#account what anyone else wants me to be

[spookygibberish]

I've sort of developed a strange relationship with the concept of "realism" in the things I make.

Something I was very into as like, an eleven year old (im not implying this was immature to be into, just that it was formative for me), was speculative biology specifically for dragons, and now, specifically in the case of dragons I find a lot of attempts to make them biologically plausible fully missing the appeal of dragons at all.

Thinking specifically about the supernatural elements of JoM and where the line is drawn. The dagnyds are made from the remains of godlike entities, and are not entirely earthly animals. They have a supernatural origin. It would be fully justified in giving them magic abilities or making magic an aspect of the setting, but have absolutely zero interest in doing so. It doesn't interest me. I think about shit like healing powers or glowy energy attacks and my reaction is just "what does this even add? Why do I need this? Does this make things more interesting?" And it simply doesn't. Healing is more interesting as a prolonged process, combat is more interesting with teeth and claws and metal and blood. These are options which are more realistic, closer to real life, but the realism isn't what makes them interesting: it's physicality.

When I design a creature for this world, I am not thinking about making it biologically plausible, and yet, I try to design things which look like they could 'move under their own power'. There is a sense of heft and mechanical "soundness" which I value more than realism, but often also aligns with looking 'realistic'.

I would say that it's better to serve a narrative than strive for absolute realism, but I don't actually write stories, although I do have ideas for them occasionally. I guess a version of this which is more relevant and applicable is that i prefer to strive for a particular vibe.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see]

finally caved and started reading all for the game. two chapters into the foxhole court and what kind of gay fucking shit is this! also did not know there were sports in here

[im-out-of-it]

PSA KIND OF A RANT BUT ALSO JUST A GENUINE QUESTION BUT LIKE DOES ANYONE FEEL WEIRDED OUT THAT THE SHADOWHUNTER SERIES ARE KIND OF TARGETED FOR TEENS (I mean, aren’t they though)

I know I hate and shit on the shadowhunter series (SORRY IT DESERVES TO BE CRITICIZED) and y’all, I’m seriously okay with having characters have trauma and being complex (seriously I’m all for it!!!! I love those fascinating characters) but make these people young adults or something. because this should not be targeted for teens!!!!! LET ME REPEAT MYSELF!!!! THIS SHOULD NOT BE TARGETED FOR TEENS!!!!! I just don’t like the message it sends. I think it’s probably the worst in TMI.

oh if you’re abused or have a shit childhood, it’s okay to put that on others and make it their problem. oh if you’re boyfriend is toxic and emotionally abusive, it’s okay because y’all are soulmates apparently and your whole identity is about him!!!!!!! I don’t mind insane fantasy romances!!!! but don’t target it towards teens!!!!! I still get amazed that this incest toxic fantasy is for teens???????

I don’t know, it’s just weird that a 50+ year old woman is writing about teens having sex. like does anyone feel Cordelia was extremely sexualized????? there’s just so much problematic shit CC writes. and once again, I don’t believe that fantasy books should be “real” “make sense” or whatever excuse people want to use to defend misrepresentation, incest, or heavy topics (abuse, trauma) that are written poorly.

I don’t care if clary and jace aren’t actually siblings- they thought they were and they’re both toxic to one another, also the fact that clary is there to serve jace’s happiness is wild. so like if you want an outrageous fantasy world, that’s absolutely valid but don’t have it targeted for teens. this is my whole beef with the shadowhunter series (and more let’s be obvious) is that teens pick up these books and maybe they don’t understand (doesn’t a brain fully develop at 25 or something?????) and thinks the type of stuff that is in this book is okay or to be admired.

maybe I think too much of this (I’m a very heavy and emotional thinker/person who feels A LOT) and maybe teens don’t actually think this???? maybe they can differentiate that this is fiction and not to be admired? but it’s just weird reading about teens and all the problematic stuff they do. I’m in the young adult ish category so it feels uncomfortable at times for me. make them young adults or something!!!!!!

I’m probably just thinking too much into this lmao but does anyone else feel this way about the books???? and before someone says OmG dOn’T rEaD iF yOu DoN’t LiKe It- the only reason I read these books was because of show Malec and I stupidly thought it was going to be the same masterpiece and I was sorely mistaken- and then I read about the insane stuff CC has gotten away with (plagiarism, how she treated people in the Harry otter fandom, how she treats her own fans when they criticize her, like I think she’s actually insane) and I just feel like this fantasy world and some of these characters deserved better treatment and should’ve been put in the hands of an author who actually cared more. I’m just tired of problematic authors and writers ruining shit for us

[tricksterlatte]

Anyone else think short form social media based on algorithms designed to promote topics that create more engagement instead of more joy, the idea of fast fashion but conveyed through social media, and the fact you can monetize suffering and outrage better than ever has largely resulted in the death spiral of media literacy and the mass emergence of bad faith readings?

[trans-estinien]

i love being autistic cause sometimes i get a glimpse into how regular people perceive things and its like. what the fuck. what the fuck is that? you live like this? and its normal?? i think YOURE the weird one actually. im fine. thanks though.

[alchemiclee]

I don't know why most other artists i've faced in my life refuse to help or support or befriend or work with me in any way because they're obsessed with making art a competition. i'm the least competitive person you will ever meet. what's being kind and helpful and supportive and cooperative towards me going to do to you?! i'm not good enough at art to even be a threat if I tried! I don't get why they act like this towards me. I cant do anything to hurt your art career, so why are you trying to hurt mine?! I don't get it.

[tangledspice075]

Stab, duck out of range, repeat.

It's alarming how easy it is to fall back on the old tactics. Of course, Polites thought 10 years of war would do that to a person. 

Following Odysseus's orders, he struck the heels and moved out of range, circling until the cyclops let down his guard again.

He doesn't like fighting. He doesn't think he ever would. But someone has to fight the war for the people who can't. Besides, he reassured himself he struck first. Even so, he mourns the life that must be shed.

The cyclops roared in pain, so loud that Polites heard it over the shouts of the men, and for one flitting moment, Polites feared the ceiling would fall. Suddenly the cyclops had its club in its hands. And it was coming straight. for. him.

Dimly he thinks he should run. Do something. Move! But his muscles wouldn't give.

He thinks he sees someone running towards him from the corner of his eye, but all he can do is stare at the club as it sinks closer and closer towards him.

Right as it was right on top of him, he felt someone push him out of the way. Skidding away from the club and on the floor, with a CRACK, the club fell. 

Suddenly he was a child, wide-eyed and staring as a boar charged closer and closer. And just like now, he was pushed out of the way. Polities saw Odysseus push him out of harms way as the boar's tusk grazed Odysseus's leg. 

Swiftly like a bolt of lightning, he had a feeling who pushed him out of the way.

No.

He scrambled up to his feet and ran over to the body.

NonononononoNO

“Captain…?”

There on the ground was the broken body of Odysseus. 

His captain.

His friend.

Dead.

He dropped to his knees, fumbling for a pulse, checking his breathing, anything.

Nothing.

He doesn't know what happened in the next few minutes, staring at Odysseus's body in shock.

He was only roused when Eurylochus moved towards him, shaking his shoulder firmly but gently.

"Is the captain...?"

"Dead."

His voice rang hollow to his ears, and Eurylochus gave him a look of solemn sorrow.

Not wanting to look him in the face, he looked around the cavern and wished he hadn't.

Odysseus was not the only casualty brought on by the cyclops. From a glance around the cavern, he saw at least a dozen men not moving, lying in a puddle of blood. 

The cyclops was lying flat on the floor, not dead, as his first glance told him, his chest rising and falling.

Polities stumbled to stand, and Eurylochus offered him his arm to stabilize. Not wanting to fall, he leaned on his arm.

Limping over to the cyclops, he and Eurylochus joined the still-standing men.

"We don't know what happened. he was standing one second and the next…" a man said, Polities not recognizing his face.

He stepped forward and took a quick inspection. The cyclops looks asleep, his breaths slow and deep. But something is off. It looks familiar... 

"Captain… must have put lotus in the wine."

Where is the captain?” A voice from the crowd asked.

There was a pause of silence. It said the answer far better than words could.

Polities saw the shock and confusion ripple through the crowd and the despair that soon followed.

Knowing he had to change the subject, he asked, “How are we going to escape? We can’t kill the cyclops, or we will be trapped inside.”

“And what shall we do with our fallen friends?” Asked another voice from the crowds.

Eurylochus, whilst ordering everyone to scout around the cave, replied, “we shall have to leave them here.”

Polites spun around in shock. 

“Leave our friends here!? The least we can do is give them a proper burial!”

“Carrying the bodies will slow us down,”

“So we leave them here to rot!?”

“We will likely have to retreat onto the boats and set sail as fast as possible. There is no room on the boats for bodies and no time for us to bury them.”

Knowing he is correct yet still refusing to leave them, polities stomped off.

Eurylochus watched as he lugged the bodies together and whisked around looking for something. Soon he had long sticks stacked in a cone shape. Swiftly he knew what he was making. A funeral pyre.

Looking around the cavern, he decided he could spare a few men.

Just as Polites was trying to light the pyre, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Jumping in shock, he turned around he saw a trio of men standing behind him.

"Eurylochus sent us to help." said the one who put his hand on his shoulder.

Polites looked over at where Eurylochus was. He was standing with his back firmly towards Polites, ordering the men to sharpen the cyclops' club.

Even during all of this, he smiled. Not as big as his other ones, just a small, fond one. But a smile nonetheless.

. . .

Looking at the pyre burning with the smoke drifting to the top of the ceiling, he felt a pang of sadness. Odysseus is dead. Ithica has lost its king, Penelope has lost her husband, Telemachus has lost his dad, who he didn't even get to know or meet. He had lost his friend. And the world doesn't even know of his death.

He looked down at the sword in his hands. Odysseus sword. He grips it tightly, and then, right there, he makes a promise. He would not let Odysseus go to the underworld with regrets. He would make it back home and tell Telemachus of his dad, so many stories that he would feel like he has known him all his life. He would make it back and tell Penelope the terrible news and offer the comfort he knows she will need. He would make it back home.

Behind him, Eurylochus walked up to him till they were side to side. They stood there for a moment, watching the pyre flicker and burn.

Then in unison, they turned and walked back to the crowd of men with the club now sharpened into a spear.

They would remember them.

And behind them, the flames of those who've gone burned.

[skunkes]

very often ill see bears following my nsfw account and ill end up looking thru their profiles as i check for ppls ages in bio and theyre 99.9% bear4bear. That one anon lied to me.

[3416]

Luke Fox are you ready to die. He literally did this shit last year with the whole Marner/Keefe situation that people STILL bring up and act like Mitch was actively strapping Keefe to a chair and waterboarding him until he agreed to 'walk back' comments about them not playing like elite players. And EVERY TIME people eat it up because they want to be angry, they want to live in their false narratives so they can seethe and rage about accountability

literally... it cracks me up that fans think players owe accountability to THEM. fklsdjfkldsjklf like girl you sit on your couch while they're out here trucking around the ice every other night for your entertainment and accuse them of not trying, lol.

luke fox and honestly all of the big toronto media guys KNOW mitch marner brings the most clicks out of sheer rage on twitter dot com so they do it every time. should not let myself be surprised but it's such sloppy fucking journalism to portray it that way every time. i even see people who i consider level headed eating it up without looking for context and i'm like. are you all genuinely stupid. seriously. don't even get me started on the Walking things back last year that was totally made up. if you watch mitch's interview from that day he's so ????? like does not comprehend what they're trying to accuse him of, it's so funny.

[apostaterevolutionary]

The feeling of trying so so hard to get into something that you should, by all accounts, enjoy and that seemingly every single member of the human species considers to be not just enjoyable but the greatest thing to ever exist but you just. Really actually do not like it and can’t even understand how someone could and wondering what’s wrong with you and if you’re literally the dumbest person alive because it really just seems to be you having the issue but you’ve tried really, really hard but it’s just not happening

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[lavellane]

more heinrix posting sorry. i need him in a way that would get me branded an enemy of humanity by holy terra btw.

[isabellehemlock]

How much I care for you, has no bearing on the amount of access I allow you in my life.  I can care deeply, and follow through with boundaries at the same time.  They are not mutually exclusive.

[trans-leek-cookie]

as a certified Aromantic Asexual (I should make myself a certificate) I genuinely don't Believe there is systemic oppression that specifically targets Aromantic or Asexual people.

I do however believe that people Cannot be normal about ppl who don't have sex or romantic relationships, and that can Really Impact Aromantic And Asexual People.

Also like. Aros n aces are still. Experiences Other forms of oppression that can interact with the aro and/or ace-ness

[savage-rhi]

I'm very much a, "fuck yeah and fuck you, I don't need validation! I'm me, cunts!" kinda fella, but sometimes I could use support.