bucky about it you wanted to know why Dean kept it a secret and why he didn’t seem to freak out as any other normal person would - beside you.

“No, that’s all.” You said after a moment, sounding as sincere as possible. “It’s just… her daughter’s probably dead and… and seeing her reaction wasn’t easy.”

“Mh.” He nodded, seeming to believe you. “Rich coming from you.” He said after, turning back into himself - for a second there you almost forgot how infuriating he was.

“Excuse me?”

“Rich coming from you.” He repeated casually. “Didn’t you use to kidnap people yourself for Hydra? Or maybe… bring back the ones lucky enough to break free from their control?

You stayed momentarily silent. “No.” You answered. “I never kidnapped anyone or brought back anyo- what the fuck is your problem, man?”

“I have absolutely zero problems, but I wonder if you even have the right to feel bad when you used to do the same to innocent people - willingly.” His tone was as light as if he was talking about a damn football game.

“You killed dozens of people too.”

“I was brainwashed, and I feel guilty enough. You were not.” He fired back. “And you never apologized.”

“I was a fucking child, Barnes.” You reminded him, clenching your jaw. “I thought I was doing the right thing by complying, just like you were!”

“I know that, Dayne, I’m not an idiot. But you’ve been indoctrinated with their ideas all your life, which is exactly why I wonder how the fuck it is that you’re on our side now.” He said, leaning back on the chair. “I’m not attacking you, just curious.”

“It’s been ten years, it took me a long time to see things the right way.” You said, really stopping the urge to flip the table and walk out dramatically. “And it looks like an attack to me.”

“It’s not.” He remarked. “You know, Rumlow was a SHIELD agent while being loyal to Hydra. If he did it, I won’t get off the table the fact that you could be doing the same.”

“I never joined Hydra willingly, I was born there!” You shot back to that lunatic asshole. “Rumlow joined those people because he believed in their ideas, to me their ideas were the only thing I’ve ever known! Excuse me if I didn’t know a difference between the good and the bad when I was told that killing people was the only way humanity could survive!”

He sighed at that. Maybe he had been too harsh?

“You’ve been brainwashed in a way, and I in another. If you think I’m some kind of monster for what I did or I cannot be trusted, then we may not be so different.” You spat while pulling yourself up from the chair with force, the legs scrapping against the floor. “And if you wake me up again I’ll stick that metal arm up your ass.”

With that, you left him in the kitchen alone. Fuck him and fuck whatever his problem was.

[crepesuzette2023]

Didn’t Mal promise a fan they’d meet Paul if she had sex with him, lied after the fact and she tried to kill herself to which he joked about it?

tw: rape, suicide attempt. This refers to an event that happened when the Beatles toured New Zealand—see: Chapter 9, "The Demon," in Ken Womack's book. There are several versions of the event (all mentioned in Womack's book). No matter which one you believe, they all have in common that a young woman from Wellintgon (she was in her early twenties) slashed her wrists in what was almost certainly Mal's hotel room. She was rushed to the hospital, and survived.

The press, fed by Derek Taylor, painted her as a 'hysterical fan' and tried to sell her story as a cautionary tale. (Girl tries to die for the Beatles.) George Harrison (Anthology) mentions a woman who slashed her wrists while being left behind in someone's room. In the book The Beatles Down Under, DJ Bob Rogers claims to remember the woman having sex with someone in order to meet the Beatles, and attempting suicide when it turned out the (unnamed) man she'd slept with could or would not help her. And Mal himself, in his autobiography, says he was not at the hotel that night, and instead spent time with the woman's mother, and that he came back to find she'd been 'gang-banged', and that she harmed herself in desperation afterwards.

None of the non-Mal sources mentions Mal by name.

This is an ugly, sad story, and I sure hope Mal did not laugh about it.

The book as a whole paints a grim picture of the Beatle years, and Mal is certainly not an heroic figure. Without making excuses for the way he treated women, including his wife, I think that he himself was a fan, who was hopelessly in love with the Beatles and Paul in particular, to a point where he was unable to escape their orbit and the rush of being 'with them', only to sink into depression when they ceased to be.

That is the cautionary tale here.

[orbital-inclination]

“What I Never Told You” 

On edge after entering an AU over-saturated with positivity, and unable to leave it, Dream and his brother have an argument. A long overdue argument. Part 1 (you are here), 2.

Notes: Moltendreams!AU. Set some time after the brothers left Dreamtale during a time when they were still unfamiliar with the multiverse. General warnings for: dreamtale typical angst/drama, references to past emotional manipulation and bullying. Wordcount: 2304

“Two paces. The rocks turn into pebbles on your left. It’s slippery.”

Dream nodded, and then because he wasn’t sure if Nightmare saw him or not, made a small noise of acknowledgment. He slid his foot forward, arms outstretched for balance, and gingerly took one step, then another. The stones of the river bank were smooth and round and as loose as a free-roaming egg on a table. He nearly stumbled when the rock underneath his foot dipped forward, but the writhing mass on his back pulled his weight backward and Dream found his footing on the steady wet crunch of gravel.

“How wide is the river?” Dream asked. He angled his skull, slightly canted in the direction of the cold patch of air a few paces in front of him. A dense cold spot usually indicated where his brother stood. Melancholy clung to Nightmare like morning dew. Even on days when his brother felt calm and focused, that heavy feeling was a breath away.  He followed his brother’s line of focus, but could no more sense the river than see it. The river babbled gently, and the pebbles underneath his feet sloshed so he knew he was at the water’s edge. Here the water was slow. Turn his skull in the opposite direction, however, and the playful sound grew louder.  “I don’t think a tree could stretch across it,” Nightmare said after a moment. “We will either have to find a bridge or follow the river until it narrows.” Dream tried to picture a span of water so wide a tree could not bridge the distance. He could not. “Is it deep?” “I can’t see the bottom. Do you remember how far it was, from the top of mother’s hill to the village?” Dream stared into the patch of watercolor darkness, where his brother stood, awed. Was it possible to build a bridge at that scale? “Are you sure you can’t teleport us across it?” Nightmare groaned, exasperated. “Dream, if I couldn’t teleport ten minutes ago, why would I have the ability to now?” “We’re farther away from town,” Dream argued. “With fewer souls nearby, the feeling should be less potent.” But now, Nightmare was exasperated and slightly irritated. “There’s too much positivity. Even here. At this point, I’m starting to think it’s a byproduct of the world itself, over its inhabitants.” This was becoming a problem. It wasn’t as though this world was devoid of negativity. And Nightmare would not have brought them here if the world had felt too dangerous for him. But that quickly changed. His brother was vulnerable without a significant source of negativity nearby. (Never mind mobility issues) So they’d fled into the forest. It didn’t feel safe in town and finding a cure for the curse came second to keeping each other safe.  (Dream would have protected him. Blind or not, he was determined to. But Nightmare felt he shouldn’t have to. And anyway, neither of them felt comfortable around large crowds.) “I can’t but you could. I don’t need to tell you how strong you are right now,” Nightmare said. “If I tell you how far to go and point you in the right direction-“ Dream quickly shook his head. The ambient positivity here was just as much a problem for him as it was for Nightmare. There was nothing he could use as a point of reference because of it. (except for his brother but Dream did not like the idea of traveling so far away from him.) How far was too far? How far was not far enough? All directions felt the same. The idea of teleporting now, without a solid anchor made him feel lightheaded.  “A bridge it is then.” Nightmare said, snidely. Dream felt as though he had lost two arguments instead of one. And maybe he had. Nightmare led him along the shoreline, commenting on obstacles but didn’t offer his opinion on anything remotely interesting until Dream got tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, and said. “Describe where we’re going. We ran down a hill to get away from town but the forest leveled out. The river is louder now. Are we traveling upstream or down?” “Down.” A spike of irritation. “The incline is subtle, but I believe the river is leading us into a valley. I can make out distant hills over the trees. No mountains. The horizon is crowned in green.” “That sounded like a line from one of your poems...” His brother stopped. “… you remember that?” “Of course I do!” It had been a long time since Nightmare had last recited his work, but Dream remembered. Nightmare used to write poetry almost as much as he read books. He stopped sharing them, at some point, years and years ago. He hadn’t heard one of Nightmare’s poems since... “I didn’t know you cared enough to remember.” Dream balked. “Why would you think that?”

Distressingly, Nightmare scoffed. “You were always helping someone from the village. I didn’t see you much.” Dream opened his mouth to protest but found himself clicking his teeth shut. The villagers had kept him busy. He couldn’t deny that. From sunrise to dusk there was always something to be done. An injury to mend. Attention to give. A ceremony to attend. Gradually, it became harder and harder to say no. A pit formed in his chest and Dream shook himself before the dark feeling could take root. He refused to let the feeling take hold. What right did he have to feel unhappy? It wasn’t like he had been mistreated. “I found time,” he insisted. Softly. “You read to me at night, remember? We couldn’t sleep because the wolves were-“ “They howled loudly in late summer. I remember,” Nightmare said bitterly. “You worked late into the evening to help the villagers harvest their crops in time for the autumn equinox. The preparations would last for weeks. I wouldn’t see you until well after sunset.” The tendrils on his back coiled in on themselves, uncomfortable. Nightmare was getting upset. “But it’s always about you, isn’t it?” Dream stilled. He was speechless. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” He didn’t need to see Nightmare’s glare to feel it. “Your idea of spending time together was doing what you wanted to do. When I told you I didn’t feel comfortable with the villagers, you ignored me-“ “That's not true!” “Yes it is!” Nightmare snapped. “The more time you spent with them the more you were convinced you were always right! Especially when I had something to say.” His chest was very tight and cold, suddenly. “That was- it was never about what I wanted! We were told to-” But Nightmare wasn’t listening. He was spiraling. “Enough, Dream. You chose to trust them over me. Accept it. There’s nothing more to it.” Dream felt his jaw lock. He couldn’t speak, his chest was too tight. Everything felt too tight. The ground was spinning and he was drowning. It had never felt like a choice at all. It’d felt inevitable. The river was no longer gurgling playfully, it wailed. Thrashing against the shore and loose stones. The spray was constant.

His brother came to a stop. “We cross here,” he said, mechanically. Calm held in place by a fragile wire. “The river is narrow here. There must have been a storm recently. We can use the fallen trees caught by the current to cross the river. We’ll need to be careful.” The crunch of pebbles underfoot. A splash. Dream didn’t move. “Dream.”

His jaw ached. Dream unclenched his teeth and counted the steps he took. One. Two. Three. Water reached his ankles before he felt close enough to reach for Nightmare’s hand. He was afraid Night’ would be too angry to help him up, but Nightmare grabbed his hand and without hesitation, pulled. The bark underfoot was slick and covered in lichen. Dream felt the growth peel as he carefully shuffled across the log. Nightmare held his hand tightly. “Two paces. I need to let go of your hand to climb over the next log. Use the branches as hand holds. You should feel them easily enough,” he still sounded so monotone. Dream bristled. “I know how to climb a tree.” The river thundered. He almost couldn’t hear the angry snap of his brother’s teeth under it. He dropped Dream’s hand like it was made of hot coal. Turned and climbed over. Dream took two steps forward and reached out to press his hand to the log. He dug his claws in, unhappy and begrudgingly grateful the tree wasn’t alive or magical. He could be as rough as he wanted to be. The negativity rolling off his brother sent the tendrils on his back lashing at nothing. He didn’t know what to do. Once on the other side, his brother grabbed his hand again, but his grip was too tight and resentment stung like needles. He yanked his hand back. “If you hate it so much, you don’t have to come with me.” A different emotion flashed through his brother. It was a sickly festering thing, but it went by so fast, Dream couldn’t hold on to it. “What are you talking about?” Dream hunched his shoulders. The tendrils on his back writhed. Every inch of him felt sickly and awful. “I don’t mind. I can take care of myself. I’m tired of making you miserable.” He heard his brother take a sharp breath. “I can’t-“ “You feel obligated to take care of me. I never asked for your help. And now you’re— and now it’s all my fault?” “I never said that. I never said it was your fault!” “I didn’t reach for the apple first, brother.” He didn’t know why he said it. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t stop the seething remark from leaving his mouth. Nightmare went deathly still. He grew colder than the darkest night Dream could remember. He grew so cold his magic felt like liquid fire. Something snapped. Nightmare snarled. “I was trying to protect the tree! I was trying to protect Nim’s resting place! You weren’t there. The villagers were always kind to you. You don’t know what they were like!” Dream couldn’t take it anymore. “I can feel your resentment, Nightmare. Sometimes you look at me with so much vitriol I feel nauseous! I was there every day you felt so miserable you couldn’t get up! I was there but you didn’t tell me anything, you never told me what was wrong!” “I was scared, Dream! They were going to take the apples no matter what I did. You left me alone to defend the tree by myself. You left me alone with people who hated me constantly! Why would I trust you with anything?” Dream recoiled. An invisible force squeezed his chest and the memory alone gave his brother so much pain. “Night’...” The log underneath them creaked. It pitched down, sharply, and the raging river spat high to drag him into the rapids. Nightmare yelled. He grabbed his arm and they scrambled over up-turned tumbling logs. They weren’t fast enough. Dream’s knee knocked against something hard. The log underneath his feet bobbed vertically and he went down. Fast. He sank like a stone to the bottom of the river, but the river was not still and he was sent tumbling into the rock and debris. He reached out, desperately burrowing his claws into any surface that would give, but the goop that coated his body was like syrup. The wraith of the river peeled layer after endless layer but everything he touched was as slippery as oil and he couldn’t hold on. His back hit something with a hard crack. White hot pain shot down his spine in a brief moment of agony. On instinct alone, he twisted around and heaved himself up over the boulder. He was met with cold, lashing air. “Dream!” Dream heard his brother through the roar of the tide, but he sounded far away. His skull was ringing, water poured from his mouth when he tried to yell and he choked. “-n-night’! Where are you!” “Don’t swim against the current! You’re facing the bank, go towards it! Hold on, Dream! I’m coming!” Struggling against the pull of the current, Dream dragged himself around the boulder, and vaulted for the shore he couldn't see or hear. If Nightmare said it was there, then it must be. The current rocked and rolled his body. It was a struggle to keep moving in one direction. Bones naturally sank and the goop was hardly buoyant. He struggled and kicked off from the riverbed until he felt pebbles under his knees and grit between his phalanges. Silt-covered pebbles gave way to mud. He crawled up the bank as far as he could before his strength gave out. An unpleasant force churned sour in his mouth. Dream choked and lurched forward heaving and gasping, on his hands and knees, until he wasn’t spitting up sand and gravel and wasted magic. His arms buckled underneath him. A whimper rattled his bones. The magic that coated his body had taken the brunt of the river and nothing felt broken because of it, but everything ached. He was so tired. “Dream! Don’t give up! Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep! The bridge is completely gone. I need to find another way to cross the river. I’ll be back, I promise! Don’t move!” “Don’t go,” Dream tried to say, but his voice came as a rasp and was drowned out by the river. If Nightmare said anything in reply. He didn’t hear it. His brother’s presence was already gone.

[1bringthesun]

alright. we’ve reached deranged o’clock. today, i, tai, will be dissecting the garb of Fyodor (bsd). if someone has done this already, oops! let’s begin.

to start, an image of Fyodor for reference.

so i’m kicking us off with his hat, because that’s probably the easiest part. the fandom has collectively agreed that it’s an ushanka, and yeah, i tend to agree. it pretty much looks exactly like this (image pictured below: white ushanka from this link).

so that’s that. to balance it out, i’m doing his cape next, because what the fuck. it looks like a pretty normal cape at first glance. one with fur lining. like this (image pictured below: a black cape with fur lining at the top near the collar from this link.)

but i urge you to go look back at the reference image, because not only does Fyodor’s cape not attach at the top, not only does it have buttons along the edges, but it has a notch lapel (a type of collar lapel; basically those foldy things by the sides at the top of a trench coat). and once again, it doesn’t attach at the damn top.

so that leaves us two options: either it’s an unbuttoned coat with sleeves that don’t show because it’s so dark and a fur lining, or it’s a really weird cape. and please spare me, because i know nothing about fashion. i’m doing this all for fun. so let’s explore each option.

it could definitely be something like this, except with fur added (image pictured below: soviet officer’s naval uniform from this link)

except… you know. it doesn’t have sleeves. but his cape doesn’t have anywhere to clip onto at the top, and it also has that collar lapel, and also buttons, so it barely looks like a cape at all! what are you WEARING, Fyodor??

there’s one last possibility, but it’s not a style of cape so much as it is one specific thing i found that looks like the discolored version of what Fyodor is wearing. because i know i’m going to hit the image limit, i’m just going to tell you to visit this link if you wanna see what it looks like. it’s just a lora piana cape.

in any case, his cape does look like a personally tailored version of something that originally came from the russian military, so there’s some food for thought. moving onto his shirt.

the one clothing item that looks most like what he’s wearing is a qipao/cheongsam top. for all intents and purposes, the style and everything looks quite similar—the buttons and how they’re in the middle, where the purple-colored trim would go on Fyodor’s shirt and how it aligns with the sewing, etc. here is an example.

(image pictured below: a white qipao/cheongsam top that honestly looks a lot like what Fyodor is wearing from this link)

that looks pretty similar, right? right?!?! but damnit Fyodor, you had to make things complicated, didn’t you?! because … because your collar? that is NOT a qipao/cheongsam collar. (image pictured below: official art of Fyodor holding his hat and smiling with no cape on from this link)

the only thing that would explain how this was still a qipao/cheongsam top was if he was wearing a fengxian collar. and even then… it’s not quite right. (image pictured below: woman wearing a red dudou with a fengxian collar from this link.)

…but putting so much effort into styling one single shirt… i mean, i couldn’t find any men’s examples of the fengxian collar because styling your qipao is more of a feminine thing to do. so let’s visit russian fashion again.

ah, but there’s the slight kicker. 19th century russian fashion was, to my knowledge, influenced by asian fashion. for example, the khalat, also known as a russian cape, which— huh, do you think he could be wearing a khalat?

….i finished talking about his cape. and as i was writing about the weird collar on his shirt, i remembered this official art, which i grabbed and saved directly from the manga so i don’t have a link source. (image pictured below: newish official art released in the manga—Dazai and Fyodor standing next to each other with yellow paint(?) severing their heads from their bodies and TV screens with various pictures surrounding them.)

Fyodor’s collar! look, it’s straight! maybe he IS wearing a cheongsam! the cape still has that weird collar lapel (goddamn it) so i can’t really say anything enlightened about that, but… the shirt!!

cool! alright! his pants! so this is really straightforward. idk if it’s pants that come as a pair with the shirt or something, but they just look like normal white linen pants to me. (image pictured below: linen, white pants on a woman from this link)

finally, his shoes. i only have one image left before i hit the image limit, so i hope you’re willing to scroll back to the top, where you’ll see his shoes look very strange, but surprisingly, they’re easy enough to label.

i think it’s likely he’s wearing Renaissance boots, given how they look almost identical to his sans the fact they’re disconnected in the front, but Renaissance boots DO have gaps, it’s just not pictured in the specific image of these specific boots i chose. (image pictured below: Renaissance boots from this link.)

yeah, they’re a little short, and maybe they don’t look EXACTLY right, but you can’t deny it’s the same style. if you think the shoe quarters look a little less attached to the vamps, then i’d just tell you to consider the fact he’s wearing spatterdashes and call it a day. (more about spats here.)

and finally, if you’re interested in 19th century/historical russian fashion, given Fyodor’s outfit seems pretty inspired by that, i advise you check out this link, which goes into some detail about things i didn’t.

of course, i hope you enjoyed my disorganized insanity, and may you have a good sun-out time or moon-out time!

[yukihime242]

While waiting for my turn in the clinic, I chanced upon this TikTok video which covered the Triquetra theory, what I believed is something some of you are familiar with. But what got me thinking was actually a comment to the video.

I tried searching for the video again but to no avail, nor do I remember the TikToker's name. All I remember is the TikToker commenting that he was very tired in making the video as he was more used to making slides instead.

Anyway, for the sake of everyone being on the same page, I will briefly go through the Triquetra theory, the comment and my thoughts on this entire thing.

Also, as a precaution, some minor 🚨 spoilers🚨 may be expected.

(Picture Source: Wikipedia thru' Google Image Search)

First of all, what is the triquetra?

The triquetra is an ancient Celtic symbol which is always associated with the power of three. Each pointy part of the triquetra would always represent something. A very common reference is the Holy Trinity of Christianity.

(Reference: https://www.causewaycoast.holiday/culture/exploring-the-triquetra)

Now that we have a brief understanding of what the triquetra is, what does it got to do with Genshin?

Well, the symbol is everywhere in the game. From on the face of the mora, the domain doors to the walls of the domains. It is believed that this symbol holds some significant meaning in the world of Teyvat.

(Picture Source: Genshin Impact Wiki Fandom thru' Google Image Search)

What the TikToker discovered is that the triquetra symbol seems to be associated with Celestia. However, he also discovered that when the triquetra symbol is flipped upside down, it seems to be associated with the abyss.

Doesn't that sound familiar?

Okay, I am not saying that the Abyss Order is the devil or anything but the meaning of an upright triquetra and a flipped triquetra seems to be associated with the general concept of "good" and "evil" respectively.

(Picture Source: Genshin Impact Wiki Fandom thru' Google Image Search)

And it does kind of make sense in some way because while six out of the seven nations always have some beef with the Fatui, their common enemy is always the Abyss Order.

That is the brief concept of the triquetra theory in Genshin and what was covered in the TikTok video. If you are interested, you can search up the triquetra theory. Surprisingly, quite a number of people covers this theory.

Anyway, moving on to the comment. The comment suggested the idea of Paimon being sent by the Abyss to look after the Traveler. The reason being? Because of the Celtic symbol on her body.

(Picture Source: Wikipedia thru' Google Image Search)

Remember what I said about the upright and flipped triquetra? Because the triquetra is flipped on Paimon, I can understand why the commentor suggested that idea.

But to me, while it does serves as an interesting theory, it does not feel like a complete one at all...

And this is where I have a theory of my own.

Paimon could be one of the most powerful entities in Teyvat.

(Picture Source: Quora thru' Google Image Search)

No, I am not associating her nor am I saying that she is the unknown god. I highly doubt it.

Why I am suggesting that Paimon is a powerful entity herself is because of the triquetra. Remember what I said about the triquetra associating with the power of three?

So far, we know Celestia and the Abyss Order are likely to make up two of the three parts of the triquetra, but who/what is the third part? My guess would be Paimon.

One "evidence" is because of the symbol on her body. Another "evidence" would be her overall design. Her sleeves and boots matches the design of the pillars that came down from Celestia.

(Picture Source: Genshin Outlanders - Quora thru' Google Image Search)

Moreover, the floating tiara on her head also closely resembles those "chandeliers" in the domains above the petrified tree.

(Picture Source: HoyoWiki! thru' Google Image Search)

Another "evidence" I would provide is that Paimon is the one and only type of, for the lack of better word, species of her kind. So far, throughout our journey in the game, many of the non-human species will always have another of their kind.

Itto, the oni, actually has another oni present in his story quest.

(Picture Source: HoYoLAB thru' Google Image Search)

Klee and Layla, along with Klee's mother Alice, are proof that elves do exist in Teyvat.

(Picture Source: TheGamer thru' Google Image Search)

Wanderer, who is a puppet, isn't the only puppet.

(Picture Source: Game Rant thru' Google Image Search)

And, if that is not enough, Albedo, who is a homunculus, isn't exactly the first of his kind with Durin being his sibling (though dead).

(Picture Source: Gameranx thru' Google Image Search)

I guess you get my point.

Paimon, so far, is the only one that doesn't have another like her. And we also know very little about her background.

And for argumentative sake, the Paimon we see now may not be her "true" form. The evidence of this stems from two other characters we know of, Guoba and Rukkhadevata.

(Picture Source: Genshin Impact WIki Fandom thru' Google Image Search)

Both of them have one thing in common, and that is they both shrank in size after exhausting their powers. The only difference is that Guoba lost his memories which is why he couldn't remember that he was a god before it was addressed.

It could be that Paimon is experiencing a similar thing. She could have likely shrunk and lost her memories of being one of the powerful the entities of Teyvat, and is unaware that she suffering from this.

Or that she is just one very good actor...

Overall, this are my thoughts about the triquetra theory and the alleged identity of Paimon.

Or that we are all just overthinking things...

[sablesoulfoolery]

So for those who claim AI art is real art; The biggest AI "Art" Program, Midjourney, has a huge bit of info that just came out.

What is this info, you ask? Well the development team behind Midjourney has been keeping a list of names of all the artists they were stealing from. And recently there was a large lawsuit that is happening. Currently the number of artists affected are reaching around roughly 1.5k.

Let me repeat: 1 THOUSAND, 5 HUNDRED ARTISTS. Which all had their art styles/ art pieces stolen for Midjourney to abuse and mash together. Maybe there's more numbers, more artists being stolen from, but this just comes to show that no AI art can fully make an original piece because they steal from artists that actually take the time to learn the craft.

I know most of you have your questions and concerns about this so lemme answer some of them:

-"What's the difference? I mean, I've seen artists use their computers to make art."

The difference is that artists have to pour money and time into buying the right device for their art, either being a tablet that hooks up to your PC or a tablet that becomes it's own display of your PC. Not only that, but they have to scour their sources to get the right art program for them. Not ai program, but a program that uses brushes, fill buckets, stamps, and other minor things like rulers or layers or filters.

-"Ok? But digital art isn't real art."

Making digital art works the same as traditional art. In school we learn about different mediums of art. Mediums are different layouts, canvases even of what we choose to make our art from. Saying digital art isn't real art isn't true because digital art can be considered art as long as it's made with the hands of a human with a passion.

-"Well, nothing's wrong with just using an AI program."

For you it may not be, but for the grueling hours artists have to spend to just have their work, their style, their own identity stolen- it could be just as bad as pirating a movie.

-"Well I don't know how to draw. Using AI is easier."

I assure you all artists didn't know how to draw at one point. But art isn't just some sports skill that needs muscle memory, like football or baseball. It's a craft, a product made from one's imagination and creativity. What matters most is how you use of it. What everyone needs to remember is Art takes time, and that practice doesn't make perfect; it brings improvement.

-"AI art does the work faster than I could do it."

Sure but there's a reason many people say Quality over Quantity. What does this mean? Well, in this case you can make all the AI art you want, but it will lack the personality behind their work. As for if you did it yourself, it may not look like the Mona Lisa, but it came from your gut, your heart, your MIND. Wouldn't you like to share a work with someone and say "Look what I did!!"? I would.

-"AI art gets me more likes."

But then what? You also get scorned by the artists that take their time for their work. There's only so long an AI user can hold out until they get tired of the backlash from the human artists.

-"Who cares? It's just a picture."

Artists do. Artists whose work was probably stolen to make your picture. Art enjoyers who have to worry if this is the future of art. Upcoming artists who has yet to improve their art.

-"Well since you said AI steal from artists, don't Artists also steal?"

Yes, some of them do. But let me clarify exactly what I mean.

So there's three main terms people use when using someone else's work: Reference, Tracing, and Stealing

Reference is using bits and pieces of ideas from other artists and remixing them to fit your style. Think of it as if you were tasked with designing armor. Well you can't just pull one out of your brain and say "Here's the armor!". You'd have to look up what armor looks like, where the separate pieces go, what layer folds over which, what protects the wearer, etc etc. things like that is what reference is.

Tracing is also a way of reference, but not the way you think of it. See with making a subject like a human standing up, you have to figure out how the joints bend. While referencing is nice, that's more of a complex strategy. So? What then? You can trace over the individual limb or piece to understand how it looks. Tracing mainly helps with perspective and also with details. Do you remember tracing over your hand in grade school? Think of it like that.

Stealing is not a way to learn from your art. Oftentimes the way someone can see a piece of work as stolen is by viewing the detail behind the art. Does this artwork have another that looks just like it by another artist? Does this artwork copy the same perspective and subject? Does this artwork have any base sketches or time lapses that shows an artists current formula? If you answered no to the last one and yes to the other two, congrats. The piece of art is stolen.

Oftentimes when artwork is stolen, the thief is reprimanded and gains the distrust of the community.

This whole tangent I went on is how you can tell someone really looked into art. Art can seem easy to copy but I assure you it's no easy feat. Could AI possibly get rid and replace artists? Maybe, but in doing so the art loses their luster, their shine. Eventually, if that happens, all artists that are currently living might probably leave social media. And there's only so much AI can create before it gets too repetitive and the errors AI makes are a pain.

-"Well why do you care?"

Because I was taught that art had meaning. Maybe not every bit of art, but the ones that are made with the finest of details are. I used art to escape the stress, the fear, the worry I had in my younger years. Art connected me to other people like me. I was bullied a lot in school so Art was the friend I had when nobody else became my friend. Through the pains of betrayal and constantly being unsure if I would even have a home again, Art was the one that helped me steady my feet and express myself in ways my words couldn't. I've met some amazing teachers and mentors that found me through my art. Some through my digital/traditional art, and some through other crafts I learned, like sewing and photography.

-"I would try, but art takes too much time and is too expensive."

All it takes is one canvas and one tool. If you choose to make digital art then there are plenty of free programs that gives you plenty of free brushes and tools to use. I personally use Medibang. All you need is a phone, or a tablet, or a computer.

If you choose traditional just get some cheap copy paper or a mixed media sketchbook and some pencils. If you want color, grab some cheap colored pencils or crayons. Eventually you'll find a medium you like and only from there you'll begin improving.

-"Nobody will teach me."

Many artists online will gladly give tutorials on how they learned to draw. Some may be more detailed, but you'll learn a way you like.

-"What if I don't want to draw?"

Well artists across many other platforms are accepting commissions and could use support. Just find one you like, request your art, and let them work once you come to an agreement about payment. Just a safe note; check through their history and prior works to see if they're legit. Some accounts usually steal from others.

-"How will I know which artists are good artists?"

Listen to the community. The biggest ones are currently TikTok and here on Tumblr. if anything bad arises or if an upcoming artist is shown to be open minded to their fans, you will know if that's an artist worthy of support.

I will simplify all of this. AI art could replace human art; but it can never fully replace the soul, the dedication, the skill it takes to make even one piece of art. If anything, consumerism is trying to make us feel like we will accept anything.

For a long time we did; We relied on Ai when it helped function our household items, when it aided us in the simple pleasures of miniscule things like self-checkout stations. When it vended our drinks and foods after a long day of work or when it heated up a stove for us to cook on. But for Art, Art is something that can't be replaced.

There's a reason why people grow so fascinated over art made in countries where AI isn't used, where they are seen as Natural Talent- But just to let you know, Art is actually a learned talent: Not with exercising our muscles, but our minds and hearts.

[truthdogg]

As I read the post linked below, it reinforced for me just how much media has changed in the past ten to twenty years. The post itself is a great snapshot of what’s required to understand a news story, and it demonstrates why most news media today is simply not working.

I don’t watch tv news, and haven’t for probably a decade. We have a subscription to the New York Times, but the login rarely works for me, and we’ve let our Washington Post subscription lapse. I get my news from a variety of online newspapers, npr, websites, blogs, and podcasts, and usually do an internet search for anything that sounds interesting or that I want to understand better.

This is a pretty terrible way to keep up with things. It takes a lot of time, and it requires a general knowledge of the ideological slant of the news outlet I’m reading. That means I either have to remember or look up who owns the company and who runs their editorial board, which takes up even more time.

I could save a lot of time by going to one source that not only spells out what just happened, but also tells who loses and who gains, what the impacts will be and how to process it, and perhaps even include links to speech transcripts and legislation for us to read on our own. Good newspapers used to do more of that, but they don’t anymore; instead they simply share the latest quotes about the subject at hand. (“He said this thing, she said a different thing, so you decide for yourself who’s telling the truth. What is truth, anyway?”) So now we need to piece full stories together from multiple sources, just like tumblr user @yiffmaster does above.

It takes a genuine interest in what you’re reading to spend the necessary time that on that. Otherwise all you’ll see are stories about how there’s a new hire at NLRB from SEIU and that upset somebody, or something about the Joy Silk doctrine that makes no sense on its own, or (most likely) that Biden spoke to a worker or two on a picket line somewhere but so did Donald Trump so both parties claim to support workers. It’s all meaningless individual trees standing on their own until you can step back, study, and see the forest.

That’s not to say we never get important dot-connecting well-researched articles. We absolutely do, and there are still plenty of amazing hardworking journalists, but the landscape is so fragmented that it’s hard to know where those articles will come from, whether they can be trusted, or often even how to find or access them. Often they don’t even have dates, so it’s hard to know just how outdated the information even is.

I would love to find a news source that organized its articles by topic and provided outside links. Every story could provide links to relevant info and source material, instead of offhand references. But such a broad news site doesn’t really exist among the sources I read. (TPM might get closest at times, but it’s a tiny company.) instead, an article gets published, it’s out of date a week later, and it remains the top search result for its subject matter for weeks, months or years. Try looking up what the Biden administration did to help rail workers after they went back to work at the start of December 2022, to see what I mean. It’s possible, but you have to already know what you’re looking for. Otherwise all you can find is that they let workers down by forcing them back to work, which isn’t remotely the whole story—what came after that was a very big deal.

But there’s a workaround to all of this that a lot of Americans use to feel they have the full picture. It’s a cable network that does connect all the dots. It ties stories back into an overarching narrative, and explains to viewers how each news story reinforces its narrative. Its viewers tune in for that narrative; they know who is blocking the programs they’re told are good or bad, and who supports the other ones. It’s called FOX News of course, and it’s complete garbage propaganda. It’s also genius in how it works.

There is no good way to deprogram a FOX viewer who’s sucked in, because there is simply no alternative that fully describes the stories that they follow. They’re in an alternative universe of facts that have bits of the real world thrown in for color. The stories that multiple reliable sources do provide cannot counter that narrative on their own, because they simply don’t explain enough. If anything they have the opposite effect, because the FOX viewer is arriving with a set narrative in their mind, and the small story that simply presents arguments with no conclusions will include the argument they’re familiar with. For them to come out of that well of ignorance will require research into multiple sources that they’re simply not going to ever do.

A liberal propaganda outlet to counter it is more than useless—most people who lean left find those annoying and and no one on the right would believe a word of it.

No, what we need is news for today to be organized completely differently, almost like a current events Wikipedia. Publishing a newspaper or making a newscast and sticking them online is borderline ridiculous. They’re only snapshots in time, and without a tree of links to accompany them—perhaps via a link back to a topic main page where that tree of links resides—they often become misinformation fairly quickly.

Many news outlets have taken some baby steps toward something like this, but only with major stories (“Follow our impeachment coverage here!”), and only with their own articles. This relegates other important news (like what the Biden Admin is doing with labor) to a lesser status and keeps these outlets as news gatekeepers, and it undermines their own credibility among doubters by presenting yet another closed system.

We need news sources that are much more comprehensive and committed to providing a full picture if we ever hope to undo the damage and division that propaganda is creating here. I’d love to know if any of you have found such a thing. I haven’t.

[daincrediblegg]

2, 9, 11, 12, 22?

2. Do you read/reread your own fics? It really honestly kindof depends on the fandom on this one. Generally speaking when I put some creative thing out there of any kind I am loathe to re-watch or re-read it (with the exception of looking at my own fanart- unless it was especially bad I love looking back at some of my old stuff just for the sheer thrill of seeing how much progress I’ve made) BUtT!!!! There is the exception of when it’s like. I’m either in a fandom in which the character I like gets character assassinated in fics a lot of the time and I need enrichment from outside sources or my own. OR when I’m just in a fandom where people don’t write x reader fics that much for the character and I’m the only one writing them and I have to re-read myself bc that’s the only content out there (current predicament re; everything Jared Harris has been in and it’s a crime that I’ve spent the whole year trying to remedy lmao).

9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written!

OK SO!!!! This was actually a couple of paragraphs I got down yesterday and it’s some of the more solid stuff I’ve put out in recent months, but I’m very proud of how it turned out:

Sinclair was never particularly fussy when it came to her appearance, which made changing for dinner a fairly brief affair. She had learned from an early age that there was certainly no room for such attentions on a ship, and in fact had great fun in witnessing first-time sea-faring ladies, passengers of course on The Demeter, who tried to keep their appearances in spite of the swell and sway of the high seas. She remembered fondly then, the laugh of Mrs. Rose Anthony. How she’d wished to hear it now and all these months gone past. She would have laughed to see Fitzjames on the deck this morning, with that ridiculous cloak flowing behind him like a peacock with his feathers at half mast. None of the men would see it as she did. Not that she was in too much want of friends among them. But fewer still would understand her sense of humor as Rose had.  Pondering this, Sinclair forewent her shirt and waistcoat- both of which were custom tailored, as it wouldn’t do for the navy to commission such a garment. But her father had, for her sake. One of his many parting gifts. The very same man whose picture Sinclair’s gaze drifted to as she buttoned the deep blue bodice that had also been part of the set he had purchased for her, this one long sleeved to match the deep blue flannel day skirt she kept on, and which had served her so well in the chilly climate. She’d missed too how well he’d been able to do her hair for an occasion like this, where Sinclair now only managed a bun tied fairly neatly to the back of her head (more than she’d dare to manage for her daily duties, she might add), but it suited her all the same for the impression Sir John, and indeed, most of the men had of her. Neat as a pin. Diligent. A fixture of a plain sort of beauty in the corner. Never the center of their attentions, but never quite ignored.

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

As I said in the other ask I have like. Just so many. None of them coherent- but THIS ONE has been my instrumental inspiration for a little while so there you have it. Someday I will consolidate all my fave lady terror vibes into a proper playlist... but that is not today...

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

I mean… sort of. Like in general I do like to have some kind of sense where something is going before I start it- if it’s anything I’ve learned from commercial failures like GOT and the Star Wars Sequels it’s that poor planning will fucking kill you because actually as it turns out narrative structure is important. But at the same time- I think this was a quote from George R.R. Martin that some writers are “builders” who have everything pre-conceived before they put anything down (in reference to Stephen King), and some are “gardeners” (like George) who let stories just grow as they go. For me personally I’ve never felt too tied to either camp, so I put forth my secret third option being: “chef”. I know what I want the end-product to be. I have a general sense of what it should taste like and how I should cook it-thematically speaking. But things still come up as I go. Sometimes it needs a bit more of one spice than another and I try to listen to those instincts when they tell me to add something to what I’m making. 

11 ANSWERED HERE

[haesunflower]

Hi tee 🤗

How have you been? I had a marketing-related question in my mind for a bit but I don't know how to word correctly or if it even makes sense (I don't have an excuse, I live in a country where English is one of the two official languages so in conclusion, I'm just illiterate or don't know how to communicate).

I don't know much about the marketing field but if you were working on two "projects" or campaigns that were "competitors" to each other, how would you go on about it? I'm asking because Wakeone (W1) is managing ZB1 and survivors of the W1 trainee layoff and although it's not certain, I'm hoping they have plans to debut the three known survivors (lolol).

Like It's nice of them (referring to W1 trainees) to do covers or post pictures daily (for the time being) so they don't lost momentum but I don't know why but I feel like it's not enough for me 😂 I don't know if this is weird but at least for kpop groups that I will gladly throw my 💸 at, I much prefer watching behind the scenes content (applies to Boys Planet and ZB1; think Bangtan Bombs for BTS if you know about that), something like the Boys Planet Top 18 Pyjama party, or the W1 trainee live (I kid you not, I've watched that live three times with english subs...to be fair, I'm trying to learn Korean 💪). Anyways, apologies for the ramble but I'm also curious if you have any theories about this lolol.

Have a good one 🫶 Don't forget to take care of yourself 🌻

hey moni! this question got me excited, i pulled out my laptop to type my response hihi

long marketing/business ramble under the cut lol

honestly, i've been thinking of that too! I was pleasantly surprised to see wakeone promoting their korean trainees and keeping their presence online alive whilst preparing for ZB1's debut. I do agree that it would be nicer to have more personalized content for them - we're literally being fed crumbs with their cute little dance covers and photos and what not. Maybe something like The Boyz' Flower Snack? They had a pre-debut show where they served in a cafe.

Going back to the initial topic of working on two separate projects that are in competition to one another: it honestly seems like a conflict of interest at first. But, we have to remember that wakeone (legally) "owns" the wakeone trainees and has invested much more in their training. Whereas ZB1 members are not bound by a longer contract, and there was little to no investment in the training of these members (except Taerae of course) because training came from the members' respective companies.

Thus, it would make sense to keep their in-house talent like the korean wakeone trainees active and relevant for as long as possible - making sure the general public and star creators know that they're still in wakeone. This builds up anticipation and support for the company from the fandoms of wakeone trainees. I think it's no coincidence that they started posting more around the same time woongki and haruto announced their departure from the company. It seems that wakeone has no plans with them at all, so they did the sensible thing and just left.

Going back, keeping their in-house talent relevant is important NOW given that zb1 is actively preparing and documenting their debut journey. Because when zb1 disbands, wakeone's source of money will be their in-house talent.

On a marketing perspective, these two groups (should they debut at around the same time) MUST have two differentiating branding. This means they must target a different target audience, embody different concepts, and dominate in spaces where they would not conflict with one another. I honestly think a boy-group trio hasn't been popularized ever (unless it's a unit like exo-cbx or nct dojaejung), and I wonder if wakeone is going in this direction. If ZB1 gets a darker group concept, wakeone's in-house group should go the opposite direction.

However, it is also possible that they might be applying SM's strategy when it comes to company promotion. SM groups are uniquely distinct from one another. But do you ever notice how more than 1 SM group seems to promote at the same time as another SM group or soloist? Lee Sooman's previous strategy was like "I'll make my artists comeback at the same time so all the charts are dominated by SM. doesn't matter which SM artist you choose to support at that time, it won't matter, because SM artists will dominate all the charts". SM takes a "company" approach when it comes to dominating the market.

On a business level, I don't know if Wakeone is staffed well enough to handle another full functioning group ON TOP of their current workload with Kep1er. Thus, I think it would be smart for Wakeone to focus on the quality of their management, rather than the quantity of their groups. In short, they're not prepared for this type of artist expansion.

But as a phanbin voter :') i hope he gets to debut tho. I believe he'll make it big one day! hoping for his success and happiness

also hope you're doing well Moni <3 love conversations like this!! make sure to sleep well and eat all your meals mwah

[scorbleeo]

Book Review: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

by Susanna Clarke

Source: Amazon

At the dawn of the nineteenth century, two very different magicians emerge to change England's history. In the year 1806, with the Napoleonic Wars raging on land and sea, most people believe magic to be long dead in England--until the reclusive Mr Norrell reveals his powers, and becomes a celebrity overnight.

Soon, another practicing magician comes forth: the young, handsome, and daring Jonathan Strange. He becomes Norrell's student, and they join forces in the war against France. But Strange is increasingly drawn to the wildest, most perilous forms of magic, straining his partnership with Norrell, and putting at risk everything else he holds dear.

ISBN: 9781408891469 (2017) | Source: Goodreads

This Reading Journey Took An Interesting Turn

There are a lot of factors Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell has that are usually book turnoffs for me. Many will assume the thickness being one of them but when it comes to fantasy novels, it's not one. So, what turnoffs was I referring to then? Well, I really dislike historical fiction, especially if we're talking about it taking place in the 19th century. I love myself a medieval time but the victorian ages to the 19th century is not my favourite period. The 19th century writing style is also something I don't really like, narration is fine but formal speech, I hate it. And last but not least, slow pacing bores me easily and most of the time, it plays into why I refuse to give a book a higher rating.

With that being said, this would have never been a novel I would pick up if not for the fact that it was recommended to me by an author, and the TV show. I did not expect to pull through this book till the end. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell was written into three main parts and unfortunately, part one was a horrible experience. I was either ready to DNF this book, or give it a 2 or 3 star rating. Honestly, I believed even if I finished it, it was going to be a book I hated. So, why was part one such a horrible experience for me?

Well, remember the three turnoffs I mentioned earlier on? Part one was all that, plus no plot and just all about Mr Norrell which yes, I do get it. Part one was about Mr Norrell so what was I expecting? But goodness gracious, Mr Norrell was not a pleasant main character to read about. I was barely hanging in there being frustrated by that man. Fortunately, I told myself time and time again, I need to at least get a few chapters of part two in before I decide if I should DNF the book. I did, and things took the most interesting turn.

In my opinion, as much as I hated it, I appreciated that Clarke made all those chapters focusing on Mr Norrell before Jonathan Strange came into the picture. He really was unbearable but then the reading experience made it feel as if I was getting to know Mr Norrell myself, from start to end. Because of that horrid first part, I understood the relationship between our two English magicians and why Mr Norrell was the way he was. Ironically, going into part two and then three were the reasons I finished this book forgoing my distaste for Mr Norrell.

Moving on, I think some people would have disliked Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell for its snail pace. I did not enjoy it at first but then I ended up loving the pacing of this book. It was kind of cathartic that the entirety of the book was at a constant slow pace. Even at the plot's climax, it felt melancholy. If you know, you know.

Also, the prophecy. How do I even begin articulating my feelings for the prophecy? Initially, I did not care about it but then I soon realised this was not the kind of book where one character will tie everything together and reiterate for the readers. Therefore, half way through the book, I decided to write it down and decipher it as I went along. It was almost like solving a mystery crime as I slowly discovered what each line of the prophecy meant. And by the end of it all, it was absolutely liberating.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is a reading experience I have never actually encountered despite having read so many books. The journey was magical and I am aware this is not a book for everyone but if you think you can tackle it, I say go ahead.

Rating: ★★★★★

[moongurl95]

Chapter 7.3 – What are you not telling me?

“I’ve now bought my freedom from you, now leave me and my family alone!” The man hissed through his teeth, clearly not afraid to show his annoyance.

“Come now, no need for such hostilities. One would think you’ve forgotten your place, dear little brother.” The other man balked at being referred to as such, while Victor still continued in mock light heartedness, “I am grateful to have you covering my name for me at the Ministry, seeing as they still hold our family name in such high regard. Tell me, might they also be singing you praises for your good work with providing the Muggles with— shall I say, ‘medical’ substances?”

He couldn’t help to chuckle lowly at seeing the other’s face pale, realization finally settling in at what Victor still had over him— he couldn’t fault the younger man for trying though, there was good business in feeding the Muggle populace’s addiction to any form of hallucinogen after all. Pain, it seems, was always used as an excuse to escape. What cowards, though profitable cowards.

“No matter.” He slapped on the table as he rose to stand, causing his companion to jerk in his seat from the seemingly broken tension.

“Give my regards to your wife, my sources tell me she’s not quite far along.” Victor twirled his hat in his hands before putting it on, “Bravo on taking the initiative to propagate our family, dear brother.” He grinned at the venomous glare afforded his way, preparing to Apparate away just as the younger chose to speak up, “I must warn you, Victor, there’s a reason why our father only wanted to take things small. At the rate you’re going, this may all just blow up in your face and when that time comes, I will not hesitate to wash my hands of your misdeeds.”

The resulting silence was short but palpable as Victor’s next words cut through like a knife, “Then pray that never happens, because if it does? I also will not hesitate to bring you down with me.” He had said in an even tone, complete with a smile that he knew would stand as more of a threat. Frustratingly similar to their old man, his younger brother was weak and only proved useful for his contacts within the Ministry, he wasn’t cut out to know anything about the powerful stores of magic that Victor was tracking.

But he now felt absolutely livid at being theatrically shammed the second time around on making progress in his search for more of this power, though he tried not to show it as he approached the infernal goblin who dared offer a partnership with him in the first place.

“You said you could get to the child when they came to Hogsmeade. That all you needed was a distraction. I gave you a distraction!”

“I just watched a student take down your ‘distraction’.” Victor countered, narrowing his eyes at the goblin’s growing frown. He’d first thought this student would be used as leverage against the Hogwarts professor who now held the Portkey he’d tracked to George Osric, but now he felt that he wasn’t being given the whole picture after witnessing that brilliant display of power… “Who is this child? What are you not telling me?”

“All you need to know is that if you cannot get to the child, then you have no value to me.”

“Let’s go.” It was faint but Victor knew someone had been listening in on his conversation when the goblin had also raised its eyes towards the top of the stairs, he made to glance behind him to see who it was but caught no one in sight, “Come Theophilus, it seems we have a lamb to catch.”

“Remember, I want that child alive.”

He resisted the urge to chuckle at the goblin’s arrogant tone, of course he’d want his own set of questions answered first before he would think about handling over the child, and it didn’t take long for him to surmise where his notorious eavesdropper was headed to as he caught the tail ends of a couple of school robes hurriedly turning the corner towards the Three Broomsticks.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

Sebastian still held Beatrice close as they rushed inside the Three Broomsticks, though they chose to remain inconspicuous as he ran a hand through his hair, noticing that his companion now gravitated near the counter where they both took a seat.

“Now, what can I— Oh, there’s a face I haven’t seen before.” Sirona greeted, catching the girl’s wandering attention, “It’s my first time here.” Sebastian caught Beatrice’s nervous glance despite her smile.

“Welcome! Butterbeers on me.” He grinned at the prospect of free drinks, but quickly sobered at seeing Beatrice’s now downcast look at Sirona’s mention of the Troll attack, “Glad to see you two escape injury.”

“Thanks to this one. Single-handedly took down a Troll!” Sebastian raised the freshly served tankard of Butterbeer towards Beatrice, wanting to at least cheer her up after the ordeal they faced earlier, and it seemed to work as she mockingly kicked at his shin to quiet him down, a small smile now gracing her features.

“Is that right? Well done.” Though Sirona didn’t seem to take Sebastian’s words to heart as she amusedly glanced between the young couple in front of her.

“Thank you for this.” Beatrice said before she took a sip out of tankard, Sebastian watching over the rim of his own, seeing her face light up in delight at her first taste of Butterbeer. He had to resist the urge to wipe off the traces of foam that clung on the tip of her nose and upper lip as Beatrice lowered her tankard to wondrously stare at its contents, before grinning up at him as she shyly wiped at her face. For now, Sirona’s talks of something amiss and brutes in town flew over their heads as they took this moment in between themselves, just before the double doors swung open—

“Hmph. How timely.”

Sebastian craned his neck towards the entryway, quickly catching Beatrice by her arm before she could fully turn in her seat to glance back at the ensuing confrontation Sirona was handling, though it seemed she already saw who it was judging from the tense look on her face.

He was having none of that though as he gently removed his hold on her, slowly motioning for them to keep their heads down as he reached for his Butterbeer, offering Beatrice a comforting smile as a way to calm her when—

“Come now. No need for theatrics. I’m only here for this one, anyway.”

The change in her look was instant— a sharpness that overtook Beatrice’s features as she turned to stand, but Sebastian had already stood by her side before he could think much about it.

“My friend is enjoying a well-earned Butterbeer.” Sirona strongly said to Rookwood as a means to deescalate the rising tension.

“I only want a quick word.”

Beatrice quickly brandished her wand before Rookwood could even think about taking another step towards her, making Sebastian hold out his own wand as several of the pub’s patrons also rose to their defense.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said my friend is busy.” It wasn’t only Sirona’s words that made Rookwood take a step back this time and Sebastian now recognized his right-hand man, Theophilus Harlow, immediately take to the defense of his boss. The crony may have already taken out his wand but Sebastian also had a Hex ready to cast at the tip of his tongue, if any of the two tried anything funny.

“One would think you’d all had enough bloodshed for one day.”

Rookwood took a quick glance at the crowd before settling his gaze on Beatrice, staring at her long enough that Sebastian almost pulled her behind him, had he not felt the tell-tale hair-raising sensation coming off the girl. He didn’t doubt she’d hesitate to smite the gang leader if all hell broke loose here right now.

“Come, Theophilus. The Three Broomsticks isn’t what it used to be. Let’s take our Galleons elsewhere.” Despite what Rookwood said, Sebastian still felt tense at how Beatrice was surely being profiled by the notorious Wizard, “Can’t drink Butterbeer forever.” Rookwood mockingly said before turning around to finally exit the pub with Harlow following after him.

It wasn’t until Sirona made sure that the two brutes completely left, did Sebastian lower his guard as he heard Beatrice’s soft sigh of relief, “Seems you’ve made an unfortunate enemy.” Sirona said, walking back towards them, “Watch your back. Rookwood and Harlow are worse than any Troll you might encounter.”

Sebastian took a moment to grasp the events of his first afternoon back in Hogwarts, and here was Beatrice, an obvious troubled look on her face at being understandably new to the Wizarding community and yet— “Trolls, Ranrok, and Rookwood? What are you not telling me?”

Sebastian couldn’t now help but ask as Beatrice turned towards him with an unreadable look on her face, “I promise to tell you everything, but…” A shaky breath broke through her façade as she momentarily closed her eyes, only opening them to now look at him almost pleadingly, “It’s perhaps best I do that later.” She’d whispered that last part in answer, making Sebastian fold as he just let out a breath in contained frustration.

“And on that note, I think we should head back to the castle.” He was about to lead the way out when a voice intercepted them—

“And just where do you think you’re both going?” They both turned back to watch Sirona, holding two plates filled with a steaming pile of food, while looking at them as if they’ve each sported three heads, “You both can’t be thinking of going out there right after what Victor just said, did you? Sit here and eat.”

It wasn’t after Sirona said that did Sebastian feel his stomach grumble, he didn’t have much from lunch due to him wanting to sneak back into the Library earlier, so now he had to embarrassingly glance at Beatrice to see if she’d heard his ravenous lapse on display, to which she’d only held a hand to her mouth, a well-placed cough suspiciously covering a hint of laughter before she followed after Sirona with an amused smile gracing her lips instead. Sebastian almost wished a Troll would pulverize him into the very ground right that instance.

“Knowing Victor, he’s an opportunist, but he’s busy enough not to stand around just to abduct a couple of students. You’ll have to wait him out, for now.” Sirona advised, placing another round of Butterbeers beside their plates. They now sat in a more conspicuous corner of the pub, when Sebastian made to pay, Sirona had stopped him yet again saying, “On the house. It’s worst to have my clientele of students be scared off by some brutes, that’s what the Hog’s Head is for.”

“I’m certainly glad Sirona’s here. Told you she was one of the good ones.” Sebastian remarked as the barkeep tended to her other customers.

“I can see that. She didn’t seem at all intimidated by Rookwood and Harlow.” Beatrice agreed before they both turned their attention to their plates of food. Sebastian was already eagerly digging into his plate of Haggis when he noticed his charge was just daintily taking bites out of her own plate of steak pie.

“Not up to your taste?” He’d known the pub’s usual specialties were a far cry from what was mainly served during their meals in the Great Hall, but quickly realized this may all still be part of the new experience for Beatrice.

“It’s delicious, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that… I’m feeling a bit queasy, is all.” She sighed, choosing to pick on the mini roasted potatoes on her plate instead.

“I hope you’re not getting ill?” Sebastian peered at her, much too aware of looking for signs of faint as he was used to with Anne.

“It’s really just nerves, I suppose…”  Beatrice almost whispered to herself, leaning her head on a hand as she continued to finish her food in a diligent manner.

Now Sebastian was having none of that. If there was one other thing he took pride in, it was his ability to make small talk even in the most tense of situations, although Ominis hated him for it on some days.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started slowly between bites, watching to see Beatrice look at him with a somewhat guarded expression, even though he was only planning to take her mind away from this afternoon’s troubling turn of events.

“Your wand. I can’t help but notice it has this unusual sheen to it… What’s it made of?”

“Oh, this crooked thing?” She’d asked, a fond smile on her face as she gently laid her wand on the middle of the table for Sebastian to see amidst the pub’s dim lighting, “I saw ‘Aspen’ labelled on the inside of the box and Mr. Ollivander saying something about its dragon heartstring core, why do you ask?”

“Thought I remembered Lucan going on about some infamous and secretive club surrounding Aspen wands…” Sebastian rubbed his chin in contemplation, his memory seeming to fail him for the moment.

“Like how exclusive and unsanctioned Crossed Wands is?” Beatrice teased behind the rim of her Butterbeer, clearly finding amusement in seeing him flounder.

“Close. But not quite.” He narrowed his eyes at her with a smile of his own, completely banishing his train of thought as he laid his wand next to hers, “One thing I’m most certain though is that I’ve found a kindred spirit, what with our similar wand cores— quick learners we’re considered.”

“And temperamental too— or so I’ve read.” Beatrice supplied offhandedly as Sebastian silently observed her otherwise intrigued expression while she gingerly traced a finger along his wand’s handle, “Where did you have this made?” The question quickly fell from her lips.

“I asked Ollivander what would best suit my Hawthorn wand before he imitated that particular design.”

“Imitated?” Beatrice’s interest was now focused on him as Sebastian just realized that— “You haven’t heard about the ridiculous legend of the wand handles scattered across the Highlands and even in our prestigious school, have you?” He’d asked, almost incredulous.

“If all legends were considered ridiculous, I’d have sooner found the idea of a wizarding school that teaches magic to be incredibly fantastical, so at least tell me what you know about this please?”

Sebastian huffed, partly glad he’d succeeded in somehow easing Beatrice’s mind off the afternoon’s turn of events, still— “It’s more just for cosmetic glory, really. Who would even spend the time to search for all 42 of these handles? They’d probably just end up being an eccentric collector of some possible heirlooms that have been surely lost to time.” He finished saying, pocketing his wand, as he noticed a thoughtful look had overtaken his companion’s demeanor before Sebastian glanced down at his pocket watch.

“Speaking of, I think we’ve spent enough time here as it may, wouldn’t you?” At Beatrice’s nod in agreement, Sebastian quietly left a couple Galleons for Sirona to find on their table before they’d exited the Three Broomsticks. The sun had already set, leaving only several street lamps lit outside to guide them as Sebastian quickly steered Beatrice to the nearest Floo Flame, South of Hogsmeade.

“Where are you two headed? No, don’t tell me. I shall see you there.” Said Ignatia Wildsmith’s cheery voice before the pair were transported right back in Hogwarts, just by the Grand Staircase.

“Professor Weasley’s certain to hear about the Troll attack soon if she hasn’t already. Didn’t want to risk another detention from getting back after hours.” Sebastian’s explanation slowly came to a stop as he now took note of Beatrice’s fixed gaze upon him.

“I was hoping you’d consider heading to the Hospital Wing before retiring for the night? Just to be certain an actual medic properly tends to your head injury from earlier…” Beatrice’s eyes slowly glided over his face in concern, making Sebastian hope he wasn’t caught blushing under her seemingly intense scrutiny.

“Nothing a good night’s rest wouldn’t fix. The thing you should concerned yourself with was our plans on supposedly spending Study period together, remember?” Sebastian couldn’t help but grin at seeing Beatrice gape at him, her mouth caught on an inaudible “Oh!” before pursing her lips as she tried to think of an immediate solution to their otherwise jilted evening.

“Would it trouble you to make time for it tomorrow after classes, perhaps?” He suggested in edgewise, finally taking pity on the girl’s internal struggle.

Letting out a sigh, but smiling back at him all the same, Beatrice acquiesced, “Alright, I think I owe you that much at the very least.”

“And I think you’ll need to tell me why Victor Rookwood has you in his sights, at some point. But we can talk about that on another time. For the moment, I should bid you good night.”

Sebastian momentarily saw the conflicted look that marred Beatrice’s face before she turned to take the stairs up to her House’s “ivory tower”. He didn’t deem it necessary to push her for answers at the moment, not when he had a nagging feeling someone was listening in on them, though he couldn’t be sure if it was one of the living student body as the halls were now mostly silent when he made the descent back to his Common Room.

Aside from Professor Weasley, the one other person Sebastian didn’t relish having to find out about the afternoon’s events was Ominis— as impossible as it is to keep anything from the gifted Legilimens— Sebastian would rather not give his oldest friend an immediate reason to owl Anne about any grievances that involved her twin brother.

Fortunately, his shared dorm room with Ominis already had its lights dimmed, signaling that maybe his friend had already turned in early for the night. Maybe if Sebastian woke up earlier by the morning, he could also delay the inevitable interrogation that was sure to come.

Busy ruminating this as he got himself ready for bed, it was too late for Sebastian to notice the ominous glow that silently approached him in the dark until it was almost shoved into his face, followed by a deathly serious tone.

“Sebastian. What is this I’ve heard about Rookwood setting his sights on the new fifth year?”

next chapter ⤜⤏

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

The Super Mario Bros. Movie may be the most literal adaptation of a video game I’ve ever seen. I can just picture an emergency meeting at the studio where Matt Fogel told some executive “We have a problem. I’ve written the plot but I’m pretty sure it's only about 45 minutes' worth of movie. Also, the characters are thin and obvious”. The response? “Well then, cram in as many references to the Super Mario movies as you can and keep cramming until you have a product that meets our 92 minute quota. This should also take care of that 'character' problem you've foolishly highlighted”.

Mario (voiced by Chris Pratt) and Luigi (Charlie Day) are “The Super Mario Brothers”; the plumbers Brooklyn calls when the day needs saving. At least that’s what they’d like to be. When Mario and Luigi get sucked into a warp pipe, they land in the middle of an impending war between Bowser (Jack Black), his army of Koopas and the nearby Mushroom Kingdom. Worse, Luigi falls into Bowser's clutches. Desperate to save him, Mario goes to the Mushroom Kingdom’s Princess Peach (Anya Taylor-Joy) for help.

I vividly remember seeing the 1993 Super Mario Bros. Movie for the first time and feeling so disappointed that it looked and felt NOTHING like the games. I hated it and wished it was different. Well, that finger on that monkey’s paw menacingly curled alright. Be careful what you wish for.

Brought to us by Illumination, this is a good-looking movie. I can also praise Jack Black as Bowser, who is clearly having a blast, particularly when his character expresses his love for Peach through song. This is not a musical but the picture makes a great effort to give Bowser some much needed personality and it accomplishes this by giving him a few key eccentricities. Even if you know the incoming tune, it’ll still have you laughing out loud. I wish I had more good things to say. It moves at a fine pace? Kids watching won’t be bored? Sure. Let’s go with that.

For many years, you could count the number of good video game-based films on a single hand. The Super Mario Bros. Movie shows why. I’d wager that Mario is the most recognizable video game character of all time. Nearly every game featuring the Italian-American plumber would still be fun today. What the games do not have, however, is a story. There’s an objective, there are enemies and there’s a distinct visual style. That’s not enough and the source material isn’t an excuse. The Lego Movie proved even a no-story property can make for interesting characters and an intelligent plot with something to say. Super Mario Bros. is closer to Playmobil: The Movie. Not THAT bad, but so much of it feels like a commercial.

The story is so basic and the jokes aren't innovative but that's "ok" because they're slathered with endless references/easter eggs. Some are subtle, like background graphics that reference Jump Man. Others are so painfully in-your-face you groan. It’s not enough for the heroes to race to their destination; they have to be inside the same vehicles players use in Mario Kart, on a rainbow road like you would see in the game. Then the characters at the front of the group have to be taken out by a blue, flying shell. We know it's a blue flying shell because the character who “throws” it tells us it's a blue flying shell. It’s as if Nintendo was scared all of their games would suddenly vanish from existence so they had to write down reminders for themselves of everything featured in all of them.

You might argue those references are what we came here to see. I suppose you're partially right but so much of the film is spent reminding us of why we bought our tickets it forgets to do anything else but the bare minimum. You'll remember you've seen this picture but you won't learn anything new from it about any aspect of the franchise, its fans or creation.

I’m probably being harsher on this film than I should be but here’s the thing. There are so many other, better things you could be doing instead of watching this The Super Mario Bros. Movie. Playing any Mario game, for instance. At least there you’re actively participating and developing your hand-eye-coordination. You’ll probably laugh harder and have more fun too. The Super Mario Bros. Movie is just a way to exploit an already-existing property - and audiences. (Theatrical version on the big screen, May 12, 2023)

[shafiqah-in-diaspora]

Oh Japan, You Have My Heart

Unlike previous years, from 2023 onwards, I vowed to travel with purpose. My inaugural destination? The land of the rising sun— Japan. Why Japan, you ask? Well, as a child, my world was framed by a tiny 4-inch TV screen, and my sole entertainment came from watching cartoons. I remember looking up to those animated characters, drawing inspiration from their 勇気 , 優しさ及び 回復力 (yūki, yasashisa oyobi kaifukuryoku). The lessons I absorbed from my favorite fictional heroes influenced my now worldview and personal growth. Japan was not merely a trip; it was a meaningful journey to the very source of my childhood dreams.

Tokyo

My first stop was the city of Tokyo. While Tokyo may not be my favorite, it is undeniably a city of great landmarks and vibrant energy. When I say vibrant energy, I mean VIBRANT ENERGY. The nightlife here is wild! Truly a sensory overload of neon lights and bustling streets. Imagine the constant chitter-chatter of people around you, the thumping beats from various music stores, massive TV screens on buildings flash ads adding to the sensory extravaganza, and the colorful array of anime costumes mingling with some avant-garde fashion and plain old simple attire—like me, in my unassuming Malaysian “おばあちゃん” (obāchan) outfit, lol. Every few minutes, you hear the roar of planes flying overhead and the clatter of trains running on the railway tracks. It’s sensational!

But one memorable experience was visiting a koi pond at Senso-ji Temple, which is located in Asakusa, not far from the heart of the city. A bit quieter compared to the city's bustling core, but more aligned with my pace.

I recall an elderly gentleman standing there with great pride, enthusiastically explaining about the koi fish: "This is koi!"—as if to ensure everyone was aware of their significance. His English was limited, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his explanations would have been even more detailed if he were more fluent or if I had spoken Japanese. But either way, the whole situation was endearing and quite charming, especially knowing that koi fish are deeply rooted in the Japanese culture. I could almost picture a local uncle in Malaysia proudly introducing tapirs in a similar manner lol.

Kamakura

This city owns the depths of my heart. Kamakura isn't like any ordinary town in Japan; it has its own unique charm. Located just south of Tokyo in Kanagawa, this seaside gem lies along the coast of Sagami Bay and is often referred to by locals as the 'Kyoto of eastern Japan.'

My personal favorite is the Enoshima Electric Railway (I’m currently admiring the mini keychain and two hand-drawn postcards proudly displayed on my wall). The railway meanders through the town, making various picturesque pitstops by the sea—oh, the sea!—and passes through local school crossings and quaint crossroads. And, if you’re lucky, you might even catch distant glimpses of Mount Fuji.

Now, imagine this scenic journey with the sound of waves crashing against the shore, complemented by the distinctive chime of the Japanese train signaling as the crossing gates lower to let the train pass. God, it was truly magical— and I miss it dearly.

Warning: I later learned that Kamakura is susceptible to tsunamis due to its coastal location. So if you plan to visit, be sure to take precautions and stay updated on local safety guidelines. Please watch the video below to find out where the nearest rugged FC or steel-structured building is in case a tsunami hits.

Nikko

Nikko is my second personal favorite after Kamakura. It is located in Tochigi, in the mountainous region to the north of Tokyo, approximately 140 kilometers from the capital. Imagine seeing a lake perched on a mountain 1,269 meters above sea level, with a stunning view of other mountains (Mount Yusaka & Mount Hangetsu) in the distance?! SubhanAllah.

This lake, known as Lake Chuzenji, lies at the foot of Mount Nantai, Nikko's sacred volcano. The eruption of Mount Nantai once blocked the valley below, creating Lake Chuzenji just about 20,000 years ago.

I had hoped to take a boat ride on the lake, but unfortunately it was closed due to the extremely harsh temperatures. By late November the conditions up there were biting cold with icy winds that seemed to cut through everything. I could even see snowflakes swirling around, and winter hadn’t even officially arrived yet!

But even though the frigid weather and the closed boat ride were a letdown, the sheer beauty of Lake Chuzenji made me long to return. It was one of those moments where you’re left in awe, and you just know you have to come back to experience it all over again. If this is the beauty of the dunya, imagine what Jannah must be like.

[inthiseternalmoment]

Visiting Bahá’í Again

Day 2 of journaling and I’ve moved to Tumblr, plus I feel like a little boy again in more ways than one 🫢

9/3/2023

I started journaling yesterday and as you know, I’m serious about everything I do (he said seriously). So I started thinking about my options when it came to where I would store my entries and it was important to me that I could refer back to them from wherever, whenever.

I considered Pages on Mac, the Day One journaling app, and then Medium and Tumblr. I landed on Tumblr because I could post freely on here with no expectation that my writing is pretty/concise/witty/informative (Medium) and my writing could live online for free (which excluded Pages and Day One).

These posts are for me and by me, and while I don’t mind if people see these, I don’t want to write for anyone else. As a recovering people pleaser I am done existing/creating for others, and this diary/journal is no exception. If you as a reader resonate with these entries, awesome! But I’m at peace knowing that I can come back and read these.

Just like the rest of us, I’m on a journey of expansion and it’s important to me to be able to look back on the many moments I had throughout my life.

The last time I journaled was in high school, and it’s been almost 10 years since then. I’m doing this as a way to come back to myself, but also as a way to get down the absolutely chaotic thoughts and feelings that I have as a smol human.

Yes, I’m a spiritual fractal of one of many divine sparks of source/god/the universe/all that is and I’m just expanding my awareness of that with each day, post by post. 🧎🏻‍♂️

Aprille and I obviously cleared the air and got back onto the same page as we always do, and always will. She even answered questions for me about Tumblr as she was a regular user back in high school (I just used it for *orn).

Today we went all the way up north to Evanston where there is a temple called Bahá’í House.

“Yes Smoking” and a very useful CTA sign

Butterfly synchronicities I’ve been noticing of lately and a really pretty shot of the empty L

On the way to the temple, I saw cicada shells for the first time since childhood back in Okinawa/Hateruma and I got so excited! It was like I was a little boy again looking at all the cicada shells on trees. What’s funny is that just yesterday I wrote about the cicada I spotted on the tree that flew away with piss, and now I got to see even more of this childhood creature. These synchronicities are insane, man.

All the different cicadas I saw (there were more but then I would’ve taken a picture at every tree and we had a temple to see 😤)

The main temple is absolutely beautiful and I’m so happy I randomly came across it while exploring the edges of the CTA on Google Maps.

We sat inside for a while and meditated – I took the opportunity to practice the karma-clearing energy exercise in Voyages 2 as well the general meditation I learned from Dr. Steven Greer and what I remember of a basic white-flame meditation I remembered Eric Jacobsen (Seattle tattoo artist) told Aprille and I about. There’s a little child-like hope in me that was wishing that my meditations were stronger this time around because they were done in such a spiritual place, but who knows 🥴

Afterwards we took the Purple line back to Davis to eat in downtown Evanston. We originally intended to each at 527 Cafe but they were only doing takeout so we were redirected to Todoroki, a Hibachi sushi place.

Yummy sushi hibachi baby ooo 😔

While waiting for our mobile order at 527 Cafe (they had some yogurt rice drinks we could not pass up), we checked out the beach.

I love discovering cool spots just by walking around, and this place is no exception 🥰

It feels amazing to be coming back to myself in this way. I loved writing, and now I can write and get my feelings off my chest when I have them.

As for my feelings from yesterday: today the revelation came to me while talking to Aprille that I need to enjoy this time being single. There will come a time that I will no longer be single, and as strange as it may seem, there are unique aspects of being separation with a romantic partner that I can explore now – and I should. Honestly, I prefer to look at things this way compared to the “woe is me” energy from yesterday. Not that I won’t have more days like yesterday BUT this understanding helps ground me. Which is something I can really use 😪

I’m not sure that every post will be this detailed, but that’s fine too. I think I needed to do it just to do it and that’s reason enough.

[christian-perspectives]

Be Glad in the Lord

In the latter part of Psalm 40, David said to search for the Lord and be filled with gladness. And why shouldn’t those who love His salvation be glad in the Lord? But may all who search for you be filled with joy and gladness in you. May those who love your salvation repeatedly shout, “The Lord is great!”   Psalm 40:16 I attended a conference recently. As the speaker made his presentation he talked about different attitudes we may acquire. He said we cannot effectively be a positive influence on others if we don't maintain a heart of gladness. Then he made a very interesting comment that has stuck with me. He related a person to the process of getting a picture from a roll of film. He said some people are so negative, if they walked into a dark room they would develop. How could David, the writer of this Psalm be glad in the Lord with all his troubles? They came at him continually. And from every direction. For troubles surround me— too many to count! My sins pile up so high I can’t see my way out. They outnumber the hairs on my head. I have lost all courage. Psalm 40:12 I’m sure each of us can identify with him. Do you remember the old song that goes like this; “Nobody knows the troubles I’ve seen.” Maybe not, but we all have our own set of troubles, don’t we? How in the world can we have the joy of the Lord and also be glad in Him? David gave us the answer in our verse for today.

When Seeking the Lord

He said when seeking the Lord we’ll be filled with joy and be glad. He didn't say that gladness waits until we find him. No, it comes to those who search for Him. David searched for Him. Please, Lord, rescue me! Come quickly, Lord, and help me. Psalm 40:13 It didn’t matter how bad things got for David, he turned to the Lord. Because of his relationship with the Lord and his past experiences with Him, he maintained a glad heart. Even though others treated him unfairly, he continually sought after God. He wasn’t happy when the others mistreated him. But he could remain glad in the Lord when seeking Him. May those who try to destroy me be humiliated and put to shame. May those who take delight in my trouble be turned back in disgrace. Psalm 40:14

The Difference Between being Glad and having Joy in the Lord

Have you ever considered the difference between being glad in the Lord and having His joy? Let me begin with this illustration about joy. I have crossed paths with some very negative people that others have referred to as joy suckers. I understand the concept of that comment, but I’m not sure how much I agree with it. This is where we must identify the difference between joy and gladness. The source of our joy comes from the Holy Spirit or the presence of the Lord within us. No one can suck the joy out of us. God generates it within us. Therefore because of His joy, we should influence the environment in which we find ourselves. Not the other way around. Gladness on the other hand is a choice we make. The Lord allows us to choose, including whether to be glad or not. Even during some of our worst days, we can choose gladness over any other feeling. If someone says, “don’t bother me, I’m in a bad mood.” That’s a decision they have made. Choosing a glad mood isn’t always easy, but in those times we must trust in the Lord. So let’s get back to our scripture verse. What should you do if you’re having a bad day? You know, one of those days when nothing is going right and everyone seems to be against you? Search and be Glad in the Lord David gave us the answer, he said to search for God! Why? Because when searching for the Lord He will fill us with His joy and give us a glad heart. We must look past our circumstances no matter how bad they look. Don’t even entertain saying something like “but Lord you don’t understand!” Instead, follow David’s instructions. May those who love your salvation, repeatedly shout, “The Lord is great!” Psalm 40:16

David's Humility

One more thought about David. As king, he had quite a dynasty. By his command, he could have had anything he wanted. But his humility stood forth when he went before the Lord. As for me, since I am poor and needy, let the Lord keep me in his thoughts. You are my helper and my savior. O my God, do not delay. Psalm 40:17 Remember, whether you respond or react to a situation, it all comes down to your choice. You can get mad at the world, which will affect your relationships including your loved ones. Or, you can seek God in your times of need. Because just searching for the Lord brings His joy and will give you a glad heart. Then your glad heart will reflect to those around you because of the joy of the Lord within you. Not only will you want to shout The Lord is great. But those around you may want to shout it also. Lord, fill us with your joy and give us a glad heart as we seek you. We love your salvation and we give a loud shout, Lord you are great! Check out these related posts about being glad in the Lord - What Is The One Thing That Makes You Glad? - How To Continually Rejoice And Be Glad In The Lord Read the full article