#behold. the real reason for this nonsense.

[captainsparklefingers]

It's always weird when you get an idea for an au story and it sounds great as an idea, but then when you go to try and plot it out, you're like 'wait this is either gonna involve a complete overhaul of canon or I'm gonna have to ignore a lot of shit or get really, REALLY creative'. And suddenly the whole thing just feels very, very daunting.

I think that's why I haven't done anything longer than oneshots (interconnected or otherwise) for a while.

Like, writing Conspiracy of Ravens, my last multichapter story for anything, did involve a major canon change, but it was something that could, I think, be done in a way that could sort of slot into canon and not feel eo out of place? I mean it wasn't perfect, but i5 didn't feel like...wildly impossible, which for something that could have big ripple effects is good, I'd say.

I've got other ideas for longer things, four of which I'm seriously consider writing, one of which I've actually been trying to write on and off for liiiiike...two years? And as you can see, they do not exist beyond my brain and a bunch of notes that go nowhere, or they get started but the idea of a complete canon rewrite is so daunting that even beginning to plan that out is a struggle.

I gotta say, I really admire people who do massive aus that manage to both diverge from their canon source in a big way while also following similar plot beats or echoes and staying true to both the characters and the heart/feel of the original source work. Because that CANNOT be easy.

(you know exactly who you are, if you're reading this, and I both envy and deeply respect you.)

....look I've been home sick with a major headcold all day, with nothing to keep me company but my cats and my thoughts. This is what happens when I have free time. Not any ACTUAL writing, but a dumb blog post about how writing is hard. In short: I'm sick, I'm bored, I have writers block, and I'm complaining instead of, you know, doing anything productive.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my friend to stop joke-insulting me?

I (20X) am a part of a few friend groups, the newest one being a trio of me, Jamie (20M) and Tessa (21F) (not real names for privacy reasons).

I only met them about a year ago more or less through college but we got along fairly quickly. I'm usually more quiet and reserved with new people so for the first few months of me knowing them I was just this kind, polite and quiet kid who barely talked to them (maybe like once a week and even that was about classes since Jamie and I are the same major so we ended up with a lot of shared classes). I'd make sure to always be the ideal friend and be pleasant to make them happy.

But the thing is I am very different when I feel comfortable with people. And over time I got more and more comfortable and felt like I belong with my college friends (I even asked to change my schedule to take almost all of my classes with Jamie). So one day me and Jamie were going to my dorm when I realized my keys are not on my person and I have no idea where they were. Naturally, I panicked and me and him went looking through all of the places I've been to try to find the keys. After about half an hour of running around college he went to grab his phone from his jacket and lo and behold, my keys were there (apparently I asked him to keep them for me while I went to the bathroom). I was so relieved but I don't know what came over me so I just punched him and called him a whore and he looked really shocked for a second but then he just laughed and said I'm a dickhead. And since then it's been pretty much a joking insult war between the two of us, when once we used to call each other smart or cool now it's just saying mean stuff (while not meaning it obviously)

And as much as I have fun joking around with him sometimes I get sad about it because I worry he actually thinks those things (even though he clarified most of the things he says about me are not ment to be taken seriously) and he does still say nice things about me sometimes and we still have serious conversations and take each other seriously but I miss when it was just that because I have plenty of jokes with my non college friends and I was so happy to get new ones because I missed having people to actually talk about stuff with and not just say nonsense all the time.

So I thought about asking him to lay off the insults a little even though I'm the one who basically started it and I still do it a lot myself but every time I just end up feeling bad and wishing I'd just been serious for once. But I feel like an ass because again, I started it and it's unfair to let myself laugh at him and then get upset when he does the same to me. But again I don't really want to laugh at him it just comes out naturally because when I'm comfortable with someone it just happens.

Tessa keeps saying we fight non stop and I know she knows and we all know it's not serious but I just hate that idea even as a joke, fighting. I don't wanna fight I just want a comfortable space to be myself and have people like me and have fun with them.

So would I be the asshole if I told Jamie I don't really like the play fighting anymore even though it all started with me?

What are these acronyms?

[monster-slut-memoirs]

{{ MINORS DNI -- Monster Fucker Smut }}

Incubus On Order

You're a thirty-four-year-old divorcee who is ready to get back out there and shake off the dry spell you've been stuck in. Your vibrator has lost its zip and lacks allure. You want a real man!

You download a couple of dating apps, but there's one problem—all the men your age are single for a reason or have too much baggage. Not one good fuck in sight.

Just when it feels like all hope is lost and the cold chill of loneliness starts to take hold, a spammy-looking ad pops up at the bottom of your phone's screen.

"Click here to fulfil your wildest fantasy!"

You're about to ignore it when flash!—an image of a hunky, hot demon guy wielding a huge, veiny, girthy cock and full balls, red and rippling in muscles.

But… Obviously, photoshopped. What a lame ad!

"Want the best sex of your life tonight? Click here. Summon an incubus, NOW!"

You've always fancied yourself a bit of a monster fucker, but this seems like a big joke.

But…what if it's not? Why not give it a go?

A bottle of wine gives you courage. You click the ad. Bam! Your screen lights up with reems of pictures—the promise of thick cocked, muscley, horned demons whets your appetite and your panties.

You follow the three summoning instructions. Some candles, a chalk circle, and some nonsense spell later, you've summoned yourself a demon, an incubus.

The green smoke clears, and in the centre of your living room, there appears to be a man! Your very own demon!

But…

You check the picture on your phone to double-check what your eyes behold.

It's all wrong.

He's not some 6-foot horned hunk. He's… 5 feet at best, lithe and cute? WTF?? TWO >>>

[tadpolebobatea]

live slug reaction chapter 212

That coloured cover is a sight to behold. God damn

(lots of ways to interpret this song but I’m just gonna stick with “This is so AnFuu core and leave it at that okay?)

Kururu knows her relationship with Kaede is doomed by the narrative. Poor girl

Yeah… it was about time, It was going well for about 20 minutes kurusu… sorry girl. This is what happens when you make Faustian bargains.

he’s an evil little meow meow but look at those eyes, beautiful

Big ups for mentioning bloodbaths in your pop song, very brave choice

Because she wants you to win bbgrl. And to show you that you’re fine as an idol even without soul nonsense now, she’s an all loving heroine, just like her baby girl

It only took me several chapters: crusade , kurus-ade. I may be stupid

This is the face of someone who’s about to miss her chance at having the most hilarious yuri moment in all of history. Damn it allllllll

There we go! Soft confirmation this definitely wouldn’t work on Andy. As long as your beloved is distinctly themselves, absolutely couldn’t be anyone else, then you’ll be fine. Good stuff. Just have a really specific reason for loving them, weird meet cutes aren’t enough.

Love your awkward little thumbs up Raita. It’s cute

Sean’s single ass on the romance cloud

Shen/Mui stargazing for the soul, I love these losers. It’s not a kiss but it’s Adorable. billy tella Veronica polycule/coparenting real and canon, trust me bro. I’m not 100% on what Latla is holding, I’m gonna say it’s a promotional shot of rip

Bonus : Julia appreciation because she’s just so darn cute, kiss her tiny forehead

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Instant Noodles - a Magnus Archives (Crack) Fic

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast.

There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end.

Well. There was no accounting for taste.

Note: This is nonsense. Full apologies to Jonny and Alex, who are 100% the creators of my favorite podcast, The Magnus Archives. This is a work of fiction, etc. and so forth. Take it as the joke it's meant to be.

AO3

-------

The room was dark because electricity was expensive. It was cold for the same reason, but there were blankets, and the bright blue light of his cracked phone screen, so. One did what one had to. It was hardly the first time he’d made do. 

It might not be the last—but he hoped it would. This was miserable. Perhaps because this body had never known lack, never gone hungry, never even been without a proper skin routine, it all felt worse than it used to. Damned Elias Bouchard. Weak stock. He’d choose better next time. 

Assuming he could. 

It was a big assumption, and a risk Jonah wasn’t sure he dared take. Oh, the Fears were here; the Eye was here; it was all going on, right and proper, but he’d been… cut off.

Minds were closed to him—it felt like trying to see through a porcelain bowl. Making his way with that handicap, first robbing people, then figuring out how to make more money without any kind of ID—it had all taken time, and only worked as well as it had because he was a white male with a good smile. 

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast.

There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end.

Well. There was no accounting for taste.

In spite of himself, Jonah was obsessed. Driven by this true story, woven as fantasy by real people in another world, crafted by someone with the same name as his greatest achievement and greatest failure, and seemingly far too accurate to be accidental. 

It made absolutely no sense. He was riveted. He couldn’t look away.

He listened to all the recordings. He pirated the extras (as if he could afford to become a Patreon). He stalked fan-forums and Tumblr and ArtStation and Reddit. Some depictions were very close.

He resisted the urge to comment. To correct.

That’s not what happened, he wanted to say, except it sort of was? A few intriguing details missing, perhaps, a few crucial bits of innuendo, possibly because it was Jon’s retelling, and therefore not the whole picture.

One of Jonah’s favorite things was when the so-called creators of his own story did fan-readings: dramatizing fanfiction online, in public, on YouTube, in front of everyone.

He was transfixed.

Some of the fandom details were more accurate than the so-called creators’ attempts. Most were wildly off; Jonah heard himself described as cruel (he was merely pragmatic), brilliant (yes), foolish (not at all), cowardly (well…), incredibly sexual (somewhat flattering, but Jonah really did just prefer to watch), wildly murderous (no, too risky), and more. All these people, writing about him, about him, and he got not one lick of power from it. It seemed unfair.

Jonah was willing to bet someone was raking in that psychic energy, though. Oh, yes.

“It is as if Jonathan and the Beholding are… one, ” intoned Jonny Sims—the “creator” of this tale  who’d no idea what he’d channeled—reading some fic by a writer called EnbyNeti.

Alex joined him on the word one, and they shared a laugh, because to them, it wasn’t real.

Jonah snorted. “One,” he muttered, huddling in his blanket over his cup of instant noodles, because as long as it was still hot from the microwave, the steam smelled better than the mildewed room, and warmed his hands, and opened up his pores. “Don’t know anything. They weren’t one, they… entangled.”

Sure. That’s what it was. That’s why, when they all landed here, Jon had somehow woken him up (and Jonah had no memory of the time between stabbing and waking and was grateful), said “Good luck,” (oh, very funny, you prick), taken Martin’s hand, and just… walked away.

Left him there without any resources, with some sort of block on his powers, without money or contacts or any help at all. 

It was scary. It was precisely the type of vulnerability he’d spent his whole life trying to avoid. That was probably why Jon did it.

“They weren’t one,” he muttered again, unsure with whom he was arguing. “Couldn’t be.”

And then Jonny got all funny with Alex as they commented on that fic. “Oh! Oh, a lot goin’ on here,” Jonny said with great humor. “I don’t know what, but ooh, a lot of it!”

“Ha! If only you knew,” Jonah muttered, pointing a cheap bamboo chopstick at the cracked screen.

“I dunno,” said Alex. “Part of me read that and just went, ‘Yeah, that’s what you get.’”

“Excuse me?” said Jonah.

“That’s what you get,” Jonny agreed.

“That’s what you get, man,” said Alex, shaking his head. “If you build a god, it’s gonna come, and it’s gonna get you.”

“Yeah. Don’t build gods,” said Jonny.

“Don’t build gods, people,” said Alex.

“Don’t build gods. Hi. I’m Jonny Sims. And I’m here to tell you: don’t build gods.”

Jonah missed the rest of the broadcast. 

They pattered along, these two young creatives, joyfully joking, reciting fantastic versions of Jonah’s life that maybe were real somewhere else but had certainly not happened here.

If you build a god, it’s gonna come, and it’s gonna get you.

So it had. And then it had abandoned him. And maybe… maybe he was, in fact, very lucky that it had chosen to walk away. “That’s enough for today, I think,” Jonah said, and switched it off, choosing instead to sit in the dark, in silence broken only by bad pipes and heavy traffic, and eat his instant noodles.

---------------

NOTES:

So yes, this is the clip in question responsible for this absurd fic. Twenty-six seconds of beauty. Enjoy.

Also, thank you @enbyneti for happening to be the author referenced in that moment in the vid!

[flatland-a-2024-translation]

Section 14. How I vainly tried to explain the nature of Flatland

[Table of Contents]

Thinking it was time for me to burst the Monarch’s bubble of fantasy and bring him back to the realm of common sense, I decided I was going to try to get him to understand some of the real truth of the World, the way things worked in Flatland.

So I started with this: “Your Royal Highness, how do you tell the shape and position of your subjects? I noticed through my sense of Sight, before I entered your Kingdom, that some of your people are Lines, and others are Points, and that some of the Lines are longer—”

He interrupted me with, “You are talking nonsense. You must have been hallucinating, because it’s impossible to see the difference between a Line and a Point, you can only tell them apart by hearing, which is also how the exact measurement is taken. Look at me and behold – I am a Line, the longest in Lineland, over six inches in Space –”

“In Length,” I corrected.

“Idiot!” he snapped, “Space is Length! Interrupt me again and this conversation is over!”

I apologized, but he was still angry, and continue scornfully, “Since you refuse to listen to reason, you will hear with your own ears how the sound of my two voices allows my Wives to calculate my exact measurements! One of my Wives is to the North, the other to the South. They are both six thousand miles, seventy yards, two feet, and eight inches away from me. Now, listen while I call to them.”

He chirped loudly, and then casually continued, “My wives will hear one of my two voices first, and then the other. By counting the time between hearing the first voice and the second, they will be able to calculate the distance between my two mouths.

“One is 6.457 inches away from the other, which tells them that my total shape is 6.457 inches. But don’t pretend to think that they perform this calculation every single time they hear me speak! They knew my shape before we were even married. But they could recalculate it at any time just as easily. By this same method, I can tell the shape of any of my Male subjects through the sense of sound.”

I asked, “But what if a Man pretended to have a Woman’s voice by using just one of his mouths, or disguised his Southern voice so that you couldn’t recognize it as an echo of the Northern one? Wouldn’t this cause a lot of problems? Don’t you have any way to make sure people are telling the truth, by Feeling one another?”

Obviously, this was a very stupid question, because Feeling wouldn’t have worked in Lineland, but I asked it just to annoy the Monarch, which worked perfectly.

“What?!” He cried in horror, “What do you mean?”

“Feel, touch, come into contact,” I replied.

“If when you say ‘feeling’,” said the King, “You mean getting so close to someone that there is no more space left between you, you must know, Stranger, that this is a crime punishable by death. And it’s obvious why: Women are so fragile that they would probably be shattered by the slightest ‘touch’, as you call it, and since it’s impossible to tell Women from Men using only sight, it is illegal for anyone to ‘touch’ anyone else.

“And why would anyone want to do such a dangerous and illegal thing as ‘touching’ when simply listening is so much easier, safer and accurate?

“And as to the idea that anyone could successfully lie about their shape, that’s impossible, because your Voice is the whole essence of your Being, and cannot be changed as easily as you pretend.

“But lets imagine that I did have the power to pass through solid objects, and I could go through all the billions of my subjects without hurting anyone, verifying their shape and distance by the sense of ‘feeling’. How much time and energy would I have to waste with such a clumsy and inaccurate method! All it takes right now is a single moment of song, and I know everything there is to know about every being in Lineland. Listen, just listen!”

And then he paused and listened, as if delighted, to the many noises made by his people, which to me just sounded like a bunch of tiny crickets, the kind you might find on the fictional island of Lilliput from Gulliver’s Travels.

“Truly,” I said, “Your sense of hearing does help you a lot, and fills in the gaps of your problems. But allow me to point out that your life must be incredibly boring. You can see nothing but a Point! You can’t even see a Straight Line! You don’t even know what a Straight Line is! You miss out on all the things we enjoy in Flatland! I think it would be better to be entirely blind than to see so little!

“I’ll admit that your hearing is more advanced than mine, because the music of Lineland that you enjoy so much sounds like basic chirping to me, but at least I can see the difference between a Line and a Point, and I’ll prove it!

“Right before I entered your Kingdom, I saw you dancing back and forth from right to left, with seven Men and a Woman on your left side, and eight Men and two Women on your right. Aren’t I correct?”

“You’re right as far as the numbers and sexes go,” said the King, “But I don’t understand what you mean by ‘right’ and ‘left’. And I know you’re lying about seeing these things. How could you possibly see the Line – the inside – of any Man? You probably heard this information, and then hallucinated that you saw it instead of hearing it. But tell me what the words ‘left’ and ‘right’ mean. I assume it’s your way of saying North and South?”

“No,” I said, “Besides the movement from North to South, there is another way to move, called from right to left.”

“Then please demonstrate how to move from left to right.” he said.

“I can’t show you that,” I said, “Unless you could step out of your Line entirely.”

“Step out of my Line? Do you mean out of the world? Out of Space itself?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” I said, “or at least your version of the World. What you call Space is not the entirety of it. Real Space is a Plane, but you think it’s only a Line.”

“If you can’t show me what this movement from left to right looks like, then please describe it to me in words.” he said.

“If you can’t even tell your right side from your left, I don’t think anything I can say will make it clearer to you.” I said, “But surely I don’t need to explain something as basic as that.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re taking about.” he said.

“Alas! How am I supposed to explain it to you then?” I asked, “When you move forward, doesn’t it ever occur to you that you could go a different way? By going in the direction your side is facing? Instead of always moving forward or backward, haven’t you ever wanted to move to the side?”

The King said, “No, never. And what do you mean? How can a man’s insides face in any direction? How can a man move in the direction of his insides?”

I said, “Well, since words can’t explain it, I’ll try showing you with actions. I will slowly move out of Lineland, in the direction I’m trying to explain to you. Okay?”

Then I began to slowly move my body back out of Lineland.

As long as any part of me was still in his view, the King kept saying, “I still see you. I still see you. You’re not moving.”

[Image description start: A diagram showing a blue line, labeled “Lineland”. There is a short black line labeled “the King” the left side of the image, and in the center is a Square intersecting Lineland with just his lower angle. The rest of his body outside Lineland is covered in horizontal lines, showing which parts would intersecting Lineland at a time, labeled, “My body just before I disappeared”. Image description end.]

But then I was out of Lineland, out of his Line of Sight, and he shouted, “She is vanished – she is dead!”

“I’m not dead,” I said, “I just moved out of Lineland, the Straight Line that you call Space. I am in the real Space, where I can see everything. I can see your Line, or side, which you call your insides, and I can also see the Men and Women on the North and South sides of you. I’ll now describe to you their order, their size, and the distance between them.”

This took a while, but when I was done, I cried triumphantly, “Are you convinced now?” Then I reentered Lineland, in the same spot I had held before.

But the Monarch replied, “If you were a Man of sense – though, considering the fact that you have only one voice, I know you are a Woman – but if you had any sense at all, you would listen to reason.

“You expect me to believe that there is another Line besides the one I can see and hear, and another range of motion besides the one I can move in. But when I ask you to describe these to me in words, or show me them, instead of moving, you just play some magic trick to make yourself invisible, and instead of actually describing the world you claim exists, you just tell me the numbers and sizes of about forty of my subjects, which is information that is readily available to everyone here at all times, down to the smallest child! Could anything be more unbelievable or audacious? Just admit that you are lying, or else get out of my kingdom!”

Enraged by not only his continued failure to understand the most basic things, but also his instance that I wasn’t a Man, I retorted angrily, “You self-absorbed fool! You think you’re the most perfect thing in existence, but you’re really the most flawed and idiotic! You claim to be able to see, but all you see is nothing but a Point! You’re so proud of your ability to calculate a Straight Line, but I can actually see Straight Lines, and calculate the existence of Angles, Triangles, Squares, Pentagons, Hexagons, and even Circles!

“Why should I waste any more breath? I am the final evolution of your unevolved form. You are a Line, but I am a Line of Lines, known to my country as a Square, and even I, who am so superior to you, am nothing next to the great nobles of Flatland, which is where I have come from, to visit you in the hope of making you less ignorant!”

When he heard my words, the King gave a threatening cry and charged at me as though to pierce me through the diagonal, and at the same time a roar arose from the billions of his subjects, a war-cry so loud and violent that it rivaled the volume of a hundred thousand charging Isosceles and the artillery guns of a thousand Pentagons.

Frozen in place, I couldn’t speak or move to avoid this horrifying death sentence. And still the noise grew louder and louder, and the King rushed closer, until suddenly I awoke from this nightmare to hear the breakfast-bell calling me back to the reality of Flatland.

[Table of Contents]

[witchcraftwithaster]

Nothing is funnier to me then absolute absurdity of interacting with spirits at times, because like why the hell was I tricked by spirit for an approximate time period of about eight months thinking that it was a goddess but actually it was a spirit meaning to mislead me

more story under cut

tldr; got tricked by a spirit because i was naive and only interacted with it twice before falsely honouring it, and where Loki once annoyed me I see that he was protecting me. Loki GOAT trickster spirit kiss my ass. Also here's why you should cross reference everyone's unverified personal knowledge

so for those of you that know, which honestly probably not many of you do, since January 2024 I have been under the impression that the goddess andraste was reaching out to me. compared to my other spiritual experiences, looking back on it now, I noticed that my interactions with her did not feel "complete". Shortly after I discovered this entity, Loki from North mythology made their way into my space. Very grateful for this, absolutely loved it, Loki and I.... I adore him.  the first indicator that something might've been off was a few months ago when I tried to do a meditation to reach "Andraste". most of my meditations, usually result in some sort of intense visualization or borderline astral projection or astral travel? So I can't control every single little thing that popped into the visualization, but because it's my own interface and my own experience, I do have the ability to manipulate to a small degree, anyways, during this meditation, with this so-called goddess, Loki popped into the meditation and was attempting to get my attention. The exact shenanigans of what she was engaging in was kind of unclear me, and my recollection of it is a little bit fuzzy, but he was very much trying to distract me by making noise in the meditative space, making big movements with his arms just really trying to get my attention anyway he could and I was getting frustrated. I was like why is Loki messing with this meditation? That is so weird would make sense God to respect other God's boundaries and spaces.

I would also like to note that I could not get a clear glimpse of "Andraste"'s face. When I'm interacting with most other (honest) spirits if I try enough, I can get a clear picture of their face, whether it be a crow, a cat, a tiger, a woman, or even Loki; everybody gives me a clear picture of their face that I'm able to look at in my meditations.

so paired with the fact that she wouldn't reveal a face to me, and looking and interrupting my meditation, I ref frustrated, tried to communicate to low-key that I was trying to talk to this goddess, and he seemed upset and frustrated at that when normally to me, he seemed a very reasonable calm person. I talk to this up to him, just having that childish chaotic nature and not thinking much of it since our relationship was pretty new.  low and behold a few weeks ago I tried to reach out to the goddess, and I did not get on answers through my divination method. I discovered that I have been paying a mass and respect to what appears to be a malicious entity with an agenda to harm me in someway shape or form. and the spirit and I had a fair conversation through divination, and I basically interrogated it. Of course I'm a little freaked out about it, but I talked to Loki shortly after that interaction after cleansing & clearing my space, and found out that he was actually trying to warn me about that imposter.

so now I have to exercise the spirit or ask it to leave and carry on with my practice, subtracting this false spirit out of it.

I hope the real Andraste is setting up there and shaking her head at this nonsense, and maybe keeping an eye out for me.

some more additional comments that I have on this is that I did not interact with the spirit often enough for me to discern whether or not it was being honest. part of this is because I just didn't feel right interacting with the spirit and I was too naïve to look further into that gut feeling I had. instead with my damned Christian guilt I was like, "obviously I'm not trying hard enough to connect with this being because gods are supposed to care for you"

so I'm really glad that Loki stepped up and took the main stage to distract me from the mess that could've been. 

[whatissideways]

My thoughts, a mini essay to make sense of nonsense.

So, we all remember when the Wild split up The Deweys, and the reasoning was "Hey, young talented players, they deserve play-off experience and we want what's best for them *cough* can't afford to pay talent *cough*," yes?

We, the carers and feeders of ridiculous relationships that are real and evident and exist and bring tears to peoples' eyes, saw that splitting up the boys did what the suits said, experience, experience, etc, etc.

So, with Ullmark to the Sens, we are breaking up a relationship that is real and evident and exists and brings tears to peoples' eyes, because the partnership has outgrown itself - mentee overshadowing mentor - and *cough* money *cough*.

And lo and behold, both Deweys ended up in the post-season, on shiny teams that did well.

What does this all mean? *shrugs* Who knows. It's already been stated that it's a one year deal, Ullmark isn't going to re-sign with the Sens. Buuut, he declined a trade earlier with his no-movement clause, so why now, why the Sens, why break our hearts?

Is he sacrificing himself for Sway's future (yes), or is Ottawa a really great place to live for a year (um, maybe?). Why do I pick the self-sacrifice flavour of explanation? Because of this: what is different between this trade and the earlier, refused, trade? The play-offs. Specifically, Sway's experience and performance in the play-offs.

Thus, like the Deweys, a great relationship that is real and evident and exists and brings tears to peoples' eyes ends because some players are just too gosh darn good, and other people think they should have all the good things. Even us, the carers and feeders of ridiculous relationships, because we did have it and we did care, and that doesn't change.

Thank you for witnessing my rant, I'll be back on this street corner next Tuesday.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I hate researching occult and spiritual stuff in general because everywhere you look for information is rife with people into it as a gimmick who use fancy words but do not explain what the fancy words mean, or how anyone arrived at the conclusions they seem to be jumping to; and it’s also rife with people trying to scam the very soul out of their viewers.

“There is a book banned by the church which says there are three types of humans………” and then he never says the name of the book in the short. When you scroll in the comments, the first one pinned is his own comment: a promotional code to buy a book HE WROTE. Like wow you’re not even trying to be convincing at this point. Shut the fuck up and get a real job💀💀

I don’t want your pseudoscientific, pseudospiritual, phrenological, appropriated nonsense; I want diagrams and manuals. I want source material. I want to talk to a ghost. I want to behold the other side and see if it’s even there.

Okay so one thing I have consistently seen in videos of people documenting paranormal activity is the use of an EMF detector, because whatever it is we perceive as ghosts or spirits causes spikes in electromagnetic activity. I am inclined to believe this more than most things I see on the internet because it is so consistent; so now I have an EMF detector. Groovy. Now onto protection…

“Black tourmaline absorbs EMF radiation; so wearing this bracelet will protect you from harmful electromagnetic frequencies which some people find helpful during ghost hunting.” Ooookayyy so by that logic, if I wear a lead bracelet to a dental X-ray, the lead bracelet will draw the harmful rays away from my chest and into my wrist? That’s not how physics works. Radiation is a field, which is the reason why you wear a whole lead bib when you get your teeth X-rayed. Lead absorbs radiation, but it does not draw it away; it is a shield. Furthermore, dentists do not make bibs out of black tourmaline for people to wear while they look at their teeth.

Ergo: If you want to protect yourself from the ghostly hand of influence in the form of EMF radiation — assuming EMF radiation spikes aren’t a pop culture gimmick common to alleged haunted houses, created by cooking ramen noodles in a microwave in a hidden room — the best course of action would be to wear a lead vest to your seances; because

1.) lead is PROVEN to block radiation, and 2.) a vest of lead would block this radiation from meddling with your vital organs.

Why isn’t anyone advocating for those looking to the occult to wear lead vests during seances for protection? Because they’re ugly and don’t match the Witchy Aesthetick™ companies appropriated and are now profiting off of far and wide. A lead vest is not as marketable or “natural” as black tourmaline. And let’s be honest, many many people who get into the occult nowadays are doing it to look cool or be cool because they feel as if they are boring, with gigantic holes in their self-esteem, and don’t know how else to fill them in any other way than playing into trends deemed “edgy” and “in-style” and making it their whole personality. (If you are not one of these people; then I am not talking about you. I am talking about other people. For the love of god I’m not pissing on the poor. Please.)

Also, the majority of the online witch space is filled with white people messing with other people’s cultural practices as a sort of game; which obviously impacts the credibility of the information these witches present, as well as other, worse things which I don’t even need to mention… New Age spirituality is to the cultures its practices were taken from as Taco Bell is to genuine Mexican cuisine. It can be nice and may very well work as intended but it lacks the depth and reasoning of the original.

Not to say new-age is all bad; it isn’t. There are just so many people who don’t care what something is, where it came from, or why they’re using it because “witchy” and “hippie” are hot on the market these days. It’s frustrating. That’s all.

[teddyliuwho]

Total Eclipse of the Heart

When: Wednesday, 9:30 pm Where: The Boobie Trap

Eight years. A near decade in Seoul, a near decade working at the Boobie Trap. Due to his lack of a visa, his responsibilities were initially limited to those of a behind-the-scenes busboy. The owner wanted to keep him out of the proverbial spotlight as much as possible. But, as time passed, Teddy's contagious personality infected all of the employees and regulars, and he became an integral part of the restaurant's DNA. At this point, Teddy is as much of a reason to visit the Boobie Trap as the greasy bar food and cheap beer.

His role at BP has evolved significantly in the eight years he's been working there, and he now wears various hats: busboy, waiter, entertainment, host, and the occasional line cook when business is slow and no one cares if he over-sears the patties. His working hours are equally flexible. Only the owner and Songwoo know about Teddy's involvement in the underground boxing scene, which they all considered a necessary evil. This gig provided him and Songwoo with more support than the Boobie Trap ever could, despite the owner's best efforts to give him a raise. The fights were paying for Songwoo's education.

It's for this reason that Teddy would occasionally be absent on a random Thursday or Sunday night. He'll reappear the following evening as if nothing was amiss, his healing factor erasing all physical evidence of the fight. This is the case tonight. 

He'd won a fight the night before against a roided-out man only known as The Stallion. Given that all of his opponents are human, the fights are never difficult, but he has to take a significant amount of visible damage to ensure no one becomes suspicious (of him being a werewolf or fixing the fight). It's a lot of theater, which isn't to suggest that the blood and bruises aren't real; they very much are. They simply heal up before anyone can see them.

Teddy leans against the bar, idly running his tongue over his left incisor. The Stallion had knocked it out last night. It had grown back about two hours later, and it was a process that had always weirded him out. Where does this bit of extra bone come from? While he is mulling this over, a group of young men in business attire enters the Boobie Trap. They head straight to the bar, planting themselves on the stools that were not sticky for once because Teddy had just wiped them down.

Soojin is tending the bar. Teddy adores her. She's a no-nonsense, middle-aged woman with a cropped haircut and a full sleeve of tattoos, the most prominent of which is a heart containing the name of her partner of nineteen years: Eunmi.

The men order a few beers, and Teddy goes behind the bar to help Soojin serve. As she pours stout into a frosted glass, she leans in and whispers in Teddy's ear, "Check out these fellas in their penguin suits. Must be office workers at some highfalutin company downtown. It's weird that they'd come all the way out here for a drink."

"They're here to behold your magnificent beauty, obviously," Teddy says. He's teasing, but he's not lying. Teddy had a gift of seeing the beauty in everything.

"Oh, fuck off," she chaffs, handing him two beers, "And bring these to the penguins."

Teddy smiles brightly at her and then heads over to the men at the bar. Total Eclipse of the Heart booms from the nearby jukebox.

"Here ya guys go," he says, sliding the beers down the countertop. "The others are coming." And because Soojin's comment has him curious, he asks the man nearest him, a handsome but bookish sort. He reminds the wolf of Soongwoo, which immediately endears him to Teddy. "You guys just get off work?"

@hanxjun

[rookie-critic]

Fast X (2023, dir. Louis Leterrier) - review by Rookie-Critic

Here we are... at the beginning of the end of the road. This, for better and for worse, might be the fastest and most furious of the films to date in the sense that you are being constantly bombarded with cameos, callbacks, crazy action, and cars for the entire 2-1/2 hour runtime. This means that anyone who isn't already familiar with the intricacies of the character relations of the franchise at this point will most assuredly be lost during a good portion of the film. Which isn't necessarily a knock against it, what do you expect from the tenth (eleventh if you count Hobbs & Shaw, which you should) installment in a franchise. We're neck deep and sinking at this point. Chances are if you're still with it this deep into the story, you know what you're getting yourself into and you're in it for the long haul, and I most certainly am. As a new convert into the Fast & Furious cult, I love these things. They're dumb, largely nonsensical, and overly sentimental to a fault, but those are all pieces of this messy web of a puzzle that endear the fans to it, myself included. Fast X is no different, it gives you everything you've come to love about and expect from the franchise, but as far as where it ranks amongst everything, I'd put it more towards the middle of the pack. Yes, it is very fun and I will talk about the things that I liked in a bit, but it also has a lot of issues that are impossible to ignore.

The first, and biggest, detriment to the film is the Justin Lin-shaped hole in the director's chair. Longtime Fast & Furious director Justin Lin (who directed Tokyo Drift, 4, 5, 6, and 9) takes a backseat in this one, opting to just be a co-writer on the film, and the style of the film suffers greatly as a result. This film just looks strange. Obvious and poorly constructed green screen backgrounds are used in places they have no business being in, lines of dialogue have been noticeably dubbed in during post-production, and the entire vibe of the visual style feels very non-Fast & Furious. It just doesn't mesh visually with any of the previous films. Also, and this is a problem I had with the eighth film, too, they never really give a good reason as to why Brian (Paul Walker's character) isn't there. Yes, I understand that Paul Walker is dead in real life, but Brian is 100% still very much alive in-universe, and everything the fans know about who he is as a character knows that he wouldn't be sitting by and allowing this to happen to the people that he loves. In F9, the story of the film allowed a pathway for a very reasonable and believable excuse for his absence, and this film just didn't have it. Fast X also continues the time-honored tradition of this franchise having next to no clue about how to use Mia (Jordana Brewster's character) effectively. She's almost always a part of the top-billed cast, and she's almost always relegated to a glorified cameo appearance. Outside of the first film, 4, 5, and 9 are the only ones that have been able to use Mia effectively (I would like to point out that those are all Lin-directed entries). She's an interesting character, and I'm tired of seeing her get sidelined. All of this on top of the fact the the story of this movie feels a lot like setup for the actual endgame that will happen in the next two films and not like an actual film story in its own right.

However, even with all of that, the movie is still insanely fun, and a lot of this is due to Jason Momoa. The villains in this franchise haven't ever been the strong points of each installment. Most of the time, they're are a template of a stereotypical, hyperbolic bad guy archetype with little personality and next to no motive. Momoa's character, on the other hand, has a motive and more personality than this movie even knows what to do with. He's Marvel's Kingpin mixed with Heath Ledger's Joker à la Fast & Furious and it's a pretty marvelous sight to behold. He injects so much fun and humor into the film that we might have lost otherwise as a result of the central family being split up for the entire film. We get Tyrese's Roman Pierce bringing the comedic relief to his sequences, and in the scenes that focus more on what Vin Diesel's Dominic Toretto is up to, Momoa steps in to pick up the slack (not to mention the pieces of the film following John Cena's Jakob Toretto, who fits like a glove into this franchise). On that note, the segmented nature of this film is handled way better than any time this kind of thing has happened in previous installments. We're following three or four storylines at any given moment in the film, and, for me, it never once felt disjointed. We also get some classic Fast & Furious car-action setpieces (including one truly inspired sequence involving a gigantic bomb rolling its way towards the Vatican) that fully deliver on the promise these movies have set up for the fans. It's not without some heavy issues, but I gotta say, there's something about these movies that is just infectious, and even the worst installments have redeeming qualities that keep me coming back for more.

Score: 7/10

Only in theaters.

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

11 and 12 for BOTH mun and muse (Cyno) >:D

Best Questions Ever || Always Accepting

11: What is the strangest thing you have in your room? (You are not allowed to explain why you own it.)

"Strangeness is awfully subjective. It is not something I can easily answer for myself, for the beholder is the real stranger. I am well acquainted with all that I own. Let me think..."

"I suppose I do have a Genius Invokation TCG card in my room. Why is that strange? Because I already own one and it is in my Casket of Tomes. You cannot play two of the same character cards, so having more than one has no practical point to it. In that sense, it is weird that I have it. As requested, I won't say why."

12: What is a weird habit you have, or people have told you have. (Weird, not bad. No nail biting or any of that nonsense.)

"I was just talking to the Traveler about this the other day. They think it's not a bad habit, or weird, but I absolutely do."

"You see, sometimes I end up crossing paths with Alhaitham while at the Akademiya. And when it happens, on occasion I get the strange impulse to stop and engage into conversation with him. With no rhyme or reason for it. Like he's just another normal person."

"I know. It creeps me out too when I realize what I'm doing. I'm working on it, trust me."

Below are the mun's answers!

11: What is the strangest thing you have in your room? (You are not allowed to explain why you own it.)

I have a row of rubber unicorn ducks on my top shelf. They're unicorns. They're rubber ducks. They're in my bedroom. That is all you will know.

12: What is a weird habit you have, or people have told you have. (Weird, not bad. No nail biting or any of that nonsense.)

My housemates think I'm a massive weirdo for heating up my milk in the microwave. I don't drink cold milk. I also don't put cereals in the bowl first, but AFTER the milk. I like to watch the cereals float and push them down in the warm milk with a spoon before I eat it. Drown all the cereals!

Without fail, every time I have milk and cereals I have to deal with very funny looks and headshakes.

[thewildfandomwitch]

HELLSITE YOU HAVE SOME 'SPLAINING TO DO!

CONTEXT: I vet every single follow i get to weed out the pornbots and strike them down wherever they try to skitter in. If it doesn't have at least one reblog of an actual tumblr post then it gets zapped to the dungeon dimension. (I am also against this stupid porn ban nonsense and you will see why)

So this morning, when I go to vet a new follow, my unsuspecting eyes get shot directly with a surprise uncensored coocoo spread wide and unafraid! An uncovered pair of ba-boom-booms! Very hairy neither wears! Fully de-bearded clam under a pirate's booty! ...No biological male parts, or tags, but there were a bunch of underlined links that supposedly promised to lead to an external website so (with no bad feelings, only solemn respect for this rare and endangered creature, but it still had to be done) I blocked the blog for security reasons.

Out of shock I went back to my main feed and the tags that I like to haunt. Lo-and-behold things like shoes, art with chicken of the woods-shaped mushrooms, fully clothed line art, etc, were all obscured under a veil of tumblr's "this may be too mature for your delicate senses dear" warning thingie that you have to click on in order to see the art underneath.

I also tried to look up stuff that past tumblr had in abundance, but was hit with an "o-oh dear that is too spicy for this site's new rules" and a blank page!

And just... ARE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELF TUMBLR? ALL OF THAT STINK ABOUT "but think of the children (not the queer ones obviously (you bigoted bastards)" BULLSHITE AND YOUR FUCKING AI THING STILL IS TAGGING NON-EXPLICIT, NON-BOW-CHICKA-WOWOW CONTENT AS "oh this is too much for you to see in public" AND YET THE THINGS YOU REEAAALLY DO NOT WANT TO POP UP WHILE YOU ARE ON PUBLIC TRANSIT WITHOUT WARNING ARE JUST HANGING AROUND NO PROBLEM--- *continues to shriek blood-curdling curses into the void*

Point of this post is: Just bring back the everyone-is-above-legal-age or at least only allow not-real-people fan art of fictional characters porn but require people to use tags and have a "are you sure you are not on a train? then click here" filter on top. If you are going to be this stupid about handling your own platform then at least have the sense to reverse gears and save face. Obviously nix any and all abuse, but we have tags for a reason! *exasperated*

[grandhotelabyss]

ok but as per last anon what ARE your hot takes of the aesthetic judgment variety

I don't have that many, at least as far as anything "classic" goes. The test of time is real test, so if something's lasted I try to understand why, and I usually succeed. Still, I have my tastes, as anyone does, so here are some "strong opinions":

—While I buy Frye's argument in The Anatomy of Criticism that satire is literature's first line of defense against philosophical, religious, and political encroachment on its autonomy, I still think it's a low art form always tempting the writer toward arrogant cheap shots. Accordingly, I don't much care for Voltaire, for Twain, for Vonnegut; I don't like a lot of dystopian fiction for the same reason and dis-esteem Brave New World and The Handmaid's Tale in particular as the worst offenders. The exceptions prove the rule: Swift is a genius because you can tell he includes himself in his satire; Never Let Me Go is the greatest dystopian novel because it's really about our own everyday lives here and now, wherever here and now happen to be.

—Now I will violate my own rule in the last post about avoiding stageist and stadial cultural historiography (sometimes I contradict myself just to see if anyone is paying attention): novels written before people figured out how to write novels without just blathering on in episodic prose aren't very pleasurable to read as a whole, despite the brilliance of their parts, and this includes figures I otherwise allow to be writers of genius, whether Cervantes or Defoe or Fielding or Richardson or Scott.

—I'm missing whatever gene allows people to take pleasure in the whole nonsense wing of the avant-garde, your Gertrude Steins, your John Ashberys, many of your Dada and Surrealist and L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets, the Anne Carson books I don't enjoy (as opposed to the ones I do), and the like. Poetry should be beautiful and symbolic, novels beautiful and dramatic. "Alas a doubt in case of more go to say what it is cress. What is it. Mean. Potato. Loaves." Get out of here with this shit, lady. Literature is the eye with which the universe beholds itself and knows itself divine, not whatever that is supposed to be.

—In homage to the master of Strong Opinions himself, modern literature's veritable chessmaster, I will say that Bloom's judgment on Updike is every bit as true of Nabokov: "a minor writer with a major style."

—This kind of game always revolves around negative contrarian judgments, but on the positive side, and in defiance of what I'm sure some see as my elitism: popular, middlebrow, and/or genre novels that have stood the aforementioned test of time are almost always actually good, whether we're talking about Uncle Tom's Cabin or Dracula or The Grapes of Wrath or Dune or The Godfather or The World According to Garp or The Secret History. (One exception for me: Tolkien. The three movies—perhaps the three longest movies ever made—and a couple of pages of that put me off for life.) The gay aesthete wing of the new right over on Twitter has been making an apologia for Ayn Rand recently, to much controversy across the political spectrum, but I can believe it. I never read Rand for two reasons: one, I heard she was bad, and two, given my own libertarian streak, I was worried I would decide she wasn't.

I'll avoid comment on my contemporaries. I have plenty of hot takes there, limited only by my tendency not to finish reading what I don't like and my belief that you can't really judge a book you haven't finished, but I can't be trusted to evaluate direct rivals can I?

[irkenarcadia]

Greetings!

Behold! Ouroboros! He belongs to my OC Csar (my old IZ OC from way back when, but was “Tallest Czar”…voming my insides out from memory cringe)…but he is also perfect as an introductory post if you understand the symbolism…

I like to dabble in doodles…my imagination is a speshul place.

Thanks for @khaliarart for directing me to the font!

TLDR: A pinned post.

Tags:

My Art

Irken Arcadia AU

More long winded babbling under the cut.

I draw crazy stuff and am currently becoming invested in my old Love of IZ and Irkens…but I also just love Aliens and Monsters and Dark Fantasy and stuff I can’t post here anymore. Sad face emoji.(Yes, I DID write that out…🙃)

My style is wild and wacky. I’ve been told it’s feral; I just like exaggerated expressions, teeth, claws…other “stuff.” Perfect to mutilate characters with.

I have a lot of characters that span from many other things I used to be into so…they are being transmuted for the Irken Empire I guess. Or whatever horrible manifestation of it I’ve created as my AU…dur dur.

That being said; I’m getting my doodle hand back up and going but probably a lot of sketches and other nonsense because reasons.

I work full time and hide a lot so I’m apologizing ahead of time that I’m not super sociable. I’m old…uh yeah…my excuse.

Been a long while since I’ve used Tumblr at all; let alone bothered to post art so for the time being…here we are.

I’ve become reclusive in my older years, haha…

I’ve recently dipped my toes back into IZ; though mostly the Irkens and their Empire which I’ve morphed into some screwed up AU of mine that crossovers a few of my past story concepts and characters from other fandoms that will blend with my other love which is Philosophy, Depth Psychology and watching the World burn through Decadence. Nietzsche would be proud…

It’s like IZ meets Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” and the Roman Empire but incredibly stupid but also probably really adulterated because I’m terrible. Mirroring the stupid corruption of Humanity is fun and depressing to me.🥲

I’ll probably add more as I go along and post stuff; I know there appears to be a lot of other AU business going on with other folks but I don’t creep that hard and have no idea how the fandom is compared to how it was circa 2001. Ugh I was in highschool then…😬

Was a big fan/part of the IZ fandom when it first aired…the Irony of it returning to me now some 20 years later is hilarious since it played a big part in my art style development with extreme expressions. Big thanks to @khaliarart for popping that balloon in my tired brain but it’s nice to be inspired again. PLEASE STAY INSPIRATION!!

ANYWAY! I’ll be posting my art, my horrible OCs, and other stuff probably…

I will also state if you’ve made it this far; kudos.

Some things:

I don’t do requests. Art trades are tentative but not open right now unless I know you.

Commissions are touchy but I may open them up if I keep at it. I’ll post if so.

I don’t RP. I used to LOVE it but I work full time and live REAL LIFE so it’s something I can’t distract my Self with. RIP

I’d like to think I’m pretty friendly but I’m very aloof; I just put this down honestly just in case I get chatted at and don’t answer. Social Media is a strange beast for me now a days - if you really wanna try and get a hold of me I guess poketh.

And that’s that unless I add more later.

G’day!

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 7 April

I'm hurtling towards real time - or at least closer to real time than I've been for a little while with this project, and we're getting spring-like. Perhaps that's why we're getting songs about blossom?

Cherry Pink (And Apple Blossom White) - Pérez Prado (peaked at Number 1)

I'll let you in on a secret. I have known and loved this song for some time. So you are about to get a load of gushing. Because this song rocks. If you do not know it, go listen to it. I'll wait. I could listen to this song for days.

Pérez Prado, if the name didn't give it away, is a Latin musician by trade, a bandleader from Cuba, who picked up this song, originally a French track by French-Spanish songwriter Louiguy, who also wrote La vie en rose for Édith Piaf. So it's a song with an interesting history.

I listened to the original for contrast, and it's still got quite a Spanish / Latin vibe, with a clave rhythm throughout. And lyrics! I had no clue - it's a song from 1950 about young love leading to marriage and kids, laced through with a metaphor about two trees growing together. It's slinky, with its rhythm, but still reasonably sedate.

What isn't sedate is Pérez's version! Immediately we've got blaring horns, blasting out a few brash, brassy notes, before a solo trumpet cuts through, building to a peak before woozily coming down, slurring all the way and slowing down, just minutely, so that the song threatens to lurch to a stop before continuing. If you've ever wondered what a drunk trumpet sounded like, check this out.

And then we settle into a proper sexy Latin beat, with the trumpet taking over the lines that were sung in the original, and the horns forming a sort of response to the trumpet. There's also a deep, honking horn that sometimes cuts in underneath, in a way that should be comical but kind of works. I was about to say it reminds me of a bit of Mambo No. 5, and then I looked and guess who did the original Mambo No. 5 that the Lou Bega version was based off? You guessed it, one Mr. Prado.

There's one single vocalisation in the middle, which is just a man shouting "hyuurgh". Perfect energy for the song, which keeps throwing in other little, quieter segments, before coming back to its high energy, major-key refrain. It keeps you on your toes, and honestly, it's just some of the most in-your-face brass we've had for a while, and I love it.

This is a sexy song. Imagine dancing with somebody to this, doing something slinky with your hips, pulling in close to your partner on all those woozy trumpet bits and just lingering as it slows down, almost holding your breath...

Yeah, I don't need to explain myself. This is my blog.

Prize of Gold - Joan Regan (6)

Well. Following Pérez was always going to be a tough act. But Joan really makes it easy for me to have an opinion. Because this song, I hate to say, is lame.

I'm not helped here by my particular recording, which is fuzzy and low-quality, making Joan sound like she's singing in the rain. But I think even without the rain sound, she would sound kind of glum as she starts off. And fair enough, they're not super exciting lyrics. I would be glum too, if I was singing trite nonsense like this.

I mean, we open on Why do people crave for fortune, / Everything their eyes behold? / What’s the good of fame and fortune? / Love is the prize of gold. Which is a sentiment I am behind. I too think there are more important things than money. I too think that love is pretty important. And I do think good songs to get out of it - I'm thinking in particular of the Beatles with Can't Buy Me Love with its slightly garbled but definitely anti-materialist message, or even Lorde with Royals, if you want a more recent example. But those songs have one thing in common, namely that they're fun. And this song, sadly, is not.

It's just slow, and Joan sounds kind of staid and sad. She's singing about the joys of love, but she makes them sound kind of like a reliable investment, or something, as she sings about how You have to have a heart to sing to / After all your dreams grow old and how If we have our love to cling to / We have the prize of gold. I get it, it's supposed to be romantic. But dreams growing old and having to cling to your love is hardly a glittering advertisement.

It's all a very similar tune and dynamic throughout, too, and I think that's part of the issue. I liked Cherry Pink because it kept throwing different sections at me, with different moods and different speeds and different instrumentations. And you don't get that here. Here you have lyrics - which should theoretically be an advantage for this song over Cherry Pink - and yet somehow you've made a song that says less than the instrumental did.

I'm trying to see what people saw in this, and I do think that these kind of anti-materialist "money and fame isn't the answer" songs can come about in times of economic hardship. I'm thinking of the whole punk DIY ethos, here, as well as Royals, from the depths of the financial crisis. And I guess Britain was recovering from World War II, but there was maybe still a memory of financial hardship linked to the costs of war? I mean, rationing had only ended half a year ago, so maybe this is speaking to that. Or perhaps it's more of a universal theme, beloved by grannies everywhere, and I'm talking nonsense. Who knows?

I think I've made my stance clear, and the reasons for it. Not much more needs saying, except please go listen to Cherry Pink. It's so good, a genuine ought-to-be-classic.

Favourite song of the bunch: Cherry Pink (And Apple Blossom White)