#Just repeat it like a mantra

[unfinishedsweaters]

the call-and-response feel of @mrvelocipede’s same flavor! post kind of got me thinking about both doing that on purpose (you could bat the same post back and forth til it got too long! watch two different knitting styles and projects go! I think it’d be neat), and also (o no) about playing the exquisite corpse game with a sweater.

On one hand, o no, that’s like. The worst medium for the game; each addition takes hours. The end result might not be wearable. And sure, the whole premise is artsy, but it’d be nice if the finished work was exciting and you could wear it. You’d have to have a certain number of participants for it to work. It’d be silly, but it’d involve spreadsheets. Lot of postage. I’d have to have them come back to me at a random stage, because starting a project’s really easy compared to continuing it and I dunno, man, the more I think about it the worse the idea seems, and the more I want to do it.

So we got:

The fan art knit project (not actual fan art, but like, fan art aimed at people. so like, knitting stuff for people but ~fancy~ and ostensibly (heck yeah) with a sort of metatexual* element, in that it involves making things for people about making things for people)

The ongoing call-and-response idea (the most low-key, because that’s just tumblr, although I woukdn’t be able to start any for a while)

Exquisite Corpse Project which dude, dude, you cannot organize that for this year with just 6 days til October and so many other commitments, you don’t network, you don’t have what you need for this—but—here you are trying to publicly set out a weird little foundation for the idea anyway

exquisite corpse but in person, because in my experience most people can knit or crochet at least a little bit** and that would be kinda interesting, and the results would be very different from what you’d get by successfully hitting up tumblr-famous knitters (the audacity!)—it’d be less curated and more of a chaos project— but i would like this to get more traffic than i am comfortable with having like, in front of my house. so you could build something like a tiny free library to house it, but you’d need it hosted someplace more public.

so aside from everything else, I need a lot more creative breathing room and a PO box.

*have I still got it? I can’t even tell ** big element of this for me is when someone doesn’t but then crochets a perfect chain for you like a party trick and you can kinda see when he was six years old, hanging out with his crafty hip 70s grandma, etc. i dunno man, there’s something in me that grates against the poetic little tumblr essays about the connection and history. but when I see it done, it is incredibly moving somehow.

[charmwasjess]

Lightsaber Theory: Obi-Wan "Sith Lords are Our Specialty" Kenobi consistently loses duels to Dooku not for any reason of technical form mismatch or lack of ability, but because Dooku is not even pretending to try to kill him. Resultantly, Obi-Wan can’t figure out what the fuck is going on when they fight. 

Obi-Wan: (preparing to defend an expected lethal strike) You’ll answer for your enormities, Count!

Dooku: (giving him the lightest love tap on the leg) Don’t be so sure, my special good lineage baby boy, so perfect in my eyes. 

Obi-Wan: …What?

Dooku: What?

Which Dooku and Obi-Wan proud lineage moment is even the most unhinged? There are so many to choose from! Is it Dooku’s frequent inability, both in AotC and TCW, to keep from spontaneously gushing about Sidious’s plans and even his own dark secrets to Obi-Wan?? Is it the time in Labyrinth of Evil where Dooku drags a long-suffering, bored Grievous over to watch a holorecording of Anakin and Obi-Wan thwarting his plans yet again, to point out how beautifully they’re working together as a team and how much he likes watching their lightsaber work evolve? Is it in the recent Brotherhood novel, where Obi-Wan just has to casually namedrop Qui-Gon to get Dooku to do exactly what he wants?

Obi-Wan is a big problem for Sidious in his mission to destabilize and corrupt Anakin, and Sidious knows it. He needs him out of the picture to do the same isolating, evil bullshit that worked so well when ensnaring Dooku himself. But the war has been going on for years now, and guess who remains inconveniently alive? And whose job was that to take care of? Oh yeah. I remember. His useless, Padawan assassin-collecting apprentice: fucking Count Dooku. By the time of RotS, Sidious has specifically ordered Dooku to make fucking sure Obi-Wan is dead only for him to completely ignore the command about a half-dozen times.

Going by the Stover RotS novelization, in the same scene where Dooku also literally refers to Obi-Wan as his fucking grandson actually, add that to our earlier list, Sidious reiterates that KILL OBI-WAN is the plan (over the sound of Dooku’s loud complaining) moments before that final duel.  I kind of wish we’d gotten a shot of Sidious's incredulous, enraged expression as Dooku knocks Obi-Wan unconscious and pins him safely out of the way. He is, once again, going out of his way to not kill Obi-Wan in that duel, and this time directly disobeying his Master to his face after they just had a conversation about it. You just know exactly what Sidious must be thinking at that moment. Oh, Dooku. You are so fucking fired.

[artuurle]

So what happened to Gru's eye anyways?

This will be very very tied into my personal headcanons about both Grujaja and a little about the drain so be warned:

info under the readmore for sanity reasons hope u understand<3

My interpretation of the drain is a very bad place to raise someone. The whole place is essentially the slums of a city- though the most dangerous part of the place isn't because of anything living, but because the place is actually crumbling from poor infrastructure. Gruja was from a very low income family that lived in that area; just trying to live like anyone else.

The infrastructure expectedly ended up failing and in the collapse he got cut really badly by some of the resulting shrapnel across his face and left arm. He was one of the "lucky" ones. If you could even call it that.

He sure didn't.

[panny-lii]

She has no idea what science is and follows Wilson around like a stray cat he pet once

[bellshazes]

i'm going to beat dark souls 3* tonight

[formula-ghost]

[stickersgeorg]

Sticker page of stickers by @chick-it-out!!!

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 13

content warnings: brainwashed whumpee, non-human (angel) whumpee, some weird angel discrimination, let me know if I missed anything!

prev chapter | masterlist

Badly, actually, was how I felt about crepes.

It wasn’t the crepes that were the problem. It wasn’t the sloppiness that required eating them, not even how unprofessional I had to be to eat them in front of someone.

No, mostly the problem was the people. And maybe the fact that I’d slept sitting up against a wall for four hours total the night before, and I was starting to feel a pinch between my eyes.

Kieran led me up a staircase, back to the ground level of the castle. I had been there the night before, when I had been too focused to look around. It felt more like a pavilion than an entire floor of the castle. There were a few walls, a few separations of rooms, but it was mainly held up by columns and pillars. There were tables all over, going past the ends of the columns and all the way outside. Two guards stood by a table together on the edges. I wondered if they were standing in the place where the royal family had killed a guard the night before.

“We hold breakfast and dinner here every day for anyone that wants it,” Kieran was saying as we walked past empty tables. “It’s not usually super popular, because there aren’t always a lot of different options of food, but it’s nice for people to have a place where they’re guaranteed a meal. Crepes are usually a hit, because they’re so customizable, but most everyone’s cleared out by now.”

It didn’t look to me like most everyone was cleared out. I counted four tables outside and two inside with people sitting at them. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see how many people attended during actual meal times.

And we walked into a kitchen, and it was so loud. I must’ve been around large groups of people at least a few times before I gave my memories to the royal family, but not since becoming a servant. And for the more recent years of it, I hadn’t even served families of nobility. The sound echoed and bounced around, getting stuck in my head like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth.

“What do you want on your crepe?” Kieran asked as we walked into the kitchen, and I swallowed. There had to be at least forty people working here.

“Whatever you see fit, sir.”

He grinned at me, looking slightly confused. “It’s a crepe for you, Onyx. Not me.”

“I don’t…” I glanced to the side. Enunciate, don’t mumble, don’t trail off in the middle of a sentence. I knew how to do this, knew how to answer questions the way that the royal family liked, even when I was tired. “I’ve never had a crepe, sir,” I admitted.

“Really? Never? Do you know what they are?”

“Yes, sir. I think- I think I might have had them before, but… not any time recently. I don’t remember. My apologies. Regardless, I will be grateful for whatever you wish to provide me with.”

“... Okay.” He stared at me for a bit. “If I tell you a few different toppings, will you tell me which ones you like the best? We could go from there.”

“Sir, I don’t- good servants don’t have likes and dislikes.” He had to know that, right? We were in the kitchen of a castle, surrounded by people that were presumably servants. He had to have been testing me, making sure I knew the rules. I did. I could be good.

“You’re not supposed to have likes and dislikes?” he repeated, and I shook my head. “That’s- um, we’re gonna talk about that later. Once you’ve got food in your stomach. Do you have certain toppings that you might be… more grateful than others about?”

This was dangerous territory. If I let myself think too hard about the toppings, I was veering into likes and dislikes and opinions. If I didn’t, I’d be ignoring direct orders.

“Usually I have Her Majesty The Queen’s leftovers for breakfast, sir,” I said quietly. “And I usually get some toast that she doesn’t always eat, and it has strawberry jam on it.”

“You like strawberries?”

I could be a good servant. No likes or dislikes, but I could be good enough to find a way around it. I didn’t like strawberries, that would’ve been opinionated. But maybe if I worded it differently? More objective? “Strawberries… taste good. Sir. I think.” I wasn’t supposed to think, or at least not like that, so the statement wasn’t quite right. But closer, because Kieran was grinning again. Like he’d discovered a cheat code in a video game.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you for telling me that, Onyx. We’ve got strawberries. Is whip cream okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great. That’s like, the two most important ingredients for every crepe I eat. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Hm.

I knew what dietary restrictions were, of course. I had plenty of restrictions, dietary and otherwise. Of course there were things I couldn’t do, things I couldn’t eat. But they were restrictions imposed by the royal family. There was fruit that made my throat itch, or things that Prince Ryan made sure not to give me, but those weren’t things that I couldn’t eat. Not if someone asked me to.

“I, um. I will eat whatever you see fit, sir. Would you like to know the things that the royal family did not allow me to eat?”

He pursed his lips. Wrong answer, then, but that didn’t make sense. That wasn’t just me trying to think of the right thing to say, that was an exact line from the script that I was always supposed to follow. That was what the royal family had trained me to say.

But Kieran was not the royal family. Of course he had different rules, different uses for his servants. Of course my old script wouldn’t cut it anymore.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “I don’t want to know what the royal family didn’t let you do. I’m going to get you a crepe with strawberries and whip cream. There are other fruits, if you’d like any?”

“... I will eat whatever you see fit, Sir.” I already knew that was wrong, but what the fuck else was I supposed to say?

“Are you at all interested in blueberries? Or mangos?” I hesitated, and he smiled thinly. “I know. Whatever I see fit. Alright, then. I’ll get the other fruit for you too. If you find a seat somewhere, I’ll bring it out in a few minutes. I like eating outside the best, but we can eat wherever you’d like.”

“Of course, sir,” I managed weakly.

Find a seat somewhere.

A daunting task, because the tables meant six tables of people that I didn’t know if I was supposed to bow to or what titles to call. But regardless, it was a task that had been asked of me.

I could manage whatever task I needed to that had been asked of me.

This task was different, though. It was a choice given to me. Choices weren’t given to me. Servants were for orders. And I supposed it wasn’t a real choice—I was picking the one that I thought Kieran would prefer the most—but it was still terrifying.

Outside, first. That’s what he’d said, that he liked the tables outside the best. Four tables with people at them. Three—one group had left in the time since I’d been out here. Three tables of people. And when I was next to a person, of course, all my attention was supposed to be focused on them. Serving them to the best of my abilities. Alone out here, with three tables of people, I was forced to notice the way they stared at me. Or rather, my wings.

This wasn’t new, exactly. Back when noble families were allowed to know about me, the queen had told me to hold still while they felt the texture of the fur on my wings. They’d never felt anything like it, they’d said. Fascinating, they’d called me. They would’ve loved to see me fly, and it was the only time I thought Her Majesty might have regretted breaking my wing.

And it was her right to display me. It was the nobility’s right to stare, to pet my wings and ask how much force it would take to rip the skin that stretched between each bone.

I just wasn’t used to the staring anymore, that was all. If Kieran planned to have me out in public more often, then perhaps I needed to get used to it again.

I eventually chose a table close to the door, so that Kieran would not have to walk far to get to me. So that he would not need to look hard to ensure that I did not run away. I wouldn’t, no matter how many privileges I was given, but it was still odd to give me so many. Outside, alone, picking a seat and waiting for breakfast to be delivered to me. It was wrong. It was not how things were supposed to be.

And yet, it was how Kieran wanted it to be. So I stared at the grain in the wood that the table was made out of and ignored the way that people were staring at me.

~

taglist: @rainydaywhump @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @risk606

[coolcoolwithyou]

every time i go on twt im reminded of the fact that m11s truly just live in a fantasy world. im convinced that they don’t really rewatch the show and have just concocted a highly romanticized version of what mike and el’s relationship is in their heads and they truly believe it. and i Know this to be the case because they say shit all the time that is so far from the actual canon it’s just laughable?? like when they say that s4e8 fixed all of mike and el’s relationship problems. like you Cannot be a real person WHAT are you even talking about. meanwhile bylers are lawyers and film students and writers and people actually involved in the film industry… and other cool people who have at least two braincells to rub together. like me :D and my two braincells are named mike and will <3

[scarefox]

Crazy how some BL fans don't even recognize when they are misogynistic...

The way so many hate on the female part of the audience and creators in general instead of just the ones who are truly garbage. And then say shit like "unfortunately this genre was founded by women". Excuse me, but without them we wouldn't have this very queer media nowadays.

The ironic fact that this genre mainly exists because women tried to escape the patriarchal society + not all of these women were cishete to begin with + some of them were even gay cismen under female pseudonym...

It annoys me so much that even bl fans drag the anti-bl propaganda along. You can post as many academic research and history of the genre but people just don't care and rather sit in self pity or whatever that is these anti-bl-bl-fans do...

Ya know that mindset of "our genre is problematic as a whole but we watch it anyways because we don't care OR not even care enough to fact check if these accusations are even true" vs. "acknowledging this genre has some problems but it also has an interesting and good development and we don't tolerate the bad parts and reflect on them"

When will people understand that women and gay men and queers in general basically sit in the same boat of discrimination and have a few things in common. Stop pitching against each other like that... when we can exist next to each other together.

[purrfectlycontent]

let me stay tender-hearted, despite despite despite

let me stay tender-hearted, despite despite despite

let me stay tender-hearted, despite despite despite

let me stay tender-hearted, despite despite despite

let me…

[canongf]

reading this book with gritted teeth and trembling hands lying to myself like "it doesn't bother me at all that there's some sort of underlying thing between my boyfriend and this record deal girl"

[diffenbachiae]

spent all day teaching about climate change to middle schoolers and now i want to like throw something and/or cry

[theancientfootsteps]

idk how this happened but in like a week I went from being super nerdy about theology and wanting to puzzle together a very detailed theological framework of my beliefs, wanting to understand everything logically and gather So Much Knowledge...... to really being put off by all of that, and just wanting to bask in the mystery and write my little poems about Jesus and rely on a less mental, less verbal, more embodied insight/wisdom gained through prayer and contemplation and meditating on scripture to guide me

[togainumochi]

damn time passes so slowly when you're horribly depressed & nothing interests you & you're bored out of your mind